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393 Kill Her! Bury Her in My Backyard!
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 15:00:14 +0000 UTCAs the thunderous chorus of greetings echoed through the air, Kyousuke nodded in satisfaction.
Returning the salute with a calm nod, he then turned toward the neighbors who had poked their heads out of their windows in shock.
He gave them a polite smile, but without exception, they all responded with awkward grins before quickly shutting their windows.
“Alright, let’s go in.”
He gently patted Eriri on the shoulder—who appeared to be completely lost in a daydream—and led the way forward.
As they walked, every black-suited man they passed bowed their heads deeply out of respect.
One by one, starting with Kisaki at the front, the group followed Kyousuke into the company building.
The interior decor of the office matched the exterior’s spartan gray aesthetic—it looked like they had only done the bare minimum.
But Eriri didn’t seem to mind.
Her bright smile hadn’t faded for even a second.
Right at the entrance, lining the hallway leading to the stairs, were posters plastered all over the wall:
One Punch Man, Attack on Titan, The Mafia Prince and the Doujin Artist, The Devotion of Suspect X, Sword Art Online, Sayuka's Assault...
“Nice, nice—it really does feel like an animation company.”
Eriri’s cheeks flushed as she spotted her own doujin covers proudly displayed on the wall.
Embarrassed? Maybe a little.
But even more than that—she was thrilled.
And the reason was obvious…
“I want in too! As a screenwriter, I’m more than qualified!” Uttering this with a frosty expression, Utaha stared indignantly.
Even her own fan-made works had made it onto the wall—yet the author herself was left out?!
“No way!” Eriri immediately rejected her.
“That’s not up for debate!”
“It is! I said no, and that’s final!”
“Let me guess—you’ve got some shady tools stashed in the office, and you’re scared I’ll expose your dark, pervy secrets?”
“You’re the last person I’d let near the company! You look like the type who’d sexually harass the president on the job!
For the health and safety of our workplace, absolutely not! Right, Kyousuke?!” Eriri grabbed onto Kyousuke’s sleeve with urgency.
“Kyousuke?” Utaha’s voice turned sweet and trembling, her wine-red eyes glistening with fake tears, full of exaggerated injustice.
“We already have someone for screenwriting. You can be the production supervisor’s assistant instead,” Kyousuke said with a cough, trying to ignore the vivid mental images Eriri’s words had conjured.
For shame, Sawamura.
As they climbed to the second floor, the group trailing behind had thinned out, now consisting of only Kisaki and a few staff members who had reports to deliver.
The first floor was mostly support facilities—rest areas, tea rooms, a smoking lounge, and a few offices.
The second floor, however, was pure business: workspaces for keyframes, photography, animation, and fully equipped production gear. It was all in pristine, unused condition.
But even so, for the two girls seeing it for the first time (unlike Kyousuke, who had visited before), the space was electrifying.
This wasn’t some imaginary company cobbled together with pretty words—this was a real, functioning animation studio, fully capable of starting production at any moment.
As they took it all in—the brand-new desks and computers, the spotless floors, the gleaming windows...
Eriri suddenly turned on her heel, her expression deadly serious.
“We should just kill Kosaka Akane. Bury her in my backyard. No way the cops in Japan would think to check there.”
No way I’m letting her ruin the company Kyousuke and I are building together!
“You idiot! Don’t say stuff like that in front of people!” Kasumigaoka scolded her sharply.
“Oh, right.” Eriri looked over her shoulder warily at Kisaki and the others.
Kyousuke could only shake his head and chuckle.
When it really came down to that kind of dirty work… the people behind him would be the ones carrying it out.
Meanwhile, Kisaki was screaming internally: If the boss ever gives the order, I’ll be the first to act!
After finishing their tour of the second floor, the group headed up to the third.
Just outside the first room—a large one with glass doors—stood a signboard:
Two glasses tilted toward each other in a celebratory toast, filled with bubbling brown liquid.
This was the meeting room, now prepped to serve as the interview venue.
