At two-thirty in the afternoon, Blue Sky Kindergarten let out.
Under the teachers' supervision, the noisy little kids lined up in rows and made their way toward the school buses.
Minamoto Senya was among them.
He quietly found a seat for himself and settled in.
Through the bus window, he spotted little Yukinoshita walking toward a black sedan at the school gate.
Whether it was pure coincidence or she had been deliberately searching for someone, their gazes met across the distance.
Naturally, Senya gave her the slightest of nods.
She seemed surprised by the gesture, but after a moment's hesitation, she nodded back.
Senya couldn't help but laugh softly at her clumsy but earnest attempt to mimic his action.
It was obvious: when it came to interacting with others, Yukinoshita Yukino wasn't very skilled.
The black sedan drove away, and once the teachers had finished counting heads, the school bus rumbled into motion as well.
Twenty minutes later, the bus stopped in front of a house marked with the surname Minamoto on its nameplate.
Led by a teacher, Senya got off.
Unlike most of the other children, whose parents were already waiting to pick them up, no one stood there to greet him.
He was used to it by now. Waving goodbye to the teacher, he took a key from his pocket and slid it into the lock himself.
Inside, he stepped lightly.
The door to the master bedroom wasn't closed. The curtains were drawn tightly, and faint snores leaked out.
His so-called "father" was still asleep.
Senya returned to his room, picked up a children's picture book, and began to read.
Whenever he came across a character he didn't know, he used the dictionary to check, murmured the pronunciation under his breath, and wrote it out again and again.
At present, his Japanese ability was only LV2. He could recognize most everyday words and hold basic conversations.
But to him, that wasn't enough. He had to raise his Japanese until it was as fluent as his mother tongue.
By five in the evening, the doorbell rang—it was the deliveryman.
Father and son sat together at the dining table, eating convenience store bento in silence. Neither said a word.
Minamoto Sanada, Senya's father, was just past thirty.
He worked as a bartender in a nightclub, usually leaving home at dusk and returning the following morning.
Years of living in reverse—rarely seeing daylight—had left his skin pale. Combined with his sharp features, he gave off a decent first impression. One might even grudgingly call him a "handsome middle-aged man."
Senya's memories held nothing of a mother. Perhaps there had been a separation, or perhaps something else.
But to Senya now, it hardly mattered.
"Go to bed early tonight. No matter who knocks, don't open the door. Call me if something happens."
That was Sanada's only reminder before leaving for work.
Senya gave a slow nod.
Sanada was long accustomed to his son's silence and said no more, slipping out into the evening.
For Senya, this wasn't the first time. Still, he couldn't help thinking his father was far too careless.
Leaving a five-year-old home alone overnight without a second thought?
But complaints aside, this arrangement suited him perfectly well.
From now until tomorrow morning, he was completely unsupervised—free to do whatever he pleased.
The first few days after his transmigration, he had been obedient, shuttling between home and kindergarten.
But now that he had settled in, he decided it was about time to explore.
Senya wandered aimlessly through the streets.
The sun sank toward the horizon, tinting the city in golden evening light.
Dusk was the most relaxed time of day.
Adults, leaving work, shed the armor of the office. A breeze across their faces carried away fatigue, loosening their moods.
Students, spilling out of school, laughed and shouted, jostling each other with youthful energy. The sweat of after-school clubs, the swing of skirts in motion—all of it bursting with adolescent hormones.
In that tide of humanity, Senya was like a single drop in the ocean, blending in unnoticed.
At first he had worried that people would stare strangely at a child wandering alone.
But clearly, he had been overthinking it.
This was modern life—streets bustling with people, each too busy with their own matters to pay attention to a stranger's child.
And Senya was glad of it.
Focused on exploration, he watched as the fog of his system's map peeled away, one block at a time, filling in new territory. For some reason, it gave him a deep sense of satisfaction.
He was in such good spirits that he even hummed softly to himself.
Then, passing the entrance of a park, Senya suddenly froze.
Not far away, a dog had caught his eye.
It looked like a stray—no collar, fur grimy and unkempt.
Something dangled from its mouth as it trotted toward the park.
What made Senya notice it, though, was the unmistakable exclamation mark hovering above its head.
Unlike the golden mark that had appeared over Yukinoshita earlier, this one was a glowing blue.
The color might have been different, but Senya didn't hesitate.
Without a second thought, he broke into a run.
He didn't know what that blue exclamation meant.
But if the system had flagged it, then whether it brought fortune or trouble, he needed to chase it down.
For a brief moment, panting lightly as he ran, Senya's thoughts turned chuunibyou.
What if this seemingly ordinary stray dog is actually destined to be the first companion of my great adventure?
But reality quickly shattered his fantasy.
The dog stopped in a deserted corner of the park, hesitated, then bolted away again.
Senya, a step behind, blinked in surprise.
The dog had gone—but the blue exclamation mark remained, fixed in place like a system glitch.
When he drew closer, he realized why.
Lying quietly on the ground was a black leather-bound notebook, crafted with surprising elegance.
The idea of catching a Pokémon-like partner vanished from his head.
What replaced it were thoughts like—
A new world's grimoire!
Zazass, zazass, nastana zazass…
Crouching, he saw the system prompt.
[A communication notebook shared between mother and daughter. Of little value to you, but likely of great emotional significance to its owner.]
Senya's anticipation dimmed, but he still reached for it—only to recoil when he noticed drool staining the cover.
He pulled tissues from his pocket, carefully wiping it down with several sheets before picking it up.
Opening the first page, elegant handwriting greeted him:
[Sweetheart, even if Mama isn't by your side, take care of yourself. Study hard, eat well, drink lots of milk. Spend happy days with the young lady. Mama will always love you~]
On the next page, the script turned rounder, more childlike.
[Mama, I've been working really hard! My etiquette teacher said I have talent. The young lady has been slacking in class lately, but I've been keeping her on track. I miss you, Mama. Next time we meet… can we go to the amusement park together?]
He turned another page.
[Of course, darling. I've arranged my next break. Next month, let's go to the amusement park. Afterward, we'll visit your favorite restaurant, and I'll finally give you the birthday present I missed…]
[Yay! Mama, I love you most of all…]
Senya read intently, an image of a spoiled, mother-obsessed little girl growing clearer in his mind.
At that moment, a small figure about his own age came running toward him, tears spilling down her cheeks.
She bit her lip hard to hold back her sobs, eyes darting anxiously around as if searching.
Then her gaze locked on Senya.
Her expression froze—and in the next second, she dashed straight at him.
"Give it back!"
"Wham!"
Senya had been careless. Unprepared, he was knocked flat.
The tearful little girl straddled him without a shred of composure, clutching the notebook tightly against her chest as though terrified of losing it again.
Her tiny nose twitched with sniffles, but she clung to it with all her strength.