After Broly left the Matou household, inside the worm pit, the headless corpse slowly gathered a swarm of insects at the neck.
They wriggled and reassembled, forming a new head.
“What a dangerous little brat.
That kind of power isn’t something a normal human could possess… yet I couldn’t sense any magical energy from him.
That boy must be a Heroic Spirit.”
This was the only explanation.
And precisely because Zouken Matou understood the gap between himself and a Heroic Spirit, he had chosen to play dead after his head was blown off.
After all, his true body was hidden within the worm pit—if the fight escalated, it might have been destroyed as well.
“The Matou family’s participation in this Holy Grail War is no secret.
But who is behind that attacker?
Why take that girl, Sakura, from the Matou family?
Do they intend to use her to threaten us… or perhaps to threaten the Tohsaka family?”
Zouken muttered to himself as he left the basement and paced slowly along the corridor, stopping abruptly by a window at the corner.
“Or perhaps… it was an agent sent by Tokiomi Tohsaka.
Maybe he discovered that the Matou family’s magecraft had shifted from water to insects.
Unwilling to openly break the alliance, he resorted to this method to reclaim his daughter.”
Reflected in the glass was the old man’s ghoul-like visage.
His sharp eyes narrowed as he continued his speculation.
“No… with Tokiomi’s personality—bound by rigid family principles—he wouldn’t betray an alliance in secret.
And as a composed and proper magus, even familial bonds likely wouldn’t push him to abandon his ideals… though, human emotions are complicated.
If, by chance…”
He stopped mid-thought.
“Hmph, I’m getting senile.
There’s no point in guessing.
A simple test will reveal the truth.”
Shaking his head, he continued forward.
“Oh—Grandfather, so you were home?!”
As he turned the corner, he ran into his nominal grandson.
“Ah—no, that’s not important right now!
Grandfather, Sakura was taken by someone dangerous.
Please go save her!”
Such a foolish grandson… no talent for magecraft, yet full of childish innocence and kindness.
I wonder how that innocence will twist once he realizes he is nothing but a worthless failure… the thought is almost amusing.
Hmm?
To think I, the elder of the Matou family, would anticipate the suffering of my descendants… it seems my soul is deteriorating as well.
The Holy Grail… I must obtain it soon, before I completely forget what it means to be a magus.
But before that…
“Shinji, have you finished your holiday homework?”
“Uh… not yet.
Grandfather, this isn’t the time for that!”
Though anxious, young Shinji still answered honestly.
“You haven’t finished it?
Then why are you wasting time talking nonsense here?”
The unsettling smile vanished from Zouken’s face as he sharply reprimanded him.
“Go back to your room and finish your homework.”
“But Sakura—”
“She’s only your adoptive sister.
Stay out of her affairs.”
Shinji felt wronged, but he didn’t dare defy his grandfather.
He could only return to his room.
…
In Fuyuki City, where the Fourth Holy Grail War had already begun, a conflict was unfolding inside a small donburi restaurant.
The situation was simple: Broly had been happily eating pork cutlet rice bowls when the restaurant suddenly stopped serving him more.
“Why aren’t you bringing more food?”
“I’d love to—but you two kids ordered so much.
Do you even have money to pay?”
The owner crossed his arms, his tone skeptical.
The economy hadn’t been great lately, and not long ago someone had dined and dashed at his place.
Now two small kids—barely reaching his thigh in height—had come in, ordered excessively, and claimed their parents would arrive soon.
Yet half the dishes had already been served, and no adults had shown up.
Naturally, he grew suspicious and came out before serving the rest.
“Money?”
Broly paused.
The concept surfaced in his mind—something used to exchange for food.
He understood immediately.
It must be this world’s equivalent of “Baia blood.” But he didn’t have any, so he looked toward Sakura.
“Excuse me… how much do we owe?”
The girl asked politely.
“Including what hasn’t been served yet, you owe—”
The owner named a number.
Sakura took out the allowance Shinji had given her and counted carefully—only to realize it barely covered a fraction of the cost.
Seeing her predicament, the owner added:
“If we only count what you’ve already eaten, just pay me another 2,000 yen.”
Sakura: “…”
This was the downside of not even being in elementary school yet—she couldn’t even do basic arithmetic properly.
She turned to Broly, hoping the slightly older boy could help.
But Broly simply looked back at her innocently.
If Sakura was a child of civilized society, then Broly was practically a wild child from a desolate planet in the Dragon Ball universe.
His father, Paragus, had only taught him how to fight—not how to calculate.
And the fragmented knowledge in his mind never included math either.
So he was just a glutton who only knew how to order and eat—never how to pay.
Realizing this, Sakura came to a conclusion: the boy who had saved her… was actually broke.
“I don’t have any more money…”
“Then call an adult to come pay.”
The owner suggested.
Sakura fell silent.
When she left the Matou household, she thought she could finally return to her real home.
But sitting here eating with Broly, she suddenly remembered her father’s words:
“From today onward, your surname will be Matou.
You are no longer a child of the Tohsaka family.
Neither your mother nor I will have any relation to you.
If you meet Rin again, do not think of her as your sister.
You will be fellow magi—and rivals.
If one day you must fight each other, do not be sad.
Instead, be glad that your magical talent was not wasted…”
Her father, Tokiomi Tohsaka, had already severed ties.
Did she still have a place in that home?
She didn’t know.
But she did know that if the owner contacted her father over unpaid food, it would disgrace him.
“I… don’t have a home.
