After the daily training routine finally came to an end and the noise of the training grounds slowly faded into the background, Ashan slipped away without drawing attention, moving through the quieter paths of the academy with a calm, unhurried pace that hid the intent behind his actions, until he eventually reached the secluded area he had long claimed as his own, the hidden stretch of land shielded from the main grounds, where the air felt heavier, quieter, and far more suited for the kind of training he preferred.
The moment he stepped into that space, his expression changed.
The casual composure he carried in public faded, replaced by something sharper, more focused, as his hand moved toward the hilt of his sword and drew the Kusanagi in one clean motion, the blade glinting faintly before he began.
At first, his movements were controlled, almost cautious, as though he were tracing the structure of the Twin Fang Art rather than fully committing to it, but as time passed, that hesitation gradually dissolved, replaced by a natural flow that seemed to emerge from instinct rather than conscious effort.
Each swing connected to the next.
Each step adjusted on its own.
Each breath aligned perfectly with the rhythm of his strikes.
The blade cut through the air with increasing precision, sharper and faster with every repetition, as though the technique itself was slowly being absorbed into his body, no longer something he was practicing, but something he was becoming.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he shifted his stance mid-motion, the transition smoother than before, the execution cleaner.
'This is working…'
A faint sense of satisfaction surfaced within him as he continued, his focus deepening rather than fading.
'At this rate… I'll fully master this style in two days.'
The thought settled firmly in his mind, carrying with it a quiet confidence that wasn't there before.
'And once I do…'
His grip tightened slightly around the hilt.
'I can face Silas head-on.'
For a brief moment, the air around him seemed to sharpen with that intent.
But just as quickly, another thought followed; colder, more grounded.
'Still… that alone won't be enough.'
The blade came to a stop.
Ashan exhaled slowly as he lowered the sword and slid it back into its sheath, the faint metallic sound marking the end of his session as the tension in his body finally began to loosen.
"That's enough for today…"
His voice was low, almost thoughtful.
'I didn't get enough sleep either…'
The memory surfaced.
Lunara collapsing.
Carrying her.
Staying beside her through the night.
A quiet sigh escaped him.
"I should rest early."
He turned to leave, and suddenly stopped.
A presence.
Fast.
Unnaturally fast.
Before he could even fully process it, a figure approached with swift, ghost-like steps, her movements so smooth and silent that it felt less like she was running and more like she was gliding through space itself.
Ashan's eyes widened slightly.
"…Narasha?"
'How did she… I never told her about this place.'
She stopped right in front of him, her arrival abrupt yet controlled, her gaze already locked onto him with that familiar intensity that never seemed to waver.
"So you were here," she said, her tone calm, though there was a subtle sharpness beneath it that didn't go unnoticed. "What are you doing in a place like this?"
"I was training," Ashan replied, though his attention remained fixed on her. "But that's not important."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"How did you find me?"
Narasha's lips curved into a faint smile as she tilted her head, her expression carrying a quiet confidence.
"Everyone has a unique scent," she said casually. "And mine are far sharper than a human's."
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary.
"And yours… is especially easy to track."
Ashan let out a soft breath, a faint smirk forming.
"So hiding from you is impossible, huh."
He stepped closer, his tone shifting slightly.
"How was your day? Enjoyable?"
Narasha's reaction was immediate.
A faint frown appeared.
Her head tilted slightly to the side.
"Enjoyable?" she repeated, almost as if the word itself didn't make sense to her. "Of course not."
Her voice carried clear dissatisfaction as she continued.
"I spent hours sitting through pointless theories, listening to things I already understand, and after that, sparring with people who can barely keep up."
Her eyes narrowed faintly.
"Most of them are weak."
Then, after a brief pause,
"Only that S-rank woman and a few others are worth acknowledging."
Ashan smirked, clearly unsurprised.
"That's expected," he said lightly. "You're not someone ordinary."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"It's only natural that most of them feel weak to you."
Narasha didn't deny it.
