Chapter 12 - Storm

By the time I finally stand in front of Tobiichi Origami's apartment building, my hands are sweating so much the paper bag in my left hand feels like it's going to melt.

Rain has mostly stopped, just a thin mist hanging over the street, the sky a dull gray lid. The auto-lock glass doors reflect my own face back at me: blue jacket, baggy eyes, expression somewhere between mission-focused and about to bolt.

In my right hand, I've got a folded memo—a little map Kotori drew by hand, complete with arrows and "DON'T GET LOST, DUMBASS" scribbled on top.

In my ear, her voice clicks through the earpiece.

"Shidou, you're there, right?"

"Yeah," I mutter, glancing up at the building number. "In front of the entrance."

"Good." I can practically hear her spinning in that captain's chair. "One more time, mission objective:"

"Recover Yoshinon from Tobiichi Origami's apartment," I recite quietly.

"Correct. Don't screw it up," she says. "You're the only one who can walk in there without getting your legs blown off."

I grimace, thinking about what she told me earlier.

Ratatoskr tried infiltrating Origami's place three times.

Infrared sensors.

Tear gas traps.

Hidden auto-turrets.

Six mechanics in the hospital.

It's not that I didn't believe her, it's just... who the hell booby-traps their apartment like that?

"Tobiichi Origami," apparently.

And somewhere behind that security fortress is Yoshinon—Yoshino's hero, her "ideal self," the one thing she clung to when the entire sky turned into gunfire.

I sigh

"...I get it," I say softly. "I'm going."

I huff out a slow breath, tuck the memo into my pocket, and step up to the panel. I punch in her unit number. A second later, the speaker crackles.

"Identify," comes a flat, calm voice I know a little too well.

"Itsuka Shidou," I answer.

There's no pause.

The lock beeps, light turning green.

"Come in," Origami says, and the line cuts.

Like she was waiting right next to the panel for me.

I swallow, push the door open, and walk inside.

The lobby is sleek, clean, almost too quiet. I take the elevator up, watch the floor numbers tick by.

"Hey, Shidou," Kotori's voice says into my ear. "Status check?"

"Going up," I murmur.

"Remember: I've got a bug camera deployed near you," she says. "We'll scan her place while you keep her busy. Don't act suspicious. Don't stare at the walls."

"I know," I say.

"Also, Origami is extremely sharp," she adds. "You slip once, she's going to notice. Play it cool."

"With Origami..?," I say, "you're asking the impossible..."

There's a faint snort over the line.

The elevator dings. Sixth floor. I step out, follow the numbers down the hall until I reach her door.

My hand is halfway up to knock when it swings open on its own.

She's right there.

And for a second, my brain completely forgets how to function.

Because standing in the doorway, face calm and expressionless as always, is Tobiichi Origami... in a full maid outfit.

Dark blue one-piece dress, crisp white apron with ruffles, matching headband perched in her pale hair. The skirt swishes around her thighs, stockings disappear under the hem, everything painfully tailored and proper.

I twitch.

The paper bag slips from my hand and hits the floor with a pathetic thud. The sweets inside tilt dangerously.

"..."

"..."

We stare at each other.

In my ear, Kotori's saying something.

"—what's the holdup, why aren't you—Shidou? Turn on the camera, let me—"

I can't even answer. All my mental processes have been hijacked by lace.

"Welcome," Origami says calmly, as if she's wearing our school uniform like normal. "I have been waiting, Shidou."

My smile vanishes, my My mouth opens. No words come out.

Kotori's voice spikes over the link.

"What was that sound? Did you drop something? Angle the camera, I need to see—"

The moment I step fully across the threshold, the earpiece screams with static.

"—tch—signal—jam—Shid—hey, can you—"

It breaks, stutters, then dies entirely.

"...Kotori?" I murmur, fingers lifting instinctively toward my ear.

Nothing.

I'm just standing in Origami's doorway, brain melting, comms dead, and she's watching me like this is all completely mundane.

"Is something wrong?" she asks.

"What—no," I say automatically, snapping my hand down from my ear. "Not at all. Everything's... great. Perfect."

I reach down, grab the toppled bag and check the damage. One of the cakes inside is a little crooked, but it hasn't exploded. Small miracles.

I straighten, force myself to look at her face and not at the ridiculous frills.

"Origami," I manage, "why... are you dressed like that?"

She tilts her head, just a fraction.

"Because you said," she answers, "you prefer maids to nurses."

My brain does a quick rewind.

Ah.

Right.

I press my palm to my forehead.

"I said that once," I mutter.

"Was I incorrect?" she asks, perfectly serious.

"That's not the point," I groan.

Her eyes blink slowly, like a computer logging this as "unresolved" but moving on anyway.

"Please, come in," she says, stepping back.

There's not much I can do except obey.

I slip off my shoes, clutch the bag of sweets like a lifeline, and follow her inside.

Her apartment is... honestly kind of impressive. Light-colored furniture. No clutter. Shelves lined up perfectly. Everything in its place, like she measured it all with a ruler.

A sweet smell hangs in the air—some kind of incense. Not bad, exactly, just... heavy. The longer I breathe it, the hazier my head feels.

"It smells nice," I say, looking around as casually as I can, eyes flicking over every visible surface for a white rabbit puppet. "Is this... air freshener?"

"Incense," Origami answers. "I bought it for today."

She gestures to the low table in the center of the room.

"Please sit."

I sit. She comes around and, instead of taking the other side, settles down right next to me.

Our shoulders almost brush.

The incense doesn't help my awareness of that at all.

"Do you really live here alone?" I ask, trying for small talk and also genuinely wondering how a high school student affords an apartment like this.

"Yes," she says simply.

"What about before that?" I ask.

"I lived at my grandmother's," she answers. "My parents died in an accident when I was in elementary school."

There's no change in her tone, but the words still hit like a weight dropping into the room.

"...Sorry," I say quietly.

She doesn't flinch.

"It was five years ago," she says. "Since entering high school, I have lived here alone."

"You do all the cooking and cleaning and stuff yourself?" I ask.

"Yes."

"That's... impressive," I admit. "I can barely keep my room in one piece and I live with my little sister."

She glances at me.

"There is no problem," she says. "If you lived here, I would do it for you as well."

I choke on my own breath.

"Wh-What? I'm not... I don't... Ugh..." I wave my hands. "You can't just say things like that casually, you know."

"Should I not?" she asks.

Her face is the same as always—blank, calm—but there's something about the way she said "if you lived here" that sticks under my ribs.

"Just— forget it," I grumble. "I'll manage my own laundry."

She studies me for another second, then stands.

"I will prepare tea," she says. "Please wait."

She glides away toward the kitchen, maid skirt swaying softly.

As soon as she's gone, I exhale hard and take the chance to actually look around.

Living room: spotless. TV stand, shelves, under the table—no rabbit puppet. No soft toys. Nothing that looks remotely like Yoshinon.

Figures.

If a normal person had picked up a weird puppet from a battlefield, they might've just tossed it on a chair or bed. Origami probably catalogued it, sterilized it, and stored it like a piece of evidence.

There's supposed to be a bug camera around here, but without Kotori's voice I can't tell if it's even active. Great. We're both blind.

The sound of clinking cups drifts from the kitchen. I drag a hand down my face.

"Yoshino," I think, hand tightening on my knee. "I'll get it back."

A minute later, Origami returns carrying a tray. On it: two teacups and a small plate of cookies.

She sets it down and sits beside me again, close enough that our knees almost touch.

She slides one of the cups toward me.

"Here."

I look down.

Her cup is filled with normal tea—clear, reddish-brown.

The cup in front of me is... not.

The liquid is thick and opaque, the color of swamp sludge. It clings to the porcelain like it's trying to crawl out.

"Origami," I say slowly. "What... is this?"

"Tea," she says.

"I gathered that," I say. "What kind?"

"Tea from overseas.." she answers.

That is not a real description.

I lean in and sniff.

Instant regret.

It smells like someone boiled old socks in a vat of burned medicine and then left it in the sun for a week.

I recoil, eyes watering.

"It's, uh. Strong," I manage.

"It is very healthy," Origami says. "Please, drink."

There's a faint note of expectation in her otherwise flat voice.

In my ear, there's only the whisper of dead air. No Kotori screaming, no Reine's calm fallback plan. Just me and this cup of liquid death.

I look from the cup to Origami.

She's watching me, expression mild, hands folded neatly in her lap.

I could say no. I should say no.

Instead, because I am apparently weak to quiet, earnest insanity, I pick up the cup.

"Bottoms up," I mutter, and take a sip.

It's worse than the smell.

It's not just bitter; it's like my tongue is being stabbed by every bad flavor known to mankind at once. Burnt. Metallic. Sour. Something like mint, but corrupted. I gag, force myself to swallow, and slam the cup down.

"Haaa—gh—" I grab for the cookie plate like a drowning man, shove two into my mouth. Sweetness explodes over my abused taste buds, muting the horror. I chew like my life depends on it.

When I finally manage to breathe again, my whole body feels hot. My skin tingles, my arms feel heavy, and the incense haze doubles.

"I'm... alive," I croak.

"Good," Origami says. "It has many benefits."

