🌻 ☕️Coffee Lover Here☕️

ʕ ྀི ⏑ ᴥ⏑ʔっ 𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 ! :

Hi ! I'm Phyto a writer/artist who got to many interest at once. But my main focus are on writing/drawing and anime ! i am open to conversation, I'm looking for everyone and anyone who's up to gush abt their favs, share theories and even talk or vent to me abt their work/life and I'll do my best to try to write a comfort draft.

⋆·˚ ༘ * : ̗̀ go check out my most recent serie ! , • A War of Love ( masterlist)

From another world thy came . Too tidy,far too tight as well as way too framed for their taste. To them you suddenly turn into glass . Transparent and translucide they notice your unease.

Unease thy will get used to . Those rules that tamed everyone. Thy heard but have yet to see them. Around me people apply by them. No war, no offend nor cries. Better not to lie. To show your reluctance. A few misdirections and the person shall not be offended. Lies , riddles and tricks. Console humans in their natures. I have been good. Is what they think. Though humans have these natures as well.

They feel it, sense it in some way. They will stare at the walls that these vices has built. It shall be all they see. Henceforth it all get worse from here. The solitary fey is now feeling doomed for existence. Forced to exile they shall leave.

The story has yet to unfold as their life as human began. They will wonder endlessly. Wandering back and forth to the mirror of their soul.

What wrong path took them here ? Appearance makes them doubt , its shallowness shall not be a problem. Yet its presence is too heavy to be ignored. They will drown. Thoughtfulness , witness and strength

Are too deep in water Hidden in the core of their soul Shrouded in darkness Surrounded by fog they are too deep to be seen or too blurry to touch the heart.

Ragged breath catching up to their lungs . The void deepens, expend. No solutions in sight. Eventually, as everyone did before... As they foresaw what they were doomed for...

They returned to their nature. The path they turn to is the one humanity forced upon them. A forest of riddles, threads of bittersweet lies,smile and lingering hugs.

Here is one for thy reader. One you have yet to discover . Intents of a madwoman or hag ? Shall it be a clever speech full of meaning, or merely worlds turned into golden threads ? Is it damp with emotion and tears or another misleading you know so well of ?

" Heyy." Jeremiah tries to mimic guns with his finger despite his hands being full with bouquets of flowers. He immediately regrets it. " You asked me to help you with this project of yours, remember ? I brought everything..." You lift your hand for him to shut it.

" Flowers ? I think I have enough of them... With the five bouquets you already brought me this week."

He smiles sheepishly ." Aaand maybe , you need some more ... Come on ! Can't I offer presents to my best friend ? Is it forbidden now ?"

A smile curved on your face. A little too wide.

" Oh. Then I am sure that Xavier will be more than happy to accept them ... Right ? " Looking at Xavier's face, it is as thought you said you'd stab him a millions time in the back. He scratch nervously his face. Not knowing on which foot to rely on.

" Umm... I... Have been called by the Hunter Association. Some wanderers appeared in the street near a... convenient store. " He fake taking a looking at his watch. " Looks like you two would have to sort that out alone .Bye."

And he teleperted himself away.

You don't linger on the place he was just a moment ago. You immediately return your intention to Jeremiah. He push nervously his fluffy brown lockes away. He is on his own now.

" Don't you think you have something to say ?"

" mmh ... We haven't started to work yet ? "

" OK. That , and ? "

" You don't like flowers ? "

" idiot. Then stop. I know you got enough flowers but please , stop. Stop bringing some so often. It gets... weird . As if ... You got feeling that are not quite platonic."

"No ... I ... Just want your apartment to smell better. I know you hate the smell of the city, pollution and all... Ha ha ..."

" Really ? " You cross your arms defiantly. " So I guess that if it is " just for the smell of my apartment" as you say... You won't mind if I tell you that I am dating someone ? "

" You... WHAT ???"

Your fingers reach to smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows. " You seem really annoyed . Didn't you pretended you meant nothing by these flowers ? "

" Haha... We should really get to work, huh ? "

You lean ,on the couch, keeping the bluff alive . " By the way..." His muscles stiffened ever so slightly. He obviously did not train on his composure since the Backtrackers divided.

" My boyfriend is non other than Isaiah. "

You pause, letting the information seep in.

" You are dating that jerk ?? That snob doesn't even consider us as living being and you love him ??? He always either mock or insult us ... Don't tell me you also got affected by these weird otaku community that romanticize toxic behavior ?

I... I thought you hated him . "

He slumps slightly . Right now, he looked more than ever like a kicked-out puppy with no home to go to. You pat him gently , not daring to meet his gaze. If you did, then, he would've noticed the mirth in your eyes and lips.

" And that's why I'm not really dating him.'"

His head jerked up.

" Can you repeat that ? "

"Can you finally be honest about your feelings ?"

" Hey ! I'm not the liar here !"

" If I just asked you directly , you would've answered me honestly ? "

Your question has only be met with silence . A warm,comfy one. Good thing that Xavier is gone.

Your arms curls around him from behind, the warmth of his body seeping through the soft fabric of his clothes. He froze ,cheeks red. You only keep closing the distance until you reach his ears. In a whisper that seemed coming out of a distant dream, you tell him.

" But I warn you, I am not going to be a stay-at-home wife. "

His hands overlaps yours.

𝆴 . A War of Love part 41𝆴 . :

• A War of Love ( masterlist)

All happened too fast for me to properly reflect on it. Blows succeed each others from all sides. I either dodged or used my size as an advantage. I bend down,swiftly slipping behind him and attack. At this angle, he cannot defend himself. My punch struck.

I managed to make him wince. I grit my teeth .

I failed. I rewind in my head how he bend ever so slightly when I striked. He wasn't trying to defend himself. He knew. He was everything but helpless. I let myself be misdirected so easily.

My steps slipped across the mud, damp and newly cruel, the wetness bleeding into my socks while I wondered why. When will be his next strike ? What muscle of his is about to clench ? To bend ever so slightly so it could give me a clue. And that was my problem...

Everything felt more vivid, the color o f the sky above,the fresh earthy scent of the mud that cling onto me, the hairy arms of the opponent in front of me. Despite that it felt as though the rest of the world was erased into a wave of blurr. As if I made a mistake in a painting and tried to erase them clumsily.

I had just drawn a breath when he was already moving, his fist tearing through the space I’d occupied a second too late. I twisted away, boots sliding in the dirt, and the ground split behind me with a force that rattled my teeth. I didn’t stop to look. Another strike followed immediately, then another, his blows steering me where he wanted me, driving me forward as surely as if he’d put a hand between my shoulders.

