The village of Tsuyama sat nestled between rolling hills, its wooden houses lined with thatched roofs and stone paths weaving through lush gardens. Morning had turned to midday, the sun now high in the sky, painting everything with warm light. Children played along the roads, their laughter bouncing off the walls, and merchants called out their wares—rice, herbs, silks, and trinkets from distant lands. It was an oasis of peace, untouched—for now—by the darkness lurking beyond its borders.

Ryuken Kagehisa walked quietly through the village, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his katana. His dark haori fluttered faintly in the breeze, and the soft murmur of villagers paused as he passed. Whispers followed him—words of awe, fear, and admiration—as villagers recognized the warrior who had defended them more than once. Yet, Ryuken’s face remained impassive, his gaze forward.

Beside him, Ayame Mizuki glided through the village with an entirely different aura. Where Ryuken brought silence, she brought charm. A light smile tugged at her lips as she greeted passing merchants and villagers, her sapphire eyes gleaming playfully whenever someone dared meet her gaze.

“You’re quite popular, my dear,” Ayame teased, tilting her head toward Ryuken as they passed a group of wide-eyed young women. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to steal hearts with that brooding look of yours.”

Ryuken exhaled softly, a mix between a sigh and an amused huff. “It isn’t intentional.”

“That makes it all the more dangerous.” She winked, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers as she leaned closer to him. “A man who doesn’t try to charm and yet still does? A rare and deadly combination.”

Ryuken glanced at her from the corner of his eye, one brow raising ever so slightly. “And yet you’re the one they can’t stop staring at.”

Ayame paused mid-step, a mock gasp escaping her lips. “Why, Ryuken Kagehisa… was that jealousy I heard?”

He said nothing, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips, quickly hidden. Ayame grinned victoriously before slipping her arm through his, leaning against his shoulder as they continued their walk.

The villagers continued to watch, though from a respectful distance. To most, the pair seemed a contradiction—Ryuken, the stoic swordsman who carried the weight of vengeance on his shoulders, and Ayame, the beautiful kunoichi whose smile could hide a dagger. Yet those who had seen them fight together, those who had witnessed their bond, understood.

Their strength came from each other.

The couple eventually reached the small inn at the edge of the village, a modest establishment surrounded by flowering plum trees. Ayame sighed contentedly as they stepped inside, where the scent of tea and freshly steamed rice lingered in the air. The innkeeper, an elderly woman with a kind face, greeted them with a warm smile and a deep bow.

“Welcome back, Ryuken-sama, Ayame-sama. Your room is ready.”

“Thank you, Mother Eiko,” Ayame said warmly, returning the bow. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

The elderly woman chuckled softly. “And you, my dear. You bring warmth to this old heart.”

Ryuken nodded respectfully, leading Ayame to the stairs and toward the quiet room they often used when passing through Tsuyama. It was simple—a tatami mat floor, a low table for tea, and a window that overlooked the plum grove outside. Sunlight spilled in through the shoji screen, casting soft patterns across the floor.

Ayame immediately slipped out of her sandals and stretched with a pleased sigh. “Finally. My feet were starting to ache.”

Ryuken sat at the edge of the room, resting his katana against the wall before turning his attention to Ayame. “We didn’t have to come all the way here. You could’ve rested sooner.”

“And miss our little stroll? Absolutely not.” She moved to sit beside him, curling her legs beneath her. “Besides, you needed the break too. You may look untouchable, but even the great Ryuken Kagehisa is human.”

He glanced at her, his sharp gaze softening as he studied her face. “And you? You’ve been pushing yourself harder lately.”

Ayame’s playful smile faltered for just a moment, though she recovered quickly. “I’m fine, Ryuken.”

Her words were light, but he could see past the veneer—he always could. The last few weeks had been unrelenting: constant battles, long days of travel, and barely a moment of respite. He could see the faint weariness in her sapphire eyes, the tension in her shoulders she tried so hard to hide.

Wordlessly, Ryuken reached out and took her hand in his. Ayame blinked, caught off guard, though she didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said quietly.

Ayame stared at him, her expression softening into something far more vulnerable than she usually allowed herself to show. “I could say the same to you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, their hands entwined. Outside, the plum trees rustled gently in the breeze, their pale pink blossoms drifting across the window. For a brief moment, there was no war, no demons, no past or future—only the two of them in the quiet safety of each other’s company.

“You know,” Ayame said softly, breaking the silence, “one day we’ll find a place where we don’t have to fight anymore. A place where you can lay that sword down and I… I can stop running.”

Ryuken didn’t answer immediately, though his gaze didn’t leave hers. Finally, he nodded once, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Ayame smiled back, and for once, it wasn’t playful or teasing—it was genuine.

The peace didn’t last long.

A loud knock at the door broke the moment, followed by the frantic voice of the innkeeper.

“Ryuken-sama! Ayame-sama! There’s trouble!”

Ryuken was on his feet in an instant, his hand already reaching for his katana. Ayame rose just as quickly, her kunai glinting faintly in the sunlight.

“What is it, Mother Eiko?” Ryuken asked, his voice calm but firm.

“Bandits,” the elderly woman replied breathlessly. “They’ve taken over the western rice fields. They’re threatening the farmers… Please, you’re the only ones who can help!”

Ryuken exchanged a glance with Ayame, who was already tying her hair back into its sleek ponytail. She flashed him a quick, determined smile.

“Well, darling,” she said lightly, slipping a kunai into her sleeve. “It looks like our stroll isn’t over yet.”

Ryuken nodded, his expression once again sharp and focused. “Let’s go.”

Together, they stepped out of the room, ready once more to face the shadows.