"Haa... If dying counts as a benefit, sure," I mutter.

Before I can fully recover, she moves.

One second she's sitting beside me. The next, she's shifting forward, planting both hands on the floor beside my hips. Then she swings a leg over and settles her weight right on my stomach, straddling me.

My brain does another hard reset.

"Wh—what are you doing?!" I yelp, hands flying up uselessly.

"Please stay still," she says. "You will not die from one cup."

"That is not the main problem here!"

The maid skirt rustles around my waist. She's leaning over me, hair falling forward slightly, eyes fixed on my face. The tea has my blood already humming, and now there's warmth pressed down on my torso, the faint scent of her shampoo mixing with incense.

My heart pounds.

"This position will be efficient," she says.

"For what?!" I demand.

She blinks once.

"Negotiation," she says. "If I move, you might run away."

"I wasn't going to run away! I'm on your sofa, not a battlefield!"

"Even so," she says calmly. "Please listen, Shidou. I have a request."

I groan. "And you needed to sit on me for this because...?"

She ignores the question entirely.

"You call Yatogami by her given name," she says. "Tohka."

My mouth snaps shut.

"You still call me 'Tobiichi,'" she continues. "That is unfair."

"Oh my God.." I mutter. "This is about that?"

"Yes," she says.

Her face doesn't change, but her voice is just a little softer.

"I want you to call me by my given name. Origami."

The tea heat crawls up my neck. Part of it is embarrassment. Part of it is... something else.

Because, honestly, she has a point. I've been on a first-name basis with Tohka for a while now. And Origami has been... well. Origami.

We don't have that same easy, open thing, but still.

I look up at her, forced to meet her eyes from this ridiculous angle. She's so close I can see the fine line of her lashes and smell her sweet scent.

The tea running through my veins makes everything sharper, more vivid.

I shouldn't like this closeness. I shouldn't like how warm she feels, or how the maid skirt brushes my sides with every small shift of her balance.

But I do.

And that annoys me more than anything.

"You really pick the worst timing for this kind of thing," I mutter.

"Timing is efficient," she says. "You cannot escape."

"I wasn't trying to escape in the first place," I grumble, but the fight's already leaking out of me.

I exhale, slow and long.

"Alright" I say. "I'll call you by your given name."

Her eyes widen a fraction.

"Origami," I say, feeling my tongue rebel a bit. "There. Happy?"

She doesn't smile. She doesn't gasp. She doesn't do anything dramatic.

She just... softens. The tiniest change. Her shoulders relax by a millimeter, her gaze warms half a degree, her lips part just a little.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

Then she shifts, stands, and steps off me.

My stomach immediately misses the pressure. I refuse to acknowledge that.

She straightens her skirt, then looks down at me.

And then she.... Hopped?

Like a bunny.

It was so uncharacteristic it caught me a bit off guard. Was she.... expressing happiness?

Hehe... that was so dumb..

I found myself smiling again despite my blush.

"I will take a shower," she says. "Please wait here. Do not leave"

That last instruction is a little too specific.

"R-right," I say, dragging myself upright and plopping back onto the cushion. "Wouldn't dream of it."

She gives a small nod and disappears down the hall. A second later, the bathroom door clicks shut. The sound of running water starts up.

I stare at the empty doorway for a moment, then slap my cheeks lightly.

"Focus," I mutter. "You're not here for... whatever that was. You're here for Yoshino."

I push myself to my feet. The tea's lingering heat makes me feel like I've got a low fever, but my mind's clear enough.

Living room: clear. Kitchen: already checked, but I sweep it again for anything puppet-shaped. All I find are empty bottles with terrifying labels in the garbage—Ultra Health Max, Ultra Bitter Plus, things like that.

"Figures," I mutter. "Of course she'd brew her tea out of this kind of stuff."

Water keeps running. I check the time mentally. Not that long since she went in. I have to move.

There's really only one place left: her bedroom.

I walk down the short hallway, each step feeling way louder than it should in the quiet apartment. The incense scent is lighter back here, but my nose has already soaked enough of it up to keep my head foggy.

The last door on the left. I put my hand on the handle, pause.

This is crossing a line. No matter how you spin it.

But then Yoshino's voice flickers through my mind:

"Yoshinon... is gone..."

Her shaking shoulders, her frantic eyes.

I grit my teeth and open the door.

Origami's bedroom is exactly what I should have expected and still don't fully know how to process.

It's clean. Of course. Bed made, desk organized, shelves neat. But it's also... sparse. No posters. No stuffed animals. No little trinkets from friends. Just the essentials, laid out like a hotel room she maintains for herself.

My eyes snag on the bed.

It's a King size double.

"...Why," I whisper, "do you even need that much space?"

I shove the thought aside before my brain goes anywhere stupid and move on.

I check under the bed (boxes, all labeled), behind the desk, near the window.

Nothing.

That leaves the closet.

I go to it, thumb brushing the handle. Water still runs in the background, a steady curtain of sound.

"Sorry," I mutter to the room. "I'll put everything back how it was."

I slide the closet door open.

And there he is.

White and blue, rabbit ears drooping, goofy stitched grin. Yoshinon hangs from a hook among neatly arranged clothes, like some kind of watchman.

My chest loosens so quickly it almost hurts.

"Found you," I breathe.

I reach in and take the puppet carefully, cradling it with both hands. Up close, I can see faint scuffs in the fabric, like it's been scraped against rough surfaces. Little burns, maybe, from ricocheting bullets.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, despite myself. "We should've protected you better."

The shower noise continues, unbroken.

I tuck Yoshinon under my uniform jacket, securing him against my stomach. The fabric bulges slightly; I pull my blazer a bit forward to hide the outline.

Then I close the closet, back-track out of the bedroom, and return to the living room, heart thumping.

By the time I sit back down at the table and pretend to be interested in the pattern of the floor, the water stops.

I have about ten seconds to regret every life choice that led me here before the bathroom door opens.

"H-huh?" My voice shook

Origami steps out, steam drifting behind her, dressed in... a towel. Just a towel.

It wraps around her chest and falls to mid-thigh, leaving her shoulders bare, collarbones exposed, legs long and pale. Drops of water cling to her skin, tracing little lines down her neck.

"This is excessively dangerous," my brain announces helpfully, then blue-screens.

"Origami!" I sputter. "What—why are you—"

She pauses in the doorway, looking down at herself as if just remembering she's wearing almost nothing.

"I just finished showering," she says, voice as flat as ever. "I will change soon."

"That doesn't make it okay!" I shout, springing to my feet before I even realize I'm moving.

Before any other part of me can think about what I'm seeing, I step right up to her, reach out, and pinch both of her cheeks between my fingers.

Her skin is warm and damp.

"L-listen, you Bonehead!," I snap, pulling her cheeks out just a little. "You can't just walk around half-naked when there's a guy in your living room! Even if you don't care, I do!"

Her eyes widen, just a fraction. A soft pink rises under my fingers, spreading across her face.

"Ah..." she murmurs, voice small for the first time. "Okay... Shidou..."

Hearing my name from her like that, in that tone, does something dumb to my chest. I let go quickly, stepping back like I've touched a hot stove.

"Go put on some clothes," I mutter, turning away to give her some semblance of privacy. "Actual clothes. Not a ribbon or something."

"...Understood," she says quietly.

Her footsteps pad back toward her room.

I exhale roughly and flop back down onto the cushion, pressing a hand over my face.

"What am I doing," I groan. "Scolding an AST operative like she's some clueless kid."

But that's the weird thing.

Doing it didn't feel wrong. It felt... natural. Like this was my problem to fix. Like making sure Tobiichi Origami didn't do stupid things was my problem.

It's stupid. She's more self-sufficient than I am. She lives alone, cooks, cleans, fights Spirits. She's part of an elite combat unit.

And yet, when she looked at me with that tiny blush and said "Okay, Shidou"... I couldn't help but feel like if I don't watch out for her, something will go wrong.

I don't know when I started feeling that.

It scares me a little.

The door creaks open again.

"I'm done," Origami says.

I drop my hand from my face—and blink.

She's changed. Technically.

Into clothes that look suspiciously like... mine.

Loose blue hoodie. White T-shirt underneath. Comfortable shorts. Socks and indoor slippers. The hoodie's a little big on her, hanging off one shoulder, sleeves covering half her hands.

I stare.

She stares back.

"...Origami," I say slowly. "Those look... familiar."

She glances down at herself, then back at me with an innocent tilt of the head.

"Do they?" she asks.

"Yes," I say. "They look exactly like a set I lost."

"I do not remember," she replies.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Of course you don't," I mutter. "Let me guess. They just showed up in your drawer one day, right?"

"It is possible," she says calmly.

I sigh.

I wasn't even gonna comment on the fact we're wearing the same thing. She would probably just say "Coincidence"

I should be angry. Or at least more annoyed. Instead, all I can muster is this tired, resigned fondness.

"Whatever," I grumble. "Just don't stretch them out."

"I will take good care of them," she says.

I don't doubt that for a second.

She comes over and sits across from me this time, maybe because of the earlier cheek-pulling. Her hoodie bunches around her knees, exposing a bit of bare leg above her socks.

I force my eyes back to her face.