He wasn’t trying to hit me yet.

He was making me move.

I ran, dodged, spun, my body reacting faster than my thoughts. Each step pulled heat from my muscles, each breath came shorter than the last. He stayed close enough that I felt him even when he missed, the weight of his presence pressing down on me, shaping every choice I made.

Somewhere between one near miss and the next, a memory surfaced, uninvited.

A book. Old, cracked spine, tucked away on the highest shelf of the library. I remembered reading about this exact thing, about how experienced fighters didn’t rush for the kill. They exhausted their opponent first. Forced movement. Denied recovery. Let panic and fatigue do the work long before the final blow ever landed.

I remembered thinking it sounded cruel.

Now I understood it was efficient.

The longer it went on, the heavier my limbs became. My legs started to drag. My chest burned, lungs scraping for air that never felt like enough. Sweat slid down my spine, my vision narrowing at the edges. I wanted to plant my feet, to turn and strike back, but he never gave me the space. Every attempt was cut off before it could form.

And he knew. He was waiting.

I felt the mistake the instant it happened. A step too slow. A dodge that came a breath late.

He stepped in.

The distance vanished in a heartbeat. One moment I was moving, scrambling to stay ahead of him. The next, he was there, solid and inevitable, his fist already descending. It hit with crushing force, ripping the air from my lungs as pain detonated across my ribs. My body folded around the impact, and the ground slammed into me hard enough to knock the world sideways.

For a moment, everything rang.

hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, pain flashing white through my ribs. For a heartbeat I stayed there, staring up at the sky as it spun slowly out of focus.

Then, somehow, I forced myself to my knees. I couldn’t stay down. I gritted my teeth and pushed, letting my arms burn as I hauled my body upright. My legs shook beneath me, quivering under the weight of the punch as well as those to come, but I planted my feet and willed myself to stand.

Sweat stung my eyes. My chest ached, lungs scraping for air. Some part of me wanted to collapse again.

I didn’t give it that luxury.

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮… 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.

His voice echoes as warmth spreads like poison.

I stood. Shaky, raw, but upright. I was still here. Still moving. Still breathing.Garp circled me, relentless as I've never seen him before, I met him with whatever remained in my body. I wasn’t done. Not now.

Garp struck again. Faster. Harder. The air around him snapped like it had teeth, and I twisted just in time, letting the first blow graze past my shoulder. Another hit slammed into my ribs, a shock that stole my breath for a heartbeat, but I swallowed it down, letting my body remember the rhythm. The pattern was there—chaotic, yes—but there, if I looked for it. The shift in his weight before overcommitting. The subtle angle of his arm before a strike. The twitch in his foot that betrayed the direction he wanted me to move.

I stopped trying to react to every blow. Instead, I watched. I counted. I let some strikes graze me. Sharp pain shot through me when they did, but it carried information. Where he expected me, where he misjudged me, where I could bend, twist, and step out of the way next time. I didn’t need perfection—I needed survival.

… 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞…

Now I saw his face, twisted with some pain and what fell like a tragic joy, the one that you know will never happen again.

Mud pulled at my boots, slippery and unrelenting. The uneven ground threatened to fold me, to throw me off, but I used it instead, planting my weight just so, pivoting, redirecting his force instead of meeting it head-on.

His strikes came harder now, faster, closer, and I could only dodge half the time. The other half hit, sharp fire bursting through my ribs, my shoulder, my thigh, but I carried it forward, turned it into momentum instead of letting it drop me. My chest burned. My lungs were raw. Sweat stung my eyes. My muscles trembled. And still, I thought. I watched the way he moved, the space between his fists, the fractions of a second where I could shift or twist. I calculated angles, remembered the way he had faltered in the smallest moments, and I used it, tiny adjustments that kept me upright, kept me moving, kept me alive.

Every strike that connected became data, every slip and stumble a lesson. The rhythm of the assault shaped itself around me, forcing me to anticipate, to adapt, to react. I wasn’t unbreakable. I wasn’t fearless. But I was aware. Always aware. Each movement, each breath, each staggered dodge was a choice, and in those choices, I found power.

I stayed upright. I forced my boots into the mud again. I adjusted my stance. And I waited for the next strike, knowing it would come, knowing I would meet it, knowing that if I kept moving, if I stayed thinking, if I stayed alive, I could turn this storm into something I controlled.

And I couldn't control the feeling that slowly crept in the core of my heart.

It was time to end this fight...

__________________________________________________

I think I was about to become one with the bench.

Some bunch of arms pat my back, I remember hearing bouts of what was cackles,awe-infused words as well as some blurred congratulations. I don't know from who it came though.

The only thing that felt clear was the water bottle someone handed me. As if I had been starved for days to even centuries, I snatch it, gorging in long sip, the feeling of fresh iciness covering every pores of my throat. Some of it drizzled down my face. It left small peddles on my top. It was already soaked with sweat anyway.

I slam the bottle onto the wood. It twisted, crushed with the soft crisp of plastic.

Somehow, I wanted it to be louder. So much that it could cover tmy thoughts. After that, all that surrounded me was silence, letting space for void to surround me in a way that was much crueler than Garp's punches.

He snuck back into my mind, his innocent smile haunting me.

I love you...

It was as though he was there, holding my hands tightly as if I would run away, as if to protect me from the world. Or was it from me ?

𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾…

I lowered my head, curling my whole being into a tight ball.

𝓦𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮…

𝆴 . A War of Love part 40𝆴 . :

• A War of Love ( masterlist)

The words felt like a slap .

I gawk blindly at the ground, at where he stood barely a few minutes ago. My eyes felt too wide to still fit in my face .

I did not move from a single inch. My mind froze. I loosed control yet again.

I hate it. Now, as much as before, my body ran on autopilot. It wasn't me anymore.

The heavy metal doors opened loudly. All heads in sights watched me as if it was the first time. As if I was a child walking voluntarily into a world war. A husky voice boomed . It reverberated onto each walls and bones of each soldiers. I stared blankly at his exposed teeth. His expression way too joyful in comparison to mine. Yet everyone agreed that his was much more chilling.

" Aren't you supposed to be in class ? " Garp mused. He wiped a tear of joy. I glare this time at his eyes,arching a brow. " Do I bother you perhaps ? " He pat my back harshly. Then, he turns around as he yelled orders at everyone .

And we obey . Without any second thought . We obey.

