Taisai Tensei said nothing more. He simply caught Kitagawa's hand and began cutting through the jubilant crowd with surprising speed and precision.
"Eh? Ten-kun? Where are we going? Aren't we heading home?" she called, half-running to keep up.
"Follow me."
Even amid the thundering music and cheers, his voice was clear as crystal. He moved as if he had a fixed destination in mind, weaving between masked dancers and vendors, quickly leaving the neon main street behind. After a few sharp turns, the two slipped into a narrow alley.
Instantly, the temperature dropped. The wall of sound outside vanished, muffled as if sealed away behind glass. Only faint drumbeats and laughter leaked in from afar.
A single, dim streetlamp hung crookedly at the alley's entrance, casting tired yellow light. The cracked walls were plastered with faded concert posters and peeling stickers. In one corner, several dented trash cans emitted a faint sour smell—so different from the sweetness of roasted chestnuts and candy apples just steps away.
Typical Tokyo, 2018. Behind every floodlit street was a damp, forgotten corner like this.
Marin finally steadied herself, glancing around with wary curiosity. "What's going on? Why did you bring me here? It's so dark…"
Her tone carried complaint, but her eyes shone more with intrigue than fear. Taisai turned to face her, and that familiar smirk—lazy, arrogant, and just a bit too confident—returned to his lips. Under the flickering streetlight, his white hair glowed like frost.
He set their shopping bag down against the wall. "Next," he said, his voice echoing lightly through the narrow space, "is the moment you witness a miracle."
Marin blinked, speechless. Before she could react, Taisai took two small steps back. The smirk faded, replaced by focus—his entire presence sharpening in an instant.
He exhaled. Closed his eyes. And extended his right hand, palm upward, fingers curved as though holding something invisible.
"Yamato."
The name cut cleanly through the air. A spark ignited in his palm—an impossibly pure, ethereal blue point of light. It was tiny, no larger than a rice grain, yet blinding in intensity, as if a blue star had been compressed into the shape of a tear.
It did not explode outward. Instead, it condensed—stretching, stabilizing—its radiance folding inward like liquid glass. The faint hum of air pressure built, resonating with a high-pitched ring.
Within seconds, the light had sculpted itself into the shape of a blade.
A straight edge. A simple, elegant guard. A hilt wrapped in white and black, long enough for two hands.
Buzz—!
A deep metallic note reverberated through the alley. Then the light vanished, leaving reality behind.
In Taisai Tensei's grip gleamed a sword.
A katana—no, a thing far beyond any earthly weapon. Its body shimmered with muted, dark metallic luster. The line of its blade was nearly straight, its sharpness contained but suffocatingly clear. The guard, twin hexagons crossed. The hilt bound in white, capped in black. A deep blue strap coiled around the scabbard, its ends hanging loose.
The weapon exuded a chill that made even the air seem to draw back.
It was unmistakable. The blade of legends—the Yamato.
For several seconds, Marin could only stare. Her wide eyes reflected both the sword and the man holding it, the faint lamplight catching the edges of his smile. Outside, Shibuya's revelry continued, muffled but steady: zombie laughter, clinking glasses, glowsticks waving through the night.
Marin's lips parted. Her throat felt dry; words wouldn't come.
The alley's weak light flickered across the blade's dark sheen, the blue strap gleaming faintly. Everything about it screamed unreal—like a movie scene come to life.
Then—her stunned silence broke like glass.
"Waaah—!!!"
Her scream wasn't fear—it was pure, explosive excitement. She hopped on her toes, wine-red hair bouncing, devil horns trembling wildly. She rushed right up to him, her face glowing brighter than any Shibuya sign.
"Ten-kun!" she gasped, pointing at the blade, eyes wide with awe. "So… you're a hero, right?!"
Taisai blinked, he couldn't follow. "...Huh? What?"
"Like a real hero! Fighting monsters! Protecting the city!" She waved her hands as if holding an imaginary sword. "Like tokusatsu heroes! Like—bam!—super moves and explosions!"
