"...Pervert."
Shinomiya clutched her right hand protectively to her chest, cradled by her left. Though her expression remained a practiced mask of cool indifference, a faint, betraying blush dusted her cheeks.
The tips of her ears, hidden beneath her waterfall of dark hair, burned a telltale crimson. Controlling micro-expressions was one thing; commanding the autonomic flush of her skin was another battle entirely. All she could do was will her racing heart to slow.
"Just kidding. I wouldn't actually lick it," Kuroha Akira said with an easy shrug, completely unfazed by the rejection—or the label. In fact, the outrageous comment had been deliberate: a perfect distraction to steer her away from further questions about his strange hand-inspection ritual. It also served as a live test of his newly acquired [Soul Performance S].
The result was impressively seamless. He'd effortlessly channeled the vibe of a flippant, charming playboy, with the final pivot into 'creepy tease' landing with natural, unsettling ease. The talent truly shone in active performance.
His experimentation with cycling through her copied talents had yielded interesting data. The S-ranks didn't grant the same overwhelming, general boost as the A-rank academic ability.
'Heavenly Voice S' merely cleared his throat and sinuses, making his voice feel unobstructed. 'Light Body Flexibility S' brought a vague sense of physical lightness and increased joint mobility. 'Soul Performance S' felt the most subtle—just a heightened sense of control over his own facial muscles and emotional projection.
They weren't transformative superpowers, but specialized tools lying dormant until their specific context arose. His improvised 'pervert' act proved it; the talent provided an intuitive framework, letting him embody a character instantly. He even felt a phantom flicker of [Acting Proficiency] trying to take root.
The remaining unknown was duration. How long did a copied talent last? That would require long-term observation.
Hopefully, it's permanent until I choose to replace it, he thought. A man can dream.
"Oh, right," he said, shifting topics as they neared the familiar neighborhood. "I haven't mentioned bringing you home to Granny Kobayashi yet. She might ask about your situation, so heads up."
Having regained her composure, Shinomiya focused. "What is Granny Kobayashi like?"
"Hmm…" Akira crossed his arms, picturing the old woman. "She's… kind of like a fairy tale witch. Looks stern, has this permanently judging glare that could curdle milk. But if you actually approach her, you find she's surprisingly easy to talk to. All bark, no bite. The classic 'sharp tongue, soft heart' type."
"But… I don't have money for rent."
"Don't worry about it. I've been living there for half a year and haven't paid a yen in rent either."
"Eh? But you said she's the landlady…"
"She is the owner. It's just that her hobby is… collecting strays to look after. Like a lonely old person adopting pets."
" 'Collecting strays' sounds a bit extreme…"
"Is it? Isn't it basically what's happening with you right now?"
"...Okay." Shinomiya had no retort. Her status was, indeed, 'picked-up stray.'
Akira was fairly confident Granny would accept her. In a way, Shinomiya was connected to Kuroo. Though there was a nuance: Kuroo had led him to Granny Kobayashi, whereas Kuroo had merely led him to Shinomiya.
Granny didn't actively go out hunting for human strays; the cat brought them.
This line of thought prompted a last-minute identity check. He needed to be sure.
"The odd changes… even stays the same?" he said suddenly, in clear, deliberate Mandarin.
"Nani?" Shinomiya blinked, utterly confused. The words were gibberish to her.
Akira noted the response. It was 'Nani?' (What?), not 'Fuck!' or any other recognition. So, she wasn't a fellow transmigrator. A tiny, secret hope—that her monstrous talent might signify a shared origin—fizzled out. Oh well.
"Never mind. Just leave the talking to me later. You don't need to say much."
"Mn."
Shion gave a silent nod and followed him through the gate and into the Kobayashi residence.
"Granny, I'm home!"
"You brat, your timing is impeccable. I was just about to put the food away…"
Granny Kobayashi's grumbling voice floated from the kitchen, but it cut off abruptly. The old woman, wiping her hands on a towel, appeared in the entryway and stopped short, her sharp eyes landing on the tall, dark-haired girl standing obediently beside Kuroha Akira.
