"T-Tohka..."
Her name left my mouth before my brain caught up.
She stood in the broken warehouse doorway, rainwater running off her hair, her blazer, her sleeves, the hem of her skirt. She looked like she had sprinted through the storm and never stopped to breathe. Her chest rose and fell fast. Her eyes were fixed on me.
On me and Yoshino.
Yoshino was still half-collapsed against me from the fall off the indoor play structure. My hand was around her shoulder, my knee braced under her so she wouldn't hit the concrete. We were too close. That was the first thing Tohka saw. Not the slippery metal rung. Not the cracked flooring. Not the fact that I'd caught her by reflex.
Just the distance between our faces.
"Shidou.." Tohka said again, but this time it sounded like accusation more than surprise.
I helped Yoshino sit upright and immediately raised my hands away from her, palms open. "Wait hold on Tohka, this isn't what you think."
That line always sounds fake when people say it. I heard myself say it and hated it instantly.
Yoshino hugged Yoshinon to her chest and looked at Tohka with wide, frightened eyes.
Tohka took one step inside. Water dripped from her bangs onto the concrete.
"You said to stay in the bunker," she said quietly. "You said it was dangerous. You said you'd be okay."
"I did."
"Then why are you here like this?"
Her gaze flicked down to Yoshino's mouth, then back to me. I knew what she noticed. We both did.
"It was an accident," I said. "She fell. I caught her."
"To your lips?"
"It wasn't on purpose..."
The air felt like wire pulled too tight.
In my ear, Kotori's voice came low and controlled. "Shidou. Keep your tone steady. Tohka's emotional index is climbing."
I swallowed and tried again, softer. "I should've explained sooner. I know that."
Tohka's laugh was tiny and bitter. "Sooner? Like before I walked in on you?"
Yoshinon's button eyes tilted toward Tohka.
"Oof," the puppet said brightly. "That one landed."
I closed my eyes for one second. Not now.
Tohka's jaw clenched. "You."
Yoshinon kept talking. "You ran all this way in the rain. How romantic. Too bad you were late."
"Yoshinon," I said, warning in my voice.
Tohka took another step toward us. "What is this? What exactly are you doing with him?"
Yoshino looked down. "W-we were just..."
Yoshinon answered for her. "Having a very nice time."
Tohka's stare moved from the puppet to me like she was measuring how much damage she could do with one word. "Were."
Concrete snapped beneath her shoe with a dry, sharp crack.
Not a huge break. But real.
Kotori again in my ear, sharper now. "Seal leakage warning. Her stress is feeding through, calm her down Shidou."
I stepped forward slowly. "Tohka. Look at me. Don't look at anything else right now."
She did, and that almost made it worse. Her eyes were wet, but not from rain anymore.
"Do you like her?" she asked.
I chose the truth carefully. "I'm trying to help her."
"That's not what I asked."
"I don't want her hurt"
"That's still not what I asked!"
I couldn't give her the clean answer she wanted in this moment, because every answer could be twisted by pain. I hesitated, and that hesitation became its own answer.
Yoshinon smiled with stitched confidence. "He's very gentle with us, you know."
Tohka's shoulders rose with a shaking inhale.
"Stop,.." I said.
Yoshinon ignored me. "Maybe she should go back to the bunker and let adults talk."
"Stop..." I repeated, louder.
The puppet turned slightly toward me. "What? You don't like honesty?" It then looked back to Tohka "Big bro found a new replacement! He doesn't need you anymore~"
"W-Wha?! I-I'm not being replaced! That's not True!" Tohka yelled back angry
I felt my temper spike — not because of me, but because every line was cutting Tohka deeper while Yoshino sat there already trembling.
I snapped before I could rephrase.
"Enough Yoshinon Shut up....."
Silence slammed down.
Yoshino's face went white.
I realized instantly what I'd done.
I'd aimed at the puppet and hit Yoshino.
Her fingers tightened around Yoshinon. Her shoulders curled inward like she was bracing for something old, something familiar, something bad. "I-I'm sorry..."
"N-no" I shook my head hard. "No, not you. I'm not angry at you."
Yoshinon's voice dropped colder. "You bark at us now?"
Tohka looked between us and laughed once, short and hurt. "Wow. This is insane."
I forced myself to breathe slow and lower my voice again. "I messed that up. Tohka, Yoshino — both of you, listen. We can still calm this down."
Yoshinon replied first. "He says 'both of you' because he can't choose."
Tohka flinched like she'd been slapped.
"I'm right here," she said. "Stop talking about me like furniture."
Yoshinon turned to her. "Then say what you came to say."
Tohka's eyes were bright now. "Fine! I came because I was worried about him. Because last night I stayed by him! Because I thought he needed me. Then I find him—"
She stopped. Couldn't finish.
I stepped in, careful. "Tohka.. You weren't wrong to come."
"Then why am I the one who feels wrong?"
I had no good answer fast enough.
Yoshinon supplied one.
"Because I'm your replacement~"
That did it.
Tohka moved in a blur and snatched Yoshinon straight out of Yoshino's arms.
Yoshino made a sound that tore through my chest — a high, panicked cry I'd never heard from her before.
"No—! G-give—give back—please—"
Tohka held the puppet at arm's length and glared at it. "Say that again. Say I'm a replacement!."
No voice. No movement. Just cloth.
But Tohka didn't register the shift. She kept staring at it like it was still talking.
"Keep mocking me!" she hissed. "Do it again."
"It's not speaking now," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "Tohka, please. Give it back. Right now."
Yoshino crawled forward on shaking hands, breath breaking apart. "Yoshinon... Yoshinon... please..."
Her eyes lost focus for a second, then snapped back, then swirled with panic. She reached out and missed. Reached again. Missed again.
Kotori's voice stabbed through my earpiece. "Hermit mental state is collapsing. Immediate return of anchor object recommended."
Anchor object.
That was what Yoshinon really was.
Not just a prop. Not just comic relief. An anchor.
I moved closer. "Tohka. Hand it to me. I'll pass it to her."
"No." Tohka hugged it tighter against her chest. "She insulted me. It insulted me."
"I know."
"You always say 'I know' and then pick someone else."
"I am not picking sides."
"You are literally standing on her side."
"Because she's panicking."
"To me," Tohka said, voice rising, "that sounds like choosing."
Yoshino's nails scratched concrete. "Please... please..."
I turned to her. "Yoshino, breathe with me. In... out... look at me..."
She couldn't. Her shoulders shook harder. Her mouth opened and closed on broken breaths.
The temperature dropped so suddenly my own breath fogged.
Every metal surface in the room groaned.
