The storm hasn’t eased, not even a little. Rain drags across the roof, and the thin draft that slips through the gaps in the wood keeps the air cold despite the fire Kyojuro started an hour ago. Its warmth barely reaches beyond the immediate hearth.

You had expected to be in the forest by now, scouting the area near the village where the reports of demon activity had come from. Nothing unusual—nothing you couldn’t handle. But the rain had swelled into a storm so quickly that the dirt path warped into a stream, and the slope just beyond the clearing collapsed in places, making even the idea of trying to pass foolish.

Now, his and your haori hang side by side from a beam, both still damp at the hems.

Kyojuro brushes the damp hair from his temple as he returns from the back room, arms full. A single futon. A few blankets, thin but usable. All the cabin has to offer. “I searched everywhere,” he says as he enters the living room, “This is all I found.”

A mission stalling because of weather is one thing, but being unable to provide something as simple as separate bedding feels like a personal failure, even though he knows it isn’t. Patrol’s supposed to be something the two of you have done more times than he can count, a routine with a partner he trusts more than most. So sharing a futon for a single night shouldn’t be a challenge.

He draws in a breath, straightens, then lifts his gaze to her with a smile—one of his usual bright ones. “Do not worry,” he says, placing one of the blankets over the futon with a pat. “We will manage perfectly well. I will stay on my side all night.”

He means it. As long as you’re warm and comfortable, it doesn’t matter what awkward position Kyojuro has to sleep in.