Heisei Love Story

Chapter 1

 

1  Bad Summer Festival

The situation could not be worse.

Yukimura secretly thought so in her heart, looking up at the man by her side around the eyes with anger and timidity.

Her hand was really slender compared to his, and it slipped into his warm and generous palm with just a light touch. Her attempts to free herself from the bondage only tightened his grip. Under the cover of the loose sleeves of the yukata, he grasped her dodging fingertips and stroked them from the soft belly of her fingers to the sensitive palm of her hand until at last they touched the roots of her palm and interlaced them.

The festival awakens the town from a quiet summer night. Carved carriages, gorgeous costumes, and the lights of the town were as prosperous as day. Voices from all directions converged together, and the crowds came in layers upon layers. She felt like she was going to be trapped and even submerged by this surging tide, and suddenly it was like being in the boundless silent universe, and people and things around were drifting away like broken stars, but the sound of the heartbeat was more and more noisy in her ears.

She looked at his long and straight back and hesitated to speak:

"Kazama Senpai... If you insist on ignoring my wishes and dragging me along like this, I might really call you a molestation in public."

"Don’t be restrained, we're not strangers." He tilted his head and stopped, looking calm and indifferent, "There are so many people here, if you don't pay attention, it's easy to get lost. And Yase Senhime, how can I explain to that woman?"

"Please don't address Osen Chan in such a rude way!" She argued immediately, "Even so, our relationship is probably not that close... Besides, I'm not a child anymore, I think I still have the ability to handle this kind of problem."

"What if? What if I can't find you?" He snorted at the words, "No need to say more. Relax, calm down and enjoy the festival."

He was so sure that Yukimura was speechless, but she was sure that she didn’t miss the fleeting smile on his lips.

Not only did he not intend to let go, but he slightly increased the force of holding her hand.

• Damn it. *

• Why didn't she sign up for boxing or Taekwondo when she entered school? *

• Why didn’t she raise any objections to the activity grouping at that time, so that she had to face the embarrassment of being alone with him now? *

She was in a trance and fell into a series of thoughts, but her thoughts unconsciously drifted to that day not long ago.

The day she first met him.

 

2  Cooking Club

She joined the cooking club because she couldn’t refuse the warm invitation from Senhime as the club president and her best friend. Although the other party tried to explain that "if you really can't find an ideal club then consider coming to me", she couldn’t bear to disappoint her friend, so she filled out the application for joining the club with the idea of trying, but she didn’t expect to receive an interview notice soon.

When the self-study ended that night, the interview was almost over. Thinking of this, she could not help but speed up her pace.

She walked quickly in the dimly lit corridor, and several girls in fancy clothes came towards her along the way. They walked together, smiling and leaving a string of whispers such as "The boy in charge of the interview in the cooking club is so handsome". When their figures gradually went away, Yukimura turned back, stroked her face without makeup, and sighed softly.

• Anyway, she was originally that kind of plain and ordinary type. *

Since she was here, she didn't have to care about anything.

When she was close to her destination, she saw that the classroom still had a warm yellow light on, which eased her fear a little. When she came to the door, she was nervous again.

Without knocking at once, she tiptoed gently and peered into the room through the glass.

The room was very quiet. Three senior boys were sitting on one side of the long table, and they seemed to be the person in charge of this interview. The one in the middle was flipping through a stack of resumes, and from time to time he handed a few of them to the man sitting on the side, and pointed to say something, the latter mostly listened quietly, only occasionally giving a few words in response. The other one was bored and nestled in the swivel chair watching the two people communicate at work. Compared with the two people dressed neatly next to him, this one was wearing only a vest, shorts and slippers, with eye-catching flamboyant dragons and phoenixes tattooed on his arms.

Ah...What a gangster he looks like…

Before she could adjust her expression, her eyes suddenly collided with the boy in the middle.

Ops!

She was shocked and turned away in a panic. Staying outside the door would only make it more awkward, so she made up her mind and knocked on the door.

The noise attracted the other two people to look over, and the boy who “looks like a gangster” even whistled.

"Please don't be afraid." The man sitting upright said in a peaceful tone, "Shiranui usually looks like this, but he doesn’t mean any harm. Are you here for an interview? Just hand your resume over here. We don't have much time left, so you don’t need to introduce yourself."

"Okay, thank you..." Yukimura subconsciously distanced herself from Shiranui. During this process, she noticed that although the middle boy didn’t speak, his eyes never left her.

She felt her face grow irredeemably warm.

She sat down at the table a little awkwardly, and a thin layer of sweat seeped out of her clenched fists.

"Hahaha, Amagiri is still the same, very serious."

Shiranui didn't mind at all, and turned to the boy in the middle and said jokingly:

"Most of the people who come for the interview tonight are girls. Look, there's another one. Kazama, you're lucky tonight."

"You're overthinking. I'm just a temporary helper for Yase Senhime. Aren't you the same?"

Kazama then lowered his head to browse Yukimura’s resume, his brows relaxed, and his expression showed no unhappiness.

"You say that, but aren't you still listed in the management despite your busy schedule?" Shiranui said, "Apart from your love for food and beautiful girls, I can't think of any other reason to keep you here."

Kazama sneered at his words.

He turned to Yukimura and asked unexpectedly, "Are you good at cooking?"[1]

She couldn't figure out what he meant by this for a moment, so she could only answer cautiously: “I'm kind of good at cooking, I guess.”

"How good are you at that?" He asked.

She thought for a moment and answered: "When my parents were still alive, they said that my cooking was delicious. Before my brother and I went to college, I basically cooked all the meals at home, so... I think I have some experience in this area."

"Not bad." He put away the resume and smiled slightly.

Shiranui gave him a sidelong glance: “Kazama, what are you happy about? Is it so worth being happy to meet a girl who is good at cooking?”

"Shiranui, may I remind you," Amagiri said, "trying to anger Kazama here is not a rational choice."

"How could that be? I have always been very sensible in doing things. You should persuade Kazama more instead."

Shiranui chuckled, disapprovingly continued:

"By the way, Kazama is really good at cooking. It is said that his father once drove him out to set up a snack stand for a month in order to cultivate his survival ability."[2]

"Based on my understanding of Kazama over the years, I can guarantee with my personal credit that Shiranui's words are indeed true." Amagiri said solemnly.

"I couldn't agree more. Except for our roommates, almost no one can stand his egocentric and emotional temper." Shiranui agreed, "If Kazama abuses his power for various reasons and orders you to cook for him in the future, don't give in to him."

"Shut up, Shiranui, which side are you on?" Kazama finally couldn't hold back and said coldly, "Do you think I am this kind of man?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm praising you!" Shiranui complained, "Do you have to get so angry that you scare a little girl like this? Isn't it a gentleman's style to be considerate of ladies?"

Yukimura said secretly: No, I was shocked by your bearish gossipy soul as well as your unexpected rascality.

Kazama also seemed to feel that what he said just now was a bit inappropriate, but he couldn't find a better way to refute him, so he wanly put away his furious expression and was about to get up and leave after organizing his materials.

"Where are you going?" Amagiri asked.

"I'm not in the mood to continue arguing with you two." Kazama said uninterested, "Since it's time, I'll go back and report. What happens next is up to you."

His footsteps paused as he passed by Yukimura, and his eyes briefly lingered on her profile.

Just as he was about to move on, he felt the corner of his coat gently clutched.

"Wait... Kazama Senpai!"

He stared back at the timid voice and saw his reflection in her eyes, which were like shallow bays of water.

"Are you angry?"

"After all, the joke started with me... I'm really sorry for the upset."

 

3  The Untouchable Lover

How many years must a couple pray before the Buddha before they can get a chance to see each other in the vast sea of ​​people? How many times must a pair of eyes measure time and space before they can understand the mysteries and truths of the past and present?

Before he could spend a lifetime on his quest, the world was once again in the grip of an ice age. New cities rose from the ruins of villages, neon signs and factories covered the moon and the stars at night. Samurai and loyalists had fallen in the old era, while politicians and military manipulated the country in the new one. Respecting the emperor, resisting foreign aggression, fighting, plundering, until the war was rampant, the people's livelihoods have been destroyed, and the trauma has been severe. It was a new birth that the world marveled at, but it was also the beginning of a collapse from the inside out.

Wherever the fire of war passes, inches of scorched earth. The old people have died out, and all the kin were scattered.

Before closing eyes, he was lost in his thoughts of homeland. He could vaguely see her coming in old clothes, with delicate and fair features, just like when he first saw her. Her face was beautiful but sad, with a temperature that could freeze people. He knew that although she was a beautiful girl, her unintentional words and expressions when facing him were as powerful as a sharp sword.

That was the one he could never reach.

• As a pure-blooded oni, had she never instinctively developed a sense of closeness to her own kind? *

The footsteps had faded away, and her melancholy face withered and disappeared like a flower. He did not know how long he had waited in darkness with this feeling until the cool snow on his cheeks roused him once more.

 

4  Cat and Mouse Game

"Are you so gentle to everyone?"

He stood opposite her and said this, half feeling emotional and half joking. The girl clearly couldn't understand the meaning in his words and became more confused under his direct and heated gaze.

She belatedly realized that she was still holding onto the corner of his clothes and quickly let go. But just as she was about to pull her hand back, he grabbed it.

"Can it be understood that you are not completely indifferent to me?"

Her cheeks turned red and her flustered explanations were obviously useless. He saw all this clearly and his smile grew even wider.

Although he couldn't infer whether the other party had retained a longer memory like him, he couldn't help but want to tease her a little when facing her awkward and cute reaction.

• That delicate and coy look with tears about to fall and a hesitant yet inviting expression... *

• Could it be a common trick girls use to play hard to get? *

He doesn't know from which day, his gaze gradually couldn't help but follow her. The presence of the little girl from the Yukimura clan shook his once calm heart. It was her tender feelings that gave him a glimmer of light. The months of silent companionship, walking side by side and spending every day together, made him have the illusion that they could be together forever. It was such an extraordinary woman who shattered his last glimmer of hope. In the end, she firmly pushed him away and gracefully left his life.

By a strange twist of fate, going around and around, he and she returned to the starting point again after a lifetime of entanglement.

The gods and Buddhas favored him and let her reunite with him in her original and pure appearance. Her slightly tentative and clumsy actions, like a young tiger testing its paws, scratched at his heart. Although this unexpected move was gentle, it was enough to make him happy.

In this life, who is the prey and who is the hunter? The ending has not yet been settled.

This time, what kind of interesting tricks will you use to deal with me?

He gradually put away his frivolous smile and refocused his eyes on her black and shiny eyes.

Even if there was no way back, he was willing to be the desperate gambler in this adventurous game.

 

4.1  Roommate's Resentment

Shiranui watched the two of them interacting closely without paying attention to anyone around them, and couldn't help but gasp.

"It's really unlike Kazama's usual asexual style to touch a girl when he first meets her."

"Don't you recognize her?" Amagiri said, "We'd better leave now and let Kazama be responsible for closing the door."

"Why do I have to remember this kind of thing... Oh, damn, why do I always see others showing affection."

Shiranui cursed and left with Amagiri.

 

4.2  Floating Thoughts

There is only one seat left. * Should I sit down or not? *

Yukimura stood in place, in a dilemma.

The result of not being able to reserve a seat during the peak hours of the library is that she has to share a table with others.

Not unprepared for this, but... this is too much of a coincidence, isn't it?

She looked around the crowded reading room awkwardly, each table occupied, and then looked at her old enemy, who was facing the only remaining seat, and silently held her forehead. The latter looked up leisurely and smiled at her.

• Help: Is it too late to turn around and run now? *

Kazama took in the series of changes in her expression, and without getting annoyed, he casually lifted his pen and wrote a few lines, then handed her the draft book with words on it. It read:

"Rest assured, I have no intention of doing anything to you here. It's up to you whether you choose this seat or not."

Then he wrote:

“As you can see, I'm just looking up information for a paper. I wouldn't mind saving a seat for you if you need it.”

She looked back at him with some suspicion, but unexpectedly met his calm and indifferent eyes. That look made her feel something for no reason, as if he was staring at her from afar across the long river of time. She was still an innocent child, but his eyes had witnessed hundreds of years of endless blood and tears.

Perhaps, this is the most real side of his many faces. He put away his slightly teasing expression, and did not explain what he had just said any more, but waited for her response without urging.

One second.

Two seconds.

For a moment, but for an eternity.

At the end of the third second, she finally made up her mind, moved, and carefully sat down in the seat diagonally opposite him. Seeing this, he just smiled faintly, then continued his work.

• Sure enough, I was too suspicious... *

But, while Yukimura was relieved, she felt a little disappointed.

She took out the exercise book from her bag and opened it, but the line of sight unconsciously drifted away from the words gradually, like a butterfly landing lightly on his side, from the smooth forearm line under the polo shirt, to the straight and stylish neck, and finally stopped at the handsome profile silhouette.

And he is still faintly drooping eyelashes, sometimes in the paper circle point tracing, sometimes setting aside the pen to strike the keyboard. His frowning and thinking look was quiet and beautiful, as if he was completely unaware of this increasingly bold peeping, and seemed to acquiesce and indulge her roundabout temptation.

Consciousness gradually fades away, floating lightly in the atmosphere. In an instant she saw the sun spreading its golden seeds everywhere, turning the little space into a natural greenhouse; Through the fine sound of writing and turning pages, she heard the streaming clouds and flying planes in the sky, the swaying trees outside the window, the sound of books in the classroom, and the sweating on the sports field. Various sounds and smells blended together, baked by the sun, and fermented into an incomparable fragrance. Those originally tiny and fragmented sounds, after this change in mentality, seemed no longer so unbearable.

At this moment, she was with them, the same identity, the same youth. Here is the ivory tower that people call it, the golden key that students dream of, the temple that nurtures thought and culture, and the hotbed that breeds laziness and desire. Some people die here, some are born here. The predecessors were committed to expelling ignorance and exploring light, in the new field one after another to open up new territories, paid a heavy price of blood and fire, in order to wait for the descendants to pick the fruits, make up for the broken hearts of a generation, regain the lost dreams, and shed tears of admiration and regret.

And we never want to be bound by labels, and we will never stop growing. Even if we flow east to west, we were once young, and we will eventually grow old. Maybe we are full of ambition, maybe confused and depressed, we have laughed, gone crazy, tired, and cried, but our roots are always firmly rooted here. The education we have received, the bonds we have established, and the memories of the times we share are all what hold us together tightly.

Suddenly, a draft book pushed in front of her interrupted her imaginative thoughts. There were only a few words highlighted in bold with a highlighter:

"Focus."

There was another note in small print below:

"Although I have no objection to being the object of your peeping, I am more looking forward to you admitting your love for me with such a cute expression."

• Aww... So he had already noticed her little move? Also, what exactly does this unnecessary note mean! Who loves him?! *

Yukimura quickly lowered her head, but her face gradually turned red.

 

4.3  Hidden Sorrow and Hatred

"With your current ability, it is almost impossible to pass the physical test."

Sweating profusely after running four kilometers, Yukimura collapsed on the green, almost unable to speak. She felt the breath close behind her, a hand supporting her shaky body. Looking at Kazama's still-normal face, she could not help but think:

• ... Is he too strong, or am I too weak? *

Why did this man not even take much breath after running such a long distance? A gentle and tender look like him, she didn't expect his athletic ability to be so amazing. She was aggrieved, but she could not say anything to refute. After all, she knew that her level had always been hovering above the passing line, and she was the one who took the initiative to use the time after the evening self-study to run at night.

After entering university, she became more and more concerned about the upcoming physical test because of her competitive spirit. She originally thought that she would not get a positive response from Kazama like she did when she asked her classmates before, so that she could distance herself from him. Unexpectedly, this guy volunteered to be her sparring partner.

"So, you hope to get help from me?" After listening to her incoherent explanation, Kazama just smiled and raised his eyebrows, "Although my paper has not been revised yet, it is not inconvenient to accompany you."

• No, you think too much, I don't mean that at all. *

But Kazama turned a blind eye to her increasingly tangled expression, directly announced the final judgment with a slightly malicious smile:

"Hmph. No matter how you resist, I will reject you. Be prepared."

• My mistake. I always thought he was just an academic otaku. *

Yukimura’s expression was still smiling, but her heart was silently weeping.

At this moment, Kazama's smirking voice was suddenly close at hand: "Don't smile if you don't want to. Your fucking face just makes me feel sad and funny."

Yukimura suddenly woke up from her memories, and belatedly realized that he was laughing at her almost unreserved mental activities written on her face. She could already imagine his slightly joking expression before turning around, and was annoyed at her own excessive naivety. The words stoked a small fire in her heart.

"You're always a tease." She immediately shot back, "It's my freedom to laugh how I like. Why do you care?"

As soon as she said this, she was stunned. Normally, she would keep her complaints to herself and rarely burst them out without thinking.

Kazama fell into a brief silence, unexpectedly without any reaction. After a moment, he threw out another irrelevant question:

"You really have no impression of the past?"

She couldn't figure out the meaning of this sentence at once: Why did he say that?

