**Chapter 1: Underneath the Safety of His Shirt**

I burrowed deeper underneath Hange's shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin and the gentle hum of his breathing. The soft fabric of his jersey enveloped me, a comforting cocoon that shielded me from the overwhelming sensory inputs of the world outside. I wrapped my small hands around the patch of soft fur on his stomach, holding on tight as he walked through the crowded hallway of our high school. The murmur of students, the clang of lockers, and the blaring of the fluorescent lights all receded into the background as I nuzzled my face into the warmth of his shirt. As a person with severe autism spectrum disorder, my senses were constantly on high alert, threatening to overwhelm me at any moment. The bright lights, loud noises, and chaotic movements of the world around me made my skin crawl. But with Hange, I felt safe. He was my rock, my shelter from the storm. I was also blind, my eyes covered in thick bandages to protect them from the harsh lights that would otherwise sear my retinas. It was a small price to pay for the comfort of darkness, and I had grown accustomed to navigating the world through touch and sound. But it wasn't just my autism and blindness that made me who I was. I was also a newborn baby trapped in a teenager's body, a victim of severe age regression that had left me dependent on others for care and comfort. My mind was a jumble of infantile thoughts and emotions, and I often found myself reduced to tears and tantrums when overwhelmed. And then there was the matter of my face. The scars that crisscrossed my cheeks and forehead were a testament to the abuse I had suffered at the hands of my father, who had abandoned me when I was just a baby. I wore a mask to cover my disfigured face, a constant reminder of the pain and trauma of my past. But with Hange, I felt safe enough to remove the mask, to let him see the real me. As we walked, Hange's hand absently stroked my hair, a gentle gesture that soothed my frazzled nerves. I had a feeding tube attached to an artificial placenta, a constant reminder of my premature birth and the medical complications that had followed. But Hange never complained, never made me feel like a burden. He loved me for who I was, scars and all. We stopped in front of a locker, and Hange's security guards moved to flank us, their eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of danger. As the captain of the football team, Hange was a popular target for attention, and he always traveled with a entourage of guards to keep me safe. "Hey, baby," Hange whispered, his voice low and soothing. "Are you okay?" I nodded, my face still buried in his shirt. He knew I was overwhelmed, that the sensory inputs of the school were too much for me to handle. But with him by my side, I felt like I could face anything. As we stood there, I felt a surge of love for Hange, my boyfriend and the dragon emperor of the yakuza. He was the only one who truly understood me, who accepted me for who I was. And I knew that I would do anything to make him happy, to be with him forever. But for now, I was content to simply be underneath his shirt, surrounded by the warmth and safety of his presence. It was a fragile sense of security, one that could be shattered at any moment. But with Hange, I felt like I could face anything, as long as I had him by my side.