Night blanketed the city, the only light coming from neon signs and scattered windows below. Obi's sneakers pounded the rooftop tiles as he sprinted across the jagged skyline of Shibuya, lungs burning. The wind tore at his jacket, flapping it behind him like wings that refused to lift. His breath steamed in the cool air.
Behind him-too close-Reiji stalked like a phantom. The click of metal echoed sharply, and Obi's instincts screamed move.
Ffffssht!
A thin bullet of frost exploded beside him, licking his side with icy vapor. Obi stumbled, nearly losing his footing.
"The hell-!?" he yelped, eyes wide. A chill crept up his ribs, not from the cold but from fear. His brain instantly flashed to the earlier fight-the demon's face frozen in terror, sliced apart by that same umbrella like paper against a blade.
Reiji's voice sliced the silence.
"Move faster."
The words weren't shouted. They were spoken with that same eerie calm that made Obi's spine stiffen. Cold. Flat. Like the man wasn't running at all but floating just behind him.
"Umm... are you trying to kill me!?" Obi managed, laughing awkwardly. The sound cracked under the weight of his nerves.
Reiji didn't answer right away. He walked instead, steps impossibly light for someone so lethal. The umbrella now rested lazily on his shoulder, as if he hadn't just fired a cryogenic round inches from Obi's spleen.
Obi turned toward him, trying to mask his fear with sarcasm and irritation. "You realize if that thing had actually hit me, I'd be an Obi popsicle right now, right? Like, gruesome death via instant blood-freeze? You ever heard of human rights?!"
Reiji glanced at him, barely.
"If I was trying to kill you," he murmured, "you'd already be dead."
That wasn't a boast. It was fact. Obi knew it. He saw it-the dead look in that demon's eyes as Reiji carved it apart. Surgical. Efficient. Not an ounce of emotion. That same pressure now pressed against Obi's chest, invisible but suffocating.
Obi laughed again, forced and hollow. "Pretty sure this violates at least five of my human rights."
Reiji said nothing. Just kept walking.
And Obi... Obi kept running. Because whatever this man was training him for-he wasn't ready.
---
After several exhausting rooftops and alley gaps, Obi finally slowed to catch his breath-until something cold and metallic tapped against his stomach.
Reiji's umbrella.
Don't move," Reiji said, his voice low, steady-and laced with something primal. His eyes, normally icy, now glowed faintly in the dark like something inhuman. For a second, Obi swore the night itself recoiled.
Obi froze, the air catching in his throat. His heart lurched. The blood drained from his face as panic tightened around his chest. This wasn't training anymore. This was something else.
And then-without a single word-Reiji shoved him.
Hard.
Obi's eyes went wide as his body left the rooftop.
"WHAT THE-!"
The wind screamed in his ears before the pavement caught him like a punch to the spine. He landed flat on his back with a sickening thud, knocking the air straight out of his lungs.
He let out a hoarse gasp as all the air fled his lungs. He didn't even have the strength to scream.
Pain erupted across his body. Not the sharp kind-no, this was dull and bone-deep, like his nerves were ringing in protest. He gasped, hyperventilating, his vision narrowing to a blur of neon and shadow. His limbs wouldn't move. His head swam.
He lay there, wheezing, stunned, and entirely convinced his spirit had tried to evacuate. But luckily, nothing's broken.
This man is insane, he thought bitterly. He nearly froze me with liquid nitrogen, now he's tossing kids off rooftops. Is this normal in the supernatural world? Screw this-I'll take my chances with demons.
Footsteps approached.
Reiji loomed over him, expression unreadable.
"Tch. Still breathing. Annoying," he muttered, as if disappointed. "Stand up before you make a scene."
Obi didn't respond at first. He couldn't trust his voice. Inside, he was screaming:
MAKE A SCENE?! YOU THREW ME OFF A DAMN ROOF! THIS MAN JUST TRIED TO TURN ME INTO A CORPSE-SICLE AND NOW I'M A HUMAN PROJECTILE!
But what actually came out of his mouth, between raspy gasps, was:
"I... hate you... so much."
Reiji curled his nose like Obi had said something foul. "Better get moving. We're here."
With a grunt, Obi forced himself upright, one hand gripping the wall like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
Ahead, the neon sprawl of Shibuya Station lit up the street. Crowds moved in waves nearby, oblivious to the limping, bruised teenager emerging from the alley like he'd just escaped a warzone.
Obi squinted at the glowing sign, then turned to Reiji.
"So... you pushed me off a building... for a train ticket?"
Reiji didn't even blink. "Pretty much. I'm taking you to meet my good buddies at the Division."
