u/Aggressive_Eye_8005

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

“Two days until the end of the trial”

As Kimoto headed toward the bar, he thought to himself: “Things are going even better than I anticipated. Soon I’ll finally fulfill that long-held dream—the very one I never managed to achieve before. But I worry: if Haru sniffs this out, he’ll spill everything to the family right away. Thankfully, I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve for exactly that scenario, and I even know who will help me.”

At that moment, Kimoto stepped over the threshold of the bar. Hardly had he entered when Akari spotted him and loudly announced to everyone present:

“Attention, gentlemen, warriors, and sorry drunks!”

“I’m not a drunk,” grumbled one yokai, then promptly collapsed face-first onto the table with a dull thud.

“Before you stands the yokai who outwitted Fumiko herself!” Akari continued triumphantly. “The King of Harlequins—Kimoto!”

Kimoto gave an exaggerated bow:

“Thank you, thank you, gentlemen.”

“Since you claim you fooled her, then prove it,” the bartender said sternly from behind the counter.

Without wasting words, Kimoto calmly pulled out his phone and played a video recording of the morning prank he had played on Fumiko. The yokai gathered at the bar watched the screen in horror, frozen in place. The next moment, the bartender suddenly leaped over the counter, grabbed Kimoto fiercely by the throat, and began choking him violently.

Kimoto smirked cynically, barely managing a rasp:

“Wow... you’ve got quite a grip.”

“Why’d you pin this on Haru, you bastard?!” the furious bartender growled. “All for a dumb prank?! Because of you, the castle guards will be ready to slaughter us all!”

At that instant, Akari swiftly raised one of her sharp spider-like legs and jabbed it right at the bartender’s Adam’s apple, her voice icy as she said:

“Calm down, it’s only a dummy.”

“Yeah,” Kimoto added as the grip loosened. “The real Haru is enjoying himself in Tokyo under Kenji’s watch. And seriously, cut the hugging and let go.”

The bartender exhaled heavily and finally released his hold.

“Crazy,” he shook his head. “Why take such risks? If Fumiko finds out the truth, you’re done for.”

“She’ll execute you... or do something even worse,” one yokai sitting in the corner chimed in.

“Gentlemen, I’ve been to hell and talked to the devil himself,” Kimoto waved off confidently. “Trust me, Fumiko doesn’t scare me.”

“Sure, but you’re terrified of your own wife!” someone shouted from the far end of the hall, and the entire bar erupted in wild laughter. Even Akari laughed.

“Very funny,” Kimoto muttered.

As the laughter died down and everyone returned to their drinks, Kimoto and Akari settled into a secluded table deep in the hall.

“So, did you find them?” Kimoto asked, getting straight to the point.

“Oh yes,” Akari squinted slyly. “Toru, Kiko, and Mei.”

“My favorite trio: ‘The Ram,’ ‘Ice Princess,’ and ‘Cat’s Claw,’” Kimoto smirked. “Perfect scapegoats. I’m more than happy to get back at them for attacking my daughters. It’ll be a splendid revenge.”

“Absolutely,” Akari nodded, baring her fangs. “I’ve long wanted to mess up their lives. This is the perfect chance.”

“Good,” Kimoto smiled.

At that moment, the bartender approached them.

“Would you like to order something?”

“A little sake with scorpion venom, please,” Akari requested.

“I think I’ll pass,” Kimoto shook his head.

“As you wish,” the bartender shrugged.

Akari raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“That’s odd. You usually always go for hot sake.”

“I need a clear head right now,” Kimoto replied bluntly.

“Or you’ve finally decided to fulfill that old dream?” she squinted.

“Well, I’m not going alone,” Kimoto winked conspiratorially. “I’m taking Sam along on this little adventure.”

“Oh, how intriguing,” Akari drawled. “By the way, what are your plans for your winnings?”

“I’m giving the money to Rin.”

“Cool,” Kimoto approved. “Listen, Akari, I need you to do one more thing for me.”

“What is it?”

“Get me some oblivion powder and bring it to me first thing tomorrow morning.”

Akari tilted her head with interest.

“Curious. And who’s this little present for?”

“Of course, for our special friend.”

“Alright, consider it done.”

“Excellent,” Kimoto stood up from his chair. “I think it’s time for a visit to our ‘unlucky trio.’ But first, we need to weaken them properly.”

Akari smiled predatorily:

“I think I have a good idea of what you’re planning. But how will you get them to take your potion? They don’t have to drink it—they could just eat it.”

“Hm?”

Kimoto said nothing. He silently turned and walked up to the bar counter.

“Listen, bartender, I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Toru, Kiko, and Mei often sneak in here in the mornings, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” the owner sighed sadly. “If I refuse to feed and water those brats on credit, they’ll just burn down my bar.”

“But can’t you stand up to them? You were a strong warrior once.”

“Key word: ‘was,’ Kimoto. I’m not who I used to be. I can still fight a little, but it’s not worth it anymore.”

“Well then, you can get your revenge in a much more elegant way.”

“How?”

“Good question!” Kimoto smiled and pulled out several juicy chunks of meat from his backpack, placing them on the counter.

“Steaks?”

“Steaks with a surprise! Prepare them and serve this trio breakfast. It’ll do both of us some good.”

“You’re serious?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Hmm... Never.”

“Exactly.”

After a moment’s thought, the bartender nodded in agreement:

“Alright, I’m in. But I want them humiliated properly.”

“I promise, that will happen very soon,” Kimoto winked and returned to Akari’s table.

“Well, as always, you’ve got everything under control,” she observed.

“Anytime. Now lead me to our trio’s hideout.”

“Let’s go. They just went out on a scouting mission.”

“Perfect timing. They’re helping us without even realizing it.”

Kimoto and Akari moved silently like shadows, hopping from roof to roof, careful not to attract the guards’ attention.

“It’s amusing, actually,” Kimoto said softly as they ran.

“What’s amusing?” Akari asked.

“This all reminds me of our very first meeting.”

“When we both decided to rob the same wealthy warrior at the same time?” she smiled.

“Yeah. I was running off across the rooftops with his wallet, and you tried to catch me and snatch the loot.”

“You bet!” Akari snorted. “I spent weeks gaining that warrior’s trust, lowering his guard, and when he finally passed out, I walked into the room—and saw your cheeky face escaping through the window with a bag of money!”

Kimoto chuckled softly.

“And we had quite the fight over that bag... only to find out there were just thirty miserable copper coins inside.”

“That was a nightmare,” Akari smiled.

“But after that, we started pulling bigger cons, robbing rich folks at our old teahouse.”

“Those were the golden days,” Akari sighed. “Until the locals caught wind of our schemes and we had to shamefully flee that village.”

“You know, maybe we should open a teahouse again,” Kimoto suggested. “Only this time somewhere in Tokyo.”

“Good idea... maybe once we’re really old.”

“A quiet life off other people’s backs—that’s my kind of retirement.”

“I’ll remember that,” Akari smirked. “Quiet. Here we are. That’s their hideout.”

Kimoto looked down and couldn’t help but burst out laughing:

“You’re joking!”

“Not at all.”

“That’s the ‘Drifter’ tavern! God, how many memories are tied to that dump…”

“Same here,” Akari agreed.

“Alright, Akari, keep watch. If they come back, let me know immediately.”

“Oh, I have a great way,” Akari said conspiratorially, pulling a small spider from her wide sleeve and gently placing it on Kimoto’s neck.

“I hate it when those little critters bite me,” Kimoto grumbled.

“But you’ll be 100% sure when they’re close.”

“True enough. Alright, I’m going in.”

Kimoto slipped silently into the dilapidated old tavern building.

“Nothing’s changed here at all,” he muttered.

Though his gaze immediately landed on piles of empty instant noodle packages scattered across the floor.

“They could at least clean up after themselves, pigs,” he snorted. “Now, where do you hide your stash?”

First, Kimoto thoroughly searched the guest rooms where Toru and Mei slept, but found absolutely nothing valuable.

“That means there’s just their leader’s room left to check.”

He tiptoed into Kiko’s room. It was empty too, except for her scattered belongings. Still, Kimoto’s eyes instantly caught fresh, clear shoe prints on the floor right next to the wall.

“Of course, who would doubt it.”

He stepped up close to the wall and pressed forcefully on a hidden latch. A wooden panel creaked open, revealing a secret room. Inside, piles of stolen goods lay neatly stacked: chests full of stolen jewels, a box of rare potions, and Mei’s personal diary.

Kimoto quickly opened the diary and scanned the latest entries. His eyebrows rose: the trio was planning a daring raid on Fumiko’s castle to steal all the family treasures.

“How banal and straightforward,” Kimoto smirked.

He quickly dropped his backpack inside the box of potions and securely stowed it at the very bottom. After tidying the secret room perfectly, he closed the hidden door and carefully wiped away any traces of his visit on the floor.

Just as Kimoto was about to quietly escape through the window, the spider on his neck suddenly bit him sharply.

“Ouch!” Kimoto hissed, rubbing his neck. “Speak of the devil, our trio has returned.”

He quickly leapt out the window, climbed up the wall to the roof, and hid next to Akari.

“So, ready to leave?” she whispered.

“Wait, let’s listen first.”

From the open tavern window came a loud, fierce argument.

“I said—everything’s off!” Kiko shouted angrily. “We’re leaving this cursed village today!”

“Why the hell are you chicken?” Toru protested.

“Are you scared of that pathetic Fumiko?” Mei snorted disdainfully. “We’ll deal with her in no time!”

“Yeah, right, good luck with that,” Kimoto thought, lying on the tiles.

“It’s not just Fumiko,” Kiko snapped. “I heard she’s gathering an army of warriors. And today they’ll be combing through every corner looking for someone.”

“That’s our perfect chance!” Mei brightened. “While the castle is in chaos, we can sneak in!”

“And get hunted down by her entire furious family?” Kiko growled. “No way!”

“Fine, damn it,” Mei reluctantly gave in. “We’ll leave this afternoon.”

“But before we go, we have to stop by the bar,” Toru spoke up. “We need to eat and drink to the fullest one last time.”

“Now that’s business talk, Kiko,” Mei agreed.

Kiko sighed displeased: “Alright, let’s go to the bar.”

“Hooray!” Mei and Toru yelled in unison, and the trio finally headed deeper into the tavern.

Akari looked at Kimoto wryly:

“You know, I kind of feel sorry for them.”

“Me too,” Kimoto grinned predatorily.

“Actually, no—I was kidding!” Akari laughed.

Kimoto got to his feet.

“So, here’s the plan: we meet back here at exactly eleven tonight. And don’t forget the oblivion powder.”

“I won’t,” she nodded.

“By the way, are you sure Fumiko will really suspect these three?”

“Absolutely. I left a very telling clue in the garden. That’s it, I’m off. See you soon.”

As Kimoto disappeared into the pre-dawn haze, Akari called after him:

“Hey, what are you going to do now?”

Kimoto turned and flashed a fiery glance:

“As always—play the hero for a little while.”

“Three days until the trial ends.”

Fumiko sat at the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the woven bracelet—the last gift from Haru. A chill settled in her heart. Haru... I couldn’t protect you, she thought resignedly. Forgive me, if you can.

At that moment, there was a soft knock on the door, and Kenji hesitantly stepped into the bedroom.

“Lady Fumiko, sorry to bother you,” he said quietly, shifting uneasily. “May I come in? I need to talk to you about something very important.”

“Come in,” Fumiko replied in a dull voice, not looking up.

Kenji took a few steps forward, clutching the script Kimoto had prepared tightly in his hands, and spoke strictly according to the text:

“Lady Fumiko, I understand this is not the right time for such discussions... But I would like to ask your permission to leave the castle briefly to visit Haru’s parents.”

Fumiko snapped her head up, her gaze scorching Kenji with icy fire:

“Absolutely not! No one leaves this castle until we find and punish the killer.”

