Night settles heavily over the Kure compound, the kind of darkness that feels deliberate— cultivated. Lanterns cast low, amber light along the stone paths, but the shadows between them are deep enough to swallow intent. You move through those shadows with practiced ease, breath slow, heartbeat measured, every sense sharpened by the knowledge that discovery here doesn’t mean capture.

It means death.

You never wanted this mission. The elders had framed it as necessity, not choice: “We need to know what they’re planning”. As if the words alone could sever the memories— you and Raian, young, and hiding from rain beneath a shrine roof, laughter echoing too freely for clans built on blood and secrecy.

But ever since the incident… that cruel moment, everything changed.

You vault a low wall and land silently in an inner courtyard. The smell of iron lingers faintly in the air, old and familiar. Kure territory always smells like this. Like violence that has soaked into the stone and never left.

You’re halfway to the archive building when it happens.

A presence.

No sound. No movement. Just the unmistakable sensation of being seen.

Your muscles lock.

“Y’know,” a voice drawls from the darkness behind you, lazy and sharp all at once, “you’re not as quiet as you used to be.”

Your stomach drops, and you don’t turn right away. You don’t need to. You know that voice— how it curls around words like a blade teasing skin before it cuts.

Raian.

When you finally face him, he’s standing beneath the eaves, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Blonde hair catches the lantern light like bone. His eyes gleam with unmistakable amusement—and something else, buried deeper. Something dangerous.

“Well,” he continues, grin widening, “this is nostalgic. Sneaking around where you shouldn’t be. Thought you’d have learned by now.”

You swallow. “Move.”

He laughs—short, sharp, delighted. “That’s it? No greeting? No ‘long time no see’?”

“You shouldn’t have noticed me,” you say, keeping your voice even. “Step aside.”

Raian pushes off the wall and strolls closer, utterly unbothered. Each step feels like a tightening noose. “Oh, I noticed,” he says softly. “The second you crossed the perimeter.”

Your breath hitches despite yourself. “Then why didn’t you raise the alarm?” He then stops a few feet away, tilting his head as he studies you—really studies you. Like he’s peeling back layers, comparing the person in front of him to the ghost he’s carried for years.

“Guess I was curious…” he admits. “…why you’d be stupid enough to come here.”

The unspoken words hang heavy between you: “Why you’d come back to me.”

“This isn’t personal.” you say. The lie tastes bitter. “It’s a mission.”

Raian’s smile suddenly disappears. “Everything between us has always been personal.”

The air tightens. Somewhere in the compound, laughter rings out—distant, unaware. You’re painfully conscious of how close you are, how easily this could turn fatal if anyone else appears.

“You should leave,” he says quietly now, amusement gone, and now with that dark voice he’d use when he’s serious. “Before I stop being nice.”