Was That Real?
In the back alleys of the city center, hidden from prying eyes in the shadows, lay the mangled corpse of a monster, shredded to pieces. And atop that corpse sat a boy, drenched in purple bodily fluids, staring blankly into space.
Fsssh... As the monster's body turned to ash, the fluids splattered across the alley and the traces of battle began to change as well. It was as if nothing had happened—like paint covering up the evidence. What had burned away crumbled to ash, what had been destroyed swelled back up, filling with flesh. The fluids coating the boy's body scattered away as ash.
Fssssh... As the horrific, sticky liquids finally vanished, light returned to the boy's vacant pupils.
His body bore no wounds, but every time that viscous fluid had touched him, it felt like his very soul was wearing away. The boy—Kitagawa Kenichi—muttered hollowly.
"...That was way too horrific."
His self-proclaimed master, Ichimaru Shiki, who had watched him the whole time without moving, nodded along with a grunt.
"Indeed, it must have seemed that way."
"...More importantly, Shiki, why aren't you fighting?"
This was supposed to be yokai extermination under the cover of night. Yet this damn master—and former friend—hadn't lifted a finger.
Ichimaru Shiki shrugged nonchalantly, his face utterly calm.
"Well, yokai hunting doubles as your training, Kenichi-kun. If I helped, they'd get sliced clean in one swing, and poof—no training value left, right?"
"...Couldn't you at least cast a spell to keep the fluids off me? You can do that stuff, yeah?"
"Hahaha! Kenichi, enduring that disgust is part of the training too!"
"..."
Kenichi gave up on the conversation. If he pushed further, he'd probably hear something like, "Oh? If you'd prefer it easy, we could head back to the mansion and make up the training time?" And that would make him want to throw in the towel on life entirely.
His mind, now accustomed to Ichimaru Shiki's antics, automatically supplied the perfect retort.
'This is even worse.'
Cheonoecheon—heaven beyond heaven. Realizing anew that there were skies above the skies, he stood up right away. He wasn't sure if the training was really paying off, but he had gotten used to it—and more than that, he wanted to eliminate any chance of extra sessions.
The boy who once loved nothing but playing around had long since become a desperate adult, scrambling for at least one of those goals.
"Ooh, perfect timing! Another monster's popped up!"
Grinning ear to ear and clapping his hands, Ichimaru Shiki suddenly reached into empty air.
Kiiieeek— A sword was already in his hand. The dust floating in the air, the black ashes of the monster—everything in the world had frozen still.
In this halted world, Ichimaru Shiki spoke casually.
"Shall we go?"
As promised, Kenichi stepped out of the dark alley to take on the next monster.
It had been a fortnight now since they'd started these yokai hunts. Kitagawa Kenichi recalled the "apocalypse" his former damnable friend had spat out.
"First off, Tokyo turns into a sea of flames."
Ichimaru Shiki had declared it out of nowhere, then stroked his chin belatedly and tilted his head.
"Ah, correction. With me around, no one has to die completely. The Shihei estate's sorcerers are intact too. Still, there'll be some sacrifices."
No matter how hard they'd run around preparing before, once the conflagration truly rose, they couldn't stop it without any damage. Humans, property—something always bore the scorch marks.
As he spoke such commonsense truths, Ichimaru Shiki locked eyes with Kenichi, who had slumped to the floor of the reception room.
"Once Tokyo overflows with yokai, they'll come straight for you first, Kenichi. They'll figure out quick who's the one who can seal them. To eliminate every variable, the whole horde will swarm you."
"...That's a hell of a story."
"Well, that's once the real disaster kicks off—and when I'm not around. But just in case, it's best to prepare so you can survive solo."
Shiki smiled his usual grin.
"I'll kindly help you get strong enough to fight monsters alone, Kenichi!"
Kindly my ass, Kenichi had thought back then—and he had even more to say now. The guy calling himself his master just dragged him to city monsters and dropped him in front of them—no further teachings, no help.
"Puhaha, this one's a tomato monster. Looks like someone really hated eating tomatoes."
"...Shut up."
Even when he'd been drenched in the tomato yokai's—was it even a yokai?—crimson-black fluids, or knocked flying by a strong monster's punch, Ichimaru Shiki had just spectated and chatted.
