Epilogue: Broke and Penniless
A week had passed since the battle with the Akaname.
The mansion, once a place of chaotic peace, now pulsed with a different kind of energy — quieter, softer, but no less alive. The halls still echoed with the usual sounds: Renji’s dramatic groans, Luna’s humming, the twins’ bickering over cereal brands. But now, there was a new rhythm. A new presence.
Kotomi wasn’t used to it.
She moved through the halls like a shadow at first, careful not to take up too much space. She folded laundry that wasn’t hers. Washed dishes before anyone asked. She flinched when doors slammed, and sometimes paused mid-step, as if waiting for something to fall.
Her room — once a guest suite, now hers — was tucked between Kyle’s and Minami’s. The door stayed open most days, letting in the spring light. On the nightstand, her jade ornament rested on a folded handkerchief, catching the sun like a shard of memory.
Her father remained in the hospital, recovering under the watchful eye of the Kurogane Fixers. The house he’d built — the one she’d grown up in — was gone. Reduced to rubble by the Men in White. But here, in this strange, sprawling mansion filled with misfits and magic, she had found something else.
She’d wake up sometimes with her hand over her chest, expecting to feel the hole again.
But it was gone.
The scar; however, wasn’t.
Kyle passed her in the hallway one morning, his new left arm still wrapped in gauze. He was holding a mug of tea in his right hand, steam curling around his face. He paused when he saw her.
“You sleep okay?” he asked.
Kotomi nodded. “Mostly.”
Luna’s healing magic had done the impossible, regrowing what was lost. But due to the limited access to chi, it would take longer.
Still, April had arrived.
And with it, the promise of something new.
The cherry blossoms had begun to bloom.
***
Petals drifted past the mansion windows like pink snow, catching in the hedges and the curls of steam rising from the morning tea. The air was crisp, the sun soft — the kind of April morning that made even the laziest soul feel like starting over.
Kyle shifted his weight. “If you want the good cereal, you have to get there before Kokoro.”
In the dining room, breakfast was chaos.
Kotomi stood near the doorway, watching the scene unfold like a play she hadn’t auditioned for. Her own uniform — crisp navy with a pleated skirt and a ribbon she’d retied three times — felt stiff against her skin. She tugged at the hem, unsure.
Kyle glanced up. “You’ll be fine.”
Kotomi blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” Kyle set his spoon down. “You passed the placement test. You’re registered. And frankly, someone needs to keep these three from setting the school on fire.”
Though she was hesitant switching schools and losing friends, there was a chance that the Men in White might enter her school. It was discussed that moving her to something more secure was the better decision.
With Minami's help, she was able to arrange Kotomi's transfer to another school with ease.
Luna wandered in, still half-asleep, rubbing her eyes. “What’s all the yelling about?”
“Because we’re excited,” Kotaro said, grinning. “We just got our uniforms delivered today!”
“Fourth graders,” Renji muttered. “The most dangerous of all academic lifeforms.”
Kotomi laughed — a real, unguarded laugh — and for a moment, everything felt normal.
Almost.
The breakfast table had settled into a lull — the kind that only came after the third round of toast and the fourth failed attempt to get Kotaro to wear matching socks.
That’s when Kotomi noticed Kyle staring into his tea like it had personally betrayed him.
She tilted her head. “You okay?”
Kyle blinked. “Huh? Yeah. Just… thinking.”
Renji, sprawled across two chairs like a cat in existential crisis, groaned. “He’s unemployed.”
“Thanks for the subtlety,” Kyle muttered.
With how much that occurred in the last month, Kotomi had forgotten that she technically was the one to cause this. Even so, she was glad they were able to meet in that circumstance.
Kotomi winced. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Kyle said. “I didn’t even like the uniform.”
Mrs. Tamika was grateful that Kyle was safe but after tallying the insurance damage, she was concerned that another incident would occur.
Renji sighed dramatically. “At least you had a job. Luna and I are drowning in algorithm hell.”
Luna, perched on the counter with a bowl of cereal and a halo of floating spoons, nodded solemnly. “Our subscriber count is stuck at thirty-seven.”
“Thirty-six,” Minami corrected, flipping a page in her ledger. “One unsubscribed after the ‘Haunted Ramen Challenge.’”
Renji groaned louder. “That was performance art!”
Ever since Luna discovered ketchup, she has been adding that condiment on everything she ate. On the day that they started filming, she decided that it would be the perfect topping for the ramen. Unfortunately it got a little too out of hand that it looked like a literal crime scene.
Kotaro leaned over his bowl. “Didn’t you borrow money from Minami to buy all the gear?”
Renji froze.