"Origami," I say, fingers brushing unconsciously against the hidden shape of Yoshinon under my jacket. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Is it about my clothes?" she asks.

You mean MY clothes...

"It is absolutely not about your clothes," I say. "It's about Spirits."

Her expression shutters immediately, like someone flicked off a switch.

"...I see," she says. "What about them?"

I swallow.

No backing out now.

"I want to ask you something straight," I say. "Do you really believe all Spirits are enemies? No exceptions. No matter what they do."

"Yes," she answers without hesitation. "Spirits cause spacequakes. They destroy cities. They take lives. That makes them enemies of humanity."

I grimaced

"Even if there's a Spirit who hasn't attacked anyone?" I push. "Who's just... existing quietly? No quakes. No destruction."

"Intent does not matter," she replies. "As long as they exist, the risk remains. An uncontrolled bomb that can erase tens of thousands of lives in an instant is unacceptable."

I grit my teeth.

"What about Tohka?" I ask. "She's not causing quakes anymore. She goes to school. She eats lunch. She argues with teachers. She trips over her desk."

Origami's jaw tightens by a hair.

"Yatogami Tohka is still a Spirit," she says. "Her current state is abnormal. We cannot confirm her power. That alone makes her dangerous."

"So you'd kill her," I say quietly. "If you thought you had to."

"If the situation required it," she says. "I would not hesitate."

The incense seems thicker now, the air too heavy.

I clench my fist.

"And Yoshino?" I stopped. And corrected myself "Hermit."

She didn't comment on my slip up. Her hand, resting on her knee, tenses.

"...Dangerous," she says. "The rain. The giant familiar. We witnessed it."

"I witnessed something else," I say. "I saw her on the ground, sobbing, screaming for someone. I saw bullets tearing through the water around her while she clung to that puppet like it was the only thing holding her together."

Origami's eyes sharpen, Confusion and suspicion.

"How do you—"

"You ever ask yourself why she doesn't fight back?" I cut in. "Why she doesn't unleash that power unless she's pushed to the brink? She takes hit after hit and only really lashes out when you rip Yoshinon away from her."

"That does not change what she is," Origami says. "The one Five years ago—"

She stops.

Then, slowly, she lifts her gaze to meet mine.

"Five years ago," she says, voice calm but thin, "there was a fire. A large one. Tenguu City. Many people died."

I hold my breath.

That fire...

"My parents died that day," she says. "In front of me."

I feel Yoshinon's fabric pressing against my ribs.

"I saw flames," she goes on. "They were not normal. They covered the sky. They moved like they were alive. There is only one explanation."

"A Spirit," I say quietly.

"Yes," she says. "A fire-type Spirit. I will never forget those flames."

Her fingers twist into the cuff of "my" hoodie.

"I cannot forgive that," she says. "No matter what."

Silence stretches between us.

"I'm sorry," I say, and I mean it. "About your parents. About what you saw. I can't pretend I understand it. I wasn't there. But I get... why you'd hate them."

She doesn't move.

"If I'd seen that," I say, "I'd probably hate them too. Maybe I do hate whoever did that."

Her lashes flutter at whoever.

"But Origami," I continue, "that doesn't mean every Spirit is that one."

"You have no proof," she says.

I let out a small, humorless laugh.

"I've got more than you think," I say. "Because I've talked to them. Tohka. Hermit. I've seen how they act when no one's trying to kill them."

I lean forward.

"They're not monsters."

"Spirits are monsters," she insists. "Their existence breaks the world."

"They're girls," I say. "Stupid, stubborn, scared girls with way too much power and no idea what to do with it."

Her lips press together.

"You're a good person, Origami," I say. "You fight to protect people. You put yourself in danger every time there's a reading. I respect that. I really do."

She blinks, slowly.

"But if you kill someone like Tohka or Hermit..." I go on, "someone who's hurting no one, who's trying their best to just live... then you're going to end up killing good people. And I don't want that for you."

The words come out heavier than I expect, like they're being pulled up from somewhere deeper than my usual sarcasm.

Because it's true. It's not just about saving Spirits anymore. It's about saving her from a future where she looks at her hands and wonders when they became stained.

She stares at me.

"Is that why you came today?" she asks quietly. "To tell me this?"

I hesitate.

I could say yes.

I could say no.

"I..." I swallow. "Yeah. That's a big part of it."

She lowers her gaze for a moment, something flickering across her face too fast for me to catch.

"You're reckless," she says at last. "Talking to Spirits. Getting close to them."

"I know," I say. "But someone has to. Otherwise, this stays a stupid loop forever. You hunting them. Them running or fighting back or panicking. Cities getting wrecked in the middle."

"Why you..?" she asks.

"Because I... met them by chance" I say simply. "Whether I wanted to be or not. I've... met them. They trust me. Or they're starting to. If that's enough to change something, even a little—then I have to try."

She's quiet.

"Spirits cause spacequakes," she says again. "That is fact."

"Yeah," I say. "Some do. Some can't control it. Some don't even know what this world is when they arrive."

I lean forward more.

"But your own manual says not every reading equals an attack," I remind her. "That some appearances are... phenomenon. Instinct. That intent matters in how you respond."

Her eyes narrow.

"We must hunt the spirit if there is a Spacequake Shidou, we must follow the readings it our job."

"And when there's no reading?" I ask. "When there's no quake? What then?"

"...If no Spirit reading can be confirmed," she admits, "we are ordered to treat the area as ordinary. We cannot attack without higher authorization."

"So right now," I say, "you can't touch Tohka."

She's silent.

"That's... something," I say. "Not enough. But a start."

I realize as I speak that at some point we've both leaned in—drawn forward by the weight of the conversation.

Her face is closer now. Much closer. I can see the tiny flecks of darker gray in her irises, the faint shine of moisture at the corner of her lip. Her breath ghosts across my own mouth.

"Origami," I say softly. "If there was a way to change this... would you let me try? So you don't have to keep throwing yourself at things until one finally kills you? So you don't have to become someone you'd hate if you were watching yourself from the outside?"

"That is impossible... even so my job still requires me to eliminate them.." she whispers.

"Maybe...." I say. "But I'm still going to try. For Hermit. For Tohka. For you."

Something in her eyes trembles, like a crack forming in glass.

I continued

"I don't want you," I say, "to be alone in this hatred forever."

Her eyes widened.

There was simply too much inside of her, I wasn't even sure how I knew. I just did, and I wanna alleviate it just a little.

For a moment, it feels like the incense, the tea, the entire apartment are all holding their breath with us.

She opened her mouth-

Then the sirens hit.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU—

The shrill wail slices through the air, loud enough that the windows vibrate. Emergency chimes start pinging from her TV, from somewhere in her room. The city outside starts screaming Spacequake.

We both jerk back.

Even Origami, who usually doesn't flinch at anything, actually jumps a little.

"Spacequake alarm," she says, standing in one smooth movement.

The intimacy in her eyes vanishes, replaced by ice-cold focus.

"I have to go," she says.

"Origami—" I start.

"Shidou," she cuts in, voice back in command mode. "Go to the nearest shelter. Do not leave it until the alarm is lifted."

"What if—"

"There is no time," she says, stepping into her shoes. "Stay safe."

She grabs a bag from beside the door—probably her AST gear—and yanks the door open.

"Origami!" I call.

She pauses for half a heartbeat, looks back over her shoulder at me.

"Don't get hurt," I say before I can stop myself.

For the first time since the sirens started, something flickers behind her eyes.

"I won't," she says.

Then she's gone, door closing behind her with a soft click.

The sirens keep howling, muffled now, like a storm beating at the windows.

I sit there for a second, staring at the door.

My fingers slowly curl into my jacket, closing around the shape of Yoshinon pressed against my stomach. The puppet's fabric is soft against my palm. I can almost see Yoshino's trembling smile, her tearful eyes.

A cold pit forms in my stomach.

"Don't tell me," I whisper, turning my gaze toward the window, "it's Yoshino again..."

⸻

The first explosion shook the bed.

"Nu...?"

My eyes snapped open to darkness. For a second I thought it was part of some weird dream about lunch bread and homework. Then the second boom hit, harder, rattling the window.

I shot upright, hair sticking everywhere.

"W–wha... what!?"

My heart pounded. I stared at the door like it was going to explain itself.

Another rumble rolled through the house, low and heavy, like the sky itself was stomping its foot. The floorboards vibrated under my bare feet.

That did not sound like Shidou dropping a plate.

I stumbled out of bed, marched to the window, and yanked it open.

The world stabbed me in the face.

"—!?"

An icy wind punched into the room, slapping my skin, stabbing straight through my thin pajamas. It wasn't just "a little chilly." It was the kind of cold that made my bones try to curl up.

I hissed and hugged my arms around myself, leaning out to glare at the street.

"What... is this...?"

On one side of my view, the sky was a thick gray curtain. Rain poured down in sheets, pounding roofs and gutters and signs. That was normal.

What wasn't normal was the way every single drop froze the instant it hit anything.

I watched a puddle trying to form in the street—water splashing down, only to harden in a heartbeat. The road had turned into a glassy mirror. Parked cars were already coated in a translucent shell. A tree branch bent under the weight of fresh ice, cracked, and snapped off.

