There are two kinds of cats: those that hiss and those that do not.

Warm light wandered between the dining table and sofa of "Night Moon."

Her wide witch’s hat fell backward, fully revealing a beauty that seemed to push the limits of human perception under the overhead light.

Her mysterious white hair, seemingly neglected for some time, lay slightly disheveled over her shoulders.

Her exquisitely delicate features, capable of inspiring affection in anyone, were complemented by deep indigo pupils that radiated an extraordinary presence as something "non-human."

Although her expression was one of anger, onlookers found her only endearing...

Sitting opposite Sakuragi Hiiragi were an ordinary human and an ordinary cat yokai, both unable to comprehend the little witch’s thoughts.

They only witnessed her suddenly stand, point her wand at Margaret, then abruptly withdraw it and sit back down upon sensing Anritsu’s gaze, fixing Margaret with a hostile glare.

Margaret lowered her head timidly, fearing that an inadvertent use of mind-reading would provoke the genius onmyoji opposite to immediately "exorcise" her.

Fortunate indeed, this monster seemed unaware that Anritsu had already returned to humanity by erasing his memories.

Margaret cast a subtle, pleading glance toward Anritsu.

He too was confused, but unlike the childish yokai, he possessed a resolve to move forward even in uncertainty.

When faced with dangers beyond comprehension, cats hiss, dogs flee... Compared to these common urban animals, the overworked corporate drones—more exhausted than oxen, more sensitive to pain than cats and dogs, and often even more fragile than their own young—sometimes cannot even be stopped by death.

There is a relatively rigorous explanation: as the world grows more complex, human death no longer remains pure; people sometimes have to fight not only for their own lives but also for the lives of others. Compared to complete oblivion, physiological death is almost a form of gentle eternal rest.

Feeling the awkwardness and mounting questions in the atmosphere, the high-ranking worker assimilated into Tokyo life shamelessly sought answers.

“Miss Hiiragi, you heard everything I just said to that cat, didn’t you?”

The little witch opposite slowly put on her hat, pulled its brim down to conceal her expression, and nodded awkwardly.

Every time she fiddled with that wide witch’s hat, it visually emphasized just how slender and petite she was.

“For various reasons, I’ve lost many memories, so... could we talk about our past?”

Anritsu clearly sensed that rather than him searching for Sakuragi Hiiragi in Sakura Shrine Town with a mission, it was more like this tiny witch was searching for him.

No sooner had he spoken than Margaret to his right was plunged into intense panic and shock.

Clearly, she had not expected him to steer the conversation toward such frankness.

But Anritsu’s mind was clear.

If Hiiragi was truly as formidable as Margaret described, bluffing or hiding the truth would only invite hostility and resentment.

Connecting this with the fear and timidity she often showed around him, Anritsu vaguely understood that this young lady who had suffered the tragedy of her family’s destruction must possess far more information about the “Grim Reaper” than Margaret did.

As it turned out, Anritsu had made the right choice.

After hearing his words, Hiiragi was momentarily dazed, then clenched the brim of her witch’s hat.

Her pale hand, strained, revealed a faint blush near her fingertips. Against the dark color of the hat and under the light, her skin was no longer simply “white as snow”—it held the gentle warmth of jade and the refined elegance of silver, balancing between an artwork and a ritual instrument, evoking a subtle blend of sacredness and ethereality.

Far removed from feelings like reassurance or shyness.

Perhaps she was merely nervous and embarrassed.

Her eyes hidden beneath the hat, Hiiragi easily recalled a rainy night sky—the coldest day Tokyo had seen last year.

An emergency lockdown sealed the district; a massive shadow descended from the sky, spreading along the street as one by one the streetlights faded.

It was a cloak spread like bat wings, its edges darker than the winter night.

From an unknown moment, the cold wetness of raindrops no longer touched her face as she watched the yokai who had mercilessly slain many citizens...

Her sister, no longer someone Hiiragi could call “family,” suddenly collapsed.

Like an empty shell without a soul.

Like a withered leaf fallen from a branch.

With a soft thud, she knelt before Hiiragi, staring vacantly at the sky.

The face of the Sakura Shrine God was serene, as if truly journeying somewhere, falling into an eternal peaceful dream.

It was as if the desperate battle between Hiiragi and her had been an illusion.

Her sister was dead.

Realizing this, Hiiragi understood that the last person who would unconditionally love her had vanished.

Perhaps... no one would ever understand her as “kin” or “one of their kind” again.

That thought brought loneliness, accompanied by the guilt of failing to uphold the Hiiragi family’s duty to protect the city.

In this haze of confusion, she painfully lifted her head—the pale skeleton melted into darkness, moonlight flowing in its hand, becoming a slender scythe.

---

Time ceased in unconscious stillness.

The world was so silent one could hear every beat of the heart.

Just a glance summoned a familiar name in the subconscious to summarize this void and dreadful figure—

“The Grim Reaper.”

The deity recognized by the vast majority of the world as the embodiment of death, existing outside all mythologies.

Its existence was not meant to explain any civilization’s origins, nor tied to blessings or salvation.

It was humanity’s collective attempt to concretize and conceptualize death.

Hiiragi gazed just once and immediately abandoned all thoughts of resistance.

For the first time in her life, she encountered the word “despair.”

An insurmountable chasm no effort could bridge.

Mozart’s Requiem faintly echoed from the sky.

