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magnagaruzenmon · 3 months ago

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Monster Mash

Dio said to go for it so I did, but Dio is also loud and proud so I took a little dig at him.

“Fuck Nayeon you’re so tight,” you groan as her walls strangle your cock.

“Fuck yes keep going Juzo,” Nayeon moans as a thin layer of sweat dusts her body while you continue fucking her. You spank her fat ass as she cums all over your cock but you keep going chasing your high. Nayeon moans as you keep railing her. You watch as her Ass jiggles deliciously while you just carry on.

Spurred by an intrusive thought you spank her ass. Nayeon moans elated as her walls tighten around you even further causing you to finally explode inside her.

You paint her walls white as ropes of your cum fills her womb

“Fuck Juzou you came so much,” Nayeon said as you pulled out

You smile and said, “well I had to show off a little for my favorite bunny,”

Nayeon smiles back and says “you always are a show off and a big one,” as the two of you bask in bed you hear the door open Daigo and Jihyo your shared housemates walk in. You could tell by Daigo’s heavy footsteps and tired groan and Jihyo’s whines.

You and Nayeon change into your comfiest clothes before heading over to where your friends — and fellow hunters — are lounging. As you approach, you notice a fresh scar cutting across the bridge of Daigo’s nose and another, lighter but no less telling, peeking across Jihyo’s chest.

As usual, they’re already at it, snapping at each other like a pair of magnets caught between push and pull.

“That’s the last time I let you rope me into one of your death wishes,” Daigo says, scowling — but there’s a softness in it, like he’s annoyed she even asked.

“Oh, please,” Jihyo huffs, arms crossed. “You act like I begged you.”

Daigo turns to her, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Daigo, I need my favorite hunting horn hunter to help me~” he mimics, with an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes.

Jihyo groans and pokes him hard in the shoulder. “Yeah, because your ego’s so massive you wouldn’t say yes otherwise.”

“My ego’s not that big,” Daigo mutters, looking genuinely hurt for a second.

Jihyo catches it, and for a heartbeat, she falters — before she covers it up with a snort. “Please. Ever since you mastered hunting horn, you’ve been unbearable.”

Nayeon bumps your shoulder, leaning in close enough to whisper, “Do we just… let them go at it until they realize they’re one insult away from making out?”

You laugh under your breath. “Nah. They’d kill each other first. Probably while making out.”

Nayeon muffles a giggle as the two of you step in.

“Alright, what happened this time?” you ask, hands on your hips.

Daigo immediately jumps in, eager to get his version out first. “She asked me to back her up on a Gore Magala hunt, and surprise surprise, a Deviljho showed up out of nowhere.”

Jihyo gives him a long, slow look. “And yet, here we are. Alive. You’re welcome.”

Daigo groans dramatically. “I hate you.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining you got two new hunting horns out of it. You’re welcome again,” Jihyo says sweetly, batting her lashes at him.

Daigo looks skyward, as if praying for strength. “You know I prefer my Magnamalo, Malzeno, and Gaismagorm weapons anyway,” he grumbles.

“Alright, enough!” Nayeon says sharply, clapping her hands once like a teacher breaking up a particularly stubborn pair of kids. “Save it for the next hunt.”

Daigo and Jihyo exchange one last glare — but the corners of their mouths twitch, just slightly, like they’re both fighting a smile neither of them fully understands.

After Nayeon’s sharp clap silences the bickering, you exchange a look with her — one that needs no words. The plan is instantly clear.

You clear your throat and announce, way too casually, “Alright, lunch time! And, good news — you two are partners today.”

Daigo frowns. “Partners? For what?”

Nayeon smiles sweetly. “For lunch, dummy. You and Jihyo are eating together. Alone. As a team-building exercise.”

Jihyo blinks, taken off guard. “Since when do we team-build at lunch?”

“Since now,” you say, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her toward the kitchen area. Nayeon does the same with Daigo, ignoring his half-hearted protests.

“You guys clearly need some… quality time,” Nayeon adds, shoving Daigo just hard enough that he stumbles into step beside Jihyo.

“We don’t need—” Daigo starts.

“Don’t care!” you and Nayeon say at the same time.

You snag a couple of pre-packed lunch trays off the counter, slam them into their hands, and all but shove them onto the couch, plopping the food down between them.

“There. Bond. Or at least eat without killing each other,” you say brightly.

Daigo looks at Jihyo like he’d rather face a raging Zinogre. Jihyo glares right back, eyebrows raised like you move first, coward.

For a second, it’s dead silent — just awkward staring.

Then Jihyo grabs her chopsticks, stabs a piece of meat aggressively, and mutters, “Fine. Eating. Bonding. Whatever.”

Daigo grumbles something under his breath but digs in too, poking his food like it personally offended him.

You and Nayeon retreat a few steps, watching from a safe distance like proud scientists observing an unpredictable experiment.

“They’re totally gonna fall in love over grilled meat, right?” Nayeon whispers.

“If they don’t kill each other with chopsticks first,” you whisper back.

Sure enough, a minute later Jihyo is shoving a side dish toward Daigo, muttering, “Here, you need more protein. Maybe it’ll fix your bad attitude.”

Daigo, mouth full, scowls — but he takes it.

And when he thinks no one’s looking, he nudges the last piece of grilled fish onto Jihyo’s plate in return.

Nayeon beams. “Operation: Make Them Sit Still and Realize They’re In Love is a success.”

You just laugh and silently start counting down how long it’ll take before one of them throws a napkin at the other.

⸻

Would you also like a “part two” where they actually have a few minutes of weird almost flirting over food before more chaos erupts?

(Or if you prefer it slower burn, we can leave it with just awkward glances and tiny grudging gestures like this one.)

Let me know what vibe you’re aiming for!

The sounds of clinking chopsticks and reluctant chewing fill the room. You and Nayeon pretend to be busy on your phones across the room, though you’re both obviously eavesdropping.

