4
Content Warning: This chapter contains depictions of human trafficking, physical abuse, non-consensual touching, stockholm syndrome elements,dark thematic content, minor-adult interaction and cringe dialogs. Reader discretion is advised.
The memory came to her in fragments, like sunlight through water.
It was a few days after she discovered about Takemichi's true identity.
Spring had painted the forest in shades of green and gold. The cave that had become Takemichi's sanctuary was warm now, the cold of winter nothing but a distant memory. Hina sat cross-legged on a flat stone, a worn textbook open in her lap, while Takemichi knelt beside her, his blue eyes fixed on the page with intense concentration.
"Okay," Hina said, pointing at a simple sentence. "Read this one. Slowly."
Takemichi leaned forward, his golden hair falling over his forehead as he studied the words. His lips moved silently as he sounded them out, a habit Hina found unbearably endearing.
"The... cat... is... on the... mat," he read, each word carefully pronounced. His accent had improved dramatically over the months, though his 'r's still came out soft and his 'l's lingered just a beat too long.
"Perfect!" Hina beamed. "Now try this one."
She pointed to a more complex sentence. Takemichi's brow furrowed.
"The... girl... walks... to... the... store... to... buy... bread."
"Excellent! Do you understand what it means?"
He nodded, then looked at her with those impossibly blue eyes. "Hina walks to store. Hina buys bread. Hina shares bread with Takemichi." He smiled, a small, hesitant curve of his lips that still appeared rarely but was becoming more frequent. "This is... how it works?"
Hina laughed, the sound bright in the cave's dim interior. "Yes, that's exactly how it works. You're getting so good at this, Takemichi."
He ducked his head, a faint blush coloring his pale cheeks. "Hina is good teacher. Best teacher."
"Best teacher," she corrected gently.
"Best teacher," he repeated obediently.
They worked for another hour, Hina guiding him through simple sentences, explaining grammar rules with patience that seemed endless. Takemichi absorbed everything like a sponge, his mind quick despite his late start with language. By the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, he could read an entire paragraph with only minimal stumbling.
"I'm proud of you," Hina said, closing the book. "When I first found you, you couldn't say a single word. Now look at you."
Takemichi's eyes grew distant for a moment. "When Hina found me, I was dying. I ate bad mushroom. I thought... I thought I would die alone. Like Mama. Like Papa." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But Hina came. Hina saved me."
Hina's heart clenched. She reached out and took his hand, the way she had done so many times before. "I'll always come, Takemichi. I promised, remember?"
He looked at their joined hands, then up at her face. "Why? Why does Hina care so much? I am... I am not human. I am monster to humans."
"You're not a monster." Hina's voice was fierce. "You're the kindest person I know. You're brave, and you're smart, and you're beautiful." She caught herself, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. "I mean—not beautiful like—I mean, you are beautiful, but that's not—"
Takemichi tilted his head, confused by her sudden fluster. "Hina is beautiful too. Hina is most beautiful thing Takemichi has ever seen. Like sunrise. Like ocean."
Now Hina's face was definitely red. "You can't just say things like that!"
"Why?" He looked genuinely puzzled. "Is it wrong to speak truth? Mama said Sirens always speak truth. Takemichi is half Siren. Takemichi must speak truth." He looked at her with those earnest eyes. "Hina is beautiful. This is truth."
Hina opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. She sat there, holding his hand, her heart pounding in a way it never had before. She had always known Takemichi was special. She had always cared for him, protected him, taught him. But sitting here, in the golden light of late afternoon, with his sincere words echoing in her ears, she realized something had changed.
She didn't just care about him.
She was falling in love with him.
The realization should have frightened her. He wasn't human. He was a creature of myth, a refugee from a world she couldn't comprehend. But looking at him—at his gentle smile, his trusting eyes, his scarred arms from his early days of survival—she couldn't make herself care about any of that.
He was Takemichi. Her Takemichi. And she loved him.
She must have been quiet too long, because Takemichi's expression shifted to concern. "Hina? Are you sick? Your face is red."
"I'm fine," she managed, her voice slightly strangled. "I just... I need to..." She trailed off, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Takemichi reached up and pressed his cool hand to her forehead, mimicking the way she had checked his temperature when he'd been ill. "No fever. Maybe Hina needs rest? Hina works very hard. Hina should sleep."
His concern was so genuine, so pure, that Hina felt her heart crack open a little more. "Yeah," she whispered. "Maybe I should rest."
She lay down on the blanket she kept in the cave for their longer visits, her mind still spinning. Takemichi settled nearby, not quite touching but close enough that she could feel his presence like a warm glow. Within minutes, his breathing evened out into the soft rhythm of sleep.
