"Hey hey! Everyone this way, no cutting in line, no panic, don't run—follow this humble monk, yes, just like that! Good, very good…"
On a city street, Ashiya Douman, dressed in a flowing priestly robe, held a small red flag in one hand and a megaphone in the other. Trailing behind him were several schoolchildren, backpacks on their backs.
From a distance, it looked… very much like a shady old man trying to kidnap kids.
Suddenly, a high-rise building in the distance collapsed with a thunderous crash. A bloated, meaty mass—complete with a grotesque human face—burst from the rising cloud of dust and let out an earth-shaking roar.
It was Sanmoto Gorōzaemon's fat.
But before it could move another inch, a flash of red light flared in front of it. In the blink of an eye, the light engulfed it completely.
Boom!
A force of absolute repulsion crushed two-thirds of the fleshy mass into paste. The shockwave shattered windows in nearby buildings, sending glass raining down like a storm.
Douman lowered his hand slowly, then turned to the children with a cheerful smile, as if nothing had happened.
"As long as you stay close to this humble monk, you'll be perfectly safe. So—let me take you back to your parents, all right?"
The various Doumans scattered throughout the city were all shikigami—spiritual doubles created by the original Ashiya Douman. He was, after all, a master of crafting exact copies of himself. The Douman who had once appeared in the Greek Lostbelt? A shikigami created by the real one—though the connection had later been severed by Peperoncino.
If you're wondering what the original was doing while his doubles ran amok…
He was busy eating dog food (XP embers) and leveling up.
Inside a fast food joint, another scene unfolded.
Two Doumans stood across from each other at a table. Between them sat a hammer and a safety helmet labeled SAFETY FIRST.
"Rock…"
"Paper…"
"Scissors!"
Both extended their hands. One threw rock, the other paper.
In a flash, the loser snatched up the safety helmet, slammed it onto his head, and stood with arms folded confidently across his chest.
Then, he looked up—and saw the other Douman grinning like a beast, shouldering an RPG-7 rocket launcher.
"Surprise, motherfucker."
Oh no.
BOOM!
The fast food restaurant exploded into fire and debris. Glass shattered, the front door went flying across the street like a discus.
"What the hell are you idiots doing?!"
Another Douman—trailing a group of kids—ran up to the scene and shouted furiously into the smoldering wreckage.
Out of the smoke, a half-human silhouette staggered into view.
Yes. Half.
The upper body had been blown clean off. Only the legs emerged from the haze.
Without hesitation, the child-wrangling Douman gave the lower half a sharp kick, sending it tumbling back into the smoke.
"I've got kids with me, you moron! Can you try not to blow yourselves up in public?! Get your damn limbs together before showing your face again!"
Three seconds later, a fully restored Douman emerged, shoulders slumped, robes pristine—not a speck of dust on him.
"You two are unbelievable… I'm out here babysitting so hard I'm losing hair, and you're in here goofing off playing games?"
"Ah, you just don't get it."
The RPG-toting Douman said smugly, "A famous expert once said: a truly excellent team must have a Tiger of strength, an Eagle of foresight, a Wolf of battle, a Leopard of agility… and a Dog who slacks off. If this humble monk plays the slacker, it'll inspire the others to work harder!"
"Then you work harder too!!"
The babysitting Douman roared and kicked the RPG Douman in the rear.
"Talk about us all you want—what exactly were you doing, huh?"
The half-exploded Douman chimed in. "We might be evil enough to dye the Yellow River black just by jumping in, but abducting children? That's low, even for us. The other villains at Chaldea would laugh you out of the room."
"If you don't need your eyes, donate them to someone who does."
Babysitter Douman looked constipated. "There were multiple yōkai sightings in Shibuya—yes, that Shibuya, the busiest intersection in the world. If I hadn't shown up in time, it would've been a mass casualty event. These kids got separated from their parents. I'm trying to get them back."
He paused, looking even more annoyed.
"But every time I return a child, I find another one lost. The number keeps going up. I started with four—now it's doubled."
"Mmmm… What do you think this is, Snake? Collect a fruit—er, child—and your tail gets longer."
"Less sass, more help. I have zero experience with kids. You two, take a few off my hands. Lighten the load."
"No experience? Didn't you used to play with those little ones at Chaldea?"
"That's different. At least with Nursery Rhyme, Jack, and Jeanne, I didn't have to worry about their safety. If they started causing chaos, I'd happily grab popcorn and become a very innocent bystander."
"A fine 'innocent bystander' you are…"
---
Location: Nura Clan Main House
"Aaaah… this feels so nice."
A woman, wrapped in steam and drying her neck with a towel, sighed with contentment. Her name was Nura Wakana, Nura Rikuo's mother—a normal human.
"Kejōrō, thank you for coming with me."
"Not at all, Wakana-sama. I'd be honored to wash your back anytime~"
Trailing behind her was a stunning woman in a loose white kimono, black wavy hair cascading like living serpents. Her charm bordered on supernatural—a seductress incarnate.
She was Kejōrō—a yōkai said to prowl around brothels, seducing lecherous men. After a night together, the client would awaken with thick hair sprouting uncontrollably all over their body… until it consumed them.
Kejōrō served the Nura Clan and answered to Wakana as the second generation's wife and thus her mistress.