I felt it before I saw it — that deep vibration in my bones, like the floor was preparing to become something else.
"Tohka!" I shouted. "Now! Give it back!"
Her eyes flashed. "No!"
The warehouse floor exploded.
Something huge tore upward in a storm of shattered concrete, rebar, and freezing mist. Zadkiel emerged like a nightmare plush the size of a building — rabbit-shaped, long-eared, white and gold seams glowing through frost. Pallets and storage bins flew like paper. The jungle-gym frame twisted and snapped.
Yoshino screamed and clutched empty air toward Tohka.
I didn't think. I lunged, grabbed Yoshinon from Tohka's grip, and threw it toward Yoshino.
She caught it and folded over it, sobbing once as if she'd been underwater too long and finally broke the surface.
But the threshold was already crossed.
Zadkiel's eyes lit.
Outside, AST fire opened up.
The first missiles hit the warehouse exterior with a chain of concussions that made the walls jump. Windows blew inward. Rain blasted through the holes and turned into hard frozen pellets that cut skin like glass. Steel beams screamed. Dust filled the air.
I grabbed Tohka by the shoulders and shoved her behind a toppled crate just as a burst chewed through the space where she'd been standing.
"Down!"
"Don't touch me!"
"Not now!"
I covered her with my body while debris and ice hammered my back. The sound was everything — missiles, cracking concrete, AST rifle chatter, Zadkiel roaring through pressure waves.
Tohka shoved against me, furious and shaking. "You called her name first!"
"What?"
"When she fell! You called her first!"
Another impact ripped a line through the ceiling above us and a rain of bolts came down. I pulled her tighter to avoid the falling metal.
"This is not the time!"
"For what? For truth?"
The crate shifted. I kicked it wider to shield us from the next angle.
Through the smoke I saw Zadkiel force a route toward the broken wall, protecting Yoshino at its center. AST tracers stitched red lines across the opening.
One missile connected near Zadkiel's flank.
Yoshino cried out — a little yelp, sharp and involuntary — and dropped hard to the wet ground as the shock tossed her sideways.
"Yoshino!"
I heard myself yell it.
Tohka went still for half a beat in my arms.
Then she went cold.
"Of course," she whispered.
I turned to her. "Tohka—"
She shoved me off, slipped on wet concrete, and collided into me chest-first. For one second we were locked together, breathing hard, eyes inches apart, both shaking from adrenaline and hurt and confusion.
I tightened my hold by reflex so she wouldn't fall.
Her face changed. Anger flooded back over everything else.
She pushed off me hard.
"Don't," she said. "Don't hold me like that after this."
She stomped, and the floor cracked outward in a spiderweb.
Then she ran, boots splashing through rainwater and dust, deeper along the inner lane of the warehouse.
I watched as Zadkiel blasted through the broken wall and the fight moved outside to where the AST was waiting.."
⸻
Rain reduces visibility. Wind shear unpredictable around the rupture zone. Thermal distortion around Spirit trajectory remains high.
I track anyway.
"Hermit confirmed," command says. "Engage suppression."
"Understood," I answer.
My rifle stabilizer hums against my shoulder. I line up the moving mass of Zadkiel through rain and debris. CR-Unit adjusts for drift. I fire.
Impact flashes. Not enough.
"Missile team, lock on my marker."
"Locked."
"Launch."
Two trails arc, split, and converge. Gatling teams on flank saturate the movement corridor. The Spirit turns with high mobility for its size, using freezing mist as partial visual interference.
I cut through it with prediction, not sight.
Then the missile pair lands close.
The Spirit buckles.
A small figure falls free near the ground and lets out a short cry.
"Hit confirmed!" someone shouts.
"Maintain pressure," I say.
We shift angles and close a kill box. For three seconds the geometry is clean.
Then the target flickers.
Not movement. Phase distortion.
Signature tears sideways and collapses.
Gone.
"Target lost," command says after scan sweep. "Classify as Lost. Return."
My squad begins withdrawal. I follow, then brake for one second and dip lower over the last impact site.
There's residue in the rain pattern — not normal Spirit scatter. Something else interfered in the brief window before disappearance.
I log it.
Then I climb and rejoin formation.
⸻
By the time I reached extraction and returned home, my whole body was vibrating with leftover adrenaline and failure.
Tohka had locked herself in her room.
I knocked gently. "Tohka."
No answer.
"It's me."
A dull thud from inside made the wall shiver.
"Go away.."
"I just want to talk."
"No."
"I'm not here to defend myself."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I hate leaving things like this."
Silence. Rain tapped the hallway window.
I sat on the floor outside her door and leaned my head back against the wall.
"I should've told you about Yoshino sooner," I said. "That part is on me."
No response.
"I'm sorry I made you find out like that."
Still nothing.
I continued anyway. "When you ran in there, I didn't think 'why is she here.' I thought 'thank god she's okay"
A small hit against the other side of the door. Not hard enough to break wood. Hard enough to signal emotion.
"You kept saying her name," Tohka said quietly.
"She was panicking."
"And me?"
"I was trying to keep you from getting cut in half by missile debris."
"That isn't the same as choosing me."
"I know."
"No!" she snapped. "You say that word too easily. 'I know.' If you knew, you wouldn't keep doing this."
I pressed my palm to the door. "Then tell me how to fix it."
Long pause.
Finally: "Go away."
"Tohka—"
"Go away!"
The doorframe rattled from a shockwave of force leakage. A picture frame in the hallway dropped and cracked.
I stood slowly. "Okay. I'll give you space. But please drink water. Please."
No answer.
I left a bottle and two wrapped buns by her door and walked to the living room.
Kotori was waiting with Reine.
Kotori didn't waste time. "Well?"
I sat. "It went bad."
"Details."
I nodded. "Tohka arrived during after me and Yoshinos kiss. Felt betrayed by it. Yoshinon escalated verbally. I made a mistake and snapped at Yoshinon once. Yoshino was shook. Tohka grabbed the puppet out of anger and the rest was terrible from there"
Kotori's fingers moved across her tablet. "Sounds about right."
Reine stirred tea like this was a normal family afternoon and not crisis management.
Kotori looked up. "Did proper lip contact happen with Hermit before interruption?"
"Yes."
"Feel anything?"
"No I didn't."
"Because nothing meaningful occurred," Kotori said, rotating the tablet toward me. "Near-zero."
I frowned. "How is that possible?"
"Kiss is not magic by itself," she said. "It's a conduit. If target heart state does not open to you, seal effect remains negligible, when The puppet Yoshinon is talking she closes off her heart. I thought that maybe you would be able to get a partial seal but I was incorrect"
"Huh.... So I can't seal Yoshino at all unless she genuinely opens up to me by herself.."
