Imari Kurumi immersed herself in the warm water, trying to wash away the blood, fear, and uncomfortable heat she had encountered tonight.
The steam was dense, blurring the frosted glass door of the bathroom.
She closed her eyes, feeling the sensation of the water sliding over her skin, and her tense nerves relaxed slightly.
However, at the very moment her mind settled—
An indescribable, cold, and slimy sensation suddenly wrapped around her ankle!
"Aaah!" She snapped her eyes open and looked down in terror, only to see several slimy black tentacles, seemingly formed from condensed shadows and filth, emerging from the drain and the cracks in the wall. They were coiling up her calves like living venomous snakes! The sensation was bone-chillingly cold, carrying a malice that desecrated life.
"What... what are these things?! Get away!" Imari was scared out of her wits, kicking and thrashing wildly in an attempt to break free.
The horrific sight exceeded the limits of her cognition. These were absolutely not things that should exist in the real world!
"No! No! Help—!! Mr. Kanjuro! Save me!!" Extreme fear caused her to let out a heart-wrenching scream. She desperately broke free from the main tentacles' restraint, and regardless of being soaking wet and completely naked, she slammed open the bathroom door. Barefoot, she stumbled like a frightened lamb toward the only source of light and hope in the living room—where Kanjuro was!
Bang!
She practically tumbled out of the bathroom, carrying a mist of water and icy fear, and fell straight into the arms of Kanjuro, who had already stood up upon hearing her scream!
"Imari! What's wrong?!" Kanjuro caught her at the "perfect moment." His face was a picture of "shock" and "concern" as he held her cold, trembling body. He naturally wrapped his arms around her, shielding her behind him, while his gaze turned "solemn" as he looked toward the bathroom.
Imari gripped Kanjuro's clothes tightly and buried her face in his chest, her body shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind. She sobbed incoherently, "M-monster! Inside... inside there are black... tentacles! So many... so scary!"
Just as she finished speaking, those twisted black tentacles, radiating an ominous aura, surged out from the bathroom door and even from some shadowed corners of the living room like a tide chasing its prey. They lunged toward the embracing pair with bared fangs and brandished claws! They squirmed, making a nauseating, sticky sound as if they wanted to swallow all light and purity.
This scene was like the most terrifying nightmare manifesting in reality.
"Don't be afraid!" Kanjuro shielded Imari tightly behind him. Facing the surging wave of tentacles, a "determined" expression appeared on his face. He raised his uninjured hand, spreading his fingers, and barked out a few syllables in an ancient, obscure language that Imari couldn't understand!
In an instant, the space behind him seemed to be torn open by an invisible force, revealing a dark and profound rift. Within it, the cold glint of countless weapons flickered—this was the manifestation of the [eternal night treasury (Armament of Eternal Night)]!
"In the name of darkness, purge the filth!" Kanjuro shouted coldly.
A strange long spear, entwined with pitch-black lightning, shot out from the treasury's rift as if it possessed a life of its own! The spear was dark gold throughout, its shaft engraved with countless fine runes that seemed to absorb light, and its tip burned with a cold, pale blue flame!
Sshhh—!
The spear turned into a bolt of black lightning, weaving and slashing through the air at a speed difficult for the naked eye to track! Wherever it passed, those hideous tentacles seemed to meet their natural enemy, letting out silent wails as they were easily torn and severed. Pale blue flames ignited at the severed ends, and they quickly turned to ash, dissipating into the air!
In just a few breaths, the terrifying wave of tentacles was cleared away. Only a faint burnt smell and a cold dark aura remained in the air, proving they had once existed.
With a wave of Kanjuro's hand, the dark gold spear flew back to him like an obedient hound, then turned into specks of black light and vanished. The treasury rift behind him also quietly closed.
Peace returned to the living room, leaving only Imari's uncontrollable sobbing of a survivor.
Kanjuro slowly turned around, looking at the pale girl in his arms who was shivering from fear and cold.
He took off his coat and gently draped it over her bare shoulders, wrapping her up before pulling her into his embrace once more.
"It's alright... those filthy things have been destroyed by me." Kanjuro's gentle comfort sounded even more authentic and believable. "It seems... the evil powers Mizunurai was in contact with are even more troublesome than we imagined... They seem to have... targeted you."
He successfully attributed both attacks to the "evil powers brought by Mizunurai," completely clearing his own suspicion and molding himself into Imari's sole guardian deity.
Imari gripped Kanjuro's coat tightly, drawing in his residual scent and warmth.
Having experienced the life-and-death struggle and the supernatural terror attack just now, her dependence and trust in Kanjuro had reached a point of absolute conviction.
In her eyes at this moment, Kanjuro was not only her savior but also the only reliance who possessed mysterious powers and could protect her from the encroachment of darkness.
She looked up at Kanjuro with tearful eyes, her gaze filled with endless gratitude, dependence, and an attachment akin to a hatchling's imprinting.
