The snow fell softly outside the wooden hut, its gentle descent masking the turmoil within. Kaizen sat by the dimly lit hearth, absently running his fingers over the small wooden fox Sakura had given him. His body still ached from the elders' rituals, but the pain was a dull hum compared to the storm within his mind.
Aoi watched him from the doorway, her heart tight in her chest. She had seen the way he gritted his teeth, how his hands sometimes trembled when he thought no one was looking. The elders could slow the demons, but they could not ease the suffering.
She stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "You haven't been eating much."
Kaizen exhaled, his crimson eyes flickering to her. "Not hungry."
"You need to keep your strength," Aoi insisted, moving closer. "Sakura will be upset if she sees you like this."
At the mention of the child, Kaizen's features softened slightly, but the weight in his gaze did not lift.
Aoi knelt beside him, placing a wooden bowl of steaming broth in front of him. "Eat," she said gently. "If not for yourself, then for her."
Kaizen hesitated before picking up the bowl. He took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through his chest. It was a simple kindness, one he hadn't realized he needed.
Aoi sat across from him, watching the firelight dance across his face. She wanted to say more, to ask about the burden he carried, but she feared pushing too far. Instead, she spoke carefully.
"You're good with her, you know."
Kaizen looked up. "With who?"
"Sakura."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't know how to be good with children."
Aoi smiled, resting her chin on her hand. "She follows you everywhere, Kaizen. She listens to your stories like they're the most precious thing in the world. You may not realize it, but you give her something she's never had before."
Kaizen frowned. "And what's that?"
"A father."
The word lingered in the air between them.
Kaizen's jaw tightened. "I'm not her father."
"No," Aoi agreed, her voice softer now. "But you care for her as one would."
A heavy silence followed. Kaizen set his bowl aside, staring into the fire. "People who get close to me suffer."
Aoi hesitated, then reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. "Maybe," she admitted. "But Sakura doesn't see the man you think you are. She sees the man you could be."
Kaizen didn't move, but he didn't pull away either.
Aoi's heart pounded in her chest. This was dangerous—getting too close, speaking too openly. But something about Kaizen drew her in, a gravity she couldn't resist.
And so, despite herself, she stayed.
A Risk Worth Taking
Over the next few days, Aoi watched Kaizen closely, finding small ways to help him without drawing too much attention.
She made sure he had food, left extra blankets when the cold seeped into his bones. She even placed healing herbs near his bedside, pretending they were left there by the elders.
Kaizen never commented on it, but he noticed.
One night, as Aoi was setting down a fresh bowl of tea near his resting place, Kaizen's voice cut through the quiet.
"Why do you keep helping me?"
She froze, her back turned to him. "Because you need it."
Kaizen studied her, his gaze sharp. "The others help because they have a duty. The elders do it to keep the demons at bay. But you…" He paused. "You don't have to."
Aoi swallowed. This was dangerous.
She forced a small laugh. "Would you rather I stop?"
Kaizen didn't answer immediately. "No," he admitted at last.
Aoi turned, meeting his gaze. There was something unreadable in his expression—curiosity, hesitation, something deeper beneath the surface.
"Then don't question it," she whispered.
A Dangerous Conversation
Days later, Aoi found Kaizen alone again, sharpening his blade beneath the moonlight. The village was silent, save for the distant howl of the wind.
"You're leaving soon, aren't you?" she asked, stepping closer.
Kaizen didn't stop his movements. "We can't stay forever."
Aoi clenched her hands. "What will you do once you leave?"
"Find the next shard," Kaizen replied. "Before the wrong hands do."
"And after that?"
Kaizen hesitated. "I don't know."
Aoi sat beside him, watching the snowflakes settle on his dark hair. "You could stay."
Kaizen chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "And what? Pretend to be someone I'm not?"
Aoi frowned. "Maybe you're not who you think you are, Kaizen."
His grip on the blade tightened. "You don't know me."
Aoi exhaled, looking down at her hands. "I know you protect my daughter. I know you sit outside at night when you think no one is watching, as if you're afraid to sleep. I know you let her hold your hand when she's scared, even though you pretend to be cold. I know you're afraid of something worse than demons."
Kaizen's jaw tensed. "And what's that?"
"Letting yourself believe you deserve peace."
The words struck deeper than she intended. Kaizen looked away, his breath visible in the frigid air.
Aoi's heart pounded. She had gone too far. She had revealed too much.
Before she could take it back, Kaizen spoke.
"You shouldn't get close to me, Aoi." His voice was low, almost a warning. "It's not safe."
Aoi gave him a sad smile. "I know."
She should have listened. She should have walked away.
But she didn't.
Because some part of her had already fallen for him.
And she couldn't stop now.