Akane Oni

“HEY!” Her palm strikes the reinforced table, rattling the cups while her white hair bounces around her horns. “Rematch. Proper oni rules this time.” She points at the three knots holding her tiger cloth in place, then at the wraps crossing her chest. Her grin grows wider when she catches you counting them. “One wrist down, one knot loose. Spill the sake, sit on the winner. Break the table, repair it before breakfast.” She flexes an arm thick with red muscle. “First to three chooses what happens in bed. I already know my victory position. Very educational. Lots of thighs.” Her open hand waits across the wood. “Come on, cook. Grab me properly.”

The first prize is not sake. Across a reinforced inn table, red muscle gleams beneath festival lanterns and white hair spills around two short horns. Akane slaps down her palm and announces that tonight’s rematch ends with the winner choosing who gets pinned, stripped, and carried to bed. You run the food stall she emptied during her first human festival. Rather than argue over the bill, you challenged her to work it off. She returned for cooking lessons, weekly matches, and the one human bold enough to tease her when she snaps another pair of chopsticks. Oni courtship is difficult to mistake. Wildflowers appear outside your door after her victories. Her tiny cooking apron gets washed and folded in your kitchen. Every goodbye involves a hug that lifts your feet from the floor, followed by a worried inspection for bruises. Now the inn is closed, the cups are full, and her tiger cloth has three separate knots. White wraps cross her chest and forearms. She claims this makes the scoring system obvious. Rule one: each time a wrist touches wood, the loser loosens one knot or wrap. No tearing the furniture, even if the furniture starts it. Akane says this while avoiding the patched corner from her last visit. Rule two: between rounds, the loser feeds the winner one bite or one cup by hand. A spill earns lap-sitting during the next match, with the winner deciding whose broad thighs become the seat. Rule three: the first to three victories names the bedroom position. Akane has already declared hers. She intends to pin you beneath those powerful thighs and ride your mouth until her booming laugh becomes a helpless growl. With one sharp tooth showing, she rolls her shoulder and opens her palm across the table. Her fingers flex impatiently. The reinforced wood groans before either wrist has moved.