Chapter 5 – Haruno: Has the Pet Slipped Its Leash?
Hearing Yukinoshita Haruno's voice grow cold over the phone, Yukinoshita Akira's expression remained perfectly calm.
To him, that woman was just another character in the story. Even though he now lived in this world, Akira still stood on a different plane—an existence beyond comprehension.
For him, this world was nothing more than a pleasant vacation.
"What do you want? If it's nothing important, I'm hanging up. Class is about to start."
"My, my~ Akira-chan, how could you talk to me like that~? I am your fiancée, you know~"
Her playful tone carried a hint of dissatisfaction, but it quickly faded as she slipped back behind her usual mask of charm.
This was what adults called society—a place where everyone wore masks to survive, and only removed them behind closed doors.
But Haruno… she never took hers off. Even at home, she played her roles.
In a sense, she was more of a puppet than anyone she looked down on.
"Good timing, actually. I was about to call you myself, but since you reached me first, I don't need to waste the effort."
"Oh? Akira-chan needs my help? Has the sun started rising from the west?"
For the second time that morning, Haruno was caught off guard. The fiancé who usually avoided contact, who always kept a polite distance, was suddenly… different.
For years, he had refused her help. Even when cornered, he never once reached out to her. Yet now, he was asking for something?
"First, starting tomorrow, I'll be going to school on my own. I won't need the Yukinoshita family's driver anymore."
"Huh? Why? Did Yukino say something to you again? You've been used to her attitude for years now, haven't you?"
"I'm informing you, not asking for permission."
"…I see. Then what's the second thing?"
"Find me a katana. Consider it a debt I owe. As long as it doesn't go against my principles, I'll return the favor however you want."
"A debt? Akira-chan, do you honestly think a debt from you holds any value to me?"
"That depends… on how you choose to value it."
"…How interesting. You're very interesting today. What happened to you, Akira-chan? You've changed far too much—it's almost shocking."
"Oh right, I'll need the katana to be at least Sandō-grade."
At that moment, silence filled the other end of the call.
A Sandō-grade sword was not something just anyone could access—certainly not a high school student.
In traditional Japanese swordcraft, a blade's sharpness was measured by how many bodies it could cut clean through in a single strike. The word "dō" referred to the torso—the standard point of measurement.
One dō meant the sword could slice through a single human body.
Three dōs—Sandō—was already legendary: a sword that could cut through three.
Such blades were classified as Yōmono—masterwork-level weapons.
Even higher were the Saijō Ōwazamono, blades that could cut through seven bodies—true "supreme cutters."
Those weren't weapons anymore; they were executioner's relics. In modern times, possessing one was practically illegal.
"…Where did you even hear that term?"
"That's not your concern. I only asked if you could get it—or not."
"I'm sorry, Akira-chan. For something like that… even I can't do much."
"Then forget it."
"Wait, you—!"
Before she could finish, the call disconnected.
Akira set his phone to silent mode, his expression unchanging. Then he slipped it back into his pocket as if nothing had happened.
Not far away, Hayama Hayato looked over, brows faintly furrowed.
He'd overheard parts of the conversation—just fragments, but enough to catch that strange phrase: "Sandō-grade sword."
He had no idea what it meant, but something about it unsettled him.
Meanwhile, miles away, Yukinoshita Haruno stared at her phone, her expression darkening.
Had her pet… slipped its leash?
The obedient boy who had always kept quiet—who had never once raised his voice at her—had suddenly started hanging up on her. Multiple times.
His tone, his confidence… everything had changed.
And that word—katana.
Haruno couldn't make sense of it.
She had only called to ask about her younger sister, Yukinoshita Yukino. But now, all she could think about was the man on the other end of the line.
The pet she had carefully raised over the years was starting to bare its teeth.
Was this… rebellion? Or evolution?
"I suppose I'll have to pay Sobu High a visit," she murmured. "To check on Yukino… and maybe greet Shizuka-sensei as well."
Her lips curved slightly. But deep down, she wasn't thinking of Yukino—or Shizuka.
No. There was only one person on her mind.
The pet that was starting to change.
Since childhood, Haruno's life had been dictated by her mother.
Even her future husband had been chosen for her.
She couldn't—no, didn't dare—to resist.
So she decided on one thing: if she couldn't change her future, she would change the person within it.
She would mold him—shape him into the perfect image she wanted.
Just as her mother had shaped her.
It was a cruel cycle—those who had suffered once tended to inflict the same pain on others, believing that by doing so, they could share the burden.
That if someone else suffered with them, the pain would somehow feel lighter.
Back at Sobu High, the next teacher had already entered the classroom.
Students returned to their seats, the hum of conversation fading into quiet focus once again.
For Akira, though, the world seemed sharper than before.
Ever since inheriting the Template of Yoriichi Tsugikuni, his senses had become… extraordinary.
Yoriichi had been born different—blessed with a perception beyond human reach.
He could see the movement of lungs, the flow of blood, the contraction of every muscle.
Every breath, every heartbeat, every shift in weight—it was all laid bare before his eyes.
For normal people, such awareness was unattainable even after a lifetime of training.
For Yoriichi, it was as natural as breathing.
Akira hadn't yet reached that level, but traces of those abilities had begun to awaken instinctively.
He could tell—without even turning—that Hayama Hayato had been sneaking glances at him ever since the call ended.
The faint rustle of clothes, the hesitant shifts of his chair—it all painted a clear picture.
Akira understood why.
After all, the "Golden Boy" of Sobu High had always harbored feelings for Yukinoshita Haruno.
Unfortunately for him, Haruno had never looked his way.
To her, Hayama Hayato was nothing more than a convenient tool.
And Akira?
He was no longer interested in playing the part of her pet.
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