"Hey, what are you two even doing?"
Mahiko arrived on the scene, phone in hand, completely baffled.
She'd had good intentions. The plan was simple: stuff some cash in Hanami's pocket, use the excuse of buying ice cream as a springboard, pick up a few outfits along the way, and give Hanami and Jogo a chance to actually interact with some humans in the process.
As a precaution, she'd briefed Hanami beforehand — so as not to interfere with Suguru Geto's plans, don't kill anyone, don't get into any conflicts, and if anything comes up, just call her directly.
Right. Call her. As in, on a phone.
During the stretch of time she'd spent helping Jogo and Hanami with their "pre-battle preparations," Mahiko had received a living stipend from Kenjaku, which she'd used to stock up on a mountain of everyday necessities a girl needs — including one cheap mobile phone.
She'd also picked up a SIM card, and had given Hanami the number in advance.
Everything had been arranged perfectly.
She'd been back at the base, happily testing the fruits of her Barrier Technique studies, really hitting her stride — and then her phone rang.
It was Hanami.
Over the line came Jogo's voice — impatient, visibly suppressing fury — and Hanami's voice, slow and meandering, but carrying an audible note of bewilderment.
Mahiko had panicked on the spot.
She'd rushed over in a flurry, simultaneously trying to calm these two ancient catastrophes down and begging them not to do anything rash.
After all, she couldn't afford to leave Jogo and Hanami stewing in a mess for too long. If either of them lost their temper and slaughtered some humans, her entire plan of "letting Cursed Spirits experience and understand human society" would be dead in the water.
And so she'd sprinted all the way here, phone clutched in hand.
"What do you mean we owe two hundred thousand yen?"
Mahiko stood there, dumbstruck.
No — why? How?
All she'd asked them to do was buy some ice cream and pick up a few outfits. Did they smash the ice cream shop to rubble? Did some stranger on the street drag them into a pachinko parlor? How in the world could something that simple rack up this much debt?
The white-haired girl crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, lips curling in disdain, her red eyes radiating pure impatience. "How should I know. These people kept insisting that once I'd tried something on, I absolutely had to buy it. So they forced us to pay. If Hanami hadn't stopped me, I would've torched every last one of them."
Mahiko: "?"
She looked over at Hanami, seeking confirmation.
Hanami, though her eyes were hidden behind the blindfold, tilted her head slightly, her jade-green gaze passing through the cloth to rest on Mahiko. Her expression carried a thread of genuine confusion.
"I don't really understand what happened either." Her voice was soft, a little hesitant. "Did I do something wrong somewhere? Didn't Mahiko say that if you're not sure whether you want to keep something, you can return or exchange it later?"
Mahiko was baffled too.
Had they stumbled into a scam shop? No, that seemed unlikely.
She went up to ask the store clerk.
The clerk was standing to one side, expression openly anguished, face a picture of suffering. The moment they saw Mahiko approaching, their eyes lit up like she was a lifeline — they very nearly flung themselves forward to cling to her legs.
"Um, excuse me — are you their friend?"
"More or less. What happened?"
After going around asking questions, Mahiko finally pieced it all together.
Apparently, while Jogo and Hanami had been trying on clothes, they'd found the tags unbearably uncomfortable — so they'd simply ripped them off.
Yes. These two had torn the tags off every single item they'd tried on. One by one. Twenty-three pieces in total.
Mahiko's brow began to twitch.
Good grief.
She'd forgotten to go over the finer details of human retail life with these two.
"Alright…" Mahiko pressed a hand to her face. "How many pieces did they damage in total?"
"About… twenty-three." The clerk answered with great care.
Mahiko buried her face completely in both hands.
Well. Guess they were buying all twenty-three.
The money she'd received from Kenjaku was fairly generous — the clothes were within budget, just barely.
She hadn't handed all of it over to Hanami and Jogo at the start — after all, who could possibly have anticipated that these two would go shopping like this?
Anyway. No point dwelling on it.
After paying, Mahiko hauled several large shopping bags outside and peered in.
"Why is it all sportswear?" Mahiko frowned in confusion again.
Men's sportswear, at that.
These two had no idea that sportswear even came in men's and women's cuts.
"Because we were buying for Jogo first." Hanami explained quietly. "Her clothes got ruined in the fight."
Mahiko glanced at Jogo.
Fair enough — Jogo's hoodie was still in the same shredded state it had been in after the fight with Satoru Gojo, riddled with gaping holes, so ragged she looked like she'd been living on the streets. Prioritizing her made sense.
Then Hanami paused.
She turned her head away, just slightly. Her jade-green eyes drifted downward behind the blindfold, and when she spoke again, her voice had dropped a little lower than before.
"So… I didn't quite get around to buying anything for myself yet…"
Huh?
Mahiko stopped dead.
Oh. Oh wow.
Was this — was this really Hanami?
Golden hair falling soft over her shoulders, those elegant pointed ears — elf-like and delicate — drooping ever so slightly.
Her expression hadn't changed much. And yet her head was bowed, and in that small, quietly aggrieved voice, she'd said: "I didn't get to buy anything."
There was something about it — the feeling of someone who'd been a little wronged.
