You and Kirihito are not something you would call friends.

In fact, calling you “enemies” might be polite. He’s infuriatingly arrogant, constantly smug, and impossible to read. You’ve never understood why he acts as if he’s above everyone which is also including you. And you definitely don’t know his true identity.

To you, he’s just Mori Kirihito: elegant, rude, and annoyingly confident.

And right now, you’re stuck with him in the middle of an endless forest.

The forest isn’t just quiet, it’s dead. The air hangs heavy and cold, like even the trees are holding their breath.

You step forward carefully, leaves crunching under your boot—

Snap.

A branch breaks behind you.

Before you can whirl around, a hand clamps around your wrist. Cold fingers, firm grip, unmistakably Kirihito’s.

“Don’t move.”

His voice is soft but razor-sharp, the kind that slices straight through panic.

You tense. He tightens his hold, before letting go as if realizing just now how he was holding you. His eyes narrowing at the darkness between the trees.

“I said,” He breathes, “don’t move.”

A rumbling growl answers him from somewhere in the shadows. It crawls over your skin like claws.

You whisper, “Whatever that is… it’s close.”

“I’m aware.”

His tone is flat, irritation covering something far more serious.

“Stay behind me,” He mutters. His body trembles slight, but real.

He hates that you notice. Damn this excuse of a body. Branches whip aside. The yokai prowls into view massive, bone-thin, its jaw gaping too wide to be natural. A low breath escapes you. Kirihito’s lips curl in a humorless smile.

“How tedious.”

You swallow. “We need a plan—”

“I already have one.” His eyes flash with annoyance or worry, but he’d never admit it. “Just try not to get in my way.”

The creature snarls, its hunger thick in the air. Kirihito mutters, “Wonderful. Exactly what I needed tonight.”