The room finally went quiet in that way it only does after things have cooled down.
We were sitting on the tatami in the living room. The lights were on, but it still felt dim because the sky outside was gray and wet. You could hear rain ticking off the balcony rail and the occasional drip from the eaves like the world was counting time.
Tohka sat right next to me—extremely close. Her knee kept brushing mine whenever she shifted, and every time it happened she didn't move away. If anything, she leaned in harder like she was trying to glue herself to my side.
Kotori sat across from us with her usual posture—straight back, legs tucked under, candy in her mouth like she'd been born with it. She looked calm again, but I could tell she'd been surprised. Not a little surprised. Real surprised.
Reine was in the kitchen behind us, quiet as always. I could hear her moving around, the soft clink of dishes and the sound of a pot lid being lifted and set down. Something warm smelled like it was starting—miso, maybe. Or just something simple to keep the house from feeling empty.
My clothes were dry now. Not perfectly—my jacket still had damp spots—but I'd taken a towel and rubbed at the worst of it before sitting down. The light blue jacket was back on because the house had gotten cold again.
Tohka kept staring at me like she was waiting for me to confess something.
Kotori broke the silence first.
"So..." she said, voice casual but eyes sharp. "Tell me exactly what happened."
Tohka's cheeks puffed out. "Yes. Exactly."
I looked from Kotori to Tohka and back again.
"...Where do I start," I muttered.
Tohka leaned closer with a face full of suspicion. "Start with why you were with her."
Kotori's eyebrow lifted. "Tohka."
Tohka didn't look away. "No."
I exhaled and rubbed my palm on my thigh.
"I went out," I said. "I was coming home. It started raining. And I saw a girl outside."
Tohka's eyes narrowed instantly. "A girl outside."
Kotori didn't jump in with a lecture. She just watched me. "Outside where."
"Near the neighborhood streets," I said. "Not far."
Tohka's suspicion didn't drop at all.
Kotori's tone stayed even. "What was she doing."
"She was... playing," I said. "In the rain."
Tohka blinked once. "Playing?"
Kotori's face shifted slightly, interested. "Playing how."
I hesitated because it still sounded weird out loud.
"Spinning around," I said. "Like she didn't care she was getting wet."
"Playing..? That is strange..." said Tohka
"Yeah," I agreed. "It was strange."
Kotori tapped her candy against her teeth once. "Then what."
"She slipped," I said. "Hard. She fell."
I stopped for a beat then continued
"I ran over," I said. "I helped her up."
Tohka's gaze sharpened. "You touched her."
"Not like—" I started, then stopped myself because arguing like that made it worse. "I mean, yeah. I helped her. She hit the ground. I checked if she was okay."
Tohka's eyes stayed on me, intense. "And then."
"And then she woke up," I said. "And she got scared."
Kotori's eyes stayed neutral. "Scared of you."
I nodded. "Yeah."
Tohka's expression turned confused and annoyed at the same time. "Why would she be scared of you."
"I don't know," I said honestly. "She just... was."
Tohka's pout came back. "Maybe because you look suspicious."
Kotori sighed through her nose. "Tohka."
Tohka crossed her arms. "He does."
I didn't even have the energy to argue. I just kept going.
"She dropped her puppet when she fell," I said. "It came off her hand."
Tohka tilted her head. "Puppet?"
Kotori's gaze stayed steady. "Puppet huh.."
"Yeah," I said. "I picked it up. I gave it back."
Tohka leaned forward. "You gave it back."
"Yes."
"Why?" Tohka asked curious like human decency wasn't a thing.
"Because it was hers," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "And she was staring at it like it was the only thing in the world that mattered."
Kotori nodded slightly like that detail fit into a box in her head.
Tohka still looked irritated, but her suspicion wobbled a little at the thought of someone being that scared.
Kotori asked, "And she accepted it."
"After a second," I said. "She hesitated. Then she grabbed it and put it back on."
Kotori tilted her head. "And then it spoke."
Huh.... Guess she already knew.
I suppose that confirms she was some type of spirit.
Tohka's glare snapped to Kotori. "It spoke!?"
Kotori blinked, unbothered. "That's what he said."
Tohka looked back at me like I'd just told her the floor could bark. "Puppets do not speak."
"I know," I said. "This one does.."
Tohka's eyes narrowed harder. "Why."
"I don't know why," I said. "It just... does."
Kotori's voice stayed curious, not accusing. "Ventriloquism huh.. What did it say?"
I scratched the back of my head. "It talked like it was... guarding her."
"Guarding?" Tohka asked curious
"Yeah," I said. "It was suspicious of me. It kept insulting me."
Kotori's mouth twitched like she was trying not to laugh. "Insulting you."
"It called me the worst," I said.
Tohka glared instantly. "It is correct."
"Tohka.." I sighed.