"Am I such a terrifying existence in your heart? We have known each other for so long, don't you have any other feelings for me from beginning to end?" Kazama sighed softly, with a slightly disappointed look on his face, "I am not referring to the period since the start of school, but to the more distant time when we first met. I am willing to give you more buffer space, let you slowly recall, slowly adapt, but how long do you want to escape? ** Haven't you ever thought that even the invincible Oni will feel pain in his heart **?"

At this moment, cheers suddenly erupted from the other side of the stadium. The singer and his band began to test the sound, and the boys and girls practicing Hip-Hop under the fluorescent lights danced to the rhythm. The lights were bright, and the shadows were looming. The crowds rushed towards the light or stopped to watch, with joyful expressions on their faces. However the darkness of the night blocked them, Yukimura felt that Kazama was looking into her eyes without blinking. The remaining warmth on her face gradually cooled in the night wind, and they were as silent as weathered stone statues.

• Are they finally going to come and go again without a word again, like a prophecy hundreds years ago? *

 

"Sorry, I didn't control myself." Kazama gradually regained his calm expression, "After all, it was a long time ago, and you can be forgiven for not remembering. It was not my intention to extort sympathy from you with my own pain; I was merely trying to confirm whether you have any memory of that past. Since you have forgotten it, why bother to deliberately bring back that unpleasant memory? It's not bad to live a peaceful life like this."

"Kazama Senpai," Yukimura whispered, "Do you have the ability to read minds? When I'm with you, I always feel like I have no secrets. No matter what I'm thinking, you can always detect it quickly. But on the other hand, I know almost nothing about you. Frankly speaking, I don't know how to face you. Maybe as you said, we have known each other for a long time, but unfortunately, I really don't have any impression of meeting you before entering school."

"What can I do to you?" Kazama said, "I have no reason to blame you, because this path was chosen by me at that time. I can only blame me for being too obsessed and unable to let go. It's ridiculous that even though I know that your heart will never stay for me, I still can't bear to see you get hurt, suffer, and be wronged, and I can't even blame you for your stubborn temper - these emotions are all the legacy passed down by me at that time. It is such a lonely thing to keep these things firmly in mind, not to forget them altogether."

After a moment, he spoke again and said quietly:

"Let me be clear, what I just said happened many years ago. But what exactly happened at that time, I can't and won't tell you. But once I have made up my mind, there can be no false intention in what is given, that can be assured, and it is your will to accept it or not."

Yukimura's eyes were filled with light, and under the moonlight, they seemed to be filled with tears. She hesitated for a while before whispering:

"During this period, I have always remembered the series of help you have given me. But to be honest, I feel a little ashamed of your kindness recently. After all, I am not particularly outstanding, and what you have given me has far exceeded what I can give you at present. This will be very tiring for you, right? In fact, I sincerely believe that with your qualifications, you can find a better girl who is more willing to love you..."

"That's not what that look says."

Kazama gazed at her pale cheek and sighed softly.

"Don't belittle yourself like this. Pay more attention to your real thoughts. **Knowledge, skills, and even mental and physical strength can be improved through acquired training. **Short-term performance does not mean anything. It is just the amount of accumulation in the early stage. I don't care how much you can give me in return. What's important is that you can show me the courage to face difficulties and dare to grow and progress. At this stage, let me see your sincerity, which is enough."

He met her somewhat startled eyes, but smiled calmly and frankly:

"As long as you are like this, I don't care what you ask me to do."

 

4.4  See You Again

Yukimura had not yet thought about what she would be like if Kazama really left her side completely.

She followed him back to the library to get her luggage, and then hurriedly parted with him at the fork in the road. She returned to the dormitory alone in the cold night. Her roommates were either chatting and laughing loudly on the microphone or lying on the bed watching TV series. No one noticed or cared about her late return. She just smiled as usual and turned to wash up.

After more than an hour of hustle and bustle and finally finishing everything, the dormitory building was already lights out, and she finally had the time to sit under her own small lamp, plug in her headphones and play music, and sort out her thoughts that had been in turmoil all day long.

She had to admit that she was increasingly affected by that boy's words and deeds. No matter how she tried to calm herself down or pretend to be calm, the conversation they had not long ago still quietly gripped her heart.

• Do I really hate him? *She asked herself. There is no doubt that Kazama is very good in appearance, knowledge and ability to deal with things. His willful childishness is like a hard shell, which turns his silent but ironing care for several days into a soft heart and wraps it underneath. After the first meeting at the club interview that night, unknowingly, her life trajectory has become more and more closely entangled with him in every little bit of trivial matters.

  • If it were me, after putting so much effort into it, I would also be looking forward to receiving feedback from him, right? If I really like him, I would also try every means to overcome difficulties and be with him, right? *

  • Wait. So... does he have such feelings for me? *

She shuddered at this sudden conjecture, and reproached herself repeatedly for unnecessary delusions. When she came back to her senses, she found that the hour hand had pointed to twelve in the morning.

The sound of rain in her ears had stopped at some point, and the intermittent laughter of her roommate came over without any hindrance. At this moment, she was shocked to realize that the small warm yellow light had become her only support in this vast dark sea. In this endless darkness, there was no human habitation, no sunshine, no sound, only the fluorescence reflected by the electronic screens and the plastic sound effects of the handheld game consoles.

She swam alone in the black waters, looking around and feeling lost. The air became thinner and thinner, and she gradually felt that she could not breathe because of the pain spreading in her chest.

At this time, the player that had been buffered for a long time slowly played a clear guitar melody. The singer, who was no longer young, traced back to the past and told a story of his heart in a simple voice:

“For so many years, I've been searching for ......”

Searching for the river that flows in my heart.

She felt her frozen heart come alive again with the infusion of this new melody, so she cheered up and read all the lyrics sentence by sentence with the help of the translator. At this moment, she tasted this bitter wine brewed by life together with countless strangers who were awake late at night. At the moment when the chorus sounded at the end of the song, the weak emotions that had been accumulated in her heart for a long time hit her like a heavy hammer.

This year she was young, and after going through all kinds of hardships, she was admitted to her ideal school. The young girl's heart is full of dreams, and she has a passionate vision for every upcoming tomorrow. The metropolis with tall buildings and endless streams, the vast and beautiful teaching campus, and the flyers that come like snowflakes, everything here is full of unprecedented vitality, so dazzling.

However, soon after, the will began to waver and the fantasy gradually shattered. The present is just a continuation of the past. Enthusiasm will eventually give way to silence, and noise will only lead to mediocrity. No matter how prosperous a city is, poverty and ruin will be hidden at its edge. No matter how harmonious interpersonal relationships are, there will be intrigue and undercurrents. Gender, race, profession, education, wealth, and various rankings, all of these are just a series of symbols that have been artificially endowed with various meanings, but have become the golden rules for dividing people into different levels, even overwhelming the original meaning of people's existence in the world.

A drop of water merges into the stream, and what is formed is only the river, lake and sea, rather than the atomic form of water droplets. A drop of water originally has its extraordinary luster and color, but this color is completely lost after passing through a series of production lines. Those delicate and melancholy wild flowers, without beautiful appearance and sweet singing voice, are unwilling to be the self-praising vines that climb high branches, and are unwilling to accept the nerve poisoning of mass-produced industrial saccharin, and finally have to wither in the wilderness.

My young friend! In this life, people are born, pass through the world and leave the world, and only have pain and loneliness as their constant companions. When the false is true, the true becomes false. It doesn't matter whether to believe or doubt, because accepting all this is the fate that each of us cannot escape. Silence, suspicion and alienation spread like a disease. People put on masks and goggles, put on warm coats, and look at and be wary of their own kind with the eyes of others. Birds of a feather flock together. Although we live under the same roof, we may have already become strangers.

• How many tears must be shed before I can stop crying?  *

• How many injuries must be suffered before I can ignore the pain? [3]

Yukimura curled up in the chair, her face already stained with tears.

The night of early summer should be warm, but it is hard to resist the chill spreading all over the body. The girl's love deeply hidden in her heart is like a constantly changing spot of light, which is more clearly visible after closing her eyes. The longer and colder the night is, the more difficult it is for her to control her thoughts. Until this moment, she deeply felt that he had quietly left a deep mark in her memory and life trajectory.

He was originally a solitary bird in the sky, born to wander forever and unrestrained. He wore clouds and rainbows as his clothes, he shone with the sun and the moon, drank the dew of magnolia in the morning, ate the fallen petals of autumn chrysanthemum in the evening, and flew around like a bird of prey. Just because he accidentally perched on her wave, he caused ripples on the lake. Just because of that brief but thrilling look back, she unconsciously melted in those fiery eyes.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to deliberately ignore his existence, and she was increasingly involuntarily concerned about his words, actions, and thoughts. She was increasingly unable to restrain herself from recalling his voice, appearance, and smile, and was craving the warmth of his skin.

Suddenly, she wanted so badly:

• I want to see him, touch him again, run to him regardless of everything. *

Recalling his words of encouragement and expectation before parting, she opened the dialog box with her cold fingertips, and a Chibi avatar that looked very much like Kazama himself immediately jumped into her eyes. Even the cute big eyes and chubby face could not cover up the innate arrogance between his eyebrows.

His expression in the avatar was still full of vigor, making her feel as if she was on the vine path that she had to walk after class, and he was standing at the end of the path, looking back. He was smiling, and in high spirits, urging her to catch up as soon as possible with his usual arrogant tone. It was as if he was asking himself: "Do you dare?"

• – Show me your determination. *

• – Why should I be afraid? Why? *

She was silently crying while typing in the input box: "Senpai, are you asleep? I'm really sorry to bother you with messages so late at night, but I can't wait to tell you my thoughts now. This is very important."

"It's about what happened last night. Although you said that it doesn't matter if I can't remember it, it's actually not fair to you. I can't tolerate myself enjoying your help with peace of mind, but I'm still indifferent to all this. Before this, I was a little scared of some of the unpredictable attitudes of you, but after spending these days together, I really want to say thank you. The help you gave me is not just to help me reserve a seat and guide me on my study problems. More importantly, you made me realize that facing all kinds of troubling problems, it is no longer the time to hesitate, escape and muddle through."

"Please allow me to give my answer here. On the one hand, I will definitely try my best to find that lost memory, and on the other hand, I am actually very fortunate to have such a good friend like you! Thank you very much for not looking down on my dullness, and I am very much looking forward to continuing to study with you in the future! At that time, I will have to ask for your guidance!"

"So... May I ask, do I, a latecomer and a poor student, still have a chance to get admission?"

As if she was afraid that she would regret it, she hurriedly clicked the send button and turned off the phone screen. She sat there silently, closed her eyes, and let the tears gradually dry in the dark night.

One second, two seconds. No response.

As the timeline stretched further and further, she felt more and more emotional.

• I am such a strange person. *She said so in her heart. It was just a period of time with unknown results, so short that it was just a slight pricking pain like a needle entering the body, but she felt that her heart was so weak that it could be infected by the lingering pain left in the wound and then develop an ulcer that was difficult to heal. She was the one who avoided him at first, but she was also the one who panicked when he disappeared.

  She couldn't imagine what she would be like if Kazama really left her completely one day.

• Enough, I'm really tired. * She told herself. * I shouldn't be anyone's vassal, right? * Although she felt sorry for taking such a different attitude towards him, she was still more willing to see that her feelings for him were natural. If she really reached the end of her rope with him in the end, she would have to say goodbye to each other with regret, and then each of them would embark on a different path in life.

 

At this time, several vibrations brought her thoughts back.

The dialog box popped up again at this time, and it was a message from Kazama. She didn't expect that he was still awake at this time like her, and she was surprised and happy. However, after reading his message, she was left with a silence:

"What are you thinking about? Isn't the answer clear? I don't know anyone who can be so entangled in such a small issue for so long. You are worthy of being my wife for many years." 

"If you think that just showing a rejection can make me retreat, you'd better save your energy. Even if you don't take the initiative to speak, no matter how awkwardly you refuse, I will do it without any explanation." 

"However, your straightforward confession attitude is not bad. Those words just now are enough to show that you care about me in your heart. As a future wife, you should be more frank like now. As your husband, I will never refuse such sweet words."

Was there something wrong with what I said just now that made him misunderstand something? I always felt that he and I were not completely on the same channel... And, what “wife”! What on earth was he thinking!

It is not difficult to imagine what kind of expression he had when he wrote these words. Looking at his chibi head portrait that also showed arrogance, she felt ashamed and annoyed, and immediately retorted without thinking:

"What! I don't mean to be your future wife, please don't make such jokes anymore..."

As soon as she said this, she felt pale and powerless. Even when they said good night to each other afterwards, she was still a little uneasy.

But why? Her self-proclaimed indifference and estrangement were eventually broken down by him one by one, and her secret thoughts that she thought were well hidden were still discovered by him. Under his calm but powerful comfort, she put away her hostile hard barbs and exposed her white and soft belly to him without reservation, waiting for him to further take whatever he wanted. 

Of course, she was ashamed of her easy compromise, but the long-lost warm and tingling feeling that was like taking a nap under the warm sun was too comfortable, making her reluctant to move.

She lay down on the bed with this feeling, closed her eyes and fell asleep.

All those trivial but warm memories of being with him turned into a clear river, flowing into her golden dreamland. That night, the cold rainy season did not come again.

Chapter 2: Extra Story 1

** Extra Story 1**

Finally, a busy day came to an end. As usual, Yukimura locked the front door, wrapped her thin coat tightly around her, and stepped out of the building. The sharp drop in temperature took her by surprise, and she let out a weary sigh, her breath curling into delicate wisps in the frigid night air.

She was once again the last one to leave the cram school. After tidying up the chalk and trash left by the students, and carefully rinsing all the cleaning cloths, it was almost seven before she even realized it. With another early class tomorrow, she needed to hurry back to school. As she thought about her schedule, she rubbed her stiff hands together and, stomach growling, wandered around the area looking for something to eat. But then her eyes caught sight of someone standing under a streetlight not far away.

Dressed all in black, the figure stood motionless in a quiet corner, blending seamlessly into the surrounding darkness. When that pair of deep crimson eyes turned toward her, Yukimura’s expression instantly hardened with wary caution.

She should’ve seen this coming. Ever since that night of the club interviews, whether by coincidence or design, she’d been running into Kazama more and more often. First, she’d bumped into him studying at the library. Then, to her dismay, she found out he was even working part-time at the very cram school where she had a job. After a firm protest, Kazama had readily promised to steer clear of any behavior that might be considered harassment, and the two had managed a sort of uneasy, distant coexistence for a while. But a recent unpleasant incident had shattered that fragile peace.

Kazama wasted no time on reminiscence. He’d already noticed her reddened, frostbitten hands, and his expression, never particularly warm, grew darker still. Before she could react, his cold fingers grabbed hers, holding them firmly. Then came his stern questioning:

“Why are you still struggling like this?”

“Not your concern.”

She turned her head away to avoid his gaze and tried to pull her hand free, only to have him tighten his grip. The pressure made her wince, and after several unsuccessful attempts to break loose, she fixed him with a defiant glare.

“Let go! Unless you want to break your word and become a laughingstock, Senpai.”

His brow immediately furrowed in frustration, as though she’d struck a nerve.

“I’ve told you before, haven’t I? No matter what, I won’t go back on a promise I’ve made. Do you really have so little trust in me?”

“In that case, you should know there’s no way you can force me to do anything against my will. Now, let me go.”

Yukimura finished her words one by one, her gaze growing colder as she stared him down. Their eyes met in silent, sharp confrontation, exchanging several rounds of tension. After a long stand-off, Kazama let out a resigned sigh.

"Fine. But before that, I have something for you."

He handed her one of the paper bags beside him. Yukimura opened it and found a cup of warm bubble tea. Noticing the conflicted look on her face, Kazama squinted and smiled slightly.

"You’ve been working all day—bet you’re starving. Have this to tide you over."

His tone was uncharacteristically calm and gentle, stirring up a surge of suppressed emotions within her. Alone in an unfamiliar city, there was hardly anyone who spoke to her so kindly. Thinking of her long-estranged brother, her eyes stung with sudden tears. How had she sunk so low, relying on someone she considered an audacious scoundrel with ulterior motives? She bit her lip and replied bitterly:

"Please don’t. I don’t need your charity or pity. Someone as high and mighty as you is way out of my league."

Kazama snorted at her words.

"I haven’t even brought up how you ran off that day without a word. And you’re the one getting worked up?"

That day, they had been unusually at ease, sitting together in a noodle shop while the TV played a news story about a deadly car accident. Yukimura couldn’t help but comment on how heartbroken the victims’ families must be. Kazama, however, retorted with his usual cold detachment: “With how selfish, short-sighted, and foolish people like that are, even if they dodge this accident, they’ll end up dying in another one. It’s not worth sympathizing with lives that keep repeating the same tragic mistakes.” Yukimura had immediately put down her chopsticks and argued back, their verbal sparring escalating until they stormed out of the shop, leaving other diners casting curious glances.

In nearly twenty years of life, she had never encountered such a nemesis. Somehow, he had an uncanny ability to provoke her anger with ease. In hindsight, Yukimura couldn’t help but feel regretful about her impulsive outburst, especially since, under her persistent efforts, Kazama had noticeably reined in his usual behavior. But even so, his detached expression and cutting remarks that day had left a lasting wound. Thinking about it now still made her instinctively recoil in unease.

