The narrow streets of Shibuya wound around them like a labyrinth, their path lit by the faint glow of lanterns overhead. The air was thick with the savory scent of grilled meat and fried noodles from nearby food stalls. Satoru walked with his hands tucked into his pockets, his hood still pulled low over his face. Beside him, Toji trailed slightly behind, his steps deliberate, his dark eyes flicking from shadow to shadow.

"So, kid," Satoru said, glancing sideways at Toji. "Where can we grab a bite? I'm starving."

Toji didn't answer immediately. His brow furrowed as if considering whether or not to respond at all. "Why do you care?"

"Because I'm hungry," Satoru said, his tone light. He patted the pocket of his cloak with a grin. "And I happen to have some cash on me. Courtesy of your little friends back there."

Toji stopped walking, his expression blank for a moment before he blinked, his lips tightening, despite the amusement dancing in his eyes. "You took their money?"

Satoru shrugged, tilting his head. "I figured they owed you. Call it a bully tax."

Toji stared at him, then let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You're weird."

"Thank you," Satoru said with a playful bow. "Now, lead the way. I'm buying."

Toji hesitated, glancing down the street. His stomach growled audibly, and he clenched his fists as if trying to will the sound away. Finally, with a sigh, he turned on his heel and started walking. "Fine. There's a place I know."

Satoru fell into step beside him. "That's the spirit. What are we getting? Sushi? Yakitori? Maybe some high-class kaiseki—"

"Ramen," Toji interrupted, his tone flat. He didn't look at Satoru, his gaze fixed ahead. "There's a shop. It's not far."

"Ramen," Satoru echoed, nodding thoughtfully. "Solid choice. Cheap, filling, and comforting. You've got good taste, kid."

Toji ignored him, his pace quickening as they rounded a corner. The glow of the city dimmed slightly here, the buildings smaller, older. The sounds of the bustling streets grew fainter, replaced by the occasional creak of wooden shutters or the faint hum of distant voices. Finally, they stopped in front of a modest shop tucked between two larger buildings. A simple cloth banner hung over the entrance, the kanji for ramen painted in bold strokes.

"This is it," Toji said, stepping forward and pushing aside the banner. Satoru followed him in, his curiosity piqued.

Inside, the shop was warm, the air thick with the scent of simmering broth and freshly boiled noodles. Wooden stools lined a long counter, behind which an old man moved with practiced precision. His hair was stark white, tied back in a loose ponytail, and his face was deeply lined, each wrinkle a testament to a long life. Despite his age, there was a sharpness in his movements, a grace that spoke of years spent mastering his craft. He was also the biggest and most shredded old man Satoru had ever seen. And, by the looks of all the cybernetic implants and odd metal holes on his skin, there was a good chance that the old man was probably some kind of retired Space Marine – a Devourer, maybe?

Weird. He didn't know they even could retire. The old man's Cursed Energy Output was low, but his reserves were pretty high.

"Toji," the old man said, his voice deep and steady. He glanced up from the steaming pot in front of him, his eyes softening as they landed on the boy. "It's been a while."

Toji's posture relaxed slightly, and he nodded. "Hey, Teuchi."

Teuchi's gaze shifted to Satoru, taking in the hooded figure with a raised brow. "And who's this?"

"Just some old guy," Toji said quickly. "He's paying."

"I'm not old. I'm still in my thirties..." Satoru chuckled, lowering his hood slightly to reveal his grin. "The name's Satoru. Nice to meet you, old man."

Teuchi's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of recognition passing over his features, but he said nothing. Instead, he nodded, gesturing to the counter. "Have a seat. I'll get you two bowls."

Toji climbed onto a stool, his movements uncharacteristically eager. Satoru slid onto the one beside him, leaning his elbows on the counter as Teuchi worked. The clatter of utensils and the hiss of boiling water filled the silence for a moment before Satoru turned to Toji.

"So, kid," he said, his tone light. "What's your deal? Running around these streets, taking on bullies. You always this scrappy?"

Toji shrugged, keeping his eyes on the counter. "What do you care?"

"I don't," Satoru said with a grin. "But I'm curious. You've got a good punch for someone your size."

Toji's lips twitched, but he didn't smile. "I live here. That's my deal."

"Here? In the center of Shibuya?" Satoru leaned back slightly, his brows raised. "Big city for someone so small."

"I get by," Toji said simply. His hands rested on the counter, his fingers curling slightly. "I've got places I can go. People who don't bother me."

Satoru tilted his head, his grin softening. "Like this place?"

Toji nodded once. "Teuchi's good to me. He doesn't care that I don't have cursed energy."

Teuchi glanced over his shoulder, his hands never pausing in their work. "You're a good kid, Toji. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Toji didn't respond, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. Satoru watched the exchange, his grin returning.

"Seems like you've got at least one person in your corner," he said, his tone teasing. "That's not bad."

Toji shot him a sidelong glance, his dark eyes narrowing. "What's your angle?"

"No angle," Satoru said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Just making conversation. You're an interesting kid, that's all. I'm new here and I'm interested in interesting things."

Toji snorted, turning back to the counter. "You're annoying."

"I get that a lot," Satoru said cheerfully.

Teuchi placed two steaming bowls of ramen in front of them, the rich aroma filling the air. Satoru noted that, while it shared the same name as the ramen he knew from his time, the bowls before him were nothing alike. Still, it had a broth and chunky bits of meat. And it was very aromatic. "Eat up, boys."

