"Watch out!" Imari cried out in terror, her soul nearly leaving her body as she saw the blade lunging toward them.
A cold light flashed in Kanjuro's eyes as he calculated the angle and timing. He didn't choose to dodge or counterattack but made an unexpected move—he spun around abruptly, facing the charging Mizunurai with his back, shielding Imari completely between himself and the tree trunk in a posture of absolute protection!
Imari felt the world spin as she was tightly wrapped in Kanjuro's broad chest and arms, her nose filled with his reassuring scent. At this moment, all her unease and fear seemed to be blocked out by this embrace. An unprecedented sense of security, mixed with the heat in her body and a wave of emotion, swept through her.
Just as the blade was about to pierce Kanjuro's back!
As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Kanjuro turned his head at the perfect moment, his right hand shooting out like lightning, precisely—grabbing the sharp blade!
"Squelch!" The sound of the blade cutting through flesh was exceptionally clear in the silent woods. Blood instantly surged from between Kanjuro's fingers, dripping onto the grass below, a shocking sight.
"Mr. Kanjuro!" Seeing the bright red blood, Imari's heart nearly stopped, and her tears flowed even harder.
Minase Taki hadn't expected Kanjuro to catch the blade with his bare hand. He froze for a moment, then became even more frantic, trying to pull the knife back to stab again. Kanjuro gripped the blade tightly, and the two were instantly locked in a fierce struggle!
"Let go! You bastard! I'll kill you!" Mizunurai roared, using all his strength.
Kanjuro timely showed expressions of "pain" and "determination," as if he were desperately holding on to protect the person in his arms. To an onlooker, this was entirely a heroic act of risking one's life against a crazed thug to protect a young girl.
During the struggle, Kanjuro's arm was "forced" to thrust forward, while his foot "accidentally" tripped Mizunurai's ankle!
"Ugh!" Minase Taki felt a massive, irresistible force surge through him, and he instantly lost his balance, falling forward. The folding knife, held tightly in his hand and also gripped by Kanjuro, was driven—under the combined force of both men—straight and deep into Minase Taki's own chest!
Time seemed to stand still at that moment.
Minase Taki's movements came to an abrupt halt. His eyes widened as he looked down in disbelief at the hilt buried in his chest, then at the deep, cold eyes of Kanjuro inches away. He wanted to say something, but could only make a "hissing" sound of leaking air as blood overflowed from the corners of his mouth.
Kanjuro released his grip on the blade at the right moment, his face showing the perfect amount of "shock" and "bewilderment."
Minase Taki's body slumped backward, falling heavily to the ground. After a couple of twitches, he went silent. Those eyes, once full of cowardice and later consumed by desire and madness, now gazed hollowly at the darkening sky, devoid of any spark.
A deathly silence fell over the woods, save for Imari's suppressed, intermittent sobbing and the faint drip-drip of blood from Kanjuro's fingers.
From the gaps of her extreme fear and Kanjuro's embrace, Imari saw Mizunurai's fallen figure and the shocking blood. Her mind was a complete blank; the massive shock left her nearly fainting.
Kanjuro slowly turned around to face her. He raised his bleeding hand as if to comfort her, but then winced slightly from the pain. His face was somewhat "pale," his eyes filled with "lingering fear" and "concern." He gently pulled her into his arms again, stroking her hair with his uninjured hand, his voice low and carrying a soothing power:
"It's okay... Imari... it's all over... that madman who hurt you... can't hurt anyone anymore..."
Imari Kurumi snuggled in Kanjuro's embrace, feeling the warmth of his body and the faint scent of blood. Her heart was filled with the terror of a survivor, complex emotions regarding Mizunurai's death, and... a flood of gratitude and dependence toward Kanjuro for risking his life to save her.
She didn't know that this "hero saving the beauty" act was, from beginning to end, a cruel drama written, directed, and performed by the very person she was relying on. Minase Taki was merely a pawn he used to destroy her mental defenses and pave his own way—a pathetic sacrifice before the main sacrifice.
Kanjuro embraced the trembling girl in his arms, feeling her rising body temperature and her fledgling-like dependence. At an angle she couldn't see, the corner of his mouth curled into a cold, satisfied arc.
(The plan... is going smoothly.)
Looking at Minase Taki's gradually cooling corpse, Imari Kurumi slumped in Kanjuro's arms, her body trembling uncontrollably as tears mixed with fear, sorrow, and disbelief. The person she had grown up with since childhood had actually tried to kill her in the end and died right before her eyes... it was all too absurd and cruel.
"Wh... why..." she choked out, her voice broken, "Mizunurai... why did he become like this?"
