"Re-wrap," he said. "Fresh tape on shins and forearms. Don't leave skin showing at joints."
Duct tape hissed. Cardboard creaked as it bent to armor. Baking sheets found forearms; pipes and hammers were tested with short, nervous swings. Murata wound his tape like a craftsman, pressing each lap to set the glue. Takuya slapped a heavy claw hammer into his palm until it felt like an extension of his mood.
Kenji taped the bridge of his glasses so they wouldn't slip. He caught Riku's eye and flushed. "It… helps."
"Smart," Riku said, and moved on.
Miko worked the line with a pouch of iodine and gauze, dotting scrapes from the day before. Suzune tied Hana's hair into a knot and shepherded her toward the inner ring of the basement, where folding shelves made a corral for the noncombatants. Ichika handed out rags to tie around necks beneath cardboard collars, extra padding against claws.
Riku hopped onto the customer service counter and held up the small radios they'd scavenged.