Toji didn't need to be told twice. He picked up his chopsticks, breaking them apart with a snap before digging in. Satoru watched him for a moment, then picked up his own chopsticks, twirling them between his fingers.

As they ate, the silence between them grew more comfortable. Satoru leaned back slightly, glancing around the shop. The simplicity of the place, the warmth of the broth, the quiet hum of conversation in the background – it felt almost... normal. And for a moment, that was enough.

Toji slurped his noodles, the rich broth dribbling slightly down his chin before he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His sharp eyes darted to Satoru, who twirled his chopsticks idly, breaking off small bites of meat before popping them into his mouth. Toji tilted his head, studying him quietly for a moment before speaking.

"You're not from here," he said, his tone flat, more a statement than a question.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, looking mildly impressed. "What gave it away?"

Toji gestured at him with his chopsticks, not bothering to hide his scrutiny. "The way you walk, the way you talk. You don't carry yourself like people from Shibuya. And no one here talks about ramen like it's some kind of discovery."

Satoru chuckled, leaning back slightly. "Guilty as charged. I'm an off-worlder, just passing through. But hey, you caught on quick. Most people don't."

Toji shrugged, shoving another bite of noodles into his mouth. "Not my place to ask why you're here. People come and go. Not like it matters to me."

Satoru's grin widened. "Smart kid. So, what's your deal? You've got that sharp edge like you've been through a lot, and you're clearly not stupid. What keeps you in a place like this?"

Toji took his time finishing his bite, his gaze flicking toward Teuchi, who was busy cleaning dishes behind the counter. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, careful. "Shibuya's not a place you just leave. Especially for someone like me."

Satoru twirled his chopsticks again, his curiosity piqued. Toji had a Heavenly Restriction, sacrificing all his Cursed Energy, in exchange the sort of physical strength that'd let him kick tanks into the air, but – as he was now – the kid probably wasn't even aware. "And what makes you 'someone like you'?"

Toji sighed, setting his bowl down and resting his arms on the counter. "No cursed energy. That makes me less than nothing here. If you're not a Sorcerer, you're not worth their time. Doesn't matter how strong you are."

Satoru tilted his head, resting his chin on his hand. "Yeah, but you're not exactly powerless, are you? That punch earlier? Pretty solid."

Toji smirked faintly, but it faded quickly. "Doesn't mean much when the whole planet's built around cursed techniques. You think anyone here cares about raw strength? Not when the Kiryuin Clan or the Arasaka Clan can wipe out a block with a flick of their fingers."

"Kiryuin? Arasaka?" Satoru leaned forward slightly. "Sounds like some big names. Fill me in."

Toji hesitated, his fingers drumming against the counter. "The Kiryuin Clan's probably the most powerful family on the planet. Their bloodline techniques are all about destruction. If you see their crest, you run. They don't just fight – they annihilate. I've seen one of them blow up a whole block, just because someone challenged them to a duel."

Satoru whistled softly. "Sounds fun. And Arasaka?"

"Corporate types," Toji said, his tone laced with disdain. "They're all about control. Cursed energy manipulation, contracts, politics. They've got their hands in everything – trade, defense, even education. If you've got cursed energy and live on Shibuya, chances are they've got a file on you."

"Sounds charming," Satoru said, his grin lopsided. "What about the others? You said there were more."

Toji leaned back, crossing his arms. "The Aragami Clan's all about tradition. They're stuck in the past, always going on about honor and duty. Don't let that fool you, though – their techniques are brutal, but I've only ever seen their victims. Yamamoto's the military family. If there's a war, they're the ones leading the charge, but a lot of their power's there because the Lord-Commander of the Devourers Legion happens to be the Clan Head, Genryusai Yamamoto. The Mifune Clan? Mercenaries, bounty hunters. They don't care about politics, just money."

"And the High Priests?" Satoru's voice grew softer, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Toji's expression darkened. "They're the ones who speak for Lord Sukuna, interpret his will and all that. Nobody crosses them – not even the Kiryuin. They keep the peace between the clans, but they're not exactly friendly. If they decide you're a problem, you disappear."

Satoru leaned back, his grin fading into a thoughtful expression. "And you? Where do you fit into all this?"

Toji shrugged. "I don't. I'm nobody. Just a kid trying to survive. That's all."

Satoru tilted his head, studying him for a moment. "You're more than that, kid. Trust me."

Toji's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he reached for his bowl, lifting it to his lips to drink the remaining broth. The conversation lulled into silence, the sounds of the ramen shop filling the gap – the clink of utensils, the low hum of conversation from another patron at the far end of the counter.

Teuchi broke the quiet, his voice calm but firm. "You're a sharp one, Toji. Don't sell yourself short."

Toji glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Thanks, old man."

Satoru watched the exchange, a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips. "You've got some good people around you, kid."

"Yeah," Toji muttered, setting his bowl down. "Guess I do."

Satoru finished his own ramen with a satisfied sigh, setting the bowl down and leaning back. "Well, thanks for the meal. Best ramen I've had in… well, a long time."

Teuchi nodded, his gaze lingering on Satoru for a moment longer than necessary.

"Take care of the kid," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "He's been through a lot for someone so young."

Satoru's grin returned, sharp and playful.

"Oh, don't worry. I've got him." He glanced at Toji, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Whether he likes it or not."

AN: Chapter 65 is out on (Pat)reon!