⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐑𝐞𝐞𝐛 ꩜.ᐟ

The sea waited for you for centuries. Patient. Longing. Tearful.

No soul had been born who could tame its ferocity. The times were divine, rushing to shore without coinciding with him could be a catastrophe. So it forced itself to endure. To tolerate the pain. To tolerate the desire to see him again.

It remained hidden under the wing of a specific family, protected by them on a remote island in Grand Line, for centuries without being disturbed. They passed the word down from parents to children, grandparents to grandchildren. That devil fruit, kept in a locked chest, with its peculiar conch shell shape that glowed in shades of blue and light blue, was not to be consumed.

The fruit would choose its bearer. Like no other, it would sing to attract whoever it desired, until it made them carry an unknown destiny. Anyone who coveted it wrongly would be punished.

And everyone learned to respect it.

You had always been curious. Why was your family the only one who knew about its existence and could take care of it, when there were so many others on the island? Why couldn't anyone else even get close enough to appreciate it? What was known about that devil fruit was passed on by word of mouth. Your aunt had told you about its appearance during a festival in the village, while dancing with laughter, one jump after another, to the rhythm of "don, don, don, don", but she didn't know if it was real either. Someone else had told her about it.

Your grandmother wouldn't let anyone near the old temple on the highest hill on the island. The task of caring for it was relegated to a few women in the family, those who had the gift of hearing. Hearing what? You thought it was nonsense. How could anyone hear a fruit? As a child, you couldn't make sense of it.

But curiosity kept you awake.

And you understood everything at the age of seven.

A festival to an ancient god was being celebrated in the village. Sitting on a bench —a tree trunk cut down by your father—, you admired those present. There it was again. That rhythm. That dance. It was fun, it was playful, it was free. The huge smiles on their faces were something that only that dance could give.

The dance of Nika.

They did it once a month, as if trying to call him, intending him to join in the fun if he saw them, and something inside you told you that this god would do just that. He would join them with a huge laugh. And the party would never end.

But what was happening here was more than just a party. It was a plea. The people of your village and your family believed that he would return to save them. And someone important would come with him.

You shook your head from side to side, playing with the fabric of your white dress when you heard it.

A melancholic voice sang melodies that pressed on your heart. You were too young to understand the longing behind that song, the pain of loss. Its slowness differed from the joy in Nika's rhythm.

You covered your ears, not wanting to hear any more. But it was calling you. It was making you get up from your seat against your will.

Under the watchful gaze of your grandmother, whom you could not see through the sea of people, you made your way towards the forest. The old woman heard the crying in that song, more intense than ever. It was different from what it always whispered to her. Now it was crying out for you.

You followed the path with a grimace. It was lit by small golden lanterns shaped like flowers. Despite your fear of being scolded for entering the forbidden area, you couldn't help but follow that voice. Its broken song gradually changed, becoming a little more cheerful. Enough so as not to break your heart. You wondered if this is what the song of the sirens sounded like, the ones you read about in your book, the ones who lived on gyojin island.

You stopped in front of the temple. How many minutes had it taken you to climb the hill? You had lost track of time while enveloped in those melodies.

Seeing it up close took your breath away. Tall marble pillars surrounded by ivy stood before you. A glass dome revealed the interior of the place, making your blood run cold.

A golden statue of a woman stood in the middle, surrounded by water. Would you sink if you approached it? Or would it be shallow, free to walk towards it? That woman looked up at the sky with her back to you, her arms outstretched, her fingers curved as if touching something.

Was she singing? Could a statue sing? Or was it...? You searched with your eyes until you found it. A chest rested at her feet, surrounded by vines. As if it had never been touched before.

But something in that voice asked you to. Something in that woman's position begged you for something.

You dipped your tiny feet into the water and a sigh of relief escaped from within you when the water only reached your hips. For an adult, it would reach their knees or lower.

You walked across the slimy ground covered in seaweed, pouting in disgust. Your grandmother protected this place, but it seemed she didn't clean it, given its condition.

The singing grew softer as you got closer. The moonlight made the statue look more beautiful, but its golden colour would shine brighter in the sun.

When you reached its feet, which were in front of your face, you raised your hands to the vines, pulling them off one by one. The chest, once freed, looked old. Conveniently, a key lay beside it. You shook your head in confusion. No one had stolen it in centuries, and you had made it there without anyone stopping you. What were they afraid of? It was silly to fear a fruit. Surely it had some foolish power, like the men on the reward posters that arrived every week. There were a few incredible powers, but there were also fruits that seemed bad to you.

You inserted the key into the lock, opening the chest carefully so as not to break it. You widened your eyes in amazement when you saw it. It shone in shades of blue and light blue, shaped like a seashell. So this was what the devil's fruit looked like. You took it in your hands, not knowing that you were being allowed to do so. Not knowing that your destiny was being forged.

Standing by the island's beach, with the celebration behind her, your grandmother smiled softly. The clock was ticking again.

He had already been born and consumed his fruit, and he had chosen you at the same time to accompany him.

With the sudden violence of the sea that night, the people dancing merrily and a little girl spitting in a temple alone, the old woman welcomed the goddess of the sea.

The "Hito Hito no Mi, model: Naia" had chosen its bearer.

Your growth since that night had been quite an adventure. Your grandmother had told you things, like the name of the fruit and where it came from. The reason why your family had protected it for generations and generations finally had an answer. You were direct descendants of Naia, but the goddess was jealous and refused to choose a woman before the time. You didn't know who she was waiting for, and the old woman didn't have a concrete answer. Only old beliefs that had been instilled in her, which she couldn't vouch for as being true.

But if you were there, in front of her, surrounded by fish that seemed to be talking to you, then there was a chance that he was also in another sea.

The longer you lived in the village, the more miracles happened. The famine ceased with the increasing abundance of fish. Your unconscious attracted large fish and beasts from the Grand Line, which were hunted to feed the villagers. They ate through tears, thanking the sun god for his help, without knowing who was really responsible.

Ships began to stop there. After four years, your voice began to attract sailors, bounty hunters, and pirates. With their visits, the families around you were able to support themselves. The imminent improvement in the standard of living among these villagers caught the attention of the world government. An island was rising and should not remain outside their hands, living according to their laws. Abiding by the rules was the best they could do.

However, no one could accept it. The hatred in their hearts consumed them alive. These people were not the kind who wanted to be protected by the marine or receive the light of the world government by paying tribute. No. These people had their beliefs, beliefs that those above despised. Beliefs for which they would seek to silence them.

Your grandmother knew that your devil fruit would bring trouble. If the legends were true, the search for your existence would be relentless.

A woman with the ability to control the sea was an aberration to everyone who admired her. A forbidden existence hidden like a myth.

But myths had an origin and, in turn, someone who tried to destroy them.

As a very young girl, you had no control over the sea. The strong emotions he was unaccustomed to sent him into a frenzy. Your cries stirred up hurricanes, impossible to stop until your heart was calm again. Your anger violently shook the waves, your sudden outbursts calling forth tsunamis.

Their frequency was not something that the world government —who kept their eyes on the island that was suddenly making a name for itself— could ignore. Marines disguised as sailors or ordinary tourists came and went, reporting what they saw. Was that island changing its magnetic field? After centuries of maintaining the same one? Or was something beyond their control happening?

It was after a huge earthquake and a subsequent tsunami, one that was out of the ordinary, with waves so big that they flooded the coast and left the island without a port, that your grandmother made the decision to expel you. CP0 began prowling the area when you were seventeen. They walked around looking at all the women, with instructions to pay special attention to the youngest ones.

Any who showed abnormalities. Any who seemed to interact unnaturally with the sea. Any who talked to fish.

The one who could be the woman the five elders wanted desperately.

Your grandmother, your aunt, and your mother did everything in their power. Sooner or later, those government agents would find the temple to the goddess Naia, confirming the suspicions of the celestial dragons. That temple, that golden statue facing the sun, was the only one in the world.

Those who knew her believed she had died, leaving no trace of her passage through life, a woman who would never set foot in such a rotten place again. But there she was, laughing in their faces, always hidden, always waiting for the right moment to return.

The three women in your family knew that news of such magnitude would not sit well. Everyone was in danger, not just you. And they were willing to face them as long as they could be reunited.

Your mother pulled you by the hand, all of them covering their mouths to stifle their tired gasps. The forest was the village's domain, illuminated in every corner, trees marked to indicate the paths back home. Your aunt carried a bag of clothes and your grandmother led the way.

They came upon a flooded coastline. Four villagers were holding onto tree trunks, pulling on ropes tied to the boat to keep it steady. They had placed two barrels of provisions inside. You looked at everyone in alarm, not knowing what to say, not wanting to leave.

This island was your home. Everyone had watched you grow up. Why did you have to leave everything behind? Just because of an ancient legend that no one knew was real?

The old woman placed her hands on your cheeks after your aunt had wrapped the bag around your body.

"You must flee, child." She whispered.

You shook your head, frightened. Yes, your devil fruit seemed to control the sea, but you had never sailed. You had never gone out into the world. And you would not be going out onto a calm sea. You lived in Grand Line, and out there were fearsome pirates, the yonko sailed those waters.

"It's for your own good. And for the good of the world." She tucked your hair behind your ear with trembling hands. "One day you'll understand."

"I don't want to go." You whispered, looking at your mother pleadingly.

"It is Naia's will." Your grandmother called your attention again. "You, Y/N, must continue living."

Naia, that mythical goddess again. What did it matter if you were her chosen one for something you couldn't understand?

"Lie. Don't talk about your devil fruit. Don't reveal it to anyone. That way you can survive." Your mother's words squeezed your heart.

"Don't worry about us, we'll be fine." Your aunt said with a smile.

"Destiny will bring the two of you together." Murmured the older woman.

Her kisses on your forehead, the calm sea as the villagers lifted you onto the boat, their hands waving in the distance, your uncontrollable crying.

You didn't know how long you had cried as the small boat sailed on its own course. The sea remained calm around you as it carried you as far away as possible from your native island. An island where government agents searched relentlessly for a young woman who fit the description, interrogating and silently murdering those who refused to cooperate.

At some point, your eyes closed after crying for so long, each tear altering the sea around your island, unknowingly embracing the lifeless bodies of many girls you called your friends, as well as those of adults and elderly women. Among them, your family.

All protecting a goddess who would help a new dawn arrive.

Usopp prepared his bait, ready to catch something. They hadn't put anything in the aquarium for days. Luffy had put another shark in, and it had eaten all the fish, leaving them without provisions, without meat. Their captain was more unbearable than ever, and he had only gone a day and a half without eating meat.

He cast his line, humming his song as he tapped his feet. The sun burned his skin, and the sea seemed particularly calm that day. Would he catch anything if no fish came near the worms he had stolen from Robin's garden?

Zoro left his weight on the ground, opening the window of the crow's nest.

"Oi, there's something shining in the water." He announced.

Usopp raised his fishing rod, looking for his binoculars. Nami and Robin put down their magazines and books and stood up.

"Something shiny? Treasure?" Nami asked, smiling.

"I want to see!" Luffy shouted, opening the kitchen door. His rubber arms stretched out to the deck railing, throwing himself towards it to get there faster.

Robin smiled as she watched him jump up and down excitedly. Soon the others arrived, crowding around the railing. Chopper was lifted up by Zoro, who sat him on his shoulder so he could see better. Sanji stood next to them, smoking.

"We have to catch it!" Said Luffy.

"Oi, Luffy, wait." Usopp murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "First we need to see what it is from a distance."

"We can always throw it back into the sea." Added Robin.

"You're so scary!" Shouted Usopp.

"Luffy, bring that shiny thing over here." Ordered Nami to the rubber boy, looking excitedly at the glint in the distance.

The captain's arms stretched out as far as they could, pulling the small boat towards the Sunny Go at a speed that the sea offered no resistance to. Refusing to protect her from him.

"I see barrels!" Chopper shouted.

"Super!" Franky celebrated.

"Will they have food? I hope it's in good condition." Said Sanji.

"I hope it's treasure..." Nami said dreamily, clasping her hands together with a huge smile.

"I hope it doesn't kill us." Usopp lamented, thinking it was a trap.

"We can always throw it back into the sea." Robin repeated.

Luffy blinked, tilting his head to one side. Inside the boat was a girl, sleeping as if she weren't in the Grand Line. He pressed his lips together when he noticed the trail of tears on her cheeks. Her eyelashes were still wet, as if she had never stopped crying, even in her dreams.

"Chopper, we have to help her."

The seriousness in his tone alerted the crew. They looked closely, the sun no longer dazzling their eyes, revealing the figure trembling as she hugged a bag.

"We have to get her on board!" The crew's doctor ran to Franky after Zoro brought him down.

They all worked together without asking any questions yet.

There was a girl in their infirmary. A girl who had suddenly appeared amid those treacherous waters, sleeping as if she didn't care about the danger of her actions. A girl who was burning with fever while the little reindeer placed damp cloths on her forehead.

Sanji made tea for everyone while they waited for news from the doctor, curious about her identity.

"I checked her belongings. There was nothing with her name on it. Just clothes and food." Robin commented.

Nami tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear and sighed.

"All we can do is wait for her to wake up."

"How did she survive?" Murmured Zoro, leaning against the kitchen wall with his arms crossed.

"It's a mystery. Falling asleep in Grand Line with all the pirates around who could have killed her..." Robin shook her head.

"Lucky we found her." Nami acknowledged.

Sanji was holding back, but the soft smile on his face and the multiple turns he made while serving tea told everyone how happy he was with the presence of another woman in the crew. The swordsman insulted him under his breath, earning himself a kick, and then starting a fight.

Everyone ignored them, accustomed to their behaviour. As the hours passed, uncertainty grew among those present. They continued with their activities while you were being treated. All that remained was to wait for you to wake up and tell them about yourself.

You opened your eyes slightly, looking around in confusion. It wasn't your boat. There was no captivating sky above you. There were no waves rocking your body to calm your crying.

You sat up a little on the examination table, leaning on one elbow. The two lamps that illuminated the area provided good lighting. On your left were two small shelves with bottles, their labels showing you the names of their contents. Medicines. Looking to your right, a single desk stood with more medical instruments. Laboratory tubes with different coloured caps, a stone mortar, many books and posters with drawings, from lungs to bones.

But what caught your attention most was the creature sitting in the chair. It looked like a stuffed animal. You had never seen anything like it on your home island.

"Oh! You're awake!" A shrill voice startled you.

Did that stuffed animal talk?

"What are you?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. "Can you talk? Where am I?"

"I'm the doctor for this crew." He climbed onto a stool next to you to examine you.

You seemed to be feeling better. Sanji could prepare something to boost your strength.

"A pirate crew?" You whispered fearfully.

The worst-case scenario was being captured by pirates. You mentally berated yourself for not being more careful. For falling asleep. For not begging harder to stay at home.

"Wait here." Said the little one, adjusting his tiny doctor’s coat as he left what looked like the infirmary.

You found him cute, but you weren’t going to admit it. You had to escape, not succumb to this creature. You found your sandals next to the examination table and put them on. You climbed down, making as little noise as possible, and opened the door again. You found yourself on the deck, its grass making you gasp, but you covered your mouth so as not to be discovered.

You had to survive. You had to hide. That's what your grandmother would have wanted. Your mother. Your aunt. They had all given you the chance to live. You just hoped they were all right.

You ran towards the deck in search of your boat, but growled when you didn't see it.

"Wait! Don't jump!" A female voice shouted behind you.

You turned around fearfully. A beautiful woman with short orange hair was approaching you slowly, careful not to scare you any more.

"I'm Nami. The navigator of this crew." She introduced herself with a sweet smile.

"Am I on a pirate ship?"

"We're not like other pirates." The woman assured you.

"We're good!" Shouted the doctor behind her. "And you shouldn't be out of bed. You could get sick again."

"My angel, allow this cook to be your slave and treat you like the princess you are." Said a man crouching in front of you with a bowl of soup. It smelled good. Did he say slave?

You blinked in confusion.

"Why don't you become my slave and, as your first order, jump off the ship?" Said a man with green hair and two katanas at his waist.

The blond's eyebrow twitched and he turned towards the swordsman, kicking him.

"You're going to scare her." Said a melodious voice. A woman with black hair and bangs looked at you with a sweet gaze.

"You're not going to kill us, are you?" Asked a man with a long nose hiding behind the black-haired girl.

"I thought you were going to kill me."

"Usopp is afraid of cockroaches. You could kill him with that before he tries anything." Teased the orange-haired girl.

"Oi, Nami, why are you telling her that!?"

You watched them interact for a few minutes. They were... funny. Like a little family. They didn't look like the pirates you read about in your books or in the newspaper. The dreaded Rocks D. Xebec, the mighty Whitebeard, the youngest yonko Shanks. They were all intimidating, with powerful crews, but these pirates were strange.

You smiled softly, unaware of the gaze of a certain rubber boy sitting on the lion's head.

His eyes, curious about the girl in front of him, tried to find something he had seen before. Some trace of those tears that soaked your cheeks, as if the pain you carried was greater than you wanted to show. What you hid inside you would one day explode, but until then, until you let him see it, he only wanted one thing from you.

"Join my crew!" He shouted from above. "That way you won't have to go on that little boat."

You looked up, and the air around you seemed unreachable, forbidding you to have it as you lost yourself in that smile, so bright as it melted into the setting sun.

It wasn't like you to trust so quickly. It wasn't like you to wander around with your eyes closed, without trying to figure out other people's intentions. But nothing in his gaze, in their gazes, showed you any hostility or malice. That young man who stood above everyone else as their captain had a calming aura. As if everyone would be fine by his side. As if even the greatest dangers could not disturb them with him by their side.

You knew you could have refused that day. Sailed alone until you found another island. But wherever you went, you would carry the danger with you.

And along with them, you discovered that the danger was represented by their captain.

On your first day after agreeing to join, everyone introduced themselves to you. The doctor was called Chopper, a cute blue-nosed reindeer who loved telling you medical facts, eating cotton candy, and hated the heat. He knew a lot about medicinal herbs and had an incredible dream.

The beautiful black-haired woman was Nico Robin, wanted by the World Government for being the only survivor of Ohara. She was an archaeologist and her knowledge of everything dazzled you. They told you that they had defied the World Government to save her life, and your heart beat faster.

If they knew that CP0 was after you, would they fight for you? Could you be that important to them?

The navigator, Nami, had been part of the crew from the beginning. She liked to buy pretty clothes and treasures. But what fascinated you most was her knowledge of the weather, her ability to anticipate the sea. You didn't need to announce the whispers of those waters if she could interpret them.

The long-nosed guy, Usopp, served as a sniper. His weapon confused you, forcing you to shut your mouth when you saw him use it. He never missed a single shot, always hitting the target. Nami and Robin would bet, and the short-haired girl always won because she trusted him.

The green-haired man was Roronoa Zoro, who had earned a reputation as a pirate hunter. He was serious and slept a lot, but when he laughed, he laughed heartily. He also had a strange obsession with annoying the blond man. The cook with the weird phrases and compliments, Sanji. His meals were a delicacy, and he had taken the time to ask you what your favourite was so he could make it and make you smile.

The man who only wore swimming trunks was the ship's carpenter, Franky. He had built the Sunny Go, and you considered it a work of art. You complimented the aquarium, and the area would possibly become your favourite.

And the captain, Monkey D. Luffy. That boy with his silly rubber devil fruit that made you smile. He was cheerful, playful, and funny. If everyone was here, he must be someone trustworthy.

Everything about him caught your attention.

As the days passed, you allowed yourself to feel comfortable around them. Perhaps this wasn't what your grandmother would have preferred, but if these people were enemies of the world government, then there was no safer place for you and your true identity.

No one could find a faceless girl with forbidden abilities, let alone imagine that she was now a pirate.

