High above the troposphere, in a dimension where the clouds are made of spun starlight and the physics are regulated by celestial choirs, a war was being lost.
Archangel Seraphina of the Seventh Circle, a being whose very presence usually caused mortals to weep with joy, was currently having a very bad day. Her golden plate armor, forged in the fires of the First Sun, was cracked and scorched. Her wings, normally a radiant white, were missing several feathers and smelled faintly of ozone and charred hope.
Behind her, the Void-Stalkers—masses of obsidian teeth, eyes, and oily tentacles—screamed with a sound like a thousand violins being fed into a woodchipper.
"The Seal of the Eternal Maw has fractured!" Seraphina cried, her voice echoing across the astral plane. "If I do not find a Pure-Hearted Savior to anchor the Light, the world shall be consumed by the Great Unmaking! I must send a sign! A beacon of desperation!"
With a trembling hand, she reached into her sash and pulled out a Sacred Scroll of Divine Summons. This wasn't just paper—it was a fragment of the First Truth, indestructible and glowing with a sapphire light that could be seen from the moon. Using her own golden blood as ink, she scrawled three words in the ancient tongue of the heavens:
[PLEASE HELP ME]
"Go!" she commanded, casting the scroll into the rift. "Find the one whose destiny is intertwined with the fate of all! Find the hero who stands at the center of the chaos!"
The scroll descended through the atmosphere like a falling star. It streaked across the sky, leaving a trail of blue sparks that would have inspired poets, had any been looking up. It slowed its descent, hovering over the city of Hanagawa, guided by the invisible threads of fate. It targeted a specific coordinate—the entrance to Hanagawa High School.
It landed perfectly. Right in the middle of the sidewalk. Glowing. Pulsing with the urgent, magical energy of a dying goddess.
Step.
Step.
SQUELCH.
"I'm telling you, Amilia, the 'Traditional' way to eat a corn dog is to remove the stick first! The stick is a choking hazard and a logistical nightmare!" I shouted, my muddy sneaker coming down squarely on the sapphire-glowing words 'PLEASE HELP'.
"Incorrect, Savior!" Amilia countered, her designer heel grinding the word 'ME' into a patch of discarded chewing gum and wet dirt. "The stick is the 'Bone of the Bread'! It signifies the structural integrity of the meal! To remove it is to insult the architect who envisioned the sausage-to-wood ratio!"
"Both of you are idiots," Yuko sighed, her sensible school shoe performing a final, twisting smear across the divine parchment as she walked over it. "The real issue is that Kyotaru-kun has a piece of gum on his shoe. Look, he's tracking something blue and glowing into the school. It's probably industrial waste. This is why you need me to sanitize your life, Kyotaru-kun. You're a magnet for toxins."
"It's not radioactive, it's just... exceptionally sticky," I muttered, shaking my leg.
The Sacred Scroll, now unrecognizable and covered in a layer of Hanagawa sludge, peeled off the bottom of my shoe and blew into a nearby gutter, where it was promptly used as a raft by a very confused beetle.
High above, in the celestial rift, Seraphina let out a final, muffled sob of pure disbelief before being dragged into a portal of obsidian darkness.
"Did you hear something?" I asked, pausing at the school gate. "Sounded like a choir falling into a heavy-duty blender."
"Probably just Kaito's ego hitting a new altitude," Yuko muttered, adjusting her "Saintly" armband. "Let's go. The Cultural Festival starts in ten minutes, and if the salt isn't correctly tiered, the student council will 'traditionally' execute our budget."
If there is a God—and based on the fact that I survived the Foam Apocalypse last night, I suspect He exists and has a very twisted sense of humor—He clearly wants me to suffer.
I stood in the center of Class 2-B, which had been converted into the 'Salt & Sorrow Cafe.' The walls were draped in black and silver silk. Every table had a single, ominous black candle and a bowl of high-purity sea salt.
But that wasn't the problem. The problem was the reflection in the window.
"Why?" I whispered, staring at the monster in the glass. "Why am I wearing this? Why does it have so many bows? Why is there a cat-ear headband involved in a 'Traditional' cafe?!"
"Because, Student Kyotaru," Instructor Kirara said, her whip snapping against her leather boots, "the Board of Elders determined that the 'Savior' must represent the 'Pitiable State of the Commoner.' To truly appreciate the Salt, the customers must see a servant who has lost all hope. You are the 'Maid of Misery.' It is a Grade-S Traditional Role."
