Kohina HirukoTendo Kisara
***
"What the heck… where did this drop me? Is this still Japan… or not?"
The midday sun bore down relentlessly, and the deafening cries of cicadas filled the air.
But what stretched out before Yotsuba Mahiro's eyes was—
Unfamiliar streets. Unfamiliar scenery. Unfamiliar clothing worn by passing pedestrians… and their eyes, fixed curiously on him.
Mahiro clenched his fists. There was no doubt about it—this wasn't his original world anymore.
He looked down at the silver ring on his finger. Its faint gleam under the sunlight stirred the memories sealed within it. His lips curled slightly.
"No… it all started before this…"
The scenes flashed clearly in his mind.
That morning—Mayumi's long hair, slightly messy from sleep. Her half-lidded eyes, drowsy yet beautiful, and then that shy, flustered reaction when she realized he was lying right beside her… Mahiro's face heated just recalling it.
Not long after, their little vacation ended, and the group left the Ogasawara Islands.
Tatsuya returned as well, mission complete. But he didn't return empty-handed. He carried with him an ancient relic—the Sage's Stone.
The military wanted him to decipher its secrets. But even Tatsuya wasn't capable of handling it alone, so naturally, he called upon Mahiro to help.
That's when the trouble began.
Together, they performed information-body analysis, tracing the activation sequence embedded in the stone. Mahiro had only just begun when—
The ring on his finger pulsed.
It awakened.
Not only did it react to the Sage's Stone… it consumed it whole. His vision went black instantly, and when he awoke…
He was here.
And why was he certain this was another world?
Simple.
The streets were still Japan, but the technology around him looked dated, like something frozen twenty years in the past. Even more shocking—those massive stone tablets towering into the sky, arranged like colossal monoliths encircling the land.
There was nothing like this in the Japan he knew.
Mahiro exhaled. "Forget it. First priority—find someone kind enough to give me… some fries. No—some information."
Right now, his biggest concerns were gathering intel and figuring out lodging.
After all, it wasn't like his mobile terminal or e-cash would still function in this strange world. Without money, he might really be stuck sleeping on the streets tonight.
So he wandered.
But despite circling the town until the sun began to dip, no such kind souls appeared.
The gazes of the townsfolk were strange—distant, almost wary. Some women looked hesitant, though he caught glimpses of admiration flickering in their eyes.
Mahiro frowned slightly. Maybe it was the outfit? He was still wearing the casual suit Mayumi and the others had picked for him on Minami-Tori Shima. Its fine tailoring, combined with his good looks, probably made him stand out too much. Did they mistake him for some young master from a wealthy family?
He sighed. "Yare yare… this is becoming a pain."
By the time fiery clouds painted the horizon, he finally heard something out of place.
"…Eh? What's that sound?"
It was faint at first—human shouts? And something like… gurgling?
Following the noise, Mahiro spotted a black, writhing lump in the shadows.
"What the…?"
Curiosity pricked at him. He approached cautiously, only to realize it wasn't an object at all.
It was a person.
A girl.
She was collapsed there, her long black hair spread like a curtain over the ground. Gently, Mahiro brushed it aside.
His eyes widened.
Her skin was pale, almost like porcelain. Her lashes trembled faintly against her cheeks. And tied neatly at her chest with a red ribbon—her uniform revealed generous curves, rivaling even Yotsuba Maya herself!
Just her face alone… she was breathtaking, on par with Erika's beauty.
But her lips were pressed tightly, her complexion pale, and her breathing uneven. That strange gurgling sound came from her stomach.
Mahiro blinked. "Oi, oi… don't tell me this is some kind of honey trap?"
He straightened and scanned the area, activating Multiple Observation and Sharingan to sweep the surroundings. No suspicious presence lurked nearby.
Then—
"—!"
Something grabbed his ankle!
Mahiro reflexively almost kicked back, but froze when he saw the source.
The girl.
Her eyes had fluttered half-open, and with trembling hands, she clutched his pants. Her voice, weak but desperate, escaped her lips.
"I'm… so hungry… Could you… give me something to eat…?"
Mahiro's face stiffened. "…Ha?"
He stared down at her, twitching involuntarily.
Passed out in the street. Wriggling like some dying creature. And now begging for food?
What the heck kind of situation was this?
"Oi, oi… you can't be serious, right? Baka…" Mahiro muttered under his breath, still unsure whether this was some elaborate trick—or just the most pitiful coincidence imaginable.
....
In 2021, the Gastrea virus had erupted all across the world, crushing human civilization to the brink of annihilation within mere months. Humanity had been utterly defeated in its war against the parasitic organisms known as Gastrea, forced into narrow fortified zones where survival itself was a daily gamble.
The towering Monoliths—giant structures of Varanium that repelled the virus—stood as humanity's last defense, fragile barriers between despair and extinction. And yet, from the very curse of the Gastrea came an ironic salvation—young girls born infected with the virus, wielding its power as weapons. They were called the Cursed Children. Against all odds, they had become humanity's final hope.
