Ren stepped through the academy gates, the heavy iron clanging shut behind him like a it was a prohibited area to enter. He knew this cannot be the last time he visit this place, but it was the last time he entered the premise as a student.

The afternoon sun slanted across the courtyard, gilding the stone path in warm light. Yet something gnawed at him. Judith. Her hawk like eyes, the way her lips had curved—not quite a smile, not quite a secret. This isn't the last time, he thought, pulse quickening. She knows more than she lets on.

*I'll decide who you'll be when you leave this door.*

"She really threatened me without threatening me… what a dangerous woman. She's the very definition of high risk, high reward. Because if I had her skill…"

Ren knew those goddess-like eyes were something he could only dream of possessing.

A familiar silver sedan idled by the curb, engine purring. Misa leaned against the driver's door, arms crossed wearing her work clothes, dark hair spilling over one shoulder. When she spotted him, her face lit up too bright, like she'd been holding that smile in reserve all day.

"Ren!" She pushed off the car, heels clicking. "Get in. How'd it go?"

He slid into the passenger seat, looking at Misa whose eyes didn't leave him for a single second. "Smooth. I got the leaving and now I Just need to register with Luxy tomorrow."

Misa's fingers tightened on the steering wheel for a fraction of a second. Then the smile was back, wider. "Of course, Ren." She revved the engine and pulled away from the academy area.

The city blurred past signs, salarywomen in rumpled suits, the distant chime of a train. But the route wasn't home. Ren frowned. "Where are we going?"

"Surprise," she sing-songed, eyes glittering.

He squinted. Surpise. The word tasted like honey and danger at the same time, but coming from Misa he knew it wasn't really dangerous at all.

Misa had changed since that night. The woman who once spoke in formal words and caring words, who kept her distance like a proper parent to Ren, now radiated warmth. Her laughter came easier. Her touches lingered. She'd started calling him "Ren" instead of "Baby." And every time she looked at him, her gaze held something hungry and clearly she had started to see him as a man.

They talked as she drove—about the academy, about Kyouka's recovery. "Doctors say she'll walk in two days," Misa said, voice soft. "She's stronger than she looks."

Ren nodded, staring out the window. "Good to hear."

The car turned onto a gravel path lined with bamboo. A huge wooden ryokan complex rose ahead, all sliding doors and paper lanterns, the air thick with cedar and distant cicadas. Misa parked and killed the engine.

"One of my co-worker's family owns it," she said, stepping out. "They wanted a review. Thought you could use the break. Hiyori told she is staying at a friend house today so we might as well spend the night here."

"Oh wow! I'm surprised," Ren muttered but the whole thing felt rather suspicious to Ren. Is that the only reason they are here? He kept questioning, but who cares? He get to enjoy some sweet time with a sweet woman like Misa, so all is good.

Ren followed her inside. The foyer smelled of tatami and green tea. A woman in a yukata bowed deeply. "Welcome, Misa-san, Ren-sama. Your suite is ready."

They were led through hushed corridors. First stop: the shōji room. Paper screens slid open to reveal a low table set with calligraphy tools. An attendant demonstrated brush strokes mountain, river, heart. Misa tried first, her face looking gracious as ever.

"Like this?" She drew a perfect love character. Ink bled at the edges.

Ren took the brush. His hand was shaking. "Hold it looser. Let the stroke breathe."

Their fingers brushed. Misa's breath hitched. "Show me again."

He guided her hand, the brush gliding smooth. The character bloomed perfect. She laughed, delighted. "You're a natural."

Next: the tea ceremony room. A kneeling woman in kimono poured matcha into handleless cups. The whisk hissed against porcelain. Misa sipped, eyes closing. "Bitter. Then sweet. Perfect!" She offered Ren the cup. Their lips touched the same ceramic rim as Misa had a weird look in her face seeing this.

They wandered the gardens after. Koi flashed beneath lily pads. Misa slipped her arm through his. "Remember when we used to chase fireflies in the yard when you were small?"

"You mean when you scolded me for getting muddy?"

She grinned. "You were a kid. I was your foster mother. Of course, I would scold you...but look at you now all grown up."

Ren obviously noticed how clingy she was, which was a warm welcome because her breast kept touching Ren's arm.

A stone path led to a go board under a cherry tree. Misa challenged him. "Loser owes the winner a favor."

Ren placed a black stone. "You're on."

