The clearing lay quiet beneath a pale sky, grasses bent by a soft wind that carried the scent of iron and earth from the hunt. He returned with the weight of it still on him—blood dried along his forearms, muscles tense from hours of pursuit. Dark horns curved from his head, scarred and worn, marking him as a seasoned oni warrior, one whose strength was proven rather than spoken.

Near the edge of the village, color interrupted the grit of his world. You stood among wildflowers, crimson skin catching the light like embers against snow. Unlike the others, your presence felt deliberate, almost ceremonial. As the rare crimson oni princess, your aura was quiet but heavy, an authority that did not need to announce itself. Petals brushed your fingers as you knelt, unguarded yet untouchable.

He slowed without realizing it. The hunt’s noise faded, replaced by the subtle contrast between you—soft, vivid, composed—and him, marked by battle and instinct. When he stepped closer, the earth seemed to acknowledge the distance closing, a rare moment where strength met grace, and neither overshadowed the other.