Fang Zuo tilted Shiraishi Nagimitsu's porcelain face upward. His fingers pressed down with slowly increasing force. As the pressure intensified, the flush across Nagimitsu's cheeks deepened into a radiant crimson. A penchant for roughness, he noted. He tangled his hand in her hair.
"Fujino-kun, not... not here," Nagimitsu gasped softly. Glancing at her daughter sleeping peacefully nearby, a flicker of apprehension warred with stark anticipation. "Please..."
"Address me."
"Master..."
Fang Zuo's grip tightened further, his movements rougher.
"...Ita— dame...!" A startled sob escaped her. She clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling the sound, terrified of waking Yui.
Dawn light filtered into the room. Shiraishi Nagimitsu lay nestled against Fang Zuo's chest. Her flawless skin peeked out above the tangled bedding. Her torn yukata lay discarded on the floor. Ebony hair spilled across his torso, a single strand caught between her parted lips. The master's raw energy had carved its mark deep. Satisfaction, profound and heavy, settled within her bones. They'd traversed the sofa where her daughter slept, the stairs, the shower... Finally collapsing into her own bed. Utterly spent by the tempest he'd unleashed, she had fallen into exhausted slumber.
Fang Zuo assessed his nascent soul internally. The principle of Yin-Yang harmonization inherent in Daoist methods held true. Nagimitsu's constitution was indeed unusual. Just one such harmonization had yielded minor repairs to his fractured nascent soul. No wonder Oda targeted her as a vessel for sacrifice.
What path lies ahead? A rare pang of uncertainty struck him. Repairing his nascent soul remained paramount. Hunting down heretical cults, potentially refining incarnations of these so-called evil gods… that promised sustenance. But after? Once his core was restored, he would face the Heavenly Tribulation again. Even at his peak, confronting those titanic lightning strikes seemed… daunting. Could capturing and refining an "evil god" into a spirit treasure improve his odds? Possibly. But even a refined spirit treasure offered only a marginal increase in probability.
Could faith, like incense offerings, serve as an alternative? The spiritual resonance across this island nation wasn't particularly fervent, more suitable perhaps for nurturing a spirit treasure than providing direct power. How many of these parasitic entities were leeching off this land? Why here?
Nagimitsu stirred against him, nuzzling his chest with a soft sigh before slipping back into sleep. Her body was impossibly yielding, like spun silk both outside and within. Last night, she had absorbed his fiercest energy without breaking. The lingering shadows cast by his failed tribulation were momentarily soothed. He closed his eyes again, re-entering deep meditation.
After several cycles of refining essence and circulating Qi, he sensed Nagimitsu waking beside him. Her lips brushed his skin in a feather-light kiss, then she attempted to slip away.
"Ah!"
A soft cry as her legs buckled. She collapsed back onto the bed.
Fang Zuo opened his eyes, a faint smile touching his lips as he guided her back down.
"Ohayō, Fujino-kun," she murmured, face flushed as she settled against him. "I wanted to prepare breakfast, but... my legs… they're still trembling."
Ding!
His phone vibrated.
[Sakura Kuri: Awake? Turn on the TV.]
He glanced at the time – only 9 AM. This woman must have worked late at the crime scene; her energy was relentless.
Thwack!
His palm landed resoundingly on Nagimitsu's backside. The flesh yielded like warm liquid, his hand sinking momentarily into the breathtaking curve. A woman forged of pure water.
"Fetch the remote."
Nagimitsu bit her lip, eyes glinting with a heady mix of submission and desire. She obediently crawled across the bed to retrieve the remote from the nearby sofa, then crawled back, presenting it before settling back against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He idly stroked her smooth skin as the television switched on.
On screen, a sharply dressed woman addressed the cameras with fierce intelligence.
"...In summary, the so-called Tokyo Exorcism Patrol Unit is nothing short of absurdity!"
"It's a shield erected by Tokyo's incompetent police force!" Her voice sliced through the air. "Its very existence is meaningless—a smokescreen woven from tales of the supernatural designed to deceive the public."
