Human Souls and Rainy Choices
My lowest point in this lifetime had to be when I was in elementary school. Imagine a full-grown adult wearing a private elementary school uniform and heading to class. It was torture trying to keep a straight face amid kids who burst into laughter at fart jokes, and mentally exhausting to keep up with their near-infinite stamina during soccer games.
So why bring this up now? Because on this rainy day, a particularly mature pink-haired elementary schooler had somehow tracked me down and planted herself right in front of me. My classmates who lost it at the word "poop"? Take notes.
Anyway, sitting across from a girl in elementary uniform while I wore my high school one in a café felt like it could spark misunderstandings, but I had no choice. She'd targeted my side with that magic stick again on her way home from school.
"I drink coffee too."
"Better avoid it when you're young."
"Shut up."
She had long bangs covering one eye and sipped her steamed milk while venting her complaints at me. Her prickly attitude screamed it, but there was a reason behind this kid's overly adult, gloomy demeanor. I hadn't played her route myself, so details were fuzzy, but it involved family issues plus some tragedy tied to gaining her magical girl powers.
I won't belabor the heroine's misfortune and the human drama of overcoming it—it's not my favorite trope anyway. Just be happy, damn it. Even in my past life, I skipped eroge scripted by those gloom-mongers. You listening, Urobuchi? Your visual novels were not my taste. But I enjoyed your magical girl stuff, Holy Grail Wars, and that fruit-transforming Kamen Rider, so keep the edginess in check.
"Don't underestimate me just 'cause I'm in elementary."
"Never did. So what's your point?"
"You remember what happened last night, right?"
"Of course."
One wrong word, and her spiritual energy beam would've gutted me. How could I forget?
My deadpan response irked her, and she pressed on with a forceful tone.
"I did some digging. You just moved here recently, so you're probably not connected to my problem."
"Then we're good, right...?"
"Still, something's off. Why'd you show up at Luri's accident site and her house?"
"Like I said yesterday, I just helped her pass on."
"You serious?"
"Why would I lie here?"
"...So what happened to Luri?"
Best to be straight here. No idea what their relationship was in life, but no need to twist the truth.
"She didn't remember the accident at first, but I guided her to recall it bit by bit. Something wolf-like blocked the crosswalk, she stopped, and a car hit her. She was a bound earth spirit missing her parents, so I freed her and walked her home. That's it."
"...And me?"
"I don't even know who you are."
"Fine. Whatever."
A flicker of irritation in her eyes turned to quiet melancholy. Were they close? Or did she think they were?
Her hands hovered over the warm milk mug—maybe the chill from the rain—as she spoke.
"Ever heard of Gloomy Beasts?"
"Nope. First time. Was that the wolf-like thing?"
"Don't ask. Better if you don't know."
The name had that cheesy early-2000s vibe—straight translation's "gloomy beast." Her face went blank again. I was gloomy for a middle schooler, but seeing a real kid pull this expression was tough.
I sighed inwardly and tossed a question to keep things going.
"That stick—looks like it channels spiritual energy. How much do you know about those powers?"
"...Zero."
"Then how do you use the magic wand?"
"They said it feeds on my emotions to gain power."
Emotions, huh. Not far off from how spiritual energy turns rage into curses or positivity into raw power. Like psychics channeling body and soul through a machine. The robot maid heroine pulled off emotions from tech, so weaponizing spiritual energy like this was plausible.
I nodded to myself, satisfied, but she narrowed her eyes.
"You asked, then you're nodding off like you get it."
"Nah, I'm just a spiritual user myself, so pulling power from a gadget's intriguing."
"...Not that interesting or intriguing."
Damn, this brat's savage. She chugged the rest of her milk and stood to leave. My attempt at friendly chat had soured too, so I didn't stop her. I'd already paid the owner, and she stormed out without a goodbye.
"...What happens to heroines outside their routes, anyway."
Hanasaki would drone on emotionless. Manatsu would wither from her illness. Inuyama, isolated, unable to control her power. Ichinose, kidnapped amid family drama. Fujiwara might linger as a bound spirit till her body's gone.
But Nogawa? Barely mentioned in other routes—hard to guess.
Not that knowing changes anything. In this world's big picture, I'm a weakling. My gifts let me help Manatsu or Inuyama, but not everyone. I've got one body, it's frail, and no massive drive to abandon family and friends for training.
I finished the café owner's siphon-brewed coffee, grabbed my bag, and stood.
"Time to head out."
"Oh? Fight with your sister?"
"Nah, she's a friend of my sister's. Seemed troubled, so we talked, but she wouldn't open up."
A smooth lie slipped out. Hiding my powers from parents and Hiyori had honed this skill.
She caught my wry smile and spoke softly.
"You have a little sister, then?"
"Mine's middle school."
"Figures. Your eyes softened midway, then turned annoyed at the end."
"Haha, spot on."
"I've got two kids myself."
Ah, parenting vet. She half-joked about kids not listening anymore.
"Does your sister listen well?"
"She does, but spoiling her ramped up the whining."
"Must trust her reliable big bro."
"Thinks I'm a yes-man cat robot."
"Oh my."
This world had run its serial for over 20 years, so even manga refs landed with the owner, who chuckled.
"Won't do the same for your sister's friend?"
"...Too much on my plate lately. No room for extras."
"Girl troubles?"
"Issues with girl friends."
Inuyama's at a delicate distance, Manatsu half-leaning that way. But I wasn't nuts enough to tell a stranger, "Juggling two flings with family baggage." Vague it was.
Problems loomed now, but someday I'd sort it.
"Sounds complicated."
"That obvious?"
"Dunno? Anyway, running a shop on a kid-frequented path..."
I shouldered my bag, grabbed my umbrella, and listened.
"If you've still got options, don't make choices you'll regret later."
"...Noted."
"Kids soak up influences. Wrong adult moves lead 'em astray."
"Your kids have a great mom."
"Oh, wasn't fishing for that."
She thanked me for chatting like an auntie and shared some of her house blend. Café Jinba—filed away. Good owner; bringing Hiyori might work.
Choices without regret, huh. Knowing this game's choice-branch world made it hit different.
"Thanks."
"Come again."
"Will do. With my real sister next time."
I bowed, opened my umbrella, and stepped out. The drizzle had turned to a downpour.
Right. If this world's a game, what choice do I pick now?
To whom, how do I reach out?
Cold raindrops fell on my outstretched hand. I had no answer.