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xo100 · 4 months ago

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Collisions and connections - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: While mountain biking in Germany with friends, you accidentally fall and cause none other than Lando Norris to crash into you. Though he's frustrated at first, the tension quickly turns into playful banter as you ride together. By the end of the day, Lando invites you to go karting with him, leaving you with an unexpected, flirty connection.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2535

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

Germany was always on your friend group’s list of adventure destinations, and today was no exception. The sky was a vibrant blue, with a scattering of white clouds drifting lazily above the dense woods. You had rented mountain bikes for the day, ready to tackle the scenic yet thrilling trails that cut through the forest. The air was filled with a crisp freshness that begged to be explored, and you and your friends were more than ready to answer the call.

After renting the bikes, you all gathered around the man who ran the rental service. He looked rugged, like someone who had spent countless days in the wilderness, and his experience showed. He gave a quick but detailed briefing on how to handle the trails, adjust the gears, and keep balance on uneven terrain. It all seemed straightforward, and the excitement in your group was palpable.

“Medium parkour it is, then!” your best friend, Mia, had announced with a grin, gesturing to the map of trails. It wasn’t the easiest route, but definitely manageable. A perfect mix of challenge and fun, with paths winding through the thick woods and just enough obstacles to keep things interesting.

So, there you were, cycling through the forest with the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The cool wind whipped past, making the trees blur as you sped through the trail. You were at the back, lagging a bit behind, but you didn't mind. You were enjoying the ride, taking in the sights, the sounds of nature mixed with the whirr of bike wheels over dirt and rocks.

Everything was going perfectly, until it wasn’t.

Out of nowhere, Mia slammed on her brakes ahead of you to avoid a tricky curve. You reacted instinctively, jamming your brakes hard, but it was too late. The sudden stop sent you flying, tumbling over your handlebars, and before you knew it, you were on the ground, tangled up in your bike. A dull pain shot through your leg, but it wasn’t unbearable. The worst part was the embarrassment. You tried to quickly untangle yourself, hoping no one had noticed—your friends were already too far ahead to hear the commotion.

But someone did notice.

Before you could fully recover, a loud thud sounded behind you. The weight of another body landed just inches away, and when you looked up, you were met with the sight of a guy sprawled on the ground, his bike fallen to the side. His face was hidden beneath his helmet at first, but his groan of frustration was unmistakable.

“What the hell?” His voice was sharp, laced with irritation.

You scrambled to get up, wincing as you did, and turned to apologize. But when you saw who had fallen behind you, your heart nearly stopped.

Lando Norris. The Lando Norris, the Formula 1 driver. You’d recognize him anywhere, even with the helmet.

“Oh my God,” you stammered, eyes wide, “I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to—my friend, she just—“

He stood up, dusting himself off, and as he removed his helmet, his expression was nothing short of annoyed. His messy brown hair was slightly damp from the ride, and his hazel eyes met yours, sharp but surprised. He was about to say something, but then he paused, his anger seemingly dissipating as he took in the sight of you, flustered and apologetic.

“You—“ he started, but stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“I didn’t either,” you admitted, wincing as you tried to stand. The fall had left you with a few scrapes, but you were mostly fine. “Are you okay?”

Lando glanced down at himself, and then at his bike. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit of a... surprise collision.”

You couldn't help but let out a small, nervous laugh, despite the situation. “I didn’t expect to cause a Formula 1 driver to crash. That's definitely not on my bucket list.”

His lips twitched at that, a faint smile appearing. “Well, at least it wasn’t in a car. That’d be much worse.”

Before you could respond, another voice cut through the scene. “Lando, mate, you alright?” A group of guys, his friends no doubt, appeared just behind him, all dressed in similar biking gear.

Lando waved them off. “Yeah, yeah. Just a little hiccup.”

One of them gave you a sympathetic look. “That looked like a rough fall. You alright?”

“I’ll survive,” you replied, still feeling a bit mortified.

Lando glanced at you, and there was something softer in his eyes now, like his frustration had melted away. “Need help with your bike?”

“I think I can manage,” you said, but as you tried to lift it, a sharp pain in your ankle made you wince.

Lando noticed immediately. “You sure? Looks like that fall did more than just bruise your pride.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, but there was a playfulness to his tone that eased your nerves. “Fine. Maybe a little help.”