"Mr. Kanjuro... thank you... for saving me again... I... I'm so scared..." She buried her face back into his chest, whimpering.
Kanjuro felt the girl's complete submission in his arms, knowing that her psychological defenses had nearly collapsed entirely at this moment. He gently stroked her wet hair, his eyes cold and satisfied where Imari couldn't see them.
(Fear is the best catalyst, and dependence is the key to the cage.)
He knew he was only one final step away from completely controlling this pure sacrificial offering.
And tonight seemed to be the perfect opportunity to complete this final step.
Silence returned to the living room, save for Imari's low sobbing and the overlapping sounds of their breathing.
Kanjuro's coat wrapped around Imari's cold body, and the warmth from his embrace slowly dispelled the chill and fear seeping from her marrow.
The massive impact of surviving the ordeal made her cling tightly to Kanjuro, like a drowning person grabbing a piece of driftwood. He was the only safe harbor she could perceive at this moment.
Kanjuro could clearly feel the girl in his arms and her almost unreserved dependence.
He knew the time was ripe. The meticulously woven net, having gone through fear, rescue, a relationship of complicity, and this supernatural trial of terror, was now ready to be tightened.
He gently cupped Imari's face, forcing her to look at him through her teary eyes. His gaze was no longer his usual aloofness or calculated gentleness, but a deep "sincerity" and "pity" that was heart-wrenching.
"Imari..." His voice was low and husky, carrying a weight as if it bore a thousand words, "Watching you fall into danger time and again, watching myself almost lose you... I can no longer deceive myself."
Imari's heart skipped a beat, and she stared at him blankly.
"I don't know when it started," Kanjuro continued, his fingertips gently wiping away the tears from the corners of her eyes. "Perhaps it was when you chatted with me with that pure smile, or when you were clearly afraid yet still insisted on your principles and rejected me, or perhaps... it was just now, when you trusted me unreservedly and ran toward me."
His words were like the finest silk, coiling around Imari's fragile heart.
"I can't imagine a world without you. Seeing Mizunurai hurt you like that, seeing those monsters attempt to defile you, the anger and fear in my heart nearly consumed me." He paused, his gaze deepening as if to suck her soul into it. "Imari Kurumi, I like you. No, perhaps it's more than liking... Please stay by my side and let me protect you, forever."
This sudden, soulful confession following such a night of chaos and terror was like the final straw that completely broke Imari's already teetering psychological defenses.
All memories of her childhood friend paled in the face of Mizunurai's madness and death, while Kanjuro's repeated hero-like appearances, this confession filled with "true feelings," and the mysterious power he displayed that could combat darkness... all of this intertwined to form a torrent she could not resist.
Gratefulness, dependence, the palpitations of surviving a disaster, and the yearning for this powerful protection... various emotions exploded in her heart. She looked at Kanjuro's handsome face so close at hand, those eyes that seemed to contain the stars and the night, reflecting only her figure.
Tears welled up again, but this time, they weren't purely from fear and sadness. They were mixed with an indescribable palpitation and a sense of relief, as if she had finally found her home.
She nodded vigorously, her voice tearful yet incredibly clear:
"Yes... I... I also like Mr. Kanjuro... Please... please protect me... don't leave me..."
Upon receiving the affirmative answer, a light of "ecstasy" and "emotion" burst forth from Kanjuro's eyes at just the right moment.
He lowered his head and kissed Imari in an extremely gentle yet undeniable manner.
The night deepened.
The lights in the living room were dimmed at some point.
Kanjuro's coat had long since fallen under the sofa, and that [holy bible of light] he had hidden seemed to emit a faint, ironic glow in the shadows.
From the bathroom to the living room, and then to that bedroom filled with a girl's fragrance, Imari Kurumi spent this chaotic and long night.
She offered the purest part of her body and soul, along with that fervent "love" catalyzed by fear and gratitude, to her acknowledged savior and lover.
She did not see the calculation and satisfaction as cold as ancient ice in the depths of Kanjuro's eyes as she indulged in the sensory whirlpool he created.
The morning sun filtered through the gaps in the curtains, softly spilling onto the bedroom floor.
Kanjuro had long since woken up. He leaned halfway against the headboard in a lazy posture, his gaze calmly watching Imari Kurumi, who was still fast asleep beside him.
She was curled up, her face still bearing a trace of fatigue and tear stains, but a faint arc of peace and even sweetness remained on the corners of her mouth, as if she had finally found a sanctuary in her nightmare.
(The sacrifice... has been completely defiled.)
Whether it was her body or that pure soul, they had both been marked with his dark brand.
That light of the soul shining due to "love" was now closely linked to him, merely awaiting the arrival of the final ceremony to be perfectly harvested to sustain Reika Kitami's remaining life while feeding back into his own power.
