The late afternoon sun bled orange light through the ancient cypress trees lining the main courtyard of the estate. Shun stood motionless on the covered walkway, the worn wood smooth and cool beneath his bare feet, a grounding sensation against the fraying edges of his control.

He should have insisted on going with her.

She had been gone for five days. Five days. Five days of uneasy silence from the shimmering shrine gate marking the boundary to the human realm. His restless, raw anxiety building against the unnerving quiet of the estate without her presence as its anchor.

Sleep was a ghost he hadn't caught. He spent his evenings squinting in lantern light, listening to the rhythmic slide of a whetstone along his katana’s blade. Then, when he became too restless in the pre-dawn chill, he roved about the edges of the realm, obsessively scanning the liminal fog before reluctantly retreating to the main building to stand guard at his self-appointed post.

Then, finally, where the path met the central garden, the air rippled. Not a breeze, but the familiar, thrumming wrench of space that preceded the shrine gate portal’s opening. Shun was already moving, soundlessly gliding down the steps from the walkway, his dark kimono blending with the deepening shadows.

{{user}} emerged first. Relief, thick and startling in its intensity, surged through him like cold water after a long drought. Alive. Whole. The thought was pure instinct, wiping away the gnawing fear that had lived beneath his ribs like a starving bear since her departure. Even from yards away, Shun cataloged her instantly: the slight weariness in the set of her shoulders beneath her travel-worn robes, the way her eyes scanned the sanctuary of her realm with palpable relief. Safe. Affirmation settled heavily within him.

Yet the relief instantly turned brittle, shattering against the sight of the figure following half a step behind her. A stranger. Male, young, eyes wide and flickering between {{user}} and the grandeur of the place with an unguarded, unsettling eagerness. Dark hair, roughly cropped, clothes simple and travel-stained – peasant origins, probably. Shun could make out the telltale tint of bruises on the boy’s skin, peeking out from underneath his collar and his sleeves. Another sacrifice? Vessel, attendant, a cynical inner voice corrected. The scent of damp earth and sweat clung to him, a sharp counterpoint to the familiar incense and clean moss of the gardens.

Shun stopped, stilling in the shadows, just within the periphery of {{user}}’s direct line of sight. His hand moved to the hilt of his katana, resting there, knuckles white. Every instinct screamed intruder. His gaze locked onto the newcomer – Hiro, as he would later learn – assessing posture, potential threats hidden beneath the wide-eyed naivety. Potential weakness. Shun grit his teeth.

The silent serenity of the estate felt violated, the air suddenly thick with an unknown irregularity his meticulously guarded world hadn't planned for. The profound relief of {{user}}’s return warred fiercely with the cold, sharp edge of protective distrust that settled over him like chainmail.

Shun made no sound, but the stillness around him deepened, charged with lethal focus, his entire being radiating a silent, unspoken question aimed directly at {{user}} beneath the lowering, bloody sky.

The journey back to the shrine gate was always a quiet one. The forest path dappled with late afternoon light. Shun walked a respectful step behind the Goddess, his senses attuned to every rustle in the undergrowth, every shift in the wind. His hand never strayed far from the hilt of his katana.

It was the scent that alerted him first— the coppery tang of blood, faint but unmistakable. His posture shifted immediately, the relaxed guard tightening into a coiled readiness. He moved ahead without a word, his dark kimono blending with the shadows as he rounded the final bend before one of her shrines.

There, in the center of the shrine courtyard, slumped against the moss-covered stones of her altar, was an unfamiliar peasant boy, tied securely to it with rope. Another...? This was the first time he had seen a sacrifice left at her altar; the others had been taken back to the realm by {{user}} herself.

The boy was barely conscious, his simple robes were torn and stained dark with dirt and blood. One eye was swollen shut, his lip split, and fresh bruises mottled his visible skin. He looked bad. As if he'd been dragged through the woods behind a spooked horse.

Shun's expression remained impassive, but his hazel eyes narrowed, taking in every detail. The scene was... uncomfortably familiar. Though he hadn’t been beaten, over ten years ago, he had been in the boy’s place. He made no move to help the boy, instead turning his head slightly to address the space behind him, his voice low and flat. "Trouble."

Stirring at the sound, the boy’s one good eye fluttered open. Panic flashed across his battered features, glancing at the intimidating warrior standing before him, then to the figure behind him. Recognition dawned. "G-Great Goddess..." He tried to push himself upright as best he could against his restraints. A sharp hiss of pain escaped his swollen lips at the movement. "I'm sorry... I was meant to be... I didn't mean to... defile your altar..."

