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How much time passed? Hangetsu, what did you do?”When I awoke, the paper shide of my gohei looked like it had soaked in water then dried, the diamonds deformed, weathered. And the air was too chilly for summer, but not for the start of autumn. Had an entire cycle of the moon passed? Had it taken me a month to transform.The roof collapsed in a shower of sparks as I screamed out, “NO!”My selfishness caused this. My father’s death, the escape of the yokai. Tears fell across my father’s prone form as I cried over him. I clutched him, shaking. What had I done? What had I unleashed?“Is that the priest?” a gruff voice asked.I looked up to see a samurai in lacquered green armor standing over me, his helmet cradled in his arm. He knelt, his lamellar mail rattling. He stared at me, orange reflecting in the dark hairs of his topknot.“Is that the priest, miko?” the samurai asked again.I nodded my head. “My Otosan.”He let out a sigh. “My apologies, miko.” He glanced at the flames. “So it is. Part of me wondered if I should wake her up. Another part of me just wanted to go to sleep. If she did wake up, she would be too horny not to fuck, consumed by hyper-ovulation, driven to have sex with me like every woman in the world was when they first met me.She mewled and shifted. Her eyes opened. “Madam ... president... ?”I sighed. Guess I had to be up a little longer. “Yeah, you can call me Becky, sweetie. Didn’t Bethany say you could go home?”“She did,” she said, sitting up. Moonlight fell across her face, her blue eyes almost glowing in it. Her hair had a reddish quality to it, maybe a shade similar to Leah’s strawberry-blonde locks. “She said you had a long night. I bet you must be so tired.”“I am,” I said, sinking down on the bed beside her. “But I can get it up for you.”She moved behind me, her legs sliding around my waist. Her hands grabbed my shoulders. “My dad taught me how to give a great neck massage. My mother loves them. Would you like one, Becky?”“Sure,” I said then.
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