Undoubtedly, Shizuka Hiratsuka was an excellent teacher.
This woman, who was approaching thirty—relentlessly approaching, like a train with no brakes—possessed an extremely outstanding appearance and a sexy figure that Yukino Yukinoshita would never have in her lifetime.
Not that Hiratsuka cared about such comparisons.
She had long since made peace with her body; it was the world that needed to catch up.
However, despite such an appearance, words like ‘beautiful’ or ‘seductive’ never seemed to stick to her.
She was always coolly flicking cigarette ash and exhaling clouds of smoke, giving off the vibe of a somewhat eccentric middle-aged man who had given up on romance and invested entirely in cynicism.
At this moment, Shizuka Hiratsuka’s face was full of impatience.
She really hated dealing with certain people or certain matters.
“In summary,” the white-haired girl across from her said, her voice flat and devoid of inflection, “we hope Teacher Hiratsuka will seriously consider our opinion and immediately hand the incident over to us for processing.”
“Since you know enough to call me ‘Teacher,’ then go to school like a good student.” Hiratsuka tapped her cigarette against an ashtray.
“Honestly, you AST people and the Lion King Organization are all the same bunch of bastards—always employing child labor. It makes me really furious. Don’t you have any self-awareness as state agencies?”
“I do not believe age is an issue,” the white-haired girl—Origami Itsu—said expressionlessly.
Her face was a mask of porcelain stillness, beautiful and utterly unreadable.
“Whether it is a priestess or an adept, they need to possess sufficient talent. There is nothing wrong with selecting talented individuals to serve as executors.”
“Itsu-san, you need to understand that you are at an age where you should be in school. Studying hard. Enjoying life.” Hiratsuka’s voice softened, just slightly.
“Not being a weapon.”
“From the moment a Spirit killed my parents…” Origami’s voice didn’t waver.
“My life had already collapsed.”
There it is, Hiratsuka thought.
The unassailable argument.
The trauma that seals all debate.
“But the Yamai Sisters aren’t the ones who killed your parents.” Hiratsuka leaned back in her chair.
“Those two are Spirits who have never had any record of harming anyone.”
Shizuka Hiratsuka also felt a headache coming on.
As the saying went: if you haven’t experienced another’s suffering, don’t advise them to be kind.
An outsider had no right to talk someone out of their revenge.
But this…
However, Shizuka Hiratsuka could not accept this approach of collective guilt.
The Yamai Sisters had been sealed since the moment they appeared in this world.
The technique Haruno had given her back then was very stable.
The Yamai Sisters had neither caused a Spacequake nor had any record of harming people.
On what grounds could the AST take them away with just a word?
“Spirits are the source of disaster,” Origami said, her tone as cold as a winter morning.
“The trigger for destruction. Even if they haven’t caused a Spacequake now—what about the future?” She tilted her head.
“Can Demon Slayer Hiratsuka really guarantee that the so-called sealing technique is truly effective?”
…
“Even if it is effective…” Origami pressed on, merciless as a scalpel.
“How long can the technique last?”
She paused, and her next words landed like a surgical strike.
“Demon Slayer Hiratsuka is already at such an age. After you pass away—a hundred years from now—who will supervise the long-lived Spirits?”
A hundred years.
‘Such an age.’
This brat.
Hiratsuka’s fist tightened.
Her knuckles went white.
This was exactly why she particularly loathed bastard organizations like the AST and the Lion King Organization—raising weapons and throwing in brainwashing for good measure.
Judging the present based on a future that hadn’t happened was one thing.
But to say she was old?
Compared to the current Origami Itsu, even Hachiman Hikigaya—with his dead-fish eyes and his cynical essays about the evil of youth—was a model student.
At least he had the decency to be insubordinate without being personally insulting.
“Then Master Sergeant Itsu needn’t worry.” Hiratsuka’s voice was ice wrapped in silk.
“I will ask someone else to look after them. In any case, I am responsible for this matter, and there’s no need for AST personnel to overstep their bounds.”
“Did the negotiations fail?”
An adult woman with a ponytail had been waiting for Origami Itsu for a while.
This was Origami’s direct superior: Ryoko Kusakabe.
“Yes, Captain Kusakabe.” Origami’s expression hadn’t changed.
It never did.
“It’s understandable.” Kusakabe sighed, running a hand through her ponytail.
“Shizuka Hiratsuka is just that kind of person. It would be stranger if you could easily persuade her.”
“Is it okay to just leave them be?” Origami asked.
“Those twins. The Berserkers.”
“What do you want to do, Master Sergeant Itsu?” Kusakabe’s eyes narrowed.
“Armed intervention?”
“If necessary.”
Origami was one of the best adepts in the AST unit.
Equipped with a Realizer, she was quite confident in her own combat strength.
Confidence wasn’t arrogance when it was backed by results.
“Idiot!”
Ryoko Kusakabe mercilessly brought her hand down in a sharp chop to Origami’s head.
The sound echoed through the hallway.
“Don’t be overconfident in yourself!” Kusakabe’s voice was sharp.
“That woman is ‘Hiratsuka the Rock Crusher.'”
Origami rubbed her head—the first human gesture she had made all day.
“That nickname sounds more like a man’s moniker.”
Evidently, Origami Itsu hadn’t heard the logic that while names might be wrong, nicknames never were.
There was a reason people didn’t call gentle grandmothers ‘Rock Crusher.’
“You could say that.” Kusakabe lit her own cigarette—some habits were contagious.