For a while, it’s quiet between Daigo and Jihyo — which, for them, is practically a miracle.

Then Jihyo pauses, frowning at her plate.

“…Why aren’t you eating the spicy pork?” she asks, poking at the untouched slices still on Daigo’s side.

Daigo shrugs without looking at her. “Not hungry for it.”

She narrows her eyes. “You love spicy pork.”

Another shrug. “Changed my mind.”

Jihyo doesn’t buy it for a second. She watches him for a moment longer, then, without warning, reaches over and plucks a piece off his plate.

“You’re seriously leaving all my favorites?” she accuses, chewing suspiciously.

Daigo finally looks at her, caught. His chopsticks hover in midair before he sighs and mutters, almost too quietly to hear,

“I always leave them for you.”

Jihyo freezes, the realization landing harder than a barrel bomb.

She swallows, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands — or her face — or the weird fluttery feeling in her chest. “Since when?” she asks, trying to sound accusing but it comes out… softer.

Daigo shrugs again, but there’s a slight pink creeping up the back of his neck. “Since… a while.” He stabs his rice a little too hard. “You’re picky about food when you’re tired. Figured you should get what you like.”

Jihyo stares at him, all her usual snark short-circuiting.

“You’re such an idiot,” she says — but there’s no bite in it this time.

Daigo grins, lopsided and a little smug now that she’s flustered. “Takes one to know one.”

You nudge Nayeon with your elbow and whisper, “Five bucks says they’ll be dating by next hunt.”

Nayeon smirks. “You’re on.”

Meanwhile, Jihyo, still pretending very badly not to be affected, mumbles, “…Thanks, dummy,” and starts picking at the spicy pork like she’s suddenly shy.

And for once, Daigo doesn’t argue. He just watches her, and for a second — a real second — they’re actually quiet. Comfortable.

Until, of course, Jihyo flicks a piece of rice at his forehead.

Balance restored.

After lunch, Nayeon ropes Jihyo into helping her reorganize supplies — leaving you to drag Daigo outside for some training.

The sun beats down on the practice field, empty except for the two of you. Daigo rolls his shoulders, spinning his hunting horn once before slinging it onto his back. His movements are quick, sharp — distracted.

You stretch lazily, eyeing him as he runs through some warm-ups. You can tell he’s not fully there. He’s been like this for a while now — tense in a way that even fighting doesn’t shake loose.

After a few swings, you speak up.

“So. You gonna tell her?”

Daigo stops mid-swing. “Tell who what?”

You grin. “Don’t play dumb. Jihyo. About how you’re completely gone for her.”

He turns, scowling. “I’m not—”

“You are,” you cut him off easily. You plant your weapon into the dirt and lean against it. “You dream about her, you save her favorite food, you look at her like she’s the last campfire in a blizzard. Come on, man.”

Daigo looks away, jaw tight. “Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t like me like that.”

You roll your eyes. “No, you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared,” he snaps, a little too fast.

You raise a brow, not letting up. “Then why are you still pretending?”

Daigo exhales slowly, like he’s trying to force the words out.

“She’s been hunting since she was, what, ten?” he mutters. “A prodigy. Everyone talks about it like it’s fate. She’s smart, she’s quick, she’s good at everything she touches. And me? I didn’t even start until I was fifteen. Had to scrape for every skill I got.” He shrugs stiffly. “She deserves better than some guy still trying to catch up.”

You watch him quietly for a second, the tension practically bleeding off of him.

“She doesn’t see you like that,” you say finally. “You’re not some rookie kid to her, Daigo. You’re the guy who’s stood by her in every fight. The guy she trusts to have her back. That counts for more than you think.”

He doesn’t respond, just grips his hunting horn tighter.

You step closer and slap his shoulder — firm but not unkind.

“Look, I get it. You feel like you have to prove yourself. But you’re fighting a battle that’s already over. She’s already picked you, idiot. You’re the one who’s too stubborn to see it.”

Daigo’s mouth tightens. For a second, you think he’s going to argue — but he doesn’t. He just looks away toward the building where Jihyo disappeared, muscles drawn tight.

You sigh.

“Keep hiding if you want. But don’t come crying to me when some other guy’s brave enough to say what you wouldn’t.”

Daigo lets out a short, bitter laugh and lifts his hunting horn again, starting a new set of practice swings — faster, heavier, like he’s trying to beat the feelings out of himself.

You let him.

But you catch the way his eyes flick toward the door again — quick, automatic — and you know your words hit their mark.

Maybe not today.

But soon.

While you and Daigo are outside training, Jihyo slams another crate down a little harder than necessary.

Nayeon raises a brow from where she’s sorting through herbs. “Okay, talk.”

Jihyo huffs, brushing her hair back from her face. “It’s Daigo.”

Nayeon snorts. “Shock.”

Jihyo glares half-heartedly, but the frustration in her chest feels like it’s about to boil over.

“I just— I can’t believe how fast I’ve started relying on him,” she says, pacing between stacks of supplies. “Like, one minute he’s this stubborn, stiff-necked rookie trying to prove he knows everything, and the next… I’m looking for him before every hunt without even thinking about it.”

Nayeon leans back against a crate, letting her vent.

“And it’s not just that he’s good,” Jihyo continues, throwing her hands up. “He’s reliable. If he says he’s got your back, you don’t have to second guess it. He’ll be there. No matter what.”

She stops, scowling at the ground. “Even when it’s reckless. Especially when it’s reckless.”

Nayeon smiles slightly. “Sounds like you like him.”

Jihyo ignores her.

“What drives me crazy is how he’s always competing with me. Like he’s got something to prove every time we spar or go on a hunt. It’s exhausting. I’m not trying to beat him. I’m not keeping score.” She crosses her arms tight across her chest. “But he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of a Gammoth. And he’s so stupidly proud— he doesn’t even see what’s right in front of him.”

