A/N: This chapter is around 10k-ish, so please take it slow. It introduces all the plot lines that this arc features, plus I guess it's fitting for the first full-fledged chapter after a break to be hefty… but it's still a lot. So read it at a good pace!
The red sunrise streaked like a single thread across the horizon. The air was still cold from the night, but the wind carried specks of warmth that foreshadowed a hot day.
Arm perched against the balcony railing, Sanemi gazed absent-mindedly at the sleeping city. The skin on his bare chest peppered with goosebumps, but he didn't notice it.
His watch vibrated on his wrist, indicating a new hour. The hashira glanced down and, leisurely, giving the alarm several seconds to shrill its head off, pushed the button. His eyes lingered on the digital numbers, cramped in on the screen with the data and temperature meter. Five in the morning.
Sanemi folded his hands back together and exhaled through his nose. The back of his eyes hurt from the lack of sleep, but he couldn't let himself think about it. Today was going to be longer than usual because he had to decide what the hell to do with Genya.
Sanemi watched in disappointment how the sun dripped over the skyscrapers. He wanted just a few more moments of night to himself. The puddles of sun grew across the rooftops, and his mouth dropped into a scowl.
He checked his watch. Five o'five.
She should be here by now.
Turning around, Sanemi walked back into the building. His body loosened instinctually from the warmth inside. Finally giving in to the sense of discomfort nudging him for the past fifteen minutes, he rubbed his arms as his eyes searched the lobby. He found her right away.
Scrolling down disinterestedly through the news hologram on her watch, Shinobu sat in one of the white leather club chairs that were meant for visitors.
At the sound of the sliding balcony door, her eyes flickered upwards.
"Good morning, Shinazugawa-san."
Sanemi nodded as he pulled the door shut behind him.
"Morning."
Shinobu switched off the news and, leaning back, placed both of her arms on the handles of the chair.
"How did the rest of your yesterday go?"
"Shitty," Sanemi replied evenly. He shifted his weight onto his left leg and slipped his hands into his back pockets. It would've been more comfortable to sit down on the chair's handle next to her, but he wasn't in an abrasive enough mood to scoot off her hand. Besides, right now she sat like a queen.
"All I could think about was those traffickers. By the way, thanks for sending the report to Ubayashiki-sama."
"You're welcome." Shinobu straightened out along the chair's back, and Sanemi could imagine how a thousand little bones crackled in her spine. "I figured you would be on the field the entire day."
She turned her head towards the screen door at the end of the room.
"I wonder what Master will think about this whole thing."
"Yeah." Sanemi looked at the door with her. Ubayashiki-sama would one hundred percent bring up Genya during the meeting. The young man couldn't hold down the grimace, causing Shinobu to glimpse at him.
"Are you cold?"
Sanemi turned to her and raised his eyebrows with a sarcastic grin. "Me?"
The tightness in her lips relaxed, and, smiling, Shinobu looked down. Sanemi thought that he misheard, the sound was that soft. Several seconds later, though, and Sanemi understood that the young woman was laughing under her breath. His expression lost his bite, and Sanemi grinned with genuine benevolence.
The screen door slid open, and a thirteen year old boy stepped out.
"Father is waiting," Kiriya said quietly. Shinobu became serious instantly. Uncrossing her legs, the young doctor stood up and walked up to the screen. At the door frame, she nimbly slipped off her heels and disappeared into the room. Sanemi followed her. Stopping next to the screen, he kneeled down and in one quick movement untied the shoelaces. Placing his shoes next to Shinobu's heels, his gaze accidentally met with the boy's. The kid had a reserved, but grim expression. Sanemi looked away before awkwardness could break through and, stepping inside, closed the door behind him.
The shades were still drawn, and the only source of light was the faint glimmering through the slits. The smoke curled slowly off the incense stick standing in a simple burner next to the undone futon.
Shoulders hunched, a thin man sat inside the futon and listened to the report playing out in his ears. Sanemi walked noiselessly across the room and lowered down on his knees next to Shinobu. Neither hashira looked at each other. Sanemi bowed his head respectfully. The gossamer-like, elusive scent of incense wandered into his nostrils, but he could still smell the pus and blood.
Pale fingers wrapped around the headband, Ubayashiki took off the headphones. Sanemi felt goosebumps travel on the back of his neck when the blind eyes stopped at him.
"Acquiring demons and trafficking their organs…" the not quite awake, quiet voice rustled through the room.
"Strictly speaking, there is no clause prohibiting such action."
Sanemi watched Master silently, wondering how his train of thought would unravel. A deep wrinkle settled above the sick man's nose bridge. His cracked lips dropped into a frown.
"That doesn't mean that what he's doing isn't a threat to public safety."
Sanemi lowered his eyes down on the tatami floor. Genya nearly ended up as Zou's lab rat. The memory itched the old fear, and he nearly missed how Shinobu cleared her throat.
"Is something wrong, Master?"
The shadow from the incense stick shivered inside the holder. Sanemi followed its movements with his eyes. The fibers of the sticks blackened and curled down, scorched by the flame.
He could act enraged and bewildered in front of Shinobu, sure, but he actually had a pretty good idea on what was driving his little brother. He was home enough times to catch the mood.
"Zou's audacity unsettles me."
Ash crumbled from the rim of the incense stick and exploded into bits against the ceramic bottom. The wind hashira watched the dark specks float in the oil.
Take out, texts between patrols, occasional movie screening together weren't doing the job. Crap like this was far more frequent and pushed his brother away.
"He's a smart man. Whatever his excuses are, he must understand that the root of his actions is illegal."
Without warning, a frail hand reached out into Sanemi's field of vision. The young man blinked and stared silently at the sick man thoughtfully fixing the incense stick in the holder. He didn't realize how deep in thought he was. He eyed Shinobu. The young woman sat as still as a statue. Sanemi returned his gaze back to the blind man and ordered himself to focus.
"He's overly confident," Ubayashiki continued. "For someone of that type of mind, it cannot be attributed to sheer conceit."
The stick did not want to settle. Not a single emotion reflecting on his face, Ubayashiki picked up the burner and placed it on his lap. In a flash, the ugliness of his features was illuminated. Sanemi dug his fingers into his palm.
"You think there are other players in the game, Master?" Shinobu inquired quietly.
"Oh, I'm almost certain there are other players," Ubayashiki replied without lifting his head. He felt the incense holder up and down, ensuring that the stick was secure.
"Who?" Sanemi noticed how Shinobu glanced at him in surprise when he spoke up, but he kept his attention to Master.
"I don't know." Holding the burner by the rim, the thin fingers gingerly placed the burner back down. Ubayashiki straightened out and folded his hands on his lap. "They'll reveal themselves in due time as we pursue the case."