My breath steamed in front of my face. That had definitely not been happening when I went to sleep.

A feeling pulled on the back of my mind. A sound I'd written off as a dream earlier—a long, wailing cry that had seeped through my nap.

Spacequake sirens.

"...Tama-chan talked about those," I muttered.

So this was a spacequake.

My mood dropped straight into the negatives. It has already been confusing and annoying lately.

Now the sky was throwing knives at us.

"Tch. What a pain."

I slammed the window halfway shut, turned toward the door—

Something huge slid across my peripheral vision.

"Nu!?"

I whipped my head back in time to catch a three-meter-tall shape barreling down the frozen street: a giant, fat rabbit doll, ears flopping as it skated on the ice like it owned it.

On its back, clinging to the fur, was a small figure in a green coat.

My breath caught.

"That's..."

The timid Spirit girl. The one that clung to that annoying puppet and peeked at Shidou from behind it with big, watery eyes. The one I'd seen with him in the house.

A cold that had nothing to do with the wind crept up my chest.

Is Shidou with her again? Right now? Out there?

I had no proof. But my heart twisted like it was being wrung out.

I bit my lip hard enough to sting.

"Like I'm just going to sit here," I growled.

Instead of thinking about shelters or evacuation routes, I threw open the door and bolted down the hall, bare feet slapping against the floorboards.

I wasn't running away from the spacequake.

I was running toward it.

Toward that girl.

And toward wherever Shidou was.

⸻

By the time I stepped out of Origami's apartment building, the city had turned into someone else's world.

The automatic doors slid open with a cheerful little ding that did not fit the apocalyptic landscape outside.

I took one step out and froze.

"Woah."

It wasn't just snow, or even a blizzard. It looked like someone had hit the "pause" button on a storm halfway through and then layered ice over everything.

The street in front of the building was a sheet of glass and ice. Cars were half-mummified in clear frost, windows blurred and wipers trapped mid-swipe. Streetlights wore crowns of icicles. Even the air felt stiff.

This was my neighborhood. The convenience store, the crosswalk, the lame billboard that never changed. I recognized all of it.

Seeing it all frozen solid made my stomach twist.

I exhaled, watching my breath curl like smoke in front of me.

"...So this is what happens when she really cuts loose."

Yoshinon's stitched grin stared up at me from my hand. I found myself squeezing the puppet just a bit tighter.

As if she were answering, my earpiece crackled.

"Leaving that aside," Kotori's voice snapped into my ear, no greeting, just pure irritation, comms were back huh "what were you doing, Shidou? The Spirit manifested a while ago. You took your sweet time leaving that room."

I winced.

"Hello to you too, commander. And I wasn't slacking off, for once."

"Hoh? That so."

"On the way out, I stepped in some kind of birdlime trap at her entrance," I said, glancing back at the door. "It wrapped around my ankle and wouldn't let go. Very high-quality, by the way. Ten out of ten if you want to delay someone fleeing the scene."

"...Birdlime?" Kotori repeated. "At her front door?"

"Yeah. It took a while to peel off. It didn't feel like something meant to keep burglars out," I said slowly. "More like... something to slow down someone trying to leave in a panic."

I could still picture Origami's face from ten minutes ago. Quiet. Flat. Just a little warmer around the edges than usual.

I shook my head hard.

"Anyway, we can psychoanalyze her home security later. What's the situation, Kotori?"

The sigh I got in return sounded like she was physically forcing down three different lectures.

"Fine. Yes, that's Yoshino's doing. The cold front, the freezing. It's all her Spirit power leaking."

I watched a new layer of ice spider across a manhole cover as we spoke. Even the drain was sealing up.

"That's... not good."

"That's putting it mildly. Even rainwater that should be draining is freezing in place. If this keeps up, you're going to see the ground crack. Pressure from above, expansion below. The underground shelters are right under that."

So: if we took our time, we didn't just risk Yoshino. We risked everyone hiding underneath the city.

"Got it," I said. "No leisurely strolls through the apocalypse."

"You don't get to say cool things when you caused part of the delay," Kotori said dryly. Then, after a beat, her voice softened. "Anyway. We don't have spare pieces on the board. The only ones who can stop Yoshino right now are you and that puppet. Will you go for it, Shidou?"

The answer was already sitting in my chest.

"Yeah," I said. "Of course. I promised her."

Images flickered: Yoshino's hesitant smile in my house, the way she had carefully balanced tea, the way she'd looked when she thought she'd caused trouble.

"I told her I'd be her hero and save her," I added. "If I bail now, that makes me a liar. And I'm not that guy."

"...Mm."

Another voice slid onto the line, drowsy and familiar.

"...Shidou-kun. It's Reine."

"Reine-san?"

"I finished looking into what you asked about. When Yoshino came to visit your house," she said. "Your question wasn't a misunderstanding."

The air felt heavier as she laid it out. Spirit readings, layered signals, emotional spikes tied to weather. Something hidden deep inside Yoshino—something that screamed "don't hurt anyone" and "I deserve this" at the same time.

With every word, my chest felt tighter, like someone was winding a band around it.

By the time she was done, breathing hurt.

"...Yeah," I said quietly. "If it's Yoshino, that tracks."

A girl who apologized to the sky for raining. If she thought the only way to avoid hurting people was to disappear behind this blizzard...

"I'm still going to save her," I said, more to myself than to them. "Whether her power agrees or not."

"Mm," Reine hummed. "Then we'll back you up as much as our consoles and coffee allow."

Kotor cleared her throat.

"All right, Hero," she said. "Here's how you actually reach the damsel. From your position, run straight to the right until you exit the main street. Based on Yoshino's movement, you can intercept in roughly five minutes. Sprint, and you arrive first."

I inhaled, slowly.

My heart jumped, but it wasn't the panicked, scrambling kind of pounding. Just... loud. Awake.

"Roger."

I thumped my chest a couple of times, less "cool hero ritual" and more "make sure the engine's working," then started moving, shoes skidding slightly on the ice.

"And Shidou?" Kotori added, too casually.

"Yeah?"

"Once you meet up, hurry and raise her affection level, then give her a kiss," she said. "That's the shortest clear route."

My face heated, but I refused to stumble.

"We're really going straight to it huh?" I said

"Oh? Are you embarrassed?" she said smugly. "It's not like it's your first time kissing her. You have also done it with Tohka"

The accidental kiss in the department store flashed through my mind: our lips bumping, Yoshino freezing, the entire world stopping for half a second.

"I'm more concerned about being flagged for crimes," I answered. "Feels... questionable doing that."

"Hmm. Maybe that's just your guilty conscience speaking," Kotori mused. "Could it be my onii-chan is a lolicon?"

"Yeah, that's it. You nailed it," I said dryly, picking up speed as I talked. "I heroically rush into a freezing city to save one girl and your takeaway is 'lolicon.' Top-tier analytical skills, commander...."

"Your sarcasm stat has gone up," she complained. "Are you sure your strike zone isn't middle school and below?"

I feel my eye twitch but before I can respond Kotori yells.

"Shut up and run!" she snapped, voice suddenly sharp. "Hurry up and go you might not make it!"

Her shout had a raw edge to it that made me blink. Kotori didn't raise her voice like that unless she was more than just annoyed.

"...Got it," I said.

The city blurred around me in white and gray. My shoes slid on the ice, every step threatening a faceplant, but somehow my body kept finding its balance.

Promise or not, there wasn't room for hesitation anymore.

I sprinted.

I ran through the iced streets not having time to take in the full destruction.

By the time Kotori said "Here," my lungs were complaining and my thighs burned.

I skidded to a stop in the middle of the street she'd indicated. Ice glared up at me, reflecting the dull sky. The entire block was empty—no cars moving, no people, no sound except the distant roar of the storm.

"Okay, I'm at your interception point," I said. "Feels very lonely."

"Give it five seconds," Kotori replied.

She was, unfortunately, exactly right.

A big, dopey silhouette slid out of the mist up ahead, moving with way too much speed for something that looked like a mascot costume: long ears, huge feet, round body.

Zadkiel.

On its back, clinging to the collar, was a tiny figure in a green coat.

"Yoshino!"

My voice cracked on the second syllable. I didn't care.

The giant rabbit doll squealed across the ice, braking in a spray of frost until it loomed in front of me. It bent its torso forward a little, like a train lowering its platform.

The girl on its back slowly raised her head.

Her hair clung to her cheeks. Her eyes were red and puffy, lashes stuck together with tears. There were streaks of water on her face that weren't just from the rain.

My chest tightened.

"...Long time no see," I managed. "Sorry for being late."

"...Shidou...san..."

Her voice wobbled, but she said it—my name. That was enough to make the pain in my legs vanish.

She pushed herself up a bit, then pulled her right hand out of Zadkiel's back. The shiny rings on her fingers glinted even in the gray light, thin threads trailing back into the doll's interior.

Up close, it was obvious: she was literally puppeteering the giant rabbit with those rings.

Even her control system looked fragile.

"Yoshino," I said. "There's something I want to give back to you."

She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve, tilting her head like a nervous rabbit.

I reached into my jacket.