Hina turned her head to look at him. In sleep, all the tension left his face. He looked young, vulnerable, beautiful in a way that made her chest ache. His golden hair spilled across the blanket like threads of sunlight. His lips were slightly parted, his lashes dark crescents against his pale cheeks.
She should look away. She should close her eyes and sleep and forget the feelings swirling inside her.
Instead, she found herself moving closer.
It was wrong, probably. He was asleep. He couldn't consent. But she wasn't going to do anything inappropriate—just a small thing, a tiny thing, something to remember in the lonely hours when she couldn't be with him.
She leaned down and pressed the gentlest of kisses to his forehead.
His skin was cool and smooth against her lips. He didn't stir, didn't wake, just continued his peaceful slumber, unaware of the confession she had just made in the only way she could.
When she pulled back, tears were streaming down her face.
"I love you," she whispered, so quietly the words were barely air. "I don't know when it happened or why, but I love you, Takemichi. And I'm going to protect you. I'm going to keep you safe. I promise."
She lay back down, still close enough to feel his presence, and cried silently until exhaustion claimed her.
Present Day .
Hina woke with tears on her face.
For a moment, she was disoriented, caught between the warm memory of the cave and the cold reality of her dormitory room. The walls were grey stone, the bed narrow and military-hard, the window showing the grey light of predawn. No golden-haired boy slept beside her. No gentle breathing filled the air.
Just her. Alone.
She sat up slowly, wiping the tears from her cheeks. The memory had been so vivid—she could still feel the ghost of his skin against her lips, still hear his voice saying her name in that beautiful, accented way. But it was just a memory now. Just another reminder of what she had lost.
Three months. It had been three months since Takemichi disappeared. Three months of training, of pushing her body past its limits, of burying her grief under layers of determination. Three months of waking each morning with the same thought: Where is he? Is he alive? Is he suffering?
She didn't know. That was the worst part. The not knowing.
A bell rang in the distance—the academy's call to morning training. Hina swung her legs out of bed and began her routine. Cold water on her face. Uniform brushed and buttoned. Hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. Sword checked and secured at her hip.
She looked in the small mirror above her washbasin and barely recognized the girl who stared back. The softness was gone, replaced by sharp lines and hard angles. Her eyes, once warm and open, now held something calculating, watchful. She looked older than fourteen. She looked like someone who had seen too much.
"Today," she told her reflection. "Today I get closer. Today I find something."
It was the same thing she told herself every morning. So far, the universe had not seen fit to answer.
The training grounds of the Imperial Knight Academy were already crowded when Hina arrived. Cadets in various stages of dress and preparedness milled about, some stretching, some sparring, some simply trying to wake up enough to function. Hina ignored them all, finding an empty corner to begin her warm-up exercises.
She was halfway through a set of lunges when a voice interrupted her concentration.
"Excuse me? Are you Tachibana Hinata?"
Hina looked up to find a girl about her age standing before her. She was striking—there was no other word for it. Shoulder-length ginger hair that caught the early light like fire, and eyes the color of burnt orange, sharp and intelligent. She wore the same cadet uniform as Hina, but on her it looked somehow more elegant, more refined.
"That's me," Hina said cautiously. "Who's asking?"
The girl smiled, a small, controlled expression that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Shiba Yuzuha. Second child of the Marquis Shiba family." She inclined her head in a slight bow. "I've heard about you. The girl who placed first in the entrance exams. The one they said wouldn't last a day."
Hina's jaw tightened. "I'm still here."
"Obviously." Yuzuha's smile widened slightly, becoming a fraction more genuine. "I didn't come to challenge you or test you or any of the things the others probably want. I came because..." She hesitated, something flickering in those orange eyes. "Because I'm looking for allies. And from what I've heard, you're not here for glory or status. You're here for something else."
Hina studied her carefully. The academy was full of politics—noble children jockeying for position, commoners trying to prove themselves, a hundred different agendas clashing in the training yards. Trust was a luxury she couldn't afford.
"And what makes you say that?"
Yuzuha's gaze didn waver. "Because I saw you crying this morning. Before the bell. Through your window." She held up a hand before Hina could react. "I wasn't spying. My room is next to yours, and the walls are thin. I heard you wake up. I saw your face when you looked in the mirror." Her voice softened. "You're not here because you want to be a knight. You're here because you have to be. Just like me."
The honesty in her voice was disarming. Hina found her suspicion wavering.
"Why do you have to be here?" she asked.