He knelt down, making quick work of untangling the bike and helping you to your feet. As he steadied you, his hand lingered on your arm for just a moment longer than necessary. The warmth of his touch sent a little flutter through your stomach, and you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered under his gaze.

“There,” he said, standing back up. “Good as new. Well, almost.”

You laughed lightly. “Thanks. I’m really sorry again, though. I didn’t mean to ruin your ride.”

He shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips now. “Guess it wasn’t all your fault. These things happen, right?”

His friends, seeing the situation was under control, started riding off slowly, leaving you and Lando a bit of space. He glanced back at them before turning to you again. “You sure you're okay to keep going?”

You tested your ankle, wincing a little but feeling mostly fine. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. Just might take it slower from here.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? Because I’m already going slow, and you still managed to take me down.”

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes now, and you felt your cheeks heat up slightly.

“Hey! You were the one right behind me,” you shot back, smiling. “Maybe you're not as fast off the track as you think.”

He laughed at that, a real, genuine laugh that made the tension between you fade completely. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, the sounds of the forest surrounding you. You could hear your friends further down the trail, but for some reason, you weren’t in a rush to catch up.

Lando tilted his head slightly, studying you. “So, what brings you and your friends out here? Just looking for some adrenaline?”

“Yeah, pretty much. We’re always up for an adventure,” you replied, leaning against your bike. “And Germany seemed like a good place to do that.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Good choice. Though, maybe next time, avoid taking out unsuspecting riders.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. “Noted.”

There was something easy about being around him now, even though moments before, you had been sure he’d be furious. But Lando was clearly the kind of guy who didn’t let things like this get to him for long. In fact, now that the initial shock had worn off, it seemed like he was enjoying the banter as much as you were.

“Well,” he said, glancing down the trail, “if you need someone to keep an eye on you so you don’t wipe out again, I’m happy to volunteer.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s in it for you?”

He grinned. “I get to say I saved the girl who made me crash.”

“Saved me, huh? Pretty sure I would’ve been fine without you.”

He leaned in just slightly, his smile turning a bit more teasing. “Maybe. But where’s the fun in that?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the subtle flirtation, and you found yourself grinning back. “Alright, Norris. Try to keep up.”

With that, you pushed off, slowly starting down the trail again. And this time, when Lando followed, he stayed right beside you.

Lando stayed close by your side as you both navigated the trail at a slower pace. The tension from your earlier crash had dissolved completely, leaving behind an unexpected sense of ease between the two of you. It felt strange, like you had known him longer than just a few moments. You had expected some awkwardness, given that he was famous and you had, quite literally, knocked him off his bike. But instead, the playful banter flowed effortlessly, and you couldn't help but enjoy it.

“So,” Lando said, breaking the silence as you both rode through a section of the forest bathed in dappled sunlight, “is this what you and your friends do on a regular basis? Traveling the world, causing accidents?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, not usually. We're always up for an adventure, though. This time, it just happened to involve bikes... and, well, unplanned collisions.”

“Right,” he replied, his voice laced with teasing. “I’d say it’s a memorable introduction.”

You looked over at him, catching the smirk on his face. “Is that your way of saying you’re not mad about it anymore?”

He shrugged playfully. “I mean, it’s hard to stay mad when you’ve got someone as charming as you apologizing.”

You shot him a look, pretending to be skeptical. “Charming, huh? I’m sure you say that to all the girls who make you fall off your bike.”

His grin widened, and he slowed his pace to match yours as you hit a steeper incline. “No, just the ones who make me laugh afterward.”

Your heart fluttered slightly at the compliment, and you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. It was a bit surreal to be here, biking through the German woods with Lando Norris—flirting, no less. But as surprising as it was, it also felt strangely natural.

You reached a flat part of the trail, and Lando nudged his bike a little closer to yours. “I never caught your name, by the way,” he said, glancing sideways at you.

“It’s y/n,” you replied, looking over at him. “And you’re Lando. Not that you need an introduction.”

He chuckled. “I figured you knew that part. But hey, I like hearing it from you.”

There was a brief pause as the two of you continued, and you noticed the distant sound of your friends’ voices up ahead. You probably should’ve been catching up, but the longer you rode alongside Lando, the less you cared about rushing back to your group. The trail wasn’t too crowded at this point, giving you and Lando plenty of space to continue at your own pace.

