Meanwhile, at the convenience store—
“Manager.” After returning from a delivery, Oda Sakunosuke didn’t see the familiar figure. He walked up to the counter and called out to the only person who could be there.
The store manager adjusted his small round glasses and smiled at the red-haired boy. “Ah, it’s Oda.”
After saying that, he didn’t continue, just kept smiling and waited for the other to ask.
But the red-haired boy simply acknowledged him and said nothing more, going straight to restocking the shelves.
The manager couldn’t help showing a slightly defeated expression—this kid was really quiet! How did he even become friends with someone as outgoing and lively as Kii Kujou?!
With no other choice, the manager spoke up first. “Kii Kujou said she had something to do today and would leave half an hour early. She asked me to pass that along—see you at home later.”
Oda paused for a moment while stocking, then continued his mechanical work as if nothing had happened. “Mm, got it.”
After finishing, he turned around. The manager, who had been watching his back with a probing gaze, immediately looked away and coughed awkwardly.
“Manager, I’m done for today. I’ll head off.”
“Hm? Sure, sure. Worried about Kii Kujou, huh?”
The red-haired boy nodded naturally. “Mm.”
Manager: “…”
Then why are you so quick to admit that?!
The manager felt a brief sense of defeat again, but his curiosity quickly revived him. He wanted to ask what exactly the relationship between those two was, but seeing how unresponsive this kid was—and how their interaction didn’t seem like anything had been openly acknowledged—he decided that question would be wasted. So instead, he asked another:
“Oda, how do you see Kii?”
With one foot already out the door, Oda turned back, looked at the manager—who was leaning forward with a gossiping expression—and after a moment of thought, answered:
“She’s easy to see through, yet hard to understand.”
The manager immediately smiled like someone experienced. “I get it… girls are like that. You need patience to understand them little by little.”
“Mm.” Oda nodded and stepped out.
Though he felt the manager’s interpretation was probably different from what he meant… explaining would be troublesome, so he let it go.
But he hadn’t lied.
To Oda, Kii Kujou was exactly that kind of contradictory existence.
In some ways, she was easy to read—just like her ability, bold and direct.
Yet at the same time, there were parts of her he couldn’t understand. Different from him, and different from everyone else.
So, to him, she was… someone distinct from the rest.
My feelings toward my ability are complicated.
Especially as I’ve grown older—my sense of embarrassment has gotten worse. And because that embarrassment has intensified, my ability has become stronger, which only makes things more complicated.
But one thing I’m certain of—
I’m still grateful to have it.
“Pitch-Black Wings.”
As I called out the name of my ability, I bent slightly, arching my back. A pair of black wings seemed to emerge from the shadows, rapidly growing from behind me. They spread out, shielding both sides of my body, almost wrapping me completely, swallowing all the bullets fired from every direction—only for them to clatter to the ground all at once.
The moment the bullets fell, the massive black wings unfurled. Using them to stabilize myself and gain speed, I pushed off hard with my right foot and charged forward. A wide grin stretched across my face, twisted slightly by the air resistance as I shouted—fuel to boost my attack power:
“Not bad—coming to challenge me! I admire your courage! Now, allow me to reward you—!”
While speaking, I had already closed in on the nearest gunman. My left wing blocked incoming fire, and I grabbed the weapon within reach. Seeing his pupils shrink, I grinned and shouted:
“Is that all you’ve got? Let this rain of bullets play the opening movement of our battle! Now—let’s play!”
I shoved the gun aside, grabbed his hand, and forced him to pull the trigger. The bullets shot past me toward the enemies behind.
My Pitch-Black Wings can’t make me fly—but aside from that, they’re practically all-purpose.
A shield, a blade, a platform… they’re my perfect partner.
Even if they run on my embarrassment—and require a full-blown, over-the-top performance.
As long as I don’t face someone exceptionally strong, numbers mean nothing. If anything, they’re a buff—my ability doesn’t run out, so attrition tactics are meaningless.
Just like this time. I could finish them all quickly.
Three minutes… no, one minute… fifty-five seconds would be enough.
I don’t have precognition, but years of experience let me make highly accurate estimates.
Just a bit more, and I’ll take them all down—
“Kii Kujou.”
A familiar voice rang out.
My hand froze. The tip of my black wing stopped just short of the enemy’s throat, already drawing a thin line of blood.
I turned toward the sound.
The red-haired boy flashed past my vision—then came gunfire. But unlike the chaotic exchange before, this time the shots were precise and orderly, accompanied by groans of pain.
Twenty-eight seconds.
That was how long Oda Sakunosuke took to deal with everyone.
Well… maybe minus one second, since I still had one in hand.