I was already moving by the time my brain registered the sound. Boots on. Laces pulled in tight knot. My body knew the routine better than my thoughts did, and I let it. That was why I was here. To move without thinking. To exist in commands and repetition. To drown into ... Something . Something else than my own thoughts ... Anything .

Outside, the air was cold and wet, heavy with salt and mud. The yard was uneven, packed dirt and gravel that never stopped biting through the soles of our boots. We lined up shoulder to shoulder, backs straight, eyes forward. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared.

Garp stood in front of us, arms crossed, looking at us... No . Looking at me with a gleam in his pupils that I know way too well. There was a time when I felt heat leaving my body as well as my soul whenever I noticed it. Each time I felt dreadful . I usually wanted to run away. Today weirdly enough, I hold his gaze .

I am feeling thankful.

Running first. Endless laps around the yard while the sky slowly lightened from black to gray. Breath burned. Lungs scraped raw with every inhale. Sweat gathered at the base of my spine and soaked through my shirt despite the cold. I counted my steps. Counted my breaths. Numbers didn’t think. Numbers didn’t remember.

I run away as fast as my body could muster, forgetting on purpose the right posture so my lungs could burn. I want them to burn me from the inside. To burn me whole, to devour...

This weird pain in my heart.

I wished to burn my entire memory, my stupidity, obviousness to everything I missed... More importantly, me.

Push ups followed. Hands sinking into damp grayish dirt. Arms shaking before I hit twenty. Garp’s shadow passed over us like a storm cloud, boots crunching, laughter low and amused. He mused at my face. I could smell his stinky breath of tea leaves and dried biscuit.

“Lower !” he was kicking dirt at my face. “I told you MUCH better than that ! "

I winced at the damp dirt brushing my eyes way too gently . It streams down my cheeks as it were drops of tears.

" Yes sir. " My voice came out monotonous. " It's "yes Grandpa !!!! "

"Yes. Grandpa"

I was back in track.

I lowered myself until my chest brushed the ground and pushed again.

the sun moved around the sky .It was my only indicator that time was passing by. It felt fast yet so slow.

The tendons of my muscles clenched, it pression echoed loud and clear throughout my entire body in a cry of pain , sorrow and most importantly, anger. I welcomed it.  I welcomed it gratefully with open arms.

Though I wasn't satisfied.

I loosed my gravity center, falling to the ground . I lowered myself until my chest brushed the ground and attempted to push up again. 

𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦…

I saw his watery blue-sky eyes. I felt the brush of blonde bangs on the crook of my neck, his warmth came back as a distant memory, the one of someone who just passed out. I was unaware of what I have done.

I fell down again.

Before being pushed to the side by a foot, pain bloomed on my waist. I was painted in brown and water. The paint enhancing the icy-cold of it. How was he doing ? Did I do something wrong along the way ? I shove these thoughts away . I can't think about him . I have to train.

In fact ... I have forgotten why I was training in the first place.

I turned my attention back to the blooming pain, hoping its shards will be enough to drown me in a long dreamless sleep.

" Alright !! " He clapped ostentatiously his hands "Listen up , young slugs !!! "

Everyone around me is slowing in their track before huddling into a throng . My view gets blocked. The sun no longer in sight. I flinch . A few towering figures cast their long and thin shadows on me ,reflecting exaggerating silhouettes. My eyes linger on them... In an almost cartoonish way, their muscles felt more prominent, pumped up in such ways that they felt indestructible. I could say inhuman. Unreachable. A level of skill and strength that is above mine for eternity, no matter how hard I will try. I usually feel shrunken in front of this sight. Like turning back to a defenseless child.

One that cries when it's hurt, one that shies away from blood and pain...

One that isn't aware of adults talk, of their plan for her,of the lack of freedom she believes she possesses.

A child that doesn't know the world yet.

My fists clench until my hands burn, and the tension spreads through me like a cruel command. Muscle tightens, flesh pulls, breath thins, until I am nothing but restraint and fury bound together. An armed arrow is all that I am. One that is unaware at who to shoot. All I do it tighten, wait for an aim. Blood rushes through my vains, coiing with the rest that already feels too much. The arrow Garp always wished for. Straight and alert...

Right before the arrow runs for its prey.

Yet it isn't aware at who to shoot.

__________________________________________________

Garp shut finally his mouth. The instructions had been probably already given . They passed by my ears in a blurry mismatch of words and movements that I remember nothing about.

He scanned the crowd .

Only to stop at me , he did not look away. A wave of surprise shove on his face for a second, his pupils shoot straight into mine,he seemed to tense as well as if he sensed some threat. His foot landed backwards. In a fighting stance.

Cursing myself for my lack of control,for being too expressive, I lower my head .

He sensed it . And It was entirely my fault.

Garp kept this stance , his body language gave away the direction for both greedy and entertainement-thirty gazes to follow. They were all on us. All on me,waiting for me to make a move.

As if I was a clown of an old kid's show or the villain of one of them.

Shame crept to my cheeks in a firework. A turmoil I will let nobody peer at this time,not again.

" I changed my mind. The last exercise of today's practice will be real life fighting ." He wore no grin this time, a chill goes through my entire being. I am stuck.

The environment will be too tight for me to run away as I did last time. It'll be impossible to use my agility to my advantage. Zoro won't be there either. I scan his gargantuan figure. In search of a flaw,a plan,anything ... My breath quicken. Half of it stuck in my throat. I will have to play on speed. With his size, my best chances rely on close range combat. I could sneak on him. I could hit on his vital point: wrist,throat, the part between his legs. It would be efficient.

But it is too risky.

A single kick from the side ...

And I'll be over.

I try to think of other ways,some to hide of exposed I feel, how human I am or other tricks that I could improvise to trick him,to turn the situation to my advantage somehow. No matter how I spin things...

This is the reason why I am inactive lately. As an artist ( which I am, I know , very shocking ) I started to explore different formats, now I started making videos !

I mainly do story times and things related to art in some ways. From now on, I will sometimes do polls on which topic you'd like to see next . I'm exited to hear y'all opinions or idea !

Pls check it out if you want. And I wanted to thank you all for reading my silly fanfic ! (=^▽^)σ

Have a nice day and byyyyyye !

𝆴 . A War of Love part 39𝆴 . :

• A War of Love ( masterlist)

. . .

I made my decision.

I clench my teeth as my hands itches to hold her hands and hold her tighly so among all this light that doesn't reach me for a bit, I could sink in into that warmth I have always dreamed of . However, her dreams are probably not mines.

I clench my teeth tightly.

