chapter 1-8

Chapter 1: First Encounter
The rain hammered against the abandoned warehouse windows as you pressed your back against the cold concrete wall, heart racing. Another curse had escaped containment, and here you were—a relatively new sorcerer—sent to handle cleanup duty. Alone.

The shadows seemed to move with malicious intent, and you clutched your weapon tighter, cursed energy flowing through your fingertips. That's when you felt it—a presence so overwhelming it made your knees weak.

"You shouldn't be here."

The voice was deep, tinged with something dangerous. You spun around to find a tall figure emerging from the darkness. Pale skin, dark hair pulled back, and those distinctive marks across his face that you recognized immediately.

Choso. One of the Death Painting Wombs.

"I could say the same to you," you managed, though your voice trembled slightly. Everything you'd heard about him suggested you should be running, but something kept your feet planted.

His dark eyes studied you with an intensity that made heat pool in your stomach. "You're not afraid."

"Should I be?"

A ghost of a smile played at his lips. "Most would be."

The curse you'd been tracking suddenly burst through the ceiling, all gnashing teeth and writhing tentacles. Without thinking, you moved to strike, but Choso was faster. His blood manipulation technique activated, crimson streams flowing from his hands to pierce through the creature with deadly precision.

It dissolved into nothing within seconds.

"Thank you," you breathed, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. Close enough to see the way his chest rose and fell, close enough to catch the scent of iron and something distinctly masculine.

"Why are you really here?" His voice was softer now, but no less intense.

"My job." You lifted your chin defiantly. "Same as anyone else."

Something flickered in his expression—interest, perhaps. "You're different from the others."

"How so?"

Instead of answering, he stepped closer, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. "What's your name?"

You told him, your name sounding different on your own lips with him standing so near. He repeated it slowly, like he was tasting it.

"I'm Choso."

"I know who you are."

"And yet you're still here." His hand came up, not quite touching your face but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his palm. "Interesting."

Before you could respond, he was gone, melting back into the shadows as if he'd never been there at all. Only the lingering scent of iron and the rapid beating of your heart proved the encounter had been real.

Chapter 2: Unexpected Meetings
Three weeks later, you found yourself in Shibuya, ostensibly on patrol but secretly hoping. You told yourself it was professional curiosity, but deep down you knew better. Choso had occupied your thoughts far more than was wise or safe.

"You're distracted tonight."

You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning to find him perched on a fire escape above you, looking down with those intense dark eyes.

"You have a habit of appearing out of nowhere," you called up to him.

"And you have a habit of wandering alone in dangerous places." He dropped down silently, landing just a few feet away. "It's almost like you're looking for trouble."

"Maybe I am."

The admission hung between you, charged with unspoken meaning. His eyes darkened further, if that was possible.

"Careful what you wish for," he said, voice dropping to a near whisper.

This time, you were the one who stepped closer. "What if I'm not the careful type?"

Something shifted in his expression, predatory and hungry. "You should be. Especially with me."

"Why?" You tilted your head, studying his face. "Because you're dangerous?"

"Because I want things I shouldn't want." His confession was barely audible, but it hit you like a physical blow.

Your breath caught. "Like what?"

Instead of answering with words, he moved closer, backing you against the alley wall. His hands came up to bracket your head, not quite touching but caging you in. The air between you crackled with tension.

"Like you," he admitted, his voice rough. "I want you, and that's dangerous for both of us."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. "Maybe I want dangerous."

His control seemed to snap. One hand slid down to cup your face, thumb tracing across your lower lip. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes, I do." You caught his wrist, holding his hand against your cheek. "I've been thinking about you. About this."

He made a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. "This is insane."

"Probably." You smiled up at him. "But I don't care."

For a moment, you thought he might kiss you. His face was so close you could count his eyelashes, could see the conflict warring in his expression. Then he pulled back abruptly.

"I can't." But his voice lacked conviction.

"Can't, or won't?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't leave either. You stood there in the alley, tension thick enough to cut with a knife, both of you teetering on the edge of something that couldn't be undone.

"Meet me tomorrow night," you said impulsively. "Same time, same place. If you want to."

His jaw tightened. "You're playing with fire."

"Then burn me."

Chapter 3: Crossing Lines
He came.

