Akira caught the stockings mid-air, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Legendary item acquired. Amorous War God's combat power increased by 100%."
Grumble-grumble.
The sound came from Kasumigaoka Utaha's stomach, not his.
She settled onto the rooftop floor, adjusting her skirt with practiced elegance, and retrieved her pineapple bun and milk. "A feast for the eyes is all well and good," she said dryly, "but you can't fill your stomach just by looking at me."
She bit into her bun—then paused.
Her gaze had drifted to the side, where not one but two bento boxes sat near the wire mesh.
Two.
Akira hadn't come to the rooftop alone.
Her heart leaped into her throat. She didn't regret what had just happened—couldn't regret it, not with the two years of longing behind it—but the thought of a witness...
"Whose bento is the other one?" Her voice was carefully controlled.
"My classmate." Akira followed her gaze. "Saeko Busujima."
Saeko Busujima. A girl's name.
Kasumigaoka Utaha's taut nerves relaxed slightly.
Then tightened again.
"It's a girl."
"Yes." Akira's expression was calm, unapologetic. "The situation is a bit complicated. I'll call her out."
Kasumigaoka Utaha's loyalty—her favorability—stood at 85. She was, for all practical purposes, already an insider. There was no reason to hide.
Akira extended his hand, and with a thought, a platinum-colored sphere materialized in his palm.
"Eh?!"
Kasumigaoka Utaha's eyes widened. A ball—a real, physical ball—had appeared from nowhere. And then—
Light erupted from it. A beam that coalesced, condensed, and became.
Saeko Busujima stood before her, restored to perfect condition, radiating health and vitality.
"Bai." Saeko's eyes found Akira first, warm with recognition. Then they shifted to the second-year student beside him.
The two girls regarded each other.
Akira made the introductions without hesitation. "This is my classmate—and my woman—Saeko Busujima."
"Saeko, this is my second-year senior—and my woman—Kasumigaoka Utaha."
He continued smoothly, "Saeko specializes in combat. Utaha specializes in writing. You should get to know each other."
Saeko, who understood far more of the underlying situation, accepted this without resistance. She inclined her head politely. "Hello, Senior."
Kasumigaoka Utaha blinked. "Hello... Saeko."
Then she turned to Akira, her expression a masterpiece of confusion.
He had already opened his bento. "Let's eat first. I'll explain while we eat."
Lunch became story time.
Between bites of rice and fish, Akira laid out the situation—the system, the training, the capture balls, the exponential growth. He explained Saeko's situation, the dojo, the uncle, the Gang, the Zombie Devil. He spoke of Yumi and Yuki, of Kato and Alisa and Marin, of the web of connections spreading outward from his core.
Kasumigaoka Utaha listened with the focused attention of a novelist absorbing material. By the time they'd finished eating, the story was nearly complete.
Her acceptance was remarkably high. As a light novel author, she was professionally accustomed to narrative coherence—to worlds where impossible things happened for internally consistent reasons. And in a reality already populated by Monsters, Devils, and Cursed Spirits, what Akira described was merely... additional impossibility.
But experiencing it personally was different from writing about it.
"Crazy." She stared at her own hands, flexing fingers, testing muscles. "This is absolutely crazy."
The changes were real. She could feel them—the slight increase in strength, the sharper reflexes, the improved stamina. Everything Akira had claimed was true.
Akira let her process. A novelist's mind would adapt. It always did.
And indeed, after a few minutes of internal adjustment, Kasumigaoka Utaha looked up with something like acceptance in her eyes.
"So." Her voice was steady now. "You two are fighting a Gang tonight?"
The worry in her tone was unmistakable. Her world—the world of manuscripts and deadlines and quiet afternoons with tea—had never intersected with violence. The thought of Akira walking into danger...
"We'll win." Akira's confidence was absolute. "Don't worry."
He rose, retrieving a wooden sword from where it rested against the mesh. He tossed it to Saeko, who caught it with fluid grace.
