Prologue

Maki stared at her phone blearily, blinking sleep from her eyes with tired annoyance.

The Asshole: howre my two FAVORITE students doing at this lovely hour? ＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و /／／ (sent: 05:02)

The Asshole: so one of our guys said he saw something funky downtown (sent: 05:02)

The Asshole: and im like (sent: 05:02)

The Asshole: wow, i know this great boba shop down there _(´ཀ`」 ∠) (sent: 05:03)

The Asshole: so can you pick me up the usual? oh and do the mission or w.e. (sent: 05:03)

The Asshole uploaded a file: bobasfirstmissionpdf (sent: 05:04)

The Asshole: ty ( ˘ω˘ ) (sent: 05:04)

A single, carefully manicured eyebrow twitched. At times like this, Maki really wished she hadn't listened to Yuta when he'd told her to unblock Gojo's number. His perfectly reasonable point about needing to be able to get ahold of her in emergencies be damned—the man was somehow even more insufferable over text than he was in person, and that was saying something.

Each text notification rang loudly in her ears long after the sound had ended, and for a good minute or two she contemplated throwing her phone. Unfortunately, the pay of a Grade Four sorcerer was peanuts, and the Zenin clan certainly weren't about to let her see so much as a crumb of their fortune. Gojo would probably replace it for her, but he would never let her hear the end of it if he did, and worst of all, that'd mean he'd won.

"Gojo, you motherfucker," she muttered, "this could've been one text." She paused, then squinted at the pdf he'd sent. "Is that a fucking maid cafe?"

Gojo, you motherfucker, Maki thought with a calmness proffered by hysteria. This wasn't a Grade Two at all.

"It seems no-one else is permitted behind the barrier." Spoke an ashen skinned being, seemingly unimpeded by the crimson cloth wrapped around its eyes as it stared into the maid cafe with a bemused expression. A waterfall of dark blue hair pulled into a ponytail cascaded down its back, brightening into a faint orange at the ends, like the last vestiges of light in the night sky as the sun set.

One hand came up to scratch at the base of a small, almost knifelike horn that jutted from the center of the cursed spirit's forehead, while the other was tucked into the front of a black kimono. Neither hand was in any position to draw it, but Maki's eyes couldn't help but gravitate to the wakizashi sheathed at the curse's hip, seething as it was with cursed energy.

"Nigi, what about the ones with matching outfits? That's gotta be a requirement to enter. Think they're the miko of this place?" It took her a moment to recognize her own voice, and another to recognize her own face— especially with a brass visor sown directly into her skin. Everything else was obscured by a dark, hooded cloak.

"And what do you make of the paper slips?" The male curse—'Nigi', apparently—asked its companion, seemingly oblivious to her and Yuta's approach.

"Dunno. Maybe it's an offering?" The second curse wondered aloud. It looked like her, it sounded like her, but it did not say things that she would say. Her own face was not so expressive.

"And in return, they obtain this establishment's blessing. I see." The curse nodded to its compatriot in understanding, then turned towards them, body language still at ease. "It seems we have visitors, Ara."

The other—Ara?—craned its neck around. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Yuta. "Oi, are you paying homage to this shrine? What kami's it for?"

He sputtered, instinctively answering the question before he had time to process how utterly insane the situation had become. They were Special Grade. They had to be. "I- that's. That's a café." For a moment, there was no response. Yuta's fingers twitched. "Why do you have my face?"

He didn't see hers? Did it take on the appearance of the observer, then?

Its expression was difficult to parse beneath the gnarled metal mask. "Yeah, well, I asked first."

The other curse interjected, almost gently—which was a word Maki never thought she'd ascribe to a cursed spirit. "And he did answer, Ara, albeit incompletely." It turned its face towards Yuta, then asked, "Just what is this…kha-fae of which you speak, young man?"

"Do you gotta put on the outfit to go behind the barrier?" The faceless curse followed before anyone else had time to answer, pressing a finger against the glass storefront to point at a particularly… frilly maid wearing a cat ear headband. "Or do you need an offering first?"