Obi stared at him. So many colorful words danced on his tongue. None of them felt safe because this man has liquid nitrogen and can freeze him instantly.
Instead, he muttered, "How the hell does that crow boy admire this bum so much..."
---
Obi grumbled the entire time they waited at the Shibuya Station platform. He clutched his side, still sore from the rooftop toss, glaring at Reiji like he could set him on fire through sheer willpower.
The platform buzzed with life-neon ads flickering overhead, street performers strumming off-key guitars nearby, vending machines clinking out cans like they were powered by rage. The air smelled like sweat, energy drinks, and city grime.
"Could've just handed me a train ticket," Obi muttered, eyeing the tracks. "But no, had to go full Skyfall on me."
Reiji ignored him, his posture statue-perfect. The umbrella rested against his shoulder like a sheathed blade. He didn't blink. He didn't breathe wrong. Obi was pretty sure this man hadn't blinked in ten minutes.
When the JR Yamanote Line screeched to a halt, they boarded with the crowd. Obi flinched at the sound of the train doors closing behind him-still half-expecting Reiji to shove him again.
Obi slumped into a window seat with a groan, pressing his head against the glass. Every bump of the train was a personal insult to his spine.
Reiji, of course, didn't sit. He stood in the aisle, perfectly balanced despite the lurch of the train, like a hawk riding air currents. His umbrella was gripped loosely in one hand, but Obi hadn't forgotten the click it made when it fired that frozen bullet.
Outside, Tokyo blurred past-towers lit up like circuit boards, alleyways choked with signs and steam, taxis crawling through rivers of headlights. Obi tried to distract himself with the cityscape, but his thoughts kept looping back to earlier.
This is my life now? Death threats on rooftops and train rides to monster HQ? Great. Just great.
The train pulled into Shinjuku Station, and they exited with the crowd. The chaos dimmed with every step, high-rise noise giving way to the hush of nature. They passed under a tall gate and into Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden.
It was like stepping into another world.
Twilight bled softly over the horizon. Sakura trees whispered overhead, petals fluttering like lazy snow. The scent of damp earth and pine calmed something in Obi's chest. Golden lamplight flickered through the fog, casting shadows that moved like ghosts across trimmed grass.
For the first time that day, Obi didn't feel like death was breathing down his neck.
He took a slow breath, stretching sore limbs, and murmured, "Man... this place doesn't suck."
That's when Reiji said, casually, "If you collapse here, the moss makes a fine pillow."
Obi shot him a tired glare. "You know what? That actually sounds great. Wake me up in five years. Maybe ten."
Reiji didn't laugh. But Obi swore, for half a second, he saw the corner of the man's mouth twitch.
---
They stepped through the tall wrought-iron gates of Shinjuku Gyoen, and the city's chaos melted behind them like it was never real. Inside, the world changed.
It was breathtaking.
Cherry blossoms painted the air with soft pink snow, drifting down in slow, lazy spirals. The wide stone path curved gently through rows of manicured trees and old winding roots. Mossy rocks framed koi ponds so still they mirrored the fading sky. Golden light from antique lamps bled through the mist, casting a dreamlike haze over everything. It looked less like a garden and more like a place caught between worlds-half-memory, half-magic.
Obi slowed his steps as his shoes crunched softly on the gravel. His bruised back still ached, but the pain faded beneath the sheer beauty of the place.
He broke away slightly from Reiji's side, crossing beneath a massive sakura tree. The branches arched overhead like nature's cathedral, petals floating down like confetti from a forgotten celebration. He knelt, caught a few blossoms in his hand as they touched the earth.
It almost made falling off a rooftop worth it.
Almost.
He looked up through the branches, watching the sky turn purple behind the blossoms, and said aloud, voice softer than before, "I've only been here once... when I was little."
Reiji didn't answer. Just walked a few paces behind, silent.
Obi stayed crouched, letting the petals slip through his fingers. "We sat under this tree... right here. Had a picnic. I remember falling asleep on my-" He hesitated, the words catching in his throat like thorns. "-my dad's shoulder. My mom was playing her guitar..."
There it was-that warmth, flickering at the edges of his memory. That unreachable, golden before.
And then, like a blade slicing through it, Reiji's voice: low, bitter, teeth clenched.
"God," he muttered, "stop rubbing it in about your amazing childhood."
Obi blinked, startled. The way Reiji said 'amazing childhood' dripped with sarcasm so thick it might as well have been venom.
"Not everyone has a great memory about their family to hold on to."
The words cut more than they were meant to. Obi turned around, guilt twisting in his gut-but Reiji had already started walking, stiff-backed, not waiting for a reply.
