Mitsuri could not understand what Yukishiro was thinking.
If there truly had been demons lurking in the pond… didn't that mean she had been bathing with them last night?
The thought alone made her skin crawl. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering even though the night was warm.
"Those two Demons felt… wrong," Yukishiro said flatly. "Not like ordinary ones. If they were, they would've attacked the moment we entered the yard. Instead, they stayed still—even after they knew I'd discovered them."
Mitsuri frowned. He was right. By every tale she'd heard, Demons were feral, driven by hunger. But if what he said was true, she had sat in the same steaming pool with monsters all night, and yet nothing had happened.
Yukishiro's eyes narrowed. "I think they had autonomy. A will of their own. Like the hairy demon we fought on Mount Fujiki."
At that name, Mitsuri's breath hitched. Memories crashed back unbidden—the tangle of black hair that had wrapped around her throat, the endless nightmares that had plagued her for weeks. She still sometimes woke drenched in sweat, seeing Yukishiro's bloodied form cradled in her arms.
She shook her head quickly, banishing the image.
Unaware of her struggle, Yukishiro continued, voice low but steady. "I didn't strike last night. First, because I wasn't sure I could defeat two at once with Fukada nearby. Second, because I wanted to know their intent—if they were the ones behind the missing women."
"Did you find out?" Mitsuri asked softly.
He shook his head. "No. But not without learning something.
They have two abilities: invisibility, and a fragrance that dulls the body. Dizzy, weak, helpless…
They used it at dawn to escape."
Mitsuri recalled the faint sweetness that had tickled her nose before she'd blacked out. She hadn't thought much of it at the time. But if Yukishiro was right, the demons could have killed them easily. Yet they had not.
Why? To spare them? Or for some darker purpose?
"Invisible… and producing strange aromas." Mitsuri whispered. "Can such things even be called Demons?"
Her eyes lifted. "So you plan to face them alone?"
"I've found a way to counter both abilities," Yukishiro said. His tone was absolute. "Do you have a way to resist them?"
She faltered, lowering her head. No.
"When I left the springs this morning, I sensed them still inside. I want to see their true form." His expression darkened. "They… remind me of someone."
"Who?"
His reply cut like ice. "None of your concern."
The words struck Mitsuri harder than any blow. She swallowed the sting in silence, lowering her head.
He hadn't meant cruelty—she told herself this again and again—but the distance between them suddenly felt vast. Still, she followed him, because leaving was unthinkable.
"Go back while you can," Yukishiro said finally. "If a fight breaks out, I won't have the strength to protect you."
"It's fine," she whispered. "Just take care of yourself."
The answer burned him. To any other ear, her words might sound gentle, even touching. To Yukishiro, they were careless. Reckless. As if she had no understanding of the danger, no awareness of her own limits. She flinched at stray cats, yet now she spoke of life and death as though it were nothing.
He inhaled slowly, pressing down the anger bubbling inside. "As you wish."
…
The hot spring resort loomed above them, its lanterns blazing against the mountainside. Inside, all was hushed but not empty—he could feel the auras.
Two cold signatures, faint yet unmistakable, curled on the second floor. Watching.
They knew he was here.
At the locker rooms, they parted. Yet before they did, Yukishiro suddenly caught Mitsuri's sleeve. He bent low, lips close to her ear, and whispered a few words. Then, without another glance, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the men's side.
Mitsuri stood frozen, face aflame, heart fluttering wildly. She had heard nothing—his breath against her ear had drowned out the words themselves—but her skin still burned as though marked by fire. She covered her ears with both hands, overwhelmed, too distracted to notice the ripples forming in the pool behind her.
…
Moonlight glazed the surface of the hot springs. The night looked unchanged from the nights before—yet something was different. Yukishiro sat in silence, gaze fixed on the unseen watchers above.
His body was tense, every sense sharpened.
But Mitsuri… her thoughts were elsewhere. She replayed that fleeting closeness, the warmth of his whisper. Her ears burned hotter, her pulse skipping.
That was when the water moved.
Tiny bubbles surfaced—first one, then another, then a string of them rising from the depths. They broke with faint plops, forming ripples that drifted lazily toward her.
Mitsuri remained oblivious, lost in her daze. Even Yukishiro, his focus bound to the second floor, did not notice.
The hot spring masked the temperature change.
The ripples reached her side. From beneath, a bulge swelled in the water. Then—splash—a translucent sphere surged upward, striking her face.
Her eyes widened. "Eh…?"
The orb burst, sealing over her head. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. Water rushed into her throat as soon as she tried to cry out.
Panic clawed her chest.
She held her breath desperately, but the water already inside her lungs seared like fire. Coughs wracked her body, each one dragging more liquid into her airway.
Before her, a shape rose.
A body—fluid and glistening, like a man sculpted entirely from water. Its featureless face leaned close, and Mitsuri saw her own terrified reflection ripple across its surface.
Her limbs flailed, but the spring had become viscous, heavy, like syrup binding her wrists and ankles.
Even when she hardened her muscles sixfold, the Demon's hold did not break.
The monster wrapped itself around her, pulling her under, dragging her toward the pond's center.
Mitsuri's vision blurred. Her lungs burned. She thought of Yukishiro's whisper, of the warmth still lingering on her ear—and then she thought no more.
Regret pierced her chest as darkness crept in. She should have listened. She should have stayed home.
…
On the second floor, from the shadows, Tamayo and Yushirō watched the struggle unfold.
"Lady Tamayo," Yushirō hissed, eyes flashing, "the target has revealed itself. Should we intervene?"
"Patience," Tamayo murmured, her calm gaze fixed on the pool. "Another will move before us."
Yushirō clenched his fists, restless.
And below, Yukishiro's eyes snapped open.
"Ice Breathing—Form Five: Swift Ice Spike."