Watching Miyamoto Yumi run out crying, Akai Hideyoshi slumped in his chair, his mind a blank, his heart filled with a vast emptiness and an indescribable sense of guilt. What... what had he just said to Yumi?
Kanjuro slowly stood up and adjusted his dressing gown, his tone terrifyingly calm. "It seems your 'attachment' has been temporarily severed. However, it doesn't seem quite right to let her cry outside alone."
He looked at the despondent Akai Hideyoshi, the corners of his mouth curling into an almost cruel arc.
"I'll go out and comfort your 'girl~friend'."
He emphasized the word "girlfriend" with a hint of mockery.
Akai Hideyoshi snapped his head up, a flash of panic and confusion in his eyes. "Mr. Kanjuro, you..."
"You can follow and watch from a distance," Kanjuro interrupted him, his voice like a demonic whisper, full of temptation and testing. "Perhaps watching the woman you care about being comforted by another man with your own eyes... that heartache and resentment can also become the nourishment for you to grow stronger? After all, the essence of the 'Way of Heartlessness' lies in experiencing and transcending ultimate pain."
Having said that, Kanjuro ignored the internal struggle within Akai Hideyoshi and walked straight out of the suite.
On the street outside the hotel, the lights were just coming on, and the night was hazy. Miyamoto Yumi hadn't run far; she leaned alone against a dim yellow streetlight nearby, her shoulders twitching slightly. Her suppressed sobs were exceptionally clear and helpless in the silent night.
Kanjuro emerged silently from the shadows by the hotel entrance, like an elegant predator in the dark night. He walked slowly toward Yumi's back without making a sound immediately.
Yumi seemed to sense someone approaching and barked out a low, tearful warning: "Who is it?!"
"It's me, Officer Yumi." Kanjuro's voice rang out. Unlike his previous clear tone, it now carried a deep, magnetic tenderness.
Yumi spun around, seeing Kanjuro's face, which looked exceptionally handsome and soft under the streetlight, through her tear-blurred vision. Grievance and anger instantly flooded her heart, and she accused him with a sob, "It's you! You must have said or done something to Hideyoshi! He was never like this to me before!"
Kanjuro did not argue or admit it; he simply sighed softly, a sigh that seemed to carry endless helplessness and tolerance. He took a step forward, closing the distance between him and Yumi until they could almost hear each other's breathing.
"Yumi," he called her by her name directly, his voice as gentle as if he were soothing a frightened animal. "When it comes to chess players, no one can truly control the other's thoughts and will. Hideyoshi... perhaps he's just under too much pressure, or perhaps on his quest for power, he's encountered some... obstacles that even he cannot control."
His words skillfully avoided his own responsibility, instead attributing the cause to Hideyoshi's own desire for "power" and implying it was an "uncontrollable" state.
He looked at Yumi's tear-streaked face and reached out, using his thumb to extremely gently wipe away the tear tracks on her cheek. His movements were cautious, carrying an almost pious tenderness, a stark contrast to the coldness he had shown before.
"You don't need to blame me," Kanjuro continued, his gaze focused and deep, as if only she existed in his world at that moment. "Of course, if you feel bad and want to blame all of this on me, I am willing to accept it. After all, making such a beautiful girl cry is a sin in itself."
His voice possessed a strange magic, and combined with that exquisitely gentle touch and his almost self-sacrificial words of tolerance, it instantly pierced through Miyamoto Yumi's fragile defenses.
Her original grievance and anger melted away rapidly like snow under the sun under Kanjuro's gentle "offensive." She looked into Kanjuro's eyes, which seemed capable of absorbing all sorrow, and felt the warmth from his fingertips—a stark contrast to her cold cheeks. Her heart couldn't help but skip a few beats.
"I... I didn't mean that..." Yumi subconsciously felt guilty for her earlier accusation, her voice dropping low with a hint of panic. "I just... I just don't understand why Hideyoshi became like that..."
"I understand." Kanjuro's voice became even softer. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, conveying a reassuring strength (or rather, a drowning sense of control). "Some things take time. Perhaps giving him some space, and giving yourself some time, would be better."
In the shadows of the hotel corridor in the distance, Akai Hideyoshi had secretly followed them out as Kanjuro had suggested. He happened to witness this scene—Kanjuro gently wiping away Yumi's tears, while Yumi shifted from her initial resistance and accusation to being submissive, even with a suspicious blush on her face.
A sharp, stabbing pain instantly pierced Akai Hideyoshi's heart! It was a complex mix of jealousy, a sense of betrayal, and the "heartache" Kanjuro had spoken of. He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms.
Kanjuro felt that peeping gaze from afar; he knew Akai Hideyoshi was watching. The curve of his lips widened almost imperceptibly, but when facing Yumi, his gaze became increasingly tender.
