The blood mist spread across the clearing. Yura stared at the red particles suspended in the air, her expression finally changing.
"You think this little fog can do anything to me?" She tried to maintain her composure, her voice steady. "My hair can absorb demonic aura, your blood is no exception—"
Before she could finish,
Shinji smiled.
That smile on his pale face, compared to his earlier strangeness, now seemed especially glaring.
"Who said I was using the blood to attack you?" His fingers moved slightly.
Bound by the strands of hair, unable to move, he could still manage this small gesture.
"Demon-fire Flies."
He spoke the name softly.
A basic demon art.
An ability he'd naturally acquired after becoming a demon warrior.
Just an unremarkable little skill, phosphorescent flame ignited by a demon warrior's own aura. But now
The blood mist hanging in the air began to glow, all at once.
Pale blue demon-fire flickered into being within the mist, point by point, like countless fireflies dancing in the night sky.
Beautiful. And… deadly.
"This is—!" Yura's pupils contracted sharply.
She finally understood. The blood mist wasn't the attack.
It was the medium. The… fuel!
"No—" She tried to withdraw the strands spread throughout the area.
Too late.
Those pale blue flames spread through the blood mist, expanding at a visible rate.
And the blood mist was everywhere.
Including the strands wrapped around Shinji's body. Including the 'web' she'd spent half the day weaving.
Including every inch of ground beneath her feet.
No matter what kind of hair, its essence was still hair. And hair was flammable!
The sizzling sound of burning hair rose. Quiet, but it drained the color from Yura's face in an instant.
"No—!" She frantically tried to pull back the ignited strands.
But demon-fire was different from ordinary flame. It fed on Shinji's demonic aura, on the blood mist, on anything touched by that mist that wasn't natural.
The burning strands writhed violently, like countless black serpents in their death throes, giving off an acrid stench.
The strands binding Shinji loosened.
Not because she wanted them to, they were burning, turning to ash, unable to maintain their form.
"Free now."
Shinji flexed his wrist, the hilt of his blade once again in his grasp.
But in that instant, that single moment, the demon warrior's crimson eyes fixed on Yura, surrounded by burning flames, and a thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.
Yura.
A demon whose true form was a 'comb.'
And a comb was an inanimate object… Did that mean such an existence fell within the range of his system's judgment?
Did it mean he could try to 'conquest' her too?
Objects becoming demons were even rarer than non-corporeal entities becoming demons. This was the first time since he'd crossed over that he'd encountered this kind of 'demon.'
Shinji never hesitate.
As the thought came.
The next second.
He charged straight at Yura.
Not Phantom Step. The simplest, most direct rush.
And he let go of his sword.
He wanted to try.
To make 'contact'!
"You—!" Yura tried to retreat, but her legs gave way.
The strands spread all around her were an extension of her power, and the carrier of her demonic aura.
As those strands were burned in large numbers, her demonic aura drained rapidly.
Shinji's hand had already seized her wrist. His other hand pressed down on her shoulder.
Their bodies slammed together.
She fell backward.
Shinji followed, pressing down on top of her.
Thud—
Her back hit the ground. Dust flew.
Yura lay on the ground. Shinji pinned her down.
Their faces were inches apart.
Their breath mingled.
She could smell that cold, bloody scent of his, mixed with the characteristic chill of a demon warrior.
He could smell her scent, now tinged with a hint of scorching.
Mm… Smelled like chicken. Crispy.
"You—" Yura tried to struggle.
But Shinji's hands firmly gripped her wrists, pinning her to the ground.
Her body was completely covered by his.
That thin, dark red fabric was now rumpled against her. The curves of her breasts rose and fell violently with her rapid breathing, practically spilling from the low collar as he pushed down on her.
Her waist was pinned flat by his weight, the delicate skin of her stomach scraping against his clothes.
Her legs instinctively tried to close, but his knees blocked them, leaving her only able to weakly grip his thighs.
"Let go!" Panic edged her voice.
This wasn't right.
She was the predator.
She was the one who should be pinning prey down, draining their essence.
Why—why had the tables turned?
"Let go of me—!" Her hair thrashed wildly, trying to wrap around Shinji again.
But the surviving strands were still burning. They couldn't condense into any form.
Shinji looked down at her. At this distance, his crimson eyes were especially piercing.
"What were you saying earlier?" His voice was calm.
"Said you'd tie me up and wait for that shrine maiden to come back?"
"Said you'd drain me dry right in front of her?"
He tilted his head slightly, the movement sending a cool breeze across Yura's sweat-slicked neck, making her shiver.
"What now?"
"Hmm?"
Yura's body went rigid.
She could feel his hands gripping her wrists, holding them fast.
She could feel his knees wedged between her legs, trapping her.
She could feel his weight pressing down, making it hard to breathe.
And more than that, she could feel danger.
Not killing intent.
It was…
Covetousness?
"Wha—what do you want—" Her voice trembled.
Shinji didn't answer.
He just looked at her.
Then—
[Yura]
[Quality: Object (Comb)]
[Affection: -30 (Hostile)]
It actually worked!?
Shinji's eyes lit up.
And just at that moment, that instant.
"Shinji."
A voice came from beside them.
Cool. Flat. But carrying a chill that seemed to run down the spine.
Shinji froze. He seemed to realize, in that moment, how compromising his current position looked.
The demon warrior turned his head.
Kikyō stood not far away.
White robes, red hakama, longbow in hand.
Her black hair hung loose over her shoulders, gleaming faintly in the sunlight.
Her expression was calm. Calm enough to be frightening. Those dark eyes looked at Shinji, then at Yura pinned beneath him.
Silence.
Dead silence.
The scene really didn't look right.
He was pinning a scantily-clad female demon, his hand still on her… forehead? The posture was ambiguous enough to spark all sorts of imagination.
But thankfully
He was a demon warrior.
The advantage of a deadpan face showed itself again, perfectly.
Shinji's expression remained composed.
His pale face betrayed no panic. His crimson eyes were calm as still water.
He stood up from Yura, his movements natural, as if he'd been doing something perfectly ordinary.
He calmly dismounted and got to his feet.
"This is a demon. One that attacked me."
"I saw." Kikyō nodded.
Still calm. Expressionless.
But Shinji felt something was off.
Good thing he was equally 'calm.'
Yura on the ground tried to seize the chance to escape but the moment she got up, a streak of white light landed in front of her.
A purifying arrow.
It stuck into the ground three inches from her foot, the shaft still humming.
"Don't move." Kikyō's voice was calm. "Move again, and the next arrow won't be a warning."
Yura froze, afraid to move.
She looked at the arrow, then at the white-and-red shrine maiden standing nearby.
Screw this.
This shrine maiden's spiritual power…
Too strong.
So strong she had no desire to face her directly.
So strong that right now, she didn't even dare entertain the thought of running.