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1.1 The Horned Matchmaker

Mokou Fujiwara would like to say that with more than a millennia worth of life experience, she's possessed an amount of wisdom that would see her through any challenge the world could throw at her. But if she does, she knows that she would be lying.

The fact is, not a single second of experience in her life could tell her what would be the best course of action in regard of her current predicament. Though, it's not like she spent her days actively looking for life lessons. She already regretted the fact that she spent most of the current millennium being an anti social shut-in, living alone with minimum contact with anyone or anything, be it human or else. After all, what is the point of putting the effort to build relationship with anyone if you're only going to outlive them? The first few centuries of her immortality already taught her the pain of losing is simply not worth the effort.

But still, a little bit of social skill wouldn't hurt in a situation like this. Then again, she doubt that even if she spent her immortality being the most social thing in the entire world, that she would be able to be less of a gibbering mess than she is now.


The only other soul in that room gives out a small sound, demanding her attention. It appears that Mokou has been silent far longer than she had thought. Trying to regain her focus, Mokou focused her sight to the environment that's now surrounding her.

She is sitting in the middle of a small room. Counting the tatami, it can't be more than five or six. It's dark, although she thinks that the sun hasn't set yet. All light from the outside is blocked by a thick paper sliding door, decorated with encompassing dark floral motive, and the entire room is surrounded by layered wooden wall, making it sound proof.

After years of living below the thick canopy of the bamboo forest, seeing in the dark had become a second nature to her, once she'd grown tired of lighting up a flame every time the night falls. And of course, she would suspect that her partner also wouldn't have any trouble seeing in the dark. After all, the night is her hunting ground.

Regardless, the owner of the establishment had lit up a single oil lamp at the corner of the room out of courtesy, bathing the two of them in warm orange glow. The shimmering light somehow manages to make the already stiff atmosphere even stiffer.

“Miss Fujiwara? Is something wrong?”

Miss Fujiwara. It feels like it's just yesterday she was referring to her merely as 'a human'.

“Ah. Sorry. I'm just spacing out.” Mokou gives an awkward laugh. It's funny, really, that this is all started with her refusal to eat three times a day, resulting in a certain overly worried teacher dragging her to the nearest foodstall that was still open in the middle of youkai infested night. “I wonder where Keine is”.

The three of them suppose to meet to discuss some financial trouble the school had experienced in the last couple of months. Apparently Keine only has one friend with any business experience, and since she is a youkai, and Keine didn't want to start a scandal nor to worry the children living in the temple with their 'adult problem', they decided to meet in an area neutral to both human and youkai. Keine had unilaterally decided that she'd be the one to pick the place of the meeting.

She did, and that place just happen to be a small inn that is famous for certain...specialities, and Keine is nowhere to be seen. People may consider Mokou as a dense girl, but she is not stupid. She knows how to take a hint. Well, at least when said hint has the same impact as a witch-monk punching a temple gong.

“Mm...Miss Kamishirasawa is probably still grading today's test result.” the pink haired girl in front of Mokou stuttered. “they had a trivia this afternoon...or sumthin...ackh!”

The girl's sudden yelp manages to take Mokou's full attention. “What? What is it?”

“Sohrry, I bhit my thongue.” the girl answered, with some difficulty due to aforementioned tongue-biting.

If Mokou is on edge, then this girl has already jumped off the cliff. The loose robe that she is wearing, complimentary from the inn and purposely a few sizes too small, is now even looser after a lot of involuntary fidgeting, revealing her bare shoulders that are now covered in cold sweat, glistening under the flickering light from the one dim flame at the edge of the room. At the back of her robe are two holes specifically designed to accommodates winged humanoid. Sprouting out of them are the girl's relatively small wings, tucked defensively close to her back like a turtle's shell. Most of her face is covered under the shadow from her pink bang as she suddenly find the floor very inviting, with her dark golden eyes darting from left to right trying their hardest to avoid looking her conversation partner. Her hands keep grasping and releasing the edge of her robe in a series of nervous twitching, dismantling it even more and revealing a pair of long, slender legs.

Unbeknownst to her, a pair of red eyes are currently enjoying the sight, no matter how much their owner berates them for it.

“Here, let me see it.”

In a brief moment, Mokou's worries overcome her nervousness. Because for the girl in front of her, her voice, including her tongue, is especially important, and not just for her. Throughout her years Mokou had listened to thousands of songs and poetries, from those that glorify the bloodiest of war to those celebrating the smallest existence of life. All of them ended up blurred and indistinct, mixing together inside her archaic memory.

But one voice managed to stand out, and it was hers.

