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Chapter Text

In the devilish realm of magic-users, on the night of second anniversary of Cursed Rain Cessation, the grand hall of freshly renovated Festivity Palace was filled with light, music and bustle. Garishly dressed crowd spilled across the floor in an ever-changing motley pattern, as groups formed around the hottest conversations of the moment, then broke apart, spread and flown through the openings, keeping the air abuzz with chattering and laughter. After two years of arduous recovery from the cataclysmic event, starved of proper high-grade leisure, elite society of magic-users’ world has long been craving to rebound with frivolity and bombast.

Barely noticed by most, a slender young lad in a black suit coursed through these noisy currents, casting probing, yet cautious glances at people around him. He constantly fought the urge to raise his arm to his face, to check his mask – light and breathing, it clung to him like second skin, and the boy felt occasional pangs of anxiety, as if something was missing. He carefully observed the revelers, trying to avoid others’ scrutiny as best he could, and so far, young sorcerer was successful. For once, being a person of zero renown was playing to his advantage. Growing up, he dreamed of making it big – of joining high-class gatherings as a guest of note and soaking in the admiration of the crowd. But, since then, aspiring lad has learned the other face of that coin as well: the scheming, the rivalries, the jealousy, the ruthless plays in pursuit of status. This room was not a bush of chirping birds, but a pool of sharks, sizing each other up, choosing targets, tools and accomplices. He was way out of his depth.

As if to reaffirm his bearings, the boy allowed himself a quick glance back to where he split off from his boss – the red-haired man who brought him here. A person of considerable notoriety, he sailed these waves with natural ease – courteously exchanging greetings and toasts with passers-by, as they smiled to his face, only to shoot daggers at his back. Young sorcerer didn’t have to concern himself with those for now, if only by the virtue of being an unnamed part of “with entourage” on the guest list.

He returned to his search. Treading lightly, unassuming guest crossed the hall and went up a few steps on the main stairs leading to the upper floors. There, from his high ground, he peered into the shifting sea of heads, and finally had a lock on his target – a man with a gaudy, attention-grabbing mask. The boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His mission was about to begin.

The previous day, the boy was lying face down on his bed, still fully clothed, recovering from his latest venture into the dark underbelly of the city. It took a good minute for the alarm clock to reach into the featureless murk that were his dreams and pull young sorcerer back into reality. The clock’s battery seemed to be running out of juice, distorting the jingle, making it hoarse and drawn out, adding a nauseating tinge to the boy’s waking confusion. He groaned, rolled off the bed and dragged himself to the bathroom, where his clothes went into the hamper and his head – under a cold shower. Spent or not, today, he had to shape up.

Later, standing in front of the mirror, with a towel around his waist, young sorcerer studied himself with a mix of worry and timid vainglory. Going through the rigors of keeping pace with his senpai, he started gaining a bit of bulk, shifting from skinny to slim in the past year or so. A little more, and he’d even look fit. His hair grew out a bit long since the last time he cut it – now leaning down under its own weight, making the formerly clean, brush-like black and white rows mesh in fuzzy patterns. That part the boy intended to correct, but simply couldn’t find the time lately, resorting to just sleeking it back – though, a few stubborn strands would always find a way to break free. The first outcrop of facial hair began claiming real estate on his chin, and the lad diligently shaved it off every morning – a “grown up” routine gave him a measure of petty satisfaction. All in all, having stepped into his twenties, he almost looked like a young, capable adult. But would “almost” cut it today?

The boy returned to his living room and began dressing up, while, in his head, already half-way to his destination. The thought alone added some spring to his step. Before leaving, young magic-user looked around the room one last time, as any responsible grown up person would. Was there anything in need of his last minute curation? His blanket was still crumpled from when he pulled himself off it this morning, and, hurriedly evening it out, he only now noticed a dried smear of blood, likely carried on his jacked last night. It undoubtedly seeped through the blanket slip and stained the insides too, promising a bothersome cleanup. Seeing that dark blot killed the boy’s momentum. His shoulders slumped, gaze became gloomy and detached.

‘I can’t do everything in one day…’ he exhaled, with heaviness in his voice, but then shook his head. ‘But I’ll do what I can. All I can…’

He checked the clock one last time, grabbed a small pouch off his nightstand and went out the door, masking up on the go.

Sometime later, the boy arrived to the place where his hopes were being dashed year after year – a wide hallway with two doors at the end. The smell of this dingy place, the echo of his footsteps in the side passages – all the little familiar details reminded the young sorcerer of his previous attempts. He would much prefer for those memories to lie dormant, but, alas, the path was too well-trodden. As he expected, a long line has already formed to the door on the left. What he didn’t expect was to see his boss, the head of the notorious En’s Family, in the empty second row, leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed on his chest and an expression of profound boredom on his face. Gathering people kept eyeing him with tense suspicion, and the line formed a bit of a curve around where he was standing.

‘En-san?’ called the surprised boy, joining the back end. ‘How come you’re here?’

‘Ah, Fujita!’ livened up the man and strolled over. ‘Took you long enough. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about in person, before you went in.’

‘You’ve been… waiting?’

‘Well, at first, I went to look for Kikurage,’ copped the red-haired sorcerer, ‘but it’s an ordeal to get ahold of her these days. Figured, I may as well grab your ear instead.’

Fujita raised a brow, still no less perplexed.

‘Here…?’

‘Yes, here. What’s wrong with here?’

“He still doesn’t know where my room is…” deduced the boy, but decided not to test his boss’s benevolence. ‘Nothing, nothing, just making sure. What’s going on with Kikurage?’

‘Ah, she’s in the blues again…’ shared En with genuine sadness. ‘Doesn’t want snugglies, doesn’t want to play. Just sleeps somewhere out of sight all day long.’

‘Poor thing,’ sympathized Fujita. ‘Must be missing her playmate.’

‘Bah, nonsense!’ huffed the sorcerer with sudden anger, startling the lined up people. ‘She’s just overworked is all! Good riddance to that little ingrate!’

The boy realized his mistake too late, and was preparing for a long tirade, but was saved by the bell. The door on the left opened and a dog-masked attendant stuck out his head.

‘NEXT FIVE, IN!’ he barked, and the line shifted forward, giving Fujita an opportunity to change the subject.

‘Anyway, En-san, what were you looking to discuss?’

‘Ah, yes,’ collected himself the man. ‘It’s about that rumor you’ve been following. I had someone look into the matter.’

‘Was it true?!’ burst young sorcerer, nearly jumping out of the line. ‘What have you learned?!’

‘Compose yourself,’ imperiously instructed his boss. ‘You’re not a child.’

Feeling a sobering jolt of embarrassment, Fujita blushed and stepped back. Just this morning, he wondered if he would pass for an adult man, and here was his answer.

‘Right, I’m sorry…’ he mumbled, restraining his fervor. ‘But… What did you find out?’

‘I will hold on to most of the details for now,’ disclaimed the red-haired sorcerer in a voice clearly meant to clue Fujita in to mind his tongue as well, ‘but the lead you’ve been following had gone room temperature.’

The boy’s excitement evaporated.

‘Then it was a bust after all…’ he hung his head.

At the sight of this reaction, En could not suppress an eye-roll, but, against his reputation, the man remained patient with his young underling.

‘Don’t despair at the first setback,’ he commanded. ‘There are few things I hold in greater contempt than flakiness.’

‘I’m sorry,’ once again apologized Fujita, straightening up. ‘Was there something more to it?’

‘As it happens, there was,’ nodded sorcerer, with an impish sparkle in his eye. ‘When you told me about the guy you were looking for, it occurred to me that there was a good chance he’d end up in the Hole. So I shared our venture with Shin and sent him to see what he can dig up. That was asking to find a needle in a haystack, of course – I didn’t expect anything immediate – but Shin came back with results that same night.’

‘Really?!’ jumped Fujita with shocked disbelief. ‘Just like that?! That’s Shin-senpai for you!’

‘Well, don’t get too starry-eyed,’ warned the sorcerer with a skeptical grimace. ‘It’s not like he brought back all the answers with a bow on top, and he didn’t have to do much anyway. He popped in to an acquaintance of his who runs a local clinic and browsed the records on magic-user corpses finding their way to the morgue in the past months.’

‘And, with how things are now, there couldn’t be many…’ figured the boy.

‘With only one fitting within the estimated window of arrival,’ confirmed his boss. ‘Shin wanted to pick the body up, so we could resurrect and question the stiff, but, alas, it already went to that researcher brat who once enjoyed our hospitality.’

At the sound of that description, Fujita twitched – a scowl contorting his face.

‘Kasukabe…’ he muttered with open hostility, barely holding back from crushing the pouch in his hands. ‘That sack of shit was the one who… Dammit! If not for him, Matsumura could be here today!’

‘Or he could be decomposing in the Hole somewhere, unfound,’ countered En pedantically. ‘Or, even if not, he could still perish during the crisis – his devil tumor lost forever all the same. What happened – happened. You shouldn’t waste your time on unhelpful-’ glancing briefly at the boy’s face, sorcerer stopped himself and retracted a bit. ‘What I’m saying is: if you’re still angry, direct it at a goal, not at a target. That will get you somewhere. And, if it makes you feel better, Kasukabe managed to be of use to our little mystery-solving here. Consider it his atonement.’

Fujita nodded silently. Pride and sense of injustice kept flaring up inside him, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. He should have been past that grudge by now, but it still stung.

‘Splendid,’ returned back on track En. ‘When professor received the body, he studied it, and he shared his autopsy notes with Shin, as well as circumstances of death, partly speculative as they were.’

‘Should we trust what he claims?’ asked sullen lad with cold disdain.

‘Don’t be a hypocrite. You started all this by chasing a rumor,’ reminded the Family head. ‘Now, where was I…? Right! Turns out, our deceased friend one day woke up in an alley under a piece of cardboard or somesuch. As you can imagine, a magic-user of his caliber did not enjoy such accommodations, and wouldn’t stay quiet about it, seemingly not concerned with ramifications. It wasn’t long before he found himself a target of mobbing and relocated to the morgue.’

‘Could it really be our man then?’ questioned Fujita, still working on shelving his inner turmoil. ‘The real deal could have defended himself, no doubt. Or simply left.’

‘True,’ agreed En, quickly checking the tail end of the line that only kept growing, ‘but that is a discussion best reserved for a different crowd. For now, I’ll only say that this whole situation looks very promising. Your intuition didn’t fail you.’

‘NEXT FIVE, IN!’

Dazed with this reply, the boy missed the cue, and only snapped out of it when the person behind him nudged him forward.

‘Ah, sorry!’ he blurted with a stupid grin, closing the gap. ‘But that’s awesome news!’

‘Don’t start celebrating a victory you haven’t yet achieved,’ once again corrected him En. ‘Even if we were to take the “what” for granted, it means little without “how” and “at what cost”.’

‘That’s… true…’ soured Fujita, but quickly caught himself. ‘Though, you didn’t wait for me here just to bum me out, right, En-san?’

‘Glad to see you’re quick on the uptake. It may come in handy soon,’ commended him his boss. ‘Now, it took some work, but we managed to trace the rumor to its source, and it lead us to a certain someone who appears to be at the center of it all. So, what do you reckon our next step would be?’

The boy took one hand off the pouch he was holding and grabbed his chin, still rubbery after the morning shave. He wasn’t used to being asked for input, and wanted to savor the moment.

‘Hmm…’ he said, after weighing up options in his head for a short while. ‘Investigating them? Or, perhaps, capturing and interrogating?’

Forgetting all about maintaining the air of secrecy, En laughed heartily at that suggestion, once again scaring the gathered people. A few latecomers quietly backed off and disappeared into the side passages, deciding to try their luck another time.

‘It would be the latter just a few years back,’ admitted the red-haired man in an unsettlingly matter-of-factly tone, ‘but the world has changed. And I’d like to think the same of myself, so you are correct on the former.’

‘NEXT FIVE, IN!’ once again came the attendant’s belligerent yelp, and, after the door closed, the line was now headed by Fujita.

“My turn next,” thought the boy and rummaged through his still somewhat shaken mind for pertinent inquiries. ‘So, who are you appointing to conduct the investigation?’

‘Why, you, of course,’ responded En in a tone that made it clear he thought the question stupid and unnecessary.

‘Me?!’ jumped Fujita. ‘Why me?!’

‘Because it’s your quest,’ reminded the man sternly. ‘Do not mistake my willingness to assist you for desire to carry you to the finish line on my shoulders.’

Even before red-haired sorcerer could finish the last word, the boy took a deep bow so swift his mask nearly flew off his face.

‘My deepest apologies!’ he burst with vigor. ‘I did not intend to presume!’

‘Apology accepted,’ said En in a softer tone. ‘So, about that investigation. Our intelligence revealed that the person we’re talking about is an avid partygoer, and, much to our serendipity, tomorrow night, there will be a grand soiree at the Festivity Palace – the biggest event in two years. It is a given that they’ll be there, and that is where you’d have the best opportunity to approach them. Now, getting you on the floor is a trivial matter, but your endeavor still has a terminal obstacle you must remove today.’

‘What is it, En-san?’ asked Fujita tensely, fixing his lopsided mask.

‘Exactly this,’ replied the man, pointing at Fujita’s face. ‘According to what we’ve learned, our target is… How should I put it?’ he challenged himself for a spell, but the clock was ticking. ‘Well, “an elitist snob” is close enough. Therefore, I can tell you with certainty, that, unless the devil bestows you with a proper mask today, your failure is a foregone conclusion.’

Hearing that response, the boy froze – his fingers still pressing against the rough surface of his simple, long-nosed piece. Year after year, he was coming here with burning desire to have it replaced and gnawing dread of having to wait another go round, but he never expected it to become a harsh, “all or nothing” stipulation.

‘But that’s…’ young magic-user gulped nervously, ‘that’s not really up to me, is it? I mean… I always come up with thoughtful offerings, but, because of my weak magic…’ he paused and stopped himself from making more excuses. ‘How can I be sure?’

‘You can’t and you don’t have to,’ replied En in a tone that perfectly failed to convey support. ‘You’ve been in the field with Shin for over a year now. If your magic could improve, it did improve. Devil will decide if that made a difference. And if it didn’t, at least you’ll know there’s nothing more you could do.’

‘Eh-heh-heh…’ laughed Fujita sheepishly. ‘I appreciate your kind words…’

A long moment of awkward silence later, the two heard footsteps coming from behind the door, and En clapped his hands, as if concluding a meeting.

‘Alright, that’s it then,’ he said in a business-like tone. ‘Keep your eyes on the prize, and the rest will sort itself out. I’ll meet you at the exit.’

Having said that, the man turned around and sauntered off, to most everyone’s relief, but, as the attendant hollered the next group in, his final words of guidance kept looping in the boy’s mind, blocking even the domineering shouting that was filling the air. He went through the familiar, humiliating steps on autopilot, knowing the procedure by heart. Clothes off, coveralls on, the water, the flames, the muck, the metal casket around the head.

“Eyes on the prize…” repeated Fujita, slowly bringing the thought into context.

Each year before now, his goal was to escape the ranks of bottom dwellers, to become somebody who is somebody. He begged the all-knowing devil for an out from his miserable, insignificant existence, offering his awed reverence as grease for the wheels. It never worked. The boy blamed his magic for devil’s scorn, as even the fellow magic-users held him in contempt for it. Was there really any room for doubt? Devils were known to reward greed, selfishness, recklessness, vanity, and his goal was selfish enough. Somewhat vain, too. The issue couldn’t be anything but magic.

But what if it wasn’t true? What if it’s the intent behind the plea that failed to impress? The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He couldn’t possibly be the only floundering sorcerer to seek a devil’s favor – the size of the line he joined every year was a testament to that. And every person before him must have beseeched with the same refrain: “Spare me the ignobility of being me.” But this year was different. He came in, not with a vague, ubiquitous want, but with a clear objective that was his alone.

The process approached its endpoint, as the group was brought to the final chamber and put on their knees. It was about to be decided. The oily goop inside the casket was stinging Fujita’s burnt face, gluing up his eyes, getting in his ears, muffling the sounds from outside even more. He paid it no notice – his mind was a buzzing beehive. He even missed the moment of devil’s arrival, and the attendant had to jab him with his cane.

‘OFFER THE GIFT!’

The boy stood on one knee, heart pounding, and raised up the pouch.

‘O, great devil,’ he uttered same old words, ‘please accept this gift and, if it is to your liking, grant me a worthy mask.’

For the first time in all these years, his voice did not sound ingratiating, and Fujita felt a chill running down his spine at the thought of coming off as brazen. But he couldn’t help himself. Before, he would come here, and, in his heart of hearts, already half-expect failure. Not today. With so much more riding on the outcome, he couldn’t tolerate the notion.

The pouch was lifted from his hands, and the boy froze in anticipation. The seconds crawled by, as the devil studied the offering. Or was it studying the applicant?

“Please, o mighty devil,” feverishly implored Fujita in his mind, “grant me this boon! I beg you with all I am: allow me to go on with my quest! No matter what lies ahead, I will not waste your benevolence!”

The foul muck has already clogged both his ears, but, for a second, the boy thought he could hear sardonic laughter. However, before he could focus on it, the goop inside the casket came alive and swirled, enveloping Fujita’s head. It covered his nose and mouth, smothering him, and, in a flash of primal panic, young sorcerer frantically reached for his face. Yet, before he could even touch the metal, the casket popped, sending its disjointed sides rattling on the floor. What Fujita’s fingers then reached wasn’t the muck, nor his skin, but thin, silky fabric. It was so smooth it felt cool to the touch, soothing his abused face, and it took a few seconds for his shocked mind to comprehend what happened. Then, as understanding began to form, the boy threw himself prone before the horned creature.

‘Thank you, o great devil!!’ he yelped, exhilarated. ‘Thank you so, so much!’

‘DON’T HOLD UP THE PROCEEDINGS!’ bellowed the attendant and jabbed him again.

‘Yes! Of course!’ fervently conceded Fujita and hurried to the changing room.

As the boy was changing back into his clothes, his mind was racing, seemingly in several directions at once. He focused so absolutely on getting the mask that he’d forgotten all about what would come after. More challenges were awaiting him, more unknowns, more risks. Yet, somehow, he felt nothing was unattainable to him anymore. Maybe it was his elation talking, or maybe it was the mask – the proof of his recognition. Its effect was hard to describe. He felt it in his body, all the way to his toes, and the sensation was polarizing. As if nothing had changed, but everything was different. As if nothing was added, yet he felt being so much more. He felt like an electric circuit that only just now had been completed. Heading for the door, he didn’t know what to say. How could he best announce something that was right there for everyone to see?

‘En-san…’ he uttered stepping out, and couldn’t think of anything to follow it up with.

Surprise was the first thing to jump to his boss’s face, but it quickly gave way to satisfied approval.

‘Congratulations, Fujita,’ he said with contentment. ‘I will begin making the arrangements. And, if everything goes just as smoothly…’

The man stopped, considering if he should speak of things beyond his full control, but the look in his underling’s eyes was unmistakable. He needed to hear it. He earned it.

‘If everything goes as smoothly,’ En restated firmly, ‘you may yet get your partner back.’

Thus, the goal was set.

In a very different place called Hole, a petite figure walked down a dirty, squiggly road – or what passed for one around these parts, anyway. Sporadically paved with impressed bricks and splintering wooden planks, it snaked between ramshackle, chaotically crammed together buildings that were seemingly clambering over each other, as if competing for the right to put their ugliness on display. The figure looked hardly out of place – shabby, hooded coat and baggy sweat pants concealed its features, and the duffle bag slung over its shoulder seemed loaded enough to perhaps be the sum of one’s possessions. Another not-so-subtle sign of familiarity with this place was a little scythe fastened to the person’s shoulder, just within reach of the slender, feminine hand holding onto the bag’s strap.

Darting out furtive glances at rare passers-by from under her hood, the girl kept her distance and maintained a brisk pace, until she reached a cheap eatery – one of many of its kind here on the outskirts. In line with local lack of city planning, this particular establishment looked like it was forcibly wedged into a nook between two buildings, which had to contort to give way. After a moment’s consideration, the girl stepped inside and scanned the place, keeping her head low. It was the same dreary image she saw the last few times: a poorly-lit room with several tables, occupied by men and women in clothes as worn down as their faces, all stewing in the thick smell of local cuisine, or maybe someone’s inability to hold it down – a sickening mix of sweet and tangy. And, same as before, none of the patrons here were who the girl was looking for.

The burly owner with a thick, bushy beard sized the visitor up from behind the counter – catching, both, her intent to remain discreet and the weapon on her shoulder. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.

‘Comin’ fer some grub?’ he asked plainly, more to acknowledge her presence than expecting an answer. ‘Or just lookin’ fer someone?’

‘Just looking,’ replied the girl dryly. ‘Same crowd every night, or folk come and go?’

The man shook his head with a wry grin.

‘This ain’t no in-fer-mai-shun bureau, pup. Order something, then ask yer questions.’

Having mulled that over for a little, the hooded visitor approached the counter, taking her hand away from the scythe.

‘What do you have to eat on the go?’

The owner raised one arm and began counting, bending his lumpy fingers.

‘Fresh buns, dried bread sticks, sweet rolls, hot dogs if yar willin’ to wait a tick, cold dogs if not. Also…’

‘I’ll take a sweet roll,’ stopped him the girl, pulling money out of her pocket. ‘Wrapped.’

While the hefty man was counting the coins and stuffing the girl’s order into folded paper, she snuck another glance around the room. Against her plans, her standoffish attitude did not go unnoticed, and a couple of customers were now eyeing her with morbid curiosity. That development was unwelcome. Thankfully, despite his build, the owner didn’t seem to be lacking in dexterity, and finished his task in a jiffy.

‘So?’ he asked, handing the girl her purchase. ‘Who is it yar lookin’ to find?’

‘A guy,’ replied the little sneak, putting wrapped pastry into her bag. ‘In his twenties, maybe. Dark hair, cross-shaped tattoos around his eyes.’

‘Cross tattoos, ey…?’ thought back the human. ‘If I remember right, some o’ them displaced magic-users had those… The outcasts that were left in the Hole two years ago – that lot. If so, then yer guy’s in Hernia – that eyesore they cobbled together on the west end of Hole. Dreadful place, it is – they harbor every sort of riff-raff in that slum. If ye ask me, one has to be all kinds of twisted to…’

‘West end, got it,’ interrupted the girl in that same reserved tone and stepped towards the exit.

‘Wait, pup, don’t even think about just strollin’ in there!’ warned her the owner, surprised by this abrupt reaction. ‘Didn’t ye hear me? They have right bastards shifting about in there. Think it’s separated fer no reason? If snatchers grab ye, no one will lift a finger.’

At the sound of this warning, the girl stopped and looked over her shoulder.

‘Snatchers?’

‘Yar from the center, aren’t ye?’ presumed the owner with a tired sigh. ‘Ye lot have it good in there. Here, on the fringes, ye still have to watch yer back all the time. True, magic-users don’t pop out anymore, but there’s always someone scummy enough, or plain desperate, to club ye over the noggin’ and sell ye to those ungodly freaks fer coin. The farther out, the worse it gets, pup, so think twice before wadin’ in there.’

The fleeting glimmer of interest faded from the girl’s eyes. She turned away.

‘I see…’ she uttered flatly and made her way to the door.

‘Lass?’ again called the man – this time, with something more urgent in his voice.

The girl lingered, with her arm on the door handle, but wouldn’t even turn this time.

‘Look, I don’t know what that guy did, but I’ve seen enough kids like ye – all cold and determined-like…’ burly man appealed, if for no other reason, then perhaps to placate his conscience later tonight. ‘If it’s about payback, then… ye best let it go. Revenge is fool’s gold. True, those devil-spawns caused a lot of grief, but things are lookin’ up fer us in the Hole fer once. Don’t waste it pickin’ a fight with someone who’s stronger. I can guarantee ye, whatever ye have right now – it’s more than what ye’ll have if ye go there.’

The girl waited until the man was done, then walked out without a reply.

Chapter Text

In a small domain of creation, where magic-users’ world and hell press against each other, mixing, overlapping and slowly trading ground, there is no day and night – only perpetual dusk of infernal glow radiating from ever-shifting horizon. Remains of collapsing structures brought forth from another plain and time are jotting out of rust-colored soil, like rotting carcasses on the beach, waiting for hell to rise and ebb, licking them off into oblivion. In that desolate place of immaterial, yet tangible things, a short, stocky man found himself walking along a wind-swept road. He was drifting aimlessly, and so was his mind. It took a while before he noticed someone’s shadow sliding on the ground beside him. The man stopped, somewhat startled, and glanced over his shoulder, to see a hunched, withered stranger – his unkempt beard as gray as his worn clothes. A battered old hat covered his head, with piercing, discourteously direct gaze shooting from under its brims. For reasons beyond his grasp, distracted traveler couldn’t bear that look for longer than a moment, overcome with intense discomfort. He averted his eyes.

‘You finally see me, magic-user,’ droned the stranger in a voice that somehow managed to convey no feeling whatsoever. ‘Have your senses come back to you?’

In absence of a cue in the tone, the drifter had to make his own guesses as to what the question was about. Did he offend the stranger by looking away? A familiar notion emerged from his foggy memory: he’d hate to offend.

‘S- Sorry, I didn’t notice I wasn’t alone,’ the man muttered, then rummaged through his mind a bit more, but with little to show for it. ‘And, sorry… again… but I struggle to remember if we’ve… you know… met before.’

‘No need for apology, young soul,’ presumably assured him his new acquaintance. ‘If indeed we have, then it is I who should have remembered.’

‘Oh, in that case, ehm… hello! I’m, umm… Matsumura…? Yes. Nice… Nice to meet you,’ the man turned to the stranger, offering a hand, though, much to his own embarrassment, his eyes weren’t so willing to follow, barely including the gray figure into the corner of his vision.

‘You remember your name at the least. That is a start,’ said the old man, placing his dry, gangly hand into the traveler’s padded mitt. ‘And put your worries to rest. Few can peer into my eyes with a light heart.’

Somewhat relieved and more so confused, the one who named himself Matsumura forced an awkward smile.

‘I’m… I’m sure they don’t mean nothing by it, eh-heh…’

‘How much can you recall?’ inquired the stranger when their handshake concluded. ‘Have you the grasp of where you are?’

‘Well…’ readily started the stocky man, relishing the idea of bringing something concrete into this odd exchange. ‘I’ve drifted off a bit there, but… if I’m not… mistaken…’

His speech petered out as he looked over his surroundings. Flat plains of dry, lifeless soil span in all directions, sparsely dotted with decaying landmarks and lined with thin trails. Those trails went every which way, curving and crisscrossing with seemingly no rhyme or reason, looking more like a bizarre geological feature than a sign of inhabitation. The man looked ahead, towards where he was going, and, in the distance, saw ruins of a little town, trembling in the waves of hot air. Behind him, a fresh, barely perceptible trail went off into the vast nothingness, disappearing in the haze. Altogether, discounting a contingent of small dust devils fading in and out of existence, playing tag and dancing on the plains, the two men were completely alone.

‘I… I think I’ve been here a while…’ uttered the short drifter, reaching as far back into his memory as he could. ‘I came here to… you know… Or, maybe, because I… Ehm…’

He shook his head, defeated.

‘I’m sorry, everything eludes me today…’

‘Just as well,’ likely consoled him the stranger. ‘All will come back in time.’

Choosing to interpret the gray man’s demeanor as friendly, Matsumura found himself struck with another jolt of shame.

‘Oh, but I haven’t even asked your name!’ he sputtered, looking apologetically at the middle button of the stranger’s jacket. ‘I’m sorry…’

‘So many apologies. You are quick to regret,’ noted the old man. ‘The road ahead may prove to be long.’

‘W- Well…’ stuttered Matsumura, dismayed. ‘It’s not like me to be so impolite. I think…’

‘I can see that is true,’ agreed the mysterious gray man. ‘So you are starting to remember. I suggest we keep walking. That should help you find your bearings.’

‘Of course, of course…’ readily conceded sorcerer, looking to accommodate. ‘Where are you headed? I’m not sure where I was going myself, but, ehm… if you would like company…’

‘Any path is as good as any other to me,’ droned the stranger – in his flatness, managing not to sound dismissive. ‘As for company… Truly, it is a luxury around here. Let us proceed then.’

‘Oh… Okay…’ replied confused traveler, obediently resuming his supposed trek towards the ruins ahead. ‘And… your name?’

‘Never did my name sit well on anyone’s tongue,’ evaded the question gray man, matching sorcerer’s pace. ‘Not that you have anyone to confuse me with anyway…’

‘I… see…’ accepted it Matsumura. ‘Who are you then?’

‘A drifter, not unlike you,’ responded his follower after a while, weighing up his words, or perhaps remembering. ‘Though, this is not entirely true… After all, your path will reach its end one day.’

‘Golly, that sounds ominous, eh-heh,’ stocky sorcerer laughed with unease. ‘Why are you saying it like I’m-’

Matsumura halted, as if he’d hit a wall. The nervous smile faded from his face, giving way to stark graveness, yet there wasn’t shock, nor even surprise mixed in with it. Of course… Reluctantly, he turned his gaze to the blazing horizon – now making out distorted, shimmering outlines of curved towers, veiled by dancing inferno.

‘So you remember now?’ dispassionately inquired the nameless man, stopping by the sorcerer’s side.

‘I… died…’ uttered the stocky drifter. ‘We’re in hell…’

‘Very much so,’ confirmed his grey acquaintance, ‘and yet not truly. Your sentence is over, magic-user Matsumura – for all the sins you are guilty of, you have paid.’

As if hoping to glean something he’d missed, deceased sorcerer felt an urge to look the old man in the eye, but, much like before, went no further than the tip of his beard.

‘Your memories are coming back quite readily,’ continued the stranger. ‘Devils have not had you in their custody long, it seems. A sign of a virtuous life,’ he concluded, but then considered the implications a little further. ‘Or, perhaps, a very dull one. You would know which one suits you best.’

Try as he might, Matsumura failed to pick up if there was a pin in there.

‘But… Why have I forgotten so much?’ he asked, hoping to finally gain some footing. ‘Can you tell?’

Despite the simplicity of the question, hunched old man did not hurry to respond – maybe thinking, or maybe just not interested in providing explanations.

‘I have met many transient souls, and it has always been thus,’ he finally replied, not really answering the question – but then added one of his own. ‘Though, if it comes to that, do you really want to remember your punishment?’

Matsumura shuddered, knowing deep in his heart that he would not want to even think about it in abstraction.

‘Do not fret,’ likely assured the stranger. ‘Upon arriving here, none have found the memory of their living days missing for too long. After all, save for the ground you are treading, nigh everything you can see in this realm is but a recollection made manifest. You too will leave your mark on this land in time, and walk your life’s path to the end. As long as you travel light…’

Hearing that, stocky man looked around, puzzled, then demonstrated his empty hands to his companion.

‘Umm… Gots nothing on me,’ he reported.

‘We will see how true that is in time,’ responded the nameless man and gestured ahead. ‘Shall we proceed?’

Once again, Matsumura felt the familiar pull to just go along with what he was told. He made a few unsure steps down the road, before an obvious thought caught up with him.

‘So… What’s at the end of my path?’ he asked, walking ahead.

‘A door,’ replied his follower, providing no real insight.

Lost as he was, Matsumura accepted that response with no further probing. Indeed, with how little he understood right now, a simple directive seemed preferable, so he chose to just keep on strolling towards the decrepit-looking buildings ahead. Greater clarity could come to him once he reached that landmark – at least, that’s what he counted on.

Still, with that much being settled for the time being, he figured it was a good moment to better puzzle out his companion. In these desolate wastes the color of clay, hunched old man in his drab attire stood out like an inkblot on a sheet of sandpaper, and yet, at the same time, didn’t seem out of place at all. He answered some questions freely – others he dodged. And, sure, Matsumura could use every bit of enlightenment right now, but, alongside that, he very much didn’t wish to intrude. A touch of subtlety was in order. Keeping his eyes on the sight of approaching buildings, the sorcerer turned his face slightly towards the stranger.

‘Umm, so… you seem to know how things work here…’ he started shyly. ‘How long have you been around?’

‘Long enough to understand,’ elusively responded the gray man, once again refusing to elaborate.

Personal queries would not bear much fruit it seemed, and instead, stocky traveler thought of other questions that could prove to be illuminating.

‘You’ve seen other people make their journeys, right?’ he recalled. ‘Does it take long?’

‘It takes however long it has to,’ the gray man gave his answer.

‘So it’s… not really about moving a distance then…’

‘It is not,’ confirmed the stranger. ‘Were that the case, the journey could be over in a blink on an eye. You are not bound by the rules of the material plane, after all – only by your memories of them. Even the way you perceive yourself is merely a recollection of a different time.’

Matsumura looked down at his puffy body. It was indeed the thoroughly unimpressive sight he was accustomed to. His brown boots, his wrinkled suit, the striped necktie he hated wearing – it was all as he remembered. And, even though he couldn’t see it, he felt his simple mask pressing against his face, and knew what color it was.

‘I don’t remember not having a shadow though…’ he pointed out, noticing the absence of his outline on the ground. ‘But, I guess, I shouldn’t be surprised…’

Just as the final word left Matsumura’s lips, a weird detail caught his attention. It was there from the very start, but only now reached the man’s thoughts – unlike the sorcerer himself, his gray companion did cast a shadow, and was even leaving footprints, stirring little beige clouds with every step.

‘Wait a minute…’ Matsumura questioned. ‘Then why do you have one? Are you real? I mean, are you… you know…’

‘A lot of dust has gathered on me…’ replied gray man, though it was unclear from his flat voice whether he was explaining himself or simply making an observation. ‘Am I slowing you down? You can fly on ahead without me, if it pleases you.’

‘No, no…’ muttered the sorcerer, ‘I’m fine with walking. Flying… I don’t think flying was ever my thing.’

‘A creature of habit you are?’ supposed the nameless man.

‘I don’t know… Maybe?’ shrugged Matsumura with confused smile. ‘Anywho, I offered you company, so we’re stuck together for now, eh-heh.’

‘Your consideration is appreciated,’ droned the stranger, and the subject was closed.

For some time, neither of the travelers spoke, charting their course across the wastes, step after step. But, as the ruins the two walked towards came closer and closer, looming over chance companions, it was gray man’s turn to inquire.

‘Do you know what place it is that we are coming to, magic-user Matsumura?’ he asked.

‘Umm… No…? Why would I?’ replied the short man, confused by the question. ‘I’ve only gotten here. I mean… You know…’

‘That is fair,’ reconsidered the stranger. ‘Let us put it this way then: do you know why the memory of your living days was hidden away?’

‘Hmm, no…’ once again admitted ignorance the sorcerer, after a short deliberation. ‘I’m afraid I’ve no clue…’

‘No need to feel ashamed,’ unemotionally assured him his companion, perhaps catching a shade of guilt in the man’s voice. ‘There is no judgement. What do you think it was for?’

Matsumura contemplated the question a little more.

‘Any answer is okay?’ he asked cautiously.

‘As long as it is truthful.’

‘In that case… I think, I don’t care why it is this way,’ plainly confessed the sorcerer. ‘Must be a reason.’

‘Not an inquisitive sort,’ concluded the gray man.

‘W- Well… Is it bad?’

‘Not at all,’ shrugged the stranger. ‘Some chase adversity, others go where life takes them – everyone choses their own way to spend their allotted days.’

‘Heh-heh…’ sheepishly laughed Matsumura, feeling somewhat validated. ‘I think that’s the way I used to see things too.’

‘However,’ added the old man, ‘a small measure of curiosity would prove helpful to you on your journey.’

Even though the stranger’s voice remained colorless, the sorcerer couldn’t help but feel scolded.

‘Um, makes… makes sense,’ he conceded, as the two travelers crossed the border of the crumbling settlement.

Setting foot on its empty streets, Matsumura looked around with a bit more intent, and now, no longer warped by distorting air, worn down husks of buildings looked vaguely recognizable to him. Something in their sight tugged at his heart – faintly, longingly. Maybe it was blazing horizon painting the buildings warm orange on one side, or maybe it was overcast skies hanging low, boxing the scenery in, but sorcerer felt an echo of fatigued resignation, tinged with mellow sadness, as if he was about to have an evening’s rest, yet wished he could stretch the day out a little longer.

As the decaying structures surrounded him, the feeling got stronger. Faceless as they now were, the houses seemed familiar – their shapes and layout slotting neatly into the blurry pictures flashing in Matsumura’s mind, one after another. From every direction, vague memories of long-faded sensations and naïve, ignorant notions flown to him, sketching out a map of understanding. At first, that map was small and pale – no more than a sense of déjà vu, but the veil was lifting, and the man was eagerly reaching further, reclaiming more ground with every step, bringing color to the outlines.

In just a minute, remembering no longer felt like reaching around in thick fog, but instead, a rising wave now carried him forward – he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. Matsumura recognized these streets, and it brought a faint smile to his lips, though his eyes betrayed heaviness in his heart.

‘I used to live here,’ he shared his revelation in nostalgic, bittersweet tone. ‘As a kid, you know.’

The stranger let him talk at his own unhurried pace, without interfering with questions. He couldn’t see these desolate streets with the same eyes as his companion – now enveloped in his recollection – so he reserved himself to listening.

‘The town was on the smaller side – not a village, sure, but nowhere near a big city, heh-heh,’ continued Matsumura, absorbing these tarnished, yet heartwarming sights. ‘Life there was… slower. Very peaceful. The older folks would say it was boring all the time – that nothing of note was ever happening. But us kids? We were always in the thick of something – you can imagine. School rivalries, playground antics… Tall tales about something or other that happened just outside of town… Dares…’

Sorcerer pointed toward a building in the distance. It stood at an angle, leaning on one side, with a rusted flagpole sticking out of its roof.

‘That’s my school over there,’ the man informed – his eyes running back and forth across the peeling façade he used to see so often. ‘Only, you see, it’s not meant to be this way – it’s just that it was built on a side of a hill. There was a music room at the back, with slanted floor and seats going in those, like, ascending rows. As a kid, I held a firm belief that that was the whole reason why the building stood where it did, heh-heh. It didn’t even align that way, but… you know.’

For a little while, Matsumura went quiet, trying to draw out more from what he saw, no matter how mundane or insignificant. He didn’t notice how a shallow wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as his gaze jumped from one feature to another. It wasn’t working. Disappointed, the man sighed, wishing for these sights to be even closer to his returning memories of them, but, deep down, he understood the catch. His desire wasn’t for things he remembered – it was for ones he didn’t. He yearned to take a tour of his past and be reminded of myriads of little things, but, alas, he was the tour guide. What he saw was all he himself could offer.

‘My childhood friends – they all went there too,’ the man continued, letting go of the school’s sight as companions walked ahead. ‘Or, maybe, that’s how we became friends… Can’t even remember anymore. Either way, we were a lively crowd. Adventurous.  Naturally, some more than the others, heh-heh… We weren’t wanting for thrills, even if some were made up or… plain silly. A bunch of us “ran away” from home to live by the creek one summer, and then stayed grounded for the rest of it. That was a big deal back then. I wasn’t a troublemaker myself, mind… but… Well, I’d always go along with whatever mischief others cooked up. Was always bad at saying “no”, you see.’

Dull ache of nostalgia made the man pause for a moment, adding a spread of wrinkles to the corners of his eyes. Such trivial things used to be his thrills and woes. He shook his head slightly and continued.

‘Afterwards, my punishment was always cleaning – washing dishes, removing stains and other such chores. It was because of my magic. My smoke could separate things very neatly – that’s the catch. It wasn’t very potent at first, but… Heh-heh-heh… Well, I’ve gotten quite practiced with it by the time I was out of school.’

The sorcerer looked at his pudgy hands. His magic died with his body – no grainy smoke coursed under this illusory skin. The way he saw it, it wasn’t a big loss.

‘My magic was pretty lame I thought,’ he confessed. ‘Anything I’d do with it, someone else could do with elbow grease, right? But it was helpful at least.’

Even though the excursion didn’t last long, by now, the two men seemed to be approaching the other end of this small, ruined settlement. Buildings became sparser, revealing more of the dusty plain beyond them, and Matsumura’s story was about to leave this place as well. He didn’t want to rush it – he wanted to linger on this leg of his journey, if only for one more clear point, but there simply wasn’t much more to tell.

‘When I was around fourteen, one of my father’s friends, Sato-san, moved to the big city, to work as a cook at a diner,’ the man continued, accepting the fruitlessness of his stalling. ‘They still talked on the phone from time to time, and she later told him they could use someone on the staff for cleaning as well. Mom and dad got this idea in their heads that I should go – “put down roots in richer soil”, they said. As always, I couldn’t say “no”.’

The husks of the ghost town thinned out and slowly rolled past, once again leaving the two on an open road. Rusted train tracks now ran by its side, stretching ahead, where, a fair distance away, another landmark awaited the travelers. Stocky sorcerer stopped for a minute, to have one last look at what once was the entirety of the world as he knew it. Ruined and crumbling, bathed in eternal gloomy sunset – it wasn’t how he’d want to capture his hometown. But that was all he was allowed.

‘Funny how it turned out,’ the man uttered wistfully, gazing at this fading echo of his past. ‘I think, in a couple more years, I’d be itching to go myself. Go somewhere. But at that time… It was my folks who kept saying that I shouldn’t neglect opportunities – that, if I stay, there may never be another such prospect, and…’ not liking where his line was going, Matsumura pursed his lips and sighed through his nose. ‘They meant well, of course. They always wanted what’s best for me – I know that. So… straight out of school, I packed my things and left the town.’

Having said that, sorcerer went quiet. He resumed his walk, looking foggily into the distance. Among all the pieces that were jumping to their old places in his head, a few brand new ones now appeared, and he wasn’t sure where to place them just yet. The nameless stranger let Matsumura be with his thoughts for a time, as the ruins behind their backs crawled further and further away, blurring and trembling on the horizon. Train tracks went on, occasionally losing a rail or disappearing under the sand, punctuated with weathered milestones. If not for them, it would be hard to escape the feeling of walking in place in this featureless expanse. After a good while, travelers passed a concrete platform huddling up to the tracks. The steps on its side have crumbled into a jagged ramp with a bent and rusted railing in the middle, and the safety line all but completely peeled off, leaving only specks of paint along its former border.

‘Do you regret leaving?’ finally probed the old man, when the decaying structure crawled past them.

Matsumura didn’t respond right away, still listening to the motions inside him. His awakened memory obligingly rushed onward, lighting up moments and notions before his mind’s eye, out of order or context, but somehow sensible. Yes, over the years, he asked himself this very question plenty of times, and gave it ample thought. He arrived at the answer long time ago – it’s just that he never sought to dress it in words.

‘Hard to say… Maybe?’ he replied quietly. ‘Or, maybe… Well…’

The task before him was not simple.

‘Frankly, I’m not sure it’s “regretting”… You see, I remember only good things about my town, even if only in broad strokes,’ the man tried to capture the tail of his idea. ‘How uncluttered the streets were, the evening quiet, the smell of wild strawberry in the nearby woods – my care-free days. Life seemed so simple back then. I didn’t think about how many more tomorrows would there be for me, you know? There was still time for… anything… That town was, kind of, my measuring stick for the world back then, and, looking at it, I… Dunno… Felt safe…? Or ready, maybe…?’

Hearing himself, sorcerer felt like he was onto something. What he wanted to say was somewhere in there.

‘But that place could only ever offer boring, predictable life, and, back then, I knew I couldn’t settle for it forever. I knew I’d move out one day, so what’s there to regret?’ questioned the man, more to coax a response out of his own mind than to make a point. ‘It’s just…’

Matsumura took a breather. He now understood why his journey began the way it did. His memories of home were so faded, so far removed that, even without anything in the way, he couldn’t bring most of them into full focus. Looking at them broadly, he felt warmth and longing, embarrassment over his own past naivety, but also regret over its loss. There were other things, too – gentle and fragile, brazen and foolish, all coming back as flashes so brief that he’d only catch their afterimage, almost doubting if they were there at all. He wanted to gather all of it together and put into better, smarter words, while, at the same time, guarding and veiling the parts that weren’t for show. But that was beyond him. There was this nagging feeling that he’d only be belaboring the point, without actually making it – losing nuance behind the minutiae. What he felt was hardly unique, but very personal, and, perhaps, it couldn’t be expressed fully with something as rigid as words to begin with. There was no point in agonizing over it.

‘I guess, when I think of my hometown,’ the man decided on the closest summary, ‘I can only think of my childhood. It was… precious. You only get one, after all. But I wasn’t a child when I left. So, what I regretted looking back was not that I left – I regretted I didn’t do it on my own terms. Because… then I couldn’t feel like the destination was mine either, you know?’

‘I see…’ droned out his bearded companion, leaving it unclear, if there was any sympathy in there. ‘And your destination was here, I am assuming.’

The sorcerer emerged from his thoughts and looked up. Before him sprawled large, multi-lane train station. Its rusted dome had lost all its glass facets, and the heavy metallic webbing seemed slowly coming apart, hanging perilously over the platforms – screeching quietly in the wind. Many arches and doorways lined the walls of this arrival area, and the man felt overwhelmed and disoriented in this vast space. He couldn’t tell if the feeling was immediate, or merely his memory of stepping off the train for the first time – as this too was a place he recognized.

‘So here we are…’ he breathed out with cautious anticipation, as the two went past the platforms, heading towards what seemed to be the exit into the city. ‘Somewhere out there is my first grown-up job. And my first grown-up friend…’

Chapter Text

The following day after receiving his new mask, at first light, Fujita was on his way to En’s meeting room. The boy walked the corridors of the mansion with his chin held high, hoping to run into someone he knows and astonish them with his latest acquisition. The sleek shape, the colors, the pattern – all about it was saying “I mean business”, and young sorcerer couldn’t wait to see that reflected in someone’s eyes. Sadly, there were a lot of new faces in the mansion workforce after its sacking by the cross-eyes, and Fujita didn’t have a lot of time to socialize in the following months. Still, he offered a dignified greeting to every mook-suit he met, nodding his head at the most flattering angle. Or, at least, it was the one he liked the most after spending all evening in front of the mirror.

In the end, despite taking “the scenic route”, the boy didn’t come across his senpai, nor the other Family cleaner, Noi, nor even Kikurage. Admittedly, it was a bit of a bummer, but, upon approaching the door, Fujita chased petty thoughts away. With the party mere hours from now, he was looking at his final opportunity to sit down on his home turf and survey the road ahead – he had to focus on that. Indeed, the one he wanted to show his mask to above anyone else could get the chance soon enough. The boy knocked on the door.

‘Come in, don’t dally!’ came En’s impatient voice from the other side.

Fujita hurried into the room, only to find his boss on his fours, almost sticking his head under a couch. He made some awkward motion with his hand in the direction he thought the boy was standing, without distracting from his apparently very engrossing activity.

‘Take a seat, I’ll join you in a minute.’

‘Come, have this chair over here, Fujita-kun,’ creeped in another, quieter voice. ‘I’d like to take a good look at your… fresh apparel.’

The boy turned to the sound and only now spotted a short, unassuming man with bandaged-up face, who didn’t even attempt to hide his presence, yet, somehow, seemed to naturally blend into his surroundings.

‘Ah, Sho-san! Very nice to see you!’ young sorcerer bowed and walked over to the conference table covered in an assortment of papers and folders.

‘Likewise,’ nodded the involuntary chameleon, admiring the devil’s workmanship. ‘A bold look. Not to my own preference, but I’m certain it will serve you well.’

‘Thank you!’ grinned Fujita with glee. ‘I’ll make sure to put it to good use!’

