Those People Who Looked Like Me Back Then

Enjou Tomoe, because he had a face almost identical to Shirou's, was jokingly called "Shirou's alt account" by netizens—same actor, different role.

But unlike Shirou, who kept getting power-ups and a harem handed to him, Tomoe had it rough. First off, he died right at his introduction... Hey, Tomoe, you're really letting that face down, you know that?

Then Tomoe shamelessly moved in with Shiki, who was a blunt, masculine type... Tomoe, how can you just cohabitate with another guy so easily? What about Kanya, who waited three years for you, always by your side, loving and caring for you?

Later, Tomoe found out he wasn't even a substitute—just a puppet. He spouted some grand line like "A forgery isn't necessarily worse than the original" (No, you're still not there yet! —Echizen Ryoma). In short, plagiarism is innocent, piracy is justified, in every sense.

Well, at least he had some spirit.

Finally, poor Tomoe ran into the boss, Souren Araya. After a verbal beatdown about how "you're absolutely useless," he died—not even ash left. Cleaner than Thanos's snap... Yeah, Tomoe, you might as well quit the group. With a protagonist's face, you still lost in a war of words.

On the other hand, Tomoe played a big role in Shiki's life path. It was because of ordinary people like Kanya and Tomoe that Shiki could keep existing as a "human" in this mysterious world.

All things considered, Shirou decided to try finding this "alt account" of his—at least make sure he didn't die so cleanly!

But when Shirou stood on the streets of Kanbiko City, he realized how stupid this was.

Kanbiko wasn't huge, but it was still a city the size of Fuyuki. Finding someone you only know the name and face of in an area this big wasn't easy. As for the Ogawa Apartment—forget it. That place was already full of corpses and puppets by the time Shirou helped Reines kill people.

After standing there for about thirty seconds, Shirou almost wanted to throw his hat—though he barely wore one. Just as he was about to go home and ask his elders for tips on finding people, a young guy who looked exactly like him ran past like he was escaping, chased by three thuggish delinquents.

Hey! See? When the protagonist wants to find someone, it's a protagonist thing—how could he not find them?

Shirou followed them all the way to a shoddy alley where a fight had burst a heating pipe.

Let's not break the pipe again this time, Shirou thought. Pipes have it hard enough—doing their job, taking hits, dealing with gang wars and street brawls. That's a lot of baggage just thinking about it.

"Yo! Gentlemen, my brother here has been in your care. If there's no issue, I'll be taking him with me." Shirou appeared silently at the alley entrance, spouting nonsense with a straight face.

But even though it was nonsense, every single person inside believed him. After all, Shirou looked like a smaller version of Tomoe—they couldn't help it. Not just them, even Tomoe himself believed it.

"Did Mom and Dad really have another kid behind my back?"

Poor Tomoe might have forgotten that his parents were already dead, and he himself was long gone.

"Hey, kid, your brother beat up our guys. Pay up!" Thugs were thugs—they didn't wonder how Shirou appeared, only cared about money.

"Ah~ That's a headache. I never carry cash." Shirou put on an embarrassed expression as he walked deeper into the alley.

"No money?" The thug closest to Shirou walked toward him, clearly meaning—no money and you still show up?

"Hey! Stop! That guy's just a kid!" Hmph! A kid! Tomoe had unknowingly earned a mark in Shirou's book.

"Thud!" The thug who tried to make a move on Shirou collapsed without warning, unconscious. If you looked closely, you'd see a steel needle stuck in his neck. Shirou swore this wasn't copying that Shinigami kid detective—it was 1996, and Detective Conan hadn't been released yet.

"Oh my, oh my, big guy, looks like you've been overindulging lately—died from overwork, huh?"

Shirou crouched down, poking the unlucky guy in front of him with his finger, looking innocent. If anyone he'd ever cut down, like the White-Winged Duke, saw this, they'd definitely punch a wall.

"What? Overwork? You kidding?" The thug in the middle wore a look of disbelief. He shouted at the guy on the ground, "Hey, you! Get up!"

"Don't bother! That poor soul has ascended!" In a blink, Shirou was beside the middle thug, looking like a mystic:

"But I see your face is dark with a death aura—you'll have bloodshed within the day!" Shirou spouted nonsense again, then used Sonido to appear behind him, slapping a hand on his back. "Come on, countdown from three—three, two, one, fall!"

"Wh—" The thug tried to say something, but his eyes rolled back and he collapsed limply. Shirou shook his head, though inside he was laughing. He put his hand behind his back, projected a bunch of white paper flowers, and tossed them onto the guy.

"I have nothing to say. Rest in peace!"

By now, anyone could tell Shirou was off—two grown men couldn't just drop like that.

When Shirou turned his gaze to the last delinquent, the poor guy nearly kneeled. It felt like being stared down by a monster.

"Hey, I'm warning you, don't come closer! Don't you dare! Or I'll—I'll get rough!" The thug pulled out a butterfly knife. Lucky this was Japan; in America, he'd have drawn a gun.

His warning was like wind to Shirou. That cheap knife couldn't even scratch him if he stood still.

"Oh, don't be so tense! I'm not a monster," Shirou said, walking forward slowly. "But have you heard the saying 'Life lies in movement'? You move that much, you'll die fast!"

Shirou spoke in an exaggerated tone as he approached the last thug. When he was about a meter or two away, he suddenly used Sonido and vanished.

"Where are you? Come out!" The sudden disappearance threw the thug into panic. He swung his butterfly knife wildly, looking around frantically.

"Right here!" Shirou appeared behind the thug and shoved him. "There, you've moved plenty. I'm tired for you. Fall down!"

As Shirou finished speaking, the last thug lost consciousness and hit the ground.

"Tch. Playing innocent is exhausting."

"Hey, they're not all—" Tomoe stared at Shirou in terror, a horrible thought forming.

"Uh," Shirou turned to Tomoe and opened his right hand—a steel needle was taped to his palm. "Of course not. Just a little trick with anesthetic needles. I'm not a demon, after all."