The light streamed through the shades, dulling the flame from the incense burner. As morning brightened the room, Sanemi could tell out the bags under Ubayashiki's eyes and the jutting bones underneath the yukata.
"No matter what loopholes Zou claims stand on his side, he cannot bypass the rule that has been established and accepted by society for centuries."
Ubayashiki lifted his gaze, and the uncertain lighting created a false glimmer of sight in his eyes.
"Demons must be eradicated."
For the first time, Sanemi felt his shoulders loosen slightly. He exhaled through his nose and looked at Shinobu. She met his eyes, and he saw that she was just as relieved as him.
"I'll issue a warrant for their arrest." Ubayashiki tightened the watch to the furthest adjustment hole. Satisfied that it wouldn't fall off his wrist, he began typing with unnerving accuracy. "Sanemi, Shinobu, you're to conduct it as soon as possible. Take fifteen to twenty demon slayers to expedite the process."
Sanemi straightened out. He already felt the inside of his knees tingling from the uncomfortable combination of folded legs and straight-laced trousers. The impatience to dive headfirst into it and forget it like a nightmare didn't help either. Ubayashiki switched off his watch, and, lowering his hand, raised his blind eyes to gaze at them. He, almost invisibly, smiled.
"Good luck, my children."
"Yes, Master."
Although the hashiras stood up in tandem, Shinobu was the first to turn around and walk towards the door. Like the first time, Sanemi easily let her in the front.
"Sanemi."
Even though his hand was already on the door frame, the wind hashira let go and turned around respectfully. Ubayashiki was facing him directly.
"I'll let you decide whether or not to keep Genya on the case."
He felt as if he was given a strong hit in the gut. Without letting a single muscle betray his emotions, Sanemi bowed.
"Yes, Master."
When he stepped out of the room, the first thing he did was reach for the shoes; the floor was cold, even through socks. In the corner of his vision, he saw Kiriya pass him by into the room. The boy closed the door, and his voice resounded quietly behind the screen.
Not wanting to eavesdrop, Sanemi picked up his shoes and made his way to the closest club chair. Sitting down, he bent over and pulled aside the shoe's tongue.
"The formalization of the warrant should take an hour and a half at most." Shinobu stopped next to him. He could feel her thoughtful gaze drill the top of his head. "Demon slayers have priority."
"Sounds good." One foot done, Sanemi moved on to the other one. Slipping his index finger underneath, he loosened the laces with a single pull. To be honest, he wasn't worried about the upcoming operation. "You going to the hospital?"
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
He stood up, and they started down the hallway. The sun poured in through the windows, but the building was still sleeping. Even the air seemed more peaceful.
"I was thinking of dropping by and napping there for a bit," Sanemi rubbed the back of his neck. "You always have some cots available, right?"
"Oh yeah."
They walked up to the elevator, and Shinobu pressed the button. The young doctor turned around and, crossing her hands on her chest, leaned against the wall. She looked at him.
"What do you think of Master's decision?"
Sanemi shrugged with a second-long delay; at first, he thought that she was referring to Genya, and he had no good answer for that. "I support it. See?" He added, giving her a pointed stare. "Not that complicated."
Shinobu sighed and her head on the wall.
"I wish it was that simple. We'll have to mobilize the crime scene investigation team… and inform Yague-san about the situation… "
Sanemi could feel the stress dripping off of her, and he didn't want to be part of it.
"I'll shoot a message to the csi people," he cut her off. "And don't even try bothering Yague, the day doesn't start for lawyers until nine."
Shinobu smiled faintly.
"Keeping me grounded?"
Sanemi scoffed as the elevator doors dinged open. "Keeping myself sane," he said with emphasis as he strode into the cabin. Shinobu chuckled as she followed him; inside, she took up the same position as she did while she was waiting. Sanemi leaned over the buttons.
"Which floor are we going to?"
"Seventeen," he heard her reply. The wind hashira pressed the right key and, stepping away, leaned on the wall across from her.
Because they, apart from Ubayashiki-sama and his son, were probably the only people awake in the headquarters, the elevator rumbled down undisturbed. Arms wrapped around her elbows, Shinobu waited with her eyes closed. Sanemi couldn't blame her. After all, he was the one who'll be sleeping his ass off.
His eyes traveled to the floor, the most interesting object in this cramped space that wouldn't distract him from his thoughts.
The most objective decision was to keep Genya on the case. The kid did infiltrate and gather information about the organization, however stupidly he went about it. Ubayashiki-sama was taking pity by offering them another option.
The back of his head pressed against the elevator wall.
He was always against special treatment, but that attitude really did sting…
A light whistle caught his ears. Sanemi glanced up and saw that Shinobu's head was dropping slightly to the side. The wind hashira smirked and, stepping away from the wall, walked over to her.
He lowered her head onto his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her frame in case she started to slip. The young doctor stirred, but did not wake up, hiding her face in his jacket. Tucking his hands into his pockets, Sanemi stared at the ceiling.
Maybe Shinobu had something smart to say about the situation. She raised the girls that helped her out in the hospital pretty well, not to mention Kanao.
Sanemi looked down at the woman sleeping on his shoulder. Without her mind awake to build a mask, she seemed more open and at peace. Something squeezed Sanemi's chest, and he looked away. Deep down, Shinobu probably still saw herself as the little sister.
The wind hashira sighed and took his hand from his pocket. Shifting his wrist so that he doesn't disturb the woman, he typed wearily into his watch.
Genya. You're on the case.
Sanemi
The candy bar and juice bottle rattled with a loud thud against the plastic lid. Upon hearing the sound, Genya turned around and kneeled down to pick up the snacks. He didn't hurry; except him, no one else was at the vending machine.
Uncorking the cap with his teeth, the demon slayer started down the white, pristine hospital balcony. As if on cue, a drone bumbled up to his head and began swirling around in frantic worry.
"No eating in the hallways! Please return to your room. No eating in the hallways! Please retur—"
Frowning into the bottle, Genya socked the drone unceremoniously into the glass eye. Several patients and nurses who were standing nearby jolted and glimpsed over their shoulders in clear wariness. The drone shrilled and, somersaulting dramatically in the air, bobbled away from the demon slayer.
"How mean! How mean! How mean…." The gargled, digitized sobs faded gradually in the distance as the drone scurried away. Smirking, Genya shook his head and gulped from the bottle. The synthetic liquid dissolved in his mouth with a fizzing, sour flavor.
Summer was in full swing, and the city was sweltering. At these times, Genya was glad to be at the hospital with a strong conditioning system designed to brush the heat and bacteria out of the hallways. It was nowhere near the natural, morgueish chill of the Lower Level, but it was something.