Words rassembles into a crowd, all hurried, pushing altogether to get out first, they push themeselves, battling between them and at the same time with my own mind and heart.

My throat is about to explode.

My heart tears apart.

" Y/n... The truth is ... "

I will keep my feelings to myself. I've hurt her enough like that.

At least I would spill the rest, my heart is pounding , leaping , bouncing on my bones both in cries and half-relived screaming. I confessed almost-everything : The deal between our elder, the pain I felt for so many years, the abuse, the losing of who I am , me knowing that she is Luffy's sibling...

I go on speaking , my mouth felt numb, all feelings of neither hot or cold could reach it as it moved in a rusted mechanic way. My eyes did not dare to look directly at her. The Dark Knight took over.

I was not only the thief who took her liberty away... On top of that , I am as well a liar who does not want to see what may happen, what expressions of disgust or hatred will appear on her face when she will discover the truth.

The image produced by my mind drained all energy or color from my body. A concrete proof of my gigantic cowardice. I feel pathetic .

I finally ended my speech ( not where it should've) .

My gaze is still on the ground. Where it belongs.

" So... If I understand well... You're my betrothed ? -Yes. Sorry about that ... I know you would've preferred someone like ... Koby . "

She backed off to take a better look at me . I dare to look at her face ... It wasn't what I expected.

" Is that a joke ? He isn't really my type. As a brother , yes. Not really as a fiancé . " She held my hand up. " Having you as a husband wouldn't be that bad of a thing , right ? - Please ... I beg you . Do not say these things on a whim. - It is not . I imagine myself loving you. "

My eyes watered yet again. I abruptly get hold of her shoulders.

" Is this a confession ?? - Not before you get the guts to make the first step. " Tears rolls down. I am the only one. " Since when ? I.... - You can tell it . It is no secret. "

My grip on her tightened even more, arms folding around her, engulfing me in an overwhelming wave of warmth.

The numbers of tears in liberty doubled.

It felt like rain was coming out of my eye , between each of them is reflected our younger figure, allies of a past time as our pinkies intertwined .

The warmth that I have always yearned for, I did not just discover it . I was just about to forget how it feels like, the real warmth of the embrace of the person I love. I guess I was just imagining it all the time.

I snuggle into the crook of her neck. She let me water a bit her shirt with my tears. She pets my head as if I was a puppy or a kid ... I can't help but to lean under her touch. The moment she takes her hand away, the second I felt her drifting away from a millimeter, I immediately close the gap by this time bringing her closer .

I must seem so desperate.

Maybe I am just imagining things again.

How could she be in love with me ?

"I imagine myself loving you."

She never said she loved me. I understand her. I'll get her out of this situation, by any means. I will get as far as possible from her . Where nobody will never find me again. And she will not have to be forced to do something she does not wish to do. So she won't be trapped the same way that I am.

But before that...

I put gently my hands behind her head. I push it towards the crook of my neck.

I want to be her pillar. For her to rely on me , just one more time.

Part of also did not want her to see my facial expression at the time.

Twisted dreadfully with joy and pain.

" I love you... Romantically. Way more that you could ever imagine..."

Today is her birthday

I didn't know what to say

Everyone is so merry and so I am

Because today we celebrate who she is and coming to this world

A day of happiness,hugs and festivities

Words keeps mingling eternally

I hands her her presents and she smiles in her own way

Because today is her birthday

I don't know what to say on such a special day

Except for some cheesy words, a smile and a hug

A little pat on the head

Is all I have to say

𝆴 . A War of Love part 38 𝆴 . :

• A War of Love ( masterlist)

The fresh and greasy smell of butter and eggs slowly shifted. The oven golden hue reflecting the only light in the room.

The sun continue its course through the large, wide and yet partly darkened sky .

She seemed turned off, as if the yet navy blue sky existing through the window, proof of a still sleeping world revealed her hidden colors. Those I hope where the ones she did not dare to share with me before.

A foolish dream.

The one to hope that I am something more than a friend. A more important character in the long narrative of her life. I dream of being in the middle of it, golden everywhere in the form of golden and sunshine. She'd be glowing the more, even brighter than in the past. I take out of my pocket my lighter, its color a pale imitation of that light in carra and money .My eyes are closed, from my lips escapes a wisps of clouds which soon ,evaporates in the air.

I turn to face her . The light shifted.

She was steady, her gaze fixed upon the puffing croissant , the light of the oven dimmed as I faced her faraway gaze . It was disconnected from reality, I wanted again to be a foolish delusional dreamer and secretly that she tried to escape reality by thinking of a perfected dream, an alternative reality : what if everything was different ? A world devoid of sacrifice and pain. A world just for us. A world of happiness.

There was only the reflection of the oven artificial light in her eyes. Apart from that were dark scribbles dancing together to a ragged beat, there was the black of the emotions that she probably felt ... Emotions that I could only understand too well.

Her light disappeared what seemed like long ago. She blended into the early morning. I stand into the part of the room that is not engulfed into darkness.

She turns her gaze to me , I can't move. Her eyes and the bags under it seems deeper than ever . And so is the feeling of an invisible wall separating both of us. I feel the urge to shove it away, to break it so it'll shatter into a million pieces so I could finally reach her.

It's only after that she pronounced these words that I realized ...

" Sanji ? " No need to respond, she knew that I was listening. " ... "

She stared at my eyes, her gaze mirroring the pitch black knight of my imagination , a smile grew on her face . A smile that seemed warm because it is made with in mind the greatest intentions. Nonetheless, it felt twisted somehow. One of the corners of her lips sightly too high. Something felt too tight. I almost clenched my heart.

A flicker of light swept across her eyes, a shooting star tinted gold by the glow of the nearby oven. More started to appear.

" Have you ever wanted... " Her voice trembled.

" Everything to just disappear ? "

I realized ... That in fact she never let anyone past that wall.

Yet I step ahead ,bursting through it at the speed of the light, well before I could even form a word in my mind. I did not even take the proper time to imagine the broken pieces of it flowing around me, each representing all the moment of secrets, crying, pain, sorrow, death, lost hope and darkness that connects us with a red thread .

All I see is her, my vision blurs as my face starts to get wet too.

The sun rises , projecting on our leaning silhouettes that becomes both shadows. Both of us.

Floods of lights bounces on us, its color changing our tears more prominent, glistening like stars that have yet to live billions of years. We are bathing in a golden world, not the one of my dream.

Tears streams down my face while she still tries to contain hers.

My voice sound desperate and pitiful, as I have always been.

" You don't imagine how much..."

