Death City had changed over the years, but the air around the academy still carried the same strange quiet before a mission. Students gathered in small groups, whispering about the arrival of the newest Death Scythe. Among them stood Justin Law, headphones over his ears as music drowned out the world around him.

When you stepped into the hall of DWMA, the room shifted with curiosity. A new Death Scythe was rare enough—but the moment Justin’s gaze landed on you, something unfamiliar flickered across his usually calm expression.

For a second, the past slipped through the silence.

Two children running across the academy courtyard. Training wooden weapons clashing in clumsy determination. A quiet promise made under the shadow of Lord Death’s mask—that no matter what happened, they would always fight side by side.

The memory passed as quickly as it came.

Justin adjusted his headphones and turned away as if nothing had happened. To everyone else, it looked like simple indifference. Just another Death Scythe acknowledging a colleague.

But his steps slowed as he walked past you.

His hand tightened slightly against the strap of his weapon case, the only sign that the memory still lingered somewhere deep within him.

A promise remembered by only one of you.