(Events 24 hours before the raid on the «Emerald Forest»)
Typical Tokyo rain rustled outside the studio window, washing away the dust and the hopes of office clerks from the streets. Inside, it was cozy: a humidifier was humming, lo-fi music played softly, and Marin, sticking the tip of her tongue out in concentration, was battling with stubborn silk.
I sat on the sofa, lazily flipping through the magazine «Hunter & Style».
— Sung Jin-Woo in a black Armani suit... — I muttered. — Pretentious. But impractical. Where are the pockets for loot? And why do all S-ranks have faces like they haven't eaten for a week?
Six Eyes saw Marin's fingers trembling from fatigue, but she stubbornly continued to stitch. I also saw that the fabric under her needle was strange. Dense, saturated with mana. And clearly a male cut.
— Listen, Gojo-kun, — Marin suddenly stopped the machine and turned around. Her eyes were suspiciously shimmering. — Tomorrow is the big day! You'll finally go to the Association. I can already imagine the clerk's face when he sees your stats! The crystal will probably just crack from your coolness!
I smirked wryly, not looking up from the magazine. — Hopefully, we can avoid damaging government property. I still have no way to pay fines.
— Oh, don't be modest! — she waved her hands, nearly knocking over the pin cushion. — They'll give you a high rank right away! They'll put you in a penthouse, give you a personal driver and a gold card! You'll walk around all important, looking down on everyone... Just don't forget about us mere mortals when you become a star!
I finally looked up from the article «Top 10 Swords for Beginners» and gave her the most skeptical expression I was capable of.
— Mere mortals? — I raised an eyebrow. — Marin, remind me who just a couple of days ago grabbed me in a death grip and screamed: «Gojo-kun, you are sent to me by heaven, you will be my perfect mannequin!»?
I folded my arms across my chest, changing my voice to a squeaky-excited parody of her mannerisms: — «Oh, Gojo-kun, stand still! Gojo-kun, don't breathe, I'm measuring your waist! Gojo-kun, you're too tall, lean down!»
Marin flared up like a signal flare. — Hey! I don't talk like that! — she protested, jumping up from her chair.
— Exactly like that, — I nodded with an unperturbed look. — And now, the moment I mention the Association, you're already writing me off as an «unreachable star»? You certainly promoted me quickly from free labor to a celestial being in your eyes.
Marin grabbed a cat-shaped decorative pillow from the sofa and launched it at me with a battle cry. — Idiot! I'm just... just caring about your career!
Six Eyes allowed me to lazily evade, simply tilting my head a few centimeters to the right. The pillow hit the wall behind me with a dull «poof».
Marin froze with her arm outstretched. She saw how easily I dodged the «attack» without even blinking. The realization that I truly wasn't an ordinary guy mixed with awkwardness. Her ears turned crimson.
— Y-you... why do you dodge so suddenly?! — she squeaked, flopping back onto her chair and covering her face with her hands. — You could have at least played along!
— Missed, — I stated with a light smile. — By the way, what are you sewing there with such fanaticism? It's clearly not a school uniform for your cosplay. The shoulders are too wide. Have you decided to cosplay a wardrobe?
Marin let out an «oops» and instantly covered the machine with her body, spreading her arms like a bird protecting its nest. — This... This is a secret project! For... umm... a large cosplayer! Yes! He has a very... unconventional figure!
— Unconventional figure, you say? — I narrowed my eyes. — Height 190 cm, long arms, eternal slouching from staring at a phone?
— No! — she blurted out, her eyes darting around the room. — It's... it's for an Ogre cosplay! There! That's why the shoulders are wide! That's it, don't look! It's bad luck to see an unfinished Ogre costume!
— An Ogre costume made of dark blue fabric with a high collar? — I clarified. — A glamorous Ogre. Respect.
— Gojo-kun! Go... go drink some tea! — she literally pushed me away with her gaze toward the kitchen, trying to hide a nervous smile.
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Half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it. On the threshold stood a guy with silvery hair, an earring in his ear, and a calm, evaluating gaze. My brain instantly tossed up information from my past life. «Silvery hair, dragon tattoo on the temple hidden by hair... A calm aura, but with a steel core inside. Takashi Mitsuya. Leader of the second division of "Toman". And, part-time, a genius of cutting and sewing».
— Kitagawa isn't here? — he nodded to me, stepping inside. — I brought the blueprints for the hidden seams. She asked to make it so the collar holds its shape even in strong winds.
Mitsuya laid out the sketches on the table. I stepped closer, ignoring Marin's protesting squeak from the background. It was a scheme of a jacket. My jacket. The very one currently under the sewing machine foot.
— She said her «client» is an active guy, and ordinary fabric would tear under the strain, — Mitsuya looked at me, then at the sketch, then back at me. The corner of his lips twitched in a knowing smirk. — I don't know who she's planning to dress in an Ogre costume, but the parameters are suspiciously familiar. Shoulders, height... one to one.
