However, the truth was—Shiro Sakamaki was just as confused by the sudden appearance of that enormous fish head.
He hadn't summoned it.
He hadn't even sensed it.
And most disturbingly—he hadn't known something like that existed in his domain.
His mind raced.
In the silence after the domain faded, Shiro's thoughts turned to the Cthulhu Original Codex, the moment when he first made contact with the strange dark green substance. That eerie slime that had clung to him, melted into his body, and disappeared as if absorbed…
Could that have been… a fragment of something deeper?
Something ancient?
Something still slumbering inside him?
A chill climbed up his spine.
If that thing had acted independently and killed Gojo Satoru outright…
That wouldn't have just ended the battle. It would've started something far worse—a storm he wasn't ready to face yet. The balance of the supernatural world, already fragile, would have collapsed entirely.
That's why, despite having the upper hand, he terminated the domain immediately.
The fight was over.
Shiro gave a casual goodbye to Gojo and left the battlefield with Kanna and the others. There was no point in staying any longer.
---
Their first stop was the Sawamura residence.
The once-broken house still carried traces of the earlier chaos—burned beams, shattered windows, scorched earth from residual cursed energy.
With a wave of his hand, Shiro activated a sequence of alchemy arrays, restoring the destroyed furniture, doors, and structural damage in minutes. Golden light weaved through the air, and the Sawamura household returned to its previous, elegant calm.
Meanwhile, Eriri, whose magic power had recovered slightly, could finally walk on her own again. Misaki, too, stood silently beside her, though her expression was weighed down with grief.
One had lost her father.
The other—her childhood sweetheart.
Both were buried in silence.
Shiro didn't press them. He wasn't the type to offer gentle words or hollow comfort, and anything he said now would ring empty. So instead, he simply stayed quiet.
Sayuri, however, was an exception. She remained composed, unnaturally so, her demeanor calm and unshaken as if nothing had happened.
That alone unsettled Shiro more than anything else.
Was she suppressing everything? Or had she accepted the loss before it even happened?
He couldn't tell.
Later that night, Sayuri broke the silence first.
"Shiro-kun, it's getting late. Stay here tonight. We still have plenty of empty rooms."
Shiro gave a small nod. "I'll accept your kindness, Sister Sayuri."
Misaki didn't object either, her gaze empty. As for Kanna, she simply followed Shiro wherever he went—location meant little to a white dragon in disguise.
Sayuri prepared three separate rooms for them. Kanna, of course, wanted to stay with Shiro, but Sayuri firmly separated them, citing propriety and whispering something about "warping a child's sense of boundaries."
It was already deep into the night.
After a hot shower, Shiro evaporated the water vapor with a pulse of spiritual energy. Just as he was about to lie down, a knock came at his door.
His senses sharpened. After scanning the aura—
Sayuri.
Still wearing her signature kimono, she stood composed at the door.
"Shiro-kun, if it's convenient, my sister wants to talk to you for a bit."
Shiro blinked, confused, but opened the door.
Moments later, the two sat once more in the quiet living room. Sayuri sipped tea, seeming hesitant, carefully choosing her words.
Shiro noticed the tension and said, "Sister Sayuri, if you have something on your mind, just say it. I'll listen—no judgment."
She smiled faintly.
"Of course I believe you, Shiro-kun… I was just figuring out where to begin."
Then she looked up.
"You must have found it strange—how unaffected I seemed by Spencer's death."
Shiro didn't deny it. "Yeah. You were so calm... it felt off."
Sayuri sighed, her gaze turning distant.
"You come from a big family. I'm sure you understand."
As a daughter of the Sawamura clan, she had been used as a bridge—married off to the Spencer family for political and economic gain. While she helped the Sawamura clan thrive through that union, the marriage itself was hollow.
Spencer had rarely returned home. Their "family" had been more image than reality. The only real bond between them had been Eriri—and even she had been kept in the dark.
"To the world, we looked happy. But you can fake anything when you're born into this kind of life."
Shiro sat quietly, listening.
He knew how cold the world of elite bloodlines could be. The idea of love, family, or trust rarely existed without a price tag.
But he had long since walked off that path. With two Tier 6 level masters backing him and his own unmatched strength, he had no need to dance to any noble family's tune.
"So, Sister Sayuri," he asked softly. "Why are you telling me this now?"
Sayuri placed her cup down.
"Because now that Spencer is dead, his family might make a move."
She was referring to Eriri.
Without Spencer's protection and no official marriage ties left, Sayuri's own status would be precarious. The Spencer family wouldn't want a widow, but Eriri—despite lacking magical talent—was still useful as a tool of alliance.
Shiro's eyes narrowed.
"You want me at the funeral."
"To show strength," Sayuri confirmed. "To remind them—she's not without support."
Shiro didn't hesitate.
"Of course I'll come. No one's taking Eriri without going through me."
Offending the Spencer family?
So what.
They might be a noble clan with history—but that history would burn if they laid a finger on someone under Shiro Sakamaki's protection.
Sayuri looked down at his hand resting gently atop hers, and for the first time tonight, she exhaled a breath of relief.
"…Thank you, Shiro-kun."
"But this won't cause trouble for you?"
Shiro chuckled.
"In this world, trouble only comes to those who are weaker than the problem."
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