Kaguya-sama Wants My Surrender!

"…Do I look good?" 

The cold, raspy voice sent chills down Sajuna's spine, and panic set in almost instantly. 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman! 

[Note: If I share a scary image, it might make many uncomfortable, so I'll only post a non-scary one. If you're curious about how scary it is, you can search for it yourself.]

The windbreaker, the mask, and 'that' infamous line—it could only be her. 

As one of Japan's most terrifying urban legends of the last century, her story was known from Hokkaido in the north to the southernmost islands. 

The legend described her as a ghostly figure who wandered near schools, seeking out lone individuals. She would ask her victims unsettling questions like, "Am I pretty?" or "Am I beautiful?" 

No matter how the question was answered, the victim's fate was always gruesome. Either they were killed outright or mutilated—left with a gaping slit across their face. 

What do I do? 

Sajuna turned in desperation to Amamiya, her eyes wide with fear, pleading for help. 

"Just stay calm," Amamiya whispered, meeting her gaze with a reassuring glance. Then he casually turned to the store manager and said: 

"Manager, someone is harassing your staff. Are you just going to stand there and do nothing?" 

Sajuna: "…" 

The store manager, busy preparing a thick omelette, didn't even flinch. Without looking up, he replied slowly: 

"As an employee, it's your duty to provide satisfactory service to all customers." 

Sajuna's heart sank.

Another rule of this strange restaurant, it seemed. 

Being a waiter wasn't a free pass to safety. Even employees weren't immune to the dangers posed by supernatural customers. Poor service could lead to dire consequences. 

The manager wasn't going to help. Sajuna realized she was on her own. 

"Miss, please hear me out," Amamiya said, stepping forward to shield Sajuna. He calmly faced the Slit-Mouthed Woman, his tone steady and matter-of-fact. 

"This is my companion. But… she isn't human." 

"Huh?" Sajuna blinked, staring up at him. 

'What does he mean I'm not human?' 

Amamiya didn't pause, continuing with a completely straight face: 

"She's actually an all-purpose household angel. Unfortunately, due to a program error, she's currently only capable of saying one phrase: 'Welcome.' She's better known as Repeater-01." 

Sajuna: "…" 

That's ridiculous! 

Before Sajuna could react, Amamiya reached out and patted her head gently. 

"Tell me, what's the recommended dish today?" 

'Why are you patting my head?!' 

Sajuna clenched her tiny fists, her face flushing red as she looked down at her feet. But she begrudgingly played along, her voice soft and obedient: 

"…Welcome." 

'Fine! I'll be your Repeater-01!' 

Amamiya's expression didn't falter. "What's the weather forecast for tomorrow?" 

"…Welcome." 

"Don't you think Miss Sakurako is elegant and charming?" 

"…Welcome." 

"…" 

Behind her round fan, Miss Sakurako chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with amusement. 

"See, dear guest?" Amamiya turned back to the Slit-Mouthed Woman, his tone sincere. "She really can only say one sentence." 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman stood motionless for a moment, her eerie mask tilting slightly. Her unsettling gaze shifted between Amamiya and Sajuna. 

'This human… how dare he toy with me?' 

Her sinister aura deepened, and her hand slipped beneath her windbreaker. Slowly, she pulled out a pair of gleaming scissors, the blades catching the dim light. 

Amamiya didn't flinch. His calm expression remained unchanged, though his eyes flickered toward her other hand. 

She was holding something else. 

A small creature. 

At first glance, it looked like a squirrel, but its glowing red eyes and twisted features marked it as something far from ordinary. Its ugly appearance was unsettling, but that wasn't the most important detail. 

What mattered was the unmistakable aura radiating from the creature—the dark, ominous energy that screamed one thing: 

'This is no ordinary animal. This is an ingredient.' 

"Is this the ingredient the customer brought for me to prepare?" Amamiya asked with a confident smile. "It'll take about 20 minutes to prepare the dish. Please, have a beer while you wait." 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman hesitated. 

