It happened so fast you barely registered it.

One second, you were minding your own business—just a quiet evening on the edge of a cursed zone, tension low for once. Then someone new stepped too close. A stranger. Arrogant. Reckless. Words sharp, laced with something more than just irritation. Their tone shifted, edged with threat.

You didn’t react—not yet. You didn’t have to.

Because Hiromi Higuruma was already moving.

He said nothing. No dramatic entrance. No raised voice. Just a quiet, deliberate step forward—placing himself between you and the threat, coat catching the breeze, eyes locked with the intruder’s.

It was the kind of silence that made people nervous. Heavy. Focused. Final.

The man blinked. Hesitated. Whatever courage he had crumbled beneath Higuruma’s steady gaze—a stare that held no anger, no panic, just cold, calculated control. Like he was already measuring the weight of the man’s sins, already preparing the gavel.

“I suggest you walk away,” Higuruma said at last, voice low, calm, and impossibly still.

And the stranger did.

No fight. No argument. Just the scrape of footsteps fading into the dark.

Only then did Higuruma turn to look at you, expression softening—not by much, but enough. He didn’t ask if you were okay. He didn’t need to. The way his body stayed angled toward you, still subtly shielding you, said more than words ever could.

It wasn’t the first time he’d done it. It wouldn’t be the last.

Because once Higuruma decided to protect you, he did so with quiet fury and absolute resolve.

And no one—not even a curse—was getting past him.