Chapter Three: Always Slaughtered, Never Rescued

Raindrops hammered densely against the eaves, the pattering sound mingling with the steady drizzle rousing Fuku Kawakami from her deep sleep.

Leaning against the headboard, her expression was hazy, her gaze vacant and distant.

She dreamed again of that day—one filled with blood and the feeble struggles of the dying, much like this very afternoon, washed clean by the relentless rain.

Click. The bedroom door opened. Yuko Matsushima, quietly watching the news, glanced toward her granddaughter.

"You're awake? No university classes today. Rainy days are perfect for sleeping in. Why not rest a little longer?"

Fuku took a few steps and sat beside her grandmother, watching the news together.

"Grandma..."

"What's wrong?"

"...Nothing."

Yuko observed Fuku's hesitation and, after a moment’s thought, switched the channel.

On the screen, a young couple bickered loudly—misunderstandings and the heroine’s stubborn nature driving them apart. The proud hero and heroine ultimately chose separate paths.

"Love itself is full of twists and turns—personality, hobbies, pride, all of that," Yuko said softly.

"But the most important thing is each other. As long as you care about him and he cares about you, some things can be let go or negotiated."

Fuku understood the unspoken message and turned to look out at the rain gradually easing.

The raindrops reflected in Fuku’s eyes, moist and shimmering, while the damp air drifted through the window, brushing her face.

"Grandma, I’m going to play with Kashi."

"Alright, go ahead."

Without fussing over her pink shorts, Fuku slipped on her shoes and dashed through the light rain into the neighboring house—Kashi Uda’s home.

Smack!

A cold sensation pressed against her face with sudden force. Kashi, half-awake, opened his eyes to find Fuku standing right before him.

She stood with hands on hips by the window, her long, lacquered red nails pressing against his face like elegant ice pops. Following the line of her legs, his gaze landed on her flawless, naturally captivating face.

"Ah!"

Startled, Fuku was grabbed by the calf and tossed onto the bed by Kashi.

"Uda Kashi, do you want to die?!"

Fuming, Fuku scrambled up and without hesitation straddled him, pounding his shoulders through the blanket.

Thump, thump, thump. Amidst the pounding, Kashi gasped.

"Stop! Don’t you know hitting hurts?"

"Shut up, bear with it!"

"...You asked for it!"

After a brief struggle, Kashi grasped Fuku’s hands and pinned them beneath him, staring at her ink-black hair spread across the pillow, eyes resolute and unyielding.

"Are you acting up again?"

"Ow!"

Fuku bit down on Kashi’s wrist as he loosened his grip and dodged.

"Enough, no more trouble. I’m going to start a fire now."

Releasing her, Kashi got up, grabbed a lighter, and headed outside.

"Wait!"

"You’re—damn it!"

Before he could finish his sentence, a small piece of fabric, covered in fresh splits from this special period, flew straight at his face.

Startled, Kashi reflexively caught it, then shook his hand, wanting to discard it. Still, he restrained himself and looked at Fuku.

"Just pull it out. Isn’t it disgusting?!"

Seeing Kashi’s awkwardness, Fuku crossed her arms and smiled triumphantly.

"Go ahead, bite me."

"...Crazy!"

Alright then. Fuku was indeed a little unhinged; otherwise, she wouldn’t have so recklessly lured men to their deaths and had herself dismembered in the original story.

With a sigh, Kashi carefully grabbed one corner of the small fabric and placed it in a bag. He then took an umbrella and went into the yard to start a fire.

When he returned after dealing with the fabric, he found Fuku quietly sitting in the living room, watching him.

"What’s gotten into you today?"

Fuku looked at him steadily for a moment, then patted the empty space on the sofa beside her.

Kashi hesitated but, not wanting to provoke this madwoman, obediently sat down.

No sooner had his butt hit the seat than Fuku’s hand boldly reached for the hem of his shirt.

"Hey hey hey! What the hell are you doing in broad daylight?! I’m going to scream!"

Smack!

A furious slap landed on Kashi’s forehead, silencing him instantly. Gazing at her enraged face, he quietly turned his head away, unwilling to witness the impending disaster.

"Don’t mess with me. It’s uncomfortable..."

The scar, touched gently, sent a numb yet slightly itchy and tingling sensation—a confused message from nerves still developing.

Looking at the scar on Kashi’s abdomen and chest, nearly ten centimeters long, Fuku’s eyes were filled with complex emotions.

"What’s going on with you today..."

Before Kashi could respond, Fuku pressed her hand firmly over his mouth.

"Your dog’s mouth can’t spit out ivory—don’t ruin my mood."

"..."

Fuku’s fingers continued to gently trace the scar as memories flooded her mind—the day in Yamazaki Alley when Kashi fought two vagrants to save her, only to be stabbed in the lower abdomen.

"Were you afraid?"

Fuku’s low voice made Kashi pause, recalling the sensation of his body temperature dropping rapidly as blood drained away.

"A little. But not much. With adrenaline surging and you hurt worse than me, all I could think about was killing those bastards."

"If I had to say what scared me most, it was worrying about getting blamed afterward."

Kashi’s answer left Fuku silent, her fingers still kneading the scar.

"I won’t ask how you knew about my special condition, nor why you weren’t affected by it. I just want to know—why did you decide to save me?"

Gazing into Fuku’s jet-black eyes like inky strands of hair, Kashi was momentarily stunned.

"I don’t know."

"?"

Smack!

"I’ve been gathering my emotions for a while and you give me this answer?!"

"Oof..."

Kashi clutched his left chest, his face contorted in pain.

"I just don’t know. When I saw you stabbed in the shoulder, I instantly snapped. There was no time to think about why I saved you!"

"Is that what I wanted to hear? Is that what II'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.