Even in the aftermath of such sudden death, there was an unsettling elegance in his movements, a dangerous serenity that made the room feel both fragile and alive. To anyone else, it would have been terrifying—but to Xio, who watched silently, it was something far more complex: fear intertwined with awe, dread with fascination.
Kirihito hummed softly, a sound almost melodic in its quiet amusement, as though he had just witnessed something exquisitely beautiful. And in a sense, he had. The golden glimmers that clung to his slender, pale fingers drifted slowly to the floor, tiny sparks dancing in the dim light like scattered stars. He flexed his hand deliberately, watching the glitter twirl and fade, his snake-like grin widening with subtle satisfaction.
He also felt an urgent need to calculate every word and every movement ten thousand times before approaching Kirihito. One wrong step, and his life would vanish just as easily.
He was jolted back to reality when Kirihito giggled and clapped loudly in front of his eyes. Xio flinched, ducking his head away, his breath hitching, body tensing, eyes wide. He instinctively feared Kirihito was about to strike him with both hands, an act that could leave his head anywhere but on his shoulders.
"Haha! You all got surprised by the legendary Kirihito's magic! I've made that annoying crow disappear because he stole my finest piece of dragon fruit!" Kirihito announced in a dramatic, dangerously innocent tone. His mouth opened in a wide, serpentine grin.
He then fondly noticed the white snake, raising its head to his face as if it were a scarf. The snake closed its red eyes with a soft hiss. Kirihito sat straighter, his hourglass hips in full view, his pale chest slightly puffed up with an unconcealable pride. He used one hand to sweep his silky black hair behind his ear. He had, in fact, brushed the remnants of golden glitter towards Xio's face to tease him.
Xio didn't know whether to cheer him with a forced, "That was great!" or scold him with a fearful, "You've killed again!" His mouth parted, and he gave a hesitant, nervous smile and a faint clap. Rest in peace, little crow, he thought. Don't steal his dragon fruit next time if you get a rebirth.
"T-that really was great... magic, Ki-ki..." Xio whispered, the name catching in his throat, tasting bitter to himself. He couldn't even properly recall his name, making the mistake again.
Xio's encouragement did not satisfy Kirihito; the yokai could sense the falseness, the place Xio called "not real." He couldn't name the feeling, but he felt it deeply.
"Really, black-gold butterfly?" Kirihito hissed, his barely visible snake tongue flicking out. He crossed his arms over his chest, his playful expression darkening slightly. His voice seemed to have a duet quality—a mix of heavy and light, like two people speaking from one mouth. "I've told you before... the ones who forget me or my name... they are like the same lustful insects."
Xio blinked at the sudden change in behavior. His eyes drifted to Kirihito's neck, where dark veins were silently spreading. Oh no... This was a warning sign. A sharp, fully awakening shiver ran down his spine. He never thought such a tiny error could provoke this.
"Don't put yourself onto my most hated insect list... little black-gold insect." This time, the voice was completely transformed—like a velvet dark night, ancient, sinful, and utterly unlike the voice he'd heard moments before. The mark had now spread halfway across his neck, curving into a terrifyingly beautiful spider lily.
His long hair seemed to float as if blown by an invisible wind. He sat carelessly on the bed, like a sinful king of old. His earlier childish posture was gone; one leg was folded flat on the bed, the other bent and raised, his lower body covered only by the right half of his robe, his left leg exposed as his elbow rested upon it like any careless king. His long hair writhed like living black snakes, ready to strike.
Xio's breath hitched audibly again, his eyes wide, his body frozen. What was happening? Was this still Kirihito, or was there someone else within him? A cultivator? A vessel yokai? Most 1st-class special grades didn't act this way; their curses were typically systematic. Kirihito's curse, however, acted like a different person, someone the same, yet distinctly separate.
The remaining crow yokai looked at one another ardently, and then, in a collective flurry, they all flew out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.
Silence ate up the space...
"I can't stand fake things... I can't stand lust... I can't stand... those who forget me. Only I can forget whomever I want, not they... because I write the story, add or erase the characters. You all just exist because I planned... and... I don't like dry stories." Kirihito's strange words cut through the suffocating air, faster now, like a spell being woven with his voice, his blindfolded eyes fixed on the distant wall.
Xio's throat felt bone-dry. He didn't understand what he was saying, why he was saying it, or why with such controlled aggression. He silently gripped the handle of his sword with his half-injured arm, not knowing when he might need it, if only to save himself from greater harm.
Before speaking, Xio forced himself to feel genuinely impressed, knowing Kirihito could sense his internal state. He grasped at every small detail that had felt fresh and true about the yokai: the way he loved birds, his fear of insects, the way he accepted dragon fruit from Xio.
"I... apologize... don't be mad. I really was genuinely impressed by... your actions..." Xio said, his voice trembling slightly, his throat tight as if a constricting band were gripping his vocal cords. His words were a desperate attempt to regain the yokai's calm.
Kirihito's mouth parted, and he tilted his head, seemingly trying to process the words. The dark mark on his neck began to fade slightly. "Am I still a black diamond to protect... while I'm a poison?" This time, Kirihito's voice returned to the duet tone, much softer than the older one. His innocent, snake-like smile returned, yet it was only half-formed, glitching lightly, as if someone else were trying to smirk instead of smile.
Xio let out a soft, almost inaudible breath, relieved that his words were working. His eyes closed briefly before he opened them and offered a faint, gentle smile. He looked at Kirihito, speaking in a tone impossibly genuine for any demonic cultivator.
"Yes... you're still... my black diamond to protect... even if you're a poison," he said softly, thoughtfully. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as he continued, "Because sometimes poison can be a herb too..."
His words made Kirihito pause, a flicker of quiet reflection softening his usual sharp gaze. The poetic sentiment lingered in the air between them, touching something deep within him. For a heartbeat, the darker, more mischievous presence that often surfaced seemed to claim a fleeting victory—a dark smirk formed at the corner of his lips. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by a genuine, wholehearted grin that radiated warmth and mischief all at once.
Kirihito's eyes, glinting like polished onyx, met Xio's with a mixture of amusement and something almost tender. For a moment, the dangerous, serpentine edge of his being softened, and in that delicate pause, Xio felt the rarest of truths: even in the shadow of power and poison, there could exist trust, connection, and a fleeting, fragile peace.
The room exhaled with them, the golden glimmers of fading light settling around Kirihito's fingers like silent witnesses to the moment. And in that shared quiet, Xio understood—no matter the danger, no matter the venom hidden behind that smile—Kirihito remained, in his own chaotic way, a presence worth guarding.