"Everyone's been on edge today… I wasn't even sure if I should take a bath…"
Wakana spoke idly as she walked, her frank, sunny personality warm and endearing.
"Still, Kejōrō—your skin is incredibly soft and bouncy!"
"W-What?! Really?"
Kejōrō lit up, delighted.
"Well… today is an exception. Everyone went out to fight under the Third's command, after all…"
"Yes…"
Wakana's hand paused mid-wipe. She glanced up at the moon, hanging silver above the clouds.
"Rikuo's gotten so mischievous these days…"
From behind, Kejōrō murmured gently, "You must… really worry about Rikou-sama."
"Not at all! Oh! The plum blossoms are blooming!"
Muttering but it's not even spring yet, Wakana skipped off toward the garden.
"W-Wakana-sama!"
Under the plum tree, she looked up at the blooming flowers, eyes sparkling with joy.
"Oh my… before I realized it, they've grown so big…"
She turned back with a radiant smile.
"I don't worry too much. Rikuo's a lot like his father, you know…"
That smile—so bright it was almost dazzling—sent ripples through Kejōrō's expression.
Her eyes, hidden beneath her hair, began to churn with shadow.
"Rikou-sama… surely cherishes you deeply as well, Wakana-sama…"
As Wakana returned to admiring the blossoms, Kejōrō whispered.
Her long hair slithered like vipers into the shadows.
"Huh?"
Sensing something, Wakana turned—only to find Kejōrō gone. White fog crept over her feet, thick enough to hide her ankles.
"Kejōrō? Where'd you go?"
She looked around, confused. In the dark behind her, a pair of eyes—cold and full of killing intent—locked onto her.
"Nura Rikuo's weakness… is humanity."
"Take away everything he loves—and he'll fall. He'll fall straight into hell!"
Two hands gripped a dagger. A shadow moved silently behind her—then drove the blade down.
Squelch.
The knife pierced muscle, hilt-deep. Blood erupted like arrows into the sky.
"Kejō…rō…"
Wakana's stunned gaze met her attacker's cruel grin.
"We're not done yet… our hatred for the Nura Clan—this is only the beginning!"
She wrenched the dagger out—then plunged it in again.
Squelch!
Blood gushed like a broken dam.
But her smile faltered. Her cheeks bulged.
Suddenly, she coughed—vomiting a mouthful of blood.
Hands trembling, she reached for her abdomen.
Nothing.
"W-What…?"
Her legs gave out.
She collapsed—just as a voice came from above.
"Oh my~ Why are you kneeling, Kejōrō? Did you drop your wallet?"
It was Wakana's voice.
But the malice in it… felt like a billion insects crawling into her ears, devouring her brain.
A hand grabbed her hair and yanked her up, forcing her to meet "Wakana's" gaze.
The real Wakana had eyes like warm amber—gentle, a little scatterbrained, but resilient and kind.
But this "Wakana"… smiled like a demon. Blood dripped down her cheek. Her eyes were obsidian, glinting with enough malice to drown the world.
"You…"
"Confused? Angry? Regretful? In despair? Mmmmm~ That's exactly the face I wanted to see! Your hatred, your sorrow, your fury—they are the highest praise you could give me! This humble monk is honored! Fufufufu!"
With that hideous laugh, the fake Wakana gently caressed Kejōrō's face. Her sharp nails drew long gashes, and beads of red slipped down her fingers.
Kejōrō trembled uncontrollably.
She realized—this thing before her… wasn't human. Wasn't yōkai.
It was something else. Pure, condensed evil, wrapped in human skin.
"Um… Mister Limbo?"
Another voice—eerily similar—called out. Timid, cautious.
Wakana peeked around the corner. The real Wakana.
"Has the intruder… been dealt with?"
The courtyard fell silent.
Now, everyone saw them both.
And Kejōrō understood instantly—that one over there… was the real Nura Wakana.
So this was it.
The trick she always used—disguise, deception, infiltration—used against her.
But there was no time to care. She needed to survive.
RIP—
The Wakana before her yanked hard.
Not just hair—but skin. The whole face peeled away.
Her true form emerged.
Sanmoto's "Face" — Tamasaburō.
Her power: to become anyone by crafting and wearing their face. She could even give copies to others.
Now fully revealed, Tamasaburō drew her naginata and charged the "frozen" Wakana.
"Got you!"
Her crescent slash tore through Wakana—splitting her clean in half.
"Hahaha! Nura Rikuo, so-called heir—you can't even protect your own mother! You can't protect anything!"
She cackled…
Then stopped.
"Why is my body… falling?"
"Why… can't I feel anything below my shoulders…?"
Before she could understand what had happened, her mind was swallowed by darkness.
As her body disintegrated into ashes, Wakana covered her mouth with her sleeve, blinking in confusion.
Then she saw "herself"—the other Wakana—approaching gracefully, steps as light as a lotus.
"Um… Mister Limbo, why did that person suddenly rush at me, swing a sword… and cut themselves in half?"
"Hehe! Who knows?"
The other Wakana's eyes curved like crescent moons as she hid her smile behind her sleeve.
"Maybe… they had a sudden pang of conscience. Realized their sins were unforgivable. And, overwhelmed by guilt… committed seppuku on the spot~ Hehehe!"