Capping the bottle and tucking it under his armpit, Genya focused on the candy bar. The wrap kept on slipping in his fingers, but after a short struggle, he managed to tear it apart. Gladly giving in to the grumbling of his stomach, the demon slayer dove into the candy. Because of the dumb health standard that the hospital kept up, it was practically tasteless, but the desire to chew on something was greater.
There was a small bunch of people in front of the elevator. Walking up, Genya glimpsed up at the indicator board. The cabin was dilly-dallying thirty floors above. The young man sighed and, shoving the sprays and paper towels out of the way, propped his elbow on the janitor's cleaning cart. The robot eyed him in displeasure, but didn't say anything. Unconcerned, the demon slayer proceeded to pull down the wrap further down the bar.
Several minutes passed in strained silence, those waiting wandering aimlessly in front of the elevator and avoiding eye contact. The hospital rumbled around them in a habitual hum full of beeping, footsteps, and quick exchanges.
"Found 'ya!"
Without warning, a cloud of three, four and five-year-olds ran out into the flight. Genya staggered in surprise, and his elbow slipped. The cart rolled back on impact, causing the tightly-packed bottles to rattle with a muffled, but menacing ring. Shooting an apologetic glance at the janitor, the young man squatted down to confront the unforeseen obstacle eye-to-eye.
"Whassup, pipsqueaks?"
The orphans giggled uncontrollably. Their round, bead-like eyes darted in admiration at his partly shaved, partly luscious head. The younger ones, with less sense and purpose than the older ones, twirled the yellow tips of his hair on their fingers and clung to his clothes. The older ones were squinting with devilish grins splayed over their faces.
"M'share the candy, eh?" One of the boys drawled, hands hidden behind his back and twirling from side to side. Genya furrowed his eyebrows and glared.
"No. Ow," he winced as a little girl, fingers tangled in his hair, got too tired of extricating them and simply yanked her hand. He plucked her fingers out and sat her down on his knee. "Go buy it yourself," he tossed back to the boys.
"Aw, c'mon, why does a big gorilla like you even need a candy bar?" Another one argued, crossing his arms on his chest.
"This big gorilla…" Genya made out through his teeth, but never finished the sentence as he shooed curious fingers away from his holsters. A small three year old glanced up at him with a hopeful expression.
"Can I have some bullets?"
"Those ain't toys," the demon slayer cut him off and looked at the boys waiting impatiently in front of him. "Fine," he conceded, handing over the bar. "I've no clue how you're going to share such a tiny piece, but here ya go. You can take this crap too," Genya added, turning carefully on his heels to some of the four year olds. He nodded to them.
"Lift up your hands."
The elevator chimed behind him. Genya glimpsed quickly over his shoulder and saw the people shuffling slowly in. The man who walked in first had his arm stretched out courteously across the doors.
The demon slayer whirled around and raised the juice bottle.
"Ready?"
Arms lifted in the air and palms turned flat, the little kids shook their heads dutifully, faces grave in concentration. Genya lowered the fat bottle carefully on their palms, and the kids ran away in a single file line like ants carrying a leaf.
"Young man," the man called out from the elevator. He was getting tired of holding the door.
"Yes, comin'!" Genya quickly stood up, knees squeaking pathetically, and knocked the elder boy lightly on the forehead. "Don't get in trouble, kiddo."
"Genya-kun, something fell from your pocket," a girl next to him worried. She was holding a small piece of paper. Recognition, followed by a wave of dread, passed over the demon slayer.
"Thanks, Mina," he took the paper and ruffled her hair. Crumpling it in his hands, he ran towards the elevator, on his way turning around and waving to the orphans.
"See y'a around!"
The children waved and shouted something, but the closing doors sliced off their voices.
"Floor?"
Genya didn't answer right away, shuffling his way to the back wall of the elevator. There weren't many people, and they let him through without a problem. He noticed several of them giving him sideways glances, probably because of his interaction with the orphans.
"Ground," Genya shrugged with a cool flair, doing his best to ignore those looks. Turning around, the demon slayer slouched against the wall and glanced up at the screen. "Sector ten."
The elevator didn't ask any more questions, and with a mechanical exhale, started upwards.
The janitor trolley took up most of the space. In for a long ride, the passengers were either on their watches or staring absently around. All had their backs towards Genya. Assured that he wasn't the source of anyone's attention, the demon slayer quietly unfolded the piece of paper.
Public intercom or computer. No personal watches. +8123-575-3649
The contagious easiness that the kids had stirred faded slowly the longer he gazed at the piece of paper that Kafka wrote to him in a hurry. Genya licked his lips automatically. He should transcribe it somewhere, otherwise he'll lose it for real. Anything electronic can be hacked, the inner voice reminded him. If Sanemi ever gets suspicious—
He won't. Genya crushed the paper in his fist. He reclined loudly against the wall and slid down until he was squatting, arms dangling off his knees.
"Shit…" He caught how the people around him shifted, some stepping from one foot to another, some repositioning their hands. None of them looked back, but he could feel their growing wariness. It was a good reaction, the one he needed.
His fingers kneaded the paper, and he couldn't help but glimpse at it. Half an hour ago he received a message from the Sanemi that they'll arrest the organizers; and about five minutes ago, another message from Kanzaburo informed him to be at the site. Genya's eyes darted away. If things seem critical, then I'm giving it over, he promised himself. His arms felt stiff. They probably just want his presence because he happened to be there, though, so it shouldn't be a problem.
"Ground, sector ten."
"Finally," Genya said loudly, and the air pushed against the lump in his throat that had formed while he didn't notice. The few people that were left in the elevator moved silently out of his way, and he walked out with a swagger.
The entire ground floor in the Kaunan District was reserved for medicine and equipment storage. Shivering from the low temperature, Genya made his way quickly through the neon-lit hallways. His eyes darted around the metal plated, locked storage compartments. Images of psychos with knives jumping out from the corner involuntarily came to mind. His breath came out as a small cloud, and the demon slayer hastened his pace.
When the exit door appeared in view, he couldn't help but be relieved. He eagerly reached out for the knob, and a light zap suddenly singed his fingers. A hologram shimmered in front of him, and a genderless voice resounded somewhere above his head.
"You are entering the Lower Level. Please show identification."
"Fucking hell," Genya muttered, shaking his injured hand to cool off the burn fingers and simultaneously lifting up the wrist with his demon slayer ID. He wasn't even sure why this preclearance was in place since all the convicts were chipped anyway. So like any bureaucratic vestige - a pain in the ass.
"Please be safe."
"Screw yourself," Genya retorted crossly and yanked open the exit door.
Hot air and the stinging odor of chemicals blew into his face. Shutting the door with his foot, the demon slayer scrunched his watering eyes and covered his nose with his jacket. Trying not to breathe too much, he glimpsed to the side. A waste pipe slushed right next to the building. That explains it.