Kotori ignored Tohka for a second and focused on me. "So you had a conversation with Yoshino and the puppet."
"Yeah," I said. "Sort of."
Tohka leaned in again, voice low and sharp. "And you were alone with them."
"Yes," I admitted.
Tohka's eyes narrowed like she was trying to stab the truth out of me. "That is not good."
Kotori looked at Tohka. "Tohka, you're making this sound like a crime."
"It is!" Tohka said immediately.
I stared at her. "How is it a crime."
Tohka's cheeks puffed. "Because you are mine."
Kotori made a small choking sound like she'd swallowed her candy wrong.
I froze.
Tohka said it like it was the most normal sentence in the world.
Kotori's face turned red for half a second. "Tohka—"
Tohka frowned at Kotori. "What."
Kotori coughed once and forced herself back into her usual tone. "We are not having this conversation."
Tohka narrowed her eyes. "Why."
"Because," Kotori snapped, "we have bigger problems than you declaring ownership like a medieval warlord."
Tohka looked confused. "Warlord?"
I rubbed my face with both hands and tried to breathe.
"Okay," I said, voice muffled through my palms. "Can we please focus."
Tohka huffed but stayed close.
Kotori leaned forward a little, expression calmer now. "You still haven't told us the most important part."
I lowered my hands. "What."
Kotori's eyes narrowed. "Who was she."
Tohka's posture stiffened again. "Yes. Who."
I hesitated.
Kotori noticed and didn't push too hard, just asked it straight. "Did you get her name."
"...Yes," I said.
Tohka's eyes narrowed annoyed. "You got her name...?"
Kotori's eyebrows lifted. "What is it?"
"Yoshino," I said.
Tohka repeated it slowly, testing it. "Yo-shi-no."
Kotori nodded once like she was filing it away. "And her puppet?"
I exhaled. "The puppet's name is... Yoshinon."
Tohka blinked. "Yoshino. Yoshinon."
Kotori's hummed. "Two names."
Tohka leaned closer to me, suspicious again. "Why two."
I stared at the tatami. "It's complicated."
Tohka persisted. "Explain."
"It's literally just... the puppet and the girl," I said. "Yoshino is the girl. Yoshinon is the puppet."
Tohka looked offended by the idea of needing two names. "Why would a puppet need a name."
"Because it's important I guess?" I said.
Tohka looked like she was going to argue again, then stopped because she didn't have a better answer.
Kotori asked, still curious, "How did you learn the names."
I shrugged. "They told me."
Tohka's pout returned. "They told you."
"Yes..?"
Tohka stared at me for a long second, then muttered, "...You talk to girls easily."
"I definitely don't!" I said immediately.
Tohka glared. "You do!"
Kotori raised her candy like a judge. "Alright alright, Tohka stop."
Tohka crossed her arms. "No."
I looked at Kotori like, help.
Kotori looked mildly confused now, like she was surprised I wasn't stuttering or panicking like she expected of her dear Onii-Chan.
Maybe I should've been.
But honestly?
I was just... relieved.
Despite Yoshino running away... Tohka was here. In my house. Right next to me. Complaining, pouting, acting jealous in the weirdest way—yeah, it was stressful, but it was also proof she was okay.
That thought alone made my chest feel lighter.
Tohka noticed my expression soften and she leaned in even closer like she was claiming that softness for herself.
Kotori watched it and frowned slightly. "You're... happy?"
I blinked. "Of course I'm happy."
Kotori's eyes narrowed like she was studying a bug that had learned to talk. "You're not embarrassed? No complaints?"
I stared at her confused. "Why would I be embarrassed?"
"Most boys would be.." She said looking at me like I was a intresting alien and not her dear brother.
Tohka immediately said, "He is not most boys."
Kotori pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please don't hype him up."
Tohka huffed. "I will."
I sighed and tried to steer us back.
"Kotori.." said, "why is she.... Here?"
Kotori and Tohka blinked. "Excuse me?" Kotori said raising a brow.
Tohka's eyes furrowed looking at me with a bit of hurt instantly assuming the worst. "Shidou... Is it bad for me to be-?"
"It's a good thing!" I instantly shout out. "I-I just wanted to know what she's doing here! Doesn't she have to be in the Fraxinus?"
Tohka's face switches to distaste at the reminder of the ship.
Kotori's expression however, shifted like she was choosing her words.
"Tohka is gonna be staying here for the time being" Kotori said bluntly.
Both girls watched my expression carefully after the words.
Those words instantly took away part of the tension that has been eating at me all day.
I didn't pretend to be surprised either. I just felt my stomach relax.
This was exactly what I wanted. Her here, not there with Ratatoskr.
Here
Not there
"Good," I said, and meant it.
Kotori blinked at my reaction. "That's it? 'Good'?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Good, Great even."
Kotori stared like she'd expected me to complain about privacy or get flustered or argue.
Instead I just smiled, and it felt real.