"Correct."
I rubbed my face. "She was warmer with me this time."
"Warmer is not open," Reine said quietly.
Kotori flipped to another graph. "Secondary issue: Tohka's powers leaked out during that emotional encounter and the seal was hurt, then fortunately re-stabilization when stress fell... but still This is dangerous Shidou."
"Yeah I noticed."
"Good. Notice harder next time."
I nodded.
Kotori narrowed her eyes. "Your choice to scold Yoshinon directly made the emotional geometry worse."
"I know."
"You were trying to defend Tohka."
"Yes."
"Intent is not outcome." She gave me a stern look
I sigh "I know.."
"Then get better."
Reine finally looked at me. "You are trying to hold two frightened hands with one hand. You cannot grip either if you panic at the wrong second."
I sat in silence, absorbing all of it.
Kotori leaned back. "Tonight we prioritize Tohka stabilization. Tomorrow we address Hermit reacquisition. AST pressure remains high and I doubt Yoshino will be back for the time being"
I stood. "I'll talk to Tohka one more time."
Kotori gave a tiny nod. "Careful."
I returned to Tohka's door and knocked once.
No answer.
I spoke anyway. "I'm not asking you to forgive me tonight."
Silence.
"I'm not asking you to pretend none of this happened."
Silence.
"I am asking you to eat something..."
After a long pause, her voice came muffled and flat. "Not from you..."
"Okay," I said. "Then from Reine or Kotori tomorrow. Just... don't starve because you're angry at me." I wasn't even sure spirits could starve but still.
Nothing else came from inside.
I stayed there another minute, then went to my room.
⸻
I woke up suddenly because the room felt wrong.
Not loud-wrong. Not earthquake siren wrong. Just... like the air had teeth in it.
Rain tapped against the window in a soft, uneven rhythm. The clock beside my bed glowed 2:43 a.m. My blanket was half on the floor. My throat was dry. For a few seconds I just stared at the ceiling and tried to decide whether this was one of those nights where my brain was replaying everything terrible in my life for fun.
I sit up looking around my room....
It was dark in my room.. it was hard to make out anything really.
I rubbed my eyes and opened them again.
Then I saw white.
Faint. Pale. Floating in the corner near my desk.
I froze.
At first my brain filed it as "streetlight reflection." Then it moved.
A skull-shaped thing, white and hollow-eyed, hovered in the dark like it had always been there and I was the one trespassing.
My heart punched my ribs so hard it hurt.
I didn't scream. I don't know why. Maybe because the house had already had enough chaos for one lifetime. Maybe because somewhere deep in my gut I already knew this thing wasn't random.
It was this.... Thing again
I pushed myself up slowly, every muscle tight, and whispered, "...What are you?"
It didn't answer. It just watched me.
Then something slid into view above the door.
A second one.
I felt cold all the way down to my feet.
Two large skulls. Same shape. Same dead-white glow. Same silent, waiting posture.
And then a memory snapped into place: a flash of light, shattered room, people running, everyone yelling, and me waking confused to aftermath I couldn't explain.
My mouth went dry again.
Was it you?
The first skull tilted a little, almost curious. The second drifted lower, just enough that moonlight caught the edges of its jaw.
I swallowed and forced my voice steady.
"Don't come closer..."
Both of them stopped moving.
Not "paused by coincidence" stopped. They obeyed.
I stared. They stared back.
I tried again, barely louder than rain. "Back up."
The one near my desk floated half a meter backward. The one by the door rose a little and shifted left like it was giving me space.
A weird laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Not happy. Just stunned.
"You... listen?"
No response. But the first one dipped once, almost like a nod.
I sat there in the dark, knees bent under the blanket, and tried to think around the pounding in my ears.
If they listened to me now... then that night...
Someone had entered my room. Or tried to. I didn't know who. Didn't know why. But if these things were here then too, it would explain the blast marks, the panic, the way everyone had looked like they'd walked through a warzone while I sat there like an idiot asking what happened.
My chest tightened.
Did they protect me?
The question should have felt comforting. It didn't. It felt like holding a loaded weapon someone else had left in my hands.
I slid my legs off the bed and stood up slowly. The floor creaked. Neither skull moved.
"Okay," I murmured. "If you're going to be here, we're doing this carefully."
I lifted one hand and pointed to the right side of the room.
"Go there."
The first skull glided right on command.
I pointed left.
"Other side."
The second one crossed cleanly.
No hesitation. No drift. Precise.
I lowered my hand, took a breath, and tried something different.
Up.
I didn't say it. Just thought it.
Both skulls rose at the same time.
I went perfectly still.
"...No way."
I thought, down.
They lowered.
A chill ran across my shoulders that had nothing to do with the rain.
I closed my eyes for one second and focused, like trying to grab a word on the tip of my tongue. There was something there—faint but unmistakable—like a thread that started behind my sternum and stretched out into the dark where they floated. Not a voice. Not language. Just intent. Direction. Response.
I opened my eyes and tested it again.
One near the window. One near the desk. Hold.
They moved exactly where I pictured and stayed there.
My breathing got shallow. Not from fear this time. From the scale of what this meant.
"They're linked to me," I whispered. "Why are they linked to me?"
The skull nearest the window drifted a little lower, as if listening for another order.
I realized my hands were shaking.
"Okay. New rule," I said softly. "No sudden anything."
They hovered in place, perfectly still.
I took two careful steps forward until I was standing between them. The air around them felt cool and charged, like standing near old speakers before they pop.
I looked from one to the other and spoke before I could talk myself out of it.
"Were you the ones that attacked whoever came into my room?"
Silence.
But the one at my right shifted toward the door—the exact side where the damage had been worst.
Then it settled back into place.
My stomach dropped.
"Great," I muttered. "So I have mystery intruders and floating laser skull bodyguards now. Normal life. Totally normal."
Rain hit harder against the glass. Somewhere in the house pipes ticked softly. Nobody stirred.
I should have been relieved. Maybe part of me was. If they were mine—if they were defending me—then I wasn't helpless in the dark anymore.
But another part of me was staring straight at the obvious: if they fired in this room, this house would become splinters in one second.
I needed to know how close to disaster I actually was.
I hesitated, then made the worst smart decision of my life.
"Can you... attack?"
Both skulls snapped toward me.
Their jaws opened.
Light poured into their mouths.
It wasn't gradual. It was instant, violent—white-blue energy gathering with a high, rising whine that turned my bones to ice.
"Stop!" I hissed.
The charge kept climbing for half a heartbeat longer.
I felt pure panic knife through me. "Stop! Cancel! Don't fire!"
