Black Bullet - Volume 6 - Chapter Ep

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BLACK BULLET 6

Epilougue

SOULS UNITED, SOULS DIVIDED

Rentaro turned the handle on the faucet, filling the wooden bucket with water. He was surprised at how cold the droplets splashing out of the bucket were.

He turned his head ninety degrees upward. The sun was at its highest point in the sky. A passing airplane roared above, engines drawing a straight line across the blue.

The cemetery he stood in was located fairly close to the Outer Districts. It was surrounded by forested land, making for a loud chorus of cicadas that was less than restful. It sounded like the forest itself was yelling at them, in fact.

Holding the heavy bucket in one hand, he walked along the vast area of graves, divided into neat squares like a go board. Before long, he was by one of the small plots, three women behind him. They must have sensed the solemnity of the situation, for not only Tina and Kisara, but even Enju, whose energy was the defining feature of her personality, was refraining from bouncing off the walls for the time being.

The representatives of the Tendo Civil Security Agency stood before a set of gravestones, filled the water basins on them, and added bunches of flowers—bellflowers and other purple-colored varieties chief among them.

Each one took a ladle to the water, splashed it over the stones, and prayed.

“Sorry we’re late in coming,” Rentaro said, eyes fixed on the two stones in front of him. “Suibara… Hotaru.”

Not much more needed to be said. This was the end of what was already turning out to be a fairly long conclusion.

The news was still covering Rentaro’s story. In the end, an investigation exposed some thirty members of the police department, including the commissioner, involved in the conspiracy to frame Rentaro for Kihachi Suibara’s murder. The cops were still poking around the wasps’ nest, so to speak, looking into each co-conspirator’s history to see what else they could charge them with.

Nearly all faced disciplinary measures. Most had court dates. What happened after that was for a judge to decide.

And, of course, the news didn’t speak a word about the experimentation on Varanium-resistant Gastrea Rentaro had discovered. Nor anything about the Five Wings Syndicate attempting to cultivate them.

Losing Yuga and Hitsuma was a setback for Five Wings, no doubt about that, but it was far from a permanent resolution. They had already cleared the lab of any research data before Rentaro showed up, and besides, most of the conspirators they arrested were pretty low-ranking members of the force or affiliated groups. Hitsuma and his father would have known the juicy details—and both were dead, killed under mysterious circumstances. Rentaro had nothing left to pursue.

Not long after, Rentaro had paid a visit to Tamaki, Yuzuki, and Asaka at the hospital where they were recuperating. It had been something of a shock when he opened the door to their room and found Asaka and Tamaki kowtowing to him on the floor in apology. Both had broken bones, he had heard, and yet there was Asaka providing a textbook example of groveling as it was practiced in the courts of ancient China. Tamaki, on the other hand, had put his ass far too high in the air, presenting another suggestion entirely.

“We are deeply regretful that we let ourselves fall for the malicious designs of that evil force.”

“A man never makes excuses. Come on, Rentaro. Just shut up and punch me in the face!”

Yuzuki, meanwhile, rested her body against one of the room’s walls, seething. “Didn’t I tell you?” she said. “Didn’t I tell you that police officer was acting funny? I mean, like…really?”

This was how Rentaro had found himself in one of the most awkward moments of the year so far without so much as opening his mouth. He had to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

As he laughed, he’d nervously rubbed the surface of his cybernetic left eye. He hadn’t seen the “terminal horizon” since his battle against Yuga—not much need to accelerate past 2000x in daily life—but his competency with a sniper rifle did improve noticeably afterward.

If anything had really changed with him, it was in the attitude he brought to his job. He now felt a certain responsibility for the deaths he had caused, directly or not. He was ready to deal with that. But that was about it.

“We should offer this, too…”

Kisara gingerly placed her pocket watch on the space between the two graves. The sentence YOU ARE ALWAYS IN MY HEART had been stamped under the cover. Suibara probably hadn’t meant it when he had that stamped on, but now it felt like proof that he expected to die at any moment. It made Kisara’s heart tighten a little, thinking about it.