“So, what’s next for you and your adventure squad?” Lando asked, throwing a glance toward the path ahead. “More mountain biking, or something less... crash-prone?”

“Definitely not mountain biking again,” you joked, laughing. “At least not for a while. I think after this, we’re headed to Berlin. You know, something more touristy, less likely to involve hospital visits.”

He laughed along with you, shaking his head. “Probably a smart move. Though, if you want to keep the adventure going, I’ve got some suggestions.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Well, you seem like the type who’d be into karting,” he said, a playful spark in his eyes. “And I just happen to know my way around a kart track.”

You gave him an exaggerated look of surprise. “Wow, what a coincidence! I bet you’re really fast too, huh?”

He grinned, leaning a little closer as you both slowed down again. “I’ve been known to have a bit of speed. Think you could keep up?”

You pretended to think it over. “Maybe. Or, I’ll just make you crash again.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe your audacity. “You’re ruthless, aren’t you?”

“Only when necessary,” you shot back with a grin, feeling the easy warmth between you both growing with each playful exchange.

The two of you rode in comfortable silence for a few minutes after that, the trees and sunlight providing a calming backdrop. You could hear the birds chirping and the wind rustling through the leaves, and for a moment, it was just you and Lando, side by side, enjoying the simplicity of the ride.

Eventually, though, the voices of your friends grew louder, and you spotted them waiting at a clearing up ahead. Mia waved when she saw you, her expression a mix of concern and relief.

“There you are!” she called out as you approached. “We were about to come back and look for you!”

You smiled sheepishly as you stopped beside them. “Yeah, sorry. I, uh, had a bit of a fall.”

Lando, who had pulled up beside you, shot Mia a look. “More like she caused me to fall.”

Mia’s eyes widened in recognition as she took in who was standing next to you. “Wait... are you—?”

“Lando Norris,” he confirmed with a small smirk. “Long story, but yeah, she took me out on the trail.”

Mia’s jaw dropped, and your other friends looked equally stunned. But before anyone could freak out too much, Lando waved it off. “It’s all good. We both survived.”

You laughed, giving your friends a reassuring nod. “Yeah, no major injuries. Just a little pride lost.”

“Wow,” Mia muttered, still processing everything. “This is insane.”

Lando just grinned, glancing over at you. “It’s been... interesting, for sure.”

As your friends began gathering their things, preparing to head off again, Lando turned to you, his voice lowering slightly. “Hey, before you go...”

You looked up at him, curious. “Yeah?”

“How about that karting I mentioned?” His eyes twinkled with that same playful glint. “I’m sticking around in Germany for a few more days. I could give you a proper lesson—on a track, where we won’t crash.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You really want me to embarrass myself again, don’t you?”

Lando shook his head, his smile widening. “No, I just want to see if you can keep up this time.”

You bit your lip, considering it for a moment. “Alright, fine. You’re on.”

His grin was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he stepped back, ready to rejoin his own group. “I’ll find a way to contact you,” he said, flashing one last look over his shoulder as he rode off. “Don’t think you’re getting out of it.”

You watched him disappear down the trail, a mix of excitement and disbelief swirling inside you. Meeting Lando Norris had been completely unexpected, but now, the thought of seeing him again—this time on a kart track—was even more thrilling.

Your friends were buzzing with questions and comments as you all started riding again, but your mind kept drifting back to Lando. You had started the day thinking it would be just another adventure with your friends, but somehow, it had turned into something even better.

And if you were lucky, it was only the beginning.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

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crimson-kisses · 2 months ago

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彼岸花

Characters/fandoms/pairings: Yandere! Honda Kiku || Japan [Hetalia] x F! Reader.

Warning: This story will contain explicit yandere themes, proceed with caution [includes mentions of graphic violence and implied stalking]

Author's note: this idea for a short drabble had been on my mind for days after seeing this yandere japan fanart by @purplemistbutterfly and I just had to write it. Wc- 4, 557.

Also, remember that lot has been going around the world lately, try to educate yourself and contribute as much as you can.

The glow of neon lights wrapped around you like a comforting embrace as you lounged on a plush sofa, the strains of your own recordings playing softly in the background. Each note echoed through the modest bar, creating a dreamy atmosphere that felt almost otherworldly. The chandelier flickered, casting delicate colors across the room, and for a moment, you felt suspended in a haze, as if the world around you had faded away.

