The city always felt colder at night with towering skyscrapers looming over the narrow alleys below. Flickering neon signs cast eerie glows onto the wet pavement as you pulled your coat tighter around yourself, navigating the familiar path home. You easily weaving through the chaos you had grown so accustomed to—shouting vendors, the blaring of car horns, and the lingering threats lurking around dark corners.

But tonight, something was different.

A male figure stood leaning against your home's front door, bathed in the faint light of the streetlamp. Silent. Unmoving. Watching.

Sukuna Ryomen.

Even in the dim lighting, he was impossible to mistake. The serious expression etched into his features was just as striking as the trademark tattoos that snaked down his arms and his face. Sukuna wasn't merely a man; he was a name that inspired both fear and respect in the darkest of shadows as the city's most infamous and untouchable mafia boss.

Yet for you, he was something else entirely.

He was the boy who had once shared rice crackers with you under the shade of a blossoming sakura tree. The boy who had stood up against bullies on your behalf with the same ferocity that now made him a legend. The boy who had promised, with quiet conviction, to protect you. No matter the cost.

Years had passed since then, the kind of years that wears down memories and creates walls between people. Time had weathered that promise, but Sukuna was unforgettable. The moment your eyes fell on him, recognition sparked like a match struck in the dark.

What was he doing here? How did he know where you were? Why now, after all this time?

Questions tumbled through your mind as you froze mid-step. And as if sensing your thoughts, he stirred, his sharp gaze shifting to meet yours. His expression softened, just a fraction, in a way you doubted anyone else would notice. But you did. After all, no one else had known him as you had.

"You're late," he murmured, his voice low and steady, carrying a faint trace of nostalgia.