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Evening had fallen by the time Bokue returned home. He was running a bit later than usual—maybe ten minutes or so past his normal arrival.
After all, heading to the café with Busujima-senpai, then fielding that call about the juvenile detention center, and finally dealing with the Special-Grade Curse hadn't taken much time in total. The real delay was waiting for the Association's car and the subsequent ride back.
Even so, when he stepped off the elevator and reached his apartment door, keys in hand, he had barely begun turning the lock when he heard urgent footsteps from inside.
Just like the night before, the moment the door cracked open, a voluptuous shape in black rushed forward. The savory aroma of dinner from the living room filled the entryway as she crashed into him, all soft curves and unrestrained momentum. Find the newest release on novel⦿fire.net
"Coach, she's charging with the ball!!"
"Not cool, Hana," purred Kuroka, arms wrapped tightly around him. "I've been home all day waiting for you, and you promised you wouldn't have to go off 'Working' tonight."
Like an affectionate cat welcoming her owner, Kuroka clung to him with both arms and legs, burying her nose against his clothes in restless curiosity—eager to sniff out even the faintest hint of unfamiliar scents.
"It's not that late," Bokue said with a resigned sigh. "I'm barely ten minutes behind schedule…"
Feeling his clothes start to slip under her weight, he freed one hand, reaching under her kimono to brace her. He gave a slight upward lift.
At that firm touch, Kuroka's entire body jolted, a shiver spreading outward until even the tips of her cat ears trembled. She froze, biting her bottom lip.
Bokue cocked an eyebrow.
"…What's the matter?"
Struggling to steady her nerves, Kuroka bowed her head. Her cheeks glowed pink, and her damp, wine-dark eyes flicked upward.
Seriously? She's turned on just from hugging me? Am I some kind of living aphrodisiac?
He couldn't help thinking that. After all, he'd touched Rias and the others at school any number of times, and they never turned red in the face like she did. And a catgirl in heat… that had to be a myth, right?
"Don't give me that look," Kuroka muttered, cheeks blazing. "I'm totally normal when I'm here alone. But as soon as you touch me, I just… I can't help…"
Not seeing much point in assigning blame, Bokue gave in. If he didn't take action, Kuroka would end up staining his jacket—one he'd hoped to wear again tomorrow. It was already getting… damp around his fingertips.
So he stepped fully inside and locked the door behind him. Kicking off his shoes, he shrugged off his backpack.
Then, still holding the cat-eared girl in his arms, he headed straight to the bathroom.
Might as well take a bath first.
They were in there for over an hour.
By the time the noise and steam subsided, dinner—freshly made and left on the living room table—had gone cold.
Inside the bathtub, two overlapping bath towels floated in now-lukewarm water.
Kuroka, finally calm, stood at the sink toweling off. Her hair hung long and damp. Bokue stood behind her with a blow-dryer, carefully guiding the hot air over her dark locks. She placed her feet close together on the bathmat, big toes curling and bumping.
The mirror over the sink reflected a lingering blush across her cheeks—and those soft lips of hers, looking even more temptingly pink than usual.
"Hana…" she murmured.
"In the tub… I caught the scent of another girl on you."
Her voice went from delicate to probing, and then took on the unmistakable edge of a jealous girlfriend about to demand answers.
Bokue's hand paused mid-blow-dry.
"From the Jujutsu Association—somebody you don't know."
"The Jujutsu Association… right, must be about that finger from last night?"
Kuroka was sharp enough to piece it together.
The night before, Bokue had told her the severed finger belonged to jujutsu sorcerers. It was logical they'd send someone to investigate.
"Right," he confirmed, resuming the blow-dryer. "Then later, I got a call about a Special-Grade Curse appearing somewhere in Tokyo. I helped out a little."
"'Helped out a little'?" Kuroka repeated, emphasizing the phrase. "Details, please. How much help did you give? Did you go with that girl? Fight a Special-Grade together?"
"And I'm guessing you also saved her life, huh?"
She spoke as if she'd seen this storyline a hundred times before. Her tone was anything but pleased.
"Save… is probably too strong a word," Bokue said. He kept brushing her hair, switching the dryer to a cooler setting. "She was in a tough spot, so I gave her a hand. Then I came right back—took no time at all."
Kuroka let the sound draw out slowly, in a way that didn't sound the least bit reassured. It was the ominous hush before a storm.
Sure enough, in the next instant, she spun around impossibly fast—catlike reflexes, indeed—and wrapped her slender hands around his neck.
"Argh, Hana, you're gonna drive me insane! You love poking your nose into other people's business, swooping in to save random strangers. Now that poor girl's 'Definitely' gonna fall head over heels for you—like you're some kind of star she can't stop orbiting, and 'then' she'll never leave!"
"What are you talking about? It's not like I put a curse on her or anything. Besides, I don't even know any curse techniques—"
"Right, you don't. But 'You' are the curse itself!"
Kuroka's exasperation bordered on fury. Yet as she spoke the last line, her voice softened and her eyes slid away, face flushing. She chewed her lip, half embarrassed.
"Look, you don't get it. I know because I crashed and burned myself back then… so obviously—"
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