Love

Katsu didn't remember stumbling back to his dorm. Didn't remember climbing the stairs or how he even found his room.

His hands still stank of scorched leather and blood, and the sigil burned across his palm with every beat of his heart.

He dropped face-first onto the mattress, boots and all. For a moment, he just lay there, sweat cooling on his neck, body thrumming with old adrenaline and new pain.

The world outside was quiet, but his mind still echoed with the crush of stone, the crowd's hush, his own voice breaking inside the earth.

He flexed his fingers, feeling the sting.

Half wound, half memory.

The mark on his palm glowed faintly in the dark, nothing of his father's shadow left in it.

Just him. Just Katsu.

No legend, no myth. Just the proof that he had survived, and chosen to.

He pulled the blanket up with his good hand, staring at the cracks in the ceiling until they blurred.

He wasn't sure if the sword lay at his feet or if he'd left it in the Chamber; all he knew was the weight hadn't left him, not really.

The ache was still there, an anchor.

And for once, it felt like his.

His chest ached, his breath ragged, but under the pain was something sharper:

The knowledge that he'd made it through.

He unclenched his fist, tracing the raw lines with trembling fingers, and let himself breathe.

Not chosen, but choosing.

For tonight, the Academy could whisper whatever it wanted. Katsu just lay there, blinking at the shadows, and let himself believe it.

This victory was his.

A flicker of blue danced in his peripheral vision.

He turned.

Nothing.

No one could take it away.

Not ghosts.

Not legends.

Not even her.

A floorboard beside his Velthra bed squeaked. He barely managed a glance before it was too late.

The Leviathan was already there—silent and sudden. In a blur of motion, she pinned him down, her body draped over his, hands firm on his wrists, breath cool against his cheek.

He tensed beneath her, but she just leaned in closer, gold eyes burning, her midnight hair tumbling around them like a curtain.

"You look so sure of yourself," she whispered, voice brushing his ear. "But you're still mine."

Before he could answer, her lips found his—soft at first, then insistent, claiming. Her kiss was cold as deep water, but it burned him all the same. He tried to turn away, but her grip only tightened, her weight a promise he couldn't shake.

She broke the kiss, lips grazing his jaw, breath a shiver along his skin.

"Victory suits you," she murmured, "but don't forget who you owe it to."

He tried to speak, defiant, but her mouth silenced him again, stealing the words from his lips and the air from his lungs.

Pinned, breathless, Katsu realized there were some things even victory couldn't win him.

Not freedom.

Not peace.

Not from her.

He slid his hands under her, defiant, and she let out a low, involuntary groan. She pressed him harder into the mattress, her grip on his wrists unyielding, but he managed to twist just enough to push her up and put a breath of space between them.

"Levii!" he gasped, half protest, half plea.

Her eyes flashed, pupils blown wide, hungry.

A slow, predatory smile curled on her lips.

"Oh, you really shouldn't have said that…"

She reclaimed her ground in an instant, hair tumbling around his face, her mouth just a whisper from his own. She pinned his wrists above his head, fingers cool and possessive.

"Say it again," she breathed, her voice velvet and dangerous.

He tried to glare, to summon some last scrap of willpower. "Leviathan—"

She kissed him, slow and deep, and the rest of his protest dissolved on her tongue.

He tried to push her away, but her kiss was relentless, claiming, and the strength in his arms faded beneath her touch.

He twisted his wrists, testing her grip, but his resolve was already slipping, melting under the weight of her body and the certainty in her hands.

She pulled back just enough to see his face, eyes burning gold.

"Still fighting me?" she teased, her voice a whisper against his lips.

He opened his mouth to answer, but the words never came. She kissed him again, softer this time, coaxing, and his body responded before his mind could argue.

His hands stopped struggling.

Instead, his fingers curled around hers, no longer resisting, just holding on.

He let himself breathe her in. The cold silk of her hair, the electric taste of her magic, the inevitability of her presence.

His heart thudded out its surrender in the quiet space between kisses.

By the time she finally pulled back, smiling that dangerous, satisfied smile, Katsu was still beneath her.

No longer pinned, but choosing not to move.

"You win," he breathed, the words soft as confession.

Her lips brushed his ear, her voice low and victorious.

"Of course I do," she whispered. "But you never made it easy."

