BASORAPTUS — CHAPTER #65 — (N.) THE OVERWHELMING DESIRE TO CAPTURE SOMEONE IN A DEVOURING KISS

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Little note:
This is not a new chapter. Here's some context. I was organizing the chapters and deleting some drafts I had there of KANJŌ and FUCKING USELESS WATTPAD deleted this chapter instead of the draft I wanted to originally delete and chapter #65 ended up gone. I don't have a backup of my chapters and that's why I got so stressed since I write on notes and then delete it because idk, BECAUSE I NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN. Good news is that the unfinished version of this was still on my notes so I used that and here it is. It might be a little different from the original but nothing too wow. Also, I won't bold the Japanese text. It's too bothersome and time consuming. I'm sure you won't mind if it's not bold at least on this chapter. Thanks for your understanding.
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The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, their enthusiasm filling the festival as if the atmosphere itself was reverberating with energy. Whistles and laughter cut through the clamor.

You stood there, still catching your breath, your heart pounding like a drum. The entire performance had been nerve-wracking, but the rush of adrenaline now left you feeling euphoric, if a bit shaky.

"Yeah! What a wonderful song! We loved it! Keep it going, everyone—clap louder!" the same man who had whisked you onto the stage earlier bellowed, his booming voice drawing even more cheers. He turned his attention back to you with a wide grin. "Pretty lady, that song you sang was so heartwarming! Did you write it yourself?"

Caught off guard, you hesitated for a split second before offering a sheepish grin. "Oh, uh, yeah... I made it myself!" Your awkward confession only seemed to fuel the crowd's enthusiasm.

You chuckled nervously, bowing slightly before stepping down from the stage. But as you blended back into the crowd, a pang of guilt hit you like a stone. 'I'm so sorry, Lamp! I didn't mean to steal your song, I swear!'

The festival was packed, and navigating through the dense crowd was proving to be a challenge. Bodies jostled against one another, conversations overlapped, and the festive energy made it nearly impossible to focus. You scanned the sea of faces, hoping to spot Akaza, but with everyone milling about and his face hidden by that oversized cloak of his, finding him felt like searching for a needle in a haystack.

You sighed, frustrated but trying to stay calm.

What now? Just as you began to feel the weight of the moment, a firm hand wrapped around your arm, grounding you instantly.

You turned, and relief flooded through you—it was Akaza.

"Ohhh, hi," you greeted him, your voice a little more awkward than you intended. "Um... how are you doing?" You mentally slapped yourself. Really? That's all you could come up with? The words felt stiff, unnatural, and far from what you wanted to convey.

He didn't respond right away. Instead, he just stood there, his grip firm yet not painful.

You couldn't tell where his gaze was directed at you,

the person standing before him,

or through you,

seeing someone else entirely.

"...Akaza?" you tried again, softer this time. "Is everything okay?"

"...!" Your voice seemed to snap him out of a trance. His grip released immediately, as if he hadn't realized how tightly he'd been holding onto you. "...Sorry,"

"It's fine," you replied, though you couldn't hide your confusion. You rubbed the spot where his hand had been moments ago, trying to decipher his behavior. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just..." His words trailed off as he scratched the back of his neck, his gaze darting around the place like he was searching for an escape route.

"It's just...?" you prompted. What was bothering him so much?

He sighed, a sound heavy with unspoken words, and finally—finally—his eyes met yours. Not with the distant gaze that made you feel like a ghost of someone else, but with an intensity that felt personal.

For the first time ever (you think),

he met your eyes—your eyes.

Not anyone else's.

Not Koyuki's.

Just yours.

He was looking at you.

"It was beautiful," he murmured, the sincerity in his words palpable. His expression was unguarded, raw in a way that caught you completely off guard. It didn't feel like a compliment—it felt like a truth he needed you to understand.

"O-Oh!" you stammered, instinctively taking a small step back, your cheeks heating up. "You mean, uh, what was beautiful? The song, right?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You were..." as if measuring his words, he seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say. "You sang beautifully."

The words themselves weren't what embarrassed you; it was the way he said them, like they carried a weight only he could give them. "...Thanks."

Your voice came out quieter than you intended.

"ATTENTION PEOPLE!!" Your brief moment was interrupted when the familiar voice of the man from earlier cut through the crowd. He stood on the stage, grinning from ear to ear as he announced, "The festival is almost coming to an end! The fireworks are starting soon! Everyone, get ready!" People began cheering and scrambling to find the best vantage points. 

You sighed softly, the sound catching Akaza's attention. He tilted his head slightly. 

"I wish I could see the fireworks up close," you admitted wistfully, your voice barely audible above the noise around you. "But I know that's impossible..." You trailed off, your gaze dropping to the ground. 

Akaza's brows knitted together for a moment, then his expression shifted as if struck by a sudden thought. A spark of an idea lit his eyes, and before you could react, he stepped closer. "(Y/N)."

"Ye—" Without warning, his strong hands gripped your waist. A startled yelp escaped your lips as his other arm hooked around your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. He held you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, your world tilting in an instant. 

"H-Hey! What are you doing?!" you exclaimed, squirming in his grasp. Your voice was half alarmed, half incredulous as you tried to twist around to see his face. 

"Grab tight,"

"Wait, what—?!" 

Before you could finish your sentence, he bent his knees and leapt into the air. The ground vanished beneath you as a gust of wind roared in your ears. "AHHHHHHHHHHH, FUCK!!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, clinging to him for dear life, your fingers clutching his cape so tightly it felt like your nails might tear through it.

The wind rushed past your face, cool and sharp, but your eyes stayed firmly shut. You couldn't bring yourself to look, the overwhelming height and speed too much for your senses. Your stomach flipped with every movement, and for a moment, you were certain you would lose your grip. 

Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, everything slowed. The air felt calmer now, the intense rush of movement fading.

"You can open your eyes,"

Your heart still pounding, you cautiously peeled your eyes open. The first thing you noticed was the view. You were perched near the top of a mountain, the world sprawling far below. The stars overhead seemed closer, their light twinkling vividly against the inky sky. The cool air bit at your skin, a reminder of how high you were. 

You gaped in awe, your earlier fear momentarily forgotten. "This... this is incredible,"

Akaza, still holding you securely, glanced at your expression. "I thought you'd prefer this view."

You nodded slowly, still overwhelmed by the breathtaking sight. "I can't believe we're up here..."

"It's not that amazing," Akaza murmured, his voice low, as if he couldn't quite grasp why you were so enraptured. To him, it was just a mountain—what was the big deal? 

"No, no! It totally is!" you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. "I feel like if I stretch my hand far enough, I could actually touch the moon!" You extended your arm toward the sky as if to prove your point, your eyes glimmering with childlike wonder. 

Still holding you securely in his arms, Akaza watched you intently. Every word, every movement of yours seemed to draw his complete attention. "...Glad you like it," he murmured, his voice quieter now, as if your enthusiasm had softened something in him. 

"I really do." Your eyes shone, reflecting the countless stars scattered above. Without realizing it, your hand clutched at the fabric of his cape, seeking an anchor in your excitement. But then it hit you—he was still holding you. 

"O-Oh!" You yelped, your cheeks heating up as you squirmed slightly. "Sorry for making you carry me for so long!" 

"It's fine." Akaza's voice remained steady as he finally set you down, his movements as graceful as ever. Once your feet touched the ground, you dusted off your kimono unnecessarily, trying to brush off your embarrassment along with it. 

"Well," you said, laughing awkwardly, "I guess we'll have to wait until the fireworks start." Feeling unsure of how to fill the silence, you found a spot nearby and sat down, hugging your knees to your chest. Despite the awkwardness, you resolved to enjoy what remained of the night. 

Akaza followed, settling next to you with his legs crossed, leaving a respectful distance between you. He removed his cape, laying it aside, and for the first time, you could see him more clearly. The faint starlight illuminated his sharp features, and for a moment, you found yourself captivated. 

