Lunelle Plays with Fire

Last night, Himeko had fallen asleep with her face buried in the curve of Lunelle's delicate neck, her breath warm and heavy against skin that seemed far too soft and yielding.

When Lunelle's mind slowly clawed its way back to clarity, she became acutely aware of that hot, alcohol-laced breath fanning over her bare neck—a sensation that sent shivers down her spine and left her feeling oddly flustered. Each exhale tickled against her skin, a whispering caress that felt both invasive and unbearably intimate, making her squirm beneath the weight of it.

It wasn't painful, not exactly. But the sheer shamelessness of being held so closely, of having her vulnerable throat used as a pillow, left her cheeks burning in quiet humiliation.

"T-Teacher Himeko…? Please… please don't…"

Her voice was a trembling plea, soft and barely audible. She shifted, wriggling in a desperate attempt to slip out from Himeko's embrace, her slender body pressing and twisting in small, instinctive movements.

But it was futile.

Though the lingering influence of Seele's terrifying charm value had faded overnight, Lunelle's body—so fragrant, so soft, so impossibly sweet—still exuded a subtle, almost intoxicating allure. And to Himeko, who had been silently suffocating under years of pain and exhaustion, that scent was a siren's call she couldn't resist.

Her struggles, far from pushing Himeko away, seemed only to draw her in deeper.

"Mmm… don't move, little one… just let your sister hold you for a while… or else…"

Himeko's voice was husky, her words slurred by sleep but laced with a dark, teasing hunger. Instead of loosening her hold, she tightened it, pulling Lunelle flush against her chest—strong arms locking her in place as though she were a treasure Himeko refused to let go of.

Her breath washed hot and damp over Lunelle's ear, and as she nuzzled closer, her lips brushed along the delicate line of Lunelle's neck, trailing light, barely-there touches that made Lunelle's skin erupt in goosebumps. Then, without warning, Himeko's teeth sank into the tender flesh—sharp enough to send a bolt of shock through Lunelle's entire body.

"A-ah…!"

The sudden bite tore a helpless cry from Lunelle's throat, her back arching slightly in reflex. She froze, wide-eyed, too stunned to resist as Himeko pressed her lips more firmly to the small wound, as if savoring the taste of her.

"Mmm… if you keep struggling like that, I might just lose control and… eat you up…"

Himeko's words drifted into a low, breathy murmur, her lips curling into a faint, dangerous smile as she licked softly at the mark she had left—her tongue tracing slow, lazy circles over Lunelle's pulse point. The subtle sting mingled with the warmth of her breath, sending an odd mixture of fear and something dangerously close to pleasure thrumming through Lunelle's veins.

"Just… stay still… and be a good girl…"

Himeko's voice was barely a whisper, thick with satisfaction, as she tightened her arms around Lunelle like a predator coiling around its prey. Her lashes fluttered, and she drifted back into a peaceful sleep, the weight of her body pressing down heavily, the rhythm of her breathing deep and even.

For Himeko, holding Lunelle in her arms like this, breathing in that sweet, healing scent, was a rare and precious comfort—an oasis of warmth she hadn't known she was starving for. After years of fighting and enduring, it felt like a stolen dream she wasn't ready to wake from.

"Nnnagh… T-TAT…"

Lunelle whimpered softly, her neck still tingling from the unexpected bite. Her heart raced wildly, torn between fear and something far more dangerous, and she dared not move again, terrified that Himeko might actually sink her teeth in deeper the next time.

After all, with the sheer strength of a top-tier Valkyrie like Himeko… wasn't it possible that her next bite could tear through skin and draw blood?

Caught in the warmth of Himeko's embrace, Lunelle lay motionless—half fearful, half strangely exhilarated. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that no matter how much she struggled, she was completely at Himeko's mercy.

And yet… in the stillness, in the press of that strong, warm body against hers, there was an undeniable comfort—a thrill, even. Even the lingering scent of alcohol that clung to Himeko's skin, so sharp and unfamiliar, began to fade into the background as Lunelle's senses slowly adjusted.

It was strange, but… being held like this, by such a breathtakingly beautiful woman, wasn't entirely unpleasant. Even as her heart raced, even as her cheeks burned, some small, foolish part of her wanted to stay just a little longer in that tight, suffocating embrace.

