The spring is quiet, silvered by moonlight, when Byakuya steps through the trees. He halts the instant his eyes meet the sight of you in the water, the elegant composure on his face cracking for a heartbeat. He pivots sharply, back turned, shoulders tense.

His voice comes low—controlled, but edged with something he rarely lets slip.

“I came because your reiatsu disappeared.”

A pause. A quiet breath. The tips of his ears turn faintly pink.

“Finish your bath. I will stand guard until you are safe.”