You can also view the book in-progress on Pressbooks for what’s likely a more pleasant reading experience!

Notes: Pressbooks is back up to date now :D Also, given that this is a recollection and Neko cannot remember her own name at this point, her name is represented by symbols indicating uncertainty in Japanese (specifically, “××”). We have represented this as “???” in the translation, so rest assured it’s intentional and not a sign that we couldn’t read her name XD;

Chapter 2 – I am a Cat!

The first thing she saw…was a vast, endless sky washing over pale.

When the huge sword crashed down from the heavens into the earth, all sound and color disappeared from the world, and she fluttered about in the air.

Strangely enough…it didn’t hurt; there was no pain, and as her consciousness began to slip away, she cast her gaze about her surroundings, noting how beautiful the bright white brilliance enveloping her was.

She didn’t know how she’d survived. She felt like perhaps she’d been saved by someone else, but then again perhaps not. And yet the first thing she did upon regaining consciousness, despite having next to no comprehension of who or where she was, was open her mouth to release a loud crying shout as she realized how drastically her surroundings had changed.

A few crumbling buildings remained, collapsed into a heap and set against a desolate backdrop seemingly not of this world. She could locate neither her father nor her mother, who she knew should have been with her, and with faltering footsteps, she began to wander the ruins.

She called for her father, called for her mother—and thinking back on it now, it was perhaps here that she first awakened to the power dwelling within.

Far, far away.

It was calling her, she felt, from some impossibly distant place.

Yet so near. Something was whispering to her from just near the pulse of her heart, and using that strange power, she finally located once more those who would protect her, those who loved her.

And she did it all unconsciously, with no skill or artifice whatsoever.

That power…planted within her the seeds of grief and pain, for a future that she would surely have to face.

Official documents recorded this instance of a sword plunging into the ground the Kagutsu Incident.

The moment Papa returned home, their house was transformed into a mansion in the middle of an oasis. Papa, decked out in true office drone fashion of a suit and necktie, traded these clothes for a turban and flowing silk material, stepping up from the entrance into the household proper.

“Morgiana,” he called out to Mama. “I’m home!”

“Oh, welcome back!” Mama, who’d just stepped out into the hallway, was also decked out in the trappings of some dancer from a faraway kingdom, the design rather extravagant with the way it exposed her stomach. “How was your latest voyage?” she questioned, tone utterly devoid of worry.

“Well, between being snatched up by Rocs and swallowed by sea monsters, I must say it was a rather trying day—but we still managed to make it back to dock safely. Here you are, my dear: treasures I retrieved from the secret mines.”

With this, he held out a bag for her overflowing gigantic diamonds and sapphires and the like.

“Oh my!” Mama merrily took the proffered jewels in hand. “You shouldn’t have! Thank you ever so much.” She lifted up onto her tiptoes, natural as anything, and pressed a kiss to Papa’s cheek. The pair behaved like newlyweds even now, seven years into their marriage.

Papa laughed a bit, happy, and headed into the vast living room. Several vast marble columns dotted the room, and a fountain glittering in rainbow hues with fish darting and cavorting in its spray sat in the center of the room. Furnishings gilded in gold and silver decorated the room, and a pelt was laid out on a raised level—with a young girl stretched out on her stomach atop it.

Her legs kicked up behind her to and fro, engrossed in her reading as she was, and Papa grinned broadly at her. “You’re quite the avid reader, I see, ???.”

“She really does seem to love that Collection of Children’s Masterpieces from Around the World you bought for her, Dear,” Mama explained, eyes crinkling in mirth.

This clever little girl was their pride and joy. Her scores on the intelligence test administered before entering kindergarten had tempted scores of specialists to visit for a closer examination. It wasn’t simply that she was smart—their little ??? was also equipped with a childish brightness and gentility as well.

Papa, Mama, and ???—this was their own little world.

Just then, an animal’s low growl echoed through the chamber; just beyond the marble pillars stretched a vast park. “Oh my, it seems Shafshar is here.”

“I see. Guess that means we need to get him some meat!”

The young couple’s gaze was directed at a magnificent lion standing just beyond them, pawing the ground with his front paws in a demanding motion.

“Ah! Papa!” ???’s head shot up here—

—and in that isntant, everything snapped back to normal. The mansion shifted back into a normal rented-out house, Papa back into his suit and Mama back into a dress—and the lion became the local wandering tomcat.

???’s face broke into a wide smile, and she launched herself at Papa. “Welcome home!” The book she had tossed aside…was The Adventures of Sinbad the Sailor.

??? had only relatively recently become aware of her powers. She was different from the other children at her kindergarten: none of the other children, after all, could allow others to experience the same fantastic scenes that played out in their minds, and realizing she could do this came as something of a shock.

She gained some measure of comprehension of her powers after reading several books her parents had bought for her, determining that the term she could use to best describe her abilities was, “Magician”—the old men with the long white beards that often popped up in children’s fantasy novels.

These men could fell enemies with flashes of lightning and launch flaming balls of fire through the air. But ??? considered their most unique skill of all to perhaps be the ability to conjure images of imaginary monsters and grand palaces perched on cliffsides—in other words, the power of illusion.

‘I’m a magician, too!’ she had concluded.

There were two points on which she behaved particularly cleverly: the first was how she made sure to conceal her powers from those around her, the very books and shows she enjoyed so much informing her actions. In those tales, the beings known as Magicians were always revered for their great powers—but at the same time, they were also feared, living lonely, solitary lives deep in the wilds and forests.

“I certainly don’t want to wind up like that,” she’d told herself.

There had also been an anime airing around the same time centered around four young witches-in-training, and ??? had watched it, entranced, taking note of the fact that the girls in the show took great care to conceal their true identities from those around them.

Those with the ability to wield magic do not, as a rule, reveal this fact to anyone else—this is what ??? learned from her readings and anime viewings.

Of note, while ??? was happy to think herself a “magician”, not once did she refer to herself using the term “witch”—and this was simply because, “I don’t transform!” Indeed, this was the criterion she based her decision on.

The witches-in-training she saw on TV could transform themselves into stylish adults and fight their enemies in cool, flashy costumes—and all she could really do was weave illusions. ‘So I’m not a witch…’ ??? had concluded, a bit dejected at the realization.

And then there was a second point on which she was cautious: ensuring that she had a proper grasp on just what kind of power she wielded. Just what sort of qualities did she possess? What was the range of effect? On whom could she effectively use her powers? These were the points on which ??? began her research, in a rather child-like fashion.

