Chapter 21: Clearing Skies with You

The speeding Maybach roared through the streets of Tokyo, drawing curious glances from passersby. This car was simply too eye-catching—not because of its luxury, but because its front end was completely shattered, exposing the inner workings beneath the hood, as if it were grinning wildly.

Yet despite the damage—the missing bumper, broken headlights, and crumpled hood—it still drove with surprising vigor. Ignoring the smashed front, it could still be considered “operational.”

Xiangzi quietly rolled up the window, not wanting such a conspicuous vehicle to attract attention to her youthful face behind the wheel—far too young to possess a legitimate Japanese driver’s license.

After the adrenaline-fueled crime spree, her emotions gradually settled. Reflecting on the night’s events felt like living through a Hollywood blockbuster—thrilling and unforgettable.

Stealing someone’s car! Catching a person who jumped from the third floor! Drawing a gun and shooting at an old man! Ramming through a gate with reckless abandon!

All these could be summed up under one headline: The Bank’s Female Bandit! Was she a ruthless criminal?

The changes brought by the dragon blood seemed not only physical but psychological as well. Such things usually bring endless troubles, yet she felt exhilarated, as if soaring to the moon with pure joy.

“Serves you right for betraying Wakaba Mutsu! Serves you right for your arrogance! Don’t think you can control our fate at will!”

“You seem very happy, Xiang,” Wakaba Mutsu said from the passenger seat, watching Xiangzi’s radiant face. In her memory, Xiangzi’s smiles were always gentle—as if warmth overflowed from her, casting sunlight on everyone around.

But now, Xiangzi’s smile was mischievous and triumphant, like a child who had pulled off a prank. Hearing the furious shouts from adults behind them, she turned back, bouncing and making faces at them.

“Of course I’m happy! We really gave them a good run for their money, didn’t we?” Xiangzi pounded the steering wheel, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Otherwise, you’d be sent somewhere you hate, doing things you hate even more.”

“But we still have to go home,” Wakaba Mutsu said anxiously, glancing at the battered car.

She recognized the vehicle—it belonged to her father, Takafumi Wakaba.

He had the habit of never removing the car keys when parking in the garage since their estate and garage were sealed, making theft unlikely and ensuring convenience.

This had inadvertently provided a loophole for Xiangzi, who knew the Wakaba family’s situation well. Without this Maybach, their escape would have been impossible. Now, with it in such a state, her father would surely be furious—though money was a minor concern.

“Why go back?” Xiangzi found Wakaba’s words odd. “To let Minami betray you again? You’ll be sent off as an idol trainee! CryChic will be finished without you and me.”

Wakaba lowered her eyelids, silent—this was the last thing she wanted.

The atmosphere grew quiet. Xiangzi thought of Mettis—the personality that once inhabited Wakaba, when she spoke animatedly, with bright, charming eyes. Wakaba herself was more like a delicate doll displayed in a showcase, smiling sweetly at every passerby, but it was all a façade. Nobody truly understood her thoughts.

Because of that, her plight had been overlooked before. Had Xiangzi not been at the Wakaba household tonight, Wakaba might have vanished without a trace by morning, with no one knowing why. Like a transparent soap bubble, drifting and bursting silently.

Such a thing must never happen again. When CryChic was first formed, Xiangzi had vowed they would be a community bound by music, sharing fate together.

Some say young people come together in fleeting passion and, over time, come to see each other clearly, eventually parting ways forever. Xiangzi didn’t believe that.

She meant what she said: if gods would not show mercy but only bring suffering, then she would kick the gods off their thrones—whether Odin or Inuyama Go or whoever else.

If there are no gods in this world, then she would become the god for them all.

“Mutsu, I want to have an honest talk with you,” the Maybach turned onto a residential street, slowing down. Xiangzi’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Like when we were kids, with no secrets. Is that okay?”

“Why?” Wakaba looked puzzled by Xiangzi’s sudden seriousness.

Everyone has secrets, even the closest of friends. Some are so dark they cannot see the light; others unbearable once spoken.

Wakaba’s secret was Mettis—an eerie personality who was both her friend and a demon coveting her body, constantly tempting her to taste forbidden fruit.

She had no intention of discussing this with anyone, not even Xiangzi. Yet Xiangzi’s gaze was resolute, as if marching into battle, having made a firm decision.

“Because I want to say I’m sorry.”

