The climb was precarious. The old wooden shelves groaned under Aiko's weight, and dust rained down on her head. Below, Mochi paced and hissed, clearly agitated by whatever resided in the shadowed corner. Aiko ignored him, her focus absolute. She reached the top shelf, balancing carefully, her head now level with the dark, carved panel.
The feeling of cold, hungry emptiness intensified as she got closer. It wasn't just residue; it felt active. Watching. Listening.
She reached out a trembling hand towards the wooden panel. It looked like a simple decorative piece, seamlessly integrated into the library's ancient architecture. But as her fingers brushed against the carved surface, she felt it again – that faint, unnatural cold, like touching dry ice.
Her fingers traced the carvings, searching for a seam, a switch, anything. She found a tiny, almost invisible irregularity near the edge. Pressing it gently, she heard a soft click. The panel popped open slightly.
Heart pounding, Aiko carefully pulled the panel away. Inside the small recess wasn't a faded sigil or a curse mark. It was something far more modern, and far more sinister.
A small, sleek, black device, no bigger than her thumb, blinked with a tiny, malevolent red light. It was a high-tech listening device, expertly hidden within the ancient wood, shielded by layers of old magic designed to fool casual spiritual detection. It wasn't Kageyama. Their magic was crude, brutal. This was sophisticated. Subtle.
And it was active.
Someone was spying on Kaito, not just physically, but likely spiritually too, right here in the heart of his most secret sanctum. Someone had bypassed the Ishikawa clan's formidable security.
A cold dread washed over Aiko. Kaito's uncle, Jiro. The whispers Kenji had overheard. This wasn't just political maneuvering. This was espionage. Treason.
She needed to get the device. She needed to show Kaito. Reaching into the recess, her fingers closed around the small, cold cylinder—
"What," Kaito's voice, dangerously soft, came from directly below her, "do you think you are doing?"
Aiko gasped, startled, losing her balance on the narrow shelf. She tumbled downwards, clutching the listening device, expecting to hit the hard floor.
Instead, she landed squarely in Kaito's arms. He had moved with his impossible speed, crossing the library in the blink of an eye to catch her. She found herself pressed against his hard chest, his arms wrapped securely around her, the small, damning piece of technology still clutched tightly in her hand.
For a moment, they just stayed there, frozen. Aiko's heart hammered against his ribs. She could feel the steady beat of his own heart, smell the faint, clean scent of sandalwood that always clung to him.
Then, Kaito's gaze dropped from her wide, startled eyes to the object in her hand. His expression, which had been a mixture of annoyance and perhaps grudging concern, instantly turned to ice. He recognized the device. He recognized its sophisticated design, its subtle energy signature.
He slowly lowered her to her feet but didn't release her arm. His grip was like steel. "Where," he asked, his voice a low, lethal whisper that promised violence, "did you find that?"
Aiko pointed a trembling finger towards the open panel high up on the wall. Kaito's eyes followed her gesture, and a look of cold, murderous fury settled onto his features. Someone had dared. Someone had dared to plant a listening device here, in his private library, near the scrolls containing his family's deepest secrets.
He took the device from her hand, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the rage simmering beneath. He examined it for a moment, then crushed it in his fist with a soft crunch of metal and plastic.
He turned back to Aiko, his face an unreadable mask, but the storm in his eyes was terrifying. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected the threat to be so close, so deep within his own walls. And he certainly hadn't expected her, the girl he was still trying to figure out, to be the one to uncover it.
"You felt this?" he asked, his voice tight. "When Kenji's sweep found nothing?"
Aiko nodded, unable to speak.
He stared at her for a long, silent moment, the pieces clicking into place in his sharp, analytical mind. Her sensitivity wasn't just a passive anomaly. It was a weapon. A detection system more refined than any magic or technology his clan possessed.
The intrigue he had felt before solidified into a chilling certainty. Aiko Tanaka wasn't just interesting. She was essential. And the person who had planted that bug had just made a fatal mistake – they had revealed their hand not to him, but to the one person in his fortress who could actually see them coming.