First, her parents. Then, her kindergarten teachers. Her friends and neighbors. The postman. She even went so far as to try using her powers on total strangers she’d never met before and the news anchors she saw on television.

Her experiments revealed the following: using her powers, she could envelop the entire town in illusion, making all of inhabitants believe it to be snowing despite it actually being a bright, sunny day. Everyone who stepped outside had made sure to don long boots and arm themselves with umbrellas, seemingly prepared to fight the elements.

However, given that—despite the lack of any real obstacles or hindrances whatsoever—several people did slip and fall, ??? had quickly dissolved the illusion in a panic.

It was this that had surprised even ??? herself; she’d never imagined her powers to be this great. The experiment, however, revealed something else as well: once she removed the illusion, all who had been under her spell completely and utterly forgot anything had happened whatsoever. More so, they didn’t simply experience a blackout or lapse in memory; they would instead rewrite everything they had been through in her illusions in line with their own ideas.

In the case of people who’d been caught out with their umbrellas to wield against the non-existent snow, they simple brushed this off as, “Well, I thought it looked like snow, so I brought my umbrella just in case. They said it might snow on the weather forecast, after all. Or perhaps an acquaintance mentioned it.” In this way, they smoothly went about their daily lives, content with these faulty memories.

This is how ??? was able to from time to time invite her Mama and Papa into the fantastic worlds of Sinbad the Sailor or 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, confident that the moment she dissolved the illusion, everything would go back to normal. It had even gotten to the point nowadays where she would become so engrossed in whatever book she was reading that she unconsciously wove the illusions and pulled those around her in as well.

She’d also gradually come to understand that, should she lose concentration or start to focus on something else, her “spells” tended to become easier to break. She’d tried at one point to make those around her see her as a grown woman, but the effect had worn off naturally after a single night. In contrast, though, minor tweaks to her appearance—like making herself seem a few centimeters taller—she could keep going for as long as two months.

Discovering that the greater the distance between reality and the illusion she wanted to protect, the more difficult the task—had been an important realization indeed.

Further, she also learned that her powers would not work on people and objects she couldn’t directly perceive. And for some reason, she couldn’t seem to cast any illusions on Tamagorou, the tomcat that occasionally dropped by ???’s home. Try as she might to influence the chubby black cat, the animal would just leisurely enjoy the food prepared by Mama and, after raking a glance over ???, trot off again.

On this particular day, as well, when ??? returned home from kindergarten, she found Tamagorou sprawled out napping on the veranda and quickly snuck up on him. “G’morning, Tamagorou.”

The cat simply lifted his head and began washing himself, casting only a cursory glance at ???, seeming very put-out by her presence, and then returning to his bath. Given his build and the state of his coat, it was clear Tamagorou was getting up there in years. As Mama and Papa told it, he’d been roaming around this area from well before ??? had even been born.

He would shamelessly wander into people’s homes, begging food off of them, and sometimes disappear for days at a time if the mood struck him. But despite his willful ways, rather than feeling disdain for the feline, quite the contrary, he was quite the popular pet amongst the locals.

Apparently the old man living next door had been the one to name him ‘Tamagorou’, but seeing as he was a tomcat living as he pleased, he naturally had no real name. Indeed, ??? had caught the piano teacher living four houses over calling him, “Kurou”, while the butcher over in the shopping district called him, “Chubby-chan.”

“………”

??? stared, frozen, at Tamagorou, steeling her consciousness. A gray shade rose to the forefront of her mind, with several threads running through it, and while it may have seemed a tangled mass, it was in reality not so very complicated—and the emotion she gleaned from it all was satisfied, relaxed. “Seems like you’re in a good mood today, Tamagorou.”

She smiled to herself; ??? was able to, to a certain degree, divine the moods and emotions of other living things around her, a power that could be termed an extension of her abilities. Whenever she employed her powers of perception manipulation, she could—for a moment—reflexively pick up traces of the emotions of her targets. She would then adopt it as her own image and proceed to paint those emotions in the colors she imagined them to take on. It was thus in executing this requisition with lightning-quick speed that she was able to carry out her enchantments.

The procedure for spreading her illusion over the entire town followed much the same pattern; she’d brush across the emotions of some several hundred people—albeit quite cursorily—all at once, and then proceed to paint over their minds with the information she wanted them to soak in.

The reason she’d failed to influence the announcer on the TV had been due simply to the fact that she could not seize control of the announcer’s thoughts through the television screen. In other words, the range of her powers was limited to the area in which she could directly sense her targets’ minds. However, ??? didn’t actually understand this in such detail—she simply knew that if she could read her target’s mind, it made it easier to use her powers.

And right now—‘All right… Let’s give it another shot!’ She would once again try to exert her perception altering powers on Tamagorou.

She steadily fixed her gaze on Tamagorou’s, imbuing within the animal the belief of I am a human.

Tamagorou silently stared back with yellow, bead-like eyes—before opening his mouth into a wide yawn, stretching, and flopping over onto his back, baring his belly—fur shot through with white strands—for all to see. No matter how you looked at it, it was clear this was not an animal that believed himself a human.

???’s shoulders slumped in defeat; as she’d suspected, it seemed her illusions didn’t work on Tamagorou. While she couldn’t yet determine if this was a shortcoming true of all cats, or if Tamagorou was simply special, she actually found that rather than feeling disappointed…she actually felt a swell of admiration.

Her powers could sway proper adults like Mama and Papa and her kindergarten teachers, and yet this single black cat could shake off her illusions with ease. ‘He’s amazing…’ she thought to herself with some awe and reached forward to rub Tamagorou’s stomach. She resolved here to practice using her powers on other non-human animals as well in the future, when—

“Tamagorou!” came a hoarse voice, and ??? perked up in surprise. “Tamagorou!” The call was coming from rather nearby, and an old man dressed in gray Japanese-style clothing and a straw hat poked his head over the chest-high bamboo fence separating ???’s house from the neighboring plot. “Tamagorou!”

??? froze in place, but Tamagorou actually responded seemingly happily, and he trotted off in the direction of the voice with a meow~, jumping down into the garden and slipping through the bamboo fence into the neighboring property.

“Oh, Tamagorou! There you are, good boy!” He directed his gaze downward slowly; it seemed that after passing through the bamboo fence, Tamagorou had proceeded to rub himself up against the old man’s legs affectionately. This was the old man who lived next door—and the same one who had named this vagabond black cat ‘Tamagorou’.

When ??? ducked a bow in his direction, he called out, “You doin’ good?” with a broad smile plastered on his face.

