The sky before dawn was still a deep indigo. Room 103, Corpo Minase. Denji closed the notebook. The words he'd written last night glowed in his mind. "Bat Demon Incident." "Find Nyako." One thing to do. In the previous memory, Power had pushed into an alley. Made a deal with the bat demon. Give me a human, and I'll return Nyako—that deal was where everything started. Find Nyako first. That's all. Denji left Pochita in the futon. "[serious]Leaving you behind today" Pochita snorted in displeasure. Denji quietly closed the door. ＊ Akabane Station had people even at 5 AM. He jumped on the first train. Outside the window, Tokyo still dark flowed past. The car was nearly empty. A cleaning man dozed in a corner seat. Denji closed his eyes. In the previous memory, he recalled where Nyako had been. A back alley in Shinjuku Ward. Just outside Kabukicho. The gap between buildings lined with dumpsters. A dim place where the stench of rotting garbage mixed with sewer smell. (That's the place.) The train swayed. The hanging strap swayed quietly. By the time he reached Shinjuku, the sky had begun to pale. ＊ Kabukicho's morning was unique. The lingering scent of night hung in the air. Neon still glowed, but no touts. One drunk leaned against a guardrail on the street. Only the convenience store light shone white and bright. Denji entered the alley. One. Two. Rows of garbage bags. Sewer sounds. A cat's cry—. He stopped. Behind a cardboard box. White fur barely visible. Denji crouched slowly. Peered over the box edge. A white cat curled up opened yellow eyes. Looked at Denji. (Found it.) "[gentle]Nyako" He called the name on impulse. The name Power had called in the previous memory. He hadn't confirmed this was actually Nyako. But the cat reacted to that name. Rose softly—and ran toward Denji. Jumped into his chest. Warm. Light. Relief washed over him. "[serious]Good. Let's go home" That moment. A shadow fell. From above. Black wings spread, blocking the gap between buildings. A smell came—fishy. Rotten something. Denji instinctively clutched Nyako and dove toward the wall. The demon descended. Bat-shaped. But a hundred times larger than a real bat. Even folded, its wings barely fit the alley width. Red streaks ran across its skin. Its mouth split to its ears. No eyes. Instead, ears grotesquely large. (Much faster than the previous memory.) Denji gritted his teeth. "[serious]What a pain" He pulled the starter on his chest. The chainsaw deployed—from his arms, his head, blades sprouted. Engine roar echoed through the alley. He quickly placed Nyako behind the cardboard box against the wall. Had to engage. ＊ The first strike aimed at the wings. The blade hit the membrane. There was resistance. But—it wouldn't cut. The membrane was thick. Hard like leather. The chainsaw bounced back. The recoil shook Denji's body. Next moment, the bat demon opened its mouth. —Ultrasonic. Not a sound that split the head. Not sound at all. Vibration. The air trembled. A needle-stabbing pain deep in the eardrums. Denji braced against the wall. His legs wavered. (Damn. I knew about it, but not this intense.) In the previous memory, this fight started after Power sold him out. He'd won by breaking free from inside the demon's belly. No memory of fighting head-on. A second ultrasonic wave came. Closer this time. Warmth seeped from his ears. Blood. The eardrums were bad. Denji kicked off the building exterior. Climbed up. Fire hydrant, window ledge, AC unit—stepped where he could, gained altitude. The bat demon spread its wings. The exit blocked. Wings spread wide enough to cover an entire building. The sky vanished. The alley darkened. (Bad.) He thought honestly. Too tough alone. Can't cut the wing membrane. Ultrasonic stops the body. Even at height, surrounded by wings, nowhere to run. The bat demon opened its mouth again. Third wave coming—. That instant. A sound. Thud. The wing membrane pierced. A red spear. A spear hardened from blood, sharp and true. It pierced the bat demon's right wing and stuck into the building wall beyond. The membrane tore—a ripping sound, like fabric splitting. The demon tilted. Balance lost. Denji looked at the alley entrance. Power stood there. Splattered with backsplash, breathing hard. Her red and gold two-tone bangs disheveled. Vertical-slit green eyes glaring at the demon. Her small horns glinted in the pale dawn light. Her voice tone was different than usual. "[serious]Nyako's here, isn't it" That was all. Denji asked nothing. Later was fine. Now—. "[serious]Wing root. Attack from