The hunger was getting worse.
A demon's craving for human flesh—for blood—was growing harder to suppress with each passing day.
The girl's soft, delicate body… to him, it might as well have been the most irresistible feast in the world. His throat tightened unconsciously, a dry swallow catching halfway. Every instinct in him screamed to tear into her—to devour every inch of flesh, to drink every last drop of blood.
To eat his fill.
"Uncle~"
Kanao came jogging over, wooden sword in hand. Sweat shimmered across her delicate face, her breath light and uneven. Every movement, every breath she took… only made that scent stronger.
More tempting.
More dangerous.
And yet, she approached him without a shred of caution.
"Didn't I tell you to stay farther away?"
Soma lowered his gaze, fingers brushing slowly along the edge of his Nichirin Sword. The faint trace of sunlight within it—so hateful to demons—helped suppress the rising tide inside him, if only a little.
Kanao tilted her head, watching him.
"I've practiced a thousand swings with the wooden sword."
There was a hint of pride in her voice as she lifted it slightly.
He'd carved it for her not long ago.
"Then go practice ten thousand more."
His reply was casual—too casual.
But inside, the pressure was building.
The hunger.
It was getting harder to endure. Spring was still some time away. The Blue Spider Lily hadn't bloomed yet. And yet his craving for flesh was growing stronger by the day, pushing closer to the edge of something he might not be able to control.
"…Okay."
Kanao had wanted to stay by his side a little longer.
But seeing his expression, she lowered her head and turned away, a little disappointed.
Then, as if remembering something, she suddenly spun back around.
Her dark hair swept through the air, the butterfly hairpin perched atop it seeming almost alive.
She opened her small palm.
A slightly shriveled wild fruit rested quietly in her hand.
"Uncle, I saw a wild fruit just now."
Soma reached out and took it. He glanced at her—at the expectation in her eyes—then bit into it.
"Well? Is it sweet?" Kanao leaned forward slightly, trying to read his expression.
"…Mm." he replied perfunctorily.
"Then next time I find one, I'll bring it to you again."
Her voice was soft, but bright.
Then she turned and ran off, gripping her wooden sword, her small figure disappearing toward the trees.
"Heave... ho!"
Her spirited shouts echoed clearly through the forest.
Soma looked up at her retreating figure, then down at the shriveled fruit in his hand. His fingers returned to brushing the Nichirin Sword blade, over and over.
The desire for blood and flesh surged like a dam breaking, battering his mind.
But with each sweep of his fingers over the blade, his heart slowly began to calm, as if the steel itself was soaking up the storm within him.
One side of his mind raged like a storm-tossed sea,
while the other lay silent and dead, like still water in a forgotten pond.
The chaos and the calm warred against each other, yet the ritual of polishing the Nichirin Sword brought him a fragile sense of control.
…
Night fell once more.
Soma took Kanao by the hand and led her into a nearby village.
In winter, the streets were empty. Doors shut tight. Hardly anyone dared wander outside in the cold.
He hadn't come for himself.
A demon didn't need much.
But Kanao did.
Food. Water. Basic necessities.
He walked down the quiet street, eyes scanning the closed shops, already planning which ones he could slip into… and what he could take without being noticed.
And if the owners did catch him?
Well.
Then he wouldn't bother sneaking anymore.
He'd just take what he needed.
For a demon who didn't eat people, stealing a few supplies was already merciful. If anything, the shopkeepers should be grateful enough to burn incense in thanks.
After a few steps, a flickering light in the distance caught his eye.
He led Kanao toward it and found a wonton stall—a rare sight for this hour. The vendor was an old man, currently in the middle of packing up for the night.
"Are you still serving food?" Soma stepped forward and asked quietly.
The old man looked up at them.
"The water's still hot. If you want, I can make you a bowl now. How many?"
"One bowl." Soma said.
"Two bowls." Kanao's voice overlapped his.
The old man blinked, glancing between them, unsure who to listen to.
"…Go with hers," Soma said. "She's in charge."
Kanao lowered her head slightly, just a bit shy.
Still holding her hand, Soma led her to a simple wooden bench nearby and sat down.
Since they were about to eat, Kanao reached up and slowly removed the layers wrapped around her head and ears.
Because of the cold, her uncle always bundled her up tightly—so much so that usually only her eyes were visible.
Now, as the scarf and ear covers came off, her face was finally revealed.
Delicate. Soft.
Her slightly damp lips parted as she breathed out warm mist, the vapor curling faintly in front of her face.
Soma glanced at her—then quickly lowered his gaze.
She was becoming... more and more beautiful.
Kanao tilted her head, sneaking a glance at him, not quite sure why he suddenly looked away again. But she didn't dwell on it. After watching him for a moment, her attention drifted toward the old man at the stall.
She watched as neatly wrapped wontons were dropped into boiling water, steam rising in soft clouds.
"You're eating two bowls now? Your appetite's gotten bigger." Soma spoke casually, just to fill the silence.
"I'm eating one," Kanao replied matter-of-factly. "The other one is for Uncle."
"I don't eat."
He chuckled, looking at her. "It'll just go to waste."
Kanao puffed her cheeks slightly and clenched her small fists.
"Uncle doesn't have to eat… but he still has to have one."
"…Heh." He let out a soft laugh. "Your tongue is getting sharper by the day. Where did you learn to speak like that?"
Kanao stuck out her tongue and licked her lips like a kitten. She didn't feel like her tongue was "sharp" at all. She tilted her head, looking at him in confusion.
Watching her, Soma couldn't help but twitch the corners of his lips in amusement.
"Heh!" Kanao clenched her fists and looked at him seriously. "Uncle, you look really nice when you smile."
"…What?"
"You look really nice when you smile." She repeated it earnestly.
Soma shot her a sideways glare, though there was a hint of amusement in it.
"So what, I don't look good when I'm not smiling?"
Kanao frowned immediately, clearly thinking hard. She even started counting on her fingers.
"Well… when you're not smiling, you don't look as good… but you still look good."
"So is it good, or not good?"
Kanao blinked.
Her pinkish-purple eyes slowly filled with confusion, as if her brain had completely short-circuited. She looked like she was about to overheat, steam practically rising from her head.
Soma stared at her for a second—then burst out laughing.
"Alright, alright. Don't think about it." He reached out and lightly tapped her on the head.
"Wontons—coming up!"
The old man brought over a steaming bowl and set it on the small table in front of them.
Smiling, Soma pushed the bowl toward Kanao.
Kanao, however, pushed it right back toward him.
The old man watched the exchange, a warm smile spreading across his wrinkled face.
"You're a good girl, taking such good care of your father."
Soma gave a helpless smile at the misunderstanding.
"He's not my father," Kanao said, her face turning stern as she corrected him. "He's my uncle."
"Ah… I mean, you two are very close," the old man said, scratching his head. "Like a father and daughter."
"Not at all," Kanao corrected him again, her expression stony.
"Fathers are bad."
"Uncle is the best."
The old man blinked, thoroughly confused now. He gave the girl an odd look—she was pretty, sure, but… maybe a bit strange?
"It's fine. You can go ahead," Soma said from the side, sparing him further confusion.
After all, the old man didn't know Kanao's past.
He didn't understand how she measured the world.
Soon, the second bowl of wontons arrived.
Kanao picked up her spoon, then glanced at Soma.
"Uncle, I'm going to start eating now."
"Go ahead."
She lowered her head and began eating in small, careful bites.
Steam curled up from the bowl, brushing against her cheeks. Her long lashes fluttered gently in the warmth.
She was... truly beautiful.
...
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