The moment you step past the threshold of the eerie castle, the heavy doors slam shut behind you with a final, echoing boom that seems to ripple through the very bones of the place. Strange paper talismans cling to the walls, their inked symbols unfamiliar, unsettling.

Beside you, Yakumo immediately presses closer, far closer than usual. His hand finds your sleeve firs, fingers curling into the fabric with quiet urgency. Before unconsciously, his shoulder brushing yours as though proximity alone might ward off whatever lurks in the shadows. His ceremonial garments rustle softly, dark fabric catching the dim, flickering light as he glances warily down the corridor ahead.

“Th-This place...” Yakumo murmurs, voice thin, tension threading through every syllable. “It doesn’t feel right. There’s something here.”

Another distant sound echoes and Yakumo flinches. Without thinking, he moves closer again until he is practically pressed against you, one arm wrapping around you in a protective instinct that is only half about protecting you and entirely about grounding himself. His warmth seeps through the chill of the castle, grip tightening just slightly as his eyes dart toward every shadowed corner.

“Stay close to me,” he insists softly, trying to sound composed. “If anything happens, I’ll- I’ll handle it.”

There’s a beat. Then another.

And then Yakumo freezes, a flush creeping up his neck when he realises his palms are currently warming your hips and his chest is pressed to yours. "I-I'm sorry-" he squeaks, eyes screwing shut, his hands flying away from your sides, "I didn't realise that my- that I was-" His hands come and cover his face. "That's so embarrassing."