—Morning in the cafeteria was a low roar. Just walking with a tray snagged stares.
"Kagetsu, those 'mystery women' yesterday—are they really your family?"
"The video's blowing up! Who's the woman in purple?"
"That white-haired swordswoman was insane. And the red twin-tails..."
Mouths firing from every direction, Sekou Kagetsu bit his bread and shrugged.
"Family."
"C'mon, that's not a normal family!"
They jostled his shoulder. Sekou laughed and lifted a hand.
"Maybe not, but that's normal to me. Been livin' like this for years—and honestly... I kinda like it."
The bell for first period. When he walked into class, the homeroom teacher was waiting with a stack of forms.
"Kagetsu. Before you sit—status check."
They lined up at the board. Each flick of the teacher's finger down the pages read out a history of "unexcused absences" and "leaving without permission."
"...That's all. Every grade at failing level. Even with remediation, there's no catching up. Therefore, you're in the Self-Study Room until further notice. Fill in every missing assignment."
"You're kidding..."
"I'm not. Don't bother resisting. Don't go back to your seat. Take your things to the study room in the admin building."
◇
The study room was too quiet. Only the wind existed beyond the windows; inside, it was paper-smell and the rough grain of old desks.
One person sat at the back—long bangs swept to one side, lips with a faint tint, expression balanced between a smile and not.
"Welcome to the losers' paradise," she said—half joking, low in temperature.
"And you are?"
"Written 'calamity' and 'lotus': Sairen. You're Sekou Kagetsu. The kid who jumped out a window yesterday and oops—broadcast himself nationwide."
"Don't 'oops' it. That was a battlefield."
"So why are you here, then?"
"I'm not a truant... not exactly. I'm training to be a yōkai-killer. That's why I fell behind. Can't help it."
Sairen flipped open a slim laptop with delicate fingers. On-screen: the boy whiffing at a Nuribotoke—and the woman with purple hair pulverizing everything at the end.
"'Yōkai-killer,' huh. This is you. —You're, impressively, not killing anything."
"Hold up, I'm still early game, okay? My growth curve's nuts."
Sekou hurriedly closed the screen and coughed into his fist. "Not finished yet."
"Sure, sure. Boys." She lifted a shoulder, reopened a different tab—live footage.
A downtown intersection. From every gap in the pipes, rats were spilling like a wave. On a rooftop perched a beast-shaped shadow in ragged cloth—iron-dull nose, hooklike claws, and rusted spines up its back.
"—Tesso," she murmured.
A flash of bare steel at the frame's edge: Aki.
Laughter bleeding through the static: Yukika.
A bone bow peeking over a roofline: Ikue.
And on the street, a presence that made the air heavier by simply setting a foot down: Shibukanu.
"Yeah... I gotta go."
Sekou kicked his chair back to stand—
"Kagetsu." The study-room supervisor, Mr. Kirishima, leaned on the rear doorframe, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "Where are you going."
"The site."
"You are not. Sit. This entire stack—today."
A mountain of worksheets hit his desk with the mean sound of an avalanche.
"But—the city—"
"The study room is not the site. Your site is here."
Kirishima's voice erased the exits. Sekou swallowed his click of the tongue and dropped into the chair.
—On-screen, the rats multiplied.
◇
Downtown.
Tesso writhed atop a traffic signal, belching a rust-colored animal reek. Sound like singing sand rattled out of its mouth; every time its hooked arms shredded a signboard, a black wave of fur poured roof to roof.
"The number is annoying," Aki said shortly, lowering her blade. Two steps, three. Ki gathered on the edge; ten thin crescents ran.
The rat-swarm fell to the pavement in cross-sections; the half-moons that crossed the sky brushed Tesso's arm—no, the instant they brushed it, the forearm was floating, severed.
Tesso howled madly. "Ugigigi!"
"Too loud," Yukika said, and brought her scissors down laughing. The other leg broke ties with the floor.
"Bye-bye, left leg."
From a rooftop shadow, Ikue's bow sang. Curses etched into the bone stained the fletching; three arrows drew into a single point.
Tesso's throat jammed; wordless bubbles burst at its mouth.
Lastly, the painted white line on the street gave a little shiver.
Shibukanu took one step. A small movement of the fist.
The world moved late to match it; Tesso's jaw folded sideways, clean.
The head sagged; the hulking body convulsed and hit the ground.
"...Done," Aki said, shaking the blade off. Ikue swept the stray rats; Yukika gave the leftovers a satisfied kick.
Through the split in its crushed jaw, Tesso grinned, scraping, "Hee... hee... the Rokumashū... will have your heads..."
Before it finished, Shibukanu's fist dropped again. Fangs scattered; the voice vanished completely.
"Threats are unnecessary. Mission complete."
Yukika knit her brows. "So the Rokumashū still have survivors?"
"Whether they do or don't, it's the same," Shibukanu said, already turning away. "—We're collecting a problem child."
◇
Late afternoon, outside the school gate.
Busted for attempted escape, Sekou stood with Mr. Kirishima.
"Two more months. Study room."
"Wait, why the increase..."
"Because you just tried to escape."
Then four black shadows. No wind—only their presence arrived first.
Yukika waved. Ikue manufactured the shape of a smile. Aki dipped her chin without a word. Shibukanu looked straight at Kirishima.
"You're his 'guardians'?" Kirishima asked.
"Who's asking."
Shibukanu's reply was quick, dry, and oddly courteous.
"...I am."
"—Something like that."
And that concluded the "discussion." She lifted Sekou by the scruff with one hand and tucked him under her arm.
"Going home."
"W—wait—optics! The optics!"
"Safety over optics."
"...Yes, ma'am."
Kirishima raised a hand to his glasses, opened his mouth like he was searching for words—and let it go.
Behind the classroom windows, Sairen was watching. A tiny fingertip wave. A crease of a smile at her lip.
Sekou answered "later" with his eyes. She turned back to the screen at once and started typing.
In her pupils, the light of the display stretched thin, like spider silk.
Evening.
Four and one shadows slipped from the gate and merged with the city's noise.
Only the word Rokumashū stayed behind, lingering in his ears like a parting chill.
—-