A million yen burned a hole in my pocket. Literally. I felt its weight like a loaded gun. For a normal high schooler, it was a fortune. For a Hunter—the price of a good pair of boots.
— Marin, are you sure this is the right place? — I asked, stopping in front of an old, slightly shabby little shop in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of the city.
The sign «Sakamoto Store» was crooked, and the display window was plastered with ads for cheap bento and lotteries. The place looked like time had stopped here in the Showa era. No neon, no holograms. Just the smell of fried oil and tranquility.
— Yep! — Marin checked the map on her tablet. — On the cosplayer forums, they say there's some old guy working here who can get anything. Even threads from Arachnid webs that can't be cut by steel. We need something durable for Ai-chan, right?
I adjusted the round black glasses on my nose. My Six Eyes were working in passive mode, scanning the surroundings through the dark lenses. The street was clean. Too clean.
— Alright, — I sighed. — We go in, grab the materials, and get out. I have a bad feeling about this.
The bell above the door jingled.
Inside, it smelled of laundry detergent and pork buns. The shelves were crammed with everything: from instant noodles to... strange-looking hammers and electrical tape. A man stood behind the register. Plump, wearing glasses, with a mustache that looked like a shoe brush.
He looked like the most harmless person in the world. A typical uncle who drinks beer and watches baseball in the evenings.
I lowered my glasses slightly down my nose to look at him over the lenses, without the dark glass filter. And then I was almost paralyzed.
— Holy sh... — I whispered, quickly pushing the glasses back up.
The world around that fat man was warping. For normal strong Hunters, their aura burns like a bonfire—chaotic and bright. His was... quiet. Like a black hole that decided to pretend to be a puddle. Absolute, terrifying order. Not a single ounce of energy leaked out in vain. This guy wasn't just a Hunter.
He was someone who could kill an S-rank with a toothpick and not even break a sweat.
[ ⚠ Sync System: Warning! ]
[ Catastrophe-class entity detected (Hidden). ]
[ Threat Level: Immeasurable. ]
[ Advice: Do not be rude. And buy something. ]
— Welcome, — the cashier mumbled, not even looking up from his newspaper.
I swallowed. My instincts screamed: Run. My role as Gojo screamed: Act cool.
— Marin, — I said quietly, trying not to make sudden movements. — Find your threads. Fast.
— Oh, look! Limited edition wasabi chips! — Marin, possessing the survival instinct of a piece of bread, happily skipped towards the shelves.
I stood at the entrance, feeling like a sapper in a minefield. The fat man turned a page of his newspaper. The sound seemed louder than a gunshot to me.
At that moment, the door opened again. Three guys barged into the store. Leather jackets, neck tattoos, baseball bats in their hands. Yakuza? No, more like petty thugs who decided robbing a store on the outskirts was easy money.
— Hey, fatty! — the leader barked, slamming his bat on the counter. — Open the register, now! And drag that chick with the dyed hair over here too!
I looked at the cashier. Sakamoto slowly put down the newspaper. His face remained emotionless, but I saw a flash in his aura. Tension.
He had already calculated seventeen ways to kill them all in half a second using a stapler and a can of soda. But if he did that... his cover was blown. Blood, police, investigation. His peaceful life would come to an end. He would lose this little shop, this smell of buns, this quiet.
I looked at his hands. They weren't shaking. But they were holding back.
And then a strange feeling washed over me. Solidarity. I wanted to open a cafe myself. I wanted the monsters and systems to leave me alone too. I understood him.
He was a monster who just wanted to sell chewing gum. And some petty scum was about to destroy his dream.
«Oh hell no,» — I thought, feeling Gojo's cold fury boiling inside. «I won't let trash ruin the lives of my fellow sufferers.»
— Gentlemen, — I stepped forward, blocking the leader's path. Hands in my pockets, chin up.
My voice trembled, but I hoped it sounded like a vibration from anger, not fear.
— You're interrupting me from picking out a dessert.
The leader turned around, spitting on the floor. He gave me a disdainful look, his eyes lingering on my pitch-black lenses.