“...eep!?” the girl's entire body tenses up as Mokou put one of her dainty fingers on her lips, still youthful and unchanged from her day as the Fujiwara's secret princess. She can feels her lip muscles tighten in resistance as she tries to pry her mouth open. Seeking for better leverage, Mokou moves closer, failing to notice the fact that the two of them are already close enough that they can practically feel each other's heart beats.

Then, Mokou finally realizes what she's doing, and that as she was leaning forward to put her finger on the girl's mouth, her other hand had unconsciously wander trying keep her balance, before finally finding support on the toned bare flesh that is the girl's right thigh.

Mokou can feels herself dying yet again as all the blood in her body jumps to her head, leaving the rest of her frozen as sudden surge of adrenaline tightens her limbs shut. The girl tries to move away, but with one hand keeping its fingers on her lips and another holding one of her legs down, Mokou has involuntarily traps the girl under her, and worse yet, forces her to look directly into her eyes. Mokou can't decide if the girl's expression is one of surprise or fear, but she's staying oddly still under her hands, like a prey discovering that it's merely seconds away from being devoured, but too scared to run.

Inside of Mokou's head, various thoughts come and go, forming and disappearing as her mind tries to comprehend her recent situation using every single one of her senses that is still functional, which is apparently not that many. Her sense of feeling is locked, stuck on the feel of the soft, quivering flesh under her hands. Her sense of sight filled only by the confused face in front of her, with her own eyes blatantly refusing to move away from the girl's pair of golden eyes, as if they are some sort of bastion from all evil in the world. Her ears can hear nothing in that nearly empty room, except for series of small ravenous gasps coming from the girl's overworked lungs.

Meanwhile, her own lungs and sense of smell is overwhelmed by various different yet familiar aromas. She can tell the small presence of smoke residue from the hours the girl put into her work, keeping the flame of her grill warm and welcoming against the night's unforgiving coldness. Accompanying that is the smell of her wares, freshwater delicacies that she would retrieve from her traps in a remote river deep inside the forest at the earliest of morning light, away from any human settlement. The smell of torn leaves and tree sap radiates from her between the feathers of her wings, from the time of the day where she would fly low over the tree tops, breaking their branches as she plays and sings with her more diminutive kind. Mokou can also smells her sweat, the same sweat that makes her thigh slippery under her hand. It's a soft smell, barely there, but distinct, and curiously reminds her of the smell of damp wood.

However, all of those smells are faint compared to the overwhelming, but pleasant, scent of soap that Mokou can tell is not the same kind that the girl uses on a daily basis. It's stronger, coming from the kind of soap that is not meant merely for cleaning oneself but to attract the attention of others, and must be rather expensive, especially considering the span of her wings. Mokou instinctively tries to identify the smell. It's floral, the sort that only blooms at night, but she also detects what taste like a hint of...orange, very cheerful, but calming at the same time.

“How sweet.”

Without thinking, her mouth opened. Somehow, despite the rest of her being frozen solid, Mokou managed to absent mindedly blurted out two of the only few words that could make the situation even more awkward. The effect is immediate. Both Mokou and the girl basically jump back as their hearts movement suddenly gains enough momentum to almost break clean through their chest.

For a moment, the two of them sit still, a distance away from each other. Under the cover of darkness, none of them knows that the other's face has become so reddened that somebody could paint their face with tomato and it wouldn't make any difference.

Mustering all her will, Mokou managed to raise her head. in front of her, the girl sits low and bowed, as if she's trying to make herself disappears into the floor. Her closed fists are pushed hard against her knees until her knuckles whitened. She has one of her wings raised, covering her face under the shadow. Her mouth can still be seen, though, rapidly open and closing silently, trying to make a sound while her lungs keep refusing to cooperate.

“I...IthinkIshouldgo..!” The girl finally managed to say, while quickly raising to her tiny feet and turning towards the door.


Already facing the door, the girl stops as if hitting a barrier. For the first time that night, she hears her name being used, and not as 'Owner', 'Miss Lorelei', or 'Birdie', but Mystia.

Mokou doesn't know why she had suddenly called the girl by her first name. What she knows is that when Mystia announced that she was about to leave, she felt an odd feeling that she's going to lose her chance. A chance to do what, exactly, she's not sure yet.

As an immortal, Mokou is definitely not used to the concept of uncertainty. Life is flat, the same day repeating over and over without anything to make any of them feels different. But the last couple of decades have definitely been an exception. First, a certain teacher from the village suddenly decided that she is her friend, refusing to hear anyone that says otherwise, including Mokou herself. Then a bunch of strangers came and beat the ever loving soul out of her for literally no reason at all, forcing her into her first prolonged contact with humans outside of her forest. And tonight, she is faced with a split second decision, something that she's definitely not used to outside the scene of battle.