"The night wind is cold. Stop crying, shall I take you back? Or... go sit in the hotel lobby first to calm down?" Kanjuro suggested considerately, playing the role of a reliable and gentle gentleman perfectly.
Miyamoto Yumi's mind was in a mess, her disappointment in Hideyoshi intertwined with her gratitude and a mysterious heartbeat for the man before her. She looked at Kanjuro's gentle gaze and found it almost impossible to refuse, nodding subconsciously.
Kanjuro smiled with satisfaction. He knew that tonight he had not only severely damaged Akai Hideyoshi's convictions but had also planted a seed called "dependence" and "goodwill" in Miyamoto Yumi's heart. And this seed would bear the fruit he desired in the future.
He supported (almost half-embraced) the still somewhat dazed Miyamoto Yumi and turned back toward the hotel, as if protecting a precious treasure. Meanwhile, Akai Hideyoshi, hiding in the dark, tasted the bitter "source of power" called "heartache," his eyes gradually becoming hollow and lost. Kanjuro half-embraced Miyamoto Yumi, but didn't go directly back to the hotel suite; instead, they walked slowly along the quiet tree-lined path outside the hotel. The night breeze was cool, blowing Yumi's slightly messy hair. Her sobbing gradually subsided, but tears still fell uncontrollably, and her shoulders trembled slightly.
"Mr. Kanjuro..." Her voice was choked and thick with nasality. "Can I... can I lean on your shoulder for a bit? Just for a moment..." At this moment, she felt like a piece of rootless duckweed, desperately needing some support and warmth, even if that warmth came from this man who felt complex and mysterious to her.
Kanjuro stopped and turned to face her. The light from the streetlamp filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows on his face, making his handsome features look even softer. He didn't speak, just looked at her with an incredibly tolerant and gentle gaze, then gently pulled her into his arms, letting her cheek rest against his firm and warm shoulder.
His movement was very light, carrying a sense of cherishing, as if he were holding a fragile treasure.
Miyamoto Yumi's body stiffened at first, then she relaxed completely, burying her face in his shoulder. Her long-suppressed grievance and sadness released like a bursting dam, even more surging than before. She no longer held back and wept aloud, her tears quickly soaking the silk fabric of Kanjuro's dressing gown.
Kanjuro wrapped one hand gently around her back while the other rhythmically and soothingly patted her, like comforting a lost child. He lowered his head, his warm breath brushing past her ear, and used that deep, magnetic voice to continuously whisper gentle words into her ear:
"Cry it out, it's okay. Let all the sadness out..."
"It's not your fault, Yumi. You're good, really good..."
"I'll be here with you until you're better..."
"Seeing you so sad makes my heart ache too..."
His voice was like the mellowest wine and the most effective anesthetic, dismantling Yumi's defenses bit by bit. The heartache, understanding, and tolerance in his words formed a sharp contrast to the brutality and coldness she had just suffered from Hideyoshi. A feeling of being cherished and protected enveloped her cold and aching heart like a warm current.
Under his gentle offensive, Yumi felt her heart, which had become stiff and cold because of Hideyoshi, softening and warming bit by bit. She even greedily absorbed this warmth and sense of security that shouldn't belong to her.
After an unknown amount of time, Yumi's crying gradually ceased, turning into faint whimpers. Kanjuro loosened his grip slightly at the right moment, looking down at her eyes and nose, which were red and swollen from crying, and used his thumb to once again gently wipe away the tear tracks on her cheeks.
"Do you feel... a bit better?" he asked softly, his eyes full of concern.
Miyamoto Yumi looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. Perhaps it was because the night was too beautiful, or his embrace was too warm, or his voice was too moving—a tiny thought, carrying a bit of coquettishness and testing, popped up. She deliberately pouted and said with a heavy nasal tone, "No... I'm not better yet..."
She wanted to know just how far this man's gentleness and patience could go.
Hearing this, Kanjuro didn't show the slightest impatience; instead, he laughed softly, a laugh full of indulgence and doting. He gently pulled her close again, resting his chin on the top of her head, and said in an almost oath-like, incredibly serious tone:
"It's okay."
His voice was low and clear, each word striking Yumi's heart.
"My shoulder will always be your support. Whenever you want, you can lean on it."
"!!!"
Miyamoto Yumi suddenly looked up, staring at Kanjuro in disbelief. Under the streetlight, his deep eyes reflected her small, disheveled figure. There was no trace of falseness or perfunctoriness in them, only a bottomless, reassuring tenderness.
Always... your support... These words exploded in her heart like a thunderclap. From childhood to adulthood, no one had ever said such words to her. Even Hideyoshi was always immersed in his world of chess, his occasional gentleness tinged with the dullness of a chess fanatic.
And this man before her—powerful, mysterious, handsome, gentle, tolerant... he almost fulfilled all her fantasies of a perfect partner.
