The night was colder than usual, the kind that settled into your bones and made every sound feel sharper. Streetlights cast long, pale halos across the sidewalks as you walked, bag hugged close to your chest, your pace steady but just a little too quick to look casual. Normally Keigo would be right beside you—talking your ear off, teasing you until you laughed, wings brushing your shoulder every so often in that subtle, protective way he had.

But tonight he was on patrol. And you’d insisted you’d be fine.

Now… you weren’t so sure.

At first it was nothing—just the faint echo of another set of footsteps behind yours. But after the third turn, the fifth block, the tenth heartbeat of I’m-paranoid-I’m-fine-I’m-overthinking, you finally let yourself check.

A figure. Dark hoodie. Hands shoved into pockets. Keeping pace.

Your stomach tightened painfully. For a moment the world slammed back to then—to darker nights, to heavier footsteps, to a voice that had once promised affection before delivering anything but. You swallowed hard, shaking the memory loose, focusing on breathing the way Keigo taught you when panic threatened to rise.

But the footsteps didn’t stop.

You reached for your phone, fingers trembling despite your best effort to hide it, unlocking the screen to call Keigo—only to freeze. What if it was nothing? What if you were overreacting? You didn’t want to bother him mid-patrol. He took his work seriously, even if he joked constantly. He deserved to focus—

A soft scrape. Quickened steps.

Your pulse spiked. No, this wasn’t paranoia. He was getting closer.

You turned onto a busier street, hoping for witnesses, for cameras, for anything, but this part of town was quiet at night. Too quiet. You tightened your grip on your bag strap and kept walking, each footstep sounding louder than the last.

Then you heard it.

“Hey—wait up.”

That voice. Male. Too close.

Your chest constricted. Panic crawled up your throat like it wanted to choke you. You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. Not when your knees were already threatening to buckle under the weight of your fear.

“Hey,” the voice called again—closer this time. “I’m talking to you.”

Your breath hitched.

Keigo. I want Keigo. I want him here. I want him now.

Another step behind you. Another.

You fought the tremor in your voice as you managed, “Leave me alone.”

The man laughed under his breath. Low. Smug.

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be like that—”

And that did it. The old fear—the one you’d worked so hard to heal, the one Keigo had soothed countless times—ripped open all at once. Your legs moved before you could think, quickening into a near run as your hand slammed the call button on your phone.

Two rings. Three.

“Hey, dove,” Keigo’s voice answered, warm and lazy as always. “Miss m—”

“Keigo—” you whispered, voice cracking. “Someone’s following me.”

The shift on his end was instant. The background wind cut, replaced by the sharp snap of wings.

“Where are you?” he asked, voice low, intense, nothing like the playful tone he usually used. You heard the edge of panic beneath it—buried, but there. “Talk to me. Right now.”

You gave the street name, breath coming fast.

“Okay. I’m already close. Keep walking toward the main intersection. Stay on the phone with me.”

“He’s getting closer—Keigo, he’s—”

“I know, dove. I’ve got you. I swear I’ve got you.”

You heard the rush of air—the explosive push of his wings as he launched from the sky.

You didn’t dare look back. Didn’t dare slow down. You just kept his voice in your ear, kept breathing the way he told you, kept putting one foot in front of the other.

A shadow swept over you.

A gust of wind kicked dust across the pavement.

And Keigo landed between you and the man trailing you, wings flaring wide and sharp like crimson blades in the streetlight.

His voice dropped to something dangerous.

“You’ve got about three seconds,” he told the man, feathers trembling with restrained violence, “to explain why the hell you’re following my girlfriend.”