Nayeon watches her carefully. “Maybe he thinks you’ll stop needing him if he’s not good enough.”

Jihyo hesitates, pacing slowing.

“You’ve been doing this since you were what, ten?” Nayeon says. “He started way later. Probably feels like he has to catch up. Or you’ll outgrow him.”

Jihyo sits heavily on a crate, feeling the weight of the conversation settle on her.

Her fingers trace the scar on her thigh absently — a gift from a bad hunt two years ago.

“He learned the hunting horn for me, you know,” she says quietly. “He didn’t even like support weapons at first. Thought they were clunky and slow. But he saw how much I relied on buffs and healing… and just— picked it up.”

Nayeon raises an eyebrow, but stays silent.

“And when I got hurt last year?” Jihyo’s voice softens even more. “He found out it was an elder dragon, but the guild couldn’t figure out which one. So he hunted all three possibilities down. Alone.”

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it — just disbelief and something aching underneath.

“I watched him come back, half-dead, carrying three elder crowns like it was nothing. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do.”

Nayeon’s face softens too.

“In my eyes,” Jihyo says, “he’s already more than good enough. He’s my equal. Maybe more than that.”

Her hands tighten into fists. “But he’s so busy trying to prove something to me, he can’t see that he already has.”

There’s a long silence between them.

Finally, Nayeon says gently, “Maybe you’re both a little blind.”

Jihyo lets out a frustrated breath and rests her forehead against her knees.

“I’m so sick of competing with him,” she mumbles. “I just want him to stand next to me without thinking he has to earn it every time.”

Nayeon smirks and tosses a clean rag at her.

“Maybe if you stopped glaring at him like you want to strangle him half the time, he’d get the hint.”

Jihyo groans, muffling her voice against her arms.

Nayeon just laughs and goes back to sorting herbs, leaving Jihyo to stew in the messy realization that maybe, just maybe, she’s been as bad at showing her feelings as he has.

Later that afternoon, the four of you head to the guild to check the new assignments. The main hall is buzzing with hunters clanking weapons, sharpening gear, and exchanging half-shouted stories from their latest hunts.

As you’re scanning the quest board, you catch a few hushed voices nearby. Their words aren’t loud, but they’re sharp enough to cut through the noise if you’re listening.

“Guy’s still hanging around Jihyo, huh?” one younger hunter mutters, laughing under his breath.

“Talk about riding coattails,” another says. “You’d think he’d be embarrassed. She’s in a different league.”

You glance toward Daigo. He stands stiffly, pretending not to hear, but the way his hands tighten around the strap of his hunting horn case gives him away.

Then, stepping out from a group of hunters polishing their armor, comes Natty — a girl maybe a year or two younger than Daigo. You recognize her immediately.

Natty was another prodigy, one of the hunters who started training at ten years old. She’d risen through the ranks fast, her record sparkling after a few high-profile hunts under Jihyo’s mentorship.

She tosses her short ponytail over her shoulder and smirks, her eyes flickering between Daigo and Jihyo.

“Still clinging to Jihyo, Daigo?” she says, voice light but cutting. “I mean, sure, you’re decent. But without her? You’d still be a mid-rank hunter wondering why you’re not good enough.”

You feel the air shift, and a muscle jumps in Daigo’s jaw.

It’s not even true — Daigo had already been a high-rank hunter when he met Jihyo. He just wasn’t a prodigy. He had to earn it the long way, with blood, broken bones, and relentless work.

Before you can open your mouth, Jihyo beats you to it.

Her voice cuts clean through the guild hall.

“Say that again.”

Natty flinches slightly at the venom in Jihyo’s tone.

“You think Daigo’s nothing without me?” Jihyo steps forward, her eyes burning. “You’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

The guild hall quiets as everyone turns to look.

“Daigo’s the reason I’m still alive. He’s fought beside me, not behind me. When I got hurt and no one could tell me which elder dragon was responsible, he hunted down three of them — alone.”

You watch Natty falter under Jihyo’s glare. This wasn’t the casual brush-off she’d been expecting.

“And you know what?” Jihyo continues, voice steady, deadly serious. “He learned the hunting horn because I needed someone to cover my blind spots. Because he wanted to protect me better.”

Daigo shifts beside you, visibly uncomfortable with all the attention, but Jihyo doesn’t stop.

“He’s stubborn and he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of a Gammoth, sure. But he’s reliable. He’s fierce. And he’s my partner — because he earned it. Not because I handed it to him.”

There’s a stunned silence.

Natty looks like she wants to say something — anything — but thinks better of it and backs off with a scoff.

Jihyo turns back to your group, her expression tight with lingering anger. She grabs Daigo’s wrist — not rough, but firm — and pulls him a few steps away from the crowd.

You and Nayeon trail after them, exchanging impressed looks.

Daigo finally mutters, still not quite meeting Jihyo’s eyes, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Jihyo scoffs. “Yes, I did. Don’t let idiots like that rewrite your story.”

There’s a beat of awkward, heavy silence between them, thick with everything they’re too stubborn to say.

Nayeon, ever the mood-breaker, leans in with a wicked grin. “You two wanna kiss now or save it for after the next hunt?”

You can’t help but laugh as both Daigo and Jihyo immediately turn red, each mumbling furious denials.

But something’s changed — something lighter, warmer — even if neither of them sees it yet.

You’re still laughing when Natty smirks and says, loud enough for everyone to hear,

“Well, if you’re so good, why don’t you hunt a Dire Miralis by yourself?”

The room went deathly still — like a Barrioth had slashed through the air and ripped all the warmth out of the guild house.

Every hunter nearby stopped pretending not to listen. Eyes shifted. Boots scraped against the floor. The Dire Miralis — a monster so powerful entire villages had been lost to its flames — wasn’t something you just suggested to someone as a joke.