The space was tidy and bare, save for a single row of chairs in the back—and one lone chair in the center.
“What do you think? I designed the logo myself!” Eriri beamed with pride, turning toward Utaha.
“What, planning to switch to the soda business when this company tanks?” Utaha shot back without hesitation.
“Hmph! Once we become Japan’s number one animation studio, brands like Coca-Cola and Pepsi will be fighting over who gets to claim the drink in our logo is theirs!”
Eriri proudly unveiled her capitalist master plan.
And of course, once they were rolling in sponsor money, she’d demand a lifetime supply of cola for herself and Kyousuke.
Then she’d be the envy of every otaku in Japan.
“...Enjoy your cavities,” Utaha said, twitching at the corner of her mouth, clearly out of energy to argue.
“I’ll use a straw!” the blonde shot back triumphantly.
Beyond the meeting room, the third floor held executive offices and special-use rooms, including a sound studio.
Most small studios wouldn’t splurge on such a facility—but Kyousuke wasn’t short on money, and since they already had voice actors on board, of course he’d build one.
At the far end of the hall stood the CEO’s office, marked by a grand black wooden door that screamed “expensive.”
As Kyousuke reached for the handle, Kisaki clenched his fists and forced himself to resist the urge to open it for him.
Not when the ladies were around. Not today.
“Please, come in—my dear director and esteemed screenwriter,” Kyousuke said with a smile and a slight bow, gesturing warmly.
Eriri nodded with a demure smile—though her lips were so curled up in joy it lost all composure and just looked adorably youthful.
Hearing how Hojou referred to her, Utaha’s face blossomed with a radiant smile.
She returned his gesture with a graceful nod and stepped into the room.
The office was lavish, practically the size of half a conference room.
Two of the walls were made entirely of glass, offering a view of the lush trees and the stately gray temple rooftops across the street.
The remaining walls were simply painted white.
Near the door sat a sleek black leather couch, and at the far end stood an enormous wooden desk, with a massive executive chair—the kind Eriri had pictured for a mafia boss.
“Waaah…” Eriri let out a soft gasp, then clip-clopped across the polished floor.
She ran her fingers along the back of the sofa, pressed her palm against the window, then circled to the desk, lightly brushing the elegant wooden grain with her fingertips.
Then she turned, gently twisting her waist, and looked toward the boy standing in the center of the room.
Those sapphire-blue eyes sparkled with unspoken questions, her whole face glowing with excitement.
Kyousuke could only feel overwhelmed with satisfaction.
“Please, take a seat—my princess.”
Of course, he hadn’t forgotten the sultry queen either.
With another charming smile, he turned to Utaha and led her over to the sofa.
“Just like a kid visiting their dad’s office for the first time,” he said softly.
Watching Eriri spin endlessly in the chair, Kasumigaoka couldn’t help but mutter a quiet remark under her breath, though her face was full of affection.
Maybe she couldn’t quite reach the same carefree joy as that idiot—but just seeing it was enough to make her feel lighter, her mood unconsciously lifted.
“This is what an entrepreneur should look like, isn’t it? That feeling of accomplishment—that’s what it’s all about,” Kyousuke said as he leaned back against the sofa, letting his body relax.
Being here, in a space entirely his own, surrounded by competent and loyal subordinates—even he couldn’t help but feel at ease.
Utaha was just as thrilled.
She had always believed that Kyousuke would eventually surpass Kosaka Akane without breaking a sweat, rising to a level where everyone would have to look up to him.
But seeing him every day cooking in the kitchen for her, brushing her hair, or lying on top of her like a desperate, hungry little boy—it gave her the illusion that maybe, just maybe, they were all just ordinary people.
But now, sitting in this impressive office, in the heart of this brand-new company…
Sure, it might not even be as grand as one of her family's branch offices, but the progress he had made was undeniable.
All he needed was a little push—and this lazy lion would rise and roar loud enough to shake the world.
Eriri had been spinning in that oversized chair for a while now.
