Dawn Runs and Shrine Maiden Summons
It had been almost a week since I started jogging at dawn with Manatsu Aoba, getting to know her. Before I knew it, it was the last day of March. Japan runs on a April semester system, so classes start on April 1st every year. That meant tomorrow, I'd be back in school.
"Whoa, Tsukino oppa has a little sister?"
"We don't look much alike. Come to think of it, she's the same age as you."
"We might run into each other at school then!"
"Y... yeah?"
It was a bit of a funny way to put it, but birth rates weren't as low back in this era. Even in this somewhat out-of-the-way spot under Tokyo Metropolis, there were plenty of kids and teens around. You could be in the same school, same grade, and never cross paths unless you went looking—right up until graduation. But why did it feel like she would go hunting for my sister? Hiyori was a hardcore introvert; she'd get drained just meeting Manatsu.
Anyway, today's dawn workout was done. Feeling the sun rise a little earlier each day, we hit the vending machine for drinks. Cola for me. Orange juice for her—the same shade as her hair. Neither of us was dieting, so we had no qualms about the sugar rush.
"Oppa, you into martial arts at all?"
"Thought about it, never trained."
"Your basics and stamina are solid. You'd pick it up fast."
"Mom hates injury-risk sports."
Manatsu pouted at that. I'd heard straight from her not long ago that her family practiced an ancestral martial art. Her hands were covered in scars, naturally. She called them badges of training, but the faint embarrassment when she showed them hinted at mixed feelings.
"Personally, I think those scars are cool."
"Huh?"
"Proof of effort. Hard work doesn't always pay off perfectly, but it builds something inside you."
My past-life experiences in Japan weren't directly applicable anywhere, but they came in handy back in Korea when job-hunting after graduation. That's how it goes. Feels like wasted effort, scars like ugly blemishes—but you never know when opportunity knocks.
I wrapped up the pep talk, feeling awkward, chugged the rest of my cola, and crushed the can with a satisfying crunch. Seriously, deep talks aren't my style.
"Hehe, never heard it put that way before."
"Yeah, who says stuff like that?"
Not peer talk, too preachy for adults. My face heated up after saying it. We got along fine, jogged together anyway—it was just casual chit-chat. She seemed to take it well, though, so I silently thanked her and grabbed another cola.
"Our place runs a dojo, so I figured if you're interested..."
"Tough right now."
"Oh... okay."
Truth was, I was torn. Joining her dojo felt like a one-way ticket to some weird plotline. But proper self-defense training could help. For now, I probed with questions—just in case.
"How many students at the dojo?"
"Uh, none..."
"What?"
"Well, there were a few before elementary school, but..."
Students dwindled yearly; her dad got pricklier, stopped taking them. She didn't know the family details, so his behavior baffled her. But recalling the original story, I figured it tied to their inherited curse. Still, knowing didn't mean I could fix it. The protagonist had reasons for being the hero—top-tier combat skills and a unique constitution that purified curses and yokai taint. Me? Even knowing everything, I probably couldn't do squat.
Interfere too much without thinking, and if I kept her from meeting the protagonist, the curse might never lift.
"Your dad might not like me anyway, and I gotta talk to my parents. Better take it slow."
"Yeah... guess so?"
"Pretty much."
Think it over slowly. I'd only recently realized this was the Aodaru world—barely time to plan. Finished the second cola; lingering meant Mom grilling me on the late return. Time to head out.
"Let's go. I'll mull the dojo thing."
"Yeah! Hope you join."
"Me too."
His constitution was innate; no way I could replicate it. Jumping into what I couldn't handle would just cause trouble.
"See you tomorrow!" Manatsu waved and vanished. I was jogging home easy when I paused.
Hmm. Tomorrow's Hiyori's first day too. Grab a snack to cheer her up? She wasn't great with new environments—probably stressing hard.
I detoured to that cake shop from my last errand run. One visit, and the market folks already remembered me—bowing greetings as they prepped shops. Reached the cake place.
"Hello."
"Back again, kid."
"She ate it without complaint. No fuss means she liked it."
"Some kids are like that. My personal rec—this one?"
"Strawberry shortcake slice?"
"Our bestseller. Most confident in the taste."
Good call. Hiyori liked strawberries. Whipped cream? Tolerable. She'd scarf mine no matter what, but pick wrong and she'd sulk all day. This should work.
"One of those, please."
"For your sister? Fancy wrapping."
"Thanks."
Waited on a shop stool while he packed. Last time was rushed; now I scanned the menu. Whole cakes, slices—choco, mocha, matcha, shortcake. All looked delish. Mocha for me, but allowance said no. They didn't sell coffee—nearby cafe did, five-minute walk.
"Done. Cute, right?"
"She'll love it."
We shared a grin; he handed over the box. Home for real now.
"See you."
"Ah, yes."
"Got a moment to talk?"
"Sure."
She led me to a bench, face blank as ever. I eyed the vending machine, but she waved me off and paid. Third cola—stomach bubbling—but I drank without complaint.
"Might be rude, but... do you know how to use spiritual energy?"
"...Not much. Learned basics from some scam fortune-teller granny before I even knew what it was."
"How'd that come about?"
"Sure."
I spilled it all: first ghost sighting, the half-baked spiritual training from shady Grandma Saji. No point hiding—her digging turned up nothing anyway. Better be upfront, tie up loose ends.
"Indeed. By my humble judgment, that fortune-teller chose wisely."
"Huh?"
"Spiritual sensitives get pulled toward the other side mentally. Out-of-body episodes, possession, madness from forbidden sights."
"Training body and soul with spiritual energy..."
"Exactly. Averted disaster."
Whew. Dodged danger unknowingly? Protagonist was a natural—no such warnings in his story. First I'd heard.
"That's what I need from you, Tsukino Takuya."
"What kind?"
"Unaligned, upstanding spiritualists are always short. Exorcising yokai stirring near Kanemachi."
I froze. She took it as assent—or pressure?—and landed the killer blow.
"Checked ahead: we're in the same class starting tomorrow. See you then."
She left. I muttered alone.
"For real? Same class."
That meant the protagonist too. Heroines' plots converging there. Vampires, werewolves, tech-raiding villains storming school. Class rep shrine maiden Hanasaki—knowing my powers—would rope me into something. Mind reeling.
Just go. Home.
Mentally drained beyond the workout, I opened the door. No Hiyori waiting today. Slipped off shoes, knocked at her room.
"What."
Bedhead and scowl. I offered the cake box. She took it, eyes widening slightly.
"What's this."
"Semester starts tomorrow. Hang in there."
She fidgeted, mumbled one word, fled inside.
"...Thanks."
Heh. Grumpy, but good heart. Tomorrow's school loomed—1% hype, 99% dread. Filled the bath. Craved a hot soak, stat.