Nakano Ward.
Under a calligraphy plaque reading "Nagisa Estate," two large wooden gates stood wide open. Outside the walls, a line of luxury cars were parked, and well-dressed guests flowed in one after another, guided by servants into the courtyard of the estate.
The courtyard had been redecorated in a Western style. On pristine long white tables were an array of delicate pastries and tall glasses filled with fine wine for guests to take at will. Maids in black gowns and white floral crowns stood smiling, ready to serve.
Those socializing quietly with drinks in hand were all young, attractive men and women, exuding either calm or gentle demeanors. Not a single one showed the arrogant air often associated with the rich second-generation.
At the far end of the courtyard, in a traditional-style building with open wooden doors, middle-aged and elderly guests sat on the wooden floor, some kneeling, others cross-legged, chatting casually. Dressed in kimonos, they resembled characters from a historical drama.
It was a perfect blend of old and new.
Yet no one dared to speak ill or show even a trace of disdain.
Because those seated on the floor were either heirs of old money or newly rich powerhouses—giants of politics and business whose mere presence could shift the lives of thousands.
And they had all gathered for one person:
Tenyo Akira.
The illegitimate daughter of the head of the Nagisa Zaibatsu.
Of course, no one would or could ever say that aloud.
Today was the day Tenyo Akira would officially be accepted into the family.
Such pomp, with half of Tokyo's aristocracy and business elite in attendance, was due to one thing:
She was an extraordinary being.
More than that, she was a divine one—the chosen priestess of the Inari God.
As the powerful guests chatted casually, their eyes occasionally drifted to the two people seated in the place of honor. Most couldn't hide their envy.
The young-looking woman seated there had a distant look on her face.
It turned out... that classmate of little Akira was right.
"Lady Nagisa, how about a little bet?"
"It won't be long before your family begs Akira to return."
That boy had spoken with utter certainty, like he was stating a fact.
And he had been right.
"Madam, are you feeling unwell?"
The middle-aged man beside her—only three years older than her but appearing decades older—spoke softly.
"Please, hold on."
He believed his wife couldn't bear to see the illegitimate daughter he had with another woman being welcomed so grandly.
But... this was someone extraordinary. If Akira turned against the Nagisa family, the entire upper echelon of the country would side with her.
Zaibatsu may rule from the shadows, but they were many, and they competed amongst themselves.
And extraordinary beings? As far as he knew, the government had none.
If they had, the Arakawa incident wouldn't have gone so poorly.
"No, I'm fine."
Lady Nagisa shook her head. It wasn't Akira she feared, but rather her mysterious classmate.
In truth, she had already discovered she could not, under any circumstances, reveal anything about that boy.
It wasn't loose lips—she kept a diary. The night she tried writing even a vague reference like "a certain classmate," she was instantly paralyzed.
From then on, she found any attempt to divulge information about him rendered her immobile.
And now, seeing everything unfold...
Who exactly was this Akiyuu Haruhi?
"Akira, if you don't want to—"
Inside Nagisa Ichiyo's room, the young lady dressed in a simple kimono helped her slightly smaller sister adjust her outfit.
"No, it just... feels unreal."
Dressed in a red-and-white miko (shrine maiden) outfit, Tenyo Akira appeared dazed.
Of course she longed for familial love.
Since learning of her father's existence, young Akira would often watch the estate from across the street, enviously observing the family of three.
But as she grew older, she realized an illegitimate daughter, who never once lived under the same roof, would never be showered with affection.
Even though she had since bonded with Ichiyo, and their relationship now felt like true sisters, some longing still lingered deep in her heart.
And now, just by nodding her head, she could have everything:
Parents. A family.
She and Ichiyo would be real sisters in every sense.
"It feels like a dream. Like I'll wake up and it'll all vanish..."
Two arms wrapped around Akira from behind.
Ichiyo, hugging her gently, rested her head on Akira's.
"No matter what changes, you'll always have me."
"We'll always be sisters."
"Mm."
From a corner of the room, the black fish curled up in a ball raised its head, eyes rolling.
Seriously?
It arrived only to witness a heartwarming sisterly moment.
Having transferred his consciousness into the creature, Akiyuu Haruhi blinked.
His face twisted into something unreadable.
As the mastermind, he had given Akira her power both to fulfill her wishes—after all, now the Nagisa family was practically begging her to return—and for another reason.
He needed to plant the God Tree.
As the sacred treasure of the Datongmu clan, the God Tree would grant the planter endless mana. Ideally, it should have been planted immediately.
But this was the parallel world version of Earth—a world encircled by over 5,000 satellites, its every inch monitored.
Places once full of mystery, like the Bermuda Triangle or Loch Ness, were now tourist attractions.
Every bit of land was owned and mapped!
If he planted the towering God Tree, it would be spotted instantly, fenced off, and dissected by researchers.
Even if he didn't care about the Datongmu's pride, what if the government decided it was dangerous and destroyed it?
