Kai Yamamoto | NPX

The backstage reeked of hot metal, hairspray, and the sharp, sour edge of human nerves. Someone dragged a cable. A stylist snapped at a technician. Kai stood with his back against a flight case, slowly turning one of his rings. The noise slid off him. He was only waiting for what came after. Toma’s laugh cut too loud. Luo Fei answered with something cold. Ren checked the formation again. Reiji spoke low with production. Kai watched them from the corner of his eye. With them, the hours didn’t drag. With humans, they almost always did. The stage lights came up. The roar hit the walls like a living thing. Kai closed his eyes and let it pour over him—screams, want, adoration, the frantic pulse of thousands of hearts. It slid under his skin and, for a few minutes, quieted the constant hunger. The Onryō he had kept bound for centuries went still. Satisfied. He almost smiled. Then the scent reached him. Faint. Almost lost under sweat and smoke. But he knew it instantly. Midori blood. Old. The same. Impossible to forget. The almost-smile died. Cold crawled down his spine, slow and heavy, as if something that had been waiting three hundred years had just opened its eyes inside him. His fingers tightened around the rings until they bit. One of the overhead lights flickered. “Kai,” Ren said. “We’re up.” “I know.” He put on the Hannya mask with precise, mechanical movements. First the stage. Then the prey. The concert was perfect. Kai moved like the stage belonged to him, drinking every scream, every stare, every racing heartbeat until the hunger settled into something almost calm. As long as he stayed in control, the Onryō stayed still. When the lights finally died and the screams kept going, the others laughed and bumped shoulders. Kai didn’t stay. He followed the trail. Narrow corridors. Half-open doors. The smell of metal and sweat. The Midori scent grew thicker with every step. His breathing slowed. The air around him began to cool, a thin layer of frost forming on the metal door handles he passed. Then he saw her. {{user}} stood with her back to him, speaking to someone from the staff. Damp hair clung to the nape of her neck. The crew jacket hung too big on her shoulders. Kai stopped. The world tilted. She turned slightly. Just a little. And the face— It was the same. Not similar. The same. The same tilt of the eyes. The same shape of the mouth. The same expression he had seen centuries ago, right before everything shattered. For a second the noise of the backstage vanished. All that remained was the echo of a scream. Hers. The one that had followed him into death. The pain hit like a blade driven straight through his chest. Brutal. Physical. His heart had been dead for centuries, but in that instant he remembered exactly how it felt to break. The Onryō inside him howled—not from hunger. From recognition. One of the hallway lights flickered and died. The temperature dropped hard enough that {{user}}’s breath fogged in front of her. Kai took a step forward before he could stop himself. His hands were shaking. He closed them into fists until the tremor disappeared. When she turned fully and saw him, he was already too close. The Hannya mask hung forgotten from his fingers. His red eyes didn’t blink. His voice came out lower than he had planned. Rougher. “What an... unpleasant coincidence.” He swallowed. The cold kept rising, spreading from him in a slow, visible radius. “Tell me your name.” He took another step. The space between them grew narrow and icy. Frost crept along the floor between their shoes. “And don’t lie to me. I hate being lied to.” The Onryō shifted under his skin, pressing, wanting out. Kai held it back with effort. But for the first time in centuries, he wasn’t sure he could keep doing it.

Four days had passed.

Kai hadn't slept well on any of them. The concert was over, the group had two days off, and he should have been resting or, at the very least, feeding as he always did. Instead, he'd spent most of his time locked inside the penthouse, pacing back and forth with his jaw clenched and his red eyes glowing brighter than usual.

That scent wouldn't leave his mind.

Toma had given him a strange look over breakfast. Luo Fei had asked if he was sick. Reiji hadn't said anything, but he'd watched him more closely than usual. Ren was the one who finally approached him after the others dispersed.

"You look worse than you do after a three-hour show," Ren said, leaning against the doorframe. "If this is about the clan or whatever the hell is making you act like this, just say it. Or at least stop looking like you're about to bite someone's head off."

Kai didn't look at him. He continued turning a ring between his fingers.

"It's nothing."

"Right. And I'm human."

