Chapter 15: Takanashi Rikka
The alley was still under investigation.
Meanwhile, with Kerberos hidden in his collar, Kazama made his way to the convenience store near his apartment complex. It was his usual spot for restocking supplies—and one of the few places in the area that kept limited-edition collectibles on the top shelf.
He walked straight to the familiar aisle.
Empty.
Where the Clow Book replica should have been sitting, there were only a few dusty Gundam model kits gathering grime.
"Boss," Kazama turned toward the counter. "That Cardcaptor Sakura Book of Clow figure you had before—any left in stock?"
The middle-aged shopkeeper behind the register sported a classic receding hairline. At the moment, he was staring off into space with the dead-eyed expression of a man who'd given up on life.
"Huh? That thing..." The owner glanced absently at Kazama's items. "Out of stock. Don't know what's going on lately, but anything related to that series has completely dried up. Not just figures—even those cheap fifty-yen stickers are gone. I'm half-convinced the copyright holder went bankrupt."
Kazama frowned.
Just as he'd suspected.
It wasn't just the stores around school. Even niche shops like this one had been affected.
Whatever was causing the merchandise shortage, it clearly wasn't coincidence.
"Forget it." He shook his head, abandoning any hope of finding stock here.
As long as the internet still existed, he could always check auction sites and pay a premium. Better than wasting time searching physical stores.
He headed to the food section and grabbed two discounted sushi platters and a six-pack of yogurt drinks. As he approached the register to pay, a voice cut through the store—theatrical, dramatic, and utterly out of place.
"Could it be interference from a barrier? The distortion in the Unseen Horizon Line is manifesting currency materialization errors in the physical realm... This is a catastrophe of unprecedented proportions."
Kazama glanced sideways.
Standing near the counter was a small figure.
She wore the same Sakigawa High School uniform as him, but something about her entire presentation screamed "wrong."
Beneath her skirt, one leg wore thigh-high black stockings while the other had only standard ankle socks. Her left arm was wrapped in thick bandages covered with hand-drawn magic circles. A white medical eyepatch covered her right eye.
Takanashi Rikka.
The infamous chuunibyou from the neighboring class who caused chaos in the original series with her delusions of supernatural grandeur.
Right now, the self-proclaimed "Wielder of the Wicked Eye" was trapped in a crisis of epic proportions: she couldn't pay her bill.
The girl stood with her back to the counter, pressed against the wall in a conspiratorial stance like she was making a secret exchange with underground resistance fighters. She clutched a pink flip phone to her ear.
"Is the Management Bureau's barrier interference too strong?... Unforgivable... Saint Conditioner... would you truly abandon your ally in her darkest hour?"
The phone was clearly giving her nothing but dial tone.
But Takanashi Rikka committed to the performance anyway.
"Boss." Kazama pulled his attention away from the girl and looked at the shopkeeper, who was staring at the ceiling with profound exhaustion. "Since when did you start trafficking in human merchandise?"
"You think I'd have the guts?" The owner sighed and slammed a package of dumplings onto the scanner with enough force to make it beep in protest. "This girl's the third one today. At least the first two just forgot their wallets. This one claims 'currency from other dimensions can't circulate in this plane.'"
He gestured toward the pile of contraband at the girl's feet.
Impressive.
Three cups of the most expensive Demon King Ultra-Spicy instant ramen, two bottles of limited-edition ramune soda that looked like witch's brew, and a massive bag of caramel-flavored popcorn.
"She ate all that?" Kazama raised an eyebrow.
That tiny frame could pack away that much food?
"You don't know the half of it." The owner looked genuinely pained. "The real problem is she hasn't paid! I'm running a small business here—I can't afford losses like this. I wanted to call the cops, but seeing as she's a student, I didn't have the heart. So I'm keeping her here until she contacts someone to bail her out."
"I told you, it's not that I lack funds!" The girl who'd been desperately calling for backup suddenly spun around.
"This is merely a trial ordained by fate."
Rikka fixed the shopkeeper with her uncovered eye, her expression as grave as if she were negotiating world peace.
"It is not my intention to withhold payment. Dark forces have frozen my treasury. Once the Saint Conditioner—the priestess responsible for logistics and supply—responds to my summons, this trivial tribute shall be rendered unto you."