Kenji sighed heavily, defeated:

“I completely understand your anger... But please hear me out. Once, before Haru joined your service at the castle, we went on a hike to distant mountains together. Everything went well, but on one of the days...”

“A fire,” Fumiko interrupted. “I know. Haru told me about that. You almost burned alive.”

“Yes, we narrowly escaped turning to ashes,” Kenji nodded, feigning emotion. “Haru kept joking about it for a long time afterward.”

“Joking?” the warrior woman asked, surprised.

“Yes. He said, ‘The flames were so fierce that at one point it smelled like fried fish.’”

A faint, bitter smile flickered on Fumiko’s lips.

“That does sound funny...”

Kenji’s expression darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper:

“But after some time, something changed inside him. He suddenly became withdrawn, fearful, and sank into a deep depression.”

“Is that so?” Fumiko leaned forward.

“I was shocked myself. For weeks, he didn’t speak to anyone. But one night he came to me. I was asleep and woke up feeling something strange. When I opened my eyes, Haru was sitting on the edge of my bed, whispering fearfully, ‘I’m still dreaming... this is just a bad dream. He won’t take me, Kenji. He wouldn’t dare.’”

“Who is ‘he’?” Fumiko frowned.

“I asked him the same question,” Kenji paused dramatically. “Haru was silent for a long time, then confessed that after the fire, he was haunted every night by the same nightmare. He dreams of being trapped in a forest engulfed in flames. He runs desperately toward the exit, but right at the edge, a bony hand reaches out from the darkness and drags him back into the roaring fire.”

“Oh my God...” Fumiko whispered softly, clutching her chest.

“Yes. But the scariest thing wasn’t the fire itself. Above all else, Haru was terrified of who brought him back into that hell.”

“And who was it, Kenji?!”

“Shinigami. The god of death.”

Fumiko fell silent, stunned, trying to process the revelation.

“I tried to calm him down,” Kenji continued, sticking exactly to Kimoto’s script. “I told him it was just a silly dream, nothing more. But Haru looked at me with a serious, mature gaze and said, ‘I know, Kenji. But I’m not afraid for myself. I’m scared of what will happen to my elderly parents if I’m gone. That’s why I came to you. Promise me something.’”

“What promise?” Fumiko’s voice trembled.

“He asked me, ‘If anything happens to me... if I die... promise me you will personally go to my parents, tell them everything, and take care of them for at least the first year.’ That’s why, Lady Fumiko, I earnestly beg you to let me go. I must keep the vow I made to Haru.”

Fumiko sat motionless for a few seconds, wrestling with doubt, but Kimoto’s mint chocolate had already gently dulled her vigilance.

“Alright, Kenji. I agree,” she finally exhaled. “I give you permission. But on one condition: you stay in constant contact with me.”

“I promise, Lady. I’m leaving immediately.”

“Take care, Kenji.”

When the young man quietly closed the door behind him, Fumiko turned to Haru’s portrait on the dresser and whispered with unbearable sorrow:

“Haru... Why, why did you hide this from me?”

The clock struck midnight. Kimoto stood by the massive castle gates, holding the reins of a strong black horse, glancing impatiently down the road. Finally, Kenji emerged from the darkness.

“Good job, Kenji. You nailed it perfectly. Proud of you,” Kimoto smirked.

“Everything’s ready. Fumiko let me go,” Kenji reported breathlessly. “What now?”

“Now put this on,” Kimoto said, handing over the familiar bracelet.

“The one that masks the aura?”

“Exactly.”

Kenji obediently fastened the strap on his wrist:

“Alright, the aura is hidden. But won’t the castle’s magical radars detect that my energy just... disappeared? Fumiko will think I’m dead too and create a huge panic...”

Kimoto squinted cunningly, baring fangs in a smile:

“Who said your aura will vanish? Look at this beautiful mare. Right now, she’s carrying your energy.”

Kenji stared at the horse in stunned disbelief, then looked at Kimoto with horror:

“Wait... so this is why you took my blood?!”

“A little blood from you, a drop of alchemy from Amaiya’s grimoire—and voila! A magical duplicate is ready. Now we send this beauty on her way.”

Kimoto opened the gates and gave the horse a sharp slap on the rump. It neighed loudly and galloped at full speed toward Haru’s parents’ village.

“What if she gets lost or takes a wrong turn?” Kenji asked with concern, watching the fake trail vanish down the road.

“No chance,” Kimoto waved him off. “I hypnotized her well. She’ll reach the destination, leave your trail for the trackers, and return safely. Now it’s your turn to head to Tokyo. Listen carefully to the code phrase: when I call and say ‘cucumber kappa’ over the phone, you and Haru drop everything and rush back to the castle. Understand?”

“Understood.”

“Good. Until then, entertain and distract Haru however you can. If you need tips on taming him, call me—I’ll help.”

“Got it.”

“Our fugitive is just hanging out in one of Tokyo’s arcade halls right now. Here’s the exact address,” Kimoto handed over a slip of paper.

“Oh, I know where that is,” Kenji nodded.

“Perfect.”

Kimoto made a grand gesture, opening a glowing portal to the capital. As Kenji lifted his leg to step into the radiant circle, Kimoto called encouragingly:

“I believe in you, friend!”

With a quiet snap, the portal closed behind him, and Kenji vanished.

In an instant, Kenji found himself amidst the bustling, neon-lit streets of Tokyo. Wasting no time, he strode quickly toward the designated arcade.

Inside, amid the pounding music and electronic game sounds, he quickly spotted Haru. Thanks to Kimoto’s masking pendant, Kappa now looked just like any ordinary young man. Haru was engrossed in a zombie shooter, firing wildly at virtual undead, clearly aiming for a new personal record.

Kenji quietly approached from behind and called softly:

“Haru? Is that you?”

Startled, Haru muttered nervously without looking away from the screen:

“Sorry, you have me confused with someone else...”

“Come on, quit pretending,” Kenji smirked.

Haru finally set down the game controller and stared dumbfounded at his friend:

“Kenji?! What are you doing here?!”

“I just decided to relax a bit and escape the castle chaos. What about you?”

“To be honest... me too,” Haru scratched his head embarrassedly.

“Wait, but you told Fumiko you urgently went to visit your parents?” Kenji squinted slyly, pretending to expose the lie.

“Sorry... I lied,” Haru lowered his eyes guiltily.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Kenji gave him a friendly shoulder squeeze. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Hey, how about we hit that pizzeria around the corner, grab a huge slice each, and you can tell me everything?”

“Sounds great, let’s go!” Haru brightened up.

As they headed toward the arcade exit, Kenji looked grimly at the smiling Haru and thought to himself: God... what have I gotten myself into? If Fumiko finds out, neither of us will get away unscathed.

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

“Three days until the end of the trial.”

Kimoto and Sam walked down the dimly lit corridor, carefully carrying trays with steaming cups of hot chocolate.

“Kimoto, are you sure about your plan?” Sam asked quietly, a hint of doubt in his voice.

“Don’t underestimate me, my friend. This isn’t my first rodeo, as you say in America,” Kimoto replied calmly.

“Yeah, but what if something goes terribly wrong at some point?”

“That’s life, Sam. Nothing is ever absolute. That’s exactly why I’ve mastered one key skill that always pulls me out of any trouble.”

“And what skill is that?”

“Improvise!”

“I see,” Sam chuckled.

At that moment, they pushed open the doors and entered the main hall.

“Alright, Sam, our main goal now is to get everyone warmed up and back on their feet,” Kimoto whispered. “Let’s help our Kenji.”

As the men began handing out cups, pale, gaunt Fumiko appeared, supported by Emiko on her arm.

“Sweetheart, lean on me. Let me help you,” Emiko gently coaxed her sister.

“No, I can manage on my own,” Fumiko muttered hoarsely.

She slowly approached her family. At that moment, Kimoto quietly stepped forward, offering a cup of the fragrant drink.

“Fumiko, drink this. It might not be exactly what you want right now, but it’s exactly what you need.”

With trembling hands, Fumiko took the cup. With a heavy sigh, she took several sips of the warm chocolate.

“Thank you, Kimoto.”

“It’s the least I can do for you at a time like this,” he said sincerely.

Fumiko raised her eyes, her voice tinged with a deep, heart-wrenching pain:

“I’ve made a decision. Tomorrow, we will say goodbye to Haru privately, within the family. And the day after, we’ll hold a funeral for the whole village.”

But in the next moment, her tone shifted sharply, becoming chilling and fierce:

“And from tomorrow on, I will personally lead the warrior squads. We will leave no stone unturned until we find Haru’s killer. I swear, they will pay in blood for what they have done.”

“We’re with you,” Kimoto nodded firmly.

“I’ll help too,” Emiko insisted.

“Oh yes, I’d love nothing more than to wipe those smug smiles off their faces,” Rin said, narrowing her eyes predatory.

The whole family rallied around Fumiko, offering silent support.

“Thank you all…” the warrior whispered softly. “Emiko, please take me back to the bedroom. I want to be alone.”

“Of course, let's go.”

At that very moment, Kimoto’s phone beeped briefly in his pocket—a message from Akari. He stepped back into the shadows of the corridor to read it unnoticed. From his hiding spot, he saw Yori preparing to take the children to the bedroom. Kimoto gently approached his wife.

“Darling, maybe you should go check on Fumiko? I think she needs you more than ever right now.”

“You think so?” Yori hesitated, glancing around.

“Absolutely. She’s in unbearable pain. She needs someone close who can just be there and look after her.”

“You’re right,” Yori agreed. “Then you put the girls to bed yourself, okay? Let’s have them all stay together in one room tonight.”

Upon hearing this, Erma shot a fierce, warning glance at Mitsu and Momo, but the twins just smiled back in perfect unison, like Cheshire cats.

“No problem, my love,” Kimoto smiled.

He kissed his wife gently and went to take on his parenting duties.

As Kimoto wrapped the children in blankets, Mitsu tugged his sleeve:

“Daddy, will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Pretty please!” Momo fluttered her eyes.

“All right, all right, you’ve convinced me,” Kimoto smirked, sitting down on a chair by the bed. “Erma, do you want to listen too?”

Erma nodded eagerly.

“Great. I have a brand-new tale for you.”

Kimoto settled comfortably and began in a quiet, soothing voice:

“A wondrous tale of the Green Oni and the humble monk... Long ago, in a faraway mountain province lived a healer named Bana-san. He was perhaps the quietest and most peaceful man under the vast sky. Bana-san never raised his voice at anyone, cared gently for even the smallest insect, and fervently preached the teaching of great inner peace.”

Mitsu and Momo yawned disappointedly:

“Ugh, sounds like a boring old man…”

“Wait,” Kimoto winked knowingly. “But one terrible day, deep in the mountains, a massive crack opened, and forbidden purple flames burst forth — the magical Thunderfire. The deadly blaze threatened to burn down the nearby village where children were playing peacefully. Without hesitation, Bana-san threw himself forward and sealed the fissure with his own body. The magical fire didn’t kill the righteous man but forever changed his blood, trapping inside him the fierce spirit of a gigantic green demon — the Oni.”

The girls’ eyes widened with instant interest.

“From then on, two completely different souls lived within the quiet healer,” Kimoto continued. “Whenever Bana-san grew angry or witnessed injustice, his bones would crack and grow, his clothes would tear to shreds, and his skin turned swamp-green. He transformed into a fierce giant with fists the size of millstones. Awakening, the Green Oni let out a deafening roar shaking the mountains: ‘Oni smash!’ Bandits robbing poor peasants fled in terror, believing him to be a divine avenger.”

“Wow…” the sleepy girls mumbled as they drifted off.

“But Bana-san himself deeply feared this destructive power. Coming to his senses among the ruins in his tattered kimono, he’d weep bitterly and retreat into the deep forests, searching for a way to tame the monster inside forever…”

When Kimoto finished his story, a sleepy silence filled the room. Mitsu, Momo, and Erma were fast asleep under the influence of the mint chocolate.