But Mokou had already made her decision, and unlike many centuries ago at the top of a certain mountain, this time her decision doesn't come about from a vague obligation as a daughter to her supposed father. This time the decision is hers and hers alone. She wants something, not for anybody but herself, and she's ready to take all the risk to get it.

Taking a deep breath, Mokou stands, and slowly approach the silent girl that's still nailed to the floor. Then, gently, she grabs one of her hands from behind, nearly burying her face in the feathers of her wings.

“Please.” she whispered. “I want you to stay.”

Through her hand, Mokou can feel Mystia's entire body jolting, like she's about to dash out of the room the moment she let go. But she doesn't. Instead, she quietly lowers her body, and when Mokou let go of her hand, she is seated on her knees, facing the door with her back towards her. Following suit, Mokou sits behind her, just about touching the tip of her wings.

The two of them sit in silence, until finally Mystia managed to let out her voice.

“I...I think I really should go. I mean, I could look for Miss Kamishirasawa and...”

“I think we both know she's not coming.”


Mokou notices that Mystia is trying to secretly look to her left, mainly because Mokou too is also trying to sneak a glance to the same spot Mystia is looking. All the time the two of them were staying in that room, they've been trying their hardest to ignore what ostensibly the main feature of said room.

Slightly on their left, on the far side of the room and away from the oil lamp, there are two futon placed side by side, covered under another bigger one that is functioning as a blanket, creating a single large comfortable place at the corner of the room. It looks very inviting, with the plain soft blue motive that's looking as clean as new. No, it is new, suggesting that this establishment regularly replace the entire set on permanent basis, and the stuffing looks soft and full, implying good craftsmanship.

How much was this place's price for one night again? Keine said that she had taken care of all the cost, which is weird considering they were there to talk about her financial situation in the first place. In fact, does the temple school even has financial trouble in the first place? Didn't they just added a new classroom last year?

Doesn't matter. The purpose of this room is already clear, and whether or not the two of them going to use said purpose is up for them to decide.

“You know, Mystia...”

Mokou can feels her heart buzzing like a bee, beating violently against he lungs as she tries to draw breath to calm herself. Nevertheless, if none of them is going to make an initiative, then they're simply going to continue hurting each other in an unending string of indecisive madness. It's been too long that the two of them are locked in the unstable equilibrium at the edge of friendship. Tonight, Mokou is going to make their relationship clear, whatever it is.

Mokou carefully put one hand on Mystia's shoulder. The girl shivers a little, but otherwise not giving any meaningful protest.

“...maybe Keine was being too hasty. she may has misjudged our relationship...”

Mokou starts to move her hand, little by little, down towards her collarbone.

“,,,but I sincerely hope she isn't.”

Mokou forces herself to smile, trying to sound confident when every single word feels like it's going to get stuck in her throat at any time. If she wants this to happen, then she needs to play the lead. Because Mystia definitely isn't going to.

Mokou's hand has stopped when it reaches the base of Mystia's neck. Then slowly, she lowers her head, resting her chin gently on her other shoulder. She can clearly hear her breath starting to fasten rapidly.

“I don't understa-”

Mokou raises two of her fingers, gently caressing up from the base of Mystia's neck to the bulge of her throat. This little gesture stops any word that Mystia was about to say as her voice box suddenly refuses to work. Then, as Mystia's attention is focused on her hand, Mokou sneakily puts her free hand on top of her stomach, inviting a surprised yelp that Mokou can clearly feels in her other hand that's still cupping her neck. Not giving her a chance to recover, Mokou immediately jabs one finger gently towards Mystia's navel, forcing her reflex to jerks her entire body backwards. At the same time, Mokou's other hand subtly gives a slight push on Mystia's neck, pushing her even further back, and as Mystia starts to lose her balance, Mokou reclines her own back, creating a comfortable place as the winged girl inevitably falls into her embrace.


Mystia goes silent, her mind desperately trying to comprehend her current position. Her back is leaning comfortably on Mokou's chest, while her head is resting on her shoulder. Mokou's head is right beside Mystia's, her chin still resting on Mystia's own shoulder, close enough that she could hear her breathing. Mystia's legs are sprawled in front of her, with her robe now almost completely undone, revealing her legs up to the base of her thigh.

While Mystia is still in her confused stupor, Mokou wastes no time. Her hands are already starting to move. Downwards. From Mystia's neck, Mokou moves one hand, slowly, through her robe and directly on top of her modest chest. Mystia, as if suddenly awaken from a long sleep, groggily places one hand on top of Mokou's, not in protest, but merely confirming it's there.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
 No. 37760
Very good. This place needs more Mokou loving.
 No. 37763
Nice ! I'll be looking forward to this story.
 No. 37766
This needs to keep on going!
 No. 37775

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