I smile unconsciously, it felt weak and trembling like a fallen leave in autumn ... Yet to her , it felt like the warmest thing she ever felt.

And there I am, my head leaning against her shoulder, crying my heart out while she pats my head.

She is crying too.

Her tears finally free.

__________________________________________________

Once we both finished with our crying . I rest my chin on her shoulder, sinking in the smell of hers.

My eyes red and itching,still gleaming, I avoid to meet her eyes . My gaze running away to anywhere she couldn't see through me. I have let myself go, I 've been to weak,too pathetic . I should've kept these tears of mine for when I'm alone, for when I am encaptured and protected by that golden prions composed by thousands of walls. There, only Reijuu would know.

How am I supposed to be reliable, to be the person that Y/n could vent to when she feel this way ? I want to help her, to support her, to be her steady rock in her life that is a constant storm...

...

But I am as well the one who will trap her int that same golden prison as me. It was all my fault in the first place.

All because I loved her too much.

. . .

𝆴 . A War of Love part 38 𝆴 . :

• A War of Love ( masterlist)

Really ,who was I to hold a grudge against her for that ?

I have probably hidden much worse thing from her.

Her smell haunted my mind , the long moment, pinkies linked, the air between us light but fragile .

A far away dream.

Way to ethereal and cliché to be real. If I tell her everything ,will she pity me ? will she share her secrets now ? Or pink-boy already knows about it ?

I clenched my teeth. i have to catch up with reality.

It is around me, surrounding me by all sides, persons,friends to the path of the school, the teachers,the smell,the scents and the hatred, those of my blood, and the one to hold my heart within her scarred soul.

I was drowning right now.

My gaze turned back to the teacher in a nonchalant-seeming way.

Professor Kuma stood before the class, tapping a piece of chalk lightly against his notes.

"When we discuss medieval knighthood, it’s important not to romanticize the noble class. We often imagine nobles as privileged, united, and honorable, but historical records tell us that mistreatment within noble families was far more common than popular culture suggests."

He turned to the board and wrote ‘Internal Hierarchy’ in firm strokes. I focused on his big calloused hands,golden brown as a freshly baked gingerbread .

"First, noble households operated on strict hierarchies. Younger sons, illegitimate children, or those who did not meet family expectations could face neglect, humiliation, or outright cruelty. Birth did not automatically guarantee respect. In fact, many noble families displayed harsh favoritism, prioritizing only the heir while others were treated as burdens."

He walked slowly across the front of the room.

His words ringed in my mind, my eyes followed him,bland. I was staring at a mirror of another hypothetical world. Those reflections , those silhouettes of four kids beating up a curled up crybaby.

I watch his words blankly.

These reflections were invisible. Those of faraway strangers.

"We have chronicles describing noble children who were denied proper training, isolated within their own households, or punished severely for failing to meet martial or social standards. Physical discipline, emotional neglect, and political manipulation were common. These weren’t rare tragedies — they were recognized patterns of aristocratic life."

A few students shifted in their seats, surprised.

"Second, noble families were under constant pressure to produce ‘ideal heirs.’ A child who was physically weak, uninterested in warfare, or simply different from what the family expected could be ostracized. Medieval society valued conformity within the elite, and deviation was often met with cruelty rather than compassion."

He paused and placed the chalk down.

The professor closed his folder. I follow blindly it's move.

"Finally, it’s important to understand that knights were not always paragons of virtue from birth. Many came from households marked by rivalry, harsh upbringing, or even abusive environments. Some rose above it;"

The mirror troubled,its surface rippled,searching into my internal world. In the middle of the troubled surface, appeared a silhouette . It was shiny,bright,almost blinding. He smiled, the familiar figure reflected the sun. His blonde locks flew away,brushing gently against his silver armor. A heart shield protected him.

It is supposed to be me.

"... others perpetuated the cycle."

Behind it , a shadow stand. Our gaze meets, I was hooked,trapped,impossible to get away. I couldn't get away.

The other shined, was the sun. He wasn't the moon. Just the night,it's darkness absorbing everything. His eyes devoid of anything,yet in his figure,everything mingled.

The reflection of his held up black sword, was the crows over the tombstone, the trap, the hatred, the bad words,the wounds, scares,insults,the world, the fate,the past,the loop, the blood, the pain, the present, and fate, what I was turning into.

A scowl was the only thing on his face.

That dark knight who pretends to values,only to slay everything on his path .

In the name of love and the past.

I hold up my manual at the right page.

The lamp on the ceiling felt useless, lighting only the dark figure in front of my eyes.

That man, that dark knight.

It was me.

" This internal brutality within noble families shaped the psychology and behavior of many medieval figures we read about."

I stopped listening long ago.

_____________________________________________________________

I can always tell when something’s off before anyone else notices. A class, a hallway, a mood—it doesn’t matter. You just… feel it.

Tonight, it’s my chest. Tight, heavy, like someone’s pressing a fist against it.

I duck behind the bleachers, just in time to see them. Her, laughing. Koby, flailing a little, trying too hard. They’re sparring—well, “sparring.” More like her gently correcting him over and over while he awkwardly tries to keep up.

I bite my lip and lean back against the wall. I shouldn’t even be watching. I have no reason to. But I can’t stop.

Koby throws a punch. She steps aside. He almost trips. She catches his arm. He blushes. She laughs.

And I feel that tightening again.

Why does that hit me so hard?

I tell myself to look away, go check the cafeteria or the locker room. Do something. Anything. But I don’t. I just watch.

Her hair swings when she moves. Her laugh—God, that laugh—echoes in the empty courtyard. Koby’s trying so hard to match her rhythm, and she just… lets him, gently, like she doesn’t even notice how much effort he’s putting in.

I should say something. Maybe even offer to help. Or at least cheer for him. But I don’t.

I stay in the shadows, pretending I’m invisible.

Koby throws another sloppy punch. She steps forward, correcting him again, hand on his shoulder. He freezes for a second, then grins awkwardly.

And me? I just… sigh. I feel like I’m choking on my own chest.

I know I should step in. I could. But I don’t.

Instead, I just whisper to myself: “Focus, Sanji. Just… focus.”

Her eyes flash toward me for a split second, like maybe she sensed me watching. I quickly look away. Pretend I was never here. Pretend I don’t care. Pretend the knot in my chest isn’t there.

And still, I can’t stop thinking: I should just tell her how I feel… someday. Maybe someday…

____________________________________

One morning, as the sun barely climbed above the horizon, she opened the front door to the kitchen classroom. Her eyes widened, drawn to her own feet. For a moment, she had no memory of how she had arrived.

