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ArabicAnime Crossover: Eating Evil in a Daily World — Chapter 16
Chapter 16: The Sanction of Justice
Yotsuya Miko scanned the crowded train carriage. The faces of the surrounding commuters remained completely blank, their eyes glued to their phones or staring vacantly ahead. It was as if they were entirely blind to the faint, pale, and impossibly massive hand hovering right there in the open air.
If they could actually see it, this carriage would have devolved into a screaming stampede minutes ago.
‘As expected, is it an evil spirit…’
Ever since her spiritual sight had awakened, this was the first time Miko had encountered such a bizarre entity. If it was a spirit, it was nothing but a disembodied hand, completely devoid of a human torso. Yet its aura felt suffocatingly similar to the grotesque monsters she usually saw. No, it was worse. The oppressive dread radiating from it felt far more terrifying than a standard evil spirit.
What on earth was that thing?
Just as her mind raced, Miko blinked. In that split second of distraction, the colossal pale hand vanished without a trace, leaving the air completely empty as if the nightmare had never manifested at all.
“Just kidding.”
Yozora patted the train pervert on the cheek with his free hand, offering a bright, entirely unhinged smile before finally releasing his iron grip on the man’s wrist.
“Ugh…”
The groper, who had been acting so arrogant and aggressive just moments prior, immediately crumpled. He was drenched in a cold sweat, desperately clutching his mangled wrist. Suppressed whimpers of agony squeezed out of his throat as his knees hit the cold floor of the train. He curled his entire body inward, trembling like a cooked shrimp.
Seeing the situation escalate to such a brutal degree, the woman in the office lady uniform shifted uncomfortably. She opened her mouth, clearly intending to scold him or distance herself from the violence.
Before a single syllable could leave her lips, Yozora shot her a deadpan glance.
“People like you are even more detestable than the pervert, you know that?”
Being publicly dressed down made the office lady’s expression twist into an ugly scowl. She immediately threw up her defenses.
“I didn’t ask you to help me! Mind your own business!”
“Still barking?”
If Yozora were an average, hot-blooded male high school student, he might have just swallowed his frustration and let the matter drop. But Yozora was a seasoned veteran in the arts of Zaun, a master of toxic trash talk. He understood perfectly well that taking the high road only leads to high blood pressure, and swallowing grievances only makes you feel like a clown. He had absolutely zero intention of indulging this ungrateful woman.
He raised his smartphone, casually waving the screen right in front of the office lady’s face.
“You like barking? Well, maybe my luck will take a sudden nosedive later today and I will get my phone stolen. And coincidentally, my phone does not have a lock screen passcode, meaning anyone can open it up. And by an even greater stroke of coincidence, the hypothetical thief might just decide to upload this lovely little video to the internet. And finally, as a one-in-a-million miracle, your colleagues and your boss will somehow each receive a high-definition copy in their inboxes.”
Yozora tilted his head. “Don’t you think that is just a wild string of coincidences?”
Hearing this laid out so plainly, the office lady’s face drained of color.
Yozora did not stop there. He pressed his advantage, his voice dripping with venomous cheer.
“Of course, if the video just showed you being harassed by a train pervert, perhaps you would only receive a wave of public sympathy. You are the victim, after all.”
Yozora smiled, his tone suddenly shifting into something much darker and far more mocking.
“But what if someone graciously provided the whole story in the comments? The pervert was caught red-handed, yet the victim absolutely refused to come forward and testify. Why would that be? I think the internet would only come up with two explanations. First, you are a spineless coward with zero moral compass. Second, you are actually a massive pervert yourself. You put on a little show of resisting, but in reality, you thoroughly enjoy being groped in public.”
Yozora let out a heavy, theatrical sigh and shook his head in mock pity.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. If public opinion decides you are the second type, you are going to become a massive celebrity. In your daily commute from now on, the chances of running into eager creeps will skyrocket, right? After all, you will be a famous local attraction. But do not worry. I am sure the person who steals my phone will definitely tell everyone that you are not a coward, but simply a woman with a deeply twisted psyche who enjoys the thrill of the process.”
The office lady’s entire body went rigid. Her eyes widened in absolute horror. She did not dare to imagine the sheer social annihilation that would follow if she actually ended up with that kind of reputation. How would her friends look at her? Her colleagues? Her parents?
