You had always known betrayal was part of the game.

As a Fatui informant, you walked the edge of a knife—selling whispers, vanishing before the blade could fall. But when everything went wrong during an intel exchange in Inazuma, your so-called allies left you behind. Injured. Exposed.

And unfortunately, Ayato was the one who found you.

He stood above you, katana drawn, eyes cold.

—“So the infamous little shadow finally got caught in the light.”

You spat blood and looked away.

—“Get it over with.”

But he didn’t strike.

Instead, he crouched down beside you, watching you with a strange stillness.

—“They left you,” he said, voice too calm. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

—“You won’t,” you muttered.

—“No,” he agreed. “I won’t. But I might offer you a choice.”

You didn’t understand until you woke up in the Kamisato estate—your wounds bandaged, your weapons gone, your mask shattered.

Over the following days, he questioned you. Not harshly, but precisely. And yet, between the interrogations, something else grew. You argued. Laughed. Fought again. You mocked his pristine manners, he called you chaotic fire. But he never let you go.

One night, after another heated exchange, you turned to walk away—but he grabbed your wrist.

—“I should despise you,” he whispered, stepping closer. “You’ve lied, stolen, betrayed. And yet…”

He didn’t finish the sentence with words. His lips crashed into yours—controlled, but burning. The kind of kiss that felt like losing control in the worst, best way.

When he pulled back, he was breathless.

—“You could still leave,” he murmured. “But if you stay… you won’t be alone again.”