"Anon? What's wrong with you... Ah!"
Mr. and Mrs. Chihaya, who had been called by the doctor to discuss follow-up matters, came looking for her, following the commotion. Seeing their daughter standing bewildered in the corridor, and Yuutenji Nyamu, who was clearly in distress not far away, Mr. and Mrs. Chihaya immediately realized something was wrong.
Under the gentle and patient questioning of Mr. and Mrs. Chihaya, Nyamu finally, haltingly and with sobs, recounted what had happened.
The Chihaya Family of three listened, exchanged glances, their faces filled with unbelievable shock.
Anon's father couldn't help but adjust his glasses, murmuring, "This... Mr. Yuutenji, his way of doing things is truly... unconventional."
He really couldn't think of a gentler word.
Anon, even more so, gaped, her gray eyes filled with pure astonishment; she couldn't imagine such a brother existed in the world.
But when the initial shock passed, looking at the young girl from Kumamoto, not much older than herself, yet now as fragile as a seedling battered by a storm, the kind nature of the Chihaya Family immediately took over.
"Child, don't be afraid. Calm down first, there's always a way out."
Anon's mother sighed softly, walked forward, and gently put her arm around Nyamu's trembling shoulders.
"But... my school..." Nyamu's voice still conveyed a sense of powerlessness.
"Tokyo is so big, there's always a way," Anon's father said calmly, with a reassuring strength.
Just then, Anon moved.
She walked a few steps to Nyamu, ignoring her disheveled state and tear-streaked face, and extended her hands, firmly grasping Nyamu's still slightly trembling hands.
The girl's hands were warm and firm, with an undeniable sincerity.
"Yuutenji!" Anon's voice was clear and pleasant, with a vitality that could pierce through the gloom.
"If you don't have anywhere to go temporarily, and you don't mind, you can stay at my house first! We still have a spare room!"
Nyamu froze, raising her tear-filled face, looking incredulously at the unfamiliar pink-haired girl in front of her.
Those gray eyes were clear, without a trace of charity or pity, only pure kindness and invitation.
"Yes, that's right!" Anon's mother immediately chimed in, a gentle smile on her face, "Anon is right, our house is nearby, it's very convenient. For a girl like you, new to the city and having experienced this, settling down first is the most important thing. For other matters, we can slowly figure them out."
"This... how can I impose..." Nyamu's voice carried hesitation and immense apprehension; the sudden kindness left her at a loss.
"It's okay!"
Anon squeezed her hand tightly, a smile as bright as the warm spring sun blooming on her face.
"We're the same age, we can keep each other company! My name is Chihaya Anon, please take care of me!" Her words had a natural affinity that made them impossible to refuse.
At this moment, Chihaya Anon truly seemed to radiate an angelic glow.
With a simple invitation and a warm handshake, she steadily supported Yuutenji Nyamu's heart, which had fallen into an icy abyss.
This selfless help became Nyamu's first solid foothold in the unfamiliar land of Tokyo.
As this touching scene unfolded, Anon's peripheral vision instinctively scanned beside her, looking for the golden-haired young man's figure, wanting to share the joy of this small "successful rescue."
However, the spot beside her was already empty.
The young man named Enrico, as silently as he had appeared, had already vanished into the depths of the hospital corridor.
A faint sense of loss flickered in Anon's heart, but it was quickly replaced by the new friend who needed help more...
After losing track of Yuutenji Minoru and sensing that others were approaching, Fuuki immediately chose to slip away.
As he left, he didn't forget to pull out his phone and send a message to the pink-haired girl he had just befriended, explaining, [I'll go after him.]
Immediately after, he switched to another phone and issued an instruction to a member of his intelligence network, codenamed 'Spider,' to search for the target nearby.
Only after 'Spider,' whose avatar was a yellow triangle, sent several interfered surveillance videos, did Fuuki temporarily put the pursuit of Yuutenji Minoru on hold.
============
The heavy gate of the Togawa Residence was silently pushed open. The afterglow passed through the stained glass on the porch, casting colorful and mottled light and shadows on the floor.
Fuuki stepped into the entrance hall, walking on these light and shadows, still carrying a bit of dust.
Just as he was about to take off his trench coat, a small figure came into view.