‘Eager to take on the challenges?’ asked the man wryly. ‘You’d be wise to cool your jets for now. We are in for a long discussion, and your head should be in it – not in some fantastical adventures.’

‘Of course…’ agreed the boy and exhaled slowly. ‘Of course, you’re right. So you’ve gotten involved too, Sho-san?’

‘Indeed, that’s why I’m here. I’ll explain my part when we’ll get to it,’ bandaged sorcerer replied, glancing at his immediate superior crawling on the floor. ‘Eventually.’

He then returned his attention to the fledgling Family member and, for a few moments, studied his tense posture.

‘I can’t help but wonder, Fujita-kun, why are you so intent on bringing your old partner back?’ he questioned softly. ‘It can’t be that you believe you have no shot at getting one otherwise, no? After all, you are no longer the person you were during the last Blue Night. You are wearing a testament to that with well-deserved pride.’

‘Oh, ehm… thank you, Sho-san,’ blushed the boy, hiding his eyes, ‘I appreciate your kind words. But, actually… It’s just that, ehm…’

‘Not here either…’ interrupted him En, getting up on his feet with a disappointed frown. ‘Fine, let’s get on with our business then, blast it.’

He joined the two at the table, but, judging by his crossed arms and grumpy face, the red-haired sorcerer did not feel like taking charge of the conversation. Having plenty of experience around En’s mood, Sho got the clue.

‘Very well,’ he started, turning to Fujita, ‘let’s take it from the top. We’ve all formed our own perspectives thus far, so it’s best to put everyone on the same page. Tell us your story, and we’ll pick up from there.’

‘Right, of course,’ complied young sorcerer, feeling his heart getting somewhat excited.

He put his hands on the table, and, after a few seconds of fretful silence, choosing a good place to start, launched his account.

‘It all began during the census. I’ve been visiting the residences, as instructed, filling the list of recoverable dead and delivering invitations to resurrection events. With so many devil tumors lost during the crisis… Well… It was never going to be a very long list – that much was clear. Still, I lost count of how many times I had to explain the way it all works to bereft citizens.’

‘It was a high toll indeed,’ supported Sho. ‘It’s a small miracle that our society didn’t suffer utter collapse in the wake of that grisly harvest.’

‘A small miracle by the name of Kikurage…’ grumped En.

‘Of course, that’s very true!’ quickly corrected himself Sho. ‘Without her complicity, we couldn’t have hoped to achieve such robust recovery! But let’s get back to the matter at hand. Fujita-kun?’

‘Right,’ the boy returned to his recollection. ‘It’s during one of these visits that I had to deal with a particularly aggrieved lady. She was accusing the Family of picking favorites and only resurrecting people that would advance our interests.’

‘Pheh!’ huffed En, whose mood did not seem to be improving. ‘That’s why I never bothered with playing nice. The very instant you fail to please somebody, they paint you a villain.’

‘You’ve earned your infamy in many ways, En,’ softly rebuked him the bandaged man. ‘And you can’t…’

‘“You can’t change who you are, without owning who you were,” yes, yes…’ grumbled the pouting sorcerer. ‘I haven’t forgotten your bloody sermon, Sho.’

‘You are making progress,’ assured him his trusty associate.

‘And you are taking advantage of that…’ retorted En, then sighed and finally parted his hands. ‘But you’re right, this is unbecoming of me. Do continue, Fujita.’

Having plenty of experience around En’s mood, Fujita continued as if there was no interruption whatsoever.

‘I did try to explain to her all about the devil tumor in the brain, but she would have none of that. She kept raving about some “Malachai Triumvirate” getting one of their founders back, despite his head not being recovered. She just refused to relent, even though it was something she heard from a guy, who heard from a guy, who heard from some loser at a bar.’

The boy paused, reflecting on his memory. When he continued, little signs of irritation in his voice got phased out by wistfulness.

‘In a way, I was right there with her,’ he confessed. ‘When I lost my chance to bring back Matsumura, I’ve been grasping at straws too. With all the different magic in the world, it’s a hard feeling to shake – that someone taken from you is only truly gone when you’ve given up on finding a way to get them back.’

Fujita shook his head, chasing the distracting gloom away.

‘In the end, I could only assure her that we’d reunite her with her loved one if we could – little as it helped. At the time, I just wanted to put that situation behind me, but later, it got me thinking…’

‘Triumvirate is a big entity,’ chimed in Sho. ‘Or was, anyway. It’s doubtful that they could be duped by a double, and they have the resources to make a lot of unlikely things happen.’

‘Exactly!’ livened up Fujita, pleased that his account was being supported. ‘If there was a grain of truth to that story, I wanted to find it. Matsumura managed to help me even from beyond the grave, right? Having learned of that rumor, I couldn’t just shrug and go on with my life.’

‘In our hectic times, it’s no wonder it took you this long to arrive anywhere,’ mused En out loud.

‘Yeah, tight schedule wasn’t helping,’ the boy smiled awkwardly, trying not to sound as if he’s complaining, ‘but, eventually, I could look more into it, and I found out that the company had been restructured as Malachai Partnership & Affiliates sometime after the crisis. That did sound discouraging, but I still wasn’t sure what to make of it. I didn’t want to assume baselessly. So I tried to dig up more about the higher-ups in the company, and…’

Fujita sighed, having to admit deficiency in the pursuit of his goal. Though, to his own surprise, it wasn’t colored by the feeling of powerlessness, but by inconvenienced irritation. His tolerance for being denied seemed to be eroding.

‘And that’s where I reached my limit,’ he finished his sentence – stating, instead of lamenting. ‘There are doors that just won’t open for a small fry like me. That’s when I brought the whole deal to your attention, En-san.’

‘And it was the right call,’ approved the Family head. ‘I made some general inquiries, but, doing things by the book, even on my level, I eventually ran into a stone wall. Intriguingly enough, someone at that crummy den of commerce really wanted to keep things under wraps. I couldn’t press the issue further, without showing my hand, so I delegated the matter to our expert in discreet affairs.’

Hearing that description, Sho bared his pointy teeth. It was his turn to accept the figurative baton.

‘Got to admit, I do like this title more than “corporate assassin”,’ he said with dark contentment. ‘And it was nice to see that my skills didn’t fall out of fashion, despite our new… modus operandi.’

‘What have you learned, Sho-san?’ Fujita leaned forward with focused anticipation in his eyes.

Bidding young sorcerer to wait a moment with a gesture, the man reached for one of the folders on the table and pulled it to himself.

‘Not as much as I was hoping to,’ he admitted, opening the cover, ‘but not as little as they’ve counted on.’

While two black beads scanned the contents of the folder from under the bandages, former assassin recounted the course of his infiltration and investigation. His skills were indeed a good fit for the task. Interrogating the staff, rummaging through archives, being a fly on the wall during high-level meetings – if there was a way to look behind the curtain, he took full advantage of it. To Fujita’s immense awe, giving his account, Sho sounded calm and relaxed, even amused at points – making brief asides and tangential remarks, bringing up names and details not connected to the topic of their meeting, but simply too juicy not to pin for future examination. Remembering his own fraught reconnaissance escapades, the boy could only be fascinated with how leisurely one of the founding Family members went about his. This confidence undoubtedly came from extensive experience, and, as fledgling sorcerer knew, the unassuming man gained that from doing more than simple snooping and eavesdropping. Soon, Sho rounded up the account of his preliminary work and, having sufficiently refreshed his memory, put the folder down.

‘Very well, now about what I managed to glean from all this,’ he said, locking his fingers. ‘Let’s start with context. Triumvirate, as you can tell from the name, was founded by three successful magnates, each holding control over a different branch of business. As the cross-eye crisis unfolded, two managed to survive the hunts and the calamity by going into hiding, but the third one, Koshiro – an arrogant sort – banked on the strength of his magic, and was killed when a hit squad raided his villa. As you’ve heard, his head was taken and never recovered. Later, with crisis averted, the remaining founders jumped at the opportunity to “pick up the pieces and start fresh” – hence the rebranding.’

‘They weren’t the only ones,’ weighed in the Family head. ‘Even as the future of our realm was still up in the air, you could smell inconvenient documentation burning in the furnaces of many “respectable houses of business”.’

‘That sudden housecleaning craze did cause me a bit of a setback,’ confessed Sho. ‘There was no paperwork on the exact details of Triumvirate’s dissolution. A restructuring was suggested, and then it just… happened, with Koshiro being left out, and some new blood introduced. Whatever went into that process – only the remaining founders knew, and trying to have a… tête-à-tête… with either of them would be a risky endeavor. There was another promising lead, however – I decided to follow that one first.’

Sho searched through the folders and fished out a personal dossier.

‘According to papers, after Koshiro’s untimely demise, the control over his assets transferred to his son, Arashi.’

‘I’ve met the kid back in the day,’ interjected En. ‘Your usual spoiled daddy’s boy with no business sense to speak of. No wonder he was ousted – he’d be nothing but a volatile element and a financial drain.’

‘That’s only a part of it,’ grinned former assassin, as if anticipating a punchline to a dark joke.

‘Do tell,’ encouraged red-haired sorcerer with amused malevolence. ‘This should be fascinating.’

Pleased with spurring an interest, Sho opened one of the folders filled with photo materials and began laying them out in sequence, illustrating the course of his sleuthing.

‘I visited our grieving heir’s penthouse apartment in the city,’ he explained, producing a photo of a tall building in a bougie part of town, ‘planning to have a chat he’d never remember. But wouldn’t you know it – our boy had been evicted from his luxurious lodgings. From what I’ve gathered, Arashi was close to broke for a good while. Lack of parental oversight did not improve his spending habits.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ rolled his eyes En. ‘The golden children of wealthy stock run even the deepest coffers dry.’

‘True,’ agreed Sho. ‘But they may not have been as deep as you think. With a bit more legwork, I tracked down the kid to a pricey bar, where he, apparently, was spending a lot of time, wasting his last money and hanging on every ear, bemoaning his woes. And, as you both know,’ the man failed to suppress a predatory grin, ‘I’m a very good listener.’

Fujita couldn’t stop fidgeting in his chair, expecting the story to come to a striking revelation at any moment. At the same time, he was really hoping to get a concise summary at the end – one that would not require him remembering scores of names. He was already a bit iffy on what was relevant to his task, and what was meant primarily for En’s ears, so, really, shrinking that down to one actionable mark would be much preferred. The bandaged man continued.

‘It all pointed to that Arashi was the source of the rumor, as he was convinced that his old man did indeed return – with his own current situation being the result of mishandling his responsibilities in daddy’s absence. I’ll spare you the irrelevant moping and the parts I couldn’t cross-confirm, but here’s the gist of what I’ve interpreted from his ravings.’

Assassin tapped his finger on another photo, depicting a lavish villa, scarred by what appeared to be a very violent unsanctioned entry.

‘Turns out, the man’s demise was more devastating to his branch of business than you’d imagine. When cross-eyes sacked his place, they busted open his personal vault, full of valuable papers. Contracts, agreements, personal IOUs – that sorts of things. And here’s the lesson to learn: when you build your success on coercion and debt, you better keep downtrodden revolutionaries away from your binding documentation.’

‘Ooff…’ winced the red-haired man. ‘When his debtors caught wind of that, his empire must have imploded overnight.’

‘Quite so,’ confirmed Sho, finding amongst the papers a printout with plummeting projections. ‘And that’s on top of the rest of the devastation. When cursed rain stopped and restoration began, Koshiro’s side of Triumvirate was a dead weight – there’s no two ways of looking at it. And, to his son’s credit, the kid had enough stuffing between his ears to understand that.’

‘So there is no way in hell he’d agree to restructuring that cuts him out,’ surmised En, studying the sorry state of company’s affairs.

The bandaged sorcerer could only shrug whimsically, admitting the obviousness of that conclusion.

‘Now you see the predicament the other two heads were faced with,’ he followed up. ‘In the old world, this could be sorted in a number of ways, but, as things currently stand, they absolutely had to resolve the situation amicably.’

‘Yes, the balance of power is fragile right now,’ concurred En with a shade of displeasure. ‘No one would risk appearing as if they’re cannibalizing themselves in front of every upstart sniffing for opportunities.’

Listening to his superiors’ exchange, Fujita was struggling to keep up. Gradually losing his grasp of the scope of discussed matters, he had to engage with the conversation, or risk being left in the dust – detached and disoriented.

‘But the dead founder could turn things around, if he were to come back, right…?’ the boy supposed, more for the sake of getting his own bearings than providing useful commentary. ‘I mean, he’d remove his nincompoop son out of the picture at the very least.’

‘That’s a reasonable guess,’ agreed the moonlighting spy. ‘And, as you’ve learned yourself, the restructuring did happen, which means, burdensome heir’s claim to dead assets was somehow rendered null. Now, was it actually Koshiro’s doing or not, Arashi didn’t bother to ascertain – he was going purely on his assumption that he was kicked out by his father, presumably angered by the state of company’s affairs.’

‘That’s… not very substantive…’ lamented Fujita, who, thus far, was trawling the story for every hint of solid proof of successful resurrection.

‘Indeed, it is not,’ agreed Sho. ‘But that was not the important takeaway that night. The part that is worth our attention today is that, in his rambling, Arashi kept mentioning someone named Jiro, whom he accused of meddling. He shared that, prior to his deposition, that man approached him several times, trying to con him, and undoubtedly was the one who turned Koshiro against his flesh and blood with his poisoned words. But, at that point, the guy had a bit too much to drink, and his story devolved into vengeful speculation of what’s going to happen when his father figures out what truly happened and welcomes him back into the life of privilege, so I left the poor sod to it and reported the gist of my preliminary findings.’

‘Won’t he now blab about your questions to someone else, Sho-san?’ voiced his concern young sorcerer.

‘You don’t have to worry about that, Fujita-kun,’ assured the bandaged man. ‘Naturally, I have “eased his mind” a little, before departing, which, honestly, felt like an overkill. Even before the calamity, you could find “disgraced royalty” around any pub. Not all of them are the people they claim to be, and fewer still measure their former importance accurately, so I’m yet to meet a person who cares to listen to their ramblings. I have however met enough of En’s long-lost siblings to open a cabaret.’

‘I’m at capacity with just one, thank you very much,’ En raised his palm in protest. ‘Not that you can find her when you need her these days. What is it with women in this mansion?’

Sensing that the conversation may quickly veer into victimized brooding, Fujita attempted a daring move.

‘Let’s stay on topic,’ he interjected, doing his damnedest not to sound patronizing or annoyed. ‘What were your steps, En-san?’

And, to his surprise and relief, his boss calmly went along with it.

‘Right,’ collected his thoughts red-haired sorcerer. ‘We’ve already touched on it yesterday. As I said, while Sho was out doing his thing, I toyed with some hypotheticals, and then Shin has proven my intuition to be spot on. Here’s Kasukabe’s files. Recognizing the face?’

En pulled out a rugged-looking hand-written report from the pile, opened it on the page with paper-clipped photographs and turned it to the boy. Indeed, it was as he said. Though the man on the pictures bore the signs of thorough thrashing – covered in scrapes and dark bruises, missing teeth and clumps of already thinning hair – he was unmistakably Koshiro’s lookalike. Having spent a lot of his free time pursuing the rumor of the man’s miraculous revival, Fujita could clearly tell that much. General features, birthmarks, apparent age – resemblance could not be denied.

‘Hmm… I see what you mean…’ slowly spoke young sorcerer, giving the photos unrelenting scrutiny. ‘But… appearance alone can’t be taken as hard evidence.’

He wanted to believe it was proof. And yet, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know better.

‘True. Anyone can look like anyone, if they spend enough nick on it,’ agreed En with a sly look in his eyes. ‘So here’s the juicy bit: the brief account of our friend’s final moments mentions that, in his rageful fit, he kept shouting about some “Shiro or Jiro – statements inconsistent”. It’s right there in the file. Too close to be a mere coincidence, don’t you think?’

‘The plot thickens,’ commented the bandaged man, savoring the mystery while it still lasted.

‘As for why he didn’t defend himself…’ continued the Family head, making sure to hold a short, conspiratory pause. ‘It says in the autopsy notes that the deceased did not possess a devil tumor in his brain, and thus, couldn’t use magic.’

Confusion on Fujita’s face was easy to see, even through his mask. What was on Sho’s, as was often the case, remained an enigma.

‘Wait… Do you mean…? Stop, I don’t get it…’ stuttered the boy. ‘Are you saying that he was a doppelganger?’

‘No,’ En shook his head, ‘it is not what I’m saying.’

‘Let me guess,’ intervened the assassin. ‘He did otherwise have proper magic-user’s physiology?’

‘Correct,’ confirmed his boss. ‘On top of that, discounting the damage caused by the disgruntled locals, his body was in pristine condition.’

‘Pristine how?’ further probed the man.

‘It matched his perceived biological age, but had no signs of natural wear and tear – no callosity, no tooth decay, no accumulations of any kind. Regardless of how pampered your lifestyle is, you still get some of that over the years, yet he had none, head to toe.’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed Fujita, as a thought struck him. ‘It’s like when Noi-san restored our bodies!’

‘I can only agree,’ concurred the bandaged sorcerer, thinking back to his experience. ‘I felt at least a decade younger after that.’

‘It was what came to my mind too,’ agreed En, ‘but Kasukabe’s notes brought up another possibility. He posits that a precise copy of a magic-user’s body could be crafted by a devil from raw materials.’

Red-haired sorcerer thought for a few more moments, then shrugged.

‘Either that, or they found his old nail clippings and then bathed them in an obscene amount of high-grade healing smoke.’

‘So, it was a fresh copy of his body… With no tumor…’ Fujita kept processing the information, gears grinding. ‘Now the question is… was it his soul inside? Is there a way to know for sure?’

‘In the world ruled by magic, we can be sure of precious few things,’ warned En in a tone that was a bit too theatrical to think that he didn’t prepare the line ahead of time. ‘But there is something that supports that possibility.’

He rifled lazily through the papers, until a certain document was in his hands. The man scanned its contents, making sure his words are not based on a careless assumption.

‘Ah, yes, there it is…’ he confirmed to himself, flicking his fingers on the page. ‘You see, while we can’t be certain of their means, Malachai heads did manage to break Triumvirate apart – full legal dissolution, then reconstitution under new name – and that would require annulling a soul-bound contract. It is a level of bondage overseen by devils themselves. Not even Chota could hope to dispel that kind of magic.’

‘Like a partnering contract?’ guessed the boy.

‘Quite close, but, unlike that, a soul-bound agreement is unaffected by a participant’s death,’ clarified En, ‘since their soul doesn’t cease – it only hops a plane. Such contract can’t be voided – only overwritten, with sincere intent from the bottom of your soul, and, as we’ve learned, Koshiro’s successor would not do that.’

‘So, supposing a devil crafted that new body…’ pondered Sho with a touch of incredulity, ‘you think they’d pluck a soul out of hell to put inside it as well?’

‘I don’t have the answer for that,’ confessed En. ‘Devils are nothing if not diligent in their tasks, and overseeing dead magic-users getting their dues is one of their primary jobs. Hmm…’

Sorcerer paused, giving the idea another shake.

‘But devils are also malevolent and all-knowing…’ he theorized, weighing up the possibilities. ‘If they knew what would happen with the soul they sprang, they wouldn’t miss an opportunity to laugh their sides off, watching the man tearing his remaining hair out, back so soon to their playground.’

Noticing excitement in Fujita’s eyes, En hurried to caution him against wishful expectations.

‘That is one possibility, nothing more,’ he warned. ‘The body could be a result of a failed venture they got rid of, before sorting their conundrum in some other fashion. Be wary of taking unproven hypotheses for fact.’

The boy slumped back in his chair with a confounded sigh, directing his stare at the ceiling. Anti-cathartic as it was, once again, he had to try and consider the whole picture. It was tempting to just arrange all the pieces into something he wanted to see in the end, but it would be little more than self-delusion. Still, in order to move forward, he needed to assume the prize was worth it. The whole affair was pointless otherwise.

‘So there is a certain probability that they have found a way to side-step the rules of resurrection known to us,’ young sorcerer supposed cautiously. ‘Now, if that’s the case…’

The boy turned his face to the table again.

‘…we’re left with “how” and “at what cost”, am I right?’

‘Right you are,’ agreed En. ‘And this is where my side of investigation comes into play. That Jiro guy left too many footprints to be dismissed, so I did some digging. Here’s our winner.’

Another photograph fell on the table – one of a loudly dressed man, donning a similarly eye-catching mask. Undoubtedly devil-crafted, it was fashioned to project maximum amount of pizazz, with its golden-teethed grin and kitschy, barred eyeglasses. At the same time, all its visual noise was admittedly distracting – perhaps, intentionally so – allowing to glean little more than its loud vibe.

‘A “winner” indeed…’ smirked the assassin, looking at his own antithesis.

‘He is an interesting case,’ noted the Family head. ‘In the social circles, he goes by Matchmaker, and you’d only know his actual name if you intend to do business. He’d be best described as a favor broker, and he used to be a pretty obscure one – the earliest traces paint him as your regular social climber with a measure of family backing. His predecessors got where they are by doing things safe and slow, but, as you can see, our guy is of a different breed. Apparently, due to that, his older brother was the favorite child – at the very least, his integration into the grownup games was actually fostered, while this peacock was seemingly given a cold shoulder.’

‘Must have given him a bit of an inferiority complex,’ mocked Sho.

‘Maybe more than a bit,’ concurred En, contemplatively contorting what stood for his eyebrows. ‘According to records, there was no love lost between the brothers for most of their history. Actually, I can see the signs that there could be a rift between generations, too. Parents favored the older son, while grandparents all but excluded him from their will – their boons went to the younger. However, when they passed and Jiro received his inheritance, he must have shed some of that insecurity and offered an olive branch. You can see that hostilities between the brothers died down after he had his own toys to play with at the very least.’

‘En-san, does his family history really matter to us?’ cautiously asked Fujita, worrying that the already taxing conversation may veer off course and sprout all kinds of pointless details when his mind was already straining.

‘It matters to you,’ responded En sternly. ‘This is the person you’ll be investigating, after all. You can’t manipulate your target without understanding it, so pay close attention before you leap.’

‘Oh… Yes, my bad…’ blushed the boy, sitting up straight and hastily trying to make up for his mistake. ‘I, um… I guess, I can understand where he’s coming from. If something I wanted was constantly dangled in front of me, always out of reach… Yeah, I’d develop some spicy feelings too.’

‘There we go,’ nodded the Family head. ‘Anyway, even before the boost, Matchmaker kept slowly making his way up in the world by playing intermediary for the needs of the more influential figures.’

‘Gaining useful connections in the process, I would assume,’ pitched in the assassin.

‘Naturally,’ nodded En. ‘The guy only hit prominence a few years ago, but I can tell you, his game sure paid off. And that was before our current power reshuffling, during which he certainly didn’t sit on his hands – of that there can be no doubt. This Jiro guy weaseled his way into an interesting spot. His involvement is often sought by the major players, yet all his dealings seem to be done purely in good faith, with no clear binding or oversight. His reputation for always finding the right peg for the right hole makes a lot of people want to be in his good graces.’

‘And of course he stands to benefit from every deal he brokers, in some way,’ supposed Fujita in a rather conclusive tone, seeking to regain lost ground.

‘You’re starting to get it,’ confirmed his boss. ‘In the past year, he received a discreet “thanks”, of one type or the other, from Malachai and every new affiliate under their wing.’

‘Since his attempt at duping the heir was a bust…’ young sorcerer continued the logical chain, ‘it means, he was integral to finding a resolution in some other way, right?’

‘That is what seems most likely,’ allowed En. ‘In the end, one big entity avoided collapse, a bunch of developing ones gained a foothold on a bigger playing field, while the middle man filled his pockets and boosted his reputation across the board. Not sure if it’s business acumen or social prowess, but this Matchmaker guy is proving to be a shrewd player. Suffice it to say, I don’t like him.’

‘Feeling territorial?’ probed Sho.

‘Hardly,’ scoffed the red-haired sorcerer. ‘I set goals, and I make plays to gain assets that bring me closer to those goals. He has nothing but plays. He is not making investments or sponsoring initiatives – he only dances with fancier and fancier partners, and the dance is always the same. His operation grows in scope, but arrives nowhere.’

‘So he’s a one trick pony…’ contemplated Fujita.

‘It’s possible,’ admitted En, ‘but I’m not certain. In a way, he acts like black powder – provides a situational advantage to those who feel the need for it. I guess, that explains why he didn’t come up on my radar for so long… But what’s his endgame? So far, I can’t tell if he even has it. He either possesses unbelievably grand ambitions or none at all. And same could be true about his magic.’

‘What do you mean, En-san?’

‘There’s no record of it,’ disclosed red-haired man. ‘And you know how our world works. So, up top, there are only two reasons for keeping your magic a secret: it’s either laughably weak, or it gives you an unfair edge in whatever it is that you are doing.’

‘Finding out which one it is could be useful,’ suggested Sho. ‘If not for personal advantage, then as blackmail.’

‘I wouldn’t resort to it too readily,’ objected En after brief consideration. ‘That man lives and dies by his reputation, and his social mycelium is not to be underestimated. I would avoid dragging Family into an info war with someone like him.’

There was already a lot to process, but, if anything truly amazed Fujita during this meeting, it was hearing his boss advocating for caution. Though, come to think of it, that weird feeling was following him for a while now. The first year after the crisis was hectic. Back then, the boy assumed that Family needed time for licking its wounds and gathering strength, before reasserting itself at the top of the hierarchy – and yet, even as things started returning to normalcy, the level of operation remained scaled back. The mansion got restored and workforce somewhat repopulated, but no new business pursuits were chosen, and plenty of the old ones were left for competitors to scoop up. No cleaner work was being assigned either. Instead, Shin took the boy under his wing and focused on hitting traffickers, while Noi started taking long leaves of absence from the mansion, doing her own thing and being rather cagy about it. Letting things become so discordant was starkly out of character for En, but Fujita knew not to question, even if he felt oddly empowered to probe and object lately.

‘Anything else I need to know about the Matchmaker?’ he asked, wanting to keep the discussion on track. ‘Notable enemies? Close associates?’

With an expression of vague recollection, En shuffled through his notes – among them, a record of Blue Night events hosted in the past years. He picked up the paper and skimmed through it twice, as if not trusting what he saw at the first glance.

‘Not much on either account…’ he then concluded, sounding almost incredulous. ‘By being a pleaser, over the years, our man managed not to step on any toes with a kick behind them, and as for associates… Here. At the start of his career as go-between, he had a partner. No one remarkable – just some guy with archival magic. Clearly handy for keeping all the contacts organized. But, apparently, the ever increasing scope of his task was too much to handle, and, when the inheritance came in, and Jiro skipped up a step or two…’

‘His partner quit,’ assumed Fujita.

‘His partner expired,’ corrected him red-haired sorcerer. ‘You don’t “quit” this level of operation. As hard as it may be to get into the game, getting out is a whole another ordeal, especially if you hold some sensitive morsels inside your skull. So an archivist would practically be chained to his boss for life. Anyway, when that one croaked, Jiro neglected finding a new partner for two Blue Nights now. Which… is understandable. When you’re a figure of value, being a prospecting partner is advantageous – it becomes a lure and a potential bargaining chip.’

‘I see,’ surmised Fujita. ‘He is waiting for a big enough catch. And who wouldn’t want such a well-connected partner?’

‘I, for one,’ scoffed Sho, turning two surprised faces to himself. ‘Partnering is one of the strongest proclamations of loyalty, and the man who works his partner to death, because he stands to gain, has a rotten core and can’t be trusted. I’m sure you would agree, Fujita-kun.’

The boy didn’t know how to reply to that. It was true that the word “partner” had a special ring to him, but admitting that Matchmaker seemed untrustworthy felt like already preparing for failure. Thankfully, En sensed his apprehension and intervened.

‘Be as it may, we don’t need Fujita to become his bestie,’ he asserted. ‘The guy’s a mean, not the end. As soon as we learn what goes into that resurrection trick, we may as well cut the middle man out.’

‘But that still is a tall order,’ cautioned the assassin. ‘Don’t forget who will have to do the work.’

‘Hmm… yes, that is true,’ reluctantly agreed the Family head, considering the perspective he was looking at things from. ‘That is, unfortunately, true…’

He hummed to himself, mulling over the demands of the task placed before the fledgling sorcerer – measuring them against his understanding of the boy’s level of preparation. Perhaps he should have summoned Shin to this meeting as well, so he could consult with him. But, on the other hand… Whatever the verdict would have been, would it stop Fujita from trying anyway? History already held an answer to that. All he could provide at this point was sobering clarity.

‘Alright, Fujita, enough was said today for you to see the picture,’ the man declared, driving the meeting to a conclusion. ‘This is not a situation where you can expect any guarantees – not of success, nor of your own safety – but you know what’s at stake, and you know what’s on the docket. So think carefully. Right now, it’s not too late to pull the brakes, while you still haven’t stuck your head in. But the call is entirely yours. What will it be?’

The room fell silent, as, under two probing gazes, the boy was wrangling the agitated swarm of thoughts in his head. This wasn’t a question he could answer with ignorant zeal – he knew that much. He was smart enough to understand that the euphoric feeling he was enveloped by yesterday was not going to carry him through his challenges. Nor would all the support his betters deigned to grace him with. It was still him who would have to go the distance, face risks, weigh up odds, make decisions. Nothing was promised to him. All the inconclusive leads, hearsay and suppositions pointed towards there being a chance – a mere chance of success, even if he played his part flawlessly, start to finish. He was to enter a world he was not a part of, knew very little of… He was to spy on someone even his boss did not fancy to antagonize… He was to, for all intents and purposes, outdevil the devil himself – all for a chance of bringing back someone who, by now, has been gone from his life for just as much time as they’ve known each other.

Yet, the boy felt the drive to damn the odds – same burning drive he felt years ago, when he was loading his gun, preparing to return to the Hole and deliver his payback. Even against the sense of self-preservation. Even against En’s explicit orders. The same drive that refused to die down even when he proclaimed it was over at his partner’s grave. Even when he banished all traces of Matsumura’s killers from his thoughts.

But then… why would it? By now, young sorcerer could tell it was not about revenge anymore. And, perhaps, it was never about revenge. Fujita licked his dry lips.

‘If Koshiro was truly brought back to life…’ he spoke hoarsely, ‘and if it was Jiro who made it happen… And if it is possible to do the same for Matsumura…’

The boy closed his eyes, half-numb with realization of what he was thrusting himself into.

‘…I want to take that chance.’

Catching faint trembling in Fujita’s voice, En withheld his response for several torturous seconds, testing the finality of his underling’s decision.

‘Very well,’ he sealed the deal, after letting young sorcerer’s words hang in the air for long enough. ‘We will attend tonight’s soiree together.’

Having said that, red-haired man started swiping all the documents and photos on the table into a pile, forming a big, messy paper sandwich.

‘I’ll sift through this stuff one more time, just to be sure we’re not missing anything crucial. Meanwhile, talk to Chota – he’ll bring you up to speed on basic etiquette – and, if there will be time to spare, go over Jiro’s dossier.’

Realizing that said dossier is now somewhere in the heap, En stopped, considering digging for it, but soon gave up on the thought.

‘I’ll send it to your room,’ he decided. ‘Meeting is adjourned.’

Still somewhat affected, Fujita got up from the table, feeling a bit weak in the knees. But, even in the disarray that his mind was in right now, one thought could not be ignored. The boy took a deep bow.

‘Thank you very much for all your support, En-san!’

He straightened up, only to immediately bow in another direction.

‘I greatly appreciate your assistance, Sho-san, thank you!’

‘Just don’t start thinking things up,’ waved it off En. ‘From your own words, Matsumura was instrumental to my resurrection effort. I merely see it as fair that I return the courtesy.’

‘Oh-hoh, I can afford to be less facetious,’ laughed the assassin. ‘I put great value on loyalty, and Matsumura-kun has proven his beyond doubt. He is very welcome to any aid I can provide.’

Fujita raised his head with surprise in his eyes.

‘I had no idea you’ve known my partner so well, Sho-san…’

‘I could get a measure of the man, yes, but not from the jump,’ clarified bandaged sorcerer. ‘I’ve met him in hell, where he stood by my side, defending our leader from his numerous enemies.’

‘Doing a rather poor job of it,’ inserted En, looking sideways, ‘but it’s the thought that counts…’

‘It counts for a lot in my books,’ persisted Sho. ‘You see, Fujita-kun, I’ve been with the Family since the time it was nothing but an idea in one stubborn and ambitious head. It was never about status or profit for me, and there are few others I can assume the same about, let alone know it with confidence. Matsumura-kun is now one of those people, as he still stood with the Family, even when there was nothing to be gained from it, other than a target on his back.’

‘Sho-san… En-san…’ uttered Fujita, barely holding his overflowing emotions.

‘Alright, alright,’ hurriedly shooed him the Family head, sensing an awkward scene coming. ‘You have your assignment, hop to it.’

With another bow, the boy staggered out the door. As instructed, he immediately went to Chota, but, with his overloaded mind, it took a good while for the dispelling expert to cram even the basics of proper high society conduct into his memory. And it wasn’t helped by the man’s constant digressions on account of Fujita’s fabulous new mask. When the boy was finally let go, his head felt twice the size, but it wasn’t the end of it for tonight. By the door to his room, an unexpected visitor was waiting for the young sorcerer – his senpai, with the rediscovered dossier and a cellophane packet in his hands.

‘Shin-senpai?’ greeted him the boy, struggling to re-anchor himself to here and now. ‘Good, em… evening. You’re bringing me my “required reading”?’

‘Right. What a specimen…’ replied the cleaner, handing the papers over. ‘En told me you’re coming to a stuffed shirt event in a couple hours, to creep on this guy.’

‘Ehm, something like that, yes…’ confirmed Fujita, wishing his senpai would find a more glamorous way to describe it. ‘Sorry I can’t help you with work tonight.’

‘You can’t help me with work any day,’ shrugged it off Shin. ‘Anyhow, you’re not off the hook yet.’

‘What did you have in mind?’ asked Fujita, with a strong hope that it would be something simple and not immediate.

‘There is such thing as dress code,’ informed the man, handing his subordinate the packet. ‘You’ve clearly grown out of the only decent suit you have, so I’m giving you one of my old ones. You’re still a sorry sight neck-down…’

‘Shin-senpai…’ uttered the boy with trembling voice, taking the gift.

‘Oh, just don’t start crying over it,’ warned him the cleaner. ‘It’s not like I’d fit into it again anyway…’

He tersely congratulated Fujita on getting a proper mask and went on his way, allowing young sorcerer to finally return into his own space. After everything the boy had to process in one day, his darkened room felt a little different to him – a little foreign, as if he’d stepped out of it a long time ago, and not just this morning. Or, maybe, it was a very different him? Switching the light on, Fujita sluggishly pondered how lasting that feeling could be. And, if his perception of things was altered, would it inform altered actions? Altered attitudes?

Trudging through these thoughts, young sorcerer sat on the side of his bed, tossing the dossier onto his nightstand, and, as the papers landed onto the wooden surface, a quiet clink caught the boy’s attention. Curious, Fujita lifted the folder, to discover that the sound came from a small, metallic hairpin. Oh, of course… With all that was going on lately, the boy has forgotten all about it. It’s been… probably more than a year by now? He found it taped to his door one evening, after a long day of legwork, and, while Fujita didn’t know how it found its way there, he knew who left it. And he knew what it meant. He probably should have returned it to Chota, but… he didn’t.

As the boy changed into his new clothes, he kept glancing at the magical bauble, asking himself, why the recollections it summoned were so discolored – feeling more like a different life, not just a different time. So much has changed so quickly… This small thing was his last reminder of the one who once possessed it, and, looking at himself in the mirror, young sorcerer couldn’t help but wonder, where she was these days. Or, perhaps, where her thoughts were…

On the same night, yet under different skies, hooded girl with a heavy duffle bag on her shoulder found herself standing in front of what seemed to be some sort of a workshop. Much like all the other buildings in this wart of a place, it looked assembled out of miscellaneous scrap the owner could find, buy, nick, or otherwise procure on the streets of Hole. Only, it was, perhaps, on the whole, a bit better put together – materials arranged more sensibly, gaps caulked up more thoroughly. There was even a wooden plaque with some text nailed to the wall by the entrance, but, in the evening murk, the black symbols burnt into the wooden surface were now scurrying around like agitated ants. It seemed to be a short list of names, but the girl didn’t bother looking closer. She went up a short flight of surprisingly sturdy steps and pushed the door, making a chime fashioned out of nails, screw-nuts and some fishing line announce her arrival.

The room the girl stepped into was dark and small – merely a space to meet customers in – with the only light coming into it through little holes in a travel rug covering the doorway into the backroom.

‘That you, Tetsujo?’ came a voice from somewhere in the back. ‘All done with deliveries?’

‘No, not him,’ calmly responded the visitor, closing the door behind her.

‘Oh, you must be after the shoes…’ assumed the voice. ‘Could you come over here? I’m a bit tied up…’

The girl smirked, fixed the bag on her shoulder, pulled her hood further down and proceeded beyond the rug, entering a bigger chamber, partially lit up by a desk lamp at the far end. Its yellowish light revealed a scrunched figure of a dark-haired man sitting behind the worktable, peering intently at a piece of leather pinned to a wooden board before him. Without looking up from his project, the man pointed a thin piece of soap he was holding in his gloved hand towards one of the shelves lining the walls.

‘Find yours over there, okay?’ he requested with abrupt politeness of someone who is busy and short on time. ‘I’ll be done in a minute.’

Feeling no need to rush, the girl looked around the place, observing all manners of instruments hanging off fixtures on the walls – saws, hammers, wood-chisels and bores of different sizes, grouped up and neatly ordered, waiting to be used on the unfinished woodwork around the room. In one section, a thick carpet of flaky shavings covered the floor, swept hastily into a confined shape around a half-done item, to prevent them from being carried around. It seemed, whoever worked on it, had to jump onto something else in a hurry. Thick scent of dried wood permeated the air, mixing with smells of paint, glue, varnish and perhaps other things, all blending together in this stuffy space.

The man behind the desk made a few more strokes on the stretched leather and picked up a thin knife, ready to cut out the outlined shape, when the visitor’s silence pinged some kind of primal sense in him.

‘What, can’t find them?’ he asked, raising his head. ‘Sorry, Tetsujo handles the client-side stuff, so I don’t really…’

He stopped, belatedly registering the small figure across the room. His faceted eyes widened.

‘Wait, did you come here alone?’ the man questioned with alarm in his voice. ‘These are dangerous parts to just walk into!’

Under the hood, the girl’s eyes sparked – even with medical mask covering his mouth and nose, there was no mistaking this was the guy she came looking for.

‘Your concern is very touching…’ she replied with cold mockery, ‘…Kaiko.’

Hearing that name, for a moment, the man felt confused, but his body remembered before his mind did. The knife in his hand twirled into a very different grip.

Chapter Text

On the shifting plains of a border realm, in the heart of a conjured city, two figures walked the winding streets in silence. The hunched gray man let his stocky companion absorb the sights without distraction – the sorcerer had plenty to untangle. The buildings here appeared to be in better condition than the ones that came before – still showing signs of decay, but maintaining much more of their former veneer. Yet, despite being less tarnished, these streets seemed warped and fused, constantly bringing dissonance into the flow of Matsumura’s recollection. Houses that were supposed to be blocks apart stared at each other from across the street, walk-through alleyways ran into dead ends, circular turn-arounds branched in new directions. Regardless, short man did make sense of what was going on. The city was huge. Unlike his modest hometown, he couldn’t possibly remember it in its entirety, and now the parts he did recall lumped together, creating this bizarre condensation of his former habitat. The wave of returning memories was not as overwhelming as the first time, but hardly any more structured, compelling Matsumura to scan his surroundings with certain intent. He wished to find something to grab onto – a tangible grounding point.

‘Oh, this is where I was buying my shirts!’ he livened up, stopping by a dusty storefront.

The graphics on the glass largely peeled off, only distantly resembling scissors, needles and coils of thread, while the name of the store degraded beyond recognition. The man put his hand on the large window and swiped some of the dust off.

‘Heh… It’s not just a mirage after all…’ he affirmed out loud and took a peek inside.

Save for a few bare shelves and incomplete mannequins, the store was empty, with only a scattering of tiny particles drifting slowly in the intruding ray of light. Matsumura sighed disappointedly, blowing a small, suffocating cloud off the storefront, coughed and waved his arms in front of his face, stepping away.

‘Not… ehem… not a lot to see inside though,’ sorcerer said, clapping the dust off his palm.

‘Then it must have not been important to you,’ suggested gray stranger. ‘Places of significance retain more… grip. More vibrancy, more longevity. Echoes of the past cling to them. You have seen some of them on our way here – all around, sinking into the soil. A single lamppost could outlast this entire city, if that is where you have met your first love.’

Giving that insight a bit of thought, stocky man caught some embarrassed blush onto his cheeks.

‘It would not be a lamppost, heh-heh…’ he chuckled, rubbing his neck, before pulling the conversation away from the topic. ‘But how should I find such special places if I don’t remember them yet? I mean, right now, everything is… kinda… you know.’

‘Hold on to the thread you were unravelling, magic-user Matsumura,’ advised the old man. ‘Make connections to what you have already brought forth.’

‘Just “Matsumura” is fine,’ sorcerer offered with a sheepish smile, feeling like this strange companionship was already awkward enough. ‘Let’s track down my job then. That’s why I moved here, after all…’

He cast a sweeping glance around this chimera of a neighborhood, struggling to ascertain even the overall part of the city it was supposed to be in.

‘I, ehm… I doubt we’ll find it easily though…’ he admitted, with the usual whiff of apology in his voice. ‘With everything being higgledy-piggledy like that, I mean…’

‘If it is important to you, it will make itself seen,’ assured him the gray man. ‘Walk where your feet carry you, and you will reach it.’

With no concrete ideas of his own, pudgy sorcerer could only follow that advice and walk on. Just as before, the sights of the decaying city kept bringing back an assortment of little remembrances from different times of his life. Perhaps, he was indeed a creature of habit, if so many were connected to same places. Only, it wasn’t helping. What was supposed to be a chronicle was steadily becoming noise, and Matsumura sought to reign it in.

‘When I first came here, it was, you know… a lot,’ he resumed his tale from before. ‘Kinda scary. Sato-san couldn’t pick me up at the train station that day – there would have to be someone else. So, I was to go straight ahead from the main exit, to meet a girl in a yellow dress by the star-shaped fountain on a big square. A simple instruction, I thought – easy to follow. But, eh-heh… that’s not accounting for distances.’

Swayed by a ghost memory, Matsumura looked back, attempting to reorient himself against the train station, but that impressive building has long disappeared from sight, shouldered off the skyline by its taller brethren. He had to carry on without aid.

‘Back home, that description would mean I’d see the fountain right from the station steps. Here though…’ the man wrinkled his cheeks, fighting an emerging grin – amused by his own past simplicity. ‘Here, I could hardly see the street, with all the people just… flowing everywhere. To them, it must have looked like I was half-asleep, while I couldn’t understand why everyone was in such a hurry. Everything was so different and new and captivating – I couldn’t stop gawking around. Meanwhile, that square with a fountain just… wouldn’t appear…’

Sorcerer shivered, remembering vividly the sinking feeling he tried to escape that day.

‘At some point, a sort of… Idunno… worry creeped in – that I’ve been going in the wrong direction. That, maybe, I exited the station on the wrong side, or, you know, got turned around in all the bustle. I just couldn’t comprehend one road stretching on for so long, and, truth be told, despair was already hanging over me, when, heh-heh… at last, I did reach it. I don’t even know how to describe that first impression. It wasn’t a square to me – more like a… a paved field.’

With timing too perfect to be a coincidence, the two companions’ journey caught up with the tale, as they stepped from under an archway and found themselves on a paved square. Not at all living up to Matsumura’s description, it was crammed between huddling houses, and the fountain in the middle was no more than a cracked basin with rusted pipes protruding from its center. The man knew that this place was always grander in his memory than it could possibly be in reality – that he’d never be as impressed by it than on that day – and now that idea swung all the way in the other direction.

Approaching the fountain, sorcerer put his arm on the railing running between the points of the star, forming the enclosing circle. Rough from corrosion, it was warm to the touch, same as on that sunny day, and, despite weathered basin being completely dry, the man could faintly catch the smell of spray in the air. For a moment, Matsumura even thought he could hear dissonant grumble of countless footsteps and low, unintelligible murmur of a crowd, but the illusion vanished as soon as he tried to home in on it.

‘Here, right at the center, she was waiting for me…’ the man continued with quiet warmth. ‘Hana-chan – my future boss’s daughter. Well, future ex-boss’s I should say… She was quite gorgeous, but worked as waitress at that same diner, and volunteered to meet the new guy on her day off. Seeing her was such a relief, I can’t even begin to tell you… She couldn’t help but laugh at my fish-out-of-water look, and then treated me to my first ever hotdog on the way over. It was a… memorable day, that’s for sure, heh-heh-heh…’

Resisting the wish to linger in a moment, sorcerer looked around the compressed square and pointed his now rust-covered hand towards its corner, where, between two rows of houses, a narrow road went deeper into the city.

‘Now it’s this way, I think.’

For a while, despite the steady stream of memories, the journey continued in silence – for one reason or the other, Matsumura kept his latest insights to himself. The same ambiguous smile returned to his face as when he recognized a place he never thought he’d see again. His gray follower refrained from probing – instead, keeping a scrutinizing eye on the man’s pace, his posture, the unconscious motions of his puffy fingers. Perhaps, he didn’t need to ask questions to come closer to the answers he sought.

It wasn’t long before two companions were standing in front of a small diner tucked between two office buildings – though, it didn’t look like it belonged in its surroundings. For one, it maintained its appearance better than most its neighbors – looking aged and abandoned, but not falling into disrepair. More damningly, its summer terrace spilled out across the sidewalk and onto the street, coming a lick short of the dividing line. “Hearty Eats” said bold letters on its front. For reasons not fully known even to him, Matsumura didn’t hurry to enter the joint, nor even to take a peek through the windows. His eyes waded slowly over the simple exterior, but it wasn’t hard to tell that his mind was somewhere else.

‘Not going to come inside?’ asked the gray man, after allowing his companion some time to drift in the currents.

‘Oh, I…’ jumped the sorcerer, coming out of his thoughts, and tugged at his collar, as if his necktie suddenly became too tight. ‘No… No, I think, we can move on. It was just where I worked for a time. I lived further down the street – let’s see how that place held up.’

‘As you wish,’ did not object the stranger, and the travelers continued on their way.

‘At first, Sato-san lent me a room at her place,’ picked up his tale Matsumura, leaving the diner behind. ‘She said I could stay for as long as I needed, but I didn’t want to impose, of course, and started looking for a new place right away. I was expecting to find a modest apartment – small and affordable, just to have a place to rest my head at, you know?’

Sorcerer glanced at his gray follower, hoping to glean if the problem of lodgings was something familiar to him, but clarity remained unattained.

‘Anyway…’ he continued, before his companion could catch on to his curiosity, ‘while I was checking my options, one landlady mentioned there was another way: I could rent a decent apartment, if I didn’t mind sharing it with a roommate. She even had someone in mind who also was looking for a cheaper deal that summer – a perfect opportunity, she said. I think, she was way, way more enthusiastic about the whole thing than I was. Her horoscope foretold a fateful arrangement that morning, you see…’

With another quick, probing look, pudgy man attempted to gauge, what attitude his companion held towards superstition, but, yet again, there was nothing to read on the gray man’s wrinkly face – as unmoving and absent as the tone of his voice. Not wanting to further risk harrowing eye contact, Matsumura could only go on with his story.