“Sleep tight, my ‘Mochis,’” Kimoto whispered, adjusting their blankets. “Mom and I are very proud of you. Even if she rarely says it out loud.”

“Not bad imagination you’ve got,” Sam’s muffled voice came from the doorway’s shadow.

“I try—for the younger generation,” Kimoto smiled.

They quietly slipped out of the children’s room and closed the door behind them.

“So what’s next on the plan?” Sam asked.

“You can rest for now, my friend. I still have some unfinished business.”

“I’ll go check on Emiko then.”

“Go ahead. And don’t worry about the hidden cameras—I’m taking care of them all myself tonight.”

“Great.”

After ensuring the castle corridors were empty, Kimoto silently slipped into Osamu and Amaia’s bedroom, then into his secret den behind the wardrobe. He unlocked his phone and opened Akari’s message, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“I found them. It was way too easy,” Akari wrote. “My little spiders reported that those three ‘imbeciles’ returned to the village just two days ago. And they were clearly plotting some mischief against Fumiko. Meet me at the bar; I’ll fill you in on the details. And don’t forget to bring the video recording! No one at the bar still believes you actually managed to pull such a harsh prank on Fumiko herself.”

“Excellent,” Kimoto rubbed his hands. “Time to move on to phase three.”

He took Amaia’s grimoire from the table. First, using magic, he opened a series of micro-portals to quickly and discreetly retrieve all the hidden cameras placed throughout the castle. Then, he sat at his laptop, quickly reviewing the footage of today’s panic involving Fumiko, edited an impressive video report for the bar regulars, and sent the finished clip to his phone.

After that, Kimoto resumed working with sculptural clay. Half an hour of painstaking work later, he packed his new clay creation into a tight bag. Along with that went several sealed envelopes with letters, an activated portal to Tokyo, a protective amulet, and a stack of compromising secret photographs of Fumiko and Haru he had managed to take recently.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Kimoto left the hideout. The clock read exactly 11:00 p.m. He made a quick round of the castle—everything was sound asleep. Kimoto stopped by the kitchen, grabbed a few juicy pieces of marbled Japanese steak, carefully dropped a couple of drops of peppermint sleeping potion onto the meat, sealed it in a vacuum bag, and packed it into his backpack.

Just as he was about to exit the castle, Kimoto spotted Kenji nervously pacing in front of Fumiko’s bedroom door, pale and clutching a piece of paper. Kimoto quietly approached from behind.

“Ready?” he asked softly.

Kenji jumped. “Yeah… But I still feel damn nervous.”

“Everything that doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. So go out there and shine, Kenji. The script is in your hands.”

“Easy for you to say,” the young man grumbled.

“Thanks for the compliment. By the way, when you finish the talk, I’ll be waiting for you at the village exit gate. I need to hand over some props.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, almost forgot!” Kimoto swiftly produced a medical syringe, jabbed Kenji in the forearm, and quickly drew some blood into the vial.

“Ouch! What are you doing?! Why?!” Kenji hissed, rubbing his arm.

“It’s necessary for the plan. Now go, Kenji, time’s ticking.”

Grumbling and rubbing his pricked arm, Kenji finally knocked and entered Fumiko’s room.

Kimoto watched him go with a smirk and thought, “Come on, my unlucky romantic. Show them what you’ve got. At least with Fumiko, you’ve got to nail it.”

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

“Three Days Until the End of the Trial”

This evening turned out incredibly difficult for everyone, especially for Fumiko. By this time, Kenji had finally returned to the castle.

“Kenji...” Ena called out, her voice trembling with tears as she barely caught sight of him in the hallway.

“Lady Ena, why are you crying?” Kenji asked in surprise, hurrying over to her.

“This is a nightmare, Kenji...”

“What do you mean?”

“Kenji... someone killed Haru!”

“What?!” Kenji expertly feigned profound shock.

“Someone chopped poor Haru’s head off! Kenji, I’m so scared—I don’t know what to do!”

Kenji held Ena tightly, pulling her close, and softly said, “Don’t cry, Lady Ena. I’m here with you.”

“Thank you, Kenji,” she sniffled. “I just can’t understand who could have done something so monstrous...”

While Ena clung trustingly to his chest, Kenji darkly thought to himself, “Actually, this ‘monster’ has a very clear name—and it’s Kimoto.”

At that moment, Sam appeared from the shadowy hallway. Spotting his friend, Kenji gently pulled Ena away:

“Ena, sorry, I need to talk to Sam urgently about the guards.”

“All right. I was just going to check on Fumiko and try to comfort her, at least a little.”

“Please be careful.”

“I will, Kenji.”

After Ena disappeared around a corner, Kenji briskly headed toward Sam.

“Sam.”

“Kenji, you’re finally back,” Sam nodded.

“Just now. Ena told me Haru was ‘killed’ and his head was cut off.”

“I’m shocked myself at how realistic it looks!” Sam whispered.

“I told you, this is a devil’s deal!” Kenji grabbed his head in panic. “God, what are we going to do now? We’ll be executed if this gets out!”

“No idea. We need to talk to Kimoto immediately.”

“Exactly. Let that little hellion pull us out of this mess he caused. By the way, where is he?”

“In the kitchen, making hot chocolate for the children.”

Meanwhile, Kimoto was fully in charge in the kitchen, preparing cocoa for the whole family. Yori and Emiko had personally asked him to keep the kids occupied so they wouldn’t accidentally learn about the tragedy in the garden.

“Mitsu, please pass me the milk,” Kimoto requested.

“Here, Dad.”

“Thanks.”

Kimoto poured the milk into a saucepan. It warmed up in minutes.

“Excellent,” he muttered, turning off the stove. “Erma, now be a dear and bring me the chocolate and cream.”

Erma obediently dragged the ingredients over and carefully set them on the table in front of Kimoto. He affectionately ruffled her hair:

“Great job, Erma.”

Mitsu and Momo immediately frowned with envy and blushed shyly. Kimoto chuckled softly, approached, and stroked his daughters’ heads:

“You’re both smart, my little ‘Mochis’.”

The girls blushed even more, smiling proudly:

“Thanks, Dad!”

Kimoto added cream and chopped chocolate to the saucepan and began stirring the thickening mixture steadily. In his mind he thought: “Almost done... now for the final touch—a bit of ‘minty aroma.’”

While lost in thought, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a good chunk of the chocolate bar had disappeared from the table. He glanced at his daughters and instantly knew whose doing it was.

“Erma, just because you took the chocolate without asking doesn’t mean you don’t have to share it,” Kimoto said sternly.

Mitsu and Momo turned sharply and saw their niece happily devouring the treat, having managed to smear chocolate all over her face from ear to ear.

“Dad’s right! You have to share with us!” Mitsu protested.

“Absolutely!” Momo agreed.

Erma froze for about ten seconds, processing what she’d heard, then suddenly burst into the air and shot out of the kitchen like a bullet.

“Stop her! Chase her!” Mitsu yelled.

The twins dashed after the little troublemaker.

“Ah, my ‘Mochis’... just like Mom and me as kids. I’m proud of them,” Kimoto whispered fondly. “Now, where was I? Oh yes.”

Kimoto pulled a precious bottle from his pocket and counted exactly five drops of mint extract with sleeping potion into the shared pot of hot chocolate. While carefully stirring the drink, Sam and Kenji quickly entered, scanning the kitchen.

“Oh, there you are,” Kimoto greeted casually. “Come in, we need to talk.”

“God, I’m scared already,” Kenji swallowed hard.

“So you’ve been told everything already,” Kimoto noted.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Sam frowned.

“About what exactly?”

“Well, about your ‘prank’ plan involving staging such a gruesome decapitation murder!”

“I love genuine, pure emotions,” Kimoto smiled disarmingly. “The best part is when no one around suspects that it was my idea.”

“Kimoto, this went too far! You have to get us out of this madness!” Kenji pleaded.

“All right, no problem,” Kimoto agreed easily.

Sam and Kenji exchanged surprised looks, not expecting such compliance.

“I can go to the family right now and honestly say this head is just a high-quality prop,” Kimoto continued with a sly grin. “And when the real Haru returns in a couple of days, everyone will finally see who stirred up this grand commotion.”

“That would be perfect...” Kenji sighed.

“Yeah, it’s an option,” Kimoto agreed. “Only they’ll also find out who helped me organize everything, bought the props, and set up the hidden cameras.”

Sam and Kenji immediately shut up, realizing the full depth of the trap they were in.

“So, should I go rat myself out?” Kimoto pretended to head toward the door.

“Wait, wait!” Kenji blocked his way in alarm. “We get it. We’re in this until the end.”

“Good,” Kimoto returned to the stove. “Now listen carefully. Kenji, your task is...”

Before he could finish, his jacket pocket suddenly rang. Kimoto pulled out the phone, glanced at the screen, and his smile grew even wider.

“Here’s our runaway. Haru is calling Fumiko... or rather, her number, which I redirected to my hacker SIM.”

Sam and Kenji turned pale with horror.

“What do we do?!” Sam panicked. “If he accidentally says too much...”

“Just relax and enjoy my genius,” Kimoto winked.

“What?”

“You’ll see soon enough. Kenji, Sam, quickly check the hallway—is anyone outside the door?”

The guys peeked out in unison and signaled: clear. Kimoto pressed the answer button, held the phone to his face, took a deep breath, and spoke with an absolutely perfect, flawless imitation of Fumiko’s voice:

“Hello?”

A tired but happy voice came from the speaker—Haru’s:

“Hello, darling, it’s me.”

“Haru! Thank God!” Kimoto flawlessly mimicked Fumiko’s intonations as Sam and Kenji’s jaws dropped. “I was really starting to worry. Kimoto told me you had to rush to your parents’ today.”

“Yes, sorry, dear, I really had to leave this morning so suddenly.”

“Haru, don’t worry, I’m not mad at you. But next time, you have to tell me personally if you have to go somewhere, okay?”

“Of course, dear. I’m almost at my parents’ house.”

“Good. But keep in mind: when you get back, you’re on a strict diet! No cucumbers for a whole month.”

“What?! Why?!” Haru pleaded.

Kimoto barely contained his laughter but continued sternly in Fumiko’s voice:

“That’s only for your own good!”

“But...”

“No ‘buts,’ Haru!”

“All right, dear, as you say,” the guy sighed obediently.

“Good boy. I have to run now, take care of yourself.”

“You too, my love.”

Kimoto ended the call and looked triumphantly at his comrades. Sam and Kenji stood speechless.

“How... how did you do that?!” Kenji finally managed.

“Ventriloquism and a bit of magic,” Kimoto winked.

“Dude, that was unbelievable!” Sam admired.

“Totally agree with Sam,” Kenji nodded.

“All right, where was I? Oh yes, the plan,” Kimoto got serious again. “Kenji, you’ll need to secretly go to Tokyo to see Haru.”

“Why?”

“To make sure he doesn’t come back too early and ruin the finale.”

“I get it... But how can I leave the castle for a couple of days without raising Fumiko’s suspicions? She’s controlling every step now!”

“Oh, you won’t have to sneak away. Fumiko will give you the opportunity and personally send you away for a few days.”

Sam and Kenji exchanged puzzled looks:

“How’s that?”

“That’s the most interesting part of my plan,” Kimoto smiled mysteriously. “Sam, your task now is to distribute this hot chocolate to all the family members except the three of us. My mint addition will quickly calm their nerves, especially Fumiko’s. Thanks to that, Kenji will be able to talk to her alone. I even prepared a script for you, Kenji. Here.”

Kimoto handed Kenji a sheet of paper filled with notes.

“Seriously? A script?” Kenji was surprised.

“Learn it by heart. You can slightly improvise but strictly within what’s written. Got it?”

“Got it, sounds cool.”

At that moment, the kitchen door burst open with a bang, and an angry Yori came in.

“Kimoto! I asked you to watch the kids!”

“I was watching them,” Kimoto replied innocently. “But Erma flat-out refused to share the chocolate.”

“And look where that got us!” Yori stepped aside.

