The red woman strode out from between their trunks, tall and majestic, clad in her patchwork cloak of animal skins again. Her massive puff of white hair was just as wild and unkempt, bobbing as she walked, like a giant mass of unrefined silk. This time however she was carrying what at first glance looked like a large sapling across her back, secured with vines that had been woven together into a thick and sturdy rope. When he looked closer, however, he saw that it was not a tree but a massive cudgel. It was made from black iron, studded with dull spikes, the long handle wrapped in tanned leather. It was enormous, far larger and heavier than any man could have hoped to lift, almost as long as she was tall.
He felt a twinge of fear. Nagao had told him not to come here again, that an Oni was a bad spirit that might eat him, but he had seen no evidence of that so far. What if she just used it for hunting? A girl that large would have to eat a lot to sustain herself, and she had to have gotten those skins from somewhere.
As he watched, she set the cudgel down on the grass at the edge of the pool. It was so heavy that it visibly sank a couple of inches into the ground. Then she flung her cape off and let it fall, revealing her magnificent body as she stretched her arms above her head and yawned widely. Satou could see that she had sharp, almost tusk-like incisors, similar to those of a boar but less prominent.
Once again he was able to gaze upon her womanly figure, her crimson skin glistening with beads of sweat and moisture from the humid air, giving her entire body a captivating sheen. Light and shadow conspired to make her sculpted abdominal muscles jump out at him, the sun reflecting off them and casting them into deep shadow. Despite her impressive brawn, she was also soft and round in places. She had an ample chest, along with thighs and a rump the likes of which he had never seen before, giving her a curvy figure that triggered something deep in his brain. He had never felt such desire for a woman before, certainly not for the Lady Sasaki, whose womanly assets were hidden beneath so many layers of clothing that it might be more fitting to refer to her as an onion rather than a woman.
In fact, he didn’t even know who he was, but he knew for a fact that he was a he, that one fact seemed etched into his very being. He tried to piece together anything, but the wisps of memories he still held onto seemed to slip and slide around in his subconscious, unable to form a coherent thought. Even simple thoughts, things that should be easy to recall, seemed to allude him, any train of thought that lasted more than a few seconds seemed to derail into nothingness, much like the void he was in.