Chapter 1 (rewrite)

A bird chirped softly in the early morning light, its song weaving through the open window of a modest bedroom. Sunlight spilled across the floor, casting a warm glow on the boy sprawled across the bed. With a groan, he draped a hand over his face, shielding his eyes from the brightness.

His name was Shido Itsuka.

Just an ordinary sixteen-year-old boy—or so he believed.

He had a pretty typical life, or at least it seemed that way. School, homework, a few awkward crushes here and there. He even had a younger sister who—on paper—seemed normal.

Her name was Kotori Itsuka, thirteen years old, cute as a button... and a certified menace. Every morning, without fail, she woke him up with a flying kick to the stomach. Who needed an alarm clock when your little sister treated you like a wrestling dummy?

And don’t even get him started on her lollipop addiction. Shido had long since stopped questioning where she got them—she always seemed to have an unlimited supply hidden away like a candy-smuggling goblin. He worried about her teeth, naturally. But despite the sugar intake of a small nation, she somehow still passed every dental check-up. Maybe nagging her to brush after every sweet was both helpful and pointless at the same time.

Stretching with a yawn, Shido shook the sleep from his limbs. Just another average morning in the life of a very average boy.

Or at least, it was, until everything flipped upside down.

Turns out, his little sister wasn’t just a candy-loving gremlin with a killer roundhouse kick—she was also the high-ranking commander of a secret organization that specialized in dealing with Spirits.

Spirits. As in supernatural beings with enough power to accidentally wipe a city off the map just by sneezing in the wrong direction.

Noble cause, right? Helping powerful, misunderstood beings find peace?

Yeah, Shido thought so too—until he found out he was the one expected to deal with them.

Not just talk to them.

Not just befriend them.

He had to date them.

Yes. Date. Them.

The logic, apparently, was that emotional connection helped stabilize their powers. And the organization’s big plan? Have Shido swoop in like some kind of teenage Casanova and tame the raging Spirits with the power of romance.

At first, he thought it was a joke. Some weird prank cooked up by his sister.

Then she dropped the real bomb: in order to truly "seal" a Spirit’s power—and save the world from disaster—he had to kiss them.

That’s right. Kiss. Like, full-on, lip-to-lip.

Shido Itsuka. A boy who had never even held hands with a girl excluding Kotori, which didn’t count. Now suddenly thrust into a life where kissing mysterious, potentially volatile supernatural girls was a regular part of his schedule?

Was this real life? Or had he been isekai'd into a dating sim without reading the terms and conditions?

And as if that wasn’t enough, Kotori herself had some... quirks. When she wore her white ribbons, she was her usual mischievous self still annoying, but manageable. But the moment those ribbons turned black, it was like a personality swap. Cold, commanding, and scarily competent. It wasn’t hard to see why she was in charge of the organization.

So here he was. Shido Itsuka. Once just a regular high schooler. Now? He was the universe’s most reluctant romance expert(?), tasked with saving the world one awkward date at a time.

No pressure, right?

Just as Shido stepped out of his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and preparing to wash his face, he paused. A chill lingered in the air, subtle but distinct—like winter brushing past him in a room that was moments ago warm.

“…Yoshino?” he murmured, concern blooming instantly.

He hurried to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and made his way to the living room. There, a soft, blue-haired girl with teary eyes knelt in front of the couch, her arm outstretched underneath, fingertips straining toward something just out of reach.

Sure enough—Yoshino.

She looked up at him the moment she noticed his presence, eyes shimmering with emotion.

“Sh-Shido-san… Y-Yoshinon… Yoshinon…” she stammered, clearly on the verge of tears.

Without hesitation, Shido knelt beside her and offered a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Yoshino. I’ll help you get Yoshinon back.”

Yoshino nodded shyly, her small hands clutching the edge of the couch.

Shido reached under the furniture, feeling around in the shadows until his fingers brushed against soft fabric. Slowly, carefully, he drew out the familiar rabbit puppet—Yoshinon.