‘And, um…’ he grinned, feeling slight embarrassment over upcoming confession, ‘to no one’s surprise, I couldn’t say “no”, so it was settled. It was all good though! The place was nice, and we quickly found common language with that other guy. Maeda was his name. He was a bit older – worked as a bank… something, somewhere in the business district. He was probably underemployed on that position – I’m sure, the guy could run circles around his peers. Heck, around his seniors, too!’

Hearing himself, Matsumura suddenly felt like he may have gotten a bit over-excited. Or, maybe… over-protective? Either way, he could afford dialing it down.

‘I mean, probably… It seemed that way to me, anyhow,’ the man clarified. ‘When he talked about his job, it was all mumbo-jumbo to my ears, but he was passionate about breaking out of his margins – realizing his full potential, you know? He read all those different publications, attended seminars and the like. I… respected that. Admired even. Maybe envied a little, too. I, myself… Well, I was made from different dough. Not that I thought about it, of course…’

The journey continued, and so did the story.

Years prior, at the “Hearty Eats” diner of the magic-user realm, a workday was coming to an end. Inside, last few customers were finishing their orders, relaxing in their seats, as evening light poured through the windows, giving the interior an air of calm and warmth. At the back, in the employee area, a young man of short stature was washing the dishes, scrubbing and rinsing plates and cutlery, before giving them a short puff of smoke out of the tip of his finger and putting them away. Today was a busy day, and his movements were now slowed down with fatigue. Even reserving his smoke usage to one little waft per item, young man was nearing his limits. He was ready for his shift to end quite a while ago, yet, just as he was about to finish the remaining batch, a young girl with a butterfly-shaped mask walked in, carrying more on a tray.

‘Last ones for today, Matsumura-kun!’ she chirped, putting the tray on the counter by the sinks. ‘You better hurry up – your friend is here.’

‘Right. Thanks, Hana-chan,’ young man replied, hiding his exhaustion behind a smile.

The girl would not be fooled. She shook her head and rolled up her sleeves, stepping to the struggling employee’s side.

‘Sa-ame as ever,’ she scolded softly. ‘Not a peep when you could use a hand. Lemme help, before you keeled over.’

‘No, no, Hana-chan, you don’t have to…’ tried to object young sorcerer, but the girl stopped him with just a hint of a frown.

‘Refusing help you could clearly use is not stoic or charitable, Matsumura-kun,’ she proclaimed with unflinching firmness. ‘And there isn’t anyone to impress.’

‘Oh… Okay…’ conceded the tired lad, seeing that Hana would not budge.

Having divided the remaining dishes, the two got to finishing the work, and, not wanting to create a weary mood, Matsumura rummaged in his noggin for a conversation starter. He didn’t come up with much. For as long as he worked in “Hearty Eats”, he was mainly trapped back here, while Hana fluttered between the interior and the terrace, and neither took the initiative in bridging the gap off the clock. Matsumura – out of shyness, while his ever so radiant colleague – the daughter of his boss and a cherished member of a sizeable flock of friends… Well, the stumpy dishwasher from “a little town over that-a-way” had a pretty concrete guess on that account as well. Whether he was right or wrong, to this day, the two remained strangers in all but name.

‘Aren’t you tired yourself?’ young man probed cautiously, rinsing a batch of forks. ‘You’ve been out there all day too, you know.’

‘A little…’ didn’t deny the girl. ‘But I’m the next owner in line, so it’s on me to look after the staff. Especially the stubborn lot that doesn’t take breaks…’

‘Wanna stick with family business then?’ steered past the final comment Matsumura. ‘I couldn’t have guessed.’

‘And why not?’ responded Hana with weird haste. ‘Papa already did all the heavy lifting, and I’m learning management directly from him. It should go swell.’

‘I… see,’ acknowledged young sorcerer, trying to recall if there was anything off in what he said. ‘I just thought a stunning girl like you wouldn’t be wanting for grander opportunities, you know.’

As soon as the last word left Matsumura’s mouth, he realized he may have made too bold of a jump and went red as radish, teasing a laugh out of his colleague.

‘Why thank you, ha-ha!’ she affected being embarrassed, with another plate in hand. ‘I’ve been scouted for “grander opportunities” once or twice, yes.’

‘Why didn’t you go?’ young man hurried to move the conversation forward. ‘I mean, you’d have success for sure…’

‘Thought about it,’ shrugged the girl. ‘Curious how traveling around the world would feel like. Living in vogue, hearing my name on strangers’ lips… Same as anyone, I guess,’ she recalled, without a hint of regret in her voice. ‘But I’m holding on to my roots. I grew up around here, know a bunch of people, have plans and all. Don’t wanna give it up. I’m down with simple happiness.’

Hana peeked at her co-worker, who already finished his half and was now snatching cups and saucers from her side. He seemed satisfied with her explanation well enough – or maybe didn’t care either way. After a moment of hesitation, the girl went a step further.

‘Besides…’ she shared, in the same open tone, but just that little bit quieter. ‘Papa would always say: “Shame on the parent whose child’s biggest dream is to be seen”. I think… I just didn’t want to be taken for such child. Papa’s girl that I am…’

What was meant to come out nonchalantly couldn’t avoid betraying vulnerability, and, for some time, the room was taken over by the sounds of running faucets and clinking of glass. Though, of course, it could not continue forever.

‘I, um… That’s…’ muttered Matsumura, putting the last saucer on the rack and turning off the water, not really sure where to go with what he heard – his eyes darting to Hana and back. ‘Oh, hey, you have a stain!’

While, perhaps, a little opportune, this was not a mere distraction. Indeed, on the bright surface of Hana’s uniform there was a fresh, ugly smear of gravy, likely put there by a dirty tray.

‘Aw, blazes…’ the girl bit her lip, stretching the stained section of cloth to have a proper look. ‘And I just had it washed…’

‘It’s fine,’ comforted her Matsumura, grabbing a leftover paper napkin off the counter. ‘Lemme help.’

Putting the napkin near the blot, young man poured some smoke over the greasy substance – his motions swift and efficient from abundant practice. Dark cloud seeped deep into the cloth, gently and thoroughly breaking the foodstuff off the threads and carrying it onto the paper, and, in just a few moments, the uniform was pristine once again.

‘Here, all done,’ reported the sorcerer, throwing the napkin in the bin.

‘Thank you,’ beamed Hana. ‘You’re always such a darling…’

Embarrassed with praise, Matsumura turned his face away – seemingly focused on untying his apron, while, in his head, searching for a suitable diversion, but the city girl saw right through his trick. With a mischievous smile, she reached forward and wrapped her arms around young man’s neck.

‘Wait, wait, wh- Hana-chan…’ stuttered blushing sorcerer, caught completely off-guard, but the girl just grabbed the strap of his apron and hoisted it off.

‘Your shift is over, magic man,’ she informed amusedly. ‘Go pick up your friend. He’s waiting on the terrace.’

In a minute, Matsumura was out the front door, a bit light-headed from exhaustion and all the embarrassment, to be greeted by a slim young man sitting at one of the summer tables – his friend and roommate, Maeda. With his blond hair, blue eyes and impeccable tidiness, he tended to look quite dashing, though it was sometimes spoiled by his tendency to drift off into his thoughts, at which times his features would become stern and rigid, with detached coldness to his gaze. He did however seem to have a soft spot for Matsumura, always livening up a little whenever the two would reconvene.

‘Evening, busy bee!’ he smiled, standing up. ‘Long day today?’

‘You’ve no idea…’ moaned short sorcerer. ‘How was that seminar of yours?’

‘Went pretty well,’ nodded the blonde with contentment. ‘Probably the last one I’ll attend for now.’

‘Home then? No detours, pleaseandthankyou.’

‘Yeah, fair enough. Let’s go.’

The two friends left the terrace and headed down the street – at first, in silence. However, Maeda kept shooting quick glances at his tired pal, clearly weighing something up in his mind.

‘Listen…’ he finally decided. ‘I understand it may not be the best time, but I wanted to give you a heads up. That guy I was telling you about – the one with fancy background – we kinda struck an understanding. We talked after the seminar, and he’ll drop by tonight. Is that alright with you?’

‘Umm…’ hummed Matsumura, tardily processing the whos and the whats of the question. ‘He’ll drop by either way, no?’

‘Well, yeah…’ agreed Maeda guiltily. ‘I was just hoping we’d… Well… I should have said something in advance, sorry.’

‘Nah, it’s fine,’ hurried to reassure him his friend. ‘It’s your apartment too – you can invite whoever you like.’

‘Thanks. I’m glad you understand,’ said the blonde with relief, but that wasn’t the end of it. ‘It’s just… He’s a bit fussy about appearances – everything has to be “presentable” with him… So, can you… sorta… not come apart at home, as you usually do? While he’s there, I mean.’

Fully accepting the validity of that description, Matsumura laughed with light self-irony, trusting in that his friend was not judging.

‘Eh-heh, am I that bad?’

‘You’re fine, just… You’ll do that, okay?’

‘Okay, okay…’

By the time the street lamps turned on for the night, young men reached the apartment complex they lived at, ducked into the inner yard, and, two flights of stairs later, now stood in front of their flat. With his usual deftness, blonde sorcerer unlocked the door and ceremoniously invited his friend inside.

‘After you, my esteemed associate,’ he offered with a theatrical gesture, though his tone sounded convincingly genuine.

‘Many thanks, my esteemed… ehm… buddy,’ attempted to mirror him Matsumura, coming in.

‘Alright, he should arrive in about half an hour,’ clarified Maeda, closing the door behind them. ‘I know you want to rest, but just hold on until then, okay?’

‘Goodness, I get it, stop fussing,’ lightly chided tired sorcerer, getting in front of the mirror.

Right now, he’d give anything for the permission to take his shirt off, unbuckle his belt and just drop into a chair in a heap. Then move onto dinner. Eventually. Instead, he had to unroll his sleeves, button up his collar, tuck his shirt in and brush his hair, as if he was about to attend a social event. Maeda was a natural at this. Owing to his occupation, even without cleansing magic, he made it a point to always look sharp. Matsumura, meanwhile, thanks to his stumpy build and rounded countenance, even on his best day, tended to look like a bumpkin in clean clothes. Or maybe it was that naïve look in his eyes that older people in his hometown used to call charming. Be as it may, he did what he could to look “presentable” and postponed his evening relaxation for half an hour. Then for half an hour more, as the promised guest didn’t hurry to show up. Indeed, Maeda already started getting fidgety, when two friends finally heard a rather forceful knock on the door.

‘So you found the place,’ said the blonde sorcerer, letting a well-dressed man and the scent of his expensive cologne inside.

‘What a depressing hovel you have to dwell in,’ replied the visitor, fishing a few papers out of the inner pocket of his coat. ‘No wonder you want out.’

‘Good evening. W- welcome,’ greeted him Matsumura, somewhat thrown off by the apparent lack of care for introductions.

Unhelpfully, the stranger did not seem to be of a courteous mind.

‘Who’s that?’ he asked abruptly, as if young man was an unexpected intruder.

‘That’s Matsumura,’ explained Maeda, now also sounding a bit on edge. ‘I told you about him.’

The man sized the short sorcerer up, with an expression of vague recollection.

‘Doesn’t look like much,’ he announced his verdict.

‘He’s reliable,’ countered the blonde. ‘You can trust him.’

The stranger huffed, giving Maeda a skeptical look.

‘Trust is a commodity I spend at my own discretion,’ he informed the young man and handed him the papers. ‘Here. Commit this to memory, then we can work on the rest.’

Not wasting a moment, the blonde took the papers with one hand, while already pouring smoke out the other. Dark cloud swirled in the air, gradually taking a more rectangular shape, forming finer parts, manifesting colors – becoming closer and closer to a small wooden bureau. As soon as the process finished, Maeda opened the uppermost compartment containing neatly stacked folders and slid the papers amidst those. Then, with a practiced flick of his hand, he closed the bureau, and it popped, vanishing without a trace.

‘Done,’ he reported with cold victory in his voice. ‘Anything else?’

‘Ho-o…’ drawn the man, raising an eyebrow, but then a glint of suspicion appeared in his eye. ‘Say then, what’s Daliah’s share in “ArcanaTech”?’

‘30%, directly,’ replied Maeda without a moment’s pause. ‘But she’s holding Yamazaru by the balls, so, realistically, it’s 47%.’

‘Impressive, impressive,’ the visitor clapped his hands, clearly satisfied with this test, then gave the young man a rather unceremonious knock on the shoulder, making him sway. ‘I can see we’ll be getting some fast results going forward. Alright, alright, I’ll gather more and we’ll talk further,’ he stated, then glanced towards silent Matsumura. ‘One on one.’

Without saying anything else, the man turned around and left the apartment.

‘Ehm… Thanks for… visiting…’ mumbled Matsumura towards the closing door.

‘Yeah…’ exhaled Maeda, shutting the lock. ‘He’s, um… He requires some getting used to.’

Young man turned to face Matsumura, and, for a moment, the exhausted sorcerer could see restless anticipation in his friend’s eyes. Whatever was in those papers, a promise of more sent Maeda’s mind places. Though, when the blonde caught his roommate’s confounded look, anticipation gave way to ashamed remorse.

‘Sorry you had to go through all this without warning,’ he apologized, grimacing with guilt. ‘That’s not how I pictured this. I didn’t expect you to have a long day, and him to…’ the sorcerer paused in search of appropriate words, but, after tellingly long silence, sighed and cut the excuses. ‘Tell you what – you humored me without complaint, and one good turn deserves another. Plop in the chair, and I’ll take care of dinner, okay? Don’t sweat a single other thing tonight.’

‘Deal,’ gladly agreed Matsumura, unbuttoning his collar. ‘I’d say it’s no biggie, you know, but I’m about to start coming apart in every sense.’

With that settled, young magic-user could finally remove the shackles of social expectations and deposit his tired body into the welcoming embrace of an old armchair, while, in the kitchen, Maeda wasted no time in putting together a meal of redemption. Before long, the recuperating sorcerer could catch an alluring smell flowing through the air and felt the weight of exhaustion getting somewhat lighter for it. His roommate learned to be self-sufficient at a young age, and his cooking skills were nothing to shake a stick at, so, before too long, Matsumura’s stomach openly voted to conduct reconnaissance, and sorcerer found no arguments against that. Thus, he pulled himself out of the chair’s soft grip and headed for the kitchen.

‘Had some rest?’ intercepted him Maeda, stirring something in a pot. ‘It’s almost ready, slide in.’

Only glad to acquiesce, Matsumura obediently took his usual seat behind the table, trying to find a topic for a conversation, so he didn’t have to just sit there like a hatchling with an open mouth. Today’s visit was an easy pick.

‘So, what kind of project do you have with… ehm…’ he realized the visitor didn’t even introduce himself.

‘Jiro,’ finished his sentence tonight’s cook, taking out the bowls and cutlery. ‘Can’t say we have a project yet, but it seems we could very soon.’

‘He wants you as, like, a, um… a market analyst or something?’

‘Something like that…’ answered Maeda elusively. ‘I was hoping I’d get a chance to properly introduce you two. I think there could be a place for you as well on this team. Well, there’s no team yet, but… You get what I’m saying.’

‘Wh- Wait, what?’ jumped Matsumura, suddenly feeling like someone forgot to put ground under his feet. ‘How did I get into this?’

At the sound of this overt distress, Maeda froze, ladle in hand, and shot an alarmed look over his shoulder. Apparently, this wasn’t the reaction he’d envision.

‘Uh… W- well, I’m not saying anything concrete,’ stammered the blonde, turning away and pulling the pot off the heat. ‘Just figured you’d also want to be in on the… Was hoping, actually… And, again, there’s nothing tangible just yet, don’t get me wrong.’

‘It’s fine, it’s fine, I was just surprised,’ hurried to put his mind at ease Matsumura, settling down. ‘I’m already working full time, you know.’

‘Yes, I know,’ agreed Maeda, filling a bowl with rich, thick stew. ‘But are you planning to always work there? Wash dishes and unload deliveries? I mean, nothing against honest labor, but…’

A sudden thought struck the blonde sorcerer, and, putting the bowl in front of his friend, he locked eyes with him.

‘Or is there something brewing between you and that hottie waiter girl?’ he asked with a devilish grin.

‘What?! No!’ fussed Matsumura, for the third time today filling up with red. ‘We’re just working together!’

‘O-oh…’ hummed Maeda, returning to the pot. ‘All that time together, and still nothing?’

‘She’s my boss’s daughter, in case you’re not aware,’ defended young man, but then realized that his much more confident roommate would poke holes in this argument anyway. ‘I mean, isn’t it obvious? Have you seen her? Have you seen her friends? I’m surprised she’s even working at a diner at all…’

‘Yeah, what’s up with that?’ pondered the blonde. ‘Solid footing, impressive looks, friends from all the right environments… She should be shooting to the top, not serving food to middle class.’

No stranger to the same ideas, Matsumura thought back to his exchange with Hana this evening – to how the girl had all her arguments on the ready, yet hesitated to divulge her reasoning in full. In a way, it made sense. With her circle of friends, no doubt she had to hear her decision questioned before – more than once, surely, and young man felt compelled to defend his co-worker’s choice.

‘Well, she said to me today she wanted to stay where her roots are,’ he tried to explain in Hana’s stead. ‘I don’t see anything wrong with that, you know…’

‘Is that so?’ mused the cook, placing rice and condiments on the table. ‘You see, my esteemed buddy, I think that’s your biggest weakness – you seem to always favor retreating to home base. You gotta challenge yourself more, or you’ll never get anywhere.’

‘Well, what can I do?’ shrugged short sorcerer. ‘I can’t help feeling comfortable with what I’m used to.’

A part of him knew it was not the precise truth, but it wasn’t a lie either, and tonight in particular Matsumura didn’t feel it in him to get into the weeds of his deeper motivations.

‘I see… Leave yourself no choice then,’ advised the blonde, pouring drinks into glasses. ‘If you wanna move forward, then cut off your own ways of retreat. Clinging to what feels familiar will do you no good.’

Finally, having brought the last bits to the table, young man sat down across from his friend. Contrasting starkly with his usual confidence, a strangely pensive expression came onto his face.

‘Though, look who’s talking…’ he smirked with self-irony. ‘You know, back in the day, when I was apartment-hunting, and the landlady brought this whole deal with shared rent, I thought I’d turn it down. Wasn’t looking for company. But then – and here’s the dumb part – then she mentioned your name. It reminded me of the place where I was born, in the mountains, and, wouldn’t you know it – that swayed me. Silly reason for such a decision, right?’

‘So you’re not from around here either?’ realized Matsumura. ‘I would have never guessed.’

‘Well… I’ve spent more time in this city than back home,’ elaborated Maeda. ‘May as well be local. It just so happened there was no real space for my… well… “brainy talents”… to shine out there, so my folks sent me here for education and early apprenticeship. I was eight or nine, I think. Would only come back for holidays once in a while – rarer still near graduation. It worked out rather well, all things considered. Had to punch above my weight to compete with the local kids – mostly from well-off families, as you’d expect – but here I am after all.’

Not that long ago having to bid his own goodbyes, Matsumura could sense some sort of newfound kinship with his usually reserved friend.

‘You must have missed your home, moving away like that…’ he sympathized.

‘In the first years, yes,’ agreed Maeda, nodding slightly. ‘Then it, sort of… Well, it didn’t vanish, but… I don’t know… Hard to word. Dulled, I think. My parents missed me badly though. Must have felt lonely, too. They eventually decided to have another child, so I have a sister somewhere out there.’

‘Somewhere… out there?’ repeated Matsumura, confused by the phrasing.

‘Oh… I keep swinging past the point, sorry,’ sped up the blonde, pushing out the difficult part all in one go. ‘Thing is, both my parents died around the time I fully graduated, so, for a while, I craved some solid ground under my feet, because there was no going back home anymore, and then I heard your name, and it felt like a sliver of that old time, and here we are. The end.’

He caught his breath, as an awkward period of silence seized the room. Perhaps, the topic went further than either sorcerer expected, but someone had to push towards a resolution.

‘I… didn’t know. I’m sorry,’ gave his belated condolences Matsumura. ‘But what about your sister?’

‘I’ve been informed she was adopted by good people, so she should be okay,’ assured the blonde. ‘Better than with me, anyway. I’m terrible with kids.’

‘Don’t you keep in touch with her?’ Matsumura hesitantly probed, feeling like he might be treading where he wasn’t invited.

Maeda didn’t reply right away, and it was hard to tell whether he was thinking or simply waiting for the question to expire. After a few long seconds, he spoke – this time, with regained confidence.

‘I honestly don’t think it would work out,’ he calmly affirmed. ‘Right now, she’s still just a baby. I’m all tied up here, and, by the time I can expect more freedom, she’ll be all grown up – raised by different people, in different circumstances. Sure, I could visit once in a blue moon, but what would that accomplish? Just remind her again and again that there is someone out there who is supposed to be a part of her family, but who she can’t be with? Same for me, too. Staying out entirely is just… kinder, in a way. Like, we’ve never even seen each other in the first place… I mean, I hope she has a good life. Of course. But, I’m afraid, all we’d ever be is a couple of strangers that look somewhat alike. Really, it’s best this way.’

Concluding his reasoning, Maeda clapped his hands on his thighs and shook the mood off.

‘But enough of heavy talk – the food is getting cold! Hurry up and dig in!’

‘Your wish is my command, heh-heh!’ chuckled Matsumura, relieved that the gloomy cloud left the room, and pulled his bowl closer. ‘Compliments to the chef!’

A short time later, one blissed out sorcerer sat at the table, resting his head on his palm, eyes closed in sated stupor, while the other finished his tonight’s resolution by the sink, washing the dishes. Once again, the blonde couldn’t keep himself from throwing quick looks over his shoulder, deliberating. It didn’t take long for him to be done, and, having closed the faucet, young man turned to his friend, leaning against the kitchen counter.

‘Feeling better now?’ he probed softly.

‘Much,’ replied Matsumura, without opening his eyes. ‘If you ever tire of banking, come to our place. You’ll do great.’

Maeda smiled and shook his head.

‘I was actually about to say the opposite. I mean, I don’t want to sound pushy, but… You think about what I said earlier, alright?’

Sorcerer at the table opened his eyes as much as his current state allowed.

‘About that team-up? Idunno…’

‘Well, you were planning to do something with your life eventually anyway, right?’ cautiously persisted the blonde. ‘Something other than menial labor all day long, so you could afford half an apartment?’

‘If you put it that way… I guess,’ agreed the sleepy lad. ‘I just can’t imagine how I’d contribute.’

‘I can,’ took his turn Maeda. ‘In a few ways, actually.’

‘What, you’ve been thinking about it?’

‘I have, yes.’

‘Why?’

Blonde sorcerer stepped away from his perch and returned to his seat across from Matsumura. In the light of recent upset, he puckered his lips, choosing the right words.

‘I… would like to have someone like you by my side in this endeavor.’

‘Why?’ repeated his question Matsumura. ‘I mean, it’s your territory. I just clean stuff.’

Clearly having not expected needing to “sell” the idea, Maeda made a vague gesture in the air, showing that his reasoning is not very well defined.

‘You see, our world tends to judge one’s worth purely on…’ he stopped and sighed, scrapping that approach. ‘Look, if I am to be completely honest here – you’re my pal. I know you. You come from a humble place, you pull your weight in the world without complaint. So I like you and I trust you. And the thing is, I can’t say the same about Jiro. I don’t know him for very long, and, truth be told, one on one, I don’t think I could stand him for very long…’

‘Why… work with him then?’ asked the short lad, straightening up and putting his arm down, as something about this conversation urged him to try and be awake.

‘Well… He’s my ticket in,’ explained Maeda, looking away, as if embarrassed. ‘He is from “high society”. He knows how it works. Knows people, knows approaches. If I stick by long enough – see enough, learn enough – I’m sure I can gain a foothold for myself. Make connections.’

‘What about your job?’ further questioned Matsumura. ‘Do you even have time for things on the side?’

‘Probably not,’ admitted the blonde. ‘But, if things go well, I’m not staying there.’

‘Isn’t it risky? You said yourself: you don’t trust Jiro… ehm… -san…’

‘The risk is there, yes,’ agreed Maeda, ‘but I’ve been around “elite” long enough to know his game. You see, everything he has was given to him – he didn’t have to earn a thing in his life. If he wished, he could just cruise on, without lifting a finger. But he wants more. He wants to play at a bigger table, and for that he needs to prove he’s not just a pampered heir – that he has some potential. That takes effort.’

‘So… he’s looking for help?’

‘He’s looking for an easy ride,’ frowned young man, with harsh, icy gleam appearing in his eyes. ‘He’s looking for people like us. Hungry people. Hard workers. Someone to do all the boring, scrupulous stuff and feel oh so grateful for it, while he exploits his family’s reputation to get someone’s ear at a fancy party, drunk on his own ambitions.’

Listening to his friend, Matsumura wasn’t sure if he was making arguments for or against his own plan. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him, but he knew Maeda was smart. He must have seen the whole thing very differently.

‘I’m… I’m not sure we’re seeing the same picture here…’ he muttered, but then hurried to point out that his opinion wasn’t final. ‘I mean, I have mashed potatoes for a brain right now, so…’

‘Of course. I understand,’ assured him his blonde friend. ‘I… Again, I’m only bringing this up for consideration. It’s just…’

He fidgeted uncomfortably. The amount of openness he’s shown tonight was indeed uncharacteristic for him.

‘It’s just… When I think that the rest of my life will be a glacial crawl from a nobody to maybe somebody’s assistant’s assistant – that I’ll always be leashed to someone else’s ambitions, while being acutely aware of my own, I… hah…’

Young man couldn’t hold back a chuckle, but it wasn’t a happy one.

‘Maybe, I just set myself up early on,’ he resumed after regaining control. ‘Thought myself special – thought that being ahead of my peers would amount to something. That persistent work was all it takes. Turns out, you need something very, very different…’

He looked his friend in the eye – trustingly, almost pleadingly.

‘I realize what I’m talking about sounds like a reckless venture, but you know me – I’m not a gambler. I just want to make something of myself, Matsumura. Will you help me?’

At this moment, short sorcerer felt especially clearly that he was not made of stone.

‘Fine, fine…’ he caved. ‘I’ll think about it – promise. When I actually can think…’

‘Thank you,’ smiled Maeda, with relief and gratitude brightening his gaze. ‘I’ll do all I can to make your decision an easy one.’

And so, it was decided.

Chapter Text

On the night of second anniversary of the Cursed Rain Cessation, with the last traces of sun fading from the horizon, a highly advanced broom took off from the launch pad of En’s mansion and darted away, carrying two passengers. The red-haired man in front seemingly concentrated on piloting, while the boy at the back did his best to assume the right mindset – gazing unseeingly at the rooftops rolling under his feet. He could hear revelry spilling onto the brightly lit streets below, with music, jubilant shouting and laughter flowing through the air, but his mind was pushing it into the background, preoccupied with what was waiting ahead. He even took off his treasured new mask, not wanting to be pulled away from reality by its intoxicating influence – instead, letting the wind ruffle his hair and cool his flaring skin.

Their destination – the Festivity Palace – stood out as a colorful landmark on the city skyline, lit up by a kaleidoscope of projectors and occasional flashes of fireworks. It was quite a ways away from the mansion, but the cutting edge vehicle carrying the two across the sky could cover that distance in no time flat. And so, about half way there, the boy was taken out of his meditation, sensing the broom slowing down. Eager grumbling of the engine has gone quiet, and the technological marvel kept slowly gliding forward with but a whisper.

‘Is something the matter, En-san?’ the boy asked, looking over the pilot’s shoulder.

The man checked the smoke level in the tank, then unlatched the fueling mask and hung it on the handlebar. He sat upright, yet wouldn’t turn to his passenger.

‘Let’s go over a few things before we get to the Palace,’ he said, loud enough so that Fujita could hear him. ‘No unwanted ears here.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘Right,’ nodded En and cleared his throat, buying himself one final moment. ‘First off, once we’re inside, you’re on your own. Split off and don’t approach me – my name is more likely to impede you than to help you. When you’re ready to leave, just leave. I’ll follow later.’

‘Got it.’

‘Also, don’t give away your true goal to that Matchmaker guy. Don’t ask him directly about his means – piece it together on your own.’

‘Why?’ probed the boy. ‘I mean, of course, but…’

‘If you want to get anywhere in this world, as you keep claiming, you should learn to discover your own “whys”,’ replied the man dryly, but then elaborated anyway. ‘He’s an experienced manipulator. If he learns that some knowledge has value to you, it will become a carrot on the stick for him to take advantage of you with. Trick him into revealing it, feign a grander goal – make him want to impress or tempt you.’

‘I see. Anything else?’

‘Don’t rush the main objective. If you’ll sense that it’d take time and subtlety, then prepare for the long game. Tonight, you’re only getting your foot in the door.’

‘Of course,’ acknowledged Fujita. ‘One step at a time. Is that everything?’

This time, En did not hurry with his answer. For a while, he sat motionlessly, peering forward, then quietly groaned and crossed his arms on his chest.

‘En-san?’ queried the boy, again attempting to look at his boss’s face.

‘Yes, yes,’ replied the Family head with signs of poorly contained aggravation. ‘Don’t rush me, I’m swimming upstream here.’

Fujita leaned back, giving the man his space, as another fiery bouquet bloomed in the sky above the Palace – they were getting close.

‘Damn it, this is Sho’s territory,’ finally spoke up En, parting his arms. ‘I hate motivational speeches. I want to believe my underlings- my employees… have accurate understanding of their…’

He let out an annoyed sigh and turned back to face the boy – his sullen expression making it clear that he’s not exactly thrilled about this talk.

‘Listen well, because I’m not going to say it twice,’ he commanded, making young sorcerer perk right up. ‘The support you’re getting from me and the rest of the Family in this – it’s not charity or idle fancy. You’ve earned it. And so did your partner, got it?’

Having pushed that out, the man turned back around and grabbed the handlebar. However, he wouldn’t increase the speed, and Fujita surmised the conversation wasn’t over. The boy waited.

‘You see, Sho was right…’ continued the red-haired man in a quieter tone. ‘Loyalty is precious. Back then, when I heard about what happened to Matsumura, I acted out of pride and pragmatism – no more than that. I wanted to make sure everyone still remembers that no one can make a move against En’s Family and remain unpunished. Spending resources seemed a small price for maintaining reputation, and for everything else I had my magic – the strongest and scariest of all.’

En shook his head and chuckled, amused and pained by his newfound perspective.

‘Turns out, none of that matters in hell. All your riches, fame, power – gone. You’re but a naked wretch, surrounded by ones just like you. All you get to keep is the grudges you’ve accrued. And your friends…’

As he spoke, sorcerer’s voice was gradually losing the tinge of irritation, becoming solemn and contemplative.

‘The kicker is… it’s pretty much the same up here, if you can believe it. Money, luxury, influence, status… You’ve heard it yourself just this afternoon: it can all go up in smoke in a second. Only the bonds we forge with trusted allies endure. And when I was brought back – having seen how many of them I had… Heh…’ a web of shallow wrinkles appeared around En’s eyes. ‘How funny it is… I’ve gotten so used to feeling wealthy… But that day, in the Hole’s putrid gutter, I think I understood what it means to feel rich.’

The man went silent for a moment, considering if he should just cut it here. As another volley of fireworks filled the air with crackling, he could already make out the landing pad by the Palace.

‘So, if you succeed in your quest, Fujita…’ he continued, surprising even himself, ‘magic or no magic, your partner will always be part of the Family. Don’t doubt that much.’

As the broom descended onto the pad, and the two stepped off, there were conflicting feelings fighting inside Fujita. On one hand, he was overjoyed to hear those words from the Family head himself, and touched by his frankness, but on the other, it didn’t elude him that this confession did not come out easy.

‘En-san…’ young sorcerer called cautiously, knowing how fleeting his boss’s good spells could be. ‘Thank you. For telling me this, I mean.’

He bowed politely, containing himself, as to not blow it out of proportion and trigger a snapback.

‘Well, I couldn’t bet on you figuring it out on your own,’ immediately dismissed him En, heading for the entrance. ‘And cut this stuff out. No bowing, no fawning. You must walk in as an equal, not as a hopeful admirer.’

‘Oh! Right… Got it…’ straightened up Fujita and hurried to follow the Family head.

‘Not everyone who is standing at the top was born into privilege – some had to claw their way up,’ elaborated the man. ‘You’re an unknown, so you must convince your target that you’re of that second ilk, and that you have potential.’

Glancing over his shoulder, En gave the boy a quick look-over.

‘At least you seem the part. I expected Shin’s clothes to look baggy on you, but I guess you are gaining some good weight. Training must be paying off.’

‘Umm… I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,’ replied Fujita, trying to conceal skepticism in his voice, ‘but, frankly, I’m not sure what Shin-senpai’s idea of training is exactly. He’s the one dealing with the goons. All I do is search for leads, lug those gross trash bags around and… ehh…’ the boy’s face darkened, ‘occasionally get jumped and beaten, when captives mistake us for buyers…’

‘I have full confidence in that Shin knows what he’s doing,’ assured En, rather unconvincingly. ‘And what you two are doing is important work regardless.’

‘Sorry if I’m being ignorant,’ objected Fujita with sudden harshness, ‘but I don’t get it. I mean, Snatchers… How is it our problem? Those savages should get their shit together and sort it on their end. What do we achieve by coddling the weak?’

‘I’ve been asked that very question when I took you in,’ grinned En under his mask, making the boy go red. ‘There is truth to what you’re saying, but clinging to “shoulds” is a weakness of its own. Like it or not, if we don’t pitch in with squelching this rot, the number of disgruntled humans in our realm will keep growing.’

‘I see how it’s a bother, but…’ started mumbling Fujita, but was quickly interrupted.

‘It’s worse than it seems on the surface. The problem with Hole and its cursed rain is derived from human hate over an ancient grudge. Don’t forget – that rain poured over our world for weeks. It seeped into the soil, pooled in the lowlands, flooded every tunnel and basement… The residue it carried seems inert for now, but get enough angry savages on this side, and who knows what could happen. Our world is just barely regaining its footing – the last thing we need is irked paranormal phenomena rising out of our bathroom sinks.’

Approaching the entrance, En slowed his step, then stopped altogether, while they were still out of the earshot of the greeter and turned to his underling.

‘Alright, enough about that,’ he said in lowered voice. ‘Mask up. When we go in, keep your wits about you – there will be a lot of powerful and dangerous people in that hall. Don’t let your guard down, don’t allow anyone to drag yourself into some scheme. These “polite” conversations are like webs for ill-informed. Chota taught you how to disengage without offending – keep that knowledge handy. Your target is Jiro – focus on him alone. Make a good first impression. Intrigue him, make him want to keep you around long enough so you can find out what went into that resurrection trick he pulled off. If it was him, anyway.’

‘Got it,’ nodded the boy.

En mulled something over for another few seconds, then looked fledgling sorcerer in the eye with chilling directness.

‘But, above all, do not overplay your hand. Being caught on a lie is but a fleeting embarrassment among the players. But stick your head too deep into someone’s secret closet, learn something that could cause them trouble…’ Family head paused, considering how discouraging his words could prove being. ‘Well, don’t get carried away is what I’m saying.’

The boy gulped nervously.

‘I… Understand…’

‘Good,’ concluded En, resuming his walk. ‘Then let’s not waste any more time. We’re already fashionably late.’

When Fujita stepped into the grand hall of the Festivity Palace, he found it filled with light, music and bustle. Garishly dressed crowd spilled across the floor in an ever-changing motley pattern, as groups formed around the hottest conversations of the moment, then broke apart, spread and flown through the openings, keeping the air abuzz with chattering and laughter. The boy entered these currents, casting probing, yet cautious glances at people around him, while trying to avoid attention as best he could.

The balance he had to maintain was tricky – not looking bold enough to catch the eye, but not timid enough to stick out like a sore thumb in this sea of panache. The fledgling sorcerer thought of Sho – of how former assassin seemed to dissolve in plain sight the moment you stopped focusing on him. There was this aura of detachment around the man – silent confidence in self-sufficiency that excused him from clamoring for anyone’s attention. As a result, no one’s attention could hold onto him for too long either. As Fujita tried to find the same source of calm control in himself, a memory came to the fore – something he heard from Chota during their etiquette briefing this afternoon.

“Body language, body language, body language!” chanted the bird-masked sorcerer, demonstrating a polite, but non-committal acknowledgement of someone’s attention. “Remember: when you’re surrounded by alien, the eye catches onto familiar, and when you’re surrounded by familiar, the eye catches onto alien.”

If that was the case, Fujita was supposed to glow like a neon sign in the midst of all these powerful magic-users, yet no one seemed compelled to gawk at him with confusion and scorn. The ease with which the boy plunged into these treacherous waters was also surprising to him in hindsight. Was it that he spent enough time around En’s Family not to feel intimidated by status anymore? Or was it that he now felt closer to their level than ever?

Fujita took a quick glance back to where he split off from his boss. Red-haired man sailed these waves with natural ease – courteously exchanging greetings and toasts with passers-by, as they smiled to his face, only to shoot daggers at his back. It was a front – the sorcerer was wearing two masks at once. His flashes of petulance, his moments of candidness – these people would never see any of it. But Fujita was allowed past the facade. Other Family members treated him cordially, much-feared cleaner Shin made him his protégé. He was truly accepted. Maybe, he was the only one who still doubted it?

The boy returned to his search. Treading lightly, he crossed the hall and went up a few steps on the main stairs leading to the upper floors. From his high ground, Fujita peered into the shifting sea of heads, and finally had a lock on his target – the man whose dossier he’s been studying just recently. The boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath – his mission was about to begin. The man before him had the home advantage among this crowd. He was well-liked and well-connected. Most accounts described him as affable, and his schemes seemed to have benign results for those involved. His methods, however, painted a different picture. He was someone for whom ends justified any means – a shrewd, callous manipulator. Someone who would work his own partner into the grave, just to gain an edge.

Fujita looked inward. What could he put against such an opponent? What did he have that would help him withstand that man’s scrutiny? Being granted a mask by a devil was no more than a buy-in, and name-dropping Family was off the table. What else did he have? He had regard of some of the strongest magic-users in the realm, for one. He didn’t need to play that card – the knowledge itself straightened out his posture. In the past year, he’s been in countless scuffles with dangerous or desperate people, and it dulled his skittishness. And before that, he’s been in the very center of apocalyptic events, been stranded among enemies, stood at death’s door, had his whole body taken apart. Most people in this very room – crème de la crème, as Sho would call them – spent that time fleeing or hiding, despite their power, status and resources. They caved in face of adversity. Should he now fear their judgement? No. No way. He came here with a goal, and it’s them who’d better deliver.

Fujita returned to the floor and made his way to where he spotted the Matchmaker. The man stood in his own little space, surrounded by patronizing betters and favor-seeking hopefuls, juggling shades of demeanor as he addressed the former or the latter. Yet he wasn’t holding a court. In fact, he strode a very fine line between reserved gregariousness and polite detachment – probably the closest thing to modesty you could see in this room. Whether his tone was welcoming or final, something in it compelled you to listen some more, and surrounding sorcerers eagerly took turns in coaxing broker’s regard.

As the boy got near, he recalled how, during raids, his senpai would command attention of lowlifes without saying a word. The sheer directness of his approach made heads turn, and now Fujita could sense why. He could pull off that carnivorous vibe too. He was sure of it. Tonight, in this place, he could be the hunter. As he stepped closer, his eyes crossed with Jiro’s, and the man stopped talking mid-sentence.

‘I see a fresh face in our midst,’ he said softly, turning to the new arrival – not at all unsettled, but evidently curious.

‘One of several, I’m sure,’ Fujita nodded politely, mentally docking his first point.

‘True enough,’ agreed the man, as his little crowd studied the cause of the interruption. ‘Could you, perchance… be someone I’ve heard of lately?’

‘Not likely,’ nonchalantly shook his head Fujita, with a touch of self-irony in his voice, then gave the man a meaningful look. ‘But give it time…’

With a pondering hum, Jiro sized the newcomer up, as if weighing his tone against his posture.

‘Would you care to introduce yourself then?’

‘I would,’ agreed the boy, casting a quick, sweeping look around Matchmaker’s company. ‘Tête-à-tête… But I don’t wish to intrude. Perhaps, later tonight?’

He has assumed that “I’m about to respectfully disengage” look Chota has shown him earlier, but, to young sorcerer’s unseen triumph, Jiro protested.

‘Why wait?’ he waved his hand impatiently. ‘I was looking to stretch my legs a little anyway. If my dear friends would excuse me for a few minutes?’

Even though most of the man’s little circle must have far outranked him in the pecking order, his voice didn’t carry a shade of ingratiation. Instead, it sounded thankful in advance, and all but one reveler felt nothing against graciously humoring broker’s whim. And for the one excited dame that tried to press for advantage and tag along, it only took a single, short, warmly spoken question to completely bar her off with implied impoliteness.

Soon after, the two sorcerers left the main hall and went up to the next floor, where the sounds of music and revelry were muffled and the air felt lighter – devoid of inescapable mixture of perfume and sparkling wine. A few others had the same idea, now walking off their stupor in this vast empty space, but even that seemed too much of a crowd to the broker. He’s lead Fujita to the far end of the room, where an attendant was placed by a chained off archway. As the two approached, the servant stepped to intercept with a raised palm.

‘I’m sorry, the gallery is closed for the time of celebration,’ he warned respectfully.

‘It’s okay, I know the owner,’ brushed him off the Matchmaker, not even slowing down, but the attendant got in his way.

‘Everyone knows this gallery’s owner,’ he insisted, ‘but my instructions were very clear: no entry today. I’m terribly sorry.’

‘I see…’ sighed the sorcerer, with annoyance clearly coming to the surface, and pulled out a couple of banknotes out of his pocket. ‘Will this help you sleep better?’

‘Sir, please…’ protested the worker, looking uncomfortably at the offered bills. ‘I don’t think you understand…’

‘Then do enlighten me!’ grumbled Jiro, crossing from annoyance into open frustration. ‘Tell me what you see from the height of your position that I don’t. You must be real chums with the boss, if he clearly instructed you to stand in my way.’

‘I… N- No, I’m only…’ stuttered the servant, visibly struggling not to back off. ‘But, if it would please you, I could inquire on your behalf… It would take no more than five minutes!’

‘Phah…’ cackled the broker derisively and gave his victim a perforating look. ‘You think you can afford five minutes of my time…?’

The uniform mask couldn’t hide that the attendant went pale in the face – his lips trembling with powerless desperation. After hesitating for another second, he stepped aside and unlocked the chain.

‘Well, if you only look carefully…’ he began delivering his justification, but Jiro had no interest in listening to it.

‘I’m glad we’ve managed to get through to you,’ he coldly dismissed, walking in, then turned to Fujita, not even out of the earshot of the shaken worker. ‘And that’s how you do it. Insistence is the key to many doors, don’t you agree…?’

The man gestured towards his follower, welcoming an introduction.

‘Fujita,’ caught on young sorcerer.

‘Fujita…’ repeated the broker slowly, as if testing how it rolled off his tongue. ‘So, Fujita-kun, what’s drawn you to me, out of all the fine folk in that room?’

‘You said it yourself – I’m a new face around here,’ explained the boy, taking care not to sound fawning. ‘So I’m looking to start on the right foot with… notable individuals. Earn some good faith.’

‘Sensible…’ judged the broker, unhurriedly walking past the exhibits. ‘And what made you sure I am worthy of such esteem?’

Not fooled by implied humility, young sorcerer let those words marinate a little, feigning spontaneity of his response.

‘In the world ruled by magic, we can be sure of precious few things…’ he eventually mused, seemingly not even distracting from browsing the items on display, then turned to his sharply dressed companion. ‘But you do have a certain reputation, and I wish to see for myself how much truth there is to it.’

‘Oh? And for what that reputation might be?’ Matchmaker asked wryly.

‘Succeeding.’

‘Do be more specific,’ insisted the man in suddenly harsher tone. ‘I’ve no interest in riddles.’

Fujita’s heart has shifted into the next gear, but he held himself in check.

‘You’re someone who facilitates beneficial outcomes, are you not?’ he asked without betraying any distress. ‘For those who have the vision for them…’

Apparently, the broker found that response agreeable. He relaxed, and harshness vanished from his voice as quickly as it appeared.

‘That is an interesting way of putting it,’ he said with a tinge of praise. ‘Not an inaccurate one. Do you have such vision?’

Being careful not to crank his performance too far, Fujita let out a restrained laugh.

‘Have anyone ever said “no” to that?’ the boy shook his head with an amused smile. ‘I trust it that you are not someone who enjoys wasting time. What do you really want to know?’

Now it was Jiro’s turn to keep the question hanging. Because of his noisy mask, it was hard to tell what was written on his face right now, but the boy keenly felt being observed. All he could do was maintain the air of mysterious confidence.

‘Are you one for art?’ finally asked the gaudy man, still opting for a roundabout approach.

‘Can’t say I am, no,’ honestly confessed Fujita, seeing no use in laying a potential trap for himself. ‘Why?’

‘I want you to take a look at something,’ invited Jiro, leading the boy further into the gallery.

Picking up his pace a little, the man made his way across the room, to one of the sections at the far corner and pointed towards a large painting on the wall.

‘Tell me, what do you think about this one?’

Humoring his target for the moment, Fujita looked up at the piece, hastily digging up any fancy art terms he could utilize to frame his response. On the first glance, it didn’t look too complicated. For one, young sorcerer could tell that the artist used contrasting colors to draw the eye to certain details. The beige and orange background depicted a desolate hellscape, distorted by shimmering haze. In the middle, the warm colors encased a dreary blot, making a shape of a hunched figure in worn robes, trudging along a thin, sand-swept trail. In these bright, sulfuric surroundings, it seemed discolored and forsaken – consisting of little more than shades of gray, with the only striking detail about it being its eyes. That deliberately detailed, penetrating gaze looked uncompromising, almost intrusive, unsettling the boy. He averted his eyes, looking instead at the gilded plate at the base of the frame – letters etched on it spelling “Deceiver”.

‘An interesting piece, isn’t it?’ asked Jiro, studying the boy’s reaction.

Fujita turned to the man, hiding his discomfort behind an image of lukewarm indulgence. Was Matchmaker’s intention to throw him off balance? He had to keep it tight.

‘How so?’ he inquired, preparing to analyze the reply.

‘It was drawn by an artist who wasn’t all there, if you get my meaning,’ explained the broker, tapping his finger on his temple. ‘He claimed that his spirit was leaving his body during sleep, and travelling across the realms of creation. He then painted his dreams and tried to make sense of them. Wanna know what he had to say about this one?’

‘If you think it’s worth a listen…’ shrugged Fujita, aiming to project that he’s not here for idle fancies.

‘Oh, it is,’ insisted Jiro. ‘According to the author, the gaze of this gray figure has the power to see and reveal truth. If you can’t bear looking it in the eye…’ he made a short pause, letting young sorcerer realize his place in this explanation, ‘it means that there is something you wish to hide.’

The boy felt a block of ice forming in his stomach, and it took all his strength to keep himself from shuddering. He postponed looking back in Jiro’s face, portraying contemplation, not rushing to spurt out a response. He needed to numb the fear, yet couldn’t afford dissociating. He had to keep his head in the game.

‘Well… That describes just about anybody,’ replied the boy after a measured delay. ‘A weak excuse for an ugly painting, if you ask me.’

The broker laughed.

‘Indeed, I wouldn’t want it hanging in my house, ha-ha!’