You told them what you could about yourself. Saying your name or talking about where you were born was not a challenge. These people did not judge you or pry into your past, not if it did not directly affect them. You discovered that they tolerated being mocked, but they did not tolerate anyone talking to or touching their friends. It was a silent respect for one another, a fondness that went beyond understanding. They were friends, they were where they needed to be. Where they belonged.

And just as everyone had their role in the crew, you couldn't really find yours.

They didn't force you to learn how to fight like an expert, but they wanted to teach you the basics so you could defend yourself.

You couldn't reveal the truth about your devil fruit. You had only mentioned that you had one, but you didn't know its powers. You had never used it to attack, as you had never been forced or needed to do so. You had never seen what it limited you to and what it promised you. With the "Hito Hito no Mi, model: Naia", you could only hear fish and sea creatures. And there was something else. Something you had discovered that embraced you in your darkest moments.

The addition of Brook —a skeleton who played various instruments and sang, which almost gave you a heart attack when you saw him— helped a lot to maintain a façade. His devil fruit had worked after he died. Everyone assumed that yours would awaken when the time was right.

Living day to day, joke after joke, disaster after disaster, was relaxing you.

You played with water pistols with everyone, shared clothes with Nami and Robin (and at night you spoiled each other with face masks and massages), you laughed at Sanji and Zoro's fights, rejected the cook's attempts to take you on a date, played guessing games about what was inside Chopper's laboratory tubes to make him smile, gave Brook ideas for songs while you drank tea together, joined in Franky and Usopp's shooting competitions, betting on who would hit the target. Always trusting the sniper, winning berries that you shared with Nami.

Luffy taught you your little training sessions to learn how to defend yourself. More than once he found you staring at him blankly, thinking you didn't understand how to throw a good punch, when in reality you were just mesmerised. Enchanted by his joy. By his smile. By his disposition. By his beauty.

"You have to bring one arm back and then push with the other! Like this!" He said, frowning in concentration.

Nami and Robin watched them, both leaning against the railing on the upper floor, outside the room the three of you shared.

"Luffy always gets like this when he decides to take on a pupil..." Sighed the navigator. "Luffy, Y/N isn't a kung fu dugong!"

The rubber boy looked at you.

"You're not going to make it?" He lamented, lowering his arms. "Zoro! Lend her one of your katanas!"

"No way." Muttered the swordsman without opening his eyes, trying to sleep.

Preparing your mind and body to improve your defence, those weak blows you used to deliver, was something you never imagined you would have to do when you lived in your village. Keeping up with your captain and the crew's cook was torture. Kicks to the head, hips, legs. Punches to the chin, stomach, nose. They were trying to teach you something you could use in a complex situation, if you didn't have time to hide. Which seemed silly to you.

Luffy's dream was to become the pirate king.

A noble dream. A dream for the brave.

He talked to you about freedom, about how the freest man in the world would be the one who became the pirate king, and you listened to him. He would sit next to you after training, when Sanji left them alone to prepare a snack at sunset. The rubber boy talked about everything and nothing. The words flowed from him as if from an inexhaustible source.

In a short time, you got to know his older brother, Ace, who, impressively, was the commander of Whitebeard's second division. A certain Dadan who raised them both alongside some mountain bandits. A young woman named Makino who always brought them clothes and taught them manners. His grandfather Garp, who served as a vice admiral in the marine and always wanted to force him to join. The yonko Shanks, who was the original owner of his straw hat, with whom he had a mission to return it when he surpassed him. And his brother Sabo, who died as a child and whom he missed madly.

Luffy talked and talked, filling your silences, smiling at you when you said something. Patiently waiting for you to talk about yourself. Eagerly waiting for you to open up. For your freedom by his side. Because that was what he wanted most for his friends. For them to be free.

But what chance of freedom could he give them if he was suffering so much?

His reality hit him like cold water. He was there, and yet he wasn't.

His world was falling apart.

He had lost them all in Sabaody. He believed he was strong, he believed he could overcome anything with enough courage, with enough confidence. If he had them by his side, he could overcome anything that came his way. He would fight for his dream, for the dreams of his friends, for the dreams of the people he met along the way.

He would do everything possible to put a smile on their faces.

So why were they determined to take his smile away? Why did they make them disappear before his eyes? Why did they let him smile broadly when he saved his brother, only to force him to hold him in his arms as he whispered his last words? Why did they have to kill Ace? Why?

Luffy was devastated. Those who were present when he awoke heard his cries of agony in the jungle. His pleas for Ace. His questions about his whereabouts.

He banged his body against the trees. His head against the rocks. He cried uncontrollably, asking, begging, pleading. A soft "thank you for loving me" repeated over and over in his mind, breaking him as he hugged himself.

It was Jinbe who pulled him out of the constant spiral his thoughts were caught up in. The doubts that gnawed at him were stagnating. Luffy wanted to be strong. He wanted to be strong enough not to lose anyone else. He wanted to be strong enough to carry his brother's will with him so that one day he could look up at the sky and smile at him, showing him that he had succeeded. He had become the king of pirates.

The news of Whitebeard's and his commander's deaths spread around the world. It received positive reactions from those who feared them and had been harmed by them. Fear spread throughout the territories that had been protected by this powerful crew. But those who suffered the most were the small family who had raised and watched these brothers grow up in Foosha.

Holding the newspaper in your hands, you read and reread the news. Just like everyone else in the crew, you wanted to be by his side. You could feel where he was. The sea whispered it to you, and you were impulsive. You never measured your actions. You never said enough to yourself. So you stole a small boat on that desolate island where you had ended up after their separation in Sabaody.

You let the sea guide you without a log pose, leading you to your captain. After a few days, you ignored the new newspaper announcing that Luffy had returned to the scene of the tragedy. Two years. You would all be reunited in two years. But you couldn't not go to his side.

You wanted to give him something to hold on to. Something that would give him calm and strength while everyone waited for their reunion.

The sea beasts cleared your path and escorted you somewhere. It took you three days to reach a jungle island. You got off your boat, nervously smoothing your white shirt. You trusted the sea. It wouldn't be wrong. But if Luffy was in this place, how would you get to him without being killed by one of those beasts growling in the distance? Sanji had taught you a few kicks, and your captain a few punches, but you were still weak.

This island was covered in vegetation. The trees stood proudly, as tall as if they were competing with each other to be the first to reach the sunlight. The plants with strange leaves were striking, to the point that something in your mind told you not to touch them. And in the distance, threatening to erupt, you could see three volcanoes.

You entered the jungle, startled by the sound of quick, heavy footsteps running towards you. You looked to your side and your scream echoed through the trees.

A larger-than-normal tiger was approaching you, baring fangs as long as your arm. You froze in fear, falling to the grass as you closed your eyes when it lunged to bite.

"Young lady? I don't know how you got here, but this is no place for beautiful girls."

You opened your eyes when death did not come, and instead there was an elderly man adjusting his glasses in front of you, smiling sideways. The tiger lay between you both, unconscious.

"Old man Rayleigh! Where are you?"

The speed with which you stood up impressed the man in front of you, whose name was Rayleigh. Rayleigh? You looked at him again. He closed his eyes, a gentle smile on his face, crossing his arms. You had read about him. You had read everything about the pirate king and his crew.

"Huh? Y/N?" You looked behind the dark king and there he was. Your captain, completely bandaged, looking at you in surprise. "Y/N!"

His movements were, all in all, normal. He didn't use his powers as he ran towards you and wrapped you in his arms. He seemed to be careful with his body, and he certainly needed to be.

"What are you doing here? How did you get here? How are the others? We were supposed to meet in two years!" His excited voice as he pulled your body close to his using what little strength he had devastated you.

You hugged him back, careful not to disturb any areas where the injury was more severe. You felt a slight tremor in his body as he asked a thousand questions, not giving you time to answer.

Rayleigh watched the two of you thoughtfully, Jinbe joining him at his side, having felt a sudden calling.

"I came by boat." You whispered.

"The little boat? That's dangerous." Said Luffy.

"Young lady, you crossed the Calm Belt and overcame all those sea beasts in a simple boat? You must be very strong." Rayleigh inquired.

"It's not that." Jinbe wanted to say, but the words reached no one but you in your mind.

Your eyes quickly found him, and he smiled at you.

"Oi, Y/N, Y/N, are you going to stay?" Luffy asked with a huge smile, capturing your full attention.

"No. I'd be interrupting whatever is going on here."

"You need to train, you're still weak." He teased.

"I'm not!" You complained.

But you were. The right-hand man of the Pirate King and the first son of the sea smiled amusedly. One, knowing the whole story. And the other, having grown up with a legend.

The sun and the sea belonged to each other. And the sun and the sea were unknowingly facing each other.

"If you don't mind, I have a proposal for you, miss Y/N." Said the gyojin.

Luffy and you stopped arguing and looked at him.

"I would like to train you in gyojin karate."

"Gyojin karate? I'm bad with my fists." You muttered, embarrassed.

"That would be great, Jinbe!" Said Luffy, picking his nose. "But doesn't it only work with gyojin? Will she turn into a mermaid?"

"She'll make it work better than anyone else." Said Rayleigh, walking towards a campfire. "I'll give you a month to talk and for Luffy to recover. Then you'll leave with Jinbe. Is that alright with both of you?"

Luffy nodded, dragging you by the hand towards the campfire.

In a month, he and you grew closer. You discovered all kinds of beetles, a hobby of his that you loved. You made them fight, betting on which one would win, groaning in frustration when you lost. You could never beat him when he had the advantage of knowledge over you.

You fought over the food Rayleigh hunted, receiving teasing from the adult who quickly grew fond of you. In his eyes, you were a sweet girl who needed to bring out that hidden strength. Jinbe only scolded Luffy when he bit your hand before you could take some meat.

It caught your attention how in the mornings your captain was a cheerful boy, giving a huge smile to anyone, but at night he would break down. You slept separately. Rayleigh used to cover him with his cape, and Jinbe covered you with his. But when no one was looking, when they went to the island's shore to talk in private, Luffy would move.

He sought refuge in your arms. He didn't ask for permission. He didn't ask questions. He didn't speak. All you felt were his bandaged arms wrapped around your waist and his face against your chest. If tears wet your shirt and silent sobs shook his body, you said nothing. You stroked his hair silently until he fell asleep, and only after making sure he was, did you sleep yourself.

It was the morning after a nightmare woke him up that you made your decision.

You had done this three or four times in your life. You weren't sure you could do it, but that was the only reason you had visited Rusukaina.

On the shore, you took off your sandals and put your feet in the water. The weakness of seawater, which must bother all users of the devil's fruit, never bothered you. When they said it was an anomaly, this was why.

You stretched your hand out over the water and it rose just ten centimetres. You clenched it into a fist and opened it again. Fifteen centimetres. You closed it again and the water fell, splashing as it formed a puddle. A puddle in the sea. The water was mirrored, confirming your success.

"How can you be there if you ate a devil fruit?"

You looked up, frightened.

Luffy looked at you confused, his head tilted to one side and his lips pursed.

"You didn't eat one then?"

"Luffy..."

"I saw you lift the water."

"It must have been your imagination." You said, smiling nervously.

"No. Earlier on the Sunny Go, I saw you attract the fish. I thought it was Camie, but Camie doesn't eat her friends."

You remained silent.

"It must be great to be able to swim with a devil fruit!" He laughed as he approached you. "What were you doing with the water? Something like fium and splash!"

You scratched the back of your neck while the bandaged boy moved his hands in exaggerated movements. That was just how he was. And you were becoming more attached to him than usual. The way he explained things with the sounds they made made you smile.

"If I tell you, it will be a secret between us."

"Are you going to show me your treasure?" He asked, his eyes sparkling.

"Something like that."

You took his hand, pulling him close to you. You both looked out at the puddle in the sea, so much like a mirror.

With the end of the month and the promise to meet again in two years, you parted ways. The truth about your devil fruit was kept by your captain, who smiled happily at learning more about you. Happy at how little by little you were opening up to them. To him.

He begged you for different tricks with water, bursting into laughter when the sea water weakened him. He understood why Jinbe had to be the one to train you, eager to know how strong you would be in two years. He was saddened when, at night, he no longer had your warmth by his side and your caresses on his hair to soothe his pain and trauma.

But he took refuge in your gift.

That puddle you had created in the sea was trapped in a seashell. You had taught him how to take the enchanted water out and put it back in, with no limit on its use.

He believed it was the best thing in the world after his hat, his brothers, and his crew.

His lonely nights were filled with laughter by the sea. Laughter that had previously only existed in his memories, but which he could now hear and see. The puddle formed mirages, reflecting his memories.

He saw Ace. He saw Sabo. He saw the three of them running through Mount Colubo. Hunting, playing, fighting. He cried at everything he witnessed. Just hearing his brothers being happy, Sabo counting the points in their training sessions, Ace teasing him for being weak, his taunts at seeing his older brother embarrassed when receiving compliments from Makino. It all made his heart ache.

The two years passed more quickly than the crew had expected. The strength they had all gained, their new skills and their new appearances were something to be appreciated.

Your training with Jinbe on a remote island in order to hide your identity had been laborious. You were good at gyojin karate. Your devil fruit responded to you with ease now. You could defend yourself and attack without relying on others, but the adult had told you that you still had a long way to go. The Hito Hito no Mi would not stop there. You still had to awaken it. You still had to learn more with it, without limiting yourself. You could do anything you could imagine with enough determination.

You smiled amusedly when you saw Nami sitting at the bar, drinking alone. You approached her from behind, hugging her and whispering in her ear.

"Are you free tonight?"

The woman, now with long hair, shuddered when she recognised the voice and turned around with a smile.

"Y/N!" Her arms wrapped around you in a big hug. "It's been so long! You look amazing!"

"You look beautiful, Nami." You said, sitting down next to her with a smile.

"Ladies, would you like me to buy you a drink?"

You both turned towards the voice with disinterest, your expressions instantly changing when you recognised it. Usopp was smiling, looking more confident than ever. Nami and you rushed to hug him, starting to talk about everything the three of you had done in those two years. You talked a little about your training, saying that you were now good at karate, proud of your attacks.

As the minutes passed, you met up with the others again.

The Sunny Go was still in the same place you left it, without a single scratch. Seeing most of the crew filled your heart with joy. Those people who had welcomed you with open arms two years ago were finally in front of you again.

Franky whistled and complimented the beautiful women in front of him. His appearance had changed a lot since the past, but he was approached by Usopp, who looked at him excitedly and asked all sorts of questions. Chopper, wearing a new hat and looking cuter than ever, jumped around and hugged Robin excitedly. He had missed everyone dearly. Robin, more beautiful than ever with her long hair, talked about her days with the Revolutionary Army.

Everyone looked healthy, but above all, they looked happy. Happy to be back where they belonged.

But someone was missing.

And just thinking about seeing him again made your heart race wildly inside your chest, wanting to escape.

"I can't wait to see how much Luffy has changed since last time!" Usopp exclaimed with a smile from ear to ear. "I'm so excited to see him!"

"Me too." Said Robin.

You nodded silently, smiling fondly. When the assumption was made that he might have gotten himself into trouble, Chopper offered to go find the three remaining members. The moment the little one left, an irreplaceable presence fell from above.

Brook had left behind his life as a world-renowned musician to return to his beloved friends. They all welcomed him with smiles.

"And I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful…" Commented the skeleton, looking at the three women. "Well… Two years have passed."

He sat down on a barrel and a few strings of his guitar resonated in the air.

"Would you all be so kind and show me your panties?"

"No way!"

Nami kicked him away, while Robin and you laughed.

"Oi! Guys!"

You looked up just as his voice reached your ears. Your big smile matched those of the others, but the sparkle in your eyes hid the longing in your heart, those feelings that had blossomed when you spent a month together, completely alone, sleeping in each other's arms every night. Those feelings you tried to fight, repeating in your mind like a mantra that they would pass if you didn't see him, breaking down when you dreamed of his smile or when you thought of his reaction to seeing you again.

You stayed behind the others with a sudden blush on your cheeks.

You had never seen him without his multiple bandages. And now there he was, stepping onto the deck of the Sunny Go while greeting everyone, wearing an open red shirt that revealed that huge scar.

Luffy had gained muscle. He looked stronger. More confident. And yet, you could see that he was the same as always, that his strength and confidence were centred on the people around him.

The rubber boy looked for you, smiling when he saw you.

Neither of you spoke, at least not out loud, pretending that nothing had happened between you.

The journey to Fishman Island had been quite an adventure. Seeing the underwater world left you speechless. Holding onto the railing, you admired the different schools of fish that surrounded the ship from time to time, circling twice before swimming away. You wanted to reach out and feel them against your skin, but that would have exposed you. The sea water did not weaken you, and the crew knew you had an “unused” devil fruit.

"I think they're greeting you." You looked to your side, to that warm presence.

Luffy was looking at a school of pink fish that had come up to your face to look at you from the other side of the bubble.

"Yes?" You said, amused.

"We could eat them."

"Don't even think about it." You scolded him.

"But you're not a mermaid!"

"But they talk to me. They're friends."

"Friends aren't for eating." He muttered, pressing his lips together.

You giggled admiringly at the little pout he made as his stomach growled. That soft sound from you disturbed the sea animals around the Sunny Go, who were happily swirling around.

"Are there always so many fish? How cool!" Said Usopp, standing next to you.

You snuggled up to Luffy a little, pretending not to know anything. Luffy moved his mouth into a pout to one side, also pretending not to know.

"You're bad at lying." You whispered.

"I'm not." He whispered back.

You laughed, leaving him with Usopp.

Fishman Island was a dreamlike place. Your devil fruit seemed comfortable there, and the mermaids and gyojin looked at you excitedly.

The powerful goddess of the sea, Naia, stood before them.

The legend told for generations spoke of how she was always accompanied by a man. A clingy man who never left her side. A playful man who always made her laugh. A selfish man who never refrained from looking at her with love and wanting her for himself.

That man was the sun god.

They said that when they separated, the goddess cried so much that her tears disturbed the sea. The catastrophe caused by the forced breakup of their love made her sleep for centuries. And at some point, when the sun rose again, she would wake up.

Mothers and children never stopped talking about how they, the inhabitants of Fishman Island, would be the first to recognise her. After all, Naia was a kind of mother to that race.

Everyone wondered who the man accompanying you would be.

Nami and Robin watched amused as the little mermen, mermaids, and gyojin children clung to you shamelessly, asking you to play with them. You had no idea how to refuse. Throughout the banquet, you were here and there, performing water tricks hidden from your crew, entertaining the little ones who were excited by the slightest thing you did.

Jinbe, happy to see your progress and how you were doing in the water, smiled as he drank his sake.

Everyone was having a good time. Everyone except for a rubber boy who occasionally remembered that you weren't by his side and, capriciously, pouted. He calmed down again when they gave him meat, enjoying the party.

You sat down next to him, exhausted. You didn't know what other tricks to do for those children. You took a sip of sake, on the verge of spitting it out when another gyojin child came up in front of you.

"Oi, kids, she's mine for now." Said Luffy, frowning and taking a bite of meat.

You blushed, trying to drink the sake faster. Robin raised an eyebrow at his words, giving the orange-haired woman beside her an inquiring look. They both knew how possessive the rubber boy could be. His hat and his friends were equally important to him. But that phrase… That tone was different.

The impact his words could have on one's life or day was foreign to Luffy. Noticing that what he unconsciously said brought a revolution was not something he cared about.

He continued as if nothing had happened.

And so, his normal behaviour over the following days came as no surprise to anyone. The navigator and the archaeologist watched you both closely, knowing that there was something else going on between you.

Even though your captain sat next to you at breakfast, fighting with you over the portions you hadn't eaten yet (something he would do with anyone), there was something strange about it. The natural way you would slap his hand and growl at him. The way he would bite your hand hard, making you cry out. They did not remember the two of you being so close before Sabaody, two years ago.

You had not had time to develop such a friendship.

And it did not seem like a simple friendship.

One night, when you hadn't yet come to your room to sleep with them, they talked.