A strong surge of emotion and bitterness welled up in her heart. Looking at Kanjuro's face so close, at the "ocean of tenderness" in his eyes that existed only for her, for the first time, a clear, absurd yet undeniably real thought formed—
If... if I didn't have a boyfriend... I would... hopelessly fall for Mr. Kanjuro... This thought filled her with panic and guilt, but deep down, a secret sweetness and anticipation she was unwilling to admit quietly sprouted.
She hurriedly lowered her head, not daring to look into his eyes that seemed to see through everything. Her heart pounded like a drum, and two blushes spread across her cheeks, thankfully concealed by the night.
Kanjuro took in her reaction, knowing that the seed named "transference" and "dependence" had deeply rooted itself in the soil just watered by "hurt." He didn't need to rush; he only needed to wait patiently and water it at the right time, and it would naturally bloom into the flower he desired.
He gently took her hand, his voice still soft: "Let's go, I'll take you back. Rest well, and don't be sad anymore."
As if bewitched, Miyamoto Yumi obediently nodded, letting him lead her hand as they walked toward the hotel. Her hand was enveloped in his warm, dry palm, and the coldness and desolation in her heart caused by Hideyoshi seemed to be quietly replaced by another, more complex, more dangerous, yet more alluring emotion. Kanjuro led the dazed, blushing Miyamoto Yumi back, his perception like the most precise radar, having already detected the figure hidden in the shadows at the corner of the hotel's outer wall, breathing heavily—Akai Hideyoshi.
Kanjuro didn't expose it; he even deliberately adjusted his pace and angle to make his and Yumi's figures clearer in Hideyoshi's line of sight. His arm around Yumi's shoulder tightened slightly, appearing more intimate. When he lowered his head to whisper to her, the corner of his mouth even curled into a gentle smile, though his eyes remained calm and unreadable... Hiding in the shadows, Akai Hideyoshi took it all in. He watched Yumi cry on Kanjuro's shoulder, watched Kanjuro gently wipe her tears, watched Yumi go from initial collapse to showing subtle dependence and even... a shyness he had never seen before, not even when she faced him?
A sharp, heart-wrenching pain suddenly seized him! It was jealousy, resentment, and the fury of seeing his own treasure tainted by another!
Yet, amidst this extreme pain, a strange and unfamiliar excitement, like poisonous vines, quietly coiled around his heart. Kanjuro's words echoed in his mind again—"Hurting the woman you care about... that bone-deep pain... can make you stronger..." "Watching the woman you care about being comforted by another man with your own eyes, that heartache and resentment... can also become nourishment for your strength..."
Could it be... that this is the tempering one must undergo to "become stronger"?
He watched Kanjuro's hand on Yumi's shoulder, watched Yumi not resist but instead lean in slightly... The heartache grew more intense, almost suffocating him. But at the same time, a twisted, almost masochistic pleasure also rose! He stared wide-eyed, bloodshot eyes fixed on the two, breathing heavily like a broken bellows.
Pain! His heart felt as if pierced by countless needles repeatedly.
But... stimulating! A dark excitement that broke norms and trampled morals surged through his veins!
He found himself... somewhat addicted to this feeling? This terrified and disgusted him, yet he couldn't look away. He was like an addict peering into a hellish scene, knowing it was destruction but unable to resist the dark temptation.
Kanjuro keenly detected the change in emotion in that gaze—from pure pain, gradually mixed with a hint of morbid excitement and addiction. He knew Akai Hideyoshi was sliding down the path he had set, and faster than expected. This "enlightenment" of transforming pain into power (even if twisted) was taking root in the heart of this once-gentle chess player.
Just before entering the hotel's revolving door, as their figures were about to disappear from Hideyoshi's view, Kanjuro seemed to glance inadvertently toward the shadows where Hideyoshi hid.
That glance held no emotion, calm as if looking at an inanimate object, yet it seemed to comprehend everything, carrying a condescending, god-like indifference and understanding as if observing an experiment.
That one glance struck Akai Hideyoshi like a thunderbolt, chilling him to the bone! He felt all his sordid thoughts, all his painful struggles, laid bare under that glance! He shrank back deep into the shadows, leaning against the cold wall, sliding to the ground, hands clutching his head tightly, his body trembling violently from complex emotions.
Kanjuro withdrew his gaze, the barely noticeable curve at the corner of his mouth deepening slightly. He supported the still somewhat distracted Miyamoto Yumi as they entered the hotel lobby. Warm light poured down, forming two completely different worlds with the figure immersed in darkness and pain outside the door.
He knew Akai Hideyoshi could never go back. The seed named "darkness" had not only been planted but had already begun to quietly grow, drawing nourishment from jealousy, pain, and distortion. And all of this was under his control, like pieces on a chessboard moving step by step toward checkmate.
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