Despite the sense of relief, Fujita remembered not to celebrate victory before it’s achieved. He still had an illusion to sell – he came here to seize, not to avoid.

‘So what’s the deal with “Deceiver”?’ young sorcerer inquired, demonstrating that Matchmaker’s implications ruffled no feathers. ‘If this… whatever it is… is all about truth, I mean.’

‘Can’t say for certain,’ contorted his lips the broker. ‘But, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Someone who wishes to deceive will first seek to learn truths about you. To know what you would believe. What you would want to believe.’

He cocked his head to the side, looking at Fujita in a patronizing, almost mocking way, as if he was holding him in the palm of his hand. His tone slowly changed to match that – becoming amused and teasing.

‘You’ll often hear them talk about truth and faith and trust, as if it’s all they’re about… They may even throw in a few small truths about themselves – something evident, something you wouldn’t question – so, when the moment comes, they could sell you that one… Perfect… Lie.’

All the way through this explanation, the boy heard alarms ringing in his head. But he ignored them. He was being provoked. Tested. He was definitely being tested. This man had one dance, and Fujita has already seen it. The words, the inflections, the implications – they weren’t genuine. Praise, interest, dismissiveness, suspicion – he was going through them like through keys on a ring, waiting to hear a click.

‘Speaking from experience?’ the boy eventually asked, carefully avoiding sounding defensive or accusatory.

‘Many experiences,’ admitted Jiro. ‘Although, all the deceivers I’ve met in my life had one thing in common – they couldn’t help telling on themselves. Some on accident, some were cheeky like that, and some… Well, they’ve lied so much, they could no longer tell what the truth was themselves, and laid it all out in plain sight.’

The man’s tone has once again assumed that cautionary ring, trying to get under Fujita’s skin, but young magic-user didn’t flinch.

‘Thankfully, you don’t have to trust someone to find a use for them,’ finished the broker, having examined his companion’s reaction for long enough. ‘Or nothing would ever be done.’

‘Trust is a fool’s gamble,’ the boy concurred.

‘And distrust is the thinking man’s honesty,’ followed up the gaudy sorcerer. ‘Good to know we both see it this way. The trick is to figure out another’s intent. Maybe they want to take advantage of your skills, or maybe they want to take advantage of you.’

The broker made a brief pause to look up at the gray figure on the canvas once again, as if trying to puzzle out the motive it could be hiding.

‘Or, who knows… They could be seeking to tease out every crumb of who you are, and steal your very fate,’ he theorized in a solemnly contemplative tone, but perhaps a bit too quickly and concretely.

With his tenure at En’s side, Fujita could tell when a phrase was spontaneous, and when it had time to assume a refined shape. Jiro was putting on a show – he was trying to impress him. Ground was being gained, and so the boy pressed on.

‘Whatever the case may be,’ he continued the broker’s thought, ‘once you know what they aim for, you can decide if it’s something you can work with. Or around.’

‘Exactly.’

For his next move, fledgling sorcerer tapped into his knowledge of Jiro’s past.

‘Though, there isn’t much use in playing it safe all the time either,’ he stated with knowing confidence. ‘To win big, one has to place bets, after all.’

‘True…’ nodded the broker, then, after brief silence, his tone went from roundabout to direct at the flip of a switch. ‘What are you aiming for?’

‘Simply put, I’ve outgrown my current company,’ replied Fujita, matching the shift. ‘It was nice enough going for a while, but the world is changing. If I am to truly get anywhere, I need to find those who can better appreciate what I bring to the table.’

‘Which is…?’

‘I get things done,’ said the boy in a rather closing manner.

Unlike before, Matchmaker did not take umbrage at a general reply. This time, he pondered on it.

‘Mind if I take advantage of it myself?’ he probed after a short while. ‘A trifle, I promise.’

‘If it gets me somewhere, sure.’

The broker laughed again.

‘You’re not wasting time yourself. I like it,’ he patronized. ‘You know what I would also like? Something refreshing. Like, say… a paradise fruit?’

By the way Jiro lowered his voice on the last words, the boy figured there was a catch.

‘Don’t reckon you can find one on the table downstairs?’ he supposed with a careful injection of irony.

‘I’d be surprised if I could,’ smirked the man. ‘Our tonight’s host knows how to organize a party, sure, but he’s always – as you put it – “playing it safe”. Such by-the-numbers events, like tonight, especially make me crave something more… exotic. I’m sure you understand what I’m saying… Fujita-kun, was it?’

‘Just Fujita is fine,’ allowed the boy.

‘We will see,’ teased the broker, with a faint ring of promise to his voice. ‘Now, since we’re done getting acquainted, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m sure I’m being missed.’

‘Of course,’ agreed Fujita, feigning a mood for staying in the gallery a while longer. ‘Have a pleasant night.’

When the broker left, the boy could finally exhale, having unwittingly held his breath after every phrase. Letting the hum in his head slowly subside, he tried to analyze the course of his operation. Was he successful? Did he pull off the deception? Or did he give away his game, and was now on a crash course, cluelessly? Fujita couldn’t think of any overt signs of dropping the ball, but reasoned he needed an expert opinion.

After collecting himself for another minute, he was ready to go, lingering only for one last thing. Before departing, young sorcerer looked up at the disturbing painting again, locking his eyes with the creature on the canvas. Fighting through discomfort, he endured its piercing gaze with firm resolve.

“Look all you want,” he challenged it in his head. “I’m hiding it from others, not from myself.”

With that asserted, Fujita exited the gallery, slowing for a moment by the unfortunate attendant. All this time, he was peeking nervously into the chained off room, trying to assess if everything was okay with the items, and young sorcerer wished he could relieve his worries. Alas, the few guests strolling in this empty hall had the two in the clear view, and “consoling the help” was not a conversation piece he could afford to introduce into tonight’s pool. It was out of Fujita’s hands. Pressed to abandon his intent, the boy returned downstairs and, having made sure he caught En’s eye, headed for the exit. Outside, young sorcerer didn’t even make it to the landing pad, before the Family head caught up with him.

‘Good grief, I completely forgot how dreadful these posh get-togethers are…’ the man lamented, jumping onto the broom. ‘Let’s head to the mansion, before someone else tries to inflict their crummy witticisms upon my ears.’

As soon as the boy took his seat, the broom soared into the sky and jetted off.

‘So,’ shouted En, trying to be heard over the engine, ‘what’s your first impression?! Who is that guy?!’

‘The dossier was on point!’ shouted Fujita in response. ‘He’s pompous, but cunning! Seems to constantly test everyone around him – tries to shake something loose!’

‘Par for the course,’ brushed it off red-haired man, dropping down the speed, so they didn’t have to shout anymore. ‘Anything actionable so far?’

‘Asked me to get him a paradise fruit,’ reported the boy. ‘All evasive-like. Must be something hard to come by. A test of my resourcefulness, perhaps?’

‘Could be,’ allowed En. ‘Or maybe he just wanted to get you off his case with an impossible task.’

‘How come? You know what he was talking about, En-san?’ asked Fujita with concern.

‘Vaguely. If it has “paradise” in the name, it’s contraband,’ explained the Family head. ‘Never had any interest in that, so I can’t say for sure, but, if it’s food-related, Turkey would know more. We’ll ask him for details.’

The broom roared and shot into the night.

Around the same time, under the dark skies of another realm, inside a ramshackle workshop, a different kind of exchange was happening. Its participants stared at one another in silence from the opposite sides of the room, reading each other’s body language, overlaying it onto their memories from two years ago. The girl didn’t move a muscle, looking the rebel magic-user up and down, taking in every detail, every faint vibe he produced. His body was tense as a wire – caught between the heavy table and constraining, rigid chair, it looked ready to spring out of that trap with immense force. But, more importantly, in his faceted eyes, the girl could read confusion and hesitation. It was a good enough start.

‘Easy, cross-eye,’ she said with a smirk of superiority. ‘If I wanted to go at you, you’d already be wriggling on the floor.’

As much as displaced insurgent would loathe to admit it, the girl was right – in the time it took for him to even look at her, she could hex him into next Thursday. Earlier, he sensed an intent directed toward himself, yet he couldn’t say it was malicious, and the person in front of him was guarded, not hostile. The man slowly breathed out and relaxed his posture, but kept the knife on the ready.

‘So you say…’ he allowed, leaning back in his chair – his sight locked firmly on his little visitor’s movements. ‘And what would En’s crony want with a criminal outcast then?’

‘I’m nobody’s crony,’ sternly corrected him the girl. ‘I have no ties to En.’

One of the leatherworker’s eyebrows slid up.

‘Oh?’ he questioned mockingly. ‘Last I remember, you were reporting directly to the old mushroom-head.’

‘Last I remember, you tried to use me as a meat shield against him,’ coldly countered the visitor. ‘And it didn’t work.’

‘So what does it change?’ prickled up the man. ‘From where I’m standing, you’re still one of “them”.’

The hooded sorceress shook her head in judgement.

‘Are you so strapped for enemies that you would invent reasons to have more?’ she attempted to reason, though her tone wasn’t helping too much. ‘I don’t know what your gripe with the rest of the world is, moth-face, but don’t forget: before that day, you and I had no history.’

‘And…?’

‘And, when push came to shove, I did try to protect you. For what “thanks” it got me…’

‘I guess, I was a terrible “friend” then,’ admitted the rebel, maintaining his oppositional attitude.

‘Yes, you were,’ agreed the hooded kid, making a few deceptively leisurely steps around the workshop – one eye still kept on the sorcerer behind the table. ‘Although, as a servant, you were only slightly below par.’

Ignoring the girl’s snide remark, former insurgent studied her motions. Even though he now recognized her voice beyond doubt, he felt a strange disconnect between what he remembered and what he saw before him. The way his visitor talked, the way she carried herself – it was all wrong.

‘Gotta say, my first impression of you was very different,’ the man confessed. ‘You’ve changed.’

‘And thank blazes for that…’ uttered the sorceress, inspecting what looked like a part of a baby crib hung from under the ceiling. ‘I guess, neither of us was our true self back then.’

It wasn’t a statement rebel magic-user could argue with.

‘Then I have to rephrase my question,’ he backtracked to the beginning of their exchange. ‘What would one stranger want from another? Your shoes need fixing? Or maybe you want a new milk crate? You’ll have to wait for Tetsujo for that one. I’m sure he too will be thrilled to see you.’

‘Funny,’ responded the girl with condescending flatness. ‘So you’ve picked up some skills that don’t involve mass murder.’

‘We’ve all had them all along,’ corrected the man, losing the affected joviality from his voice. ‘Not that you’d have a clue. Doing odd jobs was how we got by, while your ilk pinballed between boutiques and restaurants.’

Return to hostility did not seem to bother the hooded kid, as she slowly made her way past the workshop’s curiosities, getting closer to the leatherworking table.

‘Once again scratching out a living at the bottom of the pile…’ contemplated the unexpected guest, though, this time, her words did not sound mocking. ‘I bet you’ve made a few local friends by now, too?’

‘What’s in it to you?’ started to lose his patience cross-eye. ‘Spit out what you came here for already, or get lost – I have work to do.’

Hearing irritation in rebel’s voice, the girl concluded her tour of the workshop and walked straight towards the table, stopping at a safe distance.

‘Work is exactly what I came with,’ she informed, unzipping her bag, then nodded towards the knife the man kept holding in his hand. ‘You mind…?’

After short consideration, the outcast pulled a drawer at his side, dropped the knife in and closed it, demonstrating his empty hands.

‘Satisfied? Now what is it all about?’

The girl cleared that final step, rummaging inside her bag, and produced a big paper envelope with a string seal.

‘I want you to find someone for me,’ she informed, dropping the packet on the table.

Not letting the visitor out of his peripheral vision, cross-eye rebel picked up the envelope and looked inside, to find a few pages of hand-written text and some snapshots. He pulled the photographs out for brief inspection, then looked up at the girl again, trying to assess what her aim could be. However, her distant expression provided the sorcerer with no clue – he had to ask directly.

‘What do you want with these two?’ the man inquired, putting the photos back in.

‘That’s between me and them,’ strictly replied his mysterious guest. ‘All you need to know is in the papers.’

Displaced magic-user could only chuckle at her attitude.

‘I see you’re not used to asking for help…’

‘I’m not asking you for anything,’ the girl corrected, pulling out a smaller envelope out of her bag. ‘I’m hiring you.’

‘Yeah, right…’ doubted the cross-eye. ‘As if I have any use for your nick in the Hole…’

Young sorceress groaned quietly, rolling her eyes.

‘I wasn’t born yesterday,’ she replied, dropping her offering in front of the rebel, with a tight stack of yen sliding out of it onto the table.

‘That’s… not a small sum,’ observed former insurgent, suddenly sounding very serious.

‘Hole is not a small place,’ justified the girl. ‘You may need to grease some wheels, or hire someone to look around in the… less magic-user-friendly places. Use your imagination.’

In truth, the leatherworker’s imagination was already pretty taxed for the past few minutes, seeking a likely explanation for what’s going on, yet drawing blanks. His usually reliable intuition refused to make input, while the money was real and definitely enticing.

‘Fine, color me interested,’ he finally relented. ‘But I’m not calling you “mistress”, got it?’

‘Then you don’t get petted either,’ countered his employer with what sounded like childish spite.

‘Deal.’

Recognizing her demeanor slipping for a moment, the girl tisked.

‘Wily lowlife…’

‘Crazy brat.’

The two exchanged tense stares, but didn’t let the past get in the way of the present.

‘Say, I track them down…’ supposed the cross-eye when the awkward moment passed. ‘What would you have me do then?’

‘Nothing,’ surprised him the girl. ‘Just find out where they live. Or work. Or hang around. I’ll handle the rest myself.’

Giving this a bit more thought, insurgent looked his unexpected employer in the face.

‘And what if I don’t find them? As you said, Hole is not a small place.’

‘Then you don’t get the other two thirds of the pay,’ she coldly incentivized.

‘Oh…?’ wondered the rebel, still not giving up on figuring out his visitor’s intentions.

The sum she was offering might not have been a big deal to her. Or, maybe, there was something else behind this? The man squinted slightly.

‘And what if I just pocket your money, do nothing, and then tell you it was a bust?’

In the ensuing silence, the two kept regarding each other – thinking, measuring. The girl’s face shown no signs of anger or indignation, but something appeared in her eyes that would not allow calling her gaze dismissive anymore. She huffed, but with irony instead of scorn.

‘Will you do that?’ she asked in a softer tone.

The leatherworker considered the question, then laughed quietly, shaking his head.

‘No. I guess, I won’t.’

‘Good,’ acknowledged the kid, as the tension eased. ‘I’d hate to waste more time in this dump, looking for another agent.’

‘I’m surprised you managed to track down even this one…’ confessed the insurgent. ‘I thought we were keeping a low enough profile.’

‘Wasn’t hard,’ shrugged the girl and pointed at her eye. ‘You should have gotten rid of the markings. Not like they mean anything anymore…’

At the sound of those words, a scowl jumped back to the man’s face, but it was a short-lived one. This anger was misplaced.

‘They do,’ asserted the cross-eye with wistful reservation. ‘Just not what they used to.’

It looked like the man was going to elaborate, but, before he could continue, the sound of improvised chime came from the other room, making the two turn their heads towards the door.

‘I’m back!’ an unseen person called out from beyond the rug. ‘That’s it for today’s deliveries!’

The girl snuck one last glance at her former “servant”.

‘I’ll return in a couple weeks,’ she quietly informed, zipping her bag.

Soon after, the rug moved, and a man with a scar where one of his eyes used to be stuck his head into the room.

‘Dokuga?’ he called, looking around the dimly lit workshop. ‘Alone, huh…? I thought I heard someone talking.’

‘Oh, Tetsujo… You’re done with deliveries?’ responded his friend, as if coming out of some deep thoughts. ‘Thanks for hard work.’

‘Sure thing,’ nodded the man, grabbing the broom to finish swiping the floor, when his eye caught onto the envelope in Dokuga’s hands. ‘What’s that?’

‘Oh… This?’ once again refocused pondering sorcerer. ‘Well… Our next job, it seems.’

There was some explaining ahead of him.

Chapter Text

On the warped streets of the conjured town, two travelers walked side by side to their next destination. The stocky sorcerer’s story continued without interruption, immersing him fully into that faraway bubble of his youth. There was much waiting ahead, but the man did not rush his tale, lingering on every detail. The stranger by his side made no comment – though, whether due to disinterest or contemplation was only for him to know.

‘So, after that night, we talked about Maeda’s idea again and again,’ reminisced Matsumura, moving forward without hurry, keeping his hands in his pockets. ‘He sounded very… inspired… talking about success and respect and all the opportunities that awaited us. I couldn’t really grasp most of what he was saying – hesitated at first, but, in the end, he… I mean… I didn’t take up his zeal per say, but some of it began rubbing off, I guess. I started thinking: maybe it’s that, you know… “richer soil” my folks were talking about. That maybe he’s right – I should look ahead a bit.”

Coming out of his thoughts for a moment, the man could now spot the apartment complex he was aiming to find – meshing with the decaying environment, but immediately recognizable to him. They’d be there soon.

“Still, I wanted to hear at least one more opinion,’ continued the sorcerer. ‘One day, at work, I asked Hana if I should try to move up in the world, if it means quitting my job at the diner. I think, a part of me wanted for her to try and talk me out of it. You know – have someone playing for the other team too. Or, heh, maybe I was just hoping that…’

Matsumura stopped himself from finishing that sentence, abruptly. It bore no comment from his sole listener. Perhaps, he wasn’t even paying attention anymore.

‘Anyway,’ the man resumed, more mindful of where his tale carried him, ‘instead, she encouraged me – said that, if I’d keep working on my goals with same persistence she sees every day, she had no doubt I’d get there. And it felt nice, you know – hearing her confidence in me. Even though it wasn’t what I wanted her to say, it… felt nice…’

Having said that, Matsumura went quiet. Dressed in words, these old, buried notions were beginning to take shape he didn’t previously consider – feeling more like discoveries than remembrances. But his old home was right there – he had to wrap up.

‘So I gave in,’ the man summarized. ‘Maeda shouldered the task of bringing Jiro on board, and… it was going somewhere. Slowly, mind. For some time, he would provide, Idunno… tests, I guess. Usually, he’d send some stained suits or hand-written texts with ink blots and other mishaps he wanted cleaned off. He seemed pleased enough with the results when he’d come to pick them up, but would never say anything concrete. Until the day we quit our jobs…’

‘A big step,’ finally spoke Matsumura’s nameless companion.

‘Yeah…’ agreed the sorcerer, almost surprised that the stranger was actually listening. ‘Bigger than I thought…’

In a minute, the two were standing in front of the modest apartment complex Matsumura used to return to every evening. Unlike many other buildings, it looked sturdy, if not exactly well-maintained. Although, as far as the stocky sorcerer could recall, its condition was never pristine to begin with.

‘Those three windows on the right – that’s our apartment,’ pointed his hand Matsumura. ‘You reckon it’s safe to enter?’

‘If your memory of it is strong, it should be,’ replied the gray man.

‘He-heh, then it has to be rock-solid,’ concluded the sorcerer and stepped towards the building. ‘Come on, entry is through here.’

The two passed through the archway leading to the inner yard of the complex, and there Matsumura suddenly stopped in place, faced with an unexpected sight. Barely fitting within its new concrete confines, the Hearty Eats diner now occupied the space formerly reserved for flower patches and residents’ brooms. The summer terrace had no space to spread into, with chairs and tables crammed together, and even standing on top of each other – leaving only a thin opening to the diner’s door. It clearly shouldn’t have been here. And, in this moment, ambushed sorcerer unambiguously wished it wasn’t.

‘Why… is it here?’ he muttered, not really expecting an answer or even wanting one. ‘We’ve already… I mean…’

‘It is where you have arrived,’ cryptically suggested gray man. ‘Or, rather, your tale, it would seem.’

Matsumura eyed the narrow path to the diner’s door and felt a nagging discomfort. He didn’t want to approach. He wanted to leave.

‘Maybe, it’s not the time yet…’ he mumbled, fighting the urge to just spin on the heel and walk.

‘Something unpleasant happened here,’ concluded the stranger with blunt certainty. ‘You do not want to remember.’

He turned his piercing gaze towards the hesitating magic-user.

‘But, sooner or later, you will have to. You are aware of it. It will not go away.’

Stocky man shuddered, studying this still, lifeless remnant. His sight jumped from one spot to another, but, no matter how much he tried, the memory he knew was there would not emerge, constantly pushing him onto something else, as if he was trying to connect same poles of two magnets in his mind. With every attempt, the foreboding feeling inside him only grew.

‘I… I can’t…’ he stammered.

‘Then I can help,’ said the gray man, without even hinting at what motivated his offer. ‘Peer into my eyes, magic-user Matsumura, and what your mind wants to hide away will be brought forth.’

After a few moments of indecision, the sorcerer took a deep breath and nodded. He wasn’t sure what he would be bringing out in the open. But, whatever it was, he knew he didn’t want to face it alone.

‘If there’s no other way…’

With significant effort, he met the stranger’s mercilessly intrusive gaze, and air around the diner came into motion, sweeping all that didn’t belong away.

Years prior, on the day following Matsumura’s quitting his job, he and Maeda strolled out of their apartment and went one last time to the Hearty Eats diner, both clad in clean new suits. Made in the latest fashion of the time, these attires were quite an expense, but the sorcerers’ prospective boss declared it a non-negotiable one. On his friend’s insistence, Matsumura also bought a necktie, and was now constantly tugging at its tight loop, bugged by the unfamiliar, constraining sensation.

‘Quit fondling the thing, you’ll get used to it,’ tried to discipline him the blonde, for whom wearing a tie was a matter of course for years. ‘And you really should have shaved.’

‘I don’t even have a razor,’ deflected Matsumura, giving the knot one last pull. ‘It’s only a few small bristles anyway.’

‘It’s not about how many there are,’ did not relent his friend. ‘If you look unshaven, you shave – no excuses.’

‘Sheesh, and I thought quitting a job would make me a free man…’ complained unshaven young man with feigned annoyance.

Catching himself on being bossy, Maeda laughed with embarrassment and took a deep breath.

‘Oh, wow, sorry… I guess, I’m being cranky,’ he apologized, removing strictness from his voice, ‘Jiro’s been throwing a lot of intelligence at me, and he really could afford being more… selective.’

‘Is he taxing you too much?’ inquired Matsumura, having noticed that his pal was indeed looking more and more burdened lately.

‘Nah, nah… I still have my reserves,’ assured the blonde, but then quickly tried to move away from the topic. ‘Anyway, presenting yourself well is important. Where we are going, there are certain standard expectations.’

‘We’re going to Heart Eats…’ replied Matsumura with confusion. ‘Their only expectation is washed hands.’

‘No, doofus, I mean, like, “in life”,’ laughed Maeda, clapping his colleague-to-be on the shoulder with the back of his hand. ‘You gotta get used to that idea, man.’

‘Oh, that… You sound like Jiro-san feels,’ clumsily expressed himself short magic-user, and hurried to clarify what he meant, suspecting that his friend would not enjoy being put into one basket with the irreverent fop. ‘I mean, whenever he’s there, he brings some kind of air with him, you know – as if he’s sizing everyone up, and his bar for approval is pretty darn high. Something like that…’

‘But that pushes you to do your very best, doesn’t it?’ surprisingly calmly contested the blonde. ‘I’d even say this kind of aura is necessary for a leader to be successful…’

‘Would you look at that!’ teased Matsumura, surprised by that response. ‘Cranky Maeda gives Jiro-san a compliment! So you’re starting to see eye to eye in earnest?’

‘Ehh… It’s more like developing a tolerance,’ corrected cranky Maeda. ‘I’ve recently been to his place – well, his family’s place, actually – and I think I can see more of the man behind the persona now.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Let’s just say, what we see in front of us is more like his… “aspirational self” – let’s call it that,’ explained blonde sorcerer. ‘“Fake it ‘til you make it” kind of thing. I have easier time dealing with him from that angle.’

‘Huh…’ could only say Matsumura. ‘So what’s he like when he’s not… you know…?’

‘Give it time – you’ll see…’ promised Maeda after some consideration, letting his friend stew in the mystery for now, as the two have arrived to the familiar summer terrace – completely empty at this time of day – and picked a table near the entrance.

‘Hey,’ called out Matsumura with a juvenile grin, taking his seat, ‘wanna have lunch while we wait? I could always smell them making waffles in there, but never got to try ‘em.’

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ opposed Maeda, giving it only the briefest thought. ‘Jiro may be here any minute, and you know how he is about simple folk stuff. Besides, you sure you want to tempt fate with waffles?’ he added, with a mark of mischief in the corner of his mouth. ‘You already look like something heavy fell on you as a kid – imagine if you start gaining weight?’

‘Har-har…’ squinted Matsumura, just as Hana stepped out the front door with a welcoming smile. ‘Hey, Hana-chan! Slow day?’

‘Hey, fellas! Yeah, barely anyone inside,’ she confirmed, getting her notepad at the ready. ‘Would you like to have something, or…?’

‘We’re just waiting for someone,’ raised his palm Maeda.

‘Who may not be here for another hour,’ overruled Matsumura, staring demandingly at his friend.

‘Ugh, fine!’ relented the blonde. ‘Waffles and iced tea it is then?’

‘Soft or crunchy?’ specified Hana.

‘Both!’ enthused the short sorcerer.

‘Either’s fine…’ shrugged his friend.

‘Very well, I’ll be back in a jiff,’ nodded the girl, underscoring the order, but then lingered for a moment, looking at her former co-worker. ‘So weird to see you like this, Matsumura-kun,’ she said with a smile. ‘You’re like a different person.’

‘Clothes make the man, they say, heh-heh!’ laughed Matsumura, blushing a little.

When Hana left, Maeda gave his friend an uncertain look.

‘So this is why you insisted for this to be the meeting spot?’ he asked with something akin to concern in his voice. ‘Still can’t escape her orbit, huh?’

‘What are you talking about?’ replied Matsumura, raising an eyebrow. ‘A lot is about to change in my life – what’s wrong with wanting to see a familiar, friendly face?’

‘The part where it’s “familiar”,’ answered the blonde, then pondered a moment more. ‘And the part where it’s “friendly” too, actually.’

‘Now you have beef with “friendly” as well?’ complained young man. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Why shouldn’t I keep a friend from a place I used to work at?’

‘Why would you want to?’ asked back Maeda, with what seemed to be genuine surprise. ‘It won’t get you anywhere. Or, rather… “it won’t get anywhere”, I should really say.’

Matsumura looked at his friend with puzzlement, not sure what he was referring to.

‘Ehm… Are we talking… about…?’

‘About your crush, yes,’ stopped beating around the bush the blonde. ‘Do you truly want to come back time after time, year after year, and flutter around her like a moth around a street lamp? You gotta face facts, man…’

‘Phuh!’ blushed young sorcerer. ‘You gotta face facts! I told you already – we worked together, that’s all!’

‘Right…’ sighed Maeda with a tired frown. ‘So you keep saying. But will you be so resolute when she actually meets someone?’

It was clear by Matsumura’s pouty face, that question would have to remain rhetorical, and blonde sorcerer had to continue on his own.

‘Okay, let’s say you were only co-workers and nothing more…’ he allowed in reconciliatory tone. ‘Then I don’t see why you would want to keep in touch at all. Your paths do not align. You’re aiming to move up in the world, while she has already decided on what her ceiling is.’

‘And what of it?’ defended young magic-user. ‘She’s kind, and she’s sunny, and she’s beautiful, and she’s a hard worker…’

‘All good qualities to have, for sure,’ stopped him Maeda. ‘But you know what Jiro would say to that? He’d say that riches are wasted on those without ambition. You’ll be in a different league soon.’

‘Should everything be about impressing Jiro-san?’ questioned Matsumura, with first hints of irritation to come out of him in a long time.

‘Well, he’s still not sold on taking you on board, so it’d be best if you… Ugh…’ the blonde winced, realizing what kind of argument he was making. ‘I think I’m saying it wrong.’

He went quiet for a minute, putting together his appeal. When his mind was made, young man locked his fingers and put his hands on the table, as if he was about to argue his case in court.

‘Look, you know yourself – you know what you’re prone to,’ he opened in a serious tone. ‘What you don’t yet know is how things are on the next step of the ladder. I can promise you, the climate there can be quite a bit harsher than what you’re used to right now. There will be an… adaptation period. And I know you can handle it, trust me! But can you imagine how much harder it is going to be for you, if you’ll keep tempting yourself with retreat?’

‘Is it that bad to have a safe haven in your life?’ wavered Matsumura.

‘To feel safe, you need thicker skin, not softer surroundings,’ asserted his friend, just as the two heard the bell, and the door to Hearty Eats opened, letting out Hana with their order.

‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to force the issue,’ hurried to finish his thought Maeda. ‘I’m only sharing my perspective.’

‘Yeah, okay…’

‘Here’s your waffles, fresh and hot!’ chirped the girl, putting down the plates and glasses. ‘I’ll be back when your friend comes by.’

‘Thanks,’ replied the blonde with reserved politeness.

Matsumura smiled and nodded. Watching the girl come back inside, he couldn’t help but take hasty, haphazard mental inventory. He always considered the prospect of making radical, effective life decisions to be something far removed – something that would only appear before him when he was sufficiently prepared. Well, it was here now, and he didn’t feel ready. And the sweet smell of freshly made waffles was not at all helping with structuring his thoughts. Soon enough, young man gave up on drawing weighed conclusions and picked up the fork. After all, he didn’t have to decide what to do right now, and food only stays hot for so long. And, to his luck, the two friends had more than enough time to finish their meal, before their prospective employer deigned to arrive. Just as predicted, he missed the mark by good forty minutes, yet sauntered in like he was only a few steps behind the two on the way here.

‘Filled the tanks?’ the man asked nonchalantly, without as much as acknowledging being late. ‘No pit-stops from now on then.’

‘Wanna join us?’ tried his luck Matsumura. ‘Waffles were great!’

‘That’s a joke, right?’ scoffed Jiro, looking at the short young man with weary skepticism. ‘Then what next? Street food?’

Electrifyingly high expectations proved to be an ever-slippery rock to climb, and aspiring sorcerer bit his tongue, not wanting to risk another misstep. In a moment, the bell rung, announcing Hana’s promised return, and the girl smiled sunnily to the new guest.

‘Welcome!’ she greeted. ‘Would you like to have something?’

‘We were just about to leave,’ instead replied Maeda with sudden hurry, reaching for his wallet. ‘How much for our order?’

‘I’ll pick up the bill,’ stopped him Jiro, taking out a banknote out of his pocket and handing it to the girl.

‘That… is wa-ay too much’, noted Hana, looking at the tally in her pad.

‘Consider it compensation for robbing you of clients,’ dismissed her the man, tossing the money on the table. ‘These two will be dining somewhere else from now on.’

He stepped out of the picketed enclosure and beckoned young sorcerers with him.

‘Alright, let’s go, freeloaders!’

Maeda frowned, holding back a barb, and walked out, followed by Matsumura, who was still trying to shake off the discomfort. However, after a couple of steps, Hana’s voice made him stop.

‘Matsumura-kun!’ the girl called, prompting him and his two companions to turn around. ‘I’m sure you won’t be wanting for good cuisine soon,’ she smiled ever warmly, ‘but come over for a meal once in a while, okay? For old times’ sake. I’ll be sure to maintain your employee discount!’

Young man could almost feel two pairs of eyes burrowing into his back, awaiting his reaction. The decision he was looking to push onto his future self suddenly jumped at him without warning, leaving no time to think and no room for maneuver. And, under these conditions, something in him took over the reins. As his lips began to move, he felt like a mere onlooker, witnessing it all from the sidelines.

‘Don’t count on it,’ he replied, trying to sound self-assured, yet only coming off as smug. ‘You’ve already decided on your worth. But I’m aiming to go places…’

He turned around and walked away, not looking back once. He couldn’t see what was on Hana’s face, but on Maeda’s he saw surprise. On Jiro’s – approval.

As the vision rippled and faded, the stocky sorcerer could feel a lead weight coming down on his shoulders. He hung his head miserably under his gray companion’s gaze.

‘Not the best display,’ bluntly remarked old man. ‘Was the pressure that strong?’

‘If only…’ responded Matsumura so quietly that even he doubted he said it out loud.

Sorcerer winced, as the memory his mind so intently avoided restoring kept gaining details and colors.

‘No…’ he hoarsely confessed. ‘No, I wanted to hurt her…’

‘For what?’ inquired his nameless companion.

Matsumura did not answer. He turned around and walked to the exit, with his head turtled into his shoulders.

‘Was it worth it at least?’ further probed old man, following Matsumura out of the yard.

He didn’t get a reply to that either.

Back on that fateful day, after leaving the diner terrace, the three sorcerers walked down the street to an intricately weaved flying carpet. A formally dressed pilot was waiting for them, and, once everyone got on, Jiro commanded the takeoff.

‘To the usual place!’

As the carpet soared into the sky, the man plopped down in a relaxed pose and reached into the inner pocket of his coat, to pull out his mask and slip it on.

‘That’s better!’ sorcerer remarked, complimenting his look with a pair of kitschy, barred eyeshades. ‘I swear, I’d rather walk around with a broken zipper!’

Being in the air for the first time, Matsumura now shed all the pretense of confidence, and only did his best to stay as far away from the edges as this woolly rectangle allowed. Clutching at the soft fibers, he desperately sought for something to distract him from the vertigo-inducing view a mere arm’s length away.

‘Why take it off then?’ he inquired, gluing his eyes to the gaudy example of devil artisanship.

‘As if I would want the rep of a local regular…’ scoffed Jiro, but then registered confusion on young sorcerer’s face and cackled in disbelief. ‘Oh, this is entirely too good! Hey, Maeda, where did you find this guy?’

‘I woke up one morning, and he was already there…’ brushed him off the blonde, refusing to take the bait.

‘Oh, aren’t you a riot…’ smirked the man and turned again to confused Matsumura. ‘Anyway, not that a bumpkin like you would know, but a mask is a part of Devil’s design. That’s how we were envisioned at the dawn of magic-userkind. So, by a certain measure, it is your intended face, and, without one, you may as well only be half-born, got it?’ he explained, but then paused for a moment, checking out young sorcerer’s artless, store-bought piece. ‘Well, a proper one – not the sad misunderstanding you have strapped to your nose right now,’ clarified the man. ‘Once you two have decent masks, you should also pay attention to where you’re flashing them.’

‘That’s more of an “if” in my case, eh-heh…’ voiced his doubt Matsumura. ‘I’m not sure I could impress a devil.’

‘There’s more than one way to skin a cat,’ dismissed Jiro, then turned to Maeda with a provocative grin. ‘Can you impress a devil?’

‘Am I going to have to?’ the blonde responded coldly, bringing out another bout of laughter.

‘Lighten up, paper boy,’ the man advised in a free-and-easy tone. ‘They don’t like grumps where we are going.’

By now, the trip was nearing its destination. The carpet made its way to a part of town neither of young sorcerers visited before, nor could afford to for that matter, and landed in front of a windowless establishment called “Nooks”, tucked into one of its more discreet corners. Instructing the driver to wait, Jiro jumped off onto the pavement and waved the other two passengers over.

‘Get moving, lads,’ he habitually commanded. ‘It’s time for grown-up stuff.’

The two exchanged glances, stepped off the carpet and followed their boss-to-be to the guarded entrance.

‘These two are with me,’ Jiro declared to the bouncers, and they were let inside with no hassle.

Behind the doors, future collaborators found themselves in a tidy greeting area, with an attendant standing by the doorway closed with heavy curtains. Jiro wasted no time announcing his reservation, and was welcomed inside, with Maeda ducking in right after, but Matsumura dallied for a few seconds, looking around. At the first glance, the interior of the room affected a simple and functional look, but young sorcerer could almost feel it on his skin – from wallpapers with a barely visible, but intricate print, to attendant’s unrealistically perfect smile – not a thing here was subject to budgetary constraints. Even the air smelt faintly expensive.

Finally stopping himself from gawking, young man followed his companions through the doorway, and, right from the first step, felt like he waded into another plain of existence. Darkened interior of this place was lit mostly by the faint glow of fluorescent paint lining the walls and furniture with uneven, multi-colored streaks and smears. Distorting any signs of familiar geometry, these scraps of light and color allowed to make out only the general placement of objects, letting all the details be devoured by blackness. A few dim, tightly focused projectors were casting their soft light at points of attraction – most prominently, caged dancers, whose seductive features were obscured more by the thin bars than their attire. Unclear sounds of someone’s presence could be heard coming from the dark pockets, but pulsating, dissonant music smothered any particulars, and, coupled with sweet, heady scent filling the air, it created a strong, disarming feeling of unreality.

Matsumura’s head started spinning. He hurried along, hoping to catch up with the other two, hit his knee on something, mumbled an apology to an explosion of derisive laughter from unseen patrons. When he looked up, his heart sank, for he completely lost any sense of direction in all this swirling noise. Young man wanted to call out, but chocked up with anxiety and humiliation, and could only strain his eyes, trying to pick out any sign of his companions – all in vain. Mortified and disoriented, Matsumura felt like he was shrinking from some kind of enveloping pressure, and now wanted for nothing else, but to turn back and step into the light. Yet he couldn’t tell where the entrance even was anymore. All that was left to him was to cast tormented looks around himself – unseen and unseeing. But then, some movement caught young man’s eye. Fluorescent streaks nearby came into motion and approached him, outlining a rough shape of a female figure. Glowing lipstick and eyeliner allowed to tell that the woman was looking at the stupefied sorcerer with amusement, and the rest was leaving little doubt that these sparse smears of paint were the extent of her clothing.

‘Feeling lost?’ she asked with teasing, languid pity. ‘Want me to guide you where you never dared to tread?’

‘Erm… No, no, thank you…’ muttered Matsumura, resisting the urge to back away, in fear of running into something else. ‘I’m just… I’m just looking for my friends… They should have entered right before…’

‘Ah, you’re with Jiro-chan…’ knowingly smiled the lipstick. ‘Can’t find him? I could show the wa~ay…’

‘Would you?’ young man pleaded with sparking hope. ‘Please, I’d be very grateful!’

The painted figure laughed playfully.

‘How polite. Didn’t expect it from Jiro-chan’s… company. Very well. Follow me.’

The woman turned around, revealing two glowing palm traces on her curvy backside – a bit too pale and smothered to think that they appeared there by design. Embarrassed as he was, young sorcerer couldn’t find a more prominent feature to keep in sight, so he marched ahead to the sound of agitated drumming in his ears, and soon, but not soon enough, the two reached the far end of the room, where the figure stopped by another set of thick drapes.

‘This is where he always is,’ she said and pulled the fabric aside, letting out a thin ray of light.

‘Thank you, yes, thank you…’ mumbled Matsumura, keeping his sight just at the edge of where the light was meeting the woman’s body.

‘Hey, Jiro-chan!’ the guide called, peeking behind the curtain. ‘Lost something?’

‘Yeah, all my patience,’ came Jiro’s unamused voice from the inside. ‘We didn’t come here to play, cleaner boy. Get in.’

‘Right, right… Thanks again…’ prattled young magic-user, squeezing past his painted rescuer.

Once in the light, Matsumura could finally see where he arrived – a small, round alcove with a table in the center, half-circled by a soft couch. Both, Jiro and Maeda already made themselves comfortable.

‘Come on, park your tush already,’ commanded the man, once heavy fabric behind Matsumura’s back fell down, muffling the sounds from the outside. ‘We have work to do.’

Still uneasy from his experience, confused latecomer obediently slid onto the vacant seat, and Jiro flipped a switch under the table, making the whole room turn, sealing off the entrance. The two friends did not expect anything like that, and swayed violently with the room’s movement, grabbing onto the back of the couch.

‘Good, finally,’ concluded Jiro in abrupt tone when the room settled, then looked at Maeda. ‘Let’s get this ball rolling. Do your thing.’

In contrast with his demeanor even just recently, gaudy-masked man now sounded jerky and tense, as if expecting uncertain news. Wisely avoiding testing his patience, Maeda let go of the couch, leaned to the table and poured out his smoke – manifesting the bureau. Since the last time Matsumura has seen the conjured box, it’s gotten wider and taller, pressing heavily upon the table. As soon as it fully formed, blonde sorcerer opened one of the drawers, perused its contents and produced a sheet of stamped paper – filled out and signed by skilled hand. Not waiting to be handed the document, Jiro snatched it out of Maeda’s fingers and brought close to his eyes. He flipped it around, looked through it onto the light, studied at different angles. As this weird process went on, his tense posture relaxed, and the mask could not hide a wide grin forming on his face.

‘Well, I’ll be…’ he uttered, finishing his scrutiny. ‘You’ve actually circumvented an enclosing ward! The charm is still on and everything…’

Feeling firmly out of the loop, Matsumura decided it was time to engage with the proceedings.

‘What’s an enclosing ward?’ he inquired, trying not to sound entirely clueless. ‘Is it that hard to cicrun… to work around?’

‘Pretty damn hard,’ admitted Jiro, now returning to his gregarious self. ‘Premium-grade hocus-pocus right there.’

He put the document on the table and turned his whole body towards Matsumura, venting his excitement through an enthusiastic explanation.

‘Here’s the deal,’ he went on, actively gesticulating, ‘important stuff has to be stored safely, right? Not that you would know of such concerns, but trust me on that. Problem is, there are a lot of wild magic types in the world – can’t account for everything – and simply locking your stuff in a big metal box is just asking for trouble. So, magic taketh and magic giveth! A skilled enchanter can put a charm on your precious bauble, and then enclose the room it’s stored in with a ward. Still with me? Okay. After that, if you try to carry the item out, without removing the charm with a corresponding spell – POOF – you’re immediately cursed, haha!’

Jiro looked at the bureau standing on the table and contently patted it on the side.

‘But, apparently, this here magic box can smuggle out any document stored inside it, without triggering the ward. Brilliant!’

‘Wait… “Apparently”? You didn’t know it would work?!’ fussed the short sorcerer. ‘But that’s dangerous! What if it wouldn’t work?!’

‘Then we wouldn’t be talking right now, would we?’ replied Jiro in a joking tone.

‘I tested it with the bank alarm first,’ intervened Maeda, trying to assuage his friend’s concern. ‘I knew it was feasible.’

‘But it’s not the same, is it?’ persisted Matsumura. ‘And what if it would fail there to begin with? You’d get fired! Or worse!’

‘It wasn’t a paper they’d lose their heads over,’ dismissed the blonde. ‘And I did not intend to stay anyway.’

‘Yeah, stop being such a wuss,’ chimed in Jiro. ‘Devil favors those who dare.’

Seeing this dismissive reaction from both guys, the short sorcerer couldn’t help but feel being the odd one out.

‘If you say so…’ he reluctantly conceded, dropping back.

‘No, no, don’t check out just yet,’ protested the gaudy-masked man, beckoning him closer. ‘It’s time for your initiation.’

He moved the smuggled document towards Matsumura and tapped his finger on the text.

‘I want you to… clean off… what’s written below this line.’

As young man leaned in to skim the document, wanting to grasp what was asked of him, it didn’t take long for his jaw to drop.

‘But that’s someone’s will!’ he exclaimed, frantically rushing to reach the place he was asked to “redact”. ‘Your family’s inheritance!’

‘Yell louder,’ sarcastically encouraged him Jiro. ‘I’ll open the door, if you want to go and tell everyone.’

‘But… But that’s…’ stuttered the dumbfounded magic-user. ‘You’re asking me to just erase the… the beneficiaries?’

‘Oh, wow, you know a fancy word…’ jabbed the man with growing irritation. ‘I told you what to do. Why are you arguing?’

‘We discussed this – he needs time to get used to things,’ once again intervened Maeda. ‘He doesn’t know the rules of the game yet. I’ll handle this.’

Jiro huffed and waved his hand.

‘As long as it gets done.’

The blonde turned to his friend.

‘Look, I know it’s beyond your usual scope, but these are his family’s affairs,’ said young man in appeasing tone. ‘At their level, everyone has to make their own luck.’

‘Unless you’re my brother,’ snarkily interjected the would-be schemer. ‘Riches are wasted on those without ambition is what I say…’

Maeda waited a little, to make sure that this was the extent of the interruption, before continuing.

‘What we’re doing here… What we’re planning to do here… Well, it’s ambitious and pretty unorthodox, and the problem is… Well, Jiro’s family is suffocatingly conservative. They won’t support anything even remotely off their trodden path. So we have to… work out a way… to fund our vision. Besides, they’re wealthy – it’s not like we’re stealing their last loaf of bread. It’s more like… we’re helping them to do what they would’ve done themselves, have they had enough foresight.’

‘Bottom line: you’re not the thinking guy – you’re the doing guy,’ once again butted in the gaudy-masked man, seemingly incapable of remaining uninvolved. ‘We didn’t exactly come up with all this on the spot, so don’t strain your pumpkin trying to grasp how it works. Just do the thing you’re told and reap the benefits. For hell’s sake, I swear…’

He tisked and slumped back in his seat, radiating impatience and irritation. Across the table, Maeda frowned, fed up with his collaborator’s attitude, but there was nothing to add, and the blonde could now only await his friend’s reaction. To Matsumura, one thing was certain – it was indeed beyond his scope. He instinctively wanted to look to his trusted chum for reassurance, but something deep in his stomach just didn’t sit right. Was it fear of the unknown? Was it fear of change? Was it fear at all? He looked at the hand-written lines again. From his perspective, the will concerned unthinkable riches – money, property, business assets – but was it really that significant for someone a few steps up the ladder? He couldn’t have possibly known.

‘But wouldn’t these people… your grandparents… Wouldn’t they know that the will was changed?’ tentatively probed young sorcerer.

‘Nonsense,’ grumbled Jiro. ‘They’re so old they can barely remember where the spoon goes.’

‘What about the rest of the family? You think they’ll believe they were just… you know…’

‘Your buddy’s right, you have no clue how the game is played…’ groaned the man, reminding once again that his patience is running thin. ‘Free tip: it’s not about what anyone believes – it’s about what they can prove, got it? As long as I’m not caught red-handed, those are my rightful spoils – devil my witness.’

‘This is how the world works, Matsumura,’ joined the blonde. ‘You move forward, or you stay stuck. You were pretty firm a little while ago – where has that gone?’

Matsumura shivered. Indeed, he cut off his way of retreat quite decisively… Now, he could only take the leap. Stepping over his hesitation, young man pulled a paper tissue out of the box that was left on the couch for some unclear reason and loomed over the document. Locking on to the pertinent lines, he carefully poured a thin stream of smoke onto the winding letters, cleanly lifting dried ink off the paper, and, in a minute, his work was done. As soon as the tissue absorbed the last waft of grainy particles, the bossy sorcerer swiped the document, to examine it once more.

‘Clean work!’ he commended after a close look. ‘Not a trace of those near-sighted, safe-and-simple, know-better-than-you beneficiaries!’

The man folded the paper, but, instead of putting it back into the bureau, he tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

‘Gotta give it a few final touches, before it gets returned,’ he explained, under Maeda’s questioning gaze. ‘I can’t just write in whatever I want with my own hand, but I know a guy who specializes in that sort of thing.’

‘Have I met him?’ quickly inquired the blonde. ‘He sounds like a useful person to know.’

‘Sure does…’ agreed Jiro, relaxing in his seat with contented look, and it took a few seconds of tense silence for him to notice Maeda’s continued stare. ‘What?’

‘What do you mean “what”?’ challenged the blonde, de-summoning his bureau. ‘You stuff my head with every odd rank and file from a dozen companies, but when it comes to someone with actual use, it’s suddenly restricted knowledge?’

