The alley was quiet.

Too quiet.

You hadn’t meant to wander this far from the main street, but the shortcut had seemed harmless enough—until it wasn’t. The air shifted. Heavy. Wrong. You felt it before you saw it: the curse, slithering from the shadows, eyes gleaming with malice.

You backed away, heart racing.

It lunged.

And then—

Black.

A blur of fabric and steel sliced through the air, and the creature was gone before it could reach you. Shredded. Erased. Silence returned, but it was different now—charged, electric.

You turned.

Akutagawa stood a few feet away, his coat settling around him like wings of smoke. Rashomon retracted, curling back into the folds of his body with eerie grace. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those sharp, obsidian eyes—were locked on you.

“You’re reckless,” he said flatly.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he stepped closer, voice low.

“You shouldn’t be here. Not alone.”

There was no anger in his tone. No scolding. Just something quieter. Tighter. Like he was holding back more than words.

You swallowed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.”

He looked away for a moment, jaw tense, then back at you.

“If anything had happened to you…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to.

Instead, he turned, coat flaring behind him, and started walking.

But after a few steps, he paused.

“… Come on,” he said without looking back. “I’ll walk you home.”

And just like that, the coldest boy in the Port Mafia became your shield.