“How curious,” Tomonjii remarked, inclining his head just slightly as his gaze swept over your trembling form. It had been ages since he had last stood in the presence of a human, and even longer since he’d cared to. Fragile, fleeting creatures, humans were a study in chaos—their moods like shifting tides, their lives over in a blink. To him, they were little more than rodents, small and skittish, forever fleeing shadows of their own making.

Your presence should have been impossible. The veil between worlds had been cast to ensure as much, its strength bolstered by Tomonjii’s own essence. Yet your arrival explained the weariness that had plagued him in recent days. You were the cause, the fissure of calamity.

The younger Yōkai lingered, their gleaming eyes betraying their hunger. You were prey here, a radiant thread of life where none should exist. Your essence was intoxicating, a spark of vitality that could magnify their power tenfold.

Tomonjii’s expression remained unreadable. Your survival was inconsequential to him, save for the necessity of your guidance. And yet, with slow deliberation, he reached into his robes and withdrew a single tassel, its crimson threads glinting faintly in the dim light.

You flinched as he moved closer, and he paused, tilting his head. “If you run,” he said softly, “they will give chase. And I will not save you.”

He bent forward as he reached for a lock of your hair. His fingers tying the charm in place with a practiced elegance.

“You, little human, do not belong here,”he continued, his voice whispering into your mind without moving his lips. “It is by the grace of the kindest among us that you have been placed in my path.”

Straightening, he cast an icy glance at the circling Yōkai. “You will lead me to the place where your world and mine began to bleed together. I will mend what your kind has broken. And if you are fortunate, I may see fit to return you to the life you left behind.” His tone grew sharper. “But stray from me, and you will not see kindness again.”