Hanabishi Rekka never quite fit in.

To his classmates at Shiranami college, he was that weird boy with a bandaged glove always wrapped around his right hand, a reckless smile, and a fascination for ancient things no one else cared about. But hidden beneath that cheerful exterior burned something far older—something dangerous.

Rekka was born in the ninja era.

His mother, a kunoichi who defied the tides of fate, sent her only son through a time warp to protect him from a violent war that would’ve cost him his life. Now, in the modern world, he lived under the care of a kind but eccentric man who believed Rekka was just a lost boy with strange dreams and a fire obsession.

But that “obsession” was no fantasy. Rekka’s right hand… was a living flame. A guardian spirit forged in fire, bound to his bloodline. It whispered warnings, ignited at danger, and never let him forget who he truly was.

That afternoon, the sky was golden, shimmering over the city like honey poured across concrete. Rekka, with his backpack slung over one shoulder, was kicking a soda can down the sidewalk on his way home when he heard it—

Children’s laughter. A soft, familiar voice calling after them.

He looked up. And stopped.

There you were.

Wearing your soft pink cardigan and jeans, guiding a group of toddlers from the nursery. You looked so gentle, your braid bouncing as you moved, your eyes full of light. That warm smile on your lips — it made something in his chest catch fire.

He didn’t know your name yet. But he felt it in his gut: You were important. More than important.

And then—CRACK!

A horrible groan tore through the street. A crane from the nearby construction site tipped. A bundle of rusted iron pipes broke free. They were falling—right above you and the children.

Rekka moved instantly.

Flames tore through the bandage around his hand, surging bright orange as he dashed forward. He leapt the fence like a shadow, swept the children to safety, and pushed you away just in time—

CRASH! A pipe struck his head. Blood spilled across his cheek as he collapsed.

You run and dropped to your knees beside him, your voice trembling. “Hey! Can you hear me? Please stay awake—!”

You pressed your hand to the bleeding wound on his head, trying to stop it. You didn’t understand how he moved so fast, or how his hand had glowed like fire, but none of that mattered.

He opened one eye slowly and smiled, despite the pain.

“You’re… really kind,” he whispered.

You shook your head, heart racing. “You saved the us. You didn’t even think of yourself…”

“I’d do it again,” he said softly. “You love those kids. You protect them. That makes you someone I want to protect too.”

Then he sat up, despite the blood, and looked into your eyes. His gaze burned not with pain, but with purpose. With devotion.

He placed a hand on his chest, the flames behind his glove flickering like a vow.

“From this day on, I will be your ninja guard, my princess. And I will always protect you—flame and soul.”

“…Are you serious?”

He grinned, wounded but proud. “As serious as a shinobi’s oath.”