“Her fierce fighting style indeed makes it hard to distinguish her gender. But her combat power is unquestionable. You are still a long way from being a top-tier demon slayer like her.”
Kusakabe’s statement was sincere.
She had seen Hiratsuka in action.
She had seen the aftermath.
“If it’s Shizuka Hiratsuka,” Kusakabe continued, exhaling smoke, “even if the twins really went on a rampage, she might be able to suppress them. However…” She tapped ash into a nearby tray.
“The Spacequake is the problem that needs solving.”
A few years ago, when Shizuka Hiratsuka was young and reckless—back when ‘reckless’ was still an option before responsibility and teaching certificates had weighed her down—her pair of iron fists had been famous everywhere.
She was a truly top-tier demon slayer.
A figure capable of guarding Chiba single-handedly.
Chiba’s hidden guardian, Kusakabe thought.
Even if she doesn’t want the title.
“She won’t hand over the twins,” Kusakabe said finally.
“But that doesn’t mean we do nothing. We watch. We wait. And we prepare.”
“For what?” Origami asked.
Kusakabe’s smile was thin and humorless.
“For the day her seal isn’t enough.”
However, Captain Kusakabe had also vaguely heard some rumors.
It was said that the Fourth Progenitor was lurking in Chiba.
Presumably, even Shizuka Hiratsuka would feel overwhelmed by the upcoming troublesome situation.
The AST’s desire to take over the twin Spirits might have been partly out of selfishness—bureaucratic empire-building, the usual inter-agency turf war—but on the other hand, it really could help relieve the pressure on Shizuka Hiratsuka.
One less thing for her to worry about.
One less potential disaster waiting to happen.
Not that she’d see it that way, Kusakabe thought.
She’s too stubborn to accept help she didn’t ask for.
“Then if we can’t obtain the twin Spirits,” Origami asked, “what will DEM do?”
“Let them do as they please.” Kusakabe’s smile was thin and cold.
“If they think they can snatch the twins from the hands of the ‘Rock Crusher’… then let them go to their deaths.”
Speaking of this, Ryoko Kusakabe felt it served them right.
A few days ago, Sir Isaac Ray Pelham Westcott—the Executive Director of DEM, the world’s largest supplier of Realizers—had suddenly arrived in Japan.
For the AST units, which relied on Realizers for combat, he was indeed a truly powerful figure.
Even Lieutenant General Kiritani had to bow and scrape to this guy.
And Westcott knows it, Kusakabe thought bitterly.
He knows it and he uses it.
Right from the start, Westcott had treated the AST units like errand boys.
Despite being just the head of a private company—a private company, not even a government agency—he sat on the AST’s head like a mountain and specifically demanded to get his hands on the twins in Shizuka Hiratsuka’s possession. Find the original chapter at novelping . com.
That woman’s things aren’t so easy to steal.
Besides, the twins were indeed sealed and hadn’t caused any harm.
With Shizuka Hiratsuka determined to protect her students, no one could touch those two Spirits.
No one legal, anyway.
However, if an accident were to happen to the twins, it would be a different story.
Ryoko Kusakabe frowned.
Based on her understanding of DEM, those people—and she used the term loosely—would stop at nothing to achieve their goals.
They didn’t believe in rules.
They didn’t believe in ethics.
They believed in results, and they believed in covering their tracks.
Her other purpose in coming here—the one she hadn’t put into words—was to warn Shizuka Hiratsuka that the twins were being targeted.
Not as an official directive.
Not as a mission order.
Just…
woman to woman.
Demon slayer to demon slayer.
But Hiratsuka would probably just tell me to mind my own business, Kusakabe admitted.
So I’ll keep it to myself for now.
“Then are we to do nothing, Captain Kusakabe?” Origami’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Stand by for now.” Kusakabe straightened her posture.
“If someone tries to destroy the twins’ seal, we will do our best to intervene and stop them.”
“And if we can’t stop it?”
Kusakabe was silent for a moment.
Then she spoke, each word heavy as stone.
“For the safety of the public… we will have no choice but to eliminate the twins.”
Eliminate.
Not protect.
Not contain.
Eliminate.
“Understood.”
Origami Itsu nodded, her calm face showing no thoughts—or perhaps thoughts too deep and too dark for expression.
It was impossible to tell with her.
“Origami.” Kusakabe hesitated.
“You… don’t you feel conflicted? About a mission to protect Spirits? Given your history?”
Origami’s expression didn’t change.
Her voice didn’t waver.
“While I do not like Spirits—personally, deeply, and permanently—the twins have indeed not committed any harmful acts so far.” She paused, as if checking her own logic for flaws.
“Protecting the seal is also for the safety of the public. My personal feelings are irrelevant to mission parameters.”
My personal feelings are irrelevant.
Kusakabe studied the young woman before her—the white hair, the blank eyes, the posture of a soldier who had never been allowed to be a child.
What did they do to you?
she wondered.
What did the world do to you that made you this way?
But she didn’t ask.
She already knew the answer.
“Well,” Kusakabe said finally, turning away, “it’s for the best that you can think that way.”
For the best, she repeated in her head.
For whom?
The evening sun cast long shadows across the street.
Somewhere in Chiba, a cynical vampire was probably drinking Max Coffee and complaining about normies.
Somewhere else, two Spirit twins were living their lives, unaware of the wolves circling their sanctuary.
And Ryoko Kusakabe—veteran, captain, pragmatist—lit another cigarette and watched the smoke dissolve into nothing.
This job, she thought, is going to kill me one day.
Probably not today, though.
Today, I just have to keep the world from ending.
Again.