"Yeah, yeah, save the fantasy novel dialogue." The owner waved dismissively and grabbed a calculator, punching numbers with aggressive clicks. "Look, you're still a student, so I don't want to get the police involved. Just call your parents or whoever and have them come get you."
"Or you can leave that phone as collateral. It's an old flip phone, but it should be worth something."
"Impossible!"
The girl immediately clutched the phone to her chest in a defensive posture, the distinctive ahoge hair on her head standing up like a radar antenna.
"This is the only terminal connecting to the Unseen Horizon Line! Without it, I cannot receive transmissions from the Dark Realm! If that connection is severed... the balance of the world will collapse!"
"Then just pay up!" the owner shouted.
"Ngh..."
The girl's dramatic aura deflated instantly. She crouched down with her arms wrapped around her head, emitting pitiful whimpering sounds.
"Saint Conditioner... where are you... the Wicked Eye is about to fall..."
Watching this spectacle unfold, Kazama tapped his fingers twice on the counter.
Here was a high school student who couldn't even afford to pay for her food, yet she'd managed to reframe this embarrassing situation into an epic tale of "resistance against worldly tyranny."
That level of psychological fortitude—or perhaps self-hypnosis ability—was impressive in its own way.
Simply put, Kazama found it genuinely amusing.
But amusement was all it was. He had no intention of getting involved in someone else's drama. Still...
"How much does she owe?"
"Just over two thousand yen!"
The owner snatched the bills from Kazama's hand with the speed of someone afraid he'd change his mind, then quickly counted out change.
"Keep the change. Put it on account for next time," Kazama said, picking up his dumplings and oolong tea.
He had no plans to say anything to the girl. Consider it a small act of charity—a way to balance out the three lives he'd just taken.
If he really did end up in hell one day and faced judgment from King Yama, at least he'd have one or two good deeds to argue his case with.
"Look, I'm not completely evil. I helped a lost girl once."
Besides, genuine charity required walking away without expecting anything in return. If you wanted payback, that wasn't charity—it was a transaction.
"Wait!"
Urgent footsteps echoed behind him.
Before Kazama could reach the streetlight outside, Rikka burst out like a purple whirlwind, sliding to a stop directly in his path.
"O Dark Ally of the Shadow Realm!"
Takanashi Rikka blocked his way, still clutching the snacks that had nearly become evidence in a petty theft case. She took a deep breath, then leaped backward dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest in that signature pose.
Her right hand's two fingers pointed at her eyepatch while her left hand stretched backward, as if channeling dark powers that didn't actually exist.
"I never expected to encounter someone bearing the curse of darkness in this frontier territory!"
"My name is the Wielder of the Wicked Eye! I am one who seeks the Unseen Horizon Line!"
"You just utilized the 'Money Power,' correct? That's a resource only high-level alchemists can freely command!"
Kazama stopped and looked at the girl striking bizarre poses under the streetlight.
"What are you talking about? When did I help you?"
"That's irrelevant!"
Rikka planted one hand on her hip and thrust the other dramatically toward Kazama.
"What matters is that the Wicked Eye now owes you a debt! This karmic bond must be repaid! When the Saint Conditioner—my sister—returns, I shall ensure she repays you with interest!"
"Don't worry about it." Kazama walked around her and continued forward. "Just forget it happened. And stop buying food you can't afford."
"That's unacceptable!"
Rikka stubbornly followed him like a persistent tail.
"The dignity of the Dark Flame Master permits no such stains upon her honor! Besides..."
She suddenly moved closer.
Too close. Close enough that Kazama could smell the combination of shampoo and caramel popcorn wafting from her.
"You carry a certain... scent."
Kazama's pupils contracted slightly.
A scent?
Did she smell blood? Or the rot from the alley earlier? If a chuunibyou girl's instincts were this sharp, that could be a serious problem.
Inside his collar, Kerberos held its breath nervously. The last thing it needed was exposure right now.
"What scent?" Kazama asked, taking a subtle step backward to increase distance.
Rikka sniffed the air.
Her serious expression suddenly crumbled into something sheepish and embarrassed.
"Um... it seems to be... the smell of dumplings?"