Xiangzi looked up at the city outside the window—the rainbow-lit Tokyo Tower pointed straight into the starry sky.

“We’re good friends, right? But I don’t think I’ve fulfilled what a good friend should do. We studied, played, and grew up together—it seemed all happy—but I never asked about your family or did anything when you were sad. And you never did those things for me either.”

She smiled faintly. “I’m not blaming you. I just mean that kind of friendship is superficial—fair-weather friends. They share your joys but won’t stand by you in hardship. They’re not true friends.”

“What should a true friend be like?” Wakaba asked seriously, bathed in the warm glow of the car’s interior light.

“A crazy one who believes in you no matter what, who stays with you no matter what, even if the whole world betrays you, they stand by your side.”

Xiangzi said, “I think I’ve done that today. I know the trouble waiting for us ahead. Many will come demanding answers, and they’re probably furious already. When I get home, my grandfather will probably pin me down and whip me according to the Toyokawa family code, saying I’ve disgraced the family and make me apologize to those harmed.”

“But I will not surrender or regret this. This is my choice. I don’t want any of my friends to suffer even a shred of misfortune.”

Each word was deliberate, each syllable like a chisel carving a vow on an invisible stone.

Wakaba stared blankly, her eyes reflecting sparks like molten metal in Xiangzi’s.

“I’ll tell you my secret first, as a start to exchanging them,” Xiangzi turned to look into Wakaba’s eyes. “I was in a car accident not long ago, which is why I missed CryChic and couldn’t answer my phone—I was stuck in the hospital under my grandfather’s watchful eye.”

“Are you okay?” Wakaba asked.

“Very healthy. That accident took my father but made me realize I’m a dragon-blooded hybrid. Hybrids have strong bodies—that’s why I caught you and survived.”

“But hybrids are unsafe. Monsters constantly hunt our kind. That’s why my father died. So I didn’t want to tell you at first, fearing I’d drag CryChic into this. Until I met Shosei, Akari, and you…”

“I’m the same as you,” Wakaba interrupted.

There was no point hiding anymore. Xiangzi was right—without sharing secrets, their relationship remained shallow and would end in discord.

“You know about the golden eyes and dragon blood, right?” Xiangzi wasn’t surprised.

“Yes, Mettis told me,” Wakaba nodded.

“What exactly is that? Your other personality? A dragon-blooded demon residing in your body?”

“I don’t really know. She’s been with me since I was little. No one sees her, and sometimes she’s nowhere to be found. She can take over my body and do things I don’t want to do.”

“So that’s why your personality changes—because there are two Wakabas,” Xiangzi understood. “Is she dangerous to you?”

“More like she helps me... but she often wants me to make wishes to her. She says she can grant anything, but if the wish is fulfilled, I have to give up my soul.”

“That sounds terrible!” Xiangzi slammed the steering wheel in anger, shocked that such a terrifying entity lived inside Wakaba.

Should they exorcise her? Sprinkle holy water? Call a priest to recite scripture? Probably no use—all supernatural forces here relate to dragons. Mettis must have ties to words of power or alchemy.

But Xiangzi had no experience in such matters. In the hybrid world, she was a novice. The only hybrids she knew besides those close to her were Inuyama Go and Kazama Ruri, whom she couldn’t reach.

“At least... if I don’t agree, she can’t do much,” Wakaba said cautiously.

In her heart, Mettis was both feared and thanked. Neither friend nor outright enemy—more like a distant adversary and ally.

“That doesn’t mean we can be careless,” Xiangzi said seriously. “We’ll figure it out slowly. We can’t let her stay inside you forever. Who knows when she might suddenly attack?”

Her insistence was justified. When Mettis appeared before her, she completely took over Wakaba’s body, leaving Wakaba’s own spirit absent. If Mettis harbored any ill intent, Wakaba might not even have a chance to resist or call for help.

Just imagining it was terrifying. If Mettis committed crimes or atrocities, Wakaba alone would bear the consequences. Who would believe in a violent second personality?

“Yeah.”

As they spoke, the Maybach slowed further and stopped at a residential intersection, the engine dying. The fuel gauge clearly showed empty.

This noble steed had endured multiple collisions to bring them to safety, but ultimately was defeated by lack of fuel.

Both instinctively reached into their pockets, then exchanged glances, reading the same meaning in each other’s eyes—no money.