Kanjuro sighed at the right moment, a heavy expression on his face. His gaze swept over the holy bible of light on the ground, which he had quietly nudged into the shadows behind him with his toe (he had already used a trace of dark magic to pull it away and put it away while Imari wasn't looking, never letting her see it clearly). His tone was low, carrying a suggestive speculation:
"Perhaps... it was because of that book." He paused, as if weighing his words. "I saw him holding a very strange book just now, chanting incantations I couldn't understand... then your state became wrong, and he became... unlike himself. It might have been some forbidden object containing evil power that twisted his mind."
This explanation sounded reasonable, perfectly blaming Mizunurai's madness on an external object while also explaining Imari's own abnormal heat and dizziness. Imari nodded blankly; subconsciously, she was more willing to accept this explanation, otherwise, she couldn't understand why her childhood friend would suddenly turn into a demon.
"Then... what should we do now?" Imari looked at Kanjuro helplessly; at this moment, he was her only support.
Seeing her looking lost and helpless, Kanjuro knew the critical moment had arrived. He gently cupped her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. His tone became exceptionally serious, even carrying a well-timed hint of "fragility" and "worry":
"Imari, I have a very important question to ask next." He took a deep breath. "Will you... call the police?"
Imari shook her head violently, blurting out almost instantly: "No! I won't! Of course I won't!" She gripped Mr. Kanjuro's arm tightly, as if afraid he would disappear. "Mr. Kanjuro, you only... made a mistake because you were trying to save me... If we call the police, you'll definitely be taken away! I can't... I can't do that!" Her eyes were full of determination and a protective instinct, falling completely into Kanjuro's expectations.
A look of "emotion" and "relief" instantly flooded Kanjuro's eyes. He pulled Imari into a tight embrace again, his chin resting on the top of her head, his voice low and full of "affection": "Thank you, Imari... thank you for being willing to believe in me and protect me." This embrace was both comfort and reward, and even more so, a shackle. They now shared a common, bloody secret, which bound the two together more than any promise ever could.
"Anyway," Kanjuro released her, looking at the deepening night around them and the corpse on the ground that couldn't be ignored. "We can't stay here for long. I'll take you home first. Leave everything else... to me." The calmness and responsibility in his tone gave the panic-stricken Imari a sense of peace.
"Okay..." Imari nodded submissively. At this moment, her mind was a mess, and she only wanted to leave this nightmare land as soon as possible.
Kanjuro naturally took her uninjured hand (deliberately avoiding his own still-bleeding right hand) and led her quickly out of the small woods. The cool night breeze blew over them, and Imari subconsciously moved closer to Kanjuro, drawing warmth and a sense of security from him. This subconscious dependence was exactly what Kanjuro wanted.
They walked in silence, the atmosphere heavy and subtle, until they reached the bottom of Imari's apartment building.
"We're here." Kanjuro stopped, turning to face Imari. Under the moonlight, his face appeared somewhat pale (partly feigned, partly from blood loss), but his eyes were exceptionally gentle. "Imari, what happened tonight... is too heavy for you. If... if you need me, anytime, you can find me. I'll be with you."
Imari looked up at Kanjuro's handsome face and those eyes that seemed capable of embracing everything. Her heart was filled with complex emotions—fear and a hint of sadness over Mizunurai's death, infinite gratitude for Kanjuro risking his life to save her, and a sense of exhaustion after surviving a disaster. She shook her head, her voice a bit raspy:
"Thank you, Mr. Kanjuro... but, I... I want to be alone and calm down for a while right now..." She needed space to process this massive upheaval.
(She doesn't want me to go up? This woman's guard is heavier than I imagined.) A flash of impatience and coldness crossed Kanjuro's mind, but his face showed only understanding and concern.
"I understand." He nodded, then changed the subject with a tone of undeniable persistence, while lifting his still-throbbing right hand. "However, could you let me sit in your house for a while? At least... let me simply treat the wound? Besides, I'm really not comfortable leaving you alone in your current state."
His reason was perfectly logical, showing both his own need (the wound) and his care for Imari (worry).
Looking at the wound on his hand, which had coagulated but still looked gruesome, Imari was instantly filled with guilt. Yes, Mr. Kanjuro had been injured to save her; how could she only think of herself and shut him out?
"I'm sorry! I almost forgot about your hand!" she apologized quickly, her face full of regret. "Please come in! I have a First Aid Kit at home!"
"Then I shall intrude." Kanjuro nodded slightly, the corner of his mouth curling into an imperceptible arc as he followed Imari into her home.
Warm lights, a tidy living room—it was like two different worlds compared to the bloody madness in the woods just now. Imari had Kanjuro sit on the sofa while she hurriedly went to find the First Aid Kit.
