Before Hana could blink, Yuki's hand shot up, grabbing her wrist with a grip like a steel trap. The room temperature plummeted. A thin layer of frost began to crawl up Hana's arm.
"Don't," Yuki rasped, his voice sounding like a stranger's. "Don't remove my shirt."
Hana's face turned pale but she still wore a brave face. "Kinatarou-kun, you're hurting me."
The frost on Hana's arm began to melt as Yuki's grip loosened. His breathing was heavy, a wet, rattling sound that filled the small apartment. The predatory light in his eyes faded, replaced by a dull, aching exhaustion.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Hana," Yuki rasped, his voice barely a whisper. He looked at her reddened wrist, then up at her face. "I didn't mean to. It's..."
Hana rubbed her arm, her heart still hammering against her ribs. She looked at him with a mix of fear and deep pity. "Yuki, you're hurt. You need a doctor, or at least let me—"
"No doctors," Yuki interrupted, his gaze shifting to Luna, who was watching them with wide, trembling eyes. He looked back at Hana and took a deep breath that turned into a wincing cough. "I trust you, Hana. A lot more than you know." Yuki put one finger over his lips and winked at her which Hana found very cute and alluring. "Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"
Slowly, his fingers trembling from the pain in his ribs, Yuki reached for the remaining buttons of his ruined shirt. He peeled the blood-stiffened fabric away from his skin.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Yuki didn't just have a few scratches. His torso was a map of past violence—jagged lines, puckered skin from old burns, and small, circular marks that looked like puncture wounds. It was a body that had survived a war. The most terrifying of all was a massive, diagonal scar that slashed across his chest and abdomen, looking as though he had nearly been carved in half.
Hana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She had expected a few bruises, but this was the body of someone who had stared at death a hundred times. Despite the horror of the scars, she couldn't help but notice the lean, corded muscle beneath—an athletic build that spoke of years of brutal, relentless conditioning. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks, clashing with the paleness of her shock. Despite everything, she found his body was the most attractive thing she'd ever seen.
Luna stepped forward. She didn't look away. With a small, pale hand, she reached out and softly traced the large scar on his torso. Her touch was light as a feather, but Yuki's expression softened instantly.
Hana shook herself out of her daze and knelt beside him, her professional instincts finally overriding her shock. "Yuki... who did this to you?"
"A crazy uncle," Yuki said jokingly, closing his eyes as she began to clean the fresh wounds. Although he was being playful, she noticed he didn't want to talk about it so she didn't push further.
Later that evening Hana sneaks back into her home, hoping her aunt wouldn't notice. The moment she stepped into the living room her eyes met that of her aunt, who was perched on the couch, watching her with a knowing look.
Her aunt, the landlady looked exactly like Hana, but just a little bit older. She was probably in her thirties but the beauty still stuck, she had the same brown hair and eyes as Hana but her body was more voluptuous and alluring.
"Hana, please sit." Her aunt instructed. Their voices even sounded alike.
Hana obediently sat and looked directly at her aunt.
"You're spending a lot of time with that boy." Her aunt casually stated.
"I'm only helping him cook, Aunt Mai." Hana waved both her hands in defense.
"Hana, you're there for hours. And you've been smiling a lot these days, he makes you happy?"
"No, Aunt Mai, it's nothing like that." In truth Hana was always smiling because before Yuki and Luna had entered her life, she was dying everyday of boredom. Nothing exciting ever happened, but then one evening Yuki knocked on her door turning her life upside down.
"Are you and Kinatarou-kun doing anything when you're both alone in his home?" Aunt Mai asked while resting her chin on her palm and leaning forward.
The moment Hana understood what she was talking about her face turned red, she remembered Yuki's body and her face flushed even more. "No!" Hana shouted and stormed into her room.
The next morning, Yuki arrived at the Academy looking like a ghost. He had his glasses down, his hair messy, and his movements were stiff. Every breath felt like a knife in his side, but he refused to miss a single class.
He saw Seri in the main hall. She was surrounded by her usual entourage, her head held high, the perfect image of a Kyorin royal. As they passed each other, Yuki slowed down, his eyes searching for hers.
Seri didn't look at him. She didn't even flinch. She walked past him as if he were a statue, her gaze fixed straight ahead.
Behind that mask of indifference, however, Seri was screaming. She could see the way he favored his right side, the slight tremble in his hands, and the pale hue of his skin. Every fiber of her being wanted to grab him, pull him into a private room, and pour her healing Kizo into his broken body.
Don't go back today, Yuki, she thought desperately. If you go back to the garden in this state, you'll end up dead.
But she knew him now. She knew the look in those blue eyes. He wasn't going to stop until he hit the mountain, or the mountain crushed him into dust.