The awkwardness was a physical presence at the bench. 'Tangina(fuck)... this sucks,' He thought as he took the last bite of his dango.
'This is fine. It's fine. Sitting through this... this counts as pushing them away, right? I'm tolerating them, not... connecting… I swear.' He paused. 'Why am I getting soft now? Was it... was it because of that cat?'
The memory of Chen's warmth on his lap, her simple, trusting purr, surfaced with terrifying clarity. It had been a door cracked open, and now other things, Reimu's grudging trust, Marisa's relentless friendliness, and even this painfully awkward peace offering with Sakuya, were trying to push their way through.
He couldn't look at them anymore. He turned away, presenting his back to the entire uncomfortable scene. He could feel the weight of Sakuya's analytical gaze dissecting his every micro-expression.
"Hey, Sakuya," Marisa began.
"Hmm?" Sakuya replied, her tone one of calm.
"You guys make that fancy bread at the Mansion, right? Well, uh, we were actually thinking of heading that way to buy some for... you know." She gestured vaguely toward Nowa's retreating back. "The Old-timer's got a thing for good bread."
Nowa, sensing the strategic maneuver unfolding, stood up abruptly. "Excuse me. I just need some air." He didn't look at any of them. "You will still see me on sight." He then walked away to a nearby tree.
The moment he was out of earshot, Sakuya's eyes shifted back to the two girls. "What is with this secrecy?"
As if summoned by the word itself, Aya Shameimaru popped up from behind. "We're on a public relations performance! Because—" She froze instantly, the rest of her sentence dying in her throat under the sheer, annihilating force of Reimu's glare.
The silence at the bench was now charged with a different kind of tension. Sakuya's eyes moved slowly from the terrified tengu to the deadpan miko to the magician trying to look innocent.
A slow, knowing smile touched Sakuya's lips. It was the smile of someone who had just been handed a puzzle and already knew half the pieces.
"I see," she said, her voice soft. "A 'public performance.' How... diplomatic of you all."
She stood, smoothing out her maid's dress. "We do produce excellent bread. We would be happy to accommodate a... discerning customer." Her gaze swept over the group one last time, lingering on Nowa's distant form. "Please, feel free to visit us. I will inform the staff to expect you. I'm sure Lady Remilia would be... fascinated to meet your new acquaintance."
Meanwhile, as Nowa was lost in his own thoughts, a group of children ran past, their game of tag a whirlwind of careless joy. One child, not looking where he was going, slammed hard into Nowa's leg and fell to the ground with a sharp cry, clutching a scraped knee. The child's cries cut through the market's ambiance.
All eyes, including those of the public, snapped toward Nowa and the crying boy. The air, once filled with chatter, went still.
"Yikes," Marisa said, half-rising from her seat.
Reimu put a firm hand on her arm, pulling her back down. "Don't. Don't interrupt. Let him be. This will prove his character, whether we can really trust him or not."
Sakuya, who was about to say she will take her leave, paused. She sensed a shift in the two women's demeanor, this was no longer about social awkwardness but of something far more than she anticipated. Left Intrigued, she repositioned herself to observe.
Time seemed to freeze for Nowa. The child's cry shattered his internal spiral. For a split second, his instinct was in a panic. 'Don't touch, you'll erase, you'll break them.' a reflex honed by a decade of ensuring he won't, as his very touch was death itself.
He looked down at the sobbing child, at the small, dirty hand clamped over a bleeding knee. He saw not an obstacle or a threat, but a simple, painful problem. All his grand power, the 50ms Author, the Voidflame, and the Framework Rune were all useless here. Worse than useless. It was a liability. So, he did the only thing he could do that involved none of it. The thing that felt, terrifyingly, like the most difficult act he had performed in years. He knelt. His large frame folded, bringing him down to the child's level. The motion was stiff and clumsy. He didn't reach out, not yet. His hands are the instruments of ending, hung uselessly at his sides.
"Hey," he said, his voice low and rough but stripped of its usual cynical edge. "Hey. Look at me."
The child, through his tears, looked up at the tall, strange man now kneeling before him. Nowa's mind was a blank slate of terror. What does one do? What was the procedure? He had forgotten how to act like the hero he once was. Then, a ghost of a memory: Bion, once, patching up a scraped knee on a young colonist with a clean cloth and a dumb joke.
Slowly, so slowly, Nowa brought his left hand up. He didn't conjure anything. He didn't rewrite reality. He simply, carefully, used his thumb to wipe a tear from the boy's cheek. The gesture was clumsy, achingly gentle.
"The ground's pretty tough, huh?" he murmured. He then glanced at the knee. "Doesn't look too bad. You're tougher."
He then did something that made Reimu's breath catch. The dark blue jacket, the one that was like a part of his skin, his "armor". In a deliberate, mundane motion, he tore a clean strip from the forearm cloth that seemed to dance with mana with a sharp rip. It was a sacrifice of something personal, something that mattered to him, for a trivial, human purpose.
He offered the clean cloth to the boy. "Here. For the knee."
