If things got too loud…
The Anteiku coffee shop—the hard-won safe haven for ghouls—would be completely exposed to the CCG's crosshairs.
The manager, her uncle, Irimi-san, herself, and every ghoul who relied on this place... they'd all be facing complete destruction.
Kicking out one lunatic might cost them the entire 20th Ward.
"So, what we can do right now…"
Yomo Renji's voice was low and heavy.
"…is stay sharp, wait it out, and keep ourselves in check."
"Try not to go anywhere alone. Especially at night. Watch your back, Touka. That's straight from the manager."
He na-dropped the manager to make sure she knew this wasn't just friendly advice—it was serious.
"..."
Touka said nothing.
A wave of helplessness wrapped around her heart like a vice. It was worse than anger—more suffocating.
She got it. She really did. She understood the manager's and her uncle's concerns. She understood how important it was to protect Anteiku.
But knowing that a threat was running wild nearby and having no choice but to sit on your hands and pray you wouldn't be the next target—it was frustrating. Infuriating.
Her deep blue hair fell over her eyes, hiding the turmoil behind them.
Protect herself?
In a storm with both an SS-class ghoul and a Special Class Investigator circling each other, was self-preservation even realistic?
Her eyes unconsciously shifted—toward sothing no one else could see.
The mysterious chat group interface hovered quietly in the back of her mind.
In the mber list, Rei Ao's na stood out like a lighthouse in the dark… or maybe more like the edge of a black hole. Either way, it radiated a strange, undeniable presence.
Reality and miracle collided in her head.
"If he's really so kind of god..."
The thought grew like a vine in the shadows, twisting tighter and tighter through her mind.
"If the group admin really is what he seems… could he take out an SS-rated ghoul—solve a crisis that has all of Anteiku paralyzed—like it's nothing more than brushing off lint?"
It was crazy. A desperate kind of fantasy.
But it was also dangerously tempting.
The cost?
Those four cold words from the group's bulletin flashed through her mind:
"All trades co at your own price."
It made her heart skip.
But then she looked at Yomo's serious face. She could feel the heavy pressure hanging over the 20th Ward like a storm cloud.
Touka closed her eyes tight.
When she opened them again, that familiar red glow in her vision had faded—replaced by exhaustion... and sothing deeper. Sothing harder to na.
She didn't say a word.
Just nodded, letting him know she understood and would be careful.
Then she turned quietly, pushed open the heavy wooden door, and walked into the gray, misty morning.
…
Morning in Itomori.
It began with birdsong and the soft chi of wind bells hanging from the shrine.
The old wooden buildings of Miyamizu Shrine stood still in the soft light—quiet, calm, almost sacred.
The scent of trees and grass mixed with the faint, lingering sll of incense.
Inside the house, at a low table in the dining room, Mitsuha Miyamizu sat quietly across from her little sister, Yotsuha.
Breakfast was simple: stead rice, miso soup, pickles, and a small piece of grilled fish.
Yotsuha, still a kid, ate fast, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. Her eyes kept darting toward the cartoon clock on the wall—clearly counting down how much ti she had left before school.
Compared to her, Mitsuha looked like her mind was sowhere else entirely.
She poked her rice with her chopsticks, eyes distant, like her gaze was drifting through the paper screen window and into so far-off world.
She'd barely touched her fish. Her miso soup was almost full.
"Sis?"
Yotsuha swallowed her mouthful and spoke up, breaking the heavy silence.
She tilted her head and stared at her clearly spaced-out sister, dark round eyes full of concern.
"What's up with you? You've been poking your rice to death! Didn't sleep last night?"
"Huh? Oh—!"
Mitsuha snapped out of it like she'd been shocked. Her chopsticks nearly slipped out of her hand.
She quickly brushed her bangs out of her face and forced a dry, awkward smile.
"No, I'm fine! Just a little... out of it, that's all."
"Soup's too hot. I'll let it cool down."
She lifted the bowl and gently blew on it, but her eyes were still unfocused.
Yotsuha wasn't buying it.
She set her bowl down, rested her chin on her hands, and stared at Mitsuha like a tiny little grown-up.
Then, with an exaggerated sigh, she said:
"Geez, sis… you…"
Her eyes shifted toward Mitsuha's phone, which was lying screen-down at the edge of the table.
Then back up at Mitsuha's face—still clouded by that dreamy, faraway look.
And just like that, she said it:
"You still want to go to Tokyo, huh?"
The question hit Mitsuha like a pin to the chest.
Her hand holding the soup froze. She stopped blowing on it.
Did she still want to go to Tokyo?
Of course she did.
That dream had been carved into her bones since forever.
Itomori was too small.
Small like a polished little birdcage.
The sa mountains and lakes every day. The never-ending old festivals. The endless shrine-maiden rituals and outdated rules...
It was all stifling.
She craved the chaos of the city.
The tal thunder of trains.
The glossy windows filled with fashion magazines and glowing signs.
She wanted to be cool. Free. Stylish. She'd never stopped wanting that.
But now, with her sister saying it out loud—
Mitsuha fell into silence again.
That dream of Tokyo still burned bright in her chest.
But sothing else had started growing around it. Sothing stranger. Sothing… bigger.
Like new vines wrapping around old roots, lifting them toward sothing vast and unknown.
What are the other worlds like?
Because of that mysterious group chat. Because of the people in it—people from other worlds—
Mitsuha Miyamizu had, for the first ti in her life, started wondering what lies beyond her own.
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