The black figure's breath caught, hidden behind dense trees.
That yokai — the one who massacred humans like carving dangerous art.
Yet now, standing under the thinning night sky, he looked…
Dangerously innocent.
And heartbreakingly gorgeous.
The figure's heart thudded painfully, his wounds still bleeding under his robe.
Strangely, the curse aura didn't drive him mad with desire like it did to others.
It only clawed at the edges of his fear, as if testing the shape of it.
Then, that soft, mocking voice broke the darkness:
"Your heart is pounding loudly… is it singing for me?~"
The boy with the white blindfold — Kirihito — spoke with a cruel sweetness, like a cat playing with a trembling mouse.
" you dared disturb me tonight , insect or anything ?"
His tone dropped, sharp and restless.
"I wasn't even in a mood to touch blood… but looks like no one wants me to stop my famous artwork… right, snakie?"
The little white snake coiled around his pale neck hissed softly in answer, tongue flicking at the cold air.
Kirihito stumbled for a moment — barefoot on damp ground — but caught himself just in time, robes whispering around slender ankles.
A flash of childish embarrassment crossed his face.
"Stupid beautiful body of mine…" he muttered under his breath, sighing with half-bored annoyance.
His toes curled into the earth; hands spread slightly in a loose, graceful fighting stance.
Long black hair, alive like a thousand midnight ribbons, floated around him — each lock sharpened to a blade, pointing left, right, behind, in front.
A living storm waiting to strike.
Suddenly — a flash of steel: The black figure lunged from behind and hurled his sword, spinning through the air like a silver wheel.
But Kirihito's hair moved first.
Two strands shot backward, catching the weapon mid-spin and whipping it aside.
It stabbed uselessly into a tree trunk, trembling in the bark.
Kirihito turned sharply, half-lidded eyes hidden under blindfold, a smirk curling on his lips.
He leapt back, robes swirling, pale feet brushing leaves, dark excitement in his expression.
"Well, well, well… nice try, insect — or whatever you are…"
His voice dropped lower, almost playful: "And you made a big mistake by not letting me sleep… when I'm already annoyed by real insects — and running out of dragon fruits."
A soft, chilling laugh bubbled from his throat — childish and cracked, half-innocent, half-mad.
"Found you ~ ahehehe hee ~ "
The black veins surfaced along his neck, dark curse energy writhing under pale skin.
Half of him slid into that darker side — the same that had painted the massacre at Bayakuya Village.
Then Kirihito sprang forward — barefoot steps silent and fast, like a shadow over water.
He spun once; his leg shot out, hitting the figure's head with brutal grace, just as he'd once struck Kyoren.
The figure flew backward, slammed into a tree, breath ripped out in a ragged gasp.
The golden owl mask almost slipped, but trembling fingers caught it before Kirihito lunged again.
The figure, panting, called a black guqin into his hands with a flick of power.
Its heavy strings thrummed, sending dark beats through the air like a heartbeat...beats were heavy and dark
Kirihito's eyes widened slightly under the blindfold; he loved music...and that music even felt like something deeper
For a fleeting moment, it felt like a dance.
"Hehe ~ that was fun, insect… you play good music… does it have any..name?~ "
Kirihito asked mockingly yet curious , circling each other like prey .
" Li..xuanjing...means " Deep & quite "..."
The figure said while changing place , throwing beats at him but kirihito just grins and dodges . Then he chukled and said back
Hehe.. thats quite interesting , insect..I like that melody..feels similar to slowed down heartbeats...sometimes come here at night to play for me, and I might think of keeping you alive ~ " Then added "… but sadly, I'll have to break it…"
His pout curled, mocking and childish.
Then, with a single flick, one strand of black hair slashed through the guqin — breaking it into two with a sharp vibration that echoed through the clearing.
The figure was thrown backward again, crashing hard against the trunk.
Blood welled in his mouth, spilling past the mask's edge.
"W… what the…" the figure gasped inside his mind.
"He easily escapes each move of mine — I'm the Second Grand Master… but it feels like nothing…
Just by some few steps… not even fully spiritual power… and I'm already half-broken…
What will happen if he gains his full power…?"
Black hair snapped like whips, slicing the air.
The figure ducked, boots skidding, cloak flaring.
"Did something get moved inside your head? Like tiny bells?~ Those… what do you call them… ah, never mind… hehe ~ "
Kirihito teased, voice sweet as rotten honey. But deep inside — he truly didn't know what lay inside human skulls.
Two strands whipped again — the figure caught his fallen sword, blocking with a crack of steel. Blade clashed with living black silk; sparks burst in the half-darkness.
He slashed down, cutting off two locks of Kirihito's hair — but they fell only to regrow instantly, darker and sharper.
Shock tightened the figure's chest: He heals… like breathing...
"Ah! Don't touch my hair!" Kirihito shrieked, childish tone breaking through.
"They're not brushes for your ugly paint! And they're not even fully strong yet!"
His hair writhed angrily around him; points shimmering like black crystal under the moon.
Then, Kirihito's head tilted — catching a glint: Something golden, tangled at the figure's waist, half-hidden in the folds of dark robes.
Curiosity flared, cutting through bloodlust. He loved pretty things — gold, gems, silk, flowers, beauty itself.
He stopped moving, chest rising and falling, hair floating in the hush.
"I have a serious reason to cover my eyes… too beautiful and powerful — you couldn't handle them, you know?~"
His voice softened to something almost tender, almost proud.
"But why are you hiding behind that ugly golden owl mask? Is your face prettier than mine?! And what's that golden thing you're hiding? It looks pretty! Give it to me — or you'll lose your head!"
The figure hesitated, blood still in his mouth.
Then answered softly, trying to calm him like a wild child:
"I'm not prettier than you… and that gold thing… is useless for you. You wouldn't want it."
Kirihito's pout twisted into a sharper, jealous curl. His voice dropped, cold as river stone:
"Don't teach me… just show.
Your damn face… and… give. ME. that golden thing…"
[ End of Chapter 37 ]