Inosuke had a problem.

After that first day, He had crashed. He'd spent six months battling the fire inside him, clawing his way across plains and forests, only to find himself here, in a small apartment next to hers. Every night, he stared up at her window, her silhouette etched against the pale glow of candlelight. She was so close, just a few steps away, but every time he tried to approach, his courage failed him.

After all he had endured to find her, after every burning mile and sleepless night, he couldn't bear the thought of messing it up. What if she didn't want to see him? What if he wasn't enough?

But now, the Texas weather had turned, and with it, his fragile control.

The heat came swiftly, settling over the city like a suffocating blanket. The air was heavy, humid, and stifling, and the fire in his veins surged in response. His blood felt like molten iron, his skin crawling with the relentless itch of the Beast's Curse.

At first, he tried to endure it. He stayed in his apartment, downing the last of the potion Shinobu had given him. But it wasn't enough. The burning grew worse, searing through him in waves that left him gasping for breath.

He started blacking out.

It began with flashes—moments of clarity shattered by the heat. One moment, he'd be curled up on the floor of his apartment, desperately clinging to the cool tiles. The next, he'd wake beneath her window, naked and trembling, his body still smoldering from the fire.

Each time, shame gnawed at him. He felt like a stalker, a failure. He should have approached her by now, spoken to her, done something. Instead, he was spiraling, the Beast inside him clawing closer to the surface with every passing day.

He should have known his luck wouldn't last.

Inosuke woke with a sharp, searing pain in his neck. His senses were disoriented, his vision blurred, but the unmistakable scent of blood filled his nostrils. He groaned, his hand flying to his throat.

Something had bitten him.

A low growl caught his attention, and he turned his head just in time to see her dog—a massive, wolf-like beast—snarling at him from the corner of her balcony. The bite was deep, and his wound refused to close, blood pouring freely down his chest.

"Damn dog," he muttered weakly, his voice hoarse. He pressed a shaking hand to the glass door, smearing it with crimson as he tried to pull himself upright.

The fire surged again, hotter and more ferocious than ever. His muscles spasmed, his body teetering on the edge of shifting, but he couldn't phase. Not here, not so close to her.

The world around him blurred, the edges of his vision darkening. And then, suddenly, a wave of frigid air washed over him, cutting through the heat like a knife.

Cold. Sweet, blessed cold.

He blinked up, his bleary eyes struggling to focus. She was there.

Kuri.

She knelt beside him, her icy presence radiating calm and control. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder, her touch cool against his fevered skin. Her blue-green eyes, filled with a quiet kindness, locked onto his.

"Hold still," she said softly, her voice steady.

Inosuke scrambled back instinctively, his blood pounding in his ears. Fear surged through him, primal and unrelenting. He didn't want her to see him like this—weak, bleeding, and barely holding onto his humanity.

But Kuri didn't flinch.

With a surprising strength, she caught his arm, pulling him toward her. He struggled weakly, but the fire had drained him, leaving him powerless against her calm determination.

"You're burning up," she murmured, her voice edged with concern. She pressed him back against the cool surface of the balcony, her hands steady as she examined the wound on his neck.

Her touch was cold—so cold it made him shudder. But the fire inside him responded, receding ever so slightly as her aura enveloped him. She swabbed the wound with a damp cloth, her movements efficient and careful.

The pain began to fade.

Inosuke's breath hitched as he realized the wound was closing, the bleeding slowing to a stop. Her aura, her touch, her presence—it was healing him.

He blinked up at her, his vision finally clearing. For a moment, all he could do was stare.

"Priestess…" he whispered, the word slipping from his lips before he could stop it.

Kuri paused, her expression unreadable. "You've been following me," she said softly. It wasn't a question.

Inosuke swallowed hard, shame washing over him. "I—I didn't mean to…" he stammered, his voice trembling. "I just… I couldn't…"

Her gaze softened, and she placed a hand over his chest, her touch steadying his frantic heartbeat. "You're burning alive, Inosuke," she said quietly. "Why didn't you come to me sooner?"

"I didn't…" He hesitated, his voice cracking. "I didn't know if you'd want me to."

Kuri sighed, her hand lingering on his chest. "You're an idiot," she said, but there was no malice in her tone. "You fought through all of this—just to be near me—and you didn't think I'd help you?"

Inosuke's throat tightened, and he looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "I didn't want to mess it up," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kuri's fingers curled gently against his skin, her touch as cold and steady as ever. "You're not messing anything up," she said firmly. "But if you keep burning like this, you won't have anything left to give."

Her words struck something deep within him, and for the first time in weeks, the fire inside him truly quieted.

"I'm here now," he said softly, his voice raw.

Kuri's lips curved into a faint smile, and she nodded. "Good," she said. "Because you're not going anywhere."

Her cold aura enveloped him completely, and for the first time in months, Inosuke felt at peace.