"That one was easier, huh? Very! Slightly! Looks like your skills have improved a bit."
"...D-Damn it."
One day, I'll punch that smug face. Thanks to that daily resolution—and rolling on the ground—his skills had improved. He'd gotten the knack for handling his sword, the monsters' movements were crystal clear now. He wasn't getting hit by stray attacks nearly as much.
"Kenichi, you didn't take any hits yesterday, did you?"
Even his childhood friend could tell. Hotaru scanned his unscathed face and the exposed parts not hidden by his uniform.
She thought he'd started going to a karate dojo lately—he'd made that excuse.
'Better than telling her I'm fighting city monsters and worrying her.'
It'd be hard to explain anyway. Kenichi nodded along, then sneaked a glance at Shiki in the back row and Sawamura Cento beside him.
Those two knew everything, but talking to them felt... awkward somehow.
...Uncomfortable, yeah.
Shiki was friendly but the kind of guy—like a boss—you didn't want to give any openings to exploit. Cento seemed to be learning the same stuff at the same place, but they never crossed paths. Yeah, they weren't close.
'Heroes are lonely, huh.'
Kitagawa Kenichi realized it anew. Putting on a deliberately gloomy face, he turned to Hotaru, his desk neighbor and partner-in-crime.
"Let's stay best friends forever, no changes."
"...? Uh, sure."
Hotaru looked baffled but nodded anyway. Kenichi was satisfied with that. His free time had shrunk lately, so less hanging out, but he'd make it up to her. Vowing inwardly, he slammed his head on the desk.
"Kenichi, sleeping?"
"...Yeah."
Next period was homeroom teacher and math instructor Yamamoto Baki's class, so he needed to catch some Z's in advance.
As Kenichi was drifting off with his head down, a rowdy commotion erupted from the other side of the classroom.
"Whoa, hasn't she gotten even prettier?"
He peeked up. Some girls from class were huddled, gossiping. Probably Eris Betelgeuse's usual crew, but she was MIA—in her place was a delicate Japanese beauty.
Who's that again?
As Kenichi racked his brain for her name, one said,
"She was always pretty, but now she's dolling up."
"Nah, come on—must be the cosmetics or something. K-beauty from Korea's all the rage; maybe I should try that?"
"Aigoo, you're hopeless. I'm worried you'll blow cash on weird stuff again—talk her down."
One girl addressed the radiant beauty.
"Sawako."
Right, that was her name.
One Sunday morning, Eris Betelgeuse grumbled at an earlier-than-usual call from England.
"Jeez, giving me something so sketchy."
Ichimaru Shiki's "gift." ...A pitch-black vial of deadly poison, supposedly.
Just in case, they'd run toxicity tests and inspections here, but she still didn't trust it. Even so, she'd shipped it to England because she needed leverage.
Ichimaru Shiki was undeniably weird, but not total villain material.
'Well, even when we first met, he saved someone on the stairs.'
Not that it erased his sleazy vibe entirely. Not just the atmosphere—his words and actions were shady as hell!
Undeniable fact. Anxious for those reasons, she'd sent the potion anyway, trusting for now. Hospitals wouldn't administer unidentified potions without full checks anyway.
And today, the results were in.
Eris picked up, face dubious, and cut straight to it.
"So, toxicity?"
—...No.
"Huh? Then why's your voice like that?"
The woman who usually tended her parents sounded teary today.
Eris Betelgeuse felt a dizzying vertigo and asked carefully.
"...Did their condition worsen again?"
—...Not that either.
"Then what?"
Irritation mixed with surging anxiety and frustration. But the woman on the line sniffed without a care and replied.
—We administered the medicine you sent to the master and madam.
"...What?"
They'd dosed them already? The stuff she had sent, uneasy as hell...
Eris Betelgeuse swallowed dryly, tension thick, and pressed.
"...And? What happened?"
The reply wasn't specific on their state. But it was clearer, more certain than any detail.
—...Congratulations, miss!
Hearing that, Eris's legs gave out—thud!—and she collapsed.
Staring blankly at the receiver blaring on the floor, she thought.
'That was real?'
Not poison, but an antidote? ...For real?
Eris Betelgeuse lay sprawled on the floor, dazed, for a good while.