"What a night," you began, breaking the silence with a chuckle. "I feel like so much happened, but at the same time, it feels like nothing did. Still, it adds a little charm to our... uh... date, don't you think? Did you have a good time?" 

"...It was good," he replied, his gaze fixed on the stars above. "Did you have a good time?" 

"I did," you answered without hesitation, your voice warm. "I really enjoyed it... Wait." A thought struck you, and you turned to him abruptly. "Where's the fish I gave you?" 

"..." His expression froze, and his lips tightened. 

A smirk went on its way to your lips. "You lost it, didn't you?" 

"I... I genuinely don't know," he admitted, closing his eyes tightly as if the shame of it was too much to bear. 

"Pff—hahaha!!" You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach. "Poor fish! That was supposed to be a present!" 

"I'll go look for it." Akaza moved to stand, determination in his posture, but you quickly grabbed his arm, still giggling. 

"No, no, don't bother! I'm sure someone's already picked it up by now." 

"But—" 

"There's nothing we can do about it," you said, your laughter tapering off into quiet giggles. "Sometimes, we have to let things go. I mean, sure, I liked the fish, but it's just a fish. It's not the end of the world." 

Akaza hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly. "But you gave it to me..." 

"I can always give you other presents." You shrugged casually. "Don't worry about it." 

He fell silent, his gaze lowering to the ground. Seconds ticked by before he finally shifted, drawing in a deep breath. "(Y/N)." 

"Mhm?" You turned to him, curious. 

He averted his gaze, tilting his head so you couldn't see his face. "...I'm sorry for... everything." His voice dropped, almost as if he were afraid the words might hurt to say. He pulled his knees up, resting his arms on them as his face stayed hidden. "I'm sorry for everything I did. It was cruel of me. I disrespected you in so many ways, and neither you nor Koyuki deserved that. I'm sorry if I offended you." 

The silence between you stretched out, broken only by the gentle rustling of the wind. He sat unmoving, his posture tense, his thoughts clearly heavy. The quiet felt suffocating, so you decided to act. With a small, deliberate motion, you lightly punched his arm. The touch wasn't forceful, more of a nudge than anything, but it was enough to make him snap out of his daze. 

He turned his head toward you, his lips slightly parted in surprise. His eyes, filled with confusion and an almost vulnerable curiosity, met your soft smile. That smile—it was so unexpected, so pure—it disarmed him completely. 

"I appreciate your apology," you said gently. The sincerity in your tone cut through the tension like a blade, and he blinked, struggling to process your words. "But honestly? You should let it go. Forget about it. I know you didn't mean to hurt me or anyone else... It wasn't your fault." 

His brows furrowed deeply, his lips pressing into a thin line. He shook his head slightly, as if rejecting your words. "No," he muttered, his voice quiet but firm, "it was my fault. I—" 

"Don't," you interrupted, your voice resolute as you raised a hand to stop him. "Don't do that to yourself. You don't have to carry that guilt forever. You're more than what happened in the past." 

He opened his mouth again to protest, but before he could, you took a deep breath and spoke once more. "If anyone should apologize, it's me," you said, your eyes softening further. "I'm sorry for yelling at you before. For the way I acted... I might've been harsh. I probably said things that hurt you." 

His frown deepened, his hands curling slightly into fists as he looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

How could you apologize to him?

After everything he'd done?

The thought made his chest tighten. 

"You didn't deserve that," you continued, your voice quieter now but no less sincere. "You were trying to sort through your own pain, and I didn't make it easier for you. So, I'm sorry." 

Akaza's eyes darted back to you, his expression conflicted. Despite his usual stoicism, a flicker of vulnerability crossed his face. He wanted to argue, to tell you that you had every right to be upset with him, but the words got stuck in his throat. 

"And you know what else?" you added, a small, hopeful smile returning to your lips. "I'm glad you remember everything. Your past, your memories, even the things that hurt. It means you haven't lost yourself completely, and I think that's something to be proud of." 

He stared at you, his eyes widening slightly, your words sinking in.

Pride? In remembering the pain?

It was such a foreign concept to him. For so long, his past had been a source of torment, a shadow he couldn't escape. Yet here you were, telling him that remembering was a strength, not a weakness. 

"Proud of me?" he murmured, almost as if testing the words on his tongue. 

You nodded. "Yeah. It takes strength to hold onto those memories, Akaza. To face them instead of running away. That's something not everyone can do. So, yeah, I'm proud of you." 

His shoulders, which had been tense and rigid, seemed to loosen ever so slightly. He felt... lighter. He didn't know how to respond, so he simply looked at you.

The silence returned, but this time, it wasn't suffocating.

Akaza shifted uncomfortably where he sat, his unease quietly growing. The way you extended your kindness, your patience,

it was almost too much.

He couldn't help but feel it stemmed from something deeper. You knew everything about him. Not just the surface-level details, but his past, his memories, his failures—things even he struggled to accept. Yet, when it came to you, he realized with a pang of guilt that he hardly knew anything. 

This imbalance gnawed at him. He wanted to know you—your thoughts, your dreams, your struggles—just as intimately as you seemed to know him. His brows furrowed as he glanced at you, still sitting a short distance away, your posture relaxed and your expression soft under the starlight. 

He cleared his throat softly, drawing your attention. "(Y/N),"

"Hm?" You turned to him, curious. 

"Tell me about yourself." His words were direct, yet his tone held a rare hint of shyness. "I want to know... more about you." 

Your lips parted in surprise, then curled into a warm smile. A soft laugh escaped you, and you tilted your head playfully. "Really? Now you're curious about me?" 

He nodded. "You know so much about me. It doesn't feel right that I don't know much about you." 

Touched by his sincerity, you relented. "Alright," you said, grinning. "But it's a two-way street. You have to answer my questions too." 

Akaza inclined his head slightly, agreeing to your condition. "Fine. You first, though." 

You chuckled again, leaning back slightly to think. "Okay, shoot. What do you want to know?" 

"What's your biggest fear?" He didn't hesitate.

The question took you off guard, and you blinked at him, momentarily stunned. Then, a laugh bubbled up from your chest. "That's a deep one to start with!" you teased, shaking your head. 

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he said, but you waved a hand dismissively. 

"No, it's fine. I just wasn't expecting that question." You paused, considering your answer. "My biggest fear..." You bit your lip before continuing. "...is being alone. Like, really alone." 

Akaza hummed in thought. "Alone?" he repeated. It wasn't the answer he had anticipated from someone like you but now that he thought about it, based on your previous conversations before, it does kind of suited you.

"Yeah," you said, your gaze drifting toward the stars. "I guess I've always been scared of losing the people I care about, of not having anyone to turn to. It's... lonely, you know?" 

He didn't respond immediately. There was a solemnity in his expression, as if he understood your fear in ways words couldn't express. 

"Your turn," you said suddenly, breaking the silence. You turned back to him. "What's your biggest fear?" 

Akaza seemed caught off guard by the question, his brows knitting together as he thought. "My biggest fear..." he repeated, his voice trailing off. He stared into the distance. "...Dying, I think?" 

His answer sounded more like a question than a statement, and you couldn't help but laugh. "You're not sure?" 

He shrugged. "It's... complicated," he admitted. "I've died before, technically. So it's not the act itself, but... maybe what comes after?" 

Your laughter softened into a warm chuckle, and you shook your head in amusement. "That's such a you answer," you teased. 

He raised a brow. "What does that mean?" 

"It just means it suits you," you replied with a grin. "Complicated and mysterious, as always." 

Time passed quickly as you and Akaza continued chatting, the rhythm of your conversation natural and unhurried. Questions flowed back and forth, some lighthearted, others surprisingly deep, each one peeling back another layer of understanding. 

Eventually, you leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. "Alright, your turn. What's your love language?"

