Anime Crossover: Eating Evil in a Daily World — Chapter 62

Chapter 62: Mai-senpai, Sakurajima Mai, Rio Futaba’s Truthful Deduction

“I say, can we change the opening line?”

Yozora sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mai-senpai, you really don’t know how creepy your opening line is. It was a good thing Miko wasn’t here right now. If she had to listen to a disembodied voice whispering out of thin air, her PTSD would definitely flare up again.

“Who are you talking to?”

Confusion clouded Futaba’s eyes. She stared at the empty space directly in front of her. There was absolutely no one there.

Could it be… Yozora’s chuunibyou had finally deteriorated to the point of severe visual hallucinations?

“You can’t see her?”

Hearing his question, Futaba involuntarily took two steps back. She scanned the empty hallway, her voice dropping to a timid whisper. “You… don’t try to scare me on purpose. There’s no one around here.”

“You’re quite something.”

Yozora’s compliment was entirely sincere. Futaba was no simple character. Even without the ability to physically see Mai, she could still vaguely sense the weight of an unseen gaze.

What was this? Spider-sense?

No, there was something else he needed to confirm.

Yozora shifted his attention back to the girl in the lab coat. “Have you heard of Sakurajima Mai? The Mai-senpai, the former national idol from the second year of our school?”

“Sakurajima… Mai?” Futaba mumbled the syllables, her brow furrowing. “Never heard of her.”

‘As expected,’ Yozora thought.

Labeling Mai’s symptom as mere invisibility was a gross understatement. The correct clinical description was far more absolute.

She had vanished entirely from human cognition.

Not only was her physical existence unobservable, but the very memories of her stored in people’s minds had been wiped clean. Naturally, this wasn’t Yozora’s original deduction. He was simply copying the answer Futaba had provided in the original plotline.

The real question remained. What should he do now?

Grumble.

A soft, distinct rumble from Mai’s stomach shattered the tense silence.

As a senior who prided herself on being a mature adult, she displayed extraordinary composure. Facing such a socially fatal moment, Mai merely allowed a faint dusting of pink to cross her cheeks. She coughed twice into her fist.

“I’m hungry.”

‘You can really keep your composure,’ Yozora mused. Codename: The Composure User.

“Then let’s eat first.” Yozora turned to Futaba, his tone completely unapologetic. “It’s decided. We’re freeloading at your place for dinner.”

“Huh? At my place?” Futaba blinked, caught entirely off guard. She hesitated, adjusting her glasses. “But… my family situation is a bit special. My parents aren’t home, and I’m the only one…”

“If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t be going. Come on, let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later.

“Your house is really big.”

Listening to Yozora’s casual observation, Futaba sighed, offering a noncommittal response. “It’s alright.”

Both of her parents were highly accomplished individuals. Financial stability was a given; Futaba had never once worried about money. Her problems were simply the kind that wealth could never solve.

“Make yourselves at home. Please, sit anywhere.”

Mai seemed a little out of her element. She slipped off her shoes, her feet clad in sheer black stockings stepping softly onto the polished wooden floor. “Thank you for having me on my first visit,” she said with practiced elegance.

Yozora ignored all etiquette, throwing himself onto the plush sofa and sprawling out. “Even if you talk to her, she can’t hear you.”

Mai paused, a flash of realization crossing her delicate features. ‘That’s true.’ She lowered her voice. “Then please tell her for me. Thank you.”

“Hey, Futaba.”

“Hmm, what is it?”

“Sakurajima Mai says, ‘Thank you for having her on her first visit.'”

Futaba sighed heavily, massaging her temples. She pulled two packets of instant ramen from the overhead cabinet. As she set the water to boil, she shot him a helpless look. “So… who exactly is Sakurajima Mai? Please stop saying strange things.”

Her voice was perfectly steady. Her expression was a mask of academic calm.

In reality, her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs.

What to do, what to do, what to do?

Why did it turn out like this? This was the first time a peer had ever come to her apartment to hang out.

And it was a boy!

Calm down. Breathe.

