Chapter 12: Rest Up, Tonight We Keep the Date!
"The troupe had no gigs, so I just came home."
Nanako kept it short. She shoved her suitcase aside, exhaled in relief and said, "Dad, I'm starving. I want noodles."
"Let me see if you've lost weight again!"
Bearded Uncle rushed over, circled his daughter, fingers jabbing the air, voice rattling the cupboards: "Skipping meals again? How many times have I told you—eat properly, eat properly!"
"Is your troupe skimping on food?!"
Seeing her father about to ramble on, Nanako raised a finger and pressed it to his chattering lips with practiced precision, as if she'd rehearsed it a thousand times.
"Stop, Dad. Quiet for a second..."
Only then did she glance at Ryuji, nod slightly in apology, then mutter, "I knew it... I shouldn't have come back."
"Oh, heavens!"
Bearded Uncle rolled on the floor at those words, slapping the tiles and howling:
"Nanako despises her old man! She doesn't want me anymore! Wah, my heart aches so bad I can't even cook noodles..."
Ryuji: "..."
What an entertaining uncle.
Nanako pressed a palm to her forehead with a here-we-go-again look, stepped around the rolling ball of sorrow, moved behind the counter and tied on an apron like she'd never left.
Wash hands, knead dough, stretch noodles, boil—done in one smooth flow.
"Two bowls of special char-siu: one for me, one for the uncle on the floor," she said without turning, voice still flat but warmer now.
At that, Bearded Uncle had to get up, sit sulking to the side, eyes fixed on her, afraid she'd burn herself.
Ryuji finished the last bite, put money on the table and got ready to leave.
This was their warm family moment; what business did he have hovering like a third wheel?
"Sigh, the troupe doesn't get many shows these days... nothing we can do."
Nanako's soft, resigned voice floated over as she slurped noodles, words muffled: "Who told the Paradise Troupe to be bigger and better... and that Young Miss Akinasa's puppetry is just too stunning."
Akinasa?
Puppet show?
Ryuji, halfway to his feet, froze.
Surely not such a coincidence?
That name was exactly what the demon in the alley had given while humming its song and using its Blood Demon Art.
And "puppet show" perfectly explained that lifelike decoy puppet!
Coincidence piled on coincidence... Ryuji felt it couldn't be mere chance!
"Um, customer, what's wrong?"
Nanako noticed his sudden stiffness and silence, blinked in puzzlement and looked at Bearded Uncle: "Did we short-change him?"
Bearded Uncle shook his head, equally baffled.
"It's not that."
Ryuji lifted his face, smile returning: "Your mention of puppet shows and the Paradise Troupe intrigued me..."
He leaned in slightly, serious: "Miss Nanako, could you tell me about them?
About the troupe and that Young Miss Akinasa."
His eyes blazed; she instinctively tilted her head away from the heat.
"Well, I don't mind."
She waved a hand, trying for a "I don't care she's better than me" look, but tight lips and white knuckles betrayed mixed feelings.
She shifted, then began:
"The Paradise Troupe showed up in town about two years ago."
Ryuji gave an attentive nod: "Mm, then?"
"After that..."
Her voice dropped, thick with resentment: "they poached several core members of our troupe... not in a very honorable way."
She swallowed her grievance: "As for Young Miss Akinasa... she's genuinely remarkable."
Those words came hard, an admission she had to make.
"She has a gift: her puppets can produce completely different voices, imitating men, women, old and young to perfection."
She rattled on, mostly venting pent-up frustration.
Ryuji listened quietly, asking a question now and then.
At the end she remembered something: "Oh, one more thing—her eyesight seems superhuman."
Ryuji frowned: superhuman eyesight?
"How so?"
"In pitch-black darkness on stage she can still make her puppets move precisely and produce whatever sound she wants."
Admiration slipped into her tone: "I can't figure that out no matter how I try..."
Only then did she realize how late it was. Sunlight now filtered through the door crack.
Embarrassed, she bowed hurriedly: "Sorry... for wasting your time with all this useless complaining."
Ryuji shook his head; he'd got exactly what he needed.
He said softly, "Not at all—what you said was invaluable! Thanks for the meal. Goodbye!"
With that he hoisted Little Purple, pushed open the door and left.
Watching him go, Nanako muttered, "Strange guy... but not a bad feeling."
Outside, Ryuji headed straight for the hospital, bought a few things, then quickly found the Paradise Troupe's location.
It was a large, eye-catching canvas tent, its white fabric painted in dazzling rainbow patterns that flaunted themselves in the sun.
Ryuji smiled slightly—sure enough, linked to the Eternal Paradise Cult!
Direction confirmed... even if only a namesake, this base merited investigation.
Chances were high it was the same demon.
He suppressed the urge to probe, checked into an inconspicuous nearby inn.
He'd found the demon's lair, but its Blood Demon Art still needed analysis.
From Nanako's description and his own experience, the demon favored support and control, likely centering on puppet manipulation.
Oddly, last night's decoy puppet had been fixed in place.
Yet the parting footsteps had sounded agile and varied.
Could a static puppet produce such dynamic, misleading audio?
Had he missed a key detail? One thing seemed sure: the demon was weak in close combat!
Despite a perfect ambush last night, it had only scratched his chest—barely a graze.
Its strength and speed were low, on par with or even below the Hand Demon.
A mechanism-type reliant on its Blood Demon Art.
His thoughts clarified.
Ryuji stopped overthinking, pushed the clutter aside, lay back on the hard inn bed, right hand instinctively gripping Little Purple beside him—the solid touch was reassuring.
Rest up—tonight we keep the date!