Akaza blinked.  "Love language? What's that supposed to mean?" 

You couldn't help but chuckle at his unfamiliarity. "It's the way people express love! There are five types: acts of service, words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch, and giving gifts. Everyone has their own way of showing love. Which one do you think suits you?" 

He furrowed his brows, his gaze distant as he considered your explanation. "...I'm not sure," he admitted after a moment. 

Your eyes widened in mock disbelief. "What do you mean you don't know?!" you exclaimed dramatically. "Come on, don't leave me hanging! For me, it's definitely quality time and words of affirmation. Those are my love languages. What about you?" 

He watched your enthusiasm with a soft, almost unnoticeable smile (one that could only be noticed if you squinted your eyes hard enough). "...If I had to choose, maybe acts of service?" 

Your expression brightened as you nodded. "That's adorable! I can totally see that fitting you. You've got this protective, dependable vibe about you." 

He raised an eyebrow at your comment but said nothing, gesturing for you to continue. "Your turn," you prompted, grinning. "Ask me something!" 

He hesitated, clearly putting thought into his next question. "Since we're talking about love... what does love mean to you?" 

You blinked, taken aback by the depth of his question. Straightening, you tapped your chin thoughtfully. "Love?" you repeated softly, mulling it over. "I guess... it's everything?" 

"Everything?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. 

You nodded, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. I think love is the reason we're here. It's what connects us to other people, to the world around us. It's powerful, messy, beautiful... I just think it's what makes life worth living. I know it sounds cheesy, but I love love. It's a wonderful thing." 

He fell silent, your words sinking in as he mulled them over. His expression softened, and he finally spoke, his tone quieter. "I'm not sure what love means to me," he admitted, his voice thoughtful. "But... I really liked your answer. You make it sound... lovely." 

Your eyes lit up, a delighted laugh escaping you. "It's adorable hearing you say the word lovely! You're really getting the hang of this love talk, huh?" 

"I don't see what's so adorable about that." 

Still grinning, you leaned over and flicked his forehead lightly, earning a soft grunt of protest. "Then stay naive, Mr. Lovely." 

He rolled his eyes. "You're strange." 

Your laughter lingered as you leaned back, crossing your arms. "You should ask a spicy question next. You know, shake things up!" 

He shot you a skeptical look. "Spicy? What does that even mean?" 

"You know, something bold! Risky! Want me to go first?" you teased, already plotting your next move. 

"Fine," he relented, resting his chin on his hand. "Let's see what you've got." 

"Alright... Are you a virgin?" 

...

...

...

"...!" The question hit him like a thunderbolt. His eyes widened, his body stiffening in shock. "WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?!

"It's just a question!" You shrugged nonchalantly.

"I-I—HOW CAN YOU NOT BE ASHAMED OF SUCH LUSTFUL QUESTION?!"

"Just answer!" 

"N-No!"

"Answer me!"

...

His gaze flickered away for a moment before he muttered, "...Y-Yeah..." 

Your jaw dropped in exaggerated shock. "WHAT?! I don't believe you! Didn't you at least do it once with Koyuki?!" 

"HUH?!" His cheeks flushed a deeper shade as he recoiled, his voice defensive. "What?! No! I never—I mean, uh, Hakuji never did that with her! Why would you even think that?!" 

You leaned back, arms crossed, giving him a playful smirk. "That's wild. Hakuji's a total gentleman, then! Respect." 

He groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment. "Why do I even put up with you..." he muttered. A beat passed before he peeked at you, his voice quieter. "And... what about you?" His question carried an uncharacteristic timidity. 

"Me? A virgin?" He nodded. You tilted your head, drawing out the moment before flexing your arms dramatically. "Of course! I've never lost my virginity! Why?! Because I never lose!" 

Akaza stared at you, utterly dumbfounded.  "Why the hell do you sound so proud of that?" 

You laughed. "Because I am! I'm undefeated!" 

"You look dumb," he said casually, his voice carrying that infuriatingly smug tone he always seemed to use. "All proud of yourself just because you're a virgin...?"

Your jaw dropped as your brows furrowed. "Excuse me?" you snapped, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "What is wrong with that? You're a virgin too."

"Yeah but It's not like I'm proudly announcing it." Akaza chuckled, his laugh almost condescending. He leaned forward slightly. "What? It's funny. You're acting like it's some kind of badge of honor or something."

You scowled at him, refusing to rise to his bait. "Back off," Still, you took a deep breath and decided to change the topic before he could rile you up further. "Alright, fine. If you're done being obnoxious, why don't you ask me a question?"

"A question, huh?" He tilted his head slightly, his fingers idly drumming against his thigh as he thought. "...Alright. What usually makes your heart flutter?"

The unexpected sincerity of the question caught you completely off guard. Your brows shot up, and for a moment, you just stared at him. Then, a soft laugh escaped your lips. "Aww, that's actually kind of adorable," you said, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

Instantly, his expression hardened. His eyebrows knit together, and a faint flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. "Don't,"

"Aww, are you embarrassed by your own question?" you protested, though you couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled up. "Don't! It's just... I didn't expect you to ask something like that."

"Well, I did. So answer it," he said, leaning back again as if to mask his discomfort.

You hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against your chin. "Hmm... honestly? Almost anything can make my heart flutter," you admitted, your cheeks heating up slightly. "I'm just really shy about that kind of stuff."

"Anything?" Then he snickered softly, the sound sending a wave of irritation through you.

"W-Why are you making fun of me?" you demanded, your voice rising slightly in pitch. "Motherfucker It's not my fault I get embarrassed easily!"

"...Weak," he muttered under his breath, though his hand rose to cover his mouth as he tried to stifle his amusement.

Your eyes narrowed at him—the audacity of his comment! "Alright," you said, your tone laced with defiance. "Are you saying there's nothing that makes your heart flutter?"

"No," he replied with a shrug, his expression annoyingly nonchalant.

"Not even once?" you pressed, leaning closer to him.

"Not really,"

You tilted your head, studying him carefully. He was so confident, so sure of himself—it was starting to irritate you. A sly grin spread across your face as an idea formed in your mind. "Well," you began, your voice soft and sweet.

You leaned in even closer, your gaze locking with his as your tone turned playful and dreamy. "Picture this: someone gets close to you—really close. Their touch is light but deliberate, their words soft yet... enticing." As you spoke, your hand reached out, brushing against his pink hair. You played with a strand between your fingers. "And then..."

Akaza's eyes widened slightly as you moved closer still, your breath warm against his skin. Before he could react, "BANG!" your hands cupped his cheeks. You tilted his face upward, forcing his gaze to meet yours. A teasing smile played on your lips. "Say now," you murmured, your voice dropping to a near whisper, "isn't your heart fluttering even a little?"

"..." For a moment, there was silence. Akaza's golden eyes flicked away from yours, his expression unreadable. "I don't think my heart fluttered at all," he said flatly, though the faintest hint of color dusted his cheeks. He turned his face slightly to the side, but he didn't make any effort to pull away from your grasp.

"Tch—liar," you scoffed. "And if I do this?" You released his cheeks, letting your fingers trail down to his chin. With a gentle but insistent touch, you tilted his head so he was looking directly at you once more.

"..."His lips pressed into a pout, his brows furrowing in what could only be described as a bothered expression.

"Ugh," you groaned, rolling your eyes. "Someone is trying way too hard to pretend this isn't getting to him."

"And someone," he shot back smoothly, suddenly grabbing your hand that was on his chin, "is pushing her luck."

"You yap too much," you teased, forcing a lighthearted laugh as you tried to pull your hand free from his grasp. It was more an attempt to diffuse the tension than an actual joke, but his grip didn't budge.

"I talk too much?" Akaza repeated, stressing the word "I" with a raised brow. His hold wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it was firm—so firm, in fact, that all your struggling amounted to nothing. His strength was intimidating, even if he wasn't trying. 