As soon as she saw it, Yoshino’s face lit up like a sunrise breaking through storm clouds. She slipped the puppet onto her hand, and instantly, the lifeless plushie sprang to life with exaggerated gestures and a playful voice.

“Yoshinon is back! Yeah!” the puppet exclaimed. “Thanks, Shido! I’d kiss you if I could—gahaha!”

“Th-Thank you, Shido-san…” Yoshino added softly, her cheeks tinged with pink.

Shido chuckled and gently patted both Yoshino’s head and Yoshinon's fuzzy ears. “No problem. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Crisis averted. The temperature in the room began to normalize—a sign Yoshino's emotional state was stabilizing.

“Alright,” Shido said, standing up and stretching. “Better start breakfast before Tohka wakes up and tries to eat the table again.”

But fate had other plans.

Without warning, a voice rang out behind him, high-pitched and terrifyingly familiar.

“Knight Kick!”

Before he could turn around, Shido felt a sharp impact slam into his back. He was launched forward, flailing helplessly, until he collided face-first with the couch cushion.

Groaning, he pushed himself up, his spine aching.

“What the hell…?” he muttered, rubbing his back and glancing over his shoulder.

Kotori. His little sister. She stood there with her hands on her hips, a glint of fury in her eyes.

But she wasn’t wearing the black ribbon—the one that signaled her no-nonsense Commander mode. No, today her ribbon was white.

Which only made things more confusing.

“Kotori? Why are you acting like this if you're not in—”

“Why did you let the Spirit's spiritual power fluctuate again?!” she snapped, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp enough to slice air. “Even a goldfish remembers things longer than seven seconds! Has your brain finally degraded below aquatic life? Are you planning to enter the evolutionary race backward and compete with a paramecium for survival?”

Shido winced. “Kotori, you’re not even in commander mode right now. Why are you—?”

SMACK.

Another hit. She didn’t even wait for an answer.

“Don’t waste someone time with dumb questions, My Onii-chan,” she said, voice brimming with disdain. She pulled a lollipop from her pocket like a chain-smoking detective, unwrapped it in a single motion, and stuck it into her mouth with practiced nonchalance. “You're lucky I don't deduct points for existing.”

Shido slumped. He didn’t have the energy for another of her ‘training sessions.’ Especially not the ones where he was forced to marathon dating sim games as if his life depended on picking the right dialogue option.

“…Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh?” he asked carefully.

From behind him, Kotori's tone turned cold. “If you're this careless, how do you expect to protect Spirits like Tohka and Yoshino? Or do you just not care if they get hunted down by AST?”

Shido spun to face her, eyes wide. “Of course I care! I’d never let that happen!”

For a moment, her expression softened. Just a flicker. Then it was gone again, buried under her usual cool-headed bravado.

“Well, at least your determination isn't completely pathetic,” she said, crossing her arms. “But you think that’s enough? AST won't stop just because you feel like doing your best. This isn’t a shounen manga where screaming louder magically fixes everything. And it sure as hell isn't a dumb harem anime where you stumble into victory by accidentally falling into a girl’s cleavage.”

Shido opened his mouth.

The words “I’ll try my best.” were on the tip of his tongue.

But one glance at Kotori’s glare shut him up. His instincts screamed: Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.

He could already picture the punishment—being locked in a soundproof room, forced to play every twisted, emotionally exhausting Galgame in existence, all supervised by a grinning Kotori in full black-ribbon Commander mode.

Or worse—she’d design some overly dramatic “rescue romance” scenario with Tohka and Yoshino that played out like a parody of every game he’d ever been forced to suffer through.

And that… was a fate worse than death.

“Yes, sorry... I’ll try really hard this time,” Shido muttered, shoulders slumping as he accepted his fate.

Kotori gave a satisfied nod. “Good, good. That’s my Onii-chan,” she said, hopping onto the couch like nothing had happened, swinging her legs as she popped the lollipop back into her mouth.

Rubbing his aching back, Shido stood up and made his way toward the kitchen, thinking breakfast might finally be within reach.

