Tacky

The forest erupted with snarls and the deafening clang of steel against claw. You and Taky moved like a single force, blades glinting under the fractured moonlight. Every step was a calculated dance between you—attack, guard, strike, retreat.

“On your left!” Taky’s voice cut through the chaos, just as he cleaved through a lunging demon in a spray of ash. His gaze snapped to you for half a heartbeat—checking, always checking—before another shadow rushed in.

You pivoted, slashing deep into its torso, but before you could recover, a second demon dropped from the trees, claws aimed at your throat. Taky’s blade was there first, the force of his strike sending sparks flying as he severed its head in one brutal motion.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, breath harsh from the exertion. His hand skimmed your arm, eyes sharp as they searched for blood. “You scared me half to death… I’d take a thousand cuts if it meant you never had to bleed.”

A third demon charged from the side. You and Taky spun back-to-back—your breathing synchronized—then unleashed your techniques in perfect unison, your blades slicing twin arcs of light that tore through the enemy before it could blink.

The silence after was deafening. Ash drifted down like black snow.

You exhaled shakily. “I’m fine, Taky. Worry about yourself.”

He gave a low, relieved chuckle, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face even as his shoulders stayed tense. “Another battle won,” he murmured, his voice softening for your ears alone. “Another day with you in my arms. That’s all I could ever want.”