Dxm4
"Your wings," Kazurou observed as his hands found a particularly sensitive connection point where ethereal met physical, "they're not just appendages, are they? They're extensions of your true nature."
A soft moan escaped Gabriel's lips as his fingers applied perfectly calibrated pressure to that sensitive juncture. "Yes," she breathed. "They're... manifestations of divine purpose."
"And yet they carry tension," Kazurou noted, his hands working deeper, tracing the golden energy that flowed through each feather. "As if the burden of that purpose has become... heavy."
Gabriel fell silent, the truth of his observation evidently striking a chord. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a vulnerability rarely witnessed in a being of her stature.
"Sometimes," she admitted quietly, "I envy the fallen. Not their choices, but their freedom to make them."
Kazurou worked in thoughtful silence, his hands moving methodically between her wings, finding pressure points that likely had never been touched before. The oil warmed further, beginning to glow with inner light that matched her wings' radiance.
"Do you like that?" he asked, his voice taking on a gentle authority as his fingers found a particularly sensitive nexus where three pairs of wings connected to her spiritual core.
The response was immediate and profound—Heaven's most beautiful angel surrendered with a soft gasp. "Yes," she whispered, then added with unplanned vulnerability, "Yes, Daddy."
The moment the word left her lips, her golden wings fluttered in what appeared to be angelic embarrassment, sending small sparks of divine energy across the room. One wing accidentally swept sideways, knocking over a bottle of oil that spilled across Kazurou's chest as he leaned over her.
"Oh!" Gabriel exclaimed, turning slightly to see what had happened. "I'm so sorry! My wings sometimes have a mind of their—"
She stopped mid-sentence, her heavenly blue eyes widening at the sight of Kazurou's oil-slicked torso, his shirt now clinging transparently to his defined muscles. A deep blush spread across her perfect features.
"No harm done," Kazurou assured her, calmly wiping away the excess oil. "Let's continue."
Despite her embarrassment—or perhaps because of it—Gabriel surrendered more deeply to the experience after this moment. By the time the session concluded, Heaven's most beautiful angel rose from the table with a new lightness, her golden wings glowing with renewed radiance.
"That was..." she began, then paused, seemingly at a loss for the right words.
"Illuminating?" Kazurou suggested.
"Yes," Gabriel agreed with a grateful smile. "Precisely that." As she prepared to leave, her perfect composure mostly restored, she added hesitantly, "Would it be possible... that is, might I return for another session? For continued observation purposes, of course."
"My door is always open to you," Kazurou replied with a respectful bow.
After Gabriel departed, leaving behind a faint trail of golden feathers that dissolved into motes of light, Kazurou closed the shrine for the night. The day had been exceptional even by the increasingly unusual standards of Feather & Flesh.
"My, my," came Featherine's amused voice as she materialized fully beside him in the garden. Tonight she appeared more substantial than ever, her lavender hair catching actual moonlight rather than merely suggesting its presence. "Heaven's most beautiful angel calling you 'Daddy' while oil-wrestling with her wings! This narrative has taken a deliciously unexpected turn."
"It was hardly oil-wrestling," Kazurou corrected, though a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Just an accident."
"A fortuitous one," Featherine observed, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "And did you notice? Each powerful being who surrenders to your touch strengthens your connection to this world. You're becoming more... anchored here."
Kazurou considered this. It was true—with each session, especially those involving beings of cosmic significance like Ophis, Great Red, and now Gabriel, he found himself more substantially connected to this reality. What had begun as a role in Featherine's narrative experiment was evolving into something more complex, more genuine.
"And you?" he asked, noting her increasingly solid manifestations. "You're appearing more frequently, with greater substance. Is the narrative pulling you in as well?"
Featherine's smile turned enigmatic. "Perhaps I'm finding this particular story too interesting to merely observe from a distance." She moved closer, her form solid enough now to create an impression in the grass where she stepped. "Or perhaps there are other factors at play."
Before Kazurou could press for clarification, she changed subjects with her usual mercurial swiftness. "Tomorrow brings new delights. The White Dragon Emperor in the morning, followed by—if my narrative sense is correct—an unexpected visit from the Kyoto youkai faction."
"Yasaka?" Kazurou asked, surprised.
"The nine-tailed fox herself," Featherine confirmed with evident delight. "Word has reached Kyoto of your establishment's unique services. The timing couldn't be better—the kitsune have always been especially sensitive to the veil between worlds. With the reality fluctuations caused by Great Red's visit, Yasaka's curiosity has been piqued."