Yuzuha's expression flickered—pain, quickly suppressed. "My brother. The eldest. Taiju." She said the name like it tasted bad. "He's going to inherit the family wealth and title. That's not the problem. The problem is..." She looked away, her hands clenching at her sides. "He has a very specific idea of love. Of family. Of obedience. And when we don't meet his expectations..." She trailed off, but the implication was clear.
Hina felt a chill run down her spine. She knew that kind of story. She'd seen it in the eyes of rescued trafficking victims during her training exercises. "He hurts you."
Yuzuha nodded, a short, sharp motion. "Me and my younger brother, Hakkai. He calls it discipline. He calls it love. He says he only does it because he cares." Her laugh was bitter. "I came here to get strong enough to leave. Strong enough to take Hakkai with me. Strong enough that Taiju can't touch us anymore."
For a long moment, Hina simply looked at her. Then she made a decision.
"My name is Tachibana Hinata," she said formally. "And I'm here because someone I love was taken."
Yuzuha's eyes widened slightly. "Taken?"
"Kidnapped. Three months ago." The words still hurt, still felt like broken glass in her throat. "He was... he was everything to me. And I couldn't protect him. I was too weak, too slow, too stupid. So I came here to get strong enough to find him. Strong enough to bring him home."
"A boy?" Yuzuha asked softly.
"A boy." Hina's voice cracked on the word. "His name is Hanagaki Takemichi. He has golden hair and blue eyes and a smile that makes the world feel like it might be okay after all. He speaks with this adorable accent because he had to learn human language from scratch. He's kind and gentle and trusting and he doesn't deserve any of what's happened to him."
The words poured out like water from a broken dam. She hadn't talked about Takemichi to anyone—couldn't bear to, couldn't risk the questions that might follow. But something about Yuzuha's honest eyes made her want to share, just this once.
Yuzuha listened without interrupting, her orange eyes soft with empathy. When Hina finally fell silent, she reached out and touched her arm.
"I'm sorry," she said simply. "That's... that's terrible. But you're here now. You're fighting. That's more than most people would do."
"Is it enough?" Hina whispered. "Will it be enough to find him?"
Yuzuha had no answer for that. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small photograph. "I have a talent," she said, almost apologetically. "A minor magic. I can create perfect replicas of images I see in people's mind. It's not useful for much, but..." She held out the photo. "I thought you might want this. Something to carry with you."
Hina took the photograph with trembling hands.
It was Takemichi. Sitting by the stream, his feet in the water, his face turned toward the sun with a small, peaceful smile. His golden hair caught the light like a halo, and his blue eyes seemed to glow even in the flat image. He looked like an angel. He looked like home.
"Thank you," she breathed, tears pricking at her eyes. "Thank you, Yuzuha."
Yuzuha smiled, and this time it reached her eyes fully. "We're going to be friends, I think. The kind that last."
But even as she spoke, her gaze lingered on the photograph in Hina's hands. On the boy with the golden hair and the ethereal beauty. On those blue eyes that seemed to look right through the paper and into her soul.
Her heart did something strange. A flutter, a skip, a sudden warmth in her chest.
Ah.
She looked at the boy—really looked at him. The delicate curve of his jaw. The soft pink of his lips. The way his smile seemed to hold both innocence and ancient sorrow. He was beautiful in a way that transcended ordinary beauty. He was beautiful like something from a dream, from a legend, from a world just slightly out of reach.
Ah, see thought again. This is dangerous.
"Yuzuha?" Hina's voice broke through her reverie. "Are you okay? You look a little pale.
Yuzuha shook herself, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Just... your Takemichi. He's very beautiful."
Hina looked back at the photograph, her expression softening with love and grief. "He is, isn't he? Inside and out. He's the most beautiful person I've ever known."
Yuzuha nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered: I want to meet him. I want to see that smile in person. I want to know if his eyes really look like the sky.
She pushed the thought away. This was her new friend's beloved, a kidnapped victim, not some fantasy to indulge. But the image lingered, burned into her memory by her own magic, and she knew—with absolute certainty—that she would never forget that face.
Takemichi had learned to stop hoping.
Hope was a luxury for people who weren't kept in velvet cages. Hope was for people who hadn't been cut open and drained like a wineskin. Hope was for people who hadn't learned that rescue wasn't coming, that the world had forgotten them, that they were nothing but property now.
So when the servants came that evening and dressed him in fine silks and led him through corridors he'd never seen, he didn't hope. He just went. Compliance was easier than resistance. Compliance meant fewer bruises, fewer cuts, fewer of Taichi's sickening kisses.
They took him deep into the estate, to a part he'd never known existed. Through a hidden door, down a winding staircase, into a cavern that had been transformed into something that made Takemichi's blood run cold.