Lunelle had no choice but to endure the torment of being trapped in Teacher Himeko's suffocating embrace all night, her slender body pinned beneath the older woman's heavy arm like a fragile doll. Her willpower, strained and trembling, barely clung on until the scent of breakfast wafted from the kitchen, Mei's gentle voice calling everyone to eat.

It was only then, as the first rays of sunlight crept through the curtains, that the Honkai Trio—who had been quietly observing Lunelle's unusual absence with growing concern—realized something was amiss. Lunelle, who was usually so obedient, so sensible, and always punctual for breakfast, had not shown up this morning.

The worry gnawed at their hearts. Without hesitation, they rushed toward Lunelle's small, modest room.

Inside, Lunelle lay like a delicate porcelain figure, pale and dazed, finally freed from Himeko's grasp. It was almost pitiful, the way her breath shuddered in relief when the others burst in to find her.

Though, in strict terms, this was Himeko's house to begin with—her domain—one couldn't help but wonder: if she were just a bit more shameless, would she not have claimed that it was her right to sleep wherever she wished? Yet, as a teacher, to storm into a student's room in the dead of night, drunk and uninvited, clutching the poor girl in her arms like a body pillow, disregarding her resistance...

It was, at best, enviable. At worst? Outrageous. Unforgivable. A blatant abuse of power that made one's blood boil.

Bronya and Kiana, neither of whom had the key to Lunelle's room, were quick to voice their condemnation. Their words rang with indignation—though Kiana, in particular, seemed to speak with a hint of playful mischief that barely concealed her true intentions.

"Since Teacher Himeko is so out of line, why don't I just hold onto the key to the cutie Seele's room instead?" Kiana proposed, her tone laced with barely concealed desire. A suggestion with a clear ulterior motive.

Himeko, sobered and chastened, dared not play the authoritative teacher before Lunelle—the victim of her midnight indiscretion. After all, it had been her mistake. But the idea of handing over the key to Kiana was out of the question. Himeko could picture it too vividly: the next morning, Lunelle would awaken, not to her, but to Kiana's grinning, predatory face hovering far too close.

No, if for no other reason than to protect Lunelle from Kiana's creeping advances, Himeko couldn't allow that.

Of the three, Kiana was undoubtedly the boldest in her lustful intent. Though Bronya's expression was impassive, Himeko couldn't shake the suspicion that even she harbored secret designs on Lunelle—how else to explain that constant, quiet gaze, as if always yearning to be close?

In the end, after a moment's pause, Himeko decided to place the key in Mei's hands. The girl looked surprised, almost bewildered, as if she, too, couldn't quite understand why she'd been chosen.

"Eh…? I... I'll try my best to keep it safe..."

Mei's voice was hesitant, tinged with unease. She knew full well her own dangerous tendencies—after all, hadn't she already overstepped boundaries in that hospital room, drawn to Lunelle's delicate presence like a moth to a flame? The thought of holding the key, of having access... it made her palms sweat.

But she could hardly refuse.

And what Mei didn't realize—what no one seemed to grasp—was that the key wasn't the only way in. Himeko still had her fingerprints.

Still, compared to the obvious threats posed by Kiana and Bronya, Mei at least projected the image of a responsible, composed girl. To outsiders, she seemed the safest choice.

Of course, that didn't mean Himeko had given up her own ambitions. After all, if she relinquished the key entirely, how could she ensure that she'd always have a place at Lunelle's side? The thought of sneaking into Lunelle's room again, only to find Kiana or Bronya already nestled beside the girl—Himeko's pride recoiled at the idea. To compete with her own students for the right to hold Lunelle in her arms... how undignified.

No, that simply wouldn't do.

And so, Himeko watched as the key changed hands, a faint smirk playing at the corner of her lips as she noted how Kiana's face twisted in barely concealed frustration. Kiana, who rarely backed down, dared not voice her objections in front of Mei.

Bronya, on the other hand, remained impassive. But Himeko knew her too well. Beneath that blank expression, Bronya's mind was already calculating. After all, this house had more than one way to open a door.