She simply did.

Her movement felt ethereal,hollow . As if she was some revenant who was there,alive. However,not really aat the same time. Her clothes balanced gently in the small,chilling breeze of the morning. I watched her intently.

She hasn’t noticed me yet.

It felt like I was dreaming.

Finally,in a motion that lasted a hundred years at least. She looked at me.

“Oh.”

I pried my gaze away, back to kneading the croissant dough I was making. Shame spread on me in venom threads. I wish I was dead.

She sigh heavily, let her bag drop on the ground with a loud thud,and proceeds to sit nearby me. Her gaze hazily scanning me,my motions. The calculative energy vibrated from her.As if she was playing some strategy game,some war,trying to hide some weakness from her ennemy.

I yearn to be her ally.

The fresh and greasy smell of butter and eggs spread across the room, twirls around us, as if it was weaving a private cocoon for both of us.

She almost seemed to drool .

I put this batch in the over. She knelt in front, of it. The golden light of the oven engulfing her in some golden halo.

She was gorgeous.

Unfortunately for me, my steps takes me away temporarily to the sink. The running water hit my hands, I turn the mixing valves to the hot part. She must feel cold enough,I do not want my hand to add to it.

The sound of the fabric, which is usually slow, silent and perfect,was today nothing like that. The towel was knocked in some weird way, twisted messily,the ruffling sound echoing all around us. I quickly toss it away.

Striding across the room, my steps finds her. I cup her face between my palms. Her eyes meets mine,her mouth part open,her lips slightly cracked like a thin cover of ice that is about to melt under a sunny day. I felt hazy. This moment felt surreal.

“ Have you been sleeping lately ?”

Her hands reached instantly to the bags under her eyes. She tried to turn her head away, I bring her back with my hand. Her cheeks felt so soft.

She stayed silent.

“ I haven’t been sleeping well lately too... But at least I try.”

Realizing my mistake,I let go of her face gently.The soft warmth of her skin still lingering on my palm. I want to hold her in my arms, to hug her ,to make her happy, to be useful to her... Everything.

I want this marriage to happen.

Whenever I see you.

Wherever I meet you .

All I see in your eyes are the old times.

Not roseries.

Nor reveries.

My mind ,

eyes blurred with tears.

They want to betray me .

I want to run away.

You stabbed and stomped on me too many times.

My blood run down your hands .

You abused the title God gave you.

I cannot trust you.

On your lips hangs the insults.

Your shadows hides my past.

I am only a shadow to you.

You are the darkness of my life.

I do not love you.

Why would I ?

When our story was so bloody .

I hate you . I hate you . I hate you .

A life without you is a life deprived of bloodthirsty shadow.

I am far from one, far from you.

I am a blinding light that shines among the stars.

I stare not at the window ,

But at the void .

The pupils of my eyes devoid of emotion .

I don't feel anything .

My body grows and curves comes out.

I drown and try to hold the rug in front of me

To escape, I chose the Wonderland .

A land full of joy, madness and coy.

In my mind ,far from the crumbling and numbing cave I live in

All I see are colors, all disconnected from the real . I was a coward.

Suddenly this realm and the real one starts to blur

Splashes of paint obscuring my view

All colors turned brown and dark

It all blended together .

And I stopped existing .

All I wanted to see was mad people.

When I was the one to lose it.

A drug my mind became.

Your pursuit of perfection makes you who you are.

Pretty, polite and sweet as sugar.

Your mind doesn't matter as long as your hands moves .

It is all that we ask for.

Your pursuit of perfection makes you who we want you to be...

Beauty, pretty, maid forever and attractive .

Here's the pursues we handed to you .

They will be your only specialty.

Esteem yourself grateful that we let you live,

The life of constant pressure under a mask

That nobody shall ever see.

Pretty. Pretty .Pretty.

Clean. Clean. Clean.

And suddenly all the objects around me feels like weapons.

I mistook this house for a prison.

All objects around me merges into one.

The silhouettes of the grim reapers that stole my life and happiness.

My eyes widens and I stare at the mirrors ,

All I see is a pretty dead body.

Moving,swaying gracefully at the commends.

Behind me stands all the grim reapers.

All of my close ones stands behinds me.

Your pursuit of perfection makes you who you are

Pretty, polite and sweet as sugar

Your mind doesn't matter as long as your hands moves

It is all that we ask for.

𝆴 . A War of Love part 37 𝆴 . : “The Alliance of Misunderstandings”

• A War of Love ( masterlist)

I’ve been told that jealousy isn’t a good look on me. Maybe that’s true — but hell, it’s hard not to feel something when the person you care about keeps drifting further away.

From where I stood by the second-floor railing, I could see her below — Y/n, talking again with that pink-haired new kid. Koby. They looked close. Too close. Heads bowed together, voices low enough that even the wind wouldn’t share their words.

I took a slow drag of my cigarette. The smoke rose, soft and restless, blurring them for a second before fading. If only it could take that scene away with it.

“Tch. You’re still watching them,” came a gruff voice beside me.

Of course. Zoro. Always showing up when I least wanted company.

I glanced at him. “You counting how many times I sigh, mosshead?”

He smirked. “Can’t count that high.”

Normally, I’d laugh — trade a jab or two and move on. But not today. My eyes drifted back to Y/n and Koby. Every time she smiled, something in my chest tightened.

“Tell me something,” I said quietly. “You think she likes him?”

Zoro shrugged. “Don’t know. Doesn’t look like she’s avoiding him, that’s for sure.”

His words hit harder than I expected. He wasn’t trying to be cruel, but he never sugarcoated anything either.

I crushed the cigarette under my heel. “It doesn’t make sense. They’ve only known each other for what — two weeks? And suddenly they’re glued at the hip.”

“Maybe he’s just helping her with something,” Zoro said.

“Helping her how?” I shot back. “By stealing every moment I used to have with her?”

Zoro gave me a long look, unreadable as always. “You sound like a jealous boyfriend.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

He sighed, tilting his head toward the field. “So what are you gonna do about it, cook?”

“Something,” I muttered. “Anything.”

That’s how it started — the stupidest plan two idiots ever came up with.

We didn’t say it outright, but the unspoken truth was there: we’d work together. Watch. Interfere a little, if we had to. Anything to make sure Koby didn’t get too comfortable around her.

Our first chance came during P.E. the next afternoon.

It was track practice — groups of two running laps while the others watched from the bleachers. Of course, fate being the cruel joke it is, Y/n got paired with Koby again.

