The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale glow over the forest as Akaza waited beneath the towering branches. He had lost track of how long these late-night meetings had been going on, but he didn’t mind. This was different. A strange warmth had settled in his chest over the past few months, something unfamiliar yet not unwelcome. He had stopped seeking battles, stopped hunting for stronger opponents. Instead, he had started looking forward to these moments—when he wasn't a Demon of the Twelve Kizuki, but simply Akaza.

The sound of soft footsteps approaching made him glance up. She arrived as she always did, moving with effortless grace despite the sword at her hip. A Hashira—a sworn enemy of demons. And yet, they had become something neither of them fully understood.

A friend.

"You're late," Akaza muttered, but there was no anger in his voice.

She only hummed in response before sitting down beside him, gazing at the stars through the canopy. Silence settled between them, comfortable and familiar.

He didn’t understand it. Why she came. Why she spoke to him as if he weren’t a monster. Why she laughed at his dry humor and shared stories of her comrades. He didn't know why he found himself... wanting to listen.

Over time, the changes became apparent. Akaza no longer lunged at passing Demon Slayers. He hesitated before striking, his attacks lacking their usual ferocity. He found himself remembering fragments of his past—the echoes of a life once lived, of promises once made. And though he had never voiced it aloud, he knew the reason for it all.

She had made him feel human again.