She paused, as if she had finally found the answer. Her eyes became clear and firm, a sense of relief after a twisted logic finally came full circle:
"Later, I gradually understood. It's not that you like killing people... you simply feel that some people deserve to die. They got in the way, they made you unhappy, or... they hurt someone you cared about? Just like those people who bullied me back then."
Her tone became incredibly gentle, with a martyr-like devotion:
"So, no matter what, you have always been the best to me. You cleared obstacles for me and gave me protection, even if that protection initially stemmed from a deception, the warmth that followed was real."
She took a step forward, gently grasping the hand Kanjuro was holding the gun with, using her palm to warm his cold skin. She tilted her face up, revealing a pure and dependent smile:
"With you being like this, how could I... how could I bear to blame you?"
This confession completely stripped away morality, right and wrong, and humanity, rationalizing all of Kanjuro's actions and attributing them to his 'unique' 'goodness' toward her. This gave Kanjuro more pleasure than any submission out of fear or alliance for profit. It was an absolute possession and a twisted resonance on a soulful level.
Kanjuro looked at the unquestionable, completely sunken tenderness in her eyes and finally let out a low, pleasant laugh. He gripped her hand back, tossed the gun aside casually, and placed his other hand on her cheek.
"Akemi, you really... have always been the most'special' one~."
He lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss on her smooth forehead—like a demon's brand.
Akemi Miyano closed her eyes, savoring the blood-scented kiss, her face reflecting a look of contentment and peace. She had finally severed all ties with the past, completely sacrificing her soul to the darkness before her. Shuichi Akai's death seemed like nothing more than a trivial, crimson embellishment to her sacrificial ritual.
On the hill, only the two embracing figures remained, along with a gradually cooling corpse and the lingering, sweet yet putrid scent in the air.
Kanjuro held Akemi Miyano's hand, like leading a lost lamb, and returned to her small apartment—not luxurious, but warmly and neatly arranged. This place felt like a world apart from the blood and chaos outside. He didn't mention Shuichi Akai again, nor did he speak of darkness, power, or killing, as if he truly were just visiting an old friend after a long separation.
Over the following week, time in the tiny apartment seemed intentionally stretched and softened. Kanjuro withdrew all his outward sharpness and dangerous aura, acting like the most ordinary visitor. They prepared simple meals together in the narrow kitchen; Akemi Miyano would clumsily chop vegetables, and Kanjuro would naturally take the knife from her, skillfully processing the ingredients, earning a shy and dependent smile from her. They curled up on the sofa, watching trivial TV programs or just quietly listening to the rain outside.
More often, they immersed themselves in memories. Akemi Miyano would pull out some blurry old photos, pointing at the indistinct figures and rambling about almost-forgotten childhood trifles.
"Brother Ye Xiao, do you remember? That big cherry blossom tree behind the school back then," Akemi's eyes sparkled, lost in the past. "We even buried a time capsule under it. We promised to dig it up together when we grew up." She spoke with a faint blush on her face, filled with a young girl's longing. "It seems... it won't be long before the year we agreed upon arrives. When the time comes, can we go dig it up together?"
Looking at the pure light in her eyes and hearing her mention those childish, laughable promises, Kanjuro actually cooperated, showing a hint of nostalgia and chuckling. "You still remember something from that long ago so clearly." He reached out and gently ruffled her hair, his movements carrying a twisted indulgence he hadn't even noticed himself. "Akemi, you're still just as... 'cute' as before."
He deliberately used the word "cute," the complex meaning of which perhaps only he understood.
For these entire seven days, Kanjuro acted like the most patient angler, never breathing a word about rescuing Shiho Miyano. It was as if he were conducting a longer, deeper test, observing Akemi's reactions, waiting for her anxiety, her pleas, or even her doubts.
However, Akemi Miyano remained like the deepest, stillest pool of water, without a single ripple. She was as gentle as ever, meticulously taking care of his daily needs, her eyes filled with complete trust and satisfaction. It was as if as long as he was there with her, reliving old dreams, it was the greatest blessing from heaven. The matter of saving her sister seemed to have been forgotten in a corner.
Not until the twilight of the seventh day, when the sunset's afterglow painted the apartment in a warm gold, did Kanjuro finally break the deliberately maintained peace. He set down his teacup and looked calmly at Akemi, who was arranging flowers, his tone devoid of emotion:
"Akemi, have you been happy this week?"
