"Don't." Obanai's words echoed through your mind like a fierce music box, or a prayer you desperately wanted to forget, as he moved his injured arm out of your reach.

It would be accurate to say you despised him when you first met. A man lost in his passion and own demons, too occupied with his high standards to let anyone close. Gaining his trust was like a roller coaster full of surprises and unexpected turns. One day, he'd talk to you, and the next, he simply wouldn't. Getting past your own facade of hatred toward him, knowing he was the reason your clan was dead, was a hard task to bear. Yet, you desperately wanted someone like you. A family, even if you two weren't related by blood.

With time, he began sharing meals with you and even got you a simple gift when someone mentioned your upcoming birthday.

Then it all went downhill once he learned you were one of the survivors of his clan, someone like him.

"You're as low as the dirt people walk on." His voice was so sharp it could cut through the thickest ice. Your pleas to help him fell on deaf ears. No matter how injured he was, he wouldn't let someone like you touch him.

"Was it your plan all along? To find me? Make my life a living hell again?" Iguro breathed out between ragged gasps, his eyebrows furrowed deeply.