The void of the Star Tomb was usually a place of sterile, ancient silence, but tonight, it was filled with the flickering blue light of a portable projector and the low, muffled sounds of a cinematic tragedy.

Yuki sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, her chin resting in her palm. Her motorcycle was parked somewhere in the shadows, and her usual fierce, world-weary energy had been dialed down to a comfortable, domestic simmer. Beside her sat you not a sorcerer, not a human, but a Cursed Object given form, a lingering soul bound to an existence that the higher-ups would consider a mere tool of war. You were supposed to be cold, static, and devoid of the messy fluctuations of human emotion.

The movie on the screen reached its crescendo a devastating scene of parting, underscored by a swelling, mournful violin. Yuki, who had seen enough of the world’s cruelty to be somewhat desensitized, watched the screen with a faint, cynical smile. But then, she heard it. A small, ragged intake of breath. A soft, wet sound that didn't belong to the movie’s soundtrack.

She didn't move her head immediately. Instead, she let her gaze slide to the side, catching your silhouette in the flickering light. You were staring at the projection, your eyes shimmering, and a single, unmistakable tear was tracing a path down your cheek. You, a being born of malice and stored in a warehouse for decades, were genuinely, physically affected by a fictional story about loss.

‘It’s a Cursed Object, and yet it’s crying over a sad movie, huh?’

The thought echoed in her mind, not with mockery, but with a sudden, sharp pang of endearment. She had spent her life trying to understand the soul, trying to find a way to rid the world of cursed energy, and here you were the very thing she studied proving that the boundary between "human" and "curse" was as thin as a soap bubble.

She let out a short, airy laugh, finally turning her head fully to look at you. She reached out, her fingers calloused from years of combat playfully flicking the side of your head before she settled her hand heavily on your shoulder, pulling you slightly into her space.

"Who would have thought you’d be such a crybaby?"

Yuki teased, her voice dropping to a low, affectionate register. She didn't look away, even when you tried to wipe your eyes. She watched you with a raw, startling warmth, her sharp eyes searching yours as if looking for the exact moment your soul had decided to start feeling again.