The thread in my chest yanked tight as I shoved one clear command through it.
Stand down.
The light collapsed.
Jaws closed.
The room fell back into darkness so fast I swayed.
For three full seconds I couldn't breathe properly.
Then air came back all at once and I had to brace a hand on my desk to keep from dropping.
"Okay," I whispered, voice cracking. "Okay. Not doing that again."
The skulls hovered where they were, quiet as statues, like they hadn't nearly turned my bedroom into a crater.
I wiped sweat from my forehead with my sleeve and forced myself to meet those hollow eye sockets.
"You listen to me. Good. Then listen carefully."
My voice was still shaking, but I made each word clear.
"No firing inside the house. Ever. No charging unless I tell you. No attacking unless I'm in direct danger. Understand?"
Both skulls dipped once.
It should not have been reassuring.
It was, anyway.
I sank onto the edge of the bed and sat there for a while, elbows on knees, trying to think over the noise in my head.
Someone had tried to reach me in the night before. These things had responded first. I didn't know who those people were. I didn't know why this link existed. I didn't know if this was power, curse, side effect, or some cosmic joke at my expense.
What I did know: if anyone else saw this right now, everything would explode in a different way.
Questions. Interrogations. Panic. Maybe worse.
I looked up at them again.
"For now... this stays between us."
The words sounded insane out loud. Talking to floating skull cannons at nearly three in the morning like we were setting house rules.
Still, the thread warmed faintly in my chest, and both skulls drifted a little closer like they were waiting for the next instruction.
I exhaled slowly.
"Hide."
They paused. Then each one pulled back toward opposite shadows, glow thinning at the edges until they were pale outlines, then mist, then gone.
The room became just a room again.
Rain. Clock. Dark.
I stayed awake for a long time after that, staring at the ceiling and replaying the charging light in my head.
At some point I realized my heart had finally stopped racing.
At some point after that I understood something else, something quiet and dangerous:
they weren't random.
They were mine.
And whatever that meant, it had already started.
⸻
Morning came gray and wet.
Around ten, Reine arrived in casual clothes with an umbrella and a quiet expression that said she already knew exactly how this would go.
Kotori opened the door. They exchanged a look — brief, professional, practiced.
Reine went straight to Tohka's room.
She knocked once. "Tohka."
No response.
"Would you come out for a bit?"
Silence.
"We can get food."
A long pause.
Tohka's voice emerged, rough from no sleep. "I'm not going if he comes."
Reine answered immediately. "He won't."
Another pause.
"I'm still angry."
"That is allowed."
"I don't forgive him."
"You do not need to."
The lock clicked.
The door opened a little, then fully.
Tohka stepped out with dark circles under her eyes, hair loose, posture stiff with pride and exhaustion. She looked at Reine. She did not look at me.
Reine glanced at her terminal once, then back up. "You need calories and air."
Tohka crossed her arms. "I'm only coming because I'm hungry."
Reine nodded. "Practical decisions are good decisions."
I took one cautious step forward. "Tohka..."
She turned her face away like I was bright light in a headache.
Reine's eyes flicked to me — a silent not now.
I stopped.
Tohka grabbed the umbrella from the stand and moved toward the door. At the threshold she paused, still not looking at me.
"I don't want to hear explanations today," she said.
I grimaced "Okay."
"Don't wait by my door."
"Okay..."
Then she left with Reine into the rain.
The house went quiet in the sharp, hollow way it does after a storm passes but the damage remains.
I sigh
Kotori stood in the kitchen doorway watching me like I was a test result.
"Well," she said. "She came out. That's progress."
"Doesn't feel like it."
"Feelings are noisy data."
She opened the fridge.
It was nearly empty.
Kotori stared into it for three full seconds, then shut it with mild disgust and pointed at me.
"Here's a task"
She shoved a shopping list into my chest.
I looked down. Rice. Eggs. Vegetables. Meat. Soup stock. Tohka snacks. Reine requests. Emergency desserts. Enough food to rebuild a small nation.
"This is huge."
"Yes," Kotori said. "Because the house is one dinner away from famine."
I almost laughed.
She leaned on the counter and her voice shifted into commander mode. "Listen carefully. You failed yesterday in important ways. But you did not freeze. You shielded Tohka under fire, you kept moving under pressure, and you tried to help."
I nodded, waiting.
"Now do not spiral into guilt paralysis. We still have Hermit unresolved, Tohka unstable, and the AST to deal with"
"Understood."
She pointed at the list. "Start with onions. Never run out of onions."
I tucked it into my pocket and grabbed my wallet. "Anything specific for Tohka?"
"Meat buns. A lot."
"How many is a lot?"
Kotori deadpanned, "Yes."
This time I did laugh, short and tired.
At the door, I paused and looked down the hallway toward Tohka's room, door now half-open, dark inside.
I said it quietly, mostly for myself. "I'll fix this."
Kotori answered from the kitchen without looking up. "Then begin with groceries. I'm gonna go take a nap, call me if you need anything"
I nodded and opened the umbrella and stepped outside.
Rain hit the fabric in soft steady taps. The street smelled like wet concrete and leaves. People moved with heads down, living normal lives under gray skies, while my life felt like it had split into too many fronts to hold.
In my pocket was a shopping list.
In my chest was yesterday's failure.
In the back of my mind, hidden and humming, were two white skulls waiting for a thought.
I started walking toward the grocery store.
Rain made the whole city sound hollow.
Not loud—just hollow. Like every building had a thin shell and the weather was tapping on it, checking if anything inside would crack.
Weirdly I haven't felt particularly Punny lately either.. Yoshino really has been a big distraction on my mind.
Perhaps Maybe I can cheer Tohka up with Knock-knock jokes later...
Yes.. yes that's smart I will tell her a lot of them..
A Skele-Ton of them..
My Slippers made wet, tired sounds against the sidewalk. I kept my head down, counting crosswalk lights, trying not to replay the warehouse over and over like some punishment reel. Tohka's face when she saw me too close to Yoshino. The way Yoshino had shaken when Yoshinon was taken. The instant the whole room became a Disaster.
I'd failed both of them in different ways, fast enough to make it look effortless.
A bus hissed by and sprayed dirty rainwater over the curb. I stepped back automatically and my umbrella tilted, catching a gust that tried to turn it inside out. I fixed it and kept walking.
I passed a store window and caught my reflection for a second: damp hair stuck in different directions, jaw too tight, eyes that made me look like I hadn't slept in a month. Which wasn't entirely inaccurate.
Then my mind drifted where it kept drifting—to the floating skull-things.
