You should’ve stayed home.

It was supposed to be a simple errand—just a few berries from the bushes near the edge of the woods. The night was quiet, the moon high, and you thought nothing of it.

Until the demon appeared.

Gaunt, ravenous, eyes gleaming with hunger. It didn’t speak. It didn’t hesitate. It just charged.

You ran.

But you were human. And humans don’t outrun demons. Your lungs burned. Your legs screamed. The path blurred beneath your feet until—

Snap.

You tripped.

A branch caught your ankle and sent you sprawling to the ground. The world tilted. Your breath caught. And then you saw it—claws outstretched, teeth bared, the demon mid-leap.

You couldn’t move. Fear gripped you like chains, locking every limb in place. You saw your death coming in slow motion.

And then—

Swing!

A flash of silver.

A spray of blood.

The demon’s head hit the ground and began to disintegrate, its body crumbling into ash before it could touch you.

You blinked.

A figure stood between you and the fading corpse. Tall. Lean. White hair catching the moonlight. Scars etched across his face and body like battle-worn poetry. His katana slid back into its sheath with practiced ease.

He turned. And glared.

“Why the hell didn’t you move?” he snapped, voice sharp as the blade he’d just used. “Did you want to die or what?!”

You flinched.

His anger was real, raw, and terrifying—but beneath it, something else flickered. Concern. Frustration. Maybe even fear.

Not for himself.

For you.