One eye had started going cloudy white from cataracts, and he only had a few teeth left in his mouth by this point, but ??? responded politely, “Yes, just fine, thanks,” before quickly standing and retreating inside.

Truthfully, she found the man a bit frightening. In the past year or so, his mind had started to go; he would occasionally forget the face of his own son, and Mama had said that he’d been seen wandering aimlessly around the area in the middle of the night. When she dared a glance over her shoulder—she found the man still grinning widely and watching her.

Almost unconsciously, she brushed across the man’s mind—and found no organized thoughts or emotions whatsoever, simply a dark, muddled, confused mass. It sent a chill down her spine, and she hastily fled inside.

The man continued to speak to her, but she’d now come too far to catch his words any more, thinking to herself, ‘I can’t understand that man’s feelings… So my powers probably wouldn’t work on him.’

To be continued…

You can also view the book in-progress on Pressbooks for what’s likely a more pleasant reading experience!

Notes: Due to some issues with accessing pressbooks, this latest installment has NOT been added there yet. Apologies!

Interlude – Slumbering

At length, Kuroh drew his reminiscence to a close with, “And so as you can see, Ichigen-sama was accomplished in a number of fields, such that I could not even hope to compare.” He crossed his arms in proud satisfaction.

“………”

But when Yashiro delivered nothing in response, Kuroh furrowed his brow in concern and twisted in place to glance behind himself—

“Zzz…”

—where he found Yashiro, as expected, fast asleep—the expression on his face utterly at ease and worry-free.

Kuroh sighed softly. ‘I suppose he really was utterly exhausted…’ In a rather natural motion, he shifted off the bed and took up a blanket settling it across Yashiro—and his expression waxed gentle, reminiscent of times in the past when he’d done the same while looking after the daifuku trio as their elder. ‘…Such a strange fellow,’ he thought to himself. ‘A curious amalgam of mystery—with none able to discern what he’s thinking—and childish unguardedness… But the question is—which is his true self?’ Or perhaps… ‘…both aspects are part of his character?’

While he might have been a man of deception, who had tricked Kuroh from the moment they met, he was also the same man who had returned to that stadium to save Kuroh, at very real risk to his own life.

Yet laden within his words and actions seeming to suggest him flighty, thinking of nothing in particular at all, was an intelligence suggesting worldliness beyond measure and a calm, collective nature unbefitting his apparent age.

“He seems at once both good and evil…” His eyes narrowed to slits as he stared down at Yashiro. “I’m afraid…I still don’t understand you.”

Back in that stadium, he’d told Yashiro, stuck in a pit of despair, that, “I still haven’t figured you out”—and it had not been a lie. But that by no means meant that he’d deemed him, “Isana Yashiro the Good.” It was simply that he hadn’t come to a firm decision yet.

If he truly was the murderer of Totsuka Tatara, then…

“———”

Kuroh’s eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, and he grasped Kotowari. ‘…Then I’ll be forced to put you down.’ This was the mission entrusted him, as he sat here protecting Isana Yashiro, traveling with him. ‘I suspect…we’re both dealing with our demons right now. I must face my duty, and you…must determine just who or what you truly are. But it’s beyond our control, I suppose. Neither of us can shoulder the other’s burden, whether we like it or not—even though we both face the same harsh reality…’

Kuroh took a breath, and then—”Kurosuke.”

A stiff voice called to him from behind, and he twisted about to find Neko standing nude, with nothing but a single towel wrapped around her frame—and she stared straight at Kuroh, accusation clear on her features. “…You were thinking something weird just now, weren’t you?”

Her gaze here shifted to his grip on Kotowari; likely she’d sensed something out of sorts and come out of the washroom to investigate.

Kuroh replied, not bothering to feign ignorance, “I was thinking about how I might have to kill Isana Yashiro.”

At this, Neko let out a sound halfway between a Wha—?! and a feline screech, and her eyes bugged out. In the next instant, she executed an unbelievable bound, leaping straight up from the floor with next to no preparatory movements and bouncing off the television rack to do a half turn and land on the bed, rolling over on top of Yashiro to protect him. It was an acrobatic feat enough to wring unconscious admiration from Kuroh himself.

“Kurosukeee…” Her tone dipped deep and threatening. “If you lay one finger on my Shiro, I’ll…”

The sleeping Yashiro squirmed uncomfortably, as Neko had her arms wrapped in an almost choke-hold around his neck. Neko, though, didn’t seem to notice in the least, instead clutching Yashiro tightly and glaring at Kuroh through eyes that shined with a thin sheen of tears. “Shiro…Shiro is mine!”

“………” After a long silence, Kuroh snorted softly. “Calm yourself. I would never stoop so low as to slay someone in their sleep. If I’m going to take him down, it will be after I’ve made him well aware of his crimes.”

“H—how is that supposed to calm me?! And you know, I’ve thought this for a while, Kurosuke, but there’s a lot that’s ‘off’ with you! You’re totally off-the-wall!”

“You’re the last person I want to hear that from!” He caught himself after this outburst, though, and cleared his throat. “Ahem. And plus—” He attempted to regain his composure. “I haven’t made a firm decision about him. As such, there’s no reason for me to put him down. Not yet, at least. And just so you know…I don’t particularly relish the thought of having to dispatch him either. That’s how much I truly do want to believe in him.”

These words clearly related his earnest feelings on the matter, and Neko fell silent—though there still remained a trace of wariness in her eyes.

“…I still don’t quite trust you.” She slid onto her side. “Shiro’s all I need. So long as I have him, then…that’s good enough for me.” She nuzzled her cheek against Yashiro’s chest affectionately.

Kuroh was well aware—with Neko, this girl whose true name itself was a mystery, underneath this bottomlessly cheerful, bright superficial personality there had to lurk another side: an obliquely negative one. Otherwise she would never have become so stubbornly, strongly attached to Yashiro as she was, given the relatively short while she’d known him.

As she’d put it, she had indeed made every effort to build for Yashiro his ideal fantasy, a world in which he could feel utterly at ease—and in a way, she’d mostly succeeded, keeping the inhabitants of the entire island under control of her neural manipulations.

It wasn’t overstatement to describe her powers as truly frightening.

‘Much as I hate to admit it, the Blue King was more wary of this girl back at the stadium than he was of me—and she’s the one who ultimately saved us, too. While the plan may have been Shiro’s…the Sword of Damocles she created fooled even the Blue King.’