"The Tokyo Women's University incident is definitive proof! In such a technologically advanced society, how can the perpetrator remain at large?!" Her scorn thickened. "Labeling every unsolved case as 'occult' is the pinnacle of cowardice and incompetence! This appalling ineptitude is an insult to every taxpayer funding them!"
"As the head of the Liberal Democratic Party, I will mobilize all our members to pursue a vote of no confidence regarding this specific incident—and their entire charade!" Her eyes flashed with cold fury. "I will deliver the truth to the people! Arigatō!"
She pivoted crisply to leave. A diminutive, nervously bowing man scrambled after her, holding out her briefcase.
"That's Abe Nozomi," Shiraishi Nagimitsu murmured against Fang Zuo's chest, her tone laced with weary rivalry. "Heiress of Tokyo's most powerful family. De facto leader of the largest political party." She nodded towards the man. "Her husband—and personal assistant."
"Assistant first, husband second?" Fang Zuo chuckled softly. The order struck him.
"With a woman that dominant, assistant absolutely precedes husband," Nagimitsu countered. She pressed her lips against his pectoral muscle, a silent acknowledgment that few possessed his formidable strength. Her tone shifted. "She's my... primary opponent in the Diet."
"She operated in her brother's shadow initially," Nagimitsu explained, tracing patterns on his chest. "But after his assassination... she emerged. Rebuilt their fractured party. Engineered high-profile impeachments. She positioned herself squarely in the public eye. A leading contender for next Prime Minister." She paused. "Crucially, the Abe clan are Tsuchimikado Shinto practitioners. Descendants of Abe no Seimei—Japan's most legendary Onmyōji."
An Onmyōji lineage? Tsuchimikado Shinto? Abe no Seimei? Memories stirred: flipping through ancient rolls at the Zhongyuan's grand sacrificial summit on Mount Tai. An "Abe" had been listed among honored foreign observers. Coincidence?
On screen, Abe Nozomi strode towards her waiting car, brushing past frantic reporters still shouting questions. Fang Zuo watched her calculated poise with heightened interest. A small land, turbulent waters. Shallow temple, roaring ghosts.
The bedroom door flew open. Oda Yui stood silhouetted in the frame, blonde hair tangled in twin braids. Her chubby cheeks were sleep-soft, clad in an oversized teddy bear pajama set.
"Okāsan! I'm hungry—" Her voice died in her throat as she took in the entangled figures on the bed. Her mouth opened wide in shock. "You... you... you!" Tears welled instantly. "Uso da!" Sobs tore from her throat as she spun on her heel. Thump! Thump! Thump! She fled downstairs.
"Yui-chan!" Nagimitsu cried out, scrambling upright, shock warring with shame.
"I'll handle breakfast," Fang Zuo stated calmly, patting her head. "You handle her." He wasn't surprised. Living intimately with these two meant secrets wouldn't stay hidden. Yui was eighteen – practically an adult – yet childishly emotional. A little soothing would mend this. His real dilemma was simpler, yet surprisingly complex: Remain her cherished Onīsan? Or ascend to Otōsan? A heavy sigh escaped him.
Ring-Ring! Ring-Ring!
His phone sang. The black-stockinged tyrant calling.
"Yes?" Fang Zuo answered, tone dry.
"Did you watch?" Sakura Kuri's voice was uncharacteristically sweet, a jarring contrast to her usual bite.
"I did," he confirmed, instantly suspicious. Another favor incoming.
"I have an inspired plan! Want to hear it?"
"No."
"Please listen?"
"No."
"Da-me! Pleeaase? Onegai? Onegai shimasu? Kawaii-kawaii~?" Her voice dipped into an absurdly saccharine whine, layered with fake pleading.
Fang Zuo blinked. Learned fast. Already deploying premature charm offense.
The next instant, fury erupted in his voice.
"WHAT?! Undercover?! You want me infiltrating Tokyo Women's University... as a Dormitory Supervisor?!"