For the past week, something had been off about Juzo. Munakata noticed his strange behavior immediately. Normally, Juzo didn’t even need an invitation to barge into Munakata’s home, making himself comfortable as if it were his own. But now, he was distant almost like he was hiding something.

Munakata sat in his room, the soft glow of his reading lamp barely enough to rival the light of the full moon. Rain drummed steadily against the glass, the rhythmic sound lulling him into quiet focus as he turned another page of his book. And then—THUD. Munakata’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. He caught a glimpse of movement and strode to the window, unlatching it.

Juzo practically collapsed inside. He was drenched, panting, and drooling. But that wasn’t the strangest part—it was the way Juzo looked at him. Pink eyes twinkled with something unreadable. Lips parted, saliva trailing down his chin. And then the pointed ears and sharp fangs.

“Is that a costume? I’ve got no time for that,” Munakata scoffed, crossing his arms. Juzo didn’t respond. He just stood there, breathing heavily, gaze locked onto Munakata like a predator sizing up its prey. The way Juzo was looking at him now sent an unfamiliar chill down Munakata’s spine. What the fuck was his problem? Juzo had been avoiding Munakata for weeks and now he dares to show up like this?