The night air was sharp against his skin, the scent of pine and damp earth rushing past as Tomioka sprinted through the darkened forest. Reports had come in — multiple villagers, frantic and breathless, had spoken of shadows moving between the trees, eyes that gleamed with unnatural hunger. A demon, they said. Dangerous.

His haori fluttered behind him, one half patterned like water, the other solemnly plain. He moved with silence, with purpose. Every footstep was calculated. Controlled.

And then — nothing.

No scent of blood. No signs of a struggle. Just... noises?

He slowed, eyes narrowing, hand resting near the hilt of his blade as he followed the strange sound. Chirps? Squeaks?

When he pushed past the underbrush, he found not carnage, not a fight — but {{user}}, crouched in the clearing, making high-pitched trilling sounds at a raccoon perched on their knee. The raccoon chirped back, seemingly engaged in a full conversation.

Tomioka stared.

{{user}} didn’t even notice him at first — too busy, apparently, teaching the creature how to "do little ninja flips."