There was a foul stench, a blend of rot, burnt flesh, and blood that permeated the room. There was no lighting, leaving only the natural light that threaded through the broken windows to lit the rundown room.

The sound of shoes hitting the concrete ground at a steady pace echoed in the otherwise deserted abandoned building site. The man garbed in all black calmly made his way deeper into the dusty corridors, his glasses seemed to glint every time the moonlight hit them, giving off an eery air.

His hands were gloved, he held a metallic suitcase, that was chained to his wrist by handcuffs. The light clinking sound of the handcuffs repeatedly hitting the case followed the man's steps, as if to answer them, it resounded after them.

The man with hair as dark as the starless night mutely made his way deeper into the building, his gait steady, his back straight, his face unreadable. It seems like he didn't have any opening for others to exploit. His footsteps came to a halt in front of a ruined wooden door. Truthfully, it looked more like someone laid a plank to block the wind than a real door.

He put his hand to push it open, and the moment he exerted a bit of force, the wooden board fell backward and into the room, leaving a cloud of dust to rise before it settled down. At once, the heavy metallic stench of blood assaulted his nose. Although he was used to basking in it, the man didn't find any comfort in the smell.

His nose imperceptibly scrunched up, his dirty-blue eyes narrowed. He brought his free hand to cover the lower part of his face as if to block some of the stenches from entering his nostrils. His thin lips tugged down, letting his eyes, hidden behind his spectacles, to roam the room.

It didn't take long for him to find the man— his master, foster father at times, that laid against the walls. The man's breathing was low and almost inaudible. He had his eyes cast down and a hand to his chest, right above his thoracic cavity where the heart was located.

He walked up to him, silently couched down and peeled his glove off to take the man's weak pulse. "Well, I suppose you're salvageable," he enunciated with a wry smile. His answer was a grunt— probably a distorted snort.

Oshiro didn't waste any more time and unlocked the handcuffs, he opened his suitcase, and pulled out a syringe. "Don't worry," he said as he tried to look at the liquid inside of it with narrowed eyes— the lighting was poor. "I'll be quick," and with those words, he injected the fluid into the man's system.

::

Mitsukuni observed his new classmate with narrowed eyes. It was lunch break. Classes resumed in the morning, but the real stuff would only start tomorrow. Since Takebayashi Kotaro transferred out of 3-E to 3-A, it was decided they would make it so the boy could fit easier.

They toured the building as if he never stepped in it, introduced the teaching staff to him, climbed up the stairs to go to the headmaster's office— even invited him to join the Student Council room after a week if he felt like it.

The way they groomed Takebayashi to have him perfectly fill into a mold, he found it both intriguing and disgusting. Fascinating, it was like covering an already colored canvas in white before applying new colors. Repulsive, it reminded him of the years of his life before he encountered the Host Club. When he couldn't live as himself, and the only words that defined him were "Haninozuka heir."

Looking at Takebayashi as he ate his lunch with some of the A-class and other classes' students surrounding him, full of expectations, he couldn't help but see himself overlap with the glasses teen. It made him uncomfortable. It cut his appetite. He brought another piece of meat to his mouth, finding it hard and rubbery under his teeth. Swallowing it was just as hard, he forced it down with a glass of water.

He kept an arm forcefully tied around Sweets as if she was his lifeline. The one thing that reminded him that he wasn't the one forced into a mold. That he was Mistukuni before being the Haninozuka heir. That he would stay Mitsukuni before being Kannazuki Mitsukuni.

Mitsukuni's mood was low, the flowers blooming around him seemed to be withering, making the few girls that watched over him swell with motherly instincts as they hurried to buy some cakes and sweets to lift the boy's mood. Had Mitsukuni been more aware of his surrounding, he would have noticed.

Gakushu, who sat in front of him, wasn't better off. He thought recruiting Takebayahi was a low move. Perhaps because Karma was part of 3-E, breaking their morals didn't sit as well as he hoped it would. Then again, as the spiritual leader of 3-A and the main building's student, he couldn't come out and tell them he found it unbearable. He even doubted Takebayashi would be able to follow the teacher's courses, there was a reason why he fell to 3-E in the first place, and it surely wasn't the same as Karma's.

