Sanemi Shinazugawa was a storm in human form.

That’s how people described him—volatile, sharp-edged, impossible to approach without getting cut. You’d said the same once, maybe even harsher. He was all fury and fire, a man who wore his rage like armor and dared the world to strike first.

But now?

Now you weren’t so sure.

You stood at the edge of the path, half-hidden behind a tree, breath caught in your throat.

Sanemi sat on the front steps of his weather-worn farmhouse, the late afternoon sun casting gold across his silver hair. A white stray dog—thin, scrappy, and trembling—nuzzled at his hand as he offered it scraps of food. His movements were slow, careful. Gentle.

And then he smiled.

Not the usual smirk. Not the bitter twist of someone ready to fight. A real smile.

Soft. Quiet. Almost… peaceful.

You stared, stunned.

It was like stumbling upon a secret the world wasn’t meant to see. Like catching a glimpse of a blade that had finally been set down.

This wasn’t the Sanemi you knew.

And yet, maybe it always had been.

You shifted your weight, a twig snapping beneath your foot. Sanemi’s head turned slightly, eyes narrowing—sharp again, alert.

You froze.

Should you stay? Keep watching this rare, fleeting moment of calm?

Or should you turn away, leave him with his silence and the stray dog that somehow earned what you never could—his trust?

The wind stirred the grass around you, and the dog barked once, tail wagging. Sanemi didn’t move. But his eyes met yours.

And for a heartbeat, he didn’t look angry.

Just… tired.

And maybe, just maybe, a little glad you were there.