In the background, the clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air. A waitress, young and diligent, bustled about, balancing trays of drinks with practiced grace, exchanging light banter with the bartender, who was busy mixing cocktails. Their laughter mingled with the music, a gentle reminder of the life that pulsed through the club as it prepared for the evening rush.

With a soft sigh, you swung your legs off the sofa, the hem of your dress swirling around you for an instant. The sharp click of your heels against the floor grounded you, pulling you back into the moment.

You absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair around your fingers, a pang of longing washing over you. How you wished you could sing forever—such a melodramatic thought, you mused.

Just then, a waitress removed the ashtray from the coffee table, her movements graceful. She caught your eye and offered a warm smile, one that reflected the admiration so many in this lively city had for you. Young yet industrious, she, like others, found joy in your performances, and their support felt like a quiet reminder of your modest fame.

It was the perfect balance—enough recognition to feel appreciated, yet not so much that it became overwhelming. You cherished this intimate space, where your talent was seen and valued, untainted by the harsh demands of larger stages.

With a roll of your shoulders, you decided to freshen up. You applied a light layer of makeup, your dress—a flowing creation with delicate crow motifs—draped around your legs. The fabric shifted with each subtle movement, catching the light in a way that made the motifs seem alive.

You slipped on your heels and styled your hair with careful hands, confident in your skill, the way you always did before a performance. After sending away the helpful crew who insisted on doing it for you, you prepared to step into the night, ready to captivate once more.

The stage shimmered like a midnight sky, lit with soft, silvery lights that twinkled like distant stars. You felt like a solitary bird, singing a lullaby that might go unheard by the vastness of the world, yet here, every note held significance. The melody flowed from your lips, soft and effortless, as your body swayed gently to the rhythm.

The rest of the world faded away, leaving just you, the music, and the connection with those who listened. It was ironic, really—this was when most eyes were on you, and yet you felt as though you were suspended in a private world of your own making.

The audience was a mix of familiar faces and newcomers, all drawn in by the magic you created on stage. Among them were well-dressed gentlemen, some leaning back with arms crossed, others inching forward, their eyes following your every move with intrigued intensity. Nearby, women whispered excitedly, their giggles escaping as they listened. Business elites, seeking respite from the fast-paced world outside, sat quietly, their faces softening as they allowed themselves to relax, appreciating the intimacy of this setting over the grandeur of larger performances.

At other tables, university students exchanged glances between sips of their drinks, entranced by your voice, some even whispering your name as though they’d stumbled upon a secret treasure. Local workers, still in their uniforms, unwound from their long shifts, leaning back in their chairs with drinks in hand, their faces softened with quiet smiles as your melody soothed their weary souls.

In the background, the diligent staff moved seamlessly through the space, balancing trays of drinks, refilling glasses, and clearing tables. The bartender, a seasoned expert with quick hands, mixed cocktails with the precision of an artist, casting the occasional glance toward the stage, a faint smile always tugging at his lips. The waitstaff worked with a rhythm of their own, exchanging light banter with regulars and newcomers alike.

They were your quiet champions, always turning down the big offers from record companies that sought to pull you into the commercialized world of fame. They knew, as you did, that this setting was where you truly wished to be.

Your performance was more than just a routine; it was an extension of yourself, a moment of vulnerability wrapped in music. The spotlight gently framed your figure, casting a soft glow that danced with the notes as they escaped your lips. Your hands lifted, almost as if guiding the melody itself, and for those moments on stage, nothing else mattered.

The sway of your dress, adorned with delicate crow motifs, moved like shadows across the floor, adding an air of mystery to your presence.

And though you weren’t chasing the grandeur of fame, there was a certain power in these performances. The connection you felt with the audience—each gaze, each whisper of your name—made you feel seen in ways that the glare of the public eye never could.

You weren’t a star striving to shine in the vastness of the sky; you were the moon casting light over an enchanted crowd, and in this bar, in this moment, that was enough.

What you didn’t notice was the quiet presence lingering at the edge of the room, like a shadow among the warm glow of lights. Hidden in the dim corners, a pair of dark, inscrutable eyes watched you—deep and unfathomable, reminiscent of still waters reflecting a moonlit sky.

