Clear skies today—perfect for a war. Shidou Itsuka's mood, however, was predictably stormy.
"...My sensors are glitching from your emotional spikes. You okay like this?" Kotori's voice crackled through the earpiece.
"I-I'm fine! Don't worry!" Shidou stammered.
"Shaking like an earthquake's hitting just you. Some confidence," Kotori teased.
Shidou was stunned himself. No rookie soldier could tremble this much before their first battle. Heading to Tenguu Station for his date, his condition was far from ideal. The tension was overwhelming. Who'd have thought his desire to save a Spirit would clash so violently with... other feelings? Even Kotori seemed exasperated by the chaos.
He'd spent sleepless nights thinking—about Kurumi's motives, her view of him, whether he could make her enjoy the date, and more. All Kurumi, all the time. Did it help? Obviously not.
"Still, you stayed up like an excited monkey but seem energetic. I'll give you that," Kotori said.
"Don't phrase it like that! How'd you know I didn't sleep?" Shidou protested.
"Your emotional readings are monitored. I also know you stirred up Tohka's emotions last night," Kotori replied.
"Ugh... sorry about that," Shidou mumbled.
From 's perspective, Tohka's emotional swings were nerve-wracking. Kotori's sigh conveyed that, and Shidou felt guilty, even if he had no other choice.
"Tohka's mood's fine now, so it's okay. But after Kurumi, take her on a date," Kotori instructed.
"Planned to," Shidou said.
He intended to, but now he had to focus on Kurumi's date, prioritized over Tohka's invitation.
"Good. Hurry up. Your opponent's waiting," Kotori urged.
"What?! Say that sooner!" Shidou yelped.
He jogged, though with over thirty minutes until 10 AM, he'd been strolling. Kurumi waiting changed everything. The time he'd set seemed pointless now, his mind too frazzled to care. Soon, he spotted his destination: the dog statue by Tenguu Station's east exit, nicknamed "Pachi-kou," more famous than its official name.
And there she was—Kurumi.
"Kuru—" Shidou started, hand raised, but his voice caught.
There it was again. Mesmerized by Tokisaki Kurumi.
For a moment, the world froze in his eyes, with only Kurumi in color. Draped in black, her elegance made him think the color existed just for her. Love is... blind, was it?
Turning, Kurumi's smile bloomed like a flower. "Good morning, Shidou-san."
Just that. Yet his heart thundered, louder than ever. Kurumi always did this to him, but today was intense, his pulse racing like it'd burst. Yet his mind looped to calm clarity. He felt... unhinged.
"Morning, Kurumi. You're early," he said.
"Yes... I was so excited for our date, I came too soon. But you're early too, Shidou-san," she replied.
"Yeah... same. Too excited to sit still, wanted to wait here. You beat me," he chuckled.
"Excited? You were so restless I kicked you out," Kotori muttered.
"Oh, sharing my feelings makes me so happy," Kurumi said.
Ignoring Kotori, Shidou grinned bashfully at Kurumi's words. He had wanted to leave early—before Kotori literally booted him out.
Kurumi curtsied, grabbing her skirt, her refined demeanor fitting her perfectly. "Thank you for inviting me, Shidou-san. I'm truly delighted for our date—but..."
"Huh?" Shidou blinked.
Kurumi stepped closer, her fragrance dulling his thoughts for a split second. In that moment, he gaped—his earpiece, now in her hand, like a magic trick.
"What?!" he gasped.
"This is our date, Shidou-san. No need for... extra interference, yes?" Kurumi slid the earpiece into his pocket, patted it, and smiled—a smile tinged with unease.
With that, Shidou lost 's support. Kurumi knew about . How to respond? As he grimaced, her small hand tugged his sleeve.
"Or... are you uneasy about our date, Shidou-san?" Her upturned, teary eyes pierced him.
Not just her calculated gaze—her eyes held genuine anxiety. That was enough. "No way," he said firmly.
He grasped her delicate, soft hand. No support? So what? She was a Spirit, but first, a girl. He wouldn't let her feel uneasy.
Resolve set, Shidou vowed to make this girl enjoy herself, beyond sealing powers or flustering her. This was his war date.
"Let's go, Kurumi—our war date starts now."
Her fingers squeezed back, her answer clear.
"Really... here?" Shidou asked.
"Yes, I wanted to come here," Kurumi said, smiling.
He'd double-checked, but Kurumi confirmed the destination—a dazzling, noisy building: an arcade. Her refined aura clashed with it, catching him off guard. But if she wanted it, he'd comply. Did that clear his doubts? No.
"Why an arcade? Not complaining, just curious," he said, clarifying no discontent.