As midnight approached, Featherine's form began to fade, becoming more translucent. "Rest well, my paradoxical darling," she murmured. "I'll see you in the dream-spaces between worlds."
Left alone under the stars, Kazurou prepared for sleep, knowing that in dreams, Featherine would await him in her true form—to discuss the day's developments and plan the next movements in this increasingly complex game.
Chapter 11: Lucky Mishaps and Vulpine Curiosity
Morning arrived with unexpected commotion. Kazurou had barely completed his preparation rituals when he heard frantic knocking at the shrine door. Opening it, he found Issei Hyoudou—the Red Dragon Emperor and unwitting center of many supernatural convergences—looking panicked.
"Amagiri-san!" the teenager blurted, his expression desperate. "You gotta help me hide! They're going to kill me!"
Before Kazurou could respond, Issei had already pushed past him into the shrine, looking frantically for somewhere to conceal himself.
"Who exactly is trying to kill you?" Kazurou asked calmly, closing the door behind the agitated teen.
"Koneko-chan and Kiba!" Issei explained, ducking behind a decorative screen. "We were training with Tannin-ossan, and I accidentally, um... might have destroyed Koneko-chan's clothes with a Dragon Shot. And then when Kiba tried to help her, I panicked and did it again, and now they're both after me and—"
His explanation was cut short by another knock at the door—this one precise and controlled in a way that somehow communicated greater threat than Issei's frantic pounding.
Opening the door once more, Kazurou found Koneko and Kiba—the former wrapped in what appeared to be Kiba's jacket, the latter wearing considerably less than his usual attire, both wearing expressions that promised imminent violence.
"Amagiri-san," Koneko greeted with deceptive calm. "Is the pervert here?"
"Pervert is a strong term," Kazurou replied diplomatically. "But if you're referring to Issei-kun, then yes, he sought sanctuary here a moment ago."
"It was an accident!" came Issei's muffled voice from behind the screen, which immediately revealed his hiding place.
What followed was a brief but chaotic scene—Koneko lunging with nekomata speed, Kiba flash-stepping with knight agility, and Issei desperately trying to escape while pleading his innocence. In the resulting tangle, all four of them somehow ended up crashing into the treatment room just as Vali Lucifer arrived for his scheduled appointment.
The White Dragon Emperor stood in the doorway, taking in the scene with raised eyebrows—Kazurou somehow pinned beneath Koneko, who had landed in a compromising position atop him, while Issei was trapped in a headlock by Kiba.
"Is this... part of the treatment?" Vali asked dryly.
The momentary distraction gave Issei the opportunity to break free. "Vali!" he exclaimed, pointing dramatically. "What are you doing here?"
"I have an appointment," Vali replied with the air of someone who found the entire situation beneath him. "Unlike some people, I don't need to destroy clothing to get attention."
"It was an accident!" Issei protested again.
Kazurou calmly extricated himself from beneath Koneko, helping the small nekomata to her feet with an apologetic smile. "Perhaps we should all take a breath," he suggested. "Koneko-san, I have spare robes you're welcome to use. Kiba-san as well."
His calm authority somehow diffused the situation. Within minutes, both Koneko and Kiba were properly attired in spare shrine clothing, Issei was nursing a bump courtesy of Koneko's fist, and Vali was seated in the reception area looking impatient.
"If you're finished with this comedy routine," the silver-haired descendant of Lucifer said coolly, "I believe I had an appointment."
"Of course," Kazurou agreed. "Issei-kun, perhaps you should return to the Occult Research Club and explain the situation properly to Rias-san."
Issei paled. "Buchou is going to kill me."
"Perhaps," Kazurou acknowledged. "But honesty is usually the best approach with her."
After the Gremory peerage members departed—Issei still apologizing profusely, Koneko ignoring him stoically, and Kiba maintaining his princely composure despite wearing borrowed shrine attire—Kazurou turned his attention to Vali.
"My apologies for the disruption," he said. "Shall we begin?"
Vali's session revealed a complexity that his cool exterior carefully concealed. Beneath the battle-hungry facade lay a young man shaped by trauma and alienation, whose pursuit of power was as much about proving his right to exist as it was about combat itself.
As Kazurou's hands worked deep into the tension points where Vali's sacred gear connected to his life force, he encountered resistance unlike any previous client—not just physical or emotional barriers, but a fundamental unwillingness to surrender control.