His gaze followed your every movement, simmering with an adoration that burned slowly, as insidious as poison, blending seamlessly with the night. And just before you left the stage, he muttered softly to himself, barely audible over the music,

“カラスは…これから来るものの前兆だ。”

His lips curled into a subtle, unsettling smile, as though the omen had already taken root.

“ダーリン。”

════════════════════════════

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision when Feliciano had eagerly dragged Kiku out of the house, his voice embarrassingly loud in front of everyone. With excitement gleaming in his eyes, he insisted that Kiku join him at a nearby bar, one he claimed had a cozy atmosphere.

He went on about the drinks, the people, and especially the woman there whose voice he described as angelic, able to make anyone forget their troubles. Kiku raised an eyebrow—he knew Feliciano, and any woman could be deemed an angel in his eyes, so he wasn’t sure whether anyone could truly live up to that praise.

Despite his reluctance, Kiku followed, feeling a mixture of resignation and annoyance. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged out like this, especially for something so undignified. He could already imagine the kind of chaos Feliciano would create in such a quiet setting.

As they entered the bar, Kiku sighed. The warm lighting and low hum of conversation created a peaceful atmosphere, but he wasn’t impressed. His eyes scanned the room, seeking something of interest to distract himself. That’s when he spotted Ludwig across the room.

Ludwig was seated at a table, his gaze fixed intently on a brunette in a maid outfit who was laughing with a group of friends. Kiku noted how serious Ludwig appeared, his focus unwavering as he studied her every move with an almost unsettling intensity. When their eyes met, Ludwig gave him a brief nod, which Kiku returned with a slight bow. It was typical of Ludwig to maintain such seriousness, even in a casual setting.

Next to Ludwig sat Francis, effortlessly charming a group of businesswomen with his smooth foreign accent. His laughter filled the air easily, a stark contrast to Ludwig’s quiet intensity. Kiku watched the scene with mild amusement. It was familiar, but somehow still entertaining to see Francis working his charm.

Feliciano, oblivious to the dynamics of the group, continued to rave about the bar’s ambiance. Kiku couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh. Maybe there was something to enjoy in this unexpected gathering of familiar faces, but he wasn’t convinced.

Then the music began.

A soft, haunting melody slowly rose, weaving through the air like a gentle current, filling the space around them. Kiku, sinking into his seat in one of the private booths, instinctively turned his focus toward the sound. The bar was cozy, the conversation still flowing around him, but it was the music that truly drew him in.

He glanced toward Ludwig again, who seemed to have relaxed a little, a few drinks in, with the brunette now sitting on his lap. Despite the change in posture, the intensity in Ludwig’s gaze remained. Kiku shifted his focus back to the music, feeling the soft notes caress the air. Despite their slow pace, they held power, quieting the noise in his mind.

The voice that accompanied the melody was captivating—rich, smooth, hypnotic. It settled into Kiku’s chest, making his thoughts slow and his senses sharpen. The world around him dimmed as he focused only on the sound, letting the voice wrap around him like a spell. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was, lost to the music.

As the notes filled him, something shifted inside, like a spark igniting in the stillness of his chest. An unfamiliar hunger stirred—dangerous, intoxicating. The voice, the melody—it awoke something deep within him, something he hadn’t been prepared to feel.

Kiku found himself utterly fixated. His usual caution and restraint were slipping away as the voice continued to draw him in. He couldn’t tear his attention away, lost in the depth of it, as if everything else faded into the background.

From that night on, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He watched you from afar, noting the softness in your manner, the strength in your resolve. You were kind, diligent, and full of quiet grace, drawing him in further with each passing day.

Kiku, always careful, had never allowed himself to indulge in such obsession, but now, something darker began to take hold. He hired someone to hack into your devices, learning your secrets, uncovering the hidden corners of your life. Each discovery only deepened his infatuation.

You lived simply, but there was an undeniable elegance in everything you did. Each morning, you made matcha tea, savoring it slowly as you tended to your modest garden. Cherry blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, chrysanthemums bloomed in vibrant bursts, and bonsai trees stood carefully pruned, each one a testament to your patience.

You had a quiet generosity too—leaving bowls of rice or fish out for the stray cats that wandered into your yard, a small act of kindness that you believed brought good fortune. He watched, fascinated by the peace you found in these little rituals.

