"Oh… my child has grown up."
Fujiwara Chika wiped away a tear after Shirogane Miyuki's song ended. In just one week, he'd achieved such humanity. The leap from 'sentient sea cucumber' to 'person who can carry a tune' was nothing short of an evolutionary miracle!
"Time truly flies," Chika sighed, glancing fondly at Sakurai Saki beside her.
"Indeed. In mere days, he's become… almost normal." Sakurai Saki nodded, equally moved. You're welcome, Shirogane. I have saved you from social annihilation.
Hearing his earnest agreement, Fujiwara Chika's emotional dam broke. Tears flowed freely as she threw her arms around Sakurai Saki, burying her face in his chest. "Wuwu~" It wasn't an act; it was a genuine catharsis.
Sakurai Saki, his own emotions magnified by his ability's side effect, felt a sympathetic lump form in his own throat. Soon, the two of them were locked in a mutually consoling, teary embrace.
"?" A single, massive question mark hovered over Hayasaka Ai's head.
Beside her, Kaguya Shinomiya leaned in, her whisper a blade of ice. "Hayasaka. Are you certain you and Sakurai are dating?"
Hayasaka Ai had been sure. Now, doubt gnawed at her. Standard relationship protocol involved maintaining polite, noticeable distance from other potential romantic interests. It was basic reassurance.
Yet here was her boyfriend, openly serving as a crying towel for another girl.
At that moment, both Sakurai Saki and Hayasaka Ai found themselves questioning the very fabric of their new relationship. (Unbeknownst to Hayasaka, Sakurai's lapse was chemically induced—today's side effect had hijacked his usual circumspection.)
They cried for a full, uninterrupted minute.
Shirogane Miyuki watched, bemused. "Was my singing… that moving?" he wondered aloud. The man was a fortress of self-unawareness.
Ishigami Yu glared at the sniffling duo. "Die… die… die ray…" he muttered darkly. Disgusting couples. They just wanted an excuse to hug.
"Ishigami, you're up." Shirogane read the next title off the screen. "Moe Moe Q—"
"Don't. Say. Another. Word." Ishigami Yu stood, snatched the microphone with grim resolve, and began.
The effect was instantaneous. The shared sorrow evaporated.
Sakurai Saki's tears dried, replaced by pure shock. "Someone… can actually sing this in public?"
Fujiwara Chika detached herself from his chest, her face a mask of horrified awe. "Ishigami-kun… has he truly forsaken all earthly attachments?"
After two anime theme songs that scorched the soul, it was Kaguya's turn. She selected a series of elegant, Showa-era ballads. Her performance was technically flawless and emotionally resonant, though the songs felt anachronistic for her age. Yet, they suited her Yamato Nadeshiko demeanor perfectly—a contrast that would have seemed jarring coming from someone like Chika.
As Kaguya sang, Chika seized the opportunity. She subtly shifted, leaning back into the shelter of Sakurai Saki's arm. Catching Hayasaka Ai's sharp gaze, a mischievous, defiant spark lit in her eyes.
A bold theory crystallized. They'd known each other earlier! Could this be… a forbidden romance? A butler, bound by the Shinomiya family's rigid codes, forced to hide his true feelings?
Hayasaka Ai, stung by the intimate tableau, abandoned caution. She leaned her head gently against Sakurai's other shoulder.
"Pardon me… I'm feeling a bit lightheaded," she murmured.
This only confirmed Chika's dramatic hypothesis! Her shipping heart momentarily overrode her own affections. The tragic butler, pining in silence! But only for a moment. Sakurai Saki was still her crush.
Emboldened, Fujiwara Chika nestled deeper into Sakurai's side and shot Hayasaka Ai a look that was pure, unadulterated provocation.
"???" Hayasaka Ai was flabbergasted.
What is your problem? An outsider would think you're the one who stole the march!
The sheer injustice of being challenged by Fujiwara Chika, of all people, was breathtaking. Excuse me? This is my boyfriend!
Sakurai Saki, blissfully unaware of being the rope in a silent tug-of-war, was simply enjoying the music. After the auditory assaults of Shirogane and Ishigami, Kaguya's singing felt like a cool balm on a sunburn. He was engrossed.
The song ended. "Shinomiya-san, that was beautifully sung!" Sakurai applauded, genuinely impressed.
Kaguya offered a gracious smile. "I'm pleased you enjoyed it." Receiving praise from a rival was strangely satisfying.
