Yukari was right… Having someone dry your hair really is relaxing...
After having her hair blown dry, Shana felt warm and cozy from head to toe. Every step she took toward her own room seemed weightless, as though she were stepping on clouds.
The girl still vividly recalled how it had felt when Nitocris was drying her hair.
The moment those fingertips slid through her hair, it was as if a night breeze, carrying a faint oceanic scent, had swept gently across her neck. The hairdryer's steady, low hum sent out waves of warmth—not scalding, just a gentle, soft heat spreading through her hair.
It was normal that Nitocris's fingers sometimes brushed against Shana's ear tips while combing through her hair, and every time it happened, Shana could distinctly hear the rapid beating of her own heart echoing in her chest, so loudly that it nearly drowned out the humming of the dryer.
"Shana's hair has a quiet luster not even obsidian could match. It's as though the deepest night is flowing through its strands, each silky hair twisted gently by moonlight. When it falls upon my palm, it's even smoother and more obedient than the waters of the Nile."
Shana also clearly remembered how Nitocris had praised her hair. The mere memory caused her cheeks to heat up instantly, flushing red again. So she flung herself onto her bed, burying her face deep into the pillow, letting its coolness soothe her burning face.
Alastor, dwelling silently in the necklace placed beside the bed, had quietly witnessed Shana's every reaction without uttering a word.
Not long ago, Alastor had had a conversation with Nitocris—a dialogue between two gods, known only to them…
"I would appreciate it if you refrained from influencing Shana any further," Alastor had said with grim seriousness in his deep voice. "Have you not noticed? Shana has been increasingly lax lately."
"Hmm... Lax, you say? From what I've seen, she's become even more diligent," Nitocris had replied casually. "Her enthusiasm for hunting Denizens hasn't diminished, and she's even begun earnestly studying her personal Unrestricted Spell to increase her strength. Before, wasn't she quite resistant to learning those?"
"You should know very well that's not what I mean." Alastor's voice lowered further, carrying a thunderous authority. "What is your aim? Just what are you planning for Shana?"
The God of Retribution's authority naturally posed no intimidation for Nitocris, the God of the Underworld.
After a brief pause, Nitocris spoke again, this time solemn and dignified.
"My aim, huh...? Allow me, then, to reverse that question: What do you want Shana to become in the future? Or rather, in your eyes, what exactly is Shana? A ruthless extermination tool? A mere substitute for the first Flame-Haired Burning-Eyed Hunter? Or perhaps, a sacrifice to trigger the [Tendōkyū]?"
Immediately after speaking, Nitocris's oppressive aura diminished slightly, not giving Alastor the chance to reply before continuing:
"It's none of those, correct? Perhaps you originally planned to raise her as something like that. However, in the process of raising her, you inadvertently poured genuine affection into her. Shana was raised in love and care; she is a pure-hearted and noble child—I can see it plainly. She regards all of you as incredibly important to her. But what about you? Do you truly see Shana as important, as someone irreplaceable?"
"…Of course we do."
"But surely that wasn't the case from the start. Such things change gradually, yet you've never altered your original plan despite these changes."
"There's no need for changes. Should she stray from the path, adjustments can always be made. We've already set the best course possible. As long as Shana follows it—"
"[Tennjōkekkai], do you understand?" Nitocris interrupted. "Nearly all human parents try to plan out their children's lives, controlling every step along the way, convinced this guarantees their child's smooth success. Yet they always fail, because children do not stay children forever. Eventually, they'll find their parents' experience unsuitable for the situations they encounter. They become confused, resistant—until they learn to think independently, observing the world from perspectives they never had before. You, who are closest to Shana, should understand best, right? You've surely noticed the very young, fragile part of her that occasionally surfaces whenever she encounters something entirely new and unfamiliar."
This time, Alastor was silent for a very, very long time—as if time itself had forgotten to flow.
"…Please continue."
"Then allow me to be blunt," Nitocris went on. "I sense that Shana is extremely unfamiliar with human feelings, vulnerable, completely unguarded in that area. She was clearly raised in love and care, yet remains unfamiliar—even resistant—to love itself. Precisely because she is so innocent, she instinctively resists the unfamiliar. It's something everyone experiences while growing up, yet Shana reacts far more intensely. It's almost as if…while you love her deeply, you're also suppressing your own feelings toward her."
"Hmm…"
"I want to fill that gap. To provide now the love she desperately needed earlier but didn't receive from you. I want to teach her how to love others, how to love this world. As this generation's Flame-Haired Burning-Eyed Hunter, don't you also want her to become a fair and just protector of order? Yet good and evil aren't absolute opposites; what's right or wrong varies from person to person. I hope in the future, she'll come to know the beauty of the world, and from there, she'll make her own choices—not protecting it merely because she wishes to fulfill your expectations, but because she genuinely treasures it."
"…Isn't it…still a little early?" Alastor's tone was no longer as firm as before. "I intended to spend several more years allowing her to experience various things, then slowly guide her…"
"Trouble doesn't follow our preferences, God of Retribution. Even we gods cannot predict or control our own fates. Do you honestly believe we can control Shana's future? The unexpected is normal—even we gods can't tell if accidents or tomorrow will arrive first."
"…You're right."
"Thus, I want to teach her everything I possibly can. There's no such thing as 'too early' when it comes to teaching what's necessary. Besides, didn't I just say? Children don't remain children forever; they grow up quickly. If you always treat them as children, by the time they become adults, it will already be too late."
Once again, silence enveloped them. Perhaps Alastor was deep in thought.
"Perhaps…you are the one who's correct."
