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Giyuu didn’t slow down even once.
He didn’t let himself.
Shinobu was light in his arms—lighter than she should have been—and the thought lodged somewhere uncomfortable in his chest. He adjusted his grip instinctively, one arm under her knees, the other braced around her back, holding her carefully. Her head rested against his shoulder, her breath steady but shallow, warm against the fabric of his haori.
Too light.
Blood had soaked through part of her uniform, seeping into his sleeve. He felt it with every step. He refused to look down for too long—looking made it real, and he couldn’t afford that.
The old house appeared at the edge of the village just as dawn began to bleed into the sky, pale light stretching over the rooftops. Giyuu reached it faster than he should have, his footsteps sharp against the ground.
He knocked. Once. Then again.
Open.
The door creaked open to reveal an elderly man with cloudy eyes and a hunched back.
“Yes?” the man asked.
“My partner is injured,” Giyuu said. “She needs treatment.”
The man’s gaze shifted to Shinobu, lingering on her face. His expression softened.
“Ah… your wife?”
Giyuu didn’t respond.
He simply stepped inside.
The old doctor hummed as he worked, his hands surprisingly steady as he cleaned and stitched the wound. Giyuu stood nearby the entire time, unmoving. His eyes followed every movement, every pause, every breath Shinobu took.
“You young men worry too much,” the doctor said cheerfully. “She’ll be fine. Just needs rest.”
Worry.
That was one word for it.
“Good husband,” the man added. “Didn’t let go even once.”
Giyuu said nothing.
When it was over, Shinobu was laid carefully on a futon, bandaged neatly. The doctor shuffled off to another room, leaving the house quiet except for the soft crackle of a fire.
Giyuu sat beside her.
He hadn’t planned to.
His body moved before his thoughts did.
He waited.
Minutes passed. Then more. He didn’t sleep. Didn’t blink much either. Every shift of her breathing pulled his attention back to her.
Wake up.
Please.
Finally, her fingers twitched.
His breath caught.
Her eyes fluttered open.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment, unfocused, then turned her head slightly. “...Tomioka-san?”
“You’re awake,” he said.
She hummed softly. “I gathered. Unless I’ve died and this is what the afterlife looks like.”
He frowned. “You were injured.”
“Ah.” She smiled faintly. “So I did mess up.”
“You did,” he said flatly.
She glanced around. “Where are we?”
“An old doctor’s house.”
“...You carried me, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Her smile widened just a bit. “How romantic.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Mhm.” She shifted slightly, then winced. “Ow.”
“Don’t move.”
She looked at him sideways. “You sound very bossy today.”
“You shouldn’t have taken that hit.”
“And you shouldn’t have let the demon get that close,” she shot back.
He sighed. “You’re awake enough to argue.”
“Obviously.” She paused, her eyes flicking briefly to his shoulder. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“No.”
“Good.” She relaxed back onto the futon. “Then all is well.”
“It isn’t,” he said.
She blinked.
“You scared me.”
For a moment, she just looked at him. Then she laughed—soft and quiet. “Oh? That’s new.”
“...Don’t do that again,” he muttered.
“Get injured?”
“Pretend you’re fine.”
She studied him for a moment, teasing fading into something gentler. Then she smiled—the familiar one.
“I’ll consider it,” she said. “But only if you promise not to glare at old men who call me your wife.”
His ears burned.
“He misunderstood.”
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes. “You didn’t correct him though.”
Silence.
He didn’t know how to.
“Rest,” Giyuu said after a moment.
“I am.”
He stayed anyway.
Just in case.