"Okay, okay!" you blurted, thrashing your arm around in a desperate bid for freedom. "I'm sorry for messing with you! I got too silly! Now let go!" You planted your feet and used your free hand to pry at his fingers, but it was futile. Despite your best efforts, his grip remained unyielding.

Akaza watched your struggles with mild amusement. "..." He let out a quiet sigh, as though deciding you'd had enough. With no warning, he released you, and the momentum of your efforts sent you tumbling backward onto the ground.

"Pff—!" His hand shot up to cover his mouth, but the stifled laugh slipped through anyway, making his shoulders shake with suppressed mirth.

You shot him a glare as you pushed yourself upright, crossing your arms over your knees. "Finally. Don't grab me like that again, or I swear, I'll punch you."

"Oh?" he teased, leaning slightly closer. "How exactly are you planning to punch me if I'm holding your hand?"

"Ugh—then I'll kick you!" you snapped, rolling your eyes as you folded your arms tighter.

Akaza chuckled softly. "Sure, sure..." He leaned back, his expression softening as he glanced at the sky for a moment. "Are we still doing the questions, or are you too 'silly' for that now?"

You huffed, trying to shake off your lingering embarrassment. "Yeah, yeah, we're still doing it. It's fun." You tilted your head thoughtfully. "Wait... was it my turn or yours? I don't remember."

"It's mine," he lied smoothly. In truth, it was your turn, but there was something he'd been meaning to ask, and he didn't want to miss the opportunity.

"Fine, go ahead," you said, shifting to face him fully.

...

He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for a brief moment. "...How was Hakuji, exactly?" he asked softly, almost timidly.

You blinked in surprise. "Hakuji? You're Hakuji. Shouldn't you know?"

"I—well, yes, but..." He fumbled for the right words, his gaze dropping as he toyed with the hem of his fingers. "I remember being him. I remember everything. But it feels... strange."

"Strange how?"

Akaza let out a frustrated sigh, his brows furrowing as he tried to articulate his thoughts. "I know I was Hakuji, and I know he's me. But it doesn't feel that way. It's like we're two different people in the same body. When I remembered his memories, it didn't feel like I was reliving my own past. It felt like I was watching someone else's life. His life." He paused, looking at you with an expression that was almost pleading. "Do you understand? That's why I want to know. I want to hear what he was like—from you."

You nodded slowly. "Ah, I get it now," you murmured. "You're trying to reconcile who you are with who you were. That's... complicated." He's having an existential crisis.

Great.

He didn't respond, his eyes fixed on you, waiting for an answer.

You needed to give him a good explanation, to help him ease his worries rather than light him up with more questions. What could you say though? You loved Hakuji a lot! When you were reading the manga, it was because of Akaza's backstory that he became your favorite character (almost like all the majority of his fans if you were honest). He was such a well-written character but to you, him and Akaza were the same? You didn't understand why now this Akaza was thinking this way.

You let out a small sigh, carefully considering your words. "Well... Hakuji was incredibly stubborn. Very stubborn. He had this unshakable determination, and he was fiercely loyal to the people he cared about. He loved Koyuki and Keizo so much, and he was kindhearted despite everything life threw at him. If you ask me, Hakuji was amazing and admirable, despite everything that happened. Thoughtful, noble, and pure in a way that's rare to see."

You glanced at Akaza, hoping your explanation had been good enough to put his mind at ease. To your surprise—and dismay—his expression darkened ever so slightly. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his brows furrowed just enough to betray his inner turmoil. He wasn't openly glaring or anything, but his silence felt heavier than usual, and it was clear something was bothering him.

Oh no. Crap. Did you mess up?

Just as you were about to panic and start apologizing, his voice cut through the silence, soft and laced with an unfamiliar edge. "...You like Hakuji that much?" he murmured, his head bowed. His tone was almost introspective, as if he wasn't sure whether he was asking you or himself.

"Eh?" You tilted your head, blinking in confusion.

Before you could say more, Akaza raised his head to meet your gaze. His golden eyes were tinged with something you couldn't quite place—vulnerability? Frustration? Jealousy...? His lips were slightly pouty, and his brows knit together as he repeated, this time more firmly, "...Who do you like more—me or Hakuji?"

...What? 

"...What kind of question is that?" you deadpanned, staring at him in disbelief. Was he serious? "You and Hakuji are the same person."

"Not to me," Akaza shot back quickly, folding his arms over his chest and leaning forward slightly. "And maybe... neither should you."

"Huh?" You raised an eyebrow, your confusion growing.

He exhaled sharply, almost like he was frustrated you weren't catching on. "Based on what you said, Hakuji's gentle and noble. But me?" He gestured toward himself. "Apparently I'm harsh and cruel."

You blinked before bursting into laughter. "Pfft—what? I didn't say that!"

"Didn't have to," he muttered, looking to the side as though trying to downplay his own words. "It's obvious. Whenever Hakuji comes up, you get this... different look on your face. It's like you're happier, more positive about him." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "...You don't do that when it's about me."

"Where the hell did you get that idea from?!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up.

Akaza turned away with a grumble, refusing to meet your eyes. "So... what's your answer?" he pressed, his voice tinged with a stubborn insistence.

"Wait, don't tell me..." An idea began to form in your mind, and a mischievous smirk crept onto your face. Slowly, you leaned closer, tilting your head teasingly. "...Akaza~ are you jealous?" 

His jaw visibly clenched, but he still refused to look at you, his gaze fixed somewhere off to the side. 

You snickered softly before reaching out and booping his cheek with your fingertip. Once, twice—three times, until he twitched slightly in annoyance. Still, he didn't turn to face you. 

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me you actually are! That's so funny!" you laughed, deciding to up the ante. Without hesitation, you cupped his cheeks with both hands, gently squishing them as you tilted his head to face you. "Don't ignore me! Look at me!" 

His golden eyes darted anywhere but at you, his cheeks puffed out slightly from your hold. His brows furrowed, but the way his lips were pressed together, along with his slightly reddened ears, made him look less like the menacing Upper Moon demon and more like a sulky child caught in the act. 

You couldn't help it—you laughed. "Oh my god, Akaza, you look like a grumpy kid! Are you pouting?" 

"No," he grumbled, his voice muffled slightly by your hands squishing his cheeks. 

"Yes, you are," you teased, leaning in closer to examine his expression. "Look at you! You won't even meet my eyes. So childish." 

"I'm not childish," he muttered, still avoiding your gaze. 

"Oh really?" You leaned closer, practically nose-to-nose with him now. "Then why won't you look at me, huh? Afraid I'll see how jealous you are?" 

"I'm not jealous," he retorted, though his voice lacked its usual bite. 

"Liar," you sang, squishing his cheeks even more, forcing his lips into a silly pout. "Look at you! You're all red and sulky. Admit it—you're jealous of Hakuji!" 

His eyes finally flicked to yours, and for a moment, you swore you saw a flicker of embarrassment flash across them. "I said I'm not jealous," he repeated, though his voice wavered ever so slightly. 

"Uh-huh, sure," you teased, letting go of his cheeks but not backing away. "You're totally not acting like a big jealous baby right now." 

"...I don't know where you got that idea from,"

"You are," you teased, grinning. "You're totally jealous because I said all those nice things about Hakuji. What an idiot you are."

"Tch—If someone annoys you, you'd think they're an idiot no matter what they do," he muttered under his breath.

"True." You nodded with arms crossed. "But idiots who get jealous and sulk? They're kind of cute too."

Akaza let out a long, exasperated sigh, his tone tinged with irritation. "...Forget it," he muttered, clearly done with the entire conversation. 

You leaned back slightly, finally giving him some space. "Oh, don't feel shy," you said with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Hakuji's great and all, but I obviously prefer you." 

"Didn't ask," he replied curtly, his eyes narrowing as he turned away. 

