Saturday — Shopping Mall Jewelry District
It was supposed to be perfect.
Their first date. Sakurai Saki and Hayasaka Ai. A movie, dinner, perhaps a walk through the park while the cherry blossoms performed their annual spectacle.
Instead:
"Attention, humans!" A demon—red and black-skinned, horned, thoroughly demonic—addressed the cowering crowd with the enthusiasm of a tour guide. "We only rob money! No killing! So don't worry!"
Another demon, this one carrying a sack clearly stuffed with luxury watches, nodded approvingly. **"Stay down. Don't move. We've studied human law—no murder means maximum ten-plus years! Manageable!"
Sakurai Saki crouched among the hostages, his expression a masterpiece of controlled fury.
This is happening.
This is my life.
This is my first date, and I'm spending it as a hostage to demons who *researched sentencing guidelines. *
"Yo! Bro!"
A whisper from beside him. Saki turned.
A brown-skinned demon—no horns, slightly less intimidating than the others—was crouched in perfect hostage posture, looking at him with what appeared to be genuine camaraderie.
"What should we do?"
Saki stared at him.
"What do you mean 'what should we do'?" His voice was flat. "We wait to be screwed. Our souls will dissipate. The usual hostage experience."
"HOLY CRAP, BROTHER!" The demon's eyes lit up. "THAT RHYMED!"
…
This one is an accomplice.
Hidden among the hostages.
And he loves rap.
Saki's eye twitched.
Yesterday, Gabriel warned me about demons who like to sing, dance, and rap.
Today, I'm surrounded by them.
When you're unlucky, even water finds ways to choke you.
"Can you just… rob faster?" Saki muttered. "Some of us have schedules."
"Smart brother!" The demon-accomplice nodded enthusiastically. "We like smart people!"
Saki chose not to respond.
The robbery proceeded with surprising efficiency. The demons loaded jewelry, avoided violence, and obeyed their own bizarre interpretation of human law.
Then, as they departed, one of them spotted Saki.
"That one. The smart one. Bring him."
A bag went over his head.
Saki didn't resist.
Resistance would cause questions. Questions would expose my abilities. Exposure would ruin the peaceful life.
I am being kidnapped for strategic reasons.
This is fine.
Everything is fine.
Ten Minutes Later — Inside a Moving Van
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
Saki knocked against the van door with measured force.
"Let me out."
"Yo yo~ human!" The horned demon from earlier had somehow acquired a makeshift microphone—a hairbrush, possibly stolen. "Don't scream~ or you might die~"
He was performing.
Performing.
Saki's fists clenched.
"Brother, we invited you as our strategist!" The brown-skinned demon-accomplice from the hostage pile was here too, apparently part of the crew. "We're not familiar with this territory!"
"I'm not a strategist. I'm a hostage. And I have a DATE."
"Don't rush!" The performer demon waved his hairbrush-microphone. "I know you're in a hurry, but don't rush~ Being in a hurry is useless, brother~ Consider how to help us escape~"
Saki pulled out his phone.
Sent Gabriel a message with their approximate location, vehicle description, and a series of emoticons that strongly suggested violence.
Then he turned back to the demons.
"Let me understand something." His voice was calm. Terrifyingly calm. "You stole all that jewelry. What's your plan?"
"Sell it!" multiple demons chorused, as if this were obvious.
"Where?"
Pause.
"…Haven't thought about it."
"What will you do with the money?"
Longer pause.
"…Haven't thought about it."
"Do you have any dreams? Life goals? Aspirations?"
A demon in the corner raised a tentative hand. "I might buy some fries."
"Not that kind of dream. Bigger. Life purposes. Reasons for existing."
The demons exchanged glances.
"…Get some fries?" the same demon offered, less confidently.
Saki closed his eyes.
These creatures emerged from the Sea of Blood.
The Sea of Blood produced *this. *
No dreams beyond fries. No plans beyond "sell it (somewhere)." No contingency for police.
The Demon World is doomed.
"So," he said slowly, "you planned nothing, researched nothing, and just… robbed a jewelry store on impulse?"
"We researched the laws!" a demon protested.
"And the rap!" another added.
Saki opened his mouth to respond—
"WEEEOOOO WEEEOOOO WEEEOOOO"
Police sirens. Close. Getting closer.
The demons' faces cycled through expressions: confusion, concern, mild annoyance.
"Have you ever heard," Saki asked, "of Wang Yangming?"
Blank stares.