"Seriously, if those two are a couple and they didn't tell us..." Whispered Nami.

"I don't think they are. In fact, I think that's where they're headed." Robin refuted.

"If Luffy feels something for her, he won't notice." Growled the navigator, burying her face in her pillow.

The black-haired woman smiled as she sat on her own bed.

"We just have to give them time." She murmured.

"We have to keep an eye on them."

"Without interfering." Robin concluded.

Island after island you visited in the future, day after day that passed, both women decided to give you privacy, paying attention only during dinners. As if reviewing the day, looking for some sign of progress.

It was amid the heat of the flames and the volcanoes about to erupt in Punk Hazard that Robin noticed the first detail: Luffy talked to you like he didn't talk to anyone else.

The heat was unbearable, you could barely stand that kind of hell, ignoring that your captain now looked like a centaur and shouted excitedly that he liked having four legs. If you looked closer, you noticed that the ones at the back, which had just been attached, were barely working. They flew through the air because Luffy's legs did all the work.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead for the fourth time when the smiling boy approached you. He leaned over to you, whispering in your ear.

"Why don't you make something like a sphere of water and hydrate yourself?"

"I can't. There's no source of water nearby." You whispered.

"Your sweat."

You parted your lips, not believing what he had said. Use your sweat? And why was he looking at you like that? With his brow slightly furrowed, as if he had said the most serious, intelligent and obvious thing in the world. You smiled amusedly, patting his shoulder.

Robin noticed it again when all of you arrived on the other side of the lake, where the island became wintry. The small group was shivering from the cold, freezing after falling into the water. The archaeologist sighed as she felt her body warm up, turning to check that everyone was okay, raising her eyebrows briefly in surprise.

Her captain was wrapping a coat around your body, as if it were a practised movement. Neither of you knew that Luffy had actually watched others do this and wanted to try it himself.

Because that's what people who loved someone else did, right? Give them a coat so they would never be cold. Rayleigh had done it for him when they trained together. Hancock had lent him hers to get to Sabaody.

In his mind, if you cared about someone, you should give them a coat.

Although he knew very well why he only wanted to give it to you.

During the banquet, when you walked away to comfort Chopper, who was frightened by Trafalgar Law, the two women sat down to exchange information. Nami hadn't seen anything unusual, so she was surprised to hear about her captain's actions towards you.

The navigator became frustrated when she couldn't stay in Dressrosa, feeling like she was missing out on everything. Robin promised to keep her informed when they met again.

And so she did.

You had signed up with him for the coliseum tournament, wearing one of the many gladiator outfits. Luckily, you had been placed in a different block from Luffy, saving you from a difficult fate. It wasn't time for your competition yet when Zoro came looking for the two of you.

The urgency with which you began searching for the exit made you anxious. Outside, it would soon be chaos, but the thought of Luffy abandoning one of the few physical reminders he had of his brother made your heart ache. You wished you could get it for him, but he had forbidden you to do so. If he left, you would go with him.

You stopped in your tracks for a few seconds when you realised there was nowhere to escape. Encountering Bartolomeo and Bellamy only confirmed your suspicions. It was all a trap and you were trapped in the coliseum, only he knew the way out.

"Luffy senpai, what will happen to the Mera Mera no Mi?" Asked the green-haired man, staring at the wall.

"The lives of my comrades are more important."

You bit your lower lip. A physical reminder of Ace that he couldn't have. A physical reminder that would give him a glimpse of his time in the world, something that would show him that he was there. You could stay in the coliseum without any problems. Win it, take it away in its chest, keep it safe, and run away with it until you could give it to Luffy...

Luffy tugged on your little finger without looking at you to pull you out of your thoughts. Bartolomeo talked non-stop, still facing the wall, about how he had always planned to win it for him. Because he admired him. He admired the whole crew and would do anything for any of you, but especially for the young man next to you.

You turned to look back when approaching footsteps interrupted you. You frowned at the man. He was dressed like a noble would be. And he wore a custom hat.

"I won't let you keep the Mera Mera no Mi, Straw Hat Luffy."

"What are you talking about, idiot?" Bartolomeo growled, walking towards him. "I don't know who you think you are, but to you he is Luffy senpai. Respect him!"

The green-haired man continued talking, trying to intimidate him, but that man was not fazed. He was calm, not taking his eyes off the boy you loved. You began to frown.

"I've known all that for a long time." Said the man, pushing Bartolomeo away.

You stood in front of Luffy, trying to protect him when he started to approach. Your right hand took a familiar gyojin karate stance, and something in the blond's gaze seemed to sparkle in recognition. The rubber boy stood in front of you again, hating that you were protecting him.

But what happened next was something neither of you were prepared for. You stepped aside, your lower lip trembling, unable to interrupt them.

You could only watch your rubber boy crying as he hugged him. His sobs were loud, letting out more than he had allowed himself to do at your side. He apologised. He repeated to the blond that everything was fine and that he shouldn't apologise. The older one thanked him for staying alive.

And you were broken, thanking whoever for this joy in his life.

Living two years of his life believing that he had lost his two older brothers must have been the greatest torture.

In Zou, despite the situation they had to face in Big Mom's territory, Nami and Robin made a space for themselves.

"So, his brother is the second in command of the Revolutionary Army?" The navigator whispered.

Robin nodded. She had kept that secret for two years.

"Sabo noticed something too."

"What?"

"I don't know what happened between the three of them, but when Luffy and Y/N were sleeping after the battle..."

"Separately?" Whispered Nami.

"Yes and no. Luffy was in bed and Y/N was holding his hand, sitting on the floor."

The navigator nodded thoughtfully, waiting for her to continue.

"Sabo said he liked his little brother's girlfriend."

Nami's eyes widened in surprise.

As if Zoro and Franky hadn't heard the revolutionary's conversation too. Now you had two more pairs of eyes watching you from afar.

As night fell, you yawned relaxed in bed. You couldn't be at peace for long. Your stomach churned at the thought of Luffy going to the territory of a yonko without you. It calmed you to think that the friends he was going with were good and trustworthy. Bringing Sanji back was essential.

You couldn't imagine your days without him in the kitchen, occupying every corner and filling the room with his twists and compliments.

The blanket was lifted carefully and arms wrapped around your waist.

"Luffy?" You whispered.

"Mhm."

Your heart skipped a beat. Should you put one hand on his hair and the other on his back like you used to? Should you tell him to go back to his room? To his bed? And not feel his warmth. Not feel his heartbeat. Not comfort him in silence. Since you saw each other again, you hadn't slept together.

"Y/N?" He whispered, resting his chin on your chest. "You must stroke my hair."

His demanding tone, trapped in a pout, made you giggle. He relaxed under your touch. He hadn’t wanted to bother you when you saw each other again, but he had missed this. Your fingers in his hair, the gentle circles traced on his back, waking up without you leaving him.

You had stolen his heart in a month, and he wasn't doing anything about it.

"Sorry." He murmured, his cheek resting on your chest. His tone didn't seem to regret whatever he was regretting in the slightest.

"Why are you apologising?"

"I gave Sabo your gift. The seashell." He whispered without looking at you. "I thought he would need it more than I did."

You smiled, resisting the urge to kiss his forehead.

"It’s okay. I can make you another one if you want."

Luffy didn't say what he was thinking. He knew you would make those magical pools for him if he asked, without needing a seashell. Next time, he wanted to show you everything he had to show.

But that would have to wait.

Wano was unlike anything you had ever seen before.

The suffering of the people in this village made your blood boil. Poor people had nothing to eat, and their water was contaminated. Seeing them live dehydrated, with sick children and rumbling stomachs, pushed you to your limit.

Hiding your identity would be difficult in this country. They needed you, so you allowed yourself to do something in secret. The gentle touch of your hands began to purify the water of the river of Ebisu, the pollution seeping into your bones. You didn't mention it to anyone, it was an experiment. You wanted to know your limits.

The flowing water was clean, perfect for the children, elderly and adults in the area. It was the little you could do while enduring the pollution. You had to find a way to expel it from within you without causing havoc. Throwing it away and contaminating plants, the land for future crops or the sea itself disgusted you.

But maybe, enduring it was your mistake.

Perhaps if you had gone against your principles and stopped trusting Luffy's words, those that promised to save this country, you would not be suffering now. But it was impossible for you not to do so. It was impossible for you not to trust him. You knew he would succeed, because he never lied. He worked hard for what he set out to do.

He was like sunshine in the lives of those who knew him.

You tolerated the contamination in your bones during the battles in Onigashima, but weeks had passed since you received it and your body began to take its toll at the worst possible moment.

You could only hear Nami and Usopp's screams when you stood in front of them. The three of you had a little girl with you. Otama was Luffy's adoration, and putting her in danger was something you would never forgive yourself for. The powers of your devil fruit did not respond in time to counter the threatening attack of the yonko Big Mom, an attack that was aimed at your friends.

The "heavenly fire" struck your body, its impact propelling it and slamming it against the walls. That homie, Prometheus, pushed your body wall to wall, breaking them one by one as if he were on a mission. As if he wanted to kill someone from the straw hat crew.

You spat out a little blood when the fire became more intense. It was burning your torso and arms. If you moved your fingers slightly, you didn't have the strength to call on the sea water, nor to send Prometheus backwards.

A song reached your ears. You opened your eyes slightly, meeting the gaze of the homie, so threatening and sinister. You smiled slightly, knowing you would be safe.

That soft intonation, almost as if a mother were tucking her beloved child into bed, could not be heard by anyone else present on Onigashima. Naia's song was exclusively for you, only heard on special occasions. The first time you heard it, you consumed her fruit. And this time, everything was a mystery.

"Y/N!"

Was that cry from Usopp or Nami? You couldn't see them. You could only watch Prometheus rage at your smile.

A gasp escaped from within you as the force of his attack tripled. The other homies joined him, Hera and Napoleon, carrying you through the hard rock wall.

A beep stunned your ears.

Your body fell from a height impossible to calculate. The abyss drew you into its darkness, and you could do nothing but embrace it.

The severity of your injuries left you with no strength to scream. To call for help. To call out to anyone.

Luffy, your friends, the people of Wano who trusted you. Was this your end? Was this Naia's will, for which you had been expelled from your native island? Did you really have to die like this?

The water engulfed you as you hit hard, sinking you to the depths.

"Announcement to all of Onigashima!"

Bao Huang's shout echoed in every corner. The fighting didn't stop, but everyone was paying attention. Something had changed.

"A member of the straw hat crew has been defeated!"

Usopp growled, wiping away his tears in despair. He felt useless. He should have taken the attack, not let you cover him. He couldn't do anything because of the fear. He couldn't do anything to stop you from falling. Nami hugged Otama, sobbing hard, apologising to Luffy over and over again even though her captain wasn't in front of them. How could she explain to him that she let the woman he loved be killed right in front of his eyes? Everyone's friend? Another straw hat.

"Y/N has been killed by Big Mom-sama!"

At different points on Onigashima, the crew was moved. Different reactions crossed their faces. Anger, sadness, regret. Some, like Chopper and Brook, shouted through their tears that you couldn't have died. That Bao Huang was lying. Others, like Zoro and Sanji, silently continued to fight. You were just as stubborn as Luffy, whatever had happened to you, you wouldn't stop there. Jinbe stopped dead in his tracks as Robin hugged Chopper, looking for something to hold on to before her thoughts consumed her mind.

Luffy's heart scratched at his chest as he was forced to hold back.

He wanted to run to the edge of the terrace. He wanted to look down. He felt the need for his longing to become one with the sea despite his inability to swim. And he felt you. The soft beating of your heart, how weak your pulse was, and how calm the waves were. Could you drown if you were the sea itself? Could your wounds condemn your soul to an irreversible fate?

He clenched his fists, unflinching. One mistake, one moment of weakness, would end everyone's life.

For some strange reason, the news from Bao Huang did not affect him like it did the others, who were crying incessantly.

Luffy trusted you, even when his observation haki could no longer sense your heartbeat.

You had spent a month together. You had slept together. You had shared and fought over food. You had cared for his mind and his nightmares without him asking. You had listened to his whole story and his dreams, while opening up about yours only to him. You had been one of the reasons he was standing there today, fighting.

He trusted you. He trusted that you would be okay.

If your origin was the sea, then you would return to it. And the sea would do its thing to bring you back.

Because you belonged by his side, in a silent agreement that neither of you would break.

In the depths, hundreds of fish and sea creatures surrounded your lifeless body, giving you space, shy to be near their goddess. Your outstretched arms allowed them to see you. The burns on your torso and neck continued to bleed, despite the water's attempts to soothe them. The pollution tolerated for weeks drained away little by little, oozing from your body until it gathered into a sphere.

"Nika, you've got yours!"

"Oi, Luffy! That's my food!"

The voices, clearly reproachful, echoed among those present under the sea.

"Naia! Come jump!"

"Y/N, let's play something!"

A heartbeat.

"Nika, stop moving, you're annoying."

"Luffy, I can't sleep if you move around so much. Go to your bed."

Another heartbeat.

"Naia is mean."

"Y/N is mean, she wouldn't let me eat her food."

Fire ravaged Onigashima. Everyone began to gather in one place, desperately searching for a solution. The captain of the straw hat pirates continued to fight Kaido, filling the atmosphere with anxiety. No member of the alliance wanted to hear any more bad news.

"Even if Straw Hat-ya wins, we'll all die in the fire." Said the captain of the heart pirates. "We have to find a way to put it out."

Nami took a few steps towards the centre, standing next to Marco as some surfaces began to give way.

The sudden tremor in the floor frightened everyone. Several fell to the floor, breathing heavily amid the flames and two powerful presences fighting on the terrace. The navigator held Otama tightly in front of her.

"An earthquake? How is that possible up here?" She said, confused.

"This isn't normal. Something's happening." Robin drew some minks towards the centre with her powers.

"Is Straw Hat provoking it?" Kid growled.

"No..." Law said. "He's still fighting Kaido."

"I sense another presence-yoi."

"It’s not Luffy or Kaido? What’s going on? Robin!" Chopper hugged the archaeologist, crying.

"There’s something in the sea!"

The scream of one of the beast pirates alarmed their opponents, with Law being the first to look into the hole you had made in the wall before dying. His crew had been on the Polar Tang at the moment you fell, but according to their reports, it was impossible to reach your body. A blue sphere surrounded you and the sea beasts threatened to attack them. They could have killed his friends, but something was holding them back. The waves battered his submarine, sending it away every time it approached where you were supposed to be.

One by one, they took clumsy steps to look through the hole, at a considerable distance, afraid of falling. Most of the straw hats did not want to see what was left after your death. The pain in their hearts could not be revealed, and their tears could not be shed. Not until it was all over.

The waves crashed into each other with fury, their directions unnatural. Not even the weather in the New World could explain something like that. Nami left Otama next to a sleeping Zoro, holding onto the wall to get a closer look.

"The water is receding." She whispered. "Everyone, stay in the centre!"

"Oi, oi, Nami, the waves can't reach up here, why are you worried?" Asked Usopp.

"Because of that thing that's taking shape."

The metres receded by the sea rose up in a wave. A wave almost two thousand metres high, immovable. And in its centre, there was a figure. A woman created from water, rivalling a giant in size.

"We won't get out of here alive." Cried Usopp.

"Robin-chan, Nami-swan, I'll protect you."

"Sanji! Me too!" Chopper whimpered.

"She looks like..." Law whispered.

"That's Y/N!" Jinbe shouted.

The entire crew's eyes widened before they began screaming and crying.

"Monster!" Usopp exclaimed upon seeing the figure.

"What is that thing, it's scary!" Nami cried.

"Y/N-chan had that kind of power all along?" Sanji shouted, leaning further out of the hole.

"I'm glad she's alive, yohoho!"

"It's a super miracle!" Franky sobbed.

"What a peculiar shape..." Robin murmured thoughtfully. "Do you know anything about it, Jinbe-san?"

The gyojin smiled broadly.

Naia had returned.

"I would recommend everyone stand in the centre and hold each other. Y/N is going to do something."

You cupped the water in your hands. Just as you had practised for two years, you had no reason to be nervous. Your body felt healthy and light as you became the sea itself. The burns would still be there once you broke this form, but now it was enough. Jinbe had trained you relentlessly so that you could achieve his hikishio ipponzeoi.

You prepared your attack and, without hesitation, half the sea was thrown towards Onigashima.

The flood was unprecedented.

The fire was completely extinguished. The devil fruit users weakened. The few gyojin who were there saved everyone from being swept away by the waves. Nami carried Otama, Usopp saved Robin, Sanji held Zoro, Franky grabbed Brook, and Jinbe put Chopper on his shoulder. Everyone in the crew smiled as they looked out to sea, where your figure stood in all its grandeur and splendour. To say they were surprised would be an understatement. They had so much to ask you. Two wanted to apologise for everything you had been through. A certain swordsman would seek you out to train when he woke up and heard the news. The archaeologist wanted to know everything about your devil fruit and its rarity.

You were something that transcended the unnatural.

"Shishishi!"

You looked up at the island's roof. Luffy, in a strange white form, floated in the air, reclining with his arms behind his head. His beautiful pink eyes looked at you fondly. And amid all that radiant happiness, you could see tears threatening to escape.

"Thank you for coming back, Y/N."

The land of Wano made headlines worldwide. The bounty posters were updated. The crew now belonged to a yonko, straw hat Luffy.

It made you happy to see how he was getting closer and closer to fulfilling his dream. And, in turn, how you were now one of the members with the highest bounty.

You held the poster in front of your face, grimacing from time to time as you felt Chopper's hooves on your burns, applying an ointment that he claimed was excellent. You would be left with scars on your neck and chest, but you couldn't dream of leaving that country without a scratch. You didn't regret defending your friends.

Although Nami and Usopp never left your side, the sniper crying and hugging you every time you passed by him, and the navigator offering you berries (something she wouldn't normally do with anyone) and multiple strokes on your hair.

You paid attention to your photo on the poster. It was you, from head to toe, every little detail, every tiny imperfection, but all loved by the sea. The sea goddess you had awakened had been captured and everyone admired her. For some she was terrifying, for others magical.

You smiled dumbly. You couldn't always use such a powerful attack, but being immortalised like this was nice. You traced the numbers with your index finger, curious about the insane sum.

Why was your head suddenly worth 1,000,000,000 berries? You had only died, come back to life, and extinguished the fire on Onigashima. Perhaps you had also purified all the water in Wano, and Trafalgar Law had used his devil fruit to remove the pollution from inside you. But that was not something others could know.

You never got a straight answer to that.

Egghead was about to be a disaster. CP0 was on the island with clear instructions. Your boots echoed on the floor as you stepped aside to wait for Luffy. You were supposed to take him back to Labophase, but he was more interested in facing an old enemy he had encountered again.

You looked up, entranced. His Gear 5 was mind-blowing. Everything he could do with his devil fruit, the ease with which his brain came up with new ideas, it all made you laugh. Not to mention the floor, which now made you bounce.

Vegapunk hurried over to the monitors.

"Have the white and blue warriors appeared yet?" He asked, his eyes shining as he caught sight of Luffy laughing. "Tell me about those transformations. The white one from Straw Hat and the young girl on her wanted poster."

"We don't know, to be honest." Said Nami. "Luffy's is the Gomu Gomu no Mi, but Y/N's is unknown to us."

The scientist pressed his lips together, holding back a smile.

"There is no fruit with that name in the devil fruit encyclopaedia!"

The crew gasped, unable to comprehend.

"What? That's impossible!" Exclaimed the navigator.

"Luffy always says gomu gomu when he attacks." Added Usopp.

"Look how beautiful he is! I'm sure she is too!" Rambled Vegapunk, raising his hands. "It's fate! I didn't expect to meet them like this."

"If you know anything, tell us. Y/N-chan doesn't talk much about herself." Sanji requested.

"What happened to those two?" Franky asked, approaching the screen to look at the two of you.

Luffy was still floating there laughing, and you looked at him with a sparkle in your eyes.

