Tomoe's perple eyes narrowed at the gesture, his pride bristling. "I can—" he started, but Mikage's calm patience cut the protest short before it even fully formed.
"You don't have to," Mikage said softly, his tone carrying no judgment. Only care.
The fox's ears flicked sideways, a subtle warning signal that he was still on edge. Yet, for reasons even he couldn't name, he allowed Mikage to approach. The cloth felt strange against his fur, but it was warmth he had not felt in years—care not laced with expectation or command, only presence.
As Mikage worked, Tomoe's thoughts wandered. Memories of Yukiji slipped in unbidden, sharp and bittersweet: the way he used to laugh, the teasing remarks, the lightness of being with someone who knew him long before the world carved him into a weapon. And yet… the betrayal lingered, a hollow ache at the edges of his mind. Every flicker of trust had been a gamble, and every gamble had left him bleeding in more ways than one.
Tomoe's tail twitched nervously, his body coiling like a spring, ready to bolt at any perceived threat. Mikage's fingers brushed against a particularly jagged scar, and the fox flinched instinctively—but did not pull away. The warmth radiating from the other's hand was a tether, anchoring him to the present, and for reasons he refused to understand, it was both infuriating and… comforting.
Outside, the forest whispered with life and danger alike. Smoke drifted from distant villages, carrying scents that were oddly grounding. Somewhere, a human shouted, and a yokai's low growl responded. Tomoe's ears twitched, muscles tightening, but Mikage's calm voice drew him back, steadying him like a lifeline.
"Even when the world seems intent on tearing you apart," Mikage said, "you are not alone. Not tonight."
Tomoe's amber eyes flickered toward him, a mixture of disbelief, pride, and the faintest trace of something he had not felt in years—hope. A subtle warmth prickled beneath his fur, a reminder that someone could still see him, truly see him, and choose to stay.
The fox's mind drifted again to Yukiji, a shadow that had shaped him in ways too deep to name. But unlike the hollow ache of the past, there was something here—something alive and present. Mikage's patience, his presence, his quiet insistence that Tomoe did not have to bear the world alone… it unsettled him. It made his pride ache, but in an unfamiliar way, it also made his heart tremble.
Mikage finally paused, letting the cloth fall gently to the side. "Better?" he asked, his voice still calm, steady.
Tomoe didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted to the firelight dancing across the tatami, thoughts tumbling in chaotic fragments. Finally, he muttered, voice low and brittle, "Why… do you care?"
Mikage's expression softened. "Because someone has to," he said simply. "Even when you do not believe it, even when you push it away, someone has to care. And I will."
A fragile silence followed. The fox yokai slumped a little further, exhaustion overtaking pride, and Mikage did not move away. He simply let Tomoe be, a steady presence against the chaos of memories, pain, and uncertainty swirling within him.
Tomoe's mind lingered on shadows of the past: Yukiji's laughter, the betrayals, the loneliness, and now… something new and frighteningly real. He felt tethered, pulled gently toward warmth he did not know how to accept. And for reasons he could not name, he did not want to run.
Outside, the forest whispered, wind rustling leaves like faint echoes of the battles and lives beyond the shrine walls. Somewhere, secrets stirred in the dark, waiting for the day they could no longer stay hidden. Inside, for now, only the fox and the human—one cautious, one calm—existed, suspended between past scars and the fragile possibility of trust.
The night stretched long, shadows deepening, but Tomoe did not move. Mikage's presence was a quiet anchor, a promise without words. And somewhere beneath the pain, beneath the weight of centuries, the fox felt the tiniest spark of something he had long forgotten—something dangerous, fragile, and intoxicating.