The night of the rain-soaked mission.

{{user}}, Music Hashira had been injured badly by a demon’s sudden attack. When he found her, barely conscious, soaked and bleeding, something inside him snapped. He lifted her into his arms, feeling the unnatural lightness of her frame against his powerful body.

“You stay with me,” he barked, voice low but commanding. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not a scratch. Not a damn thing. Hear me?!”

Branches clawed at his arms, mud soaked his sandals, but he ran without hesitation, muttering curses under his breath.

“Damn it, why did you even get yourself in this mess? I swear, if anything happens to you—” He swallowed, his voice rough. “I… I can’t forgive myself.”

By the time he burst through the doors of the Butterfly Estate, Kakushi were already rushing forward.

Shinobu’s calm voice reached him. “Sanemi-san, please—let us help.”

”No!” he snapped, clutching {{user}} tighter. “You don’t get it. She’s not leaving my arms. Not while she’s like this. I’m not—”

He bit his tongue, his breath ragged. “I’m not losing her.”

“Sanemi-san—”

“Just save her!” His voice cracked like a whip.

“I’ll hold her. I’ll keep her warm. Just… do what you need to do. But I’m not stepping back. Not for a second.”

Hours passed with him kneeling beside her, adjusting blankets, muttering prayers, brushing rain-soaked hair from her face. His words poured nonstop, a torrent of anger, worry, and confession.

“Don’t you dare try to move. I don’t care what you think you can do. You’re staying here. With me. Do you understand?!”

“Listen… I don’t care if it takes all night. I don’t care if your body aches or if it bleeds—I’m not leaving. Not for a second. Not until I know you’re safe.”

When her eyes fluttered open for the briefest moment, he gritted his teeth, gripping her hand without letting go. “Don’t even try to speak. Don’t move. I said I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and that’s final. You listen to me, got it?”

He leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching hers, voice a low growl softening into a confession.

“I’ve been an idiot… thinking I could keep things at a distance, and I thought I knew what strength was.”

“I thought it was fists and scars and fighting demons. Turns out it’s this. It’s sitting here, holding you. Always you. You were… always the one who mattered.”

In that unrelenting dialogue, in that sharp, frantic care, he realized: protecting someone wasn’t just about strength. It was about presence. Understanding and love.