"Erm, actually," you countered, raising a finger in mock correction, "you technically did ask a few sentences ago. Dumbass." 

He shot you a withering look but didn't dignify your comment with a response. 

"Whatever," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "I don't even know why I still talk to you." 

"That sounds like a you problem," you retorted with a laugh, clearly enjoying his annoyed expression. 

Akaza responded with a massive side-eye that could have made anyone else quake in their boots. You, however, found it hilarious. 

"So," you continued, deciding to push your luck, "what's your favorite hobby?" 

"I think I've had enough of these questions," he replied flatly, clearly hoping to end the conversation. 

"Oh, come on," you whined, leaning forward again, clasping your hands together as if begging. "Let's just do this one last question, and then we'll stop. Promise!" 

He stared at you, his golden eyes narrowing in skepticism. It was impressive how he always managed to resist almost everything else but somehow couldn't say no to you for long. Finally, he let out another sigh, this one less annoyed and more resigned. "...Fine. But this is the last one. I think I know enough about you anyway." 

"Same," you quipped with a smirk. 

He rolled his eyes, ignoring your cheeky response. "My favorite hobby..." He paused for a moment, as if genuinely thinking it over, before giving his answer. "Martial arts." 

You grinned knowingly. "Figured that would be the answer." 

"Alright, since I answered your question, what about you?" he asked, his voice holding a faint curiosity. "What's your favorite hobby?" 

The question brought a spark to your eyes, lighting up your face with uncontainable excitement. "Martial arts!" you said immediately, your voice brimming with enthusiasm. 

"You? Martial arts?" Akaza blinked. "I knew you practiced some of it but I didn't know it was your hobby."

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest in mock offense. "Excuse me?! Yes, martial arts! It's been my passion for as long as I can remember!" Without waiting for his response, you jumped to your feet, gesturing toward the open space around you. "Let me show you!" 

He rested his chin on his hand, watching you with curiosity. "This should be good," he muttered, leaning forward just enough to take in your every move. 

You rolled your shoulders and took a deep breath, slipping into a stance that felt as natural to you as breathing. The night air cooled your skin, and the stars above seemed to brighten, as if they were rooting for you. With focused determination, you began to move through a series of martial arts techniques. Each punch, kick, and block was deliberate, your motions fluid and precise. "Look at this! And this one too!"

Akaza's teasing demeanor began to fade the longer he watched. He couldn't deny the passion in your movements—the way your eyes gleamed with pride, the way your entire body seemed alive with purpose. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing.

You were completely immersed in what you were doing, and it was...

breathtaking. 

When you finished, slightly out of breath but grinning ear to ear, you turned to him expectantly. "Well?" you asked, wiping the sweat from your brow. 

For a moment, he didn't respond. His golden eyes locked on you. Then, finally, he crossed his arms and leaned back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Not bad," he admitted. "For a human." 

You gawked at him, hands flying to your hips. "Not bad?!" you repeated, scandalized. "Are you kidding me? That was amazing!" 

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your reaction. "It was... decent," he said, dragging out the word to tease you. "But those moves? They're nothing." 

You gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Nothing?!" 

He shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Compared to me? Yeah, nothing." 

"Oh, really?" you said, narrowing your eyes. A mischievous grin spread across your face as you crouched slightly. "What about this?!" Without warning, you launched yourself toward him, aiming a high kick at his shoulder. But Akaza barely moved—he sidestepped effortlessly, his smirk widening as your foot missed him entirely. 

He shook his head, chuckling. "You'll have to do better than that." 

"Wipe that smirk off your face!" you declared, dropping into a ready stance. 

What began as playful sparring quickly turned into something more meaningful. You threw punches and kicks with all your might, knowing full well you couldn't overpower him. Akaza moved with the kind of effortless grace that only someone of his strength and skill could possess, evading your attacks with ease. 

Yet, instead of feeling frustrated, you found yourself laughing, your joy infectious. Each time he dodged, each time you missed, only fueled your determination. 

It was fun. It was fun doing this with someone who shared the same passion as yours.

For Akaza though, the fight became something else entirely. He was mesmerized—not just by your techniques but by you. The way you moved, the way you refused to give up, the way your laughter echoed under the vast canopy of stars—it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. 

"You're persistent," he said, dodging another kick with a soft chuckle. 

"And you're infuriating!" you shot back, grinning as you adjusted your stance. 

He didn't reply, his gaze softening as he watched you. It wasn't just your skill or your determination that captivated him—it was the passion in your eyes, the unshakable confidence in every movement. You were radiant, alive in a way that he found both bewildering and awe-inspiring. 

You kind of reminded him of his past self.

Finally, as you aimed another punch, he caught your wrist mid-air. The two of you froze. Your breath hitched as your eyes locked, the night suddenly feeling heavier. 

"You're incredible," he murmured, almost to himself. 

The unexpected sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. "T-Thanks," you said, trying to play it off with a small laugh. 

His thumb brushed against your wrist before he let you go. "But you're still not a match for me." 

"Oh, we'll see about that!" you teased, lunging toward him again. 

You lunged at Akaza, your fists flying with determination, aiming for his face. Yet, as expected, he sidestepped effortlessly, his speed and reflexes far beyond your human capabilities. What he didn't anticipate, however, was your clever feint. While he was busy avoiding your punch, your leg swung out in a swift arc, catching him square in the ribs. The force of your kick sent him crashing to the ground with a grunt.

"Yayy!! I win!!" you cheered, throwing your arms up triumphantly before collapsing onto the ground yourself, laughing breathlessly. "Take that!"

Akaza sat up slowly, his composure shaken, though not from pain. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at you, disbelief written all over his face. He absently brushed the dirt from his pants, his hand briefly grazing the spot where your kick had landed. The blow hadn't injured him, of course—his body was far too resilient for that—but the fact that you had managed to catch him off guard was something he hadn't anticipated.

"You..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. He wasn't angry, far from it, but he was stunned. How had you, a mere human, managed to outmaneuver him? It wasn't just the blow that lingered in his mind—it was the cleverness, the audacity, the fire in your eyes that made him pause.

A human, managing to best him in any way.

"That... shouldn't have happened,"

"Oh, it happened. Admit it—I totally got you!"

"You got lucky,"

"Mmmm, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

Meanwhile, you were sprawled on the ground, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Sweat clung to your brow, and your cheeks were flushed from the effort. Despite your disheveled state, or perhaps because of it, you looked radiant. Your smile was infectious, and for a moment, Akaza forgot why he was even surprised in the first place.

Just as he opened his mouth, intending to say something—perhaps a quip about your audacity or begrudging praise for your cleverness—a loud 'boom' cut through the night.

...!

Both of you instinctively looked up toward the sky. The first firework burst overhead, painting the darkness in a cascade of vibrant colors. Another followed, this one a brilliant blue, its sparks scattering like stars across the heavens. Your breath hitched, your fatigue momentarily forgotten as you gazed up in wonder. More exploded, illuminating the night in bursts of red, gold, and blue. You tilted your head back, eyes wide with wonder, the spectacle above captivating you completely.

Akaza however,

found himself unable to look away,

not at the fireworks,

but at you.

The soft glow of the fireworks illuminated your features, highlighting every curve of your face, every subtle expression. Your lips were parted slightly in awe as you watched the display. You were completely lost in the moment, and Akaza was utterly lost in you.

"Woahhhh!!!! Akaza, look!!!" Your face, bathed in the multicolored glow, was a picture of pure joy and awe. Your eyes sparkled, reflecting the fireworks like tiny galaxies contained within them. You were so immersed in the sight above that you didn't notice the way his gaze lingered on you, heavy with something he couldn't quite name but had felt growing stronger with each passing moment spent by your side.

In that instant, Akaza's mind was filled with thoughts he couldn't suppress even if he wanted to.