You see Daigo stiffen beside you, his whole body going rigid. His hand tightens around the strap of his horn case until his knuckles go white.

“Fine,” Daigo said, voice low, steady, and absolutely deadly.

The guild house seemed to freeze even further, the weight of his words sinking into everyone’s bones.

You glance at Jihyo just as she steps forward, her hand instinctively reaching for Daigo’s sleeve.

“Daigo,” she said, voice cracking just slightly with urgency. “You don’t have to do this. I know what the Dire Miralis did. I know it destroyed your home. But you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not after everything you’ve already done.”

Her words hang in the air — sincere, pleading — but Daigo just shrugs her off with a weary, almost hollow smile.

“No one believes I can do it,” he said, looking not at Natty, but somewhere far beyond the guild walls, as if speaking to ghosts only he could see. “But I know I can.”

Jihyo’s breath hitched, and you saw it — the way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her chest tightening as she fought not to reach for him again.

And suddenly, you’re back there —

The first time you ever met Daigo.

You remember how everyone else had watched him like he was a bomb about to go off. The kid from the far-off island — the one swallowed whole by a Dire Miralis. He stood alone in the training yard, armor patched together from salvaged hunts, his expression locked into something colder than ice and hotter than magma.

You remember the way he moved when he fought — not with skill, not at first.

But with rage.

An unending, all-consuming fury that roared out of him with every swing of his hammer, like he was trying to smash the world that had wronged him into pieces.

He scared people. You weren’t ashamed to admit it.

And then Jihyo had dragged him by the wrist over to you and Nayeon, grinning like she hadn’t just grabbed onto a thunderstorm.

“He’s gonna be great,” she said, beaming up at you both. “Trust me.”

You remember the look in Daigo’s eyes back then — that same storm, barely leashed.

You snap back to the present, watching him now, and realize the truth that punches you in the gut.

The rage never went away.

He just got better at hiding it.

Natty looked caught off guard, like she hadn’t expected him to actually agree, but she quickly masked it with a scoff, turning away with a toss of her head.

Jihyo stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists, the tears still brimming in her eyes as Daigo silently turned toward the quest board, and accepting the quest.

Before anyone could talk him out of it, Daigo grabbed his Malzeno hunting horn, strapped it across his back with a final, heavy motion, and walked out of the guild.

No ceremony. No farewell.

Just silent, unshakable determination.

He was gone for three days.

Three long, excruciating days.

You and Jihyo spent most of that time restlessly pacing the guild halls, checking the quest board for any hint of news, jumping at every hunter who returned through the front gates. You argued over stupid things just to kill the unbearable silence, just to pretend you weren’t imagining the worst.

Only Nayeon kept her cool. Somehow.

She kept reassuring you — no, promising you — that Daigo would be back, safe and sound. Probably with a Dire Miralis scale strapped to his back like it was no big deal, scowling because everyone would make a fuss.

Eventually, some of that certainty rubbed off on you, enough that when a group dinner came together — Eunha, Gil, Maple, Haewon — you actually showed up. Jihyo did too, though you weren’t sure if she ate anything. She sat stiffly at the table, hands neatly folded, pretending to listen, pretending to laugh at jokes. But every time the door creaked, every time heavy boots sounded outside, her head snapped up like she was bracing for either relief or heartbreak.

She hid it well.

But you could see it — the way her knuckles whitened around her napkin, the way her shoulders sagged ever so slightly when it wasn’t Daigo.

Still, when anyone asked, she gave the same tired, stubborn line,

“Well, he’s a good hunter. It would be stupid for him to be retired over something so dumb.”

You didn’t call her out on the slight tremble in her voice. None of you did.

But you knew.

You knew it wasn’t just pride in his skill eating her alive.

It was love — deep and gnawing — twisting in her chest, turning every hour he stayed gone into another small, private agony.

Midway through dinner, when things were finally starting to feel light again, Nayeon leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eye and said, “Alright, serious bets — how many carts do you think Daigo’s gonna take?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, finally feeling some of the tension ease.

“Oh, easy two,” you said. “He’s gonna barely make it back. He’ll be limping and muttering about ‘stupid magma’ the whole time.”

Nayeon, ever the contrarian, wagged a finger at you. “Oh ye of little faith. I’m saying one cart, at most. He’s way too careful on solo hunts.”

The game caught quickly.

“I think Daigo’s gonna fail,” Eunha chimed in with a teasing grin. She and Daigo were close — practically siblings — so the jab was affectionate, expected.

Maple, more reserved, played with the rim of her glass and mumbled, “Um… maybe one cart? He’s really strong.”

Everyone laughed lightly, the tension finally breaking.

Except Jihyo.

She had been quiet, so quiet you almost forgot she was there, until she finally set her fork down with a soft clink and said,

“Daigo is an exceptional hunter. We shouldn’t joke about his success.”

The table went dead silent.

There was no anger in her voice — just a fierce, unyielding certainty that seemed to burn hotter than any flame. Her eyes were steady, but you could see the storm swirling just beneath them — fear, pride, frustration, and something even stronger. Something deeper.

Love.

It poured off her in waves, so raw and desperate you almost couldn’t look at her without feeling like you were intruding on something private.

The conversation stumbled back to life a few moments later, lighter and more careful.

On the third day about dusk Daigo finally returned The guild hall was alive with noise — laughter, the clink of mugs, the scuff of boots against worn wood. Life moved forward. It had to.

Still, you caught yourself glancing at the entrance every few minutes, heart twisting when it was just another familiar hunter returning from a mundane quest.

Then —

the doors creaked open.

And the world stopped.

He stepped through the threshold, and for a split second, you didn’t recognize him.

Taller.

Broader.