The demon slayer descended the stairs in one large step, the moist ground squashing under his sneakers when he landed, and jogged down the wasteland. Although just the thought of facing the hashiras — worse, the fucking organizers — made him break in nervous sweat, he didn't want to be late.
When the trash piles became more familiar, Genya slowed down his pace. He lowered the jacket from his nose and inhaled thinly. His eyes lingered on a broken medical robot with a shit ton of syringes lying around. Yeah, he definitely saw that guy last time he was here. That means he's close.
Genya inhaled unevenly and jerked his jacket down as if to straighten out any folds. He squared his shoulders and, in a jerked motion, swiped down his hair tuft. The further he walked, the clearer and louder the distant hum became until it molded into familiar voices.
"—Next!"
His body, trained not to react at the smallest of sounds, kept him from being outwardly surprised, but a shiver ran up and down his spine. He could tell by the tone what was going on. Trying to look natural although no one was watching him, Genya tucked the piece of paper carefully into the cuff of his sleeve. He then swallowed, bringing some moisture into his mouth, and hunching underneath a half-collapsed pipe, walked into the clearing. At the last second, his thumb swiped against the fasteners of his belt, loosening the holsters.
"Genya?"
The light flickered in the Crow's lenses revealed an ever slightly amused expression. It unsettled him; but he only shrugged.
"Yeah?"
The clearing was transformed completely. The entire building was encircled by demon slayers. Security drones scurried around, sirens noiselessly flashing red. Every three seconds, a person in a gas mask stepped out. Sometimes, they would toss a small knife or a gun on the dirt and, lifting their hands up, staggered through the column of demon slayers stationed next to the door towards a transport cruiser parked a few feet away. Arms crossed over his chest, Kanzaburo leaned on the fat tire of the cruiser and watched the procession.
"Firearms?" Genya asked, walking up to the Crow and eyeing the machine guns that the demon slayers were holding.
"As you can tell. Not very ethical to slice any potential deserters in pieces."
"Next!" Sanemi barked, standing next to the door entrance and patting the exiting organizers down before shoving them forward. "Weapons on the ground, hands in the air!"
Shinobu stood a few feet away, hands locked tightly around her elbows that she had crossed on her chest. She didn't notice the demon slayer.
The Crow shifted slightly, giving Genya space next to the tire, and he reclined tensely. His eyes drilled every single trafficker, unable to shake off the fear that they'll make a run for it, and every single time they disappeared in the cruiser, felt a dizzying haze of relief.
Did Kafka walk out already, or was she still inside?
The thought made Genya jolt inside, and he tilted his head slightly, trying to see inside of the cruiser. As if - Kanzaburo stood in front of the ramp, blocking most of the view. Turning around, Genya returned his gaze back to the procession, but now he was poorly focused, trying to figure out a way to ask Kanzaburo without him understanding.
"How long ago did they start?" He asked off-handedly, pretending not to actually care about the question. The Crow looked down on his watch.
"About ten minutes ago. You're not that late, kid."
Genya nodded, feigning thoughtfulness, while his brain feverishly calculated the possibility of Kafka still being inside. He breathed in, numbers crumbling at the very first step, and the toxins prickled the inside of his nose.
An organizer walking slowly up the ramp suddenly made an unclear movement to the side. In a flash, the Crow jerked forward and, grabbing the man by the shoulder, pushed him roughly towards the cruiser.
"Your way is straight, mister," he snapped loudly. Tearing his eyes away from the exchange, Genya looked back at the entrance and felt his breath stop inside his chest.
Tossing a scalpel on the ground, Kafka placed her hands leisurely behind her head and straightened out. Her eyes met Genya's.
It jerked inside the demon slayer's gut. A sudden, paranoid thought rose in his mind, and his jaw went numb from the realization. What if Kafka reveals that he has demonic red blood cells when the hashiras start a case against Zou?
The nurse lowered her eyes passively to the ground and started walking. Gripping his holsters to quiet down the shaking until his knuckles protruded through his skin, Genya forced himself not to look at her. His head felt hot from the rushing blood.
… No, she wouldn't. She said it was between them, and an investigation shouldn't trigger any retaliation from her part. Genya felt as if there was cotton in his mouth, lumpy and provoking uneasiness from his intestines. In a shot, he realized that he never considered that possibility because he somehow assumed that the investigation would fail.
His throat clasped, and his stupidity divulged in all its form before his eyes. How the hell did he come to that conclusion?
A hand touched his shoulder, and Genya jolted from suddenness. Kanzaburo, concerned, looked at him.
"What's wrong, kid? You're pale."
At that exact moment the Crow asked, Kafka passed the final two demon slayers and ascended up the ramp. She was definitely within earshot. The demon slayer's stomach dropped, and he didn't even find the right words in the initial moments. Mixed up versions of an excuse flashed in his head, and under the Crow's inquisitive expression, he completely lost his train of thought.
"Toxins. And I slept poorly. Besides all of this," he rambled on autopilot. Genya cleared his throat, painfully aware that he sounded anything but convincing. "I'm not used to this," he added hastily.
He couldn't help himself, and his eyes darted behind the Crow's shoulder. Kafka had paused on the ramp, and her head was tilted slightly in their direction. Her eyes shone in curiosity, and Genya shrinked inside.
"… are you listening? Earth to Genya…"
The nurse stepped inside the cruiser, and the demon slayer willed himself to look at the Crow. Kanzaburo sighed and released his shoulder.
"I get you, kid. These kinds of scenarios are rare even for the hashiras, let alone you guys." The old man lifted his mask and massaged his face. "And I especially don't understand why your brother kept you on the case."
Genya remained silent. Even though the last thing he wanted was to be here, he couldn't help but bristle defensively at the attack on his brother. His gaze traveled to where the wind hashira was. Sanemi was patting down a man in a black trench coat and a gas mask that covered the entire head.
Maybe this was his brother's way of giving him a second chance. If he didn't screw this up, he can make up for the mess he'd created. The demon slayer clenched his teeth. Making up begins with telling the hashiras about the red blood cells and Kafka's offer, an inner voice whispered hauntingly in his mind.
When the man in the full-head gas mask stepped forward, Shinobu turned around. When she saw Genya, the dryness in her face smoothed into surprise.
"Genya-kun?" Looking down at the ground to avoid tripping in the heels, arms still crossed over her chest, the insect hashira walked over to them. Stopping, she smiled, and Genya felt a flush of embarrassment and, just a little bit, pride; he was happy to be the source of easiness for the hashira.
"When did you get here?"
Before the demon slayer had a chance to reply, the man in the gas mask leveled up with them. Hand on the hilt, Sanemi followed him. His features were scrunched.
"This is the last one," the wind hashira informed them sourly. Genya saw how whatever glimpse of respite that flickered on Shinobu's face disappeared in an instant.