"It was merely my own perspective. If it prompts you to think more deeply, then that's enough. Shana will be fine; if we guide her well, watch over her carefully, she'll surely find her own correct path and answers. You have faith in that, don't you?"
"…Of course."
...
Early July—it wasn't even the hottest part of the year yet, but standing directly under the scorching sun felt half-dead, like lying inside an oven. Just lacking a fan was already torturous, let alone standing beneath this ruthless sun. It made one admire those passionate youths laboring diligently under this blazing heat.
The vicious sunlight glared white-hot overhead, generously pouring down both heat and brightness, making distant scenery ripple and tremble.
Outside Misaki Municipal High School's gates, the trees shrank their shadows, letting sunbeams pierce directly through the leaves, scattering like countless tiny glass beads upon the asphalt road.
It was the weekend, and not a single person could be found on the spacious campus. The sound of cicadas wove itself into an immense net, its gaps filled with golden silence.
In the empty school corridors echoed clear footsteps—one set was light, while the other sounded urgent and forceful.
The one walking ahead had black hair cascading down like a waterfall, petite yet radiating a fierce aura, looking as though she was marching off to war.
Following closely behind was another girl, equally petite, but bearing jackal ears and brilliant golden eyes like the sun. Though her expression was emotionless, hints of helplessness flickered in her gaze.
These two were Shana and Nitocris. Black hair and black eyes were Shana's non-combat state; Nitocris being in control, rather than Yukari, was rare outside of combat.
"Why are you walking so slowly? Weren't you pretty fast when running from me before? Show me that speed now!"
Shana, walking ahead, suddenly whipped around, venting her dissatisfaction by shouting loudly at Nitocris. Yet Nitocris herself couldn't tell clearly whether Shana was upset because Nitocris was walking too slowly now, or because she'd run too fast back when she was avoiding her.
…Or perhaps both?
"There's a saying from China that fits well here: 'Haste won't get you stinky tofu,' you know?"
"I don't care about stinky tofu! I only want my melon bread!" Shana glared fiercely at Nitocris, fuming. "If you keep walking so slow, I'll leave you behind and go to the cooking classroom myself!"
"But you going alone would be pointless, wouldn't it? I'm the only one who knows how to bake melon bread—"
"Urusai urusai urusai!"
Boiling with frustration, Shana stomped her foot forcefully several times, but venting on the floor wasn't nearly satisfying enough. The scorching sunlight piercing through the windows only heightened her irritation. After shooting another glance at the stone-faced culprit who'd put her in this foul mood, Shana made a swift decision—she raised her foot to stomp hard on Nitocris's toes… but missed.
Nitocris lifted her foot swiftly to dodge.
"What are you doing?"
"Hold still right there! Just let me stomp you once!"
"Why do you suddenly want to step on me?!"
"I just feel like it! So what? You're a high-and-mighty, ultra-powerful goddess anyway. One little stomp from me won't hurt you at all!"
"But right now, I'm using Hirai Yukari's body!"
"Shut up! Just obediently let me stomp you! Just one stomp, that's it!"
"…"
"Urusai urusai urusai!"
...
Under the merciless midday sun, patches of glaring light dotted the corridor floor through the windows. It was here that two girls began a childish chase-and-evade scuffle.
Indeed, it was a playful scuffle. If Nitocris wanted to, she had countless ways of either shaking off Shana or immobilizing her. Yet she didn't do that, letting the chase continue until Shana finally collapsed, completely exhausted.
"I… can't… anymore..."
Who knew how long their chasing had lasted? Finally stopping, Shana panted heavily, not caring about her image at all as she plopped right onto the corridor floor.
"…Why wouldn't you just obediently let me stomp you?"
Unlike Shana, Nitocris wore an utterly calm, dignified expression—every bit the elegant lady. The stark contrast with the exhausted Shana reignited Shana's irritation instantly.
"Because… I'm not the type who willingly takes a loss?"
A stomping game like this—Nitocris used to play it often back in school with her bad friends. They'd stomp each other's feet in turns—one stomp, then two stomps, escalating until someone surrendered.
She still vividly remembered that time she stomped on her friend's foot and immediately bolted away. Her friend could only trail behind helplessly, eating her dust. Later, that friend seemed to give up entirely, and Nitocris thought the matter settled—until three days later, during a break between classes, she was stomped hard out of nowhere. By the time she looked up, all she saw was a distant, unreachable silhouette.
It was then that she learned exactly what "a gentleman's revenge is never too late, even three days later" meant.
It was true that Shana's physical condition was exceptional, but still couldn't match her own. Furthermore, a Flame Haze's physical prowess relied upon enhancing their body with the Power of Existence. Without it, their physical abilities remained strictly at a human level. For instance, without the Power of Existence, Shana would be physically weaker than the current Hirai Yukari.
With her back against the wall, Shana sat limply on the floor, knees apart, exhausted. From Nitocris's perspective, she could see clearly how sweat had soaked through Shana's clothes, her collarbone glistening transparently under the sunlight and…
Well, reality had just proven Shana wasn't exactly flat-chested—she had a little something there, after all.
Fire flared again in Shana's eyes, and Nitocris realized with mild embarrassment that Shana still hadn't given up her plan to stomp on her. But just as Nitocris raised her head to look away…
"Ah, the cooking classroom—we've arrived."
Ignoring the burning gaze behind her, Nitocris opened the door and stepped into the school's cooking classroom.
Shana stared fiercely at Nitocris's back for a long moment, before finally, driven by the irresistible temptation of melon bread, forcing her aching legs to stand and follow Nitocris into the cooking classroom.
"Hmph! I'll let you off the hook—for now."
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