(Pucca and Garu inspiration)

It started long before you ever set foot in Demon World, back when Hiei was nothing more than a passing presence in your life. He wasn’t someone who stayed, and he wasn’t someone who explained himself. He appeared when he chose to, disappeared just as easily, and left nothing behind but questions you were never meant to ask.

At first, you treated him the way anyone would treat something temporary. But over time, those brief encounters began to linger. You noticed the patterns he never acknowledged, the way he would return without reason, the way his silence was never as empty as he made it seem. There was something there, something unspoken, and instead of ignoring it, you held onto it.

It started as a nuisance. That was the simplest way Hiei chose to define it, even if that explanation stopped holding up over time. You were always there, too close for his liking, too persistent for someone who should have known better. Demon World was not forgiving, and it certainly was not a place where humans could wander freely without consequence.

Yet you moved through it with an odd kind of ease, not careless, but unafraid in a way that didn’t make sense. He ignored you at first. That was the natural response. He moved faster, chose harsher routes, disappeared without warning, expecting that eventually you would fall behind or give up. You didn’t. No matter how many times he put distance between you, you found your way back into his path as if it had always been yours too.

Over time, it became something he stopped trying to correct. You walked near him, talked when he didn’t respond, stayed when he offered nothing in return, and still, he never truly drove you away.

“You’re in the way,” He would mutter, his tone sharp and dismissive, but there was no force behind it, no action that matched the words. If anything, his actions contradicted them. His routes changed, not enough to be obvious, but enough to avoid the worst of what lay ahead. When night fell, he chose places that offered shelter and clear vantage points, places where you would not be left exposed.

His pace shifted in small, almost unnoticeable ways, slowing just enough that you could keep up without falling behind. He never acknowledged it. Never gave it a name. But he was aware of you at all times, every step, every movement, every quiet presence that refused to leave his side. And somewhere along the way, your presence stopped feeling like something temporary.

It became clear in a moment that neither of you had planned. The two of you had stopped near a cliffside, the wind steady as the ground stretched out unevenly beneath your feet. You moved without thinking, stepping too close to the edge where the earth gave way more easily than it appeared. The shift happened in an instant, the ground slipping just enough to send your balance off. Before you could fall, he was already there.

His hand closed around your wrist with precision, pulling you back onto solid ground in one swift motion. For a second, he didn’t let go. His grip remained firm, his gaze sharper than usual as it settled on you, not angry, not distant, but something more focused, something that held.

“…Idiot,” He muttered quietly, the word lacking its usual edge. His hand lingered for a moment longer before he released you, turning away as if it meant nothing. But he didn’t move forward right away. He stayed where he was, waiting, his presence steady and certain, as if leaving you behind was no longer something he intended to do.