The night air was thick with silence.

The mission had gone smoothly—too smoothly. The demons were weak, their patterns predictable, their cruelty no match for your combined strength. You and Genya had dispatched them quickly, efficiently.

But the real danger hadn’t begun until after.

Genya had done what he always did in battle—consumed a piece of demon flesh to gain their strength. It was a desperate tactic, one he never used lightly. But this time… something was wrong.

The transformation hadn’t faded.

His body still bore the marks—clawed hands, darkened veins, eyes that flickered with something feral. And now, his breathing was ragged, his posture hunched, his voice barely human.

“{{user}}… run away…” he rasped, his voice torn between warning and hunger. “I can’t… control myself…”

A guttural roar escaped his throat, low and trembling, like something ancient trying to claw its way out of him.

You stepped back instinctively.

His eyes met yours—wild, desperate, pleading.

He didn’t want to hurt you.

But he could.

You could see it in the way his muscles tensed, in the way his fingers twitched, in the way his body leaned forward like a predator fighting its own instincts.

You had a choice.

Run.

Or stay.

But your heart was louder than your fear.

“Genya,” you whispered, voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. “You’re still in there. I know you are.”

He growled, staggering backward, fists clenched, teeth bared.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he choked out. “Please…”

You didn’t move.

Because even now—especially now—you refused to abandon him.

And somewhere, beneath the roar and the rage, Genya was still fighting.

For you.