"Tch… what a messed-up world I landed in." Yotsuba Mahiro narrowed his eyes as he pieced together this cruel reality from fragments of conversation with the girl beside him. Not only was this a world drowning in despair… it was rotten to its core.
Right now, he was in the Tokyo Area.
On a massive screen nearby, an image flickered: A young girl draped in countless layers of paper-thin white cloth, like fragile snow stacked upon itself. A veil—delicate as a wedding dress—covered her head. Even her hair was pure white, fragile yet divine. She was known as the ruler of the Tokyo Area.
The Holy Son.
Meanwhile, sitting across from Mahiro in the lavish restaurant was a girl with glossy black hair tied back with a ribbon. Though she carried herself with the dignity of a refined young lady, she was currently devouring her food with the hunger of someone who hadn't eaten in days.
She was none other than Tendo Kisara—heiress of the Tendo family, sworn avenger of its downfall.
"Oi, Kisara-san. Eat slowly, baka, you'll choke. Here, have this too." Mahiro slid his steak onto her plate, then casually speared a piece of Parmesan cheese for himself. He washed it down with a sip of crimson red wine, savoring its fragrance with a smirk. "Mm… refined. Like something out of an old anime about aristocrats."
From the thirty-story hotel's dining hall, Mahiro had an unobstructed view of the Tokyo Area. At its very heart, gleaming beneath the faint light, stood the Holy Residence—a palace of white marble. A place as majestic as Buckingham Palace or Versailles, yet cold and aloof.
"Burp—!"
A sudden, unladylike sound snapped him back. Mahiro turned just in time to see Kisara pressing her hand to her mouth, cheeks blooming red.
"…You full already?" "Mm…" Kisara nodded shyly, her face flustered. "Th-thank you… I'll definitely repay you for this meal…" "Forget it," Mahiro replied, brushing her words aside. "If you had money, you wouldn't have been collapsed on the roadside like some starving stray, unable to even walk."
His words left her speechless, her eyes shining with a faint hint of tears. Mahiro, however, paid it no mind. He plucked the bill from its holder and gave it a glance—
Six sirloin steaks devoured by the girl. Four hundred thousand yen.
And when combined with his bottle of imported wine— A total of one million yen.
"…This price… is daylight robbery." Mahiro muttered under his breath, his brow twitching.
"Alright, let's go." He tossed the bill aside and, without hesitation, took hold of Kisara's wrist.
"W-wait! What do you think you're doing?!" Kisara stiffened, instinctively pulling back. Gratitude was one thing, but letting a guy casually touch her like that? Absolutely not!
Yet as her gaze dropped, confusion overtook her. Her wrist… her arm… her entire body—her appearance had changed completely!
"What… what's happening to me?!" she gasped.
Mahiro smirked. "What else? We're skipping out on the bill, of course."
"Ehh?! Y-you can't be serious—! Ahhh!"
Before she could resist further, Mahiro swept her into his arms with ease, his fingers brushing lightly against the black stockings hugging her slender thighs. The sudden closeness, the warmth of his chest, and the faint masculine scent overwhelmed her senses, leaving her dizzy.
And then—
The floor-to-ceiling window beside them shimmered, warping into a rippling mist. Air pressure shifted violently, a storm of wind roaring through the restaurant.
"C-customers! What are you doing?! Stop at once!" The waitstaff rushed forward, shielding their eyes against the gale. Through the haze they barely glimpsed a silver-haired man clutching… another man? No, a girl? It was hard to tell.
Whatever the case, the scene looked like a double suicide.
Absolutely unacceptable.
"Nope. Not today," Mahiro said with a cheeky grin.
Then he leapt.
"Ahhh—!!!"
A scream split the air.
The two figures vanished in an instant.
When Tendo Kisara blinked back into awareness, her feet touched solid ground. She gasped, realizing she was completely unharmed—standing on a side street, the neon glow of the Tokyo Area flickering around her. The night wind brushed past, carrying the faint metallic tang of the city.
Her eyes widened. The restaurant where they had been eating—it was gone, no, not gone, but distant. Several kilometers away, as if it had become a mirage swallowed by the darkness of Tokyo.
"What… what did you just do?!" Kisara demanded, her brain struggling to keep up, her words tumbling one after the other. "How did I get here?! W-who am I, where am I, what am I even doing right now?!"
Her internal monologue spun like a CPU about to overheat.
Mahiro just smirked. "Secret technique. Didn't they teach you in anime, Kisara-san? The hero always makes an epic getaway."
To him, it was only a simple combination of illusions and shifting displacement. A mixture of "Disguise Procession" and something like teleportation—nothing extraordinary.
But to Kisara, it was a shock that went beyond reason.
Her breath hitched. Her pupils tightened as if a memory surfaced. She clenched her fists, then asked with sharp resolve:
"Are you… are you a survivor of the New Human Creation Project?"