‘Ah-h, that’s what you’re on about…’ realized the man. ‘Yeah, he has a use. To me. He’s my contact, and you’ll have to work on making your own. I see no riding on any coattails in your future, laddo…’

‘What are you even…’ began to defend young sorcerer, but Jiro interrupted him.

‘Oh, spare me the “pleading innocence” part,’ he said with a wry grin. ‘Of course you wanted to play me, to gain an advantage for yourself. In fact, if it hadn’t been so, I’d be looking for someone with more ambition, hah…!’

The man shot a look of malevolent superiority at rattled Maeda through the bars of his shades and wagged his manicured finger.

‘It’s just that I have no interest in actually being played.’

Blonde sorcerer moved his lips, intending a retort, but none came out, and nothing stopped Jiro from claiming his victory.

‘Now,’ he changed the subject, switching back to jovial disposition on a dime, ‘will you lose that scowl yourself, or should I invite some pleasant company to help you with that? You bozos passed your tests – it’s time to celebrate, not pout like a baby.’

Equally disturbed by the confrontation and the prospect of “pleasant company”, Matsumura moved to intervene.

‘Ehm, wouldn’t it be better to call it a day?’ he asked, frantically searching for an excuse. ‘I mean, you know… Ehm… What if your driver gets suspicious?’

‘Who? Jive? Pff!’ shook his head the gaudy man. ‘You don’t have to worry about him. Working my magic on that guy was the first thing I’ve learned after tying my shoelaces. With me around, he wouldn’t suspect a mouse of eating cheese!’

Across the table, Maeda suddenly regained composure – bewilderment on his face changing to cold calculation.

‘“Worked your magic”, huh?’ he asked in a tone that was only superficially questioning. ‘You’re not talking about your talent for bullshitting, or course?’

With the same abruptness, Jiro stopped grinning and gave the blonde a weirdly hostile look. The guess landed.

‘Have you worked your magic on either of us?’ further pressed Maeda. ‘There are ways to check for that, I’m sure you’re aware.’

‘Oh, as if I’d need to,’ replied the man, quickly picking up the attitude he let slip. ‘I have something you want. That’s all the “magic” necessary for an overconfident upstart and his clueless tagalong.’

Biting coldness sparked in Maeda’s eyes as he stared at the man. His lips twitched, holding back something very harsh, and gaudy-masked sorcerer scoffed – confident that he’s still keeping an upper hand.

‘Learn to take a joke, paper boy,’ he advised, poorly masking condescension in his tone. ‘You won’t make it far being this touchy. On the playing board, everyone will be out to stick a barb in you, and if you can’t take it with a smile, they’ll know it hurt.’

Then, either suddenly remembering something, or simply trying to divert attention from an unwanted topic, Jiro loudly clapped his hands.

‘Right, almost forgot!’ he exclaimed with overdone vigor. ‘Trials aside, there’s one more condition you must fulfill, before I take you on my payroll!’

Figuring that Maeda was hardly in the mood to take a polite interest, Matsumura accepted the bait.

‘What is it?’ he asked, keeping an eye on his wound up friend.

‘Oh, a trifle, I promise,’ assured the man. ‘I won’t have random misfits on my staff, so you two will have to find partners for yourself. Partner up with each other, or find some other schmucks – I don’t care. Blue Night event is a few weeks away – figure it out until then.’

Upon hearing that condition, young men looked at each other, and neither one knew what to say.

Chapter Text

Days after the soiree at the Festivity Palace, a black car rolled out the front gate of En’s mansion and sped off. It headed toward the city’s outskirts, to the place known as The High House. Behind the wheel was the notorious Family cleaner, Shin, with his protégé being the only passenger tonight. Confidently navigating the mostly empty streets, the driver briefly took his eyes off the road, to pick young sorcerer’s brains.

‘So, I’m the one out of the loop here,’ he opened. ‘Why are we going to an auction, and what does it have to do with that snob you’re trying to woo?’

‘Not woo – “prime”,’ corrected Fujita. ‘He’s testing me. At least, we think that’s what he does…’

‘That so?’ followed up the driver. ‘And what are you being tested for? It better not be magical aptitude.’

‘Resourcefulness, connections, character…’ listed the possibilities Fujita. ‘I talked big game, so he’d want to see how much of it is earned, presumably.’

‘I see,’ surmised Shin, returning his attention to driving. ‘So what did our favor broker have in store for you?’

Before giving his answer, fledgling sorcerer tugged at his collar, loosening the necktie, to which he still couldn’t get used to. He already missed the days when he could sport a simple T-shirt wherever he went, but new realities demanded new standards.

‘He wants me to get him a contraband item. A very particular one. Getting it would take more than just looking for the right thing at the right place.’

‘Hmm, what’s the hurdle?’ inquired the cleaner with genuine interest. ‘You’d think that that’s exactly what it takes, no?’

‘Normally, yes,’ nodded the boy. ‘But we’re on the hunt for something of “paradise” description. That’s tip-toeing the line of… What did Turkey-san call it…? “Heretical affront”?’

‘Huh… Taboo stuff…’

‘Pretty much,’ confirmed Fujita and went on to elaborate. ‘There are some weird rules to it. Possessing “paradise” item is tolerated, if your goal is to use it for malicious or selfish purposes. Acquiring it only to slight Devil is asking for big trouble – that’s obvious. Buying it for money or even defining its monetary value insults all devils, since it… Idunno… normalizes the whole idea, I guess?’

‘Tough crap,’ sympathized Shin. ‘So how do we go about it?’

‘We can trade it for something that doesn’t have a defined price,’ explained the boy. ‘Or it can be gifted freely, but… yeah, fat chance of that happening. It could also be stolen, swindled, gambled for… Put simply, as long as it’s treated as an artifact, and not as a commodity, devils are not spurned.’

‘And the more devious are your methods, the safer you’ll be… Understood,’ summarized the cleaner. ‘So, options are there. Which one are we pursuing?’

‘Turkey-san poked at some of his contacts who supplied him exotic ingredients,’ continued young sorcerer, ‘and came up with the name Lupus – a smuggler, from what I could grasp. He’s a couple handshakes away from what would be ideal, but he promised the fruit in exchange for one of several items from his trading list.’

‘Hence the auction,’ connected the dots Shin. ‘One of the items is sold there, I take it?’

‘A couple, actually. Either one will do,’ confirmed Fujita. ‘En-san’s been there since afternoon – that’s when the first round took place – so we shouldn’t have missed anything.’

‘Huh… I wondered where he’s been all day…’ uttered the cleaner with a pondering look. ‘Did the boss mention why he went ahead of us?’

‘He’s thrown in some items from his own coffers,’ explained the passenger. ‘Said, he wanted to get rid of some baubles he had no use for.’

‘Not like him…’ hummed the man.

‘En-san’s probably… Ehm…’ Fujita stopped, realizing that he has nothing but speculation on that front. ‘Actually, I just realized, I have nothing but speculation on that front.’

Upon approaching a bridge near the edge of the city, the car had to slow down, as the aftermath of the calamity from two years prior still burdened the surviving inhabitants of this world in frustratingly varied ways. With rainwater compromising the bridge supports, land vehicles had to cross it in a thin, spread out line, and now a sizeable jam formed at the bottleneck. The two sorcerers would have to wait their turn.

‘Feels odd when that happens, right?’ mused Shin, seeing how they were not going anywhere fast. ‘You think you have someone pegged, until they roll out a surprise.’

‘I guess…’ unsurely agreed Fujita, then, after some thought, the boy huffed through his nose, failing to resist a smile. ‘Actually, yeah, you’re right! I remember the first time I met Matsumura. That was one awkward introduction, and then some wires got crossed, and… Well, it was all quite silly for a while.’

‘Happens,’ nodded the driver. ‘But it all got cleared up in the end, I assume? You two seem to have been a tight unit.’

‘Well, yeah. We were partners, after all. Although…’ the boy stumbled, considering his words. ‘Like, after a while, you think you know your partner through and through, right? Who they are in the world, what they’re about – that sort of thing? But, turns out… I mean, I knew he was a great guy, just… Well… Maybe, that’s all I really knew about him…’

As the car slowly crawled forward, the conversation went on. Some things were said that were needed to be heard, while others – simply to be said out loud, if only just once.

When the two finally reached their destination, the widely dreaded and oft secretly maligned Family head was already waiting for them outside. The man frowned, seeing only two of his underlings getting out.

‘Where’s Noi?’ he demanded to know. ‘I made it perfectly clear that I’ll need everyone to be present at once.’

‘I told her yesterday, when she was leaving to… do whatever it is she does these days,’ assured the cleaner. ‘Though, I didn’t see her broom on the pad when we were leaving, so she must have not returned for the night again…’

‘I swear, separating you two was a mistake,’ grumbled En. ‘That brat needs someone to keep her organized.’

‘She’s bratty, but she never was irresponsible,’ rebutted Shin. ‘She’s just running late.’

‘Humph, “late”…’ huffed the discontented sorcerer. ‘I provided her with a state-of-the-art broom – not that she ever thanked me for it – so she could be wherever she wants to be when I need her there, without delay, and the only-’

Red-haired man stopped his rant mid-sentence and let out a short, irritated sigh.

‘You know what? I don’t care. I’m not her valet,’ he abruptly concluded and turned towards the wide marble steps ascending to the building. ‘The second round is starting soon. We’re going inside, and Noi can do whatever she pleases.’

‘You think local security will stop her from getting in?’ doubted the cleaner, observing En walking off with the air of cold indignation.

‘We’ll find out, won’t we?’

Shin looked at his protégé, as if asking for comment, but the boy could only shrug.

‘Into the breach we go then…’ sighed the blonde and followed his boss.

Walking up the steps, Fujita couldn’t help but marvel at the building ahead – its walls covered in frescos of historical battles and gladiatorial matches. Bloodied by the setting sun, these grisly scenes held morbid gravitas, and horned gargoyles atop the columns peered down at them with carnivorous fascination. The two nearest to the entrance, however, instead cast their unblinking gaze at the steps – maws contorted in derisive cackle, fingers pointing down at ascending sorcerers. A reminder set in stone: even the mightiest of magic-users are mere toys in the eyes of greater powers. Fumbling fools, butting heads for their entertainment.

Being allowed past the massive doors, the three sorcerers stepped into a lavish foyer, with a handful of guests in expensive attires strolling about, accompanied by their more modestly-dressed retinue. Some were having conversations, making sure their voices wouldn’t travel beyond their own circles, others seemed to merely admire the décor. Without challenging the established mood, En also began to drift slowly across the floor, maintaining eavesdrop-safe distance from other attendees. As Fujita followed his boss through the room, it finally clicked for him that he entered a theatre building, and, from the look of things, they arrived during the intermission. Young sorcerer scanned the foyer with curiosity of the first time discovery, consciously keeping himself from spinning his head around like a kid at a fun fair. He was once again beyond the line his ilk was rarely allowed to cross.

A quiet pitter-patter of someone’s hurried steps cut through the soft hum of murmurs and distant sounds of calm music coming from somewhere deeper in the building. Swiftly covering a long flight of varnished steps, one of the less eye-catching attendees came down from the upper floor and looked around the room with servile urgency. Ending his search with one of the groups in the foyer, he approached it with same haste – a hair’s breadth away from looking undignified – and addressed its master with a respectful bow. Having listened to the reply – not raising his head for a second – the messenger excused himself and departed towards the hallway on the other side of the room. Yet, half way there, he spotted En and sharply changed his course.

‘En-sama, how good to see you haven’t left,’ he addressed red-haired sorcerer with the same reverent courtesy as his previous target. ‘I represent one of the consignors – Hibiki-sama. My mistress wishes…’

‘I don’t care,’ curtly interrupted him the Family head. ‘Be gone.’

Without showing even the slightest sign of displeasure, the servant stepped back and resumed his expedient journey to one of the other rooms. At the same time, the guest he approached earlier, who was observing the scene with veiled curiosity, discretely gave instructions to one of their own followers, then sent them off in the other direction. Fascinated, Fujita tracked these interactions in the corner of his vision, pretending to be taking in the environment and sneaking quick glances at the guests as his gaze traveled from one highlight to another.

‘You’d do well to remember these masks, Fujita, if you’re aiming to go far,’ quietly advised En, noticing the boy’s tricks. ‘These are the people who can afford throwing stacks of nick at frivolous purchases when the world is still in relative shambles. A lot of fresh blood here tonight, but some of my old… rivals… as well.’

Sorcerer’s tone left little doubt as to that he used the term facetiously.

‘Doesn’t sound like fun time,’ commented Shin. ‘Was coming early worth the trouble?’

‘Oh, it absolutely was,’ replied red-haired man. ‘I’ve sold all my junk during the first round, so it will draw suspicion away from our purchase. There’s a rather wide-spread opinion that the Family is having financial troubles. Selling artifacts can do nothing but fuel that, so picking up some trinket in the second round, “to maintain face”, will now be expected.’

‘Weird…’ contemplated the cleaner. ‘I can’t remember the last time you’ve been scheming so cautiously. Or at all, to be frank. Normally, you are rather… unapologetic.’

‘Those days are in the past,’ admitted En, with a measured amount of regret in his voice. ‘For better and for worse.’

‘I’ve noticed it too,’ joined Fujita. ‘If you don’t mind my asking, En-san, why are you holding back? You could have returned Family to the top long time ago.’

‘Keeping an eye on what’s going on around you? Good,’ commended him the Family head. ‘It’s true – restoring our old standing wouldn’t be out of my reach. In fact, it would be quite easy. But we all have to learn our lessons…’

‘Oh? How do you mean?’ questioned the cleaner, not used to his boss admitting deficits.

‘The magic users’ world can’t forever have just one central pillar – the king as it were,’ explained En after some contemplation. ‘I aimed to rise as high as I could, without thinking what would happen were I to be toppled. I deemed myself absolute, expected history to unfold at my decree. And when it refused… Well, you’ve been there – I don’t need to tell you what happened.’

‘Yeah, that was… quite a spiral,’ recalled Shin. ‘But cross-eyes would have wreaked havoc either way. Your assassination was just the first blow.’

‘Is that what you believe?’ doubted the red-haired man. ‘Prior to my death, they were a disorganized group on their last legs. I’m inclined to believe that it’s the chaos ensuing upon my death that enabled them to gain momentum. If there were other established centers of power, those rampant attacks would be repelled.’

‘So… You’re holding back to let others rise?’ voiced his guess Fujita.

‘In a sense. I’m mostly keeping my eye on those who are already in a position of authority, making sure no one tries to repeat my mistake in the interregnum. In subtle ways…’

‘Subtle ways are hardly your strong suit,’ noted the blonde.

‘Admittedly…’ agreed En. ‘But, if my visit to hell taught me something, it’s that I’d be wise to make more friends and fewer enemies while I’m here – play with soft hand, make amends where possible. After all, my return to this plain won’t last forever.’

‘Can’t imagine you enjoying it, En-san…’ commented Fujita.

‘Ah, well,’ sighed the sorcerer, ‘I console myself with the thought that, if I get fed up, I can restore the old order of things in a heartbeat. Didn’t seem worth it so far.’

‘Huh…’ faintly smirked Shin. ‘Sometimes, you surprise me, boss.’

‘Sometimes, I surprise myself…’ concurred the Family head, though it was impossible to discern whether he was proud or disappointed. ‘But enough of that. Since Noi’s not here, you’re on double duty, Shin. Go to our box and check it for taps. We should keep our conversations to ourselves.’

‘Aye-aye…’ unenthusiastically acknowledged the cleaner and broke off from the group.

After the man left, the conversation stopped for a while, but, judging by quick glances and overall restlessness, Family head could tell that his young underling had something on his mind.

‘If you have something to ask then do it,’ the man commandingly encouraged. ‘The intermission is going to end soon.’

‘I understand. It’s just I’m not sure I do want to have my question answered,’ the boy confessed, before finally getting over his hesitation. ‘En-san… How much of hell do you… actually remember? I mean, if you recall things that happened there… Do you remember the torment too?’

Resurrected sorcerer did not anticipate this question, and had to take some time to consider it, crossing his arms on his chest.

‘Hmm…’ he spoke after a while. ‘Now that you mention it… No, I don’t remember any kind of punishment. But I know I’ve been through some.’

Having been on edge waiting for the reply, Fujita let out a sigh of relief.

‘That’s… That’s great to hear!’

‘It only makes sense, come to think of it,’ continued En. ‘Resurrecting magic would be quite useless, if you’d only be getting back a gibbering wreck.’

He gave the question a bit more thought, then cast a probing look at the boy.

‘But your concern is not for me, is it…?’

It wasn’t Fujita’s intention to dismiss his boss’s grisly experience, but, evidently, he couldn’t hide what really occupied his mind.

‘Well, it’s just…’ sullen heaviness creeped into young sorcerer’s voice as he averted his eyes. ‘It’s been years by now…’

Just as En was preparing to say something rather grandiloquent, a loud, displeased female voice interrupted him.

‘There you are! Weren’t you supposed wait outside?!’

Turning to face that sudden distraction, sorcerers saw a tall, impressively muscular woman with a thick mane of silvery hair stomping in their direction.

‘So you’re here after all,’ ignored the question En. ‘I hope you didn’t bonk anyone over the head to get inside, Noi. Family can’t afford losing face.’

‘No, she got me in,’ retorted the woman, pointing behind her back.

As she stopped, a young girl in a light-colored dress and a fluffy mask likening her to a cute stuffed toy stepped out from behind Noi’s imposing figure. The one detail that stood out as ill-fitting in the girl’s look was a bulky duffle bag she apparently used for a purse.

‘Good evening,’ quietly greeted the girl with a polite nod.

‘Ah, young miss Ebisu,’ recognized her En, squinting with derision. ‘So you were the one usurping my cleaner’s time? I see you haven’t given up the habit of taking advantage of Family’s assets, without as much as asking permission.’

‘Stop being a jerk, asshole!’ demanded the hulking woman, pointing her finger at her cousin. ‘I’m not a commodity!’

‘But you are in my employ,’ reminded her the Family head, ‘and you are on the clock. So go do your job and help Shin in the box.’

‘Senpai’s here?’ immediately cheered up Noi, seemingly forgetting her grievances. ‘Duty calls then!’

Before leaving, she turned to Ebisu and reassuringly patted young sorceress on the back.

‘Ignore the prick,’ encouraged the woman. ‘He’s just cross, because Kikurage avoids him.’

As Noi departed, a heavy stillness fell over the remaining trio, and, while Fujita couldn’t tell what was going on behind Ebisu’s mask, a grim shadow over his boss’s face left no doubt about where his mind went. After a short while, Family head broke the silence.

‘I want to be alone,’ he declared in a tone allowing for no objection and walked off, leaving two youngsters in the company of each other.

In lingering awkwardness, neither hurried to reanimate the conversation, simply standing there, a step apart. Instinctively, Fujita felt like he’s being given a hint, but something kept him in place, and his eyes refused to leave the girl’s figure for very long. He hasn’t seen her for a good while, and she looked changed. While no longer a scrawny kid, the girl seemed to still be growing into her own skin – though, now indicating more distinctly where she’ll be in a couple more years. Her posture straightened, her shoulders looked wider, arms stronger. It was clear she didn’t spend past months sitting on her hiney. It felt surreal. When Fujita last saw Ebisu, she was her familiar, elated self, chuckling and giggling at every odd nonsense, prancing around in her weird attires, seemingly without a care in the world. And then, one day, she just vanished. Could this be called a reunion? The boy wasn’t sure. The person behind that fluffy mask wasn’t the Ebisu he knew. Now she was someone he’d met but once, and back then, she wouldn’t even talk to him – he was beneath her. Was it different now? Fledgling magic-user couldn’t tell.

As if to validate Fujita’s doubts, without saying a word, the girl fixed her shoulder strap and moved to depart. Only just then, it struck him. Of course! Could he be any more forgetful? He was wearing his new mask and Shin’s old suit! How could she possibly know it was him?

‘Hey, wait!’ the boy called, stepping after his former next-door neighbor. ‘It’s been a while!’

The girl indeed stopped and turned to young sorcerer’s voice. Nothing in her movements betrayed confusion or surprise.

‘It’s me, Fujita!’ the boy ascertained, pointing at his face. ‘I have finally received my true mask!’

‘I know,’ calmly acknowledged Ebisu, taking the wind out of Fujita’s sails. ‘Noi told me.’

She regarded transformed lad for another brief moment.

‘It looks impressive. Congratulations.’

Having said that, the girl continued on her way, leaving young sorcerer defeated and disappointed. It felt wrong. Her replies, her tone – they weren’t dismissive. They weren’t mocking or irritated. Worse. They sounded genuinely polite. Genuinely disinterested. Whomever was the person walking away from him, he didn’t know her at all. Unless…

‘Your fashion sense is still crap though,’ uttered Fujita under his breath.

The response followed without a moment’s delay.

‘Says the guy in hand-me-downs,’ clapped back Ebisu, and immediately stopped in her tracks, ticked off by her own inability to resist this simple bait.

The boy smiled. Maybe, he shouldn’t have worried after all. And at that moment, loudspeakers on the walls came alive.

‘Esteemed guests, the second round of the auction will commence shortly!’ announced exuberant voice. ‘Please return to your seats, for you don’t want to miss our ultimate selection!’

As the echo of numerous footsteps filled the halls, Ebisu headed towards the stairs leading up to the boxes, and, for some reason he wouldn’t admit even to himself, Fujita felt against leaving her side just yet. If only he could come up with a decent enough excuse… Actually, half-decent would do. Flimsy, too, as the moment was slipping.

‘Hey, need a hand with that bag?’ called the boy, catching up to his mystifying acquaintance, as nonchalantly as he could manage under the pressure.

‘It is not necessary,’ refused the girl, who now regained her air of polite detachment, but then, seemingly having reconsidered, she stopped and lifted the strap off her shoulder. ‘Though, you can if you want to.’

Mentally celebrating his little success, young sorcerer grabbed the handles, and the next moment nearly flopped on the floor, as immense weight pulled his hands down.

‘Whoa!’ he yelped in astonishment, struggling to regain balance. ‘What the hell is in there?!’

‘My things,’ evenly informed Ebisu. ‘Do be polite and refrain from prying.’

At the loss for counterarguments, Fujita could only grit his teeth and follow the girl upstairs, where the last of high-class participants now disappeared into their private little nests, shadowed by their flocking servants. The two young magic-users seemed to be the last ones to come, and, as the curved hall emptied, they faced a sharply dressed attendant heading to the stage. Seeing the girl, the man positively bloomed.

‘Ah, Ebisu-sama, what a delight to see you again so soon!’ he proclaimed, bowing ceremoniously. ‘Have you returned to put up another antique for sale? That gorgeous tea set you graciously decided to part with last time was highly contested.’

‘No, I’m accompanying a friend tonight,’ replied the girl with reserved politeness. ‘She should have come up shortly before.’

‘Ah, I see, I see. Then, by all means, enjoy your evening,’ understandingly nodded the attendant, then glanced swiftly at Fujita. ‘And if you would feel like a refreshment, do not hesitate to send your servant downstairs – our staff will do anything to accommodate.’

‘Excuse me?!’ piped up the boy, exasperated. ‘Who are you calling a servant?!’

‘Perhaps, I am mistaken,’ retracted the man, though with no apology in his voice – only cold contempt. ‘Servants are taught manners, after all.’

Just as Fujita was preparing to give the attendant a piece of his mind, Ebisu interjected.

‘My bag is quite heavy, and this person agreed to carry it,’ she said in that same civil, unshaken tone. ‘A little crudeness can be excused.’

‘Of course, you are right,’ once again bowed the man. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.’

Ebisu gave a barely perceptible nod, and the man walked away, uncaring for Fujita’s incinerating glare.

‘What’s his problem?’ uttered the boy when attendant disappeared from view.

‘His eyes are accustomed to the sight of elite,’ offhandedly explained the girl. ‘He’s grown to care not for those who aren’t among them.’

‘Pff,’ huffed Fujita. ‘If his nose wasn’t turned so high, he’d-’

Before he could finish, a sudden thought struck the boy, making him turn to his companion abruptly.

‘Wait, is it that easy to tell?’ he asked with stark concern. ‘I mean, does it show much?’

Ebisu mulled the question over, giving young sorcerer some superficial scrutiny, then shrugged and hummed inconclusively.

‘Maybe, if you weren’t carrying my bag, he wouldn’t have noticed…’

A host of pressing questions jumped to Fujita’s mind, but, alas, he didn’t have the chance to ask any, as Noi’s voice cut through the hall.

‘There you are! En though you got lost or something,’ the woman called, walking towards the two. ‘Is that Ebisu over there?’

Displaying urgency incongruent with her demeanor so far, the girl snatched her bag out of Fujita’s hands and quickly put the strap on her shoulder.

‘Who else here would you expect to give him time of day?’ she questioned rhetorically, stepping away from the boy.

‘Huh, that sure is true…’ pondered Noi for a second, then grabbed Fujita by the wrist, as if he was going to run away. ‘Okay, we need to go. Looks like you will be alone in your box tonight, shrimpkin.’

‘And yours will be crowded, it seems,’ observed Ebisu.

‘Ugh, right… As if that prick En needs anyone to stand in waiting anyway,’ complained Noi, oblivious to Fujita’s silent squirming. ‘But no time to chat! I need to deliver this tardy customer.’

Saying that, she looked at the boy with discontent, noticing to her surprise that he’s gray in the face.

‘Noi-san…’ Fujita uttered tensely, trying his hardest not to squeal. ‘You’re very strong…’

‘Ah! Right!’ caught herself the towering woman, letting go of young sorcerer’s arm. ‘I forgot you’re a wimp! Senpai’s suit must have thrown me off…’

‘It’s okay…’ excused her Fujita, tending to his bruised wrist and ego. ‘We shouldn’t keep En-san waiting…’

‘Right, let’s go then,’ agreed Noi, and the two headed to the Family private box, leaving Ebisu to continue on her way to hers.

‘Here, one lost boy, as requested,’ silver-maned cleaner reported, propelling Fujita into the lounge. ‘What now?’

‘Now sit down and be quiet,’ demanded the Family head. ‘The auction is starting.’

Backing up his words, the lights went dim and several projectors rolled their beams towards the stage, carving out a focused circle. As the curtains parted, lively music filled the air, and a dazzlingly dressed woman stepped into the spotlight, waving her hands to the audience with infectious energy.

‘Good evening once again, esteemed guests and representatives!’ she greeted with the widest smile. ‘I hope everyone managed to find their seats, because we’re kicking off the second round of our auction! I remain your delighted host, Goldie, and I wish to remind everyone present that round two follows different rules! After all, I see many new faces in the audience tonight,’ the woman pointed out with a coy squint, holding a baiting pause. ‘Which means at least someone’s making the most of the mess we’re in!’

A quiet wave of laughter rolled over the room, and, after letting it dissipate, the auctioneer went on with her bit.

‘But no more chit chat! Let’s enter this night of thrill and opportunity! Truly, tonight you may chance upon a purchase of your lifetime!’

Behind Goldie’s back, a couple of attendants rolled out carts with display cases and positioned them so that the audience could have a good look at the items, while the woman remained the centerpiece.

‘Pshh…’ quietly scoffed En, idly clapping his amanita-shaped bidding paddle on his knee. ‘Must be desperate times for the auction house if she works so hard to turn heads.’

‘It normally isn’t like this?’ asked Fujita, now realizing to his embarrassment that he was actually captivated by the proceedings.

‘Not in the second half, no,’ shared his insight red-haired man. ‘The first round is a glorified garage sale – trinkets are changing hands and not much more. However, by round two, the rules change, so you’d normally expect the mood to reflect that.’

Down on the stage, preparations reached completion, and the auctioneer took the word again.

‘With pride and excitement, I present to you the first lot of this evening,’ she announced, gesturing at the cases. ‘Before you is a set of exquisite fans with mythical motifs – a prized possession of Bronze Prince’s seven daughters, crafted by a captured human artisan over three centuries ago! So impressed was the Prince by the master’s work that he personally hexed his hands, to ensure no item could be produced that would surpass the beauty and elegance of this set.’

‘This wasn’t on the list,’ pointed out En as the lot was revealed. ‘We’re sitting this one out.’

Down below, Goldie now turned from puffery to business.

‘To whet your appetite, we are starting low – the opening bid is only 80000 nick, with 20000 increment. But, by all means, feel free to exceed it – this set truly is one of a kind! And I already see the first contender! Number 33 on the floor, offering 80000 nick! Would anyone top that, or did the set already find its new home? No! Number 10 on the floor disagrees, offering 100000! How timely! And immediately Number 19 steps in with 120000!’

As the loudly dressed woman went on, Fujita took the opportunity to probe further.

‘En-san, when you said that the rules change in the second round, what did you mean?’

‘Wishing to learn?’ raised an eyebrow En. ‘Very well. But don’t expect handouts. Observe the proceedings first, and then we can talk.’

There was no reason to expect anything different from his boss, so young lad eagerly focused on his test, analyzing the flow of bidding that went on downstairs and taking mental notes.

‘So, what do you think?’ asked the Family head after a measure of time he deemed sufficient.

Pushing aside the familiar, but steadily weakening concern that his opinion will be mocked, criticized or ignored, the boy summed up his observations.

‘The auctioneer is bloating up the value of the lot,’ he asserted. ‘She’s making it sound like there is open competition amongst the bidders, but I doubt there is. No one is going above the increment.’

‘Correct,’ confirmed En. ‘They’re still climbing towards a safe mark – something close to objective value of the set. The auctioneer chose a low starting bid to present a greater window for competition. If she manages to butt a few heads in the process, landing the purchase will become about ego, not prudence. That’s where the real profit lies.’

‘Doesn’t seem like it’s happening, though…’ joined the conversation Shin.

‘It’s only the first lot,’ shrugged red-haired man. ‘She’ll find a way to drum up that premium – that much you can be certain of. She’s already called out fake bids at least twice while we were talking.’

‘Heh, devil favors those who dare…’ smirked the blonde, either judging or approving.

‘That he does,’ agreed En. ‘But she can’t get too greedy, lest she interferes with the real reason anyone’s here tonight. The buyers are playing their own game, after all.’

That last statement caught Fujita’s attention, but, down below, bidding came to its inevitable conclusion, and he had to postpone his enquiry, as Goldie moved to present the next lot.

‘Now that we’re all warmed up, let’s see who takes home lot number two!’ she teased, as the attendants carried the fans off to the storeroom, while others delivered the new case. ‘Going from immortal craft to undying devotion, we now present to you the storied Tapestry of Reunion!’

‘Good, that one’s on the list,’ livened up En. ‘Perhaps, we’ll be done early.’

The woman on the stage commenced her rousing routine.

‘Versions of this item’s origin are many, but the most known one says that, long ago, a maiden, separated from her lover by a jealous matriarch, bargained to be reunited with him, if she could weave a beautiful tapestry in one month and one day…’

‘If I place a bid early on, it should deter lesser contenders,’ planned the Family head, scanning the room. ‘But not too early, so the bigger ones wouldn’t get the right idea. No need for us to get involved in pointless competition.’

‘Is it about that “game” you mentioned?’ reminded Fujita, taking advantage of this window. ‘They’re competing… but not for the items?’

‘Very astute,’ confirmed En. ‘There are things that can’t be negotiated openly, claims that can’t be made directly, rivalries that can’t be maintained publically – your usual “under the rug” stuff. Such things are settled in a mediated manner. I’m sure you have noticed no one came here alone tonight – everyone has their pocketful of messengers.’

‘To keep everyone on the same page…’ figured the boy.

‘Only on the face of it,’ clued him in the Family head. ‘See, every player is a consignor, and they need to inform all the interested parties of what their lots stand for. But then, why tell only the truth? Some lots could be duds, some could be tricks, some could be bait to pit other players against each other. This insight can also be passed along, withheld or twisted to one’s advantage. Thus, players set the board, and then they have their “conversation”…’

Young sorcerer nodded understandingly, even though his boss wasn’t looking at him, and fixed his eyes on lit up VIP boxes with doubled interest. He knew full well he couldn’t possibly stay on top of everything that was going on this night, but felt it was important to try and grasp as much as he’s able. One day, he’d need this knowledge to get ahead, and every speck of insight was invaluable.

In the furthermost box, Fujita spotted Ebisu in her pale attire – sitting there in a dignified pose, the girl didn’t look at all out of place at this high class assembly. The boy had already gathered that she was a participant before, but did she play that other game as well? He couldn’t even guess. Down below, the auctioneer arrived at the end of her tale.

‘Vexed as she was by the maiden’s ingenuity, the tyrant had to uphold her end of the bargain, left only with this gorgeous cloth as her trophy. Tonight, you have the opportunity to discover how it feels to have such an artifact in your possession, sans bitter disappointment of defeat!’ she’s finished with puffery and moved onto the nitty-gritty. ‘Opening bid is 150000 nick, increment – 30000, which is… And we have rivaling bids right out of the gate – Number 7 on the floor and Hibiki-sama up in the boxes! Higher bid is assigned by seniority rule – 210000 nick from Hibiki-sama! Would anyone go above that? Don’t be shy!’

‘A real participant has spoken – this is one of the game pieces. The floor will not contest this without a good reason now,’ stated red-haired sorcerer in a rather displeased tone. ‘Hmm… I was hoping to avoid making splashes, but we’ll have to step on someone’s toes after all. If the players are smart, they’ll take the hint.’

‘Would no one challenge this bid? First claim reigns at the store, but remember: we’re at an auction!’ continued the woman on the stage, playfully probing for hidden triggers. ‘Come on now, first lot was a steal, but this is robbery! You know there’s still room for competition!’

‘Two hundred fifty thousand!’ loudly announced En, raising his bidding paddle.

Just as the man predicted, his sudden intrusion sent waves. Murmurs of curiosity came from the room below, largely muffled by the music, while a number of distinguished guests in the boxes seemingly began adjusting their plans, addressing their shadowed helpers and sending them out with their word.

‘250 000 from En-sama in the boxes! Thank you!’ rebounded the auctioneer on the stage after initial brief surprise. ‘Now that’s more like it!’

‘I’ve made my intentions clear,’ commented the master of mushroom magic, quickly glancing over the room. ‘If my old reputation still holds…’

‘Three hundred thousand!’ interrupted him another call from the upper floor, turning everyone’s attention to the new contender – a rotund man with a lollypop-shaped bidding paddle.

‘300 000 from Baba-sama in the boxes!’ auctioneer fervently repeated the bid. ‘Our regular patron has a keen eye for precious things – his interest is a seal of approval in and of itself!’

Unaccustomed to open defiance, En frowned at this new development. He lost his relaxed posture, sitting up straight in his chair, and grumbled quietly to himself.

‘Baba… Just what we needed…’

‘Am I sensing a history here?’ inquired Shin. ‘Bad blood?’

‘In his eyes, perhaps,’ replied the Family head with disdain. ‘Back when I was still seen as the de-facto ruler of magic-users’ world, this ball of dough thought himself to be the runner-up. His operation is as booming as ever – of course he would try to outbid me…’

‘330 000 from Number 11 on the floor!’ came another callout from the stage. ‘A daring move! Will it pay off?’

‘The floor is still bidding?’ questioned Fujita. ‘I thought they were out of this one.’

‘A puppet, surely,’ dismissed En. ‘Could be Hibiki’s, could be auctioneer’s. Could be even Baba’s for all we know. Someone’s drumming up the price and fanning the flames. How… inconvenient.’

‘You can tell the tapestry is much coveted,’ continued the auctioneer – her voice shifting slightly from encouraging to provocative. ‘Who will give up and who will take the prize? There can only be one winner!’

‘Ridiculous…’ uttered En, rolling his eyes. ‘But very well. Four hundred thousand!’

‘400 000 from En-sama! This man knows what he wants, and he knows how to get it!’

‘Five hundred thousand!’ quickly topped the bid Baba, staring at his opponent with goading glee, making En groan quietly and drop back in his seat.

‘Fine, the blob can have his win if he wants it so much,’ sorcerer relented. ‘Half a million is taking it too far for an exchange token. Let’s hope our bloated competitor is sated for the night…’

‘And if he isn’t?’ asked Fujita with suppressed worry.

‘We have one more listed item in reserve,’ reminded the man. ‘We should see where the wind blows before considering plan B.’

‘And what is your plan B?’ asked Shin with immediacy that pointed to more than just idle curiosity.

‘Don’t fret,’ smirked red-haired man, ‘it’s not “hexing everyone in the room and making out with the spoils”. Those days are over.’

Thus, in the following rounds, En’s suspicions were tested. The auction went on, and, to Fujita’s dismay, every time the Family head would place a bid, his old rival wasted no time in topping it, ignoring any other bidder, were they to follow up. The whole affair seemed to throw the backstage shadowy games into total disarray, with messengers being sent out with updates after every clash. Soon, most other participants gave up on mending their webs and settled for merely observing this unexpected struggle.

‘So he’s playing for show – trying to make a statement,’ grimly concluded red-haired sorcerer after another dud went to his opponent. ‘That is a problem. As much as I loathe to admit it, when it comes to frivolous spending, this guy simply has deeper pockets. Brute-forcing a win would cost more than I’m willing to part with.’

‘So, is it time for plan B?’ probed the boy with cautious anticipation.

‘It certainly looks like it,’ admitted En. ‘But before that, I wanted to point out a possibility you may have not considered.’

‘What is it?’

‘Had it occurred to you that our industrious partygoer may actually be testing you for your ability to fail?’ asked the man, and, seeing confusion in Fujita’s eyes, went on to elaborate. ‘Up top, magic-users play risky games. Risky and unpredictable. In these circles, good intuition is valued more than mastery of any skill. In fact, inflexible drive to succeed at any cost is seen as a big flaw. An exploitable one, at that. You can’t ace everything – you have to know when to fold them. Perhaps, what Matchmaker really wishes to see is your ability to admit that something is beyond your limits. And, of course, the way you go about disclosing it. What do you think about that?’

Indeed, none of this had occurred to Fujita. He was used to receiving plain directives, no matter how far-fetched they might sound, and all these layers and possibilities felt like a gauntlet of ambushes he could never foresee. He was not only out of his depth, but also out of his element. Some small, trembling part of him wanted nothing more than to admit that he is ill-suited to handle any of this and turn back, but he learned to ignore its thin voice long ago. The boy took a breath and brought his thoughts in order. When all was said and done, he didn’t know the broker’s reasoning for doing anything – but he knew his own.

‘I am an unknown entity,’ the boy asserted, using it as the foundation for his argument. ‘Even if Jiro wants to know how I would handle failure, he can’t be testing for it specifically. Moreover, it’s not in our interests, because this task sets a floor for future expectations. If I present myself as not very capable, but sensible, he may just put that knowledge into his back pocket. I need to impress him, make him want to entice me to stick around. That will create an opening. It is a risk, but I need to succeed.’

When young sorcerer finished, En considered his underling’s words for a short while, then nodded in agreement.

‘Solid reasoning. Yes, I will support that.’

On the stage, the auctioneer wrapped up the latest sell and moved on to the next lot.

‘Alright, ladies and gentlemen, our next offering deserves your utmost attention!’ she started laying down her pitch. ‘Tonight, we’ve heard stories of separation and reunion, bravery and guile, triumph and betrayal, but now it is time for a tale of misguided ambition, for our next lot is fabled Banespitter!’

‘And, as if on cue…’ noted En, turning his attention back to the auction. ‘That’s our second item. But, given the circumstances, we won’t be contesting it.’

A brief, uncontrollable surge of worry rushed through Fujita’s mind, but he trusted his boss and said nothing. Downstairs, the attendants rolled onto the stage a glass case with a short, double-barrel shotgun, fashioned in a shape of a snarling dragon head. A handful of engraved, silver-cased shells glistened by the weapon’s side. Having the marked object being a gun could do nothing but triple young sorcerer’s interest, and his eyes became glued to the lot, while his ears hung on every word coming out of Goldie’s mouth.

‘The gun on display has a truly fascinating history,’ enticingly proclaimed the woman. ‘Long ago, its creation was commissioned by Renato – youngest son of House Aul-Manardi from the faraway land of Boscona. Our daring hero sought to overthrow the head of his House, who, as the legend goes, managed to hold on to power by cheating death itself. Whether it’s true or not, it is known that the gun was enchanted, allowing its vanishingly rare ordinance to shred the very soul of its target, erasing their existence entirely. Details of Renato’s coup are now lost to time, but some say that the gun was never used for its intended purpose. Others claim that it was made for entirely different reasons, and, over the ages, it became renown for being used against cursed, undying monsters – destroying their very essence and preventing their resurrection. Tonight, you can claim Banespitter and its remaining five shells for yourself!’ the auctioneer wrapped up her history lesson. ‘Opening bid is mere 200000 nick! Increment – 50000! A find like that is priceless, of course, but I’m sure we can figure something out!’

‘Very well,’ spoke up En, as the woman on the stage went on with calling out the bids, ‘here’s what we are going to do. When the lot is purchased, it is transported to the storeroom downstairs. If we can’t buy it, then we’ll just have to take it.’

‘Gotta admit, I expected something more sophisticated…’ commented Shin with a disappointed sigh. ‘This sounds like more of the old approach.’

‘It won’t be as easy as grabbing it and walking away, of course,’ assured him the Family head. ‘The room is guarded, and no doubt there is an enclosing ward around it, and maybe the building itself as well. And don’t forget: we do have to play by the rules for once. Or at least appear so…’

‘Enclosing ward?’ joined Fujita. ‘What is that?’

‘A magical setup, consisting…’ started red-haired man, but then just waved his hand. ‘Actually, find out yourself on your free time. I’ve given enough explanations for one night.’

‘Okay…’ accepted the boy. ‘Then what do we do?’

‘We get you into the storage room, then smuggle you out, along with the item. The rest is up to you.’

‘Sure, piece of cake…’ nodded young sorcerer – more than anything else, just trying to pump himself up – yet his innocuous comment made En turn and look over his shoulder, meeting Fujita’s eyes.

‘Forget this notion, if you know what’s good for you,’ the man commanded with a mortifying frown. ‘For your sake, I’m going to assume this was idle babble, but, just to be sure, I would like to remind you that, despite my benevolence towards you and your partner, my responsibility is before the Family as a whole.’

The man spoke without a hint of his usual grandiosity – his words measured and deliberate, his gaze direct and focused.

‘I want to make one thing clear, Fujita: I cannot afford putting Family on the spot, even if it means forfeiting your quest or even your life. That is to say, if the plan goes awry and you get caught, make no mistake – I will disavow any knowledge of your actions and expel you from the Family in a heartbeat, leaving you to the wolves. You understand that?’

Young sorcerer gulped, feeling the chill running down his spine under this uncompromising stare. His boss could exaggerate many things, but risks was not one of them. Yet still, he was not backing off.

‘Yes, En-san,’ the boy replied with conviction. ‘I would not expect any more from you than what you’re offering. I’ll stay sharp.’

After a couple more moments of silent scrutiny, En nodded, acknowledging the response, and reached into his inner pocket.

‘Then let’s not waste any time. Here,’ he said, handing the boy a small dried truffle, ‘put this in your ear. And one for you, Shin.’

‘What’s that?’ asked the cleaner, accepting the mushroom.

‘This will help us stay in touch,’ explained En. ‘I can’t leave the box with so many eyes watching.’

Hearing suggested urgency in his boss’s voice, Fujita obediently placed the wrinkly lump in his ear and immediately winced, feeling it taking root. He clenched his teeth, as thin tendrils burrowed under his skin, reaching deep into the boy’s skull. The experience was painless, but far from pleasant.

‘Alright… what’s next…?’ asked Fujita, trying to distract himself from emerging mental imagery.

‘Next, you find a way into the storeroom,’ instructed red-haired sorcerer. ‘This is a theater, not a bank, so it shouldn’t be airtight. In fact, I’ve been there earlier tonight, to oversee proper storage of my artifacts, and I could distinctly smell cigar smoke, so it must be sharing ventilation with the smoking room downstairs. You can start from there.’

‘Understood,’ acknowledged Shin, getting off his seat. ‘Let’s go, Fujita.’

As the two sorcerers left the lounge, En continued quietly giving instructions, maintaining the impression of being absorbed by the auction. The triumphant look on his fat rival’s face did not elude the man’s notice. The annoying meddler undoubtedly assumed credit for Family’s movements, likely thinking that En sent out messengers to try and cobble up a last-minute alliance against him. What disgrace. Red-haired sorcerer did not wish to dwell on those thoughts.

‘Once you have the gun, we’ll smuggle you out of that room without tripping the ward,’ he explained the plan to his unlikely agent. ‘But one thing at a time. First, figure out your way in.’

Competition downstairs came to its conclusion and the attendant already carried the case away, when En finally heard Shin’s voice in his ear.

‘Boss, we found our entry point,’ reported the blonde. ‘The catch is, it’s… not… quite Fujita-sized. More like Kikurage-sized.’

“Same as the hole in my heart…” lamented En in his head, but there was no time for distractions. ‘I don’t see the problem,’ he responded dismissively. ‘You have your garbage bags with you, do you not?’

‘Naturally,’ confirmed Shin. ‘But who’s going to transport them? There’s probably a maze in there…’

‘Hmm, that’s a good question…’ agreed red-haired man, then, after some fruitless consideration, turned slightly towards his cousin. ‘Noi, you’ve not been helpful so far. Care to suggest an idea?’

‘‘Bout what?’ unenthusiastically responded the woman, who was quietly pouting in her seat this whole time.

‘We’re stuffing Fujita into a vent,’ casually explained En. ‘Need something to push him all the way through.’

Noi’s face contorted into a grimace of inconvenienced thought for a few seconds, but then a lightbulb suddenly lit up.

‘You know…’ she said with a scheme-hatching squint, ‘I could ask Ebisu to lend a hand. She’d do the trick.’

Forgetting all about subtlety, red-haired sorcerer glared at his cousin with indignant disbelief.

‘As if I’d want help from a deserter!’ he hissed. ‘She can’t be trusted!’

‘I don’t get how your trust works,’ shook her head in disapproval Noi. ‘Sho messes with your memory, and you let it slide. Ebisu goes off to make a name for herself, and you get your mushroom-smelling pantaloons in a twist. Sheesh, you’re like a small baby!’

‘I know Sho has nothing but Family’s best interests at heart,’ defended En, ignoring the more prickly parts of his kin’s arguments. ‘I’ve also been made well aware of my own fallibility. If he deems there is something I’d best not remember, I trust his judgement. That girl’s motivation, on the other hand, was purely selfish. That I can’t forgive.’

‘Pff! “Forgive”…’ huffed the silver-haired cleaner. ‘As if you ever cared for her to stick around anyway…’

‘You are correct on that one,’ admitted the Family head, suddenly sounding less prideful and more harsh. ‘I could not care less whether that little imp was still skulking around the mansion or not.’

He turned to the stage, not looking at his stubborn sibling anymore.

‘I’m not the one she’s hurting…’

Seeing the she’s not winning this argument, Noi crossed her mighty hands on her chest.

‘Excuse your spite however you want. I gave my suggestion – take it or leave it.’

For a while, the auctioneer’s voice regained monopoly over everyone’s ears, until, at last, Fujita could no longer bear the tension.

‘En-san,’ he spoke with the intent to reason, not plead, ‘we’re already this far along…’

‘Ugh, fine, go bring that shrew up to speed,’ caved the red-haired man, back-handing Noi a couple of his truffles. ‘If you can even convince her to be helpful to the Family, instead of exploiting its resources…’

‘She won’t be helping the Family,’ grinned the cleaner and slipped out the door.

‘Hmph, women…’ scoffed En, switching his attention back to the other two. ‘Okay, Shin, you know what you need to do. And, Fujita, leave your mask with Shin. As I said before, Family needs to keep its hands clean – at least in the eyes of others. You wouldn’t want to flash it during the exchange anyway.’

