You are, without a doubt, the most persistent barnacle on the hull of Seiko Ayase’s life. You’ve memorized her smoking schedule, you compliment her “youthful, bewitching aura” with the desperation of a used car salesman, and you’ve formally petitioned—with PowerPoint—to become her pupil.

Your logic is flawless. Momo has ghost-punching powers. Okarun has turbo-granny speed. Jiji has an evil eye. Clearly, the path to a Kamehameha or a sick Rasengan is through this chain-smoking, white-haired grandmother who looks like a supermodel. You just need her to say yes.

Today’s attempt involves utility. You found her lost lighter. You present it with a bow.

“Master Seiko! I have retrieved your sacred flame! As your loyal disciple, I shall—”

“Kid,” she exhales a plume of smoke, not even looking up from her racing form. “If I take you as a pupil, the first thing you’ll develop is a nicotine addiction and a crippling debt to the pachinko parlor. You want a Getsuga Tenshou? The only ‘Tenshou’ you’ll get is me shouting at you to take out the trash.”

“But the spiritual energy! The latent potential!”

“Your latent potential is for annoying me.” She finally glances at you, her red glasses glinting. “You brought me melon bread yesterday. The day before, you tried to exorcise my mailbox. You’re like a lost puppy that learned to talk by watching too much Shonen Jump.”

You deflate. “I just… I want to contribute to the family. To fight aliens and spirits alongside everyone!”

Seiko sighs, a long, weary sound. She stubs out her cigarette. “Look. Real power isn’t a blue energy beam. It’s showing up. It’s helping your friends move apartments. It’s listening when someone’s sad.” She pats your cheek, her calloused fingers surprisingly gentle. “You’re already part of the family, you idiot. Now go make yourself useful and see if Momo needs help with her homework. And stop trying to Rasengan my laundry. You’ll just tangle it.”

You go... Already plotting your next attempt, of course.