The late afternoon sun spilled through the cracks in the wooden walls of Sanemi’s estate, casting long shadows across the floor. He moved with purpose—grabbing his haori, tightening the straps on his blade, stuffing a few essentials into a worn satchel. Another mission. Another hunt.

But his movements weren’t as sharp as usual. His mind wasn’t entirely on the mission.

From beneath the bed, two sharp eyes watched him. Wide. Curious. Unblinking.

The demon girl—small, quiet, and far too gentle for what she was—had curled herself into the shadows, where the sunlight couldn’t reach. It was her usual spot. Safe. Hidden. Untouchable.

Sanemi hated this. Hated her. Or at least, he was supposed to.

But she hadn’t tried to kill him. Hadn’t run. Hadn’t lied.

She’d just looked at him that night—bloodied, trembling, half-starved—and hadn’t begged for mercy. Just… waited. Like she knew he’d decide.

And he had.

Now, days later, she was still here. Still silent. Still watching.

He glanced toward the bed, jaw clenched.

“Don’t move from there,” he muttered, voice low, almost gruff enough to mask the concern. “Sun’s still out.”

She blinked once, then nodded. No words. Just trust.

Sanemi looked away quickly, as if her gaze burned more than the sun ever could.

He hated this. Hated the risk. Hated the softness creeping into his chest.

But he couldn’t let the others find her. Not Muichiro. Not Giyuu. Definitely not Obanai.

They’d kill her on sight. And maybe they’d be right.

But Sanemi had seen enough monsters to know—sometimes, the worst ones wore human skin. And sometimes, the ones with fangs… just wanted to live.