The Testament of Sister New Devil: Daily Life Contract
By [Author Name]
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*"If you want to protect them, then protect them. If you don't want to, you can refuse. But those girls have nowhere to go."*
Toujou Basara has been alone for a year now. His mother is dead, his father is always overseas on photography assignments, and the fifteen-year-old has learned to fill the silence of an empty house with the rhythm of his own cooking. He's left his violent past behind—or so he tells himself. The mark beneath his eye and the strange pattern on his wr
The Testament of Sister New Devil: Daily Life Contract - The Night I Got a Stepsister
"...Mom, this is fine, right?"
Basara's murmur dissolved softly into the twilight kitchen.
He chopped the cabbage on the cutting board with steady, rhythmic strokes of the knife. It was too much for one person. But when he'd gathered up the leftovers from the fridge, it had just naturally ended up that way. His father, Jin, was overseas on assignment. Same as always. And yet, he'd gone and set out two place settings anyway.
Outside the window, the surface of the Sakuragawa River was stained orange. The residential district of Kirigaoka City was wrapped in the smells of dinnertime. The scent of curry drifted from somewhere nearby, and Basara's nose twitched.
"Curry, huh... Maybe I'll try making that next time."
He muttered again, to no one in particular.
Toujou Basara, fifteen years old. First-year at Kirigaoka Academy High School. His short black hair stuck up a little here and there, and his deep brown eyes gave off a sense of strong will. A lean, well-toned build. Just below his right eye, near his ear, was a small mark like a scar. The blazer-uniform type—he wore it properly, without any sloppy modifications.
On his left wrist, a faint pattern was rising to the surface. A contract bracelet. Basara still didn't know what it meant.
"...Mom."
A year ago, his mother Misaki had died of illness. That was the official story, at least. At Kirigaoka Municipal Hospital, Basara had watched over her final moments. There had been no warning—just a sudden, quiet end.
Since then, the time Basara spent alone in this house had only grown. Jin flew all over the world as a photographer. An internationally renowned one, at that—he was home less often than not.
Basara set down the knife and looked at the dining table. Two place settings, laid out side by side. Even though he had no idea when his father would be back.
"Lonely, huh."
Saying it out loud only made him feel it more.
Outside the window, the current of the Sakuragawa glittered, catching the setting sun. Kirigaoka City was a suburban town of a hundred twenty thousand people. Forty-five minutes by train to the city center. A peaceful place. And this town held any number of secrets unknown to ordinary humans. The fact that several "Gates"—entrances to the Demon Realm—existed within the city limits was one of them.
Of course, the Basara of right now had no way of knowing that.
—Or so it should have been.
■
Late at night.
The click of a key turning in the front door lock woke Basara.
"I'm home!"
A familiar voice, absurdly cheerful.
"...Dad?"
Still in his pajamas, Basara went downstairs to find Jin standing in the entryway, arms full of paper bags. His black hair was a mess, stubble growing on his chin. T-shirt and cargo pants. Camera slung around his neck—the usual look.
"Oh, Basara! You're up! Here, souvenirs!"
Jin shoved the paper bags at him with a grin. Inside was a jumble of foreign sweets and seasonings he'd never seen before.
"...This is a ridiculous amount again."
"So what? Are you eating properly? You've gotten thinner, haven't you?"
"I'm eating. I can cook for myself well enough."
"That so. Well, fine then."
Jin set the souvenirs on the table and dropped heavily onto the sofa. The fatigue of a long trip seemed to be catching up with him at last.
"...Dad, you want to eat? I can make something now."
"Oh, nice. Please."
Basara stood at the counter. He opened the fridge and took out eggs and bacon. Something simple would do. Fried rice, maybe.
He oiled the frying pan and lit the flame. A sizzle echoed through the quiet house.
"Basara."
His father's voice came from behind him.
"What?"
"You're going to have stepsisters."
—For a moment, he didn't register what he'd heard.
His hand stopped mid-crack over the egg. The yolk dropped into the pan with a hiss.
"...Huh?"
He turned around. Jin was looking at him with a serious expression. Not the easy grin from a moment ago.
"Stepsisters. Two of them."
"Two?!"
"One's about your age. The other's in her third year of middle school."
"Hold on. You're skipping way too far ahead."
Basara turned off the flame and sat down facing his father. His heart was pounding.
"...What do you mean by that? Did you get remarried or something?"
"I didn't."
"Then why am I getting stepsisters?"
"Well, a lot happened."
"A lot..."
Jin crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. The gesture of a man choosing his words, hesitating.
"...Basara. I'm going to tell you properly."
His voice was low.
"Their mother, you see—"
"Their mother?"
"She's a demon."
—His heart jumped.
"...A demon."
His voice came out hoarse.
"That's right. And one of them carries the blood of the previous Demon Lord."
"Demon Lord..."
His fingertips were going cold.