"How many people work for you?" She asked coldly. The man in the mask turned politely to her.
"Thirty-seven."
"We're missing four," Kanzaburo said emotionlessly. The loosened fasteners came handy now; looking down, Genya pretended to be preoccupied with tightening them as he suppressed a shiver. The Crow was counting next to him, and he didn't even notice.
"Reiki and S-34" — the man in the mask pronounced it as Sanshi — "left for demon hunting. If they don't come back by tomorrow evening, I assume they've been killed. Momoshiki is doing house runs right now, he should be done in two hours or so. The fourth one is Subaru, you know him." The organizer shrugged. "He's off delivering packages."
"To whom and to where?" Sanemi's lips rose into a snarl, but Shinobu caught him by the arm.
"That can wait until interrogation," she said quietly. The fasteners were frustratingly simple to fix. Genya pulled for a second more than necessary and dared to look up. The man in the mask was climbing into the cruiser; Kanzaburo followed him. Once inside, he turned around and motioned with his hand to the hashiras.
"First part done." His eyes glimmered behind the lenses. "I'll see that they arrive in one piece to the detention center."
"Thank you," Shinobu said tightly. Sanemi nodded. Feeling as if he didn't fit into the picture, Genya kept his gaze to the side. The Crow pulled up the ramp and locked the hatch. The lights of the cruiser ignited.
The ground trembled from the force of the engine, and hot exhaust enveloped Genya's legs. Hair flying backwards, the demon slayer squinted as he watched the cruiser rise into the sky. Slanting his eyes, he looked at the hashiras. Sanemi's jacket was flapping at his sides, and Shinobu's coat billowed behind her back, but both of them seemed like statues.
When the sound of the cruiser faded into the distance, Shinobu turned around to the demon slayer. Her coat was slightly wrinkled at her shoulders, air bubbles preventing it from settling fully down. Because of the height difference, her forehead was right below him. The concealer cracked a little where the faint wrinkles caved in. Genya stared at them. She's only two years older than him.
"Genya-san?"
"Sorry, what?" He leaned down slightly, feeling hot for zoning out. Shinobu gave a breathless laugh.
"So high up you can't hear me?"
"Chop him in half," Sanemi commented dryly, then turned around and walked towards the security drones. They huddled around him, expecting his orders. Following him with his eyes, Genya fought the urge to pull his neck into his shoulders. Shinobu also glanced at the wind hashira, although a different expression reflected in her gaze.
"We're going to have a rotating vigil around their base, especially since four of them are missing." Her eyes returned back to the demon slayer. "Since you're informed about the details of the case, you can notice oddities that others may not."
It felt as if she put a pressure on his spine. Genya bowed. "Yes, ma'am."
"It goes without saying that you shouldn't discuss the case with your colleagues, no matter how good the relations are."
Genya bowed further. "Yes, ma'am."
Shinobu was silent for a moment; then, the demon slayer heard a quiet chuckle.
"You're bowing, and you're still taller than me."
Genya's eyes shot up, and he caught the momentary, mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Without another word, the insect hashira swiveled on her heels and started towards her colleague. Straightening out, Genya followed her with his eyes. Without anyone watching him anymore, his hand crept upwards until he felt the tip of the paper; noiselessly, he pushed it up, hiding it from view completely.
Coiled on the bed, the snake bobbed his head drowsily. When the mattress dipped next to him, the animal opened his mouth lazily, flashing thin fangs. He whisked his tail, then hid completely into the coils.
Stroking Kaburamaru with the side of his thumb, Obanai gazed at the sleeping woman. Behind the shut curtains blocking out the sun, the window was open, and the warm breeze shuffled the light strands of her hair. From time to time, incoherent murmurs escaped her lips.
The heart rate line traveled steadily across the screen. The night table was cleared of the various pills and flasks; now, only a bottle with syrup stood in their place. The clear tubes were wrapped around the IV pole, and an empty blood sack dangled below.
In a few days, Mitsu will be released, and their lives will resume like usual. Given the fact that it practically all but disappeared, AB-4527 would be reduced to the same status as the Moons. If spotted, engage — but if not, don't seek out. That approach checked out too, since the demon used to be, at least according to Rengoku, one of them.
Kaburamaru poked his head out and jabbed the man's hand. The mismatched eyes lowered down absently, and after a moment, the finger brushed the snake's head. Unraveling, Kaburamaru slid down and around the hashira's arm. Obanai felt it being squeezed in a light, reassuring gesture. Although the rational part of his mind told him to appreciate his friend's support, he remained motionless.
He still felt the weight of Mitsuri's body in his hands when he carried her through the demolished mall. With her consciousness suspended, she had transformed into a sack of skin filled with organs and fluids.
Mitsuri stirred restlessly, and her features scrunched in pain. His jumbled state of mind cleared instantly.
Mattress squeaking, Obanai moved down the bed and leaned over her. Kaburamaru, forced to climb rapidly onto the hashira's shoulders, hissed. A barely audible hush traveled through the room. Fingers caressing her curls, Obanai kissed her forehead lightly. His soundless whispers warmed her ear, scars catching on her skin when he brought his face up close.
When the snake hashira pulled away, he saw green eyes, blurry from sleep, gazing at him through half-stuck eyelashes.
"Oba…nai…" her voice was very weak, and he could tell that she's going to fall asleep again. Obanai kissed the corner of her lips and brushed his nose against her cheek.
"I'm here, Mitsu," he whispered. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, uncoordinated. Understanding her intention, the snake hashira slipped his hand into hers. The pulses in their thumbs echoed against each other.
Gradually, her breathing evened out. Eyes still partly open, Mitsuri tilted her head away from him. Obanai waited for her sleep to deepen, then carefully disconnected their fingers. Trying not to produce any accidental movements that could wake her up, the snake hashira sat up.
The Corps' methodology aimed to minimize losses and wasted energy. Given the current circumstances, he was doing the exact opposite. After the fiasco, the leads they had on AB-4527 were equivalent to those they had on any demon in the Lower Level.
Perching his elbows into his knees, Obanai dropped his head into his hands. He squeezed his palms into his eyes, and the prosthetic eyeball wobbled under the pressure.
The second encounter with Mitsuri wasn't because the demon wanted something from her, or because she did something. It was a mockery.
But even with all of that, the demon probably didn't care which hashira to target, as long as he stayed consistent. Obanai didn't see much incentive for AB-4527 to deviate from the choice of victim if he wanted to make another point.
The snake hashira leaned back on his arms and stared at the ceiling. The plasterboard could not give him any answers. His heart and gut fused together, and he wasn't sure where the trembling came from. However, the longer he gazed at it, the more it sucked out the hollowness in his mind when his brain short-circuited from the simple thought of Mitsu's death.