…Hm?
Her smile froze as her eyes fully processed the scene before her.
Hayasaka Ai was resting her head on Sakurai Saki's shoulder.
Fujiwara Chika was practically burrowed into his chest.
And Sakurai Saki sat between them, looking placidly content, as if he were simply a very popular piece of furniture.
'This isn't some… unsavory gathering, is it?'
Kaguya Shinomiya's mind short-circuited. Could Hayasaka truly be accepting of… a polyamorous arrangement? The relational algebra between these three was becoming unsolvable.
The Fujiwara family would never allow their daughter to be a 'side piece,' but as a primary girlfriend, shouldn't Hayasaka be…?
No. No. No.
What is even happening?
She glided back from the microphone to her seat, her composure a thin veneer. "Ahem. Hasaka, are you feeling unwell?" she prompted, her voice crisp. You are currently a male attendant. Leaning on another young man's shoulder is… optically problematic. The Shinomiya family's reputation did not need rumors about the proclivities of its staff.
Hayasaka Ai sighed internally and relinquished her claim on Sakurai's shoulder, seamlessly transferring her weight onto Kaguya. "My apologies, Kaguya-sama. A slight headache."
The act had to be maintained.
"A cold coming on?" Kaguya inquired, knowing full well the diagnosis was acute jealousy. She couldn't fathom the logic: if proximity bothered you, why choose the one disguise that forbid you from claiming it? It was self-sabotage of the highest order.
Fujiwara Chika watched the master-and-servant duo leaning together and silently fanned her face. 'I'm going to get a nosebleed~!'
The evening proceeded—a few more rounds of singing, some chaotic party games—until the clock neared 9 PM.
Fujiwara Chika checked her dying phone (a victim of yesterday's neglect). "Sorry, everyone! I have to head out!" Her curfew was 9:30 PM. While tardiness wouldn't bring down the wrath of the gods, it would summon a stern paternal lecture.
No one objected. The night was winding down.
Ten minutes later, the remaining members dispersed outside the karaoke's neon glow.
Kaguya Shinomiya and 'Hasaka' departed in a taxi—a silent, charged vehicle.
Shirogane Miyuki opted to walk; a brisk fifteen-minute journey home.
Ishigami Yu chose to accompany him, perhaps for a rare moment of non-council conversation.
Sakurai Saki had intended to take the train, but fate intervened. The nearest station had suddenly posted 'Out of Service' signs, citing an unspecified "facility malfunction." Coupled with the explicit warning in the Future Diary, the train was no longer an option.
The cryptic 'Senior Woyuan' from earlier had promised a vampire encounter tonight. Traveling with Shirogane and Ishigami would only endanger them.
"I have… another errand to run," Sakurai offered as his excuse, slipping away into the Tokyo night alone.
Later, on a pedestrian overpass.
The city hummed below, a river of light and motion. Sakurai Saki leaned against the railing, a cold can of coffee in hand.
"Hey, handsome. Looking for some company?" A girl with a sugary smile approached.
"Sorry," Sakurai replied without turning. "I have a girlfriend."
The girl's smile wilted instantly. "Oh… well, can I get your LINE?"
"Persistence isn't a virtue in this context, don't you think?" His smile was polite, final.
She retreated to her giggling friends, defeated. A lesson for all: boys out late must also guard their virtue. Stay safe.
"Still not fixed…" Sakurai muttered, gazing at the darkened train station entrance. A water main? Electrical fire? Or something darker—a person on the tracks? He finished his coffee, dropped the can into a recycling bin with a soft clink, and descended the overpass.
"Running late."
He pulled out his phone to call a taxi. The fare would sting, but walking was inefficient.
A flicker of movement caught his eye—a familiar silhouette darting across the street ahead.
Pink hair. A distinctive, oversized bow. Head down, glued to her phone…
'Chika?'
Didn't she leave over twenty minutes ago?
He watched, puzzled, as the figure walked straight past the 'Closed' signs and into the yawning, darkened mouth of the train station. Surely she'd realize and turn back.
Shaking his head, Sakurai hailed a cab a few minutes later. "Where to, young man?"
He gave his address and slid into the backseat. The engine purred to life, pulling him away from the curb.
As the city streamed by his window, a cold, nagging thought crystallized.
The train station.
The Future Diary had been unequivocal: Do not take the train home.