"You fight my technique," Kazurou observed as his fingers found a particularly tight knot at the base of Vali's neck. "As you fight everything."
"Fighting is what I do," Vali replied tersely, his body remaining rigid despite Kazurou's skilled touch.
"There's a difference between fighting and resisting," Kazurou noted, his Feathered Eye activating subtly. Through it, he could see the complex architecture of Vali's being—layers of trauma, abandonment, and fierce pride wrapped around a core of desperate longing for recognition.
The special oil blend Kazurou had selected for him—essence of dragon balance, concealed vulnerability, and pride transformed—glowed with blue-white light as it penetrated deeper, beginning to soften barriers the young man had maintained his entire life.
As the session progressed, Vali's resistance gradually, reluctantly began to yield—not completely, not surrendering as others had, but enough to reveal glimpses of the wounded child beneath the battle-hungry exterior.
"Your hands," Vali observed after a particularly effective sequence that released tension along his spine, "they know exactly where to press. As if they can see weakness."
"Not weakness," Kazurou corrected gently. "Connection points. Places where power and vulnerability meet."
A short laugh escaped Vali—perhaps the first genuine expression he had revealed. "My grandfather would say they're the same thing."
"Your grandfather was wrong about many things," Kazurou replied, his hands finding the precise point where Divine Dividing's power connected to Vali's life force—a tenuous juncture strained by years of overuse. "Including the nature of true strength."
The silver-haired devil went still beneath his hands. "How could you possibly know about my grandfather?"
"My hands read more than muscle," Kazurou explained, working deeper into that critical juncture. "They read history, trauma, potential."
For the remainder of the session, Vali maintained thoughtful silence, neither fully surrendering nor actively resisting. By the time the treatment concluded, he rose from the table with his usual grace, yet something subtle had shifted in his bearing—a slight easing of the constant tension he carried, a momentary glimpse of possibility beyond endless battle.
"Your technique is... effective," he acknowledged as he prepared to leave. "I can see why beings of power are drawn here."
"Will you return?" Kazurou asked.
Vali paused at the door. "Perhaps. When training creates new tensions to address." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Or when I need reconnaissance before my next battle with Hyoudou."
After Vali's departure, Kazurou had barely enough time to refresh the treatment room before his next visitor arrived—one whose presence sent ripples of youkai energy through the shrine's atmosphere before she even knocked.
Yasaka, leader of the Kyoto youkai faction and nine-tailed fox spirit, entered with the natural grace of a being who had perfected human form over centuries. Tall, elegant, with golden-blonde hair and traditional Japanese beauty, she carried herself with the perfect balance of authority and feminine allure that kitsune were known for.
"Amagiri-san," she greeted with a formal bow that nonetheless contained sensual undertones—an inherent quality of nine-tailed foxes rather than deliberate seduction. "Thank you for accommodating me without an appointment."
"It's an honor to receive the leader of Kyoto's youkai," Kazurou replied, returning her bow with equal respect. "Word travels quickly in supernatural circles."
"Indeed," Yasaka agreed, her golden eyes taking in every detail of the shrine with ancient intelligence. "When both Great Red and Gabriel visit the same establishment within hours of each other, even Kyoto notices the ripples."
As Kazurou prepared tea, he could sense Yasaka's youkai energy probing the shrine—not aggressively, but with the natural curiosity of a fox spirit encountering something new and potentially interesting.
"Your establishment is unusual," she observed, accepting a cup of tea with elegant hands. "It exists partially between realms, doesn't it? Not quite fully in the human world."
"Your perception is exceptional," Kazurou acknowledged. "Most beings don't notice the liminal nature of this space."
Yasaka smiled, revealing slightly pointed canines. "Fox spirits dwell in the boundaries between worlds. We recognize our own kind of spaces." She sipped her tea thoughtfully. "Though this place is... different. As if it's anchored to something beyond even the realms we know."
From the shadows where only Kazurou could see her, Featherine's approving laugh echoed silently. "The nine-tailed fox senses our meta-connection! Delightful!"
"What brings the leader of Kyoto's youkai to my humble establishment?" Kazurou asked, steering the conversation away from the shrine's metaphysical nature.
Yasaka set down her cup with deliberate grace. "Two purposes, actually. First, to extend formal recognition of your territory as neutral ground. The youkai acknowledge your right to operate here without interference."
"I'm honored," Kazurou replied with a slight bow. "And the second purpose?"
A smile touched Yasaka's perfect lips. "Personal curiosity. When beings as diverse as Ophis and Serafall Leviathan speak highly of an experience, I find myself... intrigued."