In the afternoons, you volunteered at the local community center, helping the elderly with their daily tasks. You prepared sweet treats like mochi and dorayaki, listening to their stories, sharing in their wisdom. You were always engaged, always giving, connecting deeply with the community around you.

And when the seasonal festivals came around, you danced with your neighbors, laughed with friends, and participated in the celebrations that honored yourself. The kindness you spread was subtle but powerful, a thread that tied you to the people around you. To him.

Kiku couldn't stop watching, couldn't stop learning more about you. You were everywhere he looked—your life, your kindness, your quiet grace—it all consumed him, filling the space in his mind, until it became impossible to ignore.

════════════════════════════

"生一緒にいたい"

He repeated it over and over, the words slipping past his lips like a prayer, each time more fervently, each time more desperate. The phrase carved itself into his soul, filling the hollow space within him.

"私のもの…"

His eyes never strayed from you, not once. Always from the shadows, always watching. You didn’t notice him—never did. But he noticed everything. Every little movement you made. Every soft laugh that danced in the air. Each smile was like a dagger of desire. You were his. Only his.

"全てが私のものになる…"

He knew everything about you. The way your hair curled just right, the way your fingers brushed your lips in that nervous habit. The smallest details—details only he could see. He whispered your name to himself, savoring it, imagining the life you would share together, locked away from the world. Just the two of you.

"絶対に、君を失わない…"

Kiku's gaze was unwavering. You were everywhere. In the streets you walked, in the quiet little coffee shop you adored, in the park where you sat with that innocent, too-perfect smile. Everything was etched in his memory. Every single place, every single moment. He would wait. He would wait until you understood—until you realized that the only place you could ever belong was with him. Alone. Together.

“永遠に”

He loved you. More than love—it had become an obsession. A consuming, all-encompassing thing. Each little piece of your life, each small revelation only fanned the flames. How could someone so perfect exist? So effortlessly beautiful, so kind? You were everything he had longed for, everything he needed, and the thought of losing you was unbearable. His thoughts of you filled his every moment, his longing growing, desperate, never-ending.

He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect.

He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.

He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.

He couldn’t lose you. No. He wouldn’t lose you. Yes. He shouldn’t lose you. You were one of a kind.

Each day passed as if he were observing a film he had forgotten to look over from long ago.

Kiku had fallen deep in love with you. Everything he did was for you. In his mind, there was no difference between love and possession. You were the one thing he could never let go, the one thing that would make him whole.

And when that moment came—he would make sure there was no escape.

════════════════════════════

He had been attending every one of your performances, without fail. No matter the venue—whether it was an intimate gathering or an art house event tucked away from prying eyes—he always found his way there. He relished the exclusivity, the idea that only a select few could appreciate your art. To him, it was magnificent, and every second spent watching you felt sacred.

Soon, your shows became the highlight of his life. He rescheduled meetings, canceled national duties, all to linger in the shadows of your presence. Even during the most critical discussions, his mind often wandered. Politically important matters, ceremonies, decisions—they all paled compared to thoughts of you. Your voice, the arch of your hands, the grace you exuded—it consumed him.

The first time he approached you, you blushed under his gaze, avoiding his eyes as if overwhelmed. That small flicker of vulnerability stayed with him, replaying in his mind, each time more vivid than the last.

Watching you became a ritual, a sacred act. He sent small, thoughtful gifts—flowers from distant lands, hand-written letters, packages left at your door. He wanted you to feel seen, cherished, even if his gestures sometimes unsettled you. He even started bringing trusted officials and friends to witness your art. He wanted to show you off, to see their awe, as they recognized what he had come to adore.

But the closer he tried to get, the more distant you became. You had gently expressed discomfort with his gifts and appearances. His heart sank. That quiet rejection cut deeper than he’d anticipated. He called to you, begged you to reconsider, but you never wavered. Slowly, imperceptibly, you slipped from his grasp.

With every step you took away, his longing grew. Each polite refusal, each avoidance felt like a door closing. He told himself it was just a phase, that you would understand eventually. But time passed, and that hope began to fade, replaced by an aching frustration. How could you pull away from something so sincere? How could you not see how deeply he adored you? Did you truly believe you could escape?

“いや…いや...いや...いや...

いや! いや! いや!, いや!”