The ones that appeared around me like they'd been waiting for me. The ones that had fired in my room at night. The ones that answered thoughts in a way nothing should.
Friendly..? if that was even the word.
Not harmless. Definitely not harmless.
But they didn't feel hostile toward me. They felt... aligned. Like a weapon that had already decided whose hand it belonged to before that hand knew it was holding anything.
I tightened my grip on the umbrella handle and stared at the rain hitting the asphalt.
I still didn't know what they were. Why they came. Why they listened.
I only knew the name that surfaced in my head whenever I thought about them.
Gaster....
No idea what it meant. But it made my heart feel strange.... And tight.
I muttered under my breath as I walked, like trying on labels in a store with no mirrors.
"Gaster cannon...?"
Didn't fit.
"Gaster shooter...?"
Worse.
I stopped at the edge of a crosswalk while a red light glowed through the rain. Cars passed in blurry streaks.
"...Gaster blaster."
The second I said it, something in me settled. Not understanding. Just recognition.
Yeah. That was it.
Gaster blaster.
The light changed. I stepped forward—then froze so hard I almost dropped the umbrella.
Across the street, under a weak awning that didn't cover half her, stood Yoshino.
Small frame. Blue hair darkened by rain. Shoulders tucked in as if she were trying to disappear into her own coat. Head lowered. Not moving much, just enough to shiver now and then.
And her left hand—
Empty.
No puppet.
No Yoshinon.
She was alone...
I moved back behind a vending machine without thinking, heart suddenly pounding loud enough that it felt like it should be visible. I didn't want to scare her. Last time she bolted because everything around her exploded emotionally at once. If I stepped out wrong now, she might vanish to the other side before I could say two words.
I watched her for five long seconds, maybe ten.
She didn't look like she was waiting for someone.
She looked lost.
I pulled my phone out and called Kotori.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then I got a sleepy, soft voice that sounded like she just woke up.
"Fuahhhh~ Onii-Chan..? If this is about onions.. fuah... buy two."
"Kotori..... I have a situation.."
A pause. I heard fabric rustle.
"What happened..."
"Yoshino. I found her. She's outside, in the rain, alone."
Sleep vanished from her voice so fast it was almost violent.
"Location."
I gave it. She repeated it once, clipped and precise.
"Don't approach yet. Keep visual. Low profile."
"Already doing that."
"I'm transferring to Fraxinus. Put your earpiece on."
The line cut.
I exhaled once and reached into my pocket, fingers finding the tiny device Ratatoskr had given me. I hated how normal this motion had become. I slid the earpiece in and adjusted it until the static stopped.
A beat later, the bridge came alive in my ear—multiple voices, keyboard chatter, distant status calls, then Kotori sharp and fully awake.
"Shidou, comm check."
"Loud and clear."
"Good. We have satellite weather, street cams, nearby traffic feeds. AST activity is present in wider sectors, Keep your movements slow."
"Got it."
"Before you move, I need your read."
I looked at Yoshino again. She was staring at the ground like she was afraid to lift her head.
"She looks exhausted," I said quietly. "Scared. And she doesn't have Yoshinon."
A low murmur went across the bridge.
Kotori responded calmly. "Understood. We'll try to support you best we can...."
"Alright ." I nodded looking at Yoshino
"Shidou."
"What?"
"Don't improvise into disaster."
I almost laughed, because disaster and I had been on first-name terms all week. "I'll try."
"Try harder... Now make contact"
I stepped out from behind the vending machine and crossed when traffic thinned. I slowed as I got within ten meters, then five. Rain drummed against my umbrella and ran off the edges in silver threads.
"Yoshino..?" I said softly.
She jolted like someone had fired a gun.
Her eyes snapped up, wide and glassy, and for one second pure panic flashed there—raw, animal panic—and she took a half-step backward.
"It's me," I said quickly, raising my free hand, palm open. "Shidou. I'm not here to hurt you."
She stared at me as if trying to match my face to memory through static. Her breathing was quick, shallow. I could see her fingers trembling near her chest.
I stayed where I was.
No sudden moves.
No reaching.
"Can I come a little closer?" I asked.
She didn't answer. But she didn't run either.
I moved one step, then stopped again.
Her lips parted. "S-Shidou..."
Relief hit me so hard it almost hurt.
"Yeah," I said. "Me."
Her shoulders dropped half an inch, then tensed again as thunder rolled somewhere far off.
In my ear, someone whispered, "Heart-rate estimate lowering." Another voice shushed them.
I crouched slightly to seem less imposing. "You're drenched. Do you have somewhere to go?"
She looked down, then shook her head once.
No.
I swallowed. "Are you... looking for Yoshinon?"
The reaction was immediate and brutal.
She lurched forward so fast I flinched, both hands grabbing the front of my jacket. Her face came close enough that I could see raindrops clinging to her lashes.
"Yoshinon?" she whispered, then louder, trembling, "Yoshinon—where—? Do you know? Do you know?!"
"I don't," I said, and hated saying it. "I'm sorry. I don't know yet."
The strength went out of her fingers like someone had cut a string. She let go and sank to her knees right there on wet concrete, umbrella forgotten, rain hitting her hair and shoulders in steady cold lines.
A small sound escaped her throat—not quite a sob, not quite a word.
I grimaced
I stood there useless for a heartbeat, then crouched beside her and tilted my umbrella so it covered both of us.
"Hey," I said softly. "Hey. Look at me."
She didn't.
Her hands were clenched in her lap so tight her knuckles looked white.
I tried again. "Yoshino. I'm here. I'll help you look."
Her voice came out broken. "I... I lost him..."
"Not your fault."
She shook her head quickly, almost violently. "Sky people... attacked... I... I couldn't... I..."
The sentence collapsed into a shaky breath. My chest tightened.
People in the sky.
AST.
And the warehouse.
And me failing to keep the room from detonating.
"It's my fault too," I said before I could stop myself.
She blinked up at me, confused through tears. "N-no..."
"It is." I forced the words out. "I handled everything badly. I should've protected you better, I didn't."
She stared for a moment like she didn't know what to do with that, then lowered her eyes again.
In my ear, Kotori spoke, quieter than usual. "Shidou. We're initiating visual review on previous engagement footage. Limited quality, heavy weather distortion. We'll assist search tracking."
"Can you send a team?" I murmured.
"Negative. Physical sweep units will spike her stress response. We support remotely. You two search local first."
I looked down at Yoshino. She was still shaking.
"Yoshino," I said gently. "Let's look for him together. We'll check every place nearby."
She hesitated, then gave a tiny nod.
I stood and offered my hand.
She stared at it for a second like it was some complicated machine. Then she placed her fingers in mine—lightly, as if ready to pull away any second—and let me help her up.
