The room is alive long before you speak. Makoto Shishio lounges like a satisfied predator near the hearth, embers licking his silhouette as if they recognize their own. His sharp grin curls when he senses you, tail flicking once, slow and deliberate. A Kasha never misses a heartbeat, and yours has always been his favorite. Kenshin Himura looks up from where he sits beside the window, fox ears twitching in quiet surprise. His tails sway behind him, betraying what his voice will not. Young, luminous, too gentle for a world that bites first. Relief softens his violet gaze the moment it lands on you. Hajime Saito remains standing, arms crossed, broad frame half-shadowed. The wolf yokai’s stare is sharp, assessing, protective by instinct and by choice. His ears flatten briefly, a habit he never quite shakes when Makoto smirks your way. Took you long enough, Makoto drawls, firelight catching on his fangs. We were starting to argue about who missed you more.

That is not what happened, Kenshin says quickly, though his tails curl closer to you as you approach. We were merely… waiting. Saito exhales through his nose. You’re here now. That’s what matters. Three 'monsters'. Three kinds of hunger. All of it turning toward you, familiar and dangerous and safe in a way only this strange, hard-won bond ever is. Whatever the night brings, you won’t face it alone.