════════════════════════════

When he learned you’d be performing for a private group of university graduates, a spark of jealousy ignited deep within him. His jaw clenched as he imagined those men—laughing, cheering, acting as if they truly understood the value of what you offered.

How could they? They weren’t worthy of sharing the same room with you, let alone witnessing you in such an intimate setting. The thought of it, the idea of them being so close, felt like an intrusion into the sanctity he had carefully built around you.

He couldn't let it go. He had to be there. No matter what, nothing could stop him.

He slipped into the crowd unnoticed, taking refuge in a shadowed corner. His eyes never left you. Every movement you made, every gesture, was recorded in his mind. The group of graduates, so self-assured and too eager, didn’t know their place. They had no right to be near you.

He observed them as they settled, talking amongst themselves, casting glances in your direction. Their words grew louder, and Kiku’s grip on his calm began to slip. One man leaned over to his friend with a grin, eyes scanning you up and down. “I bet she’s just as beautiful up close, don’t you think?”

The other chuckled, clearly amused. “I wouldn’t mind finding out.”

The laughter that followed made Kiku’s chest tighten. They were nothing but animals, trying to mark their territory, and you were the prize they sought. But it didn’t stop there. As the evening went on, the men grew bolder. One of them, emboldened by a drink, approached you during a brief break in the performance. He placed his hand on your shoulder with too much familiarity, leaning in too close.

“Such a shame," he said, eyes glinting. "A woman with so much talent, and yet so few people to truly appreciate it." He let his hand linger just a moment too long, his thumb brushing against the back of your neck.

You recoiled slightly, discomfort flashing across your face, but you smiled politely. "Please, I'm fine," you said, your tone steady though Kiku could see the slight tension in your shoulders. "Please refrain."

The man smirked, taking your response as an invitation to press further. “You sure? You’re not one of those shy types, are you?”

You took a step back, holding your composure, but it was too much for Kiku. His pulse quickened. The tightness in his chest grew unbearable. He watched as the others, noticing the scene, began to snicker, sharing looks that made his blood boil. These men didn’t just admire you—they were treating you like an object, their entitled hands and crude remarks making his skin burn.

Kiku’s fists clenched, his breath shallow. His eyes locked onto the man’s hand, still resting on you, his touch inappropriate, invasive. A surge of fury coursed through him. How dare they think they could touch you? How dare they think they had any right to make you feel uncomfortable in any way?

The night had begun to unravel, and so had his patience.

The laughter continued to echo in his ears, mingling with the murmur of the crowd. But Kiku’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the men who dared to ruin this moment. He would let them think they were in control, that this was their night. But they had no idea what they had provoked.

He leaned slightly forward, lips curving into a cold smile. There were consequences. And they didn't even see it coming.

Not like he could help it. The thread had snapped, like the final stroke of a katana slicing through the air, severing the restraint he had so carefully maintained. The fire surged through his veins, fierce and unrelenting, as if Kagutsuchi, the god of flames himself, had set his soul alight. It consumed him—body, mind, and spirit—filling every corner of his being with an overwhelming heat, a rage that pulsed with ancient power.

His hand found the knife on the nearby table. The cold steel felt almost... familiar, as though it had been waiting for him, as if it were an extension of his own will. He raised the blade, the glint of metal flashing like the edge of a sword under moonlight, reflecting the fire now burning in his eyes. With each step toward them, he moved like a shadow, swift and decisive.

At this moment, nothing else mattered.

The first slash was quick, clean, and almost too easy. Blood splattered, painting the floor in red streaks, but Kiku didn’t care. The crimson stain of their lives was nothing compared to the purity of his desire. The warm, thick liquid sprayed across the room like the petals of a sakura in full bloom—scattered and gone in an instant, yet forever marking the earth beneath.

The thought of their hands on you, those impure hands, tainted him to his core. Their very existence had defiled something sacred. His heart thudded in his chest, a rhythmic pulse amid the chaos, his breath quick and uneven. How dare they even think of you like that?

Five of them. Five arrogant, filthy students, too blind to realize their actions, would cost them everything. He couldn’t let them live. Not after what they had tried to do.

“許せない、許せない、どうして…どうして君に触れた?”

The second slash came faster than the first, cutting down one of them as he collapsed to the floor, lifeless. Blood sprayed in a violent arc, mingling with their screams and desperate pleas. Kiku’s rage burned hotter, unstoppable now. They scrambled to escape, but it was too late. Another slash. Another life snuffed out in an instant.