"Wait..." Obi called after him, stepping away from the tree. "I didn't mean to-"
Reiji didn't stop.
"We shouldn't keep my coworkers waiting," he said flatly.
Obi watched him walk ahead into the golden-lit mist, feeling the weight of both the moment and the silence it left behind.
He dusted off the petals from his palm.
Then followed.
---
On the far side of the orchard, beneath a quiet canopy of blossoms and shadow, four figures were scattered across the grass and trees like they belonged to the place.
The first was a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, lounging under a wisteria tree whose pale purple flowers draped over her like curtains. Her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair curled lazily around her face. She wore a baggy button-up shirt left half-unbuttoned, black joggers, and a light jacket draped over her shoulders like she couldn't be bothered to wear it properly. Her vibe was relaxed, grounded-even serene.
The second was anything but.
Hanging upside down from a tree branch like an unhinged squirrel was a boy who looked either Obi's age or somehow younger. He had messy, spiky black hair streaked with electric blue highlights, a lollipop poking from the corner of his mouth. He wore a loose T-shirt and three-quarter cargo shorts, with mismatched sneakers swinging in the air. He looked like a Japanese elf who had just come down from a sugar high-and wasn't handling the crash well.
The third figure sat calmly at the base of a tree, legs crossed with stillness that made him stand out. He looked the oldest of the group, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, with white spiky hair and sharp, rectangular glasses. A white overcoat hung over a black shirt and black pants, and next to him sat a strange-looking bag that emitted a soft, rhythmic hum-like something alive, or dangerous.
The last man caught Obi's attention the most.
Tall, built, and striking, he reclined comfortably against a tree with one leg bent, a phone in hand. He had deep chocolate brown skin and calm, intelligent red eyes. Long brown dreadlocks were tied into a loose ponytail, with a few strands falling around his face. He wore a mustard-yellow oversized T-shirt, black joggers, and crisp sneakers. He didn't look like a soldier-he looked like he belonged on a rooftop café somewhere, writing music.
He stretched with a satisfied sigh. "Man... sure feels good workin' with the government. Most of everything's free."
The upside-down boy groaned. "Ughh... when's Reiji getting here? I'm outta candy."
"Let's pray the newbie's not a complete waste of our time," the white-haired man muttered without looking up, his bag still humming.
"Be nice," the woman said with a smile, her voice lilting and warm. Then, with a glance around, "But seriously-where is he?"
The dreadlocked man looked up lazily from his phone and pointed with his chin. "Hey... speak of the devil. Iceman's back. And he brought a kid."
The boy hanging from the branch dropped-flipping mid-air with unnecessary flair-before landing on his feet in a perfect crouch just as Reiji and Obi emerged from the trees.
Obi glanced at them. It was like a fashion disaster and a superhero team had collided.
Strawberry hair. Spiky hair. White hair. Dreads.
He paused on the red-eyed guy. Calm. Composed. Moisturized.
"Of course he's the only sane one here," Obi thought. "Must be the dreads. Or maybe just the only Black guy here with common sense."
The boy with the blue-streaked hair leaned closer, still sucking on his candy. "So this is the next one to join our hell-squad, huh?" He eyed Obi up and down. "He's kinda scrawny."
Obi's brow twitched. Scrawny? He could deal with Reiji pushing him off buildings, shooting frozen bullets near his ribs, fine. But being called scrawny by someone shorter than him?
He crossed his arms. "Scrawny? Okay, fine, I'll take being the new guy. I'll even take the whole building-drop thing. But you're shorter than me-and you're calling me scrawny?"
The boy's grin widened, and he leaned in with wide-eyed glee. "Who told you I'm younger?"
Obi blinked.
Before things could escalate, the guy under the tree with the dreads spoke up, not even looking up from his phone. "Hiruki-stop pestering the boy before you kill him."
Hiruki threw his arms up in mock innocence, spinning on his heel. "Chika, I'm just having fun!"
Reiji finally stepped forward. "Where are the others?"
The white-haired man with the bag shrugged. "They got tired of waiting. Left an hour ago. Guess we're the only patient ones."
Reiji sighed. "Typical."
Obi just stood there, wide-eyed and wondering if this was really his life now. Demons might have been the least of his problems.
The woman with the strawberry blonde hair stood up, brushing stray petals from her joggers. Her warm smile contrasted the intensity of the others as she clapped her hands to gather everyone's attention.
"Alright, alright-let's do this properly," she said, cheerful but firm. "Introductions. Since apparently, someone forgot basic manners."
Her eyes flicked briefly to Reiji, who-naturally-looked utterly indifferent.