Those on the ground were writhing in pain—some couldn’t even make a sound.
But they were all alive.
Just shot in multiple places, bleeding—overall, no fatalities.
Oda Sakunosuke said he wouldn’t kill, and he meant it. When he acted, he simply incapacitated everyone completely.
Hard to say whether dying quickly or lingering in agony is better… but for people in Yokohama—especially in this line of work—being alive is probably enough.
My attack shifted from the enemy’s throat to his ankle, but I still asked:
“Who sent you?”
The man forced a smile, his tone wary. “So the solitary ‘Pitch-Black Wings’ finally found help, huh…”
…Ahhh—shut up about being “solitary”! Don’t pin weird ideals on me! And stop using that ridiculous alias!
Since I’d already dismissed my ability—no buff clouding my mind—I felt awkward enough to curl my toes into the ground. My grip tightened unconsciously, knocking him out.
I tossed him aside and looked at the only person still standing.
He met my gaze. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke first:
“Want to ask who sent them?”
I thought for a moment, then shook my head. “No need. They didn’t bother hiding it.”
Their uniforms still carried that conglomerate’s emblem.
I stepped forward first, leaving the blood- and gunpowder-filled scene. The red-haired boy followed a beat later, letting his gun fall to the ground before catching up.
We walked in silence.
Though his was habitual, mine came from guilt.
I’d almost done what I used to—killed them outright… and Oda definitely noticed.
What should I do? Judge by the result? I didn’t actually kill anyone, so I shouldn’t be blamed, right? Should I apologize? But I don’t really want to… apologizing feels like losing ground. And it wasn’t my fault to begin with…
“Sorry. That’s on me.”
…Huh? Not my voice?
I turned, startled, to the red-haired boy.
He didn’t look at me—just straight ahead, calm and serious.
“I said I’d protect you, Kii Kujou. I shouldn’t have been absent when you were in danger.”
…Wait, I’m not that weak. If anything, without you, the danger was on their side.
And that “protecting me” thing—are you serious? Are you protecting me, or the people I might kill?
You know exactly what I’m capable of, don’t you? This isn’t sarcasm?
Though I had a lot of thoughts, in the end—
“…Mm. Fine.” I clasped my hands behind my back and said solemnly, “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Since he handed me a pole, I might as well climb it. Besides, Oda is one of the few friends who treats my ability like it’s nothing.
Only then did he look at me, a faint smile appearing.
“But if those guys aren’t dealt with properly, there’ll be trouble later. You said you’d protect me—so you handle it.”
“Mm.”
“And you were almost late today. Don’t let it happen again!”
“Okay.”
“And you’re washing the dishes tonight!”
“Wasn’t it your turn?”
“Tch… didn’t fall for it, huh…”
Chapter 9: Don’t Do That Again Next Time
I don’t know how those people managed to track us down this time, nor do I know whether handling things the way we did will cause trouble later.
But I’m not afraid. I wasn’t afraid when I was alone—now I even have a teammate stronger than me.
Still, I’ll have to quit the convenience store job. One, to avoid dragging the manager into this, and two, I was already planning to change jobs anyway.
As for what to do next…
“Hey, Oda, do you have any ideas?” After writing down a list of options, thinking them through, and crossing them out one by one, I finally turned to ask the red-haired boy sitting quietly beside me like he was in standby mode.
Oda Sakunosuke looked up from the copy of Doraemon I had shoved into his hands. He seemed to think seriously for a moment before asking, “A postman?”
“No! Just because you once helped someone keep a painting doesn’t mean being a postman is a good job! It’s nothing like the occasional delivery runs the manager asks us to do. That kind of work is exhausting, troublesome, and doesn’t even pay well.” I shot down his suggestion immediately, then added, puzzled, “Why would you even suggest that?”
“…Because someone I know invited me to join.”
“Oh? Someone you knew from before?” I bit on my pen and looked over curiously. “Which postal company?”
If it was through connections, maybe we could slack off and still get paid…
“They gave me a business card before…”
“Let me see.”
I tossed my pen aside and scooted closer, watching as he pulled out the card. The moment I saw the company name, my eyes sharpened—
Wait. Isn’t this that high-risk “postal service” operating in one of Yokohama’s most dangerous zones?!
I know about this kind of thing—items that normal delivery services can’t handle get moved through special channels. Confidential documents, weapons… basically couriers in the gray zone, even the black market. That’s not easier than our previous job—it’s even more dangerous sometimes.
When we were assassins, all we had to do was eliminate the target. This job requires protecting something and delivering it safely!
I narrowed my eyes at Oda, assessing him. There’s no way he doesn’t know what this company does… so does he just not care, or—
“Is the owner your friend?”