Wakaba Mutsumi was sitting quietly on a small red stool in the entrance hall. The stool seemed a bit too short for her, making her figure appear even more slender.
She was wearing simple home clothes, her light green hair falling smoothly over her shoulders. Her amber eyes, illuminated by the molten gold of the setting sun, held a different kind of luster than usual.
She sat there quietly, like a lily of the valley waiting for the night dew.
Seeing Fuuki push the door open, her eyes brightened slightly.
"Welcome back, Fuuki."
"I'm back, Mutsumi." A natural softness flowed from Fuuki's reply.
Mutsumi stood up and walked in front of Fuuki, slightly rising on her tiptoes—her height was not enough to look Fuuki in the eye at present.
She extended her fair hands, with a delicate focus, and gently cupped Fuuki's cheeks, her fingertips cool, feeling like fine silk.
Fuuki cooperatively lowered his head slightly; he felt Mutsumi's fingertips gently stroking the contours of his facial bones, as if sensing some invisible structure.
A moment later, Mutsumi withdrew her hands.
His neat golden short hair reappeared, healthy bronzed skin covered the previous pale white, and his facial features returned to the steady, slightly melancholic look characteristic of a young man.
A hint of approval flashed in Fuuki's eyes; Wakaba Mutsumi's use of the 'Lightning Rider' ability, its precision and control, had improved far beyond his expectations.
This nearly perfect "plastic surgery" and "restoration" was invaluable in the current situation where frequent identity switching was required.
However, just as he felt joy over this progress, he noticed that Mutsumi was still standing in front of him, her small face slightly tilted upwards, her eyes now staring at him unblinkingly, intently.
In the depths of her gaze, some ineffable... scrutiny seemed to churn?
"Fuuki has an unfamiliar scent."
"An unfamiliar woman."
She tilted her head slightly, added a sentence, and then extended a slender finger, beginning to count seriously, one by one:
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5..."
Fuuki paused slightly, instantly retrieving from memory all the women he had been in close contact with today: Shiina Taki, Takagi Naoko, Chihaya Anon... If he added the unconscious school doctor and the little girl with a toothache... it was exactly five.
He seemed to understand what Mutsumi meant.
She wasn't being unreasonable, but rather, with her almost intuitive method, she keenly detected the hidden risks.
The potential risk of exposure that came with him changing identities and having close contact with different people.
Some subtle habitual movements, inadvertently revealed tones of voice, or even faint lingering scents, could all become clues for someone with a discerning mind (especially a Stand User) to connect the two identities.
'Indeed, this new appearance is useful, but if I frequently interact closely with others, over time, errors are bound to occur.' Fuuki calmly assessed in his mind.
'If the other party observes carefully, some subtle similarities in habits could very likely become the trigger for this identity's exposure.'
Exposure meant uncertainty in the plan, and it meant needing more actions to cover it up, which he was currently striving to avoid.
'However, the situation is special now.'
'If I want to quickly build up a force of my own, I still have to do it myself, and I have to be the 'standard' for everything.'
Personal contact was necessary for precise guidance and to engrave the desired mark deep within their souls.
Risk was a necessary cost.
"Mutsumi..." Fuuki looked at the girl's clear yet unfathomable eyes, frankly acknowledging her insight.
"Your concern is valid, but I can still bear this level (referring to the risk)."
"I see the risk, I understand your concern, but I choose to accept it because a greater goal requires it. This is a trade-off based on rational calculation."
However, what answered him was Mutsumi's long silence.
She still looked up, Fuuki's reflection in her amber pupils, without any ripples.
Just as Fuuki thought the conversation was over, Mutsumi spoke again, her voice still calm and unruffled, yet revealing a subtle sense of instruction:
"Fuuki, face."
"Huh?" Fuuki was a little confused, thinking there might be something in his restored appearance that needed fine-tuning, perhaps a detail wasn't perfect?
He obediently bent down and brought his face closer to Mutsumi, making it easier for her to check and correct again.
What greeted him, however, was not the anticipated corrective touch with a faint current.
Slap!
A crisp sound, accompanied by a faint crackle of electricity, was exceptionally clear in the quiet entrance hall!
Mutsumi's small palm, with a flickering blue electric spark, landed squarely on Fuuki's face.
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