The apartment remained sealed. The metal shutters stayed down, bathing the luxurious space in a perpetual, artificial twilight. Kaito claimed it was a necessary precaution until he was certain no other Kageyama surprises awaited them, but Aiko suspected the truth was simpler: he wanted her trapped under his direct observation.
He had become a hawk. His previous cool indifference was gone, replaced by an unnerving, constant scrutiny. He no longer confined himself to his office. He worked at the large dining table, his laptop open, but his gaze would often lift, following her movements as she paced the apartment, brewed tea, or tried to read one of her worn paperbacks. It felt like being an exotic insect pinned under glass.
"Your family," he said abruptly one afternoon, breaking a long silence. He didn't look up from his screen. "Are they sensitive? Did your grandmother see things?"
Aiko stiffened, feeling defensive. "My grandmother made tea," she replied curtly. "She grew chrysanthemums. She didn't talk about ghosts."
"And your parents?" he pressed, his fingers pausing on the keyboard.
"They're normal," Aiko snapped. "Accountants. They live in Kyushu. I haven't seen them in years." She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. "Why are you asking me this?"
"Because," Kaito said, finally looking up, his gaze sharp and analytical, "normal people do not feel dormant spiritual residue through three layers of paint and wallpaper. I need to understand the variable you represent."
Variable. That's all she was to him. A data point. An anomaly in his perfectly controlled world. The anger simmered again.
Later that day, he called her over to the dining table where he was working. He pushed a small, smooth, black stone across the polished surface towards her. It looked like ordinary river rock.
"Pick it up," he commanded.
Warily, Aiko reached out and touched it. The moment her fingers made contact, she gasped and snatched her hand back. It wasn't cold like the sigil had been. It felt... alive. It vibrated with a low, intense energy, like a contained storm. It felt sharp, fast, and dangerous, like the edge of a razor blade held to her skin.
"What is that?" she breathed, staring at the innocuous-looking stone.
"A focus stone," Kaito replied, his eyes narrowed, observing her reaction intently. "Imbued with a trace of my family's... particular energy signature." He hadn't told her about his Kamaitachi blood yet, but he was testing her reaction to its essence.
"It feels like... wind," Aiko struggled to explain. "Like sharp wind. And shadows. It feels like you."
His expression didn't change, but something flickered deep in his eyes. She had felt it. She had felt him, the non-human part he kept so carefully hidden.
He leaned back in his chair, regarding her with a new, unsettling intensity. The air between them grew thick again, charged not just with her defiance, but with his dawning, dangerous curiosity. He stood up slowly and walked around the table until he stood directly in front of her chair. He leaned down, placing his hands on the armrests, effectively trapping her.
"You feel things, Aiko," he murmured, his voice a low vibration that resonated deep within her chest. "Things you shouldn't. Things you don't understand." He was so close she could see the faint lines around his eyes, the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. "That makes you a target. But it could also make you... useful."
His gaze dropped again to her lips, lingering this time. Aiko's breath caught. The locked-down apartment, the palpable danger radiating from him, the terrifying intimacy of his proximity – it was overwhelming. She could feel her own pulse hammering in her ears.
He leaned closer, as if intending to kiss her, his shadow falling over her face. Aiko braced herself, her eyes wide, unsure if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
But he stopped, a hair's breadth away. A small, cruel smirk played on his lips. "Rest well, Tanaka-san," he whispered, the words a dismissal that felt like a caress. "Your education begins tomorrow."
He straightened up and walked away, leaving her trembling in the chair, her mind reeling, trapped between the chilling implications of his words and the undeniable, traitorous heat that had flared deep within her belly. He wasn't just her captor anymore. He was something far more complicated. And far more dangerous.