The child's sobs had quieted to sniffles. He took the cloth and dabbed at his wound.
From the sidelines, Marisa let out a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding. Reimu's rigid posture relaxed by a fraction. The test was over. He didn't harm the child. He hadn't walked away. He had knelt. He had spoken softly. He had torn his own coat.
Sakuya observed it all, her head tilting a single, precise degree, her eyes glancing at their reactions.
The child, comforted, managed a wobbly smile. "Sorry," the boy mumbled, wiping his now-cleaned scratch before getting back to his feet and dashing off to rejoin his friends. The group of children waved back at the tall, strange man who had helped.
"Careful, kids," Nowa said, his voice cool but lacking its earlier sharpness as he watched them go.
Aya's camera shutter snapped rapidly, capturing the perfect shot: the children's grinning, retreating backs and Nowa standing alone, a hint of something softer in him.
"This is it! This is front-page material! 'Mysterious Artisan Reveals Heart of Gold!'" she cheered, already scribbling in her notepad.
"Well, that went well," Marisa said, wiping her chin with a thumb while grinning from ear to ear.
Reimu simply watched Nowa, a new, profound respect settling in her chest. This wasn't just about trust anymore. It was a confirmation. The broken weapon they had found in the desert was not just capable of destruction; it was capable of profound, deliberate care. He was more than a lynchpin for their survival, he was proving to be someone worth saving in his own right.
A faint, approving smile touched Sakuya's lips, a rare sight that spoke volumes. A political play that will benefit her mistress crossed her mind as she turned to Marisa and Reimu. "If you're not occupied at the moment, you may visit the mansion now. I can adjust my schedule. I am certain Lady Remilia will be delighted to finally meet this… intriguing individual." Her eyes turned towards Nowa, who was still examining the tear in his sleeves.
Marisa immediately fist bumps into the air. "Nice! Sure, we're going now!" she declared, grinning from ear to ear.
Reimu let out a long-suffering sigh. "I haven't made an appointment to repair my shrine yet. And we still need to get all this stock back home," she muttered, gesturing to the bags of potatoes and other supplies.
Marisa's eyes lit up with a devious idea. She jabbed a thumb towards the lingering Aya. "How about we send her on the errand?" She glanced at the flinching tengu. "Right, Aya? For the sake of the story, you'll help us out, won't you? Exclusive rights to the 'Mansion Visit' scoop, in exchange for a little delivery service~?"
Aya's face went through a rapid series of emotions: indignation at being used as a pack mule, followed by the dawning calculation of a journalist weighing a cost-benefit analysis. The Scarlet Devil Mansion was a notoriously difficult place to get a real scoop, and this was a golden ticket.
"I… I am a reporter of truth, not a courier!" She began, puffing out her chest, but the protest was weak.
"And the truth is," Reimu interjected, her voice flat and final, "that you either carry these bags to the shrine and get your exclusive, or you leave right now and your next headline will be about a sudden, mysterious bird flu grounding a certain tengu reporter. Permanently."
Aya deflated, her wings drooping. "...Fine. But I get full access! And a quote from the vampire princess!"
"We'll see what we can do," Reimu said, a victory gleaming in her eyes as she handed the heavy bags over to a grumbling Aya.
With that logistical nightmare solved, the group, now consisting of Reimu, Marisa, Nowa, and their official escort, Sakuya, turned their path outside the Human village gate, towards the mist-shrouded forest that led to the Scarlet Devil Mansion.
Nowa, who had been silently observing the entire transaction, finally spoke. "I don't recall agreeing to any of this."
Marisa slapped him playfully on the back. "Relax, Ze! It's just a visit to a vampire's house! What's the worst that could happen?"
Nowa looked from Marisa's glee to Reimu's resigned determination and finally to Sakuya's impeccably polite and enigmatic smile. He let out a weary sigh that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand such "simple visits" that had gone horribly wrong.
"Famous last words," Nowa muttered to himself.
The rain that had been building since they left the shrine finally fall down, falling in a slow, steady downpour. Reimu felt the first drop hit her head and looked up. "Looks like we need to hurry."
"Aww, come on!" Marisa pulled her hat down to make a makeshift umbrella, hugging the rune roomba to her chest to keep it dry.
Sakuya sighed, bringing her shopping baggage closer to her. "I could have gone back and made it in time. Today is June, part of tsuyu(Rainy season) after all, but since there's a change in path, it doesn't bother me."
Nowa stopped walking, his gaze fixed on the sky as the rain soaked into his coat.
Reimu held an open palm above them, casting a barrier to shield them from the rain. "Here."
"Thank you!" Marisa ducked under it. Sakuya followed with a grateful nod.
The three women stopped when they realized Nowa hadn't moved. He stood alone in the downpour, rain streaming down into his coat, his hair, and his skin. For a moment, he just stood there, eyes closed, letting it fall.
"Hey, Old-timer! Come on! You'll get cold—"
Marisa's words faltered. Steam was beginning to rise from his shoulders, thin wisps curling off his coat like smoke. His damp form was slowly, visibly drying from the inside out.