His skin bore new markings — intricate tribal tattoos coiling along his arms and across his chest where his battered armor had been loosened, old symbols that seemed to hum with meaning. His hair was longer, wild and unkempt. His eyes, once stormy and restless, now burned with a deeper, quieter fire. Even his voice, when he called out a soft greeting, sounded different — lower, roughened, like it had been dragged through fire and sand and war.

It was Jihyo who moved first.

One breath —

then she was sprinting across the guild hall.

The slap echoed louder than any roar you’d heard in the field. A hard, cracking sound against the new Daigo’s cheek.

He barely flinched.

Before anyone could react, Jihyo grabbed him by the front of his torn armor, pulled him down, and kissed him fiercely — a kiss full of anger, love, terror, and overwhelming relief.

When she pulled back, her forehead pressed against his, her hands trembling as she said, voice thick with emotion,

“We are a team, you idiot. And I’m not letting you go out on your own anymore.”

And then she kissed him again, softer this time, as if to anchor herself to the fact he was real. Alive. Home.

The guild hall seemed to hold its breath.

Only when a crowd started to gather — gasps, hurried whispers — did Jihyo finally step back, reluctantly, but her hand stayed gripped tight in his.

Daigo straightened, his expression unreadable, and faced the gathered hunters.

“How’d it go?” one of them asked eagerly.

He exhaled slowly, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest.

“After I killed the Dire Miralis…” he began, voice steady but raw, “I started heading home. But an elder from my old village — before the Dire Miralis destroyed it — found me. He told me I had one last rite of passage.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Daigo’s jaw tightened. He squeezed Jihyo’s hand once before letting go and gesturing toward the fresh wounds — claw marks, strange deep slashes — that crisscrossed his arms.

“In my village,” he explained, “we believed that every hunter was tied to a monster. That to truly become your own man — your own hunter — you had to find it and defeat it.”

He looked up, his gaze fierce, cutting through the room.

“My monster was the Malzeno.”

A collective shiver ran through the hunters. Even the bravest of them paled.

“And not just any Malzeno,” Daigo said, his lips pursed as if choosing his next words carefully. “A Primordial Malzeno.”

The hall exploded into stunned whispers.

You couldn’t breathe for a second.

Jihyo didn’t look surprised though. She just watched him with those fierce, unblinking eyes — seeing him, truly seeing him, in a way nobody else could. She had known from the start. Known he was more than anyone ever gave him credit for.

But not anymore.

The guild was still buzzing from the news, but Jihyo barely noticed.

Daigo was home. He was hurt, exhausted, and stubborn as hell, and she wasn’t going to let him fall apart under everyone’s gawking eyes.

She pulled him — none too gently — toward one of the quieter rooms tucked away behind the main hall. Someplace where she could patch him up properly.

“Sit,” she ordered, pushing him down onto a worn bench.

Daigo huffed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “You’re bossier than I remember.”

“You remember wrong,” Jihyo said, already grabbing a roll of bandages from the shelf. “I’ve always been this way.”

He chuckled — low and rough — and it sent a shiver through her. He sounded different. Older. Like a blade that had finally been sharpened into its true form.

As she worked — wiping blood from the scrapes on his arms, gently checking his ribs for fractures — Daigo watched her in a way that made her hands tremble. Not with fear. With something deeper. Something she had tried so hard to keep buried while he was gone.

Finally, when the worst of his wounds were cleaned and wrapped, she sat back, staring at him.

“You could’ve died,” she said quietly. “You almost died.”

Daigo was silent for a long moment. Then he reached out and caught her hand, holding it against his chest, right over his heart.

“I know,” he said.

The room felt heavy with everything they hadn’t said.

“You scared me, Daigo,” she whispered, tears prickling at the edges of her vision. “You scared me so much I could barely breathe.”

He squeezed her hand tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…I had to prove it. Not to them. To myself. That I could be more than what they saw. That I wasn’t just some broken kid with a dead village and a temper I couldn’t control.”

“You didn’t have to prove anything to me,” Jihyo said fiercely. “You never did.”

Daigo smiled, a small, tired thing.

“I know,” he said again. “And that’s why…”

He trailed off, searching her face like it held all the answers he didn’t know how to ask for.

“That’s why I love you, Jihyo.”

The words fell between them, raw and unpolished and real.

She stared at him, stunned. Not because she didn’t know — she had always known — but because hearing it out loud was different. It made it undeniable. Tangible.

“I love you,” he repeated, voice steadier now. “I think I have since the moment you dragged me into this guild and told everyone I’d be great. You saw something in me before anyone else did. Even me.”

Jihyo swallowed hard, blinking fast.

She leaned forward and kissed him — slow this time, deliberate — like sealing a promise between them.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against his and whispered,

“Good. Because you’re stuck with me, Daigo. No more hunts alone. No more facing monsters by yourself. We do this together.”

Daigo smiled — a real smile this time, bright and full of everything he had fought to protect.

“Together,” he agreed.

And for the first time in a long, long while, he let himself believe he was finally home.

The trip back to your shared home was quiet, but not uncomfortable.

Daigo, though clearly exhausted, refused to let go of Jihyo’s hand the whole way back. His new tribal markings caught the moonlight as you walked behind them with Nayeon, the two of you exchanging little glances but saying nothing. Even Nayeon knew better than to ruin the moment with one of her usual jabs.

When you finally reached the door, Daigo hesitated, just for a second, before stepping inside. Home. Really home this time.

Jihyo guided him gently through the hallway, not to the couch, but to the bathroom. “You need to clean up first,” she said, voice soft but firm.

Daigo didn’t argue. He just let her lead him.

The bathroom quickly filled with the scent of herbal soaps and the quiet sound of water pouring into the deep tub. Daigo sat heavily at the edge, peeling off his battered gear piece by piece. Jihyo knelt beside him, helping him undo the straps and buckles when his fingers trembled from exhaustion.