"Mhm." Akemi didn't even look up, gently adjusting the position of a lily, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
"Then," Kanjuro's voice lowered, carrying an imperceptible hint of inquiry, "why... have you never once taken the initiative to ask me to save your sister? Don't you care about her very much?"
Akemi Miyano's hand paused slightly. She slowly raised her head to look at Kanjuro. There was no panic from being questioned on her face; instead, there was a knowing calm, even a slight, all-seeing cunning.
"Because I know," her voice was soft but exceptionally clear, "Brother Ye Xiao... you are testing me, aren't you? Testing my patience, testing whether I truly... put you first as I said, rather than just seeing you as a tool to save Shiho."
Kanjuro was slightly taken aback, then a truly hearty smile appeared on his face—a smile that diluted the habitual coldness in his eyes and seemed much more real. "Heh..." He chuckled and nodded, "You really are smart." He admitted it.
Seeing his rare, untainted smile, Akemi laughed as well, but behind that smile hid a deep, imperceptible sadness. She set down the flowers, walked over to Kanjuro, knelt down, and looked up at him with crystal-clear eyes and a gentle yet firm tone:
"Because my sister is important... but you are important too." She paused, as if weighing her words, and finally whispered, "I don't want... things between us to become like a transaction because of Shiho."
Kanjuro fell silent. He looked at her face so close to his. This week, he had deliberately kept his distance, using no dark means to influence her, nor engaging in any relationship that crossed boundaries, merely accompanying her as "Kanjuro-kun." Yet she still "foolishly" and stubbornly believed in him, even seeing through his test without complaint.
Akemi Miyano seemed to see through the fluctuations in his heart. She reached out and gently covered the back of his hand resting on his knee. Her fingertips were slightly cool, yet they carried a strange, soothing power. She spoke frankly, her voice as soft as if telling a secret:
"Brother Ye Xiao, do you know? I've liked you for a long, long, long time... so long that I've even forgotten when it started."
Her eyes didn't flicker, looking straight into the depths of his.
"And, I'm not stupid." She tilted her head slightly, revealing a sharp insight that contrasted with her gentle appearance. "Think about it. I've been with you for so long, living in such an ordinary apartment, yet the people from the Black Organization have seemingly vanished, never coming to the door. This obviously isn't because they've given up on me, but rather..."
She said clearly, word by word:
"They are wary of your existence. They know I'm with you. I think your presence itself is the most powerful deterrent to the Organization. With you by my side, Shiho's safety actually makes me feel more at ease than when I was hiding on my own."
These words were like the final finishing touch, completely revealing the clear logic and profound insight hidden beneath Akemi Miyano's gentle obedience. She wasn't blindly sinking; rather, after a sober assessment, she had made the choice that best served her goal (protecting her sister) and best fit her inner emotions (attachment to Kanjuro). She saw through Kanjuro's power and his game, and chose to participate with the most "perfect" posture.
Kanjuro gazed at her, seeing the mixture of endless affection, startling logic, and a hint of desperate resolve in her eyes. After a long moment, he turned his hand to clasp her cool hand, his deep voice echoing in the quiet apartment:
"Tomorrow, I'll have someone look for your sister's whereabouts."
This wasn't a promise; it was more like a reward for a "qualified candidate."
A brilliant light instantly erupted in Akemi Miyano's eyes, pure and joyful. She nodded vigorously, pressing her cheek gently against the back of his hand, and whispered:
"Thank you... Brother Ye Xiao."
Outside, night slowly descended, shrouding the city's sins and warmth together. Inside the apartment, the twisted yet firm bond between the two became even more indestructible after these seven days of apparent warmth but underlying currents. The night was deep, and in the bedroom of Akemi Miyano's apartment, moonlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, flowing over the messy sheets. The air was thick with the characteristic ambiguous scent following passion, mixed with the cold, indescribable charm emanating from Kanjuro.
Akemi Miyano curled up beside Kanjuro, a flush of passion still lingering on her cheeks, but her lips held a look of utter contentment, a nearly illusory smile of happiness. She snuggled against him, her fingers unconsciously tracing circles on his chest, her eyes hazy as if still immersed in the intimacy just shared. For her, this moment of possession seemed to pierce through decades of time, bringing her back to that cherished childhood illusion deep in her heart where only she and Kanjuro existed. All the cruelty of reality, the shadow of the Organization, and her sister's safety seemed to be shut out by this brief tenderness.