Shinomiya stood quietly, and for the first time, she beheld the legendary Granny Kobayashi—Kobayashi Mika.
Despite being well over seventy, the woman radiated a formidable vitality. Her voice was a clear, carrying alto, and she stood ramrod straight, unlike many her age who tended to stoop. She moved with a quick, decisive energy that seemed to part the air around her.
Most striking was her height—she stood nearly eye-to-eye with the 175cm Akira, forcing Shinomiya to tilt her head up slightly to meet her gaze.
Just as Akira had warned, Granny Kobayashi's eyes were piercingly sharp. To be scrutinized by them felt like being sized up by a seasoned hawk, instilling an instinctive wariness. She carried the imposing aura of a retired yakuza matriarch from a classic film.
"Good evening. I apologize for the intrusion," Shinomiya said, her voice perfectly level. Her innate talent allowed her to bow with flawless calm, betraying none of the nervous tension coiling inside her. Akira-kun said to leave it to him. I'll trust him.
"Yeah, this is—" Akira began, ready with an explanation.
But Granny Kobayashi cut him off with practicality. She pulled an extra pair of slippers from the cabinet and set them on the floor with a soft thump. "Come inside first. Don't stand around gabbing in the genkan. Slippers."
With that, she turned on her heel and marched back toward the living room.
Exchanging a quick glance, Akira and Shinomiya swapped their shoes for the offered slippers and followed.
In the living room, they found Granny Kobayashi retrieving a worn, brown leather wallet from a drawer. From it, she pulled out a single, crisp banknote and thrust it toward Kuroha Akira.
"Here, boy."
It was a 10,000 yen bill.
"This is...?!" Akira's eyes widened in genuine shock.
The notoriously frugal old woman is giving me money?!
In the six months he'd lived under her roof, Granny Kobayashi had never given him a single yen for allowance. Room and board were provided, but pocket money was a foreign concept.
Do I look like your darling grandson? he'd often grumbled internally.
But now, out of the blue, 10,000 yen? Had she hit her head? Had some long-dormant grandmotherly instinct finally awakened? Or… seeing him bring a girl home, did she assume he'd want to order in something nice, like sushi?
Suppressing his curiosity, Akira's instincts kicked in. When free money is offered, you don't question—you negotiate for more.
"Well, if you're giving, you might as well make it a bit more," he said, reaching for the note with a shameless grin.
It was the wrong move. He had just lit the fuse on Granny Kobayashi's notoriously short temper.
Her eyebrows shot up like drawn swords.
"You ungrateful little punk! 10,000 yen isn't enough? Just how much stamina do you think you have?!" she barked, jabbing a finger toward his face. "Even the good three-packs are only nine hundred yen a box! Buy ten boxes at once—that's thirty pieces! Isn't that enough for you?! Should I just start calling you 'Mr. Thirty-Times-a-Night'?! The leftover thousand is for you to go get a decent meal and recover your strength!"
"Uh… wha?" Akira was utterly lost. What was she telling him to buy? It couldn't be… what he thought it was, right?
Granny Kobayashi clicked her tongue in annoyance, steamrolling past his confusion. "Tch. Anyway, make sure you take precautions. Don't go getting a girl pregnant at your age."
Her tone was brutally matter-of-fact. "In your current state, you can't even afford to raise a child. You probably couldn't even cover the clinic fees."
She fixed him with a stern, unyielding look. "If you're man enough to bring her here, you be man enough to see it through properly. Don't be some useless fool who causes trouble and then runs away. I won't stand for that kind of disgrace under my roof."
The meaning finally crashed over him.
So the money is for… safety measures.
She's giving me, a penneless dependent, 10,000 yen specifically to buy condoms, with explicit instructions to use them.
Old lady! Are you just assuming she and I are in that kind of relationship?!
Am I really that kind of person in your eyes?!