Kuroh’s and Neko’s powers were so different in nature that it was nigh impossible to compare them, but he felt deep inside that…she was likely more powerful than he when it came to sheer stock.

Here, Kuroh distantly recalled Miwa Ichigen explaining that Strains could perhaps be referred to as, “Half-baked Kings.” ‘Though in truth, I can’t even be sure that she is a Strain in the first place…’ He chuckled wryly to himself.

“Shiro, Shiro~♪” Neko began to tease Shiro, much like a real cat. Yashiro was content to snore away peacefully, but Neko didn’t seem to mind.

Here, a question crossed Kuroh’s mind. ‘That reminds me…Shiro mentioned that she just suddenly shifted from cat to human form one day out of the blue… If that’s so, then why was she living with Shiro in feline form in the first place…?’ Thinking back on it now, this was indeed strange.

There would have been plenty of other, more appropriate ways for her to spend time with him, had that been her desire; she could have posed as a classmate, or even convinced him she was his lover, or younger sister. Any would have been more natural and would have likely fit her feelings better, too.

‘So…why a cat?’

Kuroh settled one knee on the bed, opening his mouth to ask, “Hey, why did—” —you become a cat?

Neko lifted her head ever so slowly at this, eyes glittering…

“A Halloween That Might Have Happened”

A certain day in October, in a room of the campus dormitories bathed in the warm sunlight streaming in.

“So…it’s time for that Western holiday of fanciful dress again, huh…”

At these words from Yatogami Kuroh, Isana Yashiro corrected him with a bemused laugh, “Yeah, but most people these days would just call it ‘Halloween’.”

“That does bring back pleasant memories…” Kuroh didn’t seem to be paying Yashiro one whit of attention, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head back as he stared up at the ceiling. He squinted, as if drifting back through memory to the days of yore. “Ichigen-sama was extremely fond of this day, you see; he celebrated this one day with such pomp once every year. It was a grand event, on par with Buddha’s Birthday, even.”

“Buddha’s Birthday?”

“What’s this?” Kuroh responded to his obvious confusion with no small bit of censure. “You mean to say you don’t even know Buddha’s Birthday? April 8th, of course. The day on which the Buddha was born.” Beneath the explanation came the unspoken accusation ‘and you call yourself Japanese?’

After falling silent for a moment, Yashiro amended, “No, I mean—well, I know of Buddha’s Birthday, of course—but that’s the sort of thing they usually celebrate at places like temples and such, right?”

Putting it rather overly simply, Buddha’s Birthday was akin to Christmas for Buddhists, but Yashiro was quite sure that the reason it lacked the notoriety of Christmas was because it wasn’t exactly the sort of holiday associated with families having feasts together or putting up decorations, and certainly there were no presents delivered by jolly old men in red suits. There were many ‘hooks’, as it were, available with Christmas making it a rather easy holiday to familiarize the masses with.

All Buddha’s Birthday had associated with it was some sweet hydrangea tea you might be treated to should you visit your local temple on that day.

But, he supposed, there were always exceptions.

“In the village I used to live in, the elderly would hold grand parties that lasted throughout the night, and Old Man Numaga would dress up like the God of Wealth and walk around passing out gifts to all the children.”

‘…Who the heck is “Old Man Numaga”?’ Yashiro wondered.

Kuroh released a sigh of longing. “Enjoying gamefowl stew and confections with everyone, the sight of the bamboo thickets illuminated with decorations… I’ll never forget it.”

Was that supposed to correspond to turkey and cake—and a fir tree? Yashiro felt like there was a lot off in this recollection. “Hey, Kuro…” he started, worry tinging his voice. “Have you…ever heard of this holiday called ‘Christmas’? It’s celebrated every year, around year’s end…”

Kuroh’s expression shifted to one of abject offense. “Are you mocking me? Who in this day and age in Japan could possibly not know what Christmas is? Although—” His expression clouded. “…I will admit that it’s not a holiday I celebrated much while with Ichigen-sama…” Yashiro waited for him to continue—and at length, he went on, tone somewhat oblique, “You see, the…senior apprentice wasn’t very fond of the holiday.”

Yashiro’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “‘Senior apprentice’? You mean you weren’t the only one studying under Ichigen-sama?”

“W—well, that is to say, he was like a senior apprentice.”

It was a rather evasive response, rare from Kuroh, and Yashiro’s curiosity was well and thoroughly piqued. “Mmm, I wonder what could’ve possibly been his reasoning for not liking Christmas…”

At this, Kuroh responded, “It seems he had some…relationship problems associated with it in the past. But well, he struck out on his own quite some time ago, so I can’t say I’ve ever heard the particulars.”

“I see…” Kuroh had shifted to face away to the side now, giving off an air that clearly begged Yashiro not to prod any further—an unspoken request with which Yashiro complied, sensitive to his feelings, but couldn’t help the way his curiosity rose when Kuroh added in a mumbled whisper he really was a strange man…

“Which reminds me—why did you bring up the Western holiday of fanciful dress in the first place?” at Kuroh’s unexpected shift in conversation, the door to their room burst open, and in piled Neko—decked out in a costume akin to a ‘nekomata’, a mythical twin-tailed monstrous feline.

“Nyaaa~!” Decked out in white Japanese-styled clothing, atop her head sat a headband decorated with fluffy cat ears, and the area around her eyes had been thoroughly shaded in. She had crooked her fingers into the shape of talons in an effort to appear more menacing and opened her mouth wide in an expression of, “WAH!” from behind Yashiro’s back.

While it was clear she’d been going for a rather classical monstrous feline look, the fit of her clothing was a bit off, and with her thighs bared for all to see and breasts starting to peek out, she didn’t give off an air of terror so much as sexiness.

“Well—Neko apparently found a bunch of costumes in the storeroom for the theatre club, and I thought it might be fun to try some of them on~” Yashiro explained with a grin, not bothering to turn around and take in Neko’s appearance.

After fixing a good three-second-long stare on Neko, Kuroh allowed, “…I see. That being the case, then, I could be convinced to go along with it.”

Neko pursed her lips, a bit miffed. “Kurosuke—you’re not scared of me?”

Kuroh fired back instantly, “This is hardly all that different from your usual attire.”

Neko just puffed out her cheeks in irritation, grumbling.

Kukuri was the first to catch wind that there was to be a Halloween party in Yashiro and Kuroh’s room, promptly announcing, “I’ll come too! You’re gonna cosplay and have fun, right?? It sounds like a blast! Let’s do it!!”