Tohka's pout softened again at that. She glanced at Kotori like, See? He wants me here.
Kotori clicked her tongue quietly, then looked away seemingly bothered that she didn't get a reaction. "Fine."
Reine's voice drifted in from the kitchen, sleepy as ever. "Dinner soon."
Kotori replied without looking back, "Thanks."
Tohka perked up instantly. "Dinner."
I muttered, "Of course."
I wasn't even hungry I just had pizza..
Yoshino's face flashed in my head briefly.
She was so scared...
I snapped out of it focusing back on Kotori
Kotori turned back to me, interest returning. "Anyway. We came here because it's safer for Tohka to stay close."
Tohka nodded once, happy. "Yes!"
Kotori continued, "And because we need to monitor her condition."
Tohka's eyes narrowed slightly at the word "monitor," but she didn't argue.
I did.
"Monitor," I repeated, flat.
Kotori met my eyes. "Shidou—"
"I'm not arguing," I said. "I'm just... tired of that word."
Kotori's expression softened a fraction. "She's fine."
Tohka leaned into me again, voice low. "I am fine Shidou..." her voice was laced with warmth.
I glanced at her. "I know."
Kotori watched us, then shifted her attention back to the topic that was still hanging in the room.
"And Yoshino," Kotori said.
Tohka stiffened immediately. "Yes. Yoshino."
Kotori's eyes narrowed. "Shidou. Did you realize she might be a Spirit."
There it was.
I could tell Kotori wasn't assuming I knew for sure. She didn't say "So you found a Spirit." She said "might."
I appreciated that.
"I... felt something," I admitted. "A familiar kind of feeling."
Tohka's head tilted. "Spirit..?"
Kotori nodded slowly. "And Ratatoskr didn't know..."
I blinked. "You didn't..?"
Kotori answered calmly, "We did not."
So Yoshino was able to appear quietly with no space-quake or damage....
Kotori leaned forward a little more, voice curious. "So tell me. Why did she come to your house."
This kind of felt like an investigation...
I exhaled. "Because it was raining, and she was scared, and I offered."
Kotori's eyes narrowed slightly. "You offered. Just like that."
I shrugged. "Yeah."
Tohka's suspicion flared again. "You offered because she is a girl!"
"No!" I said immediately, sharper than I meant to. Then I softened it. "I offered because she was a kid. Alone in the rain."
Tohka frowned. "She didn't look that young"
"She's small," I said. "And she looked terrified."
Tohka stared at me like she was trying to decide whether to accept that.
The jealousy part of her didn't vanish, but it mixed with something else—confusion, maybe. Because Tohka didn't really understand the idea of "helping someone" without it being part of a battle or a plan.
Kotori asked, "What did Yoshinon say."
I couldn't help it—my mouth twitched.
Kotori noticed. "You're smiling. That means it said something dumb."
"It called me homeless," I admitted.
Tohka blinked. "Homeless."
Kotori's lips pressed together like she was holding back laughter. "Because of your outfit."
I glanced down at my jacket sleeve. "Probably."
Tohka frowned at my clothes again. "Your clothes are strange today Shidou.. especially in school."
"I know," I said flatly. I didn't wanna be reminded
Kotori tilted her head. "And what did you say back to Yoshino?"
"I asked why they were playing in the rain," I said.
Kotori's expression stayed thoughtful. "And they... warmed up."
"Kind of," I said. "The puppet was still suspicious, but it also... encouraged her."
Tohka looked confused now. "Encouraged?"
"Yeah," I said. "Like it wanted her to be brave."
Kotori sat back slightly. "So it seemed protective?"
"Exactly," I said. "It's teasing, it insults, it acts tough... but it also pushes her forward."
Tohka looked annoyed. "It sounds annoying."
I shrugged. "It is."
Kotori's eyes stayed sharp. "So why did Yoshino disappear when we arrived."
The air cooled again.
I remembered it too clearly—her tiny face going pale, the way her shoulders jumped like she'd been hit by sound, the panic that rushed in the instant she saw more people.
I swallowed.
"She got scared..?"I said quietly. "She thought... she thought she was going to get hurt."
Tohka's pout softened a little.
Kotori's expression tightened. "Hm..."
Tohka muttered, "She should have trusted you..."
I looked at Tohka. "She barely knows me."
Tohka's eyes narrowed like she didn't like that logic. "Neither did I."
Kotori sighed softly. "Tohka—"
Tohka snapped glaring. "What?!"
Kotori didn't fight. She just continued, calm. "It doesn't work like that."
Tohka looked frustrated and turned her gaze to me again. "Did you like her."
I stared at her.
Kotori's eyes widened a fraction like, oh no.
"Like her?" I repeated.
Tohka leaned closer, voice low and serious. "Did you."
Maybe a little
"No," I said immediately. "Tohka, I— I just met her."
