Page 115 of Kotori
His mouth opens and closes like a fish drowning in air, no sound emerging except the wet rattle of punctured lungs. Blood pools beneath him, soaking through expensive sheets that will never be clean again.
"The psychological damage you inflicted will take years to heal. She'll question every relationship, every compliment, everymoment of adult attention because you taught her that love and exploitation are the same thing."
The blade finds his heart with surgical precision, the final stroke delivered.
"Sleep well, Daichi-kun. And when you meet whatever gods judge predators in the afterlife, remember that you died because you were stupid enough to hunt a dragon's child."
His eyes lose focus as life drains away, leaving behind nothing but meat and consequences.
I clean the blade return it to its sheath. Professional efficiency born from decades of practice. Before leaving, I straighten his bedding and close his eyes. No dramatic symbols or calling cards. Just the quiet elimination of a threat that should never have existed.
The drive home passes in perfect silence, autumn air washing the scent of death from my clothes. By the time I reach our compound, my breathing has returned to normal rhythm, my heartbeat steady as temple bells.
Justice has been served with the precision it deserved.
My daughter can sleep safely, knowing that the predator who hunted her innocence has paid the full price for his crimes. I will do everything to ensure she'll continue healing from wounds that should never have been inflicted.
32
Kaito
Thedrivehomepassesin perfect silence, autumn air washing through open windows but failing to cleanse the scent of violence from my clothes. Daichi Shuichi's final moments replay with cold satisfaction. The terror in his eyes when he understood exactly who had come calling, the way justice felt beneath my hands.
Permanent.
The compound's gates recognize my approach, sliding open to welcome their returning master. Security cameras track my movements with electronic loyalty, recording evidence that will never see daylight. By morning, Takeshi will have sanitized every trace of tonight's activities.
But first, I need cleansing of a different kind.
Paige waits in our bedroom, exactly where I left her. She sits curled in the window seat, blonde hair loose around shoulders I've claimed with teeth and possession. When she turns at my approach, concern floods her features.
"Kaito?" Her voice carries soft worry. "Are you alright?"
Such beautiful concern. She doesn't ask where I've been or what I've done. Accepts that some business requires darkness and violence. Trusts me to return to her intact.
"I'm home," I say simply, beginning to strip away clothes that carry the stench of necessary death.
She rises from the window seat, crossing to me with automatic care. Her fingers work at shirt buttons with practiced efficiency while I study her face in lamplight.
"Mizuki?" she asks quietly.
"Safe. The threat has been permanently eliminated."
"Good," she whispers with fierce satisfaction. "He deserved whatever you did to him."
Such perfect understanding. The approval ignites something primitive in my chest. The need to claim, to possess, to remind myself exactly what belongs to me after dispensing justice for my family.
"You'll wash me," I command, leading her toward the ensuite bathroom where heated marble and expensive fixtures wait like an altar to cleansing.
She follows without question, movements automatic as she turns on the shower, adjusts temperature to exactly how I prefer it. When I step under scalding water, she's already there with soap and waiting hands.
I turn my back to her. Trust reserved for no one else. Feel her hands begin their work without instruction. Gentle fingers work soap through my hair, washing away the last traces of tonight's work with devoted efficiency.
The silence stretches between us, comfortable and understanding. She knows what needed to be done. Knows it's finished.
"I'm glad you killed him," she says quietly, her voice carrying fierce satisfaction that feeds something dark in my chest.
The approval ignites something primitive and possessive. She understands. Accepts. Approves of violence delivered in defense of innocence. My perfect woman, embracing the darkness that protects our family.
