With a splash, Tsugumi was doused with cold water, and she slowly opened her heavy eyelids.

Standing before Tsugumi was Azuma, holding a dripping bucket with a sadistic smile on her face. It was quite a rough way to wake someone up.

…Tsugumi had always suspected that Azuma harbored a slight dislike for her, and it seemed her prediction had been right.

“So, you’re finally awake. For a magical girl, you sure lack a sense of urgency, don’t you?”

“…Well, maybe you’re right.”

Tsugumi replied nonchalantly, taking her time to assess her situation.

The location hadn’t changed; it was the same place as before she lost consciousness, and there were no signs of having been moved. The sky, visible through the broken ceiling, was dyed red by the sunset, indicating that not much time had passed since she fainted—probably no more than an hour.

Looking down at herself, Tsugumi realized that all of her original clothes had been removed and replaced with something resembling a white hospital gown.

…Judging by the way the damp fabric clung uncomfortably to her skin, it seemed her underwear had also been taken off. She had considered the possibility that this might happen, given that they didn’t know what she might be hiding, but actually being stripped left her feeling conflicted. Well, at least she wasn’t completely naked, so it could be worse.

Her wrists and ankles were bound tightly with something that felt like prickly rope, making movement nearly impossible. On top of that, it seemed like some form of suppression had been placed on her, as she couldn’t activate her skills properly.

She wondered where they managed to get their hands on such items, but she doubted they would answer even if she asked.

With a throbbing head, she slowly lifted it, thinking to herself.

Since she hadn’t been killed yet, they likely had some demands or something they wanted her to do. Whether it was something aimed at the government or at Tsugumi herself, she didn’t know, but until their conditions were met, they probably wouldn’t kill her.

In other words, no matter how she behaved right now, Azuma wouldn’t be able to kill her immediately. If there was a gap she could exploit, it would be in that area.

…For now, let’s try probing for information.

With that calm thought, Tsugumi quietly spoke.

“I don’t know what your objective is, but do you really think such a reckless plan will succeed? The government is far from incompetent. If they realize that [Hagakure Sakura] hasn’t returned, they’ll act immediately.”

At the very least, if there’s no contact by the time the day changes, Torano will definitely take action. In fact, since she was the one who sent me on this mission in the first place, I expect her to act swiftly.

Azuma snorted and replied with a dismissive tone.

“You don’t need to worry about that. We’ve already accounted for everything. Our plan is to finish everything before the government can even respond. You just stay put and keep quiet.”

Tsugumi tilted her head slightly, as if confused, and asked,

“…Keep quiet? Why should I listen to your orders?”

“Huh? Do you still not understand your situation? You don’t care what happens to your precious sister?”

Azuma looked at Tsugumi with a strange expression and uttered those words as a threat.

Well, that was an expected response. Azuma probably couldn’t understand why Tsugumi was still talking back, even in this dire situation.

…But if they truly wanted to threaten her, the most effective approach would be to drag Chidori over and wave a knife in her face.

It was just speculation, but since they weren’t using such an obvious method, Tsugumi judged that the likelihood of Chidori being harmed right away was low.

…Which meant there was still an opening to exploit.

“Involving Chidori was a poor move. Whether you’ve actually captured her or not, as long as her safety isn’t guaranteed, I have no reason to listen to you.”

“Oh? So, if I brought you one of her fingers, you’d do as you’re told?”

“If you’re not afraid of dying, then go ahead. Her contract deity is immensely powerful and terrifying. If they find out Chidori was harmed without just cause, they’ll go on a rampage, rules be damned. Your plan will be in ruins.”

Tsugumi said this matter-of-factly, then flashed a beautiful smile.

…Though, honestly, she had no idea what Shiro would actually do in that situation. But by saying this, it would at least make them hesitate to harm Chidori. The more time she could buy, the better.

…Yet, despite over six months having passed since Tsugumi met Shiro, she still couldn’t fully understand her.

Though Shiro called Chidori and Tsugumi her family, she didn’t seem particularly attached to them. If anything, it looked more like she was playing pretend.

Even so, Shiro probably cared for them in her own way, but her perspective was so godlike that it was often difficult to grasp her intentions. Bell was much easier to read by comparison.

…To be honest, Tsugumi wasn’t confident that Shiro would come to their rescue. However, after the Chidori kidnapping incident at the movie theater, Shiro had received scoldings from all directions for being unaccounted for during the ordeal. So, this time, Tsugumi hoped that if something happened, Shiro would act immediately.

