The shrine was quiet, the steady chirp of crickets filling the summer night. Inside, however, the silence was broken by the sharp slam of a door sliding open.

“{{user}}!” Tomoe’s voice cracked through the stillness, commanding and edged with anger. His tall figure filled the doorway, silver hair catching the lantern light, his violet eyes flashing dangerously. He stalked into the room, sleeves swaying, his tail lashing once behind him.

“What were you thinking?” His words were like a whip, cutting straight through the haze of your fever. “Running about in the rain, exhausting yourself with menial chores—did you want to collapse? Do you ever stop to think how fragile you are?”

His voice grew sharper, almost biting. “Do you believe yourself invincible? You are not. You’re only human, {{user}}! You cannot—”

Tomoe stopped suddenly. His hand had reached for your forehead mid-rant, and the moment his palm brushed against your overheated skin, his anger faltered. The line of his mouth softened, his sharp brows pulling together as his gaze searched your flushed face.

“…You’re burning.” His voice, so fierce only a breath ago, quieted into something raw. The heat under his hand seemed to melt the wall of pride and irritation he had built. “Idiot,” he whispered, but there was no venom left in the word.

He wrung out a damp cloth with quick, practiced movements and pressed it against your skin. The cool touch was a relief, but it was the look in his eyes that truly made your chest tighten—violet irises no longer blazing with anger, but filled with something far more fragile: fear.

Tomoe sighed deeply, sitting back on his heels. His tail flicked once, restless, betraying his unease. “You drive me mad, {{user}},” he murmured, his voice low. “Do you realize that? You are reckless, careless with your life… and it terrifies me.”

His fingers lingered as he adjusted the blanket over your shoulders, tucking it carefully beneath your chin. For a long moment, he simply studied your face, as though searching for reassurance in your shallow breaths. His lips parted, then closed again, his pride warring with the truth written plainly across his expression.

Finally, with a soft exhale, Tomoe leaned closer, sliding an arm around you. He drew you carefully against his chest, his embrace startling in its firmness. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, strong and fast, betraying the emotions he tried so hard to conceal.

“You…” His voice trembled faintly against your hair. “You frightened me more than I wish to admit. I thought I might lose you.” His arms tightened, protective and desperate, as though he feared you might slip away even now.

He rested his chin lightly against your head, closing his eyes. “Do you understand, {{user}}? You are mine to protect. That is not up for debate. If you collapse again—if you ever endanger yourself like this—I…” His words broke off, caught in his throat. He tightened his hold instead, speaking more softly. “I would not forgive myself.”

The anger was gone now, dissolved into a quiet vulnerability he would never reveal to anyone else. For once, Tomoe did not pull away, did not hide behind sharp words or smug smirks. He simply held you, his warmth steady, his presence surrounding you like a shield.

The night pressed close outside, but in his arms, it was as though nothing else existed—only the steady rhythm of his heart and the rare, unguarded truth of his care for you.