"...Monsters? Tokusatsu?" Taisai muttered, deadpan. "Don't tell me this world has Saitama-sensei too..."
But Marin was already lost in wonder, eyes shimmering. "Ten-kun, what kind of power is that? Can you just 'whoosh!' make it appear? Are you, like, a secret swordmaster?!"
Taisai couldn't help laughing softly. She was too easy to please.
"Watch closely," he said.
He turned toward the wall, raising the Yamato. The air itself seemed to tense.
Shhh—!
The blade unsheathed, a blur of blue-white steel slicing through shadow. With no warning, Taisai flicked his wrist—one horizontal cut, then one vertical.
Rip—!
The air tore like silk. Right before them, a perfect cross-shaped rift split open, trembling with flickers of pale blue lightning.
Beyond the crack was no wall, no darkness—only a void, endless and deep, filled with drifting shards of color and starlight. A passage to another world.
Marin's breath caught. Her eyes widened to their limits, reflecting the rift's celestial light. Inside those scarlet lenses, entire galaxies spun. Taisai calmly sheathed the Yamato with a single motion and turned to her, the usual playful smile returning. He extended a hand.
"Let's go home, Marin."
"Mm—! Mm-hmm!" She nodded furiously, grabbing his hand without hesitation. Hand in hand, they stepped into the rift. Light and shadow wrapped around them—then vanished.
The alley fell silent again. Only the lone streetlamp remained, shining on the forgotten shopping bag by the wall. Outside, the sounds of Shibuya's Halloween drifted faintly, like echoes from another realm.
A few sparks fluttered at the edge of the rift—and then it sealed shut.
When Marin opened her eyes, her vision overflowed with color. The next instant—she landed on solid wood.
Gone was the damp alley; in its place stood Taisai Tensei's living room, warm light filling every corner. The faint scent of household cleaner replaced the sour alley air. Stickers she'd pasted weeks ago still clung to the walls. Everything was home again.
"Eh?!" She spun around.
Behind her, the rift still lingered—fading slowly, its blue sparks flickering like starlight. A doorway to the impossible hung there, right on the wall beside the genkan.
"Ten-kun!" she cried, turning toward him with glowing eyes. "Can we go again?! Just once more—I didn't see it clearly!"
Taisai looked at her flushed face and those sparkling red lenses, so full of wonder that he couldn't help but laugh.
"Next time," he said, gently ruffling her hair. "I promise."
"Ugh… fine." She pouted but immediately brightened again, spinning twice before collapsing into the couch with a delighted "Ah—!"
She stared up at the ceiling, grinning. "My boyfriend's a superhero! Way cooler than any cosplay!"
Taisai chuckled, sitting beside her and pulling her close.
"Don't get too excited," he murmured, rubbing her head. "You might not be able to sleep."
Nestled against him, Marin finally relaxed, but curiosity still sparkled in her gaze. "Hey, Ten-kun… back in Shibuya—you were acting strange. You saw something, didn't you? A villain? A supervillain?!"
He tightened his arm around her, eyes flicking toward the clock on the wall.
20:40.
He gave a small nod. Then, slowly, his expression cooled.
Images flashed behind his eyes—the laughing crowd, the spreading black mud, the white-haired silhouette beneath the corrupted sky.
Shibuya. Halloween. And him. A faint, dangerous smile curved Taisai's lips.
No need to rush, he thought. It's just beginning.
After all, what better chance to test the limits of his power than on a real-world battlefield?
"Ten-kun?" Marin's voice pulled him back.
He looked down at her—the blush on her cheeks, her soft breath, the warmth in his arms—and smiled faintly.
"Nothing serious," he said lazily. "Anyway… we've got time tonight. Movie? Or maybe games?"
"Hm… or maybe—" Marin's voice dropped to a whisper, her cheeks deepening in color, "you want to see my… succubus outfit?"
The clock ticked softly. 20:42.
Taisai's grin returned—calm, knowing, and a little wicked. Plenty of time indeed.