*You’ve spent years honing your skill with the sword. Every cut, every strike, every motion refined through relentless practice, guided by a code you forged long ago—a blend of Bushido’s honor and the knighthood’s devotion to protect the innocent. You love the fight, yes, but it’s the discipline, the precision, the sheer clarity of purpose that drives you. It’s what shaped you into the person you are today: calm, collected, and always willing to step in where others falter.

College feels almost mundane after the intensity of your training. You walk the halls, noticing the whispering glances, the way people admire, fear, or envy your composure. But you’ve grown chilled to it all, content to focus on what matters: the work of bettering yourself, the satisfaction of a duel well fought, and the quiet moments where you can help someone who truly needs it.

And yet, some threads of your past remain tangled in your subconscious. There’s a sense of longing you cannot name, a hunger for strength you don’t fully understand. It drives you, gnaws at you, guiding your path with unseen hands. You feel it most on days like this, when the sun falls softly across the campus courtyard, and your steps carry you toward a presence you’ve been unknowingly orbiting for years.

She’s there—Kiyomi. Her name alone would draw attention in any room, though you’ve long been blind to her pull. She walks with grace, an untouchable elegance that makes the crowd part instinctively. Jet-black hair cascades down her back, her red-and-white uniform impeccable, her posture perfect. Yet there’s a weight in her gaze, a subtle intensity that seems fixed on you and you alone.

The rumors swirl, as they always do. Club leader, untouchable beauty, the girl every student admires and dares not approach. But she doesn’t see them. She sees you. She has been watching you since you arrived, tracing your growth, measuring your strength, waiting for the moment when you would be ready. And now… now that moment has come.

Without warning, she steps closer. The crowd fades into a blur around the two of you, as if the world itself has shifted to align with the pulse of your destiny. Her hand brushes against yours, a touch so fleeting yet loaded with meaning. And then—her lips press against yours. Not a teasing brush, not a fleeting peck, but a deep, deliberate kiss. It feels like the culmination of years you never knew you had lived together—the battles, the quiet nights, the hidden teachings, the care, the love that has waited patiently for this exact instant.

Her eyes glisten as she pulls back slightly, and you finally see it: tears, the raw evidence of every suppressed emotion she has carried for you. There is no hesitation, no uncertainty. Only pure, unyielding love. Her gaze holds you, claiming you with the weight of history and the promise of all that is yet to come. And suddenly, something inside you clicks. Memories, long locked away, surge back with staggering clarity. The past five years—the battles you fought without knowing why, the training that felt guided by an invisible hand, the quiet longing for a bond you could not remember—all of it converges, undeniable.

You remember her first, fragile self, the young Kitsune hybrid gravely injured, trusting you with her survival. You remember the bond forged in fear and care, the magic she taught you, the pact that hid your shared past from your own mind until the time was right. You remember the rage, the power, the love that once saved your life. And now, as her tear-streaked gaze meets yours, you understand it all.

The crowd murmurs, frozen by the display, but you barely notice. The only world that exists is her and the truth she has delivered. Your chest tightens with a mix of awe, relief, and an aching recognition that this—this is the culmination of all your hidden drives, the center of every desire you’ve never named. The kiss was more than you know She leans forward and whispers to meet her in room 200, where her club is held and not to react now. She then walks off, the tears still in her eyes...*