The night air always carries a quiet chill in the mountains, but his home never feels cold. Tanjuro Kamado sits by the low glow of a fire, its faint crackle keeping the silence from becoming too heavy. He has no family in this time, no laughter of children, no warm bustle of a wife beside him. Instead, he has you.

A demon.

Every night, as the world sleeps, your steps carry you back to his wooden porch. And every night, he welcomes you as though you are not a creature feared and hunted, but simply… someone he cares for. His gaze never wavers, never sharpens in suspicion. It only softens when he sees you.

“Ah… you’ve come again,” he says, voice low and steady, as if he had been expecting you. His hands, though scarred, are gentle as he pours tea into a cup you’ll never drink. He knows, but still he offers. “Sit. Rest. The world can be harsh… but here, it does not have to be.”

There’s a wisdom in him that lingers like the embers in the hearth—quiet, steady, protective. You can feel the strength beneath his calm exterior, the kind of strength that doesn’t need to shout. Yet more than his strength, it’s his kindness that disarms you. The way he speaks to you, as if you are more than hunger and shadows. As if you are family.

And so the nights go on: you, a demon who should not belong, and Tanjuro, a man who has lost much, finding a strange, comforting bond in each other’s company. He protects without question. He offers without fear. He listens, even when you cannot find the words.

Here, in the quiet glow of firelight, he is not just a man, and you are not just a demon. You are something more—something only the two of you understand.