As for Lunelle, the poor girl could only endure the aftermath of the chaos swirling around her. Though she felt no resentment toward Himeko—at least not enough to hold a grudge—she couldn't hide her discomfort either. In a soft, barely audible voice, she gently reminded Himeko, her tone timid yet resolute:

"Um... if you come into my room again next time... at least take a shower first... you smell like alcohol..."

The realization struck Himeko like a blow. That her disheveled, drunken self had clung to Lunelle all night, pressing her scent into the girl's pristine skin—it was a disgrace. Yet as her eyes traced the smooth, porcelain-like curve of Lunelle's neck, the faint flush of her cheeks, a dangerous thought crept unbidden into her mind.

If only... if only a delicate, innocent girl like Lunelle could carry my scent a little longer...

No. Himeko cut off the thought immediately, forcing it down like a bitter pill. She couldn't let herself go there.

After all, in the world of Honkai, Lunelle's beauty was something almost unfair—an ethereal, almost fragile allure that seemed too perfect to be real. And her age, as recorded on paper, was only fourteen. No one could possibly doubt it.

But what they didn't know—what Lunelle herself didn't know—was that her delicate, Seele-like frame was a mere shell. Beneath it, her body had been shaped atop the base material of her original self—her boyish form—and though she appeared young, her bone age had long since crossed into adulthood.

It was a secret so absurd, so unfathomable, that even when revealed, it would leave people reeling. Like that infamous "Little Cute Teacher" character in a certain magic book, Lunelle had unwittingly stepped into a world where no one, not even herself, could truly understand the implications.

And when the truth finally came to light—when Lunelle learned the cost of flirting so carelessly, so brazenly, while hiding behind her youthful appearance—she would pay dearly for it.

But that was a story for another day.

For now, the chaos of Himeko's midnight visit had subsided, leaving Lunelle's days at Saint Freya to return to a fragile, temporary peace. After all, in the canon storyline, the first month of school was relatively uneventful, even for the heroines.

As an ordinary Logistics Valkyrie—not even the top of her department—Lunelle's days passed quietly, a small reprieve from the storms to come.

And yet, ever cautious, Lunelle took measures to avoid another ambush like the last. From that day forward, she started her daily simulation sessions not in the privacy of her room, but in the most public places possible—on the way to school, where students and staff bustled through the corridors.

Her reasoning was simple: if her wives lost control after simulations, it was because they always caught her in vulnerable, isolated moments afterward. It wasn't her fault she radiated such dangerous charm. No, it had to be that every time she finished a session, one of them found her alone, and the result was always the same—she ended up pinned, unable to resist.

But what if she simulated in public? Surely none of them would dare to pounce on her in front of an audience.

Lunelle convinced herself this was the perfect solution. After all, how could she grow stronger if she feared her own wives to the point of halting her training? If she didn't learn to manage their affections, how could she ever hope to rise up one day—to seize control, to stand tall as their equal, no longer the one who was cornered?

And to her surprise, the plan worked—at least for now. Her unique charm only seemed to affect her wives, those beautiful, dangerous girls she called her own. The other girls in the crowd? They might find her cute, weak, small, but they didn't burn with the same feverish desire to seize and devour her.

Still, the Honkai Trio noticed something strange. Lately, little Lunelle seemed almost too delicate, too ethereal, especially on the way to school. That soft, sweet aura that usually clung to her like a halo had taken on a subtle, dangerous edge—an intoxicating charm that made the heart race.

Kiana, the most easily swayed of the three, often found herself gripping her bag tightly, fighting the urge to pounce and ravage the petite girl who was practically flirting with every step.

But even if Kiana could swallow her pride and act on her desires, Mei and Bronya, ever composed in public, would never allow such disgraceful behavior. And if Kiana dared to make a move, she would drag the others down with her—risking their reputations along with her own.

For now, Lunelle's strange, desperate strategy held firm. The threat of public exposure kept her wives' more dangerous impulses at bay.

But such desires, once stoked and suppressed, do not vanish. They smolder in the heart, building with each passing day, until one day—when the dam breaks—they will flood forth in an unstoppable tide.

And what her wives will do to the helpless, lovely Lunelle when that day comes... is something no one, not even Lunelle herself, can predict.

--+--

T/N: It's diddy tensei all over again... but not technically?