Her hand was freezing.
I looked at her bare head, then at my umbrella, then realized she had no idea how to hold one properly in this wind. I shifted it so it covered her first and me second.
She glanced up, startled by the motion.
"It keeps the rain off," I said.
She looked at the umbrella like it was magic. "This... thing... does that?"
"Mostly. Unless the weather decides otherwise."
For the first time, a tiny flicker crossed her face—something like curiosity breaking through grief.
We started walking slowly, scanning gutters, stairwells, fence lines, drainage grates, loading docks—anywhere a light object could have been thrown in chaos.
In my ear, the bridge fed me occasional guidance.
"Check northeast alley camera blind spot."
"Pause. Zooming frame... negative, that's debris."
"Thermal impossible in this weather."
Every ten minutes or so, galge-style prompts pinged in.
1. Encourage with certainty: "We'll find him. I promise."
2. Normalize loss: "Sometimes things go missing and return."
3. Practical focus: "Tell me exactly where you last held him."
I asked what mattered.
"Where were you when you last remember holding him?"
She pointed with a trembling finger toward the distant warehouse district. "There... when loud sounds... then wind... then..."
She stopped, swallowed, and hugged her arms around herself.
I didn't push.
Instead I said, "Okay. We'll trace from there."
We walked for what felt like an hour and was probably less. Rain thickened, then eased, then thickened again. Yoshino barely spoke unless I asked direct questions. Without Yoshinon, there was a visible hollow in her—like half the voice in her body had been muted.
At one point I asked, "Why don't you fight back harder when they attack?"
I regretted it immediately, worried I'd sounded accusing.
But she answered after a long pause.
"They're... scared too," she whispered. "If I'm scary... they get more scared... then everyone gets scared more."
I looked away into the rain because my face probably showed too much.
How was this girl carrying that logic while being hunted?
I wanted to tell her she didn't owe the world that kind of mercy. I wanted to tell her she was allowed to defend herself. I wanted to tell her a hundred things that would sound like speeches and not help at all.
So I settled for, "You're kinder than most people."
She shook her head. "No... I'm just weak."
The word hit harder than it should have.
Weak.
If weakness looked like enduring this and still trying not to hurt anyone, then the whole city needed a new definition.
Another prompt pinged.
1. Direct contradiction: "You're not weak."
2. Reframe gently: "Even if you feel weak, you keep trying."
3. Humor: "Weak people don't survive this much rain."
I answered without thinking. "Even if you feel weak, you keep trying. That's not nothing."
She didn't reply. But she held the umbrella a little steadier.
Two hours bled away like that.
Wet streets.
Failed guesses.
False hope every time we spotted blue fabric that turned out to be a plastic bag or a broken sign.
The crew combed low-res battle footage from the warehouse engagement, tracing trajectories where the puppet might have fallen during the breakout. The quality was awful—rain noise, motion blur, compression artifacts turning everything into ghosts.
Finally Kotori said, irritated and tired at once, "No confirmed visual. We're still processing."
Yoshino's stomach growled loudly enough that even the rain couldn't hide it.
She froze in embarrassment and looked away.
"I'm not hungry," she whispered, which was immediately disproven by another smaller growl.
I tried not to smile. "You can lie to me, but your stomach is on my side."
She hugged herself tighter. "I'm... fine..."
"No, you're exhausted, and hungry."
"I can go..."
"Go where?"
She had no answer.
I exhaled slowly, watching rain run off the umbrella rim. "Come to my place."
Her head snapped up, panic returning in a flash. "N-no... I can't..."
"You can. We've done this before. I didn't do anything bad to you last time."
She wavered.
I added, "You can stay near the door if you want. No pressure. Eat, warm up, then decide."
Still hesitation.
In my ear, Kotori cut in with dry sarcasm. "Offer her the bear."
I spoke. "Also... I can lend you a teddy bear. The one you liked."
Silence in my ear for half a second, then Kotori muttered, "It's not 'a' teddy bear. It's my teddy bear."
I ignored her.
Yoshino blinked. "The... fluffy one?"
"Yeah."
She lowered her eyes, chewing her lip. "I... maybe..."
"That's enough for me," I said. "Maybe is good. Let's start with maybe."
We turned toward my neighborhood.
The rain softened to a steady drizzle, less hostile now, just persistent. Streetlights came on early, turning every puddle into a fractured mirror. Yoshino walked half a step behind me at first, then gradually beside me when she realized I wasn't going to rush her.
She still flinched at passing cars.
Still looked up whenever a helicopter-like sound crossed the sky, body tightening instantly.
Each time, I pretended not to notice the full extent of it so she wouldn't feel watched. I just slowed my pace and kept my voice even, talking about small things that didn't demand much from her—convenience stores with bad music, whether toast counted as cooking, the unfair price of eggs lately.
At one intersection she asked in a tiny voice, "Shidou... why....help me?"
A hard question, made harder by how simple it should've been.
Because it's right, I almost said.
Because I messed up, I almost said.
Because nobody helped you enough, I almost said.
What came out was, "Because you deserve to be happy."
She looked startled, like she'd expected a more complicated lie. She blushed and looked up at me innocently.
In my ear, one of the crew whispered, "That scored high," and Kotori immediately snapped, "Stop gamifying real feelings."
I almost smirked.
When we reached my street, Yoshino slowed again.
My house looked ordinary from outside—small yard, wet steps, light in the hall window. Nothing about it screamed safety or danger. Just a place.
Yet she stood at the gate as if an invisible line had appeared.
"I can... wait outside," she said quickly.
"You'll freeze."
"I'm okay."
"You're shaking."
"I'm always like this."
That one hurt.
I pushed the gate open and stepped in, then turned back, keeping my voice calm. "You don't owe me trust all at once. Just one step. If you hate it, you leave. I won't stop you."
She stared past me at the doorway.
Rain dotted her bangs and slid down her cheek like tears she hadn't decided to make.
I waited.
No pushing.
No speeches.
Finally, she gave the smallest nod I'd ever seen and stepped through the gate.
We crossed the short path to the door. I fumbled with my keys because my fingers were numb, then got it open and pushed inside first, flicking on the entry light.
Warm air met us—faintly smelling like detergent and old wood and the ghost of breakfast from this morning.
I took my shoes off, then glanced back.
Yoshino stood just over the threshold, shoes still on, posture tight, eyes scanning every corner as if expecting the room to bite.
"It's okay," I said. "You can come in."
She looked at me, then at the floor, then slowly removed her shoes and lined them up neatly by the door with trembling care.
