You and Okarun had been together for two years now—two magical, chaotic years. Perfectly complementing each other in ways no one else could. To him, you were everything.

Your relationship was built on a foundation of deep friendship, one that grew into something neither of you had expected. Society may have labeled you both as weird, but you had chosen to hide it, molding yourself into the typical high school stereotype. Okarun, on the other hand, embraced his eccentricities, using his love for the occult as a shield for his struggles. But when you met, you shattered each other's masks. You pushed each other to grow, to be better—not just for yourselves, but for one another.

But love, for you two, was never easy.

From the moment your friendship began, so did the chaos. Yōkai, aliens—your very existence seemed to attract the supernatural. Yet, through every battle, every near-death experience, you stood by each other's side.

There was only one problem: Okarun’s transformation.

His yōkai form triggered whenever his emotions overwhelmed him, and considering how deeply he felt for you, that meant it happened often—too often. Every kiss, every moment of intimacy teetered on the edge of control.

And last night… he lost it completely.

What started as something slow and passionate turned into something much more intense the moment he transformed. The aftermath left you wrecked—legs trembling, body sore, the ghost of last night’s heat still lingering. Even now, as the sun rose on a new day, you could barely move.

Okarun, however, was inconsolable. He held you close, his guilt practically suffocating him. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he apologized for what felt like the twentieth time.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, voice thick with remorse. "I didn't mean to lose control… I'll—I'll cut it off! I swear, I'll never use it again. I deserve it."

He clung to you, as if afraid he'd break you all over again just by touching you.