Her Smile Was Beautiful
Her smile had been beautiful. Thud—thud— The faint moonlight and pitch-black darkness were all that remained on the street. Now that they'd entered a sparsely populated area, no one was around. They'd left school together, but she was heading home alone.
The golden-haired little brat, Eris Betelgeuse, had screamed that she wanted nothing to do with the poison—antidote combo, but he'd forced it into her hands anyway before parting ways right there.
"Hmm, is she embarrassed, I wonder? I simply can't fathom why she'd refuse such a thoughtful gift from me."
Eris was as foul-tempered as they came, with terrible taste to boot. It was a miraculous potion that might kill them both if taken together—yet she'd balked at it. Only after he'd offered to let her run a toxicity test did the endless tug-of-war finally end.
"I'm the one doing the good deed here, so why do I have to explain myself? Sheesh..."
Eris grumbled while Kitagawa Kenichi sulked like a child. Stuck with the sorry fate of babysitting those two, he sadly shook his head. It'd be great if every kid were as cheerful as Ichinose Hotaru—or even Sawamura Cento, at a push. But reality never quite bent to his whims.
Lost in dejection, he gazed up at the sorrowful night sky and resolved anew: he'd torment Kenichi before the night was out.
—Grroooaaar...
He drew the dagger from his sleeve once more.
"Well, no helping it."
A man of kind heart, responsibility, and ability to boot—who else would step up if not him? What a heavy burden. Living in a world that would essentially perish without him came with its share of pressures. Nurturing his reluctant protagonists, diligently slaying the city's monsters... Such a busy life brought joy at times, but regret now and then as well.
"If only I could swap Tachibana Sawako and Eris's souls outright."
What nonsense. The shrewd and steadfast man flashed a wry smirk as he steadied his dagger—even shaking off his fleeting melancholy.
—Grrraaah!
With everything in place, he swung at the shrieking beast. Slash! Once again, he cleaved through the city's shadows.
"A special specimen?"
Sawamura Cento asked with a puzzled look. It was class time, learning the essentials of yokai lore alongside sorcery.
Her gaze finally tore free from her mentor's ample bosom to settle on the woman's benevolent face.
"I figured yokai came in types, but..."
Shihei Rin, who'd been filling in as Cento's sorcery tutor these past few days, nodded emphatically.
"Indeed. Just as humans differ by birth and innate traits, so do yokai. Humans gestate in their mother's womb, but yokai arise from an animal's grudge spirit fused with human emotions."
Cow spirits and lingering regrets coalescing birth cow-like yokai; dead fish spawn fish-shaped monsters. Hearing of insect yokai like mantises or ants made Cento grimace in visceral disgust—yet she felt a spark of curiosity too.
...So, cockroach yokai exist too?
Ugh—curiosity revoked. The mere image sent chills racing across her skin. Not from killing a few, mind you; it took thousands, even tens of thousands, to birth one. And that was for high-intelligence animals like cows, dogs, or cats—insects rarely formed yokai at all.
"Yokai stem from humans' intense emotions and desires—their primary sustenance. Not that animals lack feelings; they simply don't harbor the sharp grudges and hatred we do."
Shihei Rin shrugged with a smile. Watching her, Cento couldn't help thinking she resembled Ichimaru Shiki—a rude notion. Maybe from all the time spent together lately.
Then a thought struck her, and Cento tilted her head.
"Um, I haven't encountered any myself, but... are most yokai humanoid, then?"
Animals needed countless deaths to build grudges, but humans amassed them swiftly—especially in cities, with high death tolls and varied causes. Unless they'd lived a full life, their regrets would be profound.
Since awakening, Cento had holed up at the Shihei estate every evening yokai emerged, so she'd never seen one. She imagined zombie-like human forms shambling about at dusk—sadly, wrong.
"Hehe, rarer than insects, but pure humanoid yokai are scarce."
"Huh? Why?"
Surprised, Cento blinked wide-eyed. Her mentor smiled kindly, correcting the common misconception.
