Oni-kun's Perspective After leaving the meeting room, I was led to Kusama's private quarters.
The place was roughly six tatami mats in size.
However, clothes and countless mysterious objects of unknown purpose were strewn everywhere, making it feel far smaller and more cramped than it actually was.
I hate to say it, but it was filthy.
What does it even mean when you can't see the floor?
"Kusama, clean up."
"My bad, my bad. It's not like anyone ever comes in here, so..."
Kusama laughed with a carefree "ha ha," completely unrepentant, and I couldn't even muster the energy to get angry.
"Shall we sit down for now?"
He pushed aside the mountain of junk and pulled out a chair.
Other than that, there was nowhere to sit except the bed, so I gratefully took a seat.
As expected, Kusama settled onto the bed.
No choice, really—that was the only spot.
"So, long time no see."
"Yeah. Last time we didn't even have a chance to talk."
At our previous meeting, we'd been in the same room but had withdrawn without exchanging a single word.
So this was the first time we'd actually sat down and had a conversation since our previous lives.
It really had been that long.
Especially for me—being a male Reincarnator, this was the first time I'd had someone I was genuinely close with.
With Shiro and
"It really has been forever, huh? What have you been up to?"
"That's... a pretty long story if I start getting into it."
Quite a lot had happened in this world.
If I started recounting it all, it would take forever.
Part of me wanted to enjoy catching up with an old friend, but I couldn't just keep talking forever.
Besides, talking about my past would inevitably lead to dark territory.
I didn't want to darken the mood on such a rare occasion.
"So wait—you're seriously joining the war as part of the Demon race?"
"That's the plan."
"Come on. Don't do it. War is insane—who in their right mind would—"
Kusama made a thoroughly disgusted face, and a bitter laugh escaped me.
It seemed Kusama hadn't endured the kind of brutal circumstances I had.
His attitude of wanting nothing to do with war struck me as both enviable and blindingly bright.
"Aren't you going to join, Kusama?"
"Me? No way. No matter how many lives you've got, war eats them all up. If they try to draft me, I'm running for the hills. Oh, this is off the record."
With a carefree attitude utterly befitting someone who had no business being in the inner circle of the Divine Word Church—an organization that could be called a representative of the Human race—he flatly refused to participate.
Must be nice, being that free.
And yet, when the time came, this guy would probably end up getting swept along into it anyway.
That was just the kind of person Kusama was.
The type to ride the current and grab the good stuff, only to draw the short straw in the end.
"Still, you were way too tense during that meeting, weren't you?"
"Idiot! How the hell can you not be tense in that kind of place?! Why was I even there?! The vibe was completely out of place for someone like me!"
His small-town mentality was reassuring, as always.
Nothing had changed.
Though, as he himself pointed out, maybe it was unfair to tell someone like Kusama—who used to get nervous just being called on in class—not to feel tense in that razor-sharp atmosphere.
"If anything, the one who can speak up confidently in there is the impressive one."
"Ha ha. Maybe I've gone so far around that I've snapped."
Some might call that desperation talking.
But I'd actually been pretty nervous when speaking in there too, just in a different way from Kusama.
The kind of tension where one wrong step could get you erased.
"Hey, Sasan."
Kusama called me the same way he always had.
"Ah, sorry. If you could, call me Laas."
Part of me wouldn't have minded Kusama using the old name.
But I really didn't want to go by my previous name.
It might sound like a petty fixation, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that the name from my past life and the name my parents gave me in this one—neither of them suited the person I was now.
"Sasan, when did you wake up with chuunibyou?"
"It's not really that. There are some complicated reasons, and I'd just rather not be called by my real name."
"Hmm. Well, if you say so."
He probably wasn't fully convinced, but Kusama went along with it.
Chuunibyou, though.
Sophia had said the same thing, and it stung more than I'd like to admit.
"Oh, so listen—Sasa, or, ah, Laas? This is probably a long shot, but you're not, like, dating
"Huh?"
"What do you mean, 'huh'?! You're standing right next to the beautiful goddess of the school, Wakaba! If the other guys found out, they'd kill you! Even if you're not actually dating!"
Oh, ah.
It was true that Wakaba—more precisely, Wakaba from my previous life—had been popular.
It was just that her unapproachable aura kept anyone from confessing, and everyone worshipped her from a distance. That much was a fact.
And just being near her could earn you murderous intent from certain people.
"Don't worry. It's nothing like that."
Having seen the current Shiro, there was no way I'd harbor those kinds of feelings.
"Good. Then you keep watch so no creepy guys go after Wakaba! You're the only one I can count on!"
"Sure, sure."
I brushed it off noncommittally.
Not that anything would happen even if I did nothing. I couldn't imagine Shiro getting a boyfriend.
She didn't seem interested in that sort of thing.
"Hey, by the way—whether it's Wakaba or you, Sasa, or Laas—why hasn't your face changed? From what I've heard, when you're reborn, your face is supposed to change too."
"That's something I don't really understand either."
I certainly hadn't wished for this face.
"The common thread is that both Shiro and I were originally Monsters. Maybe when you Evolve from a Monster into a human form, you end up with your previous life's face?"
"Now that you mention it, Gramps did say that Wakaba used to be a Monster called the Nightmare of the Labyrinth."
"Gramps?"
"The Pope."
Why was this guy—someone who had been a bundle of nerves at the meeting—casually calling the head of a major organization "Gramps"?
I couldn't quite grasp his standards.
"I only heard this secondhand, but is it true that Wakaba's been causing serious trouble?"
"It is. Honestly, it's kind of scary."
I felt bad bursting Kusama's idealized image of Shiro, but it was a fact that she'd been involved in all sorts of dangerous things.
He'd heard from her own mouth that she'd been carrying out massacres, and she'd declared she would continue.
I couldn't stop her, and going forward, I'd be in a position to help.
"That Wakaba, huh. Well, I guess that tracks."
"Does it?"
"Wouldn't you just expect Wakaba to be capable of anything, no matter what?"
"I suppose."
It was true—Wakaba had been mysterious even back in our previous life.
"Even so, it feels like she's changed since being reborn."
"Well, yeah. It's been over ten years. Of course things change."
"You haven't changed much, though, Kusama."
"Digging my own grave here," Kusama groaned, flopping onto the bed.
Honestly, I was relieved that Kusama hadn't changed all that much.
"Oh, speaking of change—Rihoko's gone way overboard, hasn't she?"
"My, my. And who might you be referring to?"
As if suddenly remembering something, Kusama's remark was answered by a third voice.
Kusama's neck creaked as he turned around, and I followed suit, spinning to look behind us.
There stood Sophia, wearing the most terrifying smile imaginable.