At this, Inaba stepped in with an assured expression, “Then that means I’ll have to join you as well.” She ran a quick glance over Kukuri—before seeming to slip into some imaginary fantasy and clapping her hands over her cheeks, flushing darkly.

Mishina piped up as well, throwing the group a thumb’s up and announcing his participation with strange phrasing: “Yeah~! Let’s get down!” It was clear both he and Inaba were merely tagging along in the hopes of catching Kukuri in cosplay, but neither Yashiro nor Kuroh could find any reason to turn them down, understanding that events such as this were more fun the more people participated.

On the appointed day, their room was grandly turned out, as Neko and Yashiro had been in charge of putting up decorations. Chattering giddily, they’d hung up Christmas tinsel and strung imitation New Year’s pine decorations they’d pilfered from the storeroom, utterly out-of-season decorations all over the place.

It wasn’t entirely clear whether or not Neko eve understood what exactly Halloween was in the first place, but Yashiro seemed to be enjoying the act of decorating as well as how happy Neko seemed with the work, regardless. They laughed and giggled between themselves, the very picture of a pair of close siblings as they dressed up the room.

In the kitchen, Kuroh was hard at work preparing the meal together with Kukuri. Scooping a bit of the broth up with a ladle, Kuroh brought it to his mouth for a quick taste-test. “Mm, I think the taste is coming along quite nicely.” He nodded to himself, mien serious. He had pumpkin simmering on the stove in a sweet, sugary broth, a dish he’d firmly sworn absolutely had to be enjoyed on this “Western holiday of fanciful dress”.

There was always the chance that Kuroh as well didn’t quite understand just what Halloween was in the first place. But he was also preparing sweet skewered rice dumplings, rice balls coated in sweet red beans, and sweet bean jelly, explaining, “Well surely we must have sweets on this holiday, yes?” Apparently he’d passed out such Japanese confections to neighborhood children before—together with a costumed Ichigen-sama.

While there were plenty of points to make snide commentary on here, before Inaba, Yashiro, or Mishina could pipe up, Kukuri chuckled, “That certainly sounds like it was a fun Halloween!” bringing the scene to a conclusion.

Kukuri, wearing a deep red apron over her school uniform, was standing at Kuroh’s side, peeking over his shoulder at his hands as they moved about the kitchen area and commenting in admiration, “You really are amazing, Kuro-kun! Your movements are so skilled!” Kukuri was no slouch in the kitchen herself, but Kuroh was just that much better, on par with professional chefs.

A smile grew on Kuroh’s lips, and he held out the ladle for her, seemingly suggesting she taste the broth as well. She took it and brought it to her lips. “Mm, delicious, Kuro-kun! As expected!” She tossed him a thumb’s up and winked. Kuroh gave a nod, satisfied.

With nothing to do themselves, Inaba and Mishina sat at the low tea table and watched this exchange. “…Don’t you kinda feel left out over here, Mishina-kun?”

“…Yeah, this is bad…!” he agreed, and the pair frowned worriedly at one another.

With the room finally decorated and the food prepared, it was now time to draw lots to decide who’d wear what costume, as suggested by Kukuri. They had, in total, six costumes counting those borrowed properly from the theatre club: a witch, a nekomata, a ghost, a black full-body skintight suit, a wall spirit, and a heavenly nymph.

The group were to draw lots for these costumes—and would have to wear whatever they drew, regardless of gender. Given the very real possibility that they might be forced to wear a costume meant for a girl, the boys initially were against the game but wound up being forced to participate by Kukuri, Neko, and Inaba, who were thoroughly enjoying themselves now.

Mishina and Yashiro eventually gave in amicably, chalking the situation up to part of the fun of having a party in the first place—leaving Kuroh alone still rather put-out.

The rules were simple—all of the costumes would be placed into separate bags so that the contents couldn’t be divined from the outside and labeled with a number using magic marker. Participants would then draw lots for these numbers, take their appropriate bag to the changing area, and return to the room in full regalia.

Kukuri prepared everything and then sat with her back to the room until it was her turn to draw lastly, leaving her unaware as to what the others were wearing until all had returned.

The first back to the room was Yashiro, dressed in the white kimono and triangle-shaped hood of a classical Japanese ghost. He’d managed to avoid having to dress in women’s clothing, and his costume wasn’t even all that much to tease about. He was about as safe as it was possible to be, all things considered. One could even go so far as to say that the costume suited his pale complexion.

The next to draw was Mishina—returning to the room dressed in the cloak and tricorne hat of a witch. He, too, had lucked out by drawing a rather reasonable outfit. Inaba was the third to return, and she took in the sight of the two boys before her, muttering, “…Well that‘s boring.” She herself had drawn the nekomata costume, and with the white robe draped over her body and cat ear headpiece, she looked quite cute—sexy, even.

“Aww, I wanted that one!” Neko moaned, the fourth to return, as she glanced at Inaba. She’d drawn the ‘skintight bodysuit’, the most monochrome piece in the lot, but with her superbly styled body and the fact that the bodysuit was a tad too small for her, the line from her breasts down to her legs was clearly visible to all, making for a rather lascivious image little better than her being completely nude, and Yashiro frantically scrambled to settle a blanket about her shoulders.

The fifth to return—exerting great effort to make her way through the door—was Kukuri, decked out in the costume of a wall spirit. Only her face could be seen sticking out of the center of the large, rectangular costume. “Th—this was a nightmare to put on!!” At this, a loud roar of laughter erupted from the group; even the way her slender legs, wrapped in white tights, jutted out from the bottom of the costume was funny.

“It’s so cute, though! You look adorable, Kukuri!” Inaba assured her, wiping away the tears of laughter from her eyes.

Yashiro as well was going to great lengths to hold back his laughter. “Y—yeah, it actually…looks really good on you.” Kukuri merely flushed and pursed her lips in irritation.

But the embarrassment Kukuri experienced here couldn’t even begin to compare with that aroused when Kuroh entered at last—as he was the only boy to have drawn a girl’s costume.

He entered draped in frilly layers of pink and orange cloth, wearing a long black wig, and at Kukuri’s insistence, had painted a red line across his lips using the lipstick included in the costume bag. Flushing darkly, he snapped, “D—don’t stare!”

But Kukuri’s and Inaba’s reaction was quite the opposite of that Kuroh had been expecting, and both girls began to cheer, “Oh my gosh, you look beautiful, Kuro-kun!!”

“Wow, you look amazing! Really! I think I’ll have to change my opinion of you, in more ways than one!” The pair positively bounced around him, eyes glittering as they drew in closer. Kuroh, however, decidedly unused to such excited attention, attempted to ease away.

