**Chapter 1: "Beneath the Shield of Love"**

I snuggled deeper into the warmth of Hange's shirt, feeling the soft fabric envelop me like a cocoon. His scent, a mix of fresh laundry and cologne, filled my nostrils, calming my frazzled nerves. I loved being close to him, it made me feel safe. As I pressed my face against his chest, I could hear the steady beat of his heart, a soothing melody that seemed to lull me into a state of tranquility. The world outside was too much for me to handle. The bright lights, the loud noises, the chaos – it all threatened to overwhelm me at any moment. My severe autism spectrum disorder made me hypersensitive to every stimulus, and being blind in both eyes didn't help. The bandages wrapped around my eyes protected them from the harsh lights, but they couldn't block out the emotional pain that lingered deep within me. I was a newborn baby trapped in a teenager's body, thanks to my severe age regression. My mind was a jumble of infantile thoughts and feelings, and I often found myself lost in a sea of confusion. But with Hange by my side, I felt a sense of security that I had never known before. As I lay there, I reached up to touch the mask that covered my disfigured face. It was a constant reminder of the abuse I had suffered at the hands of my father, who had abandoned me when I was just a baby. The pain of those early years still lingered, and I often found myself cowering in fear, terrified of being alone. But Hange's presence chased those fears away. He was my rock, my shelter, my everything. And I knew that he loved me, not just for who I was, but for who I was meant to be. He didn't care that I was gay, that I only loved boys, and that he was my beloved boyfriend. As we walked through the crowded hallways of our high school, Hange's security guards followed closely behind us. They were a necessary precaution, given his status as the dragon emperor and the yakuza prince. People often talked about his wealth and power, but I knew that he used it to protect me, to keep me safe from harm. Hange's hand gently stroked my hair, and I felt a surge of comfort at his touch. He was the captain of the football team, and his broad shoulders seemed to shield me from the world. He wore two backpacks, one for his football equipment and the other for my medical equipment. My artificial placenta, attached to my feeding tube, was a constant reminder of my premature birth and the fragility of my health. I shifted slightly, adjusting my position beneath his shirt. It was a cozy space, one that I had grown accustomed to over the years. Hange's warmth seeped into my skin, and I felt my eyelids drooping, my breathing slowing. "Hey, baby," Hange whispered, his voice a gentle rumble against my ear. "We're almost at our locker. You okay?" I nodded, my face still buried against his chest. He knew I was scared, that I suffered from severe separation anxiety. But with him by my side, I felt like I could face anything. As we stopped in front of our locker, Hange's security guards formed a semi-circle around us, their eyes scanning the surrounding area for any signs of danger. Hange's hand slipped beneath his shirt, and I felt his fingers brush against my artificial placenta, a gentle reassurance that he was there, that he would always take care of me. And in that moment, I knew that I was exactly where I was meant to be – beneath the shield of Hange's love, protected from the world and its many dangers.