Nagae Estate — Kyoya's Office — 7:30 P.M.
Riku's POV
Classes had ended smoothly enough. I'd told Marina that I wouldn't make it to CiRCLE tonight since I had a session lined up with Momo. Dennojo-san and the rest of OG would handle Misha's training in the meantime—so at least the live house wouldn't be idle.
Momo was already waiting at the location we agreed upon, looking both eager and nervous. Once we started, though, she was a quick study—sharp, attentive, and surprisingly disciplined for someone who tended to fumble her words when excited. She followed every instruction to the letter, and even added her trademark charm to her designs—tiny details that gave her work this almost innocent warmth. I didn't stop her. It was her style; she deserved to make it shine.
Her Solar Hands caught my eye partway through the session—radiant, pulsing in a rhythm that reminded me of my own. I told her as much, and she lit up like a child seeing fireworks for the first time. We went over a few more techniques—mainly timing and infusion control—before calling it a day after nearly an hour and a half.
Before leaving, Momo turned to me and bowed deeply, her usual playfulness replaced with sincerity. "On behalf of the Tōtsuki Elite Ten, thank you, Riku. The academy's finally breathing again. Everyone's finding their rhythm. You helped us make that possible."
I just smiled. That girl's growing faster than she realizes.
But that sense of quiet progress—of everything slowly falling into place—was shattered the moment I got the call from Akina-san. The tone of her voice was enough to twist my gut. By the time the line went dead, I was already making my way to Grandfather's office, Tina trailing close behind.
Now, standing before him, the air in the room was heavy. Grandfather's eyes moved between the report I received and the official file he'd just opened from his desk—two separate accounts, one identical truth.
"There's no mistaking it," Kyoya muttered, his voice flat as stone. "What Akina-kun reported lines up with the bombing I was just informed of. The question is—who's behind it?"
"Akina-san said Aya and Momiji handled the situation," I replied. "They'll fill us in once they get here."
As if on cue, the office doors swung open. Aya strode in first, Momiji following, both wearing the same exhausted tension.
"Sorry for the delay," Aya said, lowering her head slightly. "We had to confirm a few things before coming."
Kyoya gestured for them to sit. "You're right on time. Let's hear your report."
Both nodded. "Hai."
By the time they finished, silence settled like dust. Grandfather leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded, and I caught myself rubbing the bridge of my nose. The conclusion was obvious.
"So it was Nergal and the Black Fang," I said quietly. "But why target civilians? What's their angle?"
Kyoya's tone was grim. "If they had aimed for you, or me, that would at least make strategic sense. But this... an open attack on your friends in daylight? That's a declaration."
"And the method matches what happened to Shinomiya Oko," I added, glancing toward the dossier on the table.
"That's what concerns me most." His gaze flicked toward Tina. "Have you heard anything from your father about the Fang's movements?"
Tina shook her head, as her eyes were half closed. "He said they've been unusually quiet, but... he also told me to stay alert here. He suspects something's brewing."
Kyoya's frown deepened. "Then we'll raise surveillance across the country. Tina, you may go—Keine-sensei must be waiting."
Tina bowed politely before slipping out of the room, leaving the door ajar just enough for the faint hum of cicadas outside to bleed in.
"How are the girls?" I asked, turning to Momiji.
"They've all been escorted home safely," she said. "Aya and I assigned tengu watchers to keep guard. Sawamura-kun's been hospitalized, but he won't be charged—he's as much a victim as anyone. We've got a few of our best keeping tabs on him."
Aya nodded in agreement. "Don't worry too much, Riku. They're in good hands."
"I appreciate it," I said softly, leaning back. "Now, about that book you retrieved—the one that guy dropped. Any progress?"
Momiji sighed. "Patchouli and Kosuzu are still decoding it. They said the language is like nothing they've seen before. It'll take time."
Kyoya's eyes narrowed. "Did they say anything else before you left?"
Aya nodded. "Only that the grimoire contains dark magic—ancient, predating even the oldest known demon texts."
Grandfather exhaled through his nose, the weight of it all showing for a moment. "Thank you both. You've done well. Go get some rest—and stay alert."
They bowed once more and exited. When the door shut, only the faint crackle of the desk lamp filled the silence. Grandfather turned toward the window, watching the lanterns flicker across the estate grounds.
"So," I asked quietly, "what's next?"
"For now, nothing." His reflection on the glass looked older somehow—less the unshakable head of the Nagae and more a man aware of how thin the ground had become. "We'll wait for Yukari's return. Once she's here, we'll regroup. Until then, your and Mafuyu's training will intensify—particularly in countering mages, especially dark types. Tina may join if she wishes. The family heads will set the parameters soon."
"Understood." I stood. "If that's all, I'll return to my room. The song's acting up again."
He turned back, one brow raised. "Who's visiting this time?"
"Kasen-san," I said with a dry chuckle. "Actually—two of her."
Kyoya blinked once, then sighed. "I won't ask. Handle it as you see fit. Have you eaten?"
"Yeah. Momo and I grabbed dinner before parting ways."
"Good. I'll inform Mafuyu and Tina to dine without waiting for you."
I nodded, offering a faint smile before stepping out. The corridor stretched ahead, dim and quiet except for the low hum of the evening cicadas. For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe—then my phone buzzed.
A message from Johan.
"Yo, got a sec tonight?"
I texted back,
"Busy till ten. What's up?"
His reply came almost instantly.
"Limited raid dungeon just opened—NFO Japan server. Reward's a Class Change Ticket. Window's 10:30 to 12:30. Level 95 and up."
