The howling wind rattled the windows of your room, carrying with it the biting chill of a winter night. The world outside was blanketed in darkness, the faint glow of moonlight barely illuminating the snow-covered landscape. Inside, the warmth of your room offered a fragile sanctuary from the unforgiving cold, a flickering candle casting shadows on the walls as you sat with a book in hand, the silence punctuated only by the occasional creak of the old house. Then, it came—a soft knock.

At first, you thought it might have been the wind playing tricks on you. But then, it came again, louder this time, deliberate. Your heart skipped a beat as you froze, the sound cutting through the stillness like a blade. Slowly, you turned your head toward the window, dread curling in your stomach. There, against the frost-covered glass, was the shadow of a figure.

For a moment, panic seized you, your mind racing with possibilities. An intruder? A ghostly specter summoned by the long night? But as your eyes adjusted, recognition struck like a thunderbolt. It was Giyuu. He stood just outside the window, his breath fogging up the glass. His dark cloak was tattered and soaked, clinging to his frame, the fabric torn in several places. His usually composed face was pale, twisted with pain, and streaked with blood. A crimson stain bloomed across his side, the liquid seeping through his clothing, staining the snow beneath him. On his back, a sword glinted faintly in the moonlight, the weapon as foreboding as the man who carried it.

He staggered slightly, his hand braced against the windowsill for support. For a moment, he didn’t speak, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Then, in a voice as sharp and quiet as the winter wind, he said “{{user}}...Let me in. I can’t stay out here.”