The Black Market Auction House.
It was enormous, a natural cave system expanded and decorated with obscene wealth. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting warm light over velvet-draped booths and a raised stage at the center. The crowd was dressed in finery—silk and jewels and furs—but their eyes held something that no amount of wealth could disguise.
Hunger.
Takemichi was led to a side room and told to wait. Through a crack in the door, he could see the stage. Could see what happened there.
A girl was brought out. Young, maybe fifteen, with rabbit ears twitching atop her head—a beastkin, like the ones he'd glimpsed his first day here. She was crying, begging, struggling against the chains that bound her wrists.
The auctioneer announced her lineage, her abilities, her "unique qualities." The crowd bid. The numbers rose. And when the hammer fell, the girl was led away by her new owner, her sobs echoing off the cavern walls.
Takemichi watched, frozen, as creature after creature was brought to the stage. A boy with dragon scales. A woman with wings folded awkwardly against her back. A child no older than five with gills on her neck, gasping in the dry air. Each one sold. Each one led away to a fate Takemichi couldn't imagine.
This is what happens, a cold voice whispered in his mind. This is what happens to creatures like you. This is what you were saved from.
Saved. Is that what Taichi called it? Keeping him in a beautiful room, feeding him fine food, dressing him in silk—was that saving? Or was it just a different kind of cage?
"This is your future if you displease me."
Taichi's voice came from behind him, smooth and warm as always. Takemichi flinched but didn't turn around.
"All these creatures," Taichi continued, stepping up beside him to watch the auction. "They're here because they were difficult. Because they tried to run. Because they forgot that they belong to someone now." He placed a hand on Takemichi's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You don't want to end up on that stage, do you, my treasure?"
Takemichi shook his head, a small, jerky motion.
"Good boy." Taichi's hand moved to stroke his hair. "I keep you safe because you're special. Because you're mine. But if you ever forget that—if you ever try to leave me—" He gestured at the stage, where a new creature was being presented. "This is what waits for you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Takemichi whispered, his voice barely audible. "I understand."
Taichi smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I knew you would. Now watch. It's important to know what the world is really like."
So Takemichi watched. He watched the parade of stolen souls, each one more broken than the last. He watched the bidding, the sales, the triumphant smiles of buyers and the defeated slump of the sold. He watched until his eyes were dry of tears and his heart was numb with horror.
And when it was over, when Taichi led him back to his beautiful cage, he didn't fight. He didn't cry. He just lay down on his silk sheets and stared at the ceiling, wondering if this was what his mother had felt in her final moments. Wondering if his father's last thought had been of him.
Probably not. Probably they had died hoping he would escape, would be free, would find happiness.
He had failed them.
Later That Night – Takemichi's Room
Taichi returned to Takemichi's room after the auction had ended and all the loose ends were tied. It was late—past midnight—and the estate was quiet. His footsteps were muffled by the thick carpets as he approached the bed.
Takemichi was asleep.
It was a rare sight. Usually, the boy thrashed and cried in his sleep, plagued by nightmares Taichi could only imagine. Usually, he woke at the slightest touch, flinching away from any contact. But tonight, exhaustion had claimed him completely. He lay still and peaceful, his golden hair spread across the pillow like spun sunlight, his face relaxed in a way it never was when he was awake.
Taichi stood by the bed for a long moment, simply looking at him.
He had owned many beautiful things in his life. Art, jewels, lands, even other creatures. But none of them compared to this. None of them had ever made him feel the way Takemichi did—possessive, yes, but also something softer. Something that might, in a less monstrous man, be called love.
He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to stroke Takemichi's hair.
The boy stirred slightly at the touch, and Taichi tensed, waiting for the flinch, the recoil. But it didn't come. Instead, Takemichi made a small sound—a soft, contented hum—and pressed his head into the touch, seeking more.
Taichi's breath caught.
He continued stroking, slow and gentle, and Takemichi responded by curling toward him slightly, his face relaxing further. Another small sound escaped him, something between a sigh and a purr—a low, vibrating hum that Taichi had never heard before.
He thinks I'm someone else, Taichi realized. In his sleep, he doesn't know it's me. He thinks I'm... whoever used to comfort him befor
The thought should have angered him. Instead, it made him sad. And determined.
He would become that person. He would make Takemichi seek his touch even when awake. He would replace every memory of comfort with memories of himself. The boy would learn to love him. They all did, eventually.
He moved his hand to cup Takemichi's cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin, the delicate curve of his jaw. In sleep, with his guard down, he looked even more like an angel. More like something too pure for this world.