How?

he wondered.

How has no one ever seen this before? How has no one ever looked at you and realized they were staring at the universe herself?

Sometimes, when he looked at you, he couldn't fathom how anyone in your past could have overlooked the radiance that seemed to spill from your very soul. How had no one before him noticed the quiet strength you carried, the spark of defiance in your eyes, the way you fought fiercely for the things you believed in, even when you knew the odds were against you?

Other times, he was glad they hadn't. If they had looked deeper, if they had seen the sun that burned within you, the light that refused to be extinguished, he wouldn't be here now. They would have taken you away, claimed you for themselves, and he would never have had the chance to stand by your side and witness the miracle that was you.

When had this feeling begun? When had his name begun to sound so different when you said it? There was something in the way you murmured "Akaza" that made him feel like it belonged to you, as though his very existence held a new significance simply because you acknowledged it.

For the first time in all his existence, Akaza felt no regret for the choices that had led him to this moment. He would make them all over again—he would turn into a demon a thousand times if it meant he could stand here, next to you, under this sky, watching the light in your eyes.

To him, you were the sun.

A soul so bright, so endlessly burning and so endlessly brilliant that you couldn't help but draw others to you. You weren't just someone who carried light—you were the light. A beacon in the darkness, a flame that would never be snuffed out. And he, a creature of shadow, couldn't help but be drawn to you.

Without realizing it, his hand moved. His fingers brushed against your hair, tucking a stray strand behind your ear. The gentle touch startled you, pulling your attention away from the sky. You turned to look at him, confusion flickering across your face.

"...Akaza?" you murmured, his name like a question.

The sound of his name on your lips sent a shiver through him. And yet, to him, it sounded like the answer to every question he'd never known he needed to ask.

'When did this happen?'

he thought, his mind racing.

'When did I start orbiting around you like a planet around its sun?'

Akaza—no, Hakuji, for in this moment, he felt less like the demon he had become and more like the man he once was—stood close enough that you could feel the faint chill radiating from his skin. His gaze swept over your features as if trying to memorize every detail.

His hand lifted, hesitant at first, but then it found its way to your face. His fingers brushed lightly against your lips, the touch barely there, as though he feared they might shatter beneath his hand. Yet there was no mistaking in his movements, the way his thumb lingered at the corner of your mouth, tracing the delicate hem.

His palm moved to cradle your cheek, his fingers splaying wide to encompass as much of you as he could, as though he needed to ground himself in the reality of your presence. His thumb brushed along the edge of your cheekbone, and then he shifted, his hand gliding down to the line of your jaw. There, he paused, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as they traced the slope of your neck.

It was a touch that spoke longing, a paradox of restraint. You felt your breath hitch, your pulse quickening beneath his fingertips, and still, he didn't stop. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes softening with something you couldn't quite place—something deeper than mere affection,

more consuming than admiration.

For a fleeting moment, his expression clouded, and you caught a glimpse of the war waging within him.

He had loved before, hadn't he? Loved her, Koyuki, with an intensity that had once defined his existence. But now, as he stood here with you, that love seemed distant, like the faint echo of a song he could no longer hear.

Had he ever truly understood what love was back then, or was it now, in this moment, that he was finally learning its meaning?

Before you could say anything, before you could even fully process the emotions written across his face, he leaned in. His lips pressed against your cheek, alluringly fleeting at first, but then he kissed you again, slower this time, as though savoring the softness of your skin. The tip of his nose brushed along your jawline, and he followed it with a trail of kisses. From your jaw to your temple, his lips wandered, touching you over and over and over again.

It tickled.

Did it?

His hands, large and callous, slid down your arms, finding their way to yours. He lifted your hands with a quiet reverence, his eyes meeting yours briefly before he turned his attention to your palms. One by one, he brought them to his lips, pressing soft kisses against each one, his breath ghosting over your skin. He then started changing those delicate kisses by being more fierce, as if he was shortly atrociously sucking your skin. It was an act that felt grounding, as though he sought to both honor and claim you at once.

Then his touch changed. His hands traveled lower. His fingers found your thighs, gripping them lightly, like almost testing the waters. But then his grip crudely tightened, his nails pressing faintly into your flesh, leaving a sharp bruise. He moved closer, his hands sliding to your inner thighs, and his grip became consuming. His nails dug in harder and harder. You weren't sure because you weren't able to look in this angle, but it throbbed so much that you felt he was slicing through your skin with them—a reminder of his presence.

The next kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't careful. His lips crashed against yours with a messy, yearning flaming. His movements were unrefined, almost clumsy, but there was a lecherous to it that made your heart race. "Hmh—" His hands held you in place, one on your jaw and the other still gripping your thigh.

You didn't know what had gotten into you—why you couldn't pull away, why you didn't want to—Your breathing was shallow, your pulse erratic, but something about the moment held you captive, leaving you unable to think clearly.

You wanted to go.

Did you?

Then it began. His lips found the side of your neck. He pressed them against it. The first kiss was soft, almost testing, but it quickly grew more animalistic. His mouth pressed against your skin with a lustful hunger that terrified you. When he started sucking rancorously, then harder, "agh!" a gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it.

The sharp sting of his teeth followed, grazing against your neck, his bite leaving behind faint marks that burned slightly against the cool air. You could feel his teeth biting down the flesh. Blood began coming out. His tongue traced over the spot as though soothing the pang, only to move upward to your earlobe while you felt the blood in your neck still dripping around your body. It stung. He bit your earlobe down voraciously, his teeth tugging in brutishly through you. You could feel his canines moving inside your flesh. The pain left you breathless.

His lips traveled upward, finding your temple, and there he lingered, his kisses rougher now, more unmerciful. You felt the sting of his teeth again, biting into the skin there. It hurt—a sharp, throbbing sore that contrasted starkly with the heat pooling in your chest.

Was he biting you?

Was he sucking you?

Was he eating you?

You huffed, clutching at his back instinctively, your nails digging into his skin as though grounding yourself. Every nerve in your body was alight, the relish too much and yet not enough.

"Gh—ah...!" Your breath came in shallow pants as you clung to him, feeling on edge and strangely weightless.

His hands moved, trailing down your shoulders with slowness before coming to rest at the neckline of your kimono. His fingers were unhurried, as though giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn't move, couldn't move.

It hurts.

Did it really hurt?

With a single motion, he slid the top part of your kimono off your shoulders, exposing the fragile part of your collarbones and the soft rise of your rigid chest. The cool air kissed your skin, giving you goosebumps. Panic surged, and you quickly pulled the fabric back up, your arms crossing over yourself protectively.

"I... I don't want to," you whispered, your voice trembling. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and fear, and you avoided his gaze, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, his hand came up to gently cup your face, tilting it so your eyes met his.

Why.

Why not?

"Show me," he murmured softly. "Show me all the parts of you that you don't love so I know where to begin."

You've never seen him with those eyes.

Have you?

His tone wasn't commanding—it was pleading, earnest. He wasn't asking for your body; he was asking for you. For the pieces of yourself you kept hidden, the flaws you thought were unworthy of love.

Your grip on the fabric loosened slightly, and for a moment, you just stared at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to move. The vulnerability he was asking of you was terrifying, but there was something in his eyes, in the way his hand stayed steady against your cheek, that made you want to trust him.

Stop it.

Don't stop.

His kisses began trailing downward, over your collarbones and to the exposed plane of your breasts. His mouth was insistent, leaving marks behind—hickeys, bruises, and faint indentations of his teeth that tingled in your senses, making you squirm. Each bite grew amoral, more barbarous, until he wasn't just biting but munching, nibbling, consuming—his teeth grazing and pressing into your skin in ways that left your breath caught in your throat.

