Wednesday morning.
"Finally... it's finished..."
Akira stared down at the neat stack of objects resembling playing cards arranged across his study desk. He pulled a single card from the very top of the pile. Despite its paper-thin dimensions, the object possessed a remarkably heavy, solid weight against the tissue of his palm.
Upon closer inspection beneath the radiance of his desk lamp, the surface of the playing card gleamed with a sharp, metallic luster.
Akira closed his eyes, attempting to channel his dark energy into the metal structure.
*SWOOSH!*
A fluid, deep blue-black energy rapidly seeped out from Akira's palm, seamlessly wrapping around the entire surface of the metal card like a layer of protective organic coat. Akira lifted the card above his head, examining its design with absolute precision.
A split second later, the fluid darkness was completely absorbed into the structure, leaving behind nothing but a thin, faint pendaran of blue light along the card's razor-sharp edges. The visual effect cleanly proved his experiment was far from being a mere illusion.
Akira clamped the metal card firmly between his index and middle fingers, snapping his wrist forward in a swift, sweeping motion toward the side.
*WHOOSH!*
The metal card enveloped in shadow magic tore through the air with a piercing howl. At the far end of the room, a raw beef steak prepped on the kitchen counter was effortlessly sliced into two clean halves mid-air, as if a hot knife had just glided through a block of warm butter.
*STAB!*
The metal card, maintaining its breakneck velocity even after shearing through the dense meat, continued its flight trajectory for a few meters before embedding itself firmly into the pristine white concrete wall across the room.
"The destructive magnitude is remarkably flawless." Akira rose from his seat, curving a satisfied smirk as he inspected the perfectly clean cut of the steak.
Based on his evaluation of the previous two life-and-death encounters, Akira had recognized a fatal vulnerability within his own combat style grid—he severely lacked a reliable method for long-range engagement.
As for the option of operating conventional firearms he had previously confiscated from the parasite anomalies... Aside from his actual firing accuracy still being a complete mess, the bureaucratic logistics required to secure ammunition supplies in the real world would present a massive headache.
Having zero other choices, Akira had ultimately decided to order several hundred pieces of specialized alloy playing cards online from various artisan hobby crafts shops under the guise of art supplies. Once the package delivered, he spent hours manually sharpening all four edges of each card until they were razor-sharp.
Even though the destructive parameters of these metal playing cards couldn't match a tactical firearm, they possessed the distinct advantage of being completely silent, easily concealed within his shadow inventory, and visually unpresumptuous. Now, with the reinforcement of his dark shadow energy, their cutting capacity far exceeded that of standard bladed weapons.
Akira rubbed his bleary eyes, casting a glance at the wall clock beside his desk.
6:35 AM.
It turned out he had spent the entire night manually modifying hundreds of alloy cards. Akira gestured with his hand, pulling the scattered metal cards back into his shadow dimension inventory. He stood up, stretching his rigid muscles, and walked out of the room wearing his casual house slippers.
Uncle Nagano had officially returned to Tokyo yesterday morning as his leave duration concluded. Staring at the quiet interior of his apartment, Akira couldn't suppress a sudden wave of emptiness lingering in his chest. He shook his head gently, poured hot water to brew an instant coffee mix, and devoured it alongside two slices of toasted bread for a quick breakfast.
After filling his stomach, Akira began organizing the kitchen counter to prepare a lunch bento box based on his promise to Megumi from last week. He placed a fresh block of beef steak onto a clean cutting board.
*Pound! Pound! Pound!*
The meat was tenderized thoroughly, then seasoned with an even dust of salt and black pepper. Akira coated the surface evenly with tapioca starch, dipped it into a bowl of liquid egg wash, and finally rolled it across a bed of breadcrumbs.
*SZZZLL!*
The cutlet was fried over medium-low heat until its exterior morphed into a crispy, golden-brown crust. Once cooked, Akira sliced it into perfectly symmetrical pieces. A highly seductive, savory aroma wafted out through the kitchen window, causing the elementary kids downstairs who were just heading out for school to reflexively swallow their saliva in pure envy.
"Meow~ Meow~"
Anko the parasitic cat suddenly sprinted into the kitchen area the moment his olfactory senses captured the aroma of the fried cutlet.
"Yeah, yeah, here's your portion." Akira chuckled, tossing two pieces of the cooked meat onto Anko's feeding tray.
At this point, he absolutely didn't dare ignore or neglect the chubby orange cat anymore. Given the creature's cranium could split into rigid parasitic tentacles, Akira was anxious that Anko might recklessly breach the apartment doors again to cause mass public panic if he ever endured starvation. Keeping Anko inside the residence nowadays felt exactly like hiring a high-grade monster bodyguard—and his actual food consumption parameter was remarkably low.