Wait. This was seriously still Hanami??
Mahiko really had only changed the body. That was all she'd done.
Although — to be fair — the Hanami of the original timeline had shown an almost poet-like emotional sensitivity.
But Mahiko was still completely floored.
The Hanami standing before her now was like that one older sister type — always gentle, always reliable, always putting everyone else first, never saying what she wanted for herself. She'd given everything to picking out clothes for Jogo with total dedication, patiently smoothed over every tense moment between Jogo and the shop staff, spent every last coin on Jogo without a second thought.
And then, only after she'd taken care of everyone else, had she realized there was nothing left for herself — and because she was the older sister, she couldn't let herself throw a proper sulk. So she just bowed her head, said it in a small, slightly awkward voice, and let slip the tiniest, most restrained little complaint.
Just that one tiny sliver of wounded feeling, peeking through.
But that one tiny sliver — paired with Hanami's current appearance, that golden-haired ethereal elven older-sister face, graceful and otherworldly — that barely-there droop of pointed ears, that subtle turn of the head—
In Mahiko's eyes, in this moment, it hit with the destructive force of a nuclear warhead.
They say that seeing someone through the eyes of an enemy and seeing someone through the eyes of an ally are two completely different experiences.
But this — this gap was insane.
This was — this was—
This was absolutely incredible!!
"It's fine!!" Mahiko's eyes lit up, her voice shooting up a full octave. "I still have money! I'll take Big Sis Hanami shopping myself!!"
Obviously. No argument. None whatsoever.
Holy crap, THIS is what Idle Transfiguration was made for!
The ability to remodel a living body — THIS is exactly what it should be used for!
With a power like that, if you don't use it to conjure some eye-catching beautiful girls for yourself, you are wasting a gift from the heavens! Spending it on a pile of grotesque monstrosities like in the original story — that is nothing but idiocy and psychological derangement!
How do you enjoy Idle Transfiguration?
You enjoy it with a smile! You enjoy it laughing! You enjoy it with a nosebleed!!
"Hm?" Hanami heard Mahiko's words and tilted her head slightly, a lock of golden hair sliding off her shoulder. Her gaze passed through the blindfold and settled on Mahiko, and she made a soft, gentle sound of surprise. "Does little Mahiko still have money?"
Perfect.
That head tilt was a perfect ten.
"Of course!"
The moment those words — "little Mahiko" — landed, Mahiko felt every ache vanish from her body. Her back stopped hurting, her legs stopped throbbing, and every grand ambition she'd had about new humanity or old humanity evaporated entirely from her mind.
She waved her hand without a second thought — of course there was money! If there wasn't, she'd make some! She'd pick a fight with Kenjaku himself if that's what it took to squeeze out the cash!
In truth, that money had originally been earmarked for her own essential living expenses and electronics.
But honestly — given a pitiful, heartstring-tugging golden-haired big sister quietly confessing that she hadn't gotten to buy a single thing for herself — what else was there to say?
Just give it to her, obviously!!
"When you get down to it, it's your fault for how you built Hanami's body," Jogo remarked from the side, lips curling in a dismissive sneer, her red eyes sweeping over Mahiko with mild contempt. "If there wasn't a problem with it, she could've worn the same clothes I picked out."
Mahiko's smile faltered for a beat.
A problem?
She blinked in confusion and turned to Jogo. "What problem?"
If there was a structural issue with the body she'd built, it genuinely did need to be addressed.
After all — while Mahiko's Cursed Energy manipulation was meticulous and precise, constructing bodies for Cursed Spirits was only her first and second time doing it. Her experience was genuinely limited.
And beyond that, in order to fully draw out Hanami's Technique, she'd deliberately carved Heavenly Restriction-like engravings into Hanami's body — similar to what Mechamaru had — sacrificing a portion of close-combat capability in exchange for a dramatically expanded range of Cursed Energy control.
That had been a deliberate trade-off after careful consideration.
But a build that complex wasn't impossible to have a bug in. Something she'd missed wasn't out of the question. And since she'd been the one to modify Hanami's body, seeing through any resulting issues was her responsibility — no question about it.
Mahiko's expression turned serious as she looked at Hanami. "What's the problem Jogo mentioned?"
Hanami tilted her head lightly. "It's not a big problem."
"Even if it's small, you need to tell me," Mahiko said earnestly. "Small issues can grow into big ones."
Hanami considered for a moment.
She lowered her gaze.
Then, with both hands, she gently lifted the front of her chest.
"It's mainly that this area is too large, so Jogo's clothes are extremely, extremely uncomfortable around the chest when I put them on…"
Mahiko stood motionless for a moment.
Her mind went completely blank for a moment.
"…That's the problem?"
Hanami nodded. "Yes."
"Oh~"
Mahiko nodded, putting on an expression of sudden enlightenment.
Then she spun sharply on her heel, one finger leveled dead straight at Jogo's nose —
"You don't understand a single damn thing, do you! You absolute dunce!!"
Jogo: "??"
Like fries need ketchup. Like old Beijing hot pot needs sesame dipping sauce. If an elven big sister were completely flat, she would be utterly, cosmically pointless!!
Do you even have taste?!
You philistine!!!!!
____
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