From the sidelines, Zoro leaned lazily against a post, arms crossed. I stood beside him, one hand in my pocket, pretending not to care as I watched her tie her shoelaces beside him.

“She’s smiling again,” I muttered.

“You’ve got good eyes,” Zoro said dryly. “Maybe too good.”

I ignored him. They started running, side by side — her ponytail bouncing with each step, his grin boyish and eager. It should’ve been harmless. It was harmless. But tell that to my pulse.

Halfway through, she tripped over her own feet. Koby reached out instinctively to catch her, and for a second, her hand rested on his chest as she laughed it off.

Zoro looked at me. “Now or never, cook.”

“Right.”

He kicked a stray soccer ball into the field. Not hard enough to hurt anyone — just enough to throw things off. The ball rolled right in front of Koby’s next stride. He stumbled, windmilling his arms before regaining his balance, red-faced and flustered.

Y/n burst into laughter — bright and genuine, cheeks flushed from running. Then her gaze lifted, and she caught mine across the field.

For just a heartbeat, our eyes met.

Her smile softened — almost questioning. Then she turned away, back to her partner.

Zoro snorted beside me. “Smooth, real smooth. What’s next? Gonna trip the kid in the cafeteria too?”

“Only if he gets handsy again,” I said, lighting another cigarette.

“You’re insane. For once, we both are"

“Romantic,” I corrected, exhaling smoke.

After practice, I stayed behind to clean up the mess we’d caused — Zoro wandered off, muttering something about naps and idiots. The field was quiet now. A few birds overhead, the faint hum of wind through the fence.

That’s when I saw Y/n again, sitting at the edge of the bleachers, alone. Her shoulders were tense, her head slightly lowered as she stared at her phone.

For a moment, I almost went to her. Almost.

But then Koby appeared again — out of nowhere — and she quickly pocketed her phone, standing to greet him. They exchanged a few hurried words I couldn’t hear. Then, without a glance back, they walked off together toward the back gate.

I told myself it didn’t mean anything. That she probably just forgot to say goodbye.

But the lie sat bitter on my tongue.

Later that night, the smell of burnt sugar filled the kitchen. I've pretendend that I just wanted a midnight snack so I won't need anyone else to see how mad I'v got .

I’d been trying to perfect a new glaze for tomorrow’s baking class, but I wasn’t paying attention. My thoughts kept circling back to that scene — her laughter, his stupid grin, the way she looked at her phone like she was hiding something.

I leaned out the window, letting the night air cool my frustration. Down below, the city lights flickered like stars that fell too low. I took out my lighter and flicked it open. The small flame danced, restless, defiant.

“Guess it’s just you and me tonight,” I muttered to it.

Zoro’s voice echoed in my head — ‘You sound like a jealous boyfriend.’

Maybe I did. Maybe that’s what I wanted to turn into.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. That she wasn’t just with him .

— She was hiding something.

𝆴 . A War of Love part 36 𝆴 . :

• A War of Love ( masterlist)

I watched from the back of the room, keeping quiet. It’s easier that way. I can see everything from here—the way she smiles, how she tilts her head when she listens, the small things that shouldn’t matter but somehow do.

“Oh, the new one seems to have at least an ally. That’s good,” I thought. The mosshead arched a brow .He leaned back in his chair, staring at the pink-haired newcomer like he was measuring him.

If he had drawn his sword right there, I wouldn’t have stopped him.

If only Y/n-chwan knew how possesive he was, she'd probably feel smothered.

I shook my head, shifting my attention to the newcomer.

That was unlike me.

Y/n-chwan was just trying to be kind. Changing schools halfway through the year? That’s rough for anyone.

She’s only being nice, trying to make the new kid feel welcome. It’s what she does—she’s got that kind of heart.

Still, that doesn’t make it any easier to watch.

I caught myself tapping my fingers against my notebook, a soft rhythm filling the silence around me. The habit kept me grounded. Otherwise, I’d be stewing in thoughts that had no place in a gentleman’s head.

I want to fight fairly. I don’t want to fall into cheap jealousy or petty tricks—the kind of thing that old bastard Zeff would laugh at me for. If I’m going to fight, I want to do it cleanly, with pride.

But then the week kept rolling on, and somehow, every class she had paired her with him. First in sports, then biology, and then...

Cooking.

That one hit harder than I expected.

Cooking class was supposed to be ours.

Our little corner of the day. She’d ask me for advice—how to knead the dough properly, how to balance a sauce—and I’d guide her through it, showing her the rhythm of it all. She’d giggle when she messed up, poke fun at herself, sometimes smear a bit of flour on my sleeve by accident. Those moments were simple. Comfortable. Ours.

Now she was laughing with him.

I watched her from across the counter as she helped the new kid scrape dough off his hands. He looked ridiculous—flour on his face, grin wide and awkward—but she was laughing, and it was the kind of laugh that reached her eyes.

Something in my chest tightened. My hands moved faster—chopping, whisking, anything to drown out the sound. Luffy sat nearby, watching me like I’d suddenly grown a second head, but even he knew better than to interrupt.

By the time class ended, I’d made three times the number of cakes needed. Luffy was already shoving them into his mouth, crumbs everywhere.

“Mlou kwow whad ubbou?” he tried to say. It sounded like a question.

I sighed. “Finish eating before you talk, idiot.”

I packed my things and left before I said something I’d regret.

Tsk. How could he be so clueless but have so sharp instinct ? Maybe he's like some kind of dog ?

I stopped in my track.

That would exlplain a lot.

Out in the hallway, the quiet hit me all at once. I took out my lighter, flicked it open despite having no cigarette to lit.

—just the flame...

It flickered softly against the blue sky outside the window, the light catching on the glass. For a moment, it calmed me.

Then I noticed Zoro standing a few steps away, leaning against the wall like he’d been there the whole time. His face was unreadable, but his eyes weren’t.

“Did you notice?” he asked.

I snapped the lighter shut, the flame dying with a small click.

The smell of burnt metal lingered in the air.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I noticed.”

The words hung between us, heavy but honest. Although, he got two brain cells in his moss head . He already knew.

𝆴 . A War of Love part 35 𝆴 . :

• A War of Love ( masterlist)

I rubbed the sponge against the sauce-stained plate. The water was warm, almost too warm, and bubbles foamed up, pale white streaked with the same color as the sauce that clung to the ceramic. The red tint spread through the foam, thin as watercolor, before swirling down the drain. Some of it stuck to my fingers, glimmering faintly under the dim kitchen light. The smell of soap mixed with the faint scent of garlic and tomatoes. My hands were slick and wrinkled from the water.

