[ Yuuki POV ]
The paper doors slid shut behind him with a faint clack.
Yuuki stepped into the simple room, the soft tatami mat brushing against his toes.
He stood still for a moment, looking around at the modest walls, the low ceiling, the clean air.
Everything about it screamed "comfort," but the feeling in his chest was anything but.
He exhaled slowly, folding his arms across his chest.
"I suppose... this is where the 'hero' should steel his heart," he muttered dryly.
"Take a deep breath. Promise to protect everyone. March forward like a good protagonist."
He snorted under his breath.
"Yeah, no. Not happening."
Crossing the room with unhurried steps, he dropped down onto the floor, legs stretched out carelessly.
The tatami creaked a little under his weight.
"This isn't just some neatly written story anymore," Yuuki said, his voice steady but edged with something sharper.
"And I'm not that Yuuki. Not the 'original.'"
He leaned his head back against the wall, feeling the coolness seep into his scalp.
His eyes drifted closed for a second, then opened again with a faint grimace.
"I remember the manga.
I remember the beats — the alliances, the betrayals, the big heroic moments.
The way he... I was supposed to act."
Yuuki opened his hand, studying his palm like it held a map he couldn't quite read.
"But knowing the story doesn't mean living it.
I'm not some puppet being dragged along by the pen of an author."
He flexed his fingers sharply, as if snapping invisible strings.
"My choices are my own."
His voice echoed lightly against the quiet walls.
"Maybe I'll follow some paths that were written. Maybe I'll tear others apart.
Hell, maybe I'll even make mistakes worse than anything that author dared to draw."
A chuckle slipped from his throat — dry, amused, but alive.
"And that's fine."
Yuuki sat up straighter, a small, real smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I won't apologize for being selfish, for being wrong, or for wanting more.
This life... it's mine now.
Not some story waiting for a 'good ending.'"
He drew in a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs, then released it slowly.
No more heavy chains of 'destiny.'
No more pretending to be someone else's idea of a man.
Only Yuuki — raw, stubborn, free.
And that would have to be enough.
•••
[ Narrator POV ]
After emptying his chest of all those tangled thoughts — to no one in particular — Yuuki felt strangely light.
No grand revelation. No divine message.
He simply... ranted.
Said everything he had to say to the empty world, and somehow, it was enough.
Now, back inside his room after a good, long bath, Yuuki found himself once again seated neatly on the tatami floor.
The time edged toward four in the afternoon, casting a warm, slanting light through the paper windows.
Today had been, to put it mildly, absolute chaos.
If he listed everything that happened, it almost sounded fake.
In a single afternoon, he had gone on a date with Kyouka, attended an emergency military meeting, fought for his life, dragged his battered comrades to the hospital...
And capped it off by receiving his first-ever paizuri and handjob from an unbelievably beautiful woman.
Frankly speaking, he felt more beast than man.
(Still...)
Yuuki exhaled through his nose, letting his thoughts settle.
...That was that.
Right now, he had more pressing matters at hand.
He straightened his posture. Hands resting loosely on his knees.
And once again, closed his eyes in meditation.
This time, though — something shifted.
Instead of blankly focusing on his breath like some good little monk...
He felt it.
A presence.
Subtle, but real.
There it was — a lotus.
Nestled low at the base of his spine, petals tightly sealed like a secret, stubborn and shy.
The Root Chakra.
The first gate.
From a week's worth of clumsy fumbling at meditation, this — this was the first true response.
The Kundalini energy was real.
Today... he would make it move.
Yuuki inhaled slowly, steady and patient.
Gathering the faint tingling energy along his spine — warm and restless, like a mix of static and breathless heat.
He nudged it carefully toward the lotus, gentle and insistent.
(Slow and steady... like peeling off panties for the first time.)
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he didn't break focus.
Bit by bit, he coaxed the warmth closer, feeding it into the stubborn lotus without forcing it.
At first — nothing.
The petals remained tightly closed, almost sulking in defiance.
But Yuuki didn't back down.
Patience was the key here — not brute strength.
Minute by minute, he kept nudging, feeding, stirring.
The tatami creaked softly beneath him as he adjusted his posture, sweat beginning to bead along his forehead.
And then — a faint twitch.
The lotus shivered, almost imperceptibly, as if finally acknowledging his persistence.
("Come on, bloom for me...")
Yuuki coaxed in his mind, feeling his heartbeat quicken slightly.
Slowly, one petal loosened.
Then another.
No fireworks.
No blinding light.
Just a soft, natural unfolding — as gentle as a flower greeting the morning sun.
And with that — the rush came.
A surge of energy rose from deep within his core, flooding upward with a pleasant buzz that made his skin tingle.
It wasn't overwhelming.
It was alive.
But every bit of that delicate stirring had cost him.
His muscles trembled lightly. His breathing grew ragged. His body, despite the joy thrumming through it, felt drained — hollowed out from the effort.
(Man, it's worse than doing cardio on leg day...)
Yuuki thought grimly, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Yet even through the exhaustion, another memory nudged at him.
Whenever Kyouka rewarded him — especially the filthier, more intense ones —
his body somehow recovered.
Almost suspiciously well.
It wasn't just morale.
It was as if her touch directly fueled this energy, accelerating the rise of the Kundalini itself.
(So basically... perverted rewards are medicinal here.)
He chuckled weakly, somewhere between amused and resigned.
At any rate, today's work was done.
The first gate had been nudged open.
The path was real.
And from tomorrow onward, he would continue stirring it — nurturing it — until it fully bloomed.
Only then would the next gate, the next step of the path, reveal itself.
But for now...
Yuuki simply let himself collapse backward onto the tatami mat, arms flopping wide, breath heavy but satisfied.
Living was exhausting.
But hell... it was worth it.
Every damn second.