—Moreover, although Shiro never explicitly said so, Tsugumi believed she was a being that operated outside the rules set by Amaterasu. Otherwise, there was no way she could interact so directly with Tsugumi—a human contracted to another god—without facing any penalties.

As long as Shiro ignored the rules, there were likely many ways she could ensure their rescue. If Shiro moved, Chidori’s safety would be guaranteed. And as long as Chidori was safe, Tsugumi could manage the rest, no matter how dire things got.

…If only Shiro had come to mind before Azuma knocked her out, but her confused state made it impossible to think of that. She regretted that oversight.

“So you’ve got the energy to joke around. …But you’re really getting on my nerves,” Azuma muttered irritably as she swiftly approached Tsugumi and kicked her unguarded stomach.

There was no real intent to kill, but the kick was sharp and powerful enough. The sudden impact caused Tsugumi to cough violently, curling up as she suppressed the discomfort in her stomach. …Azuma was far more impatient than she had anticipated.

“Some cross-dressing pervert shouldn’t be running their mouth. Your cover’s already blown, so what’s with that act? Are you still pretending to be a magical girl? I’ve always thought you were disgusting.”

“Cough, cough… Haha, I think that’s still better than being a traitor to the country,” Tsugumi retorted weakly, her breath ragged. Azuma scoffed dismissively.

“You caused an unprecedented fire disaster, and you still have the nerve to say that? You should take a good look in the mirror. …Not that it matters to a half-dead person like you.”

Azuma spat out her words, then casually squatted down in front of Tsugumi and handed her a photo.

It showed a young girl resembling Azuma, standing between two kind-looking adults.

…Could they be Azuma’s parents?

“Do you remember these two? They were devout followers of the Star of Dawn.”

“…No, I don’t remember them.”

Tsugumi didn’t lie, simply shaking her head lightly in response.

Although she had fragmented memories, she didn’t recall everything from her childhood. In particular, she could only remember a few of the adults she had met back then. This couple didn’t seem to be among them.

“Hmph. These people used to talk about the cult leader and you all the time. How heartless of you to forget. …Poor them,” Azuma said as she put the photo away and began speaking as if they were chatting.

“According to Asakura-sensei, these two—my parents—were incredibly devoted. On the day of the divine descent ritual, they were inside this building. In other words, they burned to death along with the cult leader and the other followers during that huge fire.”

Azuma let out a small laugh and continued quietly.

“I was lucky enough to survive because I was at home, far from the epicenter, but my parents’ bodies never even came back. I still remember how frustrated I was when the government ignored our pleas for answers. …If only the ritual had succeeded, I wouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“…That’s…”

Tsugumi couldn’t find the words to respond and lowered her gaze.

—She had heard that the bodies of those near the facility on the day of the ritual were so contaminated by divine power that, even if they were recovered, they were never returned to the families. Azuma’s parents’ remains were probably discreetly disposed of by the government.

Whether Azuma knew this or not was unclear, but it was enough reason for her to resent Tsugumi, who had survived, and the government, who had ignored the families’ pleas.

Could her motive really be revenge? If so, Tsugumi couldn’t help but feel a sense of sorrow.

…The Star of Dawn’s goal was never inherently “evil.”

Their plan was to control the monsters emerging from the rift using the power of the descended god, preventing harm to ordinary people and magical girls. In words alone, it sounded like an ideal system.

Ultimately, it failed, but if the ritual had succeeded, society would have hailed them as heroes instead of condemning them.

—But that’s only if it had succeeded.

Attempting to descend a god into a human body and control them was impossible from the start. Even with Tsugumi as the designated vessel, the outcome wouldn’t have changed. Without a miracle, success was virtually impossible.

Unless a powerful deity like Freyja, who had escaped Amaterasu’s control, intervened, but such beings weren’t just lying around everywhere, and it was pointless to even consider it.

Perhaps sensing these thoughts in Tsugumi, Azuma looked at her with a displeased expression and spoke.

“You look like you’re thinking, ‘It was never going to succeed anyway.’ Like it doesn’t concern you at all. …But is that really the case? Was failure really predetermined from the start? If we hadn’t changed the plan midway, wouldn’t it have worked out? Why are you so quick to dismiss it as futile? Are you saying that everything my parents did was meaningless? …Even if that were true, you have no right to say it.”