The guys weren’t here tonight. The house felt bigger without them. Garp was at some colleague’s party, loud and formal from what I’d heard. Ace was out with his friends — and Mr. Newgate, no doubt filling the air with his deep laugh. Luffy had gone off to eat with his “crew,” which really meant whoever he found on the way who didn’t mind sharing a meal.

Only Sabo was here, somewhere upstairs, drowning in exams and assignments. Every now and then, I heard his chair creak or a pen drop onto the floor. I’d seen some of his law notes before — pages filled with long, complicated sentences that never seemed to end. I couldn’t imagine having to study something like that. I hoped I never would.

I paused for a second, the sponge still in my hand. The water caught the light and shimmered like glass on my skin. A drop rolled down my arm, slow and deliberate, slipping under my sleeve and leaving a cold trail in its wake. I watched it disappear, then looked up at the quiet kitchen around me. The hum of the fridge was the only sound.

School doesn’t feel that overwhelming anymore. It’s more or less become a place of peace. I always thought it was strange to call something “peaceful.” For anything, really. I never understood why people always said the countryside was peaceful. When I lived in Fusha with Luffy, Ace, and Sabo, things were always upside down. Nothing was ever quiet. Someone was always shouting, arguing, or laughing so loud you could hear it from the other end of the village.

I used to scold adults like Shanks for being an unapologetic drunk in front of kids — a bad influence on Luffy, I’d say. He’d just laugh and ruffle my hair, which only made me angrier. I got hit on the head more than once for being too soft with my brothers. The adults said I spoiled them, but I couldn’t help it. Everyone was always caught up in some debate or another, voices bouncing off the walls, and through it all Makino stayed calm. She took care of us like we were her own.

Those days were chaos, but they were the kind of chaos that felt alive. Every moment was full of something — laughter, noise, life. Everything was wonder and fun and energy. The word that sat on my tongue like a piece of candy was *freedom.*

We were always together, running through the grass, climbing trees, jumping from fences, scraping our knees and laughing about it. We were reckless and stupid and happy. But things change. They always do. People grow up. They move on.

I blinked and came back to the empty kitchen — the dishes half-clean, the air heavy with the smell of detergent and silence. The chairs stood around the table, waiting, empty. The house felt too still, like it was holding its breath. My mind, like a coward, ran from the emptiness and latched onto something else, something softer — like watching a video of kittens after a long day.

Things had changed at school too. When I passed Sanji or Zoro in the halls now, I didn’t feel that strange tension anymore. It used to feel like I was some kind of prize they were fighting over, something to prove a point. That uneasy feeling — it’s gone. They both seem different somehow.

I thought about Sanji, about the promise between us. He trusted me enough to let me see him without his usual walls — no smooth charm, no jokes, no masks. When he spoke, there was something fragile in his voice, something real.

Something vulnerable.

He was vulnerable in a way I didn’t expect. He showed me a side of himself that wasn’t for anyone else. And in doing so, he made me want to let my own guard down too.

I almost did.

As for Zoro… I don’t really know how to explain things with him. It just feels good, instinctively. I can’t restrain my hits with him; things just flow. When our eyes meet, it’s like telepathy — we understand each other thoughts without needing words. He’s known my situation from the very start. He knows what I’m going through, even without me mentioning it.

He accepted that it’s my own fight. He never tries to play the knight in shining armor, and he doesn’t see me as a damsel in distress. His eyes hold no pity, only respect — the kind of respect that says, *I know you can handle it.*

When I’m with him, I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to explain. I could spend forever like that.

The sink gurgled softly as the last of the water drained away. I stacked the plates carefully, one by one, their soft clinking echoing through the kitchen. The sound filled the silence, small and comforting. The night had settled completely outside, wrapping the room in blue shadows.

For a moment, I just stood there, hands damp, eyes on the empty table.

_____________________________________________________________

Three weeks later, the stalker had struck again.

Every day, without fail, a letter appeared in my locker. Pages filled with my own life reflected back at me in messy, obsessive handwriting—every move I made, every word I spoke, recorded as if I were under a microscope.

That morning, as I spun my lock and pulled the metal door open, I let out a sigh.

The hinges creaked. Inside, instead of the usual folded note, lay a bouquet of flowers. Neatly tied, far too perfect. A white card rested on top.

*I am watching you.*

A chill slid down my spine. What the hell was his goal? Why flowers? A warning? A taunt?

I shoved the locker closed and pressed my back against it for a moment, my eyes sweeping over the corridor. Students milled about, laughing, shouting, hurrying to class. But in between the movement I searched for that too-tall, too-still silhouette, the kind of presence that didn’t belong in a hallway full of teenagers.

Nothing. Just noise and chaos.

"When will Koby get here… ?"

At least with him around, I wouldn’t feel like I was scanning shadows alone. Since he was a boy, he could check places I couldn’t—men’s toilets, locker rooms, spaces where the culprit might be hiding without fear of being caught. The thought eased me slightly, though the unease still crawled under my skin.

The bell rang. No time to linger.

In class, the room buzzed with the usual morning chatter until the teacher cleared his throat. “Settle down. Today, we have a new student joining us.”

My head snapped up. Finally? Hope stirred in my chest, cautious but impossible to smother.

The door opened slowly, almost theatrically. Standing in the doorway was a boy with soft, dusty-pink hair that caught the light, rounded glasses slipping slightly down his nose. His presence felt both familiar and out of place, like someone stepping out of a memory.

The teacher gestured. “Introduce yourself, please.”

He straightened nervously but managed a polite bow. “My name is Koby. Nice to meet you. I like sports. ”

“Good. You may sit wherever you’d like.”

Koby scanned the room, and then his eyes landed on me. Without hesitation, he crossed the rows and slid into the empty seat beside mine. I raised my brows at him, leaning back in my chair. He grinned, a little sheepish but easy, like we’d just picked up a conversation from yesterday.

“Welcome to Grandline High School,” I murmured.

“Thanks,” he whispered back, settling in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

" Took you long enough "

The sparkle in his eyes answered to that for him. His smile faded, he shrimped into his desk, his face reddened.

" Urgh...Why did I say that ? " I thought hearing this mumbling between his clenched teeth.

" What ? ..." I finally understood. I used my hand to cover my mouth as to mimick a yawn.

" Your presentation wasn't that bad. Sometimes people don't want much details.

- You don't have to be so nice Y/n-san....