— And who the hell are you? Hey, blind guy! — he laughed, deciding that a guy wearing dark glasses indoors was an easy target. — Did you lose your guide dog? Get out of here before I hammer those shades into your skull!
He swung the bat. I didn't even flinch. I just adjusted my frames with one finger and activated Infinity. Just for a second.
My mana pool dropped by 20%, and a pain throbbed in my temple, but the effect was worth it.
The bat stopped a centimeter from my nose, as if stuck in invisible tar. The leader's eyes bulged as he tried to push through the barrier. The veins on his neck popped, but the bat wouldn't budge.
— What the...
— Weak, — I smirked, praying my nose wouldn't start bleeding right now.
At that moment, Sakamoto sneezed. Loudly.
BAM!
A can of baked beans sitting on the top shelf behind the leader «accidentally» slipped and flew at an unnatural speed—faster than a bullet—striking him squarely in the back of the head. The sound was dull and wet. The leader rolled his eyes and collapsed like a felled tree, dropping the bat.
[ ⚔️ Sync System: Combat Technique Analysis ]
[ Weapon: Canned Beans (20% Discount) ]
[ Damage: Critical ]
[ Conclusion: Never anger cashiers. In this world, they are scarier than Demon Lords. ]
His two lackeys froze, looking back and forth between me and their fallen boss. Sakamoto lazily scratched his nose and adjusted his glasses.
— Oops. The shelf got loose. I should fix that.
I looked at Sakamoto through my glasses. Sakamoto looked at me through his.
In his gaze, hidden by the glare of the lenses, I read a silent message: «You distracted them. Thanks. I didn't want to make a scene in front of the customers.»
I gave a barely noticeable nod. «No problem. I appreciate the quiet too.»
— Boss! — the remaining thugs yelled. They dropped their bats, grabbed their leader by the arms, and stumbled out of the store faster than I could blink.
Marin popped out from behind a rack with an armful of goods, munching on those very chips.
— Gojo-kun? What was that noise? I found the threads! And some glue! And some weird tape!
— Nothing, — I wiped a bead of cold sweat from my forehead. — A shelf just fell. Gravity is acting up in this neighborhood.
We walked up to the register. I placed the items on the counter: ultra-strong polymer threads (why were these even in a grocery store?!), a set of precision screwdrivers, and, for some reason, a pack of chocolate bars.
Sakamoto rang up the items.
— That will be five thousand yen, — he said in his monotone voice. Then he looked at me.
His hand dipped under the counter and pulled out another chocolate bar—a premium one with a gold wrapper. He placed it on top.
— On the house. For... understanding.
I took the chocolate bar. My hands had finally stopped shaking. We understood each other. Two monsters pretending to be human. I think I just found the best place in Tokyo.
— Thank you, — I said, pocketing the chocolate. — You have a great store. I hope it stays that way.
— I'll do my best, — Sakamoto returned to his newspaper, but I noticed the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly.
We stepped out onto the street. The evening air felt sweet.
— Wow, what a nice old man! — Marin chirped. — And he gave us a discount! Gojo-kun, did you see how cheap his buns were?
— Marin, — I said seriously, unwrapping the gifted chocolate. — Never. You hear me? Never try to steal a piece of gum from him. Even if you're dying of hunger.
— Eh? Why?
— Because he can kill you with a receipt. And make it look like an accident involving a banana peel.
Marin laughed, nudging my shoulder.
— You're so funny when you try to be mysterious! Alright, let's go to the studio. We have a million yen, a bunch of materials, and one Idol who needs to be fitted with armor!
I looked back at the receding «Sakamoto Store» sign. This city was full of surprises. Some lived in dungeons. Some stood behind a cash register. And some... some just wore dark glasses and tried not to go crazy, balancing between these worlds.
[ 🏆 Sync System: Quest Completed ]
[ Achievement Unlocked: «Pact of Silence» ]
[ Reward: +50 Reputation among Hidden Masters ]
[ Level Progress: 1 -> 2. (You survived an SSS-rank zone!) ]
«Level 2?» — I smirked. Well, at least now I'll be able to hold Infinity for a whole 15 seconds. Progress, damn it.