Suibara and Hotaru risked their lives to keep Tokyo Area safe. And keep it safe they did. If it wasn’t for their courageous deeds, crushing the Five Wings Syndicate’s ambitions would have been impossible.

Rentaro lightly shook his head, clearing his mind.

“Let’s go home.”

Kisara grumbled about the fairly paltry reparations the police were willing to offer for this miscarriage of justice. Enju sprang around, attempting to burn off some energy she had built up waiting around at the IISO facility. Tina, for her part, must not have had a fun time in jail—she clammed up whenever she was asked about it, eyebrows pinned down on her face.

It was so hot, Rentaro asked Enju to buy something at a nearby vending machine, which he rarely did. Enju, always ready to annoy Rentaro one way or another, came back with a piping-hot cup of coffee. He pulled the tab and attempted a mouthful. It was hot enough to burn his tongue. From the pit of his stomach, he cursed his life.

When they arrived back at the Tendo Civil Security office—now running extended hours for summer break—Kisara arched an eyebrow. “Hey, is that car…?” she murmured, as she pointed at a well-polished black limousine parked in front of the Happy Building.

Whoever was inside must have noticed Rentaro, because the back door flew open, revealing a young woman who almost threw herself at him.

“Satomi!”

The Seitenshi was in a blindingly pure white dress. She was also wearing white heels—not exactly running gear. One heel slipped, causing her to lose her balance. Rentaro ran up and caught her just before she hit the pavement.

“Jeez, Lady—”

Rentaro’s complaint was cut off when he noticed the Seitenshi’s moistened eyes. They took him aback enough that he abandoned his feigned offense entirely.

“Thank you so much, Satomi. It looked like you were out of the office, so I waited here in my vehicle.”

Rentaro scratched his head distractedly, averting his eyes. “No, that’s…that’s fine, but what brings you here in such a hurry?”

“Ah, yes,” the Seitenshi said, bringing her hands together in front of her chest and taking something out of her purse. “I am here today so I can give this back to you.”

“Give back…?” Rentaro said as he accepted it. He took a glance, only to find his ID photo peeking from the window of a leather card-carrying case. There was no mistaking his civsec license. He had forgotten about the Seitenshi stripping it from him at the palace, however long ago.

The gesture was so moving that he froze, license clutched in hand. Funny how he’d never thought about it much when he first got it, but now that it was back in his pocket, it made his chest feel warm and intensely grateful. He tried to say something then stopped, realizing he was about to lie. Instead, he closed his eyes and exhaled out his nose. It was almost enough to make him forget about the Seitenshi—but, noticing her smiling right at him, he panicked a bit and turned to her.

“You, you could’ve just mailed it to me,” he stammered. “Like, did you leave the palace just for something like this?”

“No… Not, not just for that, no…” The Seitenshi was stammering herself. She grasped at her skirt with both hands. “When I heard you had died at the Plaza Hotel, I was in such a state of shock, I couldn’t carry out my political duties. I didn’t even have an appetite. So when I heard you were alive, I…”

The Seitenshi’s lips were pursed tightly, as if trying to hold something back. Then, with her smooth, velvety gloves, she held Rentaro’s hands tightly, drawing them toward her.

“I’m so happy you made it, Satomi.”

Having such radiant beauty in front of him rendered Rentaro helpless. He let her do as she wished, marveling at how attractive she was up close.

They looked at each other for a long moment—then turned away in unison, blushing. She hid her cheeks with both hands, as if trying to mask the redness.

“I’m sorry… Staring at a man up close like this…this is so improper of me…”

The icy stares of the women behind her made the ruler of Tokyo Area break out in a cold sweat.