Calm down, you’re Rio Futaba! Just interact with Yozora normally, exactly as you usually would.

The atmosphere inside the spacious apartment was incredibly complex. To the naked eye, there were two people. In reality, there were three.

For Futaba, the count was two.

For Yozora and Mai, the count was three.

Yozora leaned back against the cushions. If Hachishaku hadn’t gone to work today and had tagged along instead, this little gathering would have been a real circus.

While waiting for the water to boil, Yozora studied Mai. She sat gracefully on the opposite end of the sofa, her posture impeccably straight.

“Were you the one following Futaba these past few days?”

The word following clearly struck a nerve. Mai frowned, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. “To say following is a bit inappropriate,” she replied, her tone cooling. “Futaba-san and I were simply taking the same route home. She just couldn’t see me. I wasn’t intentionally hiding my presence.”

“I see.” Yozora nodded slowly. “So, what do you want?”

Mai fell silent. Then, with chilling calmness, she dropped a bombshell.

“Yozora. If I’m not mistaken, your Supernatural Quantum Mechanics Investigation and Research Club isn’t just some high school whim. It genuinely handles supernatural events. In fact…” She locked eyes with him. “Some of your members are supernatural ability users themselves, right?”

Facing her absolute certainty, Yozora didn’t miss a beat. He shook his head and delivered a rapid-fire triple denial.

“I’m not, I didn’t, don’t talk nonsense.”

Mai blinked. In her mental script, the entire conversation depended on Yozora admitting the truth. This shameless, flat-out denial completely derailed her momentum, leaving her momentarily speechless.

If Shizuka or Haruno were here, they would have recognized the tactic instantly.

It was starting. Yozora’s signature move: turning the plaintiff into the defendant. A flawless reversal of offense.

Mai took a slow breath, forcing her composure back into place. “You don’t need to deny it. I personally witnessed the entire process. I saw your club member, Yotsuya Miko, fighting with some kind of existence.”

Yozora’s reply was dry and immediate. “She has puberty syndrome.”

If Miko were present, a massive, glowing question mark would have materialized above her head. ‘I’m a chuunibyou?’

Mai believed her logic was airtight. But from that single accusation, Yozora had already extracted two critical pieces of intel.

First, as Mai’s syndrome worsened, Miko, who possessed high-level spiritual sight, could no longer perceive her. Miko was naive, but she wasn’t stupid enough to actively perform an exorcism in front of a normal civilian. The only logical explanation was that Miko couldn’t see Mai at all. By extension, the Hyakume and Hachishaku were also blind to her.

Second, the blindness was mutual. Mai couldn’t see Evil Spirits, ghosts, or Soul Manifestations. If she could actually see the grotesque, towering forms of Hachishaku and the Hyakume, she wouldn’t be sitting here calmly trying to negotiate.

“The noodles are ready.”

Futaba walked into the living room, carrying two steaming bowls of instant ramen. She set them down carefully on the glass coffee table.

Yozora glanced at Mai, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You eat first.”

Mai hesitated, her pride warring with her empty stomach. Ultimately, she offered a shy nod. “Then, I won’t be polite.”

She leaned forward. Her left hand elegantly brushed her hair back, while her right hand steadied the hot bowl. Her lips parted slightly as she blew a gentle stream of air over the steaming broth.

The subtle movement carried an obvious, mature allure.

Of course, Yozora’s attention was focused entirely elsewhere.

“Eh? Did I only make one bowl…?”

Futaba stared at the table, genuine confusion swirling in her eyes. She stood up abruptly. “You eat first. I’ll go make another one.”

As she retreated toward the kitchen, she muttered under her breath, “How could this be… Is my memory getting bad lately?”

Watching Mai delicately sip the broth, Yozora’s smirk widened. ‘As expected.’

Anything she touched was instantly dragged into her field of cognitive erasure. Because of this rule, Futaba wouldn’t witness the terrifying spectacle of a ramen bowl floating in mid-air and emptying itself.

This ability… it was absurdly overpowered.

