Reborn in Type-Moon: Starting by Adopting Sakura - Chapter 7

A Śarīra was a relic formed when a holy monk reached nirvana—an object that existed somewhere between life and death.

It might not quite match the legendary molten skin of the serpent that stole Gilgamesh's immortality elixir, but to a monk, a Śarīra was like dangling a beautiful woman in front of an ascetic who'd been celibate for ten years. The value of either depended on who you asked. But if you were talking about universal appeal, the serpent's old skin won hands down. History had churned out plenty of monks, but there had only ever been one snake that ate an immortality herb.

Yuu was hoping Araya Souren would take the smart way out and avoid a fight. If not, he was more than happy to give the man a crash course in modern demolitions—complete with schematics and a live demo.

The room felt heavier somehow, and the sunlight from outside barely made it through the windows, leaving everything dim and uncomfortable.

Araya looked at Yuu. On paper, this was a negotiation. But they both knew better. It was a threat. And while most people didn’t take kindly to being threatened, magi weren’t most people. They shelved things like pride, fear, and sentimentality the moment they picked their path.

The apartment in Mifune was Araya's gamble at reaching the Root, everything he'd worked toward his entire life. He didn't know how Yuu had found out about it, but he couldn’t allow any loose ends.

"I'll add a condition," he said. His face showed nothing, like he was made of stone.

Yuu smiled faintly. “Please do.”

"Until the new millennium begins, you are not to set foot in that apartment without my invitation."

"No problem." Yuu agreed easily.

"Good." Araya moved his sleeve, and a rectangular box appeared on the table.

"Oh? Your boundary work’s gotten even better."

The deal was done, and Yuu was feeling good about it—good enough to throw out a compliment.

Araya wasn't much to write home about as a magus, but when it came to building bounded fields, he was one of the best in the world. A bounded field created a separation between inside and outside—basically its own little world that required the user to have their shit together first.

At this point, his body had probably already turned into something like a bounded field. What a lunatic.

…

Akihabara.

Aozora Bookstore.

Early summer light streamed through the kitchen, turning everything golden. Manaka wiped down the black marble countertop one last time—it already gleamed like a mirror, but she couldn't help herself.

She hummed under her breath as she arranged the last of the vegetables she'd picked up that morning. Tomatoes, bitter melon, celery, green peppers. All the stuff that made Ayaka scrunch up her face like she'd bitten into a lemon. Manaka's lips curved into a small smile. Sakura had insisted she wasn't a picky eater, but they'd see about that.

The pot bubbled cheerfully on the stove as she gave it another stir. Three full dishes plus soup—probably too much for just the two of them, but Manaka couldn't shake the habit of cooking like she was feeding a small army. Better too much than too little, right?

She stepped back to survey her work, satisfaction settling warm in her chest. Everything looked perfect.

"Sakura~ Lunch is ready!"

Thump, thump, thump.

The sound of footsteps drifted down from upstairs—soft padding against the wooden floors, then the gentle creak of the stairs. Sakura appeared at the bottom. Her white stockings flashed against the dark wood with each step, the red ribbon in her hair swaying slightly as she moved.

She climbed onto the high chair, her legs swinging freely, feet not quite reaching the floor.

“…Thank you, Sajyou-san.”

The first floor had tall glass walls that opened to a garden view, and sunlight poured in freely. But somehow, it all seemed to collect around Manaka.

She stood at the east-facing window, the sun behind her like a halo. Her hair looked as if it let the light pass right through it, soft and weightless. Her eyes were pale and almost translucent, like colored glass. The green dress she wore was light and summery—gentle in tone, just enough to make her look like something blooming.

Even Sakura found herself staring, caught off guard by how the ordinary act of standing by a window could make someone look so ethereal.

"Go ahead, eat up. And you don't have to be so formal—just call me Manaka, okay?"

"Ah... thank you, Manaka-oneechan..." Sakura's chopsticks hovered over her bowl, then suddenly went still. Like someone had hit the pause button.

The spell broke the moment she actually looked at what was in front of her.

The dishes sparkled so prettily on the table, she hadn’t given them a second thought. But now? Now she saw them for what they were—the fruits of hell.

Tomatoes, bitter melon, celery, green peppers—every vegetable in the pantheon of childhood misery had assembled here like a rogue’s gallery of taste.

"Is something wrong with the food?" Manaka asked, and there was genuine concern in her voice, like maybe she'd messed up the seasoning or left something too long on the stove.

Sakura's head shot up, and she shook it so fast her ribbon trembled. "N-no, it's really good! I mean, it looks delicious."

"Oh, I'm so glad you think so." Manaka's smile brightened as she settled into her own chair. "I wanted to make sure you got all the right nutrients. Growing kids need tomatoes and bitter melon, celery, green peppers—all that good stuff that helps you stay healthy."

“……”

With a smile as sweet as sugar, Manaka spooned more vegetables into Sakura’s bowl. Then more. And more—until it resembled a small, green mountain of nutritional doom.

Sakura’s soul left her body.

Dessert? Cherry tomatoes. Raw. No mercy.

She ate it all, though. Every bite, with a smile that probably fooled no one but seemed to make Manaka happy. The whole thing felt like enduring some kind of nutritional purgatory, but she managed to get through it without actually crying.

Later that afternoon, following Yuu's instructions, Manaka took Sakura on a tour around the neighborhood.

"See that building over there? That's Torimi Apartments." she said, gently holding Sakura’s hand as they passed an aging, narrow building that leaned slightly like it had given up resisting time. “Something weird happened there last month.”

"Weird how?" Sakura found herself genuinely curious. There was something about the way Manaka had said it, like she was sharing gossip that was too interesting to keep to herself.

“A young man went missing.” Manaka said. “People vanish all the time, of course, but this one’s a little different. Right before it happened, a new family moved in next door. Loud. Constant fighting.”

Sakura’s brows knit in quiet concern.

“The husband beat the wife nearly every night. You could hear everything through the walls. But their kid—this little thing who always wore a red hooded coat—never made a sound. One day, the young man ran into that child on the stairs. The kid looked up at him and said…”

Manaka paused.

“‘Can you press the elevator button for me?’”

"That's when he saw it—the kid couldn't even lift her arm properly. All those bruises the red coat was hiding."

"After that, he'd run into her every week or so. Same routine every time. 'Can you press the button for me?' That was it. Nothing else."

"Then last month..." Manaka's voice got quieter. "The mother finally snapped. Grabbed a fruit knife from the kitchen and went after the husband first. Then the kid. Then turned it on herself."

Manaka glanced over at Sakura, who was hanging on every word. “But here’s the thing—when the cops showed up, they found the parents’ bodies and blood everywhere, even a trail leading straight to the elevator. But the kid wasn’t there. Just... gone. They figured maybe she got away somehow…”

"The guy thought that was it. Tragic, but over."

"Until he got home late one night."

Something shifted in Manaka's tone, and Sakura felt goosebumps prickle her arms. "He's waiting for the elevator, and it opens, and he steps inside. The doors are about to close when he hears it. Right behind him. That same little voice asking, 'Can you press the button for me?'"

"Ah!!" Sakura slapped her hands over her ears, but it was too late.

Manaka broke into a grin, looking absolutely delighted with herself. "They say she's still out there somewhere, wandering around in that red coat."

Even though the sun was shining and it was a perfectly normal afternoon, Sakura suddenly felt like ice water had been poured down her spine. Every shadow seemed deeper now, every corner a potential hiding spot for something small and red and very, very angry.

The color drained from her face as she glanced around nervously.