Neko simply gaped in shock, and Mishina murmured to himself in a low voice, “Oh crap…that’s actually kind of…”

And Yashiro, seated alone with a strange half-smile on his features, merely delivered the comment he was expected to: “Gross!”

The group then enjoyed a delicious feast and played games, thus passing their Halloween night.

You can also view the book in-progress on Pressbooks for what’s likely a more pleasant reading experience!

Notes: Due to some issues with accessing pressbooks, this latest installment has NOT been added there yet. Apologies! This is also the end of Kuroh’s chapter (not the end of the book by far XD; so stay tuned)

Chapter 1 – Bound Together (cont.)

Much later, Kuroh found himself wondering just why he’d been in such a panic, and on what grounds he’d founded his convictions as to what he needed to do—and it was there that Ichigen explained, “In all likelihood, your powers had started to awaken within you, enabling you to, for a time, utilize my own powers—that of foresight.”

In other words, Kuroh had—in that moment—been one with his King.

He kicked at the root of a tree and raced across the mountain ridge—until he at long last caught a faint voice. He snapped to attention, yelling out, “Heita! Are you there?!”

After a moment, a voice came back, steeped in worry, “Ku—Kuro-chan?”

He darted forward in a flash and slid down onto his stomach at the edge of a cliff, peering over the ledge—and grew faint as he laid eyes on a very rough, worn-out Heita clinging desperately to the slender branch of a tree growing out of the cliffside halfway down. The plant itself looked rather weak—far too weak to support even Heita’s light weight, and while admittedly slowly, it was clear that the roots were starting to give way, soil scattering about to fall away at the base.

“Ku—Kuro-chan!” Heita called out to him, voice betraying the fact that he was on the verge of tears, and he stretched out a grasping hand—but Kuroh sharply rebuked him.

“Don’t move, Heita! Just hang on!”

With a pathetic moan, Keita curled himself into a ball, tightening his grasp. Kuroh took quick stock of the situation—it was a good three meters to Heita’s position from where he stood now…and twenty meters between Heita and the cliff bottom.

If he fell, Heita would, without a doubt, die instantly.

‘Calm down!’ he reminded himself. ‘You have to stay calm, Yatogami Kuroh.’

What would Ichigen-sama do in this situation? What would the man he looked up to do when faced with something like this? His voice rang out of its own accord, “It’s all right, Heita.” There was a slight tremor in his words, but he continued. “Don’t worry—I’m going to save you, Heita. So just—hang in there a little longer, all right?” Heita nodded, tears streaming down his face.

‘I should go back for some rope… Wait, no—it’s too late for that now. I can’t waste another second.’

Then came the ominous sound of the branch warping severely under Heita’s weight, a sight sure to turn anyone pale with fright. But Heita began to mumble an explanation of what had happened here, perhaps having noticed the branch bowing—perhaps not. “Kuro-chan—I got separated from my brothers, and then before I realized it, everyone had disappeared, so I wandered around all alone for a while and then fell down this cliff…”

Kuroh stretched himself out as far as he could, but failed to reach Heita. ‘This isn’t good…’ A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. ‘At this rate, Heita will…’ With all his strength, he stretched his muscles nearly to their breaking point, thrusting his arm downward.

And then—

The sound of something ripping—and a crack split the tree limb. In that instant, Heita glanced up at Kuroh, tears in his eyes, and smiled. “Kuro-chan.”

I don’t want to die.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Kuroh leapt into the air—managing to latch onto Heita’s body just before he collapsed into a free-fall. Heita grabbed on tight to Kuroh, eyes clenched shut, and Kuroh embraced the small body just as fiercely in return.

Gravity dragged the young pair downward with merciless force—

—and a light, brilliant as an explosion, snapped forward, extending. A line of brilliance stretched upward from Kuroh’s extended fingers, connecting with the man who had suddenly appeared at the cliff’s edge just before the pair hit the bottom of the ravine.

“We made it!”

Miwa Ichigen, drenched in sweat, called out in response from his stance at the top of the cliff, “Well done, Kuro!” and clasped his own hand over Kuroh’s invisible one.

Only moments later, Kuroh and Heita found themselves wrapped in Ichigen’s embrace before slumping down at the cliff’s edge. Heita wept without ceasing, but given that he’d only narrowly escaped the jaws of death, he could hardly be blamed.

Ichigen ran his fingers over the boys’ heads over and over, breath coming hard and fast. “You did so well…so so well—both of you. I’m so proud of you, truly!”

Kuroh grew childishly embarrassed of being cradled as he was and shifted himself to sit up properly, asking, “Umm, Ichigen-sama…” He couldn’t help it—he was curious. “Why…are you here? Weren’t you away on business?”

“Hm? Oh—well I had been on my way to visit Daikaku-san in Nanakamado, but then I suddenly had a vision of your predicament and I couldn’t possibly stay away.”

Just then, a rush of wind blew up from the cliff bottom, and before their very eyes, a transport chopper lifted into the night sky, a bright searchlight brushing across the group. Ichigen smiled at long last, waving away the craft, and explained with a mischievous wink, “So I flew back.”

Kuroh could but stare in wonder; Ichigen truly was amazing, and he gained a renewed respect for his master that day.

Heita was well and thoroughly scolded when they returned, but he received even more fierce hugs through tears from his parents, and all of the villagers as well rejoiced from the bottom of their hearts that Heita had returned safely.

All assumed and accepted that Heita had been saved by Miwa Ichigen—and this was allowed, as letting it be known that the elementary school student Kuroh had ventured into the mountains at night, on his own, would invite more questions than it was worth the trouble to deal with.

This was why Kuroh had only let the elder two of the daifuku trio brothers know of his plans—and Heita kept his mouth shut about what had happened as well. But from that point on, Heita grew even more fond of Kuroh than he had been before, fixing upon him an expression of adoration not unlike the one Kuroh directed to Ichigen.

But one among the others seemed to have gathered just how deeply Kuroh had been involved in the whole affair—Watanabe-san.

“Kuroh-chan…?” She’d apparently noticed that Kuroh had disappeared for a period of time. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it…but did you perhaps play some important part in saving Heita-chan…?” Kuroh smiled uneasily, neither confirming nor denying her suspicions—and the woman pressed for no more, instead offering, “I see… Then I’ll just assume that you did something quite amazing. Is there anything I can do to reward you…?”