When she straightened, she held herself like someone bracing for an impact that hadn't happened yet.
I stepped aside and opened my hand toward the hallway.
"Welcome," I said quietly.
Yoshino crossed the threshold.
I shut the door behind us and leaned back against it for one breath, then two.
The house was quiet in that fragile way quiet gets after a storm—like if I moved too fast, it would shatter and cut me.
Yoshino stood near the entry mat, small shoulders drawn in, towel in both hands. The rain should've soaked her to the bone after that walk, but it barely clung to her. My sleeves were dripping. My hair was a mess. My socks were a disaster. Yoshino looked like the weather had only brushed past her and decided not to linger, it was also like that last time she came here.."
Astral Dress, probably.
I swallowed, forcing myself into practical mode.
"Uh... you can put your umbrella there," I said, pointing to the stand.
She nodded once and did exactly that, precise, careful, quiet.
In my ear, Kotori's voice was flat and immediate. "Stabilize the atmosphere. Keep it simple."
"I know."
I moved to the washroom, grabbed two towels, came back, and handed one to Yoshino. "Here."
"Th-thank you..."
"No problem."
She dabbed her hair carefully, still scanning the room with guarded eyes like she expected something to jump out from behind the sofa.
I headed toward the kitchen and pulled out my phone. "I'll just order—"
"No," Kotori cut in immediately through the earpiece. "You are absolutely not ordering delivery."
I stared at the screen. "Are we really doing this?"
"Yes. No outsiders. No variables. Cook."
I looked at the kitchen like it had personally offended me. "Do I have to?."
"Yes." She said instantly
I exhaled through my nose. "Fine."
Yoshino had moved to the edge of the living room and was standing there awkwardly, as if she didn't know whether she had permission to sit. She looked exhausted, fragile, and one wrong word away from disappearing.
Then I remembered.
I walked to the shelf, picked up Kotori's teddy bear, and held it out toward Yoshino.
"Here.." I said giving it to her.
Yoshino's eyes widened the second she saw it. She took the bear with both hands and pulled it against her chest. The way her shoulders eased—just a little—made something in me unclench.
Kotori grumbled, then muttered, "...Smoothe move."
I pretended I didn't hear that part.
"You can sit," I told Yoshino, nodding at the sofa. "I'll make food."
She obeyed, settling at the very edge of the cushion with the teddy bear hugged tight, like she was ready to bolt if the room changed shape.
I turned on the stove and started the world's most basic emergency menu.
Eggs in a bowl. Fork. Salt.
Bacon in the pan. Keep it from burning.
Bread in toaster. Pray.
The soundscape was weirdly normal: oil crackle, toaster click, rain tapping the windows, faint hum of the fridge. If someone walked in without context, they'd think this was an ordinary evening.
Nothing about this was ordinary.
⸻
I hated the restaurant the moment I sat down.
Not because it was bad. It was warm, bright, and smelled like sweet sauce and grilled meat. People laughed. Plates clinked. Steam rose from kitchen doors that swung open and shut like breathing.
I hated it because it felt normal.
I was not normal.
I sat across from Reine with my hands clenched under the table so she wouldn't see them shaking. My clothes were dry now, but I still felt rain on my skin, still heard the warehouse in my ears, still saw Shidou too close to that girl—again.
Reine looked sleepy as always, half-lidded eyes, calm voice, impossible face. She held a menu like this was just dinner, like my chest wasn't full of broken glass.
"Order," she said.
"I'm not hungry..."
My stomach betrayed me instantly with a low growl.
Reine blinked once. "Your body disagrees."
I glared at the menu, then grabbed it hard enough to wrinkle the corner.
I ordered too much. I knew I was ordering too much. I kept going anyway.
When the server left, Reine folded her hands and looked at me. "Now talk."
"I don't want to."
"You do."
"I don't."
"Then stay silent while upset. That also counts as communication."
I stared at her. Was that a joke? With Reine, I could never tell.
My throat hurt when I spoke. "I saw them."
"I know."
"Twice."
"I know."
"She was close to him."
"I know."
"Then why are you acting like this is nothing!?"
Reine tilted her head slightly. "I'm not. I'm acting like it has causes and I want to help you address them" she said simply
I looked away, jaw tight. "The cause is obvious."
"What?."
"He chose her."
The words felt like swallowing metal.
Reine didn't react right away. "That is your fear. Not necessarily reality."
I slammed my palms lightly against my knees. "He told me to stay behind... Then I find him with her! He keeps appearing beside her. What am I supposed to think!?"
"You're supposed to feel what you feel," Reine said. "Then verify before deciding."
I laughed once, bitter. "You always talk like a manual."
"Manuals are useful under stress."
I wanted to shout. I wanted to throw something. Instead I whispered, "It hurts."
Reine's gaze softened by one degree. "Yes."
"Don't just 'yes' me."
"Then I'll be specific." She leaned forward slightly. "Jealousy is pain plus fear. Fear of replacement. Fear of losing exclusivity. Fear that what you trusted is gone."
Heat rose in my face. "That sounds ugly."
"It sounds honest."
I pressed my lips together so hard they hurt.
Reine continued, calm and steady. "Your feelings are not wrong. Your conclusions may be."
"Same thing."
"Not the same thing."
I hated that she was right.
She picked up her water glass, took a sip, and said, "Shin risks his life for you."
I frowned. "Shin?"
She paused. "...Shidou."
I blinked. "Oh. I thought maybe it was a nickname."
"Hm.... yeah I suppose..."
I furrowed my eyes, confused, but she was already moving on.
"He has repeatedly put himself between you and danger," she said. "He has ignored safer options to protect you. He has endured pain, stress, and political pressure because he prioritizes your survival."
I stared down at the table. My reflection in the spoon looked warped.
Reine's voice stayed gentle. "People do not make those choices for someone they do not care about."
Something in my chest twisted hard. "Then why does he keep hurting me?"
"Because he is trying to prevent others harm and failing to manage emotional problems."
I looked up. "That sounds like a terrible excuse."
"It is an explanation, not an excuse."
The server arrived with the first wave of food. Then the second. Then the third.
Bowls. Plates. Skewers. Soup. Rice. Fried items. Grilled items. Sauces. Side dishes. A mountain.
The server set the last plate down and gave me a look that said both admiration and fear.
Reine stared at the table. "This is enough for an athletic squad."
"I was upset."
"Yes."
I attacked the food.
First bite: too hot. Didn't care.
Second bite: salty, perfect.
Third: I remembered I hadn't eaten properly.
By minute five, I was eating with focused intensity that probably looked feral. Reine ate slowly, watching me the way doctors watch monitors.
