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The Glory Days: The Meeting of Fate (43)

Summary:

When Tang and Sakurā are forced to fight together, they both encounter underground a mysterious entity named “The Yeti”. Who is he? And what does he want with the brothers?

Chapter 1: Bed

Chapter Text

“There is a legend of a world shrouded in pitch-black darkness, where not a single speck of white exists. There, monstrous beings born of hell appear to satisfy a single desire—to devour. Yet within the darkness lurks their greatest fear. A boy filled with boiling rage, bearing a single purpose in his heart. Revenge. With the weapon known as the Devil's Blade, slash, tear apart, and drag down every demon. And be with his beloved—a girl called Kanon Mizushiro."

『漆黒の闇に包まれた世界がある。そこには一片の白すらない。地獄から生まれた怪物たちが、ただ一つの欲望──貪り尽くすこと──を満たすために現れる。しかし闇の中には、彼らにとって最大の恐怖が潜んでいた。沸騰する怒りに満ちた少年が、ただ一つの目的を胸に抱いて。復讐。悪魔の刃と呼ばれる武器で、あらゆる魔物を斬り裂き、引き裂き、引きずり落とせ。そして最愛の者——水城花音という少女と共にいるために.』


The room was still heavy with the storm’s echo, the candle nearly melted down to its base. Shadows curled along the walls like silent witnesses.

Kanon’s breath came uneven, her face flushed as she tangled her fingers with Sakurā’s, refusing to let go. Their palms pressed together, a fragile tether of warmth in the dark. Her lips brushed over his knuckles, leaving them damp with her sighs before she looked back up at him with trembling eyes.

Sakurā’s scarred hand traced slowly over her curves, the touch firm but careful, as if memorizing her shape. His other hand brushed her hair from her face, lingering at her cheek before drifting lower, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Kanon bit her lip, her cheeks burning, but her eyes gleamed with a mixture of defiance and surrender. She shifted closer, pressing kisses along his chest, tasting the salt of sweat against scarred skin. The sound of the sheets shifting was swallowed by the low creak of the bed.

Their mouths met again—tongues tangling, breaths stolen. Kanon moaned softly into the kiss, her body trembling as his hands guided her closer, pressing her flush against him. It was a balance of pain and pleasure, sharp and sweet, as though the storm outside had found its mirror within them.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his lips, her voice raw and trembling.

Sakurā only held her tighter, letting the night consume them both.