Uchiha Puppet Master, Starting from One Piece.

Mirajane's eyes were half-open, his pupils dilated in the darkness, almost swallowing the original color of his irises.

There was something in those eyes that Bai Yu had never seen before.

It is fragile.

It is a vulnerability that involves completely surrendering oneself, being undefended, and even dangerously vulnerable.

Like a wild cat, after countless attempts, it finally revealed its softest belly to a human.

Her lips moved.

No sound.

But Bai Yu read the lip movements correctly.

"Bai Yu, I want it."

This is not a call.

Yes, it's confirmed.

To confirm that he was still there, to confirm that all of this was real, to confirm that in this world full of uncertainty, there was at least one moment where she could let down her guard.

Bai Yu's hand moved from her back to her cheek.

His palm rested against her cheek, his fingers running through her silvery-white hair, his fingertips touching her scalp. It was warmer there than on her cheek, probably because her hair was so thick and sheltered from the night breeze.

Her face was very small in his palm.

So small that he felt he could cover it completely with one hand.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her face against his palm, like a cat being stroked.

Then her lips touched his palm.

Slower, lighter, and more ritualistic than a kiss, the lips touch the skin, linger for a second, and then leave.

But in that instant, Bai Yu felt every line and warmth on her lips.

She pulled her hand away from his waist, placed her right hand on the back of his hand that was resting on her cheek, and her left hand traveled up his chest, past his collarbone, past his throat, past his chin, and finally stopped at his lips.

Her fingers were cold.

It was cooler than his lips, at least.

The finger lingered on his lips for a moment, as if reading something written in Braille.

Then her fingers slowly traced the outline of his lips.

From the philtrum to the cupid's bow of the upper lip, from the cupid's bow of the upper lip to the corner of the lip, from the left corner of the lip to the right corner of the lip, from the upper lip to the lower lip—she drew a circle.

Because when her finger returned to the starting point, their faces were already incredibly close.

The tips of their noses touched.

Their breaths mingled completely.

Bai Yu could no longer distinguish which air he inhaled and which she exhaled; they were mixed together, becoming their shared breath, inhaled into their shared bodies, and then exhaled together.

The boat rocked slightly.

The magnitude was greater than any previous one.

There might be a less-than-friendly wave coming.

It might not be.

It could also be the sea expressing some emotion, such as jealousy, blessing, or some other unique emotion that humans can never understand.

Their lips touched during the movement.

It wasn't the result of getting close on purpose.

It is an inevitable law of physics: when the distance between two objects is so small as to be negligible, any external force will cause them to come into contact.

Mirajane did not back down.

Bai Yu did not retreat.

So their lips stayed pressed together after that swaying motion.

There was no deep kiss.

There was no entanglement of tongues.

There wasn't even any extra pressure.

It's just pasted on.

The upper lip pressed against the lower lip, and the lower lip pressed against the upper lip; the four lips were precisely interlocked in an almost architectural way, as if they were born for each other.

But simply labeling it with those four words can describe very little.

It cannot describe the tingling, numbing sensation, like being continuously stimulated by a microcurrent, when lips touch.

It cannot describe the physiological reaction of two people's heartbeats accelerating simultaneously in an instant.

It couldn't describe the blank feeling at the back of Bai Yu's head, as if something had exploded.

It cannot describe the force with which Mirajane's fingers tightened suddenly, until his knuckles turned white.

It cannot describe the coincidence that the night wind suddenly stopped at this moment.

It also cannot describe the gentle whisper of the waves at this moment.

The kiss lasted a long time.

In that state, the perception of time is completely lost.

Mirajane stepped back first.

But they didn't retreat very far.

Retreat to a distance where even a single breath can still entangle us.

She stared at him with her eyes open, the moonlight frosting her pupils, making her gaze appear both clear and dreamy.

"White Feather."

This time she spoke up.

But the voice was too soft, as if afraid of disturbing Rangiku who was still sleeping behind her, or as if afraid of disturbing her own rationality.

"Ah."

Bai Yu's voice was also very soft.

Mirajane tilted her head.

The movement was so small that it would have been completely unnoticed if we hadn't been so close.

But Bai Yu noticed it.

He also noticed the moment Mirajane's lips came close again.

This time it wasn't an accident.

It's not shaking.

It is not a law of physics.

It was her initiative, her conscious approach, and her clear intention that led her to get closer.

Their lips met again.

This time it took a few seconds longer than the last time.

In those few seconds, Bai Yu felt her lips move from one position on his upper lip to another, felt her lips open a barely visible gap, and felt something warm and moist behind that gap.

Then he felt his lips doing the same thing.

They didn't speak.

I want to be closer to you.

"It needs to be even closer."

"So close that there is no distance between us."

"No, so close that the distance becomes a negative number."

"So close that I can't tell where your boundary is or where my beginning is."

"So close that I can find my own temperature in your body temperature."

"Close enough for me."

Mirajane's arms wrapped around his waist again.

But this time his embrace was even tighter, so tight that her entire upper body was pressed against him, without a single gap.

The softness of her chest changed shape under this pressure, transforming from a hemispherical shape into a flatter form, spreading out along the curve of his pectoral muscles like a warm, breathing ball of cotton.

Bai Yu's hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck.

There was a small patch where hair couldn't grow, and the skin was so thin that you could almost see the bluish veins underneath.

His fingers lingered there for a moment, feeling her pulse, which beat very quickly, so quickly that it didn't seem like the rhythm of someone who was about to fall asleep.

Then his fingers moved down her cervical spine, vertebra by vertebra.

Mirajane removed his hand from Bai Yu's waist and began searching for something on his body.

Fingers slid from his waist to his abdomen, from his abdomen to his chest, from his chest to his collarbone, and from his collarbone to his shoulder.

Then her hands rested on his shoulders.

It's not being carried along.

It means to seize it.

It refers to the force of the fingertips sinking into the muscle.

The boat rocked again.

This swaying caused a qualitative change in the posture of the two people.

Mirajane, who had been nestled sideways in his arms, was now turned around by the tilt of the boat and was sitting face-to-face on his lap.