A black stain appeared in the field of white. The clean snow was melting, and the soil—which should have been frozen iron-hard in winter—seemed to be thawing. Sū ěr even saw wisps of steam rising into the air. The source of the heat was that exposed arm, or more accurately, the... yōkai buried beneath?
Connecting Yukari sudden appearance with the anomaly in the field, Sū ěr easily grasped what was happening—that green-haired yōkai wasn't dead yet?
Her name was Kazami Yūka, right?
Sū ěr felt a bit amused but had to admit Yukari timing was perfect. If this blonde yōkai hadn't come to pique their curiosity, the moment that green-haired yōkai crawled out, Sū ěr would have shoved her right back down. And this time, he would have minced her so finely—ten pounds of lean with no fat, ten pounds of cartilage with no meat—that there would be zero chance of resurrection.
"What kind of yōkai is she?" Sū ěr asked, munching on the fruit Yukari brought while watching the figure struggle out of the ground.
"A flower yōkai," Yukari answered honestly, making no effort to hide Yūka's nature. In fact, she seemed ready to answer any of Sū ěr questions with total sincerity.
"I see," Sū ěr nodded, remarking with a sigh, "If I'd known she was a flower yōkai, I shouldn't have put her in the dirt... I'll have to check the type of yōkai before acting next time."
"With your strength, such trifles are hardly worth your concern. She is but a minor yōkai you could suppress at will," Yukari complimented smoothly.
Truthfully, her current humble and respectful attitude made it hard for Sū ěr to reconcile her with the domineering yōkai who had proclaimed her grand ambitions during their first meeting.
What should I do?
I want to hit her again.
After a sneaky probe of the surroundings, Sū ěr once again regretfully confirmed that he couldn't find her actual body, given her incredible concealment.
Kazami Yūka crawled out quickly, escaping the dark underground space in no time. She appeared weak at first, gasping for air, but after only a few breaths of outside air, her condition stabilized. Along with her recovery, her unconscious aura grew stronger; "weakness" seemed to inhabit her for only a few seconds.
During those months underground, her dark, bloodstained robe had been corroded into ruins by the flesh and residual yōki. Consequently, much of her curvaceous figure was exposed. Surprisingly, she was the type who looked leaner in clothes; she was actually more—
"AH!!!"
Sū ěr screamed and clutched his eyes, rolling around on the floor. It didn't actually hurt, but he had to make it look like it did.
"Stop acting. I didn't even use any force," Think snorted, looking at the man as he sat up with a sheepish grin.
"Ahahaha."
Just as one could see out the window from inside the house, one could see inside from out. Kazami Yūka had stood up, her gaze burning as she stared at everything inside the house—specifically at the male yōkai and his soul.
With a gaze so hot it felt physical, Yūka walked toward the window, step by step.
Think "eye-poke" was just playful banter between her and Sū ěr; in reality, Yūka was currently far from "beautiful." She was covered in wet, sticky muck, and melted snow mixed with mud coated her entire body. Most gruesome of all was the wound on her right side.
That spot had been directly hit by Think attack months ago. If she hadn't instinctively twisted away—a move that had caused her internal damage—half her body and organs would have been fused into a single mass. Even with her emergency evasion, her skin and clothes had fused together.
Flesh buds with the texture of fabric sprouted from the black mud, swaying in the air like living things with a will of their own, making Yūka look even more terrifying.
Seemingly oblivious to the abnormality on her body—or rather, noticing it but not caring—Yūka curled her fingers into the edge of that patch of flesh. Her sharp nails dug into her own body. With a casualness that suggested she wasn't even treating it as her own body, she used force—and ripped it off!
The sound was like tearing cloth, but it was a body of flesh and blood being torn. As red blood splattered, Yūka tossed the slab of meat covered in flesh-buds onto the snow. Red droplets scattered like plum blossoms on the white ground, and a line of black footprints turned red as she walked.
Pain that would have caused a normal person to faint didn't slow her down for a second. In the few steps she took, the edge of the wound on her torso pulsed rapidly, and the flesh began to knit together.
By the time she reached the window, her abdomen was completely healed. The fair skin stood in stark contrast to the surrounding mud-covered areas. Her entire body radiated intense heat; under waves of rising steam, the mud on the flower yōkai's skin dried and cracked, flaking off as she moved.
Her recovery ability completely exceeded that of an average yōkai. If her opponent hadn't been Sū ěr, this regeneration alone would have driven most yōkai to despair.
"What? Do you want to go another round?" Yūka's bone-chillingly intense gaze didn't intimidate Sū ěr; he continued eating his fruit calmly. "By the way, could you let go of my window? You seem... rather hot?"
Zashiki-warashi was already waving its pale green arms behind Sū ěr in a rhythmic protest.
Her body temperature was high enough to boil water; Sū ěr could already hear the bamboo window frame sizzling under her hand.
"Of course... not now." Yūka took a deep breath and closed her eyes, opening them a few moments later. The previous heat had finally faded.
But if one looked closely, it hadn't vanished; it was merely hidden beneath her pupils.