I, Yozora, officially declare you the strongest mental patient.

Sensing his burning, analytical stare, Mai shrank back against the sofa cushions. She crossed her arms defensively over her chest, eyeing him with deep suspicion. “You’re staring at me like that… you aren’t thinking of something bad, are you?”

“Mai.”

“W-what?”

“Join the Supernatural Quantum Mechanics Investigation and Research Club!”

Mai clearly hadn’t anticipated the sudden recruitment pitch. Her brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

Yozora leaned forward, his voice dripping with righteous conviction. “Saving the world needs your strength!”

“I’m not interested in saving the world.”

“I’ll provide you with three meals a day.”

Mai inhaled sharply. “Hiss… If that’s the case…”

She was visibly tempted. Once the cognitive erasure took full effect, her greatest obstacle wasn’t loneliness, it was starvation. Cashiers couldn’t see her to ring up purchases, and her apartment was out of ingredients.

Simply put, she was starving.

The solution to her predicament was actually incredibly simple: just steal the food. With an ability that erased her and anything she touched from human perception, a person with Yozora’s moral compass would be living like a king.

Doing whatever he pleased. Taking whatever he wanted.

Unfortunately for Mai, her moral baseline was significantly higher than Yozora’s, mostly because Yozora didn’t have one. Even with zero risk of getting caught, her pride and ethics wouldn’t allow her to stoop to thievery.

Survival had become a very real, very pressing threat.

, she couldn’t suppress her curiosity regarding the Supernatural Society. She had seen Miko wielding an ancient, lethal-looking longsword in a dark alley. Mai knew what chuunibyou behavior looked like. But what kind of delusional teenager used a genuinely dangerous, priceless antique as a prop for a skit?

More, she needed an answer to her own mystery.

Why was Yozora the only person left in the world who could still see her?

After weighing her options, Mai finally gave a stiff nod. “I can temporarily join the club. But let’s be clear, if the club engages in any strange activities, I won’t participate.”

“Don’t worry, our club activities are perfectly normal. We just tour Kyoto and collect observations along the way.”

“That’s good.”

Though Mai privately suspected those sounded exactly like the activities of a generic tourism club, she didn’t press the issue.

Yozora leaned back, thoroughly satisfied.

Mai was a unique specimen. She was the first confirmed case of Puberty Syndrome he had encountered. According to Futaba’s scientific theories, the syndrome was a byproduct of quantum entanglement.

But Yozora knew better. This was a supernatural anomaly.

Judging by Mai’s behavior, her condition was a recent development. Was there a hidden link between the outbreak of Puberty Syndrome and the mysterious gates manifesting across Kyoto?

He was incredibly eager to carve out the truth.

“Phew, so hot, so hot.”

Futaba hurried back into the living room, carefully balancing the fresh bowl of ramen. She set it down and immediately grabbed her earlobes, looking exactly like a cat that had burned its paws stealing fish.

She pulled off her glasses, which had completely fogged over from the steam, and swept her long gray hair over her shoulders.

“About today’s matter,” Futaba began, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. She pursed her lips. “Thank you.”

Yozora knew exactly what she meant. There was no point in playing dumb. He waved a hand dismissively. “It was nothing. Not worth mentioning. Besides, I actually enjoyed it.”

Futaba gave him a flat look. “This… Have you considered getting your violent tendencies checked by a professional?”

“Don’t talk nonsense. I don’t have violent tendencies.”

Futaba frowned. How could someone without violent tendencies strike with such brutal, calculated force during a simple student dispute?

Reading the skepticism on her face, Yozora offered a lazy shrug. “My standards for action are actually very simple.”

He rested his chin on his hand. “If someone does something that warrants punishment, then I give them the punishment they deserve. The pain they endure doesn’t come from me; it comes from their own mistakes. Pain is simply the most efficient mechanism for correcting errors.”

Futaba pressed her lips together, entirely unsure of how to counter that logic.

Something felt wrong. But she couldn’t isolate the flaw in his reasoning.