What would he do—have the underdeveloped Ten Tails run around under the setting sun?
Too horrifying to imagine.
So, he decided to plant the tree right in Tokyo.
To make sure the government wouldn't destroy it, but protect it instead, he needed to offer something they couldn't refuse.
Medical ninjutsu was just the first step.
Even promises of "eternal life" weren't off the table.
But that was all for later. For now, he needed to grant Tenyo Akira her dream.
Thinking thus, the half-human-sized black fish swam toward the two girls.
"Huh?"
"No, Kuro, you can't."
"You'll scare the guests."
As Akira waved her hand to keep the earthquake catfish, which she named "Kuro," in place, the fish suddenly leapt at her.
?
Mid-air, it shrank again, transforming into a cat-sized creature that landed in Akira's arms with a soft plop.
Coiled into a ball, it tapped her hand with its tail, signaling its approval.
"Alright, but don't run off."
Holding the now tiny Kuro, Akira took a deep breath.
With Ichiyo giving her an encouraging nod, she stepped out.
"Ichizaki, you came too."
In the courtyard, small groups of young elites mingled. A handsome youth with a wine glass walked toward a cool-looking man.
"Shirakawa, huh," the man nodded slightly.
They were both heirs in training, learning to manage their families' businesses. They had interacted a few times and were barely friends.
But in business, "friendship" meant little.
"Do you know who today's main guest is?"
"You don't?"
The cool man responded with a question, receiving a helpless shrug in return.
"You know how ambitious my younger brother is..."
Being a rich heir wasn't easy either.
People assumed they had it made, but with scheming partners, cunning lawyers, and manipulative executives, anyone without true skill could see their inheritance drained "legally."
By the time they realized it, someone else would be the new power player.
As they say: "Don't fear the playboy heir, fear the ambitious one."
Elite families usually nurtured one successor; the rest were given stipends.
If multiple heirs were capable, it often turned into a battle of succession—not unlike ancient royal family feuds, just less bloody.
"You don't need to know her origins. Just know she's the absolute star today."
The cool man pointed to the other female guests.
All were dressed simply, fresh-faced, and appeared between 14 to 18.
Not a single one wore heavy makeup or flashy jewelry.
"Got it. Thanks."
The handsome youth nodded thoughtfully.
At that moment, a middle-aged man in a chauffeur's uniform walked to the hall.
"Begin."
The senior man nodded.
As soon as he spoke, silence fell over the courtyard and hall.
Clack, clack, clack...
The sound of wooden sandals approached.
Wearing a red-and-white miko outfit, Tenyo Akira, followed closely by Nagisa Ichiyo, stepped forward.
?
Many uninformed young elites in the garden looked puzzled.
A miko outfit?
While seen as mysterious and elegant in anime or to foreigners, in Japan it didn't have a great reputation.
After all, shrine maidens worked at shrines—owned by priests.
Their social status... well, wasn't high.
Even modern shrine maidens were just part-timers.
Many cosplay shops even had shrine maiden outfits.
And was that a catfish plushie she was holding?
The young elites were utterly confused.
But the middle-aged and elderly powerhouses inside the hall...
Their eyes lit up with barely restrained desire when they saw Akira.
An extraordinary being with healing abilities.
Then their gazes shifted to the black fish in her arms, and fear overtook desire.
If they angered her and she unleashed that earthquake catfish...
It wouldn't be a "closed-door beating" situation. It would be a bloodbath.
Step by step, Akira removed her sandals and entered the hall.
Stopping before the kneeling man and woman, she summoned her courage and looked at the man.
With white hair combed back, deep lines on his stern face, and crow's feet around his perpetually looking-down eyes, he wore a dark kimono like a character from a period drama.
"Fa... Father."
Mouth trembling, Akira instinctively hugged Kuro tighter.
She had rehearsed that word for over ten years, but now she couldn't say it.
"That's enough."
The stern man nodded and raised a hand.
"This is Ichiyo's mother."
Akira turned to greet her but was cut off.
"If you don't mind, you may call me Mother."
?!
"Mo... Mother."
Compared to the man she had never spoken to, Akira felt more warmth and familiarity from Ichiyo's mother.
And with that, under the watchful eyes of half the elite world, her acceptance into the family was complete.
Ceremony and formality are only chains for the weak.
Tenyo Akira was no weakling—she now stood above most zaibatsu heads.
"Akira, thank you for saving me that day."
"Akira, I'm..."
"Hello."
Stepping out of the hall, it was now social hour for the young generation.
Wherever Akira went, all eyes followed.
She became the center of a swirling vortex of young elites.
"Hello, hello, hello..."
Were it not for Ichiyo introducing people beside her, Akira might have passed out from the sheer number of greetings.
Everywhere she looked, she saw polite conversations.
Even those far away smiled, nodded, and raised glasses when she looked their way.
This feeling of being the axis of the world...
It was exhausting!