the right" "[serious]Don't need to be told" Power began forming the next spear in her right hand. Denji gripped his chainsaw and charged straight in. The bat demon released ultrasonic. His body froze. His legs stumbled. But—Denji gritted his teeth and pushed forward. Chose moving over pain. From the left, Power's spear flew. The demon's attention split. That one moment's gap. Denji's chainsaw bit into the wing root. Not the membrane—the bone. A sickening sensation. The blade sank deep. The bat demon shrieked. Its wings convulsed. "[serious]Now!" A massive spear came. The thickest blood spear Power had ever formed at full power. It pierced the bat demon's chest. Denji didn't wait a second. He swung the chainsaw with everything. Felt the sensation of severing—the demon's core, the center of its existence, cut clean. The bat demon erupted in white smoke. The wings vanished. The sky returned. Morning light poured into the alley. White smoke drifted, then faded. Denji hit the wall and stopped. His ears throbbed. His legs unsteady. But standing. The alley went quiet. Only wind blew. ＊ Nyako cried from behind the cardboard box. A thin voice. Denji approached, crouched, lifted her. Warm. No injuries. Power walked toward him. Their eyes met. Power said nothing. Just extended one hand. (She wants to hold her.) Denji handed Nyako over. Power received her and immediately cradled her in both arms. Tightly. Like a child. Then crouched right there. Her shoulders trembled. No sound came. But trembling. Her face bowed, covered in backsplash, Power held Nyako and wept. Denji couldn't move. (She was terrified of losing Nyako.) That's what he thought. This selfish, gluttonous, always-loud Power. Only for Nyako did she become this desperate. He remembered the night Power disappeared in the previous memory. His throat tightened. The feeling of protecting her—not responsibility, not obligation, but something simpler—came to his chest. Denji looked away. "[serious]Glad the cat's safe" His voice cracked slightly. Power lifted her face. Tried to see Denji's profile. But Denji looked toward the wall. His ears seemed slightly red. Power said nothing. Nyako purred contentedly in Power's arms. ＊ On the way back, they walked in silence. Shinjuku's morning was filling with people. Suits, students, salarymen leaving convenience stores. Morning smells—coffee, fresh-baked bread, asphalt warming. Power walked with Nyako cradled against her chest. Right beside Denji. A distance that didn't exist in the previous memory. After a while, Power slapped Denji's shoulder. Hard. "[serious]Just for today, I acknowledge you" Her voice was lower than usual. Not teasing. Real, embarrassed tone. Denji didn't laugh. Couldn't laugh. She was alive. Walking beside him. That made him happy. And terrified. Because he'd acted, she hadn't made the deal. But was that really the right answer—he still didn't know. "[serious]……I see" That's all he said. Power faced forward. Her mouth relaxed just slightly. He pretended not to notice. ＊ They returned to Corpo Minase past 9 AM. Denji turned on the TV. Pochita jumped onto his lap. Warm. News played. The announcer's voice said something. Denji listened vaguely. Today's weather, stock prices, politics—. The screen changed. "Tokyo, Itabashi Ward: Multiple demons appeared in residential area. Twelve civilians dead, many injured. From last night through this morning—" Denji's hand stopped. Restricted tape on screen. A residential street cordoned off. Police cars, ambulances. Something covered with a blue sheet appeared. The camera cut away. Itabashi Ward. Denji scoured the previous memory completely. A mass demon outbreak in Itabashi—no such incident existed anywhere. The remote fell from his lap. Pochita looked up. Looked at Denji's face. (Twelve people.) That number repeated in his head. He'd changed the bat demon incident. Power hadn't made the deal. Nyako was saved. In exchange, twelve people died. Changing fate doesn't erase damage. It just moves it. Wherever Denji changed things, wrinkles formed somewhere else. Denji pulled out the notebook. Gripped the pen. His hand trembled slightly. "Itabashi Ward—Mass Demon Outbreak" "Result of Changing the Bat Demon" He wrote that far. Then the pen stopped. (If I change the next big incident—how many die.) No answer came. Pochita's heartbeat thumped in his chest. The usual warmth. The usual pulse. Tonight, that warmth offered no comfort at all. Denji closed the notebook and stared at the ceiling. The yellowed stain looked unnaturally large tonight.