Behind her stood Mitsu, Momo, and Erma, who had gotten so covered in chocolate during the chase that there wasn’t a clean spot left. They looked like little chocolate monsters.

“Erma!” Sam shook his head sternly. “You know very well the kids can’t have sweets before bed!”

Kimoto couldn’t help himself and burst out laughing.

“All right, my little chocolate darlings, now go have the tastiest hot chocolate!” he commanded.

“Hooray!” Mitsu and Momo cheered happily, rushing to the table.

Kimoto gently approached the frowning Yori and put his arm around her waist:

“Come on now, don’t scold them so much. Let them have some fun.”

“If only they didn’t make such a mess everywhere...” Yori sighed, calming down. “You spoil them too much.”

“Okay, you’re right. Once we’re back in Tokyo, you can punish them properly.”

“Thanks for the permission,” she smirked.

“Always happy to help, my giraffe,” Kimoto smiled warmly.

Yori immediately blushed deeply from the nickname.

“Tell me... how’s Fumiko?” Kimoto asked quietly, growing serious.

“She’s completely shocked and stunned,” Yori answered sadly. “She barely talks to anyone. But I can see in her eyes—she’s terrified and utterly broken.”

Kimoto wore a stern expression, clenching his fists:

“Yori, I promise you: I’ll personally find the scoundrel who did this to Haru and bring him right to Fumiko’s feet.”

“No!” Yori cried out fearfully, gripping his hands tighter. “I won’t let you go anywhere! Don’t even think about it!”

“But I have to...”

“Please, Kimoto, don’t try to be the hero. I can’t lose you too.”

“All right, my love, as you say,” Kimoto gave in gently.

He was about to tenderly kiss his wife when he suddenly felt a strong, insistent tug at the edge of his vest. Looking down, he saw Momo standing there.

“Dad, help us pour the hot chocolate,” Momo asked.

“Of course, my Mochis, I’ll pour it now,” Kimoto smiled, turning to the table.

As he poured the fragrant drink into cups, Yori watched Kimoto’s broad back and thought tenderly, “Kimoto... God, how did I even live all this time without you?”

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

“Three Days Until the End of the Trial”

Fumiko woke up with an incredible sense of lightness and freshness. She glanced at the clock and froze—the hands pointed exactly to noon.

“Strange... I did set the alarm for eight in the morning,” she thought, concluding the clock simply hadn’t gone off.

But then a more troubling thought crept into her mind: why hadn’t Haru come to wake her? Before she could dwell on this deeply, her eyes landed on an envelope on the table by the mirror. Fumiko approached and inspected it—it looked like an ordinary, unremarkable paper envelope.

Opening it, she found a neatly folded letter and a strange key inside. She began to read:

“Greetings, Fumiko. I wanted to play a game with you, but persuading you to accept the rules wasn’t easy. However, I found a way—I had to kidnap your ‘pet.’ Don’t worry, you can get him back if you find all the keys and solve my riddles. Here’s your first clue: ‘She carefully locked them in a glass prison, adding garlic, dill, and a drop of vinegary passion. They simmered in darkness, waiting for their moment. Now the lid is off! From this fiery love, they became firm, crispy, and incredibly bumpy. What culinary union is this?’ Good luck.”

A cold dread seized Fumiko’s heart. She sprinted to Haru’s room and flung the door open with a crash—inside, it was empty.

“Haru! Where are you, Haru?!” she screamed in panic down the entire corridor.

Sleepy Rin peeked out from the next bedroom:

“Why are you yelling, Fumiko? I was having such a wonderful dream...”

“Haru’s been kidnapped!”

“What?!” Rin immediately shook off the last traces of sleep.

“Wake everyone up right away! I’m going to gather the guards and organize search parties.”

“Got it!”

“But don’t wake the children!” Fumiko warned sharply.

Rin dashed into Kimoto and Yori’s bedroom and started shaking the couple roughly by the shoulders:

“Honey, get up! Now!”

“What now?” Yori murmured, still groggy. “Did Mitsu and Momo cause trouble again?”

“Haru’s been kidnapped!”

“What?!”

“I don’t know the details. Get up quickly—we have to wake the others. But leave the kids sleeping.”

As Rin rushed out, Yori began waking her husband:

“Kimoto, get up!”

“Dear, let’s sleep a little longer,” Kimoto mumbled drowsily, burying his face in the pillow.

“Kimoto, this is an emergency!”

“What happened? Did our ‘Mochi’ wreck the kitchen again?”

“No. Haru was taken.”

“What?!” Kimoto shot upright in bed, expertly feigning utter shock.

“I don’t know the details. Get up, we need to help the others.”

“Got it. What about the girls?”

“Let them sleep, don’t disturb them.”

“Well, here we go,” Kimoto thought with grim delight. “The real fun begins.”

When the whole family hastily gathered in the main hall, Fumiko strode in determinedly.

“So, first question: did anyone see Haru last night after everyone left the dining room?”

“No,” Kentaro shook his head.

“I think he went straight to his room,” added Kimoto.

“All right,” Fumiko exhaled deeply.

“And what do we do now?” Ena asked anxiously.

“I don’t know yet. I’ve already sent guards led by Kenji to search, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. We’ll have to act ourselves. The kidnapper left a letter with a riddle. He says if we solve all of them and find the keys, we’ll find Haru.”

“What kind of riddle?” Emiko asked.

Fumiko read the text aloud. Sam, barely suppressing a smirk, blurted loudly:

“That’s pickles in a jar!”

“Exactly!” Fumiko realized. “And I even know which jar. Follow me!”

“Riddles… clever move, Kimoto,” Sam thought admiringly as he followed the others.

Bursting into the kitchen, Fumiko instantly pulled the right jar of pickles from the cupboard. At the very bottom, carefully wrapped in a sealed plastic bag, lay another envelope. They quickly opened it. Inside was a second key and a new message:

“Great job with that easy riddle. Your ‘pet’ must’ve loved these pickles since you handled them yourself. Now let’s make things harder: ‘This secret menu lacks weights and grams, but lists the most exquisite meals for two. Each page is a draft for a future feast, where instead of ingredients, hours, addresses, and anticipation blend. Lovers open it to book a table for two, plan the perfect candlelit dinner, or note the address of a cozy café. Its pages remember kisses not yet given and keep schedules for two hearts.’ Hurry up.”

“Hmm, sounds like...” Sam began.

“My notebook!” Fumiko interrupted.

The whole group galloped to the library. Approaching the shelves, Fumiko yanked open a hidden panel on the cabinet where she kept her personal diary. On it lay the next envelope.

“Incredible...” Fumiko whispered, growing pale. “How could the kidnapper know about this place?”

“Well, first of all, I’m a genius,” Kimoto thought with a sly grin as he observed her panic. “And secondly, you should’ve wiped flour off your fingers better before touching your secret cupboard for love fantasies.”

“What kind of notebook is this?” Yori raised her eyebrow in surprise.

“It’s my personal notebook... with plans for life with Haru,” Fumiko blushed.

“Oh, how sweet!” Ena got all touched.

“Ena, for heaven’s sake, let’s talk about this later,” Fumiko cut her off and, hands trembling, opened the envelope. Inside was the third key and a note:

“Keep it up, Fumiko! To my surprise, you’re not as chicken-brained as I thought, and I’m even curious what other fantasies hide in your head. But that’s not the point now. Here’s the final riddle to lead you to Haru: ‘It’s a transparent prison without walls, shielding them from the world, yet visible and open to nature. He’s the invisible guest who passionately kisses its wooden edges from outside while lovers inside kiss each other. It gives them saving shade but melts from the warmth of their embrace. Inside, geometry and passion unite: the roof’s eight corners crown the circle of their infinite love, while the wooden floor keeps the warmth of their steps. What secluded place and its "rival" am I talking about? Hurry!’”

“I don’t understand a thing,” Yori shrugged. “It could be anywhere.”

“I think I know where it is,” Fumiko said softly.

As everyone rushed to the exit together, Sam whispered to Kimoto on the move:

“So, what did you cook up this time?”

Running out into the garden, Fumiko headed straight for the old wooden gazebo. At the entrance, her eyes caught a birdhouse with the edge of a white paper envelope poking out. She grabbed it, unfolded the letter, and found the last, fourth key inside.

“What was your first kiss with Haru like? Surely insanely sweet. Well, you’ve won—you can take your Haru back. These keys will help you open him. For now.”

“Wait here,” Fumiko commanded her family.

She stepped into the gazebo. Crossing the wooden floor, she noticed a couple of floorboards creaking suspiciously loud. Fumiko dropped to her knees, pried up the boards with her nails, and pushed them aside. In the cavity beneath stood a massive, beautifully crafted wooden chest with exactly four keyholes on its lid.

With trembling hands, she inserted and turned each of the four keys in turn. A heavy, final click sounded. The lid gave way.

At that moment, Sam quietly approached Kimoto at the gazebo entrance:

“You planned this all wickedly well.”

“Thanks,” Kimoto smirked.

“But how did you even come up with such a prank on Fumiko?”

Kimoto was about to answer when a bloodcurdling scream filled the gazebo—raw horror and pain in Fumiko’s voice.

“HARU IS GONE!!!” she howled.

The whole family rushed inside at once. What they saw froze them in utter shock and numbness.

Fumiko sat on her knees, clutching the open chest. Inside, staring back with empty, lifeless eyes, lay a grotesque, bloodied fake replica of Haru’s severed head.

“My God...” Sam whispered, lips pale, genuinely horrified.

Kimoto, standing silently behind the weeping Yori, barely smiled at the corners of his mouth and softly whispered,

“Surprise, Fumiko.”

​

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

“Four days until the trial ends”

At 10:10 PM, Kimoto was making his rounds through the castle, checking each room one by one. After confirming that the entire family was sound asleep, he headed towards Haru’s bedroom.

Pausing at the door, he smirked to himself: “Poor Haru, still sleeping apart from Fumiko. Well, no worries—soon enough she’ll be watching over you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

He quietly stepped inside. Haru was just finishing packing his last things into a bag.

“Ah, there you are,” Haru said, turning around. “I’m almost ready to go.”

“Great. But before you leave, I want to give you something,” Kimoto said, handing him a small item.

“What is it?”

“First, this bracelet. It completely masks your aura so no one in the entire universe will be able to track you.”

“Wow! That’s awesome!” Haru exclaimed.

“But I have something even better,” Kimoto said with a mysterious smile, pulling an elegant pendant necklace from his pocket.

“Just an ordinary pendant?” Haru asked, surprised.

Kimoto chuckled:

“Not just a pendant—a camouflage talisman. Put it on.”

Haru obediently fastened the chain around his neck but felt nothing unusual.

“Looks like nothing changed…”

“I’d beg to differ,” Kimoto smirked.

He guided Haru toward a large mirror and nodded toward his reflection. Haru was speechless.

“Am I… human?!”

“Not exactly, my friend. The amulet creates a powerful illusion that disguises you as an ordinary mortal. Now, even other yokai will see you as a human, not a kappa.”

Moved, Haru hugged Kimoto tightly.

“Always happy to help,” Kimoto said, patting him on the back as he activated a portal to Tokyo. The space before them shimmered and rippled.

“Here are the keys to my old apartment.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Oh, and remember when I told you about my teacher Yoshida and his restaurants now run by his daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Tell them you’re from me. They’ll feed you free of charge. But don’t overstay your welcome, alright?”

“Of course, Kimoto. I can even lend them a hand if they need.”

“That’s good to hear. Well, off you go.”

Haru sighed deeply:

“Well then, I’m off. Good luck.”

With that, he stepped into the glowing portal and waved goodbye. The portal snapped shut behind him, leaving Kimoto alone.

“Poor Haru. So naive… but that’s precisely your greatest charm,” Kimoto muttered. “Alright, phase one is complete. Time to move on to phase two.”

Kimoto waited for Sam and Kenji in the main hall. When the clock struck 11:10 PM, he began to genuinely grow anxious. “Where on earth are those two?” he wondered.