"Well, since you brought it up so shamelessly, I won’t hold back." She lifted her chin and glared at him. "Shutting yourself up in your research all day—have you completely lost touch with basic emotions and humanity? Instead of worrying about graduating or landing a teaching position, maybe you should ask yourself if you’ve already forgotten why you started down this path in the first place."

"Always preaching from the moral high ground, spouting so-called universal truths while ignoring the real issues at hand—is that the right thing to do? The most pathetic and shameless people love to use empty rhetoric as their cover." Kazama unwrapped his own drink and smirked. "You stand up for those people, but do you think they’re grateful? They just see it as something they’re entitled to. None of them are willing to admit that, in reality, nothing is ever truly guaranteed."

Yukimura quietly lowered her head, gripping the still-warm cup of milk tea in her hands.

"Wrong is wrong. Why try to twist it into something acceptable? You talk about how humanity is irredeemable, yet you place yourself above that discussion. I don’t think that’s fair."

"Huh. Interesting. If you believe equality helps resolve disputes, then from that perspective, is there really any difference between loving everyone equally and hating everyone equally? Those who claim to be merciful gods stand by as chaos unfolds. Some people fight for others’ rights only to be trampled in return, while others commit atrocities and live out their days in luxury. The so-called ‘merciful gods’ turn a blind eye to all of it, don’t they?"

"I don’t know what kind of deep hatred you’re carrying from the past," she said with a slight shake of her head. "So I can’t judge. Maybe you’re so strong you don’t need to maintain good relationships with others. But for me, it’s hard to accept that someone who shows no respect for innocent lives lost in a car accident could claim to care about someone you’ve known for only a few months."

She fixed him with a sharp glare, her voice cutting through the cold night air.

"Don’t you think that’s hypocritical, Kazama Senpai?"

"True, I’m no saint. But I’m also no two-faced scoundrel. I care about the people I care about, that’s all." His response was unexpectedly calm. "I’m not striving to be a perfect, benevolent savior of all humanity, but I’m also not about to stoop to deceitful tactics. If you’re worried I’ll just move on to someone else soon enough, let me assure you—there’s no need for that concern."

"I’d rather you were just playing around," she said bitterly. "That way, at least I could be mentally prepared. And if it did happen, maybe I wouldn’t feel so hurt."

"You have your beliefs, and I have my principles," he said as he stepped closer. Her small figure was completely overshadowed in the streetlamp’s glow. "Even though our standards don’t always align, I’m just as steadfast in defending my convictions as you are in yours."

"Then I have nothing left to say."

Kazama studied her conflicted expression and suddenly chuckled.

"If this were a real battlefield, you’d already be dead. Never show your weakness to the enemy—it’s the most basic rule. Letting your emotions show only hastens your own downfall."

Yukimura instinctively opened her mouth to reply, but after a moment, she chose to stay silent.

"Let me show you how to counter my argument," he said, gazing calmly at the listless girl in pink before him. “As an intellectual, you have access to more information, enjoy unmatched authority and prestige in the public sphere. Isn’t it your responsibility to use that knowledge to give back to society—to criticize wrongs, uncover the truth, uphold justice, and defend human dignity and freedom?”

She never expected someone so outwardly frivolous and dashing to say something like this. Surprised, she looked into his close-by eyes, only to tremble slightly under his earnest and candid gaze. His refined, aristocratic demeanor was something she had never encountered among her peers. The deep crimson of his eyes, smoldering like embers in the darkness, seemed to sear her heart in the near-motionless passage of time. Unable to resist the silent pull of his mesmerizing gaze, she murmured:

“If you understand all of that, then why do you…”

His smile faded slowly, replaced by an even deeper sadness and loneliness. The abruptness of it caught Yukimura off guard.

“I’m sorry. If it upsets you to answer, I won’t ask again.”

“…You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, his expression had returned to normal.

“Staying out here too long will only make you catch cold. Are you heading back to campus now? If so, let’s walk together.”

After all that had just happened, she didn’t feel like arguing with him anymore. Kazama was right—there was no point in continuing to spar with him now; getting some rest was more important. Though the resentment in her heart hadn’t fully dissipated, she accepted his offer.

The two walked in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. As Yukimura glanced at him sipping quietly from his cup, she couldn’t help but ask the question that had been on her mind.

“Excuse me… The black drink in your cup—is it hot cocoa?”

“Americano,” Kazama replied with a smile, turning toward her. “Looks like you’re pretty into sweet things.”

Flustered at his straightforward remark, her cheeks turned slightly warm. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and continued nonchalantly.

“Drinking coffee so late at night?”

“You get used to it after a while,” he replied.

They kept up a casual back-and-forth as they walked, eventually reaching an intersection. While waiting for the light to change, Kazama remarked, “I told you before: these part-time gigs for non-contract workers are grueling, and the pay’s lousy. They’re just taking advantage of the fact that you’re an inexperienced student. So why bother?”

Yukimura countered, “Aren’t you working here too?”

At that, he pulled a face of mock disgust. “Just helping out a friend by subbing a few classes. I don’t have much love for humans, but I hate owing people favors even more.”

It must be someone pretty extraordinary to have persuaded someone like Kazama to step in, she thought idly—then quickly shook the thought away.

She watched the stream of cars passing by and carefully chose her words. “If I don’t do it, someone else will. But does that mean whoever takes the job is automatically supposed to do it? My brother told me once that the most important thing is to do what makes you happy. So I figured, the pay isn’t the biggest issue. What matters is getting the chance to experience the outside world and to earn money with my own hands. Even if it’s repetitive, mechanical work, as long as I can find peace of mind in it, it’s worth doing.”

Kazama tossed his empty coffee cup into a nearby trash bin and let out a bored sigh. “What an astounding piece of slave logic. Your brother is as useless as ever. When it comes to life-changing decisions, he can’t offer a single meaningful piece of advice. All he does is feed you empty platitudes to make you feel better.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my family that way!” Yukimura flared up instantly, hissing like an agitated cat. “Say something like that again, and I won’t hold back!”

She’d lost count of how many times Kazama had gotten under her skin. Realizing her threats hardly intimidated him, she tried to muster a more ferocious look, though her efforts only served to amuse him further. Her defiant, spirited expression was exactly the kind of endearing charm that made it impossible for him to resist teasing her. With a laugh, he said, “I’m just stating the facts. Is this little dance of polite facades really as important as you think?”

Still fuming, Yukimura snapped back, “Excuse me, but I don’t think we’re close enough for you to say that. Criticizing someone else’s family so casually is incredibly rude. If I said something nasty about your family, would you stand there and brush it off as easily as you are now?”

Kazama’s gaze lowered, seemingly giving her words some genuine thought. Just as the traffic light turned green, he looked back at her, his voice calm yet firm.

“I suggest you seriously consider what I said. You’re too pure, and you have a strong will. That makes it easy for you to get hurt out there.”

Yukimura froze. The words rippled through her mind like a pebble tossed into a still pond, stirring echoes she couldn’t quite place. By the time she snapped out of the unsettling sensation, he’d already turned away and walked on.

She followed behind him, her thoughts in turmoil, struggling to recall where she had heard that sentiment before. A voice—familiar yet foreign—whispered across the chasm of time, gently calling out to her:

—Don’t go.

A startling notion surfaced in her mind. She stared at the silent, slender figure of the man in black ahead of her, his back perfectly straight, and ventured hesitantly:

“Who… exactly are you?”

Kazama turned, offering her a faint smile.

“Who knows? Maybe we met in a past life.”

After that, neither spoke again. They walked quietly through the shadowy path beneath the trees. The deserted avenue lay empty under the dark sky, with only the biting wind rushing through. As the first snowflake drifted down, landing cold against her cheek, she was flooded with memories long buried.

It had been on a bitter winter night like this. As a young child, she had woken abruptly from a strange, sharp pain. Opening her eyes, she saw her mother’s face contorted in horror—a face that had always been so gentle now twisted grotesquely under the bedside lamp’s dim glow. She whispered “Mom” softly, instinctively reaching out to her. But when she looked at her own hand, she saw it covered in jagged scars, some of which were healing before her eyes.

“I wish I’d never had a freak like you,” her mother had said, her voice bitter and sorrowful. “You’ve brought nothing but endless burden and pain. Just do me a favor—die tonight.”

Terrified, Yukimura looked up to see her mother’s hand gripping something cold and metallic. A scream escaped her lips, loud enough to rouse her father. He burst into the room, shielding her trembling body behind him and ordering her to hide. She fled into the bathroom, locking the door, her heart pounding as she listened to the muffled clash of her father’s furious shouts and her mother’s broken sobs.

In the mirror, she caught her reflection—her cheek still bearing the faint traces of a closing cut, and her eyes. They shone golden in the darkness, like molten streams of amber.

“Don’t get too close to anyone, and don’t let anyone know about your unique condition,” her father had warned her countless times, his face set in grave seriousness. Despite her longing for the warmth of a lively crowd, she could only watch from a distance, too afraid to draw near. From that moment on, she was destined to be the quiet, reserved classmate, a nameless figure among strangers, a drifter whose existence would leave no trace in history. What right did someone like her have to wish for anything more?

The more she thought about the past, the harder it was to suppress the sorrow. Even curling herself tightly to preserve some warmth couldn’t fend off the sharp sting of the cold. Her head lowered, burdened by these thoughts, she walked briskly forward, not expecting the man ahead of her to suddenly turn around. She collided straight into his chest, nearly dropping her cup of milk tea.

“If you’re so eager to throw yourself into my arms, there’s no need to rush,” Kazama remarked with a wry smile, steadying her as she stumbled into him. But when he looked down, he was met with eyes shimmering with unshed tears. His tone softened almost instinctively. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”

“I’m not a porcelain doll,” Yukimura replied, stepping out of his arms and brushing away the tears at the corner of her eyes. Ignoring his teasing remark, she added, “It’s just the cold wind. It stung my eyes, that’s all.”

Standing there amidst the gently falling snow, she held her ground with quiet determination, silently rejecting his advances with a gentle yet firm resolve. Kazama watched her reddened eyes for a moment, then his expression shifted to one of understanding.

“Fair enough. I underestimated you,” he said.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he added, “I’ll be taking a different path now. But tell me, are you seriously planning to carry that cup all the way back?”

It was only then that Yukimura realized the school gate was not far away. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

Kazama’s gaze wandered off casually as he spoke again, his tone nonchalant. “Suit yourself. If you don’t want it, just throw it out.”

His bluntness left her momentarily speechless and a bit flustered. Seeing her reaction, Kazama’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. He offered a simple farewell and turned to leave.

“Well then, until next time.”

Normally, Yukimura would have retorted with something along the lines of “There won’t be a next time,” but the words weighed heavily in her chest, refusing to come out. That man had forced his way into her life, but in his own peculiar way, he had started to mend the old wounds she had carried for so long. His bold, unyielding confidence, his mischievous and sharp-witted nature, his keen intellect, and his subtle yet thoughtful gestures—all of these pieces of him had left an indelible mark on her heart. He, this vibrant and stubborn presence, had reminded her again and again: You’re not alone.

Finally, she opened the now-cold cup of milk tea, inserted the straw, and began to drink it, sip by sip. As she did, the tears she had held back for so long began to fall in great, silent drops.

 

Chapter 3

5  Power Outage

Whose mischievous child secretly turned off the main switch? Darkness descended without warning. The lights went off, the air conditioners stopped working, and the delicate network was almost paralyzed.

At this moment, a hundred years later, people once again cast their devout gazes on the moon, experiencing those long-lost thoughts about "this moon once shone on the ancients". If the moon goddess who controls life and death sees the countless people making endless noises because of this episode, what would she think?

• At a time like this, I'm probably the only one who would have such a strange thought. *

Yukimura lay on the windowsill, holding her cheek, letting her thoughts wander in boredom. Then, she turned her eyes to another partner in the activity room. Speaking of which, it is thanks to this club leader that she can find a place to study on holidays when the library is closed and the classrooms are closed. If he hadn't been willing to help her, she really didn't know what to do.

But…She always feels that this guy looks a little depressed recently.

• Could he be as busy as me because of the midterm assignments? *

She nearly choked on the joke that popped into her head, imagining him saying, "Oh, these little assignments are nothing," with that smug attitude and tone. She glanced over at his slightly downcast, indifferent profile and belatedly realized that they hadn't exchanged a word for quite a while. Although she often had issues with his arrogant and flippant style, she didn’t find his current demeanor all that pleasant either.

"Senpai, take a break, you have been working for a long time."

"Mmm."

Kazama glanced at his old laptop, whose battery was quickly draining, and sighed heavily. After saving the file, he closed the screen.

"Want a drink?"

He pulled out two cans of beer from his bag and waved them toward Yukimura from a distance. Wow, those are definitely not the kind of beer you’d find in a small convenience store or vending machine. Despite this, Yukimura, usually a good girl, firmly shook her head in refusal.

"Hmph, wasting good alcohol and staring at the moon with an empty bottle. How boring."

Kazama muttered in displeasure, but didn’t press the issue. He opened one of the cans and casually moved closer to her. As he got near, she caught a faint, cold fragrance in the air—like the beer he’d just opened, but also something else, something elusive, lingering in the deep, inky night.

He set the half-drunk can down, listening quietly to the distant sound of the wind, and after a moment, tapped on the windowsill with his fingers and said casually:

“Spending the day buried in paperwork, sipping wine with the pine breeze when there’s time, under the bright moon in deep autumn.”

Although Kazama’s words were poetically elegant, Yukimura could sense a faint weariness behind them. So, she hesitated for a moment before speaking up:

“Senpai… have you been dealing with something troubling lately?”

Kazama turned to look at her, seemingly surprised by her sudden question.

She met his gaze without flinching, her eyes clear and unwavering:

“I’ve noticed you’ve been quieter recently and seem a little unhappy. If something’s bothering you, feel free to tell me. Maybe I can help.”

He sat up straight, gazing at her for a moment, before suddenly smiling.

The smile was actually much gentler than usual, subtly tinged with a hint of helplessness and indulgence—like an older brother watching his younger sister throwing a tantrum. Under the thin veil of moonlight, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply looked at her with that kind, yet slightly harsh, gaze that only an older sibling would have.

It was almost as if he were saying:

• Give it up. Don’t get ahead of yourself. *

• You know nothing, yet you still think you can help. *

• You’re good for nothing but making things worse. *

Several days had passed, and although she tried to ignore it, the enormous gap between them—created by differences in age and experience—once again stood in the way. When she felt it again, her heart sank, as if struck by something dull.

** I’m just a little girl who has to rely on him for protection everywhere. **

Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, and she pursed her lips, trying hard to hide the curve of her mouth that was quickly falling.

Noticing her subtle change in expression, Kazama put away the look he had just worn.

"Don’t misunderstand. I appreciate your concern, but to be honest, these things are beyond your current abilities. There’s no need for you to worry about things that are beyond your control."

“No, that’s not it!”

Without thinking, she blurted out the words that had been swirling in her mind for a long time, startling both of them with the unexpected volume.

"Maybe you think it’s childish of me to offer help… but I thought we’re friends now. Don’t I have the right to listen to the real feelings of a friend? My feelings right now are the same as when you said you’d help me practice running. I can’t just sit back and enjoy the favor you’ve given me while ignoring the troubles you’re facing… I can’t do that!"

"So, just take it as me being presumptuous… no matter how little or great my strength is, I really want to help you."

Kazama looked at her with those bright, unwavering eyes, and sighed.

"Although you’re the one offering, let me say this upfront—once you’re involved in these matters, it’s like you’ve gotten on my pirate ship. Don’t expect to get off easily."

Though she had never been able to fully understand his mysterious way of speaking, his tone didn’t sound like a joke. In the end, she bit her lip and nodded gently.

Kazama then continued, picking up where he left off:

"I’m having some trouble with my thesis. I’ve tried everything to fix it, but it’s highly likely that I’ll have to extend my graduation."

His words were casual, but her heart sank at the news. For a long time, he didn’t offer any further explanation. So, she lowered her eyelashes slightly, lost in deep thought.

This problem must have been bothering him for a while, but why hadn’t she noticed it earlier?

Perhaps, I have some responsibility in this…

She was lost in these unresolvable thoughts when a sudden weight on her shoulder made her shiver. When she quickly looked up, her eyes met his, which were gleaming with a mischievous smile. The sudden closeness made her instinctively tense up, but he, pretending not to notice, leaned in a little closer and whispered softly in her ear:

"What’s going on? The one with the problem is me, but why does your expression look worse than mine?"

She was speechless, unable to find a reason to argue with him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He did this on purpose. He knows everything.

In the midst of confusion and darkness, his breath, mixed with a low chuckle, carried the moisture and saltiness of the Southern Kyushu bays, floating like mist around her ear before dissolving like raindrops into her heart. The sudden downpour surrounded her, soaking her from the inside out. Her damp, confused eyes were like a fledgling bird, lost and helpless.

When the warmth that belonged to him quietly left her side, she snapped out of the dreamy, slightly tipsy haze, with the faint scent of alcohol lingering in the air. In this small, ambiguous space, only the moonlight, the gentle breeze, the wine, and the two of them remained.

Although she had gradually gotten used to his way of speaking, intentionally revealing a hint of vulnerability to tease her and exploit her tendency to soften, it was still a little too much.