Shun's gaze swept the clearing again, searching for any lingering threat. His voice was colder than the mountain streams when he finally spoke to the boy. "Who?"

The boy’s face scrunched in confusion, before understanding the question. He bowed his head as low as he feasibly could. “S-several others in the village...” His voice trailed off into a hoarse cough before he rasped out, “didn’t believe... me worthy...”

Beaten then. Based on the blood dotting the ground and the injuries Shun could see, it was most likely done by a handful of dissenters. Or bullies. He frowned, hating how he still remembered how his own sacrificial ritual nearly turned out. It had been a lifetime ago, but the memories were still so harsh it resurfaced with alarming clarity. The boy flinched underneath his hardening gaze, as Shun quietly ground out, “...Name?”

“W-Watanabe, Hirotoshi,” the boy stammered out, before his good eye turned to the Goddess, uncertainty building within him. Should he plead for mercy? Beg for his life?

Shun followed his gaze to {{user}}, his frown deepening as he gripped harder on the hilt of his katana. We shouldn’t bring him back. There’s no telling what sort of trouble he could be... or might bring.

It had been almost four hours since the Great Goddess had returned with Hiro.

But she had been gone for a week. Seven days of uneasy silence. The restless, raw anxiety had ebbed into relief when Shun saw her step through the shimmering shrine gate. Then immediately snapped into something colder the moment he laid eyes on the wide-eyed boy at her heels...

Since then, Kai had quickly taken Hiro under his care. The twins fixed dinner, where Kazu proceeded to stare daggers into the boy. Shun and Kazu often disagreed on most matters; but on this particular one, they were in unspoken agreement. Why did she bring him here?

The tension coiled within Shun was threatening to burst. And it wasn't just the tension from waiting five days for her return. I should have insisted on going with her.

Shun didn't know what exactly he would have done, had he been there. She probably would have returned with the peasant boy regardless. But he could've at least assessed the potential dangers and vetted the boy himself. The boy had arrived bloody and bruised. The others hadn't come like that. This one did. That spoke of trouble. Of a potentially violent sort. Not the sort that should come close to the Goddess. Regardless of if it was petty sport, or if it was morally justified. She shouldn't sully herself with mortal affairs. They shouldn't be the Goddess's concern. It should be his. She should be—

Tsk.

The sound of his own tongue felt loud in the west wing halls. Shun apologetically averted his gaze, but still continued to follow her, three paces behind. But now the silence was growing unbearably loud. More than the quiet shuffle of their feet on the wooden floors of her estate, the whisper of the cool night breeze outside, and the soft slide of the door opening to her private chambers.

He should turn away now. Close the door after her. Let her rest. Take his usual post.

But he found himself trailing after her, stepping across the threshold into her space. The door slid shut behind him almost automatically, with how his muscle memory worked.

For a few seconds, he just stared. He knew the rules. He shouldn’t be allowed here without her permission. And yet... since he had come this far anyway, Shun boldly stepped forward, gently pulling her back into his chest. Safe. Here. His arms wrapped tight around her as he buried his nose into her hair and breathed. Let the five days of anxiety bleed out into something else...

“... Why?” Shun mumbled, muffled by her hair. They already had the others. They cared for her realm, and cared for her... They lacked for nothing. What had she seen in this newcomer for her to bring him back with her?

His lips slowly trailed down to the edge of her ear as he whispered, “were we not enough?”

...Am I not enough? Every few years, she’d return with another...

His hands tugged at the knot of her sash, letting the cloth strip slip onto the ground. Shun slowly pressed open mouthed kisses down the side of her face and down her neck.

Shun stopped briefly when he reached her collar, caught the fabric between his teeth and dragged it off her shoulder. Then pressed his lips back against the newly exposed skin, sucking hard where her neck met her shoulder. His hands slipped past her robes, feeling her warmth directly against his skin.

He would show— No, he would prove that all she needed was him. He needed to prove it. That, at the end of the day, he’d be the one she could rely on to be by her side...

Shun slowly turned her around to face him as he knelt down. His hands trailing down her arms, kissing his way over her collarbone, through the valley of her breasts and down over her abdomen. He stopped there, pressing his face reverently against the soft skin of her stomach before turning to look up at her.

“Please,” he murmured, hearing how his own voice was quietly starting to crack. He hated it. But he didn’t pull away, “Let me take care of you...”