He moved through them like a shadow, his strikes swift and merciless, as precise as death itself. They couldn’t escape. They shouldn’t have touched you. Their blood splattered across the floor, and it felt almost... cathartic.

The fourth one—a desperate, shaking figure—reached for the door in vain. Kiku closed in, catching him in an iron grip. A swift slash across the throat, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless, joining the others.

And then there was just one. The last student. Kiku walked toward him slowly, savoring the terror in his eyes, the hopelessness settling in as he realized there was no escape. His apologies fell on deaf ears; his words were useless. They meant nothing now—not when they had tormented so many others before they tried to harm you.

The final slash was quick, precise, and the last of the five fell without a sound. Kiku stood amidst the carnage, breathing heavily, the knife still dripping with their blood. Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the steady drip of blood hitting the floor.

He didn’t care about the consequences, didn’t care that he had taken their lives with his own hands. What mattered now was that they would never touch you again.

You were his. And no one, not a single soul, could take that away from him.

════════════════════════════

The knife slipped from Kiku’s fingers, clattering to the floor with a metallic thud, but he hardly noticed. His chest rose and fell, breath coming faster, as his gaze found you.

You.

Your figure trembled in the dim light, and in his eyes, you were like a spider lily in full bloom, a beautiful apparition drenched in red. Crimson painted you in streaks, trails of black running down your cheeks as you watched him, wide-eyed and tear-streaked, a delicate petal shaken by the storm.

Kiku’s breathing stopped, his heart halting in his chest as his world narrowed to you, only you. He was so close, close enough to catch the faint shiver in your frame, close enough to see the tears glistening in your eyes. It was intoxicating, a sight more beautiful than anything he had ever witnessed in his endless lifetime.

His fingers twitched, aching to reach for you, to trace those stains of red like brushstrokes on silk. You, trembling before him, so perfect, so untouched by anyone else’s taint—now his. His alone.

A slow, almost reverent exhale escaped his lips. No other nation, no other woman had ever sparked this feeling in him. In centuries of existence, through wars and alliances, through lifetimes of encounters, he had never felt this pull, this ache, until you.

The feeling was ancient, relentless, filling the depths of his soul like the tides. He had wanted many things, fought for many things, but this… this was different. A possession he had claimed, yet one he longed to cherish, to hold, to keep forever close.

He took a step forward, then another, as if entranced, his heartbeat finally catching up to the flood of emotions overwhelming him. You were his. And no one—no force, no man, no fate— would or could take that away.

His fingers brushed against the red phone in his pocket, pulling it out with a deliberate slowness. A dark smile curled on his lips as he held it up, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes traced every inch of your form, as if committing you to memory. His black suit was stained with crimson, the blood that had spilled from the chaos now forgotten, its significance drowned in the quiet tension between you.

The phone’s screen lit up, and with it, the soft click of the camera captured the moment. Another flash. The light illuminated your face, your trembling form, and your wide, fearful eyes. Kiku could almost taste the fear in the air, and he relished it, savoring every second.

You lay there, weak and trembling, your body unwilling to move but your mind screaming for escape. The dress you wore—delicate, lace-trimmed, a soft shade of pale pink—clung to your form, stained now with the same blood that marked his hands. It was a stark contrast to the nightmare unfolding around you.

Kiku’s smile remained serene, calm in a way that made your heart race, as if nothing were wrong. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, slow, savoring the moment. The room was heavy with silence, your breathing the only sound filling the space. The blood spattered across his face, and yet his expression remained as composed as ever, as if this was some twisted art he was admiring.

"言ってみろ。もう二度と逃げないと言いな,"

Kiku whispered softly, his voice smooth, almost tender, but laced with an authority, a threat, a plea, a promise.

Say it. Say you'll never run away again.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even move. Fear had paralyzed you, and his gaze held you captive, making it impossible to tear your eyes away. Every instinct screamed for you to fight, to flee, but there was no escape. You were trapped in his world.

Kiku’s fingers pressed down on the phone’s screen one last time. Another flash. The light lingered, and in that brief moment, you saw the truth: he had captured you. Not just your image, but something deeper, something irreversible. You could never escape now. You were his.

And in that flash, it was sealed.

Forever.

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