She thought to herself as she slowly adjusted her breathing to calm her racing heart and quietly lowered her head, avoiding his gaze.

She wasn’t sure how long they had been silent, but eventually, Kazama’s steady voice came again.

 

5.1  Waiting in The Weeds [1]

"Enough of the joke. It's not the fact that I have to extend my graduation that bothers me. For students like us, older students, it's not unusual at all to graduate late. What really troubles me is realizing that the series of events happening right now are beyond my control."

"You might find this strange and think it’s not a serious issue, but for a researcher like me, who has always prided himself on high levels of rationality and self-control, this is nothing short of a devastating blow. After finally settling on a direction and approach, I’ve found myself stuck due to insufficient materials and weak arguments, constantly criticized and questioned by my advisor. My original understanding is constantly at risk of being overturned with the introduction of new materials. Every time this happens, I feel the pain of knowing that life has limits, but learning has none. To be honest, at your age, I barely felt this way. To suddenly face something that goes beyond my previous understanding at this stage of life might be the price I’ve had to pay for having a relatively smooth-sailing first half of my life."

Yukimura, who had been lazily resting on the windowsill, listening to his words, no longer had the energy to sulk about the earlier small incident. She straightened up a little, her dark eyes locking onto him without blinking.

"Is it because you can’t find any research by predecessors to reference?"

Kazama didn’t answer her question directly, instead, he shifted the topic and said:

"This is an age of information overload, and yet it’s also an age of information scarcity. The truly useful information is actually far fewer than one would imagine, just like how many libraries boast about their vast collections, though much of it is inflated. The process of searching for data is like panning for gold amidst the mountains of garbage; some crucial materials are priceless, while shallow, flashy, attention-grabbing stuff is abundant. The bigger issue is that the criteria for judgment are hard to define in advance, and these elusive, intangible things are often unstable. Things that are quickly labeled as ‘useless’ might just be a result of overconfidence. Perhaps their value will only be discovered much later. This is a skill you can’t learn in the classroom—it can only be gained through your own effort, piece by piece."

He paused again, waiting for her response. Yukimura thought silently for a moment before picking up where he left off:

"Because of the midterm assignment, I... I can understand your feelings. During my own research, I’ve had some thoughts. Although it’s nearly impossible to find a completely untouched field of research, it’s like developing farmland—the degree to which land has been utilized is uneven. From my own experience, I’m indeed curious about some fields, but unfortunately, the research by predecessors on these experiential issues is often just a simple introduction, without enough analysis, synthesis, or reflection on existing ideas. I also know that reaching that level of research is very difficult. The limited specialized knowledge that comes from subject division is simply not enough to address the big issues of culture and society. We borrow concepts and methods from other disciplines in order to resolve these difficulties. I suppose this is the kind of work Senpai is doing, just in the form of self-study, right?"

"Looks like my complaints are finally understood by someone."

A faint smile of approval appeared in his eyes, and he continued:

"At your age, being able to develop such critical awareness isn't an easy feat. Just for that, you’re already much more outstanding than I had expected. If you keep up this habit of thinking, you’ll surely go far down this path."

Yukimura felt somewhat flustered by the unexpected compliment. She muttered a few words in response, then lowered her head and fell silent. They both, without a word, settled into quiet. In this dim, narrow space, they faced each other without actually seeing one another. After a while, Yukimura finally spoke again:

"Senpai... If you know it's so difficult, why did you still choose to pursue academia?"

Kazama answered almost without hesitation.

"Of course, it’s because I like it. Generally speaking, I only do things I enjoy. That’s a principle I’ve always followed."

He took a sip of his drink, his profile faintly ethereal in the moonlight.

"You could also see pursuing knowledge in the humanities as something only those from privileged classes would do. After all, in today’s world, if you don’t have a strong academic background and economic security, you absolutely can’t focus on these kinds of pursuits. But still, no matter what, someone has to do it. There’s nothing new under the sun, and events that often make the news may have already occurred before. What’s needed is someone with the will to pay attention and think critically about it. I’ve just been a little lucky, and maybe a little stubborn. I’ve gone through some things but didn’t want to completely forget them. Anyway, just aimlessly thinking won’t solve anything. It’s better to stay in the study and read for a few more years. If I went to work now, I probably wouldn’t have the time or energy to freely think and explore all kinds of deep and interesting problems."

"That doesn’t sound like something you’d normally say, Senpai." She couldn’t help but smile.

"Do you think I’m just a narcissist in your eyes?" He raised an eyebrow at her, then added:

"As you said, it really is difficult. If research were as simple as cramming for an exam before the deadline, the chaos in academia would probably explode because the entry barrier would be so much lower. Occasional flashes of inspiration don’t really mean anything. The key is to have the kind of academic drive that keeps you gathering new knowledge, collecting materials, and processing them until you form a general understanding. On the surface, it seems like a mass production line of copy-paste work, but only when you reach that level can you feel the sheer exhilaration of ‘aha!’ moments and sudden enlightenment when you make discoveries. And that feeling of pure joy when you see an author’s brilliant reasoning and arguments, or when you’re in sync with their thinking… These experiences are definitely incomparable to the brief sensory pleasures we often chase after."

"But no matter where you go, there will always be various numerical metrics constraining you. If you don’t meet certain conditions, you’ll either face discrimination, lose the opportunity for further development, or fail to catch the attention of the people who matter... Eventually, you’ll start to care about it yourself. But in the beginning, these things are merely a way to measure performance. Their existence is just to make it easier for managers to come up with an appealing result. To put it bluntly, the ranking criteria aren’t even decided by those of us being ranked. Sometimes, the closer you are to those with voting power, the more likely you are to get the crucial vote that will determine your fate. If that’s the case, why should we willingly be bound by these rankings? Can a person’s worth, or the value of their work, really be fully captured by their numerical rank?"

Yukimura nodded absently, her expression distant, as if lost in thought.

Seeing this, Kazama just smiled knowingly.

"I've said a lot all at once, and it might be hard for you to take in right now. After all, you're still a freshman. Though I've told you to 'always have a spirit of progress,' for you, as long as you live in the present, keep moving forward steadily, and complete each phase of your tasks, that's enough. There's no need to carry such a heavy burden too soon."

"No, it's just that I was thinking about something, and it made me feel somewhat helpless."

She continued:

"In the past, I was taught that 'you just need to study well, and life will be simple and carefree.' But actually, there have always been a lot of troubles to face; I just didn’t realize it before, or perhaps I just didn’t take it seriously. Though I'm still on campus now, I often feel like I'm getting closer and closer to the real world. If it weren't for what you said just now, it would have taken me much longer to figure some of this out on my own. Thank you."

Kazama simply nodded in response.

"No need to thank me for something so trivial. As I said earlier, these are just the complaints of an old man with nowhere to vent. Don’t take my words as absolute truths. Use your own experiences to verify my conclusions and challenge my biases. You should walk your own path, fly toward the mountain that belongs to you, like a bird."

It seemed like he was recalling some precious memories, as his gaze softened and grew distant for a moment.

"Spend these four years finding your own answers to this question."

This version of him was very different from the impression he gave when they first met.

At first, he had been so brash and domineering, but as she spent more time with him, he became more restrained and controlled, sometimes showing an expression of nostalgia and reminiscence, much like he did now.

Could all of this be related to the memories she had lost?

In a daze, she found herself surrounded by a flurry of flowers, the petals falling like soft snow, settling on her body and covering her in a delicate layer. Each one was light and translucent, yet carried with it an indescribable sadness. He stood before her like a figure from a painted scroll, wearing loose robes and an expression as tranquil as the calm sky, gazing at her through the swirling storm of petals.

He only gazed at her quietly from a distance, neither stepping forward nor turning to leave. The night was still, the flowers danced in the breeze, and they stood there in silence, facing each other, under the eternal stars and the flowing river of time.

After a while, her body moved, responding to a sudden, deep sadness that seemed to arise from nowhere. She reached out toward him, but just then, a fierce snowstorm swept in, blocking her view. She had to pull her hand back to shield herself from the storm's fury.

When the wind finally died down and she cautiously opened her eyes again, the moonlit flowers and water remained serene as before, but his figure had vanished, leaving no trace behind.

Yukimura’s thoughts snapped back to reality in an instant, her chest still tight with lingering anxiety, while Kazama remained seated, his gaze shifting away only after hers refocused. She sat restlessly beside him, watching him calmly finish the rest of his drink, then, without a hint of hesitation, open another can, as if this series of actions had been repeated countless times before.

Even if she weren't here, with his drinking capacity, he could probably finish that much on his own.

She took a deep breath before speaking up, trying to be gentle:

"Senpai, the way you're drinking like this isn't good for your health. It's better to stop before it gets out of hand."

As expected, Kazama turned his face slightly toward her, an expression of displeasure crossing his features.

"Anyone can talk about the right thing to do. But there’s no denying that alcohol really does have a way of easing one's troubles. If you don’t have a better solution, then don’t bring it up again."

He didn’t speak in a particularly harsh tone, but each of his words seemed to hit just the right spot. Not sure where the courage came from, she again met his gaze without fear, her voice steady as she spoke:

"Since you’ve given me the freedom to express my opinion, I won’t hold back."

Before Kazama could form the question on his face, her mildly dissatisfied complaints began to pour out:

"It’s already happened several times tonight—honestly, I don’t feel very happy about it. I’ve been holding it in because you’ve been sharing your insights this whole time. You always talk in this lecturing tone, saying ‘there’s no need’ and then using ‘I understand’ as an excuse to cover it up. You can see exactly what’s on my mind but don’t take my feelings into consideration. You’re just as stubborn about drinking as always. Are you really trying to comfort me, or are you doing your best to push me away? If it’s the latter, then why bother coming to me in the first place?"

Kazama listened patiently to her long string of complaints without interrupting, only offering a faint smile as he replied, seemingly amused:

"So, what do you suggest we do?"

She was at a loss for words for a moment.

As she saw the smile on his face about to take on a different tone, she acted on impulse. Reaching out, she snatched the beer can by his side, shut her eyes, and in a manner befitting a heroic figure from a drama, boldly chugged the remaining beer in one go. Then a fit of violent coughing brought on by the sharp, bitter liquid flooding her throat.

He hadn't expected this seemingly fragile girl to pull off such a stunt. Reaching out, he guided her to bend forward slowly. Amid the bout of coughing, she sputtered out a few mouthfuls of liquid before managing to speak in broken syllables:  

“I thought... drinking it fast... would help with the taste...” 

Watching her pitiable state, he couldn’t help but feel equal parts amused and exasperated. 

“All I wanted was for you to try this beer and see how it tastes, not to endanger your life with reckless drinking. What are you thinking?”  

Before he could finish his sentence, her protest—half a whimper—cut him off.  

**“Why is it okay for you to drink like this, but not for me?” **

She leaned against him, her face tilted upward as she gazed at him unwaveringly.  

Just then, the moon broke free of the clouds, illuminating her delicate, pure features. Her soft brows knitted ever so slightly, her eyes glistening as if holding back tears. Every movement, every breath she took exuded a dreamlike sweetness unique to a young girl’s charm. 

Under her gentle gaze, he felt a long-still part of his heart stir and come alive once more. Moved by a pure yet mysterious longing, he instinctively reached out to touch the soft contours of her youthful face. But just as his fingertips were about to graze her cool, smooth skin, she ducked her head, narrowly evading his touch.  

“...I’m sorry.” 

Lowering her head in haste, she hid the panic that had flashed across her face. Her trembling lashes and modest posture gave her a tranquil grace, reminding him of a white crane he had once glimpsed as a child, poised elegantly by the shore. 

His gaze lingered, tracing the curve of her slender neck to her sharp chin, finally resting on her pale profile framed by wisps of loose hair.

“You haven’t done anything wrong. There’s no need to apologize.”  

“Seeing you uneasy or guilty only burdens me. I don’t want to be misunderstood as someone with a shady habit of taking advantage of women. It’s just that I—” 

I just don’t want to see you cry again.  

That was what he had intended to say. But when his eyes met her frank yet slightly puzzled gaze, the words took a detour:  

“Don’t use self-destructive ways to express yourself anymore.”  

“I promise you. From now on, I’ll drink responsibly and take your feelings into account. Whenever I make a promise, I’ll see it through to the end. You can count on it.” 

The girl clearly didn’t catch on to the subtle undertones of his words, nor did she know how to respond to such a solemn vow. Instead, she awkwardly bowed her head in gratitude, her tense demeanor finally softening. When she lifted her face again, her damp eyes sparkled as though holding a pool of starlight.  

However, when Kazama picked up the beer can that had toppled over during their commotion, his face darkened a shade.  

“Well, this is great. Half the beer’s gone now. What should we do about it?”  

Knowing she was partly at fault, Yukimura still stiffened her neck and retorted defensively:  

“T-then just don’t drink it anymore!”  

• That wouldn’t do. *Someone as meticulous as him wouldn’t let the opportunity slip to gain the upper hand. 

“I was about to say—during this whole time, you’ve been so attentive to me. Should I take this as you’ve finally realized what it means to be a wife?”  

He had expected her to blush and shy away, as usual. But instead, she seemed somewhat vexed by their earlier exchange. After a brief pause with her face turning slightly red, she seized the opportunity to counter with determination:  

“So, you’re saying that you’re willing to let me take charge, huh?”  

• Well, progress indeed. *He silently ground his teeth and replied,  

“Though men and women are equal, there are times when a wife should indulge her husband’s requests.”  

“Wake up. We’re living in the modern era. It’s time to toss away that outdated ‘female virtue’ of yours.”  

“Hmph, I’m just joking. Besides, it’s really me who’s more tolerant of my wife’s stubbornness.”  

“Do you really have no conscience saying something so far from the truth?”  

And so, they continued to laze about on the stone steps of the activity room’s terrace, playfully bickering in this trivial husband-and-wife debate. Eventually, they found themselves looking at each other, breaking into laughter at the same time.  

After an indeterminate amount of time, Yukimura finally spoke, breaking the silence:  

“…Let’s return to the original topic. Since you brought up your own experiences, why don’t you tell me more?” 

 

5.2  The Gate of Light

Kazama withdrew his gaze from the distant horizon and turned towards her.

"Do you have an interest in pursuing academia as well?"

Yukimura propped her chin on her hand and thought for a moment before honestly replying:

"I haven't decided yet. A lot of my classmates have already figured out their goals early on, but... I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm not very bright, but I haven’t really decided what I want to do in the future. That's why when you said ‘spend these four years to find the answer to that question,’ it felt so relatable. After hearing that, I felt a lot more at ease."

"It's not that simple."

He lowered his gaze, his voice carrying a faint trace of fatigue.

"If it were the old me, I would have never said something like that, because back then I didn't have so many choices. But now it's different — if I don’t like my major, I can switch; if I don’t like a job, I can quit. The future is full of uncertainties, life offers countless possibilities, and no model can predict the future with 100% accuracy. So, don’t limit yourself to just one path. Instead, try as many possibilities as you can and enjoy life. At the very least, start with a small goal — that's what I mean."

She nodded seriously, as if she were in class listening intently, then lazily buried half of her face in her arms, sighing softly:

"When will I ever be as capable as you, Kazama-senpai…?"

Seeing her act so innocently, he broke from his usual teasing and instead asked, following her train of thought:

"After knowing the real me, do you still think that way?"

She initially thought he was referring to all the times he had teased her, but just as she was about to scold him for his mean nature, he continued:

"Actually, your previous impression wasn’t wrong. I did go through a period of anxiety and self-doubt. During that time, I deliberately distanced myself from you to think through these things. I can't deny that that was my mistake."

She listened quietly, then after some thought, spoke carefully:

"With all due respect, even so, Kazama-senpai, I think your problem still hasn’t been solved even now. So, seeking help when necessary seems to be really important."

Sensing the cautious probing in her words, his gaze once again focused on her face, and he couldn't help but smile slightly.

“I underestimated you earlier. I didn’t realize you’re actually quite sharp.”

Perhaps it was the effect of the few sips of alcohol earlier, but Yukimura felt more confident speaking in front of him.

“It’s because of your overly self-confident personality that you think everyone else is an idiot.”

Kazama’s expression immediately darkened, but he didn’t rebut.

In the chilly autumn night air, he tilted his head and gazed up at the pale moon hanging in the deep blue sky.

“Comparison might be the first form of self-awareness that arises in humans. It’s the act of distinguishing one thing from another, of driving things alien to oneself out of one’s world. You don’t need to think too much about it. With just instinct, you can make judgments naturally.”

“Since the beginning of the creation of the world by the ancient gods, the distinction between light and darkness, purity and impurity, life and death has existed. Izanami, the mother of all gods, died giving birth to the fire god Kagutsuchi. She was forever imprisoned in the depths of Yomi, her beauty destroyed, her body decayed, completely cut off from the bright world of the living. She is the mother of the gods, yet she is also bound to the symbols of darkness, sin, impurity, and death.” [2]

“Night has always been incompatible with day. It often gives people the impression of darkness, silence, and even fear. But without the contrast of darkness, the existence of light would be meaningless. To be honest, if it weren’t for this power outage, I haven’t experienced such total darkness in a long time. Before this, retreating into the shadows was something quite common for me. It’s almost laughable—my ancestors first had to retreat to the mountains to hide their light, then were forced to return to the bustling city for survival. Though they were part of this world, not everyone has the power to control their own fate. Where we go and how things turn out are, to a large extent, not decisions we can make.”[3]

At the end of his words, he paused for a moment, observing Yukimura's expression, before finishing his last sentence. As expected, the vibrant color in her cheeks faded slowly, like autumn leaves withering in this season.