Maybe she got dizzy, or maybe she finally realized how out of place her petite frame looked sitting in such a grand seat.
Or perhaps, it was the sight of Kyousuke watching her with the same gentle expression her father used to wear.
With a grumpy huff, she finally stomped over.
“Hmph!”
She had originally planned to stomp hard on his foot, but when she saw the gleam of his polished black shoes, she hesitated.
Dirtying them would only make her look foolish.
Instead, she decided to hold onto that grudge for now—and settle the score when the time was right.
“I’ve got something to take care of downstairs,” she huffed, tossing the words over her shoulder before storming out the door.
Kyousuke watched the door slowly swing shut, then turned toward Kisaki Tetta.
“Is everything ready?”
“Yes,” Kisaki nodded. “Everyone who resubmitted their resumes has been assigned someone to help them through the process. Also, as you requested, the interview times have been delayed by an hour.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Kyousuke gave an approving nod and let out a deep breath.
So, how do you deal with someone like Kosaka Akane?
Someone proud, confident, and convinced of their own infallible path to victory?
You simply lay down the perfect path in front of them—and they’ll walk right into the trap.
Eriri wasn’t wrong earlier.
Every battle is won in the mind before it's won in reality.
Even before they met face-to-face, Kosaka Akane had already made a strong opening move—flexing her strength, making it clear she was not to be taken lightly.
Anyone else would have been shaken, thrown off balance before the match even began.
And even if they did muster the courage to stand before her, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
But his plan? Wait until she’s basking in her own confidence, believing everything’s under her control—and then strike.
A clean, decisive blow to shatter her illusion of dominance.
Queen of the industry, huh? Such a grand title.
Someone that arrogant, that convinced of her own supremacy—if she saw her cold, calculated tactics crumble right before her eyes, she'd be stunned.
And that would be enough to win the psychological battle that Eriri talked about.
She might think she’s in control—but everything was already in the palm of his hand.
And beyond that, Kyousuke had a few more surprises up his sleeve, all waiting for Kosaka Akane’s arrival.
As he casually discussed future company plans with Utaha-senpai, the office door suddenly flew open.
“Ugh—I'm exhausted.”
It wasn’t Kosaka Akane stepping through the door, but Eriri, now wearing a pink off-shoulder top and a light green skirt.
In her arms was a long, wooden box—easily over a meter in length.
‘Thud!’
She dropped the box onto the desk with a heavy sound.
Kyousuke didn’t even need to open it to know exactly what it was.
“…It hasn’t come to this yet. I have other plans, you know.”
And just like that, the ever-confident Kyousuke got a taste of what it was like when things spiraled out of his control—well in advance of Kosaka Akane even arriving.
“What? This took me forever to find!”
Eriri unclipped the box, flipping it open to reveal a gleaming katana, its blade a sleek combination of black and silver.
“Take a look! Dad said he pulled a ton of strings with the Ministry of Culture just to get this—it's a blade forged by Master Tsukiyama Teiichi himself!”
Kyousuke stared down at the sword.
The black lacquered sheath gleamed like a piece of fine art, with subtle brownish patterns running across it like lightning bolts.
The tsuba—the handguard—was round, engraved with maple leaves.
Aside from the black scabbard, everything else from the hilt wrap to the fittings shimmered in silver.
“Wait… are you talking about that Tsukiyama Teiichi? The one officially recognized as a Living National Treasure?” Kisaki Tetta asked in disbelief.
“Huh? I think so? I heard the polishing was done by another National Treasure too,” Eriri replied offhandedly.
This is what you meant by “hard to find”? Kyousuke chuckled inwardly.
The one who really suffered must’ve been poor Mr. Spencer.
Still, under the girl's expectant gaze, he reached out and picked up the sword.
“Does it have a name?” he asked as he stood up.
What had seemed long when Eriri was holding it looked perfectly sized in his hands.
“Shirogane—‘Silverlight’! I named it!” she said proudly, hands on her hips.
Kyousuke looked at the beautiful blade in his hand, then silently apologized to the master swordsmith.