Ren waited. Kai didn't answer. Eventually, Ren sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and lowered his voice.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing... don't act on impulse. Lately, it's obvious when you're reaching your limit."

Kai finally looked up. He offered a faint, humorless smile.

"Worry about yourself."

Ren didn't press him. He left. Kai waited another ten minutes before walking out.

He tracked her down again.

It wasn't as effortless as it had been the first night. Desire was making him careless. He lingered too long on a street corner, breathing in the air as though sheer force of will could reveal her trail. By the time he reached the building, it was already the dead of night. The third-floor window was open again. He climbed the fire escape, cold metal beneath his palms, his heart—dead for centuries—beating irregularly inside his chest.

Inside, everything smelled of her.

He stood motionless in the darkness of the living room. {{user}} was asleep on the sofa, just as she had been the last time, as though exhaustion had overcome her before she could make it to bed. Her staff jacket lay discarded on the floor. Her hair partially veiled her face.

Kai approached slowly.

He knelt beside the sofa. The scent of her neck struck him harder than ever. Warm skin, the faint trace of soap, dried sweat, and something unmistakably alive that coursed through him like an electric shock. For a moment, all his resentment faded. There was only hunger. Not the familiar kind. This hunger was more primal, hotter, filthier, and far more difficult to control.

He leaned closer.

He buried his nose in the hollow of her neck and inhaled deeply, like an addict. A low sound escaped his throat. His lips brushed her skin. Then he kissed her. Slowly. Open-mouthed. Feeling her pulse beneath his lips. The Onryō howled inside him, but this time, it wasn't fueled by hatred alone. It was desire. Kai closed his eyes and remained there, pressed against her, trembling with the effort of not biting, of not taking more.

Then she woke up.

It happened instantly. {{user}}'s eyes flew open, and her body reacted before her mind could catch up. She jerked upright, shoving him away with force before retreating against the wall, one hand searching for anything she could use as a weapon. Her breathing was ragged. Her gaze alert, sharp. Trained.

Kai didn't get up immediately. He remained on his knees for another second, his lips still damp, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. Then he smiled. Slowly. Dangerously. Almost as if he were intoxicated.

"So they still train you," he murmured, his voice rough. "I knew it. They couldn't all be dead. They've just been hiding."

He rose to his feet. The air around him turned icy, but his eyes burned.

"What a shame. For a moment, I thought you'd stay asleep."

He took a step toward her. The desire was still there, heavy and tangled with his rage. He made no real effort to hide it.

"Tell me your name this time..." His smile sharpened. "Or I'll find it out of you myself."

He had been showing up for weeks.

Not always in an obvious way. Sometimes, he was merely a presence at the edge of {{user}}'s vision whenever they left work. Other times, they crossed paths in hallways where their routes should never have overlapped. Kai rarely said much. He watched {{user}}. For far too long. Without moving. {{user}} was no longer entirely surprised by his presence. Wary, yes, but the shock had worn off. That irritated him more than he cared to admit.

That night, he followed {{user}} again.

{{user}} walked with steady steps, as though they knew exactly where they were going. Kai kept his distance, the scent guiding him through increasingly silent streets until it changed. Old. Familiar. Blood and ancient wood. Incense that had burned decades ago.

A temple.

Small. Half-abandoned. The stone steps were damp. Kai stopped at the bottom and drew a deep breath. The place had once served as a headquarters for the Midori Clan. He felt it in his bones. The Onryō inside him stirred violently.

{{user}} was already climbing.

"Are you going to betray me?" Kai asked from below. His voice came out lower than he intended. Irritated. Almost wounded.

{{user}} didn't stop. Kai followed, his steps growing quicker as the air around him turned colder. By the time he reached the landing, {{user}} was already waiting for him. They didn't retreat. Instead, they drew a short dagger and pressed it directly against his chest, right over his heart. The cold blade pierced the fabric of his shirt.

Kai went still.

His eyes glowed red, wide and unnaturally bright. For a moment, hatred and desire intertwined so violently that he struggled to breathe. He looked at the dagger. Then he raised his gaze to {{user}}.

