Kaito dropped the crushed remains of the listening device onto the library table as if discarding trash. But the cold, calculating fury in his eyes told a different story. He looked around the ancient room, his sanctuary, now violated.
"This changes nothing," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "And everything."
Aiko watched him, her own fear momentarily overshadowed by the chilling intensity radiating from him. "Was it... the Kageyama?" she asked hesitantly.
He turned his gaze back to her, sharp and piercing. "No. Their methods are crude. Violent. This," he gestured towards the crushed device, "is sophisticated. Patient. It requires access. Knowledge of this estate's defenses, both physical and spiritual." He didn't need to say the word 'traitor.' It hung heavy in the air between them.
"Someone within my own house," he stated, the words like chips of ice. "Someone close." His eyes narrowed, not in suspicion of her, but in a grim assessment. "And they almost succeeded. Kenji's sweep missed it. My wards didn't detect it. But you did."
He took a step closer, his analytical gaze sweeping over her as if seeing her composition for the first time. "You didn't just feel residual magic," he murmured, his voice a low hum of dawning realization. "You felt intent. You felt the listener. Your sensitivity isn't passive, Aiko. It's active."
The way he said her name, no longer the formal "Tanaka-san," sent a shiver down her spine. The dynamic had shifted, irrevocably.
"Forget the scrolls for now," he commanded, his focus absolute. "Your education takes a new path. Your first weapon isn't knowledge; it's perception. We need to sharpen it. Control it. Turn it from an instinct into a tool."
He led her back out into the main living area, the shutters still down, sealing them in their twilight world. He gestured for her to sit on the sofa. Mochi, sensing the shift in Kaito's energy, watched warily from a distance.
Kaito retrieved the smooth, black focus stone he had shown her before. He placed it on the low table in front of her. "Close your eyes," he ordered.
Aiko obeyed, her heart pounding with a nervous anticipation.
"Touch the stone," he instructed. She reached out, her fingers brushing the cool, vibrating surface. The now-familiar jolt of sharp wind and shadow energy shot through her. "Good. Now, don't just feel it. Analyze it. Describe it. What is its nature?"
Aiko concentrated, pushing past the initial jolt. "It's... fast," she murmured. "Sharp. Like... like cutting wind. And it hides. It wants to hide in shadows." She was describing the essence of his Kamaitachi bloodline without even knowing it.
"Excellent," Kaito's voice was close, just beside her ear, sending shivers down her neck. "Now, withdraw your focus. Completely. Push the feeling away. Build the wall, like you did with the Kirin's light. Make the stone just a stone again."
It was harder this time. The energy wasn't a warm glow; it was an insistent, sharp presence. She concentrated, imagining the dark, quiet pantry, pulling her senses back, shielding herself. After a moment, the vibrating energy faded, leaving only the neutral coolness of rock under her fingertips.
"Okay," she breathed, opening her eyes.
Kaito was kneeling in front of her, his face inches from hers. His dark eyes were burning with an intensity that had nothing to do with the lesson. He was looking at her not just as a tool, but as a phenomenon. A dangerous, beautiful, unpredictable variable he was becoming increasingly obsessed with understanding.
"You learn quickly," he whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips again. "Too quickly."
He reached out, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Aiko flinched, not from fear this time, but from the electric shock of his touch. He didn't pull away.
"This sensitivity," he murmured, his voice a low caress. "It makes you a target. But it also makes you mine to protect. Mine to... train." The possessiveness in his voice was a tangible thing, wrapping around her like chains of silk.
The air crackled. The lesson, the danger, the crushed bug – it all faded into the background, leaving only the overwhelming proximity of him, the unspoken tension that arced between them like lightning.
He leaned closer, and this time, Aiko knew he wasn't going to stop.