Marin flew to the table, red as an overripe tomato, and began frantically gathering the papers, trying to cover the scheme. — Mitsuya-kun! It's a secret! A surprise! You ruined everything! Why did you have to mention the parameters?!
Mitsuya shrugged with absolute calm. — Sorry. I thought he was aware that he's the Ogre.
I chuckled, looking at Marin, who was trying to hide behind Mitsuya's back, tugging at his sleeve.
— Fine, the «Ogre» will pretend he didn't see anything and that his eyesight is poor. But if there are pink ruffles on it, I'm going to a monastery. Or to the competitors.
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In the evening, Marin suddenly began to fuss. She kept nervously glancing at the clock and at an empty bag that once held fabric.
— I need to... uh... go get some milk! — she blurted out, grabbing her bag. — And buttons! Very rare buttons!
— Marin, it's ten in the evening. Button boutiques are closed, and milk is at the konbini around the corner.
— I have... connections! Anyway, I'll be quick! Sit here and guard the studio! Don't touch the machine! She ran out, forgetting her umbrella.
I waited exactly one minute. Then I sighed, pulled up my hood, and followed. Not because I didn't trust her. But because Six Eyes saw anxiety in her aura. And resolve. The kind of mix that usually leads kind-hearted girls into big trouble.
I kept a distance of a block. Marin was running through puddles, clutching a box to her chest. I narrowed my eyes. Through the wet cardboard, I saw the outlines of mana. A figure. Collectible. Rare. The very one she had been buzzing in my ears about for a week, calling it her «precious».
She turned toward a shop called «Goods for Pros». It was a place for hunters where they traded dungeon gear, often illegal. I stopped around the corner, leaning against the wet wall. The hearing of Six Eyes tuned to the right frequency, cutting out the sound of the rain.
— Marin-chan? — a salesman's voice, bassy and hoarse. — Are you serious? This is the first edition Shizuku-tan. You were ready to sell your soul for this a month ago.
— I'm ready to sell it for five meters of Rank D mana-web, — Marin's voice trembled, but there was steel in it. — And for the strengthening threads. The strongest ones, Egil-san.
— Girl, — the giant behind the counter sighed. — Mana-web is a military resource. Its price on the black market has skyrocketed. Your figure is rare, of course, but... at face value, it's worth less than this roll.
I heard Marin take a shaky breath. — I... I'll pay extra! Later! I'll work for it! Please, Egil-san. He needs this. He's going to the Association tomorrow, and I know he'll dive into the thick of it as soon as he gets his license. Even if they give him a low rank... he doesn't know how to retreat. I want him to come back whole. I can't let him go without protection.
A heavy pause followed. Only the sound of raindrops hitting the roof could be heard.
— To hell with you, — Egil finally grumbled. — Take it. I'll give you a discount for your stubbornness. But you're in the red, okay? The figure only covers 70% of the cost. The rest is my gift to your... «friend». Tell him not to die.
— Thank you! Thank you so much, Egil-san! You're the best!
I detached myself from the wall. Something twinged unpleasantly in my chest. Shame? No, something warmer. She was selling her dream, humiliating herself, asking for a discount... just to buy me insurance.
«Fool», — I thought without malice, feeling the corners of my lips creep upward. «I'm the Strongest. I don't need armor. But... damn it, how pleasant this feels».
I returned to the studio a minute before her, using a short burst of speed that nearly made me lose yesterday's dinner. When Marin burst inside — wet, disheveled, but with shining eyes and a bundle of fabric — I was sitting on the sofa with an absolutely bored look, buried in the magazine again.
— I bought everything! — she blurted out, hiding the bundle behind her back and trying to catch her breath.
— Milk? — I asked innocently, without raising my eyes.
— Uh... the milk was sold out! In the whole neighborhood! The cows went on strike! — she chuckled nervously. — But I found... buttons! Those very ones!
I stood up and slowly walked over to her. She tensed, expecting a catch, but instead of exposing her lie, I simply placed my hand on her head. Her hair was wet and smelled of rain.
— Marin, — I said quietly. — Tomorrow, when I go to the Association... it doesn't matter what rank they give me. Even if it's F. — I leaned toward her ear. — What matters is that I'll have the coolest Ogre suit in history. And the buttons. I appreciate it. Truly.
She turned so red it seemed steam would rise from her. She sniffed and, unable to handle the tension and my proximity, buried her forehead in my chest, hiding her eyes.
— Just try to tear it, Gojo Satoru, — she grumbled into my T-shirt. — I'll kill you faster than any monster. I gave up a lot for these... «buttons».
— Agreed, — I allowed myself a light, genuine smile. — Not a single scratch.