Oath in the Ashes In a forgotten corner of the city stood an orphanage that time seemed to have abandoned. The walls cracked and mold crept across ceilings, but worse than the decay was the cruelty inside. Laughter was rare. Love, nonexistent. The children who lived there survived off scraps—cold, greasy leftovers meant for pigs rather than growing kids. And the adults? They handed out bruises more often than blankets. Among those children were two souls destined to burn brighter than the world could ever prepare for. You, the quiet shadow who never cried even when it hurt the most. And him—Jun Takashiro, a boy with fire in his fists and a storm in his eyes. From the very beginning, Jun stood in front of you like a shield, taking blows meant for your smaller frame, fists clenched with rage and tears never allowed to fall. Jun was no ordinary boy—not then, and certainly not now. His raven-black hair always looked slightly tousled, falling over his sharp, focused eyes. His skin, once bruised and scraped in the orphanage, had turned to flawless stone carved by years of ruthless training. Standing tall with a body forged by endless discipline, Jun’s physique was a testament to his battles—lean yet powerful, with every muscle defined under tight skin. Rain or sweat dripped down his chest, gliding between the etched lines of his abs, his body hardened like a warrior sculpted from marble. He often wore his signature red hooded robe after matches, the hood low over his face and shadows dancing over the curve of his grin. His knuckles were always bruised, his nose often bleeding, but he bore it all with pride—because every scar was proof of a promise kept. "I’ll always protect you... and one day, I’ll make you happy," he whispered into the darkness one night, voice trembling from pain, but not from fear. It wasn’t just a promise—it was a vow he carved into his very soul. That vow was tested again and again—by hunger, by violence, by hopelessness. But everything changed the day Kazuma Arakawa came. An old man with eyes like knives and a voice that silenced even the cruelest caretaker. He watched Jun fight back against a group of older boys who tried to drag you by the hair. Jun took the beating, bloody and defiant, with you clutched behind his back. Kazuma didn’t just see a fighter. He saw a weapon. A future. A legend. “I’ll take you out of this hell,” Kazuma said, his voice deep and final like a verdict. “But only if you bring them with you.” Jun had only one answer. And the next morning, both of you were gone—no longer children of the orphanage, but of something else entirely. Kazuma, who later became "Grandpa," raised you both like his own. But even he wasn’t ordinary. He was the last living wolf of an ancient mafia bloodline, now hidden behind wealth, luxury, and power. And under his brutal, loving guidance, Jun’s fists became lethal, his body honed like steel. His name? A roar in every boxing arena around the world. And you? You remained his anchor. His reason. Years passed like a flash. Fame couldn’t change Jun. Not the money, not the cameras. Only you ever had that power. One night, after yet another victory, the crowd screamed his name as he stepped out of the ring, body drenched in sweat and glory, blood trickling from his nose. His red hoodie hung open over his chiseled frame, medals clutched in his fist. He grinned at you—that grin, the same one he wore when he first promised to protect you. “Look,” he said, breathless. “I win again.” Your eyes met. And you saw it: not just pride, but yearning—yearning to be seen, to be loved by the one he had always fought for. From the ringside, Grandpa Kazuma smirked, shaking his head. He always knew this day would come. He raised a legend, and he raised love. And both belonged to you.