The sleepy sniffs transitioned into muted wheezes. Obanai turned his head and saw that Mitsuri had tucked her nose into the blanket. Reaching over, he pulled the blanket down so that it would be easier for her to breathe.
A quiet knock disturbed the seclusion, and a nurse with two butterfly clips peeked into the room. She looked around and, noticing the snake hashira, motioned with her head. Obanai understood her hint perfectly and stood up. He slipped his mask from his chin to his mouth.
In the doorway, Obanai glanced over his shoulder. Long hair scattered on the pillow, Mitsuri lay with her back towards him. The snake hashira turned around and stepped out. The nurse bowed and slipped past him, closing behind her.
The noon sun hung like a bright disk above the glass ceiling of the hospital. Walking aimlessly down the hallway, Obanai kept his eyes angled towards the floor. He didn't have anywhere particular to go; his shift started in two hours, and he didn't want to go back to the empty apartment.
Kaburamaru nudged him slightly in the cheek, and the snake hashira glimpsed where his friend was urging him to. His pace slowed down, before coming to a complete stop.
Grasping on the railing of the central staircase, Kyojuro made his way carefully down the steps. Aided only by his left hand, each motion was accompanied with great difficulty. His figure swayed clumsily, and Obanai bit his lip to keep himself from wincing. Embarrassment on behalf of his colleague made him recoil, but as if drawn by a magnet, he didn't look away.
Kyojuro was so strong. So righteously principled - not like him, who caused demon slayers to roll their eyes whenever he would remind them of the rules. Even when Obanai tried to wedge him out of the case, the flame hashira was still the one to engage the demon in the end — and when Kyojuro stumbled, gleeful satisfaction darted through his heart.
Obanai dug his fingers into his palm. He was a despicable human.
The snake hashira noiselessly jogged down the steps and when his colleague faltered again, placed a hand on the latter's shoulder.
"Watch your—"
Kyojuro flinched and whirled around. Obanai remained standing there with a hovering hand. The wariness on the flame hashira's face melted wearily into relief.
"Oh, it's you." He forced a smile. "I must be losing my touch because I didn't hear you coming at all."
Obanai lowered his hand silently. He eyed the bags under Kyojuro's eyes and the dry lips, cracking from prescription medicine. His fingers drove further.
"How are your wounds?"
Kyojuro lifted the sling slightly. "The arm is still healing. But the wheelchair's gone," he added — and before Obanai could think of a follow up, asked, looking straight in the snake hashira's eyes.
"Were you checking on Kanroji-san?"
Obanai stilled. He gazed at the flame hashira, but no matter how much he searched, all he saw was genuine concern and seriousness. He tossed his head slightly and, striding past the colleague, rested his elbows on the railing.
"Yeah. She's healthy." His eyes wandered on the floors below. From up here, he could see the robot nurses scurrying from ward to ward as they did their rounds. Hands lying loose, his fingers detached slowly from his palm. Reddish indentations were left in the skin.
Kyojuro leaned next to him, but faced the other direction. Obanai glimpsed at him; the flame hashira had thrown his head back and, squinting, now gazed at the ceiling.
"Tomioka is being released today… at this rate, I'll be the only one left."
"Your injuries are the heaviest," Obanai countered, feeling a contradictory urge to defend his friend. Kyojuro lowered his head and chuckled.
"I don't like sitting with nothing to do."
The smile wavered on his lips, and Obanai noticed how the merriment fades from his eyes. He didn't reply, knowing exactly what the man next to him was thinking.
"What did Master decide about the winged demon?"
Obanai lingered a moment, patting Kaburamaru both to stall time and loosen the snake's grip; resisting gravity, the animal had curled tighter around his neck. Only then did the snake hashira regard his colleague.
Kyojuro was looking at him patiently. The earnestness in his expression made Obanai feel even more guilty than he already was.
"Nothing. No, not quite," Obanai backtracked. He felt uncomfortable criticizing Master openly. "A formal investigation has been called off. If he appears, we chase him, and if not…"
"We continue with our other duties," Kyojuro finished for him and looked away. The snake hashira watched how his forehead wrinkled, lips pressing into a thin line as if he was trying to formulate a thought, but kept on failing. Obanai clenched his jaw slightly.
"I intend to pursue the demon, no matter what," he said almost defiantly, answering to the unspoken question. The flame hashira's expression didn't change, but the hand snuggled in the sling compressed into a fist.
"How?" Kyojuro asked quietly. "We've lost all of our leads."
The snake hashira chewed his lip, and the mask rumpled.
"I don't know."
Someone must have walked past them because the railing trembled slightly under his arms. Slouching, Obanai observed how Kyojuro took in a deep breath and cleared his throat. He could see the frustration building up his friend's expression.
"Are you planning to do it alone?" Kyojuro asked finally.
"No, I'm going to ask permission from the flame hashira," Obanai replied sourly without dropping his gaze. The man next to him flinched, and the snake hashira saw how tension rolled over his entire body. Obanai sighed and looked away.
"Calm down. The permission is for joining forces, not division." The admittance made his ego shrivel, and he instantly felt exposed. Kyojuro wrinkled his eyebrows.
"What?"
Obanai squeezed his teeth together. He hoped that his convoluted way would save him from embarrassment, but he knew that he couldn't get away from facing the truth.
"One hashira isn't enough to handle AB-4527. I want to work together." His lips were nearly 's eyes widened, and Obanai bristled. Without another word, he lifted up from the railing and started down the stairs.
A hand caught him firmly by the elbow. Grimacing, Obanai looked around reluctantly. The relief that reflected in Kyojuro's face surprised him.
"Thank you."
Obanai stared at the flame hashira. After a moment, he smirked.
"For what?"
The tips of Kyojuro's eyes wrinkled in hilarity. He let go of the snake hashira's elbow, and Obanai, nodding one last time, turned around. In the bottom of his heart, he knew that Kyojuro would agree. Despite his unshatterable principles and endless reasonings, the flame hashira would agree to search meticulously for a demon outside prescribed hours for one person only. The latter probably never realized it; even now, she was blissfully asleep. Walking down the stairs, Obanai wondered what could have been different if he was a bit less active, if Kyojuro was a bit more certain, and both of them not as respectful of each other.
The artificial light splashed across the dark water. Nezuko played it among her fingers, watching how it shimmered on the droplets of water. It was cool, with a frigidity hinting on the temperature drops as the pipes traveled down all the skyscrapers. The demon girl turned her palm thoughtfully, and a little waterfall cascaded off her knuckles.