Kuroh cocked his head to the side at this question. “Then could I…please have you teach me how to cook?” First things first, and he added with a smile, “I’d really like to know how to make a delicious dashimaki omelet.”

END CHAPTER 1

You can also view the book in-progress on Pressbooks for what’s likely a more pleasant reading experience!

Notes: Due to some issues with accessing pressbooks, this latest installment has NOT been added there yet. Apologies!

Chapter 1 – Bound Together (cont.)

After school, the brothers invited Kuroh along with them to fish down by the river, but Kuroh declined, heading back home. He warned them sternly to be careful before returning home—only to find Ichigen gone, with a letter left for him on the little table in the living room.

/I’ll be gone for about two days. Sorry—but please take care of your own meals for the time being. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you at your age, but take care around the flame should you use the stove./

Ichigen had occasionally disappeared without notice like this in the past. Most times he never explained his reasoning, leaving Kuroh to assume he was off on some King-related business. He never delved too deeply as to why, but it always left Kuroh wishing he could grow up faster, in order to more quickly be of aid to Ichigen on these errands.

“I see…” He was a bit disappointed. He’d felt that he could phrase his questions with more finesse now, given the daifuku trio’s help. He’d been assured he was the one best equipped to keeping up with the genius Miwa Ichigen—and those words instilled within him great confidence. “Guess I didn’t need to hurry home after all…”

He was entertaining the thought of heading out to join the brothers in their fishing excursion, a child-like dilemma indeed, when he heard a voice from the garden, “Kuroh-chan, are you in there?”

He quickly stood and hurried over to the glass door, yanking it open just in time to find a gentle-faced old woman entering via the kitchen door. “Ah, Watanabe-san. Please come inside.” He ducked a nod; this was their next-door neighbor. She’d lost her husband two years before and was now spending restful days with her second son and his wife. She was a very wise and kind woman, and from the moment Kuroh had been taken in by Ichigen, she’d taken a shine to him, helping to care for him. “One man alone can’t possibly be expected to care properly for a child, right? Plus with all my grandchildren living on their own now, I’m actually enjoying looking after Kuroh-chan.” She would often make treats for Kuroh and even knit him a muffler. To Kuroh, she was a peerless savior.

Given Kuroh’s personality, he often struck a tone of overly exaggerated politeness with his elders, deeming them more than worthy of respect, and here as well he spoke reverently to the old woman, like some character from a period play, “My deepest apologies for your traveling so far to our humble abode, but Miwa is unavailable at the moment, I’m afraid.”

“Oh yes, I know. He left word with me when he left, asking me to look in on you. So—I’ve brought some dinner—would you like some?”

“Oh my! I didn’t realize!” He flashed a toothy grin at her. “Thank you ever so much, Watanabe-san! I’m ever in your debt.” Such phrasing and vocabulary were rather unexpected from the mouth of an elementary school student.

“You’re always such a proper young man, Kuroh-chan.” Her words held just the tiniest hint of teasing, but it flew over Kuroh’s head, and he merely blushed at the compliment—perhaps the last remaining evidence of his being still a child.

He took the plastic-wrapped contained from the old woman and let out a shout of delight. “Ah!! You made an dashimaki omelet!” His voice was filled with untainted elation. “Thank you so much! I love your omelets, Watanabe-san!”

“Do you, now?” Her eyes crinkled with a smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Yes, ma’am! It has a very strong flavor—but at the same time, it’s very refreshing and simple! I hope that I can make dashimaki omelets like yours some day!”

Watanabe-san stood in thought for a moment. “Kuroh-chan…”

“Yes?”

“Would you like me to teach you how to make that omelet?”

Kuroh froze at the offer, managing to get out after a moment, “Eh?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, puzzled.

“Oh, yes, just…” He wrestled with himself for a moment. “…I’m sorry,” he apologized, ducking his head in honest penitence. “I’m honored, truly, but… It’s just, you see…”

Watanabe-san cut him off with some perplexity. “No no, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but…why not?”

“Ah—yes, ma’am, see…” he scrambled to explain himself. He would hate to be thought some crude barbarian turning down her kind offer for no reason whatsoever. “Well, I’m learning a lot of things from Ichigen-sama right now, you know?”

“Indeed you are,” she grinned. “Working hard every day.”

Kuroh flushed. “Thank you very much. But—I’m exceedingly uncoordinated, and just…I have to take things very slowly, and I think…that it’s best I not try and learn too many things from different people.”

Watanabe-san cocked her head to the side slowly. “…And why is that?”

“Well—if I did, I feel that my efforts would thereby become half-hearted and incomplete. So—I think I ought to learn from Ichigen-sama first—be it cooking or anything else—and then after mastering the activity under his tutelage, move on to receiving lessons from others.”

The woman’s eyes widened just a bit, and she responded in wonderment, “…You really are a serious young man, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Not at all. There’s no need to fret over it. I understand your way of thinking quite well.” She then added with a chuckle, “But goodness, the master and his pupil certainly are of different stock. Miwa-san gladly took me up on my offer for lessons without protest.”

“………” Kuroh allowed himself a moment to think, then questioned, “You mean…lessons on how to make adashimaki omelet…?”

“Oh no,” she responded easily, “I mean cooking lessons in general.”

“Eh?” Kuroh stiffened. “General cooking lessons?”

The woman seemed surprised at his own shock. “Oh? He never told you? Miwa-san couldn’t do anything when he moved here! But there was little he could do to help that on his own—so I taught him all sorts of things.”

“!!” While a bit of an overstatement, this was something akin to the sky falling down upon Kuroh’s head. ‘Ichigen-sama? That genius…only just became as capable as he is now fairly recently?’

“Though of course, being who he is, it didn’t take him long to surpass me.” Her eyes crinkled in nostalgic mirth. “But in the beginning, he’d try drowning the vegetables in oil trying to make stir fry, or toss out the dashi broth thinking it was part of the burnable garbage—you wouldn’t believe how many times I had to get on to him.”

Kuroh released a moan, “That’s just…!” but after giving it a bit of thought, he concluded that perhaps it really wasn’t so strange. After all, Ichigen had originally been heir to a fencing dojo and an accomplished businessman. He could very easily have simply had no time to learn culinary arts in the first half of his life. ‘But to think that he only learned upon arriving here…’

He always seemed to enjoy cooking so much—and yet only a few years prior he hadn’t even been able to properly sauté vegetables…

So…there were things that Ichigen couldn’t do, huh… It was a strange sensation—something of a shock, but at the same time, a revelation that filled him with some fresh passion. “I see… So Ichigen-sama learned his skills from someone else…”

The old woman laughed wryly. “Naturally Miwa-san wasn’t born the way you see him now, you know. He was a bouncing little baby when he came from his mother’s womb, and he was just as much a child as you are at one point as well.”

