"Sensei mentioned that Kyouka-senpai met a formidable opponent! I can't believe someone as amazing as her was defeated! I have to train even harder to get stronger!"
The voice echoed through the corridor leading to the dojo, brimming with an overflowing energy that nearly drowned out the rhythmic thrum of rapid footsteps.
The girl was Tatara Konomi.
Her hair was a warm reddish-brown, a shade reminiscent of autumn leaves freshly fallen from the branch—vibrant and full of life. She wore it loose, the strands cascading down to her shoulder blades. However, she wasn't clad in the typical Anti-Demon Corps uniform; instead, she wore the school attire of an all-girls high school from Yamaguchi Prefecture.
Konomi was the designated successor to the First Unit Chief.
Trained directly by Myouga Riu, the burden on her shoulders was heavy, yet Konomi never seemed weighed down. On the contrary, she met every challenge with a wide grin and unflagging spirit.
"Right! Let's dial up the intensity today!"
Quickening her pace, Konomi rounded the corner toward the dojo's changing room. She was already envisioning a day filled with sweat and grueling drills, picturing exactly how Riu would critique her still-imperfect form.
*BAM!*
She slid the wooden door open with a burst of strength she didn't realize was excessive. The door slammed back, the sound echoing through the usually serene space.
Konomi stepped inside, one foot mid-air as she prepared to rush toward her locker. But her foot never hit the floor.
The scene before her was nothing like she had expected. This wasn't an empty changing room; it was something she hadn't imagined seeing in her entire life.
"Eh?"
A single syllable escaped her gaping mouth. Her innocent mind, entirely unpolluted by such things, scrambled to process the information flooding in through her eyes, but the processor simply wasn't designed to handle this kind of data.
In the changing room stood a man and a woman.
Konomi recognized them instantly—Naoki and Bell.
She stood frozen at the sight of Bell wearing nothing but panties, her upper body completely exposed as Naoki was occupied nursing at her breast.
As a martial artist with honed senses, Konomi's vision caught details that made her breath hitch. Reddish hickeys and faint teeth marks were clearly visible against the porcelain skin of Bell's breasts, branding her with an air of intimate possession.
Konomi stood rigid, her naive brain seemingly hitting a sudden overheat.
On the other side of the room, Bell's situation was no better.
Her pale face erupted into a brilliant scarlet, the heat blooming from her cheeks down her neck to her still-exposed chest. She couldn't move—not because Naoki was still holding her, but because her body felt as if it had frozen from the inside out. Her eyes welled up, not from pain, but from a volatile mix of crushing embarrassment and a panic that made her want to burst into tears.
Caught. She had been caught in the most humiliating moment of her life. Not just naked, but... but...
She couldn't even finish the thought in her own head.
Her eyes locked with Konomi's for a heartbeat, and in that split second, Bell saw pure shock—not hate, not disgust, just the sheer bewilderment of a young girl seeing a world entirely foreign to her for the first time.
If the earth could have swallowed her whole, Bell would have been the first to volunteer.
Yet, in the midst of the chaos, one person remained perfectly composed.
With unhurried movements, Naoki pulled away from Bell's breast. There was no shame on his face, no panic to be hidden. He finally turned toward the door.
"Ahem! How long are you planning to watch, Konomi?"
His voice acted like a master switch in Konomi's brain.
Her consciousness snapped back to reality. In a series of jerky, mechanical movements, she dropped into a ninety-degree bow, blunting out a panicked apology.
"Sorry for interrupting! Please carry on!"
Without waiting for a reply, Konomi slammed the changing room door and bolted out of the dojo area as if pursued by a monster. Once she reached the safety of the outer hallway, she slumped against the wall, her face a vivid shade of crimson.
"Hah... Hah... Hah..."
Her breath came in ragged gasps. Not from the running—a sprint of that distance shouldn't have winded her; her physique was far too conditioned for that. No, her breath was hitched because of something else, something that made her heart hammer wildly against her ribs.
"Oh my god! What did I just see?! That's the first time I've seen... 'lewd stuff' in person!"
Konomi buried her face in her hands. Her thoughts were a mess. No matter how hard she tried to scrub the image away, the memory of Naoki and Bell remained seared into her mind.
She let herself slide down the wall until she sat limply on the corridor floor. Her grey skirt fanned out on the cold tiles, but she didn't care. She pulled her knees to her chest, barely realizing she was doing it.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it again. The marks on Bell's skin. The position of Naoki's hands. The expression on Bell's face—half-panicked, half... what? Something she couldn't quite identify.
Konomi bit her lower lip, trying to banish the images with sheer willpower, but it was futile.
"So Naoki-kun and Bell-san have that kind of relationship..."
She murmured the words almost inaudibly, as if trying to convince herself that what she saw was real—that she wasn't just hallucinating from training fatigue.
"Hm? Wait a second!"
Suddenly, her eyes snapped wide open.
Her hands dropped from her face. Her slumped posture straightened, her spine snapping into a rigid line.
Something was wrong. Something was off. Something that her innocent brain might never have caught if she hadn't been obsessively replaying the details of the scene.
"Isn't Naoki-kun Tenka-san's boyfriend?"
She said it out loud, as if hearing her own voice could verify the fact.
Yes, that was right!
Everyone knew. Naoki was the man under Tenka's "ownership." They had a special relationship—one that everyone referred to as being lovers.
Then what had she just witnessed?
"So what's going on?" Her mind whirled as she tried to connect dots she never imagined she'd have to link. "Is he secretly fooling around with another woman?"
"Don't tell me..."
The words came out as a horrified whisper—not horror from fear, but the horror of realizing something she was never supposed to know. Something that made her wish she could go back five minutes, turn around, and walk away before that door ever opened.
"Is this... an affair? Like a soap opera on TV?"
Konomi pictured the scenes she'd glimpsed while passing the television at home—scenes of a husband sneaking behind his wife's back, of lovers whispering in hidden corners, of dark secrets being exposed at the end of an episode to the swell of dramatic music.
And now, she felt like she was the one holding a secret that was never meant for her.
Konomi stared blankly at the corridor ceiling. Her heart was still pounding, but the reason had shifted. It was no longer just the embarrassment of seeing something erotic; it was the sudden weight of knowledge pressing down on her shoulders.
She knew something she shouldn't.
She had seen something she wasn't supposed to see.
And now she was faced with a question she never dreamed she'd have to answer.
Should she report this to Tenka?
Or... should she just look the other way?
Konomi let out a long, heavy sigh and covered her face with her hands once more. Behind her palms, in the darkness of her own making, the images continued to loop, relentless and unyielding.
She remembered. She couldn't forget.
And now, she had no idea what to do.
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