I was wearing an oversized, black frilly dress with a white apron that was currently being held together by safety pins and my own suppressed screams. My dark, messy hair was topped with a lacy headband. I looked like a Victorian orphan who had been forced to join a Gothic lolita cult.
"You look... fascinating, Savior!" Amilia beamed. She was dressed in a sharp, silver-trimmed butler's suit, looking more like a prince than Kaito did. "The way the lace contrasts with your look of utter existential defeat... it is a masterclass in 'Traditional Aesthetic'!"
"I look like a laundry accident," I groaned.
"You look protected," Yuko said, adjusting her own butler cravat. She was also in a suit, her long black hair tied back. "As butlers, Amilia and I will ensure that no 'inappropriate' customers attempt to tip the maid. Or look at the maid. Or speak to the maid. In fact, if anyone breathes in your general direction, I have a 'Sanitation Flare' ready to deploy."
"I'm a maid! My job is literally to be spoken to!"
"Not in this cafe," Kirara noted, checking her tablet. "In this cafe, you are the 'Silent Vessel of Tears.' Now, go to the door. The first wave of 'victims'—I mean, customers—is arriving."
As the festival opened, the 'Salt & Sorrow Cafe' immediately became a hotspot, mostly because people wanted to see if I had finally had a mental breakdown. (I had, but I was being very professional about it).
Then, he arrived.
Prince Kaito entered the room, trailing a scent of jasmine and $1,000-an-ounce cologne. He looked at me, his emerald eyes widening with a mixture of shock and... was that jealousy?
"Inuzuka..." Kaito whispered. "You... you have gone this far? You have embraced the frills of the wretched just to win their hearts?"
"I'm wearing this because I'm a hostage, Kaito! Go away!"
Kaito ignored me. He turned to Amilia and Yuko, who were standing guard like two beautiful, terrifying gargoyles.
"Amilia-sama! Yuko-san! I have realized my error!" Kaito announced, striking a pose that caused several passing girls to faint. "You do not want a King. You do not want a Golden Sun. You want... Scum! You want a man who is a failure! Therefore, I have decided to become the most repulsive, rude, and pathetic customer in the history of Hanagawa High!"
He sat down at a table and slammed his hand against the wood. "Maid! Bring me water! And make it... room temperature! And don't give me a coaster! I intend to leave a water ring on this 'Traditional' silk!"
The room went silent. This was Kaito's attempt at being 'Scum.'
I trudged over, the lace of my dress rustling with every step. I placed a glass of water in front of him. "Here. Please drink it and leave. I have three more tables to serve and my corset is cutting off my oxygen."
"Ha!" Kaito laughed, grabbing the glass. "Now, watch as I perform a 'Deed of Dirtiness'! I shall throw this water... ON THE FLOOR!"
He tossed the water. But because he was Kaito, his 'Perfect Luck' intervened.
At that exact moment, a small grease fire had started in the kitchen area because Amilia had tried to 'Traditionally' toast a bagel using a high-intensity magnesium flare. The flame had just licked the edge of a curtain. Kaito's water flew across the room and hit the fire with the precision of a professional firefighter, extinguishing it instantly.
A localized rainbow appeared in the mist. A 100-yen coin, which had been stuck in the curtain, fell out and landed perfectly in Kaito's pocket.
"HE SAVED THE CAFE!" a student yelled.
"SUCH REFLEXES! SUCH HEROISM!"
Kaito fell to his knees, tears of pure, lucky despair streaming down his face. "NO! I WAS BEING RUDE! I WAS DISRESPECTING THE SILK! WHY DOES THE UNIVERSE FORBID ME FROM BEING TRASH?!"
"You're too good at being good, Kaito," I said, patting his shoulder with a frilly glove. "It's a curse. Now get out. You're over-lighting the room."
The 'Salt & Sorrow Cafe' was soon challenged by the neighboring class, who were running a 'Hyper-Sweet Crepe Shop.' Their leader, a guy named Tanaka who looked like he had been made out of sugar and spite, walked in with a plate of crepes.
"Your cafe is too depressing!" Tanaka shouted. "The people want sugar! They want joy! We challenge you to a Taste-Off! The loser has to wear the other's uniform for the rest of the day!"
