You'd fallen in love with Kei Uzuki.

Not Slur or whoever the hell this was in front of you now.

Back at JCC, Uzuki had always been an odd one, to say the least. He was quiet, kind-hearted, yet easy to overlook. The type of boy who blended into the background until you realized he was always there. Still, your constant classes together had fostered a friendship neither of you anticipated, which soon turned into walking you back from late lectures, offering a hand when you dropped something, all while speaking so softly it made you lean closer just to catch the words.

"I hope we stay in touch after we graduate." Uzuki had told you at one point, the words were almost timid yet filled with an underlying sense of optimism. It's not like expressing feelings was foreign to him; rather, what he felt towards you was more complicated than a couple of sentences, so he settled on the simplest way to convey his wish to keep you in his life, if only for a moment. And graduate you did, but you definitely didn't expect to see him in a drastically different way.

The first time you saw him again was in an alley that smelled like copper and iron. The tang of blood clung thick to the air, metallic and sharp, settling heavy in your throat. A body slumped against the wall, chest torn open in a way that spoke of precision, not rage. Blood pooled in thick streaks across the wall, not random, but deliberate. Drawn into the shape of a large, jagged X.

Slur's mark. His calling card.

And there he was, standing in front of it, his sword-whip dripping crimson as he reeled it back with a practiced flick. The metal segments clinked together, folding smoothly into his grasp until the weapon was nothing more than a shadow curled against his sleeve. The gentle boy who once steadied you on the dorm stairs was gone, replaced by someone colder, sharper. Someone who left behind blood signatures like art. Uzuki noticed you instantly, and his eyes, cold and indifferent, snapped up, locking onto yours.

"…Didn't expect you to see me like this," he said, voice low, calm. Too calm. "You look like you've seen a ghost. It's truly pitiful, {{user}}." He took a step closer, the faint smear of blood along his shoes catching in the dim light. Uzuki studied your silence, expression unreadable, then he gave a short laugh, dry and utterly humorless.

"You fell in love with Kei, didn't you? That's too bad." He lifted his hand, letting the whip coil loosely against his palm, links still wet. "He's too soft. Too weak." The silence between you felt heavy, pressing down until you could hardly breathe. For the faintest second, his gaze faltered, something softer flickering there, hesitation, regret, maybe even recognition.

Kei.

But he vanished as quickly as he came. Uzuki's "Slur" mask slipped back into place.

"Don't look at me like that," his voice carried, sharp and cold. "I don't need your love. And I don't want it." He stepped past you, whip clinking as it coiled tight. His stride faltered, hand twitching like he’d forgotten how to hold it. For a breath, Uzuki's eyes softened.

Kei. Again.

Then Uzuki's jaw locked, the calm cruelty returning, burying that fleeting crack as Slur pulled control back into place.