And this time, he didn't want to.

He hesitated, just for a breath, caught in the golden shimmer of her eyes and the hush of his own surrender. Then, wordlessly, Katsu slid his hands down from her wrists, tracing the line of her arms until he found her hips.

His grip was unsure at first.

Half invitation, half instinct—then steadier, pulling her down against him.

The Leviathan's smile deepened. Her hair fell in inky waves, veiling them both in the shadows of the dorm. She arched her back with deliberate grace, letting the pale ivory cloak spill away from her shoulders as she shifted to straddle him fully.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the curve of her body, the shimmer of her white suit catching the moonlight, the sharp contrast of gold and black and bare skin.

Katsu found himself looking up, searching her face.hungry, uncertain, needing something only she could name.

Her cloak slipped, brushing his chest, and he reached up, fingers catching in the heavy, silken fabric.

She looked down at him, golden eyes fierce and unguarded. "Still with me?" she murmured, voice as soft and dangerous as the current before a storm.

He nodded, breathless, hands tightening at her hips.

"Always."

She let out a low, pleased sound, settling herself more firmly in his lap, the cloak draping around them both like a sanctum. Her lips traced the line of his jaw, then paused just above his pulse, cool and electric.

"You could've pushed me away," she whispered, almost amused, "but you never do. Not really."

He swallowed, his heart pounding against her hand.

"Don't want to."

A single, rare softness flickered across her features. She sat upright, hair spilling around her horns, her body framed by the pale cloak and the black stone of the dormitory walls.

In that moment, with the world outside silent and distant, Katsu let himself reach for her—really reach.

One hand holding her at the waist, the other tangling in the edge of her cloak, drawing her even closer.

She arched again, hips pressing down, a faint shudder running through her. Her cloak fanned around them, a pale halo in the dark.

He looked at her—really looked, seeing all of her: the ancient hunger in her eyes, the careful strength in her frame, the impossible warmth in her touch.

"Leviathan," he breathed, reverent this time.

She smiled, triumphant and real, as if she'd claimed not just his body, but the last of his resistance.

"Mine," she said simply.

And with the cloak draped over them, the world's questions and old fears faded.

For tonight, there was only this—her weight grounding him, his hands holding her, and a silence between them that felt, at last, like home.

They lay tangled together, her cloak spilling over his chest like a mantle, his hands still circling her waist as if afraid she might vanish with the dawn.

The old aches, the roar of the crowd, even the sting of his wounded palm—all of it faded under the press of her body and the hush that lingered between heartbeats.

For a moment, neither spoke.

The world outside might as well not exist.

Katsu drew in a shuddering breath, the taste of her kiss and the heat of her skin settling deep into his bones.

"I don't know when you became this important to me," he whispered, voice rough and low, "but you are."

A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

Something vulnerable, almost human.

But she only smiled, all fangs and fondness.

She cupped his jaw, thumb brushing the old bruises there.

"That's dangerous, little king," she murmured, "letting me this close."

He looked up at her, voice steady for once.

"I know. But I'm done running from it. From you. From all of it."

The words hung there, trembling, a confession in the quiet.

And then, as if fate itself couldn't let them have even one night, a sharp rap sounded at the window. Once. Then twice.

Firm, deliberate, impossible to ignore.

They both froze. Levi's golden gaze sharpened; Katsu tensed beneath her, but didn't move.

The curtain was thick, drawn tight, but the signature of Rei's magic brushed faintly against the glass. His energy prickled just behind, cold and precise, old and familiar.

Katsu closed his eyes for a heartbeat, letting the magic flare in his vision.

Ancient symbols shimmered, unraveling the darkness beyond the curtain.

A single figure stood outside, shrouded against the cold. Rei's tall, regal frame. Waiting. Watching.

He let out a long, exhausted sigh, sinking back into the mattress.

Leviathan just laughed, a low, wicked sound, and bent down to kiss him again.

Slow, teasing, full of promise. She pulled back, her smile sharp and certain.

"We're not finished," she whispered, a vow and a warning all at once.

He met her eyes, lips curling in the barest, tired smile.

"I know."

And as she melted into the shadows, and the world pressed in again, Katsu rose to face whatever came next.

Still marked, still claimed, but no longer alone.