Mouse Trap [Oneshots] Blood Oath-1

The scent of burning incense lingers in the air, heavy and cloying, as if trying to mask the blood that once stained the wooden floors of the Himura estate. Though years have passed, the memory of that night clings to the walls like a shadow refusing to die.

You were only seven when your world was painted in red.

The storm outside had roared like a beast—thunder cracking through the sky as if the heavens themselves protested the act that was about to unfold. Inside, in the vast, dim-lit hall of the traditional compound, you had sat quietly in your room, tracing your fingers over the petals of a chrysanthemum pattern stitched into your kimono. Your father, Himura Daiki, the head of the feared Himura-kai syndicate, had told you that chrysanthemums were a symbol of honor. Dying with one in hand, he said, meant dying with pride.

But he hadn't died with pride. He had died betrayed.

That night, he was found lying in his study, a blade through his chest, the calligraphy he had been writing soaked in blood. There were no signs of struggle—just the silent ending of a man who had trusted too deeply.

And then came Tsukishima Ren.

Already your father’s right-hand man, Ren was the only one who stepped forward to take you in. But unlike the cold and ruthless reputation he held in the underworld, he never passed that darkness onto you. He had sworn to your father—no matter what happened, you would never fall into this life. So, he raised you not with harsh discipline or weapons, but with warmth. With goofy grins, awkward dad-jokes, and late-night snack raids. He made sure you laughed. That you felt safe. That you never had to know the monsters he kept at bay behind the scenes.

And for ten years, he kept his promise. Now, in the present—

The final bell rings across the schoolyard, and students spill out of classrooms like birds released from cages. You walk with a small group of classmates, your dark hair tied loosely, laughter tugging at the edge of your lips as one of your friends shares a meme you don’t quite understand—but you laugh anyway.

Your friend

“Hey, Himura-san,” *nudges you with a grin.*

Your friend

“Is that a car waiting for you?”

You blink, eyes drifting toward the sleek black car parked just outside the school gates. The windows are tinted, but you already know who’s behind the wheel.

Ren.

Y/N

"Uh yeah.. that's my bodyguard." *hesitately*

Your friend

"Oooh!! That sounds so cool!" *teases*

You just smile awkwardly and wave goodbye as you approach the car.

The passenger door clicks open the moment you near, and you slide inside, setting your bag on your lap.

Ren

“I heard what you said there, little minx,”

Ren doesn’t even look at you as he speaks—his left hand is on the wheel, while the other reaches over and ruffles your hair, messing up what you’d so carefully combed.

Y/N

"Hey!"

You protest, trying to smooth it back down, your voice slipping into a sulky tone.

Y/N

“Am I wrong? Aren’t you one? Always following me around, everywhere…”

Ren chuckles, his smile wide and annoyingly smug.

Ren

"It's for your safety." *says, though the lightness in his voice carries an unspoken firmness.*

He drives with one hand on the wheel, sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose, a glint of mischief in his eyes every time he glances your way.

Ren

“What do you want for dinner?”

You stare out the window, fingers tapping silently on your thigh.

Y/N

“Anything,” *you murmur, your voice soft and barely there.*

Ren

“Anything,” *smirk, but the sound doesn’t carry far.*

Later, at home— The kitchen is dimly lit, the lights above casting a warm, golden hue over the room. The smell of soy, garlic, and grilled meat still lingers faintly in the air, but the plates on the table are untouched. The food has gone cold.

And in the middle of the kitchen stands Ren—his arms wrapped around you, your face buried into his chest like you're trying to disappear. Your hands tremble where they grip his shirt, the silence between you loud and suffocating.

He should’ve stepped back. He should’ve said something, anything.

But he doesn't.

Your lips find his—hesitant, searching, desperate. A quiet plea you don’t speak aloud. And he doesn’t stop you.

He doesn't pull away.

Because in that moment, all his rules, all his promises to keep his distance, shatter under the weight of your touch. You’re no longer the little girl who clung to his hand ten years ago. You’re you now—grown, beautiful, broken in all the places he had once sworn to protect.

And he’s the one breaking you now.

His hand curls gently around the back of your head, the other gripping your waist—not too tight, but enough to keep you grounded. His mouth moves with yours, slow, aching, too familiar.

Then he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, voice low and teasing,

Ren

“So this is what you meant by ‘anything’?”

You blink, flustered, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Y/N

“Y-You’re the one who kissed me!”

Ren lets out a soft, amused laugh and without another word, deepens the kiss, his grip on your waist tightening, possessive and reverent.

Ren

“You look so devourable, princess…”*breathes into your mouth.*