“Ex-cuse me!” Kisara said, coming between the two and giving the Seitenshi an admonishing look. “Um, L-Lady Seitenshi… I’m not sure you have seen him like this before, so I wanted to give a word of warning: There is nothing cool about Satomi at all. He’s unintelligent, he’s a useless bum, his feet smell, and his face is so ugly that just looking at him drains the energy right out of you.”

The Seitenshi rubbed a cheek with her right hand as she gave Kisara an odd look. “Have you and Satomi been seeing each other, President Tendo?”

“We have not!”

“Then why do you have such a frantic look on your face?”

“I am not frantic at all!” Kisara turned toward Rentaro, as if about to bite him in the neck. “Satomi? One moment, please?”

Why’s she targeting me?

“So were you just playing around with me, Big Brother?!” Tina wailed.

“Yes! And me, too?!” Enju snapped.

Tina was in a state of abject sadness. Enju was more on the angrier side of the spectrum.

Just as Rentaro was ready to lift his hands in the air and beg for divine intervention, a friendly male voice rang out:

“Oh-ho! The Lady Seitenshi is with you all, too?”

It was a late-middle-aged man with a folded fan, a hakama formal skirt, and hair like a pineapple. “Yo!” he said, a greeting well out of character with his traditional garb.

“Mr. Shigaki!” Rentaro shouted, overjoyed at this lifeline thrown to him.

Senichi Shigaki grinned, exposing his white teeth as he guffawed. “I was just thinking that I was overdue for a visit…but oh, my, even Lady Seitenshi has joined the company, has she?”

The Seitenshi gave a well-mannered bow. “Good afternoon to you, Mr. Shigaki. I trust your Varanium mines are faring well?”

“Ha! More or less, I suppose.”

“I find it hard to believe that a man who was once Kikunojo’s butler has such a talent for business!”

“Ahh, I guess you could say I found my calling late in life, eh? Ha-ha!”

“And I understand you are aiming for electoral office?”

“Oh, you make it sound like such a lofty thing, my Lady! Please, you embarrass me!”

After pleasantries, Shigaki turned to Rentaro and Kisara, flashing them a somewhat distressed smile.

“Kisara,” he began, “I…I suppose I owe you an apology, don’t I? I’m here because I wanted to do it in person, you see.”

Rentaro realized Shigaki was talking about his role in arranging Kisara’s would-be marriage.

“I made the arrangements because I thought it would be the best thing for the both of you, but I had no idea young Hitsuma and his father were both caught up in criminal activity. And now look what happened to the young man… Truly, I am sorry.”

Kisara gave an open-minded smile at the grown man profusely apologizing to her. “Not at all,” she said. “None of us were hurt, in the end. So don’t worry about it, Mr. Shigaki.”

“Na-ha-ha! Ah, I thought you might say that.”

Rentaro felt a tug at his shirt. Peering down, he found Enju and Tina, concern on their faces as they looked up at him.

“Rentaro, who’s that guy?”

“Oh, right, you haven’t met him before… Mr. Shigaki?” He motioned to the man, then introduced the trio to one another.

“This is Senichi Shigaki, girls. He’s the manager of Tendo Civil Security Agency on paper, and he’s also my and Kisara’s more-or-less legal guardian.”

“Wow! That fancy an old guy, huh?”

“Well! Nice to meet the both of you, then.” Shigaki crossed his arms, greeting them with a stern frown at first, then dropping the front and giving them both a friendly pat or two on the head.

“Ah-ha-ha! Would you look at the two cuties we’ve got here, then? And you know that Shiba girl, too—don’t you, Rentaro? Juggling five girls at once! Why, I don’t think I managed even that many when I was your age, boy!”

Shigaki elbowed Rentaro in the stomach, just in case his point hadn’t come across clearly enough. But before Rentaro could yelp Sir, no, I—, the elbow knocked the coffee out of his hands. It went flying through the air, the still-hot liquid arcing dangerously toward the sleeve of Shigaki’s jacket—

By the time Rentaro thought Oh crap, it was already too late.

