The system always seemed to read Takumi's mind.
After all, he wasn't a villain. If he took something from Mizuki, he ought to give something in return—even if that something was just a sense of protection.
From the kitchen, his mom's voice rang out:"Takumi, Mizuki, dinner's ready! The steamed shrimp is done!"
The two little ones left the room and made their way to the table. Takumi's mother, smiling warmly, set down a steaming plate piled with large shrimp.
"You two peel and eat them yourselves. Mizuki, don't be shy now—just treat this like your own home."
Mizuki hesitated, waiting until Takumi reached for a shrimp before timidly taking one herself. Her movements were cautious, but her gluttonous nature peeked through the moment she bit into the shrimp's head. The sweet, umami flavor lit up her face with visible joy.
Without a word, she placed the peeled body of the shrimp in front of Takumi.
Takumi blinked in surprise."Why are you giving it to me? You don't like the shrimp meat?"
Mizuki looked flustered. "I… I'm not picky."
He paused. Of course. She just wanted to share the good part with him.
Mizuki was the kind of person who would repay even a small favor a hundredfold—quietly, without words. Other kids wouldn't get it. But Takumi, having lived through another life, understood her completely.
"If you're not picky, take it back," he said firmly.
Mizuki opened her mouth to explain—"The body tastes better, that's why I gave it to you"—but one look from Takumi silenced her. She lowered her head, shoulders hunched, and obediently ate the shrimp meat herself.
Later that evening, Mizuki's mother came home from her shift and picked her up.
Aunt Mayumi was a strict woman, always with a serious expression, exuding the kind of pressure that made you sit straighter without knowing why. Her parenting style, paired with an absent father, explained a lot about Mizuki's shy, cautious demeanor.
As they walked hand in hand back home, Aunt Mayumi asked,"Mizuki, why do I feel like you're scared of that boy Takumi? Don't you like playing with him?"
Mizuki nodded immediately. "I do."
Aunt Mayumi raised an eyebrow. "Then why do you always call him Takumi? Shouldn't you say 'Big Brother Takumi' if you're close?"
Mizuki hesitated. She had called him that once—but he told her not to. So she stopped.
Seeing her daughter go quiet again, Aunt Mayumi sighed. "How about we visit Grandma this winter? It's been a long time."
"Mm… okay."
That night, Takumi sat cross-legged on his bed, finishing the box of candy Mizuki had gifted him. Each piece lit up a different part of his internal energy. Strength. Stamina. Speed. A child's version of spiritual enhancement.
The whole box disappeared by bedtime.
Good thing kids have strong teeth.
For the next month, Takumi made it a habit to ask Mizuki for snacks. In return, he gave her the ones his parents packed for him—he had no interest in the sweets themselves, only in what the system might reveal.
But there was one more thing Takumi started doing: teaching Mizuki how to stand up for herself… in his own strange, overbearing way.
During class, if someone whispered something mean about Mizuki, Takumi would nudge her.
"Throw a paper ball at them."
Mizuki shrank in her seat. "I don't want to…"
Takumi's expression darkened. He reached over and pinched her cheek lightly.
"Didn't you say you'd listen to me? Are you breaking your promise already?"
Mizuki, caught between loyalty and fear, reluctantly tossed the paper ball. When the other kids looked her way, they glanced at Takumi too—and quickly decided not to retaliate.
Takumi's version of mentorship continued in small, awkward acts. If Mizuki didn't eat enough during lunch, she would normally go hungry until dinner. But now, Takumi would make her raise her hand and call out:
"Teacher, I didn't eat enough!"
Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.
Takumi poked her thigh under the table."Louder. No one's going to hear you if you hum like a mosquito."
These weren't grand lessons. But to Mizuki, they were everything—a strange, clumsy form of protection and care from someone she feared just a little but trusted even more.
And to Takumi, they were small investments in the future of a girl who might one day stand tall… without needing anyone to tell her to.
There were all sorts of moments—like not having a partner during group activities, or being too scared to ask the teacher for a bathroom break.
Over the past month, Mizuki couldn't quite figure out what was going on with Takumi.
He seemed to be bullying her more often. At first, she tried to resist, but it didn't work—he always got his way. Eventually, she stopped fighting back and just did what he told her to. And strangely enough, as time passed, she wasn't so shy about speaking up anymore. Maybe it was because he made her do it so many times.
Then, one day, about a month in.
Takumi was out shopping with his mom at the mall. Rin, as usual, was happily trying on shoes and clothes, taking her time in every store. Takumi stood at the entrance, restless and bored, staring at people passing by.
That's when he spotted a familiar figure by the children's Taekwondo studio.
A small girl with a ponytail stood quietly in front of a looping promotional video, watching intently, not moving for a long while.
[Today, while out, you unexpectedly discovered the young fairy Mizuki watching a martial arts demonstration. You hesitate. Should you approach?]
Takumi walked up and tapped her on the shoulder."Mizuki?"
She jumped slightly but relaxed once she saw it was him. Her hands folded in front of her nervously, as if she'd been caught doing something wrong.
Takumi frowned. "Why do you always look like you're about to get scolded? Can't you look up when you talk to people?"
Mizuki lifted her head, but her eyes still darted around timidly.
He sighed. "What are you doing here? Did your mom bring you?"
She turned and pointed toward a coffee shop across the hall. Takumi followed her gaze and spotted Aunt Mayumi sitting with a man, her face tight with frustration. Even from a distance, it looked like she was barely holding in a yell.
Takumi put two and two together. "That's your dad?"
Mizuki nodded. "Mm. They're arguing again. I didn't want to hear them, so I came out." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They only see each other once in a while, but every time… they just fight. I hate it."
Takumi stared at her. Then, out of nowhere, he let out a laugh.
"You actually said what you're thinking now? And you used the word hate? Hah. Looks like bullying you for a month wasn't a complete waste."
Mizuki flushed bright red. Embarrassed, she quickly covered her mouth, shaking her head.
Takumi pulled her hand down, his tone suddenly sharp."What are you shaking your head for? It's a good thing to speak your mind. What's the point of always keeping your head down and bottling everything up? You think people like that?"
Mizuki bit her lip. Her hands were clenched tightly in front of her. After a moment of hesitation, she whispered, "But… if I talk too much, I'm afraid people won't like me."
Takumi exhaled slowly. Yeah, he could imagine it. Aunt Mayumi coming home tired, stern, and silent—too worn out to entertain a child, even one as quiet as Mizuki.
"Even if that's true, being invisible isn't any better. From now on, when you're with me, just say whatever you're thinking. Got it?"
Mizuki nodded, over and over, like she was afraid to forget.
Takumi glanced at the Taekwondo video still playing beside them."So… you're interested in this? Taekwondo, huh. That's kind of unexpected. You thinking of signing up?"
Mizuki shook her head, cheeks flushed. "Not really. I just think it looks… cool." She hesitated, voice getting smaller. "I want to…"
She trailed off.
Takumi gave her a light flick on the forehead."Ouch!" Mizuki winced, rubbing her head as her eyes welled up.
"What do you want?" Takumi asked, frowning. "Didn't I just tell you to say it?"
Mizuki looked down, trembling, then slowly lifted her gaze and spoke."I want to protect you. If someone bullies you in the future… I want to be strong enough to protect you."
Takumi froze.
The mall around them bustled on, indifferent. But to him, the world seemed to quiet for a beat.
He didn't smile. He didn't tease.
Instead, he just stood there, staring at the tiny girl in front of him—her fists clenched, voice shaking, eyes full of something that had nothing to do with fear.
And for the first time that day, he didn't say a word.
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