There are many times when forgetting is the only happiness.
Kageno Natsumi. That was her full name from before—and from that strange, foreboding name alone, one could already tell she was a child who had never been loved from birth.
Unlike the confident, beautiful, tall, well-proportioned persona she deliberately projected, the real Natsumi was a girl who appeared to be no older than thirteen and harbored a profound inferiority complex.
The surface cause was that her appearance had not been accepted when she First Manifested in silence. But the deeper root was the personality her childhood had shaped.
Natsumi was the product of an affair—an illegitimate child. Her mother was the other woman; Natsumi had never even met her father. Even the surname "Kageno" came from her mother's side.
And her purpose for existing? It was, naturally, to serve as her mother's leverage for extorting a large monthly payment from the father. Hush money, to put it plainly.
Her mother had developed a habit of using certain substances and had grown mentally unstable. Even the considerable sums she squeezed out of the man never seemed to accumulate into savings—and she had a disturbing tendency to completely ignore the very child she was using as collateral.
As a result, Natsumi suffered regular abuse from her mother while simultaneously being denied the most basic nutrition. During school holidays she survived on condiments—soy sauce, cream, sugar—as her primary sustenance. Eating too much of even those risked discovery and a beating.
At school, she was the isolated one too. Barely surviving at home, she had nothing to contribute to conversations about games or hobbies. At lunch she hid in a bathroom stall and ate alone...
The lunch was provided by the school. She had no money for the lunch fee, and she didn't dare ask her mother. Her teacher, figuring it was less trouble not to pursue it, never pressed her about it. But that only made Natsumi feel like a thief every single time she went to collect it—she couldn't bring herself to raise her head.
Her last memory as a human... her never-seen father had apparently died. Without income, the woman had no money for her next fix, and as usual she threw things at Natsumi while screaming that she was ugly—and if Natsumi hadn't become a Spirit, the woman's sudden violent madness might very well have killed her.
Even so, Natsumi—who had wanted nothing more than to be loved by her mother—hadn't condemned the woman to anything worse.
Years upon years of psychological abuse. That was the true seed of her character.
You could say the only thing sustaining her was Haniel—the power that could turn her into the ideal version of herself. It was the one thing that let her reclaim any confidence. Without her power as a Spirit, she would have nothing at all.
"Why are you crying?" The little cat reached out and touched Natsumi's face.
"To respond to the Host: crying and tearing up express sadness, pain, and fear—and in a minority of cases, joy. Based on observable indicators, the current situation falls entirely within the first three. Additionally, in certain circumstances, tears are a girl's or small child's most important weapon—useful when being bullied, blamed, or scolded. Please keep this in mind for future reference."
Yimi didn't entirely follow, but judging by the scene in front of her, this slightly taller girl—smaller than before—was probably the woman from a moment ago. She had helped her get prettier and now she was crying.
The little girl reached out and patted her on the head. "Comforting you."
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Being patted on the head by a child younger than herself.
But to Natsumi's eyes, the small child she had just moments ago been trying to use as a substitute for her own lost past now looked unmistakably like a demon wearing lamb's wool.
"You—"
Natsumi gritted her teeth and flung out a hand to summon her Angel—but her spiritual power was so dry she couldn't pull off a single technique.
Then she remembered: before she had brought Yimi back here, the child had been complaining—saying that Itsuka Shiori the pervert was trying to seal her spiritual power. Natsumi hadn't taken it seriously at the time... so it was true. And the child possessed the same kind of power? They were sisters, after all.
How could people like this exist? She was the daughter of whoever had given Natsumi her Spirit powers!
The girl's underdeveloped, thin frame trembled slightly. Any desire to make trouble for Itsuka Shiori had completely evaporated.
The one consolation was that her spiritual power appeared to have simply drained away rather than been destroyed outright. It ought to recover gradually. How long that would take she had no way of knowing—her Spirit power had always been so vast she had never once used it all up before.
"Is she crying happy tears?" The little cat posed the question to the System.
"To respond to the Host: based on micro-expression analysis, the 'Green One' was absolutely crying from sadness just now."
"Mrow?"
Had the transfer not worked? But she had definitely received spiritual power.
More abundant than anything she'd absorbed before—the most complete infusion of the full power of a Spirit since Yimi arrived in this world. It flooded into the Holy Corpse in an instant, filling the last remaining gap, and at last the Saint Master's Holy Corpse fully and completely became Yimi's power.
Yet nothing dramatically different seemed to have occurred. The only changes were that her Transfer ability felt more natural to use, and Extinction Angel—which had been constrained to an extremely low output—finally showed signs of beginning to recover.
Rather than investigating this new power, Yimi—self-certified good cat—let her hands begin to glow and reached toward Natsumi, attempting some follow-up care.
The effect was spectacular. Natsumi scrambled backward across the floor in sheer terror, heels scraping the ground: "Please spare me—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for kidnapping you!"
At this rate she'd have her Spirit Crystal extracted too.
Yimi held her gaze for a moment, then came to an understanding. "You're scared I'll take your power."
The green-haired girl, eyes brimming with tears, dropped to her knees and bowed: "I'm so glad you understand... please, let this past offense go forgiven..."
Yimi understood. She herself was scared of Shiori sealing her powers.
She waved a hand, letting the divine energy that was now truly her own—along with her steadily rising spiritual power—spread outward to take stock of herself. The little cat's mood brightened considerably. She couldn't quite pinpoint where she'd gotten stronger, but she was now confident she had what it took to go pick a fight with the First Spirit.
Looking at the kneeling green-haired girl, Yimi took small, measured steps around behind her and peeked at her backside.
"What—what are you doing?!" Natsumi flushed scarlet, unable to comprehend or dare to resist. [text corrupted]
Yimi looked very disappointed. "You don't have a tail either."
"...How would a normal person possibly have one of those..."
"Mm..." The little cat drooped her ears.
The little cat was not normal.
"W-well—maybe someone does? The world is a big place, and as long as I have Haniel... forget I said anything! 😣"
Was she just talking herself into giving the ability away?
Because Natsumi's spiritual power had been consumed, the conjured castle reverted to the original dilapidated building. At least the late-summer warm breeze wasn't cold.
The cat felt the top of her head and discovered her ears had reverted again at some point—which made her a little sad.
Looking at Natsumi's unclothed state, Yimi understood how deeply shameful this situation was for a big cat, and decided to step outside and find her something to wear.
"Wait!" Natsumi—who had been so frightened of her a moment ago—suddenly grabbed Yimi's arm.
"You'd just abandon me like this?! Even if you don't like how I look, making me run around naked is going too far... I know—that's your plan. Leave me here to make a fool of myself as payback for kidnapping you. You're exactly the type. You're definitely planning to round up a bunch of those office drones from earlier and announce that there's a hideous naked woman right here!"
"Mrow?" Yimi thought for two seconds, couldn't find "run around naked" anywhere in her mental vocabulary, and could only address the rest of what had been said.
"You've already become prettier."
"Are you mocking me?! You wicked child—you're every bit as terrible as your deviant sister!" Natsumi's emotions spiraled; she'd already forgotten what had made her so afraid a moment before.
Right—in addition to her deep self-loathing, she also suffered from severe paranoia. The two traits were, in fact, mutually reinforcing.
She huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around her head, muttering feverishly: "For all I know, there's some shut-in scanning the area with binoculars in broad daylight right now, sights trained on this exact spot, judging me... No—you must have already run into Itsuka Shiori on your way out, didn't you? You planned this together—arranged for Shiori to conveniently burst in exactly when I was exposed and in my true form, completely naked—"
"Natsumi, let's talk!" Itsuka Shiori burst in.