When he was bare and covered in old blood, dirt, and faint smudges of soot, Jihyo turned away to give him privacy as he slid into the steaming water. Only after a long minute did she slip in behind him, This wasn’t about anything other than being there.

The water sloshed softly as she reached for a cloth and started carefully washing his back. Daigo’s skin twitched under her touch, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it — into her.

“You scared me,” she said quietly, wringing out the cloth and working over the new markings across his shoulders.

“I know,” he murmured. His voice was lower now, rougher — but somehow calmer too.

Jihyo set the cloth aside for a moment and rested her forehead against his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t,” Daigo said after a long pause. “Not to them. I was proving it to myself.”

Jihyo lifted her head and cupped a handful of water, letting it pour over his hair, rinsing out the dust and blood. She combed her fingers through the dark strands gently.

“You didn’t need to,” she said. “You were already enough.”

Daigo turned his head slightly, enough that he could meet her eyes over his shoulder. The look he gave her — tired, raw, grateful — was almost too much.

“I know now,” he said quietly.

Jihyo smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple.

They didn’t talk much after that. Jihyo continued washing him in slow, methodical motions, her hands never rough, never hurried. Daigo eventually coaxed her into letting him do the same for her, the moment tender and full of unspoken promises.

When they finally got out, both of them wrapped in thick towels, Daigo barely made it to the couch before crashing face-first into the cushions. Jihyo laughed under her breath, draping a blanket over him as he immediately started snoring.

“You’re such an idiot,” she whispered fondly, brushing his damp hair back one last time before curling up on the floor beside him, unwilling to be more than an arm’s reach away.

You and Nayeon quietly moved around them, setting out tea and pretending not to notice how at peace they finally looked.

By the time you sat down, Daigo was fast asleep, breathing slow and even. Jihyo stayed awake, keeping watch over him with the kind of fierce tenderness you could only describe as love.

The night passed quietly.

The house was filled only with the soft sound of Daigo’s breathing and the occasional creak of wood settling. Nayeon had long since disappeared into her room, dragging you with her with a smug grin, leaving Jihyo alone to keep her silent vigil beside the couch.

At some point in the early hours of the morning, her head dipped, and she finally dozed off against the couch’s side, her hand still resting lightly on Daigo’s arm.

When Jihyo stirred awake, the first thing she noticed was the faint light dancing across the room. She blinked groggily, shifting slightly — and then froze.

Daigo’s markings were glowing.

It wasn’t harsh or alarming. It was a soft, slow pulse, like the heartbeat of a slumbering dragon. The deep indigo-blue glow mirrored the scales of the Primordial Malzeno — eerie, beautiful, and somehow peaceful. The light spilled over his skin in lazy waves, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the powerful shape of his shoulders, the quiet strength in his stillness.

For a moment, Jihyo just stared.

He’s different, she thought. Changed.

Older. Stronger. Scarred inside and out.

But then Daigo shifted slightly in his sleep, pulling the blanket higher with a sleepy frown — the same way he used to when they camped under the stars during their first hunts together six years ago. His brow furrowed the same way it always had when he dreamed. His fingers twitched, curling instinctively toward where her hand had been.

And in that moment, all the differences melted away.

Beneath the markings and the new voice and the battles he had fought, Daigo was still Daigo.

Still the stubborn, reckless, fierce hunter who had walked into the guild hall with nothing but the clothes on his back and a fire burning in his chest.

Still the boy who hadn’t known how to smile properly until Nayeon bullied it out of him.

Still the man who had made her heart stutter and race in ways no monster ever had.

Jihyo reached out gently, brushing her fingers over one of the glowing markings on his arm. The light flared faintly at her touch, but Daigo didn’t wake — he just relaxed again, as if sensing it was her.

A soft, bittersweet smile curved her lips.

“Welcome home, Daigo,” she whispered.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand before settling back in her spot. The glow from his markings kept pulsing steadily, lighting the room in soft colors as Jihyo watched over him until sleep claimed her again.

Together, they drifted into dreams, the night finally, finally at peace.

The sun was barely peeking over the hills when Jihyo stirred awake.

Still bleary-eyed and wrapped in one of the heavy blankets from the couch, she turned her head and smiled softly at the sight of Daigo — stretched out, fast asleep, one arm dangling off the side of the couch. The markings on his skin still glowed faintly, a soft, ghostly color that matched the scales of the Primordial Malzeno.

Despite everything — his new height, his changed voice, the wild power he now carried in his blood — to Jihyo, he was still the Daigo she had met six years ago. The stubborn, bright-eyed hunter who had challenged her to a sparring match on her first day and grinned like an idiot even when she knocked him flat on his back. The one who always got up after being knocked down until he wasn’t the one being knocked down but the one picking others up.

Carefully, she slid closer to him on the couch and curled up beside him, resting her head against his chest. His heart beat slow and steady under her ear.

At first, she just meant to enjoy the quiet — but the longer she stayed, the more overwhelming the need to be close to him became.

She nuzzled into him, brushing her nose lightly against his collarbone. Her hand found his and laced their fingers together. She pressed kisses — soft and lingering — along the new markings on his shoulder, his jaw, anywhere she could reach without waking him too abruptly.

Daigo shifted, groggy but instinctively pulling her closer with a low grunt. His fingers threaded through her hair.

“Ji…” he muttered, half-asleep, voice thick and rumbling.

“You’re not allowed to leave me like that again,” she whispered fiercely, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “I don’t care how strong you are now.”

Daigo cracked open one eye, a slow, fond smile spreading across his face.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he rasped.

Jihyo answered by smothering him in even more affection — nuzzling under his chin, peppering his neck with kisses, tracing the markings on his arms with featherlight touches. Her whole body spoke the words she couldn’t say fast enough: Stay. Stay with me.

When Daigo finally managed to sit up, Jihyo clung to him a moment longer before allowing him to stand.