Being a ghostly entity, she wasn't human. In essence, she was similar to Shimizu—both were supernatural beings bound by certain principles. 

And they shared something else in common: emptiness. 

It wasn't the physical hunger of a human body but a deep, soul-crushing void. 

Ordinary food was tasteless to them, like chewing wax—flavorless and joyless. Yet dishes crafted from 'dark ingredients' could fill that emptiness, providing a fleeting but desperately craved satisfaction. 

That's why Amamiya remained calm, unflinching in the face of this ghostly customer. 

"Let's eat first," Miss Sakurako interjected, her voice as gentle as ever. She raised her round fan to her lips, hiding a sly smile. "If you're not satisfied, you can deal with him afterward." 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman was silent for a moment before putting away her scissors and handing over the grotesque little creature in her hand. 

Amamiya took it with a professional air. "Please wait patiently, ma'am," he said politely. 

The ghost let out a soft snort of acknowledgment. 

Nearby, Sajuna nervously served two glasses of beer to the corner table where the ghostly customers sat. She avoided eye contact, trying her best to maintain composure. 

Meanwhile, Chika, entirely unbothered, continued diligently drawing maps at her station. For every completed map, she rewarded herself with a salted edamame. 

Fear? 

Not a chance. 

With Amamiya around, even a ghost with two faces could be dealt with swiftly.

In the kitchen, Amamiya began preparing the dish. 

From the moment he laid eyes on the small, beast-like creature, the steps to create the meal unfolded in his mind as if he'd performed them a thousand times before. His hands moved with fluid precision, every motion a testament to his skill. Watching him cook was mesmerizing—an artistry of seamless movements and confidence. 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman, sitting at the corner table, didn't touch the beer in front of her. Alcohol was meaningless to her—it tasted no different than water. Instead, she turned her head occasionally, glancing toward the kitchen, her curiosity and anticipation evident. 

The other patrons in the restaurant were blissfully unaware, chatting and drinking, oblivious to the supernatural tension lingering in the air. 

---

Twenty minutes passed. 

Amamiya emerged from the kitchen, holding a silver tray. He approached the Slit-Mouthed Woman's table with an air of calm authority. 

"The ingredients were fresh, and I've taken care to prepare this dish with great care," he said, placing the tray before her. "I think you'll find it more refined than the dish I served previously." 

At his words, all eyes turned toward the table. Sajuna, Chika, Miss Sakurako, and even the stoic store manager behind the counter were drawn to the scene. 

"Well then…" With a smile, Amamiya lifted the silver lid. "Please enjoy your meal." 

As the lid rose, a burst of radiant, colorful light spilled from the dish, filling the room for several seconds before slowly fading away. 

"Eh?! Eh?!" 

Sajuna and Chika both exclaimed in shock. 

"The food… it's glowing?" 

"Glowing food?" 

"That's way over the top!" Chika muttered, half in awe and half complaining. "This feels like something straight out of a manga!" 

"Well, this isn't exactly reality…" Sajuna whispered hesitantly. "So… maybe it's okay?" 

The dish was revealed: a plate of ribs. 

At first glance, it looked ordinary—even unappetizing. The ribs seemed slightly burnt, the edges blackened as if overcooked. They were coated in a thick, bubbling sauce, a dark red hue that resembled a simmering ocean of blood and tar. 

Though visually unimpressive, the earlier burst of light had left an impression, ensuring that no one dared underestimate it. 

"Miss," Amamiya said as he handed the Slit-Mouthed Woman a pair of chopsticks, "please follow my advice and enjoy the dish in the recommended order." 

She instinctively accepted the chopsticks, her ghostly nature granting her perfect ease with the tool. 

Amamiya deftly picked up a rib and placed it on a small plate, presenting it to her with the precision of a seasoned chef. 