At that moment, muffled voices came from the dark corridor:

“Ow, my back…”

“Don’t be a baby, it’ll pass soon,” Sam hissed.

“Oh, there you are!” Kimoto swooped toward them like a hawk. “Where have you been?!”

“Sorry, we hit a bit of a snag,” Sam grimaced.

“What happened?”

“Kentaro accidentally fell on Kenji. He’s heavy, damn it.”

“Well, that happens,” Kimoto examined the disheveled conspirators. “Alright. Kenji, did you hand out the cookies to the servants?”

“You’re insulting me. I gave one to each by hand!” Kenji reported.

“Excellent. Now, blindfolds on.”

“Got it,” Sam and Kenji replied in unison.

Kimoto led them along the usual route to a secret hideout and solemnly declared:

“Congratulations, gentlemen. Phase one is behind us. Now we move on to the second part of our grand plan.”

“So, what do we do now?” Sam asked.

Kimoto pulled four tiny hidden cameras and a stack of tightly sealed envelopes from his bags.

“You need to install these four cameras precisely according to the instructions enclosed with the letters.”

“Okay, what’s in the letters?” Kenji wondered, weighing one envelope in his hand, feeling something heavy inside.

“Your job is to place these messages at specific points, laid out to the millimeter in the instructions. Now, the most important part: Sam, you take letters one and two. Kenji, yours are three and four. And heads up, Sam—the first letter and its camera need to be installed right in Fumiko’s bedroom.”

Sam paled.

“What?! Are you crazy?”

“Don’t worry. I guarantee Fumiko’s out cold. My sleeping draught dulls all her reflexes, so it’ll go smoothly.”

“Alright... I trust you,” Sam exhaled.

“That’s the spirit. And here, take these radios.”

“So that’s what we bought them for,” Kenji guessed.

“They’re already tuned to the right frequency. Once you’ve installed the cameras, I’ll check the signal and monitor the feed from my laptop.”

“Understood,” Kenji nodded.

“By the way, Kenji, one more thing,” Kimoto handed him a small bottle filled with a mysterious glowing blue liquid. “Pour this into the small pond.”

“Got it.”

“As soon as you’re done, come straight back to your rooms.”

Sam frowned with concern:

“What if someone finds the cameras?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve thought of that.”

“How?”

At that moment, someone poked Sam sharply in the back.

“Kenji, why are you fighting?” Sam snapped.

“What? I’m standing on the other side,” Kenji replied, surprised.

“That was me,” Kimoto said, stepping forward.

“What?!”

“Turn around.”

Sam turned and stared, stunned, at Kimoto’s hand reaching out to him—from thin air through a tiny, barely noticeable portal.

“Not bad... but how did you do that?”

Without answering, Kimoto revealed an ancient grimoire—a book of magic and alchemy that once belonged to the late Amaya.

Kenji squinted:

“Wait. If you have that book, why do you even need us?”

“First, I can only open tiny portals,” Kimoto said, raising a finger. “Second, I’m a complete novice at magic. And third, I have a much more important task right now, and this book will help me with that.”

“So, what will you be doing?” Sam asked.

“Art,” Kimoto said with a mysterious grin. “You’ll understand soon enough. But now—blindfolds back on.”

“Who’d have guessed,” Kenji sighed.

Kimoto led them back to the main hall and assigned them spots on the map. Then he locked himself in the secret room to begin the most important and horrifying part of the plan.

Spreading soft sculpting clay on the table and opening the spellbook, Kimoto got to work. After a while, his radio hissed, and Sam’s voice came through:

“The first camera is installed.”

Kimoto glanced at the laptop screen:

“I see the image. Lower it a bit… Stop. Perfect. You can move on.”

While his fingers shaped the clay human skull with surgical precision, the radio crackled again. Kenji reported:

“I’m done at my spot, moving to the next.”

Humming “Riders on the Storm” under his breath, Kimoto was fully singing along by the time the clay base was done.

“Now,” he whispered, opening a palette with paints and professional makeup, “let’s work on the face.”

As he applied eerie, realistic strokes and simulated signs of brutal mutilation, the radios reported one after another:

“I’m finished,” Sam said.

“Me too,” Kenji added.

Kimoto quickly scanned all four camera feeds. Each delivered crystal-clear, perfect images.

“Return to your rooms,” he commanded.

“Roger that,” Sam replied.

“Copy,” Kenji confirmed.

After they disconnected, Kimoto added the final touch. In front of him lay an impeccable, chillingly accurate replica of Haru’s severed and mutilated head.

He carefully lifted his creation, placed it in a large, beautiful wooden box, and locked the lid with a muted click.

Whistling the same tune, Kimoto slipped outside into the night garden and made his way to the gazebo. Making sure no one was around, he gently lifted a couple of floorboards and hid the box deep beneath the floor.

Back in the bedroom, he slipped under the blanket beside his peacefully sleeping wife. Looking at Yori, Kimoto smiled warmly and thought: “Sleep well, my love. Tomorrow will be truly unforgettable.”

With those words, he closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep.

​

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

“Four days until the trial ends”

Kimoto and Sam carried trays of food into the dining hall.

“Kimoto, are you really sure everything will go smoothly?” Sam asked quietly, glancing around nervously.

“Don’t worry, I’ve calculated every detail,” Kimoto replied calmly.

“That’s one thing, but what about our daughters?”

“I’ve taken care of them, too.”

“How so?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

With that, they pushed open the heavy doors and stepped into the dining hall.

“Hooray! The food’s here!” Kintaro cheered excitedly.

“It smells absolutely divine,” Ena said, closing her eyes in delight.

As Sam and Kimoto arranged the plates, Sam noticed Mitsu and Momo sitting quietly between Rin and Yori at the table.

“So, my dears, tonight our dinner will finally be peaceful and quiet, something we should all be grateful for,” Kimoto said with a smile.

“You can bet on it—Mitsu and Momo won’t budge a finger,” Rin assured him.

“Definitely,” Yori added.

“By the way, Sam, if you don’t mind, may I sit next to you?” Kimoto asked.

“No problem at all.”

“Excellent.”

Just as they were about to take their seats, Kimoto suddenly tapped his forehead.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Haru, here—you’ll like this. I poured you some cool cucumber water.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Kimoto!” Haru smiled, taking the glass.

After that, Kimoto and Sam sat down, and the dinner officially began.

“Darling, you’ve outdone yourself!” Yori admired as she reached for seconds. “The fried gyoza are simply magnificent.”

“That’s hard to argue with,” Rin agreed, devouring her portion.

“I agree with Rin,” Fumiko nodded. “You should cook for us more often.”

Mitsu and Momo, mouths full, chimed in unison:

“Thanks, Dad!”

Kimoto feigned modesty and warmly replied,

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just genuinely happy to feed our big family.”

While everyone eagerly tapped their chopsticks on their plates, Sam curiously asked,

“Hey, where did you learn to cook so amazingly?”

“Oh, that’s quite a long story,” Kimoto replied mysteriously. “Who wants to hear it over dinner?”

Everyone at the table raised their hands in unison.

“Alright then, listen up,” Kimoto leaned back in his chair. “About ten years ago, I moved to Tokyo. I had only one million yen to my name, which I managed to use to buy a decent apartment. Right beneath my building was a very popular café where I went every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That’s where I met a head chef named Yoshida. Strange as it seems, we quickly became close friends. He was almost sixty then, and his only daughter had moved to a different part of Japan. Yoshida saw a kindred spirit in me and often said he treated me like his own son.”

Kimoto paused, his voice growing softer. Everyone at the table fell silent, hanging on his words.

“But one day when I visited him, he seemed off. At first, I couldn’t figure out why, but then he opened up. He told me he had a granddaughter. At first, I was happy for him, but then he shared terrible news: his medical tests showed he had at most five years left to live. I was devastated. It turned out to be consequences from long years of working with radioactive materials at the nuclear plant. He said to me, ‘Since fate has given me only five years, so be it. But I don’t intend to just sit idly and wait for death.’”

Kimoto glanced around at the quiet relatives.

“He said he wanted to pass down all his culinary secrets to me so that the craft he had honed for years wouldn’t die with him. For the next three months, I devoted myself entirely to learning to cook—even quitting my job temporarily for it. It was tough, but I managed and mastered his skills completely.”

“Wow…” Sam breathed.

“An incredible story,” Fumiko whispered.

Mitsu and Momo, forgetting about their food, asked,

“Dad, what happened to Yoshida’s daughter? Did she come back to the family?”

“Yes... she did,” Kimoto said, lowering his eyes sadly.

Touched, Yori barely held back her tears. The atmosphere at the table turned deeply emotional.

“Maybe it’s time to put the kids to bed?” Rin broke the silence, noticing her sister’s state.

“Yes, probably,” Emiko agreed. “Erma’s already yawning nonstop.”

“But it’s only eight o’clock,” Rin was surprised.

“Remember what those rascals got up to this morning,” Yori reminded her reasonably.

“True, good point.”

As Rin led the children to their bedrooms, Yori turned to her husband and gently took his hand.

“Darling, now can you tell us the whole truth? Where did your story end?”

Kimoto sighed heavily, filled with sorrow.

“The night before he planned to leave for his daughter’s place, he invited me for dinner. He was so happy—it was going to be the first time he’d meet his granddaughter... We had a wonderful evening. After the restaurant closed, he took a taxi. As we said goodbye, he said, ‘I’m incredibly glad to have met you, Kimoto. In recent years, you’ve become the closest person to me.’ Then he handed me his old recipe book, and we parted.”

Tears gleamed in Kimoto’s eyes. Sam, sitting beside him, shuddered inwardly, marveling at his friend’s acting talent.

“I never thought I’d see him for the last time,” Kimoto continued in a voice trembling with tears. “The next morning I was having breakfast and watching TV when an emergency news bulletin came on. A plane crash… no survivors. When the list of the deceased scrolled across the screen, I saw Yoshida’s name.”

“Darling…” Yori gasped, covering her lips.

“That day, I completely lost myself,” Kimoto wiped away a solitary tear. “I shut myself in my apartment, not knowing how to live anymore. Later, I called his family—they invited me to the funeral, which was to be held the following week. At the burial, I sat alone on a bench, trying to grasp what had happened. Then his widowed wife came to me, crying and asking for help: she needed to return to Tokyo and somehow keep the café afloat while their daughter and son-in-law handled affairs. I knew I had to help. I worked at that restaurant for an entire year without pay—just feeding people in memory of the master. After a year, Yoshida’s daughter and her husband took over fully. Now everything’s great—the business is thriving, and their little girl is growing up to be a wonderful helper. I try to visit them whenever I get a chance.”

“So that’s why you sometimes come home late,” Yori nodded understandingly.

“Yes.”

“But why didn't you tell me all this before?”

“I just... didn’t know how to start the conversation,” Kimoto sniffled.

Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Kimoto. We’re all family here, and we’re always with you.”

At those words, Kimoto dramatically wiped away his tears, stood up, and raised his glass high.

“To my great teacher Yoshida!”

“To Yoshida!” everyone echoed in unison.

At that very moment, inspired by the mood, Haru raised his glass and drained his cucumber water in one gulp.

Kimoto squinted slyly and immediately brightened his tone.

“All right, now let me tell you a hilarious story to lighten the mood!”

“Go ahead, hit us!” Sam smiled.

“So, once a friend of mine really needed to use the restroom. We were walking in the park when he spotted a blue plastic portable toilet cabin. He dashed there at full speed. While he was inside, I went off to buy myself a caramel apple. Returning, I looked where the cabin had been and couldn’t believe my eyes…”

“And what?” Sam asked, intrigued.

“The cabin was gone! It had vanished!”

“What?!” Kintaro laughed out loud.

“I was equally stunned. I looked around, and suddenly the people nearby started yelling and pointing skyward. I looked up…”

“Oh no, don’t tell me what I think happened…” Emiko covered her mouth with her hands.

