07—This is clearly not holy armour!

A girl crouched at the edge of a crumbling rooftop, her half-lidded blue eyes scanning the streets of Hiho-mura. She was only seventeen, but years of surviving in this slum had already made her an expert in one thing: staying alive by any means necessary.

Her name was Konan Tora.

The cold night wind swept through Konan's blonde twin-tails, poking out from beneath a black snapback printed with a tongue-out lips design. The smell of rusted iron from the steam pipes billowing around her masked her presence like camouflage. Down below, antique gas lamps cast a dim yellow glow over narrow streets packed with people in ragged clothes.

Her eyes locked onto a young man stepping out of a ramen stall. He walked with a slight wobble, patting his bloated belly, looking disgustingly satisfied. A white tee with a blonde girl printed on it—clean if a little worn—black boxer briefs, and most importantly, a money pouch on his hip that looked very much full.

"Broke rich boy from Itokyo." Konan concluded. "Perfect mark, yo."

Konan smirked. It'd been a while since she'd found a target worth hitting—most people in Hiho-mura were just as broke as she was.

The young man—none other than Toma—started walking with a slightly unsteady gait. Just finished eating, which meant his guard was down. Perfect.

But then Toma suddenly stopped and started talking. Konan sharpened her hearing, but there was nobody else near him.

"Dude's... talkin' to himself?" Konan raised an eyebrow.

"Hehehe, after being unemployed and starving for so long, eating a full meal feels like a dream."

Toma patted his own belly proudly, then continued with sparkling eyes. "Alright, now that I'm stuffed, I can actually focus on work!"

Konan frowned. Weirdo.

SWISH!

Konan moved, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with the agility of a cat. Her feet barely made a sound as they landed on moss-covered tiles. Her brown leather jacket fluttered behind her, flashing the black tank top underneath.

Konan continued tailing Toma from above, waiting for the perfect timing. He was still talking to himself with expressions that shifted constantly—sometimes excited, sometimes confused, sometimes like he was arguing with his own brain.

"Aight, so he's a rich boy who went crazy 'cause he went broke, yo. But his money's still real. That's all that matters."

Finally, Konan spotted Toma passing through a quieter stretch. She dropped from the roof in a flash, landing in a narrow alley with almost zero sound. Steadied her breathing, checked the position of the money pouch on the guy's hip, then strolled casually out of the alley.

Timing had to be exact. One second too early, she'd get caught. One second too late, the window closes.

The moment Toma was on the ground grumbling about something—she didn't know why, and she didn't care—this was her chance.

Konan ran. Not a normal run—a full-speed sprint honed through years on the grimy streets of Hiho-mura. Her feet struck light but fast, body leaning forward with the precision of a professional sprinter.

SWIPE!

In a flash, Konan was right beside Toma. Her nimble hand shot out, fingers unlatching the cloth pouch from his hip in one trained motion so smooth it was practically invisible—the result of hundreds of successful lifts before this one.

The money pouch officially changed hands.

Konan blasted past Toma without breaking stride.

"Too easy, yo. Didn't even need my eyes open."

***

"Huh?"

Toma patted his boxer pocket with a confused look. His money pouch... was gone?

"MY MONEY POUCH IS GONE!"

He spun around and spotted the twin-tailed girl who had just brushed past him—the same one he'd noticed from a distance earlier. Now sprinting away with a very familiar cloth pouch in her hand.

Granny Bota's warning instantly replayed in his head.

"Keep that money close. Lotta pickpockets 'round Hiho-mura!"

"HEEEEEEY!" Toma roared, pointing at the fleeing girl. "GIVE ME BACK MY HARD-EARNED MONEY YOU LITTLE THIEF!"

The girl ignored his screams and kept running, vanishing into the crowd.

"Toma-kun!" Ame-chan shouted beside him, her transparent form hovering with a deadly serious expression. "Give chase—activate thy Suppafuku!"

"Got it!" Toma sucked in a deep breath and screamed:

"ENKAI!"

POOF!

Blinding white smoke engulfed Toma's body like a star going supernova. The Will of Ame tee blazed with light, radiating a supernatural aura that made several bystanders stumble backward in shock and awe.

"Th-that crazy dude?! He's got a Suppafuku?"

"No way!"

When the smoke cleared, Toma's appearance had completely changed. His tee and boxers were gone—replaced by a tight, worn-out white tank top, faded denim short-shorts, and a pair of wooden geta sandals.

His outfit was now a carbon copy of the blonde girl printed on his shirt—or more accurately, a carbon copy of Ame-chan's everyday clothes!

"WHY AM I DRESSED LIKE THIS?!" Toma shrieked, looking down at himself in horror.

"That is the active form of The Will of Ame! The Suppafuku is a direct manifestation of mine everyday attire!" Ame-chan beamed with pride.

"This is NOTHING like holy armor! This is the starter pack for some creepy shut-in uncle who steals people's wives in NTR dramas!"