Kanjuro leaned comfortably against the sofa, surveying this warm space filled with a youthful girl's atmosphere, his gaze deep. He knew that stepping into this private domain meant he was one big step closer to his final goal. Imari Kurumi's mental defenses were gradually crumbling, and her home, this final fortress, had already been successfully infiltrated by him.
·· 0 flowers --- Next, he would use her guilt and gratitude, along with this opportunity to be alone, to further deepen their connection and make her emotionally unable to break free.
Imari hurriedly returned with the First Aid Kit and knelt before Kanjuro, carefully cleaning his wound, her gaze focused and full of apology.
Kanjuro looked down at her serious profile, feeling her gentle movements, coldly planning his next move in his heart. Tonight was destined not to end peacefully. Imari carefully disinfected and bandaged the wound on Kanjuro's hand, her movements gentle and her eyes full of guilt and gratitude. After treating the wound, a subtle silence fell over the living room. The bloody terror seemed temporarily shut out, but the lingering awkwardness, the un-dissipated fear, and the suddenly shortened distance between them all made Imari feel a bit restless.
The heat triggered by the incantation earlier seemed to still linger on her body, along with the light sweat from struggling and running, making her very uncomfortable.
"Mr. Kanjuro..." She stood up, fidgeting with her fingers a bit awkwardly. "I-I want to take a shower first... My body feels a bit..."
Before she could finish, Kanjuro immediately interjected, his tone full of unquestionable concern, even carrying a well-timed hint of "lingering fear": "A shower? I... I'm not quite comfortable with you being alone." He frowned slightly, his gaze sweeping across the seemingly safe and warm apartment. "Although Mizunurai is already... well, no one knows if he had contact with other similar things before, or if he left any hidden dangers. I'm afraid you might experience that kind of... loss of control like he did."
...The reason he gave was high-sounding, completely from the standpoint of a protector.
Hearing this, Imari's heart also tightened. Recalling Mizunurai's crazed and twisted appearance, as well as her own body's uncontrollable heat earlier, she indeed had lingering fears. She looked at Kanjuro; his face showed pure worry, and his hand was still wrapped in the bandage she had just applied.
(Mr. Kanjuro truly cares about me... He got injured to protect me, and now he's still so worried about my safety...)
A feeling of being cherished and protected welled up in her heart, diluting the original shyness and vigilance of being alone with a man. She shook her head vigorously, a pale smile of trust appearing on her face:
"It's okay, Mr. Kanjuro. I believe in you. And... it's just at home, nothing should happen. I'll be quick."
These words were her heartfelt trust and also her way of soothing her own state of mind.
Kanjuro looked at her deeply, as if confirming her state, before finally nodding "reluctantly," his tone carrying indulgence and a trace of imperceptible deep meaning: "Alright then... come back soon. I'll wait for you right here. After you finish showering and I confirm you're okay, I'll leave."
"Mhm! Thank you, Mr. Kanjuro!" Imari nodded gratefully and turned toward her bedroom to get a change of clothes.
Kanjuro watched her back. The girl's slender waist, the slight sway of her skirt as she walked, and that defenseless figure heading toward the bathroom were all like the most tempting invitations. He leaned back on the sofa, his posture seemingly relaxed, but in those deep black eyes, dark desires were surging, almost uncontrollably.
(Believe in me? Heh... truly naively cute.) He sneered inwardly, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the fabric of the sofa's armrest.
(It's precisely this pure innocence without any impurities, this wholehearted trust, that makes one have an even stronger urge to defile and possess.) He recalled Reika Kitami's original appearance, which also had this kind of haloed purity, but eventually sank into darkness under his guidance. And Imari Kurumi, this brand-new purity with a clean childhood-friend-like aura, stirred his strong desire for plunder even more.
He liked her current state of being ignorant and dependent, seeing him as her only salvation. This satisfied his twisted desire for control and aesthetics more than conquering her directly with power.
The sound of splashing water came from the direction of the bathroom, and a hazy light and shadow along with a blurred silhouette of a person were vaguely visible on the frosted glass door.
Kanjuro didn't use any supernatural abilities to peek; that was too low-level and could easily leave traces. He simply sat there, listening to the tempting sound of water, imagining the warm stream sliding over that young, vibrant, and pure body, imagining her current defenseless, relaxed posture while bathing... This pure imagination, combined with the aroma of the elegant body wash Imari commonly used that was gradually filling the air, was like the richest catalyst. It made the dark power within him stir slightly, and the desire to completely mark and possess this purity surged like an undercurrent.
He picked up the tea Imari had poured for him earlier, which had already grown slightly cool, and took a small sip, but his eyes never left the direction of the bathroom.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the prey to wash away the last of the dust herself and welcome the impending, irresistible darkness in her "cleanest" state.
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