“That’s exactly what happened!” Kimoto exclaimed triumphantly.

“Come on, don’t keep us in suspense—what happened?!” Sam pleaded.

“A rain of... human waste poured down on the crowd!”

The hall erupted in roaring laughter.

“Turns out, workers had come to collect the portable toilet with a crane,” Kimoto continued through laughter. “And no one knew my poor friend was inside! After a minute in the air, they somehow lowered the cabin back down. And then, when the door finally opened…”

“What did they see?” Sam asked through tears of laughter.

Instead of answering, Kimoto pulled out his phone and showed a photo of his friend covered head to toe in the contents of the toilet’s tank.

The dining hall shook with even louder laughter. But then Kimoto noticed the laughter dying down and eyelids growing heavy—the mint sleeping agent in the gyoza and lemonade was taking effect.

“Whoa... I’m starting to get sleepy myself,” Kimoto yawned dramatically.

“Oh, me too, dear,” Yori mumbled, barely able to stay balanced in her chair. “I’m so incredibly tired...”

“To be honest, my eyes are closing too,” Emiko nodded weakly, dozing off on the spot.

“I think it’s time for all of us to head to bed,” Kimoto concluded.

Sam, who had drunk the protective cucumber water, did his best to fake sleepiness, fully aware this was a crucial part of Kimoto’s sinister plan.

“Oh dear, it really is time for bed,” Fumiko yawned sweetly and, swaying, stood from the table.

As everyone sluggishly dispersed to their rooms, sleepy Ena turned back:

“Wait... why didn’t Kenji come to dinner?”

“Oh, he said he wanted to chat with the servants in the kitchen and check that everything was fine in the castle,” Kimoto lied casually.

“Ah, well... good for him...” Ena mumbled, sinking into half-sleep.

Kimoto watched his dozing relatives with delight and thought to himself: “My God, how much I love my job!”

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

"Four days until the end of the trial."

Kimoto and Haru descended into the castle’s dark, chilly cellar.

“So, where do we start?” Kimoto asked, scanning the dusty corners.

“We need to scrub absolutely everything until it shines,” Haru replied.

“Got it.”

“Here, take the mop.”

“Thanks, Haru. By my estimate, this will take at least two hours.”

“Perfect,” Haru agreed.

However, the cleaning dragged on. Three hours of exhausting, grueling work later in the cellar...

“Haru, I think I’m done,” Kimoto said, breathing heavily as he leaned on the mop.

“To be honest, I’m just as wiped out,” Haru responded, equally fatigued. “But at least we’re finished.”

“Yeah, that’s the important thing,” Kimoto wiped sweat from his brow. “Let’s sit down for a bit, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

They settled at an old, rickety table. Kimoto realized the moment had come — it was time to act.

“Haru, is something bothering you?” he asked casually.

“No, nothing special. Why do you ask?”

“Well... I saw the sadness with which you threw away that flyer today.”

“What?! No, not at all!” Haru blushed.

“Come on. You mean this flyer?” Kimoto pulled a bright flyer advertising a new film premiere inspired by a popular samurai game from his pocket.

“Ah, that... forget it. I wouldn’t have been able to go anyway,” Haru’s spirits dropped.

“Really? That’s a shame. Actually, I have an extra ticket I was planning to give you.”

“Seriously?!” Haru’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Absolutely. Besides, I’ve noticed you haven’t been resting at all lately.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Oh yes, very obvious. I think you desperately need at least four full days off.”

“I don’t know,” Haru hesitated. “I’m afraid Fumiko won’t like it.”

“Or maybe you’re just afraid of upsetting her?”

“Honestly, both,” he admitted.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back,” Kimoto said with a conspiratorial wink.

“How?”

“I’ll tell her you had to urgently visit your parents. They live far away, right?”

“Yes, about a day’s drive.”

“See? That’s plenty of time for you to catch your breath and rest.”

“I still have doubts...”

“Come on, Haru. Just go and relax — you deserve it. The world won’t end during those four days you’re gone.”

Haru pondered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, then finally gave in:

“All right. You’re right. I agree.”

“Great.”

“But keep in mind, when I get back, you’ll have to help me clean out the attic!” Haru warned with a smile.

“Deal. But remember: you need to leave tonight at exactly 10:30 PM.”

“Why so early?”

“The movie starts at 1 AM.”

“You could have told me sooner!” Haru threw up his hands. “And how do I sneak out unnoticed?”

“There’s a tried-and-true way.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll teleport you straight to Tokyo. I still have Fumiko’s portal saved, and I’ll give you the keys to my old Tokyo apartment.”

“I... I don’t even know what to say.”

“A simple ‘thank you’ will do. By the way, give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have your number yet. I want to send you the electronic ticket.”

“Here.”

While Haru unlocked his device, Kimoto casually remarked:

“Hey, it looks like you forgot to put that vase back.”

“Oh, right! Thanks for the reminder.”

As Haru turned to the shelf, Kimoto’s fingers swiftly slipped the original SIM card from his phone, replacing it with a special spy hacker SIM. Now he could fully control Haru’s phone: eavesdrop on calls, read messages, and forward all incoming calls to his own number.

“This little gadget cost me a pretty penny,” Kimoto thought with a cynical grin. “Fortunately, a friend hooked me up for emergencies. And this emergency just arrived.”

Finishing with the phone, Kimoto nonchalantly approached Haru.

“All set?” he asked.

“Almost.”

“Great, let’s head upstairs.”

“Let’s go. My favorite TV show will be starting soon.”

“Awesome! Can I watch it with you?”

“Of course, why not?”

“Super!”

With that, they left the cellar.

Several hours passed. Evening came, and Sam and Kenji finally returned to the castle. Before showing themselves to the family, they quickly and discreetly stashed away all the props Kimoto had ordered. Only then did they announce their arrival.

“We’re back!” Sam shouted from the hallway.

“Thank God!” Emiko sighed, coming out to meet them. “I was starting to worry about you.”

“Sorry, dear,” Sam whispered in her ear. “We had to stand in a crazy long line for the latest manga release. There was a huge crowd.”

“But you bought it?”

“Of course!” Sam proudly showed the glossy cover of the new manga, ‘Princess Unicorn Warriors’. “Erma’s going to be over the moon.”

“Definitely,” Emiko smiled and glanced meaningfully behind Sam.

He turned and saw Erma floating nearby, her face glowing with excitement and happiness.

“Erma, this is for you,” Sam offered the book.

The girl immediately reached for the gift, but her father gently held it back.

“Only read it at home, okay?”

Erma nodded eagerly and frequently.

“That’s my girl!”

At that moment, Kimoto appeared from the corridor.

“Oh, there you are. Bring all the groceries to the kitchen.”

“Got it,” Kenji nodded.

“Emiko, please tell everyone to start gathering for dinner,” Kimoto asked.

“Sure.”

“Oh, I think I forgot to grab one important ingredient from the pantry,” Kimoto recalled suddenly. “Guys, unload the bags for now. I’ll be right back.”

As Kimoto disappeared into the pantry, Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“What’s he up to this time?”

“No idea,” Kenji shrugged.

Meanwhile, Kimoto entered the pantry and efficiently pulled out a packed box of tablets from the supplies they’d brought.

“Just what we need. Great work, guys,” he thought with satisfaction.

Then Kimoto quickly ran outside into the garden, gathered a handful of colorful flower petals, and returned to the kitchen.

First, he prepared two liquid mixtures: one from the crushed tablets, the other from the petals. He carefully masked the strong bitter taste of the first medicine with a potent mint extract. Then, while mixing the filling for the signature yaki-gyoza, he precisely dropped six drops of the mint solution into the meat before sealing the dough parcels. Once the gyoza were ready, he placed them on a tray. Just before serving, he quickly mixed a berry lemonade, adding two more drops of the same mint solution.

“All set for the family,” Kimoto thought. “But we mustn’t forget our dear servants.”

A couple of minutes later, Kimoto called out:

“Kenji, Sam, come here quickly! We need to take the food to the dining room!”

When the men entered the kitchen, Kimoto spoke quietly but assuredly:

“Gentlemen, everything is proceeding exactly as planned. Almost ready.”

“So, what now?” Sam asked.

Kimoto poured four glasses of chilled cucumber water and added a few drops of the second, floral mixture to each.

“Sam, Kenji, you both need to drink this.”

“Why?” Kenji grimaced. “You know I hate cucumber water.”

“You don’t have a choice. Drink up.”

Sam, Kenji, and Kimoto each downed their glasses in one gulp.

“The taste is... well, not great,” Sam grimaced. “Why did we even drink this?”

“It will protect us,” Kimoto explained vaguely. “But that’s not important right now. Remember: the last, fourth glass is meant for Haru. Clear to everyone?”

“Understood,” Sam and Kenji answered in unison.

“Excellent! Now, Kenji...”

“Yes?”

Kimoto rolled out a huge woven basket overflowing with fragrant cookies onto the table.

“Distribute these cookies to all the castle servants,” he handed over the basket.

“I will.”

“When you’re done, go straight back to your room. Off you go.”

Kenji obediently took the basket and left the kitchen. Sam watched him go and then turned to the organizer.

“So what’s next?”

“My friend, next we feed our beloved family,” Kimoto said with a sly smile.

​

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

“Four days until the trial ends.”

At breakfast, Kimoto watched Haru closely, thinking to himself, “Haru, my dear Haru, you are the crucial cog in my flawless plan.”

Just then, Kenji and Kentaro burst out of the kitchen.

“Breakfast is served!” Kentaro announced triumphantly.

“Finally!” Rin grumbled. “What took you so long?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Kenji smirked.

Kentaro struggled to set down a colossal dish piled high with an almost meter-tall mountain of pancakes. Everyone stared at this culinary monument with obvious concern.

“Why so many?!” Fumiko exclaimed.

“Because breakfast needs to be filling!” Kentaro declared proudly.

“Yes, but this is over the top...” Haru muttered.

When Kentaro finally placed the dish down, Fumiko narrowed her eyes sharply.

“How much flour did you use?”

“All of it.”

“And the milk?”

“All of it too.”

“And I suppose there are no eggs left in the house?”

“None at all.”

“Excellent,” Fumiko took a deep breath. “Note this down: from now on, you’ll cook only under my strict supervision.”

Kimoto smiled to himself, “Well, here’s my perfect opportunity.”

“Since we’re having some temporary supply issues,” Kimoto said casually, “allow me to prepare dinner for everyone tonight.”

Surprise filled the room.

“Really, darling?” Yori raised an eyebrow.

“Of course, my Mochis. What would you like for dinner?”

“Yaki Gyoza!” Mitsu and Momo shouted in unison.

“Who would’ve guessed,” Yori smirked.

“Then it’s settled,” Kimoto nodded. “But someone will have to go buy the ingredients. I could do it, in principle…”

At that moment, Kenji and Sam immediately caught the hint.

“Don’t worry, Kimoto, I’ll go into town and get everything,” Kenji volunteered.

“You sure?” Kimoto asked, just to be polite.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Suddenly, Sam spoke up.

“Kenji, can I come with you?”

Emiko looked at her husband in surprise.

“Why do you need to go into town?”

“Just want to take a walk,” Sam winked conspiratorially, “and pick up one… very important manga.”

“Oh!” Emiko smiled knowingly. “Alright then, go ahead.”

“Great,” Fumiko commanded. “Yori, give Kenji the car keys.”

“Here,” Yori handed over the keychain. “Just please be careful, okay?”

“Kenji, don’t worry,” Kimoto laughed. “She just doesn’t trust anyone with the steering wheel of her ‘baby.’”

Yori shot her husband an icy glare.

“Especially you, dear.”

“Because of that little incident?” Kimoto blinked innocently.

“What incident?” Sam asked curiously.

“Nothing special…”

“Nothing special?!” Yori exclaimed indignantly. “I asked that ‘driver’ to pick us up from the supermarket!”

“And what happened?” Emiko added fuel to the fire.