"Cease thy incomprehensible grumbling! Now chase her!" Ame-chan yelled, pointing toward the pickpocket girl who was already pulling ahead.

Embarrassed as he was, Toma had no choice. That money was the fruit of selling his own clothes! He broke into a sprint—and was immediately stunned by his own speed.

Every step launched him faster than he ever thought possible! Wind slammed against his face, the scenery on both sides blurring past. But—

CRASH!

Toma plowed straight into a garbage hill on the side of the road because he couldn't brake! Trash exploded everywhere.

"Hey, watch where you're goin', moron!" Several people nearby yelled in shock.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Toma shouted, scrambling up and continuing to run.

"Toma-kun! Control thy speed!" Ame-chan called out, flying alongside him.

"I'm TRYING!"

The pickpocket girl was insanely fast and agile. She vaulted over a trash barrel, then scaled a copper pipe on a wall with movements so practiced they looked rehearsed. In a blink, she was already on the rooftops.

"She can parkour?!" Toma gaped.

"Thou must go up as well!" Ame-chan said. "With the Suppafuku's power, thou canst leap to great heights!"

Toma hesitated. Jump to a rooftop three stories high?!

"Yes! Simply regulate thy power to reach it!" Ame-chan answered—apparently hearing his inner thoughts too.

Watching the girl pull further away up there, Toma summoned his courage. He sprinted hard, wound up, and launched himself with everything he had—

WHOOOOSH!

His body soared high! Way too high! Far higher than expected! Wind roared in his ears, and in an instant—

CRASH!

His feet snagged on the edge of an iron-tiled roof, sending him tumbling forward and slamming face-first into a chimney.

"OW!" Toma winced, rubbing the fresh bump on his head.

"Thou didn't listen! Regulate thy power!" Ame-chan reminded him, her tone caught between worry and amusement.

"That's not as easy as unwrapping a piece of candy!"

The pickpocket girl glanced back with a flash of surprise, then immediately kicked her pace up a notch. She leaped from rooftop to rooftop with fluid grace—her parkour so clean it looked like these rooftops were flat ground to her.

Toma followed from behind, but his movements were still a trainwreck. He jumped to the next roof at half power—

CRASH!

—and still managed to demolish a wooden billboard mounted on the roof! Splinters from a ramen soup advertisement scattered in every direction.

"No! My only business, destroyed by some punk in a tank top?!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Toma yelled while still running, not even getting a chance to see the billboard owner's devastated face down below.

He jumped again, dialing back his power even further—but this time it wasn't enough! His feet barely caught the edge of the next roof. Toma's body started tipping backward, arms windmilling through the air.

"AHHH! Ame-chan! I'm gonna fall!"

"Pull thyself up! Thou hast the strength for it!"

Struggling with everything he had, Toma hauled himself up by spinning his arms like propellers. The second he was on solid footing, he bolted again—but

FWAP!

Laundry hanging on clotheslines wrapped around his face and body. Toma ran blind, hands clawing at the clothes while still trying to chase.

"Crap! Who hangs laundry up here?!" Toma yelled in a panic.

"YOU'RE the problem! Why the hell are you running across my roof!"

"Oh! Sorry about tha—"

CRASH!

The moment he managed to rip the clothes off his face, he slammed straight into a chicken coop.

"WHY IS THERE A CHICKEN COOP UP HERE?!"

BAWK-BAWK-BAWK!

Chickens erupted in every direction, white and brown feathers filling the air. Toma faceplanted in a cloud of feathers, while the coop's owner screamed furiously from a window below.

"HEY, YOU WRECKED MY CHICKEN COOP YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

"Sorry! But the location of your chicken coop makes zero sense!" Toma shouted as he scrambled up and kept running—trailed now by several very angry chickens clucking in outrage.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Toma and the pickpocket girl raced across the rooftops of Hiho-mura, past billowing steam pipes, slippery balcony floors, and narrow gaps between buildings. The chase route stretched along the edge of Itokyo's massive wall, then looped back toward the center of the village and its mountains of garbage.

The girl swung on a steam pipe bridging two buildings, landing with a flawless roll.

Toma tried to copy the move. He jumped and reached for the pipe—got it! But his grip was way too strong, bending the pipe on contact.

CREEEEAK!

"Huh?"

PSSSSSHHH!

Scalding steam blasted from the bent pipe, hitting Toma square in the face and sending him plummeting. He landed on a roof below in the most graceless seated position imaginable.

"AHHH! Hot! Hot! Hot!" Toma frantically fanned his reddened face.

"Focus, Toma-kun! She's getting further away!" Ame-chan warned, helping fan his face.

Toma got up and resumed the chase. The girl finally dropped down into a narrow alley. Toma followed—and this time stuck a much better landing, though his legs trembled from the impact.

He raised his head. The girl stood at the far end of the alley, breathing hard. Behind her—a tall brick wall with nothing to grab onto.

Dead end.