My parents don’t want me anymore.”
Sakura said softly, her voice filled with loss.
The owner blinked in confusion.
“So you’re trying to eat without paying?”
His expression darkened.
“I can work to repay the debt!”
Sakura hurriedly said.
Her magical upbringing had taught her about contracts and exchanges.
She was a sensible child—and wanted to make up the cost through labor.
But she overlooked one thing: she was far too young.
“Are you joking?
What can a kid like you even do?”
The owner clearly rejected the idea.
Judging from their clothes, they didn’t seem like poor or homeless children—just kids who had run away after arguing with their parents.
He insisted she call home.
“Reminder: Matou Sakura’s happiness level is decreasing.
Please pay attention.”
The Crystal Palace’s voice echoed in Broly’s mind again.
Only then did he notice her reluctance.
“Hey, don’t make things difficult for her.”
Broly spoke up directly.
The restaurant owner looked over and asked, “Then do you have money to pay?”
“No.”
Broly shook his head decisively.
If he had this world’s “Baia blood,” he would have paid already.
“Then can you call home and ask your parents for money?”
The owner pressed further.
“I don’t know who my mother is, and my father isn’t in this world.”
Broly shook his head again.
“So you have no money and no way to call home for help.
Are you messing with me?”
It was starting to look more and more like a dine-and-dash, and the owner’s irritation grew.
“Do you believe I’ll call the police and have you two little brats arrested for not paying?”
He tried to scare them, not noticing how the boy beside him was beginning to look at him differently.
Broly didn’t have this world’s currency—but in the past, he had never needed money to obtain food.
When he was younger, on Planet Vampa, he and his father, Paragus, got food the most primitive way possible: by hunting Vampa spiders.
In other words, eliminating the current “owner” of the food—the restaurant owner—was, in Broly’s mind, the simplest solution.
Of course, taking food without exchange might disrupt ecological balance.
But before entering this place, Broly had already seen many other tail-less creatures like this one.
Back on Vampa, hunting spiders hadn’t destroyed the ecosystem.
So killing just one such creature here… should be fine.
And besides…
Broly glanced toward the curtained kitchen, from which waves of delicious aroma drifted out.
If he dealt with the current owner, all that food would become his.
The more he thought about it, the more tempted he became.
Just as he clenched his small fist, ready to act—
Bang!
A loud slam came from the neighboring table.
“This is unbearable to listen to!
Owner, you’re an adult—how can you bully two children like this?”
“Who are you supposed to be?
What does this have to do with you?”
“My name is Taiga Fujimura.
It may not have anything to do with me, but I can’t stand watching an adult pick on kids like this.”
The one who stood up was a girl with orange hair tied in a ponytail.
One hand slammed the table while the other pointed at the owner, her expression full of righteous indignation.
“How is this bullying?
Asking for payment is bullying now?
They’re the ones who can’t afford their meal!”
The owner argued back.
“Yes, they don’t have enough money—but didn’t you hear their situation?”
One didn’t know his mother and had lost his father; the other had no home and seemed abandoned by her parents.
“How do I know that’s true?
Kids lie all the time.
What if they made it up just to avoid paying?”
The owner’s expression stiffened.
“We’re not lying.”
Broly and Sakura protested at the same time.
Taiga nodded.
She chose to believe them.
“And what if they’re telling the truth?”
She asked.
“I run a restaurant, not a charity.
Am I supposed to take a loss?”
The owner shot back.
If they were orphans, they should go to a welfare center—not freeload here.
“You shouldn’t have to lose money—but your attitude is unpleasant.
Couldn’t you speak more gently?
They’re just children, and you threatened to call the police on them.”
“I was just trying to scare them!”
The owner sounded aggrieved.
In reality, kids wouldn’t go to jail for something like this—at most, the police would lecture them and call their parents.
If they even had parents.
“Scare them?”
Taiga’s voice rose.
She stomped over loudly, her shoes hitting the floor with force, and began lecturing him while pointing at his nose.
“Do you know how much psychological harm that can cause?
What if they grow up fearing the police and no longer trusting them?
Can you take responsibility for that?
Children are like delicate flowers, but in this society, there are always bad adults who try to crush them…”
As dinner time approached, more customers entered the restaurant.
Seeing the commotion, they realized it might not be a good place to eat—but it was definitely a good place to watch drama.
Soon, people gathered at the entrance, watching the scene unfold.
“Alright, alright, I was wrong, okay?
I’ll apologize—just stop talking!”
Seeing the crowd, the owner quickly gave in.
If this continued, his reputation would be ruined.
“Hmph, it was your fault in the first place.
At least you know when to back down.”
Taiga snorted like a victorious general.
The owner apologized to the two children for trying to scare them and accepted the outcome: only the small amount of coins the girl had.
Smack!
But then Taiga stepped forward and slapped two 1,000-yen bills onto the table.
“I’m not the type to bully others with power.
I’ll cover the rest of their bill.”
“Thank you, miss.
You’re very kind.”
The owner immediately switched to a friendly smile.
“Honestly, if you had just said you’d pay for them earlier, we wouldn’t have argued.”
“Ha—no thanks.
Arguing with you actually made me feel much better.”
Taiga had been in a bad mood lately after arguing with her parents about dyeing her hair.
This righteous confrontation had been a great emotional outlet.
The owner: “…”
So you just wanted to pick a fight, didn’t you?
Still, since she paid and saved him from a loss, he decided not to charge for the “extra emotional service.”
“Please come again!”