"Start with this piece," he instructed gently. 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman hesitated, then reached up and removed her face mask. 

For the first time, her face was fully visible. 

As expected, her cheeks bore two deep, jagged slits, as though a massive pair of scissors had carved them open. The wounds were grotesque and unsettling, a testament to her eerie legend. 

"Why are you staring at me?" Amamiya frowned, his voice firm yet calm. "Once the ingredients are out of the pot, every second affects the taste. Eat quickly." 

"…Sorry!" 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman blurted out an apology, her voice tinged with shame and frustration. 

Apologizing to a mere human felt like an affront to her dignity as a ghostly legend. Yet, despite her desire to maintain some semblance of pride, her hand moved instinctively. She picked up the chopsticks, lifted a piece of the ribs, and placed it in her mouth. 

The grotesque sight of her wide, jagged smile sent a shiver down Sajuna's spine, causing her to avert her gaze. Still, she couldn't resist sneaking glances from the corner of her eye, curiosity mingling with apprehension. 

Then... 

Nothing happened. 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman's cheeks puffed as she chewed, but her expression betrayed no discernible reaction. 

"Don't stop. Take the next piece," Amamiya instructed curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Time flowed quietly as the ribs disappeared piece by piece. 

Gradually, an intoxicating aroma began to fill the restaurant. It was a rich, meaty scent that seemed to gather and thicken in the air, like storm clouds before a torrential downpour. 

At first, the Slit-Mouthed Woman's face remained composed, icy and unreadable. But as she continued to eat, cracks began to form in her cold demeanor. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her breaths grew ragged, and her eyes misted over as though overwhelmed. 

"How… how is this possible?" she murmured, her voice trembling. "I can actually… 'taste' this…" 

"Delicious…" 

"This dish… it's divine…" 

Her resolve faltered further, and she weakly leaned against the table. "I… I can't… I need to rest…" 

"Don't stop," Amamiya ordered, his tone unwavering. "There's one last piece. Open your mouth." 

"Ah…" 

Without thinking, the Slit-Mouthed Woman obeyed, parting her lips. 

With precision, Amamiya placed the final piece in her mouth. 

'Boom!' 

The flavors built up from the previous bites exploded like a volcano, detonating in her senses. The intensity was overwhelming, an eruption of pleasure that rendered her incapable of holding herself upright. She slumped against the table, trembling. 

At some point, her windbreaker had slipped off, revealing a stained, threadbare white shirt beneath. The shirt clung to her damp skin, her collar unbuttoned as she panted lightly. Her body quivered, and faint murmurs escaped her lips, incoherent and helpless. 

It was undeniable—her body and spirit had been utterly conquered by the dish.

"This… this isn't scientific!" Sajuna exclaimed in her mind, her face flushed. She crossed her legs tightly, trying to make sense of the ghostly woman's reaction. 

"It's too much," Sajuna whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "Why does it feel like something strange is going on here…?" 

Meanwhile, Chika, who had missed witnessing Miss Sakurako's earlier reactions to Amamiya's dishes, was utterly dumbfounded. 

"This is ridiculous!" she declared, her pink eyes wide with disbelief. 

Moments later, Amamiya felt a tug on his arm. He turned to see Chika's sparkling gaze fixed on him, her face tilted up like an eager cat begging for a treat. 

"I want to eat!" she declared with unrestrained enthusiasm. 

As a die-hard foodie who lived for culinary adventures, Chika couldn't resist the allure of such an extraordinary dish. The idea of food so delicious it could humble a ghost was simply too tempting to pass up. 

"This isn't regular cuisine," Amamiya replied flatly, his tone tinged with exasperation. "It's 'dark cuisine'. Humans shouldn't eat it." 

"Then make glowing food that humans 'can' eat!" Chika countered swiftly, her determination shining in her eyes. 

Her insistence earned a sigh from Amamiya, while Sajuna pricked up her ears nearby, secretly eavesdropping. 