The two moved apart, creating distance.
"An ordinary person's maximum speed is about ten meters per second," Akira explained, his voice carrying to Kasumigaoka Utaha. "Straight line only. Limited acceleration."
He gestured to Saeko.
"She, after training, can reach approximately twenty meters per second—and maintain directional control for simultaneous slashes."
Kasumigaoka Utaha's breath caught.
Twenty meters per second. Over seventy kilometers per hour. Fast enough to keep pace with city traffic. Fast enough that a car on a residential street would struggle to escape.
This level of power... She did quick mental calculations. Even within the Hero Association, she'd have a place.
And if Saeko was this strong...
How strong is Akira?
The question bloomed in her mind, followed by another: How strong will I become, if he keeps training me?
But for now, Kasumigaoka Utaha had only one task.
She took a deep breath. "Begin!"
The word barely left her lips before Saeko Busujima moved.
Kasumigaoka Utaha's eyes struggled to track her—a blur of motion, a streak of silver-white hair, the whistle of air displaced by impossible speed. Saeko launched herself at Akira with the focused intensity of a blade seeking its target.
Da-da-da-da—
The clash of wooden swords filled the rooftop, rapid as raindrops against glass, continuous as a drumroll. Strike. Parry. Counter. Each exchange flowed into the next without pause, without hesitation.
Less than a minute passed, and already Saeko had adapted. Her newly enhanced strength integrated seamlessly into her movements. Her speed increased. Her strikes carried new weight—the weight of insights gained, of techniques internalized.
The light drizzle of their opening exchanges became a downpour.
THWACK—THWACK—THWACK—
Each collision now carried deeper resonance. The wooden swords vibrated violently on impact, humming with transferred energy. Saeko pressed harder, faster, more fiercely—
CRACK.
Akira's wooden sword, already stressed from earlier sessions, shattered explosively.
But the next instant, his hand moved—two fingers extended, meeting Saeko's descending blade. They closed around it, clamping down with impossible precision.
Saeko strained. Her muscles bunched. Her full strength, focused through the wooden sword, accomplished nothing. The blade remained motionless, held effortlessly between two fingers.
"Enough." Akira's voice was calm, almost casual. "Any more and there won't be time to rest before afternoon class."
Saeko exhaled, her chest rising and falling with slight breathlessness. Those few minutes of full exertion had pushed her—not to her limit, but close.
"Amazing!" Kasumigaoka Utaha clapped, genuine appreciation in her voice. "That was incredible!"
She still didn't know the true extent of Akira's power—he'd barely revealed anything. But Saeko alone... Saeko could handle ten ordinary men without breaking stride. Those Gang thugs wouldn't stand a chance against her.
According to Akira, though, she wants to eliminate the threat completely. Her uncle. The whole Gang.
Kasumigaoka Utaha found herself agreeing with the plan.
Monsters, Devils, Cursed Spirits—they were threats from outside, dangers that everyone recognized and fought against. But Gangs? They were internal rot. Instead of fighting the real enemies, they preyed on their own people. Sometimes, what they did was worse than the Monsters.
If Akira and Saeko wiped them out entirely... Kasumigaoka Utaha would applaud. If she had the power, she'd join them.
"Not worried anymore?" Akira's smile was knowing.
She met his eyes. "Not worried."
"Good. Saeko—that finger technique I used. Visualize it. It'll help your growth."
Saeko nodded, filing the instruction away. "I will, Bai."
Akira checked his phone. "Five minutes to class. Let's move."
He descended first, bento box in hand. Moments later, Saeko followed.
The classroom buzzed with pre-afternoon energy as they slipped through the door—separately, naturally, but close enough in timing to be noticeable.
Kitagawa Marin's eyes immediately zeroed in.
"Ooh~!" She leaned across the aisle, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Shen Bai-kun! Since when are you and Saeko-san so close? Returning together like that~?"
Her crimson-tinted eyes sparkled with curiosity—and something else. Something that looked almost like...