Suddenly, as if called by fate, five large insects crawled into the clearing.
Three were moss‑green with yellow borders; two were black with dull gold stripes.
Fukaki Forest was ancient, strange—home to creatures unseen even by many yokai.
The damp earth steamed in morning mist; distant crows cawed, hidden among twisted boughs.
Kirihito's body shivered violently at the sight. His black hair lifted slightly, almost like sensing danger—but then recoiled.
His breath caught, fangs showing—but not in hunger this time.
Xio watched him, surprised; this was the second time, but stronger—deeper fear etched across Kirihito's perfect face.
A fear raw enough to shake the dangerous beauty into something oddly human.
When Xio managed to shift his weight to stand, Kirihito's hair loosened its grip for a moment.
But Kirihito instantly clung to him again—arms locked around Xio's neck from behind, legs around his waist, body pressing so close Xio nearly lost balance.
"R..REAL INSECTS AGAIN?! SAVE ME!! KILL THEM!! MAKE THEM GO AWAY!!!"
Kirihito's words tumbled out, breathless and sharp, voice shaking with disgust.
His pale face buried into Xio's shoulder; each panicked breath burned against Xio's skin. The white snake around Kirihito's neck also trembled bit in disgust by those bugs .
Xio gasped, body jolting under the unexpected weight. His wounds throbbed, venom singing through cracked ribs.
"W‑why aren't you killing them?! They're coming closer!!"
Kirihito's grip tightened painfully, almost crushing Xio's lungs.
"I… I'm not going to save a big snake like you from insects… if… you keep squeezing me to death…"
Xio's voice was strained, almost teasing despite fear and pain.
"Besides… you beat me so easily… broke my guqin… why not them? They're only insects…"
Even as he spoke, his own wounds made gripping his sword difficult; breath came ragged and shallow.
Kirihito trembled harder, his voice cracking like thin porcelain:
"A..a..are you taking… revenge on me? I… I could kill them… but there's no way I'm touching those insects… they're dirty… I hate them…"
His hair, so often his weapon, now flicked away from the crawling creatures as if the very sight burned him.
"G…God… why are they coming my way?!"
"Because you're the most beautiful creature here… as special‑grade yokais are…"
Xio's words slipped out, soft as confession before he caught himself and added, clumsily: "…probably."
Kirihito barely heard; his gaze stayed locked on the creeping insects, body trembling like a cornered fawn.
"You've beaten me half to death… now I can't even hold my sword properly…"
Xio muttered, more breath than voice—pain and faint teasing tangled together.
Then, after a pause, his tone sharpened just a little, testing :
"Besides… I don't work for free. What'll I get if I save you from them?"
For a heartbeat, time froze.
Kirihito's breath caught. His arms and hair squeezed tighter, almost painfully. Xio coughed, his vision blackening at the edges.
Then Kirihito's voice came out—not venomous, not proud—but broken, tiny, hiccupped like a child on the edge of tears:
"Have… nothing… give… poor…"
The words barely formed, almost muffled sobs against Xio's ponytail.
Yet behind them echoed something deeper than mere fear of insects:
A loneliness, a hurt that had nothing to do with crawling legs.his sudden broken tone made the white snake get surprised and worried too .
Xio's heart twisted painfully.
His breath caught.
In that moment, the venom burn in his veins felt dull, distant, compared to the raw truth in those trembling words.
And then—Xio froze as he felt something wet and warm dampen his neck.
Black blood.
Kirihito's own blood, dripping quietly..an act of his strange panic..or maybe something else..
"It's alright… it's alright…"
Xio gasped out, voice shaking, guilt clawing his chest.
"I'll kill them… without asking anything in return… just… don't hurt yourself like that…"
Almost without thinking, his right hand slipped back, gently cupping the back of Kirihito's head.
Kirihito nuzzled into the touch, breath ragged, heart pounding so loud Xio felt it through his own spine.
Around them, Fukaki Forest watched in silent, damp morning light.
The ground smelled of wet moss, blood, and old secrets.
Xio's left hand lifted, fingers trembling from pain.
He drew three quick signs in the air—silver light trailing from each fingertip: 「 Shen Weiyu 」 — "gentle rain."
Silver writing hovered, then turned into three shimmering spiritual threads, stretching between twisted trees.