Instead of answering, Yori pulled out her phone and played a video: Kimoto’s car roared at full speed into the shopping center’s covered parking, then spun wildly for three chaotic minutes, scattering carts everywhere.

The dining hall erupted with laughter.

“How did you even manage that?!” Kenji asked through tears.

“Well, it happens to everyone,” Kimoto philosophized.

“Sure it does,” Yori snorted.

After plenty of laughter, everyone finally started eating. Kimoto drifted into his thoughts again: “Funny, of course. But now’s not the time. I need to talk to Haru alone. But how do I get him away?”

Suddenly, Haru turned to Kentaro.

“Kentaro, can you help me clean up the basement today?”

“Sorry, buddy, can’t,” he waved him off.

“How convenient,” Kimoto thought.

“I can help you, Haru,” Kimoto offered.

“Really?” Haru looked surprised.

“Of course. My love, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all, dear,” Yori kissed her husband on the cheek. “I’m just glad you’re helping.”

Mitsu and Momo closed their eyes and blushed awkwardly, but then Momo nudged her sister, nodding toward Erma, who was happily devouring pancakes. The girls looked at their father—Kimoto gave them a barely noticeable wink.

The signal was received.

“FOOD FIGHT!” Mitsu and Momo shouted loudly, hurling hefty chunks of pancakes at Erma.

Erma didn’t hesitate for a second and launched a furious counterattack.

“Yori, do something!” Rin begged.

“Girls, stop this chaos right now!” Yori shouted, rushing to break up the children.

While the pancake war unfolded in the dining room, Kimoto signaled Sam and Kenji and nodded toward the door. When they slipped unnoticed into the hallway, Sam shook his head in admiration.

“That was smooth.”

“You’re welcome,” Kimoto smiled slyly. “Now listen carefully. Once you buy everything on the list, you’ll need to hide all the props for the prank in a very specific place.”

“Where exactly?” Kenji asked.

“Follow me.”

Kimoto led them to an old storage room.

“Here?” Kenji frowned.

“Not quite,” Kimoto approached the wall and easily slid aside a camouflaged wooden panel.

“You have secret passages everywhere,” Sam chuckled.

“That’s the job,” Kimoto avoided the question. “I’ll sort the stuff out later. But we’ll need to meet again in our secret room.”

“At what time?” Sam asked.

“Exactly at twelve.”

“In the main hall?” Kenji double-checked.

“Yes.”

“Got it.”

Suddenly desperate shouts came from the dining room:

“Kimoto, hurry here!”

“Sam, help!”

“Kenji, save me—aaah!”

“Well then,” Kimoto sighed, “let’s get to work.”

Half an hour later, Kenji and Sam were speeding down the road to town.

“So, what do you think about all this?” Sam asked, looking out the window.

“About what? Kimoto’s plan?”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly, he thought of every little detail,” Kenji admitted, steering. “But the risk is still huge.”

“Maybe. But it seems he’s a real pro at this stuff.”

“Looks like it. He’s from another village, so I don’t know much about him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. About a month ago, when Kentaro and I stopped by a bar in his hometown for business, Kentaro stepped away to talk to the owner, and I stayed at the counter. I overheard a story the locals were telling.”

“What story?” Sam perked up.

“Well, about ten years ago, there was this insanely rich Oni living there. And he had a stunningly beautiful wife. But the lady was... a bit off her rocker, with very unusual appetites. You know what I mean, Sam?”

“Alright, and then?”

“One day, she decided to have some fun. Secretly sent a letter to the local bar, promising a hefty reward—a million yen—for anyone who could spend the night with her right in the mansion.”

“No way.”

“Of course, local yokai tried to storm the Oni mansion in droves, but the security was brutal—everyone got caught. The Oni’s wife had almost given up hope that anyone could be crazy and clever enough to outsmart her husband.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, the Oni was hosting a big birthday party, ordered tons of expensive alcohol. But the delivery guy seemed a bit strange. He said the regular supplier got sick, so he delivered it personally, bringing a recommendation letter with a seal. The Oni, eager for the party, rewarded the guy generously and told him to relax. Everything was peaceful until one thing happened.”

“What happened?”

“When the drinking started, at first everything was normal. But after about half an hour, everyone except the Oni’s wife passed out, collapsing into a deep sleep. The poor woman was shocked. Then the delivery guy appeared from the shadows and calmly said, ‘Don’t worry, they’ll sleep for about fifteen hours. That’s plenty of time for us.’”

Kenji paused meaningfully, keeping the suspense.

“Well, the mistress took the guy to her bedroom. Neighbors said they heard such passionate and loud screams from the Oni’s wife all night that their ears were ringing.”

“Wow...” Sam whistled.

“Yeah.”

“So how did it end?”

“In the morning, the Oni sobered up, flew into a fury, and put a bounty on the guy. Posters with his photofit were plastered everywhere. But here’s the kicker!”

“The kicker?”

“The guy didn’t actually exist! The face on the posters was fake. He had complex professional makeup and a mask all along.”

“How did they find out?”

“Piece of cake. That brazen guy personally sent the mask and makeup remnants back to the Oni in a gift box, with a note: ‘Now may I have my deserved million?’”

Sam burst out laughing, then grew serious.

“Wait, what about the alcohol supplier? Didn’t they catch him?”

“The Oni tried to question him. But it turned out the old man had no idea he was delivering anything. He never wrote that letter, and his personal wax seal had been stolen from his house a day before. When I heard this story at the bar, I was surprised but didn’t think much of it. Later, as we were leaving, I secretly asked the owner if it was true. He confirmed. Then I asked the madman’s name. The owner said that before leaving the room, the guy whispered his real name to the Oni’s wife. And before she died, she only told it to the bar owner. As thanks for our help, the owner whispered the name to me—but made me swear to keep it secret.”

“And that name... Kimoto?!” Sam almost jumped in his seat.

“Exactly! Kimoto!”

“No way... Does Yori know?”

“The bar owner said nobody but that woman and himself knew. And Kimoto told me later that if I ever breathed a word, he’d send Ene my most embarrassing nude photos he somehow got.”

“Harsh,” Sam shook his head. “Don’t worry, no one’s hearing anything from me.”

What neither of them knew was that, in the car’s cabin, right under the dashboard, a tiny bug was hidden. And right now, Kimoto was smiling as he listened to their conversation through hidden speakers in his secret room.

“I told you, Kenji: ‘Not a single word,’” Kimoto muttered, leaning back in his chair. “Well, looks like when I have some free time, I’ll have to pay a visit to the local print shop…”

Suddenly Haru’s voice came from downstairs:

“Kimoto! Are you coming to help or what?”

“I’m on my way!” Kimoto called back, switching off the bug and hiding the earpiece in his pocket.

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

"Four days until the end of the trial."

Kimoto woke up at 6:20 a.m. He knew for sure that everyone in the castle, especially Fumiko, wouldn’t get up before 8:30. Before getting out of bed, he glanced at Yori. She was sleeping soundly. How could he tell? Simple: Yori was snoring like a motorboat.

“My dear Yori, how on earth am I supposed to live without you these days?” Kimoto thought with a smile.

He gently kissed his wife, grabbed two eye masks he had prepared earlier, and headed to the main hall where he was supposed to meet Sam and Kenji. On the way, he pondered:

“Kenji will be easy to convince. But Sam… I’ll need to get creative. Fortunately, I have a couple of aces up my sleeve.”

No sooner had Kimoto finished his thought than he heard the voices of Sam and Kenji approaching.

“So, what’s this proposal?” Kenji asked.

“No idea, but I’m curious,” Sam replied.

“Sam, we need to be careful. I once heard at the bar that if Kimoto offers you a deal, it’s like...”

Kenji didn’t get to finish before Kimoto suddenly appeared right in front of them.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

“More like ‘welcome to the devil,’” Kenji smirked.

“Whatever you prefer,” Kimoto grinned.

“So why did you call us here?” Sam cut to the chase.

“Excellent question, Sam. But first...” Kimoto dramatically pulled out the thick eye masks. “I’m going to have to blindfold you.”

“What?!” Sam and Kenji exclaimed in unison.

“Just trust me.”

“All right,” Sam agreed.

“Are you serious?” Kenji looked at his friend skeptically.

“I’m not sure, but I like the intrigue.”

“Fine, let’s do it.”

Kimoto tightly secured the eye masks on them.

“And now?” Sam asked.

“Now, I’ll lead you.”

For about two minutes, Kimoto guided Sam and Kenji through the castle’s labyrinthine corridors so they couldn’t figure out where the secret room was. Finally, he brought them inside.

“You can take off your masks now.”

When Sam and Kenji removed the blindfolds, a hidden hideout appeared before them.

“What is this place?” Sam looked around.

“No idea, I’ve never been here,” Kenji admitted.

“Exactly why it’s called a secret room. But enough questions.”

Kimoto flipped on a wall lamp, dim light revealing a large-scale blueprint mounted on the wall.

“And what’s this?” Sam frowned.

“My friends, this is the plan for the perfect prank. We’re going to play a trick on Fumiko.”

Understanding flashed quickly in Kenji’s eyes:

“Ah, so that’s what it is. How many people from the bar are involved in this trial?”

“No one but me,” Kimoto answered.

“And why do you think you’ll pull this off?”

“Because...”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sam interjected, shifting his gaze between the two. “But what is this all about? What kind of trial?”

“It’s an old tradition at our bar,” Kenji explained. “Whoever manages to trick a yokai elegantly wins the pot. The main rule is that the victim shouldn’t suspect a thing, and the prank must remain a secret.”

“I see,” Sam nodded. “And what’s the prize?”

“Ten million yen.”

Sam and Kenji were speechless.

“You’re joking, right?” Kenji could hardly believe it.

“Not one bit. That’s precisely why you’re here. The plan is fully ready. Now we just need to gather some items and make sure Haru sneaks out at night without anyone noticing.”

“And how do you plan to manage that?” Kenji squinted.

“Oh, my young friend, leave that to me,” Kimoto handed them a worn-out sheet of paper. “Your job is to help me collect everything listed here. We need these for the show we’re putting on for our dear Fumiko.”

Sam and Kenji scanned the list.

“Sounds intriguing,” Sam said. “But what’s in it for us?”

“Oh, of course you won’t be left disappointed. Kenji, if you help me, I’ll pay for you and Ena to go on a luxurious Japanese spa vacation for two.”

Kenji thought carefully for a moment, weighing the offer, then nodded confidently:

“Deal, I’m in.”

“Excellent. And for you, Sam, I have something special planned.”

“What’s that?”

“A two-week tour around Europe!”

“You’re serious?!”

“Absolutely. Top-tier, exclusively first-class.”

“The offer’s tempting,” Sam sighed, “but I can’t leave Erma and Emiko alone.”

“What a pity, very pity,” Kimoto sighed theatrically. “I thought you’d be interested in meeting famous horror novelists in person...”

“What?!”

“Oh yes, I forgot to mention — I have a pass to an exclusive horror writers’ convention.”

Sam found himself trapped between his desires. “What to do? On one hand, I can’t abandon Erma and Emiko. On the other, this chance comes once in a lifetime.”

Noticing his dilemma, Kimoto gently took the lead:

“Sam, I see this isn’t an easy choice. Let’s leave it to fate.”

Kimoto pulled a shiny coin from his pocket.

“If it lands on heads, you come to Europe with me. Tails, you stay with your family.”

Sam paused for a few seconds, then exhaled resolutely:

“All right. Flip it.”

“Great,” Kimoto tossed the coin in the air, caught it, and pressed it against the back of his hand with a sly squint. “Moment of truth, Sam.”

He opened his hand. The proud “heads” gleamed in the sunlight.

“I won,” Kimoto declared.

“Well, a deal’s a deal,” Sam surrendered. “Besides, I suppose a little break wouldn’t hurt.”

“That’s good. Now that we’re agreed, you two need to go into town today and buy everything on the list. We’ll need some specific items for our dear Fumiko.”

“Understood,” Sam and Kenji replied in unison.

