I sat on the sofa, my packed bags lined neatly at my feet. My father, ever composed and charming, sat across from me with a warm smile on his face. His golden eyes—so full of love and reassurance—crinkled slightly as he spoke.
"Don't worry about home, son. Just focus on being a sorcerer and protecting people," he said. His voice was steady, but I could sense the bittersweet undertone in it.
Across the room, my mother darted back and forth, frantically gathering last-minute items for me. "Don't forget to take these snacks!" she called, her voice a mix of urgency and worry. "You'll get hungry during training!"
I smiled faintly, a pang of guilt tugging at my chest. I knew they were proud, but leaving home still felt heavier than I'd expected.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, pulling us from our moment of reflection.
"I'll get it," I said, rising from my seat and motioning for my father to stay seated.
When I opened the door, a tall man stood before me. His slim frame was dressed impeccably in a black suit, and his sunken cheeks, paired with his curved eyebrows, gave him an unintentionally bored expression.
It was Ichiji.
"Good morning, Izaya-kun… and Ren-san," he greeted politely, bowing slightly.
"Good morning, Ichiji-san," I replied, stepping aside. My father joined me at the door, returning the greeting with equal warmth.
"Please come in," my father said. "I apologize, but Sakane is still getting everything ready. It will only be a few minutes."
Ichiji smiled patiently. "No need to apologize, sir. Please take your time. I'll wait by the car."
With that, he stepped back outside, leaving us to prepare for the final stretch.
——
A few minutes later, my mother emerged from the other room, her arms laden with yet another bag of supplies.
"Now it's finally done," she declared with a sigh of relief, setting the bag down next to my already-packed luggage.
I stood, my heart heavy. It's finally time to leave, huh?
I glanced at my mother. Her green eyes—bright and vivid like two emerald gems—glimmered with unshed tears. I stepped forward quickly and pulled her into a hug.
"Hey, we promised not to cry, right?" I asked softly, my voice steady despite the lump forming in my throat.
"Yes," she whispered, sniffling against my shoulder.
"So don't cry, okay?"
"Yes…"
"It's not like I'm leaving forever. I'll still visit you guys every month."
"Yes…" she repeated, her voice trembling as her arms tightened around me.
At that moment, my father joined us, wrapping his strong arms around both of us. His voice was warm and reassuring as he spoke.
"Don't worry, Sakane. He'll be all right there. After all, he's our son."
"Mhm," she murmured, her grip softening just slightly.
The three of us stood there, holding each other tightly, as if time had paused just for us. For that moment, the world outside didn't matter.
After what felt like an eternity, my father gently broke the silence.
"It's getting late. Ichiji is waiting outside."
Reluctantly, we pulled away, though the weight of the moment still lingered in the air.
As we stepped outside, I turned to my mother with a teasing grin. "Next time I come, I want to hear the news of a little brother or sister," I said, winking.
My mother's cheeks flushed instantly.
My father, who had overheard, chimed in with a chuckle. "Don't worry, Izaya. I'll make sure you get the news!" he said confidently, grinning widely.
Her cheeks turned even redder, and she froze in embarrassment, as if smoke might come out of her ears.
"Haha," I chuckled lightly, amused by my mother's cute antics.
She swatted at my arm lightly, muttering something under her breath, but her shy smile betrayed her.
I finally settled into the car as the luggage was loaded. I glanced out the window at my parents.
My father had his arm around my mother's shoulder, his smile warm and gentle.
"Take care of yourself, Izaya," he called out to me.
I nodded silently, trying to hold it together.
My mother also smiled, though her face was tight with the effort of keeping the tears at bay.
"We love you, Izaya."
Ichiji, sitting in the driver's seat, broke the silence with a question. "So, are we ready to go?"
"Yes," I replied, my gaze still fixed on my parents.
The car started, and the engine hummed as we said our final goodbyes.
—-
The sound of a door creaking reached my ears. "This is your room," Ichiji said as he opened the door and stepped aside.
I walked in and glanced around.
The room was spacious, far more than I had expected. The polished wooden floor reflected the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the windows. A king-sized bed dominated one side of the room—clearly designed for more than one person. Beside it stood a modest wooden shelf.
A large, ornate closet, its surface gleaming from a fresh polish, rested against the far wall. It was big enough to hold everything I owned and more.
On the other side of the room was a study table, complete with a neat workspace. Beneath it, a large stack of books sat in a compartment, slightly disrupting the otherwise organized space.
"Hmm?" I arched a brow, tilting my head as I pointed at the books.
Ichiji noticed my expression and explained, "Those are your middle school textbooks."
"Ah, I see."
He hesitated before adding, "We've arranged for tutors if you'd prefer guided lessons."
"That won't be necessary," I replied. "I can manage my studies on my own."