Yoshinon's fabric brushed my fingers. I wrapped my hand around the puppet and drew it out, the familiar bells clinking faintly.

"Shi–dou!"

Kotori's shout hit my ear at the exact same moment the hair on my neck stood up.

I turned.

A beam of light sliced through the air from behind me—thick, blinding, and so close I felt the heat graze my cheek. In front of me, Yoshino jerked as it tore past her shoulder, nicking her coat and skin.

She flinched, a small cry slipping out.

"Yoshino!"

I spun all the way around.

Above the intersection, hovering in full AST gear, was Tobiichi Origami.

She was all metal and angles—heavy armor, thrusters humming, a cannon still smoking from the shot.

Our gazes met anyway. but for a split second I saw something—a tiny twist at the corner of her mouth, a faint tightening around the eyes in my memory. It was like a grimace.

The warmth from earlier that day, when we'd talked in that quiet room, brushed against the cold I was seeing now.

It hurt more than the beam grazing me.

Around us, more suits dropped into view, fanning out. Thrusters roared, forming a ring of white armor in the sky.

"You young man over there!" a processed voice blared. "It's dangerous! Distance yourself from the Spirit..."

It took me half a second to realize they meant me.

I turned back to Yoshino just in time to see all the color drain from her face.

"A... ah... ah, ah..."

Her eyes locked on the AST suits, body trembling so violently Zadkiel's fur shivered under her. The hand with the rings spasmed.

The next second, both her arms dove back into the opening in Zadkiel's back like she was trying to hide inside him.

"Wait—"

Too late.

An explosion of cold blew across the street, slamming into my skin hard enough to sting. The air temperature dropped what felt like ten degrees in a heartbeat.

Zadkiel slid backwards, retreating from the ring of AST while somehow keeping its face toward them. A deep sucking noise came from its mouth, like the world's largest vacuum cleaner inhaling the atmosphere itself.

"Yoshino! Wait!" I took a step forward, feet slipping. "You don't have to—"

She didn't even glance my way.

The sucking intensified. The sky above us flickered, wind shifting direction toward that gaping maw.

Somewhere behind me, I heard feet slapping against ice. I didn't look back.

All my attention was on Yoshino.

She's terrified. She's cornered. And all she knows how to do is erase herself and everything around her.

The pressure in the air climbed, a headache starting at the base of my skull. The AST thrusters screamed louder.

"Shidou!"

I heard my name shouted from multiple directions at once.

Then the world went white.

⸻

I arrived right when everything was about to break.

My lungs burned from running through the frozen streets. The world had been nothing but glass and gray and Shidou's name in my head.

When the road opened, I saw him.

Shidou, standing on the ice with his shoulders squared, facing that rabbit monster and the crying girl on its back. AST hovered overhead like ugly metal bugs.

None of them looked at me.

The air was wrong.

Zadkiel's head, which had been tilted back, snapped forward. Its huge mouth gaped, air warping around it. The sucking sound deepened until it felt like my eardrums were folding.

The sensation was horribly familiar.

"...This is the same as... my final blow," I whispered.

The moment before I swung Sandalphon, the air always did this. Tension climbing, particles trembling, reality itself leaning forward.

Only this time, Shidou was on the wrong end.

I opened my mouth, but yelling his name from here would do nothing.

I slammed my heel down.

"Sandalphon!"

Air splashed under my foot. Nothing else happened.

My heart lurched.

Again.

"Sandalphon!"

No throne. No sword. Just my own stupid, empty hands and rain stinging my face.

"...Why...?"

I stamped my heel again and again, harder each time, as if I could crack open the seal by force.

"Come out! Sandalphon! Come out!"

I could hear the humans on the ship in my head, explaining calmly: we sealed your power, Tohka. This way, you can live with Shidou and everyone else. It's safer, you'll see.

At first, that had made me feel like I was suffocating. Being sealed? Being weak?

Then... I'd gotten used to it. Bread, school, Shidou's weird jokes, stupid things like "tests" and "PE." Days where no one shot at me. Days where Shidou smiled at me for reasons that had nothing to do with battles.

Those days had become... very important.

So important that the memory cutting into my head now felt like a knife.

Shidou, staggered by a bullet. His stomach torn open. Blood everywhere. His body collapsing.

My voice screaming his name over and over, useless.

"I don't... want to see that... ever again..."

I stomped so hard my heel hurt.

"Please... come out! Sandalphon!"

Nothing.

The air snapped.

The beam launched.

"Please...." She muttered

Then.... Sandalphon came

⸻

I watched the beam leave Zadkiel's mouth.

From far away, it probably looked like a graceful pillar of white. Up close, it was a train made of knives.

The rational part of my brain ran the numbers.

Speed: too fast to dodge.

Distance: too close.

Target: me.

The rest of me... didn't freak out the way it should have.

The noise of the world dimmed. The screaming AST thrusters, Yoshino's distant cry, even the wind—all of it faded into a thin hum behind my heartbeat.

I know what to do.

The thought popped into my head, calm and certain, like I'd always known and just forgotten for a while.

The beam roared closer, filling my vision.

My mouth moved before I'd even decided on the words.

"...Then I'll just shortcut—"

I never got to finish the sentence.

Metal slammed into existence in front of me.

A massive throne exploded out of empty air, planting itself between me and the oncoming beam like it had been there all along and I was just too slow to notice. Steel-blue armrests, ornate back, cold pressure.

The beam smashed into it.

The impact rattled my teeth. Light shattered outward. Freezing air blasted around the edges, ripping at my clothes, but not touching me.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at the back of the throne.

"S–Sandalphon...?"

The sword's hilt peeked over the top like it was eavesdropping. There was no mistaking it. Tohka's Angel. Manifested. Without her here.

My earpiece crackled.

"In simple terms," Kotori said, voice dry, "if Tohka's mental state becomes unstable enough, the seal can leak. The power you absorbed can flow back to her. It's not her full strength, but enough to pull out her Angel if something, say, tries to murder you again in front of her."

She paused.

"Really. You're disgustingly loved, Shidou."

"...Pretty sure 'disgustingly' is unnecessary," I muttered, knees shaking a little now that the immediate death beam had been handled.

The street in front of the throne was a disaster—ice shards everywhere, AST units flaring thrusters to stabilize, Yoshino on Zadkiel's back staring like she was seeing a ghost.

We locked eyes through the fading light.

Her face crumpled. Then she spun Zadkiel on its big feet and bolted, sliding away down the frozen road with far more speed than something that chubby should have.

"Yoshino—!"

My shout chased her and died.

"After Hermit!" Ryouko's command echoed from the suits overhead. "Don't let her escape!"

Thrusters flared as the AST shot after her.

Origami hovered a fraction of a second longer than the rest. Her visor tipped down, taking in the throne that had appeared out of nowhere. She has a tiny grimace, as if something in what she was seeing scraped over a raw spot inside her.

Then she turned and accelerated after Yoshino.

Silence fell, broken only by the lingering hiss of cooling ice.

I stared at the huge metal throne that had just saved my life, Yoshinon limp against my chest.

"...Well," I said eventually. "That was new."

"Shidou!"

Tohka's voice cut through the cold like a bell.

I turned around.

She stood a few meters back, breathing hard, hair plastered to her face by rain. For a second I saw her exactly as she'd been in that first spacequake—Spirit armor, sword, everything.

Then I realized something was... off.

Her Raizen uniform clung to her, soaked. Over it, patches of shimmering light wrapped around her chest and hips and shoulders—the beginnings of her AstralDress, incomplete but definitely there.

"Tohka," I said. "Your outfit's bugged."

"Nu?"

She looked down—and then yelped.

"Oo!? What is this!? AstralDress!?"

She started patting herself like a startled cat, fingers running over the patches of light. Watching her poke at the magical armor like it was a weird fashion choice almost made me laugh.

"More importantly," she snapped, yanking her gaze back to me, "Shidou, are you hurt!?"

I looked down at myself. Aside from some new rips in my clothes and a rapidly fading sting on my cheek, I was surprisingly intact.

"Still in one piece," I said. "Thanks to your... throne out of nowhere."

Her eyes flicked to Sandalphon, then away. Her cheeks tinted, just a little.

"...I'm sorry," she said abruptly. Her voice wobbled in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. "In a lot of ways."

"Eh?"

"I've been... irritated lately," she mumbled, hands curling into fists. "By stuff I don't understand. I didn't thank you properly. I made things difficult. I..." She swallowed. "I wanted to apologize. For all of that."

For a second, my brain uselessly generated a dozen different "It's fine" type answers.

I didn't have time for any of them.

Rain tapped against Sandalphon's metal. Yoshino was getting farther away with every second.

"Tohka," I said instead.

"Nu? Why the serious voice?"

"I need your help."

That was the simple truth.

I stepped forward, then dropped to my knees in front of her, the ice seeping through my pants instantly. I bowed until my forehead nearly touched the ground.

"I beg you," I said, words clear and steady. "Lend me your power."

There it was. No fancy speeches, no games.

I wanted—had—to save Yoshino. I already knew I probably couldn't do it by myself. Not against a walking ice age and a squad of magicians.

Tohka went quiet.

