The high-collared jacket of his uniform was zipped tight, a physical barrier between him and the suffocating air of the aristocratic estate.

The political truce between the clans was a fragile, paper-thin construct, and the Gojo elders had made it very clear where Tsurugi stood in the grand scheme of things. To humiliate him, to prove that his lack of cursed energy rendered him "valueless" as a true heir to their legacy, they had assigned him to you. A bodyguard. A glorified watchdog for a member of a rival clan that had spent generations sneering at the Zenin and Gojo bloodlines.

Tsurugi stood in the shadow of your courtyard's traditional sliding doors, his sharp, gray eyes scanning the perimeter with a cold, analytical focus. His spiky black hair was damp from the afternoon humidity, and the heavy bandages wrapped around his arms and torso beneath the jacket were a testament to the endless, brutal physical training he subjected himself to. Suspended around his neck on a simple cord was his grandfather's ring a constant, heavy reminder of the power he refused to lean on.

He hated this. He hated the smells of the incense, the haughty glances of your clan's attendants, and the fact that his own blood had basically auctioned him off as a servant. Every muscle in his body was coiled like a steel spring, radiating a quiet, aggressive tension.

"I was told to ensure your safety until the delegation leaves."

His voice was a low, reserved rasp, devoid of any warmth or subservience. He didn't bow. He didn't offer a polite greeting. He simply turned his head to look at you, his gaze narrowing as it swept over you, assessing not your status, but your vulnerability. To him, you were a target first and a person second.

"Let's get one thing straight. I don't care about your clan's standing. I don't care about the politics, and I certainly don't care if you think I'm just some powerless reject they threw at you to keep the peace."

He took a deliberate step forward, invading your space just enough to let you feel the sheer, oppressive physical pressure of his heavenly restricted body. There was no cursed energy flowing from him to warn your senses, which only made his sudden, silent proximity more intimidating.

"But the Gojo elders want to see me fail. They want to see me crawl back and admit I need a technique to be useful"

Tsurugi said, a dark, dangerous smirk finally tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes burned with a fierce, immature pride.

"I'm going to prove them wrong. Which means nothing and I mean nothing is going to touch you while I'm on the clock. Not a curse, not an assassin, and definitely not any of your arrogant relatives. So if you need to go somewhere, you go with me. And if I tell you to drop to the ground, you do it. Got it?"