Tokyo's Phantom Thief

"Kamoshida Suguru. Olympic gold medalist… Why would Rinto-senpai ask about him?"

At the Yoshizawa residence, Sumire had already taken a shower and was doing her nightly stretches on a yoga mat while scrolling on her phone, trying to dig up info on Kamoshida.

She'd already gone full spoiled-daughter mode on her father—a high-ranking judge—hoping he'd use his network to investigate the man.

He'd said no, of course. But Sumire knew he would end up doing it anyway. He always caved to her when she acted cute.

So all that was left now was to wait for his results. In the meantime, she was poking around the internet on her own.

Her long, lean legs eased effortlessly into a full front split—something she could hold for minutes on end. Basic training for a rhythmic gymnast.

Still holding that position, she scrolled absentmindedly through her phone.

"Mm… As expected, there's not much info online. The hype's long gone. Just a has-been sports celebrity at this point."

If Kamoshida had really been caught harassing someone like Ann, there's no way he'd be teaching at a school like Shujin in broad daylight.

Athletic fame faded quickly. Sumire's mood turned a little somber.

Sure, Kamoshida's name would probably stay searchable online for decades—he had won Japan its first-ever gold medal in volleyball, and back then the media had hyped him up as "The King of the Volleyball Kingdom."

But here in the present, that "king" was just a regular P.E. teacher.

Sumire had a decent understanding of the industry. She could guess that Kamoshida was probably recruited by Shujin Academy's principal with a generous salary offer.

Though "generous" was relative—his peak was years ago. That paycheck probably wasn't anything wild.

That was the reality of life after sports. Youth really was fleeting.

You won a gold medal, got your fame and endorsements, and that was basically your entire career's earnings in one shot.

Of course, there were exceptions.

Some athletes parlayed their fame into success in other industries. Some became coaches or influencers or businesspeople.

But what Sumire cared about wasn't the money. It was the loss of being an "athlete."

She couldn't even imagine what she'd do if she stopped gymnastics.

She and Kasumi had been scouted when they were still in elementary school, and they'd poured everything—time, energy, love—into the sport.

Outside of gymnastics, Sumire had no real hobbies. No forms of entertainment she truly enjoyed.

Cooking, cleaning, doing housework…

None of that counted as "liking something." She only did it because it earned her praise from her parents.

And deep down… there was a selfish reason too.

Kasumi was better. In every competition, Kasumi placed higher.

To get even a sliver of their parents' attention, to win at something, Sumire started picking up other skills.

But even she found those thoughts bitter and twisted—thoughts she could never share with anyone.

Especially not with her sister. Especially not with Rinto.

The day she almost got hit by that truck, the day Rinto saved her—it had started with her throwing a fit after a bad training session.

She'd been childish. Stupid. She knew that now. She'd never do something like that again.

…But still. Still…

If I washed out of gymnastics because my scores weren't good enough, but Kasumi kept shining… would Rinto-senpai still look at me? Would he still care about me more… or would his attention go back to her?

Thoughts like that… were awful.

Which meant she must be awful too.

Sumire's stomach curled with self-loathing. She gave up on researching Kamoshida altogether.

Instead, she reached under the bed and pulled out a vacuum-sealed bag.

Inside, neatly folded and perfectly pressed, was an article of clothing. Something that had once belonged to a certain healthy, kind-hearted young man—someone close to her in age.

Of course, she'd washed it before sealing it. There was no scent left.

She wasn't that bold yet. She still only had the courage to look at it.

Sleeping with something that still had the original scent… that was a step too far. Her fragile, sensitive heart wasn't ready for that.

But someday…

A girl's desires only grew with time.

Sumire hugged the vacuum-sealed clothing to her chest and took a deep, shivering breath.

"Kamoshida Suguru of Shujin Academy… Is there something more I could do for Rinto-senpai…?"

[Target located. Navigating now.]

"Wah!?"

Sumire jolted upright.

Her phone had suddenly spoken aloud, an emotionless electronic voice cutting through the room.

She picked it up cautiously, fingers trembling as she tapped at the screen.

"What is this app…? 'Metaverse Navigator'… huh!?"

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.

She'd never seen this app before. The icon was a giant, unblinking eye—unsettling in its own right.

But the word Metaverse… it sent a jolt through her nerves.

Because three months ago, she had been to such a place.

Back then, she'd thought she was going to die—flung in front of an oncoming truck.

And then, like a miracle, Rinto had grabbed her and Kasumi and brought them into an "other world." That strange, unreal space had saved their lives.

From that moment on, the sisters knew without a doubt—Rinto wasn't just some nice guy. He was the legendary Phantom Thief of Hearts.

He really had supernatural powers.

Sumire had never imagined something so fantastical could happen to her.

But when it did, all she felt was… thrill.

"But… should I really open this without asking senpai…?"

She hesitated.

She knew Rinto didn't like talking about this stuff. He didn't want her or Kasumi poking into it.

If she acted without asking, he might lose trust in her. He might not smile at her the same way.

That single thought was like a bucket of cold water over her excited little head.

…But the temptation didn't stop.

[Use it.]

Sumire felt a pressure on her hand—like someone else was pressing her fingers against the screen.

She looked up, startled.

And saw… herself.

An exact copy of herself, standing there in front of her.

It wasn't Kasumi. It wasn't her sister. It was her. But different.

This version of her had golden eyes that shimmered unnaturally—and she was guiding Sumire's hand with eerie calm.

[Even if something goes wrong, it won't be our fault. Senpai's so kind—he'll understand. He'll comfort us.]

[And if it does go wrong… if it's something he has to fix, something that makes him rush in to save us… isn't that even better? You know it. He says he wants to retire, but he can't not help someone in need. And we could be the one he protects. The one who gets all of his attention. Even more than Kasumi.]

…Gulp.

As Sumire looked down at the phone again, the golden-eyed version of herself had vanished.

A hallucination.

Just her own "bad girl" side talking.

"…So… how do I use this navigator?"