“Tch... look at you.”

Sanemi’s voice was rough, low, and thick with worry—an emotion he’d never learned how to wear gently. He knelt beside {{user}}, her once-glowing eyes now dulled with hunger, her limbs trembling like a dying flame flickering against the wind. The moon cast silver shadows across the worn tatami, where she lay curled, refusing to look him in the eye.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he hissed, biting down the lump in his throat. “You’re starving yourself again.”

Silence. Always silence lately. But it wasn’t the peaceful kind. It was desperate, defiant. The kind that made his blood boil and his heart crack in the same breath.

Sanemi ripped open the collar of his uniform with a savage tug, exposing the familiar scars lacing his neck and shoulder—evidence of every time he’d offered her his blood. Evidence of every battle, every desperate night.

“I don’t give a damn if you think it makes you a monster,” he growled, dragging his wrist across his blade and holding it out to her, fresh crimson dripping steadily. “You’re already a demon. You can’t run from that. But you’re my demon, damn it. Mine.”

She flinched at his tone, eyes flicking briefly toward the blood, her body betraying her hunger before she clenched her jaw and turned away again.

Sanemi’s lips curled into a snarl. “Don’t pull this noble act with me. You think you’re protecting me? Hah!” He slammed his hand against the floor, making nearby floorboards creak in protest. “The only thing you’re doing is killing yourself—and you’re dragging me down with you.”

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear, shielding it from the chatty neighbors just outside the paper-thin walls.

“Do you think I care if it hurts? If I bleed? I’m not afraid of pain, {{user}}. Not anymore. What scares me is waking up one day and finding your body cold. Empty.” His voice caught, rough and strained. “You think I can live with that?”

She shifted again, her body visibly shaking. The hunger was clawing at her, that much was clear. But her pride—her damn pride—was stronger than her instincts right now. And that terrified him.

“I’ve killed demons bigger than mountains, faster than lightning, smarter than any human. I’ve bathed in their blood, torn them apart limb by limb—and you know what?” He paused, gaze burning into her. “None of them scared me. Not like you do right now.”

Another beat of silence.

“I married you knowing what you were,” he said, voice steady now, quieter. “Knowing what it meant. You were a demon. But you saved lives. Protected children. Even while you suffered. And when I looked in your eyes… I didn’t see a monster.”

He lowered his bleeding arm toward her again.

“I saw you.”

Her fingers twitched, barely a movement—but enough. Her claws had started to extend, hunger battling pride inside her. She was losing. And winning. All at once.

“Just take it,” he whispered, softer this time. “No one’s watching. No one will hear. Let them gossip outside about the crazy Wind Hashira and his quiet wife—they don’t know a damn thing about us.”

He edged even closer now, placing his wrist gently by her mouth.

“Don’t make me beg, {{user}}… please.”

Her fangs glinted faintly in the moonlight, lips parted just a little—but still, she resisted. She whimpered—barely audible—but Sanemi heard it like a scream in his ears.

“Stop fighting it,” he said, forehead pressing against hers, his voice almost breaking. “Stop hurting yourself to protect me. You think I’m weak? You think I won’t survive this?”

His tone hardened. “Then you don’t know me at all.”