I looked at Tanaka's frilly pink apron. Then I looked at my own "Maid of Misery" dress. "Can we both lose? I'd take the pink apron over this corset."
"Silence, Maid!" Amilia stepped forward, her butler suit radiating an icy authority. "You dare challenge the Shindou-Ainsworth in the domain of flavor? You use 'Refined Industrial Sugar.' We... we use The Despair."
She reached into a hidden compartment in her butler vest and pulled out a small, obsidian jar. Inside was 'Grandmother Moon's Despair Salt.' It was black, it was heavy, and it seemed to absorb the light around it.
"This salt," Amilia whispered, "was harvested from the dried tears of a thousand widows who were told their husbands had forgotten to buy milk. It has been aged in a cellar for three centuries. One grain is enough to make a man contemplate the futility of the stars."
The judge—a very nervous-looking math teacher named Mr. Sato—stepped forward. He tried Tanaka's crepe first. "Mmm, sweet. Very... bubbly."
Then, Amilia placed a single, black grain of salt on a piece of plain, dry toast and handed it to him.
Mr. Sato took a bite.
His eyes glazed over. He stopped chewing. A single, grey tear rolled down his cheek. He sat down on the floor and stared at his own hands as if he were seeing them for the first and last time. He saw his own funeral like IPL World Cup.
"I... I remember my childhood dog," Sato whispered. "He didn't run away. He just... left because he didn't like my grades. The universe is so vast... and my mortgage is so high..."
"HE HAS ENTERED THE SALT-TRANCE!" Amilia cheered.
"THE WINNER IS SALT & SORROW!" the class roared.
"I'll get the mop," I sighed, adjusting my cat-ears. "Mr. Sato is currently weeping into the 'Traditional' carpet and I'm pretty sure he's about to quit his job. This is the dark humor of our school. We don't win prizes—we just break people's spirits."
By mid-afternoon, it was time for the 'Play of Fate' in the auditorium. I had been given a role. Not a lead role, of course. I was a 'Background Rock.
I was currently crouched on stage, covered in a grey, foam-rubber rock costume, while Kaito (who had been cast as the Prince, obviously) was 'saving' a girl from a cardboard dragon. Amilia and Yuko were in the wings, dressed as 'Elite Guards' who were technically supposed to be background extras but were currently outshining the leads by sheer 'Main Character Energy.'
Suddenly, the air in the auditorium turned cold.
The stage lights flickered and died. A portal of obsidian oil opened in the center of the stage, and three Void-Stalkers—the demons from the beginning of the chapter—slithered out. They were ten feet tall, dripping with shadows, and looking for the 'Hero" who had stepped on the Archangel's scroll.
"WHERE IS THE ONE WHO DEFIED THE SUMMONS?!" the lead demon roared, its voice rattling the auditorium seats. "WHERE IS THE CHAMPION OF GUM AND MUD?!"
The audience went wild.
"WOW! Look at those animatronics!"
"Kaito's family really went all out on the special effects!"
"The smell of sulfur is a nice touch! So immersive!"
I stayed perfectly still inside my rock costume. If I don't move, the demons won't see me. I am a rock. I am a stone. I have no soul. I am an inanimate object with a mortgage.
"Inuzuka-kun? Is that you in there?"
Yuko stepped onto the stage, her butler suit pristine. She looked at the ten-foot-tall demon of pure nightmare and didn't blink. She was holding her 'Saintly Disinfectant' spray bottle.
"Ex-EXCUSE ME!" Yuko shouted at the demon. "You are standing on the stage during Kyotaru-kun's solo! He has been practicing being a rock for three hours! Your 'shadow-ooze' is getting all over the foam-rubber! Do you have any idea how hard that is to clean?!"
"Mortal!" the demon hissed, lunging at her. "We are the Harbingers of the Maw! We seek the Savior!"
"The only thing you're harboring is a bad attitude!" Amilia shouted, leaping from the wings. She performed a "Traditional Moon-Kick" that connected squarely with the demon's obsidian face.
CLANG.
The demon was sent flying back into the cardboard dragon.
"How dare you heckle the Savior while he is in his 'Rock-Phase'!" Amilia roared. "Guards! Subdue these unrefined shadow-peasants! They are ruining the 'Traditional Pacing' of the play!"