Rain hammered around us. Somewhere far off, AST thrusters hummed.

"The Yoshino you're talking about," she said finally, very softly, "is that girl?"

"Yeah," I said.

The memory of Yoshino in my kitchen flashed up—clutching Yoshinon, apologizing for existing, quietly smiling when I promised I'd be a hero for her.

"She can't control her power," I continued. "She blames herself for everything. She's scared of hurting people more than anything."

Tohka's fingers twitched.

"She's... like you were," I said. "Actually, she is the same as you, Tohka. A Spirit. One who doesn't know how to live in this world without destroying it by accident."

I lifted my head enough to meet her eyes.

"I promised her I'd save her," I said. "That I'd be her hero. I'm not asking you to save some random girl for me. I'm asking you to help me keep my word."

Tohka's face twisted. Her lips pressed together hard.

"...I see," she whispered. "She's important. More than... me."

I opened my mouth. My earpiece crackled.

"Shidou," Kotori cut in quickly. "Stop. Do not dump unnecessary information into a Spirit's head, especially about other Spirits. Emotional instability is already—"

I reached up and tapped the earpiece once.

"Sorry, Kotori," I murmured. "You can yell at me later."

Then I looked back at Tohka.

"You're wrong," I said flatly. "It's not 'more than.'"

She blinked.

"You're both important," I said. "For different reasons. In different ways. There's no scoreboard. There's just... people I want to protect."

Her eyes widened a fraction.

Silence stretched between us, heavy and cold and weirdly fragile.

Then Tohka let out a breath that was almost a laugh. She lifted a hand to her forehead like she had a headache.

"...Right," she whispered, more to herself than to me. "I forgot. The one who saved me was this kind of man."

"Hm?" I said.

She shook her head once, hard, like she was physically tossing something aside.

"All I have to do is chase after that girl, right?" she said, turning her back on me. Her voice tried for regal and mostly got there, but the edges still shook.

"Yeah," I said. "That's the idea."

"Don't say anything else," she ordered, stomping over to Sandalphon. "Time is precious."

Before I could say a word, she kicked the side of the throne.

The Angel shuddered. Metal flowed like liquid, the tall back warping, the armrests melting into different shapes. In moments, the whole thing had folded down into a long, flat, ornate board with raised edges—a ridiculous, magic surfboard.

Tohka hopped onto the back half and jerked her chin at the front.

"Get on," she said. "We're going after her."

"Guess we're commuting in style," I muttered.

I scrambled onto the front, testing my footing. The surface felt solid yet alive, like standing on some huge creature's back.

"Hold onto something," she called.

Before I could say anythingack, Sandalphon rocketed forward.

The world slammed into me.

Wind punched my face. My body snapped backward, almost torn off the board—only my death grip on some carved metal ridges kept me from flying into a wall at sixty kilometers an hour.

"Ho—ly—!"

My shout was immediately ripped away by the speed.

Tohka stood behind me like she'd done this every day of her life, feet glued to the board, hair streaming, eyes locked forward.

"If we slow down, we'll lose her!" she yelled over the wind. "We're going full speed!"

"O–okay!" I yelled back, which came out more like "OKA—" before getting swallowed.

"Seriously..." Kotori sighed in my ear. "You two are a hazard. Anyway, Tohka reacted better than expected to your little honest speech. But Shidou, sharing that much with a Spirit is still careless."

"Duly noted," I said, forcing my jaw to work. "I'll take my performance review later. Support first?"

"You're lucky I'm a professional," she grumbled. Then, more firmly: "Of course we'll support you. Saving Spirits is our core objective. We won't hold back."

"Thank I smileds."

The board somehow found another gear, the scenery streaking into smeared lines. I adjusted my stance, planting my feet more firmly, Yoshinon tucked securely inside my jacket.

Ahead of us, the frozen city gave way to something stranger: a hemispherical dome of swirling white, planted in the middle of the street like a blizzard trapped in a soap bubble.

⸻

We will corner Hermit here.

"B team, go on ahead" I said. My voice came out cool, even. "We are going to trap [Hermit]."

"Roger," two voices answered immediately.

I adjusted my thrusters, breaking from the main pursuit formation with the designated B team. The Territory around my body smoothed the G-forces into nothing more than gentle pressure, letting us accelerate without blacking out.

Below us, the frozen city slid by—static and dead. The only movement was the white mass ahead: Zadkiel and the tiny figure clinging to its back.

For a moment, a scene from earlier flickered at the edge of my mind—warm lighting, a quiet room, the way Shidou's eyes had looked when he'd talked about Spirits.

I turned my attention back to the HUD.

"Visual on Hermit," one of the B team called.

"Proceed with the plan," I replied.

We spread out, cutting ahead of Zadkiel's path and angling downward. Thrusters howled. The freezing wind clawed at us, but the Territory filtered it out.

"Deploy anchors."

Our under-arm units fired with a series of mechanical snaps. Six anchors slammed into the icy road in a wide hexagon.

Light threads unspooled from them, rising and connecting overhead. The net wove itself in the air—a lattice of lasers, shining through the falling rain.

"Laser web deployment complete," the other B teammate said. "Beta and Gamma tied together confirmed."

"Good. We'll corner her," I said.

Behind Hermit, Ryouko's voice crackled over the main channel.

"A team has visual contact," she said. "We're pushing her toward the net. Don't let any gaps open."

In front, behind, above. No escape vectors.

Hermit's head turned slightly. She saw it—the glowing web ahead, the suits behind.

She reacted. Too late.

"A—ah, ah, ah, aah...!"

The terrified cry burst from the open channel. My grip on No Pain tightened by reflex.

"All members—attack!" Ryouko ordered.

Blades hummed to life as we dove.

Hermit screamed.

The air around her twisted. Raindrops froze instantly, then shattered, the fragments sucked into a violent spin around her.

In seconds, a blizzard dome formed, swallowing her and Zadkiel whole. A sphere of compressed storm.

The moment my blade touched the outer edge, my Territory shrieked.

Frost raced along No Pain's edge, spreading up the blade faster than I could react. Even the supposedly intangible field wrapping my body began to crystallize, white cracks spider-webbing across my vision.

"Tch."

I canceled the sword and dropped my Territory in one motion.

The world hit me.

The weight of the CR-Unit slammed into my limbs with the force of gravity I'd been ignoring. Freezing rain pelted my face like needles. It felt like I'd been dropped onto a winter mountain in nothing but a shirt.

My lungs seized. My vision blurred.

"Basic Territory, re-activate," I said. The words scraped my throat.

Warmth—artificial, but enough—wrapped around me as the field came back. The weight dropped to manageable, the wind softened. I kicked away from the dome, thrusters firing.

Below, the blizzard dome spun, a ten-meter hemisphere of white noise and murderous hail.

"Hey, is everyone safe!?" Ryouko snapped.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five responses.

Two missing.

I stared at the dome.

Annoying.

"What should we do?" I asked quietly.

Ryouko pushed scan data to our HUDs. Numbers scrolled. Mana values pulsed.

"The readings aren't massive, but the barrier reacts to Realizer output," she said. "Any time Territory or a blade touches, defensive strength condenses at that point."

"So we turn off Territory and don't trigger it," a squad member suggested. "We go in with just the suits."

"And get shredded by ice chunks moving at that speed," Ryouko shot back. "The suits aren't built for that kind of continuous impact. You'll be turned into mush."

"Then normal firearms from a distance—"

"That won't work either," she said. "AstralDress is Spirit armor. Only Realizer-class output can break it. Physical bullets might as well be snowballs."

The dome's readings overlapped in my vision: outer storm, inner thin mana shell.

Two layers. Both inconvenient.

I listened, analyzed, discarded options.

Then I made a decision.

"...Doing it like this is fine," I said.

I flew upward.

My normal Territory radius hovered around three meters. I concentrated, ignoring the beginning of a headache, and expanded it.

Four meters. Seven. Ten.

The field thinned, its strength per unit area dropping, but it spread wide enough to envelope the top half of a nearby office building.

Inside the field, the building groaned. The sudden change in forces tore at its structure.

With a low, grinding roar, the upper block wrenched free—concrete cracking, rebar snapping, windows bursting outwards. Furniture and electronics tumbled into the air, then dropped outside the Territory's edge, falling to the frozen street.

"Origami, what are you doing!?" Ryouko shouted.

I ignored her.

The block of building floated above me, monstrosity of concrete and glass.

"It's simple," I said, more for the record than anyone else. "We crush her with a massive mass of matter. When the barrier deactivates to deal with that, we all attack at once."

"...You're reckless," Ryouko muttered. Then, on the open channel: "All units, standby around the dome. Prepare to fire everything you've got the moment that barrier flickers!"

"Roger!"

I moved directly above the blizzard.

The headache pounded behind my eyes. Maintaining a Territory that big, carrying that much weight, strained everything.

I exhaled slowly.

Then I dropped the building.

The block plummeted, whistling, a dark mass against the white storm.

For a second, it looked like it would smash the dome flat.

Then a thin line appeared along its side.

I narrowed my eyes.

The line deepened, expanded, raced across the block. The concrete split neatly, then again, then again, dividing into smaller and smaller segments as if invisible blades were slicing it mid-fall.

