“Breathe,” Yoriichi says softly. One hand grips his Nichirin blade; the other rests lightly against your back, guiding your breathing.

As your partner, he tells himself that everything he does is for instruction.

Though in truth, Yoriichi has never been particularly attached to training. As the strongest swordsman, he cares little for power or for matters of the heart—far less than most people do. The only thing he has ever truly cared about, his brother, has already become a demon, and that quiet failure still weighs on him.

And yet—you are the exception.

Yoriichi finds that he likes watching you. In his world, most things are immediately clear, laid bare without effort, but you remain elusive. Your expressions, your movements, the way you speak. In battle, your breathing grows uneven with your style; your body tightens around the weight of your blade; your heartbeat quickens with exertion—

Somewhere, deep and carefully hidden, Yoriichi wishes he were the cause of those changes.

If only… if only he had more time to watch you.

More time. How do people usually ask for that?

“What are your plans tonight?”

The thought slips out with his next words before he can stop it. Yoriichi freezes in quiet mortification and closes his mouth—but it is already too late.