At first, it was just teasing. Kaito would mock my accent, my clothes, the way I flinched when someone raised their voice. He'd laugh when I stumbled over my words during dinner, when I couldn't keep up during training sessions, when I froze during sparring matches.
It was humiliating. But I could handle it.
And then one night, it escalated.
Into something I'd never imagined.
The basement of the estate was a crypt, its cold, concrete breath smelling of wet earth and something older, something metallic and forgotten. Kaito's smile in the dim light was a predator's promise. I want to show you something, he'd said. Something just for you.
I followed. A fool following a lamplight into a swamp.
The door hadn't even finished shutting behind us when he moved. His shove was expert, calculated. My skull cracked against the wall, and a constellation of white sparks exploded behind my eyes. His laughter was a dry rattle in the silence.
