Natsuyū turned his gaze to the girl suspended from the shimmering gate by flowering vines:
“I want to check the body first.”
Yukino stared.
“You know how to examine a corpse?”
“Picked up a little from my father.
At minimum I want to confirm what actually killed her — something about this bothers me.”
He moved toward the body as he spoke, keeping his eyes fixed on the vines.
He’d made a point of steering the group away from the gate during the introductions.
Coming close now, he felt a faint unease he couldn’t quite name.
Then — a faint trace of shower soap drifted from behind him, and he felt a light tug at the back of his clothes.
He didn’t turn around.
“Yukino?”
From directly behind him, Yukino’s calm, unhurried voice: “If anything happens, I’ll pull you back immediately.
Go ahead.”
The unease lifted, just slightly.
He let out a quiet breath.
“I’ll leave my back to you.”
“Mm.”
They moved carefully toward the body together.
The vines were still.
Nothing moved.
For all appearances, they were just decorative — not the thing that had taken a girl’s life.
But if not the vines — then what?
Natsuyū studied the body closely.
There wasn’t a single wound on her.
The Gothic black-and-red dress was pristine, not a tear in it.
The mystery deepened.
He looked at the fringe of black hair concealing her face.
Apologies.
He reached out and brushed it aside.
The girl’s face was exquisite.
Porcelain-smooth skin, softly curled lashes — she looked nothing like a corpse.
And the vine, for all that it coiled around the pale slender column of her neck — it hadn’t left the deep ligature marks of actual strangulation.
It had only left small indentations, nothing grave.
Pressing in just enough to suggest something else entirely, something that had no business being on a body — an almost… charged quality.
No, I’m not going there.
Natsuyū cut the thought off firmly.
He turned his attention back to the face, the dress — and felt the edge of recognition.
He’d seen this somewhere before.
Or someone like this.
Is she a character from something?
He pressed two fingers beneath the nose.
No breath.
She just looked so absurdly alive.
Sleeping.
Then what killed her?
With that question hanging, he lifted her face gently to get a better look.
And then his entire body locked up.
The girl’s face was flawless — cool, smooth, with a quality somewhere between cotton and cool jelly, like if he pressed even gently he’d leave a mark.
Impossibly soft.
And it was warm.
Warm.
The body was warm.
“My, my — does my face feel nice, human boy?”
The corpse opened its eyes.
One side deep as wine, dark as blood — a rich, layered crimson.
The other — golden, intricate, every surface made of gears and clock hands.
Inhuman.
Both eyes found his, and she smiled.
Natsuyū’s breath caught.
“Get back!”
In the same instant, a sharp tug — Yukino cried out and yanked him clear in one motion.
Natsuyū staggered backward, and stood there — hands still extended, still curved as if cradling a face — and looked at the very much alive girl hanging in the vines.
Not a corpse.
Tokisaki Kurumi.
Tokisaki Kurumi parted her matte-rose lips in a wide, wicked grin — the smile of someone who’d never once behaved — and looked down at the two of them from her perch in the vines with pure, bright amusement in those inhuman eyes:
“I am the Spirit who devours time.
Human boy — you disturbed my sleep.
The price is your entire lifespan.
I shall consume you.
Hehehe — hahaha — HAHAHAHA—!”
Kurumi’s three-stage villain’s laugh rang out, sharp and unabashed.
Yukino went rigid, body tensing, and pulled Natsuyū back another step.
“Don’t worry about her,” Natsuyū said, keeping his voice level.
Kurumi was nothing like Yukino or Ema — she wasn’t a good girl in any ordinary sense.
Her hands were stained with blood.
But every person she’d ever killed had been the worst kind of human trash.
In Natsuyū’s book, that was entirely correct.
If he ever made it back to his crossover world, he had every intention of settling the score with the people responsible for his father’s death.
That was part of why finding the way home mattered so much.
Yukino’s gaze stayed locked on the golden clock eye, jaw set: “She can come back from the dead.
We’re not a match for her.”
“…Not dead?”
Yukino exhaled — cautious relief.
He watched her settle, then turned back to the vine-bound Kurumi.
“Kurumi — why are you here?”
Kurumi’s queenly laugh paused.
She regarded him with renewed interest:
“My, my.”
“You know who I am — that’s unexpected.
Even someone from my world wouldn’t recognise me.”
“The boy who disturbs my sleep — who are you?”
Natsuyū gestured briefly at himself and Yukino:
“Rurikawa Natsuyū.
Yukinoshita Yukino.
We were brought here by something unknown, and we’re looking for a way back.
You too?”
“Or — did you arrive earlier than us?”
Kurumi’s expression went quiet.
Caught in the vines, she gave a small, courteous nod — her voice dropping to something softer, almost intimate, like a girlfriend wheedling a favour:
“Very perceptive, Natsuyū-kun.”
“Prying into a lady’s secrets without permission is rather improper — though I don’t particularly mind being pried into by you specifically.
Could you tell me exactly how much you know about me?”
If Kushida were here, she’d be muttering something uncharitable about shameless flirts.
Yukino was simply acutely aware that this woman radiated danger from every angle.
She looked at Natsuyū with visible curiosity — where did he know her from?
“That’s a secret,” Natsuyū said.
“Is it?” Kurumi didn’t push.
The mismatched eyes — one red, one gold — held his gaze with something thoughtful behind them:
“A friendly reminder, then.
You and your friends would do well to say your last words before dark.”
Yukino stiffened.
“Meaning?”
Kurumi smiled sweetly.
“That’s a secret.”
Yukino’s fists closed.
Natsuyū raised a hand — easy — and held Kurumi’s gaze.
Kurumi tilted her head, amused: “Oh?
Have you decided to share your secret after all, Natsuyū-kun?”
“Kurumi — let’s work together.”
Kurumi’s lips parted in surprise.
“…You’re joking?”
Natsuyū opened both hands, palms out — a deliberate gesture of openness — and met her eyes with the kind of smile that had a habit of making his female classmates look away first.
In a negotiation, let the Charisma stat earn its keep.
To be continued…