The strawberry blond Student Council President heaved a silent sigh. Silently shaking his head he resumed his meal, ignoring the people around him for once, and indulging in his musings.

Ren, the Student Council Secretary, also the only one who sat with Gakushu and Mitsukuni, could only uncomfortably eat under the heavy silence the two top students imposed. His smile was stiff, his movements lacked their usual grace and elegance, seeming almost robotic at times. He didn't know why both teens' mood was so low, and he didn't think he would be able to talk to them at the moment.

The atmosphere around the table was awkward, yet only Ren was able to perceive it, the other two too preoccupied with their own thoughts to notice anything.

In the end, the week passed without much trouble. Takebayashi followed the classes, didn't integrate with 3-A, and Mitsukuni stopped paying him any attention— Is what he would like to say.

It was a bit hard for the Martial Artist not to notice the entirety of 3-E that hid in the bushes to keep an eye on their former classmates. Especially when such a coal-black thing followed them around. Nevertheless, Mitsukuni tried to the best of his ability to ignore them.

He kept Reiko on his lap, recording the teacher's words on his notebook— uncaring of their content, he would review it home, discard the useless and keep the useful. The bell rang, announcing the end of the lesson, and before anyone could ask the teacher a question, the man was gone. Mitsukuni didn't care much, he didn't have any, and the man fleeing right after his class wasn't anything new to them.

He stood up, stored his stationery, and slung his bag over his shoulder. He wanted to go back with Gakushu and Ren today, so he specifically gave the judo club the day off as he wouldn't step even one foot in the dojo. With Sweets in his arms, he walked to Gakushu.

"Shu-chan, do you want to walk home together?" he chirped with a grin, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he looked up at his childhood friend with upturned eyes. He was maximizing his chances of Gakushu agreeing, and his best weapon was his "Loli-Shota" act.

Gakushu looked up from his phone. He gave his childhood friend a wry apologetic smile. "Sorry, Mitsukuni. My father asked me to bring Takebayashi to his office, I don't know when I'll be done," he explained, brows knitted as he told the blond the circumstances.

This made Mitsukuni's mood plummet, he was a bit disappointed. Since Takebayashi's transfer, Gakushu's work accumulated and they didn't have the opportunity to go home together much. With Student Council duty and Mitsukuni's Judo Club activity, it got hard for them to spend time together.

Especially now that Mitsukuni needed to catch up on club matters. He had to overview the training regiment, the member's skills, and have a spare with each of them to assess their skills. It was something he did every once in a while, and with the tournament coming up, he had to be more present than ever. In fact, they would meet up at the school facility in the weekend for some extra training, and to select the team, so Mitsukuni decided to take today off and send them all home to have some rest.

Gakushu looked at his despondent childhood friend. "I'll make it up to you, okay? Don't dwell on it," he told him, gently ruffling his hair. He looked up to glance at Takebayashi who almost finished packing, and grabbed his school bag. "I have to go, I'll call or text you," he waved and then he was gone.

Mitsukuni sighed, his lips tugged down into a petulant pout but he didn't hold it against his friend. Headmaster Asano's words were absolute in Kunugigaoka Junior High, his words were law and it was normal that Gakushu only bent to them.

Therefore, there he was, walking out of the school grounds alone. Ren, who had some Student Council matter to deal with couldn't go back just yet, and Mitsukuni wasn't in the mood to wait, so he went ahead. His comfort was sweet, sweet Reiko in his arms, and her addictive fragrance.

"Excuse me, Mitsu— Kannazuki, is it?"

The voice— somewhat familiar, snapped him out of his daydream. Mitsukuni abruptly looked up to meet the nostalgia-inducing pair of icy blue eyes. He paused in his steps, seemingly dazed as he looked at the much taller raven head.