He was sure the sword once had a more fitting name before Eriri got to it.
“It’s a beautiful name,” he said sincerely.
“Well? Aren’t you going to draw it? Kisaki, go grab something for Kyousuke to test it on!”
Kisaki didn’t hesitate for even a second—he bolted out of the room like his life depended on it, terrified the fake foreigner might suddenly decide he should be the one to test the blade.
Kyousuke slowly drew the sword from its sheath.
Inch by inch, the dazzling silver blade revealed itself, its surface gleaming under the light.
Elegant wave-like patterns ran along the steel—like ripples frozen in time.
“So cool...” Eriri whispered in awe, though the gleam in her blue eyes wasn’t directed at the sword at all—it was entirely fixed on Kyousuke himself.
Beside her, Kasumigaoka Utaha looked just as stunned.
Sure, she’d watched plenty of videos of Kyousuke practicing swordsmanship before—but this was the first time she saw him holding a real blade.
‘Damn it... Why didn’t I think of getting him a gift like this?’ she thought, frustrated.
Before long, Kisaki Tetta returned, carrying both a wooden sword and a bamboo one.
It wasn’t all that unusual for an animation studio to keep training weapons around—for character design references, motion capture sessions, or other creative needs.
“Try the bamboo one first,” Kyousuke suggested.
Fortunately, the office was large enough to accommodate the impromptu test.
Kyousuke and Kisaki stepped to the center of the room.
Kisaki took a chūdan stance, holding the bamboo sword at the ready.
Kyousuke, meanwhile, had already tucked "Shirogane" into his belt.
Since he finally had a sword with a sheath, he wanted to try out iaijutsu—the art of drawing and striking in one fluid motion.
His left hand rested firmly on the sheath, thumb pressing lightly against the tsuba.
His right hand hovered above the hilt, relaxed but ready.
His shoulders sank.
His entire posture shifted—instinctively entering a battle-ready state.
As Kisaki stood in front of him, he found himself pinned under Kyousuke’s gaze—those jet-black eyes devoid of emotion.
Cold. Sharp. Piercing.
Kisaki gulped.
Sweat rolled down his forehead.
If he didn’t know for certain that the boss would never actually hurt him, he might’ve already dropped to his knees, begging for mercy.
Eriri had just opened her mouth to shout "Start!"—when the clear, chilling clang of steel rang out.
‘SHING—'
A flash of silver split the air.
It looked like a single slash.
Just one.
But the bamboo sword in Kisaki’s hands had been sliced clean into three pieces.
Before the pieces even hit the floor, Kyousuke was already standing behind Kisaki, resheathing the blade with practiced elegance.
He turned slightly, still smiling in admiration at "Shirogane" as he let it slide fully into the scabbard with a soft click.
“As expected of a fine sword. Not just a beautiful exterior—it performs its job perfectly too.”
Only when he heard Kyousuke’s voice did Kisaki finally snap out of his trance.
The yellow of his irises still seemed to reflect the ghostly blur of Kyousuke’s movement right before the strike.
‘Too fast! Way too fast!’
‘So this is what real iaijutsu looks like?!’
Still shaking, Kisaki turned to face him—his expression now replaced with pure awe.
“That was amazing!” Eriri cheered as she rushed over, practically bouncing on her feet. “Quick, draw it again! I wanna check if the blade got damaged!”
“So dramatic…” Kasumigaoka’s eyes sparkled as she spoke, clearly mesmerized. “A man’s strength really shows through in violent moments like these...”
‘Fools!’ Kisaki screamed inwardly. ‘You don’t even understand how terrifyingly strong he actually is!’
That strike just now—forget old men with 8th or 9th dan iaido rankings.
Even if a legendary swordmaster from history were resurrected on the spot—they’d be cleaved in half by that slash!
Kisaki’s heart was a storm of emotions.
Something inside him stirred violently—a long-forgotten, distorted dream began to rise back to the surface.
‘Boss… could probably block bullets by now, right?’