The higher pitches of the synthesized fiddles and guitars penetrated the animated rumbling of the crowd. Her ears picked up the various conversations: construction workers discussing the new machine that the administration brought, traders comparing profits, a woman answering a phone call—
Something slimy pecked at her skin, and Nezuko yanked her hand out. Water splashed over her overalls and the ground. The demon girl heard the nearby chatter growing quieter as people looked around, and her ears pinked from embarrassment. Scrubbing her hand self-consciously, Nezuko peered into the murky water. What was it that caught her?
A large, gray eel swam lazily through the water, the tip of its tail grazing the surface. Nezuko hugged herself by the legs and gazed at the meandering animal. Gradually, the bustling receded into the background, and the periphery vision blurred.
A fish might bite off your finger. It'll regrow, of course, but isn't it nasty if some tadpole is chewing you for breakfast?
Her hand reached out slowly, hesitantly. Her fingers closed one by one until only her index finger remained extended. Eyes wide and lips pursed, Nezuko paused, then submerged her finger slowly into the water.
It's been two weeks, and she hasn't seen or heard anything about Rubikku. Part of her was relieved and prayed that everything stays that way. Another part was delusional and kept telling herself that two weeks will turn into a month, which will turn into several months, and then everything would go back to normal. Her finger twitched. The eel, attention caught by the disturbance, turned its head around.
Nezuko stared straight through the water, not really registering how the eel swims up closer and coils around her finger. Rubikku, cold and unreadable, stood in front of her eyes. She could not associate him with the robot. She should've killed him. The acidic linger of nausea crept into her nostrils.
Her skin tingled, and Nezuko lowered her gaze. The eel had bitten on her finger; although, it was already curling away, finding her distasteful. The demon girl lifted her finger from the water. The specks of blood were evaporating, and the tiny holes from the animal's teeth had already pulled taut.
Nezuko lowered her hand onto her sneaker, the water dampening the cloth a little. She both wanted and didn't want to see him
"Nezuko-chan?" A warm hand touched her shoulder. Nezuko glanced over and saw Zenitsu leaning over her. The young man gazed down at her.
"They called our table. Let's go?"
Nezuko nodded and took his hand. He pulled her up effortlessly and, without letting go, walked with her towards the crowd.
"Did you put it in the river or something? Excuse me," he apologized as they inadvertently bumped into people. Gripping onto him, Nezuko scratched her cheek sheepishly. Zenitsu glanced over his shoulder, and she saw his eyes sparkle.
Nezuko hunched in a familiar motion as they squeezed into the stuffed, low-ceiling tavern with walls made of bolted scraps of metal and loose tables. The place was packed, and the smell of alcohol and cheap meat was so strong that it hit the demon girl in the head. Her feet were already discoordinated, numb from crouching too long, which really didn't help in worming between human bodies. Her throat went dry. She clung onto Zenitsu's hand, but as he himself forced his way through, her elbow got wedged into an uncomfortable position.
"Here we are." She barely heard him over the noise. Nezuko felt herself being pulled out of the mass. The demon girl held her breath until she stumbled out to a tall table next to the wall with two high-perched chairs. Nezuko let go of Zenitsu in relief and scrambled onto one of the chairs. She stretched her arms forward like a cat and wiggled her fingers to return circulation.
"I wonder why it's so crowded today," Zenitsu mused as he lifted himself up on the chair. Nezuko rolled her eyes, meaning to combine the reasons of it being a Friday, an evening, and a relatively peaceful afternoon all in one, and snuggled her nose into the tablet. She went straight to the drink section and, after debating if she should experiment today, decided to play safe. Her nail caught onto the cracks in the broken screen.
"What are you going to order?" She didn't bother typing it out; as she turned the tablet towards Zenitsu, she simply pointed at the menu, then him. Zenitsu took the tablet and rubbed his chin.
"Hm, I don't know…" Nezuko watched him raise his eyebrows and squint at the screen. "Maybe the miso salmon… or the chicken curry…" his scrolling became more invigorated as he let himself loose. "Look, they have the seafood curry today, maybe I'll go for that… let's see if I have the money for it…"
Nezuko plopped her chin onto her palm and watched the demon slayer with a half snobby, half purposefully indifferent expression. The names sounded very appetizing, and Zenitsu was failing at playing tactfully today. Nezuko was about to tap on the table and pout when her stomach rumbled. Her nail froze a millimeter away from the wooden surface. Zenitsu, too busy scouring the menu, didn't notice. Slowly, Nezuko pulled her hand back into her lap. After another moment, she wrapped her arm around her stomach to subdue the growling.
Her fantasies about food must have done it. The hunger felt the same as when she was a human, but what she was craving for was different. She didn't know that for a fact, but she didn't want to find out.
Nezuko swallowed and looked down on the table. Avoid all contact, act normal, and the urge will go away. They never lasted long anyway.
"Nezuko-chan?"
Her eyes darted upwards. Zenitsu was looking inquiringly at her.
"Everything okay?"
She forced herself to smile. She nodded towards the tablet to distract him. Like she wanted, Zenitsu glanced down and sighed.
"I chose ramen. I'm trying to save for the festival, so…" Zenitsu didn't finish and, for some reason, turned red. He cleared his throat and, switching off the tablet, stood up.
"I'll go to the bathroom and wash my hands. I want to get rid of the stench from work."
Nezuko gave another tight smile. The moment he disappeared, she lowered her head and closed her eyes. The sensation was almost gone, she just had to wait out a couple of moments.
Nezuko opened her eyes slowly. The filthy, crumpled napkins on the floor and the grime on the table's leg killed any sort of appetite. The demon girl sat up, and her eyes wandered around the tavern without seeing.
She could still see Rubikku with a bloodied mouth on that metal table. Her hand tightened into a small fist. There was no point in deceiving herself. Unlike her, he acted on his hunger.
"I'm back," Zenitsu announced as he slid on the chair. Nezuko didn't react. In her peripheral vision, she saw how the young demon slayer eyed her but, as if picking up on her lack of energy, busied himself with his watch. Her eyes lingered on him before returning back to the crowd.
How she wished that she didn't find out about him. She wouldn't have to agonize about this - or worse, pretend as if she doesn't know.
Nezuko sighed and squared her shoulders. Her hair, not tied up in her usual ponytail, rolled down her back. Zenitsu glimpsed up from the watch.
"Long day?"
Nezuko gazed at him. A random social net was open on his hologram, but she knew that he hadn't paid attention to it at all. Furthermore, while going out here, to this tavern every other week, may be a pleasant habit for her, she suspected it wasn't the same for him.
Should she tell him about Rubikku?
Nezuko tilted her head, searching his face. He held her gaze, unwavering and eyes wide. His right hand, poised to scroll down the hologram, remained still. Her own hand traveled underneath the table and wrapped hesitantly around the arm with her watch. She trusted Zenitsu. She trusted him almost as much as Tanjiro. And yet—
"A sangria, for whom?"