Yet the Grim Reaper quietly departed, sparing Hiiragi’s soul.

From all directions, the arrogant great yokai screamed or roared in terror.

After a while, even distant places were touched by the tranquil atmosphere.

Kneeling on the ground, Hiiragi heard footsteps approaching.

She struggled to raise her head.

Before her stood a man cloaked in black.

His face bore stubble not yet shaved clean, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

In the darkness, the faint orange glow flickered.

He muttered to himself—

“You’re not a yokai.”

A thin wisp of smoke dissipated in the revived night wind.

“I... I’m not a yokai.”

“That’s good. Then we’re the same kind now.”

The man sat on the marble steps beside Hiiragi, then crushed the cigarette butt against the cold stone.

“Same kind...”

Hiiragi vaguely saw in his eyes a condescending pity and sympathy.

It matched her impression—the arrogance adults often display before children.

But this time, she could not dislike that feeling.

No matter what, she could not hate it...

She did not know how to explain the profound emotion that swept through her upon hearing “same kind,” nor the complex thoughts stirred by the fact he had freed her sister from that yokai’s curse.

“My name is Anritsu,” the Grim Reaper whispered.

“Hiiragi... Hiiragi Sakuragi.”

“It’s almost dawn. I’m heading back to the human world. Where will you go?”

Hiiragi recalled the ruins that were once the Hiiragi family estate, her youthful face clouded with sorrow. “I don’t know.”

“I see...” The black cloak gradually vanished, revealing a down jacket beneath.

Anritsu looked toward the trees opposite, then softly said, “Maybe you could try living on your own. With your abilities, that shouldn’t be hard.”

As the Grim Reaper, he had the power to know the identity of every soul he claimed and observe death happening around the world at all times.

The illustrious Hiiragi family was now merely a name.

Though he had personally killed Hiiragi’s sister—the former captain of the “S.T.F” Execution Unit One, which he was about to join—he felt no emotion.

Because three days ago during the “Night Parade of One Hundred Demons,” Hiiragi Sakura had been registered by the “S.T.F” as “fallen in the line of duty”...

Betraying her human identity, killing innocent citizens alongside yokai in the city.

She was no longer Tokyo’s renowned genius onmyoji, but a yokai wanted by the “S.T.F,” the “Return of the Sakura God”...

And Anritsu had been transferred back from the Kyushu branch to fill the vacancy in Execution Unit One.

Unfortunately, an accident during this promotion had drawn him further away from humanity.

“Mr. Anritsu,” Hiiragi spoke softly, “may I ask—were you... born like this?”

“Strictly speaking, I only became your ‘same kind’ this morning,” Anritsu interrupted brusquely.

He sighed. “I should try as hard as possible to return to a normal human life.”

After all, Anritsu’s parents were still alive.

He could not abandon his family, surrendering his will and spirit to this怪谈 called the Grim Reaper.

Long ago, he had surpassed the stage where emotion could override reason.

Working a mundane human job was exhausting enough.

Much less the work of the Grim Reaper...

Hiiragi glanced toward her sister’s corpse, her small hand clenched but words stuck in silence.

Anritsu stood. “If you ever encounter something troublesome... well, you probably won’t meet ‘trouble.’ But if you do have anything troubling you, you can come to me.”

He looked at her bewildered face. “You seem like you want to say something?”

Hiiragi bit her lip, and after a long silence, finally—

The little witch in cosplay turned and fled in haste.

Perhaps because she did not know how to face the immense sorrow and pain roiling within.

Perhaps because upon seeing her sister’s body, emotion had once again overwhelmed reason, stirring a certain resentment toward Anritsu—or the Grim Reaper.

Wanting to avoid saying words that might hurt either of them, she chose to run away the moment she realized her feelings.

Tears of sorrow are proof of humanity.

Anritsu watched Hiiragi’s shrinking figure in his sight, and the scattered tears falling onto the steps as she rose.

Her heart had been shattered by reality.

After escaping danger and enduring upheaval, perhaps the future for her—and for people like him—was to lick their wounds alone in a corner.

After all...

No matter how much they tried to disguise themselves as ordinary humans,

Their bodies and souls had undergone fundamental changes.

These changes created an insurmountable chasm in their hearts, dooming mutual understanding on many matters.

Anritsu felt it—

An irresistible sense of responsibility was approaching.

That virtual concept called the “Underworld” was telling him how many souls he needed to collect each day.

Fortunately, today many yokai had served to complete the Grim Reaper’s work...

But thus, the legendary “Night Parade of One Hundred Demons” had come to a definite end.

Anritsu walked toward the trees opposite the steps.

He had sensed from earlier that a black cat was secretly watching him.

Just as he lifted his foot, the black cat fled in fright...

Though it was a yokai, Anritsu did not pursue.

Because dawn had come.

He gazed at the light tearing through the dark clouds at daybreak, and the faint crimson spreading around.

Anritsu began to worry about tomorrow.

...

But as things stood—

The adult who had promised to help Hiiragi had willfully forgotten all related memories.

The little witch sat on the sofa, clutching her hat, staring at her shoes with an expression of endless grievance and frustration.

She had finally mustered the courage to find Anritsu...

When they met again, she had thought of many apologies and explanations.

But upon noticing Anritsu’s strange expression, as if looking at a stranger, all her plans were disrupted.

What a despicable and shameless adult.

She thought gloomily, yet couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Anritsu’s face.