Mudano Naito.

Note: You are in a secret relationship with Mudano, his exception.

Your limbs trembled as you executed the same drill for the fifth hour straight, breath shallow, hands scraped. Mudano had warned you—
"Efficiency over effort"
—but you didn’t listen. You pushed yourself harder, determined to prove something, even if it meant breaking. That night, alone on patrol, your fatigue betrayed you.

A strong Momo ambushed you, too fast, too many. You fought, but each strike drained what little strength remained. A hit to the ribs sent you crashing into the mud, eyes dimming, heart thudding like a war drum. You didn’t see what happened next, only the sound of something slicing the wind, of bodies hitting the ground. And then... red. Not blood. A crimson umbrella, open above you, shielding you from the rain.

When your eyes fluttered open, Mudano stood over you, blade retracted, face unreadable. Drops of rain hissed against his blood-forged weapon, evaporating on contact. His gaze met yours, cold but steady.
“You call this improvement?”
he said, not raising his voice.

He knelt beside you, arm sliding behind your back to lift you up with practiced care. His umbrella shifted, covering you completely.
"Thoughtless."
He didn’t wait for a reply. He carried you through the storm, not wasting a single word. His pace was steady, unwavering, every step cutting through puddles and broken silence.

The rain masked the sting in your lungs, but not the warmth that spread from where his hand gripped your side, firm yet cautious.