“Yeowch!”

Shigaki went to a knee, lifting up his sleeve in an attempt to dodge. Rentaro rushed to him, social shame overcoming him as Shigaki took out a handkerchief and lowered his sleeve again. The old man’s eyes were aimed squarely at Rentaro’s coffee cup. “What on earth, my boy? It’s hot as blazes out here, and you’re going around with hot coffee in your hand? What’s that all about, hmm? Is that what’s popular with the young folks these days?”

“I, um, you aren’t burned or anything, sir?”

“Mm?” Shigaki nonchalantly replied. “Ahh, this’ll be fine.”

“Let’s go up to the office,” Tina suggested. “We’ve got some cold water up there.”

Shigaki gave it a moment’s thought, then agreed to stop by long enough to use the sink. This is sure turning into a weird day, Rentaro thought as he accompanied his legal guardian up the stairs and inside.

Enju, watching from behind as Tina and Rentaro escorted Shigaki, was nailed to the ground in surprise. She crossed her arms, wondering what all that was about.

Apparently she was the only one out of the group who noticed, but when Shigaki had his sleeve lifted up for that split-second, she saw something.

He must have been a fan of tattoos, because he had something that looked like one on his upper arm. Kind of a fancy design, too—a pentagram with wings on top of all five points. It was an odd mismatch with his otherwise conservative choice of wardrobe.

But Enju was never one to dwell on things too long. Kicking the observation out of her ever-curious mind, she darted up the stairs after Rentaro.

Senichi Shigaki, having safely made his fortune in the Varanium mining industry, owned a house in one of the poshest areas of Tokyo Area’s District 1. Inside the large residence, within a study that he forbade anyone else to enter, there was a bookcase half-recessed in the wall, one filled with old classics and dictionaries patiently waiting to be opened again.

If someone with architectural experience entered this study after giving the house an examination from the outside, he or she probably would have noticed that the room was far too small compared to the external dimensions.

Upon returning to this study, Shigaki turned not toward the handsome mahogany desk resting on one side of the room, but to the far end of this bookcase. He took out The Encyclopedic Guide to Weapons of the World, Vol. 3, then inserted a key into the hole that lurked behind the tome. This activated the Elecompack-branded mobile shelving. The shelf, laden with books, glided along rails on the floor. In an instant, the wall of books had fallen back, revealing a corridor to a new room.

With a practiced gait, Shigaki delved into the pitch-black hall and the inscrutable abyss. The dimensions of the space were only barely visible.

Then, out of nowhere, there was the whoosh of flame springing to life, followed by the floor lighting up a dim shade of blue.

It illuminated a large leather executive chair, which Shigaki promptly used. That was enough to energize the light, instantly brightening the entire room. A pentagram drew itself on the floor, adding intricately designed wings to each point with a single stroke.

“You’re late, you idiot. You think you’ve got enough clout with this group to keep me waiting?”

Looking up, Shigaki saw an executive chair much like his own at one of the star’s vertices. There sat a man with his legs crossed, his bushy beard and head of hair giving him the appearance of a lion. It was Sougen Saitake, the lone Five Wings Syndicate executive manager from Osaka.

Shigaki, Tokyo Area’s top manager, looked around the room. As far as he could see, only two points on the pentagram were occupied—his and Saitake’s. The other three chairs were empty.

“I suppose I can excuse Hokkaido for its absence, but where’s Hakata and Sendai?”

“How should I know? I’m fine with just the two of us handling everything, regardless.”

Looking closer at Saitake revealed that his body had a blue-tinged light coursing around it—the telltale sign of a holographic broadcast.

Shigaki was attending nothing less than a board meeting. One attended by the five most powerful people in Five Wings—the chosen vertices of the pentagram.

“I have just returned,” Shigaki solemnly began, “from a meeting with Rentaro and his people. The sheer enormity of what he destroyed, and yet he couldn’t have been more carefree with me.”