A massive brawl erupted on stage. Amilia and Yuko, fueled by a mixture of romantic obsession and 'Butler-Guard' duty, began to absolutely dismantle the Void-Stalkers. They weren't fighting for the world; they were fighting because the demons were 'annoying.'
"I'm on fire again," I whispered from inside the rock.
One of the demons had breathed a gout of hellfire that had ignited the foam-rubber. I was currently a flaming rock, rolling across the stage while the audience cheered for the 'incredible pyrotechnics.'
"GO ROCK-KUN! GO!" the crowd yelled.
I rolled off the stage, through the orchestra pit, and out the fire exit, trailing smoke and the scent of burnt microfiber.
The sun was setting, casting a long, bloody shadow across the school grounds. It was time for the 'Ending Ceremony.'
According to Hanagawa legend, if you confess your love under the Ginkgo Tree of Destiny' at the end of the festival, you will be married forever.
I was sitting under the tree, having finally escaped the flaming rock costume. I was back in the 'Maid of Misery' dress, mostly because Instructor Kirara had confiscated my actual clothes. I was tired, I was singed, and I was 90% sure I had salt-poisoning.
Amilia and Yuko arrived at the same time. They each grabbed one of my hands.
"Kyotaru-sama," Amilia said, her silver hair glowing in the twilight. "The tree is waiting. The 'Traditional Bond' is ready. Let us execute the marriage contract!"
"Kyotaru-kun," Yuko countered, her grip tightening. "Forget the contract. Let's just go to the convenience store and I'll buy you a non-lethal juice. That's a real confession!"
Before I could answer, Kaito appeared. He was carrying a chainsaw.
"IF I CANNOT BE PITIABLE," Kaito screamed, tears flying from his eyes, "THEN NO ONE SHALL BE HAPPY! I SHALL CHOP DOWN THE TREE OF DESTINY! I SHALL DESTROY THE ROMANCE TROPES!"
He revved the chainsaw and swung it at the ancient Ginkgo tree.
But this was Hanagawa. The tree was protected by a 'Traditional Spirit Shield' (or perhaps just a very sturdy iron fence painted like bark). The chainsaw blade hit the tree, shattered, and a fragment of the chain flew through the air.
It didn't hit me. It didn't hit the girls.
It hit the fuel tank of Kaito's silver limousine, which was parked nearby.
BOOM.
The limousine exploded in a spectacular pillar of fire. Because Kaito was in the car, and because Kaito had just 'won' a lottery earlier, the trunk was filled with $100 bills. The explosion sent thousands of burning banknotes raining down across the school yard like glowing, expensive snow.
"It's beautiful..." I whispered, watching the money burn. "It's the most honest thing I've seen all day. Absolute, high-budget chaos."
Amilia and Yuko ignored the explosion. They were too busy trying to pull me toward the tree.
"Kyotaru-sama! Look at the fire! It is a 'Traditional Wedding Flare'!"
"Kyotaru-kun! Don't look at the money! Look at my 'Saintly' sincerity!"
I looked at the burning limo. I looked at my maid frills. I looked at the 'Marriage Instructor' Kirara, who was currently checking her stopwatch and nodding with approval.
"I think," I muttered, a hollow, dark laugh escaping my lips, "I preferred the apocalypse. At least the demons were straightforward."
As the students cheered and the money burned, no one noticed a small figure standing at the edge of the crowd.
It was a girl. She was wearing a tattered, scorched raincoat over what looked like cracked golden armor. Her hair was a mess of tangled blonde silk, and her eyes—usually a serene, holy blue—were now a dark, pulsing shade of 'I-am-going-to-end-you' purple.
Archangel Seraphina clutched a muddy, gum-stained piece of blue paper in her hand. She looked at the burning limo. She looked at the boy in the maid dress. She looked at the two girls currently trying to pull his arms out of their sockets.
She didn't speak. She didn't pray.
She just glared. A death glare so powerful it caused a nearby streetlamp to explode and three birds to fall out of a tree mid-flight.
"So," she whispered, her voice like grinding tectonic plates. "This is the Savior who stepped on my plea. This is the 'hero' of the gum and the salt."
She turned and vanished into the shadows of the school building, the sapphire light of the scroll fading into a cold, vengeful spark.
"I'm going to need a bigger sword," she muttered.