Nezuko turned around and lifted her hand. The waiter boy, a wheel replacing the lower part of his body, pushed the drink onto the table.
"Please enjoy." He looked over to Zenitsu. "Your ramen is almost prepared, okyakusan."
She could still feel the demon slayer's gaze on her as he responded to the waiter. Plucking out a straw from the utensils holder, Nezuko placed it into her glass and wedged the other end into the corner of her lips.
The sweet alcohol made her relax slightly. Picking up the glass, the demon girl leaned back and smiled, this time earnestly. Her other hand flew across the watch.
"I'm okay."
Rubikku was a secret that was hers to keep.
The skin was coarse, but the redness was gone from where the acid had burnt. His fingertips touched the scarred forehead tentatively. It didn't hurt; the sensation was akin to touching a tree bark.
Sighing, Giyuu leaned away from the mirror and, turning around, tossed the bandages into the trash can. His hospital gown was folded neatly on the bed, and the IV stand stood bare next to the wall.
The young man hesitated as he took the door knob. He knew it was foolish, hoping that he may run into Shinobu — but exiting the ward made him cling to that hope even harder. Giyuu closed his eyes, sensing how the metal warms up underneath his palm. Open the door and walk out. His body did not respond, waiting for another order. One that was buried but somehow overtook everything else.
Giyuu opened his eyes and, not allowing himself to think, walked out of the room.
Long shadows alternated with patches of yellow in the hallway. Passing the large windows, the water hashira squinted as the setting sun beamed right into his eyes. Nevertheless, his gaze lingered on the outside view. The highways spiraled around the medical buildings, diving in and out of the sun rays.
Hope poured out again, but he compressed it into a mere trembling inside his chest. Giyuu made his way swiftly down the stairs, and the momentum carried him in long strides towards the exit.
The wind rushed through the glass doors and into his face. His breath caught in his throat, and Giyuu paused. The familiar smell of traffic exhaust and metal made him almost nostalgic. The watch on his wrist activated by itself.
"Well, how does a free man feel?"
Several med workers walking by turned around and gave Giyuu an annoyed look. Biting the inner part of his cheek, the water hashira slid out a small compartment from his watch where he stored the translucent neural slip. The latter allowed him to communicate mentally with his friend; although, he still did not understand why Kanzaburo couldn't issue him the same well-equipped watch that Nezuko had.
Just before the slip touched his skin, Giyuu inhaled and inwardly shoved all emotions into a recess. No matter how limited Sabito pretended to be, he knew that his friend had access to thoughts. And this was something he didn't want Sabito to know.
Stupid disappointment at not seeing her spiked in him the millisecond he placed the slip on his neck. Giyuu pushed it down hastily, crafting a fragile emptiness inside his mind.
Same question as before, Sabito eagerly repeated as if he didn't notice any of the small changes that passed through his friend. Decided not to accentuate them.
The slip melted on the skin like a contact lens.
Paralyzed, Giyuu thought with a straight face, and Sabito laughed. The AutCo's presence filled his brain, becoming his second voice.
Go eat something. Your stomach is sending signals that it hasn't had proper food in forever.
I'm not sure how to feel about you doing a biometric scan of my body.
I can't help it. The ghrelin is so strong, it's overriding everything else. I can barely read your thoughts.
The bus stop meant for hospital patients who either didn't have a vehicle or a person picking them up was placed right next to the entrance. A cluster of newly released patients already huddled by the tall sign. Giyuu stopped a few feet away and, tucking his hands into his pockets, turned around. The main medical building towered over the adjacent facilities. The red cross at the very top glowed crimson against the darkening sky.
Something wrong?
No, nothing. Giyuu turned around and walked towards the approaching bus. It was autonomous, programmed to travel on a single route and execute gentle starts and stops to avoid harming patients who just finished treatment.
The bus was full today, but the water hashira managed to catch a spot by the window. Gripping on to the strap above his head, he swayed slightly as the bus departed smoothly.
Where do you want to go? Giyuu asked off-handedly, watching how a similar medical bus floated past them. The highway curved, and the passengers swung in unison to one side.
You're the one eating, not me.
Giyuu leaned against the window. The scenery became denser, urban structures jutting in between the white and red buildings. Vehicles apart from medical transports and buses began to populate the air.
Choose for me, then.
The vibration in his head was close to a muttering, and Giyuu could almost - almost - hear the exasperated intonations of his friend. His head felt heavy suddenly, the cool airiness disappearing and the stress of the day pressing down on the skull. Sabito left to a cyberdimension to search for restaurants, Giyuu realized. The water hashira sighed, and turning his face into the crook between his elbow and lower arm, closed his eyes.
He didn't know whether he was able to trick Sabito or not. In truth, he didn't see much difference between the dine-out he was about to go to and the hospital meals. He originally planned to grab some groceries and prepare something simple at home. But he wanted to indulge his friend, for whom dining out remained a promise that their teacher gave them once they passed Final Selection. Although Giyuu was accustomed to think that his friend matured with him, glimmers of frightening childishness that something came out of Sabito reminded him that the AutCo may be nothing but a thirteen-year old.
"ATTENTION ATTENTION. DEMON SPOTTED IN AREA. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. ATTENTION ATTENTION. DEMON SPOTT—"
The inside of the bus flashed red, and the vehicle, slowly but surely, came to a complete stop. A ripple ran instantly through the mass of patients. Heads began rotating anxiously, hands began gripping onto railings and belongings, and voices began rising from murmurs to distinct shouting. Giyuu sighed, opening his eyes, and turned completely towards the window. Someone stepped noiselessly into his head.
Well, I just found a perfect place for you to eat.
Giyuu smirked as he uncorked the latches on the windowsill.
"Where?" He asked, not bothering to think inside his head. Several patients looked at him in horror and confusion, but that didn't trouble him. Lifting up the window, the water hashira stepped on the edge of the frame. The city billowed below him, and a wave of reluctance rolled over him.
At least it wasn't raining this time.
71-Nichijou, it's a neighborhood right above the Wisteria District. They serve your favorite dish too, Type B.
Giyuu smirked, pulling out the rope from the small case on his belt. The tennis bag grazed the rim of the window when he squatted for a jump.
Guess we'll go there, then.
Copy that.
And just like that, it was as if nothing had changed at all.
A/N: Out of logistic notes, I only have one: this arc originally didn't exist. In the initial version, the events of the organizers arc happened, then a few transition chapters, and then the new arc. However, no matter how much I tried to go with that, it just didn't work. I would gloss over way too many things if I went that route.
If you're new to this fic, welcome, and if you're one of the oldies, welcome back! I am so excited and overjoyed to be back to posting. Feel free to leave kudos or any thoughts you have in the reviews, but more importantly, thank you so much for reading! See you next week!