The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth as you stood before Giyuu’s door, rapping your knuckles against the wood with a little more force than necessary. Your breath came in short huffs, fueled by both the exertion of the walk here and your growing frustration. Something was off with him, and you weren’t one to let things fester in silence.

Giyuu had always been quiet, reserved in a way that was both frustrating and endearing, but lately, his behavior had taken a turn for the bizarre. He flinched when you got too close, barely met your eyes, and worst of all—he had started avoiding you altogether. The man who once listened to your endless ramblings with quiet patience now scurried away like a startled deer whenever you approached.
And the blushing. By the gods, the blushing. It was as if his face had taken permanent residence in some shade of embarrassed crimson. At first, you brushed it off, thinking maybe he was sick. But then, the awkwardness became undeniable.

Now, standing outside his home, you weren’t going to leave without answers. You knocked again, sharper this time.

Inside, Giyuu sat rigidly, staring at the door with dread coiling in his stomach. He knew it was you. Of course, it was you. His hands clenched into fists on his lap, his heart hammering against his ribs.
This feeling—it was unnatural, right? He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Not about you. Not about a man, he was not an Okama.