They walked through the damp, moss-slick corridor in single file—Ereshan, Mizuchi, and Hajime trailing behind the unpredictable landmine known as Kiku.
And oh boy, she knew exactly what she was doing. Every few steps, she yanked her skirt up slightly, just enough to reveal the bottom curve of her thighs. The effect? Instant paralysis.
Ereshan walked into a wall. Mizuchi tripped over a root and faceplanted into Hajime's back. Hajime, trying his best to look like a responsible adult, muttered something about "Kami save me from these trials."
But it didn't stop there. Kiku suddenly whipped around mid-step, hands on her hips. "Oi! Why did all three of you freeze just now, huh?"
All three boys were now covering their... uh, spiritual vulnerabilities, like guilty temple priests caught peeking.
"S-Scenery's nice," Ereshan squeaked.
"Had to adjust my… sandals," Hajime lied with the energy of a broken man.
"I'm still concussed," Mizuchi offered, from the floor.
Kiku burst out in a mocking giggle, eyes glittering with cruel joy. "You're all thinking it," she cooed. "That I'm breedable, aren't you?"
All three simultaneously gasped.
"N-no—!"
"Never even heard the word—!"
"I thought she said readable! Like a book—!"
Kiku laughed louder, one leg cocked with confidence. "It's always the same. Boys and their brains in their pants. That's why I prefer Jōrengumo. Loyal. Smooth. Cold-blooded."
As if on cue, the massive snake slithered forward, flicking its tongue.
"Watch this," she smirked—and gestured toward her lower waist.
The snake obediently slithered up her leg and licked her hip, curling around her like an obscene belt.
Kiku let out a long, exaggerated moan that echoed off the walls like an ancient mating ritual gone wrong.
The boys? Frozen. Solid. Ereshan's brain blue-screened. Hajime whispered, "I'm too old for this…"
Mizuchi held up a prayer charm like it could ward off embarrassment.
Kiku stretched with a pleased sigh. "See? He's better than you three combined. And doesn't try to kiss me when I'm not looking."
"We didn't!" they cried in protest.
"But you thought about it," she said, wagging a finger. "Which means I win."
They shuffled after her like defeated puppies.
Behind her back, Ereshan whispered to Hajime, "Is this... what humiliation tastes like?"
Hajime sighed. "No, this is called 'Kazehi.'"
Mizuchi clutched his soul and muttered, "I miss the bird attack."
They hadn't even reached halfway to wherever Kiku was leading them—this muddy, moss-choked passage from hell—when chaos struck again.
"Ugh, too humid," Kiku complained. And then—swish—she yanked her kimono off her shoulders again, letting it hang around her waist like some ancient yokai version of a fashion crime.
Now she was just in a black tank-top that clung a little too well, her arms bare and glistening with sweat like some cursed wet dream.
Ereshan audibly choked. Mizuchi stumbled back like he saw the face of death. Even Hajime's veteran composure cracked, his eyes snapping shut like a monk resisting temptation.
"Too hot for robes," Kiku said, tugging at her collar. "Or maybe I should take this off too?"
"NO—!" they screamed in harmony, like a barbershop trio of panic.
Kiku burst into laughter, clutching her sides as she skipped ahead, the snake curling lazily behind her.
"I'm starting to think you boys wouldn't survive ten seconds in a hot spring with me," she teased.
"We wouldn't survive ten seconds in general," Ereshan muttered.
Mizuchi leaned into him. "I think I forgot how to breathe."
Kiku stopped suddenly, causing them all to bump into each other like a pile of dominoes. She turned, cocking a brow.
"So…" she purred, one hand on her hip, "who was it that said they wanted to kiss me first?"
They all froze.
"You three made a bet, didn't you?" she added, tilting her head with pure malice.
"I abstained!" Hajime said way too quickly.
"I was concussed!" Mizuchi yelped.
Ereshan blurted, "I don't even know what kissing is!"
Kiku gave a long, exaggerated "Hmmmm," before smiling way too sweetly. "That's okay. You can all practice on each other first."
And with that, she twirled, her skirt flicking high again, and kept walking like nothing happened. The three of them just stood there, completely broken.
"…I want the bird back," Ereshan whispered.
"I'd rather face a cursed river eel," Hajime muttered.
"I'd rather die," Mizuchi stated plainly.
Kiku called back over her shoulder. "Hurry up, slowpokes! Unless you'd rather I leave you here with the snake and your shame!"
Ereshan and Mizuchi walked ahead like obedient ducklings, eyes glued to the mossy floor, not daring to glance up. After what they'd witnessed, they were convinced even eye contact with Kiku might summon some ancient curse—or worse, awaken feelings.
But behind them… Hajime didn't move. He stood there. Frozen. Like someone had pressed pause on an old war veteran in the middle of a battlefield.