After securing his bento container neatly inside its cloth bag, Akira snatched his school backpack and walked past the threshold to commute. Whenever he wasn't running thin on time, he genuinely preferred a casual walk to school to soak in the town scenery. After all, having weathered the brutal survival grind in his previous lifetime, a peaceful, slow lifestyle like this felt incredibly luxurious to him now.
The apartment elevator descended gradually from the higher levels. However, upon reaching the fifteenth floor, its trajectory abruptly groaned to a halt.
*DING~*
The elevator doors slithered open, revealing the elegant figure of Yukinoshita Yukino standing completely frozen out on the corridor platform.
"Eh...?"
The two teenagers instantly froze at their respective spots, exchanging a highly canggung gaze. It was a remarkably rare coincidence; despite sharing the exact same apartment building for the past month, this was the absolute first time they had accidentally crossed paths inside the elevator during the morning school rush hours.
Akira cleared his throat lightly, breaking the silence between them. "Yo... morning, Yukinoshita."
Yukinoshita lowered her head slightly, stepping into the elevator capsule while fiercely averting her gaze to conceal her awkwardness. "Yes... morning, Kitahara-kun."
Akira shifted his standing position slightly toward the right, providing an ample amount of comfortable space for the young lady.
"Thank you..." Yukinoshita murmured softly, taking her position diagonally right behind Akira's back.
"Don't mention it."
Following that brief interaction, a heavy silence once again enveloped the descending elevator capsule.
***
The two walked side-by-side along the sidewalk toward the academy grounds, with Akira leading the way one pace ahead of Yukinoshita.
Akira raised his tone slightly so his voice could carry clearly past his back. "Um... Yukinoshita, how is your ankle sprain? Has the condition improved?"
Hearing the inquiry, Yukinoshita’s mind reflexively spun back, recalling the memory of Akira's warm fingers gently massaging her skin that night. A sudden flush of pastel pink painted her cheeks. "It's... it's significantly better now."
"Glad to hear that," Akira replied with a wave of relief. "By the way, have you managed to find any potential candidates to recruit for the Volunteer Club headcount?" Akira recalled the imminent disbandment crisis Miyuki had detailed yesterday.
Yukinoshita’s stride paused for a brief second before she shook her head gently. "Not a single name meets the required criteria yet. Kitahara-kun... what do you think based on your own perspective?"
"Me?" Akira was slightly caught off guard to hear Yukinoshita actively take the initiative to seek his assistance and opinion. "I'm just a regular member in the club, it feels a bit inappropriate for me to interfere in a major structural decision like that," Akira answered with hesitation.
Yukinoshita suddenly accelerated her walking rhythm, stepping forward until their positions aligned side-by-side across the sidewalk. She stared straight into Akira’s eyes, her lips curving into a remarkably thin, soft smile. "I am not seeking your opinion within your official capacity as a club member... rather, I am asking for advice from a friend."
Akira stood entirely spellbound for a single second, staring into the genuine binar in the girl's eyes, before finally locking a broad grin onto his face. "...If it's from a friend's standpoint, I think... I happen to know a name that is exceptionally perfect for our club."
***
After parting ways with Yukinoshita at the main hallway intersection, Akira strode into his classroom. However, as his eyes scanned the row of desks near the window, he noted that Miura Yumiko’s seat was completely vacant.
Akira marched over to Yui Yuigahama’s desk. "Yui, is Miura absent from school today?"
Yui looked up, staring at Akira with a highly anxious countenance. "Eh... yes, Akira-kun. Yumiko suddenly filed for sick leave today. Did you seriously not know?"
"Hmm..." Akira rubbed his chin thoughtfully, weighing the situation. He immediately reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out his phone to access the LINE app, and began typing out a classified, private message to a specific new contact.
***
At the exact same time, inside the residence of the Miura family.
The interior of Miura Yumiko’s bedroom was completely dim because every single window curtain was drawn tightly shut. The blonde girl was currently curling and trembling underneath a thick mountain of blankets on her mattress. Scattered all around her bed structure were dozens of paper talisman mantras and various religious ritual items "claimed to be heavily blessed" that she had purchased at exorbitant prices from local shrines. In fact, even the entire surface of her bedroom walls was now occupied by pasted anti-evil paper wards.
Yumiko was entirely consumed by deep regret and terror.
She deeply regretted accepting an invitation from one of her close peers last weekend, purely to watch a mysterious, unlabelled VHS tape that had been delivered by an uncharted sender.