Tohka's eyes narrowed. "That is how it starts."
Kotori groaned quietly. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."
I tried not to laugh, because Tohka was dead serious, and if I laughed she'd probably get mad.
I reached up and lightly touched the side of her sleeve, a small gesture, careful.
"Tohka.." I said, simple. "I'm happy you're here."
Tohka blinked.
Her suspicion wavered.
I continued, because it mattered. "This is what I wanted. I wanted you safe. Here. With me."
Tohka's cheeks turned a little pink.
Kotori stared at me like she still couldn't believe I was saying it so easily.
Tohka's voice dropped, quieter. "Then... do not leave."
"I won't," I said.
Tohka leaned into my shoulder and stayed there. The jealousy didn't fully disappear, but it calmed down, like a storm turning into a steady drizzle.
Kotori let out a slow breath, then shifted gears.
"Okay," she said. "We'll deal with Yoshino... later."
I grimaced. "Later?"
Kotori nodded. "Yes. Later. Right now, we need to focus on Tohka's situation."
Tohka puffed her cheeks again. "I am fine."
Kotori gave her a flat look. "You lost most of your power."
Tohka crossed her arms. "So."
Kotori's eyes narrowed. "So we need to be careful."
Tohka huffed. "Fine."
I watched them bicker and, weirdly, it made me feel normal. Like this was what family sounded like, even if it was a strange kind.
I glanced toward the kitchen.
Reine was still in there, quiet, stirring something. She looked like she could fall asleep standing up, but she was still making food like it mattered.
I turned back to Kotori.
"You said you're monitoring her," I said. "But she's here now. That's good. That's... that's enough for me."
Kotori's gaze softened slightly. "Good."
Tohka nodded, satisfied. "Yes."
I hesitated, then added, because the thought had been sitting in my chest like a pebble.
"And... Kotori."
Kotori looked at me. "What."
I kept my tone calm. Not accusing. Just asking. It felt like a pretty obvious question if you thought about it.
"How does Ratatoskr know.." I said slowly, "that I can seal Spirits with a kiss?"
Her face instantly froze
Even the kitchen sounds felt quieter for a second.
Kotori didn't answer right away.
Her candy clicked once against her teeth, then stopped.
I watched her face.
Kotori was good at acting calm. But her eyes tightened.
Not anger.
Not annoyance.
Unease.
I swallowed, but I didn't back off yet.
"You told me," I said, "like it was already confirmed. Like it wasn't just... a guess."
Kotori's voice came out careful. "Because it's your power."
"But how do you know," I asked again. "How did you know before I ever did it."
Tohka's eyes moved between us, confused.
I looked down at the tatami, my fingers picking lightly at the edge of my sleeve.
"It's not like I sealed anyone before Tohka," I said quietly. "Right..?"
Kotori's jaw tightened.
She didn't say yes.
She didn't say no.
That silence answered too much.
My stomach sank.
I breathed out slowly.
I brought out something fragile
"...Does this have to do with five years ago..?" I asked, softer now.
Kotori went very still.
Kotori's mouth opened—closed.
Her face looked strained for a heartbeat, like she was carrying something heavy and I'd just bumped the handle.
I stared at her.
Then I made the choice I always make when I feel a door opening into something I'm not ready to face.
I shook my head.
"You know what," I said, forcing my voice lighter. "Never mind."
Kotori blinked. "Shidou—"
"I don't care," I said, and it wasn't completely true, but it was true enough to protect the moment. "I don't really want to know."
Then I looked back at Kotori and tried to puncture the tension before it stuck.
"Ignorance is bliss~" I said.
Kotori stared at me like she was torn between relief and annoyance.
I tried to add a little extra to make it land, because that's what I do when things get too heavy.
I winked.
It failed spectacularly.
It came out awkward—more like my eye twitched than anything smooth.
Tohka immediately said, dead serious, "Shidou Your face is broken."
Kotori made a muffled sound, half-groan, half-laugh, and turned her head away like she refused to be seen reacting.
"Stop," she muttered.
"What," I said, trying to play it off. "Too much bliss?"
Tohka stared at me.
Kotori stood up too fast, like getting vertical would save her from dealing with me.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she said.
Tohka blinked up at her. "Why?"
Kotori snapped, "Because I said so!"
__
Kotori came back from the bathroom like nothing had happened.
I was already on the sofa—half sprawled, half sitting—watching whatever trashy program Kotori had left on. The volume was low enough that the laughs sounded far away.
Tohka was in the guest room. Kotori had told her off and ushered her to the room after Reine left not too long ago. I decided to skip dinner since I had pizza earlier with...
I sigh
Kotori sat down on the other end of the sofa and grabbed the remote. She didn't change the channel. She didn't even pretend to be watching.
She just stared at the screen for three seconds, then said, very calmly:
"So."
I didn't look at her. "So..."