Nayeon, of course, caught them a little later. She leaned against the frame, grinning like a cat who caught two canaries.

“Aren’t you two cute,” she teased. “I turn my back for five minutes and you’re practically glued together.”

Jihyo didn’t even blush this time — she just smirked and laced her fingers back through Daigo’s.

“Maybe if you found someone worth clinging to, you’d understand,” she shot back sweetly. Nayeon rolled her eyes and said

“I’ll give you two love dragons some privacy,”

After their moment Jihyo turned to Daigo and said, “I need more before diving in for a more aggressive kiss,” her lips tasted sweet to Daigo as she kissed him more. Jihyo lost in her desires begins grinding on Daigo. Daigo moans as he feels Jihyo’s crotch wrap around and slide on his. Eventually even that wasn’t enough for Jihyo. She moved the cloth separating them before sliding down on his cock. She moaned as she took more and more of him inside of her.

“Ah fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” she moaned as she awkwardly rested on top of his cock overwhelmed emotionally and physically. She groaned until Daigo made a move and she popped.

Jihyo’s orgasm came violently, her whole body raked with pleasure as squeezed Daigo’s cock snugly. She moaned as she took his cock

Due to the awkward position and tight squeeze Daigo also came inside her as well. Jihyo moaned uncontrollably as she felt her womb fill with cum until her belly slightly distended from it.

After that the two headed to the guild house

The quiet stillness of the early morning air wrapped around them as Jihyo and Daigo stood just outside the guild house. The sun was rising higher, casting golden light across the trees and the stone paths that led toward the guild.

Jihyo, still holding his hand, stood on her tiptoes to press a lingering kiss against his cheek. Her lips lingered there for a second longer than usual, and when she pulled back, her eyes were soft, but there was an intensity to them — a need, a hunger for connection she could no longer hold back.

“You know,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along his jaw, “I’ve been thinking… through all of this, through everything you’ve done, I’ve come to realize just how much you’ve changed.” She paused, meeting his gaze with quiet intensity. “And I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you, Daigo.”

Daigo blinked, his chest tightening at the words, the sincerity that only Jihyo could give. Her words, her affection, seemed to pour over him like a wave. And for the first time, he allowed himself to drink it all in, no defenses, no barriers.

“I didn’t think I deserved this…” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it held all the rawness of everything he’d been holding inside. He turned slightly toward her, fingers still intertwined with hers. “I’ve always felt like… like I had to prove something. Prove I was good enough for you, for anyone. But…”

“But you are,” Jihyo interrupted, her voice firm yet tender, her fingers caressing the back of his hand. “You always have been. You don’t need to prove a thing to anyone, especially not to me.”

The world seemed to shrink around them — no noise, no distractions, just the two of them in this intimate, shared space. Jihyo’s heart raced in her chest as she gazed up at Daigo, her hand rising to rest against his cheek.

“You’ve always been enough,” she whispered, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “And I… I love you, Daigo. All of you. The fighter, the man who’s been carrying the weight of everything for so long. I see you. I always have.”

Daigo’s breath caught in his throat. The way her eyes locked with his, the way she laid herself bare before him, made his chest ache with an intensity he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling. There was no more fear, no more self-doubt. Just her. Her love.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said hoarsely, his voice a mixture of wonder and disbelief. “But I’ll take it. I’ll take everything you give me.”

With that, he pulled her closer, one hand cupping the back of her neck. His lips brushed against hers, tentative at first, as if testing if it was real. But as soon as their lips met, a spark ignited between them. The kiss deepened, slow and filled with the weight of everything they had shared and everything they were about to embrace.

Jihyo’s hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath. She kissed him harder, pouring every ounce of the love she felt into him, into this single moment that felt like a beginning rather than an end.

Daigo, for the first time in a long while, let himself accept that love fully. He took it all — every ounce of warmth and tenderness she offered — and he held onto it as tightly as he held onto her. There was no hesitation, no fear, just the solid certainty that this was where he belonged.

When they finally broke apart, breaths shallow and hearts racing, Jihyo rested her forehead against his. Her fingers still threaded through his, and her voice was soft, filled with all the love and approval she could no longer keep hidden.

“I’m so proud of you, Daigo,” she repeated, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed, everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m never letting go.”

Daigo leaned into her touch, his eyes closing for a moment as he let her words wash over him. No more doubt. No more fear. Just love. Her love. And for the first time, he felt worthy of it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for seeing me… for believing in me.”

Jihyo kissed him again, her lips gentle against his, a promise that they would face everything together, side by side, no matter what.

As they pulled apart, a soft laugh escaped Daigo’s lips — not nervous, not forced — just pure contentment. Jihyo smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with affection, and he couldn’t help but return it with a smile of his own.

And there, in the quiet of the morning, in the space where nothing but the two of them mattered, Daigo knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

Later that morning, after Jihyo and Nayeon had dragged Daigo into a hearty breakfast (despite his protests), he was pulled aside to complete his official hunt report.

The guild hall was buzzing with the news: Daigo had returned. And more importantly, he had succeeded.

Daigo sat at the long, scarred table, filling out the formal paperwork with slow, steady strokes of the pen. Jihyo hovered nearby, barely hiding her pride. Nayeon kept grinning and whispering ridiculous things to Maple, who kept giggling behind her hand.

When Daigo finally handed the report over, the guildmaster — a tall, wiry man with a booming laugh — read it aloud to the assembled hunters:

“Successful solo hunt against Dire Miralis. Zero carts. Additional encounter with a Primordial Malzeno — defeated. Zero carts.”

The hall fell silent for a beat — then erupted into gasps and low murmurs of awe.

As the guildmaster signed off on the report, he clapped Daigo hard on the back, beaming.

“Effective immediately,” the guildmaster announced, “Daigo is hereby promoted to Apex Rank, alongside Jihyo.”

Cheers went up around the hall, though not everyone wore a smile.