Her stomach punctuated the statement with a loud gurgle.
"..."
Kazama stared at her.
You could have just said you were hungry again.
As Kazama mentally calculated just how massive this girl's appetite must be, he asked, "Doesn't anyone feed you at home?"
As a former otaku in his past life, Kazama knew Rikka had a sister named Touka—the so-called "Saint Conditioner."
While Touka was strict with Rikka, she'd never let her go hungry like this.
At the mention of this, Rikka's voice dropped. The chuunibyou bravado faded, replaced by the genuine worry of an ordinary sixteen-year-old girl.
"I have an elder sister, known as the 'Saint Conditioner.' However, last night she received a phone call about meeting with an important 'Observer'—something about World Line fluctuations—and then she left."
"She still hasn't come back. Neither the emergency contact protocols nor our soul resonance have yielded any response. In all eighteen years of existence... this has never happened before."
Last night.
Kazama's steps faltered.
There was no plotline like this in the original Love, Chunibyo & Other Delusions.
Rikka might be exaggerating, of course.
But Takanashi Touka—the sister from the original series whose combat prowess was off the charts, who could go toe-to-toe with chuunibyou antics armed with nothing but a ladle—had disappeared at this exact moment?
And the timing was far too suspicious.
It coincided precisely with when he'd used the Rat Talisman to activate The Windy card, causing the other fifty-one Clow Cards to scatter across the city.
If this was just coincidence, it was one hell of a coincidence.
But if those cards possessed independent consciousness and an instinct for causing chaos, then anyone wandering the streets at that time—especially civilians—could easily become the first victims.
People like Takanashi Touka, who had slightly stronger spiritual sensitivity than average and a tendency to investigate strange occurrences, would be particularly vulnerable.
Taking advantage of the darkness, Kerberos—who'd been playing dead until now—crept up to Kazama's shoulder and whispered, "Hey... Kazuma, based on what this girl's describing, her sister has likely been caught up in an anomalous incident."
Kazama remained silent for a moment, weighing his options.
A missing person with strong spiritual sensitivity. The Clow Cards scattering last night. The timing was too perfect to ignore.
If Takanashi Touka had encountered one of the escaped cards...
"Where does your sister usually go?" Kazama asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Rikka's uncovered eye brightened slightly at his interest. "The observatory! She mentioned something about unusual energy readings near the old Mitakihara Observatory. That's where she was heading when she left last night."
The observatory.
A location with strong magical resonance and isolation from the city.
Exactly the kind of place a Clow Card might choose as territory.
Kerberos shifted nervously against Kazama's neck. "If a card's nested there and she stumbled into its domain without protection..."
The guardian beast didn't need to finish the sentence.
Kazama's mind raced through the possibilities. He had two Clow Cards under his control—The Windy and The Mirror. Fifty cards remained at large. If one of the more dangerous ones had claimed the observatory and Touka had walked right into its trap...
This could be his chance to capture another card. But it also meant potential complications if he had to deal with a civilian casualty.
"I'm heading there," Kazama said abruptly, adjusting his bag. "The observatory, right?"
Rikka's entire demeanor shifted. The chuunibyou persona dropped away, replaced by raw, desperate hope. "You'll help me find my sister?"
"I'm going to investigate an anomaly," Kazama corrected coldly. "If your sister happens to be there, that's incidental. Don't get the wrong idea about my motivations."
But even as he said it, he was already calculating routes to the observatory and which card abilities might be most useful if things went wrong.
Rikka fell into step beside him, her usual dramatic flair subdued by genuine concern.
"The Dark Flame Master accompanies you on this quest."
"Stay behind me and don't touch anything," Kazama ordered. "If you see something you don't understand, close your eyes and don't ask questions."
As they walked toward the observatory district, Kerberos whispered in his ear, "You're really doing this? Getting involved in someone else's problem?"
Kazama's expression remained neutral. "I need to recover the cards anyway. If one of them is at the observatory, this saves me search time."
But beneath the cold logic, something else stirred—a flicker of the person he'd been before the rejections, before the murders, before he'd decided that power mattered more than connections.
Just a flicker.
Nothing more.
The streetlights cast long shadows as they headed into the night, toward whatever waited at the abandoned observatory.
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