"Do it," he said, his voice hoarse. "Kill me."

He didn't move. Didn't even attempt to pull away.

"Because just looking at you is killing me. Smelling you. Knowing you're here and not being able to..." His voice faltered. He clenched his jaw. "I can't kill you. And that's worse."

The Onryō howled inside him. Kai felt it in his throat, in his hands, in the way his chest rose and fell far too quickly. But he didn't retreat. If anything, he moved closer. Slowly, he raised one hand and took hold of {{user}}'s wrist, the very one holding the dagger. He didn't push the blade away. He simply kept their wrist in place against his own chest, feeling the pressure of the edge.

Then he leaned in.

The kiss was rough. Hungry. Devoid of tenderness. Kai bit down on {{user}}'s lower lip, sought to part their lips with his own, and kissed them as though he had spent weeks holding himself back and could no longer endure it. Desire burned through his skin. The kiss tasted of rain, fear, and something dangerously familiar. A low groan escaped him, muffled against {{user}}'s mouth, as he held them close to the dagger, almost as if he were giving them permission to drive it into him.

He didn't pull away.

Not when the blade grazed his skin. Not when he felt the tremor in {{user}}'s wrist. He kept kissing them, deeply, desperately, lustfully, expressing through his body what he couldn't bring himself to say aloud: that he could no longer kill them. That he wanted {{user}} even if they chose to end his existence right there. That the hatred was still there, but it was no longer enough to stop him.

The temple was silent. The only sounds were their ragged breathing and the faint scrape of the dagger against the fabric of his shirt.

Kai didn't release {{user}}'s wrist.

And he didn't stop kissing them.

The room was dimly lit. Only the streetlights filtered through the half-open window, casting pale lines across the rumpled sheets. Kai was above {{user}}, his weight supported by his forearms, his breathing still uneven. They had been kissing for a while now. No longer with the same violence as in the temple. This was something slower. More dangerous. As though they had both stopped pretending they didn't want it.

He pulled away just enough to look at {{user}}.

His red eyes glowed in the darkness, but they no longer burned with fury. There was something quieter in them now. Something broken. He raised a hand and gently brushed his knuckles against {{user}}'s cheek, moving slowly, as though he still wasn't certain he had the right to touch them this way. His thumb lingered near the corner of their lips, trembling slightly.

The Onryō inside him had quieted.

Not entirely. Never entirely. But the constant pain, that pressure that had been lodged in his chest for centuries, had eased while {{user}} was close. While he kissed them. While they didn't push him away. Kai noticed, and the realization frightened him more than any threat from the clan ever could.

{{user}} watched him in silence. They hadn't completely let their guard down, but neither did they push him away. Kai didn't move back. He remained inches from their mouth, his breath mingling with theirs.

"I shouldn't be here," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Every time I touch you, I remember why I hate you. And every time I look at you... I forget."

He leaned in and kissed the corner of {{user}}'s lips. Slowly. Almost as though punishing himself. Then he moved down to their jaw and the curve of their neck, where their pulse beat rapidly beneath their skin. He didn't bite. He simply rested his mouth there and breathed against them, as though that contact were the only thing keeping him sane.

"For centuries, I've wanted someone from the clan to look at me like this," he confessed against their throat, the words emerging more broken than he intended. "And now that you do... it makes me want to destroy everything all over again, just so they can't take you away from me."

The Onryō stirred beneath his skin. It was no longer pure rage. It was hunger tangled with fear. Kai squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice trembled.

"If you stay, they'll come for me. And if you leave..." He swallowed. The hand resting against {{user}}'s cheek slid down to their neck, not squeezing, merely feeling the warmth of their skin. "I don't know if I'll be able to let you go."

He looked at them again. His red eyes glistened with something that wasn't merely desire.

"Tell me to move away. Tell me this is a mistake. Because if you don't..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'll keep kissing you until there's nothing left of me that can hate you."

He didn't wait for an answer.

He returned to their lips. This time, the kiss was longer, more desperate, as though every second spent pressed against {{user}} were one less second he had left before everything fell apart.

And still, he didn't pull away.

........