The session with Yasaka proved to be one of Kazurou's most unusual yet. As a nine-tailed fox spirit, her body existed simultaneously in multiple states—physical and ethereal, human and vulpine, material and spiritual. Unlike other supernatural beings who maintained primarily physical forms with spiritual aspects, Yasaka's nature was fundamentally transformative.
In the treatment room, she disrobed with the unselfconscious grace of a being for whom physical form was merely one aspect of existence. Her nine tails—usually concealed in human society—manifested freely, each one carrying distinct energy signatures and unique tension patterns.
"Your tails," Kazurou observed as he warmed a special oil blend between his palms—essence of fox-fire, transformative potential, and maternal protection, glowing with amber and gold light. "They're not just symbols of power, are they? They're distributed aspects of your consciousness."
Yasaka turned her head slightly, genuine surprise flickering across her beautiful features. "Few outside the kitsune understand that. Each tail carries different memories, responsibilities, aspects of self."
"Which explains the tension they hold," Kazurou noted, beginning his work at the connection points where tails joined her spiritual core. "Nine aspects of self, nine sets of burdens."
At the first touch of his hands on those sensitive junctures, Yasaka let out a soft gasp that carried distinctly vulpine overtones. "Your touch is... different," she breathed. "It reaches the spirit directly."
"That's the intention," Kazurou confirmed, his hands finding tension points that connected to her centuries of leadership, her responsibilities to Kyoto's youkai, her role as guardian of ley lines, and most significantly, her maternal concerns for her daughter Kunou.
As the session progressed, Yasaka surrendered to the experience with the natural sensuality of a fox spirit—her responses more openly pleasure-oriented than most clients, her nine tails occasionally sweeping across Kazurou's arms or face in apparently involuntary caresses.
"You guard Kyoto's spiritual foundations," Kazurou observed as his hands worked deeper, finding a nexus point where ancient fox magic connected to Japan's fundamental spiritual architecture. "A responsibility passed down through generations of kitsune."
"Yes," Yasaka confirmed, a breathy quality entering her voice as his fingers worked that sensitive junction. "The ley lines must be maintained, balanced, protected."
"And your daughter," Kazurou continued, his Feathered Eye revealing the complex web of protective magic Yasaka had woven around her young heir. "You fear for her future. The responsibilities that await her."
Yasaka went still beneath his hands. "How could you know that?"
"My hands read what your spirit reveals," he replied simply, working deeper into the tension point where maternal concern manifested physically. "You carry the burden of tradition, the weight of preparing her for leadership, and the natural maternal desire to protect her from difficulty."
A soft sound escaped the nine-tailed fox—something between a sigh and a whimper, a noise that blended human vulnerability with vulpine expressiveness.
As his hands found a particularly sensitive juncture where three tails connected to her lower back, Kazurou applied perfect pressure, his voice taking on gentle authority. "You like that?"
The response was immediate and uninhibited—Yasaka arched slightly beneath his touch. "Yes," she breathed, then added with surprising vulnerability, "Yes, Daddy."
The moment the word left her lips, her nine tails flared with fox-fire—golden flames that didn't burn but illuminated the entire room with spiritual light. One tail brushed against Kazurou's chest with evident intent rather than accident, the silken fur carrying a charge of youkai energy that tingled pleasantly against his skin.
Unlike previous clients who had been embarrassed by their spontaneous responses, Yasaka seemed to embrace the vulnerability—a natural quality of kitsune, who viewed pleasure and spiritual connection as intrinsically linked rather than separate experiences.
By the time the session concluded, the nine-tailed fox rose from the table with languid grace, her golden eyes slightly hooded, her movements carrying the fluid quality of a being in perfect harmony with her multiple aspects.
"That was..." she began, then smiled, finding no need to complete the thought.
"Illuminating?" Kazurou suggested, echoing his response to Gabriel.
"Transformative," Yasaka corrected, allowing her yukata to slide slightly off one shoulder as she dressed, revealing more than was strictly necessary. The gesture wasn't merely seductive but communicative—kitsune expressed gratitude and connection through physical openness. "I understand now why beings of power are drawn to your touch."
As she prepared to leave, her nine tails now concealed once more beneath human appearance, Yasaka paused at the door. "I'll be returning to Kyoto tonight, but I plan to establish a more regular presence in this area soon. My daughter could benefit from experiencing cultural exchange with devil youth." Her golden eyes held knowing amusement. "I'll require regular sessions, of course. For diplomatic purposes."