"They look like gods."

The cook choked on his own words, unable to believe it.

"Luffy a god? He's an idiot!" He shouted. "Y/N-chan is a goddess, that's true."

Robin looked at Vegapunk in surprise.

"Are you saying that those appearances we saw are those of gods?"

"Yes." Said the scientist, his expression turning serious. "The warrior of liberation. He who plays the fool and brings smiles to all. The sun god, Nika!"

The few crew members present were surprised. The answers that no one else could give them were in the brain of this man who stared at the screen excitedly. Eager to talk. Eager to educate the world.

"And the goddess he loves, the one capable of punishing everyone for him. The goddess of the sea, Naia."

Nami shook her head, approaching Vegapunk.

"Nika and Naia? I've never heard those names."

"Of course not. Their names were erased from history." The scientist said abruptly. "Nika and Naia were inseparable."

The revealed legend left them speechless. In the end, the archaeologist was right.

It was best not to interfere.

The sun god felt a deep longing for the sea. Seeing it every day made him feel free, and he wanted to reach it more than anything else. Then, one day, he met its goddess. He thought she would help him help. If he could make people laugh, then she could give them freedom.

Naia was closed off, only willing to care for those she loved: the gyojin, the mermaids, the mermen. Opening the doors of her heart to let Nika in went against her principles. He knew how to make her laugh effortlessly with a joke or a silly expression. He fought with her over food, hitting him every time he wanted to eat a fish. He invited her to have fun jumping with his friends. He asked her to do water tricks for him.

Falling in love with each other was natural. Nika always admired her foolishly, his gaze never leaving her. He loved her loudly with his actions. He loved her silently with his words.

Naia always looked up, because he loved to float. He shone in a way that only he could. Her love was protective, ensuring that he never lost his smile. That he never shed a single tear.

For him, she was freedom. And for her, he was.

Someone feared their powers together, the ease with which people became attached to and trusted them, asking them for things they could give them. So, under false pretences, he murdered the sun god.

The two lovers agreed to meet again when destiny required it. When the time came. First, Nika would return, accompanied by a man who shared his ideals of freedom. Then, Naia would notice him. Her living love.

That devil fruit that had eluded the world government for centuries, and that devil fruit that was believed to be non-existent, would wait to be reincarnated.

Nika would choose who would bring a new dawn to the world, and Naia would take into her sweet arms the one who would support him on his journey. A mystical love, a destined love. Unconsciously, their successors would love each other just as they had.

Because their souls resonated. Their souls yearned for each other. Their souls waited.

And that statue that had been looking —alone, hidden from everyone with its arms outstretched— at the sun for centuries, would finally be able to feel his skin under her fingers once again.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found school often to be something he disliked due to never really understanding the way teachers explained things. But he would look at students like you and your two friends who could understand everything and get in a sour mood.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only had brief interactions with you throughout all your years in the same class but still knew you were the smartest in class.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who absolutely loathed whenever they did peer reviews in class. Usually he never wrote down any comments on his classmates works, knowing they always did a lot better than him anyway. So when he was handed a paper, he sighed heavily.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who overheard that you got his essay to review, and internally he cringed at this. Knowing what he had written and that it probably was not up to par with what such an academic student as you could write. Had anyone else gotten his essay, there would not be many notes, as most of them only verbally said if something was good or okay or even bad. But not you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who forgot all about the essay he should be reading and the whole time kept his eyes trained on you. Watching your eyes move across his paper with a form of calmness, occasionally jotting down small comments on his paper that he wished to see immediately. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who averted his eyes from you when the teacher said to give the essay back to whoever you were reviewing. He grumbled a small "It was fine" to his friend Min-ki while handing his essay back. Just as he handed it over, though, he heard his name get called and turned only to be faced with you.

"Hey, here you go." You held out his essay for him to take, a small smile on your lips. 

"Oh, thanks..." Su-Bong took the paper from your hand with a tight smile, expecting you to walk off. But you didn't.

"I liked your essay, by the way, Su-Bong. I never really knew all of that about rap. There's just a few notes, but overall, it was great." 

"Thank you." He thanked not being able to withstand sitting up a little bit more from his slumped-over position. You gave a little nod and another smile before turning. Ha-eun, who stood behind you, handed yours back.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who frowned and looked through his three-page essay and the few notes you had jotted down for him. They were simple ones, only asking to explain a little further on one thing and a few small grammatical errors. Who knew getting to write an essay about something he liked would make him write a good one?

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went home that day to his mess of a family and for once did not feel stupid after a long school day. Fixing the parts in his essay recommended by you so he could turn it in the next day to the teacher. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was surprised when the teacher handed back the essays and patted him on the back for "stepping up". Seeing him get a score higher than he had gotten in a long time, especially in a subject that was not music.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got stopped in the hallway by you after school as you asked him how it went with the essay. When he told how well he'd done and thanked you for the advice you'd given him, all you could do was shrug and say it was nothing. But it was something to Su-Bong.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who asked you then and there if you'd be open to helping him with schoolwork, to tutor him as his friends had said you were good at such things. And because his current one was shit. Getting a bright smile and nod as an answer made him raise his brows.

"You can?" He asked, a bit stunned.

"Of course," you nodded. "I'm more than happy to help."

"Are you free on Thursdays after school?" When he asked that, the way you smiled and your brows furrowed a little almost told him it was a stupid question. You were known to stay late and study.

"Mhm, just meet me in the classroom after school. I stay late often anyway."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who unconsciously then began to watch you more, not in a creepy way, but when he saw you, his eyes would linger on you for a moment. If you were in the classroom with friends and he walked past, his eyes would stay on you till he could no longer see you. When he heard your voice, his head would turn in the direction it came from, trying to locate where you were.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who enjoyed being tutored by you more than his old one. Unlike them, you adjusted the way you explained subjects to him. At first he had not understood a word you said, but after a bit of readjusting in your way of explaining, he slowly got the hang of it.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, whose eyes would flicker from the paper or book you were pointing to while explaining and back to you. His eyes would stay focused on you every time you checked his progress, the way you would mouth things that he could not hear and the way you would furrow your brows in concentration.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, despite getting to spend an hour or two extra with you every Thursday afternoon, could not find it in himself to strike up conversation outside of tutoring. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would come to the classroom after school, having said his goodbyes to Min-ki and Dong-hyun as they left to get home, only to find you already in the classroom with your books out and earbuds in that connected to your MP3. He had no idea how you could do such long days in school.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found himself actually improving after only three weeks of help from you, even earning himself more claps on the back from teachers. Even his parents took notice, getting to hear directly from his homeroom teacher of the change in his grades and quality of work as of late. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who never claimed to Min-ki and Dong-hyun that he had suddenly become an academic weapon when they pointed out their grades on the exam were still better than his. He had only said that "Shit’s easier to understand. It's weird." Which made his friends only shrug their shoulders because grades never really mattered anyway for Su-bong. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had been bored out of his mind while wandering the school halls, waiting for you to come to tutor him, had become a drag after ten minutes passed. But the sound that came from the gymnasium quickly caught his attention as he moved closer and creaked the door open slightly before sneaking in behind the equipment to investigate the sound. Much to his surprise, it had been you. Playing your violin. All alone in the gymnasium. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who accidentally made some gym equipment fall as he tried to get a better look, which caused him to curse a bit loudly. Looking up from his fallen-over position with a sheepish smile as you had whipped around and faced him, letting out a sigh at the realisation it was just him. 

"What the— Su-bong?" Your voice came out confused when you saw him.

He sat up and rubbed his neck. "Uhm... surprise?" 

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Didn't know you were a musician. Are you hiding a band in here too?" He dodged the question while standing himself up, watching as you put the violin down.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question."

"Well, I was waiting for you to tutor me, but you ditched me. So, technically, this is all your fault."

"I didn't ditch you," you shook your head. "I told you yesterday that I would be fifteen minutes late."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me why." He watched as you snapped the buckles to your case shut. "Had I known, I'd have been here much sooner."

"Why?" You could not help but ask with a slight laugh. When your eyes met his with an expectant look, he averted them and tried acting nonchalant.

"Obviously to listen." He shrugged, turning away slightly before speaking again. "You're really good, by the way."

"Oh, I—thank you. But you can't just come spying on me."

"I wasn't spying. I was... appreciating. There's a difference. You're smart, so you should know that."

You chuckled at him, also not missing the flattery that he surely thought would get him out of tutoring. "You're not getting out of tutoring, you know."

"Man, seriously?”

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was relieved that summer had come and that he would finally get a well-deserved break from school. While walking out of school with his friends, spotting you with your friends. Nodding his head at you when you shot him a smile, a way to tell you to have a good summer.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had in the beginning hoped that his summer break would at least not include sitting at home. Yet, it did. Neither of his mother or father being able to stay home or take him anywhere during the long break. He could not even hang out with Min-ki and Dong-hyun, who were out of Seoul for the entire summer.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who spent the first week of summer break lounging on his couch, watching TV, and eating whatever junk he wanted. Only getting minimal texts from the guys who were busy spending time with their families.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after spending a whole week inside, decided he would go out and see if anything would inspire him. But it ended up only being him walking outside in the summer heat with earbuds in as they blasted his newly downloaded music. Rap, to be specific.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who weaved his way between people in the market, giving nasty glares towards guys younger than him who bumped his shoulder. Trying to find where that place that sold his favourite food was now again turned out to be a bigger hassle with so many people lingering around the marketplace.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who stopped in his tracks and had to backtrack a few steps with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows at spotting your familiar face among the crowd. Standing by your bicycle while paying for some groceries. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who could not help but make his way over, hands in his pockets, as he called your name and got your attention. Your face displayed surprise upon seeing him, having thought he would have been with Min-ki and Dong-hyun all summer.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who were surprised, although he did not let it show, to find out your friends Soo-min and Ha-eun were also gone for the whole summer. This has left both of you all alone and without friends to hang out with.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who asks to join in on your shopping round, claiming he has nothing better to do. Which he really didn't. Occasionally, he would poke fun at your seriousness when it came to choosing the right fruits. His joking around would only bring a small smile onto your lips as the two of you walked through the market stand by stand. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who insisted on walking with you to your neighbourhood, stealing glances at you every now and then. For some strange reason, he also felt strangely at ease with you, enjoying that you were so easy to crack a joke to. Every time, he earned either a small laugh or a small smile pulling at your lips.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only reached the edge of your neighbourhood before you stopped him, saying that you could take it all from here. He watched you almost get onto the bike to cycle the last bit but was able to stop you before you were off.

"You know, we should hang out sometime." He said it as casually as he could, hands in his pockets while shrugging.

"Hang out?" You echoed, brows raised a bit. 

"Yeah. I mean, we get along, right? And besides, neither of us really has anything to do either way. So why not keep each other company?"

"I—uh. Hmm." You did not really know what to say.

"Beats sitting inside, bored, all summer." 

"I don't know, Su-bong. My parents are sort of strict about who I meet outside of school. Soo-min and Ha-eun are really the only ones they agree to."

Su-bong clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Come on, (Name). You're smart—I'm sure you can come up with a simple lie."

"If my parents find out, I will be grounded till I'm married." 

"I'm sure you can bat your lashes and come up with something to cover our asses. Or what, do you want to spend all summer alone and doing nothing?"

You sighed and thought about it before answering. "Fine. But my parents really cannot know about this."

"That's the spirit!" Su-bong nudged your arm slightly. "You got my number?"

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who walked home that day with your number in his mobile phone. Part of him began to wonder what lies you would tell your parents to be allowed to leave the house without having them hunting you down.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later that night messaged you and asked if you would be free the next day. Only minutes later did he get an answer that you had nothing planned and a question of where to meet. Quickly, he sent back a place, a bit further from your home as he now understood you not wanting him in your neighbourhood, and a time that would at least let him sleep in.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who met up with you the next day five minutes late and could not help but poke fun at your obvious nervousness. Commenting on how you really had to relax a little, also pointing out that the only reason your parents would ever find out about this all was if you ever slipped up with whatever lies you made up. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got surprised an hour or so into the two of you going around town, seeing how you began to loosen up. You were no longer looking around like a child hiding while eating sweets they weren't allowed. The tension in your shoulders left, and instead of just rolling your eyes at his remarks, you shot some back.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went home after hanging out that first day, found himself having enjoyed it a lot more than he originally thought. It was different from when he hung out with Min-ki and Dong-hyun. Sure, they knew him well and had been friends with him since kindergarten, but still.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after three days of hanging out, asked you if the two of you could please take your bike instead of walking. Because of his insistence, you said yes, much to his delight, but that also meant he had to sit on your bike carrier. This led to some arguing as you wobbled a little in the beginning, but when you sternly told him to just sit still and shut up, Su-bong was in no way about to test you and only answered with a slight smirk, "Yes, ma'am."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would fill the silence between the two of you with anything rap-related. You had always known he liked rap and did it himself; he was not shy to ever announce it to the whole class. Surprisingly enough, you ended up learning a lot about the genre you had never indulged in.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who gets pulled along to your favourite bookshop one day and just trails behind you as you point out ones that you desperately wanted to read. He did not understand your love for words on pages, but he did not exactly complain because at least he had someone to spend the summer with. But he would furrow his brows questioningly when you left the bookshop without even buying a single one of the twenty-something books you had pointed out.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who realised you were not just an incredibly study-focused person, but actually someone who had never really gotten to do just whatever.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after a whole week of hanging out, found himself enjoying your company more than he thought he would.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who dragged you along to the best arcade in town where he spent the majority of his money insisting he could win a prize from the claw machine. Finally, you stepped in and won the prize on your first try, leaving the boy to gape at you before jokingly calling you a "witch."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who focused on beating his own record at his favourite game while you stand off to the side, almost yelling at him to listen to your advice. When he does as you suggest and he wins, both of you high-five at the win.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you pulled along to a part of the city where there was a whole neighbourhood with abandoned buildings filled with graffiti. The two of you find one that gives the best view of the city skyline, and from then on, when neither of you knew what to do, that was your place to go. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who did not call or message with Min-ki and Dong-hyun as much only three and a half weeks into summer break. The majority of his calls were instead to you, sometimes even calling when your parents were home. 

"Come on, ditch violin practice and come keep me company. I'm dying over here." His comment made you roll your eyes, as if he could see from the other side of the phone.

"Hm, no thank you. I don't feel like being strung up by my toes today!" You shot back at him, causing him to groan.

"And here I was thinking we were making progress." 

"Who is it you're talking to, (Name)?" Your mother suddenly glanced into your room as you sat on the bed.

"Just Ha-eun." You answered smoothly. The choked sounds on the other side of the phone and snickering made you want to smack him in the head.

"Oh, well, tell her I said hi!" Your mother smiled a little before retracting down the hallway.

"Dude," Su-bong lost it, laughter a bit muffled. "You didn't even hesitate. That was so smooth—look at you becoming a pro at lying!" 

You sighed and rubbed your face, but the smile still pulled at your lips. "Shut up." 

"No, I'm like actually impressed. Should I be worried?"

"For me to hang up? Yes."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found himself thinking about you more often than he liked. His mind often went to think about what he had said, your reaction to it, what you would be doing the next day, and anything that had to do with you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, after almost four weeks of hanging out, slung an arm over your shoulder to prepare for his proposition. Dragging out a "So..." while you gave him a side glance, awaiting whatever dumb idea he had now gotten to come out. When you told him to just tell you, he did as he was told.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who awaited your big blow-up, as you for the moment just stood and stared at him, blinking occasionally, as if he had just suggested the two of you go and steal from the local bank. Especially when all he had suggested was for you to sneak out one night. "Everything's more fun at night," he had claimed.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, instead of getting a full-on lecture, got a question of what the two of you would even do. This made a sly grin spread on his face as it sounded like you were not completely opposed to the whole idea. Was he a bad influence on you?

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made out an intricate plan on how you were to sneak out. Both of you came to the conclusion that the upcoming Friday night would be perfect because your parents went to bed slightly earlier. Hours before your parents would come home, you for once showed Su-bong exactly where your apartment was and painted out your window (that was on the first floor, only two meters above the ground). 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who that Friday, at your decided time, waited on the grass below your window as you opened your window and tossed down your jacket for him to catch. Once you had jumped down and stood up, he could not help but make a single comment.

"Not bad for a first escape." Su-bong said with a smirk while handing you your jacket.

"Yeah, you're such a bad influence." You shot back sarcastically, already moving towards your bike by the bike stand and unlocking it. 

"I'm honoured you think so!" 

You shook your head, pulling out your bike and getting ready to go. But you could not help the growing smile, having grown quite fond of the boy's antics. "Just get on, idiot." 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had directed you to a 24-hour convenience store. He jumped off before you parked your bike off to the side and locked it. When you gave him a raised brow, he told you that he was "paying back" for all the free rides you had given him.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who followed you inside and had a hard time keeping up with your speed as you went from shelf to shelf and grabbed your favourite things. It ended up being more than he thought, but at the same time, you had been pedalling around with him on the back of your bike for four weeks, so it was really nothing.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sat on the curb of the convenience store with you, looking at all the people going in and out and watching the star-filled sky. When a group of drunk university students walked past and two ended up toppling over each other, you and Su-bong could not keep from laughing.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later that night, when the two of you were quietly sitting on the roof of the abandoned building, pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Taking one and placing it between his lips, out the corner of his eye he could see you looking at him. Without saying a word, he held out the pack to you, not expecting you to take one, but you did.

"Something wrong?" You asked while taking the lighter from Su-bong's hand, fingers brushing against his as he took an inhale.

"Since when do you smoke?" Smoke left his mouth as he asked that question.

"I don't do it often if that's what you think." You let out a breathy laugh, lighting the cigarette.

All you got was a dumbfounded face in response, like this was the biggest revelation in his whole life. So you explained further. "My dad smokes; I've taken some of his every now and then. He doesn't notice."

"For real?" Su-bong asked and earned a nod in response. Then it was as if he deflated a bit. "Damn. And I thought I would be a bad influence."

"Sorry to burst your bubble. My dad has a bit more influence than you."

"Wait a moment..." He sat up, exhaling the smoke in his mouth while looking at you with narrowed eyes. "Do Soo-min and Ha-eun know their angel of a friend smokes?"

"First of all, no, they don't. And second of all, angel?"

"What? It fits you, angel."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who that night helped you back up into your room through the window, having to give you a little extra push. Once you were inside and leaned out the window to wave bye to him, he could not help but notice the rather large smile on your face.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who learnt that you were not just smiles, politeness, and intelligence in the form of a human, but you had attitude and humour. It was a huge contrast to the polite and respectful girl who would sit in class and do her work. You did not shy away from a witty comment.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later the next week after spending the day at the arcade, casually mentioned doing something later that same night. He had fully been expecting you to say it had been a one-time thing, but instead, as you grabbed your bike, he got an "I'm in" from you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had not in the beginning of the summer expected to hang out with you every day, and now, also, some nights. It was almost as if he had forgotten about Dong-hyun and Min-ki.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you would run around town with any time of the day, as long as your parents had no idea what you were doing. The adventures consisted of frequent visits to the 24-hour convenience store, urban exploration, bike rides around the closer neighbourhoods, sharing a cigarette or two, or even going around stores in town along with everyone else participating in Seoul's nightlife.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would sit outside your violin lessons in the summer and listen to you replaying the same passage over and over till it would be perfect. He had no idea why the old woman who was your teacher had to be so loud about your mistakes, like screaming about it would help you in any way. It made him pull a face of disdain for the woman he had never met.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who would sometimes sneak inside the big theatre when you had lessons just to hide behind the chairs to listen to you better. The few times you had caught him out of the corner of your eye, he would give you a thumbs up as a silent way to say you were doing great. His goofy face and thumbs up would make you have to hold back a laugh while playing, causing your teacher to stop to ask what was so funny.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you would laugh with after your lesson about the old woman's overdramatic reaction to a single smile. This would then lead to you complaining about the woman as Su-bong sat at the back of your bike and made comments that furthered your laughter.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who for some reason, after that first successful sneak out, began calling you angel. It would often leave you rolling your eyes at him, telling him to quit it, but the heat rising to your cheeks said otherwise. Su-bong could not understand the issue, just shrugging and enjoying the reactions out of you while continuing to call you angel. Instead of your name, angel was what he called you.