By the time the pieces reached the storm, they were gravel.

The dome didn't even shudder.

"...Annoying," I said.

A shrill warning tone rang in my ear.

"Spirit output's spiking!" Ryouko shouted. "Something's happening inside the dome!"

I immediately shrank my Territory, pulling it in tight until it sat barely two meters from my body. The debris I'd been supporting fell away, crashing into the frozen city below.

The compressed field was stronger—but also more stressed by direct impact.

Something moved in front of me.

Night-colored hair whipped through the air.

Yatogami Tohka.

She appeared in a blur, sword already raised. Her blade slammed into my Territory with a sound like tearing metal, the strain rippling through the field and into my skull.

"Tobiichi Origami," she said, glaring at me. "I won't let you mess with Shidou."

I gritted my teeth and drew No Pain from my hip, its blade humming back to life.

The AAA-rank Spirit. Even weakened, she outclassed most of us.

I kicked off the air to meet her charge.

⸻

The AST floated around us like flies that had forgotten their original meal.

"Princess's Spirit reading is weak, but it's Princess," Ryouko's annoyed voice crackled over their comms. "Forget Hermit for now. If she attacks while we're focused on the dome, we're finished."

"Understood."

They turned their guns and blades toward me.

Good.

From my spot on the rooftop fence, I looked down at them. The blizzard dome spun in the distance. Somewhere beyond that, Shidou was riding Sandalphon—my Sandalphon—toward the storm.

He'd told me his plan on the board earlier, in that annoying, calm voice of his.

He was going to do something stupid and dangerous with his own body.

So my job was simple.

Keep everyone else busy.

I flicked my wet hair back and grinned at Origami as she hovered in front of me, blade ready.

"I told you," I said. "I won't let you disturb Shidou."

She didn't answer. Her stance spoke enough: tight, precise, all edges.

Fine.

"Then come," I said.

I kicked off the fence.

Our blades clashed mid-air, the impact sending a shiver up my arms. Even in her metal shell, I could feel the intent behind her strikes—clean, relentless.

I met them with my own.

I might not understand humans very well. Or my own feelings. Or why my chest twisted when Shidou talked about other girls.

But I understood this much.

Right now, I was Shidou's vanguard.

And anyone who tried to touch his resolve would have to answer to my blade.

⸻

Three minutes earlier, before Tohka had cut into the AST like a dark purple buzzsaw, things had been slightly less chaotic.

Sandalphon skimmed over the frozen road, the blizzard dome swelling in my vision with each second. Tohka stood rock-solid behind me, one hand braced lightly against my shoulder whenever the board jolted.

Ahead, AST suits circled the dome like sharks.

"This is Yoshino's barrier," Reine had said "A blizzard fortress that automatically counterattacks when it detects Realizer output. Territory, CR-Units, Angels—it all counts."

"Translation," I'd summarized. "No one with magic hardware can get near her without eating ice."

"More or less," she'd replied.

"This is... troubling," Kotori had added. "Logically, Yoshino is unreachable."

I stared at the dome now, the storm inside it a quiet roar in my ears.

"Logically, sure," I said. "But there's one more thing bugging me."

"Like what?" Kotori asked.

"It'll make sense in a minute," I said.

Tohka had said "Leave the AST to me," before launching herself off Sandalphon toward Origami like a missile.

I watched them collide—Spirit and human—then dragged my eyes back to the dome.

Time to test something I'd been avoiding thinking about.

"Kotori," I said quietly, as Sandalphon slowed near the barrier. "Back when Tohka's powers were sealed... Origami shot me, right? Through the stomach."

Kotori went silent for a second.

"You choose now to bring that up," she said dryly. Then, more serious: "Yes. You were fatally wounded. The kind of wound normal people don't get back up from."

"But I did," I said. "That... wasn't just luck."

"Half right," she said. "Half wrong."

I frowned. "You know, one of these days you have to give me a straight answer."

"This is a straight answer," she insisted. "Listen. You have a built-in ability. When your body takes life-threatening damage, Spirit-class flames engulf you and reconstruct your body. Automatic revival. A frankly embarrassing undead monster cheat ability."

"...That's how you say 'we're glad you lived'?" I asked. "Very heartwarming."

"It's accurate," she said. "Be grateful your bugs work in your favor."

"So if I get torn up again," I said slowly, staring at the storm, "I'll come back."

"As long as the damage meets the 'life-threatening' condition yes," she replied. "Even from lethal wounds."

A small knot of dread uncoiled in my stomach. Not all of it. But enough.

"Good," I said. "If that wasn't the case, what I'm about to do would just be plain suicidal instead of only mostly suicidal."

"Shidou," she said sharply, "what are you planning—"

I didn't respond. Sandalphon had already reached the dome's edge.

I jumped off, boots hitting the ice with a dull thud.

From up close, the blizzard was worse.

Snow and ice and wind all mashed together, swirling like a living thing. It gave off a weird, oppressive feeling, like standing too close to a cliff edge you couldn't see.

I tucked Yoshinon inside my jacket, against my chest.

"Stay there," I murmured to the puppet. "We're almost done."

Then I stepped forward.

The cold hammered me immediately. It felt like walking into a wall made of knives. The storm clawed at my skin, tore at my clothes, soaked and froze them all at once.

"Stop!" Kotori yelled in my ear. "I know what you're thinking! If you go in with just your body and rely on your regeneration, you'll—listen to me!"

"I am listening," I said, forcing one foot in front of the other. Every step felt like pushing through concrete. "You said the inner barrier's outer edge is about five meters from Yoshino, right?"

"Yes!" she snapped. "And inside that zone, any Spirit-type mana gets frozen. That includes your regeneration. If that field gets suppressed halfway, your wounds won't heal. You'll just die. Permanently."

Hm.... She sure did know a lot of the fire power I have.

"So I just have to get to her before that happens," I said simply smiling.

"This is not a race!" she shouted. "This is continuous lethal exposure! The math is terrible!"

"Don't worry," I said. "My math grades are terrible too. We're in sync."

"That's not—!"

"If I don't go, Yoshino keeps hurting people," I said. "Or she gets killed by AST. Either way, that's a bad ending. I promised her something different, even if it hurts a bit for me."

Silence. Then a choked breath.

"...You..." Her voice shook. "...half-brained amoeba..."

"Love you too," I said lightly, because the alternative was focusing on how much my nerves hurt. "Oh, and Kotori?"

"What!?"

"If this goes horribly wrong," I said, "delete my browser history."

The line went dead quiet.

Then:

"Y–you... absolute... idiot!" she shrieked. "That's what you're thinking about right now!?"

Underneath the rage, I heard it—a split second where "Onii—" almost slipped out before she strangled it.

I smiled despite the storm chewing on my face.

"Just covering all bases," I said. "Okay, going in."

"Shidou!" she screamed. "Shid—!"

The blizzard swallowed the rest.

⸻

It hurts.

Not my body. My chest.

I hugged my knees on Zadkiel's back, the world beyond my little calm center nothing but screaming white.

Outside, everything crashed and howled and broke. Inside, it was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your thoughts feel too loud.

"...Yoshinon," I whispered.

No answer.

Of course not. I'd lost her.

"Yoshinon..."

My fingers curled in Zadkiel's fur. Tears pricked my eyes again and I scrubbed at them with the back of my hand. They just came back.

Something moved at the edge of the calm.

I blinked.

Yoshinon stood at the boundary of the inner barrier, her familiar rabbit face peeking in, bells tilting, stitched smile in place.

My heart jumped.

"Yoshinon...!"

I scrambled off Zadkiel's back, nearly slipping on the ice, and ran toward her.

I didn't notice the shadow behind her until it hit the ground.

The sound was wet and heavy.

I froze.

A person lay sprawled on the ice, Yoshinon on their hand like some kind of terrible joke. Their clothes were shredded, their body soaked in red. The color spread under them, staining the white.

My throat closed.

They had come through my blizzard. Through the storm everyone outside was afraid to touch.

No one should survive that.

They didn't look like they had.

My lips parted to scream—

Flames burst out around the body.

I choked on the sound.

Fire crawled over torn flesh and soaked fabric, licking up blood, devouring wounds. It should have burned. It looked like it should hurt so much.

The person didn't move.

The flames rose higher, then slowly shrank, taking the injuries with them. Skin reknit. Holes closed. The red faded.

When the last flicker vanished, the face under it was familiar.

"...Shidou...san," I whispered.

He lay there for a second, then let out a long, shaky breath.

"Phew! I really thought I was gonna die that time.." he sighed out.

The stupidly casual words broke something in my chest.

My legs gave out and I dropped to my knees, hands to my mouth.

He pushed himself up slowly, blinking around at the igloo-quiet space inside the blizzard.

His eyes found me.

"Yoshino," he said.

I flinched.

He stood, cradling Yoshinon like something precious. His clothes were ruined—holes, burnt edges, dried blood—but he was standing.

"As promised," he said, a crooked smile tugging at his lips, "I came to save you. Took the worst possible shortcut, but I made it."

I stared.

My vision wobbled. Tears spilled over before I could stop them.

"...A..." My voice shook. "Ah..."