The contents recorded inside that tape were completely bizarre, abstract, and horrifying. It displayed visuals of a woman endlessly combing her long hair before a mirror, a dense crowd of humans crawling out from a thick bog of mud, the wide-eyed glare of a woman, and an abandoned, broken old well sitting dead in the center of a quiet forest.
Even though Yumiko initially only felt a thin chill from the eerie atmosphere of the video when she first watched it, she had chosen to shrug it off and ignore it. However, everything shifted into a literal living nightmare over the past two days. A few of her peers who had watched the tape alongside her were confirmed to have suddenly died mysteriously inside their respective homes—and the autopsy logs verified they had all perished from an extreme psychological shock that abruptly halted their hearts.
A panicked Yumiko had directly tossed the lethal videotape into a public trash bin far away. Yet terrifyingly, every single time she discarded the object, the VHS tape would always mysteriously return, lying quietly atop her bedroom desk on its own. She had also attempted to hire famous monks, priests, and Onmyoji masters, but they all turned out to be a syndicate of scammers targeting her money, because the expensive paper wards they sold didn't possess an ounce of influence to stop the terrifying phone calls haunting her.
Yumiko wasn't nearly as strong or arrogant as her school persona made her seem. Faced against a lethal supernatural threat that directly targeted her life, her psychological defense grid had officially collapsed to pieces.
"Sob... sob... somebody save me..." Yumiko wept hysterically underneath her blanket, lamenting her counting days toward death.
*TING~*
The sharp notification chime of an incoming message from the LINE app suddenly resonated loudly, breaking the dead silence of her room.
Yumiko wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks using the back of her hand, reaching for her phone with a violently trembling frame. However, the exact millisecond her eyes finished processing the rows of text within the mysterious message displayed on the screen, her right hand gripped the phone with extreme force. Her weeping broke out instantly once more—but this time, it was a heavy sob of pure, overwhelming relief born from a sudden spark of a new hope.
***
During lunchtime, inside the first-year classroom at Sobu High School.
"Yuta~" As per usual, Rikka Takanashi began manually picking out the green bell pepper slices from inside her bento container using the tips of her chopsticks, wearing a deeply pitiful pout.
"Haaah... I genuinely don't know what to do with you. You should at least learn to look after your own nutritional balance once in a while," Yuta complained, shaking his head in resignation. Even though his mouth was throwing a lecture, his hands moved with high agility to take custody of the bento box from Rikka's hands, casually swapping it with a large portion of his own hamburger steak instead.
In an instant, Rikka's eyes ignited with pure joy. "Hehe~" The girl locked a remarkably sweet smile onto him.
Yuta quickly swiveled his face toward another direction to mask his blushing cheeks from sheer embarrassment.
Akira, who was sitting directly across the table layout from them, silently observed the couple's interaction. His gaze didn't register a single shred of envy; rather, it was packed with a highly amused, jengah look.
"Um... Kato," Akira suddenly spoke up, shifting his focus to the bob-haired girl sitting right next to him.
Kato Megumi slowly pivoted her head, staring down at Akira's bento before inquiring in her signature flat tone. "Does Kitahara-kun also intend to swap bento side dishes with me this afternoon?"
"Eh, no, that's not what I mean. Um... if I recall correctly, you have yet to officially register or join any school club since the semester started, right?" Akira probed carefully.
"Yes, I haven't joined one so far. Why do you ask?"
Akira locked a warm smile onto his face. "In that case... would you be interested in joining our club?"
Megumi set her chopsticks down for a brief wave, staring at Akira with an unreadable gaze. "Eh... if I don't remember incorrectly, the club Kitahara-kun is currently registered in is called the Volunteer Club, right?" Megumi’s tone of voice remained perfectly flat, displaying absolutely zero riak of emotion on the surface.
"Correct! But Kato, please do not misunderstand the situation!" Akira instantly panicked, frantically waving both hands to launch a tactical clarification. "The actual core activities of that club are purely focused on assisting and resolving other students' requests, exactly like a social volunteer circle! It is completely not as ambiguous or weird as the literal meaning of the name implies!"
Akira hurriedly explained himself with all his might. After all, he had to admit that the name Yukino Yukinoshita had crafted for the club did sound slightly too sketchy and erotic on the surface for regular students.
Megumi tapped her slender finger against her chin, seemingly immersed within her internal thoughts for a brief moment before shifting her gaze back to look at Akira with a remarkably thin, sweet smile. "Sure. In that case, when can I officially start dropping by your clubroom to join?"
Hearing that instant confirmation, Akira immediately let out a massive sigh of relief, his heart flooding with pure excitement. "How about I escort you straight over to the clubroom after school this afternoon to introduce you to the President and the other member?"
"Um, sure," Megumi replied with a calm, accepting nod.