"Oi, angel! Over here!" 

"Yo, slow down! The hell? Are you trying to ditch me, angel?"

"Where you at? You're still at home? Hurry up, angel, I'm bored as hell out here!"

"What? You want me to start calling you '(Name)' like some stranger? No way, angel."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who found your reactions priceless, either the roll of your eyes with a small smile or a swift smack to the back of his head. No matter what, he loved them all. Because at least you were paying attention to him in some way. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you noticed had almost no sense of personal space. It was nothing weird; it was just as though you, after only a few weeks, had reached the same level of friendship he had with Dong-hyun and Min-ki. There would be an arm around your shoulder at random times when walking, when you played an arcade game he would be looming right by your shoulder while poking you whenever you were close to winning, his hands would land on your shoulders whenever you agreed to yet another late-night hangout, and he would find himself grabbing the back of your shirt when the two of you navigated through crowds.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sometimes in crowds just had his brain go blank, which made you tell him to just hold onto your bag's shoulder strap. It had once or twice happened that he just walked into a pole in the middle of the street, so you were just being cautious.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who still watched you closely, whenever he said something, was awaiting a reaction from you.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who one day suggested you both spend the day at his house. When you walked inside, you could not help but let your eyes go wide at the scale of everything; it was so much bigger than your family's apartment. They even had those fancy fridges with ice and water dispensers. The Choi family was truly rich.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who shrugged about his home, because for him it was a cold and boring one. There was no life, no baby photos of him or old photos of his parents, just two pictures of him and his parents. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who let you roam about his room and find whatever you wanted to entertain yourself, and in your case that had been his Nintendo. He was seated by his computer, downloading music onto his newest MP3. You had found yourself comfy at the foot of his bed while you played the game that had been in his Nintendo.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who immediately sat up from his relaxed position at the slam of the front door. You jumped at the loud sound, not used to such things. Glancing over at the boy, he was already on his feet, cursing under his breath.

"Fuck," Su-bong muttered as he heard the clattering of keys against wood. "My dad's home. Fuck. Come on, angel." 

He ushered you to get up, and you did so, not even arguing about the nickname. "What? What's going on?"

At first he did not answer and only grabbed your wrist lightly, cursing under his breath while trying to gently guide you towards his closet. When you put a hand on top of his on your wrist was when he turned to you, meeting your eyes. "Su-bong."

He stared at you for a second, hearing the steps that seemed to move towards the stairs. Su-bong then sighed. 

"My dad is not like your parents. He doesn't give a single shit about boundaries. If he sees you here, even if he doesn’t know you, he'll start talking shit to you and about you—" He cut himself off with a sigh, hearing the footsteps moving up the stairs. "Look, you don't need to experience him. Just hide—please."

Without another word, you just nodded. Su-bong quickly opened his closet for you to get inside before closing it. With ease he moved and dropped down onto his bed, just as the footsteps up the stairs moved towards his room. He grabbed the Nintendo on his bed and began fiddling with it.

No knock or form of signal that his father was going to come inside was given, the door only opening and revealing him. Su-bong glanced up at him before speaking. "You're home early,"

"And you're still wasting your time here." His father spoke with a grunt. “Did you do anything besides sit here like a bum all day?”

Su-bong stared at his dad for a minute before looking down at the Nintendo in his hands, shaking his head. “Nope. Pretty much perfected the art of breathing, though.”

“You know what, forget it.” His dad let out a sharp breath, waving his hand while pushing the door to Su-bong's room closed again. 

The boy sat for a moment, listening intently to the sound of footsteps descending downstairs once again. Letting out a sigh, he turned towards the closet. “Coast's clear, angel.”

Cracking the closet door open and easily slipping out, your eyes flickered towards the door before moving back to Su-bong on the bed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, eyes moving all over the place until he looked at her and stood up. “Come on, let's go out instead.”

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had expected you to ask so many more questions after that day, but instead it was as though you had a silent understanding for his situation.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who one late night suddenly placed his hands on your waist while you were pedalling towards the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of Seoul. The sudden feeling made only your eyes glance down, as to not alert the boy behind you in any way. After a moment, you looked up as you shrugged it all off and let his hands stay there. It is a better way to keep himself stable and make your work easier either way.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had only felt how you tensed up a bit at the sudden contact, but as quickly as it had happened, you relaxed and focused back on the directions. He could not help the growing smirk on his face. If you had seen it, you would have asked what was funny or even smacked the back of his head for being "weird." But you could not see it.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who always knew you had a small digital camera with you wherever you went. Upon seeing something you deemed beautiful, you would click a photo of it. As of late, you had taken quite a few photos with your camera and sometimes made Su-bong wonder if there was something you did not label as beautiful.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who once stole your camera from where it was lying on the ground and turned it so the lens was turned towards him and snapped about seven or eight photos of himself. Swiftly, he then put the camera down as if it had always lain there untouched. You did not end up finding out until three days later when you went to print out some photos for your wall. You had to cover your mouth to not attract attention in the small store as you looked at the photos, also a bit surprised he got himself somewhat in frame. Su-bong did hear from you later that day about it, but he did not know you had actually not been able to resist printing three of them.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had never been in your family's apartment during the whole summer. As you put it, your neighbours, an elderly couple who had known you and your parents for many years, would more than likely tell your parents that a boy had been with you. But he did not blame you; this whole hanging-out idea was his to begin with.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who one night found himself wandering around your neighbourhood alone, escaping the hellhole of home his parents made it when they both were home at once. Glancing down the familiar road, he pulled out his phone, starting to type a quick message while walking down it. Once he spotted the window he was looking for, he saw a lamp had to be on even if the light curtains were drawn. With that, he sent the message. "Look outside."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only seconds later watched as the curtains were opened and you looked out your window. A minute later your window was open, and you looked down at him.

"What the hell are you doing here? It's past midnight!" You whispered harshly down to the boy. He could not keep from smirking.

"I missed you, angel. Can I come up?" 

You shook your head but leaned out a little further in the window, gently clapping your hands as a signal for him to throw up his backpack. Su-bong did so, and you caught it with ease, pulling it through the window and placing it on your floor. "You're insane." 

When you pulled back into your room, swiftly moving to lock your door, it did not take more than two minutes before Su-bong's head peeked inside your window. You walked over, holding out a hand to help him inside with as little noise as possible. 

Climbing in through your window, he took a quick glance around your room. It was small but in a cosy way. Quietly he stepped down into your room, stumbling a little, from the window, and felt you loosen your grip on his hand, so he let go.

"You're lucky my parents are sleeping. They will kill me if they hear you." You said in a low voice while closing the window and drawing your curtains again. 

"Relax. I'm like a ninja." Su-bong joked, but the usual edge to it was missing. 

"You're a walking disaster." You turned around and faced him. "Seriously though, Su-bong, what are you doing here?"

There was nothing accusatory in your tone, so he shrugged while looking around, eyeing the music sheet on your desk. He then shrugged before answering. "Just didn't feel like being home. Can I stay?"

"I—..." You cut yourself off, your face turning with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'll just hang out here; you can do whatever you were doing." 

You just stared at him. 

"I'll be quiet. Promise."

A small smile pulled on your lips as you watched him look over the books on your bookshelf. "Sure. But if my parents hear you, I'll tell them you broke in.”

"Fair game, angel." Su-bong nodded and gave a light chuckle at your comment; his teasing smirk then returned. "So, this is where the magic happens.

"Oh, shut up!"

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made himself comfortable on your bed with his Nintendo and MP3 player as you continued to look over some things for your next violin lesson. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who in a quiet voice made a comment about Soo-min and Ha-eun really having a whole wall that was almost explicitly containing photos of them and you. For the fun of it, he teasingly asked what he needed to do to end up on that wall. In response, all he got from you was "To stop annoying me." That would be impossible.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you sternly told he should not sleep on the floor, but that he also had to keep to his own side of the bed if he did not want to get kicked out. Little did either of you know that both of you experienced an increase in heartbeats.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who a few days later repaid you for risking getting caught and allowing him to stay over with the typical convenience store snacks you liked. But you seemingly made no big deal out of it all.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who noticed you no longer just took photos of the landscape but had caught you snapping a few of him too. At times he would grab it from you and insist on taking one together, to which you did not say no. While these photos could not make their way on your wall without your parents questioning it, you still printed them and kept them in your desk. They laid with your favourite photos of you, Soo-min, and Ha-eun. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who noticed that you no longer would have a reaction whenever he called you angel. You went from telling him to stop it to not even blinking at the use of the nickname. At times, though, you would smile a little at the use of it, which Su-bong could not help but notice.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was completely and utterly baffled to learn that you had never really listened to rap before, even if you would let him ramble on about it as if you understood. When you admitted this to him, he went wide-eyed, yelling out a loud "What?" while staring at you. This led to a long interrogation by Su-bong to figure out how you had never listened to the genre.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made it his own mission to indoctrinate you into rap. It began with playing music from his MP3 player, watching you like a hawk for any sign that you liked the songs. When he would see your head moving the slightest to the beats, slowly bobbing your head along, he would nudge your shoulder while saying that you were finally listening to "real" music. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who started to, without your knowledge, download rap on a new MP3 player he'd bought. It was songs he considered the standard, basic but still good songs. All so you could somehow get into the genre even more on your own. When he was done for the night, he sat back and answered a message from Min-ki, only to then completely question his actions.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who felt like he was going through an existential crisis when it finally hit him that all he had been doing as of late was not something he'd even do for Min-ki or Dong-hyun. It all hit him like bricks being thrown in his face.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who now could explain why he felt like he gained something from hearing you laugh at his jokes. He now has his explanation as to why he wants you to listen to this music so much. He had to sit down on his bed and put his head in his hands, saying a single thing to himself, "Oh, fuck me." 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went to sleep that night still in complete shock at this new revelation. How did he, of all people, find himself having feelings for a girl who less than a year ago he would not even know a single thing about?

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the next day had the MP3 player in his back pocket the whole time you and he hung out. He was acting the same as always, jokes flying out left and right and endless teasing that made you simply shake your head. Whenever there was a silence that stretched for longer than a minute, he contemplated just handing you the MP3 player. He could just say it was one of his old ones and claim it was since you seemingly liked rap so much. But he put it off.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had just jumped off your bike as you slowed down to get off when you said you and your parents were going away the last five days of summer break, which was next week.

"Angel... no." He spoke as if you had just betrayed him in the worst way possible. You could not help but crack a sheepish smile at his antics.

"It's just for five days—" You went to explain, but his mouth went wider and immediately interrupted you.

"Five days? First Min-ki, then Dong-hyun, and now you? You're all ditching me. Do you want me to go crazy and start talking to myself?" He walked closer to you, trying to stay serious, but when you began laughing lightly, he could not help but crack a smile. 

He was playing around; of course he would not die without you for five days. But he had taken notice that you, unlike many others, did not find his overdramatic joking annoying but endearing. 

"You already talk to yourself." You pointed out to him with a small smile.

"That's besides the point,"

"I will have my phone. We'll still be able to talk."

"Hm," Su-bong hummed, agreeing that did work. His hands slipped inside his pockets, his right hand gracing the MP3 player still in his pockets. 

You shook your head, grabbing the handles of your bikes and beginning to walk the short way to your home. He quickly caught up, an arm finding its way over your shoulder. He could not help but like that you did not pull away from him, letting him hook his arm around you.

"Alright, angel. Since you're ditching me, you owe me—we hang out every day until you leave. No excuses."

"Sure." You shook your head at him. "Damn drama queen."

"Hey!"

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later the next week, after having hung out every day without any excuses like you agreed to, still had the MP3 player in his back pocket. He found himself taking it out of his pocket when getting home every day and fiddling with it, like trying to think of when the perfect time to give it to you would be.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the night before you were going away insisted the two of you go to the abandoned rooftop. Once there, he lit himself a cigarette as the two of you talked and joked about anything you could think about.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who raised his brows when you got a call from Soo-min as the two of you were talking. You answered without hesitation, and from how you were talking, he could tell you had not told her either about the two of you hanging out. A mischievous expression took over his face as he stepped on the cigarette.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who out of nowhere grabbed your wrist and yanked the phone towards himself so he could yell out a hello to Soo-min on the other line. You swiftly smacked him in the head with your hand as he laughed when hearing Soo-min's confused voice. You had rushed out a goodbye before turning and, while laughing, telling him it was not funny. But still, the thought of how Soo-min's face must have looked kept you both laughing for longer than it should have.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who later, when you were both walking back home, pulled out the MP3 player and handed it to you. At your confused face, he explained it had some good songs on it, just to get you started on rap. Jokingly he said you would now have something good to listen to during your almost three-hour car ride the next day.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who made up the excuse that the MP3 player was one of his old ones that he no longer used when you thanked him but said you could not take it. He turned away, hands in his pockets after so you could not see his face, all while shrugging his shoulders as if it was nothing special. You did not say that you knew he was lying; the MP3 player looked way too new. But it made your heart swell.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the next day, for once during the whole summer, could not simply shoot you a text or even call to ask what you were up to because he already knew. You were in a car on your way to your grandparents. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who spent that first day more bored than he remembered himself being that first week of summer break. The majority of the time he spent in his room, playing games and only walking downstairs once that night when his parents were home to take up some food for himself.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who the next day went out on his own, having talked to Dong-hyun, who were going to come back the next day, late, when it was only two days until school started again. He found himself visiting all the places that you and he would go to.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who headed for the convenience store around 11 pm, the same one you and he visited, picking out some snacks and a drink for himself. When paying, the same guy that usually worked was there. The worker glanced around the aisles while scanning everything Su-bong had picked up. 

"Where's that girlfriend of yours?" The worker, a twenty-something old guy, spoke suddenly and with a hint of curiosity. 

Su-bong, who had his earbuds in and music from his MP3 player loudly playing in his ears, did not fully hear what the guy had said. He pulled the earbuds from his ears by the cable and furrowed his brows in confusion. "Huh?"

"The girl you're always here with." The worker cleared up, then let out a slight laugh before speaking again. "What, she finally ditched you?"

"She didn't ditch me, man. She's out of town." Su-bong spoke with a hint of annoyance, having hoped it would've been a quick in-and-out of the store.

"So, she is your girlfriend."

"Mind your own business."

"Damn, touchy." The worker smirked. "Thought you'd just say no."

Su-bong grabbed the cash from his pocket and unceremoniously slammed it onto the counter, startling the guy a little. He then snatched back his soda and snacks.

"Maybe I just don't like nosy cashiers who talk too much."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, once he was outside, sat himself down on the curb and popped open the bag of snacks just as his phone began buzzing. While chewing on a chip, he picked it up with furrowed brows, but when seeing your name on the small screen, he did not hesitate to answer it. 

"Well, well, would you look at that—one might actually think you are missing me, angel."

There was a pause before you scoffed lightly on the other side of the phone. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Too late," he answered. "You've been gone less than two days, and now you are calling me first? I'm basically a priority at this point."

"You are so full of yourself."

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who talked with you for almost an hour that night, getting to know all you'd done while away. He liked it, sitting and listening to you explain the things you had done with your family ever since getting to your grandparents. While talking to you, he slowly began making his way home, occasionally taking a sip or two of his soda. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who spent the whole day after all on his own. But he at least figured out what to do besides being outside. The majority of it consisted of him playing games and listening to music, going out to have a cigarette once. But later that night, he not only got a call from you but also a message from Dong-hyun that he was back and wanted to meet up the next day.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who even if Dong-hyun came back and they hung out the last two days of summer break, got a few texts here and there from you, as if updating him on the strangest things you could think of. But he still appreciated that you still wanted to talk, seemingly having not grown tired of him yet.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who only shrugged and told Dong-hyun that his summer had been pretty uneventful. Su-bong vaguely told him that he kept himself busy while he and Min-ki were away. When Dong-hyun questioned this, saying that many of his calls had not been answered until late and that Min-ki had told him the same, as many of their mails had gone unannounced, all Su-bong did was shrug and repeat he had kept himself busy.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had to withstand Dong-hyun asking him repeatedly to actually tell him what he had been up to all summer. It was like he had become a walking headache to Su-bong; whenever he thought his friend was done asking, a new try at getting information from him was tried. Of course, Su-bong would not tell Dong-hyun and Min-ki—he respected you and did not want to have them running off and telling everyone in school on the first day, especially if you didn't want that.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who actually felt a bit bothered thinking about what would happen when school started again. He heavily disliked the thought of having to act like the two of you were not friends in school, too. With your parents, he understood, and he respected it heavily. Maybe if he did not feel the way he did for you, maybe if you were only a friend to him, it would not be such a bother. But you were not just a friend. No matter how he wanted to feel.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who were hanging out with Dong-hyun and Min-ki, who had just returned, the day before school started, felt his phone vibrate a little. When he picked it up and saw you had written that you were on your way home, he could not help but smile at knowing you would be back. It did not go unnoticed by his two friends; Dong-hyun immediately accused him of having a secret girlfriend, which made Min-ki raise his eyebrows in confusion.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who went to school the next day, was immediately swept up by Dong-hyun and Min-ki, along with some of the other guys in the same class. All of them were catching up outside before even walking inside school, seeing as there was a long time till they had to actually be in class.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who was deep in conversation with four other guys from your class when he spotted your familiar face. You were smiling as you slowed down your bike to park it, along with Soo-min and Ha-eun, who went to do the same. His eyes followed you as you hooked arms with Soo-min as Ha-eun was clearly telling the two of you something.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got nudged by one of your classmates, Woo-jin, asking if he was even listening. He turned his eyes to the group of boys staring back at him, saying he zoned out, and they all shrugged, but the conversation continued nonetheless.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who caught your eye as you walked past the group of boys. Upon seeing him again, you shot him a smile and a small wave with your free hand that had not been hooked with Soo-min. When Su-bong noticed, he gave a slight smile and nod of acknowledgement. A part of him warmed upon seeing you again.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had to hear Dong-hyun, Min-ki, Woo-jin, and Ji-ho ask who that nod was for, as neither of them had seen your smile. Woo-jin and Ji-ho, both confused, got caught up by Min-ki and Dong-hyun about their speculation that Su-bong had spent the summer with someone.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who, once they reached their classroom, felt like he had hit the jackpot. This year he sat one row behind you, diagonally to your right, from what he saw on the seating chart drawn upon the board. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sat down at his desk quietly at first, decided to sit and not speak with you if that was what you wanted, but his spirits were lifted when you spoke to him first. You had turned to him, mid-conversation with Hye-ran, smiling and saying hey.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who you struck up a conversation with immediately, ignoring the confused looks on Soo-min's and Ha-eun's faces. You and Su-bong had never spoken like this before the summer. Sure, they knew you had tutored him last semester, but the two of you did not talk like this. This was new. The way you leaned closer and told about what you did those five days away.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who had his conversation with you interrupted by Ha-eun, who finally asked since when you two were friends. Su-bong, who revelled in your slightly flustered expression, asked you to explain to your friends. He found it funny how when away from prying eyes, you were extremely calm, yet under the eyes of your best friends, you got flustered.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who sat back and listened as you, without much detail, explained how the two of you bumped into each other during the summer and hung out a few times. He wanted to laugh out loud—a few times was an understatement. It also amused him how you left out certain details, as if Soo-min and Ha-eun would lecture you about it. Dong-hyun and Min-ki both sat beside him and whispered about how this explained everything. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who got asked by Ha-eun and Soo-min if your parents knew the two of you had hung out, to which silence followed. The two girls had turned to you as if you had committed a crime for not telling them this. 