"...Hajime?" Mizuchi called over his shoulder. "You coming?"
"...Something wrong?" Ereshan asked.
No answer. Then they heard it. The soft rustle of cloth being tossed—followed by a long, deliberate moan that echoed through the narrow passage like a forbidden temple bell. They turned around. And instantly regretted it.
Kiku had thrown off her remaining kimono and skirt, now in just the scandalously short tank top and what could only be described as a "yokai-approved undergarment of doom." Then she began to stretch—arms raised above her head, hips swaying with every exaggerated movement.
"Oh gods," Mizuchi muttered, shielding his eyes with both hands.
Ereshan dropped to the floor. "I'm not ready for this level of quest!"
She bent forward slowly, her spine arching like a bow, and let out a soft, exaggerated "Mmm..." that made the air feel ten degrees hotter.
Hajime didn't budge. Not a blink. Not a breath. Kiku grinned like a fox who'd just caught a very large, very flustered chicken.
She tilted her head and called out, sugar-sweet and poisonous all at once, "What's wrong, old man? Always wanted the first ride, didn't you?"
The walls themselves seemed to gasp.
Mizuchi smacked Ereshan. "Say something!"
Ereshan, trembling, croaked, "I-I think he's dead standing."
Hajime finally twitched. Not a full move. Just a tiny neck crack. The sound of a man whose soul was halfway to Nirvana and halfway to hell.
Kiku giggled like a wicked spirit. "Come now, Hajime. I've seen the way you don't look at me. So controlled. So focused. So… frustrated."
She stepped closer. Snake in tow. "Want a little taste of chaos, grandpa?" she whispered.
Hajime finally spoke. "I have fought demon emperors."
"Oh?" Kiku smiled. "And yet here you are… defeated by a tank top and good posture."
He groaned like a collapsing shrine and turned around. "I'm going ahead."
"Don't fall," Kiku sang out as he walked stiffly past them, "Your blood pressure might not survive another stretch."
Ereshan stared after him, wide-eyed. "He's a broken man."
Mizuchi added solemnly, "Let's not speak of this again."
"Come on, boys!" Kiku chirped, grabbing both Ereshan's and Mizuchi's wrists.
Before either could protest, she yanked them forward, dashing through the remaining part of the mossy passage like a dancer on a stage. Her half-bare figure practically glowed with reckless confidence, and her long black hair whipped behind her like a banner of defiance against decency itself.
Ereshan stumbled, barely keeping up. "Wh-Where are we going?!"
"To the temple, silly!" she sang. "The one I mentioned while you were all too busy thinking with your—well, let's just say not your brains."
Mizuchi growled between huffs, "This is going in my trauma journal."
They burst out from the tunnel like corks from a shaken sake bottle—and there it stood. The temple. Ruined.
Cracked stone pillars clawed toward the sky like the broken fingers of forgotten gods. Massive gates of cedar and gold lay shattered on the ground, but the air—the very air—thrummed with something ancient. Something raw. The moss here shimmered like veins of jade, and faint whispers crawled through the wind in a language no one had spoken for a thousand years.
"Whoa..." Ereshan slowed, yanked free from Kiku's grip.
He stepped forward, drawn by the sheer presence of the place. The stone under his feet pulsed faintly, like the heartbeat of a sleeping beast.
Mizuchi, though battered, straightened up and narrowed his eyes. "This place is... alive."
Kiku let go of them both and twirled on her heel, now barefoot and practically glowing under the sun. Still in nothing but that tiny tank top and underwear that could barely qualify as battle gear, she stretched her arms out dramatically.
"Welcome," she purred, "to the Temple of The Forgotten Flames. Home of knowledge, sealed regrets, and the occasional sexy ghost."
Ereshan blinked. "Okay but seriously—are you really doing the sexy voice naked in a place like this?!"
Kiku winked, stepping toward him slowly with a smirk. "It's not naked if it's a divine aesthetic."
"That's not a thing!" he sputtered, turning red.
"I make it a thing," she whispered, just close enough to brush his cheek with her breath. "Besides... don't you think the gods appreciate confidence?"
Mizuchi sighed, staring up at the broken temple arch. "We're going to die in here. Not from traps. Not from curses. From blood loss... from the nose."
Ereshan muttered, "I'm already halfway there."
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the temple, chilling their skin, rattling the broken stones, and stirring the low hum into something clearer—like a chorus of forgotten voices, humming in harmony.
Kiku's playful tone softened. "...We're close," she said, more serious now, eyes flickering golden. "The stone you carry—it remembers this place."
The laughter faded, tension creeping back in. Ereshan clutched his chest instinctively. He could feel the shard vibrating beneath his robes. "Kiku…" he whispered. "What is this place really?"
She stepped ahead, wind blowing her hair and what little fabric she wore like a flag before a storm. "It's where the truth begins," she said.