Chapter 320: Yuuna and Kouhei, Part 1
It had been three long days since the brutal clash between the Souichiro Faction and the Kouhei Faction, with the Kouhei Faction finally declared the winner of the bloody war.
The battlefield had been soaked in blood and littered with the weight of sacrifice. But then again, what kind of war would ever be a war without the grim price of casualties?
Among those who wouldn’t be returning were the officially declared dead with the first being Satoshi, who’d been beheaded by Kyouka in one swift strike, and Masayoshi, who’d bled out, his wounds scorched further by the holy power that kept burning him from the inside out until he just… stopped.
Natsuya and Yuzuha hadn’t fallen, but they’d been broken down so badly it would take years—maybe a whole decade—just to piece themselves back together, bone and flesh stubbornly knitting with time.
Souichiro was somehow still alive too, though his eyes hadn’t opened since. He just lay there, trapped in sleep that looked too deep to touch.
Of course, the Kouhei side hadn’t walked away unscathed either. Nearly fifty thousand succubus soldiers had given up their lives. Silica had counted them herself, her voice flat when she reported that some of their oldest, fiercest veterans had been among the fallen.
And then there was Kouhei. He was alive. But for three days now, he’d been out cold, locked in a deep, heavy sleep.
All that time, Yuuna hadn’t left him once. She sat by his bedside, barely blinking, watching every quiet breath like it might vanish if she looked away.
It wasn’t the same as the first time… when Kouhei had died for real, and the sight of him had torn her heart apart so brutally she couldn’t even bear to stay in the same room. Back then, she’d been drowning in grief so thick it strangled her voice in her throat.
But this was different. This time, he was just… asleep. He was just resting. The grief that weighed on her chest was softer, threaded through with hope because he was still here, even if his body demanded more time to wake up.
Yumi had explained it to her in that calm way she had that with how Kouhei’s body had pushed itself too far, burned too much energy, torn through too much power, and now it needed to knit itself back together. All it needed was time.
She’d waited three days, staring at the rise and fall of his chest, wondering if today would be the day his eyes would finally open and meet hers again.
And then—just when her heart felt ready to split—his eyelids twitched, fluttered, and lifted open, dragging him back into the waking world.
At first, Kouhei looked lost. His gaze darted around the unfamiliar ceiling above him, confusion swimming in the hazy darkness of his eyes.
Her voice sliced through that fog like a spark in the night. He turned his head—slow and unsteady—and his eyes found her waiting there with her being there so close.
“Yuuna-san…” The words came out rough, almost hoarse, but they were enough.
She tried so hard to hold her composure as well as to smile like it was nothing, but her lips trembled and her eyes shone wet. She failed to hold it in and her smile broke, and all the emotion she’d locked behind her ribs broke loose at once.
She lurched forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest as her body shook with sobs.
“K-Kouhei-kun…!” she cried, her voice cracking on every word. “I’m so glad… I’m really so glad… that I get to see you alive…!”
All the pieces she’d held so tightly together tumbled out at once. Relief, fear, love—all the feelings that were overwhelming for her to bear—spilled from her like she’d been drowning this whole time, and only now could she finally breathe.
Kouhei, caught in the storm of her warmth and tears, hesitated for half a heartbeat before pulling her closer. He pressed his palm to her back, rubbing slow, steady circles like he was telling her to just let it all out and that he was here now and he wouldn’t disappear again.
“I’m thankful too… that I finally get to see you again after all this time,” he murmured against her hair with his voice quiet but sure.
And for that moment, the world felt warm again with just for the two of them—just alive enough to hold them whole.
Outside the room, Yumi had been about to push open the door but froze when she saw them through the crack with Yuuna clinging to Kouhei like he was the only thing keeping her upright.
She didn’t want to break that moment apart. So she closed the door just as quietly as she’d opened it, leaned her back against the wood, and let a small smile soften her lips. For the first time in so long, it felt like the pieces were falling back into place—like maybe they’d be okay after all.
When Kouhei finally pushed himself out of bed, it was clumsy but steady enough to stand.
Yuuna stayed right beside him, slipping her hand under his arm, helping him walk even though he kept trying to insist he could handle it.
“I can do this by myself—” he started, but Yuuna cut him off before he could finish, her words so soft they knocked the fight right out of him.
“I don’t want to. Can’t I have this moment for myself when I finally get to touch you again?”
It was such a simple, honest thing to say, and it was so sweet that Kouhei felt like he might just melt right there on the spot. He didn’t argue again after that.
With Yuuna guiding him, Kouhei finally took in where he was. He recognized the dark stone and the heavy walls. He was in the succubus’s castle. They must have brought him back here when it was all over.
When they reached the main hall, Kouhei felt his breath catch at the sight waiting for him.
The place was full with Silica standing there, with her strangely wearing clothes with her arms crossed but her eyes softer than usual. Momoka was there too, surrounded by her Yuki Clan with each of them standing straight and quiet. Kyouka and Masaki were there as well, and for some strange reason, even Chihiro was here. Dozens of succubus soldiers filled the rest of the hall, standing still as statues with all eyes turned to him.
He hadn’t expected any of this. It almost felt like the air itself was holding its breath.
“You’ve finally awoken, Kouhei,” Hina said, her voice echoing through the stone hall.
“W-What’s happening right now, Hina-san?” Kouhei asked, his words catching a bit in his throat as he looked around at all the eyes staring back.
“Well,” Hina said, almost gently, “when a faction wins a war, it’s only natural that the faction leader gives a speech to those who fought.”
“S-Speech?” Kouhei echoed, feeling a tiny spike of panic in his chest.
He hadn’t imagined he’d still have to stand here making speeches. It felt so surreal, like another world compared to where he’d just come from. But then again, maybe that was just how the demon race did things.
With Yuuna and Hina at his side, Kouhei walked down the red-carpeted aisle toward the throne at the front, feeling every step echo up his spine.
When he reached the platform, he turned and looked out at the sea of faces with some familiar, others complete strangers who’d trusted him enough to bleed and die under his name.
His stomach twisted with awkwardness. He’d never been good with speeches. He hated them, honestly. But standing here and saying nothing would feel worse—like spitting on everything these people had given up.
So he sucked in a slow breath, let it out shaky, then forced himself to lift his eyes and meet theirs.
“I want to tell you all that I’m thankful—truly thankful—that you came here today to hear me out,” he began, his voice low but carrying. “I know… I know we’ve lost so many, and it hurts. It feels so pointless sometimes, thinking of how much blood was spilled for this.”
His gaze drifted over the quiet soldiers, their faces unreadable in the flickering torchlight.
“I know it might sound selfish… but I couldn’t just stand by and let Yuuna-san be taken away from my life. That’s why I asked you all to stand with me, to fight with me. Maybe that’s not a good enough reason to start a war, but… to me, it was enough to go through hell for the woman I love.”
He paused, breath catching with his hands curling just slightly.
“That’s why… I want to thank you. Even when my reasons were selfish, you risked everything. And for those who didn’t come back… I hope their souls find peace. I wish I could thank them in person. I’m so sorry that I can’t.”