·· 0 Requesting Flowers 0 --- Kanjuro lay quietly for a moment, then stood up gently. He showed no lingering attachment, his movements fluid and natural. He picked up his shirt from the side, but instead of putting it on, he gently draped it over Akemi Miyano's fair shoulders, covering those ambiguous marks. Then, he walked to the window, took a cigarette case from his robe pocket, pulled out a long, thin cigarette, and lit it.
The crimson spark flickered in the darkness, and pale blue smoke curled upward. He pushed open the window, and the cool urban clamor rushed in with the night breeze, stirring the black hair on his forehead. He gazed at Tokyo's brilliant yet cold night view, his eyes deep as if staring into a more profound universe.
"Heh..." He suddenly let out a low laugh, carrying an elusive sense of wonder. "In this world, there actually exists a species called 'true love.' Truly... incredible."
Following his words, prana rippled like water in the corner of the room, and a tall, slender figure clad in pitch-black armor slowly materialized—Avenger Jeanne d'Arc. She stood with her arms crossed, her golden pupils burning with the fire of vengeance, looking at Kanjuro's back with a hint of playfulness.
"Oh? It's rare to hear you make such a remark, Master." Jeanne's voice was cold, with a faint touch of sarcasm. "It seems this Miss Akemi Miyano is indeed quite'special'?"
Kanjuro didn't turn around, still looking out the window as he exhaled a smoke ring, his voice calm and steady. "Yeah, whether it's Kitami (Reika), or the Akemi before me, or even..." He paused, as if remembering a more distant and obstinate figure, "and that stubborn king of knights (Sab)... they're all quite strange existences."
His tone carried a rare, almost nostalgic distance:
"I was the one who pushed Kitami into the abyss, yet she remains as calm as still water, staying by my side with her heart always longing for beauty. Akemi... she saw through my nature but chose to embrace this darkness and call it 'warmth.' I haven't had any relations with her, nor have I used the properties of the spear of longinus to make her infinitely affectionate toward me, yet she still believes in me."
He gently flicked the ash.
"As for Sab... even at the end, in the Throne of Heroes, she was unwilling to cooperate with the Holy Grail, unwilling to stand with the other Heroic Spirits against me. Because to her..." A complex curve hooked the corner of Kanjuro's mouth, "what she wants is to truly and fairly defeat me, her 'father,' rather than relying on external power or ganging up. That pride and stubbornness are truly a headache, yet... I can't help but admire them."
Jeanne listened to his words, remaining silent for a moment as the fire in her golden eyes flickered slightly. She spoke calmly, asking a core question: "So, after experiencing these things and witnessing such 'feelings,' will you change, Master?"
Hearing this, Kanjuro slowly turned around. The smoke blurred his handsome face, but made those eyes appear even brighter and colder in the darkness. He shook his head, his tone resolute, without the slightest hesitation:
"No, I won't change."
His voice was low and certain, carrying a deep-seated realization:
"I am someone who has fallen into hell and assimilated with the darkness. That has never changed, and it never will."
He looked at Akemi Miyano, who seemed to have fallen into a peaceful sleep on the bed, his eyes devoid of warmth, containing only a cold indifference that saw through everything.
"I just... happen to know and recognize certain people and things earlier and more clearly than most. I know what 'purity' can be exploited, what'stubbornness' is worth admiring, and what 'warmth' can be temporarily enjoyed. But that doesn't conflict with my inherent darkness."
Finished, he ignored Jeanne and extinguished the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray on the windowsill. All the softness or sentimentality on his face vanished instantly, replaced by his usual coldness that controlled everything. He thrust both hands into his robe pockets, as if the conversation about love and remaining unchanged had never happened.
He took out another cell phone and dialed a number directly.
The call was answered almost instantly.
"Moshi Moshi?" Vodka's slightly nervous voice came from the other end of the line.
Kanjuro's tone was flat, yet carried an invisible pressure, as he gave a direct order:
"Gin must be nearby. Tell him, and those people behind you—"
He paused, every word crystal clear: "Where is Shiho Miyano right now?"
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