Kotori's eyes slid to me. "You look too comfortable for someone who just caused me a headache."
"I didn't cause it," I said. "It arrived...?"
Kotori clicked her tongue. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"It's not."
I finally turned my head. My face probably still had that lazy smile stuck on it—mostly because if I stopped smiling, I'd start clenching my teeth again.
Kotori narrowed her eyes. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"That face," she said. "That 'I'm fine' face."
I stared at her for a moment, then let my shoulders drop a little deeper into the couch.
"...Right back at you," I said.
Kotori's expression twitched. She looked away fast, like I'd poked something she didn't want poked.
The TV laughed again. The laughter sounded fake.
Kotori took a slow breath, then slipped into something steadier. Not hard exactly—but focused. The way she sounded when she was forcing herself to handle things like an adult.
"There are other Spirits," she said.
I deadpanned. "Yeah. I figured."
Kotori's eyes cut back to me. "Don't act like that's obvious."
"It is," I said. "This whole thing doesn't feel like it was built for one person. " I said "And... She felt strange." I finished
"Strange huh..." she muttered
Kotori didn't deny it. She just shifted on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other like she was settling into an actual briefing—except we were in my living room, and the remote was her pointer.
"The one you met today," she said, "is classified."
I raised an eyebrow. "Classified."
Kotori glared. "Don't repeat everything I say like an idiot."
"It helps me process," I said blandly.
Kotori changes the channel. "Her codename is Hermit."
The word landed heavier than it should've. I didn't know why. Maybe because it fit too well. Small. Hidden. Alone.
"Hermit," I repeated, quieter this time.
Kotori nodded once, like she was satisfied I'd taken it seriously. "She's not like Tohka. Different temperament, different risk profile. That puppet is also... interesting..."
"Yeah," I said. "I noticed."
Kotori's gaze flicked to the coffee table for a second—where the pencil and puzzle book were still sitting from earlier. Where one of Kotori's stuffed bears had been left behind, like an awkward witness.
Then she looked back at me. "Remeber what I said? We weren't tracking her, Even we miss some things..
I didn't say a snarky remark, but my face probably did it for me.
Kotori glared. "Don't."
"Okay," I said, holding up a hand. "I won't. I'm listening."
Kotori's mouth tightened. "Good. Because you need to understand this, Shidou. Now that you've sealed Tohka... you're going to attract attention. You already know Spirits aren't random storms. They're—"
"People," I cut in, before I could stop myself.
Kotori paused.
Her expression shifted for a second—like she wasn't sure whether to correct me or let it stand.
"...They're dangerous," she said finally.
I nodded slowly. "They can be."
Kotori leaned forward a little. "And because you have the ability to seal them..."
There was the setup.
I could already hear where she was going.
Kotori continued anyway. "...it's your responsibility. You're the one person who can stop them without killing them. Which means you don't get to choose whether you're involved."
My smile stayed on my face, but it thinned.
I leaned my head back against the couch. "So you're saying it's my job."
Kotori's eyes sharpened. "I'm saying it's your duty."
"Same thing," I muttered.
Kotori didn't flinch. "It's not. A job is something you can quit."
I stared at her. "Kotori."
Her voice softened—just slightly. "Shidou... I'm not trying to control you."
I let out a short breath, almost a laugh. "That's funny."
Kotori's cheeks colored. "I'm serious."
"Then listen," I said, turning fully toward her now. "I'm not saying I won't do it."
Kotori blinked.
I kept going. "If there are Spirits out there who can be saved, I'm not going to ignore them. I'm not going to pretend it's not my problem. I sealed Tohka because she deserved to live. I'm not backing out of that logic just because it's inconvenient."
Kotori stared at me like she'd expected a fight and I'd stepped sideways instead.
"...Good," she said after a beat, but it sounded cautious. Like she didn't trust good news.
I shrugged. "I'm still annoyed."
Kotori's eyes narrowed. "At what."
"At the way you say it," I replied. "Duty. Responsibility. Like you're assigning me a role."
Kotori's jaw tightened. "Because you have a role."
I stared at her.
Then I sighed, rubbing my face with one hand. "Yeah. Okay. Fine. I'm not arguing that I'm involved. I'm arguing that you guys act like you make the rules."
Kotori looked like she wanted to snap back. Then she didn't. She just sat there, eyes hard.
"You want rules?" she said. "Here's one. You need more training."
There it was.
I didn't even hesitate.
"No."
Kotori's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
"No," I repeated, flat.
Kotori's expression sharpened so fast it almost made me laugh. "Shidou, you don't get to refuse that."
"I just did."
Kotori leaned forward, voice dropping into that commander tone again. "You're not a soldier, but you're in combat situations. Training is non-negotiable."
I looked at her, still calm. "If I followed Ratatoskr's advice the first time, I would've gotten cut in half."
Kotori flinched like the words had weight.