Her voice carried the weight of suspicion and fear.
Mahiro blinked. "New Human… Creation Project? Survivor? What's that supposed to mean?"
He wasn't pretending.
For once, his mind wasn't running on clever lies. He genuinely didn't know what she was talking about.
Of course, deep down, Yotsuba Mahiro knew of this world. He had once watched the anime Black Bullet a long, long time ago. But memory was a fickle thing. All that truly lingered in his recollection were images of tragic loli heroines, cursed by the world they were born into.
As for exact plotlines, detailed organizations, or hidden lore? That had long since faded from his grasp.
Sometimes Mahiro couldn't help but grumble to himself:
How do all those other isekai protagonists remember every detail of the story after transmigrating? Did they have built-in encyclopedias or ChatGPT running inside their skulls?
Kisara's gaze searched his face, but seeing only genuine confusion reflected in his eyes, her suspicion wavered.
"…I might have been mistaken," she admitted, lowering her guard ever so slightly.
Mahiro chuckled and waved it off. "No problem, no problem. Happens to the best of us."
Then, with the same mischievous grin he always seemed to carry, he tilted his head. "Still, Kisara-san… I did save your life back there, didn't I?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Wait. You… know my name?"
Danger welled in her voice, sharp as a blade being drawn. Her body tensed, every instinct screaming that this boy was far more dangerous than he appeared.
Mahiro realized his slip, but his expression didn't falter. He spoke smoothly, with an almost infuriating calm:
"Of course. You are the daughter of the prestigious Tendo Family. Granddaughter of Kikunojo Tendo himself. Even if you've cut ties with them, your name is still well known throughout the Tokyo Area."
Kisara stared. Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits, her suspicion pressing down like a crushing weight.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Finally, her lips parted. Her words came out cold, dripping with disdain. "Since you know I've left the Tendo Family, then don't use that surname again. Just call me Kisara. That's all."
The venom in her tone made it clear: her hatred for the Tendo name was absolute. It wasn't mere distaste—it was loathing carved deep into her soul.
Mahiro raised his brows, then nodded casually. "Got it, Kisara."
Her eyes lingered on him, testing, measuring. "Then tell me… what exactly did you mean just now?"
Mahiro gave a wry smile. "Honestly, nothing dramatic. I've just arrived in the Tokyo Area. No place to stay, no money in my pockets. So… could you maybe lend me a place to crash for the night?"
"Eh?!" Kisara exclaimed, almost tripping over her own words. "You… don't have money?!"
The moment it left her lips, she instantly regretted asking.
Isn't it obvious?
If he had money, would he really have dragged her into skipping out on the restaurant bill earlier?
But still… this strange boy had appeared out of nowhere, saved her when she collapsed, and revealed skill far beyond ordinary. Even if he was suspicious, even if he was reckless, Kisara couldn't completely turn him away.
Her heart warred with itself, but after a long silence, she finally asked:
"…What's your name?"
"Yotsuba Mahiro," he replied with a grin.
"Yotsuba… what a strange surname," Kisara muttered.
Then, straightening her back and brushing off hesitation, she said firmly, "Since you have nowhere to go, then come with me."
Mahiro raised a brow, amused, but followed as she led him through the neon-lit streets.
...
When they finally arrived at her destination, Mahiro's eyelids twitched violently.
"Kisara-san…"
"Just Kisara," she corrected.
"Alright then… Kisara. You… you seriously live here?"
Before them loomed a multi-story commercial office building. On the surface, it looked ordinary—aged walls, tired signage, a faint hum of neon. But within…
The first floor blazed with a pink neon sign announcing a gay bar, the muffled bass of music thudding against the pavement.
The second floor was a nightclub, the stairwell filled with women in flashy outfits trying to coax wandering customers upstairs.
The fourth floor was the most outrageous of all: a loan shark's office, the kind of predatory usurers who would snap a man's arms and legs if he failed to pay.
Mahiro rubbed his temple. "This… is a crime den, isn't it? Are you seriously telling me you live here, Kisara?"
Her steps carried her to the third floor. There, a new sign hung proudly: [Tendo Civil Security Corporation].
"This is the floor I just rented," Kisara explained, fumbling with a jingling set of keys. "I'm planning to open my own office here."
Mahiro let out a long, exaggerated "Ohhh~." He rubbed his chin, wearing an infuriatingly knowing expression. "So that's why you collapsed on the street from hunger. No wonder you didn't even have money for food. Every coin went into this place, huh?"
Kisara froze, cheeks flushing red. She spun away from him, muttering under her breath. "…T-that was only temporary! Once I start taking commissions officially, I'll earn the money back in no time!"
Mahiro smirked. Her embarrassment was kind of cute.
"Yare yare, Kisara-chan. You've got guts, I'll give you that."
Her blush deepened, but she refused to meet his eyes.