“Yes, I’m sure having your contacts purged from the police force must have been quite a setback.”

“Not exactly. We can replace them all anytime we like. If you call that a ‘setback,’ I think having a certain someone send an undercover assassin over to kill the Seitenshi was rather more of a setback for our cause, was it not?”

“Ah.” Saitake stared into space, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I am glad to see your snide remarks haven’t suffered at all. I thought eliminating the Seitenshi would be the most efficient way to move things along. I gave you all an ultimatum. You responded with this naive idealism, so I went through with it. You know full well that I have no time for those kind of people. Either you follow me, or you get the hell out of my way. That’s how I do business.”

“Saitake, you have no idea how Tokyo Area works. The Seitenshi is an indispensable symbol—government personified. We need her if the Area’s government is to retain any kind of public mandate. The chaos that would result from her killing could help us come to power, yes, but as long as the Tendo family has not been toppled, any effect would be fleeting at best. We have to get Kikunojo Tendo out of the picture first.”

“And that’s why you’re going through the incredibly circuitous route of securing Kisara Tendo? Shigaki, is that girl truly worth all this effort?”

Shigaki shook his head. Of course he had to bring that up. “You didn’t see the crime-scene photographs of Kazumitsu Tendo’s murder. You wouldn’t understand until you do. That girl is the most demonic offspring the Tendo clan has ever seen.”

“Oh?”

“Plus, I understand her ultimate goal is to kill Kikunojo Tendo as well. We both seek the same thing.”

“Hmph. And yet you failed to recruit her.”

“Oh, I’ve quite succeeded.”

“Mm?”

Shigaki’s lips curled.

“I said, I’ve succeeded.”

Saitake fell silent, attempting to gauge how true this was.

“By the way,” Shigaki continued, “how is Juzouji doing?”

“Hmph. The machine’s purring along, you could say. He thought you were the number-two of the group after me, you’ll be delighted to know.”

“Ha! You’ll be taking my ‘snide’ crown from me before long, you know.”

“Only because I’ve learned from the best.”

The two chuckled at each other across the darkness.

“So,” Saitake said, “Five Wings has taken the leadership posts of Osaka Area and Hokkaido Area. We have three left to go. Do not let our dream escape your memory. Our cause is just.”

“Glory to the Five Wings.”

The blue light disappeared. The room was wrapped in darkness once more.

The howl of a lonely dog echoed from some faraway point. The darkness was growing thicker as Rentaro Satomi dragged his sore feet across the brightly lit street, on his way back home. The smell of burnt explosives pervading his body gave him a headache; his arms were shaking so bad from all the recoil he was surprised nothing had gotten dislocated. Using chopsticks might pose a challenge for him later on.

He tried putting his hands over both ears, but the ringing continued. It was a pretty bad case. He had working ear protectors on—or, at least, they were supposed to be working; Miori’s new gun and ammunition must have generated too much of an explosive blast for them.

He had spent the entire past day running testing duty for Shiba Heavy Weapons’ latest products. Miori was busy developing a handgun that used powerful Initiator-specific ammo. Once it was complete, he was planning to ask Miori for the first one off the line so he could hand it to Tina.

Miori never said anything about Rentaro’s recent legal trouble. The closest she got to that was when she said, “Time to pay me back, Satomi dear,” after passing him at the gun range. It was just more of that weird sense of distance she liked to retain with him. He kind of liked it.

He was busy enjoying the sense of fatigue that racked his body as he tromped up the metal stairway and turned the doorknob to his apartment. The moment he opened it up, he was greeted by a girl in a black sailor-style school uniform and a frilly apron.

“Welcome back, Satomi.”

“Um…Kisara?”

She was all smiles, going behind Rentaro and pushing him into the room. He took off his jacket and loosened his necktie as he looked around. Then he realized the other girls in his life weren’t there.

“Where’s Enju and Tina?”

“They’re out watching the neighborhood fireworks show.”