Maki could actively feel her brain cells dying by the minute—if she wasn't careful, she'd start finding Gojo's bullshit funny. She gripped the kendo bag that held her cursed tool until her knuckles turned white.

Yuta nudged her side with an elbow, then pointedly looked around. They were effectively surrounded by civilians on all sides. If a fight broke out–

It would be catastrophic.

So why hadn't they attacked? Why were they asking inane questions about a maid café of all things?

"I don't think they know, either," the one named Ara whispered to its companion. It must have missed the memo that whispers were supposed to be quiet—like it knew this was something humans did, but didn't know why, leaving its efforts unsettlingly artificial.

"What…" Yuta began, shooting her a look. 'Play along', it begged. 'We don't know what they're capable of.' "What barrier are you talking about?"

"Huh? You blind or something?" The faceless curse asked, despite the fact that both of them ostensibly had their own eyes covered. "That one. Wooden, yea high. Do you need the outfit or not?"

"Wait, do you mean the counter?" Maki asked incredulously.

"I do not see what striking a foe after parrying their blow has to do with anything." The one called Nigi replied, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Nothing, stupid. It's probably a code word." Ara responded with more confidence than sense.

"Words can, well. Mean more than one thing?" Yuta's answer was genuinely helpful, and probably more than either of them deserved.

"...That sounds dumb."

Yuta stared it down, likely coming to a conclusion of some sort he didn't elect to share with her. "If you let us leave peacefully, and promise not to harm the civ—er, humans around us, I can explain it further."

"Yuta," she whispered furiously, making sure to keep her voice properly quiet, "there's no way-"

"We had no particular plan to fight-" Nigi began, before being rudely interrupted.

"Get me the blessing of this shrine and it's a deal." Ara declared. "...Actually, get me two."

A familiar presence that burned the back of her neck like frigid water settled thickly in the air. The vestiges of Rika Orimoto spoke a soundless whisper.

Yuuuuuu. Ta?

Both of the curses cocked their heads in unison. An eerie silence followed.

"I'll get you something on the way back," her classmate promised beneath his breath. "Okay?"

Another moment passed. Then two.

Rika sighed into Yuta's hair. Maki caught a glimpse of needle-like teeth nearly the size of her forearm before the presence faded entirely.

The following silence was broken by Nigi. "How curious."

And despite the covering atop its eyes, she got the distinct impression it was watching their every movement.

"What, you didn't get me anything?" Their teacher asked petulantly as Yuta tossed a pastry into Rika's mouth.

"No," Maki replied dryly, "the Gojo budget was spent on about four liters of boba."

"Okay, first of all, the Gojo budget is infinite-"

"Your Window graded the mission wrong." She decided to cut through the bullshit, literally and metaphorically, and dropped a Grade Two cursed wakizashi on the table. The weapon screamed, then went conspicuously quiet as Gojo took a closer look.

It didn't take him long to put two-and-two together. "This is the curse you were assigned to, alright." He poked the hilt with his pinky nail. "How'd you end up like that, hm?"

She grimaced. "Another curse got to it first." And for the other shoe to drop… "It told us as much."

Gojo hid his surprise much better than Yuta, but the millisecond pause was still visible.

"There were two of them, and they let us go." Yuta said. "One of them demanded we pay for boba. The other one, once I explained commerce, insisted that we take the blade 'as goods in exchange for our services'." The information was given a moment of quietude to sink in. "They, uh. Seemed especially interested in the concept of a maid café."

Gojo paused. "...None of that was in your report."

"Would you put that in there?"

He laughed, but it sounded forced. "I haven't written my own reports in years. They're my favorite assignment to give first-years."

Of course it was. Maki hadn't forgotten.

She slapped Gojo's hand away before he could ruffle her hair. "Don't worry about it—the Gojo Budget or the Special Grades." He gave the two of them a thumbs up and slung the wakizashi almost carelessly over his shoulder. "I need to make a few calls, then Sensei will look into it himself."

"At the Maid Café?" She retorted, but when she turned around, he was already gone.