"I'm Maki Tezuna," she said, giving Obi a small wave. "Medical Division, top-ranked poison specialist, and apparently the only one here with social skills."
She gestured toward the boy with the spiky black-and-blue hair, who was now gnawing on his lollipop like he was trying to chew through a padlock just to get to the gum in the center.
"That's Hiruki Ayatsuji. Yes, he's always like that."
Hiruki threw up two fingers in a peace sign, upside down.
"I'm a delight," he said around the stick of his candy, then promptly went back to chewing.
Maki continued, unfazed. "And that's Chika Okafor." She pointed to the dreadlocked man leaning against the tree, who gave a slow, lazy wave without even looking up from his phone.
"Wassup," Chika murmured. "Nice shoes, by the way. You steal 'em from a nurse?"
Obi blinked. "They were... on sale."
"And that is Shun Kurosaki," Maki said, pointing toward the white-haired man adjusting his glasses with two fingers. The faint hum of the bag next to him hadn't stopped.
Shun gave Obi a slow glance over the top of his glasses. "Newbie looks fragile. Should've brought a warranty."
Obi raised an eyebrow, then turned his gaze to Reiji, his voice sharp and simmering.
"And him," he said through clenched teeth, "I've already met."
Reiji gave him a passing look, as if sizing him up like luggage. "Still alive. Impressive."
Before Obi could retort, Maki clapped her hands again. "Focus, boys. We're not here to traumatize him yet."
She smiled again, gentler now. "This is your unofficial welcome to our team-what's left of it anyway. Since the Trials are coming up, we figured now's a good time to bring you in. Aki's our best scout and, apparently, he vouched for you."
Obi's head snapped around. "Wait-that crow-hugging maniac is your best scout?"
Hiruki snorted, nearly choking on his gum. "Crow hugger. I'm stealing that."
Maki rolled her eyes with a long, practiced exhale. "Yes, Aki. And since you only just found out demons exist, we're going to be training you. Easing you into things before the Trials."
She glanced around at the others, then back at Obi. "We won't start anything today. You look like you need a nap, or maybe a chiropractor."
"Or an exorcist," Chika muttered.
"But," Maki continued, smiling again, "in about two nights-if we're not chasing anything ugly-you'll start your training. Eclipse Division style."
Obi folded his arms and looked at them all again-this eccentric, terrifying group of killers with weird fashion choices and even weirder senses of humor.
"...Great," he muttered. "Can't wait."
"Don't be late," Hiruki said with a wicked grin, casually twirling his lollipop stick between his fingers. "Or I will find you for wasting my time."
He turned to Maki, dragging her name like a whiny child at the end of a school day.
"Makiiiiii! Let's go home already. I'm bored! God, there's nothing to do!"
Chika groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Christ, you're seventeen. Can you act like it? Or did the sugar finally finish rotting your damn brain?"
With a swift, brotherly slap to the back of Hiruki's head, Chika shut him up.
"Ow!" Hiruki groaned, clutching his skull. "That's abuse!"
Reiji spoke up, calm and cold as usual. "Meet us back here. Same time. Don't be late."
Obi scowled at him. "So... you tortured me tonight for no reason?"
"Pretty much," Reiji said with a shrug. "Alright, let's go."
"Sushi!" Hiruki yelled, fist-pumping. "Let's go buy sushi!"
"I could eat," Chika muttered, stretching his arms with a yawn.
Hiruki glanced at Maki, eyes sparkling with hope. "Makiiiiii," he cooed, "could you, like, sponsor our sushi run?"
"Why me?" she asked flatly, hands on her hips.
"Because you're the nicest! Dependable! The only one with an actual heart," he declared dramatically, pointing at Reiji. "Iceman over there is a soulless sociopath. Bug-man-" he jerked a thumb at Shun "-is so stoic I think he secretly wants me dead. Chika's just plain mean. And the rest? They were too jobless to show up."
Chika slapped him again, a little harder this time.
"Worth it!" Hiruki winced, but grinned through the pain.
As the group started walking, Obi raised a hand. "Uh... can someone pay for my train fare? I mean, you guys literally dragged me out of bed, half-killed me, dumped me in a field-but sure, it's been... nostalgic."
"Yeah, yeah, we'll get sushi," Maki said, waving him off as they walked toward the exit.
"Hey-hey! I'm still talking!"
Reiji didn't even look back. "We heard. We're just ignoring you-with dramatic flair."
Obi blinked, watching them disappear into the trees, laughing and bickering as if they hadn't just ruined his entire night.
"...What am I supposed to do now?"
"It's best you walk," Reiji called out without turning around. "Takes