‘Yes… Yes, I understand,’ acknowledged the boy.

‘Good. Now it’s up to Noi and her nasty little pet.’

‘Speaking of…’ came the silver-haired woman’s voice on the truffle comms. ‘What’s the whole plan, anyway? I don’t take it Fujita will be leaving the way he came…’

‘It’s simple,’ posited the Family head. ‘Fujita will use an artifact I sold this morning, which opens a breach into a place called Hell’s Doorsteppe. Not a particularly pleasant locale – the outermost reach of hell, essentially – but one can manage being there for a good while, if they keep their wits about them. From there, he can call for a retrieval and exit back into our realm with his spoils.’

‘That artifact sounds like an interesting possession,’ commented Shin. ‘Why sell it?’

‘I used to send would-be assassins for a vacation there sometimes,’ explained En, ‘but now I find it a poor choice. Crowding hell’s exit with those who have an axe to grind with you is a short-sighted venture.’

‘So now you’re prudently enabling your competitors to crowd it with your friends instead…’ jabbed Noi, coming up to Ebisu’s door.

‘Let me worry about my friends, and focus on handling yours,’ retorted her grouchy cousin.

The woman could only once again shake her head and sneak inside the box.

‘Hey, are you as fed up with this rigmarole as I am?’ she whispered, keeping to the darkened space.

‘Yeah, it kinda drags when you have no skin in the game,’ whispered back the girl, never minding Noi’s sudden appearance. ‘Fun seeing your boss being dunked on though, huhuhu.’

‘Yeah, about that…’ started the cleaner, with a half-hearted appeal in her voice. ‘We could use your help turning things around.’

‘Huh?’ with genuine surprise reacted young sorceress. ‘How did I find my way into this? I owe En no favors.’

‘It’s not for him,’ assured the woman. ‘Fujita is on a quest to bring his partner back again. He needs a hand.’

‘Ah, hell, he’s still moping about Whatshisname…?’ sighed Ebisu, not even trying to hide her tired disappointment. ‘I thought he was over it. That bozo needs to learn letting things go…’

‘Don’t be a hypocrite,’ bluntly chided Noi. ‘You helping or not?’

Young girl let the question marinate for a little, before giving her measuredly lukewarm reply.

‘Well, I am getting bored… I guess, I’ll consider it,’ she supposed. ‘I hope, you didn’t expect for me to have an answer on the ready.’

‘Oh, what a pure soul you must be…’ chuckled her silver-haired visitor with wicked glee. ‘So better you are at lying to yourself than to others.’

‘Ugh, fine, whatever,’ caved Ebisu, rightly anticipating more jabs and badgering if she resisted, ‘what do you need?’

‘Here, put this in your ear and come with me,’ instructed Noi, handing the girl one of En’s truffles. ‘I’ll get you up to speed when we’re there.’

As etiquette demanded, Ebisu hanged her bidding paddle upside down on the wall, signaling her exit, picked up her bag and gracefully departed. Though, with all the excitement going on tonight, barely anyone paid notice. Stepping out into the hall, the girl slipped her hand under her mask and plugged the mushroom in.

‘Ach, gross…’ she uttered, feeling the mycelium spreading.

‘I will have none of your complaining,’ immediately came En’s grumpy voice. ‘Shin’s already done his part, hurry up you two.’

The girl made a grimace, but refrained from bickering.

‘What needs to be done?’ she asked, resuming her calm and polite demeanor.

‘You’ll help Fujita get into the storeroom behind the stage,’ dryly explained the Family head. ‘He knows what to do next, so the rest is none of your concern. Now hurry up and get to the smoking room already you two – it’s on the first floor, just across from the toilets.’

Upon receiving that command, it took a spiritual effort for both Noi and Ebisu not to slow down their steps. As the two descended the stairs, Shin waved them from further down the hall.

‘Hey, squirt,’ he greeted, as his co-conspirators approached. ‘I’ve prepared everything inside.’

‘Hello, Shin,’ nodded Ebisu, going into the room. ‘I need to change, don’t let anyone in.’

‘Noi, you go too, supply her with your smoke,’ added En. ‘After that, return here with Shin, and we’ll create a distraction.’

‘Got it,’ acknowledged the woman and followed Ebisu into the room, leaving her partner on the lookout.

And that extra precaution quickly proved to be justified – Shin wouldn’t have to stand idly for long. Only a few moments after the girls entered the room, he heard footsteps, and a lower-ranking guest from the floor level came to have a smoke break, as small fry seemed to no longer have any game this night. As he approached, the blonde stepped in front of the door, barring his entry.

‘This one’s occupied,’ he declared with bulletproof strictness and pointed across the hall. ‘Use the other ones.’

‘What are you talking about?’ questioned the arriving sorcerer, opening his shiny cigarette case, more perplexed than annoyed. ‘This isn’t…’

‘Go,’ interrupted Shin, encouraging compliance with a grave stare.

It didn’t work. Surely a representative of a prominent patron, the man didn’t seem inclined to be bossed around like that, and it already began surfacing on his face, when Noi’s voice came from behind the door.

‘No, this bottle is too small, give me the other one.’

‘Here,’ followed the reply. ‘Should I pour it in his mouth or just on the body?’

Hearing this exchange, the guest swallowed what he was about to say and stared at the door behind the cleaner’s back with a puzzled expression, while Shin’s face remained grim and still – his lips pressed into a thin line.

‘Spread some all over first. Then, if he’s still kinda limp and wobbly, let him chug the rest,’ continued the woman in the room. ‘Now, where did you put your dress? In the bag? Stuff his clothes in there too, or they’ll get all stained.’

‘Please, could you hurry up?’ came third, slightly muffled voice, accompanied by rustling of a plastic bag. ‘It’s getting hard to breathe. My arms are getting numb, too.’

‘Quiet there. Don’t rush her,’ sternly replied the woman. ‘You ready? Alright, just like the last time, don’t try to squeeze out all you have at once. Remember, it’s all about control. You’re in control.’

In resuming silence, the round-eyed sorcerer snapped his port-cigar shut, turned around and disappeared from sight without a word. Soon after, the door opened, and Noi stepped out alone, with a few bags of sand in her hands.

‘Alright, senpai, we’re done here!’ she jovially announced.

With no mention of what happened, Shin glanced at his partner’s spoils.

‘You’re gonna carry those around?’

‘Oh! I guess, there’s no need,’ grinned the woman and tossed the bags onto the nearby seat. ‘Let’s go back!’

Shin acquiesced and the two hurried upstairs, just as the mushroom radio channel opened again.

‘The next lot is about to be announced,’ informed En from his high perch. ‘I’ll try to buy as much time as I can, but you’re already on the clock, Fujita. When the servant brings the item into the storage room, you should not be there, understood? Report when you’re inside.’

‘Got… ow… got it…’ acknowledged the boy, over what sounded like a sheet of metal being banged against his head.

Down on the stage, the next lot was presented to everyone’s attention.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ exclaimed the auctioneer, then lowered her voice in conspiratorial fashion, ‘exercise due care, for our next offering is not entirely harmless… We bring to your attention the notorious Telescope of True Sight! Records state that it originally belonged to an astronomer obsessed with finding the Cipher – a forgotten constellation holding the key to the fabric of reality.’

Upstairs, the curtains in En’s box moved as the Family cleaners returned to their shadowed seats.

‘Did we miss much?’ asked Shin, trying to assess how far into her pitch Goldie was.

‘Just the fluff,’ replied his boss, preparing to play his part. ‘Be ready to leave as soon as the winner is announced. We don’t want to be around for the fireworks.’

Blonde man nodded in acknowledgment, while his partner merely produced some incomprehensible sound, disinterested in the happenings, and so En focused his attention on the flow of the auction. The woman downstairs was just about to arrive to the end of her tale.

‘Did the frustrated scholar, in his madness, curse his tool, or was a cosmic blueprint burnt onto its lens, awaiting the one strong-minded enough to comprehend it?’ she finished with a meaningful look on her face. ‘Tonight, you may become one step closer to finding the answer, with the starting price of only 150000 nick! Increment is 30000! Astronomer or not, you’d be crazy to pass up such an opportunity!’

‘That’s it, the bidding is starting,’ whispered En over the magical mushroom radio. ‘Are you two inside yet?’

Somewhere else in the building, in a locked room filled with crates, boxes and display tables, a ventilation grating opened quietly in the corner. A scaly iguana backed out of it, pulling a garbage bag in its teeth, accompanied by sloshing sound coming from inside. Slender reptile dragged it all the way to the center of the room, then quickly returned to the vent for another one, then for the third. Finally, it brought in a zipped duffle bag, now sporting a thick coat of dust and spider webs. The animal sneezed, with a big cloud of dark smoke popping around it, and, when it dissipated, a teenage girl in workout clothes stood up from the floor. She clapped the dust off her fluffy mask and sneezed once more.

‘We’re in,’ she reported, looking around. ‘The lights are off. Where’s the switch?’

‘Hmm, now that you ask, I think I saw it outside the room,’ recalled red-haired sorcerer.

‘Great…’ frowned the girl. ‘That doesn’t bode well for Fujita.’

‘Doesn’t matter. This is something I thought of ahead of time as well,’ lied En after a short pause. ‘I need you to find a mirror I’ve sold this afternoon. It’s a full-length mirror – a big, rectangular-’

‘I know what a mirror is,’ interrupted him Ebisu. ‘I’m looking at it.’

‘Stand in front of it and repeat exactly what I tell you,’ continued the Family head, letting the girl’s insolence slide this time. ‘Try to get all the sounds right.’

After quickly checking for unwanted attention from other attendees, the man cleared his throat and began quietly reciting an incantation in devil tongue. On the other end, Ebisu carefully reproduced the words, and soon, the surface of the mirror rippled, contorted and revealed an image of a desolate scape, filling the room with beige glow.

‘Alright, it worked,’ reported the girl, turning to the piled together garbage bags. ‘Commencing phase two.’

‘Do it quick,’ hurried her En. ‘Baby bidders are losing their zeal.’

Ebisu crouched down by the first bag and dumped out its contents – disassembled, twitching legs, with blood dripping out of fresh, clean sections.

‘Ow, I felt that…’ came muffled voice from one of the other bags.

The girl pulled it over and added what was inside to the pile of gore – Fujita’s head and arms. She stopped the head from rolling off and grabbed the final bag with the boy’s sliced torso.

‘Okay,’ exhaled the girl, having all the parts laid out before her. ‘Now the tricky bit.’

‘Please, don’t mess anything up,’ pleaded Fujita’s head, looking pale even in the warm lighting.

‘Be quiet,’ coldly commanded Ebisu. ‘You are the one who can’t even put a dress together right.’

As she proceeded with the assembly, upstairs, initial ramp-up of interest has stagnated, much to auctioneer’s disappointment.

‘300000 nick is the closing bid so far!’ the woman announced, after trying to stall for as long as she could. ‘If no one else wishes to contest it, the telescope will go to Number 5 on the floor! The lot goes one…!’

‘Your countdown has started,’ gave his final warning the Family head and raised his paddle. ‘Three-fifty!’

‘Oh, En-sama in the boxes decides to intercept at the last moment!’ called out Goldie with a jolt of energy. ‘350000 nick from En-sama!’

‘Four hundred thousand!’ quickly joined En’s voluminous rival.

‘True value of this artifact is finally being recognized!’ cheered the auctioneer, happy for the unexpected uptick. ‘400000 from Baba-sama in the boxes! Will there be struggle?’

‘Four-fifty!’ shouted En after a few moments, stalling for as much time as he could, without giving away the game.

‘Five hundred thousand!’ countered him Baba, not even waiting for auctioneer to repeat the bid.

Conversely, red-haired man let the woman run her hype machine for as long as she pleased.

‘Five hundred and fifty!’ he contested when the stream of ingratiating, yet cheekily rousing vignettes petered out.

‘Seven hundred!’ immediately outbid him his rotund opponent.

As the auctioneer on the stage exploded with excitement, En frowned and cast a grim look in Baba’s direction. The portly meddler did not hide how much he enjoyed himself this evening, staring malevolently at the former de facto ruler of the realm. A wide, self-satisfied grin was pushing his flabby cheeks seemingly all the way to his ears.

‘How much more time do you need?’ impatiently grumbled En, tapping his foot on the floor. ‘This game has lost its charm.’

In the locked storeroom, Ebisu finished arranging the parts and was now pouring Noi’s mending smoke onto them from a plastic water bottle.

‘As much as you can provide,’ she responded, watching split parts coming together.

‘Well, don’t expect a whole lot,’ warned the man, raising his paddle. ‘Eight-fifty!’

‘Oh my, what a fierce competition!’ cried out Goldie, ecstatic about this clash. ‘850000 nick from En-sama! Can his offer be beat?’

This time, the question ended up not being purely rhetorical, as Baba didn’t hurry to jump in with his counter bid. Where a minute ago was a wide grin, now appeared faint uncertainty over whether this indulgence was worth the money. But, with a couple more taunting exclamations from the auctioneer, his mind was made.

‘One million!’ he pompously announced, staring at En with daring superiority.

‘Being done would be best right about now,’ quietly urged mushroom sorcerer, to the accompaniment of the auctioneer’s wild cheering. ‘Another bid would be pushing it.’

‘Need more time,’ demanded Ebisu from the storeroom, hastily pulling Fujita’s clothes out of her bag. ‘Fujita is a bit… off.’

‘What do you mean, “off”?!’ hissed En.

‘I don’t know… Thin, maybe?’ came the answer. ‘There wasn’t a whole lot of smoke to work with. Hey, stop wobbling and put your pants on already!’

In the meantime, on the stage, Goldie ran out of filler.

‘Very well, this was a thrilling standoff, but the winner will be decided by the third strike of the hammer! One million nick one…!’

‘Ah, blast it…’ huffed En and raised his paddle. ‘One and a half million!’

‘And 1.500.000 nick from En-sama, I can’t believe it!’ shrieked the woman on the stage, shaking her arms in the air. ‘This one is for the ages!’

Ignoring her further exaltation, the Family head leaned back in his chair.

‘This is the last bit of time I’m buying you,’ he said with clear finality in his tone. ‘You’re either ready now, or you’ve failed, Fujita.’

‘I’m… I’m ready…’ came the boy’s weak voice. ‘What should I do…?’

‘Ah, good,’ exhaled En, losing some of his tension. ‘I’ll dictate you the number you’ll need to call. Ready to memorize? Here we go…’

In the rust-colored twilight of the storeroom, Fujita closed his eyes and kept repeating the numbers, silently moving his lips, until he found a guiding rhythm.

‘Remembered? Tell it back to me,’ ordered the Family head and nodded, satisfied with the answer. ‘Great. Now grab the item and you’re good to go. Once used, the portal will close, and none will be the wiser. Don’t sweat about the directions on the other side – the place itself is meant to guide you to your goal. It is its purpose, after all. Good luck.’

‘Two million!’ came exasperated shout from Baba’s lounge, sending the auctioneer into another fit.

‘Oh, and good luck for us too,’ malevolently smirked En under his mask, looking at his rattled opponent. ‘Just let me savor the look on Baba’s face, while he realizes how much he dropped on a trinket.’

Down in the storeroom, Fujita shook his head, trying to combat the grogginess, and looked around, searching for his prize. The glass case with the Banespitter stood on one of the tables near the door, with a slip of paper detailing the buyer and the hammer price. Fighting the torturous tingling in his limbs, young sorcerer picked up the glass case and turned to the girl.

‘Thanks for your help, Ebisu. Now you better leave quickly,’ he advised, walking in a squiggly line towards the mirror, but then remembered something else. ‘Oh! Don’t forget to take senpai’s bags with you, or he’ll be suspected!’

Stepping in front of the portal, Fujita looked back on his former next-door neighbor and felt a weird sense of déjà vu, even though the girl now looked nothing like he was used to.

‘It was nice seeing you again,’ he smiled weakly and leaped forward.

Shimmering portal swallowed the boy, flared up and vanished, once again completely depraving the room of any light. After a few long seconds of silence, a displeased sigh came from the darkness.

‘Great… Now how am I to find those blasted bags…?’

On the stage of the repurposed theatre house, the auctioneer ran out of her greed-spurred witticisms, finally accepting that this is as far as this fluke goes.

‘Very well, we have received an offering that’s hard to top!’ she summarized the results of her baiting. ‘If no one has a wish to contest the final bid, the lot goes to Baba-sama! Two million one…’

‘I’m sure someone has that wish,’ chuckled Baba, loud enough to let everyone catch his words, ‘but little else, it seems…’

Keeping a watchful eye on his boss, Shin, to no small concern, saw the prideful sorcerer squeezing the bidding paddle with his shaking fist.

‘Hey, boss, don’t lose your head,’ cautioned the cleaner. ‘We’ve done what we came for, it’s time to leave.’

‘Two million two…!’

‘Yeah, don’t out-baby the baby,’ joined Noi.

‘Two million-’

‘Three million!’ barked En, standing up. ‘Three million nick!’

At the sound of that offer, even the musicians stopped mid-song, leaving nothing but awed silence in the air.

‘Oh, brother…’ dejectedly sighed blonde man, collapsing back in his chair.

Belatedly realizing the ramifications of his outburst, En sat down in a bit of a daze. He shot a bewildered look at his opponent, dreading to see his expression – undoubtedly, surprised and delighted with an even bigger win than he was hoping to score in this frivolous game of chicken. Yet what he saw instead sparked a glimmer of hope for a better outcome. Oblivious to his rival’s scrutiny, Baba looked absorbed in his own hasty calculations, frowning and biting his chapstick-covered lip. Bewilderment in En’s eyes gave way to malice.

‘This is unprecedented!’ cried the auctioneer downstairs, finally breaking everyone’s stupor. ‘The king has returned and he’s not afraid to open the treasury! 3.000.000 nick from En-sama!’

As the woman continued her inventive flattery, pride and rational thinking were trading ground on Baba’s jiggling face.

‘If he doesn’t play ball, we’re in trouble,’ grimly noted Shin. ‘You can’t just throw that kind of cash out of pocket.’

‘No need to worry,’ wryly assured the Family head, leaning onto the armrest and supporting his head with his knuckles, ‘I have a plan for that.’

‘It’s not hexing everyone in the room and bolting off, is it?’ probed the blonde cleaner, assessing how close his boss put his hand to the zipper on his mask.

En left that question unanswered.

‘Tonight, surprises just don’t stop coming, and this is not even the final lot!’ cried Goldie downstairs. ‘Will the unthinkable happen again, or will En-sama take the win this round? We’ll find out by the third strike of the hammer! Three million nick one…!’

Snapping out of his thoughts with the sound of the final countdown, Baba cast one final uncertain look at his rival, and that’s when mushroom sorcerer struck. With one demonstratively lazy motion, he unzipped his mask, unveiling the smuggest, most patronizing smirk he could pull off. He was seasoned in producing those, and the result was just as he expected – Baba’s round countenance went thoroughly red in a mere moment.

‘Three million nick two…!’

‘Five million!’ bellowed rotund sorcerer and stomped his foot, bringing another silent spell into the room.

‘Alright, now we’re leaving,’ said En with supercilious cool, zipping his mask close and hanging his paddle on the wall.

As he turned to exit the lounge, behind him – initially incredulous, but then more and more sure and victorious – loud, gurgling laughter finally broke the stupefied silence.

‘Ar-har, don’t be a sore loser, En-chan!’ shouted Baba, trying to overpower the bombastic explosion of music and applause. ‘I’m sure they still have things you could afford!’

On the stage, Goldie, in utter delirium, showered her patron with praise and fawning, while the attendant behind her back lifted the case with the telescope and headed downstairs. Had he not switched the lights on before coming down, he’d notice orange glow vanishing from under the door just as he approached. And if his nose wasn’t turned so high, he’d notice blood on the floor and not slip in it, sending the precious telescope flying.

In front of the building, three Family members hurried down the steps towards Shin’s car. Wasting no time, the blonde cleaner got behind the wheel and started the engine, but En lingered, looking at his cousin, who approached with a measure of apprehension, frowning to some vexing thoughts.

‘Considering waiting for your bestie?’ the man snarked. ‘Feel free to sit on the porch, if that’s the case.’

‘Shut up,’ emerged out of her mind-space Noi. ‘She’s not coming.’

Not that he cared all that much, but, impulsively, En felt a little bit curious as to why. Without thinking, the Family head focused his magic sense on the communication network he’s established that night, and, to his surprise, discovered that two truffle points disappeared off the grid instead of just one. It didn’t take long for the man to draw conclusions.

‘Hah, don’t tell me she jumped into devils’ domain after our lad! That would be too good!’

‘Of course she did, jerk! Do you even pay attention?’ bristled up Noi.

‘Anyway, why are you tagging along?’ ignored her outburst En. ‘Gonna just leave your broom on the premises?’

‘We took a land cab here,’ dryly explained silver-haired cleaner, correctly assuming that any attempt to brush the question off would only fuel more prodding.

‘Land cab? Why?’ questioned En, but quickly realized it would lead to an explanation he didn’t care to listen to. ‘Never mind. You’re riding in the back.’

After everyone finally got in, the car left the parking space and sped off, and, not wishing for tense silence to brew into something spicier, the driver took a stab at a distraction.

‘You seem to be enjoying yourself tonight, boss. All things considered…’

‘And why shouldn’t I?’ shrugged the Family head. ‘I’ve repaid a debt, scored a good chunk of change, cleaned my vault and watched a fool spend a fortune on something he didn’t really want. And if one little deserter ends up never seen again – that’s just the cherry on top.’

‘And why would that occur exactly?’ demanded to know Noi from the back seat.

‘Oh, of natural causes, for one,’ readily supposed En. ‘It is partly hell, after all. Overheating, dehydration, exhaustion… If she doesn’t get back to our realm in time, she’ll definitely croak in the wastes. Then there are the goons I’ve been tossing out there for years. They’re all dead by now, surely, but, since they’re technically already in hell, it could be a while before they’re sorted through proper channels.’

‘But they’re just ghosts then, right?’ inquired Shin. ‘How can they be a threat?’

‘Well, if I am to oversimplify, living and dead are on somewhat equal footing in that land,’ explained the mushroom sorcerer. ‘If anything, having a body is a handicap – needing nourishment, rest and all that fuss. Hell’s Doorsteppe is barren, as you can imagine. As for rest…’

‘Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,’ interrupted silver-haired cleaner. ‘But she’s with Fujita. You’ve warned him of those dangers ahead of time, of course?’

For a few seconds, only the grumbling of the engine could be heard inside the car, then the Family head turned to face the side window.

‘I’m someone who wants to have faith in their employees’ competency.’

‘Are you freaking kidding me?!’ exploded Noi, lunging forward and grabbing the corners of the front seats in an attempt to look her cousin in the eye.

Reeling from the jolt, Shin twisted the wheel, nearly sending the car into the ditch.

‘Hey, would you calm down?!’ he cried, swerving back. ‘Keep yourself in check, or we’ll all join the kids ahead of schedule!’

‘I can’t freaking believe it…’ huffed the woman, dropping back to her seat. ‘All this grandiose talk of doing better, making amends, and this is all it boils down to – gestures and self-congratulation! You don’t actually care to help Fujita one bit – you just hate feeling indebted!’

To no surprise, En didn’t feel like dignifying that with a reply, and, for a while, the three rode in silence, but, eventually, red-haired man had to relent. He snuck a quick glance into the rearview mirror, spying that his cousin moved as far away from him as the back seat allowed, and now peered out the window – her face darkened with anger and concern. There could be no doubt in that she wasn’t just being capricious, and, if the mushroom sorcerer wanted to keep the peace, steps had to be made. The man gathered his strength.

‘Don’t paint me such a monster, Noi,’ he tried to appease, doing his damnedest not to sound apologetic. ‘I don’t actually think that either of them is in any danger.’

The woman took her eyes off the night scenery outside the window and glared at her kin. Despite her less than friendly expression, the ground was laid.

‘Hell’s Doorsteppe is little more than a glorified tourist attraction,’ continued En. ‘It is the final stretch a soul must travel before being released from their sentence in hell, after all, so it’s mostly devoid of anything in the way of obstacles. From what I understand, it’s half-physical, half-spiritual highlight reel of some strangers’ memories, and not much else.’

‘From what you understand, right…’ grumbled Noi, but her closed-up posture relaxed a little, and, sensing the improving ambiance, red-haired man decided to drive the conversation in a more constructive direction.

‘In fact, I’d say, the kids will be in more peril after they leave that place and go for the exchange,’ he added, catching a good angle in a rearview mirror. ‘But I’m sure, if those two find themselves in dire straits, you knuckleheads are going to muck in anyway.’

Even though it was vanishingly brief, En managed to glimpse ambushed surprise on the faces of both cleaners and grinned under his mask.

‘I do pay attention. And, Shin, since we’re on the topic, how would you estimate Fujita’s readiness?’

‘Hmm…’ contemplated the blonde. ‘He’s not freaked out by gore quite as much anymore, and he’s gotten better at guarding his vitals. Still can’t throw a half-decent punch though. But at least he runs pretty fast… All in all, I’d say, I’m glad someone’s in there with him.’

‘Having so little faith in your apprentice?’ En raised an eyebrow.

‘No, that’s not how I meant it,’ shook his head Shin, searching for better words. ‘The kid has this weird idea that he… Hmm… I’m not sure… Well, whatever it is, he does much better when there is someone else’s neck on the line as well.’

‘By the way!’ livened up Noi, leaning towards her cousin. ‘Since we’re talking progress, wanna know what Ebisu can now do?’

‘Out of question!’

The car sped on towards the city.

Chapter Text

In the border realm of Devil’s creation, on one of the warped streets of a conjured town, two unlikely companions now had a long-deserved stop. For what felt like a good while, they sat silently on a simple wooden bench in a square nook between two buildings. It was spacious enough to house a tree in the middle, though the mood hardly felt the same as in the world of the living. Back there, the tree’s crown spread above the benches, blanketing them in shimmering shade, and, on festive days, nearby residents decorated its lower branches with paper charms and eerie magic lanterns. Here, it stood barren, scratching at the rust-colored skies with its thin, forking claws.

The pudgy man, who, until recently, did most of the talking, now seemed uninterested in assuming the storyteller’s role again. With an absent expression, he looked through the restless webbing above his head, picking up on chance shapes and patterns – letting them carry his imagination wherever they would. It wasn’t hard to surmise that, if gray old man on the other end of the bench wanted to get something more out of the sorcerer’s memory, he’d have to pick a thread to unravel with a measure of discretion.

‘I could not help but notice,’ he eventually ended the silence, ‘that you used to wear a different mask back then. Do you remember why you changed it?’

Hearing his mask being mentioned, Matsumura unthinkingly reached up and touched the simple red rectangle covering less than a quarter of his round face.

‘If it’s important, I guess, we’ll find out…’ he uttered distractedly, slowly running his fingers over the little nicks and scratches on the mask’s weathered surface.

‘I am sure we will,’ affirmed the stranger. ‘After all, this was a part of you that you recalled even before you could remember your name.’

This final observation took the sorcerer out of his trance. He put his hand down on his knee, skimming briefly over what he could remember of his mask thus far. There wasn’t much.

‘Not for a while though,’ he shared his perspective. ‘It must have happened later.’

‘Then, perhaps, it is best that we keep making progress,’ suggested old man.

Ever simple-hearted, Matsumura did not suspect a trick, and, obligingly, his mind began looking for a suitable new kickoff point, removed enough from the upsetting events the two travelers had to witness not that long ago. Although, as he soon realized, what came next was scarcely an improvement. Looked at through the lens of hindsight, that time seemed easy enough to summarize, but stocky sorcerer did not forget how muddled and confusing it felt in the moment. Parsing the nuance would send him through loop-dee-loops, and, right now, he’d much rather put things on fast forward.

‘The following months were a bit of a blur,’ the man revealed, trying to jump over as much as he could on his way to a conclusion, ‘but we entered Jiro’s employ in all but name. There was one final hurdle to get over before he’d sign us up in earnest: we had to find ourselves partners. So things were still in, sort of, you know… suspended state… At least, until Blue Night.’

Scores of little things kept jumping to sorcerer’s mind, tempting him to specify a point or expand context – to make his reasoning clearer, his position more sympathetic – but he ignored these snags, stubbornly wading on. Some part of him didn’t feel he needed them. Another didn’t believe it would make a difference. Yet third simply couldn’t bear lingering.

‘Not having a set schedule was not agreeing with me one bit, I can tell you that,’ the man shared, aiming to push as much as he could to the side. ‘It was hard to keep track of anything, or plan for what’s to come, or even keep on top of house chores. I mean, how can you remember about Saturday laundry, when the weekend is not a weekend anymore? At some point – I can’t even tell when – Maeda and I decided it’s best that we partner up with each other, and then the rest was more of the same. Only, it wasn’t the same, really…’

It took a few moments for Matsumura to put his finger on what bothered him back then. When it clicked, he hesitated, as if expecting to be judged, but there was only one way forward.

‘I’d get further tasks, and was even paid well for them,’ he cautiously proceeded, ‘but I just couldn’t see them as “help” anymore, you know? It felt wrong what I was doing… Maeda would step in to reassure me in moments of doubt, but it mostly worked because I didn’t want to burden him. He had his own load to carry.’

A deep wrinkle appeared between sorcerer’s brows when he reached this part.

‘I think, Maeda wished that Jiro would be more selective in what he asked to archive. To be frank, I thought, it couldn’t have gone on much longer. Or maybe hoped… And yet, the two of them seemed to only get along better with time. Could be that Maeda was beginning to see things differently, or maybe Jiro was beginning to lose some of his… ehm… Well, I couldn’t tell either way.’

‘You were the one falling behind,’ said the gray man, without even a hint of it being a question.

‘Indeed,’ agreed Matsumura, shifting his weight uncomfortably. ‘Or, more likely, I never truly joined them to begin with. What they were doing… It just didn’t connect with me, you know. The two of them – they were seeing the world in the same colors, catching same hints, while I could only follow along, never having a clue, never… daring. Sometimes, it felt like, if I’d squint just a bit, I’d see little horns sticking out of their hair. But I could never hope to be as devilish…’

‘Devils, devils…’ droned sorcerer’s gray companion in response. ‘Every day that you live, they lean over your shoulder and whisper in your ear…’

Something in the old man’s comment surprised Matsumura. Not even the words, but his voice – for once, there was something faint hiding in it. Sorcerer couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but the mere fact was strikingly novel.

‘Well, anyway…’ he continued, failing to produce a hunch. ‘We were to become partners, and our time was coming up. Then… Well…’

After some thinking and fidgeting, short man got off the bench, fixed his clothes and looked at the brim of his companion’s hat.

‘Is it okay if we talk on the go? I just… I can’t do this sitting down.’

Without objection or complaint, old man left his seat and the two marched on down the road.

Back in the days past, on the verge of Blue Night, two young roommates donned their best attires and preened meticulously, for neither have ever been to an event of such scale and importance. Their application forms have been delivered this morning, with a note attached: ‘Come see me as soon as the deed is done.’ Standing in front of the living room mirror, Matsumura was inspecting himself for the umpteenth time – trying and failing to loosen his necktie just enough that it wouldn’t look sloppy. He probably could have left the poor thing alone a while ago, but some faint, yet persistent feeling compelled him to remain this one last step from being ready for just a little bit longer. In contrast, his friend moved with impatience, though it didn’t seem to be one of giddy anticipation – his motions jerky and abrupt, as if he was running late. Yet, despite this apparent hurry, he refused to let a single thing be out of place, be it a small wrinkle or a stubborn lock of hair. After spending the entire day darting around like a wound-up toy, the blonde finally stopped by the lamp in the entrance hall, inspected his suit one last time under its light and took a deep breath.

‘Alright, stately and dignified…’ he set an imperative for himself as he turned to his soon-to-be partner. ‘You ready? The event will go on for three days, but I think it’s best that we don’t waste time and get straight to signing.’

‘Oh, come on!’ protested the short sorcerer, letting go of his knotted victim. ‘Have you read the pamphlet? There will be the opening ceremony, the performances, the… the carnival thing, the catering…’

‘It’s not a fun fair,’ stopped him Maeda with a stern look. ‘Don’t forget, a lot of it is just window dressing for the real competition. If you won’t keep your wits about you, you’ll end up bound to some goon looking for a servant. We should get there, fill out our applications and head straight to the devils’ house.’

Matsumura couldn’t argue with what his friend was saying, but his nagging desire to not rush the proceedings went beyond just being bummed about the attractions. Perhaps, there was yet room for compromise.

‘Well, we can still linger around afterward…’ he expressed his hope, even though something in Maeda’s tone clued him in that it won’t be favored.

‘No, we can’t,’ rebutted the blonde, getting in his pristinely polished shoes. ‘The note said we should come as soon as we’re partners. There’s more paperwork to sort out before we’re officially “on staff”.’

He put the shoehorn down and picked up the papers, giving every sign that he is now only waiting for his roommate.

‘But would he know if we took a little while to unwind?’ refused to give up Matsumura. ‘Admit it – you could use some downtime. There are days when you look like you haven’t slept for half a week, you know.’

Young sorcerer hoped that this argument would at least give his friend a moment of pause – in no small part because he wasn’t being sly saying that – yet still, Maeda would hear none of that.

‘You’re not a teenager, Matsumura, come on,’ he rebuked immediately, with irritation now creeping into his voice. ‘You should understand the gravity of what we’re doing, and not jeopardize it over some funzies. Focus on what counts. Do you want to be a part of the team or not?’

The question was meant to be rhetorical – asking it, blonde sorcerer expected nothing but belated compliance – yet, Matsumura’s ingenuous face could not conceal a very clear answer. Having realized that, short young man blushed and looked away, and it took Maeda a few silent seconds of disbelief before he could process what he witnessed.

‘You gotta be kidding me…’ he uttered, making his roommate shudder from how tired and vexed that sounded. ‘You’re doing your damn thing again – backing off like a scared kid. Is that it?’

‘Eh-heh, well…’ Matsumura fidgeted uncomfortably, feeling caught and exposed. ‘I just… Well, this stuff just doesn’t agree with me…’

He realized full well that this confession would have gone over better, had he made it sooner. Way sooner. Yet, a part of him was relieved that it happened at all, and cat was now out of the bag. He only had to weather his friend’s frustration, and then mend their rapport when the dust settled. Still, the air in the room has changed. The yellowish light of the lamp above the door, usually cozy and inviting, now looked to Matsumura viscous and sickly. He waited with baited breath, while the blonde let out an oppressively heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. His usual tactic when he wanted to sway his pal was to think up a way to better frame his idea, explaining its merits, but this time, something was different. He just didn’t seem to have it in him anymore.

‘This is ridiculous…’ he grumbled hoarsely. ‘Have you no backbone? I do all this work, create all this padding, put you on the fast lane, and it’s still not easy enough. Do you know how much effort it took, to figure out the right place and the right time to bring up the right topic to the right crowd, so I could attract notice of the right person? Do you know how much I had to study and analyze and piece together, just to predict where the wind blows? The deal didn’t just fall on my lap – I had to slave for it day after day, month after month. Now I’m offering to share the fruit of my labor, and you can’t even be bothered to chew!’

Not daring to look Maeda in the face, Matsumura twiddled a button on his jacket, feeling like a chastised child. It was the first time his friend was outright angry with him, but worse still – young man didn’t feel being in the wrong. So… What was the right way to go from here?

‘That’s harsh,’ he defended gingerly. ‘You know I wasn’t just lazing on the couch either…’

‘So you weren’t gathering moss – remarkable, truly…’ snarked blonde sorcerer, clearly not yet ready to settle down. ‘You’d live out your whole life stuck in a rut, never striving for anything, never even thinking of the future – just chasing your mundane comforts. You expect me to commend that? You expect anyone to commend that? I just… At times like this, I struggle to get you, Matsumura. What’s going through your head? You’re given a chance to make something of yourself, and yet all you want is to run in the opposite direction. If that is your response, what does it truly say about you?’

Unsettled as he was, Matsumura felt like there was a misunderstanding that needed addressing. The issue was that, once again, he avoided thinking about what troubled him before, and now there was no time. He had to handle everything on the spot, with all the grace he clearly lacked.

‘Come on, don’t take it so seriously,’ he tried to reduce the tension. ‘It’s not like I’m of much use to you guys anyway. Why are you so mad?’

Asking that was not the right thing.

‘Why am I mad?! Because I vouched for you!’ popped Maeda. ‘I told Jiro you’re reliable! Do you think he’s going to just forget that? If you drop out, what do you think his opinion of my competency will be? You think he’ll just move past it on good will alone? You must have a lot of faith in his magnanimity…’

Matsumura sensed familiar shackles of guilt pulling him somewhere he didn’t want to go, and, for once, short-statured sorcerer chose to fight that sticky feeling. The situation had already escalated beyond the point where compliance would help things, and, in a way, it was liberating. If it couldn’t get much worse, he could at least try to make it count.

‘Then why are you even chasing his favor?’ he voiced a question that was with him since the beginning. ‘You don’t like him, he has no issue with putting you in peril, you can’t even trust him…’

‘I don’t need to trust him,’ countered Maeda. ‘I only need to use him as a springboard.’

‘Make your own connections?’ recalled Matsumura. ‘You still think you can fool him like that? He was onto you the moment you tried!’

‘What of it?’ scoffed the blonde. ‘I’ve been impatient, but it changes nothing. With everything I know about him, with everything I’ve done at his behest, he can no longer afford to cut me loose. He’s stuck with me, and I’m getting my way, be it sooner or later. I have everything under control.’

Against everything that was usual in this house, now it was Matsumura’s turn to lose his composure. Short sorcerer huffed in exasperation and threw his hands up.

‘Then what do you want me for, blast it?!’ he cried indignantly. ‘Manzai?!’

It wasn’t like him at all to have such an outburst, and it had a sobering effect on both young magic-users. Maeda breathed in slowly and, casting his gaze at the ceiling, thought for a moment about what he was to say next, as jabs and accusations would bring the two nowhere. In all their time together, not once did he resort to trickery in a bid to influence Matsumura, and he wouldn’t this time either. In the uneasy silence, blonde sorcerer counted to five in his head and gave his answer.

‘I wanted someone I could rely on, amidst all the snakes.’

With anger and frustration gone from Maeda’s voice, Matsumura could hear the sincerity of these words – how difficult it was for his friend to push them out – and it hit harder than any colorful spin ever could. He felt another sting of guilt. Was he selfish for looking for a way out? Was he cowardly? Yet, at the same time, this very reply did nothing but reinforce his misgivings.

‘And this is your “thing”, you know…’ pointed out short young man, removing all the bark from his voice. ‘I only just realized. I always retreat, and you always argue with yourself and pretend you’re not hearing it… You know you’re not the same as them. Do you honestly believe you can make this work? Is this really what you want your life to be?’

‘I know what I don’t want it to be,’ replied the blonde, without really answering the question. ‘And you are right – I’m not the same as them. I don’t have a comfy cushion to land on if a venture goes awry, so I work out everything. I don’t have a horde of lawyers and scapegoats, so I pay attention. I don’t have a family name propping me up, so I play to win every time. That’s how I’ll make this work. I will turn my every handicap into an edge, and every opportunity into a success. Now decide what you want to do: step up to the plate, pushing beyond your limits and making a difference, or forever stay in a rented flat, gaining weight and growing stubble.’

Tired bitterness coloring Maeda’s words did not escape Matsumura’s notice, though there was no telling what or whom it was truly directed at. Young sorcerer really wanted to help, and it was breaking his heart. There was something he felt in his gut, but finding the right words to explain it was beyond him. Still, the truth was simple and harsh: he could not help his friend. He didn’t have what it took.

‘I’m sorry,’ he shook his head, ‘but my mind is made up. I just don’t have the stomach for this…’

A tardy thought came to his mind, making young man burst, looking awkwardly to the side.

‘But we can still be partners, of course! I want to help you at least with that much…’

Matsumura cast a hopeful look at his roommate, seeking signs of coming reconciliation, and started, as, for the very first time, he felt the biting cold in Maeda’s eyes directed at himself.

‘Nah, I don’t think so,’ the blonde uttered, barely parting his lips – his voice mocking and disappointed. ‘You’ve already decided on your worth.’

He tossed Matsumura’s application on the floor and left the apartment.

Back on the crackled streets of a transient town, Matsumura was now preparing to finish this chapter of his story. Having no destination in mind, he walked without hurry – hands in pockets, kicking a small pebble along the road. Sorcerer’s eyes were only loosely tracking the stone, half-clouded with images of the past, and with every step, the man’s pace was slowing down ever so slightly. His account was almost complete.

‘After Maeda left, I didn’t know what to think, really,’ shared Matsumura wistfully. ‘I was hoping he’d cool off and come back, but… he didn’t. Not even on the next day. Made me worry, you know. I went to look for him at the event grounds, but no dice, and when I came back, his stuff was gone – neighbors said he returned to pack up with a couple of strangers while I was away. He didn’t leave any note or message for me, but did pay next month’s rent in full. I had no idea what to make of it. Still don’t, to be frank…’

Going for another kick, distracted sorcerer went too high. His foot rolled forward on the pebble, snapping Matsumura out of his dreamy state – forcing him to jerk his hands free. The man let out a startled huff, struggling to regain his balance, then booted the pebble to the side.

‘Well, anyway…’ he continued awkwardly, now watching his step. ‘Turns out, the two of them partnered up – Jiro and Maeda I mean, not the… not the strangers – so he was moving out. Don’t know who suggested the partnering, or what the conditions were – can’t imagine either being thrilled about it all that much. I only saw Maeda once after that, and he didn’t seem very happy to me. More like… tired. But who knows… I wanted to believe that they both saw it best. Although… Well, I avoided thinking too much about it.’

Having said that, Matsumura went silent, yet something remained lingering on his face – some urge that refused to fade. Still, despite its persistence, he would not humor it.

‘It burdens you still?’ inquired the gray man after giving enough time for a final addendum.

‘Not a memory I enjoy, no,’ admitted the sorcerer, putting his hands back in his pockets – as if unconsciously seeking to hide himself away. ‘He was my friend, right? Even if we wanted different things, we should have… I don’t know… It should have been different.’

‘You think it could?’

This simple question gave the stumpy drifter another long pause. He didn’t want to indulge in fantasies – it wouldn’t change anything – and yet felt compelled to test his thoughts against the picture he now saw with hindsight.

‘Had I waited even longer, it would only be worse,’ he supposed. ‘I should have said “no” right away – then none of it would’ve happened.’

‘And you would remain good friends still?’ continued his question old man.

‘Well, of course we would!’ exclaimed Matsumura, as if it was self-evident, yet his voice didn’t carry enough confidence to even last the whole sentence. ‘Only… No, I don’t think we would. That night, he said some things that were unkind, but… unwrong… One day, it would have come between us anyway. I just know it. And even if not, Maeda wasn’t one to keep things for their, ehm… “sentimental value”…’

‘There you go,’ concluded the stranger. ‘The outcome would have been the same then. No use in dwelling on things that could not have turned differently.’

‘Maybe not…’ agreed short sorcerer, spotting another pebble, stepping on it and rolling it back and forth under his shoe. ‘But it stuck with me, you know? In the beginning, I had no clue about what to expect of my life in the city, but things came together for the most part. Everything was fine, felt solid. And then I just… squandered it…’

He sighed quietly, left the pebble alone and moved to wrap up for good.

‘Anyway, that’s how this story ends. I thought I was going somewhere, but instead, only lost my job and the few friends I had. It was… quite sobering. In a blink on an eye, I was worse off than the day I arrived, and had to figure something out fast. It all worked out in the end, mind you, and I really shouldn’t wallow, but some things… You know… You try to move on, but they kinda only pretend to go away.’

‘Or, perhaps, you only pretend to let them,’ replied the stranger, and, even though there was nothing in his voice to give that cue, Matsumura felt jabbed.

Sorcerer shot a hurt look at his companion, preparing to defend against such insinuations, but immediately forgot what he was about to say. The thing that took his wits away was that they once again stood in front of the abandoned diner. This time, it was taking residence right in the middle of the street, on the crossroad, hiding behind the corner building until the last moment. The sight ambushed distracted man so perfectly, that, for a few moments, he couldn’t say a word, opening and closing his mouth, like a fish on the shore. And yet, it wasn’t shock that left him speechless. No, he was not surprised to see this place again. It was something else.

‘Why… Why are we here again…?’ he finally uttered, even though he knew what answer he’d receive with nigh complete certainty.

‘You are the one leading the way,’ ever so flatly reminded the stranger. ‘And this is where your feet carry you.’

Gray man waited for Matsumura’s response, but there was none, and so he nudged further.

‘That story you told me – it was not truly about your friend Maeda, was it?’

Having been handed this unwelcome notion, short sorcerer wrinkled his eyebrows.

‘I don’t understand…’

‘Then, perhaps, we should walk in?’ suggested the old man, gesturing towards the door. ‘The clue might await you inside.’

Matsumura did not budge. If anything, he struggled not to back away, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and stranger’s eyes did not miss that.

‘You do understand.’

The pudgy man could not deny it. All he could do was probe for escape.

‘I shared what I wanted to share,’ he offered a small concession. ‘Can’t we just leave it at that and move on?’

‘Are you asking me for permission?’ questioned the gray man. ‘That decision is yours alone. But, perhaps, you have begun suspecting something, have you not?’

Matsumura squirmed. Indeed, despite his strong desire not to be here again, he felt an invisible chain around his foot – an idea he desperately tried to pretend he doesn’t have.

‘Can we just… leave…?’ he repeated sheepishly.

Instead of replying, his companion waited, giving distraught sorcerer time to answer his own question. He did not.

‘We can, yes,’ allowed the stranger after a long enough period of silence – though, of course, it wasn’t the end of it. ‘As we could the first time. As we could the second time. And surely, the next time you will find yourself standing in front of these doors, nothing will be stopping you from leaving.’

He pulled down the brim of his hat, as if to shield his tormented cohort from needless intrusion, and turned to address him plainly.

‘It does not matter how many streets you will walk down to get away from this place. It does not matter how many stories you will tell in this one’s stead. Your path has been measured out. You will either walk it in full, or never arrive to your true destination.’

Listening to this explanation was torture to Matsumura. Even in his incorporeal form, he remembered that overwhelming sensation – the pounding in his chest, the burning on the back of his neck, the sweat on his palms, the pit in his stomach. It all felt real. Just like back then.

‘I just don’t think I’m ready…’ he pleaded – wanting to step back, yet feeling like a solid wall now stood behind him, preventing his retreat.

Alas, all he got in response was a mercilessly straightforward question.

‘Will there come a time when you are?’

Matsumura had nowhere to run. He knew the answer. And he knew that it didn’t really matter. His last attempt at bargaining felt doomed from the first word.

‘I know what’s behind that door,’ he confessed. ‘I know. Isn’t it enough?’

For some reason, this time, the stranger would not give a simple answer, even though it felt like he could do that easily. He stood there – his face still obscured – neither pushing hesitant sorcerer towards a decision, nor stepping away. In the eerie silence of these empty streets, it was hard to tell if the old man was contemplating his own words, or waiting for more of Matsumura’s, but, after a good minute, he finally spoke.