Xiangzi had brought money when she left, and Wakaba had packed her bag when carrying her to the guest room, but Xiangzi had been too focused on finding someone to bring any, and Wakaba hadn’t thought of money either. Now they were not only penniless but also without any communication devices.

A blue phone-shaped icon lit up on the dashboard with a beeping tone—someone was calling the car’s hands-free system.

At a time like this, the call surely wasn’t Mom calling them home for dinner. It had been an hour since the incident at the Wakaba estate—probably the guests had been sent away and the scene cleaned up. Whoever was calling now came to reprimand them.

Without hesitation, Xiangzi pressed the answer button.

“Mutsu? Are you in the car?” The voice on the other end was a man’s—deep and commanding. It was Takafumi Wakaba, Mutsu’s father.

“Yes, Dad,” Wakaba’s voice was faint.

“Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused? Come back immediately! Minami is furious! Apologize to her!”

On television, Takafumi Wakaba was a jovial, slightly chubby comedian, always amusing, giving the impression he was the same in private.

But in real life, he was stern and strict, both with others and himself.

Thinking of her father’s anger, Wakaba’s face paled.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Wakaba, but Mutsu won’t be coming back,” Xiangzi put an arm around Wakaba’s shoulders and drew her close. “Because your daughter has already been taken by me. If you want her, you’ll have to come get her yourself.”

“Xiangzi! Don’t think having Sadaharu’s backing lets you do as you please!” Takafumi’s voice turned cold. Inuyama Go’s orders were clear—no leaks, no attacks on them—but he thought he could at least bring his daughter back. Now, he didn’t even have the right to see her?

“What did you say? Sorry, but the communication seems to be having issues—I—I can’t—hear you—”

Xiangzi kicked the dashboard. The phone light flickered and dimmed. The car was already a wreck; a little more damage wouldn’t matter. Since she had become a bad girl, she might as well be bad to the end.

Unconsciously, she felt like a rebellious teenager, shouting loudly, singing wildly, railing against the unfairness of fate and imposed chains. The gentle Xiangzi Toyokawa was left far behind by the Maybach, her soul escaping its shell to choose freedom and flight.

She tried the car’s audio system. Miraculously, it still worked. From the powerful speakers came the flowing sound of keyboards and the singer’s hysterical shout.

The lingering heartbeat enveloped the night,

Wrapping us before it shatters completely.

Even without leaning on others’ arms,

These hands belong to ourselves.

It was “Bustling, Our City” by the band Thornless, whose lead singer was reportedly only fifteen when she first sang it—just like them, lost and uncertain of the future.

Xiangzi suddenly recalled why she wanted to form a rock band—not just because she had seen Morfonica perform, but because she felt that joy. Such music was for those who had accumulated too many words and needed to vent.

She was truly moved, longing for a passionate love, cursing this damnable world, refusing to let fate be a toy. May this joy in her heart be shared with all beautiful encounters.

Music was the original magic of this world—never betraying. When words fail, music would suffice. Pick up the instrument, step on stage, sing, scream, roar—vent to the world.

Together, they softly sang:

For the warmth that exists to avoid being lost forever,

Withers before reaching the frivolous you.

Just as imagined? How could that be?

Isn’t escaping easier? Don’t say it so simply.

The world remains the same as always,

Today I will continue chasing,

If I fall along the way, I’ll reach out to grasp

The blue star twinkling in the gray sky.

“This really means we can’t go back,” Wakaba whispered, resting her head on Xiangzi’s shoulder.

“Yes, we can’t.” Xiangzi leaned against Wakaba. Their heads touched as they gazed at the silent long street. Lights flickered here and there in the neighborhood. Somewhere, a cuckoo called for a mate.

“So… where do we go?”

“I don’t know.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.”

“Should we tell Shosei and Akari about the dragons too?”

“I don’t know.” Xiangzi suddenly grew irritable. “Why so many questions? Didn’t you say you didn’t like to talk?”

“Sorry,” Wakaba said.

They exchanged a glance, then suddenly both burst out laughing—reckless, carefree, their laughter mingling and stretching far into the night. Never had they been so happy, so beautiful.

Why worry about tomorrow’s troubles? You don’t live in tomorrow—what matters is the present.

Here was the starry sky, music, and the people they cared for most. Tokyo hadn’t seen such a beautiful night in a long time. Neon lights danced below, the silver galaxy gleamed above; all sorrow was cast aside. Sing, laugh, let go—drunk on endless time until dawn’s first light, then straighten their collars and embrace the future together.