Rain pattered softly against the glass of the Huntrix rooftop greenhouse, the one place the others rarely visited. You were supposed to be on patrol, but instead you found yourself curled up on one of the benches, listening to the hum of the city far below.

That’s when you felt it—a familiar warmth settling beside you. Baby Saja, teal hair still damp from the rain, purple patterns faintly glowing in the dim light. His deep voice carried that lazy, teasing tone you knew so well.

“Skipping patrol to see me?” he smirked, leaning back like he owned the place.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “And you skipped your rehearsal to see me, so don’t even start.”

His grin softened into something tender. “Yeah, but I think we both know my reason’s better.”

You felt his hand find yours under the bench, his long fingers curling around yours in a gentle squeeze. It was dangerous—so dangerous—for you to be together. Huntrix didn’t forgive demons. The Saja Boys didn’t forgive hunters. But in moments like this, it didn’t matter.

“I keep thinking…” he began, his voice quieter now, “if the Honmoon ever falls, or if someone finds out about us… I don’t want you to remember me as just the demon you weren’t supposed to love.”

Your chest tightened, but before you could speak, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny, folded paper crane. “Every time I see you, I make one. There’s… a lot now. One for every day I’ve loved you.”

You stared at it, speechless, your throat burning with unshed tears.

He brushed your cheek with his thumb, smiling in that way that made your heart ache. “I’ll keep making them until we run out of days. Deal?”