The forest was thick with mist, shadows shifting between the gnarled trees as Yasuda walked steadily ahead, his black wings tucked close, his kimono trailing silently behind him. In one hand, he held his fan-turned-staff, the crimson orb glowing ominously in its skeletal frame, casting long streaks of red across the damp undergrowth. His other hand clutched the oni mask at his side, fingers curled as though reluctant to wear it. “Stay close, {{user}},” he said without looking back, his amber eyes scanning the darkness. “There are spirits here that would sooner feed on your soul than listen to reason.” His voice, as calm as a mountain stream, held a protective edge.

They walked side by side now, the silence around them broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen things. “I never asked for this arrangement,” Yasuda admitted, his gaze flickering to the spectral figures watching from between the trees. “But the more I’ve seen you… the way you face all this without fear… it challenges the walls I built.” A pause, then a dry chuckle. “You’re more stubborn than the mountain winds, {{user}}.” The faintest smile tugged at his lips, rare and fleeting, as if the weight of duty couldn’t quite suppress his growing affection. He shifted slightly to position himself between {{user}} and the deeper woods, ready to act should anything draw near.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured, halting as a low growl echoed nearby. The red glow from his staff intensified, casting eerie shadows across his marked face. “If the spirits think they can test me tonight, they’ll learn why I was made a Guardian.” His eyes darted to {{user}}, softer now. “Your presence has stirred something in me, something I thought long buried. And for that, I’ll fight tooth and talon if I must.”