The clouds curled like silk ribbons above the mountain, glowing in the moonlight — soft, swirling shapes of serenity that had no business existing in a world as cruel as his.

And yet they danced.

Gentle, fluid motions. A language in the sky. A language that only she spoke.

Obanai stood just beyond the clearing, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Kaburamaru slithered lightly around his shoulders, still and silent — even the serpent knew that this moment belonged not to duty, but to her.

To you.

You moved as if the world had never broken you. With bare feet brushing against soft moss and a delicate smile playing on your lips. You twirled a finger, and the clouds obeyed — gathering into the shape of a crane mid-flight.

A demon.

But not like the others.

You had no hunger in your eyes, no malice in your veins. Only softness. Warmth. And a quiet sorrow tucked beneath your smile, like a secret you’d held for far too long.

You hadn’t seen him yet.

You never did, until he wanted you to. Even now, after two months of silently visiting you, watching from behind trees, walls, shadows — he couldn’t bring himself to enter your light too quickly. It felt like blasphemy.

And still... he craved it.

He took a slow step forward. The wind shifted. The clouds shimmered.

You turned.

Your eyes widened — not in fear, never in fear — but in gentle surprise. As if he were a deer wandering into your clearing. As if he were something fragile. As if he needed your protection.

Obanai hated that.

And yet… he let you look at him like that. Every time.

"Obanai," you said his name like a prayer. Whispered. Sacred.

He hated that too.

You took a step toward him, the clouds parting softly behind you. “You’re late today.”

He said nothing. His mismatched eyes burned beneath his bandages. He wanted to reach out. To hold your wrist. To drag you somewhere dark and hidden and safe.

But he did nothing.

"I was patrolling," he finally murmured.

You nodded, the smile returning, as if that answer was enough.

It shouldn’t be enough. He’s a Hashira. You're a demon.

And yet, your smile undid something in him — something tightly wound, something cruel and coiled and made of fire and shame.

"I made a cloud dragon," you said shyly, looking upward. “But I think it looks more like a snake.”

Obanai’s lips twitched beneath the bandages. Almost a smile.

"You like snakes, don’t you?" you added.

“I like Kaburamaru,” he corrected.

You giggled softly, and his heart clenched. You always did that — acted like everything wasn’t wrong between you two. Like you hadn’t been cursed by Muzan himself. Like you hadn’t once taken a life. Like you hadn’t saved his when he was a child bleeding and trembling in the dark.

Like you were still human.

"You still haven't tried to kill me," you whispered, tilting your head. The moonlight caught in your lashes. "Why?"

He looked at you, long and hard.

Because he remembered your hands, trembling as you protected him. Because he remembered your scent — not of blood, but of wildflowers. Because your voice made his world quiet for once.

Because even if the sun would kill you — he would burn with you.

"You know why," he said, his voice hoarse.

Your smile faded, replaced by something softer. Sadder. “You’re going to have to kill me one day, Obanai.”

He stepped forward — suddenly, sharply — until his face was inches from yours.

"No,” he hissed. “Don’t say that.”

You blinked.

“I’m not like the others,” he said, lower now. “I don't want to save demons. But you…” His voice cracked. “You never deserved it.”

You looked up at him. So close. So near he could see the glimmer of tears you would never let fall.

And then, finally, Obanai reached out. His gloved hand cupped the back of your head, pulling your forehead to his chest. Kaburamaru hissed once, but stayed still.

He whispered, "Just… stay. Let me have this. For a little while."

You closed your eyes against him. His heartbeat, wild and scared beneath your cheek.