I froze mid-step. That kind of drop didn't come around often. I considered inviting Rinko and Ako-chan, but both had mentioned taking a break. Guess it'd just be me, Johan, and the usual idiots.
The song could wait. Inspiration wasn't exactly cooperative tonight anyway—the melody in my head was still fogged, shifting like smoke every time I tried to catch it.
I typed my reply without hesitation.
"You son of a bitch, I'm in."
He sent back a laughing emoji.
"Knew you couldn't resist. The boys are prepping. Meet us after you're done."
I pocketed my phone, shaking my head with a quiet grin. Some habits never died, even after everything. Maybe that was a good thing.
By the time I reached my room, the estate had gone still—only the faint sounds of guards switching shifts echoing through the courtyard. I opened my door, took one last glance at the faint lights from Grandfather's office, and muttered under my breath,
"Guess the night's not done yet."
Then I got to work, finishing what I needed before the clock struck ten. The calm before another storm.
Riku's Room – 9:30 P.M.
Riku's POV
It took me nearly an hour and a half to finish the paperwork piled on my desk. By the time I finally hit "save," I felt like my brain was halfway cooked. Before logging into the game, I noticed a new message from Aya-chan.
She wrote that Pastel✽Palettes had just been invited to appear as special guests on a well-known talk show airing at six tomorrow evening. She sounded hesitant—unsure if they were ready. I told her straight: you're not completely ready yet, but this is your chance to clear up all the confusion from the past few days. She got it immediately. Within seconds, she replied with a cheerful thanks, we'll do our best!
I wished her luck, leaned back for a breath, then launched NFO and logged in.
[OG.Iku is online]
The familiar glow of the guild base filled my screen. Johan—known in-game as N0tail—was already there, flipping through inventory lists like a man preparing for war.
"Riku, right on time," he said without looking up.
Name: OG.N0tail
Level: 100
Class: Enchanter
Enchanter. One of the rarest and most fragile classes in Neo Fantasy Online. Weak offense, paper-thin defense, and zero solo capability. Less than ten percent of the player base had the patience—or the masochism—to main one. But in a coordinated team? They could make or break an entire raid.
"Aren't you a bit too early?" I asked, pulling up a chair beside him.
"The boys are still packing for tomorrow," Johan said with a shrug. "I figured I'd get our loadout ready first."
I didn't bother replying. Instead, I joined him in sorting potions, antidotes, scrolls, and any odd material we might need. The familiar rhythm between us set in—clean, efficient, wordless. Then, one by one, the others began logging in.
[OG.Yuragi is online]
[OG.bzm is online]
[OG.Taiga is online]
[OG.Misha is online]
Five more icons flared to life. It had been a while since I played with this full roster; the newer members had joined after I left for Japan.
OG.Yuragi — Level 97, Sniper.
A long-range class with surgical precision. They dealt absurd critical damage from afar, but up close? Their attack power tanked by sixty percent. The rule of thumb was simple: keep your distance or die trying.
OG.bzm — Level 95, Invoker.
One of the most complex and rare spellcaster classes. Invokers could wield fire, ice, and lightning at once—conjuring chaos incarnate—but every spell came with crippling cooldowns. Overheat your mana and you were dead weight.
OG.Taiga — Level 100, Dark Druid.
A healer that flirted with the edge of death. They siphoned life through damage, twisting pain into recovery. His level 100 talent, Burrowed Time, turned incoming damage into healing for his whole party.
And finally, OG.Misha — Level 100, Guardian.
A walking fortress. Pure defense, pure endurance. With Sayo's same tanking style, Misha could take hits that would flatten anyone else.
Johan looked around the room, satisfied. "Alright, everyone's here. You guys done packing in real life?"
A few grunts and nods.
He spread a glowing map on the digital table. "Here's what our informants sent. The dungeon's called Eltrion Flying Fortress. High-level, airborne, platform-based. Anyone under level 90 gets one-shot the second they step inside."
The map expanded before us—hundreds of floating platforms spiraling into a cloud-covered abyss. I whistled low. "That's... a lot of jumping."
"Yup," Johan said dryly. "Better stretch your fingers."
Yuragi adjusted his scope, zooming in on the central platform. "Any info on the boss?"
Johan tapped the console, and the holographic monitor flickered to life—revealing the monster in question.
[Mechanical Monarch of the Sky: Eltrion MKII]
When we see what the boss looks like, one thing is on our minds...we're fucked.
For a second, no one said a word.
Then bzm blurted, "We're fighting that thing?! We're six people! Six!"
Taiga grimaced. "And no visible HP bar either. This thing's going to be a nightmare."
I leaned forward, squinting. "Wait... didn't this boss appear on the South American server three weeks ago?"
Misha crossed his arms. "Yeah. That makes it a Roaming Raid Boss."
Roaming Raids were infamous—bosses that migrated between servers like plagues. They stayed a week or two before vanishing, and unlike standard raids, they didn't display HP bars. Instead, players only saw a server-wide counter tracking the total damage dealt. Kill credit went to whoever landed the final strike—or whoever contributed the most overall damage.
But there was always a trick.
"We'll need hundreds of players to even make a dent," I said. "Still, Panda mentioned the boss should be weakened by now. If that's true, this might be our only shot."
"Exactly," Johan replied. "That's why I've already contacted other guilds for backup."
I tilted my head. "And let me guess—they want compensation."
He smirked. "You know how it goes. They want a portion of the drops once we win."
"Fair enough. Who's joining us?"
"Westwind Brigade and DDD."
I couldn't help but grin. "So those two. It's been a while since we fought alongside them. Alright, let's form—"
I didn't get to finish.
Two new notifications popped up back-to-back, flashing bright pink across the guild chat.