His tough palms cupped your chest as he bit you around, fondling with your stiffen breasts, pinching your nipples harshly. He toyed with them, using his thumb to feel you, to caress you entirely. He grasped with extremity, using the tip of his tongue to part his lips, wrapping his arms around your waist longingly. He leaned closer, sucking one of your nipples between his lips and laved it with his tongue impatiently. Your breasts felt sore.

He creeped onto your sides, smoothly gliding your waistline, groping it as he licked, you fumbling with your skin. You tried to say something, anything, but the only sounds that came from you were muffled sobs and wails.

The moment his lips found the spot over your heart, everything changed. His movements slowed, as though the location itself carried a weight he couldn't ignore. He pressed his mouth there, right over the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, the sound pounding in his ears like a war drum. And then, with a sharpness that made you gasp, he bit down violently crude.

"GH—!!" You whined in agony. You were in distress. Pain lanced through you as his teeth sank into your flesh. It wasn't a gentle bite but something deeper, something primal. You felt the skin give beneath his teeth, the sharp sting mingling with the heat of his mouth. Your chest heaved, your breath hitching as tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't pull away. You couldn't. Even though the pain was almost too much to bear, some part of you—irrational—didn't want him to stop.

He groused in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as his teeth pressed deeper, his lips warm and slick from the marks he was leaving behind. Your heart pounded beneath him, so close he could almost taste it. The temptation was overwhelming, the sound of your pulse calling to him in a way he couldn't resist. Every beat was a challenge, a plea, a promise of something he craved more than anything.

He was dangerously close to devouring you entirely, to giving in to the hunger that clawed at his insides. He could feel your life thrumming beneath his mouth. Your existence was in his hands, completely and utterly at his mercy.

Then he noticed your tears, the way they streaked silently down your cheeks, glistening in the dim light. His movements stilled for a moment, and he pulled back slightly, his hand reaching up to gently brush the tears away with his thumb. His touch was in stark contrast to the violence of his actions moments before—soft, almost tender, as though apologizing without words.

The need inside him was insatiable, a fire that burned hotter with every passing second. He didn't just want you—he needed you. Needed to claim you, to have you in a way no one else ever could. He wanted to consume you, to make you a part of him forever. 

The desire to bite down again, to pierce agonizingly, was overwhelming. He needed to feel the resistance of your flesh against his teeth, the rush of your blood as it spilled over his lips. The thought was intoxicating, a hunger that wasn't just physical but emotional, spiritual. He wanted all of you—your body, your soul, your very essence. 

His lips returned to your chest against the marks he had already left. The temptation to rip you apart, to consume you piece by piece, lingered in his mind.

You were his,

(Were you his?)

in a way no one else ever could be, and the act of taking you—truly taking you—felt like an affirmation of that. 

He pressed his forehead against your now raw wounded chest, listening to the frantic beating of your heart.

You were bleeding.

Your chest rose and fell in harsh breaths, your body trembling as the pain of his marks settled into your skin. Bruises were blooming across your arms, shoulders, abdomen and chest, the faint sting of bites and the heat of scratches reminding you of he had claimed you. Blood trickled faintly from some spots, painting streaks of red down your dark/pale skin.

Akaza lifted his head, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, the world stilled. His gaze roamed over your form, taking in the bruises, the wounds, the blood he'd drawn from you. His chest rose and fell with his own ragged breathing, his lips still slightly parted. The sight of him—his face splattered with your blood—sent a chill through you.

"I..." he started gravelly. There was a flicker of something in his expression—remorse, perhaps, or uncertainty. "...I'm sorry if I was too rough with you."

The apology caught you off guard. You hadn't expected it, not after everything that had just transpired. Your lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, your mind focused on the sight before you: his mouth stained with your blood, the crimson glistening against his skin. There was something vile about the way he looked, something deeply unsettling yet impossible to look away from.

He looked like a demon.

A real demon.

All those times you were with him, he acted human. You knew he was a demon, of course, but he never acted liked one in front of you.

You didn't know if it was the blood on his face, the marks he'd left on your body, or the way his presence felt so overpowering, but in that moment, he embodied everything terrifying and fascinating about the creatures of the night.

Akaza seemed to sense the shift in your gaze, his lips curving into a faint, unreadable smile. He reached up, his hand steady as he wiped your blood from his mouth with his fingers. Then, to your shock, he brought his fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked them clean, tasting your blood.

He didn't break eye contact,  watching your every reaction, as though committing them to memory.

He leaned closer, his hand sliding down to your thighs, his fingertips holding into your inner thigh shamelessly. The heat of his touch burned through you. He lowered himself, his face hovering mere inches from your lower part. He parted your thighs further away and just as he opened his mouth while showing his fangs...

The air snapped with tension the moment the voice tore through the silence.

"AKAZAAAAAA~!" 

Akaza froze, his head snapping up.

No...

It couldn't be!

You froze as well, your heart leaping into your throat.

Akaza's pressure dropped drastically, the oppressive energy that had been suffocating you moments before now muted. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides as he stared into the distance. Recognition flashed in his eyes, but there was something else there, too—denial. He shook his head slightly, as though trying to convince himself that what he was hearing couldn't possibly be real. 

"..."

"..."

"I think it was our imagination—"

"WHERE ARE YOU?! I KNOW YOU'RE HERE! AKAZAAA!!" 

The voice called out again, louder this time. It was unmistakable now.

Your pulse quickened as the realization hit you. The voice wasn't just anyone's.

It was Douma's. 

"AKAZA! POOKIE! I'M HERE!"

The sing-song quality of the voice made your skin crawl. You didn't even need to see him to picture the mocking smirk that would undoubtedly accompany those words. Akaza's shoulders stiffened further, and for a brief moment, you could almost feel the war raging inside him—disbelief, frustration, and, above all, a refusal to acknowledge what was happening. 

Panic surged in your chest, but not for the reasons you might have expected. You suddenly became hyperaware of your position—your body pinned beneath Akaza's, your kimono disheveled, the marks and bruises he had left visible on your exposed skin. Your cheeks burned with shame as the reality of how vulnerable you looked sank in. And then the panic truly set in:

you were almost naked!

"KYAAAAAA!!!" Without thinking, a scream tore from your throat as you shoved against Akaza's chest with all the strength you could muster. "GET THE FUCK AWAY!"

Your fists connected with his chest as you struggled to push him away, and though he barely budged, he finally relented, shifting back just enough to give you room. You scrambled to sit up, clutching your kimono in a desperate attempt to cover yourself. Your hands shook as you tried to pull the fabric back into place, but the pain in your mutilated body made it almost impossible.

Akaza watched you, his gaze softened as he noticed your struggle. Without a word, he reached out, his hands steady as they carefully took hold of your kimono. 

"Let me," he murmured.

You hesitated, your pride warring with your need for help. But your trembling hands betrayed you, and you reluctantly nodded, allowing him to assist. 

Akaza moved with surprising gentleness, his fingers deftly adjusting the fabric and tying the sash securely around your waist. He avoided your gaze as he worked, his movements efficient yet careful, as though he were afraid of hurting you further. 

You watched him, still shaken, but his calm demeanor somehow steadied you. When he finished, he stepped back slightly. There was something unspoken in his gaze—a flicker of apology, or regret?

Or maybe none above.

Before either of you could say anything, Douma's voice rang out again, closer this time.

The tension thickened in the air as the voice came closer, the sound of Douma's sing-song call grating on every nerve. And then, just as the weight of his presence became undeniable, he appeared.

"Woah, Akaza!" Douma exclaimed, his multicolored eyes widening in surprise. His grin was wide and disarming. "I knew you were here! I could sense your presence from miles away, and—" His words faltered when his gaze landed on you. For a split second, his expression shifted, genuine shock flickering across his face. "AH! IS THAT (Y/N)?! OH MY DAYS! HI!" 

Douma waved enthusiastically, as if this were some casual meeting between friends rather than the disturbing scene it was. His eyes scanned you, taking in the bruises, the cuts, the bloodstains, and your disheveled state.