Five years ago. The hero's village. The rampage of the Dimensionless Execution. Exile.
—Memories he didn't want to recall came flooding back all at once.
"...Dad, are you serious?"
"I'm serious."
"They're demons. Why would our family of heroes..."
"You're not a hero anymore. And I left the village a long time ago."
Basara was struck silent by his father's words.
"...Even so, I—"
"Basara."
Jin leaned forward.
"If you want to protect them, then protect them. If you don't want to, you can refuse. But those girls have nowhere to go."
"Nowhere to go."
"Things happened in the Demon Realm. They fled to the human world. I took them in. That's all there is to it."
"Took them in..."
"You understand, don't you?"
Jin's eyes were fixed straight on Basara.
"What it means to lose your place in the world."
—Ah. I see.
Basara understood exactly what his father was getting at.
Five years ago, he'd been the same. Exiled from the village, with nowhere to go. Jin had reached out a hand to him.
"...That's a dirty way to put it."
"Well, it's faster that way, isn't it?"
Jin grinned.
"...Fine. I get it."
Basara let out a deep breath.
"I'll accept them. But I'm not making any promises about what I can actually do."
"That's enough."
"So when are they coming?"
"Tomorrow evening."
"Huh?"
"Tomorrow evening. I'm counting on you."
"No, that's way too soon! I need to prepare myself—"
"A man doesn't need to prepare himself. More importantly, is the fried rice ready yet? I'm starving."
"...I'm making it now."
Basara went back to the stove and reheated the pan. He stir-fried the egg and bacon. A savory aroma spread through the kitchen.
—Stepsisters. And demons, no less.
His head was spinning.
"...'If you want to protect them, then protect them,' huh."
He murmured it under his breath.
■
The next morning.
"See you, Basara. Take care of the girls for me."
Jin stood in the entryway, camera gear hoisted on his shoulder. He'd only gotten back last night, and he was already leaving.
"...You're going?"
"It's work. A shoot overseas. I won't be back for about two weeks."
"Two weeks?!"
"It'll be fine. You can handle it."
Jin laughed and clapped Basara on the shoulder.
"That reminds me—here."
What Jin held out was a single envelope.
"What's this?"
"Living expenses. And the details about the girls are in there too. Read it later."
"...Got it."
"Also, don't go into the study. Promise me."
"I know."
"See you."
Jin turned and started walking.
"Dad!"
When Basara called out, Jin looked back.
"...Be careful out there."
"Yeah."
Jin waved his hand loosely and disappeared into the morning light.
■
On the way home from school.
Basara was walking through the shopping district. Kirigaoka Ginza Shopping Street. Four hundred meters long, about sixty shops. A peaceful stretch lined with a long-established butcher, a greengrocer, a bookstore, a coffee shop.
"Croquettes, eighty yen each..."
His feet stopped in front of Kirigaoka Meat Shop. Freshly fried croquettes were lined up in the display case. They smelled wonderful.
"...I wonder what the girls like to eat."
He caught himself thinking about it.
Last night, he'd read the contents of the envelope. The bank account for the living expenses, emergency contacts, and—brief profiles of the girls.
Naruse Mio. Fifteen. First-year in high school.
Naruse Maria. Fourteen. Third-year in middle school.
"Naruse, huh."
Just looking at the surname, they seemed like ordinary girls. But demons. And one of them the daughter of the previous Demon Lord.
"...What can I even do?"
The rampage five years ago. The Dimensionless Execution. That power was still inside him. He had no confidence he could control it.
"A way to protect them without using my power, huh."
He looked up at the sky. The sunset was dyeing the town red.
■
Five in the afternoon.
The living room of the Toujou house.
Basara sat on the sofa, turning the TV on and off and on again. He couldn't settle down. The hands of the clock seemed to crawl.
"...Calm down. They're just stepsisters."
No—not just stepsisters. Demon stepsisters.
"Haah..."
He sighed and picked up the teacup on the table. He took a sip of the lukewarm tea.
Ding-dong.
—They're here.
Basara shot to his feet. His heart was hammering.
"...Okay."
Deep breath. Once, twice.
He headed for the entryway. His hand closed on the doorknob.
"...It's fine. It's fine."
He told himself that and opened the door.
—A girl was standing there.
A beautiful girl, the setting sun at her back.
Long black hair reaching her waist. Pale skin. Large eyes looking straight up at Basara.
"...Ah."
No voice came out.
Behind her stood another. A girl about middle-school age peeked out from behind her.
"...Big brother?"
Before he knew it, he'd said it.
"Big brother, huh."
The black-haired girl murmured softly.
"...Hmph."
—A sharp look.
She fixed her gaze on Basara and opened her mouth to say something.
"You're the one who's going to be my—"
The wind blew, and her black hair swayed.
In the light of the setting sun, the girl's eyes—for just a moment—shone violet.
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