“Not barking anymore?”
Seeing the woman reduced to a timid, speechless statue, Yozora offered a satisfied smile.
“There we go. Just quietly fade into the background and deal with your own mess.”
Right as he finished his sentence, the train decelerated and pulled up to the platform. Yozora grabbed Yotsuya Miko by the sleeve and pulled her off the carriage before she could even process the psychological warfare she had just witnessed.
Only when they were standing on the bustling platform did Miko finally snap out of her daze. She hesitated for a long time, her fingers fidgeting with her skirt, completely unsure of where to even begin. Finally, she managed to squeeze out two quiet words.
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, you should be.”
Yozora’s blunt, entirely shameless response actually made Miko feel a fraction more relaxed. The heavy tension in her chest loosened.
“By the way…” she started, glancing up at him. “How did you know to start recording the video in advance?”
“It is not that I have psychic foresight. It is just that you are way too naive.”
Yozora remarked casually, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked toward the station exit.
“If that woman actually had an ounce of courage, would she have needed your help in the first place? She would have fought back on her own. This is a packed train during the evening rush hour. With so many people crammed together, she did not even have the guts to shout for help. Maybe she did not want to cause a scene, or maybe she was terrified of losing face. Regardless of her reasons, people like that are a lost cause. Even if you step up to help them, you will only end up taking the fall like you almost did just now. It is completely meaningless.”
Yozora stretched his arms over his head, popping his shoulders before looking down at Miko with an amused smirk.
“So, are you still going to play the hero next time?”
Miko paused in her tracks. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, she nodded with firm resolve.
“I will still help. But next time, I will do it exactly like you did and secure the evidence first.”
“That is very you.”
Yozora chuckled. He had no intention of trying to mold Miko into a cynic. Nobody actually wants to be the saint who bleeds for others unconditionally. But deep down, everyone hopes the world is filled with saints willing to offer unconditional help. This stubborn, kind-hearted version of Yotsuya Miko was perfectly fine just the way she was.
After exiting the station, Yozora led Miko down a busy commercial street, handling the evening crowds until they reached the specific shop where he had previously purchased his protective amulets.
Sure enough, the proprietor was there.
An old man with a flowing white beard and hair, looking every bit like a wise, worldly sage, sat behind the counter taking leisurely drags from a smoking pipe.
Miko glanced around the interior. The shop was not particularly large, but the sheer variety of occult goods crammed onto the wooden shelves was staggering. Warding amulets, crystal bracelets, evil-repelling necklaces, polished prayer beads, and assorted deity statues filled every available inch of space.
“Hey, old geezer.”
Yozora marched right up to the counter without a shred of polite hesitation. He pulled a thick stack of paper amulets from his pocket and slammed them heavily onto the glass display case, kicking up a small cloud of stagnant dust.
“Return these. I want a refund.”
When Yozora had first stepped through the door, the old man had worn a welcoming, business-savvy smile. But the moment the words return and refund hit the air, a look of genuine shock rippled across his deeply wrinkled face.
“Now, now, young man, there is no need to be so aggressive. These amulets are absolutely the real deal. They are highly effective.”
As the old man spoke, his sharp eyes subtly swept the empty space directly behind Yozora, as if searching the air for something unseen.
That tiny, fleeting detail did not escape Yozora’s notice.
‘Just as I thought,’ Yozora mused inwardly. He casually dragged a wooden chair over from the side, sat down directly opposite the old man, and spoke in a slow, measured drawl.
“If I am not mistaken, you are a genuine psychic, right?”
The old man stroked his beard and nodded with a serene smile, projecting the aura of a man possessing high virtue and deep spiritual prestige.
“Look at you saying that. Back when I was young, I was quite the…”
“Alright, save the bragging.”
Yozora ruthlessly cut off the old man before he could launch into a nostalgic monologue about his past glories.
“You definitely have real, functional items hidden somewhere in this shop. But the very fact that you deliberately sold me a stack of completely useless fakes proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are a real psychic.”
Yozora leaned forward, his eyes locking onto the old man.
“Because you can see. Or rather, you can see that there are absolutely no ghosts or evil spirits hovering around me.”