At that moment, Kimoto’s silent alarm vibrated — 7:30 a.m.

“Time is running out. We should head back.”

“More blindfolds?” Kenji sighed.

“Absolutely.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

While Kimoto secured the masks again, Kenji suddenly asked worriedly:

“Hey, what if Fumiko figures everything out?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve calculated every step.”

“All right.”

Leading them back to the living wing, Kimoto removed their blindfolds quietly and said,

“That’s it, guys, disperse to your rooms. See you at the dining hall.”

Passing by the bathroom, Kimoto overheard loud childish quarrels.

“We were first!” Mitsu protested.

“No, we got here earlier!” Momo retorted.

Erma, looking fierce, was about to let down her black hair to settle the argument by force. Just then, Kimoto approached.

“Now, now, my little ‘Mochis,’ what’s all this noise? Are you ready to fight to the death?”

Mitsu and Momo instantly blushed deeply.

“Dad, we just need to use the bathroom,” Mitsu mumbled bashfully.

“Yes,” Momo agreed, “but Erma won’t let us in!”

Kimoto chuckled quietly:

“What a dilemma of the century. What shall we do? Oh, I know.”

He pulled out his coin again.

“Mitsu and Momo, you’re heads. Erma, you’re tails. Whichever side comes up goes first.”

The girls nodded obediently. Kimoto flipped the coin, caught it skillfully, and covered it with his palm.

“Let’s see what we got here?”

He lifted his hand, revealing heads again.

“Well, my ‘Mochis,’ you win. Sorry, Erma, you’ll have to wait.”

Mitsu and Momo hugged their father happily, giggled triumphantly at Erma, and disappeared behind the bathroom door. Erma frowned, crossing her arms.

“Don’t be mad, Erma. Maybe next time you’ll get lucky,” Kimoto gently patted his niece’s head and strode back to his beloved wife.

Entering the bedroom, he saw Yori already awake, stretching in bed.

“Good morning, my Giraffe. How did you sleep?”

“Ah, I haven’t slept this well in a long time,” Yori smiled. “I hope our girls haven’t torn the house apart yet?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Yori, but our daughters always get up earlier than us,” Kimoto smiled, mentally adding, “Except for me, of course.”

“Have they caused any trouble?” she worried.

“No, just occupied the bathroom so far.”

“Well then, we still have about thirty minutes.”

“Great. Shall I bring you some coffee?”

“You know me, I’m not myself without coffee.”

“I’m on it.”

“By the way,” Yori called after him, “how did you sleep?”

“Wonderful. I have a feeling this week is going to be incredibly lucky.”

“What an impressive confidence,” she smirked.

“Exactly,” Kimoto smiled warmly, slipping the coin — which had heads on both sides — back into his pocket. “We make our own luck.”

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

“Five Days Ago”

It was just an ordinary night. All the yokai villagers had long been asleep—everyone except the regulars at the local bar. Something very important was happening there: a game called “Murphy’s Law.”

The rules were simple: you had to play a prank on someone without raising their suspicion or letting them figure out who tricked them. If successful, the winner took the entire pot, collected from other players’ bets. If they lost, they got nothing and had to work behind the bar for free the next day.

“All right, gentlemen, let’s begin!” the bartender announced. “Spin the barrel with the names!”

After spinning the barrel, the bartender randomly picked a slip of paper.

“And our victim is… FUMIKO?!”

The whole bar froze in shock. Everyone except one yokai, who only smiled mysteriously.

“Well, who’s brave enough to prank Fumiko?” asked the bartender.

A heavy silence filled the room.

“No takers? Well then…”

“I’LL DO IT!”

Startled, the crowd turned toward the voice. The bold one was Kimoto, Yori’s husband.

“I think this is going to be damn fun!” he added with a grin.

“You sure about this?” the bartender squinted.

“Absolutely!”

“Well, perfect. Gentlemen, place your bets.”

And the game began.

Everyone bet huge amounts against Kimoto. Only Akari dared to bet on him.

“Kimoto, if you win, your prize will be… ten million yen!” the bartender announced.

A satisfied smile spread across Kimoto’s face.

“I’m in.”

“Excellent, then LET THE GAME BEGIN!”

“Five Days Until the End of the Trial”

Early in the morning, Kimoto got out of bed at dawn. He knew Fumiko required a special approach. He needed to study his target thoroughly, devise a precise plan, and find a secret place where he could gather and analyze information.

He already had such a place in mind—a secret room hidden behind a wardrobe. Strangely, no one knew about it because it was located in the bedroom of the late Osamu and Amaya. After their deaths, the yokai completely avoided this room as if it were taboo.

Still, Kimoto wasn’t entirely sure yet what kind of prank he should pull on Fumiko. But inspiration soon struck.

That evening, Kimoto sat eating his favorite dish—ramen—while keeping an eye on Fumiko out of the corner of his eye.

“How can I prank you in a way that will cause real shock and horror?” he pondered.

Lost in thought, a hefty clump of rice suddenly flew at him, nearly knocking him off his stool.

“Honey! Are you all right?” gasped Yori.

“Apart from rice on my face and ramen spilled on the floor, I’m fine,” Kimoto replied.

“That’s my man,” Yori smiled.

They leaned in for a kiss when sharp children’s voices interrupted them.

“Aunt Fumiko, Erma started it!” Mitsu complained.

“Yeah, it’s all Erma’s fault!” Momo agreed.

Erma stuck out her tongue defiantly in response.

“MITSU, MOMO, STOP MISCHIEVING!” Yori scolded sharply. “Or your father and I will punish you!”

Erma was about to laugh triumphantly when Sam cut in:

“That includes you too, Erma. No food for Mitsu and Momo, even if they started it.”

Kimoto couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Everyone looked at him in surprise, including Fumiko.

“Well, what can I say? Honestly, that was pretty funny and entertaining,” Kimoto chuckled.

“Yori, take it easy—don’t be so hard on our beloved ‘Mochi.’ They’re just playing around.”

Mitsu and Momo blushed deeply with embarrassment.

“All right, you convinced me,” Yori chuckled softly. “But I’ll still keep an eye on them.”

“Fine, my love,” Kimoto said, turning toward his niece. “And you, Erma, don’t worry about the rice. It was an accident.”

Erma ran up and hugged Kimoto tightly. Mitsu and Momo looked on with obvious envy. Yori smiled slyly, while Sam and Emiko proudly watched their daughter.

“I do love a good hug,” Kimoto purred contentedly.

Once everyone settled down and sat for dinner, Haru and Kenji entered the house.

“Finally!” Kentaro brightened. “What did you make?”

“Haru cooked, so it’s predictable,” Kenji replied.

“I can assure you these cucumber sushi were made with all my love,” Haru smiled.

“Is that all?” raised an eyebrow Fumiko.

“Of course not,” Kenji smiled. “I also baked some chicken.”

“Yay!” Kentaro cheered.

While everyone eagerly dug into the chicken, Kimoto drifted back into his thoughts.

“What should I do?”

At that moment, he noticed Fumiko carefully feeding Haru.

“Fumiko is a warrior woman. But she goes into wild panic if Haru is out of sight for even ten minutes.”

Suddenly, Kimoto had an epiphany.

“There it is! How did I not see it before? The answer was right in front of me the whole time. Now I just need to make the plan.”

After dinner, when the children were put to bed and the wives had gone to sleep, Sam suggested watching a movie. Kimoto sat staring at the screen, but his mind was elsewhere.

“What can I do with Haru to leave Fumiko absolutely speechless?”

Suddenly, a piercing, agonized scream burst from the TV speakers. Kimoto looked up to see a scene of a terrified woman crying over a gift box containing her boyfriend’s severed head.

“Exactly!” Kimoto exclaimed aloud.

“What exactly?” Sam didn’t understand.

“Sorry, Sam, I just realized something… Hey, can you come to the main hall at seven?”

“Why?”

“I have a proposal you won’t want to refuse.”

“Well… okay.”

“Great. Bring Kenji too. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

When the whole house fell into a deep sleep, Kimoto sneaked into the secret room and began meticulously refining his plan. When the final detail was recorded, Kimoto rubbed his hands with satisfaction:

“Perfect. Fumiko, get ready: you’re in for an unforgettable prank.”

At that moment, Kimoto glanced at the title of his plan. Bold and confident letters were written on the paper:

“Operation: Heads Will Roll.”

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori’s husband — Kimoto)

Fumiko woke up feeling utterly empty. She couldn’t sleep or think. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door—it was Emiko.

“Fumiko, are you awake?” Emiko asked.

Fumiko didn’t respond; she just kept staring out the window with a vacant, detached gaze.

“Let me help you,” Emiko offered gently.

“I’ll manage on my own,” Fumiko finally replied. “You should go to the others for now.”

Emiko left Fumiko’s bedroom and headed to the garden, where nearly the entire family had gathered. It was about to rain outside. Approaching her sisters and brother, Emiko asked where Sam was.

“He’s talking with Yori right now,” Ena answered.

Thanking her sister, Emiko went in search of her husband and spotted him just as he was about to leave the garden.

“Sam, where are you going?” Emiko called out.

“My dear, I wanted to check on the kids and talk to Kimoto,” Sam replied.

“All right, but don’t say anything to the children,” Emiko requested.

Sam kissed his wife and promised, “I promise.” With that, he left the garden.

In the garden, Yori, continuing a paused conversation, remarked,

“You know, you remind me a bit of Kimoto. He’s so overprotective of me. Though it should be me looking after him, especially after everything he’s been through.”

“Kimoto is a strong man,” Emiko supported. “He thinks about nothing but you. You deserve your happiness.”

At that moment, Fumiko stepped outside and said briefly, “It’s time.”

Hearing this, the siblings gathered closely and moved to the center of the garden. Waiting for them there was a coffin.

“Kentaro, open the coffin,” Fumiko commanded.

Kentaro slowly slid back the lid. Horror gripped everyone, but none more so than Fumiko. As the coffin was opened, the family drew closer. The sisters began placing flowers and cucumbers inside.

When it was Fumiko’s turn, she trembled with fear, but her sisters steadied her and helped her approach. Fumiko peered inside. At the bottom of the coffin lay the severed, heavily mutilated head of Haru.

“Forgive me, Haru...” Fumiko whispered.

Suddenly, Kentaro looked around and asked,

“Where’s Kenji?”

“I sent him to Haru’s parents,” Fumiko answered. Tears streamed down her face as she broke down, crying out across the garden, “Forgive me, Haru! I promise I’ll bring you back! We’ll be together and start a family!”

Her sisters embraced her, leading her away and trying to calm her.

At that same moment in the house, while their children still slept, Sam and Kimoto were having a quiet conversation.

“We’ve gone too far,” Sam remarked gloomily.

“That’s exactly why it’s too late to stop now,” Kimoto cut in. “Ten million yen is at stake. We have to see this through. Only one day left.”

Sam sighed heavily.

“What about Kenji?”

“I spoke with him just an hour ago. He’s distracting Haru as much as he can. So everything’s under control.”

“Under control?” Sam questioned skeptically.

“Well... almost,” Kimoto smirked.

Sam paused a few seconds, digesting the words, then quietly said,

“I hope it’s worth it.”

“Absolutely!” Kimoto replied confidently. “This is the most thrilling stunt since that crazy drunken party at the bar.”

“Maybe so, but how do we get out of this mess?”

“With the help of three scapegoats.”

“Who are you talking about?” Sam frowned.

“Everything in its own time, Sam,” Kimoto dodged the direct answer. “Anyway, I’ll go check on the kids.”

“All right.”

After Kimoto left and Sam was alone in the room, he asked himself one question: “What have I gotten myself into?”

I recently watched season 2 of Batman: Caped Crusader, and it gave me a ton of ideas! Since Yori Husband is my absolute favorite character, I decided to draw him as Batman. However, there are so many different versions of Batman out there, so I'm holding a vote. Which version of Yori Husband as Batman would you like to see me draw?"

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