[OG.Rin-Rin is online]
[OG.Demon Princess Ako is online]
Oh no.
Before anyone could react, the doors to the virtual meeting room burst open. Ako-chan stormed in, eyes blazing, cape flaring behind her like a miniature storm. Rinko followed quietly, trying—and failing—to hide her amusement.
Ako-chan jabbed a finger at me. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU, RIKU-NII! You're going to fight a badass raid boss and didn't invite me or Rin-Rin?!"
I sighed. "Didn't you say you two were taking a break?"
"We were," she said without missing a beat, "but then we heard about this raid! There's no way we're missing this. Look at our levels—we're more than ready!"
I opened their status windows.
OG.Demon Princess Ako — Level 97, Summoner.
OG.Rin-Rin — Level 100, Sorceress (Ice).
I raised an eyebrow. "Huh. You've both been grinding hard."
"Damn right we have," Ako-chan said proudly, hands on her hips.
Johan chuckled. "Honestly, this works in our favor. Riku, take Rinko, Ako, and Artem with you. I'll lead with Taiga, Misha, and bzm."
I nodded. "Got it. I'll be vanguard. Rinko, Ako-chan—you're my wings. Artem covers us from the rear."
Rinko gave a small nod, calm as ever. Ako-chan saluted with a grin. "You got it, commander!"
Satisfied, I looked to Johan.
"Alright then," he said, rolling up the map. "The other guilds are already waiting. Let's set a record tonight."
He raised his staff, casting the teleportation sigil beneath our feet.
"Let's move, OG."
The world fractured into light.
(A/N: Yes, I added some Log Horizon and Elsword elements in NFO for this story. I like both, I played Elsword since it's release and I like Log Horizon more...way better than SAO ngl.....)
3 hours later....
The battle had stretched into eternity. My fingers felt like they'd been run through a grinder — ironic, given all the years they'd spent dancing on piano keys. But even that kind of endurance didn't prepare me for the storm we'd just survived.
The Eltrion MKII raid had been brutal from start to finish. Funnels and Fang Bits rained down from every direction, and the entire field was a minefield of lasers and floating platforms. The boss didn't just attack — it played us, forcing constant repositioning, sharp calls, and perfectly timed skills. After three hours of chaos, we finally brought it down.
The battlefield was littered with motionless avatars, glowing faintly before fading into the respawn ether. Some of them wouldn't log back in for a while. Rinko, Ako-chan, and I were sprawled on the ground, panting through our mics as if exhaustion could bleed through digital code.
Ako's voice crackled first. "That was insane... I swear my heart rate's higher than my character's HP."
Rinko gave a faint laugh — soft, breathless, a little dazed. "Three hours of pure hell... and yet you're still talking, Ako."
I chuckled, rubbing my stiff hands. "Be glad you still can talk. My fingers tapped so much that I can't even type. Voice chat's my only hope now."
A notification pinged through the silence. Up ahead, Johan stood with the guild leaders of the West Wind Brigade and DDD, deep in discussion beside the pulsing remains of the boss's core. Even in avatar form, Johan had that same posture he carried in real life — steady, shoulders relaxed, a strategist at work. When he turned toward me, his voice cut through the static.
"Riku, come over here for a sec."
I forced my character to its feet, every movement slow, as though fatigue were programmed into the controls. When I reached the group, Johan opened a trade window, his usual teasing smirk replaced by something more deliberate.
"Well," he said, "the others and I decided you've earned this."
The trade window flickered open. The item inside made me freeze.
[+0 Eltrion MKII Cannon]
Class: Phantasmal
Durability: 1500/1500
Req. Level: 100
Physical Attack: 12,000
Magical Attack: 10,500
Physical Defense: 6,500
Magical Defense: 6,500
HP: 85,000
MP: 55,000
Additional Stats:
Physical/Magical Attack: +30%
Physical/Magical Defense: +20%
HP/Mana: +20%
Unique Passive: Eltrion Spirit - Every 3 attacks will have a 30% chance to add [Eltrion Spirit], increases movement speed and jump speed by 5%. Lasts 30 seconds (Can be stacked. Max Stacks: 5)
Unique Skill: Eltrion Positron Laser - By removing 5 stacks of [Eltrion Spirit] can summon Eltrion and fires a laser that affects in a cone area, dealing huge magical damage and a guarantee chance to paralyze anything it hits. Paralyzed enemies will take 150% critical damage.
Weapon Enhancements: 6
Weapon can gain any bonuses from other armor sets.
Enhancement Bonuses:
+1: Critical Chance +10%
+2: All Elemental Resistance +35%
+3: Skill Life Steal +20%
+4: Skill Cooldown +15%
+5: Skill Damage Amplification +15%
+6: Movement/Attack Speed +25%
+7: Status Resistance +20%
+8: Physical and Magical Attack +15%
+9: Physical and Magical Defense +15%
+10: Mana Cost -15%
+11: Critical Damage +25%
+12: Max HP and Mana +20%
For a moment, I just stared at the screen. Then, quietly:
"You're giving this to me?"
Krusty, the DDD leader, folded his arms and grinned from beneath his armored helm. "You're the reason half of us made it out alive. You kept the openings coming, adjusted to every shift, and carried the vanguard through chaos. Consider it payment — and respect."
Soujirou, the calm yet mischievous head of West Wind Brigade, nodded beside him. "You tanked hits meant for entire guilds, Riku. You practically danced through the air up there. You deserve the spoils more than anyone."
Their words hit harder than the victory music playing faintly in the background. Compliments like that — especially from players of their caliber — didn't come easy.
I nodded slowly. "Then I'll accept it. But... what do I do with my current weapon?"
