"Do you believe in gravity?"
Junpei looked up at him. The midday sun draped itself across Nanami Kira's shoulders, its blinding disc hidden just behind his profile, casting a warm shadow over his face.
Summer blazed. Cicadas screamed themselves hoarse. And Nanami Kira said:
"Do you believe in gravity?"
"A law describing the mutual interaction between objects, discovered by Sir Isaac Newton in 1687. Any two objects attract each other with a force proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them..."
"Sounds like you're good at physics."
Kira gave an appreciative nod and glanced at his watch. "Why did you fight back just now? Wouldn't it have been easier to just apologize?"
"Winning a single fight is easy... but it builds pressure for the next one. That's foolish. Fighting other people is an endlessly foolish thing to do."
"..."
Junpei scratched the back of his head. He was clearly a timid boy—his school uniform was wrinkled all over, and several buttons at his collar had been torn off.
"If I'd apologized, then what was the point of everything I stood for?"
"You despise the version of yourself that gives up?"
"It's not quite that... it's just—giving up would be lame."
"Your experience is a lot like mine. No, I don't mean the getting-beaten-up part."
Kira's expression remained perfectly neutral. He produced a handkerchief from the inner lining of his jacket, dabbed at nonexistent sweat on his forehead, folded it back into a precise square, and cast a faintly disgusted look at the scorching sun overhead.
"My name is Nanami Kira," he said quietly. "My parents divorced when I was young. I was unremarkable in school—some people found me boring and meek, and they bullied me for it. They disappeared soon enough, though... because I possessed the power to end pointless conflicts for good."
"Sounds like you really treasure that ordinary, peaceful life. When someone's ordinary life is shattered, even a stray dog will bare its fangs like a lion."
"Hey... I'm not that pathetic. A stray dog, seriously..."
"If."
"I could give you the power to protect everything, but you might lose your life in the process. Would you accept?"
"Uh... I mean, my own life's gotta be more important, right...?"
The agitation inside the case gradually subsided.
"That's enough for today."
Kira checked his watch one last time. It was almost one o'clock—so much for his plan to be home before one. He wasn't particularly annoyed, just let out a soft tch.
"I live in the villa neighborhood near here. But when you're truly desperate—when you truly need the power to protect everything—come find me."
He turned and started walking away.
"Kira-kun..."
Junpei stumbled forward, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He stared at Kira's retreating back.
"Thank you."
Kira's footsteps halted. Without turning around, he said:
"I'm not a good person. I'm just using you to test a theory. A free guinea pig."
That was the truth.
But Junpei still called out to Kira's back—the enormous sun blazed before him as though it would swallow Kira whole, the sky drowning in a haze of golden light that stung the eyes and blurred the world—
"Thank you!"
"Then fix your clothes. Sew those buttons back on. Even if you're bullied, even if you're thrown in the dirt, even if you're roasted under the sun—never let yourself look pathetic."
"Precisely because life is ordinary, you must live it seriously. With meticulous care."
That was Nanami Kira's creed.
He got home around one-thirty. Kira tossed the bread bag into the trash—he'd picked it up at a bakery on the way, which technically fulfilled his one-o'clock lunch plan.
He went upstairs to check on Stray Cat. It was curled lazily into a ball, surrounded by several mangled yarn balls.
No unusual activity from Stray Cat. Nobody had broken into the house again.
Kira settled into the attic chair and leaned back, setting Stray Cat's pot on his knees. He stroked its petals gently, and Stray Cat squinted in contentment.
The first time he'd seen Stray Cat, Kira had only one thought:
A plant. It shoots bullets. It can't move at night. It needs sunlight.
Did this thing escape from Plants vs. Zombies?
Might as well call it Peashooter.
Now he'd potted it upstairs to guard the house, which only made the resemblance stronger...
The map had changed from the garden to the rooftop. This was the final stage—time to fight Dr. Zomboss.
Thinking about entirely unrelated things, Kira opened the briefcase on his lap, peeling away layer after layer of sealing talismans to reveal a slender Arrow.
That was what had been stirring earlier—when they'd passed by Junpei.
Kira could even faintly sense the Arrow's hunger. It wanted to burst free, to plunge into Junpei's body.
As a Special Grade Cursed Tool, the Arrow obeyed no one. It had broken free of its holders' restraints multiple times to seek out targets, and sometimes it even pierced its own holders. Everyone it struck had died—except Nanami Kira.
That was why the academy had sealed it away. Too unpredictable.
But Kira had gained a Stand from the Arrow—that bizarre and devastating Stand.
Over these past days, a suspicion had been growing. Stray Cat's attacks could damage Killer Queen. Could it also be connected to the Arrow?
He'd buried that stray cat himself. He knew exactly what injuries it had sustained.
An arrow wound.
What if the Arrow was a kind of trial?
Unrelated to strength. Unrelated to power. When the Arrow had pierced him, he'd been nothing but a child. The dead cat had been an utterly ordinary stray. The Arrow didn't test ability—it tested will.
The will to live a peaceful life. A stray cat's will. And Junpei's—
The will to despise one's own cowardice.
And resolve.
Kira knew that if he'd let the Arrow pierce Junpei just then, the boy would have died for certain.
Because that will wasn't strong enough yet. Because he didn't yet possess the resolve to throw away his life for the sake of change—the resolve to let go.
The fire in his heart wasn't fierce enough. The rage inside him hadn't ignited. He hadn't suffered enough.
He hadn't experienced absolute, utter despair—but he was already primed for it.
Like a vast ocean with black magma churning beneath the surface.
Kira looked forward to the day it erupted. But he wouldn't do anything to force it along.
He had no interest in cornering someone into despair, then playing the Good Samaritan and offering help.
That was tedious, boring, and frankly nauseating.
After all, he was just an ordinary salaryman.
The only thing Kira could guarantee was this: when Junpei fell completely into darkness, when he was willing to accept the trial, when he wanted to change his reality no matter the cost—if that day ever came—
He would appear before him and drive the Arrow into his body.
Granting him the power to change everything.