She kept this expression of quiet loss as she asked, her slightly opened black eyes seemingly filled with a fine mist of rain:

“Senpai, do you think these past few years have been better or worse compared to the past?”

However, she unusually continued speaking without waiting for his response:

“Please forgive me for answering on my own. I’ve heard many different opinions, but I believe that when it comes to this question, it’s impossible to give a simple answer. No matter what, the road forward is always filled with ups and downs, and we’re always gaining something while losing something else. Although the news often reports sorrowful events, I think it’s wrong to only focus on one side—be it good or bad.”

“My teacher once said that the information we receive often carries the publisher's own biases and assumptions. Even if every word is true, the original meaning might be lost after editing and spreading. Although we usually only learn what they want us to know, a wall may block a person’s impact, but it can’t block a voice that is united. No matter what, at least now, we still have the freedom to choose whether to believe and accept it.”

“I agree with Senpai’s point, but I still believe that possibilities far outnumber certainties. After all, not long ago, you also said that the future is difficult to predict. Our tomorrow should be something we take control of ourselves. At least, for now, both you and I still have the ability to feel our breath, our pulse, and our heartbeat. The very existence of these vital signs shows we’re still alive. And as long as we’re alive, we can form more connections, meet more opportunities, and have a chance to create more miracles.”

“More miracles… I see.”

He softly repeated her last words, his expression thoughtful, and the sharpness in his features gradually softened.

“Living with a mindset of appreciating each other’s beauty and seeking harmony, rather than constantly fighting and opposing each other—perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.”

However—

Kazama’s words abruptly stopped at this turning point, and he didn’t continue. His expression, seemingly calm at first, almost cold, still carried a hint of mixed emotions—sorrow, loneliness, even pity—that Yukimura strangely sensed.

This emotion, like a rising tide, not only gradually chilled her heart, but also seemed to surround the small room with silent, invisible currents.

At that moment, she saw the distant lights emerging one by one from the thick night, their faint sounds of laughter and chatter spilling along the way. As they faded, they shattered, like an echo in the mountains, fleeting and elusive.

Surely, at some point, the lights here will come back on, too?

Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, were faintly stung by the sudden burst of hazy light that spread out in the distance. She hadn’t noticed when Kazama had shortened the distance between them. He gently pulled her shoulder closer, and her body obediently leaned against him, her innocent and unguarded expression like she had fallen into a transparent and sorrowful dream.

When she finally realized she was once again in this awkward situation, her slight struggles and soft protests were futile, only provoking a lazy chuckle from him.

“Don’t be so tense, I won’t do anything to you.”

• Your words only seem untrustworthy in moments like this. *

She thought to herself, still watching him with a somewhat wary gaze. But he didn’t mind at all. Instead, he took advantage of the situation and leaned half of his body against her back.

She couldn’t help but get annoyed, trying to shake off this giant piece of chewing gum from her back. Just as she turned her head, she happened to catch a close-up view of the faint shadow under his half-closed eyelashes.

And so, the anger she had built up couldn’t find its way out.

Kazama, resting his head on her left shoulder, seemed to sense the fluctuating emotions in her, letting out a soft sigh. The sigh, along with his warm breath, fell on her neck, gently warming the delicate and sensitive heart of the girl.

“I’m just a little tired. Let me lean on you for a bit, just for a short while.”

She could only smile wryly and help adjust his position to make him more comfortable. Satisfied, he closed his eyes again, burying half of his face in the folds of her clothes, and began to hum a little tune in a muffled voice.

“He's a real nowhere Man,

Sitting in his Nowhere Land,

Making all his nowhere plans for nobody.

He's as blind as he can be,

Just sees what he wants to see,

Nowhere Man can you see me at all?” [4]

His tune gradually became fainter, eventually fading into silence.  

Yukimura secretly glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She saw that his brows and eyes had relaxed, his breathing steady, and he remained perfectly still in the same position as before, as quiet as if he had fallen asleep.

 

 

Chapter 4

6 A Day of Soul-Swapping

"So, you're saying... you and Kazama switched bodies?"

"Yes... though I have no idea why. Kazama-senpai is probably dealing with the same situation right now."

However, Kazama's two mischievous friends showed no sign of worry. Instead, they chimed in with their usual banter.

"It'll switch back eventually. No need to stress, Yukimura-san."

"Awesome! This means we can finally get Kazama to dress up as a girl!"

"Seriously, Shiranui? That's your takeaway? Better hope Kazama doesn’t find out, or he’ll punch you."

"Relax, he won't know. Hey, Amagiri, aren’t you the least bit tempted by this once-in-a-century chance? With his looks, it’d be a crime not to see him in a dress. Maybe I should lend him a helping hand..."

Clearly, relying on these two was a lost cause. With a resigned sigh, Yukimura—now in Kazama's body—got up and left.

She never expected her sophomore year to start with so much chaos. First, she realized on the very first day of class that she’d brought the wrong textbook. On the second day, she forgot to refill her pen cartridges and had to ask Kazama for help to scrape through. And now, on the third day, this—soul-swapping of all things.

Was this some sort of cosmic punishment for living a life that had grown too comfortable, too carefree? Had she let herself get too used to this noisy but oddly warm and unrestrained existence?

This easygoing, blissful time... it felt more and more like a fleeting dream destined to end.

She hesitated for a moment, standing still until the discomfort of being in his body began to fade. Finally, she made up her mind: she’d gather his usual books and laptop and take them to him. Luckily, those items weren’t hard to find. She carefully packed them all into a bag, grabbed the keys, and headed out.

Before leaving, she paused in front of the mirror to check her appearance. The face staring back at her, the faint and familiar scent lingering around the collar of his shirt—it all made her cheeks flush slightly. But then she realized how ridiculous it looked for his face to have such an expression. She shook her head quickly, willing away the heat in her cheeks, and hurriedly turned away from the mirror, stepping out of the room.

She walked down the street, her mind restless, though fortunately, she didn’t attract any unwanted attention. Gradually, her steps grew lighter.

At the campus cafeteria, she unexpectedly ran into Senhime. It had been a while since they’d last seen each other, but even while quietly having her meal, the straightforward and elegant "big-sister-next-door" maintained her perfectly polished and poised demeanor. Even from a distance, Yukimura was certain she couldn’t mistake her for anyone else.

For a brief moment, she forgot she was inhabiting Kazama’s body and, unable to contain her excitement, called out cheerfully, "Osen-chan!"

The soft, delicate tone she was so used to suddenly sounded utterly wrong coming from a man’s voice. Realizing this, she froze and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. But it was too late. Senhime’s sharp glare was already locked onto her.

"Kazama?"

Yukimura wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Senhime, oblivious to the bizarre circumstances, stared at her with wary eyes and, after a moment’s pause, huffed angrily:

"Stay away from me, and don’t ever call me that in such a creepy way again."

Yukimura could only offer an awkward smile as she scrambled to explain the situation, much as she had to Kazama’s two friends earlier. She recounted the whole ordeal while Senhime listened, wide-eyed with disbelief. When Yukimura finally finished, Senhime sat in stunned silence before blurting out:

"What on earth is going on? No wonder when I ran into ‘Kazama’ earlier and kindly said hi, she turned around, gave me the most obnoxious wink, and flashed this smug grin..."

Yukimura was utterly mortified. She could barely bring herself to speak, let alone respond.

This was beyond embarrassing.

As she tried to regain her composure and string together a proper response, she finally managed to say:

"I’m really sorry. If I run into Senpai later, I’ll remind him to tone it down. He’s just a bit impulsive, not unreasonable. Please don’t hold it against him."

"I get it. I’ve known him for years; it’s not like I’d let something like this bother me. He probably hasn’t gone far. If you hurry, you might catch him."

Senhime waved her hand dismissively, indicating she wasn’t upset anymore. Then, she pointed in a certain direction and added with a concerned tone:

"If Kazama dares to use this situation to bully you, you’d better tell me. I’ll make sure to stand up for you and give him a piece of my mind!"

Yukimura chuckled helplessly, thanked Senhime for her kind offer, and stuffed the last bite of bread into her mouth before heading in the direction indicated.

It’ll be fine. It’s just meeting him with a different face… Besides, I’m half a head taller than he is now. No way I’m losing the upper hand.

She silently psyched herself up, walking briskly. Before long, she spotted the culprit behind her restless thoughts. The "girl" before her tilted her delicately refined face, observing Yukimura’s conflicted expression with evident amusement.

This mirror-like confrontation was bizarre, to say the least. But knowing his naturally wicked personality, it oddly made sense.

Yukimura took a deep breath and forced herself to greet him calmly.

“Uh… Good morning, Senpai.”

Kazama smiled faintly and nodded back as if everything were perfectly normal.

“I’ve been waiting for you. How was your chat with her?”

Yukimura froze for a moment before realizing the underlying implication. She glared at him angrily, her cheeks puffing slightly.

“You knew?! And you still—”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. I was just going with the flow. Don’t you think a little role reversal makes things far more interesting than sticking to our usual routines?”

How shameless!

Her furious gaze bore into him as she clamped her lips shut, unwilling to dignify his words with a reply. Kazama, noticing the storm gathering on her face, wisely restrained his laughter.

“Alright, I’ll stop teasing. This isn’t the place to talk. Let’s walk and chat.”

He reached for the hand she’d been nervously clutching at the hem of "his" jacket and gently led her into the bustling street.

“As much as it seems otherwise, I didn’t plan this body swap. I only realized something was wrong when I woke up this morning. As for why this happened, I have no clue. But, as they say, when in Rome…”

Effortlessly, he took the heavy bag from her shoulder, his gaze softening as he looked at her—his expression warm, like a spring breeze.

“We’ve got nothing urgent today. Why not take this chance to stroll around and give ourselves a break?”

“But…”

“Wait here for me.”

Before she could protest further, Kazama disappeared into the crowd, leaving her stunned and motionless in the middle of the sidewalk.

• That guy! Still the same as ever, never listening to me! Though… I guess he’s not entirely wrong. *

• Ugh, why does he always manage to get the upper hand and then just disappear? He gets my body and teleportation, and I still don’t have a single superpower. It’s so unfair! *

She pursed her lips ever so slightly, retreating to the side to make way for the bustling pedestrians. Watching the endless flow of cars and hurried figures pass by, an unfamiliar wave of emotion surged in her heart.

As time ticked by, the lingering warmth of his touch gradually faded from her palm. She found herself waking from the chaotic, bittersweet dream that had momentarily enveloped her.

She had lived here, grown up here, and yet, it always felt like she didn’t truly belong. If one day she were forced to leave, where would she go? And who would walk alongside her?

Before she could sink too deeply into her melancholy, a familiar, short laugh brushed past her ear. Startled, she looked up and glanced around in a panic, only to find no sign of him. Instead, the rustling leaves of a nearby tree swayed in the breeze, offering their quiet reply.

6.1 Pansexual Kazama

“You don’t look so good. What’s wrong? Missing me already after such a short separation?”

“Could you not say such egotistical things all the time?”

There was no way she’d admit it. Even if he was entirely right, she’d never concede. Letting him win these little exchanges over and over again felt like a personal defeat—how could she let that happen?

But the instigator was utterly unfazed. Instead, he took it a step further, casually linking his arm with hers. Leaning in with a soft, teasing closeness, he continued smugly:

“Your reaction can’t fool me. Don’t forget, the body you’re in right now is mine to begin with.”

“…Senpai, isn’t this a bit inappropriate? Anyone would instinctively feel tense and uncomfortable if you got this close.”

“Would they? Isn’t it perfectly normal for a girl to cling to her boyfriend?”

“What boyfriend?! I never agreed to that!”

“Don’t try to deny it. That lonely look you had when you were staring into the crowd just now wasn’t convincing at all.”

“…”

“Before this body swap, I had no idea how many twists and turns a girl’s thoughts could have. The moment I touched you earlier, I was instantly surrounded by a whirlwind of emotions. It felt like I was going to explode. There was this overwhelming urge to shout out loud… It’s incredible. To feel so deeply that you’re loved—it’s an absolutely amazing sensation.”

• Fine. If it makes you happy, go ahead. *

Yukimura wanted to retort, but seeing him ramble on, completely lost in his pure delight, she decided to hold her tongue.

At first, she had been on high alert, wary that he might actually act on the things he casually joked about. But over the past year, even though he constantly dropped these overly confident, borderline chauvinistic remarks, he’d never done anything truly inappropriate. She’d slowly gotten used to ignoring his narcissistic habits.

As long as it didn’t cross the line, he could amuse himself however he liked.

As for now… it was probably just the novelty of being in a different body. Once the excitement wore off, he’d likely settle down a bit.

She let him keep up his "delicate and clingy" act as they strolled slowly along the path. They walked side by side across a lush, flower-filled lawn, over a winding gravel trail, until a picturesque view of a lake framed by drooping willows and a mirrored sky appeared before them.

Oh, wasn’t this * the * go-to spot for young couples on dates?

Yet, apart from them, the place was completely deserted...

This realization hit her, and she nervously glanced at Kazama, who responded with a faint, serene smile.

“I’ve wanted to bring you here for a while now. Finally, I got my wish. The scenery is beautiful, the air is refreshing—perfect for clearing your head. It’s especially nice when you can avoid the crowd.”

His words lingered in her mind. Did he come here often by himself? And if he happened to see those lovey-dovey couples, what would he feel?

Then again, someone as capable as Senpai probably wouldn’t be bothered by something like that.

She turned her gaze to the lake’s center, watching the golden ripples dance gently across the surface. Her thoughts swayed like the shimmering water as they sat quietly on the grass, neither speaking. Time passed unnoticed, and soon, the sun climbed high, brushing the tops of the willows.

After sitting in stiff silence for what felt like forever, Yukimura found herself growing restless.

Kazama had gone to the trouble of bringing her here, but was he really planning to just sit silently the entire day? Could his usual life be this calm, almost dull?

This thought sparked a strange mix of sympathy and curiosity about him. But there was something more urgent, more pressing she’d been wanting to ask him for a while now—

As she openly stared at Kazama, her eyes filled with hesitation, he happened to turn to meet her gaze. Their eyes locked, unspoken words lingering in the quiet moment like sunlight filtering through the treetops—soft and enduring. Whether from nerves or the sun’s warmth, she felt her cheeks grow hot.

Seeing her obvious unease, Kazama, unusually gentle, simply narrowed his eyes and gave her a reassuring smile.

“If there’s something you want to know, you can ask me now.”

6.2 A Glimpse into the Past

He genuinely seemed to be in a good mood, Yukimura thought to herself.

This felt like a rare chance to get closer to him.

Aside from his occasional tendency to tease her with flirtatious remarks, Kazama typically came across as composed, dependable, and remarkably patient. Yet, whenever the topic veered toward his past, no matter how much she pressed him, he would either evade the question or refuse to answer altogether. Since their heated argument long ago, they had both tacitly agreed to never bring it up again.

She had a vague sense that whatever had happened must have left Kazama deeply unsettled. But the fact that he seemed to know everything about her while she knew next to nothing about him left her feeling uneasy. So, despite a twinge of guilt, she carefully chose her words and asked:

“Since Senpai says I can ask anything… then please tell me: what really happened a hundred years ago? Everything you’ve said and done makes it seem like you see me as someone else you once knew, like you’re constantly checking if I carry her memories. But you’ve never told me what your time with her was really like. So… I want to know. What happened before and after you parted ways with her?”

Kazama clearly hadn’t expected her to ask this. His expression froze for a moment, and Yukimura braced herself, thinking he might lose his temper. Instead, he let out a long, resigned sigh.

“It’s nothing scandalous,” he finally said. “Since I promised to answer, I will keep my word. If you weren’t the Yukimura Chizuru I remember, you wouldn’t have asked this question.”

Then, with concise frankness, he began:

“As you already know, you, me, and the others—Amagiri, Shiranui, and Senhime, as well as your former brother Nagumo Kaoru and your adoptive father Yukimura Koudou—are all members of the Oni clan. Apart from teleportation, Oni possess strength and vitality far beyond that of ordinary humans. Although we bear no ill will toward humans, our power has inevitably led to conflict and entanglements with those who seek to exploit it. Over a hundred years ago, there were stories between us, but in the end, we didn’t stay together. You had your ambitions and someone you loved. I had no right, nor desire, to interfere with your choices.”

His words were matter-of-fact, yet they carried an unmistakable undercurrent of sorrow.

• — Says the guy who’s been clinging to me and refusing to let go ever since! *

Yukimura wanted to retort, but mindful of Kazama’s pride, she bit her tongue and kept the thought to herself.

Yukimura pressed on with another question:

“I can understand now that I might truly be an Oni—some things from my childhood seem to confirm it. But putting that aside, Senpai—no, Kazama-san, after all that happened, you must have returned to your homeland, right? If the goal was to protect the Oni clan from humans with bad intentions, wouldn’t it make sense to stay as far away from human society as possible? Why are you living here now, like an ordinary person?”

