Riding the wind as if untethered from the earth, drifting like some celestial being.
The disposable plastic bag fluttered lightly at her side, and even the little grill hanging around her neck swayed back and forth with the robot's rapid motion.
Beneath her feet, the white cylindrical rollers squeaked incessantly—groaning under a burden far too heavy for their years.
Natsume Sonoko's gaze was calm, her expression blank, like a monarch surveying her realm. She glided through alleyways and avenues alike, patrolling her invisible domain in a world unseen by others.
"Anybody home? This is delivery!"
She gave a gentle rap on Saten's dorm room door, then cleared her throat deliberately, a barely perceptible smirk flickering across her face.
"Coming, coming! Huh… I don't remember ordering anything."
Saten's voice came immediately from behind the door, muttering something under her breath.
"Excuse me," she said as she cracked the door open, peering out with suspicion, "but didn't you deliver to the wrong address? This is Sakagawa Middle School Dormitory Building 3—not 13."
"No mistake at all—it's definitely Saten's room."
"Oh! It's you, Natsume!" Saten puffed out her cheeks slightly and swung the door wide open, hands on her hips. "Oh no—you're way too early! My room's still a mess!"
She suddenly remembered something, panic flashing across her face as she rushed to explain.
"That's alright," Natsume said brightly, nodding firmly. Her eyes lit up with sudden intensity—she could hardly wait to start the hotpot party.
Saten's dorm wasn't large, but it had that classic "small but perfectly formed" charm: bedroom, kitchenette, and bathroom all neatly arranged, with a modest but not cramped hallway running through the center.
Just inside the entrance stood a three-tier shoe rack, and beyond it, built flush into the wall, loomed a large wardrobe—its doors still ajar. Inside, clothes of every kind spilled out in chaotic abundance, and a few casual outfits lay haphazardly piled on the nearby bed, not yet put away.
"Sorry," Saten said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head before shutting the door behind them.
"Natsume, could you sit tight for a bit? I've still got to borrow a ceramic hotpot from a friend, so I can't really entertain you right now."
She sounded genuinely apologetic. Though she'd risen as early as usual today, preparations for the reading circle had taken far longer than expected.
As she spoke, she gathered up her scattered clothes, folding them neatly and tucking them into the wardrobe.
Once everything was in order—even the dust in the corners swept clean—Saten pulled out an induction cooker from somewhere and set it on a low table in the bedroom.
"Ta-da! Behold my secret weapon for hotpot perfection! Pretty cool, huh?"
She grinned proudly. Though it was just a standard model, it could boil water in under forty seconds—a true speed demon in the kitchen.
"But hey," she added, crouching down slightly to inspect the pile of items Natsume had brought in, "I've been wondering… that thing you had hanging around your neck earlier—wasn't that a grill?"
"Yep!" Natsume nodded eagerly, her expression instantly smug. "Grilling while hotpotting? Doesn't that sound just like summer camp?"
"Ah, I see! Only you'd think of something like that, Natsume."
Saten's eyes widened slightly. After a brief pause, she nodded in hearty agreement.
In many ways, the two of them just clicked.
"Still," Saten added thoughtfully, "you really should've gotten a gas or electric grill. Charcoal indoors isn't exactly… safe."
"No worries!" Natsume declared confidently. "This grill runs on clean, green, futuristic energy—zero emissions, totally eco-friendly!"
Meanwhile, back in Saten's room, Natsume lay sprawled on the bed while Saten had already dashed off to borrow the pot.
The mattress was firmer than she liked—almost like sleeping on the floor back at Uncle Mōri's place, a memory long buried but suddenly vivid again.
"Ugh… time's dragging. When's this hotpot party finally starting?"
Boredom painted her features slack as she stared out the window, glassy-eyed.
Lately, there'd been too much on her mind—school starting up again, for one. Honestly, a good hotpot party was exactly what she needed right now.
And ever since some mad scientist had inexplicably decided to target her, her everyday life had taken a sharp turn. She couldn't just wander around in public like before—not without drawing unwanted attention.
To avoid more trouble, Natsume had quietly resolved to become a phantom haunting the streets of Tokiwadai—just like those online rumors claimed—until the day she finally reached Level 5.
"If I ever find out who's behind this," she thought darkly, "they're gonna regret it."
While Natsume waited impatiently, chaos had just erupted in a certain unfortunate family restaurant. The air still crackled with tension, thick with the scent of scorched pride.
--+--
"You actually dare say that, knowing Onee-sama is Tokiwadai's Railgun?"
"Our Mugino's got real combat experience—no way some rookie like that can compare. Mugino's going to win, no question."
"Sure, Onee-sama wears cute mascot underwear, buys childish household goods, and lines up every month for frog plushies—but her strength? She's absolutely worthy of being Tokiwadai's ace."
"Mugino's the same! Even if her secret underwear underneath is—"
"How can that flat board even compare to Mugino? Tell her to come back after a few more years of growth! Mugino's figure is absolutely perfect."
"Focusing only on curves is so shallow. When you consider future potential, Onee-sama is clearly number one—no contest."
The argument spiraled out of control. Supporters of the two Level 5s refused to yield, their words escalating until they were practically grabbing and shoving each other.
Moments later, two very disheveled Level 5s bolted out the restaurant's front door. They shot each other a fierce glare—then instantly looked away, sharing an unspoken understanding.
Neither wanted to linger. Each carried a limp, monochrome-styled figure slung over their shoulder, hurrying off in opposite directions without a backward glance.
"Frenda… there won't be a next time. Now I can never show my face at that place again."
"Kuroko, you absolute menace—prepare for justice!"
Only after both parties had vanished did the restaurant staff dare peek out from behind the counter, their terrified expressions finally softening with relief.
--+--
Dark clouds gathered overhead, though the rain still held back. The day's heat crested once more—it was nearly noon, right on schedule.
"Sorry to intrude."
Misaka-senpai's voice rang out, accompanied by a soft knock on the door, snapping Natsume from her daydream.
She opened the door to find Misaka-senpai smiling warmly—and Shirai-san standing beside her, battered and bruised, looking thoroughly disheveled.
"Saten went out to borrow something. She should be back any minute," Natsume said absently, her eyes drifting toward Shirai-san.
"Did you just get back from a mission? You're covered in injuries…"
Natsume's voice was laced with concern. But Shirai-san was supposed to be off-duty today—only Uiharu was on shift at Judgment Branch 177.
"I'm fine. Really, don't worry about it," Shirai-san replied with a strained, ladylike smile, shaking her head to avoid the topic.
Misaka-senpai, however, stood stiffly beside her, lips twitching as she fought to suppress a storm of emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.
"I see…" Natsume murmured, glancing between the two. She had a pretty good idea what had happened.
Shirai-san really had a gift for getting under Misaka-senpai's skin—impressive, in its own way.
"I'm back!"
Just then, Saten appeared in the doorway, cradling a ceramic pot nearly the size of a washbasin.
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.