‘I have walked these grounds for a long time,’ he shared, seemingly abandoning the contentious topic. ‘Seen many drifters pass through these lands. Incensed and serene, sharp and dull, daring and shy… Some accepted their lot, others clung to their old lives, some were eager to start anew, others savored the memories, but every single one eventually stumbled – found something they wanted buried and forgotten. It was not always something big – could be a very small bother, yet, for that soul, it had a harsh sting. A moment of humiliation, a moment of carelessness, a moment of ignorance… The younger ones have it worse. Their canvas is still so vacant that even a single dark spot looks ugly and unmissable. Older ones know better, but they all hesitate just the same. They pretend they don’t understand, they pretend they don’t remember… In time, most find the courage to push through. They grow wiser for it.’

‘And the ones that don’t…?’ Matsumura hopelessly probed. ‘Do they then loop forever like that?’

‘They do not,’ replied the stranger, but his words weren’t to reassure, ‘for it is not a loop, but a spiral. With every capitulation, they give up a sliver of their truth, and every time that call gets easier – more… familiar. Crumb by crumb, they lose their form, their color, their voice, their sense… A moment comes, when all that is left is but a confused echo, clinging to vague notions it can still recognize – held together by dust and tears, driven solely by lingering want for release. Is it not a crueler fate than what awaits you behind that door?’

Hearing this was crushing, and Matsumura struggled to decide if he dares to believe what he just heard. His face could not conceal it.

‘If you can not make that call now,’ drew a line his companion, ‘then I know how this story ends in truth – have seen it play out many times. A sad ending to be sure.’

He turned back, intending to leave, and that, at last, coaxed a frightened protestation out of hesitating magic-user.

‘No, wait!’ the man pleaded, before steeling himself – his voice losing the pitiable tinge. ‘I… understand. But… Blazes, this is cruel.’

‘Truth seems cruel when it is forced on you,’ sympathized old man. ‘It is rigid and does not care for your liking. But that also makes it something you can hold on to.’

Not really reassured, Matsumura unthinkingly tugged at his necktie and slowly approached the diner’s door. Walking inside or walking away – either felt like punishment, but one would soon be over at least. The man put his hand on warm, chipped paint.

‘After I left on that day, I haven’t been here for a long time,’ he started, biding a few final moments. ‘And I’ve only returned once. It was years too late, but I wanted to apologize. Even if she wouldn’t forgive me, I wanted to at least set the record straight.’

‘It did not go as you had hoped it would,’ surmised the stranger, walking up to Matsumura’s side. ‘Do you require assistance?’

‘No…’ shook his head the sorcerer. ‘It will be quicker if I’ll just…’

He pushed the door and stepped in, finally laying his eyes on the space he used to know so well. As the doorbell chimed, disturbing the stillness of the room, a cheerful voice echoed through the air, as if from far away.

‘Welcome!’ it greeted warmly, and a translucent figure of a young, smiling woman faded in among the tables in the middle of the dining hall.

There was no need to elucidate the reason. Matsumura understood without words – it was he who invited this specter to appear. More than anything, he wanted it to be here, even if he himself would rather be anywhere else.

‘She hasn’t aged at all,’ commented the stranger, peeking from under his hat.

‘No, that’s… That’s how I remember her,’ explained the sorcerer with quiet heaviness. ‘She wasn’t there that day. I… haven’t ever seen her again…’

Apprehensively, the man went deeper into the diner, slowly absorbing all the minute, impertinent remembrances this space held. This wasn’t what he came here for, but, the moment his eyes left the ghostly figure, they could no longer settle on it again, bouncing off or jumping past it every time. Even without much else to inspect, once again, Matsumura was stalling for time. He stopped half way through the room, swept the dust off a round seat by the counter and plopped down, keeping the specter in the corner of his vision. Yet the words would still not come out.

‘You could not offer your apology then,’ took the lead his companion. ‘Is that what haunts you? You are afraid that, out of all the moments you two shared, she only remembered one of your gracelessness?’

‘That was what I remembered, you know…’ dolefully replied Matsumura. ‘But… I wish it was only that…’

He pulled on his tie again, even though the poor thing looked more like a noose by now, and spun to the counter, hiding his face from scrutiny. Or, perhaps, blindfolding his own. With what he was about to share, he couldn’t afford distractions. Sympathy, judgment, indifference – any one would break his composure right now. He needed a measure of absence.

‘Sato-san was still working here when I came back,’ the man began, staring at the matte coat of dust on formerly glossy surface before him. ‘I was surprised she recognized me – I didn’t, heh-heh, ehh… Didn’t exactly stay in shape…”

For a brief while, the wrinkles on sorcerer’s forehead became shallower, as he touched on this memory of reunion.

“She was very happy to see me, and wondered why I didn’t come visit for so long. I guess, Hana didn’t tell anyone how our parting went. I mean… Of course she didn’t.”

The reprieve was fleeting. With the first mention of the disappeared waitress, the gloom returned. Paying no mind to the dust, Matsumura put his hands on the counter, fidgeting with his pudgy thumbs.

“When I asked about her, Sato-san has gotten… so very sad. You see, sometime after I quit, Hana met someone – some singer, or songwriter, I can’t rightly remember. Sato-san didn’t like him – said, he only got anywhere because he learned how to rhyme buzzwords. Hana’s father found him iffy too. But Hana… she was different. You know, it was something I really admired about her: when she wasn’t sure what to make of someone, she’d always choose to assume the best.”

Without even noticing, the man slowly clenched his fists.

“That was what got her… Before long, the guy started getting more and more… controlling – stalked her, harassed her over every trivial thing she’d do without his knowledge. When she decided that enough was enough and tried to break it off with him, that creep really showed his colors – slandered Hana, egged his clique on to bully her, then tried to get her back by promising to call it off… She wasn’t foolish though.”

Sorcerer’s hands became slippery with sweat, making little dirty smears with his every motion. He paid it no mind.

“But the damage was done. By then, he forced or snaked his way into every aspect of her life, and, with Blue Night approaching, something had to be done. Hana feared he’d try to force a contract on her. Not without reason, too! He had the connections and the… Well… The willingness. She saw no other choice but to leave the city. Never told anyone where she went. Wanted to shield them from harassment, no doubt…”

Finally noticing the little mess he was making, Matsumura tried to wipe his palms on his thighs. He spent longer than was necessary doing that. Then waited some more.

“All she wanted from life was a simple happiness in a place she knew, among people she loved, you know,’ the man eventually continued, so quiet that his only listener had to come closer. ‘And… Because of me, it was denied to her…’

The stranger approached a table right behind Matsumura’s back.

‘Because of you?’ he flatly challenged, taking a seat, without even contemplating dusting it off. ‘I see, like many a young soul, you rush to lump things you felt the same about together, heedless of whether they belong that way. Explain this to me: what makes it your fault? Was it you who introduced them?’

‘No, no!’ readily denied stocky sorcerer. ‘I wasn’t there when- Well, that’s the thing: I wasn’t there…’

‘And what would have changed if you were?’ further questioned the old man. ‘Would you stop him? Would you thwart his tyrannical advances? You – timid, insignificant Matsumura?’

‘N- no…’ meekly admitted the man. ‘It’s not how I… That is…’

He blushed and stopped, embarrassed by his own unspoken argument.

‘Or could it be…’ continued the stranger, studying Matsumura’s reaction. ‘Could it be that you saw a different role for yourself? Did you believe you could shield her from that terrible man by, perhaps, being her man? Was that how you would solve it?’

‘That’s not-!’ burst the sorcerer, but immediately piped down. ‘It’s… not. I only wanted to help her out somehow. I didn’t want her to go through all that.’

The gray man mulled his words over.

‘Wanting a better lot for another is kindness,’ he then pronounced, as if rhetorically. ‘Thinking yourself to be their deliverer is something very different. You would do well to make that distinction.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked confused sorcerer, wanting to turn and face the stranger, but once again bouncing back off the transparent figure standing as a silent witness to their exchange.

‘She left everyone she knew and cherished – her family, friends, her dreams,’ laid out old man. ‘Answer this: would you – your presence – sway her to stay?’

The response didn’t take long to come out.

‘No…’ admitted Matsumura hoarsely. ‘Of course it wouldn’t…’

‘Her own father spoke against them seeing each other. Would your input change her mind? Would you even dare to make it?’

The stocky man sighed, blowing a rolling cloud off the counter.

‘No…’

‘Then let us not linger on it,’ suggested the stranger. ‘You were not the one who brought this woman’s misfortune. And this woman’s misfortune was not what brought you back.’

After a few long moments of consideration, Matsumura was left no choice but to acquiesce. Even here, at the center of it all, he was still building walls – still looking the other way. This was just another distraction, leading away from what he didn’t want to admit.

‘For a long time, I avoided thinking about that… about when I left,’ he found a new start. ‘For years, I busied myself with one thing or the other, but a day came when… Well, I no longer had anything… or anyone… to distract myself with. After that, it was like…’ the man tried to find a poetic comparison, but the sight of a dusty eatery provided no help. ‘Like, you know… Like carrying a bowl of hot soup you can’t put down. The longer you hold it, the more it burns.’

‘You could not live in peace with yourself, without making peace with her,’ interpreted his story gray stranger. ‘Even after years apart.’

Matsumura barely perceptibly nodded. It was as the old man put it. Left alone with his thoughts, he knew no peace.

‘She was always kind to me…’ sorcerer wistfully explained. ‘Teased me sometimes, yes, but… gently. Only gently. She could have wrapped me around her finger so easily, you know… But, instead, she was my first beacon of comfort – my first friendly face. I wanted to be good to her too. Tried to. Clumsily… She made the first steps where I couldn’t, opened up to me, trusted me with her simple dreams. And, if I’d only think for a moment about what I wanted from my own life, I’d see, clear as day, how similar our wishes were. But, when we spoke that one last time, she asked me – she asked openly if I’d want to be a part of her simple happiness. And I…’

The man paused, fighting the words he didn’t want to hear said out loud.

‘I threw dirt in her face…’

Finally pushing this confession out, sorcerer hung his head, revealing his thoroughly red neck to his only listener. Not rushing to comment, gray man let his companion sit with his shame for a minute. Yet, when he spoke, his voice carried merciless directness all the same.

‘That is what a scoundrel would do,’ he judged. ‘Fickle and ungrateful.’

‘Yes…’ agreed the man, barely audibly.

‘Yet a scoundrel would not think much of it,’ the stranger pivoted. ‘A fickle man would have forgotten those he hurt. You remembered. Even though you waivered in the moment, in truth, you did adore that woman. Secretly, hopelessly…’

‘Sincerely,’ interjected Matsumura, sensing that the stranger is missing the important word.

‘Sincerely,’ repeated the stranger, correcting his assessment, then pondered it for a few silent moments. ‘And that is at the heart of the matter, is it not?’

There was no response from the stocky sorcerer.

‘Say it,’ compelled him the gray man. ‘You must hear yourself saying it.’

He knew it was true, but even so, it took time for Matsumura to gather up the strength. Finding the right words wasn’t hard – at the core, it was something very simple… And thus, it was impossible to distort or obscure. Impossible to forget. Impossible to ignore. He only had to name what kept hounding him, kept ambushing him time and time again. When the man spoke, his voice was weak and hoarse.

‘My sincerity…’ he almost whispered. ‘What is it really worth, if it could be thrown away so quickly…?’

He could have continued, but hesitated. Did he really need to say more? His listener seemed to be of the same opinion.

‘“Quickly” does not always mean “easily”,’ he pointed out. ‘Or “simply”.’

While true, that notion came a lifetime too late.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ dismissed Matsumura. ‘It hurt her. I’m sure it did. Counted on it…’

‘Would you do the same were you to return to that day?’

‘Of course not!’ exclaimed the sorcerer with sudden vigor, lifting his head up. ‘I did all I could to make sure that I’d never-! That I’m different from then! I tried to make up for it, but…’

‘But you do not control fate.’

There was no need for a reply.

‘Then that shame does not belong with you,’ concluded gray man. ‘You do not need to carry it with you.’

The stocky man chuckled, though there wasn’t a drop of joy in that. Reaching once again for that annoying strap of cloth around his neck, Matsumura could feel that it’s now loose enough that he could just take it off over his head, and did so. Yet, instead of folding and tucking it in his inner pocked, as he always used to do, the man just tossed it on the dusty counter before him. The end of the tie landed near the edge, slid over, slowly pulling more and more of its length down with it, then finally brought the bedraggled loop to the brink and fell completely to the other side. Observing the whole process, sorcerer did not even attempt to intervene.

‘Maybe you’re right…’ he droned. ‘I just wish I could learn how she’s doing…’

‘To do what with that knowledge?’ shrugged the stranger behind Matsumura’s back. ‘If she is unhappy, it is not your fault. If she is well, it is not your merit.’

‘If she is well, I’d be glad to know it either way,’ explained the sorcerer. ‘Leave that burden behind.’

‘And if she is not, you would only have to carry more,’ countered the gray man.

‘Then… what’s the point of all of this?’ the magic-user questioned. ‘Did I come here to dig up my regrets and… do nothing?’

‘Only if you choose so,’ the stranger clarified. ‘It is true that very little is afforded to you in this place. Nevertheless, you are the one to decide if it is too little.’

Not having to ponder these words for long, Matsumura nodded again. Even he himself couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or in capitulation. It made no difference.

‘Yeah…’ the man quietly exhaled. ‘Yeah.’

He got off his seat, dusted himself off as best he could, then, at last, walked the remaining few steps to the ghostly image of Hana. The sorcerer still couldn’t look at her, but he knew she was just as he remembered – radiant, comforting. Matsumura took a deep, deep bow. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but firm. These words were seeking their way out for a long time.

‘Hana-chan… Hana. I’m truly, deeply sorry for what I chose to do that day. I was a coward. I didn’t have the guts to say my own truth – kept holding it in, until it went sour, and you… You deserved better.’

Matsumura straightened up, but his gaze remained glued to the floor, catching only the specter’s translucent feet.

‘Truth is, I didn’t know what to expect of my life in a big city – didn’t know if I’d adjust, or if I’d even measure up to expectations. I was so rattled. And yet… I have found a place where I fit in so quickly. A place where I knew I was welcome. It was thanks to you…’

Sorcerer’s eyes jumped up, as if to meet his silent addressee’s gaze, but halted again, barely reaching her apron’s neatly tied sash.

‘These first few years were… nice. It was a time when I could look to the future with wonder – not with worry. And it was you who gave me that. By just being there, you let me have those brighter days. You let me belong. Just being yourself, you…’

Matsumura stopped, recognizing that he’s once again shimmying past what he intended to say. Even now, he had to fight his burdensome habit. He shook his head, searching for a fresh start.

‘There is something I wanted you to hear, all since that day,’ he finally declared – quietly, but insistently. ‘Truth is: what I said back then… It was never a measure of your character – it was a measure of mine. I hope you understood that, and…’

With one final bit of effort, the man raised his eyes and looked the summoned specter in the face.

‘…and, wherever you are now, I hope you have found the happiness you deserve.’

Nothing in Hana’s image changed. She continued looking towards the door with a warm smile – past Matsumura, or maybe through him. A chair behind sorcerer’s back creaked, and he could almost feel a heavy shadow falling on his shoulder.

‘This is but an apparition, magic-user Matsumura,’ the stranger affirmed with his unchanging, pitiless voice. ‘Nothing of what you just said will ever reach that woman’s ears.’

Matsumura did not hurry to respond. He just kept looking at the face he once adored, as it began to fade, dissipating in the air. When it all but vanished, stocky man closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath.

‘It can’t be helped…’

The ghostly image was gone. Not a trace of it remained.

‘Good,’ nodded sorcerer’s gray companion. ‘Your story can continue now.’

The two exited the diner and went back the way they came.

Chapter Text

On the barren plains of Devil’s border domain, in the fiery glow of its eternal dusk, a young magic-user sat on the ground, trying to rein in the waves of dizziness that swayed his body back and forth. Right by his side, a short-lived dust devil swirled along the cracked soil, but its dry whisper came to the boy as if through thick pads of cotton wool, with sharp buzzing rising up in his ears, then fading away at uneven intervals. Languishing sorcerer could sense the heat on his skin, yet his whole body felt cold and numb, weighed down by weakness, flaring with nausea. Were he in the mood to crack jokes, he’d say he felt like hell.

‘It’s nothing,’ Fujita kept repeating in his head – sometimes, barely able to make out his own thoughts. ‘It’s nothing…’

Another strong feeling was gnawing at the young sorcerer’s guts right now: anxious excitement. He’s come here – closer to his lost partner than he’d been in years. Somewhere out there, beyond the blurring silhouettes of twisting spires, a dear soul suffered torment it didn’t deserve. His friend was taken from him through needless cruelty, and right now, the impenetrable clouds pressing down from above brought that day back so vividly. Back then, the heavy sky of the human domain loomed over their heads just the same – a cold, gray lid, trapping the world in joyless twilight. Was that the last thing Matsumura got to see? How long did he spend bleeding out under those cursed skies – alone, helpless? The boy didn’t know, and his mind could never manage to escape these questions for good.

Battling another surge of nausea, Fujita took his eyes off the dancing horizon and tried to focus his gaze on something static. The display case lying on the ground before him should have been a good anchor – yet, it too kept blurring and jumping about. The glass lid cracked when, ambushed by sudden weakness, young sorcerer dropped it on arrival, but the contents appeared to remain safely nestled in the velvety inlay. That much was a relief, at least.

As his sight steadied, Fujita wanted to get moving, but, the moment he attempted to get on his feet, a buzzing host of invisible, icy needles pierced his limbs, making the boy groan and let up – it seemed, he wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while still. Frustrating as it was, drained magic-user had to accept this setback and keep gathering strength, waiting for his body to adjust. Little splotches of blood that he didn’t have the time to wipe off his reassembled body now stained Fujita’s white shirt, drying out quickly in the heat, sticking to the boy’s skin, pulling on it as he moved. He really should have tucked his shirt back into his pants, though maybe not now. Perhaps in a minute. With a trembling hand, Fujita tried to at least fix his tousled hair, but a few willful strands kept breaking loose, denying him even that small dignity. This place was strange, and the sorcerer himself was strange to it. He didn’t belong here, and was made aware of that with every breath – dry air scratching at his throat, dust crunching on his teeth – but the boy would not let this inescapable discomfort impede him. He came here with a purpose.

Then, just as the ringing in Fujita’s ears started to fade, a familiar crackling came from behind, and young sorcerer turned to the sound, sending the world a-spin once again. A few feet away, the air darkened and warped, manifesting a rippling rectangle, just above ground. A second later, a young girl with a duffle bag over her shoulder and a clump of blood-dripping garbage bags in her hand emerged from the distortion, making it bloom and collapse, disappearing without a trace. An uncertain silence seized the scene for a short spell, then, with sudden urgency, the new arrival pulled off her fluffy mask, revealing an immaculate, plum-colored haircut – somewhat longer than she used to wear – and an expression of someone who wasn’t sure whether they were going to sneeze or not. After a couple moments of stillness, the girl shuddered and rocked her head to the side, helping a thin trickle of dark smoke escape her ear.

‘Ach…’ she winced. ‘Gross…’

Even remaining at far less than one hundred percent, young man on the ground could not contain his bewilderment.

‘Ebisu?!’ he called out, perhaps sounding a bit whiny from the weakness. ‘What are you… Why are you…?’

‘Ah, Fujita, you haven’t left yet,’ ignored his unfinished questions the sorceress and tossed her bloodied trophies on the ground. ‘Good.’

The person at her feet did not share the girl’s offhand contentment – once again attempting to get up, much to the same result as before – and, at the sight of Fujita’s struggling, the expression on his uninvited visitor’s face shifted from aloof to serious.

‘Still haven’t recovered I see,’ she observed with clinical detachment. ‘I knew there wasn’t enough smoke for a good mend.’

‘Why… have you followed me?’ finally settled on a question baffled sorcerer, beset by a vague sense of déjà vu. ‘You were supposed to return through the ducts!’

‘Presumably, yes,’ stressed his recent accomplice, sounding none too pleased. ‘Not that anyone bothered to spell that out. Anyway, I didn’t have time for a clean exit, so I’m tagging along. You’re planning to leave this place somehow, correct?’

‘Well, sure, but…’ started Fujita sternly, but the girl denied him the rebuttal.

‘It is settled then,’ she declared with clear finality. ‘Pull yourself together, and let’s be on our way before this heat curls my hair. I take it, you know what needs to be done?’

Amongst many other things, right now, the boy on the ground had no energy for a pointless argument. Besides, he’d wasted enough time already. Gritting his teeth, Fujita once again tried to fight through the torturous prickling, but it wasn’t enough – his legs just refused to hold his weight.

‘This place is weird…’ he muttered, slumping back down. ‘It’s like I’m at half strength.’

‘Hmm…’ frowned Ebisu, seemingly tuning into sensations inside her own body. ‘Perhaps, magic is weakened here – Noi’s smoke can’t sustain you as much. You’ll have to recover the old fashioned way.’

‘I don’t have time for that,’ Fujita grumbled with frustrated impatience and made another fruitless attempt to get up.

‘Stop flopping about – you’ll only wear yourself out,’ sighed the girl and unzipped her bag, shoving her mask inside. ‘I have something to get you going.’

After a bit of rummaging, Ebisu produced a fist-sized paper packet and handed it to the struggling magic-user.

‘What is it?’ he asked cautiously, accepting the offering.

‘Fuel.’

Said fuel turned out to be a chunk of some kind of sweet roll, emanating a strong, sour smell of dried apricots. A few days ago, it could have been fresh and moist, yet now it was thick and chewy, generously seasoned with lint. Still, exsanguinated boy couldn’t complain, and, with an uncertain nod, he dug in. Whoever made this pastry, added a touch too much sugar – perhaps, in the interests of preservation, but that was certainly to Fujita’s advantage right now. Soon, his body seemed to have remembered how its gears turned, and numbness started slowly fading from young sorcerer’s limbs. Meanwhile, Ebisu scanned the horizon, shielding her eyes from flashing blazes with her hand.

‘So, what was the plan, anyway?’ she asked, seeing that Fujita was finished with his pick-me-up. ‘You were meant to make a call, right?’

‘There should be a way to do it from somewhere around here,’ confirmed young realm-hopper, though his voice sounded perhaps a bit too sure to sell real confidence, ‘and the place itself is supposed to guide us to our destination – we just need to get moving. Or… at least, that’s how En-san described it.’

Not eager to waste any more time, Fujita reached for the display case, and, trying his best to conceal that he’s using the thing for support, finally managed to establish balance and stand upright, with his prize in his hands. Having suppressed the last lingering wobble, the boy planted his feet firmly on the ground and inspected the contents of the case closer.

‘A remarkable piece of work,’ he noted, studying the gun’s intricate shapes. ‘Must be centuries old – this design is archaic.’

‘Same as your interests…’ smirked Ebisu, who observed the whole process out of the corner of her eye. ‘Take it out and give it here. No point in lugging the whole case around.’

Though Fujita did not appreciate the ridicule, there was sense in what the girl said, so, instead of getting into a petty argument that would go nowhere, he took the high road and silently complied. Placing the case back on the ground, the boy opened the lid and caught a waft of distinctive, stuffy scent of a long-preserved item. There was no telling how many years this thing spent locked up in a vault somewhere – only meant to be displayed behind glass and never opened, never used for its real purpose. In this instant, Fujita got an uncanny impression that what he had done just now was not dissimilar to breaking someone out of long, unjust confinement. A good omen, perhaps…

With transfixed reverence, the boy got the weapon out, weighed it in his hand, settled his fingers around the grip. It fit a little awkwardly – far from a modern, ergonomic design – and yet, to him, that made it more authentic, more… real. Fascinated, the sorcerer stood up, leveled his trophy to his eyes and took aim at the horizon, lining the horn-shaped iron sights against some faraway point. Despite the dated features, the gun felt distinctly powerful, and it made young man feel the same – the very magic in his veins stirred and hummed, yearning to be released with the pull of the trigger. Fujita let himself relish that sensation for a few moments, and only upon hearing Ebisu snickering he realized he was making a cool guy face.

‘Everyone’s entitled to having their interests…’ grumbled the embarrassed lad, lowering the shotgun.

‘As if I don’t know what’s up with your “interests”…’ quietly jeered the girl with a crooked smile, pointing a finger pistol at his head. ‘Pow!’

Without dignifying that with a reply, Fujita handed the gun over, along with its shells, and the girl secured the precious artifacts inside, zipping the lock with a theatrical motion. The very next moment, took the shoulder strap off and tossed the bag to the unsuspecting boy.

‘Your gun – you carry it,’ she chirped dismissively.

On pure reflex, Fujita extended his arms to catch the thing, but in his head a clear picture had already formed – him being crushed by the immense weight of the girl’s luggage. That was exactly something Ebisu he once known would pull off, and then cackle about it, yet, to young sorcerer’s surprise, the bag turned out to be pretty light – the enchanted firearm seemingly being the heaviest thing inside. Taking but a moment to relish the rattled puzzlement on the boy’s face, the little mischief-maker put her hands in her pockets and set off along a faint trail leading further into the wastes. She already allowed herself enough frivolity for the moment, and now it was time to regain her composure for the road ahead.

‘Right, why did I expect any different…?’ thought Fujita, observing his tormenter’s departure, but out loud he said something else. ‘So, are you just gonna litter in Devil’s backyard?’

Ebisu looked back with a question in her eyes and saw her newfound beast of burden pointing at the bloodied garbage bags still lying in the dust. The sorceress curled her lip skeptically.

‘Ah, of course,’ she replied with the same aloof demeanor she demonstrated at the auction. ‘Feel free to carry those to the nearest dumpster.’

Clearly not interested in tackling the matter further, she continued walking, and, after a brief battle with his powerless frustration, Fujita gave up. He hastily clapped the dust off his pants, settled the bag over his shoulder and hurried to catch up, even though his legs still felt a little unruly. He could deal with that. The boy was mostly just thankful that his carry was now so light – otherwise, he wouldn’t be moving it an inch.

‘What was in this bag of yours anyway?’ inquired young magic-user, gaining on the girl ahead.

‘Latest romantic novel, a packed lunch and a cookie tin with unfinished embroidery,’ followed a colorless reply.

Fujita said nothing, but, after a few steps, Ebisu let out a tired sigh, accepting that this explanation was inevitable. Besides, a part of her became concerned that, should she leave things as is, that nosy dullard could very well take her word as honest truth.

‘If you have to know,’ she begrudgingly indulged, ‘Noi has me carrying weights. Building endurance and such.’

With that bit of insight, a lightbulb went on in Fujita’s head.

‘Ah, I get it now!’ he exclaimed. ‘Since Shin-senpai got himself a new apprentice, Noi-san must have wanted something of the sort too!’

‘Indeed,’ scoffed the sorceress, ‘it’s all because of you. Moreover, Devil shaped all magic-users in your image as well. Or didn’t you know?’

The boy grimaced. That was not the angle he looked at it from at all.

‘So, you’d have me believe that Noi-san just spends all that time with you,’ he doubted out loud, ‘because you suddenly managed to become such good friends?’

Upon hearing that remark, the girl stopped and half-turned to the approaching lad. There was no irritation or indignation on her face – merely vague curiosity.

‘What is it that you know about me that makes you question that idea?’

Over the few awkward seconds that it took for him to catch up to his companion, young sorcerer realized he didn’t have an answer.

‘Yeah, my bad…’ he mumbled, slowing down. ‘I apologize.’

Ebisu did not comment on that further, merely resuming her walk, and, following behind, Fujita reflected on this new perspective that just wouldn’t settle with him. Indeed, ever since he found the hairpin taped to his door, he understood full well that there was this new, unknown distance between them, and yet, it kept slipping his mind, as if the boy’s brain was stubbornly trying to erase that understanding. But there was no escaping these thoughts now. Who was this girl, really? How did she see the world? What was driving her words and actions now? That he couldn’t know. But, perhaps, now was exactly when he had a good opportunity to find out.

‘Hey, Ebisu…’ the boy called, after waiting long enough not to sound too eager. ‘Say, why did you leave the devil’s hairpin at my door when you left?’

The sorceress looked over her shoulder, but wouldn’t even slow down this time. She neutrally regarded her “pack mule” for a few moments, then faced ahead again.

‘Why would I keep it?’

Fujita’s desire to ask questions waned.

A year in the past, in the infirmary room of the En’s mansion, plum-haired girl laid on an operating table, enduring a throbbing headache, struggling not to fade into unconsciousness. The ceiling above her would not remain still, jumping ever to one side, and a low, all-drowning hum kept swelling and receding inside her skull, pulling her away from tangible reality. Her head felt like a heavy balloon filled with water – resisting any attempt to turn it, then refusing to stop, overcorrecting, wobbling back and forth, reducing the room to a swarm of darting afterimages. Ebisu closed her eyes, but it didn’t help much – the world kept dancing, even though the girl couldn’t see it. She needed to center herself – she needed an anchor, and so the disoriented sorceress strained her ears in search of one. The sounds of two familiar voices cut through the hum as it ebbed, and Ebisu clung to them as best she could. At first, the kid was scarcely making out disparate words, but she wouldn’t give up. With persistence, the girl fought the noise off enough to let words string together, even though chunks of phrases kept getting swallowed. Then, it was time to focus on making sense of what she’s heard.

‘...all the heavy lifting, but it takes a while,’ matter-of-factly stated the male voice, as if from somewhere far away. ‘Don’t have to think about the cleanup at least, so that’s a…’

‘…Shin-senpai!’ replied the female one, a little miffed. ‘All I do is serve as a smoke dispenser! Would it kill him to…’

Sluggishly, almost grudgingly, the currents inside of the girl’s mind began to resume steady flow. The noise kept thinning, no longer deafening her completely. She still wouldn’t risk opening her eyes, but it was easier to follow the conversation now, and so the sorceress concentrated on that.

‘We all have our part to play for the time being, Noi,’ placated the man. ‘I’m sure boss has his hands full too, with everything that’s going on. From what I gather, things are shifting above his station as well.’

‘What, devils not keeping on top of things?’ reacted the woman with surprised incredulity. ‘Never thought the day would come!’

‘No, not like they have lost control or anything – just preoccupied with their own stuff for the time being,’ elucidated Shin. ‘So, when it comes to bringing things to order over here, we’re mostly on our own.’

‘All the more reason to have all hands on deck, senpai!’ complained Noi.

‘I agree, but… you know the boss,’ sympathized her interlocutor, then, after a short pause, decided not to end on that. ‘Actually, if we’re all done here, I think, there’s no harm in you tagging along. You don’t have anything else tasked for today, do you?’

‘That’s right!’ livened up the sorceress, yet her excitement was short-lived. ‘But… I can’t. Have to wait until the kid is upright.’

‘“The kid”, huh?’ questioned Shin with an audible smirk. ‘Are you getting soft from all this sitting at home?”

‘Merely taking my tasks seriously,’ refuted Noi. ‘What’s the point in mending someone, if they then gonna choke on their own vomit anyway?’

‘Fair enough,’ relented the half-blood. ‘I’m gonna have to leave you to that then.’

There was a clank of a closing door, and then the room went silent, save for some lingering buzz still swirling inside of the girl’s skull. The pause went on for what felt like minutes, but it was hard to tell. There was nothing to focus on anymore, nothing to measure time by, and so Ebisu felt the pull of unconsciousness slowly creeping up on her again, like a feline hunter – approaching, then freezing, then moving closer still, maneuvering into her blind spots. The sorceress braced herself and slowly raised her eyelids. The ceiling seemed to be in more of a stationary mood now – still eager to dash, but holding its impulses in check, barely. The colors stopped blurring together, and curtains of darkness no longer crept from the corners of the girl’s vision. A tall, silver-haired woman appeared from the side and loomed over her patient.

‘Ebisu?’ she called with clinical seriousness. ‘You awake? It’s Noi. Do you recognize me?’

The girl tried to reply, but a sudden rush of nausea made her wince and clench her teeth. Fighting it off, she nodded jerkily and attempted to sit up.

‘Good,’ said the woman, helping Ebisu get vertical. ‘How do you feel?’

It took young sorceress a few deep breaths to keep her stomach from turning inside out. She pressed her hand against her chest and shook her head, gray in the face.

‘Like utter crap… Dammit…’

‘Ah, then it was a success!’ beamed Noi, reaching over to a nearby table and taking a small metallic tray off it. ‘The artifact and its influence have been removed. Here.’

She put the tray down by the girl’s side. In it, rested a simple metallic hairpin, submerged in some kind of sharp-smelling, transparent liquid, now pink with thin traces of blood. Irked by the sight of the thing, Ebisu wanted to push the tray away, but the acrid smell was helping her shake off the drowsiness, so she stayed her hand.

‘How long was I out?’ the girl asked instead, trying to measure if getting off the table would be a good idea.

‘A short while,’ replied the silver-haired woman, washing her hands in a nearby sink. ‘We didn’t want to risk damaging your devil tumor, so it took a bit to find that blasted knickknack. I’ve mended your head good, but you’ve lost quite a bit of blood, anemic as you already are… You should grab a bite to eat – help your system get going again.’

‘I don’t have time for that,’ brushed it off Ebisu with previously unheard of sternness and hopped off the table.

Her knees folded immediately, unable to hold even the teenager’s piddly weight, and only due to Noi’s honed reflexes the girl didn’t end up flat on the floor.

‘Whoa there!’ exclaimed the cleaner, helping her struggling patient on her shaking feet. ‘I didn’t put your melon back together just so you could dome yourself on the first curb!’

‘I’m fine,’ tried to play it down Ebisu, but even her voice came out weak and trembling.

‘Fine excuse for a doormat…’ mocked Noi, lifting the kid off the ground and sitting her back on the table. ‘You’re not walking out of here until you actually can walk.’

‘What do you care, mother hen?’ snapped at her young sorceress with surprisingly fiery angst, making the cleaner frown.

‘As they likely say, a patient that doesn’t value their wellbeing is not deserving of the doctor’s care,’ warned the woman, and, seeing the girl’s mouth open for a rebuke, closed it back up with her hand. ‘And if no one says it, then I’m saying it now.’

Ignoring the scowl, Noi took off her protective apron, tossed it into the empty washing bin by the door and looked around for her next task, but there was positively nothing else to do.

‘Should have gone with senpai…’ she sighed dejectedly, then crossed her arms on her chest and leaned against the wall, affixing her gaze on her unruly ward.

Under that vigilant stare, Ebisu had no choice but to concede to doctor’s orders. As much as she wanted to rush off, the girl understood that her restlessness had nothing to do with urgency. She was late years ago – now, she needed to be patient. She needed to focus, steady her breath. For over a year, under the influence of the magical hairpin, she’s spent every moment of every day in carefree elation, and now, with that arcane veil lifted, reality of her current situation hit like a brick to the face. And yet, it wasn’t the worst part. Far from it.

After a long stretch of tense silence, Ebisu slowly slid off her perch, holding on to the table for balance. She tested her footing, tentatively let go of her support and made a few steps across the room. Her trajectory swayed from side to side, but confidence was gradually returning to the girl’s stride. She turned around and paced back to the table, then away again.

‘Say, Noi…’ she called with that same, hitherto absent seriousness, measuring the room with her steps. ‘Would you escort me someplace?’

‘Why would I do such a thing?’ the cleaner raised an eyebrow. ‘No, I’m done with you once you’re out the door.’

‘To make sure I don’t keel over on the way, for one…’ suggested Ebisu with seeming innocence, taking the hairpin out of the tray as she passed the table another time and flicking the disinfectant off it. ‘I just thought you’d welcome an excuse to step outside after all this time.’

‘Hmm, you have a point…’ failed to notice the bait Noi. ‘I could use some time away from this stink box.’

She mulled the idea over, weighing its pros and cons. Of the latter there were none she cared about.

‘Fine, I’ll wait at the pads in an hour. Don’t be late – I’ll bounce with or without you,’ the woman decided. ‘And do put something in your stomach, or you’re staying behind.’

‘Gotcha,’ victoriously smirked the girl and, having finally proven her ability to stay upright, staggered out the door.

Time wasn’t an issue. It took Ebisu longer to get to her room than to get ready to leave – all her things were gathered up the night before. The sorceress only lingered briefly to wash out the dried blood out of her hair and treat herself to a candy bar which she pilfered during her last routine raid on Fujita’s fridge.

‘When will that dolt finally learn his lesson?’ wondered the girl, savoring the chocolate as it melted in her mouth. ‘Buys them and never gets to eat them…’

After that, it was only about quietly making her exit. No longer charmed by the magical hairpin, Ebisu couldn’t pretend she wasn’t aware of the consequences of her departure, but staying was not an option she could take either. Not anymore. Slinging the duffle bag over her shoulder with a labored groan, young sorceress looked at her empty room one last time. Small, shabby and by no metric fitting for someone of her standing, it wasn’t a place she regretted leaving. How could she ever settle for such dire accommodations to begin with? Utterly inconceivable. Still, her feet refused to move – one silent moment, two, three. She had to go.

‘I’m sorry, Kuku…’ whispered the girl and stepped out.

Before going to the landing pads, however, there was one last thing to address, just down the corridor. With sluggishness that could no longer be chalked up to blood loss, Ebisu approached the door next to hers. It was closed – its dumb resident out on some stupid errand from his ugly boss no doubt. Uncertainly, the girl took the pin out of her pocket and looked it over. Today was the first time she’s seen it with her own eyes. Simple, but pristinely crafted, it was unmistakably devil’s handiwork. Wear it, and your every day will be grand and fabulous – nothing will ever faze or upset you. Even if it should. Even if it really should… The girl’s lips tightened. What was the way to go here? Return it to Chota? The bird-masked magic-user has gifted it – surely, he’d not want it back. A devil-crafted artifact would net quite a sum at an auction, too. Should she sell it? Or maybe keep it? Simply as a reminder that there was someone who cared enough to drag her back from the brink. At least, that’s where her mind went when she looked at it… The girl took a roll of duct tape out of her bag, fixed the pin to the door and hurried off.

Up on the pads, Noi has already mounted her broom, checking the dials before the takeoff, clearly eager to be away. Seeing the girl approaching with luggage, the cleaner raised an eyebrow.

‘Cute purse,’ the woman joked. ‘Is that the fashion nowadays?’

Uncharacteristically, young sorceress didn’t seem to find any humor in that, and only eyed the eagerly grumbling vehicle with apprehension.

‘Can’t we take a land cab instead?’ she ignored the question. ‘I’ll pay.’

‘Don’t push your luck, shrimp,’ frowned Noi. ‘Hop on already, or I’ll be leaving without you.’

Just recently, Ebisu felt frustrated even with a short delay, but right now, young sorceress wished she had more time to muster her resolve. Time which Noi, bored out of her skull over the long months of mending duties, didn’t seem willing to provide. There was an alternative for the girl of course – just going ahead and taking that cab, or even the train. By herself. She clambered onto the broom and tightly gripped the pilot’s waist.

‘Hey, ease off, will you?’ complained the woman. ‘Where to?’

‘My home. Head towards Ari-Dani shopping district, I’ll show the way from there…’ instructed the reluctant passenger, and the broom soared into the air.

It’s been a while since Noi had an opportunity to examine the city from the bird’s eye view, and the picture she saw remained less than inspiring – though, things were not as dour as even a few months ago. There was still much restoration work to do. Only a year had passed since the cursed downpour stopped lashing these lands, and the scars it left did not hurry to heal. Washed-out roads, flooded basements, mold and structural decay were problems this realm had never faced before – all the solutions had to be thought up on the spot. Worse still, the dark, grainy residue left on everything as the water receded seemed to weaken or even repel magic, forcing the confounded sorcerers to seek practical solutions – formerly, a shame and disgrace. And yet, a crop of crafty individuals began to form around the ever growing demand. Skills that used to be considered an embarrassing substitute for real magical ability became elevated in the eyes of the struggling society – in no small part because many of the more prominent users of magic remained unavailable, awaiting their time in the queue for resurrection, or gone for good. Though it may still not have been the case near the top, lower to the ground, the balance has shifted. And with it – perceptions. Where once one would hear the hissing of smoke and murmur of incantations, banging of hammers and buzzing of saws filled the air.

Ebisu observed none of that. She spent the entirety of the trip hiding her face against Noi’s back, only peeking out when it came time to give directions, and, soon enough, the hustle and bustle of the recovering city disappeared from view, as the broom began to descend towards its destination point. With one last ornery rev, mechamagical vehicle landed near an old estate, hidden in a secluded corner of nearby woods – a flock of small birds taking off from its slanted roof, startled by the noise.

Roofs with grooves and inclines were a human invention. What need was there for them in a world where it never rains? Yet now, this seemingly idle design fancy may very well have been the only reason this house remained standing. Still, that alone was of course not enough to keep the place unaffected by weeks of downpour – much would have to be done to return the house and surrounding grounds to pristine shape. But, overall, this secluded abode seemed to have gotten off much easier than many others, showing no signs of significant deterioration, and, removing the fueling mask, Noi couldn’t help but whistle with surprise.

‘So this is where you hail from…’ she mused, before turning back to her passenger, who was still clutching tightly at the woman’s track suit. ‘Alright, we’re here – get your grabbers off me already. What’s come over you?’

‘Nothing…’ exhaled the girl, releasing her grip and finally getting her feet onto the solid ground again. ‘It’s just that last time I’ve been in the air, it didn’t end well…’

‘Ah, right…’ recalled the silver-haired cleaner, raising the mask back up to her face. ‘Well, have fun.’

‘Wait!’ with surprising urgency protested the young sorceress. ‘Don’t you wanna come inside, since you’re already here and all?’

‘For tea and biscuits?’ scoffed Noi, nonetheless halting the takeoff. ‘That sounds like a waste of time.’

‘You’ve had something more exciting planned?’ questioned the girl coyly. ‘Come on, you can leave whenever.’

Unaccustomed to being challenged by this particular person – a hitherto whacky pushover – Noi puckered her lips with doubt. Indeed, all the things she enjoyed doing involved her senpai, and, nowadays, he was unavailable all the time. The woman turned her eyes to the building once more.

‘I guess, a little peek won’t take long…’

‘Come on then!’ urged her Ebisu and hurried up the gravel path to the house.

Familiar smells welcomed the girl at the front door. The potted plants arranged around the porch have all either wilted or overgrown, smudging the illusion of complete return, but nowhere in the city would she find this gentle mix of woodland scents, perennial flowers and sun-warmed soil. Ebisu closed her eyes and lingered for a spell, taking in the half-forgotten language of surrounding thicket. The calling of birds, the rustling of leaves, the odd snap somewhere in the underbrush… Living here, young sorceress was so used to hearing these sounds that her mind had become deaf to them. Now, she struggled to stop listening.

‘What, forgot your key?’ pulled her out of it Noi. ‘I can bust the door down.’

‘You shall do no such thing,’ sternly declined the girl, reaching into the side pocket of her bag.

She fished out a keyring, flipped to the right one with an almost unconscious, automatic motion, opened the front lock… and yet, even holding the door handle, Ebisu lingered on the porch.

‘And now what are you waiting for?’ impatiently complained her escort. ‘A permission?’

Young sorceress glanced back, but said nothing, and the two finally entered the house, to witness the sad state of its interior. Beyond a thin layer of dust that’s been gathering everywhere for months, the formerly cozy living room – a place of comfort and familial privacy – now bore signs of violence and uncaring intrusion. Right in the middle of it, dark blots of dried blood stained the floor and furniture. A faint, but insistent smell of mold and decomposition permeated the air – stale and undisturbed until now. Ugly splotches of water damage sprang on the ceiling, and, in places, whole sheets of ruined wallpaper began to sag, wrinkle and come off the walls. As a final, insultingly unmissable touch, several trails of muddy footprints lined the hallways, soiling the brightly patterned rugs.

On the other hand, however, the overall structure of the house itself didn’t seem to have been compromised in any significant way. Its foundation didn’t sink, window frames didn’t warp, locks didn’t rust. Perhaps, the roofing solution was not the only page borrowed from the human world books, and that idea was unexpectedly vexing to Ebisu. Young sorceress always knew her parents were into collecting stuff, but she never deigned to probe whether that hobby went beyond gathering baubles and knickknacks. Little idiosyncrasies of her home were among things the girl simply accepted as a part of normalcy, even after she’d learned enough of the world to know better. There were so many questions she should have been asking growing up in this house…

‘Seems you’ve had some messy visitors,’ observed Noi, crushing a lump of dried dirt under her sneaker.

‘Corpse team, shortly after the rain ended,’ explained the girl, taken out of her doleful thoughts. ‘My nanny. Non-recoverable.’

‘Hell’s blazes,’ continued the cleaner, displaying no sign of sympathy, ‘how long did she stew in here to stink the place up so much?’

‘Longer than she had to,’ coldly cut the topic Ebisu and stepped towards one of the windows. ‘Help me get some fresh air in here.’

‘Say, when did you become my boss?’ the woman absently dismissed, strolling deeper into the room, to take a better look at the curios on the walls. ‘I get enough orders from one brat already.’

‘Ah, of course, how could I be so rude…’ retorted young sorceress, masterfully avoiding sounding contemptuous or snide. ‘Please, do feel welcome to relish the fragrance, if it is more to your liking.’

Probably no one who knew Ebisu for the past couple years could ever imagine her speaking in this manner. Far from weaponizing absurdity, she was usually its unwitting vessel, and so, after a brief moment of confusion, Noi could not hold back a grunt of amusement.

‘Hah! I don’t remember you being this sassy!’

‘Get used to it,’ colorlessly advised the girl, moving onto the next window.

‘Nah, I’m not planning on any more visits,’ the cleaner casually reminded, making no attempt to be helpful with the girl’s undertaking. ‘But gotta say, I would have never figured that a loon like you could be from a decent home. How come you didn’t return? En wasn’t exactly holding you hostage.’

Having now opened the last window in the room, Ebisu sighed with something akin to powerless frustration. Pretending to be peering into the surrounding woods, she drummed her fingers on the windowsill, deciding if she should respond or just let the question expire. If she’d reveal that it was because of a certain magical gubbin getting stuck in her head, would the woman feel responsible? Would she feel blamed? Would she care at all?

‘I had my reasons,’ the girl settled for a non-answer. ‘Any more questions?’

‘Sure,’ shrugged Noi, paying no mind to her host’s standoffishness. ‘Why the change of heart now?’

The cleaner’s habitual bluntness was unhelpful, but Ebisu didn’t have a throwaway answer on the ready. Not one that would actually fly. She turned around and gave the woman a studying look, as if trying to judge what value that knowledge would hold to her. Increasingly, it seemed like the question was going to be deflected after all, and yet, young sorceress hesitated. An uninvited, inconvenient want gleamed in her eyes, fighting to break out into the open. The girl exhaled and averted her eyes.

‘They processed the papers. I have received the inheritance.’

‘Ah,’ caught on the cleaner, ‘they have finally listed your folks as dead then.’

‘Bodies have not been found,’ sternly affirmed Ebisu, but her voice faltered, betraying uncertainty. ‘Or… at least, identified. But who has time for unsorted paperwork nowadays?’

‘So, you’re the head of the estate now, huh…?’ hummed Noi, appraising the trashed room – her eyes stopping at the radial cracks on one of the walls, where, apparently, something had impacted it with great force. ‘Then, I’d say, you have your work cut out for you. Will take forever getting rid of all the stains, that’s for sure. En used to have a guy for that kind of stuff – I forgot the name…’

‘Yes, yes, good for him,’ hurried to clip the subject young runaway, walking towards the stairs to the second floor. ‘We’ll have to see how bad it is in other places. Just let me drop my things off, then we can assess the damage.’