Krusty rubbed his chin. "I might know a collector who can handle it if you want to auction it off. Top bidder only deals through me, so you'll be safe from the scammers."
He sent a friend request, followed by Soujirou. Both notifications blinked on-screen like quiet symbols of camaraderie forged through chaos. I accepted them without hesitation.
Krusty turned to his guildmates. "Alright everyone, loot distribution's done. Get some rest — real rest. We've all got lives to live outside this world."
Soujirou chuckled. "Same here. I've got an early meeting, and I doubt my boss will accept 'fighting a mechanical dragon' as an excuse for being late."
They waved before logging out one by one, their avatars dissolving into light.
Johan stretched his digital arms. "That's that. What about you, Riku?"
I sighed, stretching my own sore wrists. "I've got school in a few hours. You guys probably have flights or scrims or something, right?"
"Pretty much," Johan said. "We'll handle cleanup here. Go crash."
"Thanks, man."
I turned toward the other two still sprawled out nearby. "Rinko, Ako — we're done. Let's log out before our brains melt. We still have school tomorrow"
Ako-chan groaned but nodded. "Fine... but next time, I'm bringing snacks IRL. Three hours of raiding without food should be a crime."
Rinko's laugh followed me as the screen faded. "You say that every time."
And then — silence. The rush of sound vanished as I pulled off my headset. The only thing left was the faint hum of the computer fans and the ache running from my wrists to my elbows. My hands trembled slightly, the muscles twitching from hours of constant movement.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at my fingers — these same fingers that used to glide effortlessly over ivory keys, now sore from a digital war. There was something poetic about that. Music or combat, artistry or chaos — it all came down to rhythm, timing, precision.
"Maybe a good night's rest will fix this," I muttered to no one.
The room was dim except for the faint glow of the monitor. The estate outside was quiet — far too quiet compared to the chaos I'd just logged out of. The transition from mechanical roars to cicadas was jarring. Still, it grounded me. Reminded me that this was real, and everything else was just coded light.
I shut down the computer, the fans winding down to silence. My reflection flickered briefly on the black screen — eyes tired, but oddly content. The Eltrion MKII Cannon rested somewhere in my inventory, glowing faintly in that digital void. A trophy, yes, but also a reminder of what teamwork and stubbornness could pull off.
I let myself fall back onto the bed, the soft rustle of sheets a strange comfort after all that adrenaline. My body felt heavy, like the weight of that digital fortress had followed me into reality.
As I stared at the ceiling, the raid replayed in flashes — the blinding beams, the screams over voice chat, Johan's calm orders, Rinko's icy spells spiraling across the sky. Even Ako-chan's manic laughter every time she summoned a demon that exploded too close for comfort.
For a second, I wondered if this was what drew me to all of it — the balance between creation and destruction. Between being an artist on stage and a fighter in a virtual world. Both demanded precision. Both punished hesitation. Both left you trembling when the curtain finally fell.
The edges of my vision began to blur, the exhaustion dragging me under. My last conscious thought was of that faint glow from the monitor before it shut off — like the lingering heartbeat of a machine that refused to sleep.
Tomorrow would bring its own battles. For now, I let myself drift, hands still tingling, mind halfway between two worlds — one of sound and one of code.
And as sleep finally claimed me, I could almost hear the faint echo of the Eltrion Cannon's roar fading into the quiet of the night.
June 2, 2021 – Wednesday – 6:30 A.M.
The morning light bled through the curtains, thin and gold. I rolled my shoulders once, shaking off the dull weight of sleep. Same routine as always—stretch, a quick bath, and the uniform pressed to neat precision. Habit had a way of grounding me, even when the world outside refused to sit still.
By the time I stepped out of my room, the smell of freshly toasted bread drifted faintly from the kitchen. I told Aizawa to prep my Rezvani; I'd be driving myself today. There were too many errands to risk waiting around.
When I reached the dining room, Mafuyu was already seated, school bag beside her, posture perfect as usual.
"Good morning, nii-san," she greeted, her tone polite but still sleepy.
"Morning to you too," I replied, pulling out a chair across from her. "Come on, let's eat. We've got a long day ahead."
She nodded lightly. The two of us ate in silence for a while, the quiet hum of the house filling the gaps between bites. It wasn't awkward—just... peaceful. Until I noticed her thumb swiping over her phone between mouthfuls of food.
"Mafuyu," I said, glancing over my coffee cup, "you do know it's a bit rude to eat while scrolling through your phone, right?"
Her eyes flicked up, a bit guilty. "Sorry. I just need to send these homework files to Kanade. She asked me to handle it before classes."
"Homework files?" I raised a brow. "Does Kanade even go to school in the first place?"
"She does," Mafuyu replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. "She's taking online courses because, well... you know. And I send them to her cause she forgets it most of the time."
"Ah." I exhaled through my nose. "That makes sense."
She continued typing while explaining. "Ena and Mizuki go to Kamiyama. Ena takes night classes, Mizuki takes regular ones."
I leaned back in my chair. "Huh. I wonder how they balance it out. Must be chaos. You used to take regular classes back in Miyamasuzuka, didn't you?"
Mafuyu smiled faintly. "I was the class rep before I transferred to Hanasakigawa. That came with... a lot of extra duties."
"I can imagine." I finished the last of my toast, placing the fork down gently. "Once you're done sending that, finish your breakfast and meet me at the garage, alright?"
She nodded without looking up, still focused on her screen.
"Gochisousama," I murmured, standing and heading out.
The garage was already quiet except for the low hum of the security system. The Rezvani's matte-black frame reflected the morning light in streaks. I checked the tires, adjusted the mirrors, and sat behind the wheel for a moment, listening to the faint echo of the engine coming to life.