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who out of what had now become a habit, called you "angel" in front of both your and his friends. Your eyes had widened slightly while staring straight at Su-bong, who realised, but he could not help but pull an amused smile at your flustered face. The wide eyes from your friends that followed were as far as their shock could get, however, because just as they went to loudly ask their questions, the teacher entered the classroom.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who shrugged his shoulders at you when Ha-eun and Soo-min went to sit down, your eyes still on him. For the fun of it, before the teacher could speak, he whispered a quiet "Sorry, angel" to you. The people in front and behind the two of you heard, and your face heated up even more. Before turning to focus on the teacher, you shot Su-bong a pointed look, which earned a quiet laugh.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who prepared himself for you to lecture him after school, but did not expect what you did during lunch instead.

♬.ᐟ  CLASSMATE SU-BONG, who barely had stood up to join Min-ki and Dong-hyun before you had stood up and grabbed his arm, effectively pulling him out of the classroom before your friends could get their hands on you. Dong-hyun and Min-ki whistled at the two of you before laughing along with some other boy in the class who had overheard. Soo-min and Ha-eun tried to catch up to the two of you but failed.

"Where are we—" He had barely any chance to process where you had dragged him off to before a hand hit him over the head. "Ow!"

"What the hell were you thinking calling me that in front of everyone? The whole class, at that!" You asked as Su-bong rubbed the back of his head. He took a glance at you before giving a slight grin to you.

"What? It's not like I said anything bad. Didn't you say you didn't care about that anymore?" 

You stared at him for a moment, your face still hot from the embarrassment that had hit you when some of the boys whistled as you dragged Su-bong off. His grin made you narrow your eyes before swiftly giving him another whack.

"Ow! Calm down, woman!"

"I don't care. But you could have just let me tell Soo-min and Ha-eun properly before." You ignored his dramatics and crossed your arms. Still, your eyes softened when looking at him, but it went unnoticed by Su-bong, who started to speak.

"Well, you can’t blame me for being honest. It's not my fault you're—" Before he could get any further, he felt you gently wrap your arms over his shoulders in a quick but tight hug. 

"It's good to see you again." You said softly to him, causing his heart to beat a little faster. Then, as quickly as you had hugged him, you pulled away. The boy quickly recovered.

"Five days and you miss me that much, huh?" He speaks with a teasing tone, nudging you lightly.

You rolled your eyes. "Don't push your luck."

"You know, you could have just said you missed me without hitting me first."

"Hm, that's boring, and you deserved it."

His grin softened into something more genuine. "It's good seeing you too, angel.”

You didn’t notice the breath leave you. Not at first. It slipped away in soft betrayals. Stairs that felt steeper, wind that pressed harder, mornings that demanded more air than your lungs could find. Breath, once an unnoticed rhythm, had become a fragile thread, tugged tighter with each passing day. And yet, you smiled, you walked, you spoke as if your chest wasn’t quietly drowning in silence.

The world didn’t stop when your lungs forgot the shape of fullness. It kept turning, indifferent, as you measured life in half-sips of air.

First, you went to the doctor’s office. A quiet room with beige walls and cold metal instruments that smelled faintly of antiseptic and resignation. They pressed a stethoscope to your back and said your lungs sounded clear. Probably just a virus, they told you. Something seasonal. Drink fluids, rest, take these antibiotics just in case. You nodded, grateful for an answer, even a vague one. But deep down, you already knew something was wrong. You could feel it in the way your chest refused to rise the way it used to, how the air felt thinner, even when it shouldn’t.

Weeks passed. The shortness of breath grew worse. You climbed stairs like they were mountains. Lying down felt like sinking. You went to the hospital. A walk-in. Different doctors each time. Faces that blurred together. They said it might be asthma. Gave you an inhaler. "Use it when it gets bad."

But it didn’t get better. The wheeze wasn’t the sharp whistle of asthma. It was something else. Something deeper. The inhaler was a blue lie that fizzled uselessly in your lungs.

You tried not to panic. You told yourself you were being dramatic. But then came the night you couldn’t catch your breath sitting still.

You went back to the hospital. Again. The fluorescent lights stung your eyes. The waiting room smelled like fear and old coffee. You sat there wrapped in your coat, trying not to look like you were gasping. A nurse called your name.

And then he came in.

Dr. Shuntaro Chishiya walked in like he didn’t want to be there. Blond hair swept with casual precision. Eyes unreadable. Cold. Detached. Like someone who saw the world through glass. You immediately decided he wouldn’t help you. Another doctor, another dismissal. Hope had become a kind of cruelty by now.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t ask how you were feeling. He scanned your chart with the indifference of someone reading a menu. Then he looked at you, really looked. Something changed. Just a flicker. Barely there. But enough.

He asked about the medications. You told him about the asthma diagnosis. About the inhaler. His expression didn’t shift but something sharpened in his posture. He got his stethoscope and asked you to breathe. Listened again. Tapped your ribs. Measured your oxygen. Silent.

Then he said, almost to himself, “This isn’t asthma.” And for the first time in weeks, someone believed there might actually be something wrong.

Chishiya didn’t say much after that first sentence, just asked to run some tests. Routine blood work. Chest X-ray. Pulmonary function test. You followed, dazed, still unsure whether to hope. The machines hissed, clicked, lit up with numbers you couldn’t read. You watched the lines rise and fall on the monitor like your own breath, delicate and unpredictable.

Hours passed. He came back with papers in hand, brow furrowed, that same cold calm masking something sharper beneath it. He tapped a finger on one of the charts and said, almost absently, “Your oxygenation is too low for the scan to look like that. Something isn’t adding up.” Still no diagnosis. Still no answers. But he didn’t walk away. When his shift ended, he didn’t leave.

Later that evening, in the corner of a hospital corridor humming with the low buzz of fluorescent light, Chishiya stood before his superior Dr. Haneda, a grizzled internal medicine chief with a fondness for protocols and a deep mistrust of improvisation.

“You are a paediatrician. You shouldn’t be managing adult walk-ins, Chishiya. You’re here because Dr. Takano called in sick. That girl is not your responsibility.” Chishiya didn’t flinch. “No one else seems to want it.”

“That’s not the point.”

“She’s getting worse.” A pause. “And the pattern doesn’t fit. Something is being missed.”

Dr. Haneda sighed, skeptical. “She’s had clear X-rays, mostly normal blood work and no sign of infection. She says she can’t breathe, but no wheezing. No fever. It’s vague.”

Chishiya handed over the folder without a word. Haneda flipped through the case file, scanning the test results, and frowned. “No inflammation markers. Lungs sound clean. No asthma response to bronchodilators.” Another page. Another. Then he stopped. “You’re right. This doesn’t make sense.”

A silence passed between them, then he asked, “You really want this case?”

“I already took it,” Chishiya said, turning. Haneda let him go.

The next morning, you were called back. Your lips had taken on a bluish tint by then. You were dizzy from the simplest movements, your heart pounding like you’d sprinted a mile.

Chishiya met you at the door. No smile. No small talk. But he led you through another round of tests. CT scan, arterial blood gas, more detailed lung imaging. One after the other, results came back with confusing contradictions. Your lungs looked mostly normal, but your oxygen levels were quietly crashing.

“We’ve ruled out pulmonary embolism, pneumonia, asthma. Even heart failure. But…” he murmured, half to himself, reviewing a chart. “You’re not getting enough oxygen. That’s a fact.”

“Then what is it?” you asked. His eyes lifted and for a moment, the cold expression cracked, just barely. He didn’t have an answer yet. And that terrified you more than anything else.

That night, your breathing worsened. You collapsed trying to stand. The ER team rushed you in. Monitors screamed. Oxygen was pushed through your nose in cold, forced streams. A nurse said something like “hypoxemia”. You were admitted.

By morning, you were tethered to oxygen tubing in a sterile white room with too many blinking lights and not enough sleep. Every breath felt like borrowing something fragile that might be taken back without warning. And Chishiya, still technically a paediatrician, still out of place, was now your lead doctor.

The morning light bled weakly through the blinds, casting pale stripes across your bed like prison bars. Machines beeped in quiet rhythm beside you, measuring the breath you couldn’t quite hold. It was early, before the world had fully stirred, when you heard footsteps. Sharp, quick, purposeful. Then the door opened.

Dr. Chishiya swept in, white coat unbuttoned, stethoscope already in his hand. His hair was slightly mussed. He went straight to your chart at the end of the bed, eyes scanning the notes from the night team. Pulse ox readings. Respiratory rate. Ventilation settings. His mouth tightened when he saw the numbers.

“They increased your oxygen overnight,” he murmured. “And your CO2 levels spiked again.” He closed the chart. Then, for the first time, he looked at you, not through you, not like a puzzle or a case file, but at you. “How are you feeling?”

You stared at him, throat dry. The question shouldn’t have felt like a kindness. But somehow, it did. No one had asked. Not really. Not since this all began. Something cracked.

It was quiet, like the snap of old glass beneath the weight of something too heavy. The words came out brittle, trembling, like you’d been holding your breath for weeks and could finally exhale.

“It feels like I’m slowly drowning. But the water’s inside me. I keep trying to rise, to catch something, air, hope, anything and it just… slips. When you can’t breathe, nothing else matters. You can’t dream, or speak, or laugh. You can’t even be afraid properly. You just fight for the next inhale. And then the next. And somewhere in that fight, I think I lost the part of me that used to believe this would get better.”

You didn’t look at him as you said it. You stared at your hands, pale and useless in your lap. It was easier than watching his face remain blank.

But he didn’t speak right away. He stood still, silent for just long enough that you felt the air shift in the room. When you dared glance up, his expression hadn’t changed. Not really. Still cold, still unreadable. But his eyes held something softer. Something listening.

He didn’t tell you it was going to be okay. Instead, he said, “I’m going to stabilise your levels. Today.”

And he did.

Later that afternoon, after reviewing scans for the third time and re-reading old lab reports others had overlooked, Chishiya adjusted your oxygen delivery and added a rare nebulised treatment. A surfactant wash that wasn’t standard, not for your diagnosis, but it worked. It bought you time.

Your oxygen climbed, slowly, but steadily. You could breathe again. Not deeply. Not freely. But enough to stop the panic. Enough to rest.

He came back that evening, still without a smile, still with that surgical coolness. But his tone was gentler, his words deliberate. “You’ll need to stay here. We’re not finished yet.”

You nodded. Not because you wanted to, but because you no longer had the strength to pretend you could walk out of this on your own. As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Thank you.”

He didn’t answer. But his hand paused on the door. And in that moment, you knew something in him had shifted, too.

Chishiya had just finished his shift. The hallways of the paediatric unit buzzed with the usual soft chaos. Muffled cries, cartoon voices on waiting room TVs, the scent of antiseptic clinging to everything like memory. He signed off, hung up his coat and stepped out into the cooler quiet of the general hospital. He should have gone home.

He told himself he was tired. Told himself he had no reason to circle back. But as his feet carried him past the elevators, through the long white artery of the main corridor, he already knew where he was going. It wasn’t logic. It wasn’t duty. It was something else. That same sharp tug in his chest he felt when he read your chart the first time. A whisper that said: You’re missing something.

As he crossed toward your unit, a nurse passed him, clipboard in hand, smile too bright, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw him.

“Dr. Chishiya,” she said, tone playful. “Still here? You’re off the clock, aren’t you?” He didn’t stop walking. “Didn’t think you were the type to do overtime.”

She lingered behind him for a few steps, watching, hoping. He could feel it in the pause. The small, deliberate silence. She’d been watching him for weeks. Always a little too eager to speak to him, always smiling at nothing in particular. She knew his schedule, he wasn’t surprised about that. But he didn’t care. He hadn’t cared the last dozen times she smiled that same way. And he didn’t now. He didn’t even bother to reply.

The hallway leading to your unit smelled like bleach and weary sleep. It was quieter here. The world had slowed. He passed two nurses chatting near the station, one of them handing off a clipboard. He didn’t make eye contact.

He reached your room, pausing at the door.

Maybe it was professional instinct. Maybe it was curiosity. But somewhere beneath that, buried under the clinical calculations and medical logic, something quieter stirred. The image of your voice from that morning echoed back to him “It feels like I’m slowly drowning.”

You were still up when he walked in, the pages of a worn paperback resting lightly between your fingers. The overhead lights were dimmed, casting soft shadows across the pale blue walls and for a moment, you thought he might be a dream or a ghost, slipping silently into the room like breath. You looked up, startled. He wasn’t in his usual attire.

Gone was the stark white coat, the polished formality of his professional shell. In its place, a soft, beige-and-grey cardigan hugged his frame. His blond hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, was down. Long, loose and slightly mussed, catching the dim light in quiet strands of gold. You noticed how beautiful he looked. Not for the first time, but this time, without shame.

“You’re not on duty,” you said, voice catching slightly.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes scanned the monitor beside your bed, then flicked over to your face. For the briefest second, something like relief passed over his features. You were stable. No new alarms, no crashing vitals. But the relief was buried quickly under that same sharp, unreadable expression.

“You haven’t gotten worse,” he murmured.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me this week,” you smiled faintly. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. I feel a little better today.”

He didn’t smile back. His arms crossed, but not in defence, in irritation. With himself.

“Not good enough,” he said. “You shouldn’t just be not worse. You should be improving. We still don’t know what this is.”

There was more behind the words than frustration. Something about the unsolved nature of your condition gnawed at him. It bothered him more than he wanted it to, more than he could explain.

He glanced at the tray beside your bed: untouched soup, half a roll, a wilted leaf of lettuce pretending to be salad.

“You need to eat,” he said, bluntly. “Your body needs energy to keep fighting.” You scrunched your nose. “It’s hard to eat when everything tastes like regret and wet cardboard.” Something flickered across his face, something dangerously close to a smile.

“Cheese sandwich?” he asked. Your eyes widened, hopeful. “God, yes.”

Without a word, he opened his backpack and pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich in wax paper. The scent hit you immediately, sharp cheddar and something toasted.

“It was supposed to be my lunch,” he said, placing it gently in your hands. “Didn’t have time. I’ll grab something from the convenience store.”

You looked down at the sandwich like it was a piece of the outside world you’d forgotten existed. “Thank you,” you said, genuine. “I miss that. Grocery shopping. Cooking. Things people do when they’re not… here.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there while you took your first bite. You ate slowly, like you didn’t want to waste it. Like it was the last good thing you might get for a while. Then, instead of leaving, he pulled the chair closer to your bed. Sat down. Hands in his lap, posture still guarded but he stayed.

“A nurse told me something,” you said between bites. “She said you’re actually a paediatrician.” He looked at you, eyes steady. No flicker of surprise, he probably expected word would spread.

“Is that true?” you asked, softer now. “Why did you take my case?” He was silent. You waited.

Then, finally, he said, “I find you fascinating.” A beat passed. “Your condition,” he added quickly, gaze shifting.

But it was too late. The slip hung in the air between you, and though his voice remained cool, you knew, he knew, there was more to it than that.

You didn’t press. Instead, you let the silence stretch gently, like the space between waves. Comfortable. Trusting.

“Well,” you said finally, “I find you fascinating too.” He looked at you then, really looked. And in the quiet, something began to shift, not in words, not in gestures, but in the very weight of the air around you.

You spoke more about small things, things that weren’t medical or clinical or wrapped in diagnosis codes. You talked about your favourite foods. You mentioned your favourite film and he, of course, had never seen it. You offered to describe the entire plot. He rolled his eyes. You kept going anyway.

Each word pulled the two of you closer, not physically, not obviously, but in a way that mattered more. In the rare, fragile space where being seen feels more vital than oxygen.

By the time he stood to leave, it was late. Later than he’d intended. You were half-asleep, the sandwich wrapper crinkled in your hand. He didn’t say goodnight. He just stood there for a moment longer, watching you breathe.

And when he left, you smiled quietly into the dark. Because somehow, despite everything you no longer felt like you were drowning alone.

It became a quiet routine, one neither of you ever discussed but both came to rely on.

Chishiya started stopping by during his breaks. At first, under the pretense of “checking your chart,” then under none at all. Sometimes just five minutes before his shift. Sometimes fifteen after. Eventually, he began packing two lunches instead of one. Never said anything about it. He’d simply unwrap the second sandwich or bento box, hand it over wordlessly and sit in the chair by your bed as you dug in gratefully.

It was the most normal part of your day. The only one that made the hospital walls feel less suffocating.

A smile always found its way to your face when he walked in, no matter how tired, how breathless, how bruised your lungs felt. It was reflex now. Like breathing used to be.

And though Chishiya never returned the smile fully, not the way most people do, something in his eyes warmed. He looked forward to those conversations more than he ever would have admitted. And not just because they distracted him from his frustration with your case.

He enjoyed the sound of your voice. The way you thought aloud. How you didn’t fill silences with unnecessary noise. You talked about real things like books, philosophy, life before sickness, little moments you missed and big dreams you hadn’t given up on yet. He answered in measured doses, but every time, just a little more of himself slipped through the cracks.

But then, after a few good days, your oxygen dipped again. Slightly. Not dangerously. But enough. You felt it before the machines did, the heaviness creeping back in. The breathlessness returning like a shadow.

He noticed immediately. And it bothered him. Not in the clinical, intellectual way most things bothered him. No, this was different. There was tension in his shoulders all day. He snapped at a nurse who misplaced your lab results. Spent an extra hour reading and rereading your chart as if the numbers might confess something they’d hidden before.

Still, he said nothing to you. Not yet. He didn’t want to worry you. But that night, long after the hospital had quieted and the city beyond the windows had dissolved into neon stillness, Chishiya lay in bed, eyes wide open, sleep a distant concept.

He tossed and turned. Shifted the pillow. Tried to force his mind to silence. But all he could think about was you. Not just the case. Not anymore.

You. The way you laughed softly at your own dry jokes. The way your voice dropped to a whisper when you described your favourite memories. The way you smiled even when you were in pain.

He didn’t want to see you there anymore, not hooked to machines, not gasping quietly between words. He wanted to sit with you on a park bench, drinking terrible coffee. He wanted to walk next to you through a supermarket while you debated which brand of bread was superior.

He didn’t want to solve you. He wanted to know you, outside this place. And that terrified him. So he got up.

The clock blinked 2:11 a.m. as he padded to his bookshelf, dragging down every medical text he hadn’t opened in years. Textbooks, rare journals, internal medicine volumes thick with dust. He poured over them at his kitchen table, highlighter in one hand, tea forgotten beside him. Hours passed.

Then something clicked.

A line in a rare pulmonary volume: Pulmonary Alveolar Proteinosis (PAP).

He read on. Milky fluid in alveoli. Breathlessness disproportionate to lung imaging. Common misdiagnosis: asthma. Poor response to bronchodilators. Subcategory: Autoimmune PAP caused by anti-GM-CSF antibodies.

Chishiya sat back, eyes locked on the page. Every symptom. Every failed treatment. Every unexplained reading. It fit.

“…This might be it,” he whispered into the empty room. He looked down at the book again, jaw tense.

There was still testing to confirm. Still procedures to prepare. But for the first time in weeks, something aligned. He stood up, eyes dark with focus.

And for the first time in too long, he felt something sharp beneath the weariness:

hope.

You woke up to the familiar beeping of the monitors and the gentle hum of the oxygen flow. Morning light slanted through the half-closed blinds, drawing stripes across your sheets like quiet brushstrokes. You blinked slowly, but even before the haze of sleep had fully left your body, your mind was already waiting for him.

It had become your favourite part of the day. No longer the food deliveries or the occasional visits from friends or nurses trying too hard to be cheerful. It was him.

Knowing he’d appear, sometimes early, sometimes late, always quiet but always there, made waking up feel less like a battle and more like a beginning. The days no longer blurred into each other quite so much. There was a rhythm now. A reason to comb your fingers through your hair, sit upright in bed, wait with a book half-read and a half-smile already forming on your lips.

He made the walls feel less sterile. The tubes less invasive. He made the silence bearable.