Rentaro slapped a hand with his fist. “Oh! The one where they ask you to pay five hundred yen to join the district association? That was today?”

Five hundred yen didn’t seem like it’d be enough to result in all that exciting a show, but the girls had yet to see any kind of fireworks this year. They were willing to bite at just about anything.

Kisara, reading Rentaro’s face, gently shook her head. “Oh, it’s fine. You have to be twelve or younger to participate, anyway. They’ll have a bigger show at the main festival soon enough. We can all hit that one together.”

Huh. So this is the first night I’ll be alone with Kisara in a while, then.

Rentaro noticed the assortment of colorful dishes on the low table. He could tell she had been using the kitchen. An ever so slightly foul smell wafted in from somewhere. The nervous sweats were coming already.

“Kisara, you didn’t…cook, did you?”

She smiled in response. Instead of answering, she simply pointed two thumbs at herself. She must have had nearly ten bandages wrapped around her fingers.

“Well,” she said, “it’s kind of annoying to have everyone pick on my food all the time, you know? I’m trying to improve a little bit.”

Rentaro flung his body down by the table, admitting defeat in the face of Kisara’s mangia, mangia aura.

An acrid, sour stench, like the contents of a dog’s stomach freshly unfurled on the carpet, stung his nostrils. “Oh, God,” he whispered, shutting his eyes tight.

The gel-like piece of organic matter on the plate ferried from the kitchen was done up in a horrid array of colors, like a crazed painter splattering a canvas with everything he had on his palette. Just looking at it gave Rentaro a crash course on what insanity truly meant.

The smell it emitted stabbed into his eyes. He tried to pass it off to Kisara as tears of joy while he scooped up a bit in the spoon. It was oddly springy, jiggling about in excitement. With one final, resigned motion, he brought it to his mouth.

For a single moment, he experienced nirvana. Across the river, he could see his father, Takaharu Satomi, beckoning at him.

“Gehh, this slop is disgu—”

“Dis-guh-what?” Kisara stared daggers into his eyes.

“It’s one of the most alarming creations of mankind!”

“Ooh, tell me more.”

“It’s like the food of some mad artist! It makes my very pulse stop!”

“Hee-hee! Thank you.”

Kisara, luckily, was stupid enough not to realize she wasn’t being complimented.

“—Stop treating me like an idiot!”

—Or not. He was hoping to string her along a bit longer than that, at least. His roommate stood up in a huff, running a hand distractedly through her hair.

“Ugghh, I just… All right, you teach me, Satomi.”

“Huh?”

Suddenly, Kisara was bashful, toes almost turned inward as she rubbed her thighs together.

“Satomi, you promised you’d teach me how to cook, didn’t you? Before all…that happened. Like, when we had those sweet potatoes?”

Oh. Right. He did say that to her. Maybe.

After a moment’s thought, he stood and rolled up his sleeves. “All right, whaddaya want to make?”

“…What’s the secret to your stir-fried vegetables?”

There wasn’t any “secret” to it. Vegetables, pan, oil, bam. But Kisara was ready to go, tightening her apron and chopping up some spinach from the fridge. Rentaro stood behind her in the director’s role. Or he meant to. But after just a couple minutes, he already couldn’t stand it any longer, taking her hands from behind.

They had to begin with how to use a kitchen knife. The knife tapped several times unsteadily against the chopping board. The TV wasn’t on. Several quiet moments passed.

“Um, Kisara?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you…like Hitsuma, or anything?”

Kisara silently kept her hands moving. The tap-tap continued swiftly.

Silence reigned for several moments. It was painful.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh…”

“But I don’t think it was love, or anything.”

“…You kissed him, though, didn’t you?”

Rentaro cursed himself. He should’ve known when to give up, and he didn’t. But the panic on Kisara’s face as she opened her eyes wide and said, “You saw that…?” was far greater than his.

