Two years had passed since Shu had last seen Fubuki. Time hadn't dulled the ache in his chest, nor the guilt for not finding him sooner.
The underground auction was not a place for someone like Fubuki. But there he was — shackled, bruised, trembling like a leaf in the wind. His once bright eyes were dulled with fear, his voice barely a whisper.
“Next item — a rare find. Strong-willed but broken. Perfect for breaking in.”
Shu’s blood boiled.
“I’ll take him,” Shu said coldly, raising his bidder tag.
A murmur spread through the crowd. The price was steep, but Shu didn’t flinch. Minutes later, the transaction was done.
When Shu approached, Fubuki flinched, cowering like a wounded animal. “Don’t… don’t hurt me…”
Shu knelt beside him, voice shaking. “It’s me. Shu. You’re safe now. I swear — I’m taking you home.”
Fubuki looked up, tears spilling from his wide, shocked eyes. For the first time in two years, hope flickered.