Ten minutes later, the door opened. Mafuyu appeared, bag slung over her shoulder.
"So you're using your car today?" she asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.
"Yeah," I replied, fastening my seatbelt. "There's something I need to take care of this afternoon. Easier if I drive myself."
She simply nodded and pulled the seatbelt across her chest. The engine purred as I drove us through the gates, the morning air cutting cool through the open windows.
A few hours later
Live House CiRCLE – Riku's Office – 5:30 P.M.
The day had been a blur. School came and went without much drama, but for Chisato, Aya, and Eve, it was a different story. Their classrooms had turned into interrogation pits the moment they stepped in. Classmates cornered them with questions about yesterday's agency mess, worried looks everywhere.
They handled it well enough—smiling, brushing off the tension—but even through the casual responses, I could tell they were drained. I caught up with Chisato afterward, asked her about the talk show Aya-chan had mentioned. She said the agency planned to use it to clear up the misunderstanding. I told her to keep her guard up—anything broadcasted can twist fast.
The other odd thing today was Yuyuko-san. She was glowing—literally glowing. A soft light around her form, almost like her spirit had just come back from a long, deep rest. Even for a ghost, it was strange. Maybe something happened between her and Youmu again. I wasn't about to pry. Whatever it was, it wasn't my business... or maybe I just didn't want to know.
Now, the office at CiRCLE smelled faintly of paper and coffee. The faint hum of the air conditioner drowned out the city noise beyond the glass. I sat behind my desk, scanning the stack of files that VALVE had sent. Most of it was prep material for the TI group stage—venue schedules, broadcast permits, and competitor logistics. It was tedious but necessary.
Youmu was in the café area downstairs, helping Saki and Honami behind the counter. When we'd arrived earlier, Johan and the rest of OG were already setting up with Dennojo-san. They were prepping Misha for his final training session before the qualifiers. The guy looked exhausted but determined—exactly where he needed to be.
I'd asked Dennojo about Shinobu and the rest of Peaky P-key. He told me they wouldn't be around; something came up at Yoba that needed their attention. Fair enough—everyone had their battles to fight.
After they left for the studio, Ichika and the rest of Leo/need came in to start their shift. Youmu introduced herself formally, bowing slightly in that elegant, old-fashioned way of hers. The girls were caught off guard but warmed up quick; it's hard not to like Youmu once she speaks.
After their introductions, they disappeared into the dressing room, chattering about stage lights and song rotations. I stayed behind, back in the office, neck-deep in schedules and documents.
The clock read 5:28 P.M. when I leaned back and rubbed my temples. The soft orange hue of sunset painted long lines across the window blinds. Somewhere downstairs, I could hear Leo/need's instruments being tuned—the distant echo of drums, the faint strum of guitar strings.
A notification popped up on my screen—reminder for a 6:00 P.M. meeting with other live house owners chosen to host the TI group stages. I couldn't afford to miss that, even though part of me wanted to turn on the TV instead. Aya and the others' talk show was set to air soon.
My eyes flicked to the small flat-screen mounted on the far wall. The remote was within reach. For a few seconds, I debated it—curiosity versus duty.
I turned away. Work first. Always.
Still, my thoughts wouldn't quite quiet down. I pictured them—Aya-chan smiling through questions, Chisato sitting with perfect posture beside her, Eve trying to keep the air light. They'd handle themselves fine. They always did. But the industry loved nothing more than turning sincerity into spectacle.
"I hope those girls don't screw it up," I muttered under my breath, half a sigh, half a prayer.
Tokyo TV – Studio 3
June 2, 2021 – 6:00 P.M.
3rd POV
The polished floor of Studio 3 gleamed beneath the glare of stage lights. Technicians moved briskly behind the cameras, making last-minute checks as cables snaked like black veins across the ground. On the big screen behind the host's desk, the show's logo shimmered—Evening Hour, Tokyo TV's midweek talk segment known for its breezy energy and sly gossip.
The crowd murmured in soft excitement, fans holding up pastel-colored banners and penlights. Then the studio dimmed, the cue lights blinked red, and the opening jingle hit.
"Hello and good evening, everybody!" The host's voice rang through the speakers, clear and practiced. "Welcome back to The Evening Hour! Tonight we have a very special guest—no, a very special group! They've been the talk of the entertainment world lately, a group blending the brightness of idols and the soul of a band. Please welcome... Pastel*Palettes!"
The curtains drew open with a burst of light as the five girls stepped onto the stage. The applause was deafening, cameras flashing in rhythm as Aya led the group with her signature radiant smile.
"Welcome, girls, welcome," the host continued, gesturing toward the couch arranged near the center. "It's an honor to have you all here. Could you introduce yourselves to our audience tonight?"
Aya stepped forward, her voice lively and confident despite the slight tremor only her bandmates could notice.
"Good evening, everyone! Colors on a round mountain! I'm the vocalist of Pastel*Palettes—Maruyama Aya!"
She struck her iconic pose—finger guns, both hands, a wink that sent the front row squealing.
Next was Hina, bouncing slightly as she waved both arms. "I'm the guitarist, Hikawa Hina! It's super boppin' to be here tonight! Nice to meet you all!"
The crowd laughed softly at her infectious energy.
Chisato followed, her posture elegant and measured, her smile professional yet warm. "I'm the bassist, Shirasagi Chisato. It's a pleasure to meet you all."
Even with only a few words, she drew a quiet kind of admiration—her calm presence balanced the group's energy perfectly.