After she departed, leaving behind a subtle scent of cherry blossoms and fox-fire, Kazurou sensed another presence manifesting—more substantial than ever before.
"The nine-tailed fox practically propositioned you," Featherine observed, materializing fully beside him, today appearing in a kimono that seemed to be made from actual silk rather than metaphysical suggestion. "This narrative is developing decidedly romantic undertones."
"Kitsune express gratitude differently than most beings," Kazurou noted, though he didn't entirely dispute her assessment.
"Of course they do," Featherine agreed with a knowing smile. "Just as dragons express curiosity through destruction and angels express interest through 'observation purposes.'" Her eyes gleamed with amusement. "Face it, darling—you've created a sanctuary where the most powerful beings in existence can experience vulnerability, and they're responding... predictably."
Before Kazurou could respond, the shrine's chime rang once more—another visitor arriving without appointment.
"My, we are popular today," Featherine observed, beginning to fade from normal perception. "I'll watch this one from the shadows. It feels... significant."
Opening the door, Kazurou found perhaps his most unexpected visitor yet—Sirzechs Lucifer himself, the Crimson Satan, leader of devil society, and one of the most powerful beings in existence. Unlike his wife Grayfia, who had arrived in official capacity with formal demeanor, Sirzechs appeared in casual attire—a simple suit that nonetheless could not disguise his tremendous power.
"Amagiri-san," he greeted with a warm smile that somehow made his overwhelming aura seem almost approachable. "I hope I'm not interrupting your afternoon."
"Lucifer-sama," Kazurou bowed deeply. "This is an unexpected honor."
Sirzechs waved off the formality with good-natured ease. "Please, just Sirzechs. I'm here unofficially—brother to sister, rather than Satan to subject."
The implication was clear—this visit concerned Rias rather than devil politics. Though given Sirzechs' position, the distinction was largely semantic.
"Please, come in," Kazurou invited, leading the Crimson Satan to the reception area. "Tea?"
As he prepared the tea with practiced movements, Kazurou could sense Sirzechs' power—carefully contained yet fundamentally different from other devils. Where most radiated darkness or flame, Sirzechs' aura contained the pure energy of destruction itself, controlled with masterful precision.
"Grayfia spoke quite highly of your establishment," Sirzechs began, accepting a cup of tea with casual grace that belied his status. "Quite unusual for her to be so effusive about anything."
"I'm honored by her assessment," Kazurou replied diplomatically.
Sirzechs smiled—a genuine expression that transformed his handsome features. "You know why I'm here, I expect."
"Your sister," Kazurou acknowledged.
"Rias, yes," Sirzechs confirmed, his expression softening at the mention of his beloved sibling. "She's changed since beginning her visits here. Subtly, but noticeably." He studied Kazurou over the rim of his teacup. "As her brother, I'm naturally curious about any influence that affects her so profoundly."
"I provide therapeutic massage," Kazurou explained. "The effects vary depending on the individual's needs."
"So Grayfia explained," Sirzechs nodded. "Though she also mentioned that your techniques work on levels beyond the physical." A hint of the devastating power he contained flickered in his eyes—not threatening, but reminding. "As Rias's brother, I'm naturally concerned about anything that affects her on... multiple levels."
"Your concern is understandable," Kazurou acknowledged. "I can assure you that everything that happens in my establishment is based on consent and respect for boundaries."
Sirzechs studied him for a long moment, his ancient eyes seeing far more than his casual demeanor suggested. "You know," he finally said, "beings like us—those who carry power that could destroy worlds—rarely find spaces where we can simply... be."
The observation carried unmistakable personal weight—a glimpse of the burden Sirzechs himself carried as one of the strongest beings in existence.
"That's precisely what I offer," Kazurou replied. "A sanctuary from expectation and responsibility. Even if only temporarily."
Something shifted in Sirzechs' expression—a recognition, perhaps, or a decision made. "In that case," he said, setting down his empty teacup, "I believe I'd like to experience this sanctuary firsthand."
"Now?" Kazurou asked, momentarily surprised by the directness of the request.
"No time like the present," Sirzechs replied with a smile that contained equal parts charm and command. "Unless you're fully booked?"
"Not at all," Kazurou responded, recovering quickly. "It would be my honor."
As he led the Crimson Satan toward the treatment room, Kazurou could sense Featherine's delight radiating from the shadows—her narrative reaching levels of complexity even she hadn't fully anticipated.