"You're mine," Taichi whispered. "My treasure. My little siren. And you will be mine forever. No one will take you from me. No one will ever hurt you again." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Takemichi's forehead, then each cheek, just as he always did. "Sleep well, my love. I'll be here when you wake."
He stayed for another hour, just watching, just touching, just existing in the same space as his most precious possession. And when he finally left, it was with the warm certainty that everything was exactly as it should be.
Two Hours Earlier..
Ran Haitani was bored.
It was a familiar feeling, and one he'd learned to navigate with the casual grace that defined his existence. Boredom meant parties, meant gambling, meant finding new and interesting ways to pass the time. Tonight, that meant attending the Black Market auction, more out of habit than genuine interest.
The Haitani brothers had their fingers in many pies, and the Black Market was no exception. Ran's younger brother Rindou handled most of the operational details, but Ran occasionally attended events to maintain connections, gather intelligence, and remind people that the Haitani name still carried weight.
He moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his shoulder-length hair—dyed in alternating sections of black and blond—flowing loose around his shoulders. Heads turned as he passed. They always did. Ran was beautiful, and he knew it, and he used it the way others used weapons or money.
A woman in emerald silk tried to catch his eye. A man with more rings than teeth offered him a drink. Ran ignored them all, his purple eyes scanning the room with lazy disinterest.
The auction was in full swing. Some beastkin girl, crying on stage. Ran watched without really seeing, his mind already drifting to other matters. He'd been tracking a rival gang's movements, trying to determine their next target. The information he'd gathered so far was inconclusive, and it—
He stopped.
For a moment, he wasn't sure what had caught his attention. Then he looked toward a side corridor, partially hidden by a velvet curtain, and saw a door open just enough to reveal what was behind it.
A boy.
Golden hair that seemed to glow even in the dim light. Skin so pale it was almost luminous. Eyes—even from this distance, even through the crack in the door—that were the most stunning blue Ran had ever seen. The boy was dressed in fine silks, but there was something wrong about it, something that made Ran's instincts prick up. The clothes were too fine, too deliberate. Like dressing a doll.
And around his neck, barely visible above the collar of his shirt, was a collar.
Ran's boredom evaporated.
He moved without conscious thought, gliding through the crowd until he was closer to that side corridor. The boy behind the door seemed to sense something—or perhaps it was coincidence—because at that moment, he turned.
Their eyes met.
Ran felt something he hadn't felt in years. Something that made his heart stutter and his breath catch and his entire being focus on a single point in space.
The boy was beautiful. That was obvious. But it wasn't just beauty—Ran had seen beautiful people before, had bedded more than his share of them. This was something else. Something that transcended physical perfection.
The boy looked at him, and in those blue eyes, Ran saw depths he couldn't fathom. Oceans of sorrow. Islands of hope. Ancient grief and newborn fear and something achingly pure that shouldn't exist in a place like this.
And then the boy smiled.
It was a small thing, barely a curve of those soft pink lips. A reflexive response to being seen, maybe. A desperate attempt at connection in a world that had shown him nothing but cruelty. Whatever it was, it hit Ran like a physical blow.
His heart, that cynical organ he'd thought long dead to anything but profit and pleasure, fluttered. Butterflies—actual, ridiculous butterflies—danced in his stomach. His face, carefully controlled for years, threatened to show something vulnerable.
What the hell?
Before he could process the reaction, a man appeared behind the boy—Taichi Mikodo, Ran recognized him, a major player in the trafficking game—and pulled him away from the door. The boy's smile vanished, replaced by something blank and obedient. The door closed.
Ran stood there for a long moment, staring at empty space.
"That was..." He couldn't find the words. Didn't have words for what that was.
Around him, the auction continued. Creatures were sold. Money changed hands. The world moved on, oblivious to the fact that Ran Haitani's entire perspective had just shifted on its axis.
He needed to know more. Needed to know who that boy was, why he was here, how he'd come to be in Taichi Mikodo's possession. Needed to see that smile again, directed at him, full and real and unshadowed by fear.
For the first time in years, Ran Haitani was not bored.
He was intrigued.
And that, he knew, was the most dangerous thing of all.
In the dormitory of the Imperial Knight Academy, Hina slept with a photograph clutched to her chest, dreaming of golden hair and blue eyes and a kiss she'd never been brave enough to give while he was awake.
In the mountains, in a beautiful room with barred windows, Takemichi slept with the ghost of a touch on his cheek, unaware that across the city, a pair of purple eyes had seen him and refused to look away.
And somewhere in the darkness between them, fate stirred, preparing to weave their threads together in ways none of them could predict.
P/s Poor baby getting trauma every new chapter 😢
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