Himeragi Yukina was a Sword Shaman.
An exceptionally well-trained Sword Shaman.
Though exceedingly humble in the presence of the Three Saints—because humility was survival when facing beings who could casually rifle through your memories—she was top-tier excellent in all subjects except divination and curses.
Those, admittedly, were not her strong suit.
Perhaps precisely because of this, she was the one entrusted with this mission concerning the world’s safety.
At least, that’s what Himeragi Yukina believed.
She had been bestowed with a weapon said to number only three in the entire world—the strongest grade for personal use: the Type-7 Assault Demon-Slaying Lance, the Yukihira.
With the aid of this supreme weapon, even if facing a Progenitor as an opponent, she could hold her own for a moment.
A moment, she reminded herself.
Not a victory.
Just a moment.
“Himeragi Yukina. I command you to get as close as possible to the Fourth Progenitor, and monitor all his actions to the fullest extent.”
This was the order issued by the Three Saints.
Undoubtedly a mission with an extremely high danger coefficient.
However, Yukina—raised as a Demon Slayer since childhood—did not shrink back.
Or rather, she understood she had no room to retreat.
Failure is not an option when failure means the end of the world.
Unfortunately, she had lost track of him last night.
That was her mistake.
The target appeared to be a completely ordinary person with no combat ability—which had led Himeragi Yukina to mistakenly believe the Lion King Organization had misjudged.
But then, he had displayed terrifying counter-surveillance skills and vanished into the crowd like smoke through fingers.
Hachiman Hikigaya.
This man with dead-fish eyes—even if he wasn’t the Fourth Progenitor, he was absolutely not an ordinary male high school student.
Tonight, she must apprehend him.
That’s what Himeragi Yukina thought, but—
“Yukina-chan! Come on, let’s go inside.”
Why had it inexplicably turned into being invited to a classmate’s home?
This child called Komachi was too enthusiastic.
The only woman in her memory who might be this terrifying was probably Kousaka Sayaka—though the aspects of their terror were different, the degree was quite similar.
“Is this really alright? Won’t it be too presumptuous?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine! Yukina is so cute—everyone would want to invite you over, but Komachi was the fastest!”
“I meant… won’t it be too much of a bother for your family?”
For a moment, no one spoke.
The sudden silence caught Yukina off guard.
Why had the so enthusiastic and talkative Komachi suddenly fallen silent?
Had she said something she shouldn’t have?
Could it be…?
Could it be that Komachi didn’t have…
“Yukina’s reaction is so funny!” Komachi burst out laughing.
“Don’t worry! Komachi’s parents are very open-minded people. As for my stupid big brother—he’s just a bit of a loner, not a bad person.”
“Isn’t it a bit… bad to talk about your own brother like that?”
Yukina didn’t refuse any further.
The mission to tail the Fourth Progenitor was temporarily impossible to complete today.
She’d just go inside for now.
Just for a moment.
Just to gather intelligence.
“Stupid big brother! Komachi brought a classmate home!”
“Oh, welcome.”
A lazy voice.
Even without seeing him, one could sense a sloppy aura.
One could probably imagine this person lying on the sofa drinking coffee, wearing the expression of someone who had long since given up on life’s more demanding expectations.
“Sorry for the intrusion.”
Yukina was a very polite child.
After changing her shoes and entering the living room, she first bowed in greeting.
Then she straightened her back.
Her eyes widened.
The Luminous Twilight Earl.
The legendary Fourth Progenitor who existed only in tales.
He had no blood relatives, no friends or subordinates.
The sole, solitary, strongest vampire.
Right now, he had become her classmate’s older brother.
Appearing leisurely before her eyes.
Drinking coffee.
Coffee.
He’s drinking coffee.
The strongest vampire in existence is drinking coffee on a sofa while wearing what appears to be very old sweatpants.
Yukina’s brain made a sound like a crashed computer.
Though it might sound boastful, Hachiman’s grades were actually pretty good.
His strong subject—Japanese—could rank in the top three of his grade.
