The next day.
Another clear sky.
The rain from two days prior had burned off, and the heat had roared back. August was the tail end of summer—the year's last truly oppressive season, clinging to the final days of Shosho, the End of Heat. Soon it would be Risshū, the Start of Autumn. Once that stretch passed, the weather would cool at last.
On the eve of Risshū, though, temperatures tended to peak. Summer, in full bloom and brilliant as flowers, would unleash its final blaze—what people called the late-summer heatwave.
Late summer. Still sweltering. Everything alive was clawing at the last daylight, pushing to grow. Through the open window the world was lush, triumphant, paulownia leaves layered thick upon thick, green shade packed so dense that not a sliver of sky showed through.
Kira looked out at the hot morning and frowned.
He was beginning to regret agreeing to leave the house.
Even on work trips, he had his ways of killing time—but this outing was going to take half his soul with it.
He returned the notebook to the cabinet, laid a barrier around it, then wrapped that in two more layers of Curtain. In exchange for allowing absolutely anyone to enter, the Curtain offered one thing: complete concealment from Hoshino Ei.
A Curtain that sacrificed every other function could trap even Satoru Gojo for a while. Miss Hand didn't stand a chance.
He scratched at his brow. The regret deepened. Why, exactly, had he brought this unlucky creature home?
He washed up quickly. He didn't put on the pale blue suit he usually wore—too hot for it, apparently, even for him. Instead he chose a crisp white shirt and a light-colored bow tie, studied himself in the mirror: pale blue eyes calm as a cloudless sky, features sharp and well-defined, blond hair combed immaculately.
He put on his watch. A Glashütte Original Panoramic Date—expensive, a German brand dating back to 1845. The two silver hands were as lovely as twin moons.
German watches kept time beautifully. And Kira needed to master every minute, every second.
He went upstairs to feed Stray Cat. The creature was getting fussier by the day—now it chose to hug its leaves tight, plant its paws on its hips, and bare its teeth in protest.
Not a problem, that.
A good thrashing would sort it out.
He sat down at the entryway, pulled his shoes from the lower compartment, laced them up. Standing, he cast one last look back into the house, then turned the doorknob and stepped out.
The heat was every bit as bad as expected.
From the villa district, one stop on the train from Shibuya Station, across Shinjuku, off at the terminal—that would put him near the school. It was still early, only seven. The Goodwill Event didn't start until ten. He had time to spare.
Actually, he'd almost prefer the train to break down. A cursed spirit attack, maybe. Shibuya Station detonating in a fireball. Anything to spare him the walk through this heat.
Step by step, he kept to the tree-shade, measuring out the morning. He was almost at Shibuya Station when he stopped dead.
The temperature was that intense. Every building threw back the light, and the windows seemed to cut at the eyes of the people passing.
Hoshino Ei was leaning against a signpost at the station. Her pale hands hung naturally at her sides. She looked like she was waiting for someone.
She wasn't in yesterday's summer dress. A new blouse today—pale blue silk, the sleeves long enough to cover most of the backs of her hands, leaving only the faintest tips of her slender fingers on display.
The summer breeze stirred her long white hair. Like snow scattering through the air.
Kira didn't spare her a glance. He tried to breeze past as if he hadn't seen her.
"Hey. Walking right past someone you obviously saw—isn't that rude?"
Miss Hand was up in arms at his elbow, yelling from the moral high ground and jabbing a finger at him.
"Hello."
Kira slowed, tilted his head toward her with a calm little nod, and kept walking.
"Hello—?"
Hoshino Ei caught up, swung around in front of him, threw her arms wide, and erupted in a voice thick with tears:
"You absolute scumbag!"
She was playing the tragic beauty to the hilt, eyes forlorn, tears quivering in her irises. She even remembered to hiccup at artful intervals.
"You use a girl up and toss her aside! Out every day chasing wild women on the side! Does your conscience allow that?! You leave me alone to rot in an empty house—stuffed in the freezer like some rejected concubine—and you still have a conscience left?!"
With that outburst, the commuters hurrying past began shooting Kira some extremely pointed looks. Strange looks.
He was one second from blowing up the entire station.
Kira's face darkened. His nails lengthened slightly. What truly left him speechless was the fact that, in a certain technical sense, Hoshino Ei was not wrong...
Her acting was genuinely impressive.
"Let's go."
He glanced at her flatly, laid a hand on her shoulder. A faint pink glow flickered there. Lowering his head, Kira met her eyes and murmured into her ear:
"You're getting full of yourself, cursed spirit. Don't mistake me for someone easy to get along with."
Malice welled up out of him—the kind that came from the depths of his soul, a malice like instinct:
"I can blow you up at any moment."
"Then blow me up."
Hoshino Ei looked up at him. Her wine-red eyes were serious. She leaned closer, close enough that Kira could feel the warm air of her breath, gentle as a summer breeze, and she said, softly:
"Anger, calm, even your disgust for me—I love every part of Kira-kun. Even blown to pieces by you, I wouldn't be lonely."
Tch.
Irritating.
Incredibly irritating.
If her new shikigami ability didn't still hold some utility, he would not be keeping her around another second.
Whoosh—
The train pulled in, a wave of pressure surging off it.
Kira lifted his hand from her shoulder. The faint pink cursed energy dissipated. Without looking back he walked toward the opening doors.
"Let's go. You came all the way back from school just to walk with me? Stupid Hand."
"Mm!"
Hoshino Ei nodded hard, skipping to catch up with a bright, bouncing step. She tried to slip her fingers into his—he shook her off without mercy, and she didn't take offense. She just trailed after him, smiling.
The sun was blazing. Everything was glowing. And in the blaze, they walked on, one just ahead of the other.
Like summer evenings from long ago.
Starlight spilling across the sky and into their shadows, an old film just finished, the walk home through the night. Crickets shouting in the grass. Ivy running wild in the starlight.