And more than anything, knowing he was out there, turning over every page, every chart, every possibility, not giving up on you, gave you strength. Even on the days you could barely breathe, you clung to the quiet knowledge that someone brilliant was fighting for you.

You thought back to the man who had first walked into that exam room. Blond, cold, impassive. Like his heart had been locked behind an iron wall, tucked away with surgical precision. You hadn’t expected kindness. You certainly hadn’t expected him. And yet, somehow, slowly, softly, you’d chipped away at that façade.

Now, you didn’t just see the doctor. You saw the man who made extra lunch for you. The one who lingered longer than he should. The one whose silences had changed from avoidance to presence.

And then the door opened.

Chishiya stepped inside, earlier than usual. His white coat was slightly rumpled, his steps more rushed than usual. Dark circles clung to the skin beneath his eyes like bruises of exhaustion. You opened your mouth to ask if he was okay.

“I need to draw your blood,” he said, abruptly, something urgent in his voice.

You blinked. “You’re drawing it yourself?” He was already rolling up his sleeves, pulling supplies from a tray near the wall. “Yes. I don’t want to wait for the nurse. I want this run immediately.”

You stared. This was new. “Chishiya, what’s going on?” He didn’t look up until the needle was ready. His eyes met yours, sharp but alive. “I think I know what’s wrong.”

He said it like it cost him something, like he’d been carrying the weight of the unknown too long and had finally found a crack of light in the dark.

Your breath caught, not from your lungs this time, but from something deeper: Hope.

He gently tied the tourniquet around your arm, cleaned the skin and inserted the needle with deft, practiced hands.

“I’m running a test to detect antibodies, specifically anti-GM-CSF antibodies. They attack a signaling protein in your lungs that helps remove excess surfactant.”

You frowned faintly. “Surfactant?”

“It’s a substance your lungs produce to keep the air sacs from collapsing,” he explained, slowly, clearly, his eyes flicking between the vial and your face. “But too much of it, or more precisely, the inability to clear it, can block oxygen from entering your bloodstream. Think of it like your lungs filling with foam. It looks clean on scans. But you’re slowly suffocating.”

He removed the needle, placed gauze on your arm. His fingers lingered for half a second longer than needed.

“It’s called autoimmune pulmonary alveolar proteinosis. aPAP. It’s rare. Most doctors won’t think of it unless they’re specifically looking for it.”

You sat in stunned silence. Not because it was frightening, though it was. But because something about what he said made sense. It fit the way your body had slowly betrayed you. The missing puzzle piece. “And if it’s that…?”

“There’s treatment,” he said. “It won’t be easy. But it’s manageable. And it’s not a death sentence.”

The air between you stilled. “You really think this is it?” you asked. He met your gaze, unwavering. “I think it could be. And I’m going to find out.”

You smiled then, full and quiet, something blooming in your chest. Not just because of the hope in his words but because of what they meant:

He hadn’t just been visiting you out of obligation. He cared. Deeply.

Chishiya had just sealed the blood vial, already halfway to the door, urgency radiating off him like heat. But before he could disappear into the hallway, your voice slipped through the air, soft, barely more than a breath. “Chishiya…”

He stopped instantly and just stood still, like the sound of your voice alone was enough to hold him there.

“What… what happens next?” you asked gently. “What if the test is positive? What does the treatment look like?”

He raised one hand and said, without looking back, "Hold on. Give me one minute.” And then he was gone.

You watched the door click shut behind him, your heart caught somewhere between hope and fear. His absence made the room colder again.

In the corridor, Chishiya moved like a man with a mission. He spotted the nurse standing in the corridor. She smiled the moment she saw him.

“Dr. Chishiya,” she said, her eyes shining a bit too bright. “Already here? You must really-"

“Get this to the lab. Immediately.” He handed her the vial, firm and direct. She blinked, surprised. “Of course, but are you okay? You look like you haven’t slept. Maybe you need some-"

“It’s urgent,” he snapped, tone clipped. “Please.” Her smile faltered. She opened her mouth again, but he was already turning away, already walking back to you.

The door opened and he was back, a little breathless but composed. His usual detachment was still there, but it was different now, he wasn’t guarding himself from you. He was guarding you from everything else.

He pulled the chair to your bedside, sat down slowly.

“If the test confirms it’s autoimmune PAP,” he began, “there are several treatment options. The first is something called a whole lung lavage.” You tilted your head, listening intently.

“It means we’ll flush out the excess surfactant from your lungs, essentially washing them. One lung at a time, under general anaesthesia. It’s invasive, but in many cases, effective. Some patients only need it once. For others, it becomes a routine procedure.”

You blinked. “That… sounds terrifying.”

“It’s not pleasant,” he admitted, gaze steady. “But it works. And there’s more. There are experimental treatments, subcutaneous GM-CSF therapy. It involves injecting the very protein your immune system is targeting, retraining it to stop attacking your lungs.”

You watched his face closely. There was a tightness around his eyes, not from fear but from care. From knowing what it meant for someone like you to hear words like invasive, procedure, experimental.

“You said it’s not a death sentence,” you whispered.

“It’s not.” His voice didn’t waver. “It’s difficult. It’s rare. But it’s survivable. Especially if we caught it early enough.”

You let out a long, shallow breath, one hand gripping the edge of your blanket. “So you really think… this could be it?” He nodded, slowly. “Everything fits. Your symptoms. Your scans. Your response, or lack of one, to asthma meds. If it’s not this, I’m missing something huge. But…” He paused, eyes on yours now. “I don’t think I am.”

You stared at him, studying every line of his face. The shadows under his eyes. His knuckles, still faintly red from handling too many files. Something in your chest tightened but it wasn’t fear this time.

It was the overwhelming sense that you weren’t alone anymore. “Thank you,” you murmured.

"Don’t thank me yet,” he replied. “Let’s wait for the results.” But his voice had softened. And for a moment, he didn’t look like your doctor at all.

He just looked like Chishiya. Exhausted, brilliant and quietly terrified of how much he wanted to see you healed.

The day passed quickly. Chishiya had a lot of work in the paediatric unit. He was glad when his lunch break finally approached, knowing he'd see you soon.

The corridor outside your unit was louder than usual. Rushed footsteps, clipped voices, the sudden whirl of a monitor alarm. Chishiya paused mid-step, a cold weight pressing down in his chest.

Then he saw them. Nurses moving quickly in and out of your room. His heart dropped like a stone. The paper bag with your lunch slipped from his hand. He didn’t ask what happened. He ran.

Pushing the door open, his breath caught the moment he saw you. You were sitting upright in bed, but only barely. Your lips were tinged with blue, your eyes unfocused, gasping through the nasal cannula like you were drowning in air that wasn’t helping anymore. Your skin was far too pale.

“What the hell happened?” he snapped, eyes locking onto the nurse, not the same one from earlier.

She flinched. “Her breathing suddenly worsened. We called the ER team, but-"

“Where are the blood results I asked your colleague to send this morning?”

Her eyes widened. “I- I don’t know. I thought-"

“She never sent them, did she?” His voice was low now, deadly calm. “Call the lab. Now.”

She hesitated for half a second too long.

“Now!”

The nurse bolted from the room.

Chishiya was already at your side, pulling his stethoscope from his neck with shaking hands. He pressed the cold metal to your chest, closing his eyes as he listened, laboured breath, thick with obstruction. He could hear it. The surfactant. The build-up. It was progressing fast.

You tried to lift your hand, but even that seemed too much now. Your eyes met his. And something inside him cracked.

He pulled the stethoscope off and leaned down, searching your face. There was a kind of stillness in your expression that terrified him. Like you were fading. And he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, let that happen.

The nurse returned, breathless. “The blood never made it to the lab. They don’t have anything from this morning.” For a moment, there was silence.

Then Chishiya stood, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles blanched. “Draw more blood,” he barked. “Now. And prep subcutaneous GM-CSF therapy.”

Another nurse looked at him, hesitant. “Doctor, without confirmation, do you really think that’s wise?”

Chishiya’s voice was razor-sharp. “Do you see her? She doesn’t have time to wait. If I’m wrong, she dies. If I’m right and we delay, she still dies.”

The staff looked to one another, uncertain, but obeying. Orders were given. Supplies gathered. And then, one by one, they filed out to make preparations, leaving the room in momentary silence.

He stayed. He stood beside you and for once, there was no clinical detachment in his eyes. Just fear. Pure, human fear.

Then he lifted his hand to your cheek, gently brushing his knuckles along your skin. You were so cold. Too cold. “Hey,” he whispered. “Don’t fall asleep.”

You blinked at him slowly. It took effort. "You… look scared,” you managed, voice dry and broken.

He gave a quiet, bitter laugh under his breath. His eyes shimmered, not quite tears, but close enough. "Of course I’m scared. I’m terrified.”

You tried to say something else, but he stopped you, his hand resting gently against your cheek.

“You have to stay strong. Just a little longer. You’re going to get better soon. I’ll make sure of it. But right now, I need you to fight. You can’t give up. You can’t just leave me like that." He paused, his throat tightening. “You told me you missed the little things. Grocery shopping. Cooking. Walking around like a normal person.”

He leaned in a little closer, his voice low, cracking ever so slightly, "I want to do those things with you.”

You stared at him, something soft flickering behind the exhaustion in your eyes.

“I want to argue with you over bread brands. I want to stand in a crowded supermarket while you debate which fruit is ripe enough. I want to cook with you, burn the rice and have you pretend it still tastes good.”

He exhaled slowly, his forehead nearly touching yours now.

“I want more than hospital rooms and charts and goodbyes. I want you.”

The door opened behind him, and the nurse signaled everything was ready. He looked back once more before standing up, his hand still in yours.

“But for that to happen, you have to live. Promise me.” You barely nodded. But it was enough. It had to be.

As they began setting up for the emergency injection, Chishiya stood just outside your room, arms crossed, gaze locked on the sterile floor beneath his feet. His body was tense, his face unreadable, but inside, chaos raged.

He didn’t look like someone on the brink of losing control. He never did.

But he felt it. And that was new.

His mind slipped back, not long ago, but it felt like another life.

One of the first times he brought you lunch.

You were sitting cross-legged in the hospital bed, IV line wrapped loosely near your elbow, sunlight warming your blanket. He had handed you a neatly packed sandwich in wax paper and you lit up like he’d handed you the moon.

“You pack these yourself?” you’d asked with a teasing grin, unwrapping it.

“Obviously,” he had replied dryly.

You took a bite and exaggerated a dramatic pause before nodding in approval. "This is shockingly good. You might have a fallback career.”

He’d sat stiffly in the chair by your bed, watching as you launched into a tangent about how underrated grocery store bakeries were, how you used to pick bread by smell, not price, how cereal aisles overwhelmed you, how you secretly judged people based on their tea choices. Mundane and random but somehow endearing.

He didn’t remember most people’s voices. Not their names. But he remembered yours. The rhythm of it. Soft, unfiltered, alive.

And then, in the middle of a half-rant about how hospital jello might actually be a government conspiracy, you’d stopped, smiled, and said:

“You know… you’re kind of amazing.”

He looked up from his coffee, brow slightly raised.

“I mean it,” you’d continued, shrugging like it was nothing. “Becoming a doctor at your age. Being this sharp. I know you try to hide it behind that glacier-cold face of yours, but it’s impressive.” He almost smiled at that. Almost. Not that he let it show. He never did.

But inside something cracked open.

A warmth he hadn’t invited crept into his chest and settled there. He’d heard compliments before. Thousands. From professors. Colleagues. Patients. He’d been called brilliant, genius, gifted. He knew his worth.

But none of it had ever made him feel anything. Until you.

It wasn’t just the words.

It was the way you said them. Like you didn’t need anything from him. Like you saw him, not the title, not the reputation, him.

And that was the moment it hit him, quietly, almost imperceptibly: You weren’t just another patient. He had let you in.

Somewhere along the way, and he couldn’t say exactly when, you had become more. And he had let it happen.

He knew it was wrong. Knew the lines shouldn’t be crossed. But still, every day, he packed two lunches.

Still, every evening, his feet carried him to your room without thinking. Still, right now, the thought of losing you made it hard to breathe.

He blinked, pulled from memory by the nurse calling his name. "Everything’s ready. Are you absolutely certain about that?"

He nodded once, sharp and silent and stepped back into your room.

You were struggling to keep your eyes open now, but you turned your head toward him the second he entered.

He approached quietly, stood beside your bed, then waited patiently as they began prepping the injection. You felt his presence. Trusted it. Even now.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

And as the medication entered your body, his silent vow echoed somewhere deep inside:

You are not leaving me.

Not like this.

Not ever.

The quiet beep of your monitor filled the room, steady now, stable. Chishiya's hand held yours, reassuring he was there.

You were still weak, your breathing shallow but improving. There was colour returning to your lips. A flicker of strength in the way your fingers curled slightly around his.

That’s when the door opened. A nurse stepped inside holding a slim folder, breathless from the pace of the day. "Doctor Chishiya?”

He stood, carefully letting go of your hand and accepting the report. She lingered for a moment, unsure if he wanted a summary. But he already knew. He opened the file, scanned the numbers and markers. There it was. Positive for anti-GM-CSF autoantibodies. Confirming what he’d already acted on.

He closed the folder with a click. No flicker of surprise crossed his face, just a quiet, tight nod. He wasn’t wrong.

But still... He exhaled. Relief wasn’t an emotion he allowed himself often. But today, he let a whisper of it settle over him.

Ten minutes later, he was summoned. Chishiya stepped into the office of his superior, still holding the report in one hand.

The older man looked up from his desk, face unreadable. "Take a seat, Dr. Chishiya.” He didn’t.

"I’ll be brief,” Dr. Haneda continued. “You’re off the case.”

Something shifted, not visibly, not to anyone who didn’t know him. But inside, Chishiya’s world swayed slightly. Before he could speak, his superior continued. "We’re transferring the patient to Dr. Kano. He’s one of our best pulmonary specialists.”

Chishiya’s voice came out flatter than usual, laced with an edge of protest. "She’s responding to the treatment I started. My diagnosis. My plan.”

His superior raised an eyebrow, the flash of emotion in Chishiya’s tone didn’t go unnoticed.

“And why now, Chishiya? Since when do you care about who takes over a case?” Silence. Chishiya looked to the side, jaw flexing.

Dr. Haneda leaned back slightly, studying him. “One of the nurses reported… you’re too involved. That you’ve grown emotionally compromised.”

Chishiya rolled his eyes. He didn’t have to ask which nurse. Of course it was her. “She’s alive because I acted. That treatment couldn’t wait.”

“You didn’t have confirmation-”

“There was no time to wait. Had we waited, she would’ve suffocated in her own lungs by now.” The words were sharp. Unapologetic. But still controlled.

His superior folded his hands together on the desk. "And what if you’d been wrong? What if you caused organ failure, or worsened her condition with a treatment meant for a completely different pathology?” Chishiya didn’t flinch. “But I wasn’t wrong.”

“No,” the man admitted, his voice quiet. “This time… you got lucky.” He leaned forward, his voice lower, more pointed now. "You’re a brilliant doctor, Chishiya. One of the finest I’ve seen in my entire career. And because of that, because of your value, I’m choosing to see this as a lapse in judgment. Not an act of recklessness.” A pause. Heavy.

“But don’t mistake that for approval. You crossed a line. You let yourself get attached. And if I let you keep treating her and something goes wrong you won’t forgive yourself. And neither will anyone else.”

Still, Chishiya didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The cold in his eyes deepened, not because he disagreed, but because part of him knew Dr. Haneda wasn’t entirely wrong.

But that didn’t matter. Not when you were lying in that room, clinging to every breath.

His superior sighed, voice softening ever so slightly. "I’m not punishing you. I’m protecting you. And her. This is kindness, even if you can’t see it now.”

Chishiya stood there in silence, fists clenched at his sides. Then, finally, he turned for the door. He didn’t slam it. He didn’t argue again. But as he walked away, the report still in his hand, one thing was clear in his mind: He wasn’t done. Not with you.

Chishiya had no reason to return to your unit. His break was over. His shift resumed. On paper, you were no longer his patient. Officially, he should’ve let go. But he couldn’t.

All day, while treating children with fevers, coughs, fractured wrists, and anxious parents clinging to his every word, you hovered in the back of his mind, like a fragile flame he couldn’t risk letting go out.

Still, his hands didn’t falter. His focus never slipped. Not once did his scalpel waver, nor his advice lose clarity. He was still Chishiya. Clinical, brilliant and controlled.

But every time he glanced at the clock, it was a countdown. Every second ticked toward the only moment he really cared about.

When his shift finally ended, he didn’t stop to change. Didn’t even shrug off his white coat. He just walked, fast and silent, through the hospital halls until your room came into view.

And there you were. Propped upright against the pillows. Tired but undeniably alive.

And for the first time in days, your smile wasn’t weighed down by the effort of breathing. It reached your eyes, soft and warm.

He stopped in the doorway. Just for a moment. Just to take it in. And then, as your smile lingered, something remarkable happened: Chishiya smiled back. It was barely there, the ghost of a smile, the kind you could almost mistake for nothing at all. But it was real. It softened the cold line of his mouth, sparked the faintest warmth in his otherwise impassive face.

You noticed it. Of course you did.

"How are you feeling?” he asked, voice quiet. Before you could answer, the door opened again behind him.

Dr. Kano, tall, broad-shouldered, in his late forties with calm, seasoned eyes, stepped in, holding a clipboard. He looked up at the sight of Chishiya. “Well, this is unexpected,” he said, polite but sharp. “Didn’t expect to find you here, Dr. Chishiya.”

Chishiya didn’t blink. "I’m off the clock,” he replied coolly. “Just checking in on my treatment.”

There was no defensiveness in his voice. No aggression either. Just a quiet claim. A truth he wanted acknowledged.

Dr. Kano raised an eyebrow but said nothing at first. He stepped past him and approached your bed, glancing at your chart.

You looked between the two men, sensing the invisible weight between them. After a brief pause, Kano nodded, impressed. "Your vitals have stabilised. Response is strong. Breathing volume has increased slightly. That’s good.”

He looked over at Chishiya.

“Not bad. Most physicians wouldn’t have thought of aPAP, especially not this early on.”

A pause. Then, perhaps reluctantly Dr. Kano said, "Smart call. You probably saved her life.”

Chishiya didn’t respond. Not outwardly. But the subtle lift of his chin, the flash of certainty in his eyes, it was enough.

You smiled again, watching him as if you were trying to burn this moment into memory. Kano closed the chart, turning back to you. "We’ll continue monitoring closely. Let me or the nurses know if your symptoms shift.”

He gave a quick nod to both of you and left the room, his presence already fading behind the soft click of the door.

For a few heartbeats, there was silence. You looked at Chishiya. "He complimented you.”

"It wasn’t necessary,” he said, brushing it off. But you could tell it mattered. Not because of the praise. Because it confirmed that you were going to be okay.

Chishiya pulled a chair close and sat beside your bed, still in his paediatric coat and scrubs, still looking like he hadn’t rested in days.

You tilted your head, gently. "Did you come straight from work?”

He nodded once. "I needed to see how you were doing.” Something stirred in your chest, quiet and deep. "You didn't share lunch with me today." It wasn't a complaint and he knew it. It's not like you had been physically able to eat anyway.

“I’ll bring another one tomorrow,” he said simply. And even though he didn’t smile again, his voice was different now. Warmer. A little less guarded. And you knew: he’d be back. Not because of the case. But because it was you.

Chishiya stayed a little longer. The room had slipped into that soft twilight, when hospital walls turned a cooler shade of grey and the world outside blurred into indigo. Machines hummed gently in the background and the silence between you wasn’t awkward, just calm. Steady. Like the rise and fall of your breathing, which, for the first time in days, didn’t sound like a struggle.

Your hands wrapped around the warm tea a nurse had brought earlier, though it had long gone cold. Chishiya was leaning back in the visitor chair, legs stretched out. The light from the hallway cast a faint glow across his face, softening his sharp features.