"I wish I could," Nowa muttered before opening his eyes.
He reached into his rune pouch and pulled out a pale blue coin, etched with symbols none of them recognized. He flicked it into the air, caught it, and five stacked rune circles flared to life around his arm.
Reimu watched, still holding the barrier. "What are you trying to do?"
"Making life easier."
He snapped his fingers.
The rain stopped. Every droplet, everywhere, hung motionless in the air. Sakuya's eyes widened slightly. Marisa's jaw fell. Reimu's expression stayed unreadable as she glanced at the frozen rain, then back to him.
Nowa raised a finger, gesturing upward. The droplets obeyed. They flowed back, rising in a silent river of water returning to the sky. The clouds thinned, unraveled, dispersed. Sunlight broke through, warm and sudden, painting the wet cobblestones in gold.
Reimu's barrier flickered out. She lowered her hand.
Nowa stood in the center of the clearing, completely dry. The last wisp of steam escaped his collar, a telltale sign of his curse, the inability to feel cold. His coat was dry. His hair was dry. It was as if the rain had never touched him.
They all stared.
"What?" he said. "The rain would have just slowed us down."
Silence stretched, then broke.
"You can just— you just— the rain! You put it BACK! That's not— how does that even— OLD-TIMER!"
Marisa grabbed his arm, scanning the fading rune circles, her words tumbling over each other. "That coin! What was that coin? How did you— can you teach me? Can you do that with other weather? Can you make it snow? Can you—"
"Marisa," Reimu said, her voice quiet.
Marisa stopped, but she didn't let go of his arm.
Reimu met Nowa's eyes. Her expression was unreadable, but something in her gaze had shifted. She looked at the clear sky, then back at him.
"...We should keep moving," she said.
Sakuya glanced at the clear sky, then at Nowa. "...Hm." She held her gaze on Nowa for a moment before she nodded. "Yes, we should. Lady Remilia will punish me if I take any longer." She turned and led the way once more. Reimu followed.
Marisa grabbed Nowa's arm. "Alright! Come on, ze! And explain while you're at it!"
Nowa let himself be dragged. "It's the same one I told you about. The symbiotic one, user and environment both benefit. But the upcoming days will rain longer than usual since I stopped it."
"Wow! That's so cool! I don't really get the whole 'symbiotic' thing, though." She let go of him and skipped playfully beside Reimu. "I'm gonna save that till we reach their place. Hehe."
Reimu walked in silence, the image of frozen raindrops still fresh in her mind. 'He stopped the rain. Sent it back. And he was dry instantly after the rain had touched him.'
"Okae," Nowa fell into step behind them. "Today's June, right?"
Reimu glanced at him. He was asking Sakuya about the date, his voice casual, as if he hadn't just rewritten the weather.
'What are you really? How much do you withhold from us? I know you're dangerous. Yukari told me. Told me what you can casually do with reality.' she thought. But she didn't ask. Not yet.
Sakuya glanced back at him. "Yeah, June sixteenth, to be exact." Her focus returned to the path ahead.
'June sixteenth... This universe has the same date as where I was, huh… Looks like I'm still thirty-five. My birthday was yesterday… Almost celebrated with a bullet to the head.' He thought.
Then Sakuya remembering there was no formal introduction with him yet. It was at that moment she fell into step beside him, her movement silent and perfectly synchronized with his own pace. She did not look at him, her gaze forward, but her voice was clear and precise, meant for his ears alone.
"It happened to be that we have forgotten the customary introductions," she began. "Our previous encounter was... understandably strange. I am Sakuya Izayoi. I serve as the head maid of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, where we are headed now."
Nowa glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Nowa Beckitzer," he replied. "A traveler. Currently... residing at Reimu's place." He gestured vaguely with the hand holding his torn sleeves. "And... again, for my action earlier. It was unacceptable." He folded the torn strip of cloth neatly and tucked it into his pocket.
Sakuya gave a slight, acknowledging nod, her eyes briefly looked at the torn lining. "The incident is concluded, Mr. Beckitzer. Your assistance with the child was noted. It provided a more balanced perspective." A pause, then she added, "Lady Remilia does so enjoy balanced perspectives and unique individuals. I would advise you to be prepared for her... particular line of questioning."
It wasn't a threat but a warning. A professional courtesy from one individual who managed powerful, chaotic forces to another.
"Noted," Nowa said, a flicker of his old, cynical smirk returning. "I'll try to keep my answers as intriguing as my apparent reputation."
"See that you do," Sakuya replied, and with that, she subtly increased her pace by a half-step, resuming her position as their guide.
The formalities were complete. The air was clear. The battlefield of social interaction had been mapped. Now, the real engagement could begin. The unknown variable of the silver-haired maid had been defined. She was Sakuya Izayoi, Head Maid. A problem to be managed, yes, but a known figure. And sometimes, a known enemy, or a potential, highly dangerous ally, was far preferable to a ghost from a past he could never change.