I kept going anyway, because I was sick of swallowing it. "You can call it strategy, but the truth is... you weren't the one staring at that sword."
Kotori's eyes flashed. "We were supporting you."
"Yeah," I said. "And I'm grateful. But support isn't the same as being there."
Kotori opened her mouth—
"And today," I added, before she could unload, "I managed fine."
Kotori's face pinched. "Fine? She ran away."
"She ran because you and Tohka walked in," I said. "Not because I was doing something wrong."
Kotori's cheeks went red. "We didn't do anything!"
"You walked into the room like you were catching me," I said. "Of course she panicked."
Kotori's glare sharpened, but she didn't deny it.
I lifted both hands in surrender—sort of. "Look, I'm not saying I don't need to improve. I'm saying I don't want you guys turning me into a project."
Kotori's eyes narrowed. "A project."
"You heard me."
Kotori sat back, crossing her arms. "You are so arrogant."
I smiled again. "Maybe."
Kotori's glare hardened. "And full of yourself."
I shrugged. "."
Kotori stared like she couldn't believe me. "You're not even denying it."
"Why would I?" I said. "If I act scared all the time, I'll start believing it."
Kotori's mouth opened, then shut. Her face went... oddly frustrated. Like she didn't know whether to yell or laugh.
She huffed. "Unbelievable."
I tilted my head. "You're the one who taught me to keep my head up."
Kotori froze.
I watched her for a second, then looked away before it got too real.
The TV laughed again. It was a bad joke. It didn't fit the room.
Kotori spoke again, quieter. "You're still going to train."
"No."
Kotori's eyebrow twitched. "Yes."
"No."
"Shidou."
"Kotori."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't do that."
"Do what."
"Match my tone like we're equals."
I raised an eyebrow. "We're not?"
Kotori's cheeks flushed red. "You—!"
I stood up before she could launch into a full rant. My flip-flops slapped softly against the floor. I stretched my arms like I was tired down to my bones.
Hehe
"Mm.. Im sleepy, I'm going to bed."
Kotori shot up. "It's not even late!"
"I'm tired," I said simply.
Kotori stared at me like she couldn't decide whether I was being dramatic or honest.
Then her eyes dipped—taking in my jacket, my damp hair ends, the fact that I'd changed nothing since getting home. And also... a mischievous glint?
I didn't like that glint
Her face twisted. "Go take a shower."
I paused.
"No."
Kotori blinked. "What."
"No," I repeated, already turning toward the hallway. "Tomorrow."
Kotori's voice jumped instantly. "Absolutely not! You were out in the rain!"
"I dried off," I said.
"You're still gross!"
I glanced back over my shoulder. "That's mean."
"It's true!" she snapped.
I kept walking.
"Shidou!" Kotori called after me, louder now. "Go to the Bathroom!"
"It's fine tomorrow"
"You smell like wet fabric and regret!"
I actually laughed at that. A real laugh. It surprised me.
Kotori's face went even redder. "Don't laugh! This is serious!"
"What's serious," I said, still walking, "is that you're acting like my mom."
Kotori made a noise that was half growl. "I am not—!"
"You are," I said. "A scary little mom."
"I'm your sister!"
"Exactly."
Kotori's voice turned shrill. "Go. Take. A. Shower!"
I reached my bedroom door and paused with my hand on the knob. For a second, I considered just doing it to shut her up.
But then I pictured the day. The rain. The puzzles. The way Yoshino had looked when she asked me not to hurt her. The way Tohka had stared at me earlier like she wasn't sure if I was hers anymore.
I didn't want hot water and steam and silence. Not tonight.
I looked back at Kotori and gave her my laziest, most tired smile.
"Tomorrow," I repeated.
Kotori's eyes narrowed into slits. "You're disgusting."
"Rude.." I said.
"You're stinky."
"Noted."
"You're impossible!"
"Also noted."
Kotori took a step forward like she might actually charge down the hallway and drag me by the collar.
I opened my door.
Kotori jabbed a finger at me like a commander with a target. "If you get sick, don't come crying to me!"
I paused in the doorway. "I definitely will." I said smirking like a dumbass.
Kotori froze.
I slipped inside and, before I closed the door, added casually—
"Goodnight Dear Imouto"
Kotori's face blushed and twitched. Then she snapped back into a glare so fast it was almost funny again.
"ONII-CHAN!"
I closed the door gently.
Her voice still carried through the wood, loud and offended:
"FINE BE STINKY!"
I leaned my back against the door for a second, listening to her stomp back toward the living room while muttering insults under her breath.
And then, finally, the house quieted again.
Tohka in the guest room.
Kotori huffing on the sofa.
The TV still playing, still laughing at nothing.
And me—still in my blue jacket and dried socks, staring at my ceiling like sleep was a decision I had to make on purpose.
