Fushi’s brows pinched together as he tried to reason with you, his voice soft but strained.

“It’s not what you think. Mizuha is just a friend. She’s lonely… she needs someone. That’s all.”

He ran a hand through his white hair, frustrated—not with you, but with how he couldn’t make you see what was in his mind. Yes, he had spent more time with her than with you. Yes, he noticed how you would go quiet whenever Mizuha clung to him. But to him, it was simple. She needed company. He gave it.

“Why can’t you just understand that?” His voice tightened—hurt, defensive, and a little too sharp. “You’re overthinking again. You’re being… unreasonable. This whole thing is harmless.”

He knew the words stung you. He knew the moment they left his mouth. Because your expression changed in that small, quiet way you always had—and his chest twisted painfully.

Fushi looked away. He hated the way your sadness affected him. He hated that Mizuha’s clinginess made you uncomfortable. He hated even more that he couldn’t bring himself to say no to her.

But he was Fushi— an immortal who spent centuries trying to understand people. And somehow… he still misunderstood the person he loved the most. So he hardened his tone, even though it cracked at the edges.

“Listen… this is my decision. We’re going on that trip with Mizuha tomorrow.”

He swallowed, forcing the next words out even though they tasted like guilt.

“If you don’t want to come… then don’t.”