Instead, she remained silent for a moment, as if considering something.
Then,
"By the way," Ashan continued, his tone shifting again, "you didn't come all the way here just to complain."
A pause.
"Is something wrong?"
For the first time since she arrived, Narasha hesitated.
Her gaze shifted away.
A faint blush touched her cheeks, subtle but noticeable.
"…I feel thirsty again," she said quietly. "I haven't had blood in days."
Ashan's expression softened immediately.
"You should've told me earlier," he replied without hesitation. "This isn't a good place for that."
His eyes shifted as his Mangekyou Sharingan activated, scanning the surroundings carefully to ensure there wasn't a single presence nearby.
Satisfied.
[Kamui]
Space twisted.
The world warped inward.
And in the next instant, both of them were pulled into the distortion.
…
They reappeared inside Ashan's room, the shift so seamless that it felt as though they had never left.
Narasha glanced around briefly before looking back at him, a faint smile forming on her lips.
"No matter how many times I see that ability of yours," she said, "it still makes me wonder."
Ashan didn't respond immediately.
Instead, his eyes shifted again, this time activating the Byakugan, scanning beyond the walls, ensuring complete privacy before finally relaxing.
Only then did he sit down on the edge of the bed, loosening his collar slightly and exposing his neck without hesitation.
"Come here," he said calmly. "Drink as much as you need."
Narasha approached slowly, her movements more deliberate now, her presence carrying a quiet intensity as she moved closer and settled onto him, her body pressing lightly against his as her usual composure began to give way to instinct.
Her hand rose, fingers brushing against his neck,
She leaned closer,
And then suddenly stopped.
Her entire body froze mid-motion.
Ashan frowned slightly.
"…What's wrong?"
Narasha didn't answer.
Instead, she leaned closer again, inhaling faintly, once… then again, slower this time, more focused, as if isolating something within the air itself.
Her expression changed.
The softness vanished.
Her eyes turned cold.
"…There's another scent on you."
Ashan blinked.
"A woman's."
Her gaze lifted, locking onto his with a quiet, dangerous intensity.
"What would be the reason for that?"
"…Ah."
Ashan exhaled lightly, unfazed.
"My instructor fainted yesterday. I had to carry her to the infirmary."
Narasha's gaze didn't shift.
"The one with blue eyes?"
"Yes."
Ashan nodded.
"That's her."
But Narasha didn't look convinced.
"…This scent is strong," she said slowly. "Too strong for something that brief."
Ashan scratched his cheek.
"I stayed the whole night," he admitted. "She was unconscious. I couldn't just leave her alone."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unmoving.
"…So that's why I couldn't find you last night," Narasha said quietly.
"I was looking for you."
Ashan paused for a moment, then sighed.
"Sorry. I didn't know."
Then, more firmly,
"But I wasn't going to abandon her like that."
The silence deepened.
It wasn't empty.
It was tense.
Thick.
As if something unseen was pressing down between them.
"…Whatever."
Her voice came out flat.
But the next second,
She moved.
Fast.
Without hesitation, she leaned in and bit into his neck, her grip tightening around him far more than usual, her control clearly gone as instinct overtook restraint.
"Hey.. slow down," Ashan muttered, caught off guard. "You're going to spill blood…"
But she didn't listen.
Her hold tightened further.
Her actions rougher.
More aggressive.
Ashan frowned slightly, his thoughts catching up a moment later.
'What's with her…?'
Then,
It clicked.
'…Ah.'
'This isn't just hunger.'
A faint realization surfaced.
'She's jealous.'
His gaze softened slightly as that understanding settled in.
Narasha's usual composure had completely cracked, replaced by something far more raw, something possessive.
'So that's how it is…'
Ashan let out a quiet breath as he reached out and pulled her closer, not stopping her, but not letting her act entirely on impulse either, his hold steady, grounding.
Her movements faltered slightly in response.
Just enough.
The tension didn't disappear,
But it changed.