Punishment? Correcting mistakes?

It sounded so intensely chuunibyou.

And yet… when a student who operated with near-total immunity within the school hierarchy spoke those words, it ceased to be a mere delusion. Yozora could get away with almost anything as long as he didn’t cross a fatal line.

Futaba vaguely sensed that his philosophy extended far beyond today’s hallway brawl. There were darker depths to his words that she couldn’t quite fathom.

“So, according to your logic…” Futaba asked softly, her brow furrowed. “You believe what you do is inherently right?”

“I never said that.”

The indifferent, dry smile returned to Yozora’s face. He spread his hands. “I don’t care if what I do is right or wrong. As I said: I wanted to, and I could, so I did it.”

He blew gently on his noodles, his dark eyes entirely devoid of hesitation. “What I pursue is complete and utter freedom. Unbound by anyone, or anything.”

After finishing his meal, Yozora let himself out.

Sitting alone in the quiet apartment, Futaba felt a wave of relief wash over her, followed immediately by a strange, hollow sense of loss.

Did he really just come over to freeload a meal?

How broke did a person have to be to hustle a bowl of instant ramen? Judging by Yozora’s pristine uniform and general demeanor, he didn’t look impoverished.

“Wait, no…”

Futaba’s gaze drifted lazily across the glass coffee table. She froze.

Why… were there three empty bowls?

She had only prepared two bowls for herself, hadn’t she?

Wait a minute. When she first opened the cabinet, she distinctly remembered pulling out two packets. So why did she later believe she had only made one?

“Sakurajima Mai?”

Futaba murmured the unfamiliar name, her analytical mind shifting into high gear.

She possessed absolutely no memory of this senior. Yet, she perfectly remembered the fact that Yozora had spoken the name aloud.

Reaching into her lab coat pocket, Futaba pulled out a small notebook. The pages were filled with transcripts of her daily conversations with Yozora, data she had previously categorized as the nonsensical ramblings of a chuunibyou patient.

“A world that can only be discovered through cognition…”

“Cognition, and thus the ability to change oneself.”

“Schrödinger’s Cat. Before observation, its state of existence cannot be determined. A contradiction between the two states…”

Futaba muttered to herself, uncapping a ballpoint pen. She began scribbling rapid, seemingly disconnected phrases across the paper, drawing sharp lines to link concepts only her genius mind could bridge.

“Yozora, from every conceivable angle, does not fit the psychological profile of a chuunibyou patient.”

“The world he envisions operates on entirely different physics.”

Based on the data she had compiled over the past few weeks, Futaba realized a terrifying truth. The reality Yozora described fundamentally contradicted the escapist fantasies of a typical delusional teenager.

In the mind of a chuunibyou, the real world is built without confusion. Every fantastical element serves to fulfill the patient’s deepest psychological desires, whether it be a desperate need for validation, self-satisfaction, or an escape from trauma. Every delusion traces back to that single point of origin.

However, the world Yozora constructed lacked any clear psychological goal.

More, as the supposed architect of this delusion, he shouldn’t be encountering unknown variables within his own construct. A virtual world built by a human mind is constructed entirely from knowns.

Futaba wrote furiously for nearly half an hour before her pen finally stilled.

Her thoughts were a tangled, chaotic mess. She felt as though she was standing millimeters away from the absolute truth, yet lacked the final key to unlock it.

Inadvertently, her peripheral vision snagged on the three empty bowls sitting on the table.

The name Sakurajima Mai echoed repeatedly through her consciousness.

Futaba’s pupils dilated slightly. A radical, impossible hypothesis bloomed in her mind.

“Cognition… so it can be observed. Could it be… that this is what he meant?”

Rio Futaba was a genius in the truest sense of the word.

The sudden, inexplicable introduction of Mai’s name. The impossible third bowl of ramen. Her own fragmented, contradictory memory of the evening’s events.

By synthesizing those three isolated data points, she had almost perfectly deduced the terrifying truth behind Sakurajima Mai’s existence, and the hidden mechanics of the world itself.