Near the back, Natty — one of the fiercest and proudest hunters, who had once prided herself on being Jihyo’s equal — pushed her way forward, her face twisted with confusion and something bitterer.

“How?” she demanded, stopping right in front of Daigo, fists clenched at her sides. “How did you do it?”

Daigo met her gaze calmly. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice that was steady but heavy with truth, he replied,

“I wanted to win more than I wanted to live.”

It wasn’t boastful. It wasn’t cruel. It was just the truth, laid bare and raw.

Natty’s expression faltered. She opened her mouth as if to say something — but nothing came out. She simply stepped back, swallowing thickly, and let him pass.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, the heavy doors of the guild creaked open once more.

An old man entered, clad in simple, roughspun clothes, but there was a weight to his presence — a quiet, unshakable authority. His skin was weathered like old stone, his eyes sharp and deep.

Daigo’s steps slowed. He knew this man — one of the last elders of his home, the hidden village that the Dire Miralis had nearly erased from the world.

The elder walked forward and clasped Daigo’s shoulders in a warrior’s grip.

“You have returned victorious,” he said solemnly. “But the blooding must be completed.”

Wordlessly, Daigo followed him outside, where a stone basin had been prepared. Within it, dark, shimmering blood — collected from the monsters he had slain — pulsed faintly with a life of its own.

Guild members gathered at a respectful distance, watching silently. Jihyo stood close, her heart pounding in her chest.

The elder spoke the ancient rite in a language few remembered, then gestured for Daigo to kneel.

Without hesitation, Daigo did.

The elder dipped his hands into the blood and began marking Daigo’s skin, tracing along the tribal markings that had already begun to appear after his victories. As the blood touched him, the lines seemed to ignite — faint, beautiful glows in the same colors as the Primordial Malzeno’s scales: silver and a ghostly violet.

The markings curled up his arms, over his shoulders, and across his chest, sharpening and deepening with every careful stroke.

When it was done, the elder stepped back.

“You are no longer a boy chasing monsters,” the elder said. “You are a hunter who has mastered his own fury. Rise, Daigo of our blood.”

Daigo stood slowly, the last of the blood dripping from his skin. His markings pulsed faintly, vibrant against the morning light.

He turned to face Jihyo — and for a moment, the world was very small. Only her, only him, and the shared understanding that this wasn’t just an end.

It was a beginning.

Jihyo stepped forward and squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing the new marks on his wrist. Her smile was so full of pride and affection that Daigo almost couldn’t look directly at it.

“You’re still the same Daigo I met six years ago,” she whispered to him, voice trembling slightly. “No matter how different you look… you’re still mine.”

And in that moment, Daigo realized he wasn’t running from anything anymore.

He was finally home.

A few moments later, the heavy oak doors of the guild house swung open with a bang, making a few hunters glance up from their breakfasts. In stormed Diovaldo, a familiar and perpetually dramatic hunter known for both his big voice and even bigger reactions.

He stomped halfway into the room, took one look at Daigo — who was still basking in the afterglow of both his promotion and Jihyo’s affection — and immediately changed course. With a loud, “Yo, congrats, man!” Diovaldo swept Daigo into a bone-crushing hug that lifted him a few inches off the ground.

Daigo let out a startled grunt, awkwardly patting Diovaldo’s back. “Uh… thanks?”

Diovaldo set him down with a grin before turning on his heel, storming toward the guild representative standing behind the main desk.

“What the heck?” Diovaldo barked, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve been asking — begging — what I gotta do to reach Apex rank! And every time, every single time, you tell me ‘it’s complicated’ or ‘there’s no openings.’ Then Daigo goes off on some

Lone hunter/ Hero’s journey, comes back taller, shinier, and suddenly you’re throwing Apex rank at him like confetti? I CALL B.S.!”

The guild rep, an older man with the permanent look of someone whose Dash juice had been just snatched away, let out a long, suffering sigh.

“Diovaldo,” he said, rubbing his temples, “why are you yelling?”

“BECAUSE I’M MAD!” Diovaldo practically vibrated in place. “I’ve been doing everything right! I sharpen my weapons! I do extra bounties! I even started doing Marathon hunts because you said I needed better stamina! And now you’re telling me all I had to do was…” — he gestured wildly at Daigo — “go on some spiritual sabbatical, fight a god-tier Dire Miralis, and beat a primordial Malzeno tied to my soul?!”

The guild rep blinked slowly. “Would you like me to make you a pamphlet next time?”

Diovaldo threw his arms in the air again. “YES, actually. A pamphlet would have been great! You could call it ‘So You Want to Become an Apex Hunter: Step One, Die a Little Inside!’”

Meanwhile, Daigo — still half stunned — looked over at Jihyo, who was biting her lip hard, trying not to laugh. She gave him a tiny thumbs-up behind Diovaldo’s back.

The guild rep sighed again, the sound practically peeling paint off the walls. “Diovaldo, this isn’t a carnival prize. Apex rank is earned through… extraordinary feats.”

“I CAN BE EXTRAORDINARY!” Diovaldo wailed, dramatically grabbing a random hunter’s cloak like a tragic hero from a play. “ Do I just need better marketing? Maybe a catchy theme song!”

Daigo finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and chuckled, clapping Diovaldo on the shoulder. “Hey, man, if it helps, I didn’t even know this was a thing until about two minutes ago.”

Diovaldo sagged like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Of course you didn’t,” he muttered, shuffling toward the breakfast line, muttering under his breath about bias and favoritism and ominous training arcs he clearly needed to undertake.

Jihyo sidled up beside Daigo, still snickering. “You sure you’re ready for the fame, Apex Hunter?”

Daigo smirked. “As long as I get paid extra, they can call me whatever they want.”

“Good,” Jihyo said, slipping her hand into his with a wink. “Because I have a few ideas.”

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