They played in silence, the clack of stones sharp. Misa leaned forward, yukata slipping to reveal the curve of her collarbone. Ren's gaze snagged. She noticed, smirked, and captured three of his stones.

"Got you."

He countered, surrounding her group. "Not yet."

The game ended in a draw. Misa pouted. "Fine. Mutual favor. I didn't expect you to beat me. Where did you learn to play like this?"

"It's my Japanese blood working their miracle." Ren muttered with a grin wondering what kind of a favour he wanted to ask from Misa.

Dinner was served in a private room, tatami mats, low table, sliding doors open to the garden. Kaiseki unfolded in delicate courses: sashimi glistening like jewels, miso soup steaming, grilled ayu fish with a twist of lime. Misa moaned around a piece of tuna. "Gods, I forgot how good this is."

Ren watched her lick soy sauce from her thumb. "You used to hate fish."

"I hated bad fish." She poured sake into tiny cup of hers and tea into Ren's cup. "To Kyouka's legs. And to our family."

They clinked. The sake burned sweet and tea was jsut as refreshing for Ren.

After the last course, mochi stuffed with red bean, Misa stretched, catlike. "Now for the main event. Massage."

Ren's stomach flipped. "They have separate rooms, right? I saw when I came in."

"Of course." Her smile was all teeth.

He was led to the men's changing area. Stripped to a towel, he entered the massage room, dim lanterns, cedar table, the faint scent of yuzu oil. He lay face-down, towel draped low on his hips.

And after waiting for few minutes, the door slid open.

Soft footsteps. Then Misa's voice came husky. "Ren."

He turned his head. She stood in the doorway, bathed in lantern light. A single towel, sheer clung to her body like mist. Her nipples pressed against the fabric, slightly dark and peaked. Lower, the shadow of her pubic hair, the soft outline of her vagina. She closed the door with a click.

"What are you doing?" His voice cracked.

Misa swayed toward him, hips rolling. "Giving you the massage of course. I think you would enjoy mine more than any other workers." She climbed onto the table, straddling his thighs. The towel rode up; he felt the heat of her bare skin. "Relax, baby. Let Mommy take care of you."

Her hands settled on his shoulders, thumbs digging into knots. Ren groaned involuntarily. She leaned down, breasts brushing his back through the thin fabric. "You're so tense," she whispered, lips near his ear. "All that worry. Let it go. Forget about everything that happened in the past."

Oil drizzled warm between his shoulder blades. Her palms glided, slick and sure. She worked down his spine, fingers tracing each vertebra. When she reached the towel, she tugged it lower, exposing the dip of his lower back.

"My baby!" She kneaded his glutes, firm pressure that made his toes curl. "You've been carrying too much. Let it go. Release them all."

Her body shifted. The towel between them was gone—he felt her bare breasts against his skin, nipples hard. She rocked slowly, a rhythm that matched her hands. "Feel that? That's me. All of me."

Ren's breath came shallow. "This is the men's room. I don't think staff would take this kindly."

"No one's coming." She nipped his earlobe. "I tipped them well."

Her hands slid lower, tracing the crease where thigh met hip. She pressed her mound against his back, a slow grind. "You're hard," she murmured, delighted. "I can feel it."

He was. Achingly.

Misa flipped him onto his back. The towel tented over his erection. She straddled his hips, sheer fabric doing nothing to hide how wet she was. "Look at you," she breathed, tracing the outline of him through the towel. "So eager."

Ren's hands found her thighs. "Misa, is this why you brought me here?"

"Baby...I got lot of confessions to make...but before that let's get you all relaxed." She leaned down, lips brushing his. "And more than any of that I want you. Have for longer than you know."

She kissed him—slow, filthy, tongue sliding against his. Her hips rolled, grinding against his hardness. The towel slipped away. Skin on skin. She moaned into his mouth.

Her hand wrapped around him, stroking slow. "Let me take care of you," she whispered. "Every inch."

Oil slicked her palm. She worked him with practiced twists, thumb circling the head. Ren's hips bucked. "Misa, fuck..."

"That's it." She shifted lower, breasts dragging down his chest. Her mouth hovered over him, breath hot. "Relax, Ren. Let Mommy make you feel good."

She took him in, slow, wet heat. Ren's head fell back, a guttural sound escaping. Her tongue swirled, cheeks hollowing. She hummed, the vibration shooting straight to his spine.

Minutes blurred. She brought him to the edge, then eased off, kissing his thighs, his stomach. "Not yet," she teased. "We have all night."

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