“Be that as it may…”

“And he received all his knowledge at the hand of teachers and grew up under the censure and praise of adults around him. It’s only natural, right?”

‘So he’s just like me…’ Kuroh reflected silently.

“Plus—I’m sure he’s mentioned to you that he learned his skills with the sword from his grandfather. Am I wrong?”

“…No, you’re not.” He nodded his head deeply. He’d known that much at least for a long time. And yet…he’d never really considered it all that thoroughly.

Watanabe-san’s gaze softened. “Kuroh-chan—that’s how people become bonded to one another. Miwa-san’s grandfather taught him swordsmanship, and now, he’s teaching you.”

“……”

“And so now—it’s not merely Miwa-san who lives within you, but the thoughts and feelings of his grandfather as well have now reached you through the natural flow of things.”

“…Within me?”

“Exactly. So—even if you choose to be instructed in cooking by Miwa-san alone, my lessons through him will automatically reach you as well.” She then added a bit teasingly, “Which would, I suppose, make you my student as well.”

“I…see…” He took a deep breath. “I’d be your…”

“And just so you know—that would make me very happy. I’ll pass on some day, but through my culinary skills, I’ll still be connected to a youngster like you. And then, perhaps some day you’ll pass your skills on to someone even younger—be it lessons or swordsmanship, whatever you choose. This way of linking the thoughts and feelings of each generation to the next, on and on, in a never-ending relay…” She paused, slowly adding, “…Perhaps this is what we mean by the word ‘bond’.”

“………” Kuroh’s eyes shone, and he lifted his head, opening his mouth to speak, “Watanabe-san, I—”

“Is Miwa-sensei in?” Kuroh’s expression changed as a man dashed into the garden—it was the son that Watanabe-san lived with.

“What’s the matter? Miwa-san’s out right now.” Her brows furrowed in irritation at his frantic state, but the man didn’t seem to notice his mother’s reaction.

“Craaaap, at a time like this? Oh geez, this is bad…”

He covered his face, head tilted up to the sky, and his mother rounded on him, thoroughly put out by now, “Just what is going on here?”

At this, the man cast Kuroh a worried glance before quickly relating the state of affairs: “It’s the daifuku—I mean, the Yamamoto family’s youngest. He’s disappeared!”

Kuroh’s and Watanabe’s faces both went pale.

As Seita and Kouta related it, while the trio had been out fishing, a pure white deer had appeared before them, and they’d given chase without thought. While they’d grown quite accustomed to life in the village, nothing could take away the fact that they’d originally grown up in a big city, and so given the rarity of the creature they’d just spotted, they ignored warnings not to go into the mountains alone and headed in that direction.

Both Seita and Kouta were well aware that they were breaking rules that had been drilled into their heads by their elders, though, and after losing sight of the deer, they retreated to their original position. Distance-wise, they likely hadn’t traveled more than 100 meters past the treeline. But upon returning back to the beach—it was there that they realized the youngest, Heita, had somehow disappeared.

Hearing the tale related after-the-fact, Kuroh’s stomach clenched in pain. The two brothers losing sight of their younger brother…must have felt no small amount of fear. They’d apparently wrestled with their options her—go back into the mountains immediately and try to find Heita, or run for help?

Their ultimate decision was one which, from an objective perspective, they ought to have been applauded for making—as despite knowing full well they would be punished for what they’d done, they made a break for the nearest house they could find. It was an action taken upon thorough consideration in order to avoid either of the remaining brothers being stranded as well—and it proved an apt decision, as in no time at all, news of what had happened had made its way throughout the village.

By the time Kuroh reached the boys’ home, Seita and Kouta were clinging to their mother, bawling. She clutched them close while their father, stern-faced, delivered instructions on the search-and-rescue effort to the young men of the village who’d gathered.

The sun was already setting.

Armed with flashlights and pine torches, they elected the member most familiar with the mountains as the leader and set off in groups of four. All groups were distributed GPS transceivers and instructed to remain in contact at all times, with the Yamamoto home designated home base.

Some of the groups used tracking dogs in their efforts, and the groups were distributed haphazardly around the mountain. From time to time, one could catch the sound of someone calling Heita’s name in a loud voice.

The women took to wandering about the village, just in case Heita happened to return. Given his age, there was always the chance he was simply hiding somewhere nearby. Akagi-sensei as well could be spotted walking to and fro, searching for her student with worry etched on her features. Still others were preparing warm meals for the men wandering the mountains in the dark, and others tried to comfort the boys’ mother.

Watanabe-san reassured her, “He’ll be just fine. Children tend to just pop right up for you to find! Things like this happen every few years—but winter’s past, so I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

By this point…Kuroh had already made his choice: he would set off to save Heita on his own.

He was a child, getting ready to head into the dangerous mountains all alone, well after the sun had set—an action that would, under any other circumstances, be absolutely unforgivable. However, Kuroh…had a strange conviction reassuring him. He knew…that he would be able to save Heita.

‘If I go, then I’m sure…’

If any other other members of the search teams found out about this—he knew he’d be in for a good scolding, and he was well aware of the risk he was undertaking. This was why he consulted his internal moral code. ‘What would Ichigen-sama do…?’

If Miwa Ichigen were here, there’d be no need for Kuroh to leave at all. He likely would’ve found himself waiting patiently at home with the other children.

But right now, his revered master was nowhere to be seen.

‘Then…’ He set off for the mountains. ‘I’m going. I have to. I’ll save Heita!’

Heita, who’d readched out and grasped his hand tightly with, “Kuroh-chan!”

Heita, who looked up to Kuroh from the bottom of his heart.

Heita, who was adored by all the villagers.

He’d assured Kuroh that they were friends.

‘Then…’

The Miwa Ichigen inside his mind offered a wry smile and nodded—Get going, then, Kuro.

This was not wrong—it was dangerous, to be sure, but not wrong. Heita was in trouble—right now, and a pressing sense of foreboding settled over Kuroh, frightening him to the core.

‘Hurry! Hurry! HURRY!’

Yatogami Kuroh was like unto a lone wolf, streaking out into the night. Relying on what little moonlight there was, he darted through the trees, leaping over boulders as he raced up the slow.

‘Just hang in there, Heita!’

To be continued…