You'd been standing in the same alley for twenty minutes, starting to think you'd pushed too hard, when his familiar presence washed over you. This time, you didn't turn around immediately.

"I wasn't sure you'd show," you said softly.

"Neither was I." His voice was closer than expected, right behind you. "I've been trying to stay away."

"But you're here." You finally turned, finding him closer than you'd anticipated. Close enough to see the conflict in his dark eyes.

"Against my better judgment." His hand came up, fingers barely grazing your cheek. "You're going to be the death of me."

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

His laugh was humorless. "You don't understand what you do to me."

"Tell me."

The simple request seemed to undo something in him. His control, already hanging by a thread, finally snapped. His hands cupped your face, thumbs stroking across your cheekbones.

"You make me forget who I am," he whispered. "What I am. When I'm with you, I don't feel like a curse. I feel... human."

The vulnerability in his voice broke something open in your chest. Without thinking, you rose up on your toes and kissed him.

It was supposed to be soft, tentative, but the moment your lips touched his, he groaned and pulled you closer. His mouth moved against yours with desperate hunger, like he'd been starving and you were his first meal.

You melted into him, hands fisting in his shirt as he backed you against the wall. The kiss deepened, became something wild and consuming. His body pressed against yours, solid and warm and perfectly fitting.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard.

"This is dangerous," he said against your lips, but he didn't move away.

"I know." Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "I don't care."

"You should." But his hands were sliding down your sides, pulling you closer. "I'm not good for you."

"Let me be the judge of that."

He studied your face in the dim light, searching for something. Whatever he found there must have satisfied him because he kissed you again, slower this time but no less intense.

"Your place or mine?" you whispered against his mouth.

He pulled back, eyes widening slightly. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

Chapter 4: Ignition
Your apartment was small but cozy, though you barely noticed the familiar surroundings with Choso's presence filling the space. He stood near the door, hands shoved in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

"Second thoughts?" you asked, suddenly nervous.

"Third and fourth thoughts," he admitted. "But I can't seem to leave."

You moved closer, slowly, giving him time to back away if he wanted. He didn't. Instead, his eyes tracked your every movement like a predator watching prey.

"I've been thinking about you," you said softly, stopping just within arm's reach. "About what it would feel like to touch you properly."

His breath hitched. "You're killing me."

"Good." You reached up, fingers tracing along his jaw. His eyes fluttered closed at the contact. "I want to drive you as crazy as you've been driving me."

His hands came up to cover yours, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Show me."

That seemed to break the last of his restraint. His hands slid into your hair, tilting your head back as he kissed you with bruising intensity. This time, there was nothing tentative about it. It was pure hunger, raw need that had been building for weeks.

You melted into him, hands fisting in his shirt as he walked you backward toward the bedroom. The journey was interrupted by desperate kisses, hands exploring, soft sounds of pleasure that filled the quiet apartment.

By the time you reached the bedroom, your shirt was somewhere on the living room floor and his hands were mapping the newly exposed skin with reverent touches.

"Beautiful," he murmured against your collarbone, lips trailing down your throat. "So beautiful."

Your hands worked at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin. When you finally pushed the fabric off his shoulders, you couldn't help but stare. His body was lean and powerful, marked with scars that told stories you wanted to learn.

"Your turn to stare," he said, voice rough with amusement and desire.

"I'm not staring." But you were, and you weren't sorry about it. "I'm admiring."

His laugh was low and warm. "Admire all you want. But I plan to do more than look."

The promise in his voice sent heat pooling low in your belly. He backed you toward the bed, hands never stopping their exploration of your skin. When the backs of your legs hit the mattress, he paused.

"Last chance to change your mind," he said, though his voice was strained with the effort of control.

"Not happening." You pulled him down with you, reveling in the weight of his body settling over yours. "I want this. I want you."

That was all the permission he needed.

Chapter 5: Combustion
What followed was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. Choso worshipped your body with a focus and intensity that left you breathless, his touches alternating between gentle reverence and desperate hunger.

His hands seemed to know exactly where to touch, exactly how much pressure to apply to make you arch beneath him. His mouth followed the path his hands had mapped, leaving trails of fire across your skin.