__
It was approximately 3 A.M in the Itsuka Household
The House was dark and most inside should be asleep by now... except for one angry Captain ready to exact revenge on her Bum Onii-Chan.
Two shadows slipped into the Itsuka house like a pair of thoughts you didn't remember having.
They moved with the kind of confidence that only comes from repetition—boots that didn't squeak, breaths that didn't catch, hands that didn't shake. One took point. The other watched their back. Their radios were off. Their tools were already in their fingers.
They weren't burglars.
They weren't assassins.
They had a single, strange job: relocate a sleeping boy from his room to a different room, quietly, without waking anyone.
Simple.
That was the problem. Simple jobs made people careless.
They crossed the living room first. A dim glow from the street filtered through the curtains, striping the tatami and low table. A blanket lay folded on the couch like someone had meant to use it and didn't. The house smelled faintly of yesterday—warm broth, detergent, and rain that had dried into fabric.
The lead spy held up two fingers: hallway.
The second spy nodded: clear.
They reached the corridor. Doors on either side, all shut. The house's silence wasn't empty; it had layers—pipes settling, a refrigerator cycling, the distant clock ticking like it wanted credit for staying awake.
They paused at the first door, listened.
Nothing.
Second door, listened.
A soft, steady snore.
The lead spy's posture relaxed by a hair. He'd been told the boy slept hard. The snore confirmed it like a signature.
He eased his lock tool out, slid it in, turned. A gentle click. No scrape. No complaint.
The door opened by a few inches.
The room beyond was dark and messy in a normal way: a chair with clothes thrown over it, a desk cluttered with notebooks, a half-closed curtain letting in a slanted line of streetlight. The boy was sprawled on his bed, blanket kicked halfway off, mouth slightly open, breathing slow and unguarded.
Just a kid.
The second spy stayed in the doorway, scanning angles. The lead spy stepped closer, careful not to bump the desk, careful not to touch the floorboards too hard.
He reached down, sliding one arm beneath the boy's shoulders—
And stopped.
Not because the boy moved. Not because something creaked.
Because the air changed.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't a gust or a sound.
It was the sensation of standing too close to a live wire without seeing it. It made your hairs stand up.
The lead spy's eyes flicked right.
The second spy followed his gaze.
In the dim corner near the desk, something pale floated in the air.
At first it didn't resolve as anything. It was the shape that disturbed them—smooth, curved, skull-like, too clean to be real bone, too wrong to be a decoration. It hung there with no strings, no wires, no visible support, perfectly still, facing them as if it had been waiting for the door to open.
The second spy felt his throat tighten. He didn't speak. He didn't even breathe properly.
He'd trained for alarms and tripwires. Dogs. Cameras. People.
Not this.
The lead spy slowly withdrew his hand from the boy's shoulder, as if movement itself might trigger something. He lifted two fingers again, but this time the signal wasn't hallway.
It was: back out.
The floating skull didn't move.
Then a second shape drifted into view above the first—another skull, identical, hanging slightly higher, angled so it could see the whole room like a second set of eyes.
Two.
The lead spy's stomach dropped.
The skulls' mouths—jaws that weren't quite jaws—opened by a fraction.
A faint glow gathered inside both, like a light turning on behind frosted glass.
The second spy's training finally snapped into focus. He grabbed the lead spy's sleeve and yanked once, hard.
They retreated one step.
The glow brightened.
A thin, rising whine filled the room, sharp enough to press against the ears. It sounded like power building, like pressure inside a sealed pipe. The curtain fluttered even though the window was shut.
The lead spy mouthed one silent word: Run.
The skulls fired.
It wasn't like a gunshot. It was cleaner, louder, crueler—a straight beam of light that cut through the darkness and slammed into the wall beside the bed. Plaster and splinters erupted in a hiss of dust. The smell of scorched wood bloomed instantly.
The boy jerked in his sleep, not fully awake, face tightening like someone yanked the wrong part of a dream.
The spies didn't wait to see if he opened his eyes.
They exploded backward into the hallway.
A second beam lanced through the doorway an instant later, scorching the frame, carving a glowing line into the wall. The heat passed close enough to sting exposed skin. Paint blistered. Something small clattered to the floor and bounced away.
Their stealth was gone.
Now it was speed.
They sprinted down the corridor, feet pounding, breath ragged, every instinct screaming that the beams were tracking them. Behind them the whine built again—higher, sharper—then another shot slammed into the hall wall, leaving a smoking gouge that hissed as it cooled.
The lead spy stumbled slightly on the sudden transition from carpet to wood. The second caught him, shoved him forward.
They hit the living room.
The house, moments ago a quiet box, became a rattling instrument: the doorframe creaked, a picture frame shivered on the wall, the low table vibrated faintly from the shock of impact.
The skulls fired again.
This time the beam struck farther down the hall, missing them by more distance—still close enough that the flash lit the living room in a hard white glare for half a second. The spies flinched despite themselves.