Achieving this level was partly due to a naturally decent mind, but Hachiman was also the type who studied.
Not because he loved learning—let’s not get carried away—but because the alternative was disappointing his parents, and that came with its own set of exhausting emotional negotiations.
He usually studied at family restaurants or the library.
But if a high school student was wandering outside too late at night, there was a real chance of being picked up by the police and lectured about youth and responsibility and other things he didn’t care about.
Staying at a family restaurant too late wasn’t practical either.
On the other hand, studying at home meant he could start whenever and study as late as he wanted without issue.
No dress code.
No judgmental stares from strangers.
No risk of being mistaken for a delinquent.
So Hachiman usually preferred studying at home.
Have a cup of coffee.
Necessary breaks were indispensable during study sessions.
Moreover, concentrating on studying was actually very energy-consuming—which was one reason high school students could eat so much.
The body demanded fuel; the brain demanded sugar.
Necessary sugar supplementation was a good way to improve study efficiency.
Coffee not only provided some sugar but also helped keep the mind clear.
Especially the sickeningly sweet Max Coffee.
It was simply the perfect study companion.
Speaking of Max Coffee, it not only contained a lot of caffeine but also a lot of sweet milk.
If personified, it would surely be very sexy.
A sexy, big-breasted older sister, touching her lips, giving a seductive look, and saying classic borderline lines like ‘I definitely won’t let you sleep tonight.’
While drinking his imaginary sexy older sister—the can, not the personification—Hachiman heard the sound of the door opening.
The world’s number one cutest Komachi was home.
And it seemed she had brought a classmate with her.
Great, he thought.
Company.
Just what I wanted when I planned to spend my evening in peaceful, antisocial isolation.
He took another sip of coffee and prepared to be minimally welcoming.
Though her classmate seemed to be a stalker.
The moment their eyes met, Hachiman Hikigaya sensed an atmosphere named ‘awkwardness’ hanging in the air.
It was the kind of awkwardness you’d feel when you’re saying lines like “Ma’am, you wouldn’t want your husband to lose his job, would you?” while groping said ma’am—only to discover, with dawning horror, that the ma’am was actually a man.
That level of awkward.
But from this girl’s expression, Hachiman read many things: shock, confusion, wariness, a willingness to fight to the death, and several other emotions that seemed wildly out of place for a simple house visit.
What he did not see was any awkwardness.
What is up with this weird middle school student?
Hachiman Hikigaya was certain he wasn’t some handsome guy.
He had no rose-colored memories to speak of—his only memory of coexisting with a girl was the painful experience of having his naive feelings toyed with in the past.
That particular scar had healed poorly, like a wound stitched with fishing wire.
Therefore, before being stalked by this perverted girl, he had absolutely zero interaction with her.
Yes.
Exactly.
This must be a perverted girl.
Hachiman Hikigaya had already made this judgment.
Though somewhat hasty—he would admit that—it had a high probability of being correct.
And when it concerned Komachi, even a 0.01% chance would become an ultra-high probability that would absolutely manifest into reality.
Lesbian.
Pervert.
Stalker.
These three elements had already become the labels Hachiman affixed to this unknown female middle school student.
It wasn’t hard to understand.
Hachiman was certain he had never met this woman before.
The only point of intersection between them had now surfaced.
Hikitani Komachi.
Komachi.
Hachiman Hikigaya’s most, most, most adorable little sister.
The classmate of the lesbian pervert stalker.
Though he didn’t know the specific reason this pervert was stalking him, it probably had something to do with Komachi.
What does she want to do?
Is she trying to get close to Komachi through me?
Does she have some kind of sinister agenda involving my precious little sister?
Is this the opening act of a tragedy where the older brother is used as a pawn before being discarded unceremoniously?
Just thinking this far, Hachiman’s gaze had already sharpened imperceptibly.
Within his lifeless dead-fish eyes, his pupils dilated wantonly—slowly, imperceptibly suffusing with a bloody hue.
The Fourth Progenitor did not bare his fangs often.
But when it came to Komachi?
All bets were off.