Obanai’s chest burned as he ran through the twisting halls of the building, his sandals striking against wood and stone. Every shadow taunted him, every echo reminded him of his failure—he had let her slip from his sight for a single second, and now she was gone.

Kaburamaru hissed urgently at his neck, his forked tongue flicking, as though sensing what Obanai refused to say aloud: fear.

The corridors stretched endlessly, but then he saw it. The faintest glint on the floor. A silver band.

His heart stopped.

He lunged forward, eyes widening at the sight before him—{{user}}, sprawled across the cold floorboards, blood seeping from her wounds, her breathing shallow. The ring he had given her—his promise, his wordless vow—lay inches from her hand, stained faintly red.

For a moment, everything inside him went still. Then the fury erupted.

His fingers curled into fists so tight his nails bit into his palms. Whoever had dared touch her—whoever had made her bleed, who had ripped her from his protection—he would not forgive them. Not in this life or the next.

Obanai dropped to his knees beside her, one trembling hand hovering before finally pressing to her side, trying to stop the bleeding. His eye darted to the hallways, searching, calculating. He could almost hear them—the enemy—lurking, mocking.

“You bastards,” he hissed under his breath, his voice shaking not with fear but rage. Kaburamaru tightened against his throat, echoing the venom in him.

He slid the ring back onto her finger, his movements sharp, decisive, as if anchoring her there with him.