Azuma spat those words out and then stomped hard on the floor, which was etched with strange symbols.

“I will prove it—prove that what my father and mother were doing wasn’t wrong. …And for that, like it or not, I need you. As the rightful… sacrifice.”

—A proof of the ritual. A rightful sacrifice. The implications of those words left Tsugumi momentarily speechless, and before she could think, she raised her voice in alarm.

“You can’t be serious! You’re planning to recreate the ritual from that day!? Do you have any idea how much damage it will cause if you fail!?”

If that was truly their plan, it was utterly absurd. Tsugumi would have preferred if their goal had simply been revenge.

—This land was still tainted by the god’s corrupt power. That alone was dangerous, but if the ritual failed again, the extent of the damage this time would be unimaginable. It was inconceivable that they hadn’t considered that.

“Oh, finally dropping that aloof attitude? I like this better. It’s more human,” Azuma said, cackling. Tsugumi felt her irritation grow.

Given that Azuma was likely involved in the Makana incident, Tsugumi hadn’t expected her to be particularly humane, but her utter disregard for innocent lives was infuriating.

“Stop making jokes. Answer my question.”

“Ugh, boring. …Yes, I’m serious. Asakura-sensei and I will summon the god we were supposed to bind that day to this land and prove that the Star of Dawn was right. What’s the harm in that? After all, you were supposed to die ten years ago anyway,” Azuma said with a sinister smile.

—Kizuna no Kami. It was a term Tsugumi had never heard before, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

“…There’s no way it will work. Even you must realize that. Do you really think such a sloppy plan will succeed?”

“I do. You wouldn’t know this, but we finished our preparations long ago. It was tough, but we’ve gathered all the necessary offerings for the ritual. …All we had to do was wait for the last piece to fall into place, and that’s you. After all, you’re the only one with the resistance to enter this forbidden land. Once we had that information, everything else was easy.”

“Offerings…? No, don’t answer that. So that’s it… You caused all those incidents for this, didn’t you?”

Recalling the suffering of Yumiji and Suzune, Tsugumi trembled with rage but also questioned Azuma’s confidence.

—Why was Azuma so convinced that the ritual would succeed?

Tsugumi didn’t know the exact theories the Star of Dawn had used to attempt the god’s descent, but Tono, the priestess, Hiiro, the researcher, and Bell, the god, all said that the chances of a successful god descent were slim.

So why was Azuma so certain? It seemed dangerously delusional.

…One question led to another.

The offerings Azuma mentioned were likely the energy and parts collected during the Makana and serial attack incidents, but how had they determined that such things were necessary for the ritual?

There hadn’t been any similar incidents before the past ritual, so those offerings shouldn’t have been used back then.

If those methods weren’t derived from the Star of Dawn, where had they obtained that information? Perhaps they had another collaborator who was knowledgeable about rituals—

As Tsugumi thought this far, she was struck by a horrifying realization.

—The very premise… must have been wrong from the beginning.

…Why hadn’t she noticed? The fact that Azuma was even here was, in itself, abnormal.

As if the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place, the worst possible picture began to form. Hoping against hope that she was wrong, Tsugumi asked Azuma in a quiet voice.

“Let me ask you one thing.”

“What? If I’m in the mood, I might answer.”

“…How did your contract god manage to bypass Amaterasu’s contract?”

The reason Azuma—and the other magical girls—hadn’t been caught in the investigation so far was because the contract gods prevented magical girls from committing crimes by binding them to the rules of Amaterasu’s contract. If those rules didn’t apply, it meant that Azuma’s contracted god was a powerful being like Freyja, who had escaped Amaterasu’s control—a clear enemy of the government.

The thought that such a being had infiltrated the government had never crossed Tsugumi’s mind. It was no wonder their information had been leaking out.

Azuma responded with a nonchalant expression.

“Who knows? But I believe the reason I haven’t been punished so far is because my wish… was righteous.”

“…Righteous? What are you talking about—”

“My wish, my righteous anger, my suffering… The god understood them. They called my emotions beautiful. They approved of my revenge.”

—A soft flutter echoed in Tsugumi’s ears, like the sound of a bird’s wings.

—Behind Azuma, she thought she saw the shadow of a large bird.

Azuma slowly raised both hands towards the sky and, as if singing, said:

“My contracted god is Nemesis. The name means ‘righteous anger.’ …Now, the time for divine punishment has come.”

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