Though reluctant, Ichiji nodded. "Understood."
I scanned the room one last time. "I'll sort my belongings later. For now, let's continue. I wouldn't want to keep you waiting."
"Oh no, please don't worry about me. I'll wait as long as needed," he said meekly.
I stepped out of the room without responding, locking the door and slipping the key into my pocket. "Let's go."
"Well, if you insist, Izaya-kun," Ichiji relented. "First, I'll show you the cafeteria and the library. Then we'll head to the training hall, where Gojo-san will meet us."
I nodded. "Lead the way."
———
The cafeteria was unexpectedly small.
"Why is this so small?" I asked, scanning the modest space. "Wouldn't the other students find it inconvenient?"
Ichiji chuckled softly. "That won't be an issue. You're the only one occupying this part of the campus, Izaya-kun."
I tilted my head. "Why?"
"Gojo-san decided to keep you separate from the high school students," Ichiji explained with a faint smile.
"I see…" I murmured, though his words left questions lingering in my mind.
We approached the counter, where Ichiji tapped lightly on the surface.
Almost instantly, a doll appeared behind the counter.
"Welcome to my kitchen! What would you like to eat?" it greeted in a cheerful, childlike voice.
The doll resembled a petite girl dressed in a red-and-white blouse and an orange skirt adorned with floral patterns.
'A cursed puppet,' I realized at once.
"This is your chef," Ichiji said, gesturing to the doll. "She can prepare anything you want."
"Anything?"
"Yes, anything" he replied with a faint smile.
Intrigued, I stepped closer. "What's your name?", I asked the doll.
It turned its head to look at me but remained silent, its expression blank.
"She isn't designed to hold conversations," Ichiji explained. "She can only respond to food-related queries or greet you."
'Unlike Panda, this one is purely mechanical,' I mused silently.
"She also handles cleaning duties in this area and your room daily," Ichiji added.
After another tap on the counter, the doll disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared.
'Interesting,' I thought, following Ichiji out of the cafeteria.
————
The library was vast and stocked with books about curses, sorcery, and history. After a quick walkthrough, we stepped back outside.
A stone path stretched before us, leading to a small shrine nestled amidst vibrant, colorful flowers.
'A shrine? I thought we were headed to the training hall,' I thought but chose not to comment.
"The training hall is connected to the shrine," Ichiji said as though reading my thoughts.
The narrow path brought us to the steps of the shrine.
Ichiji spoke as we climbed, "This shrine isn't ordinary. It's a cursed tool imbued with a space-time technique. While it looks small on the outside, the space within is enormous—larger than the entire campus."
At the top, he rang a golden bell hanging from the shrine's ceiling. The metallic chime echoed, and flames erupted in the corner lamps, one by one, lighting up the area.
"This shrine belongs to the Gojo clan," Ichiji explained. "Gojo-san had it installed recently. Few are allowed access to it." He smiled faintly. "Even I've been granted access, though I have little use for it."
The door of the shrine was stunning. Two fierce dragon statues flanked its sides, their scales carved with incredible detail. Deities adorned the surface, each engraving masterfully crafted. At the bottom of the right panel, a figure caught my attention.
It was a demon-like being surrounded by flames, with four eyes and four arms. One hand held a three-pronged spear, the other a single-bladed vajra.
'Sukuna,' I thought, suppressing the unease that crept up my spine.
Ichiji produced a black bowl from the wall. "Izaya-kun, may I have a drop of your blood?"
"Sure."
I pricked my finger using my cursed technique and let a single drop fall into the bowl. The crimson drop spread through the black liquid, turning it a vibrant red within seconds.
Ichiji placed the bowl into a compartment in the wall that hadn't been there moments ago.
"With this, the ritual is complete," he said. His fingers formed a hand sign, and he uttered a single word. "Disappear."
The bowl and compartment vanished as if they had never existed.
"Now, you have access to this shrine," Ichiji said, stepping back toward the door.
I nodded silently.
Pressing his hand to the door, Ichiji aligned his fingers with five small craters etched into the wood. "Touch these indentations, and you'll be transported inside."
'Transported?' I thought.
Before I could process his words, my surroundings shifted.
———
Darkness enveloped me. Suddenly, a lamp flickered to life nearby, its fire crackling in the silence.
Whoosh. Another ignited.
Then another.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
The circle of lamps lit up around me, their golden flames casting shadows on the vast space.
At the center of the circle sat a man in a wooden chair. He toyed with his blindfold, stretching it between his fingers like a ribbon. His diamond-like blue eyes gleamed in the firelight, glowing with an ethereal radiance.
Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer of our time.
He let the blindfold snap back into place and tilted his head toward me, his expression equal parts playful and commanding.
"Oh, you've arrived, Izaya," he said, his voice resonating through the air.