"So responsive," he murmured against your throat, voice rough with desire. "I love the sounds you make."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Every touch sent sparks through your nervous system, building toward something that felt overwhelming in the best way.

"Choso, please," you gasped, hands tangling in his dark hair.

"Please what?" He raised his head to look at you, eyes dark with want. "Tell me what you need."

"You," you whispered. "Just you."

Something tender flickered in his expression before it was replaced by pure hunger. He kissed you deeply, pouring all his want and need into the connection of your mouths.

When he finally joined with you, both of you cried out at the sensation. He stilled, giving you time to adjust, his forehead pressed against yours.

"Okay?" he asked, voice tight with restraint.

"More than okay." You rolled your hips experimentally, making him groan. "Perfect."

What followed was a dance of give and take, of whispered encouragements and desperate kisses. He moved with a controlled passion that left you trembling, each thrust calculated to drive you higher.

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, mixed with endearments and curses that made your heart race even faster. The world narrowed to just the two of you, the slide of skin against skin, the building pressure that threatened to consume you both.

When your climax hit, it was with a force that left you seeing stars. Choso followed moments later, your name on his lips as he buried his face in your neck.

For a long moment, you lay tangled together, breathing hard and trembling with aftershocks. His arms tightened around you, holding you close against his chest.

"That was..." you started, then trailed off, unable to find adequate words.

"Incredible," he finished, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You're incredible."

You tilted your head to look at him, struck by how different he looked in the aftermath. Softer somehow, more vulnerable. It made your chest tight with emotion you weren't ready to name.

"Stay," you whispered, suddenly afraid he might disappear like he had before.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, settling more comfortably beside you. "Not tonight."

Chapter 6: Morning After
You woke to the unfamiliar but welcome sensation of someone's arms around you. For a moment, you were disoriented, then the memories of the previous night came flooding back. Choso was still there, still holding you, his breathing deep and even.

In the morning light streaming through your curtains, you could study his face properly. The sharp angles were softened in sleep, making him look younger, more peaceful. The marks across his face stood out starkly against his pale skin, a reminder of what he was even in this moment of human intimacy.

As if sensing your gaze, his eyes opened slowly. For a second, he looked confused, then awareness returned. A slow smile spread across his features.

"Morning," he said, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning." You traced a finger along his collarbone, marveling at the way he shivered at the light touch. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in years." His hand came up to catch yours, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to your palm. "You?"

"Mmm." You snuggled closer, enjoying the way his arms tightened around you. "Best sleep of my life."

"Good." He was quiet for a moment, then: "I should probably go soon."

The words sent a spike of anxiety through you. "Should you?"

He must have heard something in your voice because he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. "I don't want to. But people will be looking for me, and I don't want to put you in danger."

"What if I don't care about the danger?"

"I care." His thumb stroked across your lower lip. "I care about you too much to let anything happen to you because of me."

The admission made your heart skip. "Choso..."

"I know this is complicated," he said softly. "I know I'm not someone you should be involved with. But I can't bring myself to regret last night."

"Neither can I." You leaned up to kiss him softly. "So what happens now?"

"I don't know." His honesty was both refreshing and terrifying. "I've never been in a situation like this before."

"We'll figure it out." You tried to project more confidence than you felt. "Whatever this is, we'll figure it out together."

He studied your face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Together."

The word held more weight than it should have, heavy with promises neither of you was quite ready to voice. But it was a start.

Chapter 7: Complications
Three days later, your phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: Shibuya crossing. One hour. Come alone. - C

Your heart rate spiked. Something was wrong; you could feel it in the terseness of the message, so different from the man who had held you so tenderly just nights before.

You found him in the shadows of an alley near the crossing, but this wasn't the same person who had whispered your name like a prayer. This was the Death Painting Womb, dangerous and distant, every line of his body radiating tension.

"What's wrong?" you asked immediately.

"Everything." He ran a hand through his hair, looking more agitated than you'd ever seen him. "They know. About us."

Your blood ran cold. "Who knows?"

"Does it matter? Sorcerers, curses—word travels fast in both circles." His eyes were pained when they met yours. "You're in danger because of me."

"I can handle—"

"No." His voice was sharp enough to cut. "You can't. Not this kind of danger. They'll use you to get to me, or worse."