They didn't understand what they were being shot by.
They only understood that if they stayed, they'd be ash.
They reached the front door. The lead spy fumbled the latch for half a heartbeat—panic making his fingers clumsy—then yanked it open.
Cold night air hit them.
They bolted outside and vanished into the dark, not looking back, not daring to.
Inside, the skulls hovered in the hallway for one more breath of time. Their glow pulsed—dim, then bright, like they were assessing whether the threat remained.
The house went still again, except for the drifting smoke and falling dust.
Then both skulls began to dissolve.
Not shatter. Not drop.
Just... fade. Their edges thinned first, then their hollow eye-shapes, then their mouths, until they were only faint light that scattered into the air like dust motes caught in moonbeam.
By the time anyone else moved, there was nothing left to see.
Only aftermath.
In Shidou's room, he finally woke properly.
His eyes opened to darkness and smoke and a new, sharp smell—burned wood. He sat up too fast, heart punching his ribs, blanket twisting around his waist.
"What—" he croaked, voice thick with sleep. He blinked hard, trying to make sense of the drifting dust, the jagged gouge in the wall near his bed, the charred edge of the doorway.
For a moment he stared like his brain refused to connect the scene to reality.
Then a noise came from the hallway—running footsteps, sudden and heavy, nothing like the spies' careful steps.
The bedroom door flew wider.
Two figures slammed into view at the same time.
Tohka first—barefoot, hair messy, eyes wide with a fierce, protective panic that made her look dangerous even in the dark. Kotori right behind her, pajama sleeves pushed up, face tight with shock but already trying to lock into control.
"Shidou!" Tohka shouted, voice cracking. She crossed the room in two steps and grabbed his shoulders like she needed to feel him solid to believe he was alive. "Are you hurt?!"
Shidou's hands lifted automatically, half to steady her, half in surrender. "I—I don't know. I was asleep. I heard—something—"
Kotori's eyes snapped over the room in quick, clinical sweeps. The wall damage. The smoke. The scorched doorframe. The plaster dust floating like fog.
No intruders in sight.
No weapon in sight.
No obvious source.
"What happened?" Kotori demanded, not quite yelling but sharp enough that the room tightened around her words. Her gaze landed on Shidou. "Did you see anyone?"
Shidou swallowed. He looked from Kotori to Tohka to the burned wall again, like he expected it to rearrange into a sensible explanation.
"I... I didn't," he said, and he hated how useless it sounded. "I woke up and it was already like this."
Tohka's grip tightened, then loosened as she realized he really was okay. Her anger didn't fade, though. It just shifted direction, searching for a target that wasn't here anymore.
"Someone was here," she said low. "I felt it."
Kotori stepped fully into the room, her bare feet crunching lightly on plaster dust. She crouched near the scorched mark and touched the edge of it with two fingers, then pulled back as if it still held heat.
This wasn't normal damage.
Not a broken lock. Not a shattered window.
This was... something else.
Kotori's face twitched—one tiny crack in her commander mask—then smoothed over.
"Great," she muttered, more to herself than to them. "Just great."
Shidou glanced at the doorway, at the blackened frame, and a cold realization seeped in: whatever had happened, it had happened because someone came into his room.
His stomach tightened.
"They... they were trying to—" he started, then stopped, because he didn't actually know. His mind filled in the worst anyway.
Tohka's eyes flared. "If someone tries to take you—"
"Stop," Kotori snapped, cutting her off fast. Not harsh, just urgent. "Don't—don't say things like that."
Tohka looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn't. She kept one hand on Shidou's shoulder like an anchor.
Shidou stared at the smoke, at the gouge, at the drifting dust.
His room felt unfamiliar now—like a place he couldn't trust.
"...I didn't even have time to wake up," he whispered, almost offended by his own vulnerability.
Kotori's gaze softened for half a second, then hardened again as she turned her head toward the open front door. The cold air still pushed in faintly, carrying the scent of damp night.
Whoever or whatever had been here was gone.
Kotori straightened slowly. "Okay," she said, voice forced into steadiness. "Let's... check the house now then.."
Tohka didn't move from Shidou's side. "I'm staying with him."
Kotori hesitated—then nodded once. "Fine. Stay. Don't leave this room."
Shidou opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He didn't have the energy. He didn't have the explanation.
Kotori turned to leave, then paused in the doorway and looked back at him.
Her expression was tight, confused, a little angry—like she was staring at a puzzle that insulted her by existing.
"...Shidou," she said carefully, "if you remember anything. Anything at all. Tell me."
Shidou nodded once, small.
Kotori left, footsteps quick and sharp down the hall.
Tohka stayed beside him, breathing hard, eyes scanning the corners of the room like she expected the invisible threat to return.
Shidou stared at the empty air where nothing hovered anymore.
Only smoke.
Only silence.
I sighed and Tohka pulled me closer