The dust in the Kyorin garden finally settled, but the air remained heavy with the ghost of that final, whistling punch. Lord Genji stood on the balcony, his fingers still curled tightly around the marble railing. He didn't look away from the boy lying facedown in the dirt.
His eyes, usually as cold and stagnant as a frozen pond, flickered with a dark, predatory interest. He didn't just survive. He evolved.
Beside him, Seri was trembling. Her hands were pressed against her chest, right over her heart, which was fluttering with a terrifying rhythm. She had seen warriors die with more grace, but she had never seen someone live with such sheer, ugly defiance. To her, Yuki didn't look like a "Zero" anymore; he looked like a beautiful, broken god of ice.
"Take him home." Genji said, his voice a low vibration.
The drive back to the slums was a blur of neon lights and stifling silence. Seri sat in the back of the limousine, Yuki's head once again resting near her lap. She wanted to reach out, to trace the bruises on his jaw, to pour her healing Kizo into him until he woke up. But her father's warning echoed in her mind like a curse.
When they arrived at the apartment, the driver carried Yuki's limp body inside. Hana and Luna were already standing, their faces contorted with worry. The moment they saw the blood on his shirt, Luna let out a small, broken whimper, clutching the hem of Yuki's pants as they laid him on the mat.
Seri turned to leave immediately, her face shifting back into the mask of a Kyorin Royal. She couldn't stay. If she stayed, she would break.
"Wait!"
Hana's voice cracked the silence. Before Seri could reach the door, Hana lunged forward and grabbed Seri's wrist. The touch was desperate and firm.
"You're just leaving?" Hana demanded, her eyes bright with anger. "Why are you always like this? You act like you care, then you turn into a statue. Why are you so distant?"
Seri didn't turn around. She looked at her reflection in the dark window of the hallway, seeing the high-collared uniform that felt more like a cage every day.
"Let go," Seri said, her voice dropping into a rehearsed, icy tone. "A commoner like you and a Kyorin have nothing to discuss. We live in different worlds, Koshaku-san. Do not mistake my presence for friendship."
Hana's grip tightened, her knuckles turning white. "You're a liar! I saw your face when you brought him in. You're hurting just as much as he is!"
Hana's voice rose, fueled by the frustration of the last few days. "And if you're so high and mighty, why don't you help him? You're a healer! Look at him, Kyorin-san! He's dying of exhaustion and broken bones. Why won't you heal him?!"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Seri's head dropped slightly. The "Ice Queen" facade didn't shatter, but it cracked. She looked down at the floor, the shadows of the hallway hiding the way her lip trembled. She couldn't tell Hana that her father's eyes were everywhere. She couldn't explain that for a Kyorin, healing Yuki was an act of treason against her father.
"I can't," Seri whispered, so low that Hana almost missed it.
Without another word, Seri wrenched her arm away and vanished into the night, leaving Hana alone in the dim light of the apartment.
After Seri's departure, the apartment fell into a heavy, clinical silence. The only sound was the ticking of the clock and Yuki's labored breathing. Suddenly, his body convulsed. He lurched forward, coughing violently until a spray of dark blood hit the floorboards.
Luna lunged for his arm, wrapping her small limbs around it as if she could hold his soul inside his body.
"Kinatarou-kun!" Hana rushed to his side, her hands hovering over him, terrified to touch him and cause more pain. "That's it. I'm calling a cab. We're going to the Central Hospital. I don't care about the cost—"
"No," Yuki rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were bloodshot but steady. "No hospitals, Koshaku-san. I don't... I don't like them. Too many needles. Too many questions."
"But you're internalizing injuries! You could have a collapsed lung!"
Yuki shook his head slowly, leaning back into the wall. "Kira is monitoring my vitals. If I were actually dying, she'd be screaming in my ear. Right now, she's just calling me an idiot in binary."
"He isn't wrong," Kira's box hummed from the table. "Though 'idiot' is a generous term for someone like you."
Hana looked between the box and the boy, her frustration bubbling over. "And what about Kyorin-san? She just left you here! She wouldn't even look at you. How can you be friends with someone so heartless?"
Yuki's expression softened, a weary smile tugging at his lips. "She isn't heartless. She's a prisoner. In her world, healing a weakling like me is more than a kindness—it's a crime against her father. If she healed me, her father wouldn't just punish her; he'd make sure I never woke up again. She's protecting me by staying distant. I'm sure her father would definitely hurt me if she tried anything. But there's something about him....."
Hana fell silent, the anger in her chest replaced by a cold realization. The "Golden Cage" Seri lived in sounded more like a tomb.
An hour later, Yuki had freshened up and changed his clothes into something more comfortable. The smell of miso and sautéed vegetables began to drift through the small space. Despite Hana's adamant protests—and a few threats to tie him in a corner of the room—Yuki had limped into the kitchen.
"Sit down, Kinatarou-kun! You're going to bleed into the soup!" Hana snapped, trying to pry the wooden spoon from his hand.
"I'm fine, Koshaku-san. Chopping onions doesn't require intact ribs," Yuki countered, neatly dicing a green onion with practiced precision, but he was pale and had to lean on the counter for support. "Besides, your technique is sloppy today. You're upset."
"I'm not upset, I'm—"
"Annoyed? Grumpy? Frustrated by my overwhelming charm?" Yuki smiled leaning closer. He wasn't wearing his glasses, they were shattered during his fight with Tetsu.
"In your dreams, you flirty arrogant ice-block!" Hana huffed, though the corner of her mouth twitched. Hana's wooden spoon clattered against the pot, and she suddenly became very interested in the steam rising from the soup to hide her face.
"Statistically speaking," Kira chimed in from the counter, "Hana's heart rate increases by 12% when Yuki enters the kitchen. It is likely a combination of irritation and a poorly suppressed crush."
"Kira, shut up!" both Yuki and Hana shouted in unison.
Luna, sitting at the small table, let out a tiny, rare giggle. For a moment, the blood in the garden and the scars on Yuki's back felt a world away. They were just four broken things fitting together to make something whole.
When dinner was over and the dishes were dried, Hana made her way back to her own apartment. She felt a strange warmth in her chest, but it was quickly extinguished the moment she stepped through her door.
Aunt Mai was standing in the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the stove.
"You're late again," Mai said, her voice smooth but dangerous.
"I was helping Kinatarou-kun. He's... he's not in a good condition, Aunt Mai."
"He's a Zero, Hana. And he's a Kinatarou. That combination attracts trouble like a corpse attracts flies," Mai turned, her eyes narrowing. "You're getting too close. You're looking at him the way your mother used to look at your father, and we both know how that ended."
"This is different! I have no feelings towards him" Hana shouted, her voice trembling. "He's a good person! He's the only thing in this dump that makes me feel like I'm actually alive!"
Mai stared at her niece for a long time, the silence stretching until it was uncomfortable. Finally, she set her glass down with a soft clink.
"If he's so 'special,' then I want to see it for myself," Mai stated. "Tomorrow night. Tell your boy he's joining us for dinner. If he's going to take up all your time, the least he can do is face the woman who owns the roof over his head."