— Gojo-kun, hand me the scissors! — Marin commanded, crawling on the floor around the mannequin.
We had returned to her studio (which was actually a bedroom cluttered with fabrics). The task was simple and impossible at the same time: create armor that Ai Hoshino could wear under a stage costume, which would also save her from a maniac's knife or a demon's claw.
— Kevlar is too thick, — Marin muttered, holding pins in her teeth. — If she wears that under a dress, it'll look like she gained five kilos. For an idol, that's death. The fans will eat her alive.
— Use those threads from the store, — I advised, sitting on a chair and trying to figure out the System's updated interface. — The cashier... hinted that they aren't just threads.
— Seriously? — Marin stretched out a thin, almost transparent thread. — It looks like fishing line...
She tried to cut it with regular scissors. Clink! The scissors clanged, and the blade chipped. The thread remained intact.
I noticed the tips of her fingers were already covered with colorful ducky band-aids. Normal fabric cut the skin, and this mana-web must have been razor-sharp. But she didn't even wince.
Marin's eyes lit up with that fanatic fire that scared and fascinated me at the same time.
— Ooo... This is going to be a masterpiece! I'll sew her a corset! No, a bodysuit! It will breathe but protect her vital organs! I'll weave the protection directly into the fabric's structure!
I watched her. When Marin worked, she changed. The silly gyaru disappeared, and a master emerged. Her fingers flew, the needle flashing so fast my eyes could barely track the stitches. She was putting more than just skill into this work. She was putting her soul into it.
[ ⚙️ Sync System: Item Analysis ]
[ Crafting: Armor Suit "Invisible Aegis" ]
[ Class: Rare (Growth) ]
[ Artifact Creation Chance: 85% ]
[ Note: The creator's emotions directly affect the item's properties. ]
— Marin, — I called out quietly.
— Mmm? — she didn't look up from her sewing, muttering something about darts.
— Why are you helping me? You could have just taken the money for the materials and run. This is dangerous. Remember when we were leaving the cafe, I froze? I didn't tell you then so I wouldn't scare you... but I saw a watcher on the neighboring roof.
Marin put down the needle and looked at me. Her gaze became attentive.
— It wasn't human, and it wasn't a stalker, — I continued, looking at my palms. — It radiated such bloodlust that it chilled me to the bone. I felt death, Marin. And now we're getting involved with Ai Hoshino, who is being hunted by this monster.
Silence hung in the room. Marin said nothing for a few seconds, digesting what she heard. Then she smiled softly.
— Gojo-kun. When you saved me from that goblin... You could have run away too. You were weak. I saw your hands shaking. I saw how you threw up afterwards. But you stayed.
She stuck her tongue out at me and grabbed the fabric again, hiding her embarrassment.
— In cosplay, we all pretend to be someone else. But you... you're trying to become a real hero, even if you're scared. And if this monster is so creepy, it means Ai-chan needs help even more! So stop whining, hand me that spool, and sit still! I need inspiration from your pretty face!
I chuckled, leaning back in the chair. In this crazy world where cashiers kill with cans of beans and high schoolers fight demons, having a partner like this was... not bad.
— Here, — I tossed her the spool. — Make your masterpiece. How much time do you need?
Marin calculated, holding the thread up to the light.
— Well... the material is tricky. To sew it for concealed carry without ruining the silhouette... Three days. Better make it four. I want it to be perfect.
I nodded, leaning back and closing my eyes.
— Great. We have time. The schedule on the fan site said the tour starts next week. So work at your own pace, don't overdo it.
— Uh-huh! — Marin was already humming something, laying out the patterns. — We'll make it eye candy! Ai-chan will be thrilled!
I relaxed. For the first time all day. A million in my pocket. We have materials. My ally is a genius seamstress I luckily met. We have time to prepare.
It seemed nothing could ruin this plan.
[ ⚠ Sync System: Host, you are an idiot. ]
I brushed off the notification. The System was always grumbling. What could possibly go wrong?