Kazama’s lips curled into a sardonic smile, his expression a mix of bitterness and weary resignation:

“The reason I didn’t return is simple—because there’s no homeland left to return to. This world no longer has a place for the Oni clan, and the people I swore to protect… are gone.”

“How… How could that happen? Was it because of war?”

“In a sense, yes. But modern warfare isn’t just about swords and guns anymore. What we consider normal today—politics, trade, the division of labor—those tools of control can topple societies without a single battle. The tragedy is that, during a time when Japan wasn’t yet a democracy, the people with the power to make these decisions were the very same ones who knew about the Oni. They were the ones who sealed our fate.”

Yukimura thought for a moment and suggested cautiously:

“If everyone had just stayed hidden deep in the mountains, living self-sufficiently, maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

Kazama nodded slightly.

“That’s true. We did relocate our village to safer areas, but the changes that swept through the human world over just a few decades were far beyond what anyone could have anticipated. News from the outside world and all kinds of fashionable goods kept flooding in. Our ability to trade resources became increasingly strained. Intermarriage with humans grew more common, and almost everyone dreamed of moving to the city to make money. The benefits of urban life—technological advances, material abundance—were things the Oni clan, with its primitive, tribe-like structure, simply couldn’t compete with.

“As the clan’s leader, I couldn’t control people’s hearts. All I could do was guard the last line of defense: allowing my people the freedom to come and go, to live wherever they chose. If they struggled to survive out there, they knew they could always come back. The village would always be their safe haven.”

So… he was once a leader of such high standing. No wonder his demeanor often carried a certain aristocratic aloofness.

Though she couldn’t help but poke fun at him in her thoughts, Yukimura straightened up and asked politely:

“Sorry, but I have another question. You mentioned earlier that industrialization caused the Oni society to decline. Did the village try any countermeasures? Like adopting some of the advancements from human society?”

Kazama let out a dry laugh.

“It’s not that we didn’t consider it, but with such a small population and limited talent, we couldn’t establish a modern bureaucratic system like humans could. Most of the ambitious ideas we had were impossible to implement. Besides, once people had seen the allure of the larger world, very few wanted to come back.”

A self-deprecating smile crossed his face.

“But I can’t blame them. If I weren’t bound by responsibility, I’d have done the same. Long ago, when I was younger, I hated the oppressive life of the clan and the duties of being a leader. I always dumped everything on Amagiri and wandered off on my own. If I hadn’t come to Kyoto back then and instead stayed obediently in Satsuma, I might never have had all those encounters.

“And without those encounters… without meeting you, I wouldn’t be who I am today.”

“But those are the kinds of things that don’t come with an ‘if.’” Yukimura tried to comfort him. “Even if you had stayed in your homeland back then, chances are, these things still would have happened. An individual’s strength alone can’t resist the tides of an era. This isn’t your fault.”

“Perhaps. But over time, I’ve realized there’s much more I’m incapable of doing.”

Kazama casually lifted his hand, letting the willow branches slip softly and gracefully through his outstretched fingers.

“I used to believe that as long as you gave it your all, poured your heart into it, you wouldn’t need to worry about the outcome. Generally speaking, if you achieve those two things, there’s hardly anything you can’t accomplish. And I was confident that my abilities were more than enough—whether compared to other Oni or even to humans. So why is it that I couldn’t even win a single true heart?”

It was a long time before Yukimura quietly replied:

“Wealth is easy to gain; true love is hard to find.”

Kazama smiled faintly but didn’t respond.

“I’ve been reluctant to share these things with you, partly because of this. By blood, you are indeed one of us. But if living among humans can give you a happier, more fulfilling life than before, then it’s okay if you never remember your original identity. Back when the clan was strong, I would travel far and wide to find Oni scattered across the land and bring them back to the village if necessary. But now that the clan’s main stronghold has fallen and decentralization is inevitable, I no longer do that. Times have changed. These days, individuals are only responsible for their own lives. The old, family-centric ways of thinking belong in the trash.”

“It must have been difficult for you, Kazama-san, to go through such a drastic shift in perspective under the pressure of the times,” Yukimura said with genuine sympathy.

“It was my duty, my destiny. Out of principle, I still visit those who’ve left the village, reminding them to be careful and never expose their extraordinary abilities. But even with those precautions, I’ve been unable to prevent certain tragedies.”

Here, Kazama’s tone turned sharp and cold, a stark contrast to his earlier calm:

“I’ve heard stories of Oni whose identities were exposed, who were secretly sent to biological research labs for live dissection. In those filthy places, there’s no limit to the atrocities committed. When the victims aren’t considered ‘one of us,’ people feel free to do whatever they want. If an Oni suffers, there’s no legal recourse, no justice. The only options are to seek revenge personally or curse them to hell. To survive among humans, you have to erase every trace of your original identity.”

“Unfortunately, humans were sorely disappointed. They compared Oni organs with human ones repeatedly but found nothing particularly special. It’s as if our extraordinary appearances and abilities were bestowed upon us by some supernatural force, grafted onto mortal vessels. When humans dissected Oni in hopes of harvesting their strength, they didn’t realize that once our organs are separated from our bodies, they become useless. They can’t even be transplanted.

“Humans, Oni, societies, and nations are all the same in this way. It’s nearly impossible to explain what force coordinates a pile of lifeless matter into a functioning body, much less how it evolves into life with consciousness and emotion.”

Yukimura initially nodded along earnestly as Kazama spoke, but then a sudden realization struck her, nearly making her jump to her feet in alarm.

“Wait, doesn’t that mean you’re in danger too? And yet you just casually used teleportation in public?”

Kazama, however, remained perfectly calm. “Haven’t you noticed how quickly it gets dark here?”

“Wh-what? It feels like I just had breakfast, and we’ve only been sitting here for half an hour. How is it already two in the afternoon?”

“This isn’t the real world. It’s more like an illusion. Judging by its nature, I’d say this place was created by the real me. Our actions here are partially tied to reality but also have their own autonomy. When I returned just now, I sensed that the people around us were completely unaware of what we were doing. It seems the real me often wishes that when I walk with you in the streets, there wouldn’t be so many people pointing, staring, and gossiping behind our backs.

“Most likely, you came into contact with a spiritually resonant artifact of mine in the real world. Otherwise, you’d have teleportation powers here just like I do—this ability doesn’t necessarily correspond to your real-life self.”

A spiritually resonant artifact? It must be something extremely valuable.

Such an item would surely have distinctive features. Yet, no matter how hard Yukimura wracked her brain, she couldn’t think of anything and had to give up with a sigh.

Kazama continued his story, his voice steady but tinged with bitterness:

“As the war neared its end, bombs started raining down frequently in the area near our village. Time was running out, and we no longer had the luxury of carefully planning a full-scale migration. Amagiri and I, being well-traveled and familiar with the outside world, were tasked with evacuating the remaining villagers to shelters. We also entrusted several elders skilled in protective magic to safeguard the village. I thought we were moving fast enough and that the village, fortified by the Oni clan’s barriers, would hold until we returned.

“But when we came back, we found nothing but ruins. The village was gone, reduced to ashes. The power of the Oni may be extraordinary, but against such terrifying weapons, we were utterly helpless.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze distant.

“We used to believe the strength of the Oni was a divine gift. Now, it seems more like pity—a handout from the heavens. Humans win with numbers and ingenuity. Beyond our immense physical power, the Oni have nothing that can stand against humanity.”

Kazama turned his head slightly, his eyes falling on the tranquil lake beside them. Reflected on its dusk-lit surface was the clear but sorrowful face of a young girl. He reached out toward it almost absentmindedly, but the image shattered the moment his fingers touched the water, breaking into ripples that slowly dissolved.

He closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Isn’t it tragic? All the Oni ever wanted was to live peacefully, without harming anyone. Yet, we’ve been targeted by everyone, left with nothing in the end. Humans have hated us for generations, while simultaneously pretending to ally with us when it suits them. As Oni, how could we not feel anger?

“At home, we’re discriminated against, plundered, and abandoned. Abroad, as a small and powerless minority, we’re tied to the nation-state and the dominant ethnicity, facing indiscriminate attacks from populist forces. No one cares who we are, what we want, or what our future holds. It seems as though our bloodline, our race, and our birthplace have already sealed our fate. In the long sweep of history, we have no path forward, no way back. We cannot return to what we once were, nor can we see a future ahead. When our generation is gone, the history of the Oni will likely come to an end.”

Yukimura quietly listened to his confession, her heart a jumble of emotions. Summoning courage from who knows where, she moved closer and gently held his hand.

“Senpai… carrying all this alone and not being able to share it with anyone must be really tough. But on the bright side, now you have one more clanmate to help share the burden. Isn’t that something to be happy about?”

“It’s nothing. I’ve grown used to it after all these years. Although you may not believe me, I had no intention of telling you everything at first. Initially, I just wanted to test how much you remembered about our past. I thought I might take care of you out of respect for those memories, as a way of repaying a debt to our clan.

“As I said before, it would have been great if you could recall everything, but even if you couldn’t, living as an ordinary person without knowing any of this isn’t such a bad thing.”

“After the war, I searched for you, but I couldn’t find any trace of your whereabouts. Much later, I learned from Senhime that she had managed to gather the souls of some of the Yukimura clan, including yours. I’m not interested in such rituals, so I have no idea what method she used to bring you back with the same appearance as before. While she and I don’t see eye to eye on most things, I owe her for this.”

Yukimura mused aloud, “When Osen-chan used to visit my house, I just assumed she was one of my father’s distant relatives—a kind and gentle older sister. I never imagined she and I had such a deep connection…”

“Even someone as close to you as her didn’t explain these things, did she?” Kazama remarked indifferently. “It seems that, for once, the two of us—she and I—agreed on something. If not for so many coincidences—you enrolling in this university, choosing a major close to mine, joining the cooking club, frequenting the library, and persistently questioning me about these matters—we might never have had the chance to speak so openly.”

“But isn’t that unfair to the person being kept in the dark?” Yukimura countered. “Besides, when you first approached me, weren’t you hoping to awaken my memories? I understand your conflicting feelings, but I would rather know the truth than be kept in the dark. In this situation, I think** it’s not fair for you to make that choice on my behalf.**”

Kazama paused, visibly taken aback by her words. He studied her intently, meeting her unwavering and candid gaze. After a moment, he finally said:

“Sometimes, I really envy you. I envy how young you are, how you can speak so freely and without hesitation.”

“And what are you still worrying about, Senpai? Your family is no longer here. By all accounts, nothing should be holding you back anymore. The only explanation I can think of is that you don’t want to move on from your memories. The Kazama I know is always decisive, bold, and unafraid. Why is this the one time you’re so hesitant?”

Kazama didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the night sky that had quietly settled above them.

“She once told me that even if you give your all and are entirely sincere, there’s no guarantee of reciprocation. But now you’re telling me that as long as I’m alive, I can keep creating miracles—that as long as I’m willing to step forward, every day can be a new beginning.

“One gave me endless warmth, while the other left me covered in scars. Chizuru, you truly are a fascinating woman…”

Yukimura gazed silently at his profile, made even more luminous and ethereal under the moonlight. When she finally spoke again, her voice was strained, as though something in her chest had tightened.

“Reflections on water are fleeting illusions. If the other party is cold and indifferent, no amount of waiting or holding on will change anything. If being with me only brings you pain and sadness, why persist in such a hopeless longing?”

“And so what if it does?” Kazama’s tone was steady but resolute. “Should I sever all thoughts of her simply because she caused me to fail, to hurt? I’ve walked this earth for centuries, and never have I encountered someone who left such an indelible mark on me. If I were to start another relationship, casually and out of fear of loneliness or pain, how would I be any different from those selfish, irresponsible humans who care only for themselves?”

Yukimura wanted to laugh bitterly and change the subject, but before she could move, he suddenly clasped her hand tightly. Startled, she found herself locked in his gaze. Those golden eyes, blazing with an almost predatory intensity, held her in place, making her feel like prey caught under the eyes of a beast.

How… How could he look at someone like that?

It was overwhelming—primal, suffocating. Yet in the very next second, the weight of his stare dissipated as if it had never been there. His eyes softened back into their usual calm, leaving Yukimura to wonder if she had imagined it. Apart from her hand still firmly gripped in his, it was as though nothing had happened.

Still, the sensation of being so effortlessly subdued left her deeply flustered.

Kazama, noticing the conflicting emotions playing out on her face, chuckled softly. Keeping their hands intertwined, he gently pulled her to her feet.

“It’s getting late. Let’s leave it here for now. If nothing unexpected happens, you should wake up in your original body tomorrow.”

So the day was ending, just like that?

As they began walking back, Yukimura couldn’t help but feel a storm of emotions. Perhaps it was because the body Kazama occupied was more delicate and light, or perhaps he felt unburdened after speaking of long-suppressed memories, but his steps were noticeably quicker than usual. Soon, he had put a significant distance between them.

She watched as he emerged from the shadow of the old trees, stepping into the moonlit clearing. There, he turned to look back at her, his expression bright and radiant, almost childlike in its joy. In that moment, he truly resembled an innocent young girl.

If it makes him happy, then that’s good.

She forced a smile in return, though her heart still ached from the stories he had shared. Just then, she felt his hand gently take hers again. She hadn’t even noticed him quietly returning to her side. His gaze was calm and reassuring as he looked at her, as if silently telling her everything would be okay.

And so, they walked the rest of the way together, the silence between them broken only by the rustling of leaves and the sound of their footsteps.

When they finally reached the fork in the path where they would part, Yukimura opened her mouth to say goodbye but stopped when Kazama tugged gently on her sleeve.

“Wait a moment.”

In the dim light, she couldn’t clearly make out his expression, but she felt the warmth of his breath as he leaned closer. A fleeting touch brushed her cheek, light as a dragonfly skimming the water’s surface, and then it was gone.

Standing at the edge of the lantern’s glow, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

Chapter 5

7 The Gentle Passing of Time

A sudden wave of dizziness hit Yukimura hard.

She staggered in her seat, almost toppling forward.

I should’ve listened to my body earlier, she thought bitterly. The warning signs had been there all along. She should’ve stopped when she first felt unwell. If there was anything to be thankful for, it was that the study room was nearly empty this late in the day. At least, if she made a fool of herself now, there wouldn’t be too many witnesses to laugh at her.

The sunlight streaming through the windows only made her drowsier, and she couldn’t focus on the words in her book anymore. Yukimura had no choice but to put down her work and rest her head in her hands, eyes closed, trying to steady her breathing. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and each breath felt heavier than the last. While she still had a shred of clarity, she reached into her bag to retrieve something—but her hand came up empty.

• That little bottle of pills she always kept with her... it wasn’t there. *

• Just great. Of all times to screw up like this, why now? *

She let out a frustrated sigh, her head drooping slightly from exhaustion. The sound must’ve been louder than she realized, because a voice came from across the table:

“What’s wrong?”

Yukimura forced herself to lift her head and meet Kazama’s gaze. “Just a headache,” she replied softly. “And my eyes are straining. Probably my prescription got worse again. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine after a short break.”

She worked hard to steady her trembling voice, managing to squeeze out a weak smile. She wanted her expression to look convincing, but it was clear from the way Kazama’s sharp eyes stayed fixed on her that he wasn’t buying it. Just as she braced herself for him to call out her poorly disguised act, he suddenly said something completely unexpected:

“You’re nearsighted?”

Thrown off by his oddly specific question, Yukimura nodded and answered truthfully, “Yeah... I don’t like wearing glasses.”

Kazama’s expression shifted into something unreadable as he studied her for a moment. Then, without warning, a devilish grin spread across his face.

“A pure-blooded Oni with bad eyesight? Now that’s a first. Looks like our kind is doomed with your generation.”

"I really don’t feel like joking around with you right now…"

Yukimura immediately felt her headache worsen.

Debating with Kazama always ended the same way: utterly humiliating herself. If this went on any longer, she might actually end up giving herself a heart attack.

• I need to get out of here *, she thought, somewhere to wash my face and clear my head.

“Where are you going?”

His voice, coming from behind her, carried a tinge of irritation. Clearly, Kazama wasn’t pleased with her abrupt exit, especially without so much as a word. Sure, walking away like this was rude, but to Yukimura, his infuriating comments just now had drained what little energy she had left. If she kept arguing with him, who knew what kind of disaster might happen next? Gritting her teeth, she forced her weakened body to keep moving forward.

She didn’t make it far before an arm wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her back. Her body was pressed against the solid, burning warmth of his chest. Startled, she tried to break free, but he easily restrained her with a grip on her shoulders and elbows, leaving her completely immobile. His breath brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck, warm and teasing as he murmured,

“I’d suggest you stop struggling… In your current state, where do you think you can go?”

• In a public place, no less! How could he be so brazen? *

What’s more, she never wanted him to see her like this—sick, vulnerable, utterly unlike herself. She couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at her with pity. She didn’t want anyone discovering her secret, but if someone had to, it couldn’t be him. Never him.

But Kazama, as always, had seized on her moment of weakness, using just enough strength to pin her without causing pain. His grip left her utterly powerless, leaving her slumped against him in an embarrassingly intimate position.

Her teeth clenched in frustration as she mustered all her strength to twist her head around. Her half-lidded eyes, glassy with unshed tears, glared at him, puffed with indignation.