“No.”
“Your former boss?”
“I didn’t have a boss. Or companions.”
“Did they tell you the salary? Show me with your fingers.”
Oda obediently gestured a number so low it made my liver hurt just looking at it.
“…I see. Then is this card important to you?” I asked. When he shook his head, I smiled—then instantly changed expression, tore the card into pieces, and tossed them into the air. “There. Problem solved.”
Then I glared at him in dissatisfaction. “Listen carefully, Oda. If someone tries to trick you into a job just because you look easy to fool, you absolutely do not take it. You should block that person later. This feels shady—like some villain taking advantage of you after you decided to stop killing.”
Oda opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Silently, he set down his manga and began picking up the torn pieces from the tatami. After a while, he finally said, “I wasn’t being tricked.”
“If I weren’t here, would you have taken the job?”
“…Yeah. Probably. I don’t really care what kind of work it is.” After saying that, he seemed to notice my displeasure and added, as if to make up for it, “So you can decide, Kii Kujou.”
…No, you should care a little! Don’t make it sound like I run this household! You’re the one forcing me to decide for you—don’t go passive at a time like this!
And for some reason, I felt annoyed in other ways too. If I hadn’t been here, he really would’ve taken such a dangerous job? And he still dared to bring it up now? This guy has no idea how to enjoy life! We’ve been together for over half a year—has he learned nothing? In five more months, it’d even be our one-year anniversary!
…Though I don’t even know what we’d celebrate. And before that, there’s Christmas.
After ranting internally, I realized my expression had turned sour.
He noticed too, looking at me with slight confusion.
I pressed my lips together and stared back, locking eyes with him, thinking rapidly.
…The atmosphere is just right. I have a reason. My emotions are in place. This should work… Even if it fails, it won’t be too embarrassing.
And he’s slightly thrown off right now, focused on me. Even if his ability is precognition, he probably won’t foresee what I’m about to do… maybe. Then I’ll wait just a bit longer—no one can keep that kind of ability active forever. Based on JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, time-stop lasts five seconds for the protagonist and nine for the villain… wait, which one is Oda?
…Whatever. Enough thinking.
I took a deep breath, held it, and suddenly reached out—pinching his cheeks with both hands.
“Alright then! If I’m deciding, you have to listen to me completely!”
Before he could react, I let go, stood up, and rushed to the fridge. I opened the door and hid behind it, exhaling deeply to calm my racing heart—secretly thrilled.
I’d wanted to try that ever since he still had a bit of baby fat! If I waited any longer, it’d be gone!
…Though it felt like touching a tiger’s whiskers—half proud, half scared.
I grabbed a drink, composed myself, and closed the fridge—only to meet his gaze.
The red-haired boy was still sitting there, unmoving, one hand covering his face. Some of the paper scraps he’d picked up had fallen back onto the floor. For the first time, his expression showed confusion mixed with bewilderment.
…My sense of accomplishment doubled.
Yeah. I’m amazing.
Feeling satisfied, I walked back, sat across from him, opened my drink, and said, “Since you’re letting me decide, tomorrow let’s go out and do some market research. We’ll see what job suits us best.”
“…Mm.” He responded slowly, set his hand down, stood up, and threw the paper scraps into the trash. Then he called out, “Kii Kujou.”
“What is it?” I glanced over and even offered him my drink.
He walked over, took it, but didn’t drink. Instead, he looked at me. “You’re not angry anymore?”
…I wanted to say I wasn’t angry to begin with, but lying doesn’t work on him. So I just answered vaguely, “Mm-hmm.”
“Kii Kujou.”
“What now—”
“Why did you pinch my face?”
…You’re asking that directly? No buildup at all? I didn’t even expect it to go that smoothly—I haven’t even come up with an excuse.
Keeping a straight face, I crossed my arms and gave my go-to answer: “You guess.”
He tilted his head slightly, blue eyes fixed on mine. “I can’t. That’s why I’m asking.”
…He’s really going to dig into this, huh? He’s not about to hold me accountable, right?
My confidence faltered. I rubbed my nose and answered honestly, “Because it felt rare.”
Whether or not he understood, he just said “Oh,” sat down, set the drink aside, and picked up his manga again. After a while, he added:
“Please don’t do that next time.”
…Was that a warning? So that really was the last chance? And he even used “please”… was it that serious?!
I should’ve memorized the feeling better. Damn it.
I wanted to ask why not, whether he disliked it—but the question felt like something a creepy old man harassing girls on the street would ask.
After a brief moment of self-reflection, I reluctantly replied, “…Alright.”
If I’m not allowed to touch, then fine.
But the conversation still had to continue.
“By the way… Oda, what do you think about being a detective