Just a few blocks away from Ikebukuro Station stood the five-star café known as Your Mama—a place so overpriced it practically screamed elitism.
Everything inside was crafted from the finest materials.
And there, Ezakiel and Tsumi sat—same table, opposite sides.
The polished glass between them reflected more than just their faces; it reflected the tension that filled the air.
"I've already wasted enough time on this nonsense. Come to the point quickly," Ezakiel said, stirring his espresso with deliberate slowness before taking a sip.
Across the table, Tsumi mirrored his motion, swirling her own cup as if mocking him, then brought it to her lips.
"The point, hmm?" she said, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "Well… I'm rather curious. Why would a being like you walk among men—especially while masquerading as a high school student?"
"I am a high school student—I mean, this body is. The soul may not be, but you already know that. After all, you did call me 'uncle' back at school," Ezakiel said, taking another sip before letting the glass dangle by the rim, balanced between two fingers, swaying lazily as though it might fall. His other arm rested on the glass table, his face leaning against his hand, his whole posture radiating boredom.
"Yeah, I can see souls, after all," Tsumi replied, setting her own glass down. "I already noticed something was wrong when I observed you a day or so, afer which I decided to peek into your soul. And then I saw what you really are… a thirty-year-old virgin man."
Goddamn… why does that sting so much every single time? Ezakiel thought, a vein of irritation running through him. Out of everything, that's the one thing that actually gets under my skin. I seriously need to graduate from this virgin crap soon… maybe I should just hit up a brothel and get it over with…
He exhaled through his nose, forcing the thoughts away, and set his own glass down with deliberate calm. "And how exactly did you figure out I'm a monster? Even if rare breeds like mine exist, we're not easy to pin down. Maybe you'd have luck with the other two rare types, but not mine."
"It wasn't easy," Tsumi admitted with a sly smile. "But when you punched me, you left a trace—residual energy burning and pulsing inside me. All I had to do was follow it back to the source."
Just then, a waitress approached, balancing a plate of warm, crusted chocolate-thrust croissants. She placed them neatly on the table between the two before offering a polite bow and heading back down the aisle.
"Next time, I'll be more careful about which magical girl I punch—making sure not to leave my magical energy behind inside them," Ezakiel said, picking up his croissant. He tore it cleanly in half, set one piece back on the plate, and bit into the other.
"Yeah, you better be," Tsumi shot back with a smirk, lifting her own croissant. "It's not good to go fisting young girls, old man. Most of them can't handle the… size you pack."
Ezakiel paused mid-bite, staring at her. He lowered the croissant slowly, brow twitching. "That's… wow. That's one hell of a way to phrase it. You realize how bad that makes me sound, right? Like, real bad."
"Please, you're a monster. And don't even try that shitty line—'I'm a villain, not a monster'—because you literally are one," Tsumi said, taking another bite of her croissant with infuriating calm.
"You are so damn annoying," Ezakiel muttered, his jaw tightening. Honestly, I'd rather deal with her psycho, unhinged side than whatever smug act she's playing at right now. At least the psycho part is honest.
"Nevertheless…" he leaned back slightly, resting his croissant on the plate, his voice low and edged, "you still haven't explained how you figured me out. My breed. Even those other two rare types aren't widely known among magical girls. But mine?" His eyes narrowed. "Even rarer. And you're certainly not high enough rank to have access to that kind of information."
Tsumi picked up her espresso and took a sip. "Let's say… after you left—which, I'm pretty surprised you managed to tank the concept of death I threw at you and the other magical girl. You know, the one in silver armor who got a little backhand from you before teleporting away—after that, the head of the branch I work for came with two magical girls. I won't say who they are; that's kind of a secret for now. But they gave me some info about the one they call the Big Black Centipede, or BBC."
So… the principal, huh? One of the two magical girls who accompanied her could be Mari, and the other… I'm not sure, but a few names come to mind… Ezakiel thought.
He leaned forward slightly. "Whatever you call me, tell me—why don't you want to tell your fellow magical girls about me? Why keep it a secret?"
"Now's not the time to answer that," Tsumi said, setting her espresso down. "I'll just say this—I'll need your help with something. You have to help me. Or, if I tell everyone… you may be a mid-to-high A rank monster, but you cannot handle all of us. So… will you?"
"I see…" Ezakiel said in a low tone. Though it's not surprising. I should have already guessed this—Tsumi was originally after Tatsuya's power, wanting to use it to remake the world, to create a reality where unborn fetuses could walk the earth freely and experience the lives they were denied. Of course, that idea was pretty much abandoned once she… fell in love with him. All that mumbo-jumbo about him saving her life...
Tsumi cracked her fingers and said, "I see… the way you say it makes it feel like there's more to the word 'I see' than what actually comes out."
"Perhaps… perhaps not," Ezakiel replied slowly. "I'd answer that, but I know how your ability works—you can see through lies. So that's the best I can say. I'd rather keep things personal, but I'll be honest: I won't interfere… or do anything that might jeopardize what you want me to do—or rather, what we need my help with—as long as you keep your part of the bargain."
He leaned a bit closer to her before leaning back again, keeping his tone measured.
"I will..."
"I have to say it's a nice place, though… was it truly wise to use magical powers here in the open, making others hear different sentences than what we are actually saying? You might have drawn eyes from others, who knows?" Ezakiel said.
Dropping his finger on the espresso cup, stirring it slowly, he considered her method. She was manipulating sound by bending the vibrations of the air—shaping amplitude and frequency so that different listeners perceived different words. Clever, yes, but still magic radiating outward. Any trained magical girl attuned to mana fluctuations could detect the subtle distortions, like tiny ripples in the fabric of the soundscape.
"Oh, don't worry, I took precautions already," Tsumi said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I can't be careless, not after feeling the impact of your fist on my fragile little stomach. It made my poor brain go huuuwish…" She puffed her cheeks, crossed her eyes, and pulled an exaggerated face—half-joke, half-taunt.
"You know what? On a scale of one to ten…" Ezakiel rose from his seat, brushing crumbs from his coat. "Psycho—ten out of ten. Acting—five out of ten. Annoying me? A hundred out of a ten."
"Huh? Where are you going?" Tsumi asked, tilting her head with faux innocence.
"I have things to do." He moved toward the window, glancing down at the street below. His voice cooled as he added, "Besides… it's not much fun to spar with a mirage."
The real Tsumi wasn't here; she stood in the shadowed alley, her eyes fixed on him.
The figure before him was nothing more than a meticulously crafted projection—a weave of bent light and carefully modulated sound waves.
Not something his eyes couldn't perceive. While inferior to his six monster eyes, it still served its purpose perfectly.
"True," her voice echoed as the projection stood up. "Anyway, we're done for today. Though next time we meet, I want to hear how you know about my history. About me being a discarded, unborn fetus. Not many magical girls know that. So tell me—how did a monster like you figure it out?"
The projection snapped its fingers, and the spell unraveled.
"I can't tell you that. I must keep a few cards up my sleeve as well, don't you think?" Ezakiel said, his voice calm as he turned and walked away.
"That makes a lot of sense," her voice lingered faintly, thinning out as it dissolved into the ambient murmur of the café.