Truthfully, maybe it was the accumulated fatigue from the week. The memory Takebayashi's case awoke, or his fragility that decided now was a good moment to erupt, but Mitsukuni didn't think rationally. This despite Reiko's presence in his arms.

"Takashi," he whispered, not registering his words until they rolled off his tongue.

But the adult heard them clearly. His pupils shrunk, he opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what to say. Although the voice didn't have the exact timbre of the one in his dreams, he found it delightful. It warmed his heart, he almost wanted to smile, but refrained, scared that he would frighten the boy.

They were strangers, he repeated in his head, strangers.

They didn't know each other, he reminded.

Mitsukuni's lower lip trembled, he felt his eyes water. Before he could register his thoughts, he found himself running and jumping into the stranger's arms. His legs circled the male's waist the way they used to, his arms tightened around the raven's neck in a koala tight grip.

Takashi froze. He had anticipated all kinds of reactions, but not this one. Although he should have found the sudden contact disagreeable, he only found it nostalgic. In his mind, he thought that the male should be on his back or shoulders instead, but he didn't dare to voice his thoughts.

He felt his shoulder get damp and a sorrowful look flashed in his eyes. He patted the boy's back, his eyes flicked around, only now did he notice the crowd, and he walked away. He didn't need to bring more attention than needed. They walked for a few seconds until Takashi found a bench.

He sat, and as if he had done it thousands of times, he began to soothingly rub the child's back. "It's okay," he said, his voice unbearably soft—

When he came to meet the boy, he only wanted to interrogate him about his intentions in the prefabricated. Yet now, he couldn't bear to do it.

"I'm here Mitsukuni—" he didn't even notice the words that slipped out of his mouth with concerning ease and familiarity. "You're not alone anymore," he coaxed. "I'll always be there. Like before, you can count on me. We are family," he murmured, eyes glazed over as images after images streamed his mind.

Mitsukuni blinked, as if regaining his composure, he abruptly pushed himself off from the male. Although he remained seated on the raven's lap, he kept some distance as he stared at the male's face.

It was a cold and unreadable face. Yet there was an undeniable soft edge to his expression.

The boy stared at him in disbelief. Some part of his mind told him to run away, the man would get him into troubles for breaking into the prefabricated. Yet he didn't even make a move to escape from the adult.

"Takashi?" he asked, his heart swelling with hope and uncertainty.

The adult hummed and nodded. "Yes, Mitsukuni?"

"Takashi."

The raven hummed.

"Takashi."

Again.

"Takashi."

And again.

"Takashi."

Until the boy was satisfied.

Silence settled between them. There was some lingering doubt in Mitsukuni's heart. It was too convenient. It couldn't be him. As if he lost his strength, he fell onto the adult's chest and rested his forehead on the male's shoulder, a genuine smile on his lips, he chuckled.

"Ne, Takashi, who am I?" he asked him, his voice tinted with eagerness.

Of course, you are Kannazuki Mitsukuni, a Martial Art champion, once scouted by the army. Currently leaving at the Kannazuki estate with your grandparents for the most time of the year, and a student at Kunugigaoka Junior High. Top of your grades until the last midterms, you are the Judo Club's captain and the Student Council President's childhood friend.

The words didn't manage to escape Takashi's mouth. Blocked in his throat, he found himself unwilling to tell them. As if he knew the boy wasn't talking about this Mitsukuni but another— it was a strange thing. But to Takashi who grew up with strange ideas of a boy most of his life, it didn't sound so bizarre.

"You are, my best friend and family."

"And?"

"And a fantastic upperclassman, father, grandfather, and family head."

"And?"

"A man who fears toothaches the most."

This made the boy giggle, his shoulders relaxed and he snuggled into the male's arms. "And?"

"A powerful Martial artist, and talented Host."

He felt the teen nod his head against his shirt.

The one-sided exchange went on and on, and as Takashi spoke, he began to make out what he was telling. His blurry memory got clearer until everything was fresh again. A small smile silently made its way to his face as he spoke, and the more he said, the more comfortable and relaxed the teen got.

"And?"

"And my most beloved person."