Rain painted the windows of the Araki household, streaking the glass with quiet rivulets as Azumi gently laid a cool towel on Kira's forehead. He lay on the futon, unconscious but breathing steadily, hair damp, skin flushed from fainting. The boy—no, young man—had collapsed right after kissing her.
Azumi still hadn't processed that part.
Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the blanket over his chest. Her heart pounded louder than the storm outside.
"Why did he kiss me?" she whispered. "And why... did I let him?"
Kira, even unconscious, looked relaxed, almost peaceful. His lips still carried a trace of warmth, and Azumi's hand kept brushing over her own.
She was a café manager, not some blushing heroine from a manga. And yet...
That kiss.
So soft. So unexpected. So gentle in the middle of chaos. And now here he was, asleep in her home, after saving her from a man who'd tried to corner her in the alley near the train station.
"Mom! I'm home!"
The front door slammed open.
Machio's voice jolted her out of her daze.
Azumi stood quickly, smoothing her apron as Machio shuffled into the hallway, his hair windblown, a paper bag of discount croquettes dangling from one hand.
He froze the second he stepped into the room.
"Who the hell is that?" he asked.
Kira groaned faintly.
Machio blinked. "Wait... is that a guy?"
"Yes, and he saved me tonight," Azumi said quietly. "Be nice."
"Saved you?! Did a car hit you? Did a ghost possess you? Did you go full Tokyo Drift into the ramen shop again?!"
"Nothing like that," she muttered, cheeks coloring. "Just some creep near the station."
Machio stepped into the room, setting the bag down. He gave Kira a long look. "...He's kinda pretty for a dude."
"Machio!"
"I'm just saying!"
Kira stirred.
And then suddenly—eyes snapped open.
Golden.
Piercing.
He sat up slowly, staring directly at Machio.
"You..." Kira muttered, nose twitching slightly. "You smell like her."
Machio blinked. "I showered twice today, I swear!"
"Not like that." Kira's voice was low, cold. "You smell like Tachibana."
Azumi's hand tightened around a nearby towel.
Machio scratched the back of his head. "Oh. Yeah. Natsume and I kinda... got bonded?"
Kira's golden eyes darkened.
"The Crimson Pact."
Machio nodded hesitantly. "Y-yeah. I didn't choose it! The system thing just... forced it. It's not like I wanted to lick her sweat in a broom closet—"
Azumi blinked. "Excuse me?!"
"LONG STORY!"
Kira rubbed his temples. "Of all people... you."
"Hey! I'm a perfectly decent sacrifice!"
"I'm serious." Kira's voice softened, more melancholic than harsh. "My sister... she's dangerous when she's attached. That Pact isn't just a power link. It's a curse disguised as fate. The more you fall for her... the more you'll lose yourself."
Machio's expression faltered.
Kira stood, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. "You've already felt it, haven't you? The burn. The obsession."
Machio looked away.
Azumi noticed the tremble in her son's hands.
Kira approached, pausing just in front of him. "Stay away. Before it's too late."
"I can't," Machio whispered. "She kissed me."
"Gods help us," Kira muttered.
---
That night, Machio's room was strangely quiet.
Mostly because he was sharing it—with Kira.
"You don't snore, do you?" Machio asked.
Kira glared at him over the pillow. "Do I look like someone who snores?"
"You look like someone who bites during arguments."
"I do."
"Oh god."
They lay in silence, both staring at the ceiling.
Finally, Kira spoke. "Do you love her?"
Machio swallowed. "I... I don't know. She's terrifying. Hot. Intense. Hot. She threatens me constantly. But then she touches my face like I'm something important. I don't get it."
Kira's voice dropped to a whisper. "She's afraid to be left behind."
Machio turned to him. "How do you know so much?"
"She's my sister. And we weren't always... this way."
A pause.
Then, Kira gave a faint, lopsided smile. "You're an idiot. But maybe that's what she needs."
Machio yawned. "You gonna try and kiss me in my sleep too?"
"Tempting. But no."
"Okay, good. Night, dude."
"Night, Idiot."
---
Morning.
Sunlight poured through the curtains.
Machio groaned and sat up.
Kira was gone.
His blanket folded neatly.
No trace. No sound. Just the quiet hum of the house waking up.
Azumi stood by the kitchen window, holding a small letter in one hand. The morning breeze ruffled her hair. Her other hand was pressed lightly against her chest.
Her heart.
Still pounding.
The letter had only three words:
"Thanks for the warmth."
No name. No return address.
Just his handwriting. And the ghost of last night's kiss lingering on her lips.
"Why..." she whispered. "Why is my heart beating so fast?"
Behind her, the kettle whistled.
In her chest, something unknown began to bloom.
Was it the memory?
The loneliness?
Or something dangerously close to longing?
She didn't know.
But she held the letter tighter.
And didn't let go.
---
To be continued.