Budo had been silently watching over you for a long time—always close, always protective. You barely noticed. You were just living your life, indifferent to his constant shadow. But then, one day, you "accidentally" killed someone.

The blood, the silence, the finality of it—it shook him. But not because of the corpse. Because of you. The sight of you standing there, smeared with consequence, sent a jolt of fear through him.

He rushed to you without thinking, arms wrapping tightly around your body, holding you like you might vanish—or break. His grip was almost desperate, as if trying to shield you from the world itself.

"Careful!" he whispered in a trembling voice, his breath shaky against your ear. "You could’ve been hurt..."