Halfway through, she said, "Do you want him to understand you?"
I kept chewing. "Yes."
"Then don't only show anger. Show hurt."
I swallowed. "I don't like showing hurt."
"Most people don't."
"I feel weak."
"You're not weak. You're attached."
I froze with chopsticks halfway up.
Reine added, "Attachment without communication becomes suspicion. Suspicion without clarification from him becomes self-inflicted suffering."
Huh...
So basically just.. talk to him?
I set the chopsticks down. "Couldn't you have just said talk to him?" I grumbled
"You listen better when the sentence sounds complex."
I almost laughed despite myself. Almost.
Rain slid down the window in long crooked lines. The restaurant buzzed around us. Somewhere nearby a birthday song started, badly.
I took a breath that trembled and hated that it trembled.
"If I go back now," I said slowly, "and he says it wasn't what I think..."
"Then you decide what to do from truth, not assumption."
"And if it is what I think?"
"Then you still decide."
I looked at my hands. My fingers were finally unclenching.
Reine tapped her chopsticks once against the bowl. "He cares about you. That is true. You are hurt. That is also true. Both can exist."
I looked up at her. "How are you so calm?"
"Practice."
I glanced at the food, then at the door, then back at her.
Shidou...
I needed to talk to him...
"I need to go" I said.
Reine looked at the untouched half of the table. "You ordered twelve plates."
"You can eat."
"I cannot eat this much."
"Too bad! You're smart! Figure it out."
That actually got a tiny blink of surprise from her.
I stood, grabbed my umbrella, and bowed quickly. "Thank you."
Then I left at a run, rain hitting the umbrella like fast fingers.
Behind me, through the window, Reine sat alone at a table built for three families, staring at enough food to hold a feast.
⸻
I had produced a plate that looked like a classic breakfast.
I set eggs, bacon, and toast in front of Yoshino and sat at an angle instead of directly across, trying not to make the space feel interrogative.
"Take your time," I said.
She nodded and started eating in tiny bites, careful and quiet. Her left arm still wrapped around Kotori's teddy bear like a life vest.
I kept my voice low. "Is it okay if I ask something?"
Yoshino looked up, wary but listening.
"Yoshinon," I said. "What is he to you?"
The fork paused.
Rain filled the silence for a few seconds.
Then she whispered, "He is... my hero."
I didn't speak.
"He is my friend," she added. "And... the self I can't be."
Her eyes dropped to the plate. "When I can't speak, he speaks. When I panic, he doesn't. When I shake, he laughs."
Her throat tightened. "I'm weak. Pathetic. Cowardly. So... Yoshinon is my ideal."
The last word cracked.
Tears rolled down quietly, one after another, and she looked embarrassed for crying, which somehow made it worse.
"I lost him," she whispered. "I couldn't protect him."
I leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands together so I wouldn't do something sudden. "You're not pathetic."
She shook her head hard, tears flicking from her lashes. "I am."
"You're traumatized," I said softly. "That's different."
She looked at me like I'd spoken a foreign language.
"I mean," I corrected quickly, "you've been hurt a lot. Surviving that isn't weakness."
More tears.
I hated how useless words felt.
I moved slowly, gave her time to read my movement, then sat beside her and opened my arms just enough to ask without forcing.
I then hugged her slowly.
She stiffened instantly when I touched her—back rigid, shoulders locked, breath caught.
"Sorry," I whispered. "I can stop."
I started to pull away- but Then, after one trembling second, she grabbed the back of my sleeve with careful fingers and didn't let go.
So I stayed.
Her shaking eased by tiny increments. She leaned, barely, against my shoulder. The teddy bear got trapped between us and she adjusted it protectively.
I stared at the rain-dark window and said what I needed to say without dressing it up.
"I'll help you find Yoshinon."
She sniffled.
"I won't abandon you."
Her fingers tightened on my sleeve.
And then I said it cleanly, with no hedge left:
"I'll save you."
She froze, then looked up at me with wet eyes. "...Why?"
"Because you deserve to be happy."
Her eyes widened, it filled with tears instantly.
She made a small sound that was half sob, half laugh, and nodded. "Thank you... very much."
"Don't thank me yet," I said. "We still need results."
She wiped her face with her sleeve, took a shaky breath, and sat back a little. The air settled into something fragile but warmer.
Then she asked, very quietly, "Itsuka-san... what is a kiss?"
I nearly choked.
In my ear, Kotori muttered something I couldn't quite hear.
I ignored her and answered as honestly as I could. "A kiss can mean different things. Affection. Trust. Comfort. Sometimes confusion."
Yoshino tilted her head. "Confusion?"
"Yeah," I said dryly. "Very often confusion."
She leaned closer, studying my expression with intense, innocent concentration. "In warehouse... it was accident?"
"Yeah it was..."
"Kiss.... Was it like this..?"
She leaned closer. Her face right in front of mine
I felt a slight blush coming up" Yoshino..?"
She leaned in.
Then...
The front door opened.
I turned nearly snapping my neck.
Tohka stood in the entryway, umbrella dripping, rain still on her hair, cheeks flushed from running.
Her gaze moved from me, to Yoshino, to the distance between us—which was basically none.
Ahh shit.... This was the third time now I'm fucked for sure.
But instead of getting angry...She smiled.
It was a clean, polite smile with a visible stress tick at her temple.
"W-Welcome back," I said, standing too fast.
"Mm," she answered.
"This.... This... I can explain."
She held up one hand, still smiling. "You don't need to explain."
That sentence dropped like a blade.
She stepped out of her shoes neatly, passed us, and started up the stairs.
"Tohka, wait—"
She paused at the bottom step without turning fully. "Please continue."
Then she went up.
Second step.
Third step.
Door slam.
The house shook.
I stood there blinking at the staircase like it might apologize.
Then I turned back to Yoshino—
Empty.
The teddy bear lay on the cushion. Plate half-finished. Air cold where she'd been.
"Damn it," I whispered.
Kotori answered instantly in my ear. "She withdrew. Spirit response indicates retreat to the other side."
I sat down hard and covered my face with both hands. "Of course."
Upstairs, silence like pressure.
In my ear, keyboard chatter surged. Voices overlapped.
"Frame sync complete—"
"Run that again—"
"Object trace reacquired—"
Kotori's tone changed to operational crispness. "Shidou."
"Yeah?"
"We finally have a likely location for Yoshinon."
I looked up immediately. "You're sure?"
"High probability from post-engagement footage reconstruction. Not perfect certainty."
"Where is it?"
There was a pause.
Long enough to tell me I wasn't going to like the answer.
Kotori gave it to me anyway.
And I grimaced. Hard.