However, as she reached the first step, the girl’s movements slowed, lost their purposeful confidence. A harrowing half-memory put lead weights around her ankles, filled the space ahead with invisible veil of spider silk. The dust here remained undisturbed for a good while now and bore no traces of mud – no one seemed to have went upstairs the last time people visited the house. A small mercy, perhaps. Still, underneath the gray coat, dark smears stained the wooden boards. This is where she dragged that… nightmare… downstairs – a recollection Ebisu did not relish revisiting. A strange feeling of disconnect flashed in the girl’s mind. The shape of the smears looked… off… even though the memories of her ill-fated homecoming were too smudged and chaotic to say for certain. Was this lining up? It must have. How could it not? Without realizing, the kid looked back at her battle-hardened escort.

‘What is it now?’ droned Noi – at this point, feeling rather annoyed with the constant stop and start.

‘Would you come up with me?’ fruitlessly trying to sound casual uttered Ebisu.

The cleaner’s ears perked up. Experienced in interrogation, Noi couldn’t miss the fearful drop in the girl’s tone, so, even though frustration compelled her to brush it off and finally go on with her own day, instinct stepped in to overrule. That request was too textured to be a mere childish whimsy, and, obeying her gut feeling, the woman sighed and followed along.

Reassured by the cleaner’s presence, Ebisu steeled herself and looked up towards her room. How many times in the past months had she reminisced about skipping up these steps as she returned home on a summer day, to be greeted by the familiar sunspot on the wall, sprinkled with the shadows of only the cutest stickers that she’s been judiciously selecting to be displayed on her window since the age of four? Now, the passage looked gloomy and unwelcoming, like a stern, disapproving gaze. There was something foreboding in its silent stillness. Hoping to dispel that bleak impression, Ebisu flipped the light switch at the base of the stairs, but nothing happened – the house was cut off from the grid months ago, due to disuse, and so the girl had to overcome her discomfort and press on, one dusty step after another. Midway up, she stopped again.

‘Can you just get on with it already?’ fussed Noi, catching up with the young sorceress, but then the reason for the interruption made itself clear. ‘Oh, fire and brimstone, what’s with the stench?! I thought there was only one dead body?!’

As if struggling to reconcile with that discrepancy herself, the girl looked back with an expression of hollow incredulity.

‘I only reported one…’

Detached and imperious a minute ago, Ebisu now sounded unmistakably shaken. Color that was only just beginning to return to her face was there no more.

‘Could you…?’ she almost whispered, grasping nervously at the strap of her bag, but then stopped herself. ‘No. No, it’s nothing.’

Defying her own trepidation, young sorceress cleared the rest of the steps with stubborn intent and finally approached her room. The door was missing – torn off the hinges by her own transformed hand – and the dried smudges led further in, disappearing from view beyond the cracked doorframe. The feeling of mismatch grew stronger.

‘Was it here that I fought it…?’ Ebisu tried to recall. ‘Or… was it inside?’

‘What are you mumbling about?’ asked Noi, looking over the girl’s shoulder. ‘Is this where you got shredded? Fujita never told me what exactly happened.’

‘I… can’t remember…’ shook her head disoriented sorceress, working up the resolve to proceed further. ‘I took the powder, and…. Didn’t it happen downstairs…?’

‘Didn’t what happen dow-? Ah, whatever, make up your mind already!’ lost patience her silver-haired follower and squeezed past, entering the room.

As the woman crossed the doorstep, she could finally spot the source of the sickening odor. Deeper in, amid a scattering of colorful plushy toys, a mangled, desiccated carcass in withered tatters of a cutesy dress was lying on the floor. Beyond evident decomposition, the body bore signs of a vicious assault and a number of monstrous deformities – chief among them being long, bony claws protruding from its fingertips. But, clearly, there was no reason to fear those grizzly weapons any longer – in addition to deep gashes and tears covering the rotting corpse, its head was almost completely missing, save for the neck stump, with lower jaw still loosely holding on.

Having finally whipped herself into enough of a shape to enter the room, Ebisu clenched her teeth at the sight. Hugging the wall, she made a couple more steps in, before grave apprehension glued her feet to the floor. Fragmented as they were, the memories of that day came vividly before her eyes: her nanny’s death, the creature’s grotesque transformation, the way it flung her through the air like a ragdoll. She ran, she fought back, and then… The rest was a blur. Fujita was there, calling out to her, but what came next? Young sorceress shuddered, as an image of a skeletal hand flashed in her mind’s eye, reaching towards her from the blackness in an almost welcoming gesture.

‘Hell’s blazes…’ uttered Noi, studying the misshapen remains, with her nose pinched. ‘Is that what did you in back then?’

The girl didn’t respond right away – her eyes still fixated on the mauled doppelganger. With effort, she pried her attention off the decomposing creature and turned to her guest, putting her bag down.

‘Help me take it outside,’ despite the attempt at sounding in control, she practically pleaded. ‘The smell will never wear off if it stays here any longer.’

‘Damn, take your trash out yourself,’ bucked Noi, nonetheless stepping closer to the cadaver for a better look. ‘Doesn’t seem too heavy. Just skin and bo-’

The woman didn’t have time to finish her comment, for, just as she leaned over, the seemingly dead body sprung up, swiping its ghastly paw at her face. The cleaner’s combat reflexes kicked in but a moment too late – barely avoiding having her head split open, Noi staggered back, with blood gushing from her slit throat. She gurgled and grabbed her neck, trying to spit out some of her mending smoke, but only red came out. Her knees started to give.

Before her, a contorted, withered ghoul got up on its gangly feet, yet, instead of going for the finishing blow, the headless creature turned to the side, where, white as chalk, Ebisu fruitlessly struggled to make her body move. Her back was against the wall, but, numb with fear, the girl couldn’t react to it in any way that would help. She didn’t want to see, but couldn’t look away, she wanted to run, but her legs refused to obey. All she could do was cover her mouth with her hand, press back with all her desperate strength and silently plead: if only the wall would give way, split, crumble, open into an endless abyss – she could just close her eyes and fall, fall, fall, away from this horror. The wall remained numb to her pleas.

The withered creature straightened up – its bulging joints cracking after all the time it spent motionless. A dry, hissing shriek escaped its deformed throat – it could form no words, but spite and fury seething inside it delivered the message just as potently. There could be no doubt – Ebisu has heard it before: “Imposter!” The monster shuffled forward.

‘I’M STLL STANDING, YOU CANDY ASS!!’

A hoarse, yet strong and wrathful roar rolled through the room, as Noi cleared the distance between her and the risen assailant in one wide step and rammed her foot into its side with enough force to send it flying. With a loud crash, the bony carcass slammed into the desk at the far end of the room, snapping it in half. Dust and splinters filled the air, yet, before the last piece even had time to hit the floor, undead creature let out another shriek and started thrashing, freeing itself out of the wreck.

‘Persistent bitch, aren’t you?’ the woman growled, letting go of her throat, where the final traces of a deep laceration were now rapidly vanishing.

She raised her fists, ready to counter the next attack, but, as the desiccated wretch stood up and spread its bloodied claws, it wasn’t facing the cleaner. Struggling to tear its shriveled legs out of the rubble, the ghoul still moved intently towards the paralyzed kid, whose wide open eyes could not leave the murderous monster for a second. Something was off.

‘Hey, wait a bloody minute!’ cried out Noi. ‘Just how in the hell are you-’

And then she saw it. Down on the floor, melding with the motley scattering of plushies, another piece hid. No more than a quarter of the creature’s upper head remained intact – just enough to fit a patch of tangled, thinning hair and one bloodshot eye, glaring at the manor’s rightful owner with laser-focused, inhuman hatred. Despite obvious difference in threat, it paid the wounded cleaner no mind, and Noi’s pride didn’t care for that.

‘Have respect for your opponent, you stinky freak!’ she hollered, jumping to the gory remnant on the floor.

At the last moment, the creature seemingly recognized its mistake and threw its body for the save, but it was too late. Noi stomped her foot down with enough force to crack the floorboards and make the surrounding furniture jump, and the decomposing chunk of cranium burst like an apple that has rotten soggy. In that instant, the creature’s body convulsed and fell on the floor, breaking apart and dissipating into black smoke. Soon, there was nothing but a pile of soiled rags left.

‘Well, I’d say, that takes care of that,’ matter-of-factly concluded the cleaner, straightening up and turning to the mortified girl. ‘Now how about you-’

Once again, she couldn’t finish.

‘Noi!!’ Ebisu cried and rushed to her silver-haired rescuer.

She gripped at the woman’s bloodstained clothes, buried her face in her chest and sobbed uncontrollably.

‘Hey, what are you…?!’ protested the sorceress, grabbing Ebisu by the scruff of her neck. ‘Knock it off!’

Yet, to her own surprise, something stopped Noi from pulling the crying kid away. Maybe it was the stark contrast from her commanding demeanor from before, or maybe there was something in that how desperately the girl was clinging onto her track suit, shaking like a leaf in the wind – no longer an exacting heiress, but a frail teen, scared out of her mind. The woman sighed.

‘Ugh, fine, if you’ve started, may as well go all the way through…’ she droned unamusedly, letting go of the girl’s collar and putting her hand on the kid’s trembling back instead. ‘Just don’t make it a habit.’

They stood like that a while.

On the wind-swept plains of hell’s border realm, led by chance or an unseen hand, two fledgling magic-users found themselves standing before a set of degraded steps descending underground. Knowing not what to expect, they examined the crumbling landmark with caution – neither one quite sure what to make of it. In stark contrast to perpetually illuminated wastes, the passage below was obscured in darkness, and nothing around it gave a clue to its purpose – no sign erected nearby, no other structure in view. Stepping closer, young companions could feel damp chill crawling out of the concrete maw, carrying faint smells of mold, eroding metal and something else – vaguely familiar, but too nondescript to put a finger on. Unwilling to show apprehension – perhaps to each other, or perhaps to themselves – the two exchanged glances.

‘This is weird,’ proclaimed Ebisu, shielding her eyes from the hell’s glow, to scan the surroundings one more time. ‘I could swear, I didn’t see this being ahead just a minute ago. First, there’s nothing but this footpath, and then…’

‘Right, it’s like the steps just appeared when I wasn’t looking,’ agreed her equally puzzled companion. ‘Though, I guess, it could just be all the dust and hot air.’

‘Yeah, in your head…’ scoffed young sorceress to herself, and, giving hesitation no more time to set in, began descending. ‘Let’s go.’

Fujita wasn’t so eager.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ he questioned, barely able to suppress an impulse to grab the girl’s elbow.

‘I’m sure I’ve had enough of marching in this heat,’ replied Ebisu over her shoulder, as if none of this was causing her any concern. ‘You said this place is supposed to lead you where you need to go. It led you here. Come on, maybe, there’s a landline down there.’

‘It was YOU who led me here, dumbass…’ mentally rebuked Fujita, but nonetheless followed the girl into the gloomy tunnel.

At the base of the stairs, the two stopped and waited. The dancing light from the surface could only push the darkness a few feet away, leaving everything further in to dissolve into shifting murk. The cold breath of decay became thicker here, enveloping the two sorcerers like rising water. Not dressed for such conditions, Ebisu shivered when the chill licked her bare shoulders, now glistening with sweat, and it did not escape Fujita’s notice.

‘Are you sure, this is where we should go?’ he repeated his question, scoring himself a mocking glance.

‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark…’

Leaving Fujita no time for a response, the girl confidently marched ahead – her silhouette blurring almost immediately. Young sorcerer frowned. Was he being too apprehensive? Sure, leaving the mansion this evening, he didn’t expect things to take such a turn, but did it matter? His boss said it right: this was his mission, whatever it threw at him. The boy moved forward. Small bits of various litter rustled and crunched under his shoes – loud and conspicuous in this empty space – but the thought of falling behind bothered the sorcerer more. The silhouette before him regained clear definition as the two companions arrived to a three-way split in the tunnel – each path wider than the one they entered from, but just as oppressively dark. With Fujita’s eyes still adjusting to the impenetrable gloom, he only managed to make out general features of graffiti-covered shutters lining the walls of these corridors, and further in – even more splits and turns.

‘Looks like some kind of… underground bazaar?’ the boy observed with a measure of uncertainty, picking out new details out of the thinning blackness. ‘Like the ones they used to have in Mastema. Could be a maze down here…’

‘We don’t have to explore all of it,’ reminded Ebisu, aiming to sound more confident. ‘Let’s just look about. If there isn’t anything down here, we’ll head back up.’

‘But what if there is…?’ thought to himself Fujita, yet decided not to voice the unhelpful notion.

He squinted into the gloom. That indescribable smell young sorcerer noticed before was stronger down here, yet no more recognizable – slightly watery, slightly familiar… Unlike other damp odors permeating the air, something about it unnerved the boy. It made him want to look over his shoulder. It made him want to stay on the move.

‘Best if we stick close,’ he suggested, turning to the pale silhouette of his tagalong. ‘Would be hard to find each other again if we get separated. We should probably hold-’ Fujita stopped himself abruptly. ‘Well, I mean, you can hold onto the strap, if you want…’

Even though young sorcerer couldn’t really see what was on the Ebisu’s face that moment, the judgmental sigh she produced was enlightening enough.

‘Grow up…’ she groaned and grabbed the boy’s hand. ‘Now pick a path and let’s go.’

There was no point in wasting time on baseless theorizing, and so, in silent agreement, the two set off towards the junction straight ahead. Step by cautious step, they made their way deeper into the sprawling structure, occasionally sneaking quick glances back the way they came. Before long, the last trace of light from the entrance dimmed and dissipated in the murk, trapping young companions in a colorless limbo of dancing shapes and uncertain sensations. Even the floor under their feet felt uneven and inconsistent – grumbling with gravel one minute, then shifting to rattling metal sheets, then eroding concrete, with sneaky patches of what felt like thick, soggy mud ambushing their feet from time to time. When stepped on, clumps of that moist soil clung to their shoes, as if making a feeble attempt to escape from this dreary place. Or maybe, to resentfully hold the travelers back – weighing their feet down, forcing them to linger in this stagnant chill. The two kept stomping the dirt off, sending echoes through the tunnels.

Beyond all reason, section after section, the subterranean maze kept stretching on, budding off in different directions – some obstructed by piled up trash, some collapsed or looping back onto themselves. Granular parts of it almost made sense, but, as a whole, a place like this could never exist. Too haphazard, almost abstract – a feverish nightmare on the brink of waking up. At first, Fujita tried to keep a mental map of all the turns they’ve made, but soon had to give up and simply hope to glean some sense of direction from their surroundings. It was a strangely familiar feeling, yet somehow faded and elusive, like an echo from a distant, half-forgotten past. No matter how much the boy would try to recall its origin, his mind would hit dead ends, and yet, a peculiar urge compelled him to try again and again, as if a silent question remained hanging in the air, awaiting his answer.

Distracted by this conundrum, the boy failed to notice a dim glint in the passage ahead, and his foot plunged into a puddle, filling his shoe with cold water. Caught off guard, he almost lost balance, but, against what Fujita would have ever expected, Ebisu reacted in time, pulling him back onto even ground. Quiet splashing of disturbed liquid stretched far into the darkness ahead, and the watery smell from before became stronger, more present, though no less nondescript. With a stifled cuss, young magic-user decided he may as well get his thoughts out in the open, lest he invited another mishap. But first things first…

‘Thanks, that was a good save…’ the boy mumbled, kicking his soaked foot in the air, while trying not to think of what kind of sewage he just stepped into. ‘Say, Ebisu, doesn’t this place remind you of something?’ he then hurried to veer off. ‘I could swear, I’ve been somewhere like this before – just can’t remember when or… what I was doing there.’

Having briefly considered whether she should call out Fujita’s question as a distraction from his blunder, the girl hummed uncertainly.

‘I dunno… Could just be one of those moments when you think you’ve remembered a place you haven’t been to, or a person you’ve never met,’ she supposed, choosing to cut the sorcerer some slack this time. ‘Isn’t it how it always goes? One minute, it feels as real as anything – the next, it’s gone, and you can’t ever coax it back.’

Behind the veil of darkness, Fujita’s face contorted with confusion. As the two resumed their advance in a new direction, he scanned the blurry shape of his companion out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out if she was just messing with him, but there was no way to gain a clue. Was it best to leave without comment, or…?

‘Umm… I have no idea what “moments” you’re talking about…’ he frankly confessed.

‘Never mind then, I don’t care,’ flustered young sorceress, as if suddenly regretting sharing her thoughts, but, after a period of silence, the boy felt her shrugging. ‘Looks like Hole, I guess…’

Indeed, the resemblance was undeniable, and it surprised Fujita that he didn’t draw the parallel himself, as he was, unfortunately, very familiar with the place in question. One memory especially jumped to the fore, bearing almost complete likeness: an unlit underground passage, rows of closed doors lining the walls, and a distant sound of liquid coming from the dark – at first, so faint it almost felt like a trick of imagination. But it persisted, refusing to fade and vanish. Drip, drip, drip… The boy shivered.

‘Strange to see that place here, in devils’ lands,’ continued Ebisu ponderingly, squinting at the signs on the walls – characters on them crawling in the dark, offering only a facsimile of language. ‘Having it in one realm is bad enough. I mean, transit is one thing, but why would anyone choose to linger there is beyond me.’

‘Well, some of us had to,’ reminded the boy with sudden, uncharacteristic sternness. ‘If you didn’t get your meal ticket at birth, and you don’t even go to Hole to train – it just means you have accepted your place as trash.’

With belated realization of her carelessness, Ebisu bit her tongue. Why ever did she think Fujita would share her stance on Hole? It’s not like she’s forgotten he’s been a regular there… In the short time since their arrival to this place, she has already blurted something out on impulse twice, and it wasn’t like her. Wasn’t she supposed to be the serious, quiet type, who only spoke with purpose? Was it the odd circumstances that made her lower her guard tonight? Was it this confusing, inconsistent realm itself that kept her off balance? Whatever the cause, a weird, faint, but persistent compulsion once again tricked her into letting some inner things come to the surface. A part of Ebisu wanted to immediately hide behind a snarky comment and fall back into the safety of prickly silence, but, same as her companion shortly before, frustrated sorceress only sought to divert the focus onto something new.

‘I wonder what humans’ hell is like,’ she mused, with nothing but flat, idle curiosity in her voice – no hint of being apologetic or annoyed. ‘If they even have one…’

The girl didn’t expect a concrete response – just tried to make sure that errant ideas wouldn’t begin congealing in anyone’s dumb head, but, after a few seconds, Fujita spoke, and his tone was colder than even the air around them.

‘Maybe Hole is their hell,’ he almost growled. ‘And magic-users are their punishment.’

Uncontrollably, Ebisu shrunk. This harsh response took her by complete surprise – she’d never heard the boy speak like that before. The sorceress would even assume her companion was just pulling an ill-timed joke, were it not for his grip tightening around her hand with every word. It wasn’t to the point where it hurt, but it felt too raw, too unconscious to be an act. This didn’t sound like Fujita she’d left a year ago. How much did he change during their time apart? Or was it that the things that should have changed – didn’t?

For a while, the conversation died, leaving it to the magic-users’ shoes to do all the talking. The air felt tense – a tripwire, ready to snap at the lightest touch. Cooped up in her own head and a little rattled, Ebisu couldn’t shake off a weird thought, as she listened to the discordant pitter-patter escaping into the tunnels. What if those weren’t the echoes of their own footsteps bouncing between the endless walls, but quiet sounds of someone else’s presence here in the dark with them? What if this place did have its denizens, now circling the intruders, peering at them from the impenetrable blackness mere meters away? How could she tell? Ebisu strained her ears, trying to catch something concrete – some clear proof, yet, deep in her heart, hoping to find none. It would be so simple to ask Fujita to stop for a minute and listen – just to put her mind at ease. Not even ask – just slow down and tug at his hand. But she couldn’t. The same cold hand that held her tongue was pushing between her shoulder blades. “Maybe there’s a landline down there” – yeah, right… What was she thinking? Who was she trying to convince, and of what? There was nothing down in this maze – just an endless gauntlet of twists and turns in cold, damp darkness, connecting nothing, leading nowhere. Someone’s vision of hell indeed…

‘I got it!’ suddenly exclaimed Fujita – immediately piping down, as his voice travelled through the passages and back to him. ‘I mean, I remember now… It was right after I moved to En-san’s mansion,’ he reported with relieved contentment, completely oblivious to that, had Ebisu had a tail, every hair on it would be standing on end right now. ‘For the first while, I absolutely couldn’t find my way around the place. It was all just endless doors and halls and corridors to me. If not for Matsumura, I’d get lost all the time.’

‘Pff, that place was abysmal…’ scoffed the girl with strained composure – torn between the desire to sock Fujita in the jaw, or sigh with relief that the oppressive silence has ended. ‘A tug of war between vanity and paranoia.’

Her companion couldn’t help but respond with held back, awkward laughter.

‘Hah, I wish I could disagree…’ he knowingly shook his head. ‘I’ve gotten used to it, but, to be completely honest, when I’m thinking of a place for myself, I’m usually picturing something more… conventional. A couple stories, a spacious backyard for a shooting range… Somewhere in the country, where no one would be bothered by the noise.’

Drawing a mental picture of that description, Ebisu hummed with something between skepticism and cautious wonder.

‘Still dreaming of castles in the sky, errand boy?’ she impishly questioned. ‘Haven’t given up on making it to the top, I see.’

‘Well, no one ever climbed high by aiming low…’ reflexively defended Fujita. ‘I’ll do my best and see where that lands me. Didn’t say it will happen tomorrow…’ he pointed out, mindfully avoiding sounding salty. ‘I don’t need a whole manor – just something better than one crummy room.’

Even though it wouldn’t be hard to tease the fledgling sorcerer further, right now, Ebisu didn’t feel compelled to do that. If anything, what the boy described wasn’t far off from her own house. The main difference was the backyard – hers was occupied by her mother’s little garden, now overgrown and unsightly from long neglect, and the girl saw no prospect of ever returning it to its former splendor on her own.

‘Two stories, you say…’ she pondered. ‘Just for yourself?’

Instead of giving a straight answer, Fujita held a guarded pause. Was this a genuine curiosity or another setup? He would actually love to fantasize about his aims for the future out loud, shooting ideas back and forth, just like he used to do with his partner. But it wasn’t Matsumura walking by his side.

‘You think I’m trying to bite too much?’

‘No, not really…’ the girl replied with quiet deliberation. ‘Just consider having cleaning staff. A housemaid or a visiting service – whichever suits you. Keeping a place like that tidy on your own would be a pain and a half.’

Midway through the last sentence, Ebisu caught herself having that annoying moment again. The sorceress wanted to sound like it was just a throwaway piece of advice to her, but the words came out with embarrassing candidness, and so, pressing her lips into a frustrated line, she looked the other way, even though there was no need to hide her face from Fujita in the surrounding murk. The motion was automatic, almost unconscious, and now the girl felt forced to pretend she was just studying the passageways on that side. That precaution too was unnecessary – obscured or not, body language cues tended to fly over Fujita’s head anyway – however, it produced an unexpected, but welcome result.

‘Hey, hold up,’ Ebisu pulled her companion’s hand. ‘Look over there!’

She pointed into the corridor they were about to walk past, sharing her fortuitous discovery. Deeper in, the walls managed to come clearly through the darkness, highlighted by orange tint. Though weak and scattered, infernal light from the surface was pouring in from somewhere in that direction, and, with no further comment needed, the two headed towards their discovery. The chilly draft let up a little as they approached, with traces of sulfur once again flowing through the air. Surely now, an exit must have been somewhere nearby. The thought alone has added the young pair some pace – finally having something to orient themselves by, they boldly advanced through the maze, and, after just a few more turns, at last, the two saw a set of ascending steps at the far end of the passageway. Forgetting all about keeping up appearances, both magic-users sighed with relief. While the search for a phone was so far a bust, at least, they could tell with confidence they haven’t gotten themselves trapped.

Moreover, Fujita didn’t fail to notice one other thing: even though the way to the surface now was just ahead of them, clear and lit, his standoffish companion was in no hurry to let go of his hand. On his end, the boy was in no rush to point that out.

‘So… Why did you leave the mansion, anyway?’ young sorcerer probed instead, feigning idle curiosity, as they moved towards the exit. ‘Not because of the aesthetics alone, right?’

‘What? Oh… Personal business,’ replied the girl tersely, but to Fujita’s ears it didn’t sound like she wanted to just cut it there.

Still, perhaps it was wise to at least leave her room for ambiguity for now.

‘I see… How long do you think it will take?’ he continued, trying to come up with a roundabout way to steer the conversation towards where he wanted it to go.

‘Who knows…’ ponderously sighed Ebisu. ‘Things take time. Needing to look after a whole house certainly doesn’t expedite anything.’

‘A lot of hustle, huh?’ sympathized young sorcerer, then decided to try his luck with something more direct. ‘Is that why you never swing by…?’

In response, the girl could not hold back a grunty chuckle.

‘Right…’ she shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore.’

Knowing his boss’s attitude, Fujita found that hard to argue with. It could take a long time for the temperamental sorcerer to let a grudge go, especially if it was a petty one, and no sane person in the realm would risk disregarding that. Still, the exit was approaching fast – the two could clearly make out another patch of dirt at the base of the stair, dry and cracked from the searing wind. The boy wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

‘Why not?’ he questioned with immaculate impression of innocent obliviousness. ‘I’m sure, if you apologize properly, En-san will let you back in.’

A few moments passed before there was a quiet reply.

‘I’m sorry…?’

Right, no, that wouldn’t cut it.

‘Um… I think, you’ll have to come up with something more subst-’

‘No, I’m sorry…?’ repeated the girl louder, and this time there was no mistaking the stern, indignant disbelief in her voice. ‘Why in the hell would I grovel to be allowed back into that geezer’s lousy den?’

Some part of Fujita recognized that he made a mistake, but what exactly it was didn’t seem to click. He had to either retract, or probe around for a clue. His instinct advised retreat, but the nagging feeling from before returned, imploring him to not clamp up – to go for it, to let more out into the open. There might not be another chance.

‘Ehm, don’t you think you are being a tad ungrateful?’ the boy cautiously tested.

‘And what should I be grateful for?’ hissed the sorceress with even more fervor. ‘Name one thing!’

‘Well, he did take you in, for one…’ prepared to list some things Fujita, but Ebisu didn’t care even for the first item.

‘He didn’t “take me in” – he practically abducted me!’ she furiously interrupted. ‘At no point had I been asked whether I wanted to stay or not! Have you forgotten that part, or do you always begin your journeys from the second step?!’

‘He just wanted-’ fruitlessly tried to wedge in an excuse young sorcerer, starting to regret listening to his unexplained whims.

‘He wanted to know what I know – that’s it,’ cut him off Ebisu. ‘He kept me around as a tool, and the only reason he didn’t throw me away when my usefulness to him expired, is because he forgot about my existence the very same moment! So you can take your precious En and shove him!’

‘Hey, that’s untrue!’ objected the boy. ‘If he was only after info, he’d beat it out of you! But you were free to just stick around – practically, a part of the Family!’

‘Oh, how generous! Truly, I should be so thankful!’ mocked Ebisu with seething venom. ‘I don’t know what kind of screwed-up standards you have, but my family loved me! And if your stupid boss would bother to at least rewhuh…!’

The girl choked on her anger and didn’t even bother to resume – instead, jerking her hand free and storming towards the exit.

‘Hey, wait!’ hurried after her Fujita. ‘Don’t run off alone!’

He caught up with Ebisu at the bottom of the stairs, with both of them having to stop and shield their eyes from hell’s fiery light, now unbearable after the long time they spent in the dark.

‘Look, I’m sorry if I…’ the boy moved to reconcile, but hesitated – apologizing for the wrong thing would only add fuel to the fire. ‘All I meant to say was… Kikurage misses you.’

It was a trick – a safe retreat. But was it too obvious? Fujita could only hope it’d work. After several long seconds, young sorceress exhaled, letting anger fade from her voice.

‘I know…’ she admitted, lowering her hand. ‘Let’s not talk about it.’

Not even caring for her request to be acknowledged, Ebisu proceeded up the steps – back into the orange heat of the world above. An irrepressible shiver rocked her shoulders as the hot air washed over the girl, jealously chasing the chill of the damp tunnels from under her skin. Not wanting to fall behind, Fujita followed, even though his eyes could still use a bit more time – stinging and prickling with gathering tears. At the top of the stairs, his troublesome companion was also held back – standing in place, wiping her eyes with the base of her palm. Yeah, that’s what you get for storming off like a little kid…

As their eyes adjusted and the two travelers could finally look around without squinting, it was once again time to make sense of their surroundings. At least, it was something new. Instead of barren wastelands, young magic-users were now standing on an eerily empty street running between two rows of small buildings, stores and housing units. Unlike the tunnels the two emerged from, this space looked mundane and almost fitting, yet… also wrong and unreal in some way – though, what exactly made it seem so was somewhat elusive. Weathered state of the structures allowed them to appear as if they belonged in these desolate lands, but the purpose of them being here in the first place did not readily present itself to either of the companions. Moreover, and, perhaps, more damningly, there was something off about the manner in which they were ordered together – it wasn’t very sound or deliberate, as if the place came not out of the mind of a city planner, but from a half-forgotten memory of a vivid dream.

The kids exchanged looks. Neither relished the thought of turning back, so, accepting it as their only choice, the two set off ahead. As they stepped away from the dark passage and onto the crumbling sidewalk, a vague sense of recognition stirred inside Fujita, even though it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Was this a trick of perception? The “familiar amidst alien” Chota was telling him about? Or, perhaps, if this realm indeed was meant to guide him where he needed to go, was this a sign that he was getting closer? Then, what was he meant to find here? The subtle, but compelling force from before nudged the boy not to keep his thoughts to himself.

‘Hey, Ebisu,’ he called, eyeing the tarnished buildings, ‘does it feel to you like you’ve been to a place like this before? It’s vague, but I can almost recognize where I’ve seen such a street…’

‘It doesn’t,’ curtly replied the sorceress, without even looking up – still far from a sunny mood.

‘Hmm, yeah, I guess, it wouldn’t to you…’ kept raking his brain Fujita, ignoring the girl’s prickly tone. ‘It’s definitely from somewhere on the outskirts. I think, it’s… hmm. I think, Matsumura lived somewhere like this. Though, we’d only been to his neighborhood a couple times…’

‘Ah, of course… It always comes back to that guy,’ Ebisu grouched, fully intending to leave it at that, before once again receiving a subtle tug towards candidness. ‘It’s well past time you’d moved on from that, don’t you think?’ she continued with more rigor, no longer even noticing the slip. ‘Do you realize just how creepy it looks from the outside? You pining for some schlubby old man, I mean? Blazes, I’d get it if he was in any way remarkable…’

‘Matsumura wasn’t… old,’ reflexively tried to deflect Fujita, but, sensing that he wasn’t choosing a winning argument, hurried to distract instead. ‘You’d understand if you’d ever had a partner of your own…’

‘I have a brain,’ squinted Ebisu, sounding rather defensive. ‘I can grasp the concept.’

The ploy was a success – the bait was swallowed. Being granted this breather, Fujita took a moment to settle his thoughts. It would be easy to taunt his sulking tagalong for not having this insight, but that would only push her away and change nothing. And this really wasn’t the time for squabbles – he had to be patient and take the high road where possible. He was the adult here, after all. Technically.

‘Well… That’s what I thought too,’ young sorcerer cautiously continued, slowly picking his words – trying not to sound like he was lording his experience over the girl, ‘but it wasn’t what I’d imagined. It was different, and it was… more. I’d even say, that it’s not something you can grasp per se – not fully, at least. And, honestly… I can’t say for certain, but something tells me it’s not exactly the same for every pair. It feels too personal for that, or too tailored, maybe. I’m not sure if I can describe it right. You have to… I don’t know… live it,’ Fujita’s brow wrinkled as he tried his best to define what, by his own admission, could not be defined. ‘I’d say, being partners is not something you can put into a box with anything else. It’s more than just a signed agreement, more than trust or familiarity or shared goals – you give a part of yourself to them, and you get a part of them in exchange. So… wherever either of you are after that, you’re inseparable. Whatever troubles befall you, you only need to look in a little to find your partner’s presence – their warmth and support…’

To her own surprise, mixed with a pinch of embarrassment and annoyance, Ebisu found herself captivated by that description. Indeed, her understanding was that partnering mainly derived its substance from mutual support, but only insofar as agreements between individuals go, regardless of pomp and ritualistic circumstance. Being formally recognized as a cooperating unit by a devil was a huge deal, sure, and yet, from what this blasted bumbler was saying, there was more than mere prestige buried in that. Something visceral. Something you couldn’t attain in any other way. Was he bigging it up, just so he could claim having one over her in this single regard? Somehow, the girl doubted that.

‘So…’ she tested her understanding, ‘you can, like… read their mind or something?’

The wrinkle between Fujita’s brows deepened. Describing being with a partner was one hell of a task already, but having to explain the essence of it to someone who couldn’t possibly meet him half-way… Could it even be expressed through something as rigid as words to begin with? Young sorcerer never questioned that relationship, never examined it. He knew how to relish it, he knew how to miss it. Giving it precise shape? Somehow, that felt beyond him.

‘Uhm… No, not exactly,’ he tried to bring at least some clarity. ‘Though, you can always tell if they’re being sincere, or in doubt, or…’

Fujita paused. Glancing at his face, Ebisu couldn’t tell whether it was because he didn’t know what else to add, or from not wanting to say too much.

‘Or…?’

The boy’s expression darkened. For a moment, it looked like he won’t go further, but, be it this place’s furtive yoke or Fujita’s own desire, his lips parted.

‘When it happened – when he… When they killed him,’ young sorcerer pushed out the words, ‘I was still mostly out of it. I didn’t see it happen. I was past the door, back in our world, and yet… I knew. The warmth your partner gives you – one that is always there…’ the boy spoke quieter and quieter, unthinkingly grasping at his chest, as his eyes peered somewhere that wasn’t here. ‘Feeling that warmth slowly fading is the most… awful…’

Fujita gritted his teeth, unable to continue. The recollection of that moment came to him with unanticipated, brutal clarity – down to the sickening chill on his skin and the pit in his stomach. Distracted, he almost didn’t notice Ebisu stopping in place, and had to turn around, to see what held her up. From the looks of things, the girl was wrestling a thought. Her eyes too wandered somewhere in the realm of the unseen, and her expression shifted fleetingly between shades of doubt.

‘So… is this what it’s all about, Fujita-kun?’ she then asked, casting a strangely serious, studying look at the boy’s face. ‘You jumped straight to hell, because you want your…  fuzzy feeling back?’

Pressed together just a moment ago, Fujita’s eyebrows shot up. The girl’s blunt question made him feel like he was, somehow, misunderstood and exposed at the same time. Impulsively, his mind scrambled to set the record straight, and yet, the prospect of that in itself was far from comforting.

‘Don’t be ridiculous! It’s nothing that shallow,’ the boy protested with vehemence that even to him came off as overblown. ‘I came to spring my partner out of hell, because…’

He stopped and stared at the ground, unsure of what to say next. Should he dare to come out with the truth? Would his confession be safe with this new Ebisu? Would she judge? Would she laugh? Would she… understand? Anxious and hopeful in uneven measure, Fujita glanced up to his companion’s face, seeking to glean a clue. What he saw instead was bewilderment. Yet, it was not directed at him – the sorceress was staring past the boy, at something behind his back, and, puzzled, Fujita looked over his shoulder. The very next moment, his heart choked on blood. The boy’s lips twitched, but it took some time for his hoarse voice to find its way out.

‘M- Matsumura…?’

Hell’s blazes, soot and sulfur… It was hard to believe, and yet impossible to deny. He’d rub his eyes, had he the will to take them off what he was seeing. Despite all odds, beyond any expectations, his partner stood there, as if he’d just rounded the nearby corner, only a couple steps away. Just as Fujita remembered him. Just as he always was. Same wrinkled clothes, same slouched posture, an expression of stunned confusion that could only look this way on his dull, poorly shaven, round face. There could be no mistake – it was him. It was him. The bag hit the ground.

‘Matsumura!’

In one huge leap, Fujita crossed the distance between them and wrapped his lost partner in tight embrace. It was him! Not a ghostly apparition, not a mirage – the boy could feel it, grasping at the coarse fabric of the man’s jacket. The sorcerer didn’t vanish into thin air – he was here and he was real. Real and warm.

‘Fujita… kun?’ came the voice Fujita would recognize in a million others, weak and trembling with disbelief. ‘You came here… for me?’

‘Yes! Yes, that’s right!’ exclaimed young sorcerer, loosening his grip and looking once again at his partner’s dumbfounded face. ‘Only… not quite yet. But I’m working on it, you’ll see! Just hold on a little bit longer, and I promise, I…’

The boy stopped, suddenly feeling some force pulling him back. Still lost in this overwhelming, unbelievable moment, Fujita tried to resist, holding on to Matsumura’s shoulders, when another voice finally reached him.

‘No! Let go already!’ with surprising fervor yelled Ebisu, trying to pull the dazed lad away, and, when that didn’t work, wedging herself in the middle and pushing the two apart. ‘Stop clinging, you obsessive idiot!’

That was too much. Despite trying to be the better person thus far, Fujita couldn’t take it. Not this time.

‘Enough!’ he almost barked, hardly able to believe the girl’s nerve. ‘This is not the time for your jea-’

Before he could finish, agitated sorceress shut him up with an elbow to the nose, finally managing to make Fujita release his grip.

‘What’s your damn problem, you psycho bitch?!’ the boy yelped, staggering back – his whole face shrunken into a bundle.

Being granted this chance reunion was more than he could ever dream of. There was so much to say and ask and make up for… And that self-centered idiot had to barge in and ruin the moment! That was so petty, selfish, intolerable, infuria-ARGH!! If that’s how she is, then it’s time for her to take a hike!

However, as soon as the boy opened his eyes, his ire was quenched with cold sweat. What he saw before him was no longer his lost friend. The man’s shape wavered – his proportions swayed, head contorted, now swiveling towards Ebisu, and, before the girl had time to withdraw, his fingers locked around her elbow. Their eyes met. Under the shapeshifter’s dull gaze, that weird feeling young magic-users felt before – that sneaky, but insistent compulsion to let things come to surface – swelled rapidly, making the girl shudder. It wasn’t a faint, nagging want anymore – not a whisper on the edge of hearing, but a frantic demand: show me something real! The feeling was almost physical, as if trembling, sticky fingers reached inside her mind – her very being – grasping around, searching hectically for something solid to grab and cling on to. And then, same as before, those fingers pulled…

Like a heavy raincloud of the human world, imposter’s hair darkened, grew in volume, curled into clumps. The simple red mask covering the shapeshifter’s face began sinking into its skin, going paler, leaving only two uneven, cross-shaped marks around the eyes. Then, as if finally catching on to a dirty joke, the stupefied expression on the creature’s face sharpened, shifted, morphed into one of sinful delight – its eyes narrowed, mouth stretched into a hungering grin.

‘Little mi~iss…’ it bleated, no longer in Matsumura’s voice, but something oily and repulsive. ‘You came… for me~e…?’

Half-dumbstruck and half-hypnotized by this transformation, Ebisu could not respond. With her widened eyes glued to the creature’s new face, she unthinkingly backed away, trying to free her arm in limp, jerky motions, but the shapeshifter would not let go. It reached for the girl with its other hand, and only then a jolt of primal fear finally snapped the sorceress out of her fixation.

‘Let go, you freak!’ she cried with panicked anger and jumped back, attempting to tear her elbow out of the monster’s grip.

It didn’t work. The grotesque impersonator held on with the desperation of an addict sensing a bad withdrawal. Its footing, however, was less firm. Pulled forward along with the sorceress, it toppled onto her, trapping the girl’s lower body under its mass. In a split second, Fujita was there. Grabbing onto the creature’s shoulders, he tried to lift it off, but to no avail – no longer firm, its body bent, stretched and slipped out of the boy’s fingers, like elastic, rubbery dough.

‘Get away from her!’ the sorcerer roared, abandoning his fruitless attempts and pointing his finger right at the monster’s head – his hands forming a “pistol”. ‘I’ve warned you!’

The creature ignored him. Like a slug, it crawled up, further burying Ebisu underneath itself, as coarse gravel sunk its teeth into the girl’s back and shoulders, reaching her skin even through cloth. Their faces evened, with the sorceress barely managing to hold the cross-eyed manifestation away with her one free hand. There was no time to lose. Fighting through shock that was still wringing his guts, Fujita channeled all his anger into his magic, and, somehow managing to steady his trembling hands, released a blast.

And yet, instead of a powerful jet of smoke, there was only a limp sputter that failed to even reach the target. The boy froze. How could he forget? He knew his powers were limited, but here, he was robbed even of those. Here, he had nothing.

‘Don’t just stand there!’ cried Ebisu, struggling against her opponent. ‘Get it off me!’

A panicked, yelpy crack in the girl’s voice pushed Fujita out of his stupor. He had to act – now. And there was only one more option.

‘Hold on, I’ll be right back!’ he hoarsely barked, dashing towards the bag he’d dropped.

Trembling and twitching, the doughy creature completely pinned Ebisu to the ground, constraining her body like a heavy, suffocating mold, and all the girl could do was keep pushing the shapeshifter’s revolting mug away. Under all this weight, she struggled to breathe. Her lungs burned, her ears started ringing, and, overpowering the girl’s faltering resistance, the cross-eye doppelganger pressed closer and closer to her face, to the point where she could feel its breath on her skin as it spoke. It carried that same watery smell from the underground maze – only, this time, it was much stronger, almost acrid.

‘Little mi~iss,’ the creature repeated luridly, ‘you came for me~e…?’

Tiny fireflies began coursing before Ebisu’s eyes, colors faded, and, in the final bid for reprieve, she grabbed the shapeshifter’s cheek and tried to pull its head away. The girl’s nails sunk deep into the rubbery flesh, as it deformed, contorting the repulsive face even further, but the head didn’t lift an inch. The skin stretched, baring the monster’s yellowed teeth all the way to the molars, letting more of its rancid breath escape. The creature’s disfigured lips convulsed as it tried to speak again, its jaw trembled, snapped open. Glistening, limp tongue rolled out of its mouth and landed on the sorceress’ cheek, slowly sliding down, like a thick drip of hot goo. The girl screamed.

Just a short distance away, Fujita was frantically loading silvery shells into the enchanted gun, and when that husky, stifled cry of all-enveloping terror reached his ears, the boy flinched. One shell slipped out of Fujita’s fingers, pinged off his shoe, skipped to the side, disappearing in the gravel. There was no time to search for it. There was no time to think and consider. The boy locked the gun and rushed back to where Ebisu now almost disappeared under the twitching blob.

Grabbing the misshapen assailant by its clumpy hair, young sorcerer jerked its head up with enough force to make the creature prop up on its hands. In sober mind, he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself having the strength for that. In sober mind, he wouldn’t have had it. Right now, he wasn’t even thinking. The sticky, hungering probes rushed back in, blanketing Fujita’s mind, but immediately recoiled, as if burned by fire. The monster’s face came into motion again, scrambling to reform into what it was before, but failing half-way – producing only a distorted mockery of Matsumura’s features. Its gurgling voice changed pitch, searching for the facsimile it started with.

‘Fuji~ita-kun… You ca~ame to get me OURGH…’ it choked, as the enraged sorcerer shoved the barrels of the gun into the creature’s contorting mouth.

‘BE GONE!!’

A thundering shot rang out through the ghost town, clapping back with an echo somewhere in the distance, as enchanted ordinance blew the creature’s head clean off, spraying the ground with writhing ichor. The shifting mass convulsed, stiffened and started falling, prompting the boy to give it a strong nudge to the side, so it wouldn’t collapse onto the girl trapped underneath. But it wasn’t yet over. Still caught in the grips of mind-numbing panic, with her eyes shut, young sorceress kept trying to defend herself against the already defeated foe, and, when Fujita knelt to help her snap out of it, she lashed out, landing another blow on his face, with enough force to bust his lip.

‘Get off me!’ she screamed, swinging at the unseen assailant. ‘Get off!’

This time, the boy didn’t reel back, nor did he feel angry for the painful strike. Finding a good moment, he managed to catch the girl’s flailing arms, restraining her hectic movement.

‘It’s over, Ebisu!’ he called out – agitated, but reassuring. ‘It’s dead.’

At the sound of Fujita’s voice, young sorceress finally stopped struggling and opened her eyes – slowly, distrustfully.

‘It’s gone,’ the boy repeated, letting go of his companion’s wrists. ‘We’d better be gone too.’

Bewildered, panting, Ebisu sat up on the ground – one of her feet still trapped under the limp mass lying by her side. With a bit of effort, she pulled it free, and, without even getting up, began kicking the dead creature with ferocious zeal.

‘Bloody…! Lowlife…! Scum…!’

No longer held together by whatever force animated it before, the lifeless body squelched and broke apart under the blows, turning into a soggy mound of soft, smelly mush. Meanwhile, assured of the girl’s safety, Fujita staggered off. Now that the adrenaline surge has run its course, his whole body felt feverish all over again. He returned to the dropped bag and, with shaking hands, shoved the soiled gun back in, numb to the idea of wiping it clean first.

‘Hey, I’ve dropped a shell somewhere around here,’ he called hoarsely for his companion’s aid. ‘Help me find it.’

A few steps away, having finished with her outburst, Ebisu got up on her feet, but the incinerating look she shot at Fujita left no room for doubt that helping him was the furthest thing from her agenda right now. A firestorm swelled in the girl’s chest while she wiped the glistening smear off her cheek.

‘You lousy, brainless-!!’

But the very next word got stuck in her throat, as weak, almost whispering voice snaked through the air.

‘Li~ittle mi~iss…’

Before she could even process it, the girl was already at Fujita’s side, glaring at the ravaged carcass on the ground. It remained motionless. But this wasn’t a hallucination – not an echo of lingering shock bouncing around in her skull. The rattled sorcerer heard the voice too. His knuckles went white as he squeezed the bag’s handles – eyes darting around. A quiet creak made both travelers jump and turn in the direction it came from – sickening chill crawling up their backs, despite the scorching heat. In the shaded sanctuary of a nearby building’s porch, a door slowly opened, revealing a pale circle of someone’s face, framed by black, clumpy hair. Its features danced in the half-dark, striving to look familiar, yet failing to even resemble natural. Doughy lips parted.

‘Bloody… lowlife. You came… for me~e…?’

Struggling to make sense of what he was seeing, Fujita glanced at the spot where he shot down the imposter, and cold sweat plastered his shirt to his back. Another inhuman figure already stood over the broken remains, like a scavenger over a carcass. Looking down on them with hungering expression, it sucked the air violently, as if seeking to absorb some kind of runoff. The hair on its head grew longer, took on a rusty red hue, stood up in defiant spikes – a burning torch of prideful superiority. The shapeshifter lifted its gaze, peering at the stupefied kids with faceted eyes. All around, more of its kind kept shambling out from every door and alleyway – filling the air with their watery stench, squinting at the light they’ve been hiding away from. Their circle was narrowing. A loud thwack sent young companions’ hearts up their throats when one of the creatures fell out of a nearby window in its single-minded drive. The deformed face lifted off the ground – small bits of gravel still embedded into the skin, smashed lips oozing cloudy liquid.

‘Likh-hl… mikh-h…’

The time for action was running out. Fujita saw that with chilling clarity.

‘I stood over there when I dropped the shell,’ he gestured at a spot, without taking his eyes off the approaching shapeshifters. ‘Do you see where-’

Before he could finish, Ebisu grabbed the boy’s wrist with an iron grip and dashed ahead – into an opening between the shambling figures, while there still was one. Approaching creatures reached out to them, calling out in frantic, discordant chorus – voices rising to a fervent cry when the outstretched arms grasped nothing but disturbed air. Their cries were in vain. Young magic-users fled, as fast as their legs would carry them – blinded by the wind, chased by the wailing of twice-damned.