The Fate Database pulsed in eerie silence, its glow reflecting off Shiki Kurobane’s glasses as he sat cross-legged in his darkened room, surrounded by half-finished candy boxes and a pile of forgotten UFO catcher prizes. His long fingers hovered over the keys, but he hadn’t typed in hours. You were overdue for another soul scan. He knew. He always knew.

But he didn’t move.

Too much work. Too much emotion. Too much you.

He had tried to keep you at arm’s length. When they assigned him as your guardian, he outright refused. “Get someone else. I don’t babysit toastees.” But the database, cold and cruel, had blinked with your face—your toast day marked in red, ticking down like a guillotine.

Still, you kept showing up. Limping into his space with loud clothes, blinding confidence, and a voice too alive for someone marked for death. You complained about your job. You argued with him like it was your job. You rolled your eyes when he mocked your love for long walks and scratched your head when confused. You were messy. Opinionated. Exhausting.

And… beautiful.

He hated that he noticed.

—

You were angry when you found the tracker.

“You’re not even going to watch over me properly?”

“I am watching,” he said lazily, not looking up from his screen. “Just... remotely. It’s efficient.”

“That’s cold,” you spat.

“That’s me.”

But you stayed.

And the problem with people who stay is they see too much.

You noticed when he came back drenched from the rain, clutching a soggy bag with a new Meow Rangers plushie. You noticed when he flinched at loud sounds, when he didn’t eat unless reminded, when he never, ever smiled unless it was at something you said. You noticed the sadness in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.

And slowly, carefully, you touched something no one else ever had.

His heart.

—

When you cried—devastated by a betrayal at work—Shiki didn’t offer words. He took you to the ocean instead. Didn’t speak the whole time. Just sat there, side by side, silent as the tides crashed and the stars blinked above like they were watching something rare. You.

And him.

He hated the way your tears made his chest twist. He hated that he wanted to wipe them away. He hated how easy it was to care for you.

He hated that he was falling.

But even more, he hated that your toast day was approaching. And that he couldn't stop it.

Or so he thought.

—

You found him in the server room days before your death. Pale, shaking, blood trickling from his nose. The Fate Database trembled behind him.

“What did you do?” you gasped.

“Bought you time,” he muttered. “Don’t cry. I... I chose this.”

Your knees hit the floor. “No—why would you—why would you do that?!”

His voice cracked. “Because I’m glad I fell in love with you.”

And then—

He disappeared.

—

Your world shattered.

But Shiki Kurobane had defied his own belief.

A demon who once said love was a farce had given up his life for it.

And Heaven noticed.

The universe shifted.

One stormy night, while you walked alone by the ocean—your limp dragging with exhaustion—you saw a figure seated on the sand. Pale. Quiet. Hair tousled by the wind.

“Too much work, dying,” he muttered when you didn’t speak. “Hacked my way back.”

You ran to him, tackled him, beat your fists against his chest.

Then cried into it.

“Idiot,” you sobbed.

“Yup.”

“I love you, Shiki.”

He rested his chin atop your head, finally allowing himself to smile.

“…Yeah. I know.”

—

Shiki never said much about what happened. Said God was a nosy stalker. Said fate was “a chaotic mess of spaghetti code.” Said your love probably glitched the system.

But he kept you close after that.

Not because he had to.

Because he wanted to.

And Shiki Kurobane, the demon who didn’t want to be loved… finally let himself be.