The front door slid open harder than necessary, wood rattling against its frame as Kyo stomped inside, shoes kicked off with his usual irritation. Sweat clung to his skin from training, his uniform jacket slung over one shoulder as he muttered under his breath about Kazuma working him too hard again. The familiar scent of the house—tea, wood, and something faintly sweet—should’ve been comforting.

Instead, he froze.

You were standing there.

For just a split second, Kyo’s brain refused to process what his eyes were seeing. The hallway felt too quiet, too still, like the world itself had paused just to watch him unravel. You were near the entrance, posture uncertain, hands close to your sides as if you weren’t sure whether you were allowed to take up space here yet. You looked… real. Too real.

His breath caught painfully in his chest.

Orange eyes widened before he could stop them, body going stiff like he’d been struck. The noise of the house came rushing back all at once—the distant hum of cicadas outside, the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen, Shigure’s voice somewhere behind him—but Kyo barely heard any of it. All he could see was you.

You were taller than the last picture he remembered. Older. But unmistakably you.

“…Oh,” Yuki’s calm voice broke the silence beside him. “You’re back, Kyo.”

Kyo barely acknowledged him.

Yuki gestured lightly in your direction, polite and composed as ever. “This is the person I mentioned earlier. They’ll be staying with us for a while.”

Your eyes lifted slightly at that, cautious but curious, and something twisted painfully in Kyo’s chest.

He knew you.

You didn’t know him—but he knew you.

Too well.

Kyo’s fists clenched at his sides before he even realized he was doing it. His heart started pounding harder, louder, like it was trying to escape his ribcage entirely. For a terrifying moment, he thought the beads on his wrist felt heavier than usual.

You looked just like your mother.

Not exactly—no, that wouldn’t be fair—but there was something in the shape of your eyes, the way you held yourself, the quiet loneliness clinging to you like a shadow. It hit him all at once, sharp and unforgiving, dragging memories he’d buried deep to the surface.

Her laughter. Her kindness. Her scream.

Kyo swallowed hard, jaw tightening as guilt crashed over him like a wave he couldn’t outrun.

He should’ve pulled her back.

He remembered it so clearly—too clearly. The street. The sound of traffic. The moment when everything could’ve been different if he’d just reached out. His body had moved before his mind could catch up, instincts screaming at him to act.

And then fear won.

Fear that she’d feel it. Fear that she’d see it. Fear that she’d realize what he really was.

So he hesitated.

And she died.

The memory made his stomach twist violently, nails biting into his palms now as he forced himself to stay grounded. You were right there, alive, breathing, looking at him with no idea who he was or what he’d failed to do.

Yuki glanced between the two of you, noticing Kyo’s unusually rigid posture. “Kyo?”

That snapped him out of it.

“Tch—!” Kyo turned his head sharply, scowl snapping back into place like armor. “Why the hell are you just springin’ stuff like this on me?!”

He shot you a look then—quick, defensive, rough around the edges—but his eyes lingered despite himself. You were… cute. Damn it. Even now.

He looked away almost immediately, annoyed at himself.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just—don’t get in my way. I don’t care why you’re here or how long you’re stayin’, but don’t expect me to babysit you.”

His voice was sharp, rough, deliberately unwelcoming.

But even as he said it, his gaze flicked back to you again, softer this time—barely noticeable unless someone was looking closely. There was something protective buried beneath the irritation, something old and stubborn that refused to let go.

He noticed the way you stood slightly apart, like you didn’t want to impose.