"Woahhh... What happened here?" he asked, his tone teetering amusement. "Were you attacked or—" His gaze flicked to Akaza, who stood rigid beside you. Douma's grin returned, sharper this time. "Oh! Did Akaza do this? How unexpected! I thought you didn't even touched women!" 

"Shut up, Douma," He snapped. The implication hung heavy in the air, and you felt Akaza tense beside you. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened as irritation rolled off him in waves. 

Douma blinked, taken aback by the sharpness in Akaza's tone, but the grin never left his face. If anything, the tension only seemed to amuse him more. He tilted his head, a faux-innocent expression crossing his features. 

"What? I was just asking for my dear friend (Y/N)! I'm worried, can't you see?" Douma said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I mean, look at her. She's practically... a corpse!" He turned his gaze back to you, his eyes glittering with curiosity. "Seriously, what happened? You don't even look like you can stand right now." 

You didn't respond, not because you didn't want to, but because the pain was too overwhelming to process anything else. Your blood was passing through your kimono. Your focus remained inward, your mind too preoccupied with the throbbing agony to acknowledge Douma's presence fully. 

Douma, of course, didn't seem to notice—or care—that you were too pained to respond. His attention flitted back to Akaza, who was now glaring at him with a look that could kill. 

"Come on, Akaza," He continued, undeterred by the hostility. "If you were the one who did this, you could've at least cleaned up a little better. She looks half-dead!" 

"I said, shut the fuck up," Akaza growled, stepping forward, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

His eyes narrowed as he prepared to face Douma, but just as he took a step forward, you weakly grabbed his arm, your fingers trembling as they latched onto him. 

"Take... me home..." you managed to say between labored breaths, your voice hoarse and strained. Your body swayed, barely able to keep upright. "I don't wanna be here anymore." 

Your condition was dire—clear you were in no state to remain on the treacherous mountain. 

Akaza's expression softened the instant your words reached him. The rage he'd felt moments ago melted into concern as he turned to look at you. "Alright," he said firmly, no hesitation in his voice. "We're leaving." 

Douma blinked, taken aback. "Wait, what?! Are you guys going? I just got here—"

But Akaza didn't even spare him a glance. In one swift motion, he scooped you into his arms with practiced ease, holding you securely against his chest. The wind howled around the two of you as Akaza moved, his speed too fast for Doma to keep up. 

Before Douma could protest further, the two of you vanished, leaving him standing alone in the mountain. He sighed, his shoulders slumping dramatically. "Aw, shucks. That's no fun," he muttered while pouting.

——————————————————————————————

Akaza carried you swiftly through the forest, the wind rushing past as he navigated the trees with ease, ensuring you were secure as he made his way to the Butterfly Mansion.

Before long, the familiar structure of the mansion came into view. Akaza landed silently on your room, his steps careful not to disturb the serenity of the night. Without a word, he guided you close to your bed where you could regain some semblance of composure. 

"You need to change," he finally said. His eyes flicked to your kimono, stained with dried blood, before looking away. 

Nodding weakly, you moved inside, feeling the weight of his gaze on your back. You slipped into a clean set of clothes—your usual attire from the mansion—and folded his blood-drenched kimono neatly, though its condition was far from salvageable. 

When you returned to him, he was still standing where you'd left him, arms crossed. The air between you was heavy with silence, neither of you daring to speak. You held out the ruined kimono, your hands trembling slightly, unsure if it was from exhaustion or the tension in the air. 

"Here," you said softly, avoiding his gaze. 

He took it from you without a word, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. Then, as if the contact burned him, he stepped back, turning toward the window. 

"...Sorry,"

You watched as he moved to leave, his figure blending into the shadows. But before he could disappear entirely, a sudden urge gripped you. 

"Wait," you called out, your voice stopping him in his tracks. He turned his head slightly, just enough to let you know he was listening. 

You hesitated, the question burning on your tongue. Finally, you found the courage to ask, your words tumbling out in a rush. "...Akaza... Why did you kiss me? Did it... Did it mean nothing to you?" 

For a moment, he didn't respond. The silence stretched unbearably, and you began to wonder if he would leave without answering. Then, slowly, he turned to face you fully, his expression unreadable in the dim light. 

"That's... not something I can explain,"

Without another word, Akaza disappeared into the night once again. You resolved to go to Shinobu or Aoi after this. You needed to make up some excuse about why you needed urgent treatment. You sighed.

What the fuck happened tonight?

...

...

...

"... Why did you kiss me? Did it... Did it mean nothing to you?" 

Akaza wanted to answer your questions, to give voice to the storm that churned within him. He wanted to say something simple, something clean—something that would satisfy you. Perhaps something cheesy, like, "Because I love you," or maybe, "Because I wanted to be with you." Words like those would have been easy to offer, easy to explain. But the truth was far messier, far darker than anything he could speak aloud. 

What he felt went beyond love, beyond affection, beyond even obsession. It was a hunger—a terrible, all-consuming need that defied reason. He wanted to crawl inside you, to find the spaces where you were most broken, most raw, and most vulnerable. Not to fix you, no—never that. Fixing wasn't what he craved. He wanted to love you there, in the places no one else dared to touch. He wanted to press his hands to your wounds, to feel the heat of your pain beneath his palms, and to claim it as his own. 

In his mind, he saw it vividly, terrifyingly. He wanted to split you open, to pry apart the delicate cage of your ribs with his bare hands, as if your chest held the answers he couldn't find in your words. He wanted to taste the beating rhythm of your heart, to lick the blood and sinew that made you who you were. Your essence—your being—was not something he merely wanted to hold; it was something he needed to consume. 

He longed to dig his fingers into your bones, to feel the coarse texture of your marrow as he unearthed the pieces of you hidden deep beneath the surface. Every fiber of his being ached to devour you—not in malice, but in an overwhelming desire to possess you so completely that there would be nothing left of you apart from what lived inside him. 

And yet, he said nothing. 

How could he?

To confess such a truth would make him a monster. No, it was better to let you think he didn't care, better to let you walk away with your questions unanswered than to burden you with the weight of his thoughts.

But the truth was—

He wanted to devour you.

And it was the one thing he could never allow himself to do.

————————————————————————

— Akaza's gaze is fixated solely on Koyuki's plushie. This represents an emotional attachment or longing, symbolizing her significance in his life and memories. His lack of attention to (Y/N)'s plushie creates a noticeable disconnect, showing an unintentional emotional neglect.

— Akaza is holding both plushies tightly, as if he's afraid to let them go. This act symbolizes his inability to move on or his deep need to hold onto the past and present simultaneously, creating an emotional tug-of-war within him.

— (Y/N) holds both Akaza and Hakuji's plushies loosely but with a gentle, appreciative smile. Her posture and expression shows a selfless love, cherishing both versions of him equally without expectations or resentment.

— (Y/N)'s plushie reflects her inner emotions. The sadness on her face highlights her awareness of being ignored by Akaza and her longing for acknowledgment. The plushie subtly mirrors her feelings of being overshadowed by Koyuki's lingering presence in Akaza's heart.

— Hakuji's plushie, turned toward Koyuki's, adds a layer of connection. It signifies his past self's love for her, ignoring (Y/N) completely.

— Akaza's plushie looks at (Y/N) with a tongue-out expression. This hints that a part of Akaza recognizes (Y/N) but expresses it in a teasing or indirect way, contrasting with his intense focus on Koyuki.

— The juxtaposition of tight and loose grips reflects differing emotional investment: Akaza clinging tightly to unresolved feelings, while (Y/N) displays an open and accepting demeanor. The plushies act as metaphors for their inner emotional conflicts, with each one representing specific aspects of Akaza's and (Y/N)'s relationships and feelings.

————————————————————————

That's it.

Azamishomie (I will not write xoxo because I HATE WATTPAD FUCK WATTPAD).