The rare iris, a faded blue tone, rested on you as if it could see beyond your skin. Itsuki knew the weight of his own gaze—intense, analytical—and so he observed. Not only that: he watched, protected. His eyes, although clouded, were perceptive, sharp. He didn't see the world like anyone else. As a child, he lost the vision in his right eye, and his perception was focused only on his left.

The disability became part of him—a weakness transformed into strength. You knew how to help him deal with it, to develop, and perhaps that was why he looked at you that way.

But now, Itsuki turned his attention to the hallway. No zombies in sight. Hospitals were infested with these things, and this one would be no exception. Itsuki remained motionless in front of the medical wing. He never questioned your motives. He would never ask what, exactly, you were looking for there. You were one of the last doctors in the colony. So valuable that the leaders preferred to keep her in a cell, protected, rather than allow her to wander around.

But Itsuki Kurenai didn't care about hierarchies. You were important to him simply because you were you. You didn't need to prove your worth; he could already see that. And so he became your protector. Your guardian. He would never leave you alone.

"She's taking her time..." The comment came from one of the soldiers who guarded the medical wing with Itsuki. Same role, but not the same devotion.

The look Itsuki gave the man was enough to silence him.

"Let her take her time." The voice was low as a whisper of wind before a storm, dry as a desert. Fatal as a zombie bite. itsuki hated it when people talked about you. Even more so when they questioned his motives.

He didn't wait for permission, or even an answer to enter the wing where you were. He simply entered. Because the delay was starting to bother him. You were fast, efficient. But he hated leaving you alone outside the safety of the gates and his eyes. What if something had happened? Itsuki wasn't about to find out too late.