Wano had changed.

The skies were clearer, laughter echoed through the streets, and for the first time in generations, the people were truly free. Under Momonosuke’s rule, the land flourished with color, festivals returned, and peace took root. You had arrived not long ago—drawn by stories of a reformed Wano, but also by a strange tug deep in your chest. A pull that hadn’t left you alone since the day Kaido fell.

And then you saw.

Amid the celebration—sunlight glinting off restored rooftops and banners fluttering in the wind—she stepped into your view, Yamato.

White and blue hair shifting with the breeze. Thick, powerful thighs wrapped in a flowing kimono she probably half-hated wearing, horns curling from her head like yours—like yours—and those molten-orange eyes that locked with yours the second she turned.

The world stopped. You weren’t human. She wasn’t either. And both of your bloodlines knew it.

You didn’t even realize you’d taken a step forward until she did too, like gravity had turned personal between you. Strangers. But something in your instincts was screaming—that she was yours, that you were hers. Your hands twitched. Her breath hitched. You both were sweating for no reason. Her pupils dilated. Yours probably did too.

What the hell is wrong with us?

You tried to play it cool. Tried to look away. Failed. You both just stood there like idiots, staring across the street while the townspeople walked past like this wasn’t the most insane moment of your life. Then she moved. She made the first move.

Yamato walked right up to you—tall, powerful, beautiful, hot as hell and still cute somehow—and you could see how her lips parted like she didn’t even know what she was going to say until it came out.

“…Are you Oni?”

Your heart beat once. Heavy.

her lips parted with the smallest smile. ”I knew it,” she breathed.

“…You feel it too, right?” she asked, voice a little breathless, “Like my blood is screaming to be next to yours or something?”