"Don't move." Arata suddenly tightened his grip and pulled her even closer. "The bed is too narrow."
It really was too narrow.
This temporary rest bed had originally been made for one person, but now two adults were crammed into it, and Kūkaku had almost half her body pressed into Arata's chest.
A few strands of her black, silky hair had slipped into Arata's collar, lightly tickling his Adam's apple as she breathed.
"We should go."
After some time, Arata removed his hand from Kūkaku's mouth, but he didn't get up from her right away. "Just to be safe, let's wait another half hour."
The tips of Kūkaku's ears turned bright red, and she could clearly feel the warmth radiating from the man's chest.
They were so close she could even count the shadows cast by Arata's eyelashes.
"Y-you get up first…" She twisted her body uncomfortably, and the fiery red bracelet on her right wrist faintly glowed in the dark.
Only then did Arata become aware of the ambiguity of their position, quickly rolling to the side and sitting up. "Sorry."
The two of them fell silent for a moment, only the sound of their mingled breathing filling the darkness.
Kūkaku quietly tugged on her disheveled collar, trying to hide the frantic pounding of her heart.
"By the way…" Arata suddenly lowered his voice, "where did you put the dagger just now?"
Kūkaku pointed to the bundle of black cloth by the sofa. "It's there. I haven't touched it since I set it down… wait!"
She abruptly straightened up, her gaze sharpening, her nose twitching slightly. "Do you smell something strange?"
Arata frowned and took a sniff. A faint sweet scent indeed lingered in the air, like the fragrance of a flower.
"It's coming from the dagger." He quickly approached the bundle, and the moment he lifted the black cloth, the eye embedded in the hilt spun wildly, the pupil shrinking to the size of a needlepoint.
Even more disturbingly, the vein-like patterns on the blade were now shifting, as though something alive was writhing beneath the surface.
At that moment, Kūkaku suddenly staggered and barely managed to support herself against the wall.
"Arata… why do I suddenly feel… dizzy…" Her voice had gone soft, and her cheeks were unnaturally flushed.
Arata was just about to go to her when his own vision suddenly blurred.
"Damn it! This thing is releasing some kind of hallucinogenic gas!"
The sweet scent crawled into their nostrils like a living creature, spreading through their bodies via the bloodstream.
He forced himself to erect a barrier, sealing the dagger inside a transparent spiritual film.
But it was too late, both of them had already inhaled more than enough of the hallucinogenic gas.
"Kūkaku? Are you okay?" Arata staggered toward her and noticed her eyes turning hazy.
"I'm so hot…" Kūkaku unconsciously tugged at the collar of her training kimono, revealing a large swath of snowy white skin. "Arata… help me…"
Arata's rationality told him something was very wrong, but his body was moving toward her on its own.
The strange fragrance amplified all of his senses, Kūkaku's quickened breathing, the trail of sweat sliding down her collarbone, even the rhythm of her pulse.
"We… have to leave… now…" Arata struggled desperately to hold onto the last shred of sanity and reached out to pull Kūkaku by the arm.
But the moment he touched her skin, both of them shuddered violently.
Kūkaku, as though grabbing onto the last lifeline, threw herself into Arata's chest.
"Don't go…" Her lips brushed Arata's ear, her warm breath burning him. "I… I feel so uncomfortable…"
Arata's already fragile self-control completely collapsed, and the beast-like instinct buried deep inside rushed straight into his head.
He pinned Kūkaku against the wall, their bodies pressing tightly together.
Tap, tap—
He could distinctly feel Kūkaku's wildly pounding heartbeat and every rise and fall of her soft curves beneath the training kimono.
"Dammit, what kind of Bakkōtō has power like this…" Arata growled through clenched teeth, unable to stop himself from lowering his head to kiss her neck.
"That dagger… it's like it amplifies desire…" Kūkaku gasped and tried to resist, but discovered her hands were sliding uncontrollably across Arata's chest.
The tensed muscles beneath the fabric made her fingers tremble. Her mind screamed for her to stop, but her body obediently unfastened his collar.
Arata's pupils had taken on an unnatural, dark red hue.
He stared at Kūkaku's loosened collar, beneath which the edge of snowy skin peeked out.
The woman who was normally bold and loud now had eyes brimming with tears, biting her lower lip, looking unexpectedly fragile.
"Kūkaku… we…" Arata's voice was terribly hoarse, his hand gripping the back of her head involuntarily tightening.
The tips of their noses brushed, their breaths mingling, full of each other's scent.
The eye on the Bakkōtō hilt spun like mad, casting a blood-red glow across the entire room.
"Mmm—"
Kūkaku suddenly lifted her head and bit Arata's lower lip. That kiss, tasting faintly of blood, was like a fuse, igniting everything they had been suppressing.
Arata flipped her over and pinned her beneath him, his large hands tearing apart the obstructive training kimono.
"Wait... haa!" Kūkaku's protest broke apart between their lips and teeth. The man's hands, full of thick calluses from years of wielding a sword, slid down her waist, making her whole body tremble.
The sound of tearing fabric was especially sharp in the eerie silence of the lounge.
Kūkaku's fingers dug deeply into his back, the red scratches she left behind only making the man even more excited.
"You… bastard…" Kūkaku muttered with tear-filled eyes, but her legs wrapped around Arata's waist on their own.
At that moment, the eye on the hilt of the Bakkōtō "Demon Flower" suddenly burst open for no reason, and dark red liquid splattered onto their intertwined bodies.
It felt like millions of ants were crawling into their bloodstream, devouring the last remnants of their sanity.
The search party outside had long since moved away, and the moonlight quietly enveloped this small world of sin.
The dagger "Demon Flower" had at some point rolled onto the floor, the dark red patterns on its blade completely faded, leaving it a plain, lifeless object.
…
Silence filled the lounge.
Arata looked at Kūkaku curled up with her back to him. The bluish-purple marks of kisses and the imprints of fingers all over her skin burned into his eyes.
He reached out to drape his haori over her shoulders, but was immediately pushed away.
"Turn around." Kūkaku's voice was cold as ice.
After Arata obediently sat facing the wall, she stood with difficulty and began to get dressed.
Her training kimono had been torn into rags, so she had no choice but to put on Arata's coat.
The overly long hem covered the ambiguous marks on her thighs, but could not hide the clearly visible bite marks on her neck.
Arata quietly handed her a damp towel. When she took it, their fingertips brushed, and both drew back as if scalded.
Neither spoke as they cleaned up, until Arata suddenly dropped to one knee.
"Kūkaku, I'll take responsibility." He lifted his gaze to her, a seriousness in his purple eyes that he had never shown before. "Once the mission is over, I'll go to the Shiba household…"
Kūkaku paused in the middle of tying her obi, and then suddenly kicked him hard in the shoulder. "Who asked you to take responsibility for anything?" Her eyes were red, but her voice was sharp. "Just pretend nothing happened! If anyone ever says a word about tonight…"
"I understand." Arata gave a bitter smile and raised his hands in surrender. "But at least let me treat your wound." He pointed to a small bite mark on her shoulder, still beading with a bit of blood.
He had accidentally made that mark when he'd completely lost control.
During the bandaging, Kūkaku couldn't stop staring at the Bakkōtō "Demon Flower" lying on the floor. When Arata tied the last knot, she suddenly spoke.
"This thing… does it… absorb the user…"
"If nothing unexpected happens, it likely absorbs desire and vitality." Arata nodded seriously.
"It just absorbed enough energy, so it should be in a hibernating state now…" He carefully wrapped the blade once more in black cloth.
"We need to hand it over to the Department of Technological Development for analysis as soon as possible."