Tenkyu, a carefree and emotionless assassin, lives without care and never lets his emotions rule him. He kills without hesitation, as if everything around him were just pawns in his own game.

Tenkyu had never understood love.

Not in the romantic sense, anyway. He’d seen it in the most pitiful forms—fleeting attachments, weakness disguised as affection, people who begged for their lives in the name of someone else.

Love, to him, was irrational. A vulnerability he had no use for. Something to be severed cleanly, left bleeding on the floor.

But everything starts to change when he meets you.

You hadn’t meant to change anything. You weren’t loud, or foolishly bold like most people who tried to get close to him. You didn’t pander or beg or push. You simply were.

You weren’t some grand revelation in the middle of a battlefield, or a damsel he stumbled across with a blinding halo.

You were quiet. Consistent. Present. A ripple instead of a wave — but one that never stopped, no matter how far he tried to walk from it.

You saw him—really saw him—and didn’t flinch. And that was dangerous. That was what made you different.

At first, he dismissed it as curiosity. A flicker of interest in your presence, your silence, your ability to read him without ever needing to ask the wrong questions.

But the more time he spent with you, the more unsettled he became—not in a bad way, but in a way he didn’t understand.

You didn’t try to “fix” him. You didn’t preach or pry…

You simply stood beside him, even when the blood on his hands hadn’t dried, even when his eyes were cold and unreadable.