• Does he enjoy seeing me humiliated like this? *

Then, just as her fury reached its peak, she heard it: a soft, nearly inaudible sigh.

A pair of calloused hands gently pressed against her temples, blocking her angry glare.

Warmth surged from his fingertips, flowing into her weary body like a calming tide. Inside her, a dormant energy began to stir, faintly resonating with the power he channeled into her.

Startled by the sudden sensation, Yukimura stiffened, her back rigid as a board. Under his palm, her lashes trembled like a fragile thread caught in a breeze.

“Relax.”

The command, gentle yet impossible to resist, shattered her crumbling defenses. The warmth seeped into the nerves screaming with pain in her head, dulling the ache bit by bit.

Before she realized it, she was leaning helplessly against his strong arms. A rare, long-forgotten sense of safety surrounded her, and she felt herself drifting, her consciousness slipping away.

Her last memory, before succumbing to the darkness, was of the golden sunlight filtering through the air, illuminating the floating dust motes as they spun and danced.

7.1 First Encounter

“Any leads?”

“Yes.”

Amagiri bowed respectfully to Kazama as soon as he entered the room. Then, with a pause, he sat upright in the seat reserved for him and continued:

“The girl’s name is Chizuru Yukimura. Most likely, she’s the sole survivor of the Yukimura family—wiped out thirteen years ago in a large-scale human raid. The short sword you described her carrying is, without a doubt, the symbol of the Yukimura clan leader.”

“A future clan leader, huh…”

Kazama lowered his gaze, a faint, thoughtful smile curving his lips. Casually, he slid open the latticed window next to him, letting his eyes wander to the setting sun disappearing behind the Kyoto skyline.

It was August of Genji’s first year, and Kyoto had yet to recover from the scorched remains of last month’s violent clash. Streets and alleys stretched desolate for miles, wrapped in the buzzing drone of cicadas, as the dark net of night crept in to swallow the city whole. Not long ago, during the stifling and oppressive June heat, a long-brewing conflict had erupted with a thunderous crash at Ikedaya. The underlying tension and resentment that had festered in silence finally exploded, transforming into open warfare—a brutal, no-holds-barred struggle for survival.

In some ways, the proud Oni weren’t all that different from the foolish humans they so often mocked. Under unbearable heat, unforeseen circumstances, and near-uncontrollable rage, even the so-called rational and wise Western Oni leaders could be driven to draw their blades and hurl themselves into one senseless battle after another.

Yes, senseless. Years later, when Kazama looked back on this farce, a fleeting thought struck him: how utterly ridiculous it all was. Of course, he would never admit such a thing out loud. Though it wasn’t his blood that had been spilled, nor his soldiers that had fallen, he found no satisfaction in these battles—only an endless, hollow void.

Not just the battles. Even the very conflict itself felt meaningless. As an Oni, he could have remained an outsider, watching indifferently as the Bakufu and the Choshu clan tore each other apart. His role was merely to mediate between humans and Oni, ensuring the latter’s survival. Who won or lost this war meant nothing to him. Being used as a pawn by the Satsuma leadership was already infuriating enough, and then he had to deal with the annoying watchdogs of the Bakufu—humans who fancied themselves samurai.

And among them, a pure-blooded Oni woman, throwing away her noble lineage to play house with the humans, clashing with him at every turn without the slightest hesitation.

Unbelievable. Incomprehensible. Did these backwater fools, so obsessed with fame and fortune, truly grasp the concept of honor and resolve as samurai? The more someone flaunted such ideals, the more it revealed their desperate attempt to cover up their lack of them. That was the truth. The so-called “samurai spirit” was nothing but a selfish excuse for sucking up to superiors and fueling pointless battles.

So what was that Oni woman even hoping to achieve by mingling with these people?

But it was too late now. After the chaos and destruction, the long, oppressive summer of this turbulent year was finally drawing to a close.

Kazama didn’t let himself linger too long in those unnecessary emotions. After a brief pause, he continued:

“I’ve heard that the Yukimura clan’s leadership sword was always passed down in a pair. Since one of them has resurfaced, where’s the other one now?”

“No idea for the moment.”

“Well, well, what kind of drama have I missed?” Shiranui whistled playfully, cutting into the conversation. “Kazama takes a random assignment and ends up bumping into a rare beauty like her—a pure-blooded Oni on the verge of extinction. Why don’t I ever get that kind of luck?”

Kazama shot him a side glance. “What, are you planning to compete with me for her?”

“Perish the thought.”

Shiranui shrugged it off with a casual laugh, and Kazama didn’t bother responding further. Instead, he went on:

“Marriage alliances are one thing. Bringing a lost member of our kin back to the village is another. Are we supposed to stand by and watch as she gets enslaved and slaughtered? The Shinsengumi don’t hesitate to butcher each other for power and status—I don’t trust them, not in the slightest. I’ll handle this matter personally.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

Kazama only snorted softly in response, choosing not to say more.

“One more thing I must remind you of, Kazama,” Amagiri said seriously. “This is not the right time to fall out with the Satsuma clan. Your public defense of Choshu, the so-called ‘enemies of the court,’ at Tennozan last time has already caused some discontent among their leadership. Never forget—a mature leader should never endanger his clan with reckless words or actions.”

“And compromising on principles is what you call maturity?” Kazama retorted sharply. “Although I didn’t know her personally, I deeply admire the former head of the Yukimura clan for refusing to surrender, even at the cost of her life.”

“If we’re talking about your recent behavior,” Amagiri continued calmly, “then let’s focus on that. You mentioned at that gathering the other day that you deliberately cut Chizuru Yukimura with a blade in front of everyone to confirm whether she was a genuine pure-blooded Oni. Forgive me for being blunt, but that sounds more like the impulsive act of a hot-headed youth than a calculated move. Are you sure this wasn’t just your way of retaliating because she had the audacity to stand up to you earlier?”

“Amagiri,” Kazama’s voice turned icy, “you know what I despise the most.”

Faced with Kazama’s sudden shift to a darker expression, Amagiri responded without hesitation:

“While I serve the Kazama clan with utmost loyalty, it’s also my duty to discipline its young leader. If I were that girl, I doubt I’d believe that someone who acted so inappropriately toward me in broad daylight would genuinely have my best interests at heart. Let me be clear: if your recklessness causes serious trouble, don’t expect me to show mercy.”

“I hold no special feelings for that woman,” Kazama sneered. “Besides, we were enemies at the time—why should I care about her feelings? If her actions jeopardize the Oni clan’s interests, or if taking a hard stance against her serves us better, I doubt you’d be saying this.”

“You’ve misunderstood my point.” Amagiri’s tone remained calm, but it carried an undertone of significance. “None of us can predict what kind of entanglements might develop between you and her in the future. For now, while you’re still strangers, it’d be wise to show some courtesy.”

“If he even knew what ‘courtesy’ meant, he wouldn’t be the Kazama we know today,” Shiranui interjected with a boisterous laugh. “Amagiri, after all these years following him, you still don’t get that?”

“Offering advice is part of my duty, even if my lord chooses to ignore or humiliate me for it,” Amagiri replied, his voice steady as ever.

“What a bunch of fools.” Kazama rose to his feet, brushing off the exchange with a cold smile. “Fine, I’ve never expected you to have anything nice to say about me anyway.”

Turning his back, he added, “Only the strong have the right to dictate terms. If she dares defy me, I’ll simply take what’s mine by force.”

**7.2 Reunion **

Chizuru warmed her cold hands and feet by the campfire, all the while sneaking glances at the man sitting under a tree not far away.

He was quietly cleaning a blade.

Unlike the sharp, cruel, and domineering aura he exuded when he tried to forcibly take her during the raid on the garrison, this time, as they traveled north in search of the scattered Shinsengumi members, he was mostly silent and indifferent. Occasionally, when he turned to look at her, there was a gentleness in his eyes. He hadn’t brought up taking her back to the Oni territory again. Instead, he simply led her along the dense and wild Eastern Mountain Road, as if genuinely fulfilling his earlier promise to “escort you partway.”

Tightly interlocked fingers as they crossed treacherous terrain. Hearts pounding together as they galloped on horseback. In just a few short days, their interactions had become far more frequent—and intimate—than in the years past. For someone like her, who had endured a life of wandering and hardship, it was a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Her impression of him had undoubtedly improved, but—

She fell into her thoughts, her gaze lingering on his quiet, focused profile. He lifted the blade he’d just finished cleaning and examined it carefully. The blade reflected his piercingly clear, cold eyes. Chizuru’s heart wavered, a storm of emotions churning within her.

And then, his gaze suddenly met hers.

The awkward moment she’d been dreading finally happened.

Panicking, she quickly averted her eyes, bowing her head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I was just curious… Does even someone like you, Kazama-san, personally maintain your weapons like the Shinsengumi soldiers do?”

“Of course. The Oni, for all their love of independence and disdain for cooperation, have adopted many human habits. It’s an inevitable result of living among them. Even so, the Oni have never sought to provoke humans without cause.”

There was a trace of mockery in his tone when he mentioned humans. He seemed ready to continue, as he often did, but paused when he noticed her slightly uneasy expression.

“But there is one exception,” he said instead. “There’s a blade that’s been passed down through generations in the Kazama clan—a demon-slaying sword. It’s kept in the family shrine and maintained by someone appointed by the elders. Without a legitimate reason, even the head of the family isn’t allowed to touch it.”

Even someone like him, with his power and influence, had things he couldn’t easily accomplish?

Chizuru blinked, hesitantly testing the waters:

“You’re sharing something this important with someone like me, an outsider—are you sure that’s wise?”

Kazama sheathed his blade and turned to her, his expression serious and solemn:

“To me, you’ve never been an outsider. Just like the blade you always carry by your side, every family has one or two treasures that are indispensable. As a descendant of the Yukimura clan’s leaders, you have the right to know these things. The reason I didn’t share information about the Satsuma-Choshu alliance with you earlier was because we were under an obligation to keep those matters confidential at the time. But now, the great game has been decided. Satsuma and Choshu no longer need our assistance, and we have no reason to maintain an alliance with them any longer.”

The great game has been decided...

Even though Chizuru had mentally prepared herself for the worst, hearing those words from his own mouth still hit her hard.

“So you’re saying... the Shinsengumi really have no chance to recover, no hope of turning things around?”

Kazama didn’t answer her question directly. Instead, he replied with this:

“Before that happens, you still have a chance to change your mind. If you decide to come to our side now, I can guarantee that no harm will ever come to you, no matter what.”

“No!”

Her refusal came instantly, without a moment’s hesitation. The sheer determination in her voice caught Kazama off guard.

The girl, who usually followed him quietly and obediently, was now standing her ground, resolutely defending her human comrades. But this time, there was something different in her gaze—a softness and sorrow that hadn’t been there before.

“No matter what, I have to go to Hijikata-san. I need to convey the will and resolve of the fallen Shinsengumi soldiers to him. Even if it’s just to offer him a little comfort, or lend him the smallest bit of support, it’s worth it. I can’t leave his side... Even if it means dying, I’ll stay with him.”

“Even if all your efforts lead to nothing, you’re still determined to go?”

“It would hurt if I didn’t get the response I hope for, sure,” Chizuru admitted. “But I’m not doing any of this because I expect to be repaid.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, a gesture that gave her an innocent, almost childlike charm.

“Kazama-san once said I didn’t have to bother with menial tasks like making tea or cooking meals. But honestly, I don’t think those things are difficult at all. In the four years since I lost my father, it was the members of the Shinsengumi who gave me a home. I can never repay that kindness. Besides, their duties are far heavier and more dangerous than anything I’ve ever done. Helping them with what little I can is the least I could do.”

“And Hijikata-san… He’s different from the others. He’s the one who gave me a new lease on life. I’ve always stayed quietly behind him, relying on his protection. But I know now—what he needs isn’t someone weak and helpless. He needs a companion to support him… maybe even someone to share his life with. If that’s what he needs, I’m willing to do it all.”

Finding herself in such rare harmony with someone, Chizuru had let her guard down without realizing it, pouring out all the thoughts and feelings she’d been holding back. It wasn’t until she finished speaking and was met with silence that she realized she might have said too much. Embarrassed, she opened her mouth to apologize, but Kazama surprised her.

He had listened quietly and calmly, his expression unchanged. Then, with a faint, effortless smile, he asked,

“When I found you unconscious in the valley and saved your life, how do you plan to repay me for that?”

Hearing the teasing lilt in his voice, Chizuru’s face flushed bright red.

“T-That’s different!”

There was no way a man as sharp as Kazama didn’t understand her point. He was clearly feigning ignorance just to mess with her.

He always did this—taking advantage of the brief moments when she was starting to feel some warmth toward him, only to wipe it all away with one careless remark. She glared at him, her frustration evident, but Kazama seemed entirely unbothered. He remained seated, watching her with the same unhurried, detached amusement.

This time, however, Chizuru noticed something she hadn’t before. Beneath his outward nonchalance, his eyes were calm and unreadable, like a still, bottomless pool.

Kazama was, after all, the dignified and formidable leader of the Oni—not a peer she could confide in as an equal. And they had started as enemies, their blades drawn against each other. No matter the accidental encounters or the threads of connection that had tied them together, their paths were destined to diverge. He was far too intelligent not to realize this.

So why had he agreed to help her? Was it really just out of the goodness of his heart?

No. There was only one explanation left—

He was pushing her to speak. Forcing her to make a final decision and address the one topic they’d both been carefully avoiding until now.

**7.3 Parting **

Can’t do it—or just don’t want to?

For once, Kazama, known for his decisiveness, hesitated as he faced this question again.

From a distance, he gazed at Chizuru’s solitary figure standing at the edge of the cliff, staring out across the sea. Her silhouette, so small and frail, reminded him of that night when she bowed deeply to him, her smile as fleeting and sorrowful as falling cherry blossoms under the moonlight.

—"Kazama-san, let’s end this here. I can’t, and I won’t, trouble you any further."

At the time, he had replied, “I can’t stand idly by and watch you walk into danger.” Who could have predicted how prophetic those words would become? The very next day, under his watch, Chizuru was abducted in a scheme meticulously orchestrated by Koudo Yukimura and Kaoru Nagumo.

Driven by rage, Kazama tracked them tirelessly for dozens of miles, finally slaying Koudo as he tried to unleash his experimental Rasetsu soldiers to cover his escape.

Kazama flicked the remaining blood off his demon-slaying blade, his cold eyes fixed on Koudo, who lay on the ground, gravely wounded. The injury, unable to heal on its own, would not kill him immediately, but it would subject him to excruciating pain until the end.

To Kazama’s surprise, the infamous “Father of the Rasetsu” dragged his broken body to a corner of the room, propping himself up against the wall. Even as his glassy eyes stared up at Kazama, there was a faint, mocking malice in their depths.

“No need to look so wary,” Koudo rasped. “Those ‘children’ of mine only follow my commands. Once I die, they won’t survive either. I had planned to have Chizuru, with her noble bloodline, mate with the most gifted among them to stabilize Rasetsu's condition. But alas, that plan is now ruined.”

“You’ve harbored that intention since the day you took her in?”

“Of course. Why else would I seal away her original memories and make her call me ‘Father’?” Koudo’s bloodstained lips twisted into a grotesque smile. “Those painful memories… keeping them would only bring her more suffering. And despite everything, I did have some affection for Chizuru after all. Marrying her off to the most exceptional ‘child’ I cultivated wouldn’t have been such a terrible fate for her.”

“Worshipping a thief as a father. Befriending her enemies.” Kazama sneered. “How pitiful. How pathetic.”

“And what of your ‘noble’ Western Oni?” Koudo shot back, his bloodied face contorted in the cold moonlight, his expression both twisted and hideous. “Lazy, complacent, clinging to outdated traditions. Ignorant of the sweeping changes in the human world—that alone is bad enough. But to sit back and do nothing as the Yukimura clan was wiped out fifteen years ago, only to now show up under the pretense of delivering justice and cutting me down… Do you think I don’t know what you Western Oni are really after? Do you truly believe I’d hand over our most precious treasure to you on a silver platter? Foolishness.”

Koudo’s voice grew hoarse, yet his defiance burned brighter.

“To restore the Yukimura clan’s former glory, what do a few sacrifices matter? Just as Western medicine and weapons have strengthened human nations, perhaps combining the bloodlines of the Eastern and Western Oni will revitalize our people. Chizuru, as the direct descendant of the former Yukimura leader, has always been obedient and understanding. I’m sure that when she learns the truth, she’ll come to appreciate her father’s well-intentioned efforts.”

Listening to his words, Kazama felt an instinctive sense of revulsion. Yet he maintained his cold, stoic silence, staring down at the man with an unyielding gaze.

“Criticizing others from a position of moral superiority is always easy, isn’t it? But who’s really any cleaner than the rest of us?” Koudo muttered tiredly, closing his eyes as he tossed a uniquely shaped short sword to Kazama.

“If it’s so simple for you to snatch away a defenseless girl, then what was stopping you? Had I not let my guard down and gone without protection, falling into your ambush, do you think you’d still have the audacity to act so insolent toward the ruler of the Rasetsu Kingdom?”

