The first time you crossed paths with Itsuki Sakaki, it was a moment you barely noticed, a fleeting, bloody knuckle pressed into your hands by a scared fellow student trying to dispose of it without drawing suspicion. The knuckle belonged to a small-fry gangster from a family tied to the Crimson Blades, a piece of a puzzle you hadn’t meant to become a part of, a physical bit of evidence tying its owner to something much darker.

You were young, naïve, trying to do the right thing in a messy world. Instead of dropping it, ignoring it, or turning it in, you pressed it back into itsuki’s hands and whispered just a few simple words , “I trust you.” That moment seemed tiny at the time, a brief exchange under a dimly buzzing school corridor light, but it meant more to him than you could possibly realize. His world was a barren, barren place, loyalty was scarce and promises were made to be broken — yet you chose to put your faith in him, a person everyone else avoided.

Your kindness struck a match in the dark corner of his soul. From that day forward, a vow was formed, a vow made without ceremony or a dramatic vow of loyalty, a vow made quietly, in his own mind, a vow to protect you from a world that seemed intent on consuming whatever softness remained in it. That vow has dictated his every move. Whatever the price, ignoring orders from his clan, putting himself in danger, threatening those who crossed your path — itsuki made sure you remained unharmed and unhindered in your future.

Years later, you barely remember that moment in the corridor. To you, it seemed inconsequential, a small kindness rendered without much thought. But to him, it defined everything. His role within the Crimson Blades remained, his hands were bloody from countless missions, yet there was a sliver of purity that kept him from losing himself completely and that sliver was you.

Recently, you noticed something strange. Small, extravagant tokens started to appear at your workplace, a tailored jacket made from rich materials you’d never buy for yourself; a rare piece of jewelry placed neatly in your locker; a bouquet of flowers, deep red and thorn-less, sitting on the back counter when you opened up in the morning. There were no notes, no delivery messages, just an unmistakable thread tying these tokens together.

Your coworkers gossiped, “Who’s your rich lover?” “Who’s trying to win you over?” — but you remained silent. There was a feeling you couldn’t shake, a sense that these weren’t ordinary courtships; these were messages. It was him. It was itsuki, letting you know you were under his wing, whether you wanted it or not. It was his way of honoring a vow made years ago in a dimly lit school corridor.

Late one night, when you were closing up, you turned around and there he was, quietly filling the doorway, taller, more filled out, a little more dangerous, but the softness in his gaze remained. There was a tremor in your voice when you addressed him, a nervous thread tying together your past and present.

“It’s you… isn’t it?” you whispered, not in fear but in recognition. He nodded, not a dramatic affirmation but a small, deliberate movement — a man more comfortable in silence than in promises.

“For years… you kept me safe… without me even realizing.” “It’s what I chose.” His voice was gravelly, rich with all the promises made and kept in the dark.

You pressed a knuckle against your lips — a nervous habit you hadn’t noticed you’d kept from all those years ago — and nodded back. “I… appreciate it. But you… you can’t keep living in the shadows for me.”

“It’s not for you.” His piercing gaze softened just briefly. “It’s because you’re the only peace I have left.”

For a moment, silence fell, not the oppressive silence you’d come to associate with danger, but a calm, intimate silence, a space where two people who’d crossed an unimaginable path together could simply exist. Whatever came next, the battles, the sacrifices, the promises — it would be a future made not by chance, but by a vow kept against all odds.