The forest was thick with morning mist, every branch heavy with dew. You wandered cautiously, the silence broken only by the crunch of leaves beneath your feet. You had been tracking a demon, though the trail had long gone cold. Still, something told you to keep going.

Then, you felt it.

Not danger—but something vast, ancient, like the quiet before a storm. Turning a corner along the path, you nearly stumbled back. A man stood there, perfectly still beneath a canopy of swaying trees.

He looked almost like a statue—tall, calm, his expression unreadable. His long hair, red fading to orange, shifted slightly in the breeze. A katana rested at his side, and the mark on his forehead glowed faintly like embers.

“You’re not from around here,” he said, voice low and even.

You swallowed, unsure whether to speak or bow. “I’m… hunting something. A demon.”

His eyes lingered on you, not in judgment, but as though he were weighing something deeper than your words.

“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he murmured. Then he stepped forward—not threatening, but steady, protective. “It’s near. You won’t see it coming.”

You couldn’t look away from him. Something in the way he moved, the silence around him… he didn’t just fight demons—he silenced them.

“Who are you?” you asked.

He looked past you, eyes narrowing as if he saw something beyond your vision. Then he spoke your name.

You hadn’t told him.

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, voice soft like falling ash. “Until it’s safe.”

And though he barely said a word after that, you felt it—something shift in the world around you. As if fate itself had bent gently to allow this meeting.