Sakurai Saki brought a hand to his temple, a low groan of frustration escaping him as the taxi carried him away from one mystery and, inevitably, toward another.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Fujiwara Chika.
Beep… beep… beep…
A few seconds later, an automated voice: "The number you have dialed is currently switched off or out of service area."
Her phone had died.
A cold, sharp dread pierced through the emotional fog left by his ability. "Driver," Sakurai Saki said, his voice suddenly urgent. "Turn around. Back to the station we just passed."
On the rooftop of a high-rise overlooking the station, a blond man in a crisp white school uniform watched the scene below with detached precision. He was Episod, one of the hunters tracking Kissshot.
"When do we move in?" asked a hulking man with crimson eyes—Dramaturgy, a vampire himself, here for the bounty.
"Patience," Episod replied, his gaze never wavering. "Kissshot's heart is already in the hands of that 'Aberration Expert.' We merely took her limbs. No matter how she regenerates, she's operating at a crippling deficit." A vampire's heart was its core. Even the legendary Kissshot couldn't fully recover without it.
"The station is sealed. Her condition is terminal. Death is a matter of time." Episod's motives were simple, born of trauma: a half-vampire whose human parents were slaughtered by their kind. His hatred was pure, his goal absolute eradication.
"I want to go down now," Dramaturgy growled, predatory instinct flaring.
Behind them, the priestly Guillotinecutter remained silent. He was in no hurry. A mortally wounded beast only needed to be left to bleed out. Engaging in its final moments was needlessly risky. In this empty station, with no humans to replenish her, only a slow end awaited.
"An intruder," Dramaturgy noted, his enhanced sight tracking movement. "A girl. Pink short hair. A large bow."
Episod yawned, bored. "She'll likely die then. So what?" His tone was chillingly casual. "I've overindulged a few times myself lately while feeding. Disposing of the bodies is a hassle." He preferred isolated women. To an aberration, humans were cattle, not kin.
"A human's blood will grant Kissshot, at most, a few more desperate breaths," Guillotinecutter intoned. No consequence.
"Coming to Tokyo to seek death… I wonder if Kissshot will even put up a fight," Episod mused, finding grim humor in the notion of a suicide-prone monster.
"She will."
"Why?"
"No one wishes to die. Aberrations are no exception."
"We descend in thirty minutes. Hm?" Episod's blonde hair stirred in the night wind. His eyes narrowed as another figure breached the station's perimeter. "Another one. Black hair. Male. High school age. No immediate anomalies." He catalogued the new variable with clinical disinterest. Another body would only slightly prolong the inevitable. They had time. They had patience.
Inside the station, Sakurai Saki vaulted over the unmanned ticket gate. The expansive concourse was eerily silent, lit by sterile white lights.
No sign of Chika.
Maybe she already left?
He tried her phone again. Nothing. The silence pressed in, heavy and wrong. He moved deeper, past shuttered concession stands, descending the escalator that stood frozen in place. The logical part of him knew he could be mistaken. The part that remembered the Future Diary could not take that chance.
The entries replayed in his mind:
1.
"Next Tuesday after school, please go home with Chika! Due to a mistake you made, she needs your protection." (Incorrect. Proven false.)
2.
"On the first night of Golden Week, do not take the train home." (He was heeding it now.)
3.
"Beware of monsters!! If you don't want the world to become more chaotic, don't do anything unnecessary!" (The only one still active. A dire warning.)
Beware of monsters. Don't do anything unnecessary.
His footsteps echoed on the stairs as he hurried down to the platform level. A cold, sickening premonition tightened around his chest.
He reached the platform.
His right foot scuffed something. He looked down.
Under the harsh fluorescent glow, a familiar black hair bow lay discarded on the tile.
A sharp, tearing sound—fabric? flesh?—reached his ears from the right.
He slowly, slowly raised his head.
Blood.
That was all he registered at first. A shocking, violent crimson sprayed and pooled across the pristine white platform tiles.
Then, the scene resolved.
Fujiwara Chika lay on her side, eyes closed, her face pale as porcelain. A few feet away, separate, was her head.
Crouched over the horrific scene, a figure with wild, golden hair was bent forward, its face buried—
The figure lifted its head.
A smear of red painted its chin and lips. Sakurai Saki's gaze met a pair of hollow, hungry, golden eyes.
Kissshot. The Aberration Killer. The prey. And now, the predator who had just taken its first, terrible payment from an innocent girl.