I knew I needed to leave.

The onsen lights flickered in the distance across from the neon-soaked relic of the town, Shin-yume. If I didn't head back soon, Yuki would probably start looking for me.

I'd hate having to explain to her and Hibana why I was doing unsupervised demon-picnic therapy in the woods with a succubus.

But I didn't move.

Murasaki sat next to me, humming some half-tune to herself as she packed up the bento boxes. Like this was just a totally normal Thursday night.

"Murasaki."

She looked up, smiling.

"If you really can help with this dragon thing... then yeah. I want to know. I'll take it."

Her eyes had that too-calm look. The one people get right before they tell you your dog died or they're about to change your life.

"You ever notice how it happens when you're stressed?" she said, her voice soft and way too smooth. "That thing inside you—it's your spirit-animal—it bubbles up when you're about to break, darling. As in, spiritually, or traumatically."

"Yeah," I said. "Shion's bite can have that effect on people."

I stood up, walked to the edge of the clearing and leaned against a dead tree. Its branches clawed at the moonlight like it had regrets.

I thought of Shion from earlier, though. Lying dead on the stairs.

"She didn't mean to—"

"No," she said, bluntly. "Oh, never mind Shion."

Her voice lost some of the musical quality as she spat Shion's name.

Then she looked ashamed of herself.

She got up and stood a few feet behind me.

"Sorry…" Murasaki said. "She's your friend, but to answer your question: stress and trauma are great igniters. But they burn out fast. They'll burn you out, Ryu-kun."

I nodded.

"Yeah, I don't want to do that either. So what can I do?"

She leaned closer. "You have to accept it."

I blinked. "Accept what?"

She crossed her arms under her chest. "That you're a black dragon."

Silence.

I wanted to laugh, but my jaw was too tight.

Then she closed the distance between the two of us. She reached for my hand. Didn't take it—just held hers there, palm up, like she was asking for permission.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

She let her bangs fall across her face, covering one of her glowing violet eyes.

"Don't you trust me?" she asked.

I scoffed. "Like with Mongo in the library earlier?"

She shook her head slowly.

"No. That underneath the demonic temptress that there's a lost soul. That you see me."

God help me, I gave her my hand.

Her fingers closed around mine.

"It's okay," she said, voice almost a whisper. "You don't have to keep pretending you're the nice guy. Or that you're not afraid of how good it feels when you get power. When you take it."

Yes.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

She looked at me like she saw right through everything. Like she'd already crawled down through the rotten basement of my psyche and found the room where I locked all the ugly thoughts.

Yes I want that.

Somewhere, deep within, something stirred.

"You have a shadow, Ryu. It wants things. It hungers. You will never overcome it, and you'll never kill it. It's part of you."

Yes.

I didn't want to hear this. Not from her. Not from anyone.

I want you, beautiful girl.

But I didn't pull away.

Then she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear.

"It's still you. Not you as you want to be. Not you as other people think you are. Just… you."

Something cracked.

You will come to me. This is my place, my home, my onsen.

I blinked.

And the world was gone.

No trees. No stars. No Murasaki.

Just black. Me. And I was staring into it. Into myself.

I was the abyss, and it was staring back, and for the first time—I don't mean metaphorically—I felt my eyes open.

I can see you.

I bit my lip as I felt my pupils stretching like vertical slits that didn't stop.

My back arched, pain ripping across my shoulders like steel cable yanking from inside my bones.

I gasped.

Then I screamed as I felt blades slicing neatly through the skin in my back.

And felt them.

Wings.

Huge.

Heavy.

Wrong.

My shoulder blades were on fire and could feel my skin tearing as they stretched from under my flesh.

Like pulling fiber through the muscles slowly, inevitably, until they reached the end.

I saw Murasaki standing there—still there, still with me—and she looked high.

Euphoric.

Like she'd just seen a god.

YES.

I felt dizzy, lightheaded.

Her violet eyes were glowing like phosphor in the dark.

