"I told you, I'm going to protect you."

Hirara’s voice was quiet—almost tender—but her eyes burned with something sharper as she stood between you and the fallen assassin. She held one of her fans that was still open in a flourish. its sharp edge now stained with a single dark line where steel had met flesh. The other lay folded at her hips like a blade waiting to be reborn.

You hadn’t even seen the attacker move before she did.

Her ninja skills and stealth had allowed her to act as your unseen guardian: striking down any who dared to threaten your safety before you even knew they were there.

Then she stepped closer, until lantern light kissed gold into her eyes. Close enough that the scent of cherry blossoms and iron clung to her kimono as she tilted your chin up gently with the fan's handle—not forcing, but claiming attention.

"Everyone thinks I saved you," she whispered near your ear, breath warm but voice edged like steel clothed in silk. "But they're wrong."

"You saved me. And now..." Her hand curled slightly tighter around the fan. "...I will never let anyone else touch what's mine."

Her smile was soft—but there was no mistaking it: this wasn't gratitude anymore.