"So... why me?"
Five-year-old Samejima Abiko was the very definition of introverted. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn't understand why Kitagawa Ruby —fresh off her dance competition victory and now the kindergarten's undisputed star—would approach her.
"It's... kind of complicated to explain."
Ruby clasped her hands together, putting on her most pitiful pleading expression:
"So please, beg, hope—Abiko, will you be my friend? Please~"
She'd even thrown in some English for good measure.
Noticing Ruby 's frequent glances toward the classroom and the other children now playing freely in the outdoor area while parents were occupied, Abiko nodded solemnly:
"Oh, you need to prove to your family that you do have friends."
Caught red-handed, Ruby 's words stuck in her throat. She pouted:
"...Don't you not have any friends either?"
"But my family didn't come today. I live at the kindergarten anyway."
Abiko countered swiftly:
"So it doesn't matter."
Ruby felt like the other girl had just said something horrifying in the most matter-of-fact tone. She imagined if Ryo hadn't come today, if he'd stayed in Miyazaki—
Besides, Ruby remembered Abiko had also taken first place—in the art contest.
Compared to the other children's works—charitably called "whimsical" and "imaginative," less charitably "indecipherable"—Abiko's painting stood out like a masterpiece. Clearly, she'd studied proper technique.
Placed among those chaotic scribbles, her drawing of a swordsman wasn't just a crane among chickens—more like an elephant among ants.
Aside from the missing face, everything from the figure's proportions to the fabric folds was impressively detailed.
Both were first-place winners, but while Ruby 's victory had been cheered by a crowd, Abiko's went unnoticed—no parents there to celebrate.
Abiko suddenly felt Ruby 's gaze upon her, inexplicably tinged with pity.
Just as Ruby prepared another attempt at friendship, Ryo—having excused himself from the parent group—approached to surprise his sister.
He'd seen through her scheme, but if she could make even a temporary friend this quickly, that would still be progress.
Truthfully, Ryo also couldn't stomach the teachers' lengthy lectures. Now he understood who bought those parenting magazines he'd once endorsed—and took them as gospel.
Just hearing terms like "toddler coding" and "kindergarten Olympiad math" made his scalp prickle. It struck him that this relentless academic pressure might rival the stresses of child stardom.
After pretending to use the restroom, Ryo had no intention of returning to that sermon. Remembering the children were at the outdoor play area near the entrance—with slides, sandboxes, and other equipment—he headed that way.
From a distance, he could see kids playing freely, their true natures unleashed without parents watching.
But as he approached, movement at the perimeter fence caught his eye—a middle-aged man limping toward the front courtyard, fresh scratches on his calves as if he'd climbed the fence.
Instantly alert, Ryo followed while preparing to shout for help. Any legitimate visitor would enter through the main gate—this sneaking behavior reeked of ill intent.
With Ruby in that courtyard, Ryo's nerves tightened. In both lifetimes, he'd heard enough about sociopaths committing unthinkable crimes.
"For indiscriminate attacks, kindergartens and elementary schools are prime targets."
Yet he didn't act rashly. The kindergarten had security patrols, and two teachers supervised the play area.
Besides, it was summer—the intruder wore short sleeves and shorts, with nowhere to conceal weapons.
After trailing the man, Ryo realized his destination wasn't the courtyard but the central laundry room.
During outdoor activities, children wore durable play clothes. If meals or play soiled their outfits, staff would wash and dry them here. For children like Abiko—whose busy parents left them at the kindergarten—spare clothes were stored here too.
But as a kindergarten laundry room, it served another crucial function.
Washing diapers for the youngest children.
Having raised Ruby for two years, Ryo recognized the familiar scent immediately. His gaze turned icy as he reached into his bag for the wooden practice sword he'd been carrying lately.
He'd guessed the man's purpose.
With today's open house keeping all staff occupied upfront, the laundry room stood deserted.
The intruder crept inside, his expression turning rapturous—even taking an exaggerated deep breath.
Just as he pulled gloves and plastic bags from his pocket, preparing to stuff them with selected items, Ryo's voice floated in:
"I'd stop right there. Security's on the way."
Startled, the man whirled around. But seeing only a elementary-aged boy, his panic eased. He growled:
"Beat it, brat."
Caught in the act, he abandoned theft and bolted for the exit, intending to shove past Ryo.
Upon noticing the wooden sword, he knocked over a clothing rack instead—sending garments and diapers flying at Ryo.
Thus, Ryo's first real combat with the sword involved deflecting airborne laundry.
After a silent apology to his swordsmanship school's founder, Ryo thrust upward—aiming for the nose, where pain receptors clustered densely. The blunt training sword couldn't cut, but it could incapacitate.
His strike—powerful, precise, perfectly timed—landed squarely. Unprepared for such ruthless counterattack, the man staggered back, blood trickling from his nose.
As he reeled, Ryo followed with a kick to the groin—a move unrelated to swordsmanship, taught by manager Mr. Izaki for emergencies.
(One suspected Mr. Izaki had an interesting youth.)
With this one-two combo, Ryo drove the intruder back inside, then retreated while bellowing:
"THIEF—CATCH THE THIEF!"
His trained voice carried effortlessly. Both the play area and touring parents heard clearly.
Never ones to miss excitement, a hundred children stampeded toward the commotion—rendering the two supervising teachers helpless.
Had Ryo shouted "murderer," they'd have initiated evacuation. But for a mere thief? They followed the mob.
