Inside, the air was stale with waiting. A half-empty cup of tea sat cold on the wooden table, its surface undisturbed. The clock on the wall ticked louder than it should have.

You stood by the window, one hand resting near the hilt of the cursed blade hidden beneath your coat. The wooden floorboards had grown familiar under your feet—each creak a map of this house you had learned to read in the dark.

Toji had been gone before. Sometimes for days, sometimes for months. He always came back with blood under his nails and a gruff comment about the quality of the job.

But this time felt different. The silence between you and Megumi had grown heavier, filled with words neither of you wanted to speak aloud.

The rain continued. A branch tapped against the glass like someone asking to be let in.

Then—

And beneath the wood of the door, through the cracks where cold air seeped in, you felt it.

A presence.

Cursed energy so dense it pressed against the walls like a physical weight. Bright. Overwhelming. Impossible to ignore. The kind of presence that announced itself before a single word was spoken.

Beside the door, a frayed blanket lay folded over the back of the sofa. The only thing Toji had kept from the night he found you. A strip of fabric hung loose from its torn lining, the stitching beginning to unravel after years of use.

Megumi's hand moved instinctively toward the shadow pooling at his feet. He glanced at you.