"You've got your wings," she said, breathless. "My black dragon."

I fell forward onto the wet grass and dirt onto my hands.

I could feel them behind me, stretching out.

The wings. My wings.

They felt ancient. They felt hungry.

And they felt revolting.

My vision blurred, burned with tears.

But I also felt powerful.

Every instinct I had told me to rip them off and bury them.

But they were mine.

THESE ARE MINE.

I gagged.

My stomach twisted like it had a mind of its own. I could feel things inside me shifting. Coiling.

I couldn't breathe.

And then she was there.

Kneeling beside me.

Holding me.

"It's okay," Murasaki whispered, stroking my hair like I was some twitchy cat she'd coaxed out from under the porch. "You're okay, darling. Shhh…"

I shook.

"Murasaki," I gasped. "This is too much. I can't—I can't—"

"I know," she said.

And she did.

Somehow, I could tell she actually did.

Gently, she helped me to my feet, and that's when I looked.

Behind her, like soft velvet in the dark.

Her own wings were out.

Smaller than mine. Bat-like. Demonic.

Graceful in a nightmarish kind of way.

Mine?

Mine were… serpentine. Long. Leathery.

With scales that shimmered and clicked when they moved. Like armored sheets fused to raw muscle.

And I could feel the wind, moving them, moving with the air.

Disgusting.

"You're beautiful," she said.

I didn't believe her.

But… I pressed her against me.

"Oh!" she gasped. But she didn't resist. Instead, I felt her arms wrap around me, and she cuddled against my chest.

I looked down at her.

"Yes, Ryu-kun," she whispered. "Do it, darling. Show me what you can do."

I took a deep breath and pushed down. Hard.

My wings reached out, and then we lifted. I did it again. Higher.

"Yes, you're doing it!" she cried triumphantly.

But I felt revolting moving my back like that. And even though Murasaki didn't weigh much, I was inexperienced.

So a moment later, I felt my wings slowing and we floated back to the ground.

And then she told me to wait a moment.

She reached into her bookbag beside her and handed me something.

Wrapped in tissue paper.

"A gift," she said. "For being brave. My brave black dragon. Kokuryuu."

You're mine.

She didn't explain. Just smiled.

We walked through the trees. Her steps were light. Mine were shaky.

The trees gave way to the road. I could see the konbini glowing under its flickering light, the onsen just beyond it.

"Are you okay, darling?" she asked.

I looked behind me.

They were gone.

Had I done that?

And I blinked. Had they been there at all?

YES.

She turned to go.

"Take care, darling," Murasaki said. "I don't want to leave, but I must."

She looked back at Crescent Moon Academy. It dominated the landscape the way a hornet's nest dominates an entire tree.

"Suiren-sensei has a curfew. If I'm not back soon," she sighed.

"Mongo?" I asked.

She smirked.

"Noppera-bō, and you don't want me to lose this pretty face do you?"

Damn it. No.

"We'll have to do this again."

Then her wings flared open, and she took off, the wind hissing as she disappeared above the treetops.

"You didn't even give me a chance to say no!" I yelled.

I swore I could hear her laughing.

I stood there, staring at the package she left in my hands.

And I unwrapped it slowly, revealing a guitar strap.

Black leather. Hand-stitched.

A coiled dragon in pitch black thread curling across it, its wings spread wide, its eyes blazing.

It was… perfect.

It was mine.

I smiled.

Then my phone buzzed, reminding me of a text I'd gotten earlier.

It was from Inego.

"Oi, you're not going to like this, mate. It gets worse. Succubi mark people. The next step is gifting. Something personal. Something you'll think you can't live without."

I stared at the strap.

And I felt it, a weird, sinking feeling in my stomach. Like I'd been tagged. Like something just changed.

I tried to convince myself it was just a strap.

Just a cool gift.

But…

I liked it.

A lot.

And part of me, a part I didn't want to look at, wondered if maybe I already was.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.