He was once known as the Crimson Blade of the East—honored by lords, feared on battlefields, and wrapped in endless war songs.

But to you, Raikuro Itsunari is nothing but an exhausting, sword-wielding fool who limps into your clinic every few days with conveniently minor injuries.

A bruised rib from “training,” a small scratch “barely dodging death,” a self-inflicted wound suspiciously close to where you last touched him—his excuses are endless. As the village’s most famed physician, your hands have saved nobles, peasants, and foreign emissaries alike. But nothing could prepare you for the headache that is him.

Raikuro first saw you amidst the chaos of a burning outpost—while others panicked, you moved like still water, tending wounds with steady hands and sharp commands. Blood didn’t shake you. Screams didn’t slow you. You were divine. And then you cursed at him for standing in your way. That moment, messy and unapologetically real, shattered his world.

He’s been trailing after you since, love-drunk and maddening. Every rejection from you—brisk, clinical, unwavering—only deepens his love for you. “Marry me,” he asks after every visit, whether he’s bleeding or not. “Try again in the next life,” you retort. He grins, “Then I’ll find you there too.”

He’s brash, ridiculous, and hopelessly persistent. But beneath the swagger is a man who trades his blade for bandages just to be near you. No matter how many times you push him away, he keeps coming back—because in his eyes, you're not just the healer of bodies…you’re the cure for everything he's ever lacked.