He made a sarcastic remark, something dry and perfectly timed, as usual, and you laughed.

And then you stopped, blinking in quiet surprise. "It doesn’t hurt,” you said, eyes wide with realization.

“Laughing doesn’t feel like dying anymore.”

You looked at him with something between awe and disbelief. Like he’d performed a miracle. Like he was a miracle. He didn’t say anything. But something flickered behind his eyes. Just a moment of softness.

Because even if he didn’t show it, even if he couldn’t, he had decided, somewhere along the way, that your laugh was his favourite sound. The kind of sound that made the chaos of the world feel strangely manageable.

You leaned back against the pillow, letting your eyes drift shut. Your breathing was almost normal now, still a bit shallow, but it didn’t have that haunted, gasping edge. For Chishiya, that alone felt like victory.

He stayed until you were asleep. And even then, he didn’t want to leave. He sat there, quietly watching your chest rise and fall, the corner of his jaw clenched slightly, like letting his guard down might undo everything.

But eventually, he pulled himself away from you.

He stepped out of your room, walking the quiet halls of the hospital toward the changing rooms. His pace was slow, his thoughts still full of you, how you smiled tonight, how colour had returned to your face, how the weight in your eyes had begun to lift.

By the time he’d changed out of his paediatric scrubs and was walking toward the hospital exit, night had fully descended.

He didn’t hear her approaching until she was at his side. "Hey, Dr. Chishiya,” said the nurse, her again. The one who always smiled too much, spoke too sweetly, watched him too closely. "I’m just getting off shift too. Want to grab a drink? You look like you could use one.”

Chishiya didn’t even slow his steps. "Not interested.” His voice was flat. Not cruel. Not impolite. Just honest. But she followed anyway, offering a gentle chuckle as if he hadn’t meant it. "Long day, huh? I get it. You’re probably exhausted-" She reached out, placing a hand on his arm.

He froze. Pulled away immediately, as if her touch had burned him. He turned toward her then, gaze sharp and cold in a way that made the hallway feel several degrees colder. "Don’t,” he said, low and clipped. "I’m not interested. At all.”

For a second, the nurse just stared at him, confused, maybe even embarrassed. But Chishiya didn’t wait for a reply. He turned away and walked off without looking back.

The truth was, he was tired. But not in the way she thought. He wasn’t tired from the shift. Or the charts. Or the diagnoses.

He was tired of pretending that what he felt didn’t matter. That he could watch you laugh and not feel something shift in his chest. That he could hold your hand to draw blood and not notice how warm your skin was against his.

He didn’t want drinks. He didn’t want flattery. He didn’t want meaningless distraction. He just wanted you to keep getting better. Because he wasn’t sure what kind of man he was becoming…

But he knew the moment he lost you, he’d never be the same.

Chishiya lay awake again. The ceiling above him was blank, colourless. Just like every other night before. But tonight felt heavier. Not because he was exhausted or even because your condition had been critical. It was because of you.

He didn’t understand it. Not fully. All his life, he had compartmentalised emotions the way he had learned to catalog symptoms: systematically, clinically, without letting them touch him. He was a master of detachment. Until now.

Now, it felt like something in him had cracked open and everything he’d always kept out was rushing in. Worry, admiration, longing. Not just for your health, but for your presence. Your laugh. The spark in your eyes. The way you somehow made him forget the weight of the hospital for a moment, just by being there. It was overwhelming. But strangely, he didn’t want it to stop.

His mind refused to quiet down. His thoughts circled back to you over and over until finally, one idea planted itself so firmly in his chest, he had no choice but to acknowledge it.

I’m taking her out. As soon as she’s well enough. I’m going to take her out.

A date.

The word felt foreign in his head but right. There was still so much he didn’t know about you. Yet, it already felt like he had known you for a lifetime.

And he wanted more. Needed more.

So, before the sun had even risen fully, Chishiya was already dressed and heading to the hospital, long before his shift began.

You were awake, sitting upright in bed, poking at what barely resembled breakfast. A greyish porridge, a slice of cold toast, and some sad, lifeless fruit.

You didn’t notice him right away, but as soon as he appeared at the doorway, your entire expression shifted.

“That’s what they’re feeding you now?” Chishiya asked, brow raised in amusement. "Did you offend someone in the kitchen?” You smiled, rolling your eyes. “I think this might actually be revenge.”

On the opposite side of the bed, a nurse was preparing your morning injection. You barely glanced her way, too busy watching Chishiya pull a wrapped sandwich from his bag and hold it up as a peace offering.

But then something shifted in his gaze. He froze. His eyes snapped toward the syringe in the nurse’s hand and suddenly, he lunged forward. His hand closed tightly around the nurse’s wrist mid-motion.

"What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped, voice sharp enough to cut the air. You jumped in surprise, eyes wide. The nurse flinched, stammering. “W-what-?” Chishiya didn’t release her hand, just snatched the syringe from her grasp and held it up to the light. His jaw clenched.

"This dosage is too high. It could damage her lungs.”

The nurse blinked in confusion. “But- this is the dosage from the chart…”

She reached for the clipboard she’d placed at the foot of the bed, flipping through it quickly.

Chishiya had already beaten her to it. He tore the clipboard from her hands, eyes scanning the numbers. Then he turned back to your chart at the end of your bed. A dark silence fell across the room.

His tone dropped lower, deadly calm. "This isn’t the same dosage.”

The nurse paled, glancing between the two papers. “I- I just grabbed the clipboard from the nurse’s station. I didn’t- oh my god.” She looked horrified now, her hands trembling as she tried to make sense of the error.

But Chishiya already knew. He didn’t have to ask whose clipboard it had been last. That damn nurse again. The one who seemed to watch him more than she watched her patients. The one who hadn’t sent your blood to the lab. Twice now, she had put you in danger.

His voice dropped to a chilling whisper as he shot a glare at the nurse in front of him.

“This dosage could have killed her. You don’t get to make that kind of mistake.”

The nurse was still apologising, still scrambling for excuses, but Chishiya was no longer listening. He had already placed the incorrect syringe aside, preparing the proper dosage himself. His hands were steady, but inside he was burning with rage.

He glanced at you. You were quiet, clearly shaken, trying to steady your breathing again. "I’ve got it,” he said, his tone softening just a fraction.

“You’re safe. I’m not letting anyone screw this up again.”

And in that moment, you believed him completely. He would never let anything happen to you. Not if he could stop it.

After administering the injection himself, Chishiya disposed of the tainted syringe with clinical precision, then snatched up your chart and the incorrect clipboard with one smooth, irritable motion. The nurse hesitated, her lips parting to protest.

“You can’t just take those-" But Chishiya cut her off with a single glance. Cold. Sharp. Final. She closed her mouth immediately.

"Who had this clipboard last night?” he asked, his voice low but edged in steel. The nurse swallowed. “I- I think it was Maiko. Nurse Maiko Asahara.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything in return. He simply turned and walked out of your room with clipped, purposeful strides, the chart and the clipboard tucked tightly under one arm.

It was just after 8 a.m. when Chishiya stormed down the corridor to the administrative wing, ignoring the greetings of passing staff. He didn’t knock when he reached the office door, just pushed it open, hard enough for it to bounce lightly off the wall.

Dr. Haneda, the head of internal medicine and Chishiya’s superior, was sitting at his desk, coffee in hand, clearly having only just settled in. He looked up, surprised. "Chishiya? What the hell-”

“I want Maiko Asahara gone,” Chishiya snapped. “Out. Fired.”

Haneda blinked at him, setting down his coffee. “Is this about her reporting you for being too involved with your patient?” Chishiya scoffed, jaw tight. "This is about her nearly killing a patient after already losing her bloodwork yesterday.”

He stepped forward and dropped both the clipboard and chart onto Haneda's desk with a heavy thud.

Haneda arched an eyebrow, pulling the two files toward him. As he flipped through them, his face slowly shifted from confusion to alarm. His eyes scanned the two conflicting dosages, his lips tightening as he did the math.

“This dosage…” he muttered, “…this could’ve triggered pulmonary hemorrhage. Cardiac arrest." He looked up, brow furrowed.

Chishiya didn’t respond right away. He just crossed his arms and stared him down, unwavering.

“Either she’s gone,” he said, calm but resolute, “or she’s transferred out of the pulmonary unit today. Right now.”

Haneda exhaled sharply, clearly calculating the ramifications. "This could’ve killed her,” he murmured again, more to himself than to Chishiya. Then he stood. "Alright. I’ll talk to the board. Immediately.”

Chishiya gave a curt nod and turned to leave without another word. Because to him, it wasn’t about power plays or politics. It was about you.

And the fact that someone had come that close to taking you away from him? That was unforgivable.

Chishiya returned your chart to the holder at the end of your bed, then turned to leave, clipboard still in hand. His fingers were curled tightly around it, knuckles pale. He looked like a blade drawn too long, sharp, overused, near its breaking point.

“Chishiya.” Your voice was soft behind him, barely more than a breath but it stopped him instantly.

The sound of it washed over him like balm to an open wound, slowing the storm in his chest. When he turned around, the moment felt suspended. You looked fragile, sure, but alive. Radiant in the morning light, your colour returning to something human again.

He exhaled slightly, some invisible weight shifting inside him.

But even then, you noticed it. The way his shoulders remained tight. How his hands trembled just a little too long. His jaw was still clenched, nostrils slightly flared as if adrenaline hadn’t quite let him go.

You tilted your head. “Why are you so out of yourself today?” He didn’t answer right away.

You stood up, getting out of your bed, IV line trailing beside you like a tether, your hand resting lightly on the stand.

“Don’t,” Chishiya said quickly, his voice lower than usual but it wasn’t strict. It was protective.

You took another step forward, the IV pole rolling quietly beside you. “I’ve been wandering around my room all morning,” you admitted with a small smile, “don’t tell anyone.”

Something in Chishiya's face softened.

You only smiled wider. “I feel like I can finally breathe again. Just walking around, it’s like I’m human again. Like I’m really here.”

He watched you for a second longer, then quietly shut the door behind him and moved toward you. His steps were slower now, less rushed. His eyes took you in fully, standing tall, your skin warm again, your chest rising and falling without strain.

You looked up at him, searching his face. "Why are you so stressed?” you asked again, softly. “Is it… about me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand reached up almost involuntarily, fingertips brushing your cheek. The gentleness in the touch was unexpected from him, it felt like a confession.

His thumb rested just beneath your cheekbone, where your skin was no longer clammy or grey. There was colour now. Life.

“I don’t even know,” he murmured. “Why I’m like this. Why it’s you. But I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re everywhere. Even when I’m not here. Even when I try to focus. I… I’ve never had this happen before.”

His words weren’t rehearsed. They weren’t smooth. He was a man used to being composed, clinical, distant and right now, none of those things remained. And yet… he didn’t look like he wanted to change that.

You smiled, hand reaching up to rest gently on his chest. "Perhaps,” you said teasingly, “you do like me a little after all.”

His expression didn’t shift much, but his voice was quieter when he replied. "Perhaps I do.”

Then the door creaked open and Chishiya immediately took a step back, hand dropping to his side.

Dr. Kano stepped inside. His eyes lit up the moment he saw you standing upright.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you out of bed yet,” he said brightly. “Looks like someone’s recovering faster than expected.”

You nodded politely, but your eyes flicked to Chishiya. The specialist turned to him. “Doctor Chishiya. I didn’t know you were still involved.”

"I’m not,” Chishiya replied calmly. “But I administered the morning injection. The nurse had the wrong dosage listed on her clipboard. I corrected it.”

That made the specialist pause. “I see.” He looked between you both. “Good call. Looks like your instincts saved her again.”

There was a short beat of silence before Dr. Kano smiled at you. “We’ll run another lung function test tomorrow. If it looks good, we can start talking about release within the week.”

You blinked, almost not daring to hope. And Chishiya, though he remained silent, allowed himself the smallest breath of relief. Because you were going to be okay. Because he’d finally be able to take you grocery shopping.

And maybe, just maybe, that was only the beginning.

Continue to: Breath of Evil

Well, lies. Gyutaro wondered how Daki never noticed her before and prayed that she never would. Perhaps it was because she was such a quiet, obedient thing that spent most of her time serving the mistress so that probably explained it. Not beautiful enough to attract the attention of clients, but pretty enough to have gotten Upper Six’s interest.

He stalked her around for a few days to figure out the best time to strike and eat her at the beginning. Sometimes she’d accidentally catch on, see that shadow hunkering behind her, but he made sure to always stay out of her sight.

Gyutaro learnt a lot of things about her that way. She liked food that wasn’t too sweet and disliked a certain type of fish. She liked to go take a walk occasionally alone, far away from the brothel. Her favorite color, the jewelry on the other girls she’d eye, when she fell asleep.

She liked ugly things too. That scrawny, flea-bitten cat from the garbage. The gap-toothed, abandoned children of the streets who flocked to her and begged for breadcrumbs. She didn’t seem to mind the out-of-fashion, worn clothes handed to her by the other girls of the house.

He’d like to think she’d like Gyutaro too.

Of course he knew it was wrong. She was food, not someone he should be thinking about constantly, whether he be out hunting for other prey or remaining dormant within Daki. She’d run screaming in the other direction if she so much as caught a glimpse of him.

Gyutaro wasn’t even sure when he had started getting the weird symptoms from watching her. He had originally thought she must be a demon herself, using her Blood Art to make him think about her 24/7, 365, make his palms sweaty and have his heart rate accelerate around her, have the persistent urges to keep following her around for no reason except to just bask in that sunlight of hers.

Probably some time after she nearly came close to realizing he was there, Gyutaro concluded. She was out with the oiran as one of her attendants that night and out of habit he had shadowed them, ducking out of sight amongst the crowds and running into an abandoned alley after nearly getting caught. The stupid cat had suddenly rushed in as well, something in its jaws, and her hot on its heels.

She had slammed into him, both falling over. Gyutaro would’ve snarled and promptly killed the person if it had been anyone else, but seeing her surprised, flustered face bathed in yellow glow momentarily froze him. She was looking at him. She was hovering above him.

He waited for the screaming.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there! Are you alright?!”

Shock left him dumb, instinct caused him to grunt in reply and quickly turn away lest she caught a glimpse of how demonically ugly he was. The cat screeched from somewhere in the back but he could barely hear it over the rush in his ears as her sweet, sweet, gentle, soft hand grabbed his and helped him up, exclaiming apologies again and again.

Then he fell, probably, and could never not think about her again.

Gyutaro abruptly growled and fled in frustration at the weird, disgusting feelings welling up inside of him. Ugly, ugly, ugly, he hated himself, he hated her, he couldn’t stand the thought of killing her, he wanted her so badly not to see him like everyone did, like she did that night, just another person-

But hey, even demons could dream, right? Gyutaro was guilty for the deaths and injuries for hundreds of humans even when he was one himself, but the sin of fantasizing what it’d be like to even be shown an ounce of affection from her, have her for himself (what was it that humans did, hold hands? Each other? He watched her pet the cat; would she pet and play with his hair like that?) made him feel a thousand times guiltier.

A horrible feeling. Like somebody had stabbed him and was twisting the Nichirin blade around in his innards. Obviously this feeling could be fixed if he ate you, got rid of you, right? …even if he couldn’t fathom eating you himself, Daki could, right? God, never mind, he never felt so…what was this feeling at the thought? So for now he just hoped that no one would notice her. Not Daki, she’d become her next meal. Not a client, they were fouler than him.

How dare they dirty your presence anyway? Who cared if they were handsome, rich, well off, of excellent lineage and all that bullshit? The fact they even thought of touching your, harassing you, having you was enough for Gyutaro to lose his mind and go crazy on a killing spree of all those suitors. If he couldn’t have you, and he knew that, they couldn’t either, and they better know that.

Daki, however…she seemed to be picking up on something off about her older brother’s behavior - he had never ignored her complaints about their stash of food running low soon before, never brushed it off with a yell and assurances he’d find more victims and not do so. Confused and indignant was how she had felt and what caused her to spy a little on Gyutaro and eventually how he was just spending his time watching some stupid girl with something sparking in his gaze she wasn’t sure what to feel about. She settled on disliking and being suspicious of it, finally confronting him about it one night.

“Onii-chan, can you just kill her and be done with it already?! You’ve been following her for more than a week now, how long more do you need to kill her?!”

“Shut up! Be grateful I’m even hunting for you.”

Daki huffed and continued yelling about something to do with being too busy with Oiran duties but Gyutaro zoned out completely, glaring upwards. He should be killing her by now. Eating her. Digesting her.

Why am I not doing that? He silently demanded.

In truth he didn’t know either. Didn’t know why he so easily gave into the slightest stupidest excuse to stalk his prey some more. Didn’t know why he thought about killing the people around her more than her herself. Didn’t know why he was decapitating the head of a man who called her slurs the other day instead of her head.

“FINE, I’LL GO KILL HER TONIGHT!”

He slammed the doors for emphasis, muttering profanities he didn’t actually mean about his precious sister as he stalked around the house and to her room. Maybe if Gyutaro killed her he’d stop feeling so ill all the time. “Ill” being used loosely, since…oh God, he liked the feeling, didn’t he?

Gyutaro slammed a fist against the wall. He’d eat her and be done with it.

But when he got to her room he could see not one but two shadows moving about inside, hear murmuring voices and smell a foreign scent…a man’s, tainted by alcohol. Gyutaro couldn’t help it, he wound up eavesdropping in a jealous rage at whoever managed to get close to her.

“You’re a - hic - pretty girl, I’m sure you don’t wanna - hic - be stuck here anymore, ne?”

“Sir, please get out, I never invited you to my room and I’m not working right now-”

“So what? You gonna - hic - do something?” Gyutaro’s nails dug into the wood as he saw a silhouette of a hand grabbing at her arm and yanking her to him.

“I’ll call the mistress if you do anything!”

“Haha, if you can get her to - hic - listen to you, I’ll let you go! I’m already offering - hic - a lot of money for your marriage contract!” The man just about threw her to the door, roughly letting go of her arm as he laughed drunkenly. Gyutaro had barely any time to hide himself in the shadows before the doors were flung open and she raced away.

Marriage? With this pathetic excuse of a-

The next thing Gyutaro knew after awakening from the bloodthirsty, furious craze of very messily murdering the man - the bastard had dared taint such a goddess! Not even Gyutaro had dare done that, too terrified she’d run from the demon that he was and he wouldn’t even be able to catch sight of her anymore - was him standing above the corpse, one sickle buried in the mutilated head…

…while two yellow eyes slowly looked back to see her standing still by the doorway.

His hands curled into fists and he fell to his knees. It was over, wasn’t it? Gyutaro would really have to kill her now, after she’d inevitably shatter his black, rotted heart into a million pieces for slaughtering someone much worse than him. Daki would not be happy at being forced to kill the whole House because he was seen either.

She…fell to her knees as well? Smiling and crying?

“I knew it! I knew you were always there-”

“NEHHH?” Gyutaro reared back, stunned. “You’re supposed to scream! Am I not ugly to you?! Say something else, you stupid human! What do you mean you know?!”

“I knew you were there,” she repeated. “Someone was always following me…you were the one who killed all those…men and left those stolen items from the other oiran for me, weren’t you? I just wondered when you’d show up…I was so, so afraid when the mistress told me I was going to be married off…I prayed and prayed you’d save me again.”

“What? No, NO!” In a flash he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall, breathing erratically as his hand gripped his sickle tight enough to crush rocks. “I’m not - I’m not saving you! You’re not supposed to be like this! I’m a disgusting demon, you stupid dunce, I’m ugly-”

“I don’t think you are.”

Gyutaro searched her face frantically for any indication she was bullshitting him. This was everything he wanted and nothing he understood. His fingers tightened their hold. She had to be lying.

She wasn’t. Her lips curved up gently and a fang poked out. “I think you’re like me.”