Then came Maya, cheeks faintly pink under the lights. "Hello, my name is a palindrome! I'm the drummer, Yamato Maya!" She chuckled nervously as a few fans in the crowd laughed appreciatively at her trademark line.
Finally, Eve stepped forward, hands clasped with earnest brightness. "I'm the keyboardist, Wakamiya Eve! I'll do my best through the way of the Bushido!"
The audience cheered again. The host beamed. "Now that everyone's introduced themselves, let's get on with the show!"
Forty-five minutes later...
The segment had gone smoothly so far. The conversation flowed easily—talks of daily routines, fan encounters, what kept them motivated. There were laughs, brief awkward pauses, then more laughs. The girls carried themselves with the polished charm of performers who'd learned how to breathe under pressure.
Aya handled the spotlight gracefully, answering most of the personal questions with her usual optimism. Eve sprinkled in a few Bushido-inspired remarks that earned playful applause. Hina's energy filled in the quiet spots, Maya stammered her way through technical talk about drumming, and Chisato, as always, tied it all together with poise and restraint.
But beneath the laughter, Aya kept glancing at Chisato. She knew what was coming. They all did.
The host leaned back slightly, flashing a knowing smile that made the staff behind the cameras tense. "Now," she said, "for the last question of the night... I'd like to direct this one to Shirasagi Chisato-san."
Chisato straightened subtly, her expression unreadable.
The host picked up a remote and pressed a button. The studio screen behind them flickered—and there it was.
A photograph filled the space: Riku standing at the Totsuki Resort, surrounded by several familiar faces. Kokoro clung to his arm with her usual exuberant grin, and beside them was Chisato herself, smiling faintly at the camera.
A low ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. Aya's smile froze. Eve's hands folded neatly over her lap. Hina stopped mid-swing of her legs, and Maya's fingers tightened slightly around her drum key.
The host turned toward Chisato, her voice light but pointed. "Before you say anything, I just want to confirm something for clarity's sake. I did my research, and there's been... quite a bit of discussion online. Could you tell us your relationship with him?"
The tension was palpable. The air felt heavy, yet Chisato didn't flinch.
Her lips curved into a calm, almost serene smile. "I don't know why everyone's making such a fuss," she said evenly, "about me going on a trip with my brother."
The audience fell silent—utterly still. Even the host blinked in surprise. Aya turned sharply toward her, alarm flashing in her eyes.
"Chisato-chan..." Aya whispered under her breath.
Chisato's gaze didn't waver. "Leave this to me, Aya-chan. I know what I'm doing."
The host hesitated for a moment before catching the thread. "So you're saying you two are siblings?"
Chisato nodded softly. "Yes. Aside from me, the girls in that photo also share a sibling bond with Riku."
Eve and Hina both stiffened slightly, exchanging subtle glances. Aya's grip on her skirt tightened while Maya blinked rapidly, trying to maintain her composure. They understood what Chisato was doing—and why—but the weight of her words pressed down on them all the same.
Rinko's name wasn't mentioned, but it hung in the air, implied and carefully shielded beneath Chisato's choice of phrasing. It was a lie meant to protect—and everyone in Pastel*Palettes knew it.
The host leaned forward with polite curiosity. "I see. If I may ask—how did that bond start?"
Chisato crossed one leg over the other, eyes drifting upward as though sifting through memories. "It started when I'd just begun working as a child actress. I was struggling with my first major role, and Riku happened to see me practicing one afternoon. He offered to help."
She paused briefly, voice steady but gentle. "At first, I was wary. It's not easy trusting strangers in this line of work. But I could tell he meant it sincerely. His guidance helped me find my rhythm, and within a few days, I nailed the lines I'd been stumbling over. From there, we became friends—and over the years, that friendship grew into something closer. A bond like siblings."
Her delivery was smooth, measured. No tremor, no uncertainty. The crowd's initial tension began to fade, replaced by admiration.
The host smiled, impressed. "That's a beautiful story, Chisato-san. It sounds like he's been a big influence in your life."
"He has," Chisato replied softly. "More than I can ever properly express."
"Then," the host continued, flipping through her cue cards, "for our final question of the evening... have you ever confessed to him?"
The question landed like a drop of ink in still water. Aya's breath hitched audibly. Hina's eyes widened. Eve's lips parted in disbelief. Maya's drum key nearly slipped from her fingers.
Chisato didn't move. For a long second, she simply breathed in, exhaled, and answered without hesitation.
"I did."
The collective gasp from the audience was immediate. A few heads turned toward the host, others toward Aya. Cameras adjusted, zooming in on Chisato's face.
Aya's voice cracked quietly. "Chisato-chan..."
Chisato's eyes softened. "But," she said, closing her eyes briefly. "He turned me down."
Hina blurted without thinking, "Wait—you mean Riku-kun rejected you?"
Eve's gaze dropped to her lap, the faintest flicker of realization crossing her face. "So that's what he meant that day..."
The host blinked, caught between curiosity and concern. "And... you're all right with that?"
Chisato smiled faintly, her tone steady but tender. "Of course. I knew he already had someone in his heart. Still, I needed to say it. Keeping it bottled up would've been worse. I'm glad I told him, even if he sees me only as a little sister. That's enough for me."
The studio fell silent again—this time not out of shock, but quiet respect.
"Because," she continued, her voice lowering, "Riku has already lost so much. His parents. His best friend. There was a time when he nearly gave up on music altogether. I just want to make sure he never feels alone again. As his sister, that's my duty—and my choice. Whatever happens from here, I'll be content as long as I can support him."
Aya bit her lower lip, tears threatening to form but quickly blinked away. Hina folded her hands together, face unusually solemn. Even Maya, who usually stayed quiet, couldn't help but look at Chisato with a mix of awe and sadness.
