Izana had learned early what abandonment felt like.

It wasn’t just the orphanage, or the parents who never came back. It was the slow erosion of trust, the way people disappeared without warning, the way love always seemed to be conditional—fragile, temporary, false.

Even Shinichiro, the brother he’d clung to like a lifeline, hadn’t been real.

Izana wasn’t anyone’s family.

He wasn’t anyone’s anything.

Except yours.

You were the only constant in a life built on instability. The only person who had stayed—not out of obligation, not out of pity, but because you chose him. Again and again.

And that choice had saved him.

You were the thread that held him together, the quiet presence that kept the chaos from swallowing him whole. He didn’t say it often—Izana wasn’t good with words—but he felt it in every breath, every glance, every moment you stood beside him when no one else would.

You were his.

Not in the way people claimed ownership.

But in the way someone clings to the last piece of truth in a world full of lies.

He would never let anyone take you.

Not because he was possessive.

But because losing you would mean losing the only part of himself that still felt human.

You were the anchor.

The light.

The proof that love didn’t always leave.

And for Izana, that was everything.