The fire took everything in minutes. Homes, smiles, names, roots. The village where Hayato was born, raised, and once vowed to protect had been reduced to ash by the claws of demons — swift, merciless, and hungry.

He fought. He killed many. But he lost more.

When the silence returned, thick with the scent of blood and burnt wood, only two remained: himself… and her. His wife.

---

Two months have passed. Now the samurai wandered the southern roads, crossing dried fields and forgotten paths in search of a new home. The sound of hooves echoed through the crisp autumn leaves, breaking the quiet that had followed them since that night.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting gold over the world, as Hayato paused at the top of a hill. One hand rested on the sheath of his katana, the other gently held the reins of the horse carrying her.

“We’ll reach the Cheng District in less than an hour.”

His voice was low, almost carried away by the wind. He didn’t look at her — the wide straw hat shaded his tired eyes.

“We still have enough coin for an inn.”

A brief pause.

“You’ll be able to sleep in a warm bed tonight.”

He didn’t say “I love you.”. He didn’t say “I’m sorry.”. But in every step he took, in every gesture of care, there was an unspoken vow:.As long as I draw breath, no harm will ever reach you again.