# 614
**Chapter 615: Listen to Big Sister**
Yuzuri Nana thought for a moment. “Then… can I go home now?”
“Theoretically, yes. But to keep the yakuza families from coming after you again, don’t stay long.”
“Mm.” She gave a small nod. “I just want to grab a few things… I’ll be quick.”
Lin Qiye glanced at the darkening sky. “All right, I’ll go with you.”
A moment later Black Pupil walked out of the warehouse; Lin Qiye didn’t need to ask—he knew Iwamachi Yūsuke had vanished from the world for good.
Yuzuri Nana got her bearings and strode toward home. Lin Qiye followed with Black Pupil and Hongyan.
He had taken only two steps when he stopped, looked down, and shifted his foot.
Bending, he picked something up, puzzlement flashing in his eyes.
A misshapen bullet.
……
Yokohama.
Rooftop of a skyscraper.
High-altitude wind whipped the air. Amemiya Haruki, clad in a black kimono, sat motionless on the edge like a statue, watching the sky fade.
*Ding-ling-ling—!*
A crisp ringtone. He pulled a flip-phone from his breast pocket and answered.
“Hello? Amemiya, found any trace of Yuzuri Kurotetsu’s descendants?” a young man’s voice asked.
“No,” Haruki said evenly. “No anomalies in the city. I checked—Yuzuri Kurotetsu and his wife left no property here. The descendants probably aren’t around.”
“Tch, wrong bet again…” The youth sighed. “My 【Lady Wu】’s random prophecy only hits fifty-fifty; telling true from false is murder.”
“Done today’s prophecy yet?”
“Nope. About to fight it to the death! I’m gonna win today’s match!”
“Good.”
“By the way, when do you head to Osaka?”
“Tomorrow.” Haruki gazed at the skyline. “No point wasting time here if there’s no trail.”
“Osaka’s great—bring me back some Yoshino sushi!” The kid rushed on, “Gotta go, I’m dueling our blade spirit!”
Click. Haruki hung up.
He hesitated, then drew a wallet and peeked inside.
After a long moment he sighed, shoulders drooping.
“Enough for the train to Osaka…?”
Somewhere in Japan.
The young man who’d just called set his phone down and inhaled.
“Let the daily duel begin, demoness!” He sprang up from the tatami, eyes blazing.
From the bed, a languid figure slipped free of the quilt: a woman with fox ears, naked, the silk sheet sliding off skin white as porcelain. A voluptuous body met the air, nine fluffy tails swaying behind ink-black hair that spilled like a waterfall. She covered a yawn.
“D-demoness! Cheap tricks won’t shake my will! I won’t yield!” The boy gulped, voice cracking.
She rolled golden vertical eyes, stood unhurriedly, and draped a thin red haori over her shoulders, hiding just enough. Settling onto the Prayer Mat opposite him, she tapped a tobacco pouch against the tatami, clamped it between her lips, and asked lazily:
“Ready, my dear blade-master Hoshimi Shota? Today’s game?”
“Ready! I’ll win this time!” Shota declared. “Same stakes: lose, I take any penalty; win, you give me a fifty-fifty prophecy. What’re we playing?”
The fox lady’s lips curved. “Rock-paper-scissors.”
“Best of three?”
“Best of three.”
“Bring it!”
Shota shot to his feet, hands behind his back, as resolute as if marching to war.
“Rock, paper… scissors!”
Her casual scissors cut his paper.
“Tch—again!”
“Rock, paper… scissors!”
He won the second round.
“Final: rock, paper, scissors!”
Her rock crushed his scissors.
Shota’s face collapsed; he flopped to the mat, a salted fish bereft of dreams.
The fox woman chuckled, stepped close, and lifted his chin with one finger. Golden eyes narrowed; warm breath brushed his cheek as she whispered:
“Shota lost. Today, little Shota obeys big sister~”
She hoisted him like a chick, red haori slipping to reveal fleeting spring scenery, and carried him toward the bed…
Limply cradled against her, Shota stared at the ceiling, soul gone.
“Sorry, Amemiya… I lost again… waaah…”
……
Half an hour later Lin Qiye and Yuzuri Nana stopped at a door.
A typical two-story Japanese house with a small garden—flowers and grass now wild from neglect.
After checking the street was empty, Nana unlocked the door and went in.
Lin Qiye frowned the instant he stepped inside: muddy footprints everywhere, drawers yanked out, belongings flung about—no place to set a foot.
The punks had certainly searched hard for something…