"He's quite famous in this country. His philosophy emphasizes the unity of knowledge and action." Saki's voice took on a pedagogical edge. "Knowing the law isn't enough. You have to apply that knowledge. Like knowing that jewelry stores have security systems. And tracking devices. And police response protocols."
More blank stares.
"You researched the punishment but not the risk of getting caught."
A demon slowly raised his hand. "Is that… bad?"
The sirens grew louder.
Saki said nothing.
But internally, a single thought echoed:
I am going to be so late for this date.
Somewhere in Tokyo — Moments Earlier
"This person was extraordinary." Sakurai Saki's voice carried the weight of a true lecturer, even while crouched in a demon-held van. "He achieved enlightenment at Longchang and instantly understood the Way of the Sage."
The demons leaned forward, enraptured.
A sage? Enlightenment? This sounded powerful.
"I also have a Longchang," Saki continued, a small smile playing at his lips, "suitable for you."
"WHERE?!" Multiple demon voices chorused.
"It is far away yet right before your eyes." Saki's expression shifted to something colder. "The path is beneath your feet."
He stomped.
Hard.
The van floor buckled. A pit opened. The vehicle lurched violently as the driver—startled by the sudden chaos—wrenched the wheel.
"Go to prison!" Saki's voice cut through the panic as he pushed open the slowing door. "Properly seek enlightenment! Step on the sewing machine! Learn what a demon should BE!"
He vanished into the crowd.
A Quiet Alley — Shortly After
Saki exhaled, letting the invisibility drop.
Today's ability: useful for once. No side effects beyond—
He looked down.
His clothes were fully visible.
—beyond making me look like a floating wardrobe.
Somewhere behind him, a passerby was rubbing their eyes, trying to reconcile the image of a shirt and pants drifting past with their understanding of physics.
Saki kept walking.
Inside the Mall — Half an Hour Later
Hayasaka Ai waited near the entrance, a vision in white sailor collar and black pleated skirt. She adjusted her bangs with practiced grace—ladylike, composed, the picture of patience.
Her phone had been checked approximately seventeen times in the past twenty minutes.
Then she saw him.
Running. Slightly disheveled. Breathing like he'd just escaped a demonic kidnapping.
Which, she would learn later, he had.
"Sorry." He stopped before her, chest heaving. "I'm late."
"I just arrived too."
The lie was gentle, automatic, and completely transparent.
Neither acknowledged it.
"I was delayed by something."
"What kind of something?"
"Teaching people how to achieve enlightenment at Longchang." His expression, when he said it, suggested the teaching had not been entirely voluntary.
Hayasaka laughed—a bright, unguarded sound that drew glances from nearby shoppers.
"The movie doesn't start for a while." She tilted her head. "Food first? I'm hungry."
He nodded.
Then:
"Your outfit."
She blinked.
"It's very cute today. Different from your usual style, but equally good."
Girls dress up to receive compliments, his internal monologue supplied. Don't be stingy.
"Thank you." A small smile tugged at her lips. "At least you have taste."
She reached for his hand.
He took it.
And then—
Neither moved.
They stood there, frozen in the mall corridor, hands clasped, suddenly aware of the contact in a way they never had been before.
Why is this different? Saki wondered. We've held hands before. Gaming. Walking. It was always—
—comfortable.
This is not comfortable.
This is terrifying.
Hayasaka's thoughts followed a similar track. We've done this. Why is my heart—why can't I—breathe—
"It wasn't until now," Saki said quietly, "that I realized we're actually dating."
Before, holding hands was just holding hands. Now it means something.
"You just realized?" Hayasaka's voice came out softer than intended—almost a pout. "Were you planning to reject me back then?"
"How could I?" His free hand hovered uncertainly, betraying his nerves. "After being confessed to twice, refusing would be rude."
A pause.
"Besides." He met her eyes. "I like you. There's no reason to refuse."
There. Said it. Finally.
Hayasaka's lips curved—slow, satisfied, adorable.
"Hmph." She squeezed his hand. "You like me?"
"I just said—"
"I already knew."
She tugged him forward, leading him through the mall.
"You KNEW?" He hurried to keep pace. "When did I—did I say something—"
"Secret~"
If I hadn't known, she thought, I wouldn't have confessed so easily.
I'm not that casual.
But I knew.
I've known for a while.
Behind them, the mall bustled on, oblivious to the small miracle happening in its corridors: two people, finally holding hands like they meant it.
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