Kitami... At the thought of that name, a flicker of extremely complex emotion crossed his heart, but it was quickly replaced by cold determination. He had given her a chance to live, with another "light" as the price.
It's quite fair, isn't it?
He rose noiselessly and dressed neatly without waking the sleeping Imari. Standing by the bed, he took one last look at this girl he was about to personally push into eternal darkness, his lips curling into a barely perceptible, cold arc.
(The game has entered the next stage.)
He turned and, like a demon merging into the shadows, noiselessly left the room filled with the scent of "love" and betrayal.
Only Imari Kurumi remained, still relying on that false warmth in her dreams, completely unaware of her impending fate.
The sacrifice was in place, waiting only for the moment of offering. The afternoon campus carried a lazy bustle that was completely at odds with the cold calculations in Kanjuro's heart. He escorted Imari Kurumi to the door of her classroom, bid her a gentle farewell amidst her shy and utterly dependent gaze, and the moment he turned away, the tenderness on his face vanished completely.
Instead of returning to his own classroom, he headed straight for the Nurses Office.
The familiar scent of disinfectant permeated the Nurses Office. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, cutting alternating stripes of light and shadow onto the polished floor. Reika Kitami sat behind the desk, organizing some documents. Her profile appeared somewhat translucent in the play of light and shadow; that frailty originating from the very source of her life had nowhere to hide under Kanjuro's "Eye of Truth."
Kanjuro closed the door behind him, cutting off the sounds from outside. He walked to the desk and, without any superfluous pleasantries, placed the milky-white-covered "holy bible of light" directly in front of Reika Kitami.
Reika Kitami's movements halted. Her gaze first fell upon the recovered bible with a hint of complexity, then lifted to look at Kanjuro. Her eyes were heavy with many things—understanding, exhaustion, and a trace of barely perceptible pain.
"Did you kill Minase Taki?" Her voice was very soft, not an interrogation, but more like confirming an already foreseen conclusion.
Meeting her gaze, Kanjuro nodded candidly, making no attempt to find any hypocritical excuses. "He tried to harm Imari and used the power of this book to descend into madness. He had to be eliminated." His tone was flat, as if he were stating something that had nothing to do with him.
Reika Kitami remained silent for a moment, her fingertips gently brushing the warm cover of the bible, as if she could feel the lingering restlessness and resentment of that young life before it vanished. She sighed, a sigh carrying endless weariness.
"Kanjuro," she looked up again, her gaze seemingly trying to pierce through his eternally young skin to see the soul within that had long since merged with the darkness, "do you still hate me now?"
This question made Kanjuro startle slightly. Hate? For him now, that word was too pale and emotional. He had long since transcended such simple feelings.
He shook his head, a corner of his mouth curving into an ambiguous arc. "Hate? No. Kitami, I never hated you." He paused, his voice deepening slightly. "You just... didn't hope for my way of doing things, you didn't like my deception, did you?"
Reika Kitami did not deny it, only watched him quietly.
0.5
Kanjuro leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk to close the distance between him and Reika Kitami. He gazed at her face, still beautiful yet unable to hide its exhaustion. A rare, almost "real" complex emotion flickered in his eyes, a mixture of reminiscence, a faint trace of guilt, and a certain stubbornness.
"Kitami," his voice had a rare quality that could almost be called "soft," "actually, all this time, you've been the person I most desired to be well."
This sentence caused Reika Kitami's eyelashes to tremble slightly.
"Even if we cannot be together," Kanjuro continued, his tone carrying a resigned mockery, whether toward himself or fate, "after all... I owe you too much. That exploitation and sacrifice are sins I can never erase. So, I also hope you can live on, no matter what."
He reached out, seemingly wanting to touch her cheek, but paused in mid-air and withdrew his hand. This subtle movement revealed that his heart was not entirely cold.
Reika Kitami looked at him, seeing that rare struggle in his eyes that perhaps even he hadn't fully realized. Her heart was a whirlwind of emotions; love and hate, resentment and pity, had long since become an inextricable knot over eighteen years. She turned her head away, looking out at the bright sky and the swaying treetops in the distance, her voice ethereal and carrying a calm that saw through the world:
"Life has an end, Kanjuro. Why force it?"
Her refusal was as firm as it had been eighteen years ago, carrying a respect for natural laws that was inherently contrary to the nature of dark power, and a heartfelt loathing for the act of plundering the lives of others.
Kanjuro watched her stubborn profile, the bit of softness in his eyes quickly fading, replaced once again by bottomless darkness and a desire for control. He gave a soft laugh, one that carried an unquestionable decisiveness.
"It's not up to you, Kitami. This time, I won't let you disappear again."
---------------------------------
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! If the story has you hooked and you can't wait to see what happens next, you can unlock 30 chapters in advance over on my Patreon: patreon.com/TLHimejima1
Every bit of support means the world to me so if you're loving the ride, don't forget to drop a Power Stone and let me know.