But then—
WEEEOOOO! WEEEOOOO!

A sharp, blaring alarm tore through the air, so loud it shook the walls.

For most people, it meant seek shelter.
For Shido and Kotori?

It meant it's time to take action.

Aboard the aerial battleship Fraxinus, the bridge was already a storm of motion by the time they arrived. Holographic displays flickered with spiraling data streams. Crew members barked out updates. Alarms pulsed in crimson bursts across the ceiling.

Kotori strode in like a lightning bolt, her voice cutting through the chaos.

“Report!” she snapped, moving toward her command chair.

Her deputy, Kyouhei Kannazuki, was for once without his usual comedic flair. He raised a hand, signaling silence.

“Commander!” a crew member called, pulling up a massive holographic projection. “An unrecorded Spirit has appeared!”

Kotori’s crimson eyes narrowed. She leaned forward, lollipop between her teeth as the projection flickered to life.

“So… this is her first manifestation,” she murmured, eyes scanning the fluctuating spiritual waveform. “No identification. No known power profile.”

“Exactly,” Kannazuki confirmed grimly. “We’re flying blind. If we make a wrong move, it could trigger a catastrophic reaction.”

Everyone on the bridge knew what was at stake.

Shido Itsuka had the ability to seal Spirits. But it wasn’t as simple as asking nicely. Two strict conditions had to be met:

The Spirit had to open her heart to him.

He had to kiss her to complete the seal.

It sounded like something out of the world's most cliché harem anime. And in many ways, it was. But the danger was all too real. One failed encounter could spell total destruction.

“The less we know, the higher the risk,” Kotori said, arms crossed. “We can’t just wing this. If she’s not docile like Yoshino, even encountering AST could escalate things into a full-blown disaster.”

She paused, processing everything—then froze.

The noise of the bridge... stopped.

Not gradually.

Instantly.

The crew went silent, eyes wide. Fingers hovered motionless over keyboards. The ambient hum of Fraxinus faded into an eerie stillness.

“...Hey!” Kotori command, alarm creeping into her voice. “What’s going on?!”

It was like they’d been snapped out of a trance. Panic bled into their expressions.

“C-Commander…” one of the operators stammered. “Th-the scale of the spacequake… it’s... it’s—”

“Spit it out!” Kotori snapped.

Another crew member took over, trembling as they pointed to the display. “It’s already exceeded Tengu City. The expansion... hasn’t slowed. It’s now covering a quarter of Japan!”

“WHAT?!” Kotori bolted upright, her chair screeching. Even the lollipop slipped from her mouth.

Shido staggered beside her, blood draining from his face. “T-That’s… that’s bad. Really bad.”

Fraxinus buzzed with panic. Hands flew across keyboards. Graphs exploded in scale. Data was being rewritten in real-time—because it was unprecedented.

“If the readings are accurate,” a crew member murmured, voice almost breaking, “even underground shelters won’t protect civilians if this keeps up.”

Spirits triggered spacequakes just by manifesting—natural disasters tied directly to their power output. Tohka’s appearance had triggered a B-rated spacequake, leveling part of a school district. Yoshino’s was lighter, at a C-rating.

But this…

This spacequake had no rating. It was off the charts.

“Check the equipment,” someone begged. “This has to be a glitch.”

“I wish it were!” another shouted back.

The last time a spacequake approached this magnitude was thirty years ago—the Eurasian Air Disaster. 150 million dead. Entire nations scarred.

And now? The signs pointed to a calamity even worse.

In the rear of the room, a silver-haired woman in a lab coat sat quietly. Her face was pale, eyes sunken, and her expression unreadable. She said nothing—but her silence carried weight.

Then—

The alarm stopped.

No warning. No fade-out.

Just… silence.

The entire battleship froze, suspended in an unnatural quiet.

Even Kotori couldn’t find her voice for a moment.

“…Why did it stop?” she finally asked, voice low.

No one had the answer.

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(A/n: chapter 2,3,4 soon)