Kurumi didn't take offense. "Don't overthink it. I'd find it hard to come alone, so with you, I wanted to try it."
Blushing slightly, she convinced him. As a Spirit, her otherworldly beauty would draw trouble—pickup attempts at best. With him by her side, no worries. Being relied on felt good.
With you... Men were simple creatures, hooked by such words.
"Alright, let's have max fun!" Shidou clenched his fist, hyped.
Kurumi nodded happily, and they entered the arcade.
"Such noise..." Kurumi remarked.
"Yeah, first time's overwhelming. You okay?" Shidou asked.
"Yes, a bit startling, but I'm fine," she said, smiling despite covering her ears.
Relieved, Shidou said, "Good. Let's explore. If it's too much, tell me."
"Thank you," she replied.
Ensuring her comfort came first. But Kurumi, unfazed, scanned the arcade eagerly—rhythm games, fighters, racers. Her steps halted.
"Something up?" Shidou asked.
"No... not exactly," she said, staring intensely at a claw machine filled with cute cat plushies.
"Like cats?" he teased.
"N-no! Just... a little curious," she stammered, cheeks pink, voice shaky.
Her flustered denial was adorable, a new side of her. "Since we're here, I'll win one for you," Shidou declared.
"No, you don't have to..." she protested.
"You're interested, right? No need to hold back."
Winning it would boost her affection—his excuse. Really, he just wanted her smile. Without , it was his call, and he felt confident.
Brushing off her protests, he exchanged bills for coins and started the claw machine. He'd played before; it seemed simple—hook and push. Unaware, he'd stepped into a deep pit.
First try:
"Moved a bit," Kurumi noted.
"Yeah, pushing it out. Next!" Shidou said.
Second try:
"No movement," she observed.
"Slipped up. Next time!" he insisted.
Fifth try:
"Shidou-san...?" Kurumi sounded concerned.
"It's moving a little, see? No worries," he said.
Tenth try:
"Shidou-san!" she exclaimed.
"This arcade's arm's weak... haha," he laughed nervously.
Twentieth try:
"Shidou-san! Enough! Your effort's enough!" Kurumi pleaded.
"No, it moved! Next one's it, trust me!" he shouted.
Clink. Ignoring her pleas, another coin vanished, fueling the economy, Shidou thought detachedly. His pride was on the line—a cheap pride, as Kotori's phantom voice mocked.
Kurumi gripped his sleeve, watching the claw tensely. Shidou, hands sweaty, maneuvered it again. Clunk—the plushie fell.
"Oh..." they gasped in unison.
"It fell..." Shidou muttered.
"It fell!" Kurumi echoed.
Stunned, they exchanged looks, then erupted in joy, beaming and nearly jumping.
"We did it, Kurumi!" Shidou cheered.
"Yes, yes! Congratulations, Shidou-san!" Kurumi clapped.
High-fiving, they forgot the gift's purpose, consumed by the victory. Shidou retrieved the cat plushie and handed it to her. "Took effort. Treasure it, okay?"
"Yes! Thank you, Shidou-san," she said, hugging it tightly, her joy radiant.
Her happiness sent his heart racing again. He noticed the tense unease he'd felt from her was gone. What it was, he couldn't pinpoint, but her genuine enjoyment was enough.
Wanting her smile, craving to know her better, he took her hand again. She started but squeezed back, smiling.
"Date's just started. Let's keep the fun going, Kurumi," he said.
"Yes... I'm having so much fun, Shidou-san," she replied.
Her saying his name felt so right. Hand in hand, he felt a simple, profound happiness.
"Muu... nuu..." Tohka groaned.
Restless, she rolled on her bed, then sprawled out. The "murkiness" in her chest wouldn't fade.
Shidou was on a "date" with Kurumi. It was... fine. He was helping Kurumi live normally, like her. Yet this "murkiness" persisted. Shidou's complex look when Kurumi came up, his joy with her—shouldn't a good "friend" be happy? Why this unease?
It wasn't just Shidou. Tohka felt it toward Kurumi too. She sensed Kurumi was good, like her—a fellow Spirit. Kurumi's smiles with Shidou mirrored Tohka's happiness, yet something was fatally different. Contradictory, but Tohka felt Kurumi's smiles hid deep pain.
Why did Kurumi smile so sadly?
"Nn?" A knock interrupted her.
Not from the door—from the window. She rushed to check and saw a familiar white figure.
"You... the passerby!?" Tohka exclaimed.
"Long time, Yatogami Tohka," the girl said, waving casually outside.
The former Nameless Spirit and the Nameless Spirit met again.