Minami smiled without looking up. “With interest.”
Kotomi laughed, then caught herself — the sound felt strange in her throat. But it was real.
For a moment, the weight of the past week lifted. Just a little.
Then the television flickered.
And the news anchor’s voice cut through the room.
“—and in other stories, a viral video has surfaced online, showing what appears to be a girl flying over Seiwa All-Girls Academy…”
***
Everyone turned their attention to the screen. This was the viral video of the week, showing grainy footage — a figure in a skirt and cape, silhouetted against the moonlight, hovering above the school’s rooftop.
No one spoke.
Then Kotomi whispered, “Is that… another magical girl?”
The news clip ended with a skeptical chuckle from the anchor.
“—likely a hoax or clever drone work. Authorities have declined to comment.”
But no one at the table was laughing.
The room had gone still.
Masayuki leaned forward, squinting at the paused frame. “That silhouette… it’s not Kotomi.”
“Too tall,” Kyle agreed. “And the glowing cape’s different.”
Kotomi stared at the screen, her fingers tightening around her teacup. The jade ornament at her chest gave a faint, involuntary pulse.
“I don’t believe it. She’s like me,” she said softly. “But I don’t know who she is.”
Minami stood, brushing crumbs from her skirt. “Then it’s time to get to the bottom of it.”
Within minutes, the dining room had transformed into a makeshift war room. Sebastian wheeled in a whiteboard. Luna summoned a floating notepad. Renji tried to sneak another croissant and was promptly smacked by Kokoro.
Minami tapped the board with a pointer. “We’ve been compiling sightings for the past three months. Most were false leads — cosplay conventions, drone stunts, one very confused paraglider. But this one has been unedited.”
She circled the grainy image on the screen. “This girl appeared above Seiwa All-Girls Academy. No visible flight gear. No Chi signature we could trace. And no follow-up sightings.”
Masayuki crossed his arms. “If she’s real, Shiraishi might already be looking for her.”
Kotomi nodded. “Then we have to find her first.”
There was questions about it validity but because of how heavily secured the academy was, it was often viewed afar from public eyes.
Minami raised an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, Seiwa is a private high school institution. All-girls. Very exclusive. You can’t just walk in.”
Kotomi deflated. “Oh…”
“But,” Minami continued, “we can.”
Sebastian stepped forward, dramatically unveiling a pair of uniforms from behind a curtain — one male, one female. Both crisp. Both suspiciously tailored.
Kyle blinked. “Why do you already have a male uniform?”
Minami smiled. “I’m always prepared.”
Though Minami had brought up attending Seiwa in the last, it didn't feel like a coincident. The new semester was about to begin.
Renji backed away. “Nope. Not doing it. I’m not going back to school. Especially not in a skirt.”
“We only have one boy’s uniform,” Minami said.
The discussion slowly developed into a standstill with Luna vetoing on occasion since Renji’s soul was occupying her.
“I’ll forgive half your loan.”
Renji and Luna froze.
“…Can I sleep through class?”
While Renji and Luna bickered with one another, Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. He looked at Kotomi — at the way she stared at the screen, her eyes full of questions and something deeper.
Resolve.
He sighed. “Alright. I’m in too.”
Minami clapped her hands. “Excellent. Operation: Garden of Eden begins when the new school semester begins.”
Renji groaned. “I can't believe that we’re really doing this.”
***
Later that evening, the mansion was quiet.
The twins had gone to bed, their school bags lined up by the door like tiny soldiers. Masayuki was asleep in a sunbeam on the couch, snoring softly. Renji was already drafting a new video pitch titled “Top 10 Ways to Fake Your Death.” Kyle sat on the back porch, watching the cherry blossoms fall like confetti.
Kotomi joined him, a blanket draped over her shoulders.
He didn’t say anything. Just scooted over to make room.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the wind.
Then Kotomi spoke. “Do you think she’s really out there? The girl in the video?”
Kyle nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do.”
She looked down at her ornament — the jade glow faint but steady. “If she’s like me… she might be in danger.”
“Then we’ll find her,” Kyle said. “Before they do.”
Kotomi smiled. “But are you sure? You might get injured again.”
Kyle shrugged. “I’m already unemployed. Might as well fight evil.”
She laughed, then leaned her head on his shoulder.
Inside, Minami was already drafting enrollment paperwork. Sebastian was ironing uniforms. Somewhere in the distance, a cat yowled like a banshee — probably another stray Luna had adopted.
The world was still broken.
But for now, they had each other.
And maybe — just maybe — that was enough.
The wind picked up, scattering petals across the porch.
Kyle sighed. “We’re the hero party that can’t pay rent.”