"As post-mortem grudges, emotions run so wild they warp the original form. And human shapes don't last long."
The reason was simple.
"They're food."
Cannibalism among kin. Humanoid yokai formed from people's emotions and souls—freshly born, thus weak, yet prime feasts for other yokai, fattening their spirits handsomely. They drew predators easily, and sorcerers prioritized eliminating them. Their vast soul-vessels offered high potential strength, but that wasn't the main issue.
Shihei Rin gazed at her pupil with a smile, but chilling eyes, murmuring:
"Humans eat humans. Even as yokai, that holds true."
Devouring the living, and yokai born of human desires alike. They spawned in droves and died in droves, piling grudges endlessly.
"Those that evolve through such cannibalism are the special specimens."
Aggregate of human post-mortem grudges and desires.
"Oni."
'Sorry.'
She'd always pictured him grinning cheerfully. Tachibana Sawako recalled his bitter expression as she strolled the dark street.
His lips had never drooped before, so she'd expected a lighthearted rejection this time too. Instead, a solemn reply.
'It's not that I dislike you.'
He hadn't smiled—rather, he'd looked sorrowful. Quite unexpected. She'd dragged him aside to demand an answer, yet here he was apologizing.
No need for that, she'd thought—maybe comfort him in turn? But the rejected party playing therapist felt absurd, so she let it go. Her heart ached too.
"Ahh, this sucks."
Expect nothing, get hurt less, they say. She'd braced for rejection, but it still stung to the bone.
Like him, she managed a wry smile.
...Maybe I shouldn't have confessed.
She'd mailed the letter to avoid regrets, voicing her feelings—but all that lingered was fresh heartbreak.
...Things'll be awkward in class now, huh.
Staying friends would be nice, like Kitagawa Kenichi hanging with the class rep Cento or Ichinose Hotaru. If she'd been a guy, they could've bonded over sports... Or would I even like him then?
"Haa..."
Girl A, Sawako, sighed deeply, dragging her heavy feet onward. She didn't want to go straight home tonight, so she'd wandered—but a 17-year-old high schooler had only one place: family.
Regrets lingered, but it was time.
'Would he have accepted if I were prettier?'
Tachibana Sawako was just one of countless ordinary Tokyo schoolgirls. If she'd had something special. Some charm beyond looks—would he have said yes?
"Gah, come on, Sawako! Time to head home!"
Shaking off circling thoughts, she forced a smile, banishing the gloom. Showing up disheveled tomorrow? Everyone would peg her for a heartbroken mess. Already rejected, but she hated the optics.
Rallying herself, she lifted her downcast gaze ahead.
"Hello, little miss."
A beauty straight out of fantasy—one who'd make anyone wish for this. Bathed in moonlight, her vivid, mystical figure shone even in the dark... The stunning woman bent down, caressing Sawako's cheek.
Sawako's pupils quivered.
The beauty smiled alluringly.
"Don't you want to become special?"
Her voice rolled like jade beads.
Ichimaru Shiki glanced at the night sky. No crimson moon through the clouds—just the lone crescent beaming down, smirking amid inky blackness.
"What a pretty moon."
That smile had been beautiful too...
In the empty alley, before the barrier, the narrow-eyed man wryly shook his head.
Foolish lingering thoughts.
"Everyone has their own path."
He'd long discarded true smiles. All that remained: stubborn ego paved with pretty lies, and forward momentum.
Smiling, Shiki murmured:
"Well then, shall we?"
Time to head home.
"Kenichi!"
His self-proclaimed master's voice rang out. Thud! Thud! Tensing at the heavy footfalls, the boy gripped his submerged Demon Sword tight.
Kenichi eyed the charging yokai—a hulking mass of pure muscle.
...That ain't human, animal, or even alive, is it?
Honestly, he didn't want to fight. His bravado from gaining power had faded; battling grotesque lifeforms held zero appeal.
But his so-called master wouldn't stand for slacking.
"What's this, not moving?!"
As expected. Kenichi squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them with grim resolve—swinging his sword with vigor.