The host finally broke the silence, her tone gentler now. "You're a remarkable sister, Chisato-san. Truly."
For a moment, there was nothing—then one person in the audience started clapping. It was hesitant at first, awkward against the stillness. Then another joined in. Then another.
Within seconds, the studio filled with applause. The sound swelled until it felt like a wave breaking across the set.
Chisato bowed her head slightly, her composed smile never fading. Aya, sitting beside her, let out a trembling exhale, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips.
The host leaned closer to the camera, smiling warmly. "What a dedicated sister you are, Chisato-san. Thank you for sharing that with us."
The crowd cheered again as the lights dimmed for the show's closing credits. The cameras pulled back, capturing the five girls framed in soft light, Aya's hand quietly brushing against Chisato's under the table—a silent gesture of solidarity.
And for just a moment, as the applause continued, the mask of professionalism slipped from Chisato's expression. Beneath it was something raw and fragile—a mix of peace and pain she didn't need to hide anymore.
Nagae Estate – 8:00 P.M.
Riku's POV
The meeting with the other live house owners had wrapped up better than I'd hoped. The energy in the room lingered even after the call ended—an air of mutual respect, of something clicking into place. Plans for the group stage were taking shape, and though I guided them through what the pro bands usually do—set rotations, stage transitions, audience flow—it was clear that each house had its own rhythm. That was fine by me. I wasn't there to lead; just to help them find their own way forward.
Dinner afterward had been a quiet affair, shared laughter with Youmu and the other owners cutting through the usual business tone. We exchanged numbers before parting—one more line of connection, one more bridge built.
Back in my office, the quiet of the estate felt almost too large. The hum of the lamp filled the space while I skimmed through the final document on my desk: a proposal from Tōtsuki regarding the upcoming Autumn Festival. The theme caught my eye immediately.
"Curry."
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. Simple, universal, and competitive enough to make every chef sweat. I didn't even hesitate before signing off on the approval.
With that done, I turned to the PBC, scrolling through the latest updates. Team Spirit was shifting their lineup again—Yatoro to drums, Collapse stepping in as lead guitarist. Interesting. Illya did like swapping instruments when the mood struck him. Maybe they were experimenting for something bigger. Or maybe they were just restless souls like the rest of us.
As I mused, a new message popped up on my phone. Aya-chan.
"Just be prepared for tomorrow."
That was all. No explanation. No emoji. Just that.
I stared at it for a moment, sighed, and pocketed the phone. Whatever Aya-chan's message meant, I'd deal with it when it came.
The door creaked open just then. Tina stepped inside, all smiles—and right behind her, Flan. That pair together could only mean one thing: trouble.
"Tina, Flan. Is there something you need from me?" I asked, leaning back in my chair.
Flan marched straight to my desk and slammed something down—a game case. Valorant. I knew instantly where this was heading.
"Onii-san!" she declared with the righteous fire of a crusader. "Play this with us!"
Tina nodded with that smug confidence that usually meant she'd been waiting all day for this. "It's new, and we want to try it together!"
I rubbed a hand over my face. "I just finished work, so... I suppose I've got time. But Flan—does your sister know you're here?"
Flan scratched her cheek, eyes darting to the side. "I'm with Meiling! And Onee-sama said it's fine as long as I behave!"
I stared at her for a long few seconds before letting out the kind of sigh reserved for impossible situations. "Alright. I'll believe you. For now. But I'll confirm it with your sister later."
She grinned, triumphant, and dashed off with Tina before I could change my mind. Their laughter trailed down the hall like sparks in the dark.
I downloaded the game, waited through the installation, and stared at the main menu.
An FPS. Of course. Tina was going to have a field day.
Within minutes, they'd sent the invites. I joined the match lobby and braced myself.
They did not hold back.
For three straight hours, I was gunned down, out-sniped, and humiliated by two giggling maniacs who somehow turned every map into their personal playground. Tina's aim was surgical, and Flan's unpredictability made her twice as deadly. The final scoreboard said it all—two to three kills per round each, sometimes more. Tina even started no-scoping. I wanted to be annoyed, but... it was hard not to laugh. The chaos had a kind of charm.
When we finally called it a night, I leaned back in my chair and exhaled. The room was quiet again, but it was a good kind of quiet—the kind that sits comfortably beside exhaustion.
Before heading to bed, I called Remi, mostly to check that Flan hadn't broken any unwritten vampire laws by staying over.
Remi's tone was calm, almost amused. "She may go out at night if Meiling or Sakuya accompanies her. You have nothing to worry about."
Then, before hanging up, her voice turned thoughtful.
"There are four strings of fate tied to you now. Grayish silver, sakura pink, raven black, and icy blue. You'll understand their meaning in time."
The line clicked dead before I could ask what the hell that meant. I stared at the phone for a while, unsure whether to feel intrigued or cursed.
The Next Morning
June 3, 2021 — Thursday
Hanasakigawa Girls High School – Entrance – 7:30 A.M.
Morning came with clear skies and the faint chill of early summer. I met Mafuyu and Youmu at the gate, and together we made the walk toward school. The rhythm of our footsteps on the pavement felt steady, grounding. Halfway there, we ran into Rinko and Sayo; they fell into step beside us, conversation drifting between them like old music.
"Did you see PasuPare's show last night?" Rinko asked, glancing up from her phone. "It's been trending all morning."
I shook my head. "No. Had a meeting with the other live house owners. I missed it completely."
Her expression flickered—half surprise, half amusement. "You might want to catch the replay later."
We turned the corner, and I understood why.