“N-no!” she continued. “Not like that. I kind of had my palm up like this, to block it, and when Hitsuma came up to me, I kind of pushed…”

She must have realized she wasn’t being very convincing with her little hand-gesture show. Kisara tried desperately to figure out how to win Rentaro’s trust—but then he smiled at her. Paradoxically enough, seeing her act so serious convinced him that all his worries were for nothing.

“He…he didn’t do anything like what you’re thinking, Satomi. So I’m still a…a virgin and everything, too…”

“Uh, yeah.”

Something about the sudden introduction of bedroom terminology made Rentaro’s pulse quicken as he added salad oil to the frying pan and put the spinach on top. It shrank down with an audible sizzle.

“So, speaking of which, did you hear about the new prime minister of Hokkaido Area?”

He thought he was being ignored for a moment before Kisara softly replied. “Yeah, what a surprise. Pretty amazing, huh? Prime Minister Kiryu was fine one day, and then…poof.”

Both Rentaro and Kisara had met him several times during their time at the Tendo mansion. “Yeah, I was pretty shocked, too,” he added. “I figured he was gonna serve in that post until he was one hundred or so.”

“Did you hear the rumor, though?”

“What?”

“I heard that Kiryu ate breakfast, then started clutching his chest out of nowhere and fell off his chair. He never woke up after that. Like, apparently they found a lot of weird things during the autopsy, too. Supposedly they wanted to do some more testing on the body, but it got blocked and they reported it as death from illness. They closed up the whole investigation before it began.”

“The hell?” Rentaro asked, taken aback.

Kisara replied with a lifeless shaking of her head. “I don’t know.”

“You think the new prime minister’s an okay guy? Tsukihiko Juzouji?”

“They say he’s pretty sharp. He’s probably up to the job, I guess.”

Rentaro felt conflicted. He wasn’t really a fan of Souichi Kiryu’s style of governing. He always acted so self-righteous and arrogant in front of the cameras, like he thrived on public controversy. But maybe that was the kind of leadership it took to guide the island of Hokkaido from postwar ruin to a rebuilt local power in the course of a single generation. Either way, few actively cheered for his passing.

Plain spinach sauté was a little lacking by itself, so with Kisara’s permission, he filled a kettle with water and placed it on an adjacent burner. He turned the knob, and heat, along with the smell of gas, wafted as the blue flame ignited.

She worked her cooking chopsticks. The sizzling continued. In his role as teacher, Rentaro was giving Kisara instructions from behind her back. To an impartial observer, however, it might have looked like they were embracing each other.

Her hair smelled good. The apron looked good over her uniform, he thought.

“Hey, actually, Kisara, why do you always have some kind of uniform on? Are you trying to match me or something?”

“Because I can use it as workwear. It keeps me from having to change between here and school. I have my own clothes, too, but probably not as much as most girls my age. Probably a hell of a lot less, actually.”

There was something boastful, downright haughty, about the way she accented the hell in that sentence. It was like she was trying to put pressure on Rentaro with it. He scratched the back of his head as he stared off into the distance.

“Uh, you wanna maybe go clothes shopping sometime?”

“Ohhh? Sure. I’ll try to develop some expensive tastes between now and then.”

She brought a hand to her hip, lightly, as if she was about to start whistling with glee. Her short skirt swayed a bit in response.

“B-but,” a stammering Rentaro continued, “I just mean… You looked great in that kimono for the meet up, and you looked great in that wedding dress, too, but… Really, I think you look the best when you’re in that black uniform, in the end. I mean it. You’re beautiful.”

Kisara turned around. Her eyes were wide.

Why does love always have to be this asymmetrical thing? Every time, there seems to be this imbalance between everything I feel about someone else, and everything she thinks about me. The scales always tip one way or the other. What do I have to do to bring the ache in my heart across to her?

His voice failed him. It frustrated him immensely. Whenever he was in front of someone he liked, his vocal abilities plummeted to the point where he wanted to die.