If he could really make such a dish… even if it meant risking a reaction like the Slit-Mouthed Woman, she wanted to try it!

As the trio whispered among themselves, the Slit-Mouthed Woman slowly regained her composure. She sat upright again, her movements slightly unsteady. 

"How was it?" Miss Sakurako asked from nearby, her round fan hiding a knowing smile. "Did the dish disappoint you?" 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman said nothing, slipping her mask back over her face. She reached into her windbreaker pocket, her expression unreadable. 

Seeing the Slit-Mouthed Woman reach into her windbreaker, the two girls tensed up, their thoughts immediately jumping to the worst. 

Would she pull out a pair of scissors? 

To their relief, it wasn't scissors that emerged but a stack of banknotes. 

"This is for you," the Slit-Mouthed Woman said without hesitation, handing the money to Amamiya. 

It seemed that, in the wake of her complete defeat—body, mind, and spirit—she had decided to surrender her worldly possessions as well. 

If nothing else, this proved a universal truth: if you could truly satisfy someone in every sense, they'd part with their wealth without a second thought. 

Amamiya glanced down at the stack of notes, quickly assessing their thickness and denomination. 

Hmm. 

He was mistaken. 

The Slit-Mouthed Woman wasn't a rich patron by any stretch. Judging by the amount, her financial standing was that of an average office worker. 

After settling her payment, the Slit-Mouthed Woman pushed herself up from the table, leaning heavily on her trembling legs. Wrapping herself tightly in her windbreaker, she staggered out of the restaurant, leaving behind an awkward silence. 

Miss Sakurako remained behind, eager to partake in the spoils with Amamiya and the store manager. 

The three of them seemed to share a quiet understanding as they divided the earnings. Their smiles were broad and unrestrained—this was cause for celebration.

"You're quite impressive, little brother," Miss Sakurako purred, waving her delicate round fan. Her eyes sparkled with a peculiar warmth, and her smile was like ripe, sun-soaked fruit—tempting and irresistible. Her allure was undeniable, capable of leaving hearts racing and faces flushed. 

"Why not come home with me? I promise I won't hurt you." 

Hearing this, Chika immediately stepped forward, clinging protectively to Amamiya's arm. 

'Don't even think about it!' 

Her pink eyes blazed with determination as if to say, 'No way am I letting you do anything weird to him!' 

Sajuna hesitated, glancing between Chika and Amamiya. 

With Chika already acting as his guard, maybe her intervention wasn't necessary after all. 

"Sorry," Amamiya said politely, his tone calm but firm. "I have other matters to attend to." 

Miss Sakurako tilted her head slightly, her smile never faltering. She waved her fan, hiding half of her face. 

"Then I'll wait until you're free," she teased, her voice rich with honeyed charm. "I'll be waiting to welcome you anytime." 

She paused briefly before continuing, her tone light and conversational. "By the way, I heard some news recently. Someone saw a person who looks quite similar to you." 

Amamiya's expression shifted, his interest piqued. "What kind of person?" 

Miss Sakurako's fan fluttered gently as she spoke. "It's a girl. She has beautiful black hair and is said to be very attractive." 

"Kaguya-chan?" Chika's eyes brightened with recognition, a hopeful spark igniting within her. 

Her thoughts drifted to an earlier mention of a certain player at school who had a notorious reputation. While there was speculation about this individual's identity, relying solely on the "flat chest" trait was far from conclusive. After all, in reality, girls with smaller chests far outnumbered their more voluptuous counterparts. 

"Please share the exact location, Miss Sakurako," Amamiya said, his tone sharp and focused. 

"Be careful, little brother." 

Sakurako didn't hide it. She provided the address with a graceful flourish, waving farewell before turning to leave.

"The chances it's Kaguya are over fifty percent," Amamiya said decisively as he glanced at the address. "We're heading over there right away."