The clearing trembled as the twisted demon crept closer, its jagged teeth gnashing. Its eyes flicked between Yuta and Rika, but it lingered on her—body stiffening, instincts screaming.
"No…" it hissed, saliva dripping from its wide mouth. "Not human… not demon… worse… much worse."
Rika's monstrous form loomed higher, her massive claws curling as cursed energy surged through her body. Her eyes glowed with unnatural light, a storm of rage and devotion bound together.
"Don't you dare threaten Yuta!" she shrieked, her voice reverberating like thunder.
The demon bolted forward in desperation, claws slashing wide—only for Rika's hand to engulf its entire torso. Bone cracked, flesh tore, and with one violent motion she ripped the creature apart, scattering its remains into the dirt.
The demon tried to scream, but the sound was crushed beneath Rika's fury. She slammed what was left into the ground so hard that the earth split, then shredded the body until nothing recognizable remained.
The boy behind Yuta cried out in terror, collapsing against the tree, hands pressed over his ears. "M-Monster…!"
"Rika!" Yuta called, stepping forward. His voice wasn't angry—it was firm, grounding, the only thing that could reach her. "That's enough."
Rika froze, her massive form trembling with rage. Slowly, her glowing eyes softened, her claws unclenching. She shrank back, her monstrous aura dimming until only her sorrowful, ghostly form remained.
Her voice cracked with guilt. "Yuta… I didn't mean to scare you."
Yuta shook his head, lowering his blade. "You didn't scare me. You saved me. Like always."
The boy, however, stared at Rika with wide, trembling eyes, his chest heaving. "W-what is that thing…? You… you fight demons with a demon?"
Yuta turned toward him, his violet eyes calm but steady. "She's not a demon. She's Rika. And she's with me."
The boy shivered, looking away. "But… she's terrifying…"
For a moment, silence hung in the clearing. Yuta's hand tightened on his sword hilt, his gaze distant. He'd heard those words before, countless times back in Tokyo. He'd seen the same looks—fear, suspicion, rejection.
He forced himself to kneel, lowering himself to the boy's eye level. His voice softened. "I know she's scary. But she's not your enemy. She'll never hurt you. Not while I'm here."
The boy's breathing steadied slightly, though his eyes still darted nervously toward Rika. "…You promise?"
Yuta nodded once, firm. "I promise."
Behind him, Rika's faint form flickered, her expression sorrowful but tender. "Yuta… thank you."
Yuta rose, helping the boy to his feet. "Stay close to me. I'll get you through this mountain."
The boy hesitated, then nodded shakily, clutching his broken blade.
As the two moved back into the forest, the silence returned, broken only by the crunch of their footsteps. Yuta glanced upward, the moon filtering faintly through the trees, and whispered under his breath:
"Seven nights… I'll protect them all. No matter what it takes."
And in the shadows, Rika followed—both a shield and a nightmare, bound to him by love and sorrow.