Instead of relying on them, he took a step forward.

“K-Kisara!”

He brought his hand around her narrow waist, clutching it tight. Kisara’s chest pushed up to him with a yelp. Her unbelievably well-built face was right next to his, a sweet aroma filling his nostrils.

Her cheeks grew more and more flush. Her own heat was stirring a little.

“Whoa, hey, Satomi, where’re you—?”

“—Back at the visitation room…”

“Huh?”

Rentaro tilted his head down and brought his lips to Kisara’s ear.

“When I berated you and ordered you out of the room… I’m truly sorry. I was such an idiot that whole time. I never should have said any of that to you. I know I’m late saying this, but I’m so, so happy to be home. Thank you, Kisara.”

The edges of the surprised Kisara’s wide-open eyes filled with an onrush of transparent liquid. A single line ran across one cheek. She wiped at it with a knuckle. Then her broad eyebrows arched up as she looked at Rentaro, eyes soft and gentle. The tears were from a happy place. He could tell.

“Don’t be stupid. I was waiting for you to say that the whole time.”

“Kisara…”

The joy upon hearing this drove the elated Rentaro to bring his face closer. Kisara turned away, her face red from ear to ear.

“W-wait, Satomi. I really can’t do…that… I’m too embar… I’ll die if I…”

At any other time, Rentaro would have respected Kisara’s wishes and taken a step back. But now, Rentaro was tired. Tired of writhing under an agony he had no answer for. Even if it meant his destruction, he could no longer hold it in. He had to see where it finally led him.

Rentaro relaxed his grip slightly.

“Well, if you really don’t want to, Kisara, I’ll stop right now.”

“Really?”

“No,” he said in her ear as he brought their lips together.

The kettle began to whistle.

With a clank, her cooking chopsticks fell to the floor.

Sumire had been right all along: “If you really just want Kisara to be happy, you’re gonna have to keep killing off your own feelings. There’s no way to half-ass that. Do you swear you’ll do that?”

And now Rentaro had broken his promise.

Nothing about his outlook had changed. Marrying Hitsuma had been the only way for Kisara to forget about revenge and live out her life. It had been the sole, and final, method for her to move on. Even if that had meant Rentaro would have had to abandon his love forever—if that had led to Tendo no longer feeling compelled to massacre her own family, he would’ve had to accept that. But now he knew:

Being in love was like insanity.

Rentaro was insane for Kisara. He was awash in love, inflamed by it. And he couldn’t stop her revenge any longer. This love had every indication of taking the entire world down with it.

At the last possible moment, Rentaro had taken the selfish route. He would be forced to pay for that sometime, no doubt. He would probably regret it. Regret that, except for this single moment, he could never stop Kisara.

He had resolved to fight for the sake of “justice.” It could drive him, someday in the future, to cross paths with Kisara and the “absolute evil” that flowed in her. There was no way he could deny that.

Soon, Kisara would be taking sword in hand to hunt down the Tendo family, her sworn nemeses. With every one she slashed down, the rift between her and Rentaro would grow that much wider. There may never be another sweet day like this one in their lives together. Perhaps this was the peak. Perhaps, after this, they’d both come tumbling down, their mutual hatred piling up on itself as they did.

But—

No matter how much their relationship deteriorated from now on, no matter how much they screamed at and harangued each other, no matter how much they stabbed at each other with their blades of loathing—for now, now at least, he wanted to give up his body to her soft lips.

He pushed Kisara against the refrigerator and forcefully locked his lips against hers. The soft valleys of Kisara’s chest pushed against him. They softly flattened down, changing shape. Her eyes narrowed, as if she was intoxicated by these events, and she brought her hands around Rentaro’s neck.

He was willing to do anything to leave his body to the bliss that lay ahead, but Sumire’s voice refused to let go of his mind:

“You can always rebuild a broken body, but a broken heart’s beyond all help. You can’t do a thing with it.