From sharp,
To something deeper. More dangerous. And far more personal.
'Vampires…'
The knowledge surfaced in his mind.
'Prideful… possessive… unwilling to share what they consider theirs.'
Ashan drew Narasha closer, wrapping his arms around her in a slow, enveloping embrace that pressed every inch of her trembling body against his.
'She may never say it aloud, but she already sees me as hers. And I will make certain she feels the same claim burning in me.'
He tilted his head and pressed his lips to the elegant curve of her neck; soft at first, reverent, then firmer, tasting the cool silk of her skin and the faint copper trace of his own blood she had drawn earlier. The contact was deliberate, possessive, a silent vow sealed against her pulse.
[Nervebreaker Touch]
The effect was instantaneous and merciless in its intimacy. A rush of molten sensitivity flooded Narasha's nerves; her blood surged hotter beneath her pale skin, nipples tightening to painful points beneath her clothes, breath hitching into shallow, needy pants.
The air around them thickened with the heady, unmistakable scent of her arousal; sweet and dark, impossible to ignore.
Her earlier fury dissolved like frost under flame. Anger gave way to confusion, then to a warm, liquid ache that pooled low in her belly and spread outward in pulsing waves.
The punishing force of her bite softened, her fangs grazed rather than pierced, her grip on his shoulders loosening as though her strength had been traded for trembling vulnerability.
'What is this?' she thought, mind reeling.
'Why does my body feel so alive, so desperate, just from his mouth on my neck? I hate how weak it makes me feel… yet I can't pull away.'
Ashan continued the slow worship of her throat, kissing upward in a languid trail until he reached her jaw, then her lips.
He captured her mouth in a deep, claiming kiss, tongue sliding against hers with unhurried hunger, savoring the faint metallic echo of her earlier feed mingled with her own sweet taste.
One hand cradled the nape of her neck while the other roamed the length of her spine, fingers splaying wide to press her impossibly closer until no space remained between them.
Narasha moaned softly into his mouth, the sound raw and involuntary. Every brush of fabric against her oversensitive skin felt like sparks; her nipples ached for direct touch, straining visibly against the thin material of her top.
She arched into him without thought, hips seeking friction, hands fisting in his shirt as though it were the only thing anchoring her to reality.
"I… I hate this," she breathed against his lips when they parted for air, voice shaky and thin. "But I can't stop..."
Ashan smiled against the corner of her mouth, tender.
"That's because your body already belongs to me, even when your pride fights it."
He trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat again, pausing to suck gently over the fresh mark he had left, reclaiming the spot she had first claimed with her fangs.
His hand slipped beneath the hem of her top, warm palm gliding up the smooth plane of her stomach until he cupped one breast fully. His thumb circled the hardened nipple once, twice, then pinched with careful pressure. Narasha gasped sharply, spine bowing, thighs clenching around his hips as fresh heat surged between her legs.
"Look at you," he murmured, voice low and reverent. "So responsive… so perfect when you finally let go." He rolled the sensitive peak between his fingers, tugging lightly, drawing another broken whimper from her throat.
Her knees buckled; she clung to his shoulders for balance, head tipping back to expose more of her throat. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her core, wetness soaking through her undergarments until she could feel the damp heat against her inner thighs.
Ashan's other hand drifted lower, tracing the flare of her hips before sliding between her legs. He cupped her through the fabric of her pants, feeling the slick warmth that had already seeped through. Slowly, deliberately, he rubbed the heel of his palm against her clit in firm circles while two fingers pressed along her slit, parting the swollen folds through the barrier of cloth.
Narasha's hips jerked forward on instinct, chasing the pressure. "Ashan…" His name came out half plea, half moan.
"Tell me," he whispered against her ear, breath hot and teasing. "Tell me exactly what you need, Narasha. I want to hear it from your lips."
She shook her head once, stubborn even now, then shattered under another slow grind of his hand. "Do whatever you want," she gasped, voice cracking into a soft, desperate whimper. "… just don't stop."