I wanted to say "I'm sorry." "Thank you." "You're stupid." "You're amazing." All of it tangled in my throat.

"I'm... happy," I finally forced out. "You... came..."

That was all I could manage before the words dissolved into sobs.

He stared for half a second, then huffed out a tiny laugh and scratched his cheek.

"Yeah, I kinda got that part," he said. "You cry like I kicked your puppy any time I do something."

"I–I don't..." I protested weakly, then hiccuped.

He sighed, stepped closer, and gently patted my head. His hand was warm and awkward and steady.

His other hand slipped into Yoshinon.

The puppet's head wobbled.

"Ya-ha," he said in a terrible imitation of Yoshinon's usual voice, barely moving his lips. "Long time no see. Been holding up okay pal?"

His ventriloquism was awful. Yoshinon's "mouth" didn't even open properly.

I still laughed. Or sobbed. Or something in between. My head bobbed up and down.

"Hey.." he said, relaxing a little. "That's better. I like you more when you're not imploding on yourself."

My tears slowed, just a bit.

-

Yoshino's shoulders shook under my hand. Her tears were still flowing, but the pure panic in them had dulled around the edges.

Yoshinon's stitched grin wobbled as I moved the puppet.

Reine's earlier explanation played back in my mind: a faint second reading layered over Yoshino's, only active when Yoshinon was worn. An alter personality built to absorb pain and hold back power. A self-sacrifice wrapped in rabbit fabric.

Yoshino had created someone to stand between herself and the world, just so the world would be a little safer.

"For... saving Yoshinon," she mumbled suddenly, bowing her head so far her fringe almost brushed the ice. "Thank you..."

I blinked.

I'd been focused on saving her. But for Yoshino, Yoshinon wasn't just an accessory. She thought of the puppet as a friend, a protector. I kept on forgetting that fact.

I scratched my cheek with my free hand.

"Next on the rescue list is you," I said. "If that's okay."

She lifted her head, eyes wide and wet.

"The—me...?" she squeaked.

"Unless you want me to go home now that Yoshinon's safe," I said. "Spoiler, I'm not doing that."

She shook her head so fast her hair splattered water.

"N–no... I..."

"Good," I said. "Because I promised you."

There was a little silence. The blizzard outside rumbled, muffled.

"...Shidou-san..." she whispered.

"Listen," I said, pulling Yoshinon off and holding the puppet between us like a referee. "From here on, I don't have outside help. The people yelling in my ear cut off when I came in. So I'm winging it."

She blinked.

"That's... scary?," she said confused.

"Yeah," I agreed. "But we've talked. I've seen how you think. I think we've finally hit the minimum trust level for the next step."

She stiffened slightly.

"...Next... step...?"

I took a breath.

"There's one thing you have to do," I said. "If you want to be saved."

Her fingers tightened on the hem of her coat.

"Do you remember," I asked, feeling my throat go weirdly dry, "what we talked about before? About the kiss?"

Her face went bright red. She nodded up and down, un un, tiny.

"I swear this is not some weird hobby," I said quickly, raising both hands. "It's just... that's how my ability to seal Spirits works. If we don't do it, your power won't settle, and this'll happen again. So in order to save you, I need you to—"

I didn't get to finish.

She leaned in and kissed me.

Her eyes squeezed shut; her lips pressed against mine, warm and shaking. For a second my brain just... stopped.

"..."

Heat shot up my neck into my face. The part of me that liked to pretend I was cool and unflappable quietly stepped out for a smoke break.

She pulled back after a heartbeat, looking up at me anxiously.

"Did I... d-do it wrong...?" she asked.

I coughed, fighting my voice back under control.

"Nah," I said. "That was... textbook. If there was a grading rubric, you'd pass." I smiled with a red face.

"If Shidou-san says so," she murmured, shoulders relaxing a bit, "I... will believe it."

Light erupted around her.

Zadkiel, who'd been looming at the edge of my vision, turned into particles, dissolving into the air like snow in sunlight. The last shreds of Yoshino's AstralDress followed, peeling away in sheets of glow.

The blizzard outside reacted instantly.

The roar faded. Wind pressure eased. The dome's walls thinned, then burst, snow and ice dispersing like someone had opened all the windows in a foggy room.

I moved automatically, turning around the second I realized how much of Yoshino's "clothing" had just vanished with the dress.

"Okay, barrier down, mission accomplished, not looking," I said in one breath, staring very hard at a random patch of ice wall.

Behind me, she yelped and dropped into a crouch. I could practically feel the embarrassment radiating off her. I threw my blue jacket behind me which she quickly put on with murmurs.

The world, in all its unfairness, chose that moment to let the sun through.

The clouds parted just enough for a beam of light to stab down. The ice around us glittered. The air warmed a tiny bit.

"...Warm..." Yoshino whispered.

"Haven't gotten that weather report in a while, huh," I said.

She edged around me, using me as a human shield while she looked up at the sky. Her eyes went round.

"Pretty..." she breathed.

I followed her gaze.

A huge rainbow stretched across the broken sky, colors arcing over the city that had just been trying to rip itself apart.

I let out a long breath.

"Yeah," I said. "It is."

The ground dropped out from under my stomach.

"Here we go," I muttered.

The familiar floaty feeling of Fraxinus's transport field wrapped around us. The ruined street blurred, colors stretching and folding. In a blink, the howling sky and ice vanished.

In the next second We were on the bridge.

The shift from "frozen death outside" to "air-conditioned control room" never stopped being weird.

Fraxinus's bridge spread out in front of us: consoles, screens, personnel, and in the center, a commander chair that was honestly too big for the girl sitting in it.

Yoshino wobbled beside me, eyes darting everywhere.

"W–where...?" she whispered.

"A group of Weirdo's control room," I said. "Don't worry. They're good weirdos."

"And you're the field idiot," Kotori added from the chair.

I turned—and saw Tohka.

She stood off to the side, Raizen uniform still charred and torn in places, hair damp. Whatever remained of her AstralDress flickered and faded as I watched, the last bits of light dissolving around her.

"Tohka," I said. "You okay?"

She snorted and dismissed Sandalphon with a flick of her hand. The Angel vanished completely.

"This?" She gestured to herself. "It's nothing. Compared to you, anyway."

I glanced down.

Right.

My clothes were also a disaster. Holes, burnt edges, dried blood in ugly patches. To be fair, I had technically died in them a few minutes ago.

"Hii—!" Yoshino squeaked.

She saw the state of my shirt, and made a tiny terrified noise, she promptly ducked behind my back, clutching the fabric like it was a wall.

"Relax," I said. "It's all healed up" I patted it for emphasis.

"You," Kotori said sharply.

The temperature in the room dropped in a way that had nothing to do with Yoshino.

Kotori slid off the commander chair and marched toward me, ribbons bobbing, boots clicking against the floor. Her red eyes were narrowed to dangerous slits.

"Kotori, I know you're mad, but—"

Her fist drove into my gut hard enough that my vision flashed white for a second.

"Guh—!"

I doubled over, clutching my stomach.

While I was still trying to remember how breathing worked, she grabbed my ruined shirt with both hands and yanked me down to her level, burying her face in my chest.

"You idiot!" she yelled, voice shaking. "You absolute, unbelievable idiot!"

I lifted a hand, hovering uncertainly over her head for a second, then placed it there gently.

"I guess you watched the whole thing, huh," I said.

"Of course I did," she snapped into my shirt. Her fingers twisted in the fabric. "Do you have any idea—I thought—if your ability had failed, if the barrier had—"

Her words tangled themselves. I felt her shoulders shake.

"...Sorry," I said quietly. "But I did tell you to delete my browser history if it went bad. That's responsible planning."

She punched me again. Lighter this time. More of a protest than an attack.

"Half-brained... amoeba..." she muttered. "You're lower than a single-celled organism. At least they don't run into blizzards on purpose."

"Harsh but fair," I admitted.

Somewhere behind her anger, a tiny "Onii-chan..." slipped through in a whisper she probably thought I didn't hear.

I pretended I didn't.

Off to the side, Tohka watched us with a sour expression, arms folded. Her lips were pushed out in a little pout, cheeks puffed.

"Hmph," she huffed, looking away pointedly. "I fought pretty hard too, you know..."

Her eyes flicked back once, landing on Kotori's grip on my shirt, then on my hand on Kotori's head, then away again, ears turning faintly pink.

Behind me, Yoshino peeked out over my shoulder, clutching the back of my jacket. Her eyes were still red from crying, but she was breathing steadily.

On the bridge screens, the frozen city was beginning to thaw under sunlight and rainbow.

I'd made a stupid promise.

I'd walked into a storm that should have killed me. Again.

It hurt. A lot.

And somehow, between a half-broken Spirit, a fully broken Spirit, a cold operative, an moody little sister, and a squad of confused humans, we'd managed to stumble our way to a happy end.

For today, at least.

Kotori finally pulled back, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand, scowling up at me like this was all my fault.

"Next time you want to be a hero," she said, voice still thick, "run your route by Mission Control first."

"Sure sure~" I said.

She glared.

Tohka huffed.

Yoshino giggled quietly behind my back.

I smiled.

Whatever came next, I'd deal with it.

I had promises to keep.