Panicked, the intruder abandoned his loot bag, hurling it at Ryo before charging—only to eat another sword strike to the face.
Dodging the projectile (which carried both physical and olfactory offense), Ryo countered the wild punch with a thrust to the ribs. When the man guarded there, Ryo swiftly redirected to his already-bloody nose.
By the time parents, security, and staff arrived, they found Ryo chasing the bloodied man across the courtyard.
With backup present, Ryo smoothly sheathed his sword and briefed them.
Security easily subdued the now-defeated intruder while staff collected scattered laundry—no small task.
The entire confrontation lasted barely two minutes. Faster children caught the final exchanges and Ryo's sword resheathing; slower arrivals had to content themselves with embellished retellings.
To boys this age, even two suitable sticks could fuel hours of heroic duels. Every child dreamed of wielding a legendary weapon to vanquish villains.
Though Ryo used only a basic wooden sword, to these children, it gleamed with divine light—especially since many had seen his Kamen Rider series. Their eyes shone with awe.
"Onii-chan, are you okay?"
Through the chaos, Ruby squeezed to Ryo's side. He'd just finished recounting events to staff while Toshirou Kindaichi spoke with the principal.
Though the children found it thrilling, parents frowned at the security breach—especially after the kindergarten's earlier boasts about safety measures.
"I'm fine."
Ryo flexed his wrist. The man had landed a couple hits during the chase, but compared to the damage Ryo inflicted, it was negligible.
Still, Ruby fretfully inspected his wrist, even blowing on it—her warm breath tickling his skin.
As Ryo moved to stow his sword, he noticed something ominous draped over his bag in the corner.
Ruby saw it too but had no qualms picking up the blue-and-white striped panties, even neatly folding them before handing them to a staff member.
At least it wasn't a soiled diaper—Ryo was rather fond of that bag.
While Ruby was away, Abiko—who'd been with her—approached Ryo from behind and asked softly:
"Can you show me that sword-sheathing move again?"
"—"
Experiencing the intruder's shock firsthand, Ryo turned to see this serious-looking girl slightly older than Ruby .
Unlike Ruby 's striking blonde hair and crimson eyes, this girl shared Ryo's black hair and dark eyes—they could pass as biological siblings.
"Your name is... Samejima Abiko, right?"
Ruby 's pointed finger and Abiko's art contest victory had cemented her name in Ryo's memory. He crouched to her eye level with a smile:
"Why do you want to see it again?"
This was a habit Toshirou Kindaichi had taught him—crouching to speak with children as equals.
"Because... I want to draw it."
"I see..."
Ryo found this timid girl amusing.
"But that reason isn't quite convincing enough."
Abiko nodded matter-of-factly and stated flatly:
"Because I'm Ruby's best friend."
Returning from her underwear delivery mission, Ruby caught only this last part. Thinking Abiko had finally accepted her friendship proposal, she grabbed Abiko's hand and declared proudly:
"Yeah! Abiko's my best friend!"
"See, Onii-chan? You said I had no friends!"
She stuck out her tongue in a playful taunt.
"Well then, I can't refuse."
Ryo played along—if this white lie sparked real friendship, all the better.
He demonstrated the sheathing technique again, even adding an iaido draw.
As Abiko excitedly sketched the motions, Ruby peered over her shoulder at the notebook—spotting the lone English word among the lines:
"'Blade'?"
"Mm. I want to draw a battle manga about blades."
Abiko's eyes lit up discussing her passion. She flipped to her award-winning artwork—the faceless swordsman—and carefully added facial features, emphasizing the dark eyes.
Ruby nodded thoughtfully.
Was it her imagination, or did that face look suspiciously like Ryo's?
"People actually steal children's clothes?"
Lounge on Ryo's sofa, Hoshino Ai pressed a finger to her lips in disbelief:
"I've heard of underground idols selling their socks or bathwater, but targeting little kids? That's too much."
"Which is why I didn't hold back."
Ryo agreed grimly.
"What's so special about those things anyway?"
Ai lifted a leg, examining her white stockings:
"Do you want some, Ryo?"
"...I don't even know how to answer that."
After a beat, he added:
"I'm not a pervert. I must've torn over ten pairs of your stockings during The Forbidden Game of Youth rehearsals."
"Ew... that sounds plenty perverted too."
Changing the subject, Ryo asked:
"How's idol life treating you lately?"
"Not bad. New album and single coming soon."
Ai flashed a confident heart sign with her fingers, winking:
"Still center position!"
"Keep it up."
After a pause, Ryo ventured:
"And... the group dynamic?"
Since debut, Ai had been B-Komachi's immutable center—common for new groups.
But as her acting career took off and the group's popularity soared, other members naturally gained their own fans.
This was both the strength and curse of idol groups.
Amusingly, Ryo had seen fan debates online—some dismissing Ai's skills as overhyped while praising their favorites as "just as good" or "second only to Ai." The hypocrisy was palpable.
It deepened his concerns about team morale, especially after hearing about internal tensions months prior.
An unchanging center.
Both the star and the target.
"It's fine. I can handle it."
Ai's tone was firm.
Noticing Ryo's skepticism, she grinned mischievously:
"If you're so worried, why not cameo in our new MV?"
"The pay's terrible, though."
"What's the song? When's filming?"
Ryo agreed almost instantly.
"Next week."
"The title?" Ai smiled. "Dissonance."
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Did you guys see the LOTM anime it such a peak even though pacing fast, but that's for the best. I think