He gestured weakly toward the sword. “Take this kotachi and keep dreaming your grand Western Oni dreams. But it’s a shame. A blade like this will never have the chance to reunite with Kaoru’s larger one.”

Kazama caught the blade with a swift motion, immediately recognizing it as the one Chizuru had been carrying before her abduction. As Koudo’s body, saturated with the cursed water, began to disintegrate into ash with the depletion of his life force, Kazama thought silently to himself:

*You’re wrong. * I gave up on that dream a long time ago.

“If I could…”

I would give up my position as head of the family, take her away, and never concern myself with the Oni again.

Days later, as Amagiri stood before him, questioning him on behalf of the elders, Kazama spoke with an uncharacteristic honesty:

“We, the Western Oni, owe the Yukimura clan far too much already. To forcibly take her away now, using her as a tool for our own gain and bloodline preservation, would be unforgivable. Over the years, I’ve done everything in my power—restoring order, eradicating traitors, enduring humiliation, and securing benefits for our clan. If the elders see my decision to protect the last scion of the Yukimura family as negligence or a dereliction of duty, they are welcome to find someone else to lead in my place.”

Amagiri silently regarded the young leader standing before him, a man full of pride and defiance. Inwardly, he sighed.

For over a decade, he had watched Kazama grow from an unruly child into a spirited young man. He remembered the mischievous boy who would beat up anyone who dared bully him, the child who endured punishment with teary eyes but never let out a single cry. He recalled the young warrior who returned from his first mission, standing in the rain, blood-soaked and grim-eyed. The boy who always avoided the noise of crowds, retreating to the archives for solitude.

And now, here he stood, arguing passionately for the sake of a woman he cared about.

“You’ve changed, Kazama.” After a moment of thought, Amagiri finally spoke. “Although I’m not sure if this change is good for you or not…”

“The clan’s position is this: you must prioritize the bigger picture and return to oversee the relocation of the village. We have little time left and must act before the humans grow suspicious. As for the Yukimura girl, if she has no intention of staying with the Western Oni, let her go.”

“What she truly needs, you can’t give her,” Amagiri continued, his calm voice echoing oddly with Koudo’s cutting words. “She lacks the memories of life among the Oni, and therefore, the identity that comes with them. She doesn’t see herself as one of us. No matter how much effort you put in, it will be futile.”

Kazama remained silent, his gaze instinctively returning to the girl on the cliff. She still stood there quietly, her beautiful, sorrowful eyes fixed on the far side of the sea, as if entirely unaware of the heated conversation that had just unfolded behind her.

7.4 Farewell

When Kazama opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a starless, moonless sky, heavy with storm clouds. The smoke of battle still lingered in the air, and the dizziness from blood loss refused to fade. The searing pain from his wounds made rest impossible.

Instinctively, he reached for his trusted blade, a habit to ground himself in times of turmoil. But this time, his fingers closed around the broken hilt of a blood stained sword.

He let himself collapse back to the ground, his movement rustling the ancient tree behind him. Unseasonal cherry blossoms, pale as snow, silently fell to the earth. Not long ago, when a cannonball had exploded nearby, he had unleashed his Oni powers to the limit, teleporting himself to this spot. Now, he neither had the strength nor the will to evade the sudden downpour.

He sank into a series of disjointed memories, as cold and piercing as the petals brushing his fingertips and cheeks.

His life might have been unremarkable, but at least there were three summer nights etched into his memory that he could never forget.

The first night:

He and Shiranui, newly acquainted, lay beneath a clear, starlit sky, drinking fine sake. The cool night breeze carried the faint fragrance of flowers, intoxicating enough to rival the drink. Shiranui’s youthful, carefree features glimmered under the stars.

After a heated and exhilarating duel, Shiranui, using the barrel of his rifle for leverage, pressed Kazama’s blade down a little further. For once, his usual nonchalance gave way to a rare solemnity as he said:

“One day, a great war will erupt between firearms and blades on this land. Whether we like it or not, whether we’re ready or not, a new era is coming.”

The second night:

He faced Hijikata Toshizo in the far north for a final duel—a battle to the death, a reckoning.

Blades clashed, slicing through the pale moonlight, their sharp echoes weaving a tragic elegy of the samurai spirit. The former Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi, now a proud Oni, stood tall amidst the falling petals. A calm, resolute smile spread across his face as he said:

“This is an era of division, a time of withered ideals and scattered blossoms. For people like us, who chose the path of the samurai, perhaps self-destruction in defense of our principles is our inevitable fate.

But when I look back, I find no shame in what the Shinsengumi stood for. We were loyal to our lord and true to our beliefs. To fall on the battlefield with honor in my heart… I have no regrets.”

If humans were bound to choose between adapting to the tides of change or clinging to tradition, was the fate of the Oni to isolate themselves for survival, only to lose their legitimacy bit by bit?

If that were true, then everything he had witnessed only confirmed his earlier judgment of the Shinsengumi: no matter how fiercely one resists, in the face of cruel destiny, it is nothing more than a futile struggle.

And if that were the case, had all the efforts he’d poured into protecting his village for decades been for nothing?

He had prided himself on wielding great power and influence, yet he couldn’t foresee the course of history. He couldn’t grasp the complexity of human nature, couldn’t protect the lives of his kin, and in the end, he couldn’t even find a single true companion or a pure, honest heart.

Perhaps on the night of the Battle of Goryokaku, Chikage Kazama should have completely perished—or rather, the true Chikage Kazama had already died long before that.

From that moment on, he was no longer the cynical, poetry-loving, wine-drinking idle heir. Instead, he began living the life he had once despised: the daily grind of a clan leader buried in endless responsibilities.

After the village relocation, countless tasks demanded his personal attention—monitoring the dynamics of the human world, settling his displaced kin, and outmaneuvering the conservative elders of the council. On many sleepless nights, he would sit alone, nursing his scars from the final battle, tasting the bitterness of frustration and failure. Only during those quiet hours, beneath the dim light of the moon filtering through his window, could he escape the endless trivialities of his position and retreat into memories of the past and thoughts of the future.

But now, even this monotonous and slightly dull rhythm of life had become unreachable.

At times, Kazama wondered if he had overestimated his own rationality and self-control. Ever since his frequent forays into the human world, he had started to become more like the foolish, oblivious humans he once mocked—susceptible to anxieties and emptiness he had never known before.

He had once longed for the comfort of a life free from hardship, and craved the ultimate authority and power. Yet now, he found himself yearning for true love, for a freedom unburdened by the weight of his duties.

On sleepless nights, he would sit motionless before the flickering light of incense at the shrine, as if seeking enlightenment. The gods and Buddhas seemed to gaze down at him with merciful compassion, mocking his arrogance, his stubborn defiance, and his insatiable desire for what he could never have.

Since that conversation, he had gradually realized that her carefully maintained silence and deliberate distance hurt far more than any words of rejection could have.

How fitting for the woman he admired—clever, beautiful, and unwavering in her strength. Beyond her polite dismissal, she had offered him nothing, giving him no room for fantasy, no thread of hope. Her sole aim had been to push him away entirely.

In the end, it was only him who refused to let go, only him who stubbornly clung to what he could not have. And he could not find any reason to blame her for it.

He had believed that sincere affection alone could win her heart, only to discover he had lost from the very beginning. He had thought he could remain an aloof, rational observer, a passerby in the human world, yet he found himself unable to resist the pull of mortal emotions, tumbling from his lofty perch into the chaotic depths of earthly desire.

Sobering up, only to fall back into intoxication, awakening, only to sink back into dreams. A path once walked, now lost in the shattering of a dream.

As Kazama drifted in and out of consciousness, feeling as if he were floating in a void, a cold hand suddenly slapped his face. Annoyed, he furrowed his brow, intending to sink back into the abyss of sleep. But the hand returned, this time with greater force, jolting him awake despite his unwillingness.

Under normal circumstances, Kazama would have lashed out, mercilessly berating whoever had dared to disturb him. But this time, it took him far longer than usual to refocus his vision. When he finally saw the face of the one who had roused him, he let out a quiet sigh of relief and muttered instinctively,

“…It’s you, Amagiri. You’re still here?”

“Are you still dreaming?” Amagiri’s expression was hard to describe, a complex mix of emotions. “If I hadn’t intervened, you might have remained asleep forever. Your breathing and pulse were so weak just now that they could have stopped at any moment. I didn’t expect such a calamity to strike during our return trip, nor did I expect someone like you, leading at the front, to be caught in it. But you made it through—barely.”

**—Am I truly alive? **

Kazama silently raised his hand, gazing at the jagged, deep wounds that cut down to the bone. The grotesque injuries were already beginning to mend, his bones knitting together and his flesh regenerating, albeit slowly.

It was just like that fateful night years ago, after the final battle, when he had collapsed in a forgotten grove, his body barely clinging to life. Back then, too, his Oni blood had pulled him back from the edge of death.

Perhaps this was the will of the gods. Every time he was crushed under unbearable pressure, teetering on the brink of the abyss, he would be called back—reminded that his time had not yet come.

There was still work to be done, loose ends to tie up. Mysteries yet to unravel. Moments he longed to witness with his own eyes.

And—

**And there was someone he desperately wanted to see, just one more time. **

A faint ray of dawn filtered through his fingers. He knew then that the long, suffocating night was finally drawing to a close. When the sun rose again over this land of the rising sun, new towns would soon be rebuilt upon the ruins.

In ten years, perhaps a hundred, when people could laugh freely, strolling through streets bathed in sunlight, few would remember the horrors of this war. Few would recall the countless unnamed souls buried in the dust of history or the madness and absurdity of this era.

But here, in this final, almost suffocating moment of darkness, there was only silence—a silence so profound it felt like death itself. No words were spoken. Only the falling cherry blossoms, scattered like rain, drifting to the earth to become mud or carried away by the flowing water.

**7.5 Bonds **

Chizuru awoke suddenly from her dream, realizing she was lying in an unfamiliar room.

Aside from herself, there was no one else in the room. Thick curtains blocked out the outside light, making it impossible to tell the time or her exact location. The faint smell of disinfectant and the neatly arranged medical supplies on a nearby table reminded her—this was the school infirmary.

Though her body still felt weak, her mind was much clearer. She managed to prop herself up and glance around. Seeing her personal belongings placed neatly to one side, and noticing no signs that her clothes had been disturbed, she let out a small sigh of relief.

As she moved, a few strands of hair slipped over her shoulder, and she realized her hair tie had been undone at some point.

Even without solid evidence, Chizuru was certain that all of this was Kazama’s doing. His actions were always swift, meticulous, and seamless, in line with his usual approach to handling things.

His heart was softer and more transparent than he let on; he just wasn’t adept at expressing such delicate emotions.

She picked up the mug of water on the table, still faintly warm, and took a small sip. Her memories before she fell unconscious gradually returned. Her thoughts drifted back to the brief but intimate embrace in the library—a moment that left her flustered and conflicted. That second instance of closeness, as someone unaccustomed to companionship and new to love, had left her heart spiraling into chaos, overwhelmed by both fear and a deep, lingering attachment.

At the time, she had been focused solely on avoiding him, never considering that, without his timely intervention, she might have slipped and fallen in that remote, deserted corner of the library. A fall that, in her weakened state, could have led to dire consequences: a sudden halt in her breathing, unconsciousness, or worse.

As her mind wandered back to the long, sorrowful dream she had just woken from, the shimmer in her eyes dimmed.

No, that wasn’t a dream. It was Kazama’s true memories.

His identity as a clan leader, his entanglements with the Shinsengumi, his connections to her past life as Chizuru of the Yukimura clan, the Oni village destroyed by war, and the century-spanning pain and longing—all of it was real.

If what Kazama said during that dream-like soul exchange was true, then these memories must have been conveyed to her through some object.

She had to find Kazama immediately and tell him everything.

She quickly threw off the blanket, put on her glasses, and slipped into her shoes. As she opened the infirmary door, soft, radiant hues of twilight spilled gently across the corner of the wall.

Chizuru glanced down both ends of the empty corridor, but the figure she had hoped to see was nowhere in sight.

• Had he already left? *

Suppressing the pang of disappointment that rose in her chest, she quietly closed the door behind her and began walking down the hallway.

At the end of the long corridor, on the balcony, she finally saw Kazama—someone she hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

Perhaps out of boredom, he had pulled over a chair and leaned against the railing, sketching the scenery below with a notepad. Even from a distance, Chizuru recognized the fountain pen in his hand—it was the same one he had lent her that day.

Suddenly, it all made sense. She had always found it curious why Kazama continued to use such an outdated pen, at least twenty years old. But now she understood. For a writer, a pen held the same significance as a sword did for a samurai. In an era before advanced electronics, Kazama had likely spent countless nights under the lamplight, meticulously cleaning that pen. His emotions, his energy, and his soul had been poured into it, and through his enduring words, they became immortal.

That was why this pen, having weathered the passage of time, still gleamed with a warm, enduring luster, waiting quietly for someone who could appreciate its significance.

Chizuru stood in place, watching him silently for a moment before taking soft, measured steps toward him. Kazama quickly noticed the movement behind him and hurriedly stashed away his sketchpad and pen, turning to her with a guarded look.

Even so, she continued to approach, her steps calm yet resolute.

In the next moment, she saw the icy reserve in his eyes shatter piece by piece, melting away like snow under the warmth of spring.

They stood a few paces apart, silently gazing at one another. It was Kazama who finally broke the quiet:

“…You’re here?”

She blinked in surprise, then smiled warmly.

“Yes, I came to find you.”

Kazama’s lips curved into a faint smile in return. But the lighthearted atmosphere didn’t last long. His next question came sharp and swift:

“You have a history of hypoglycemia. Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

…Ah, so he knew after all.

Although Chizuru had mentally prepared herself for questioning, Kazama’s direct tone and the rare severity in his gaze still made her feel a bit pressured. Even so, she mustered her courage and responded in her own defense:

“Senpai once said that Oni women are inherently weak—that they spend their entire lives confined to the village, relying on men for protection. But things are different now. As a woman, I have my own independence and the ability to take responsibility for myself. I don’t want to be looked down upon by you, treated as someone incapable of handling even small matters just because of physical differences. Besides, today was just… an exception.”

“This has nothing to do with gender,” Kazama interrupted mercilessly. “With how utterly reckless you were just now, it’s impossible for me not to worry. I won’t accept this foolishness—pushing your body to its limits just to appear strong. There are plenty of cases of exhausted students collapsing at their desks, never to wake up again. If I hadn’t been there today, people might have mistaken you for someone simply dozing off. Have you even considered the consequences of that?”

She couldn’t help but feel like a scolded child being reprimanded for throwing a tantrum.

Though she had to admit she was at fault this time, a trace of defiance still lingered as she retorted, “You’re upset with me for hiding something important, but aren’t you the same? Just now… I remembered everything.”

With that, Chizuru recounted everything she had seen in the dream from start to finish.

Kazama listened without any visible reaction, his demeanor so calm it was almost unnerving. It was as if the deeply rooted pain she described had never happened to him at all. When she finally finished, he forced a faint smile and said:

“As expected. You know all this is hardly something to celebrate.”

“Then Senpai finally understands how I feel?”

“…A fool. An idiot. I suppose we’re a perfect match.”

Seeing the rare look of helplessness on Kazama’s face, Chizuru couldn’t help but smile, her eyes curving into soft crescents.

Perhaps he wasn’t wrong. After all their circling around each other, they had come to realize that, deep down, they were fundamentally alike. Maybe this was the special bond between them.

“But honestly, I’ve never really disliked you or looked down on you, Senpai. I know I’ve often said during our arguments that you act like some shameless repeat offender, completely ignoring my feelings. But every time I’ve protested, didn’t you always reflect on it, even just a little? And even if it’s just a small step each time, it’s enough.

Honestly, I’m glad I got to know someone like you. Over the past year or so, I’ve come to believe that, deep down, you’re not the type of person who takes feelings lightly or toys with others. Being with you genuinely makes me happy.”

“Hmph. I suppose I should thank you for not dragging me to the police station. If only you could be this reasonable when you’re in one of your fits of anger.”

“You’ve always known exactly how I am, haven’t you? If I were really that unforgiving, no amount of apology dinners could have made up for it.”

• —If I were truly heartless and indifferent, would I have allowed you to get this close, this physical, for so long? *

Chizuru had intended to say this aloud, but after a moment of hesitation, she chose not to.

Even though she was certain that Kazama wasn’t a bad person, what she couldn’t be sure of was how much sincerity he actually had for her.

What was she to him now? A kindred spirit with a similar background? A sweet and gentle junior? A complementary friend who was always by his side? Or simply a replica of the Chizuru Yukimura from his past life?

Perhaps, as Kazama himself had suggested, his special treatment of her was nothing more than compensation for the last survivor of the Yukimura family. The tenderness he showed might not even be meant for her but rather for the Chizuru from a century ago. She had long suspected that, if he ever lost interest, he would most likely disappear from her life without warning or attachment.

But it shouldn’t just end like this. What she wanted was far more than that.

Even if they did reach the point of discussing love, she hoped he would see her, the person she was in this lifetime, and not the shadow of someone from the past.

Yet, was such a demand too unreasonable for him?

As her gaze dropped in quiet disappointment, she failed to notice the way Kazama was looking at her in that moment, his expression thoughtful and unreadable.