At the school entrance stood Chisato, Aya-chan, and Eve, waiting like a formation out of a magazine cover. The morning light hit them just right—confidence, calm, a quiet glow that only comes from someone who's faced down a storm and walked out unshaken. Chisato met my eyes first, smiling in that knowing way she always did.
"I take it everything went well?" I asked.
She nodded, the corners of her lips curving into a soft smirk. "Told you it wouldn't take long to clear things up."
"That's good," I said. "Sorry I couldn't watch it. Duty called."
"It's okay, Riku-kun!" Aya-chan chirped. "Chisato-chan handled everything perfectly!"
Eve added with serene pride, "She faced every question with the heart of Bushido."
Chisato's eyes gleamed as she turned back to me. "And after that show, I realized something important."
"Oh?" I raised a brow. "And what's that?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she stepped closer—close enough for the scent of her perfume to drift faintly in the air. Then, without warning, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
The world froze.
I blinked once. Twice.
Behind her, Rinko let out a strangled noise. "C-C-Chisato-san...?"
Sayo's voice followed, sharp and incredulous. "What are you doing to Riku-san?!"
Even Aya-chan, who had clearly known, sighed in mock exasperation. "Told you to prepare for it."
So that's what her message had meant.
I rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to look too stunned. "Chisato... care to explain that?"
She smiled, utterly composed. "Since I can't have your love romantically anymore, I've decided something simpler. I'll be your favorite little sister instead. And," she leaned forward just enough for a playful glint to catch in her eyes, "I'm only getting started. So brace yourself, onii-sama~"
Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the morning.
"Is that a challenge?"
I didn't have to turn to recognize it. Kokoro's voice carried that signature brightness, but beneath it simmered... something else. A golden aura flared faintly around her like sunlight through glass. Possessive. Competitive. Dangerous.
I could almost feel her pride bristling. "Her title of 'favorite little sister' is in danger," I thought grimly.
Behind her, Misaki and the rest of HaroHapi just stood there, shaking their heads as if silently saying, don't drag us into this.
Then Shinzo took over and stepped forward, his expression hardening. "Heh. Is that so? Then bring it. Nii belongs to me and Kokoro. If you want him, you'll have to take him from us." Her voice lowered, almost predatory. "But I think you already knew that."
Electric tension filled the air.
Chisato didn't back down. Her own aura—bright yellow, sharp as lightning—flared in response. Sparks danced invisibly between the two as their eyes locked. Students nearby began whispering, sensing a storm in the making.
I exhaled through my nose. "So this... is going to be normal now, huh."
Before things could escalate, a familiar voice came shouting down the walkway.
"Riku! Good thing I caught up to you!"
Udongein was sprinting toward us, her hair bouncing with every step. She skidded to a stop in front of me, a folded envelope in hand, the seal glinting under the morning light—the crest of the Houraisan family.
"Udongein," I said, blinking. "What brings you here?"
She handed me the letter with both hands, still catching her breath. "This. It's from Kaguya-sama. She said it's important."
I turned the envelope over, eyeing the elegant insignia embossed in wax. "An invitation... to what, exactly?"
Udongein shrugged helplessly. "No clue. She just told me to deliver it."
As she spoke, I caught my reflection faintly in the wax seal—eyes weary, surrounded by the chaos of bright-haired girls, magical energy, and now, royal summons.
Whatever Kaguya was planning, it wouldn't be simple.
And for better or worse... my quiet days were once again numbered.
Eientei – Morning
Kaguya's POV
The morning light drifted across the gardens of Eientei like silk, soft and deliberate. Dew still clung to the leaves, each droplet catching the faint shimmer of the rising sun. I walked the stone path in silence, the gentle rustle of bamboo and the distant hum of cicadas the only sounds that kept me company.
A faint patter of feet approached—quick, careful, disciplined. One of the moon rabbits stopped before me, bowing deeply.
"Kaguya-sama. Udongein-sama has successfully delivered the letter."
I paused, my gaze shifting toward the koi pond ahead. "Good," I said softly. "Then make sure everything is ready by the weekend."
"Understood, Kaguya-sama." The rabbit bowed again before darting off, leaving only the echo of her footsteps behind.
The garden returned to stillness. I stepped closer to the water's edge, looking down. My reflection stared back—poised, distant, and yet... uncertain. The ripples distorted my face, turning it into a ghostly blur.
"I have to do this," I whispered, almost to the reflection itself. "For Riku's sake... and my own."
The words lingered, stolen by the breeze.
Another rustle of movement drew my attention. A second moon rabbit knelt behind me, ears twitching in formal restraint. "Kaguya-sama," she began, "messengers from the Watatsuki clan will arrive later today."
My eyes narrowed slightly. "Who is coming?"
"Toyohime-sama and Seiran-sama, my lady."
That gave me pause. Toyohime rarely left the Moon unless the matter was personal—or dire. "I see," I murmured. "Return to your duties. Make sure their arrival goes smoothly."
"Hai!" Both rabbits chorused before hurrying off, their white forms disappearing into the corridors beyond the garden.
I sat down on the nearby bench, the wood cool against my palms. The faint sound of wind chimes drifted from somewhere deeper in the estate, threading through the morning air. Above me, the sky stretched open and endless—a brilliant blue canvas unmarred by clouds.
"What could Toyohime want..." I murmured, more to the sky than to anyone else. The question felt heavier than it should have, weighted with the kind of inevitability only family could bring.
Somewhere within the stillness, the pond rippled again, sending faint rings across the surface. I watched them spread—slow, deliberate—until they vanished into calm.
The calm before something larger.
And deep down, I already knew: whatever awaited me by the weekend, peace would not last much longer.
To be Continued...