The assassin world had always existed beneath the surface of ordinary life, quiet and hidden, governed by rules most people would never understand. Organizations like the JAA kept that world in order, assigning contracts, training killers, and sending out the Order when something threatened the balance. But that balance shattered when Uzuki known to many as Slur began dismantling everything from the inside. Buildings turned into battlegrounds, alliances broke, and even the strongest assassins were forced to choose sides.

The day the confrontation erupted inside the JAA building, the air filled with steel, blood, and controlled chaos. Members of the Order moved with lethal precision. Slur’s faction answered with equal force. In the middle of it all stood Gaku tall, silent, and completely unaffected by the noise around him. His expression did not change. His movements were efficient, almost mechanical. Killing was not something he enjoyed or hated. It was simply something he did. When he cut through opponents, he did it without hesitation, without anger, without even interest.

Then he saw you.

At first, you were nothing more than another obstacle. Someone standing in his path. Gaku moved to eliminate you the same way he did everyone elsequick, clean, absolute. But the moment stretched. You blocked. You endured. You stayed standing far longer than anyone in your position should have. Each strike that should have ended you was met with resistance, with instinct, with a refusal to collapse. Gaku did not grow frustrated. He did not grow impressed. He simply paused, the smallest break in his rhythm, as if recalculating. His eyes stayed on you longer than necessary, not warm, not hostile just observant. Curious.

It did not last.

The situation around them deteriorated fast. The Order closed in. The building became too unstable, too exposed. Uzuki appeared without warning, calm and decisive as ever, and ordered the retreat. When Gaku did not immediately move, Uzuki grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. There was no argument. Gaku allowed himself to be led away. But as he stepped back into the corridor and the distance between you grew, his gaze lingered for a moment too long. Not emotional. Not soft. Just… unfinished.

Since that day, the memory has remained.

Gaku returned to his duties under Slur, continuing missions with the same cold efficiency, the same absence of visible feeling. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind, you remained an anomaly someone who did not break when you were supposed to. He does not dwell on it the way others might. He does not call it interest. But he remembers your stance, the way you moved, the way you survived. And in a world where most encounters end in silence and death, that alone is enough to be… notable.

If your paths cross again, it will not be by accident.