The fear in his voice was unlike anything you'd heard from him before. It scared you more than any threat.

"So what are you saying?"

He was quiet for so long you thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm saying this was a mistake."

The words hit you like a physical blow. "You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" But he wouldn't meet your eyes. "I told you I was dangerous. I told you this couldn't work."

"That's not what you said three nights ago." You stepped closer, trying to reach the man you'd held in your arms. "Three nights ago, you said we'd figure it out together."

Pain flashed across his features. "Three nights ago, I was being selfish."

"And now?"

"Now I'm trying to keep you alive."

The finality in his voice made your chest ache. "So that's it? You're just going to walk away?"

"It's better this way."

"For who?" Your voice cracked despite your efforts to keep it steady. "Because it's not better for me."

He flinched like you'd struck him. For a moment, his careful control slipped, and you saw the truth in his eyes—this was killing him too.

"Please," you whispered, taking another step closer. "Don't do this."

"I have to." But his resolve was wavering; you could see it in the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way his jaw tightened. "I won't be responsible for something happening to you."

"What if I said I was willing to take that risk?"

"Then I'd say you don't understand what you're risking."

The conversation felt like it was slipping away from you, like sand through your fingers. In desperation, you reached for him, your hand closing around his wrist.

The moment your skin touched his, he broke.

"Damn it," he breathed, and then he was kissing you with desperate intensity, like he was trying to memorize the taste of your lips. You kissed him back just as desperately, pouring all your fear and love and stubborn hope into the connection.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were trembling.

"This is insane," he whispered against your forehead.

"I know."

"It's going to get us both killed."

"Maybe."

"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

You smiled despite everything. "Not even a little bit."

He laughed, the sound broken but real. "I should have known."

Chapter 8: Resolution
"So what's the plan?" you asked, not moving from the circle of his arms.

"There is no plan. That's the problem." He sighed, his breath stirring your hair. "I can't protect you if we're together, but I can't seem to stay away from you either."

"Then don't." You pulled back to look at him. "Don't stay away."

"It's not that simple—"

"It is." You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. "It's exactly that simple. I'm not some helpless civilian, Choso. I'm a sorcerer. I knew the risks when I got into this line of work, and I definitely knew them when I got involved with you."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"You don't have to like it. You just have to trust me to make my own choices." Your thumbs stroked across his cheekbones. "And trust that I choose you, danger and all."

Something shifted in his expression, hope warring with fear. "You could die."

"I could die crossing the street tomorrow. Life doesn't come with guarantees." You leaned closer, resting your forehead against his. "But I'd rather live dangerously with you than safely without you."

"You're impossible," he whispered, but there was fondness in his voice now.

"And you're stuck with me."

"Am I?"

"If you want to be."

His answer was to kiss you again, soft and sweet and full of promise. When you broke apart, some of the tension had left his shoulders.

"So what now?" he asked.

"Now we're careful. Smarter. We watch each other's backs." You smiled. "And we stop pretending this thing between us is going to just go away."

"It's not going to be easy."

"Good things never are."

He was quiet for a moment, then: "I love you."

The words were so soft you almost missed them, but they hit you like a physical blow. Your heart stuttered, then began racing.

"What?"

"I love you," he repeated, stronger this time. "I know it's crazy, and I know it's fast, but I've never felt anything like this before. You make me want to be better than what I am."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "You're already better than you think you are."

"Only with you."

"No." You shook your head firmly. "You were good before me. I just help you see it."

His smile was soft and wondering. "How did I get so lucky?"

"I ask myself the same question." You leaned up to kiss him softly. "I love you too, by the way."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Completely. Dangerously. Probably stupidly."

"Definitely stupidly," he agreed with a laugh.

"But I don't care." You grinned up at him. "I never was the careful type anyway."

"No," he said, spinning you around suddenly, making you laugh. "You definitely weren't. And I'm grateful for it."

As he set you down, both of you still smiling, you knew this wasn't going to be easy. There would be challenges, dangers, people who would try to use your connection against both of you. But looking into his eyes, seeing the love and determination there, you also knew it would be worth it.

Some things were worth fighting for. Some people were worth the risk.

And Choso—dangerous, complicated, beautiful Choso—was definitely worth everything.

End