The agency's secret penthouse in Minato was designed to cut its star residents off from the outside world. The armored glass didn't let in the sound of sirens or the hum of nocturnal Tokyo. A smart climate control system maintained a perfect twenty-two degrees.
It smelled of expensive leather sofas and cooling "Four Cheese" pizza. It was an ideal, safe haven. But right now, the tension inside the living room was so thick it felt as if the power outlets were sparking.
On the massive wall-mounted plasma screen, the shimmer of the Gate in Yoyogi Park had just changed color from a poisonous purple to a calming, crystal-clear blue.
Marin Kitagawa, sitting cross-legged on the floor among scraps of Kevlar fabric, let out a sharp exhale. The heavy tailor's shears slipped from her trembling fingers and hit the glass table with a loud thud, nearly overturning a glass of juice.
— "Twenty minutes..." — she whispered, leaning her palms against the cold glass edge. Her blonde hair was disheveled, and her pink hairpin was skewed. — "Ai-chan, the host just said it's only been twenty minutes!"
Ai Hoshino, nestled comfortably in the cushions of a huge sofa, didn't even flinch. In her oversized yellow bunny pajamas, she looked absurdly domestic and sweet, but her star-eyes drilled into the screen without blinking. She slowly, almost mechanically, bit into a piece of pizza where the cheese had already stopped stretching.
— "I see, Marin-chan," — Ai responded calmly while chewing. — "Look."
Absolute chaos was unfolding on the screen. The leader of the elite "Silver Wolves" guild, encased in shining armor, was on his knees, having dropped his two-handed sword. Journalists were screaming, and the police were trying to hold back the crowd.
And then, he emerged from the blue glow.
Snow-white hair sticking out in all directions. A black blindfold. And that very same dark-blue jacket.
Marin instinctively leaned forward, nearly pressing her nose against the TV screen, frantically inspecting every inch of the fabric on Gojo.
— "Intact! Not a single scratch!" — Marin squeaked joyfully, then immediately clutched her head. — "But how?! He has no mana! He told me himself in the dressing room that his channels were burned out!"
— "He should have died there, Ai-chan! How did he clear a C-rank without magic?!"
— "Maybe he just very convincingly asked the monsters to leave?" — Ai giggled, licking crumbs off her thumb. She pointed a half-eaten piece of pizza at the screen.
— "But the way he just walked past that pretentious guild... Did you see their leader's face?"
— "Gojo-kun humiliated them with his appearance alone. In show business, people kill for a PR move like that. This is pure domination."
Gojo, hands in his pockets, lazily walked through the crowd like a shark through a school of roach fish and vanished into a dark alley, leading Takemichi with a huge sack behind him. The cameras lost sight of them immediately.
The cameramen's attention switched back to the stunned leader of the "Silver Wolves," who was still staring after the departed "Anomaly". And at that moment, the live broadcast exploded with new screams.
— "THERE HE IS! THE BLOND ONE WITH THE SWORD! AKI WAS RIGHT!" — a wild, almost animalistic girlish shriek rang out, drowning out even the hum of the helicopters.
Marin flinched and grabbed a decorative pillow from the sofa, hugging it to her chest.
— "What is happening again?!"
Into the frame, straight onto the cordoned-off C-rank territory, two figures burst like a whirlwind, tearing through police tape and knocking over journalists. A slouching blond in a crumpled shirt and a disheveled girl with pink hair and... red horns on her head.
— "Bow before the Great Power, pathetic human! I smell prey!" — the horned girl shrieked, jumping onto the back of the bewildered "Silver Wolves" commander like a wild cat.
The elite tank, not expecting such a trick after the stress he'd endured, collapsed face-first into the asphalt with a loud metallic clang.
— "Hey, Horns, that's my target! I saw him first!" — the boy, whose teeth flashed like shark fangs in the spotlights, jumped to the fallen Hunter, grabbed the collar of his expensive armor, and began shaking him violently.
— "Hand over the cash! Where's our reward?!"
— "Who... who are those two?" — Marin stared at the screen with rounded eyes.
— "Does that boy have a chainsaw sticking out of his head?! Are they from Gojo-kun's team too?!"
Ai leaned forward, her eyes shining with professional delight. — "I don't think so. Most likely, Gojo-kun just set them on the guild while he was heading here. Genius."
— "The ratings for this channel are going to skyrocket! Want some pizza? There's one slice left."
— "What pizza, Ai-chan?!" — Marin jumped to her feet and began nervously pacing the spacious living room.
— "He left Yoyogi! That means he'll be here soon! I need to boil the kettle! I need to find the first aid kit! What if he's wounded and just not showing it under the jacket?!"
Marin dashed to the kitchen. The sounds of clinking dishes, rushing water, and a dropped box of medicine followed.
But the kettle went cold. An hour passed, then a second. Marin managed to pace the penthouse three times, check the lock on the front door, go through all the bandages in the kit, and send Gojo ten messages that went unanswered.
They sat on the sofa shoulder to shoulder, listening to analysts on TV break down every movement of the "White-Haired Anomaly" and wonder what kind of gang of horned teenagers had beaten the "Silver Wolves" on live television.
Marin was already starting to nervously bite her thumb when the broadcast was suddenly interrupted by a sharp, alarming signal. A flashing red banner appeared on the screen:
"EMERGENCY BROADCAST. CODE RED. THREAT IN ROPPONGI".
— "What this time..." — Marin groaned.
The camera from a news helicopter gave a perfect top-down view of the cordoned-off square of the old subway. But this time, there were no intrusive press or upstart guilds. The square was packed with heavy machinery. Dozens of armored black Hunter Association vans blocked all exits.
People in heavy tactical armor were setting up metal barricades. On the roofs of neighboring buildings, Marin clearly discerned the black, motionless silhouettes of snipers.
— "Ai-chan..." — Marin clutched the sleeve of her friend's pajamas. Her voice broke.
— "That's an army. The Association pulled an actual army there."
The pizza had completely lost its appeal. Ai's face became deathly serious. The idol brushed crumbs off her knees and tucked her legs under her.
— "They cordoned off the exit from the C-rank. They brought mana jammers. They're waiting for him, Marin-chan."
— "Waiting for whom?! Gojo?!" — Marin jumped up, nearly knocking over the table.
— "Why would he go to Roppongi?! He was supposed to come here! He promised! That white-haired idiot, his mana is at zero!!"
At that moment, the Gate on the screen leading into the old depot flickered. And once again, the poisonous glow changed to a steady, calm blue. The dungeon was cleared.
Two people emerged from the portal.
Marin stopped breathing. It was him on the screen. But now, over her blue jacket on Gojo's broad shoulders, rested an incredibly stylish, light-absorbing black matte cloak.
The events on the square unfolded with frightening speed. The announcer was screaming hysterically into the microphone. The Association commander was shouting through a megaphone, demanding they lie on the ground. Poor Takemichi was frantically hiding behind Satoru's back, using the sack as a shield.
And then the commander gave the order.
— "NO!" — Marin cried out, rushing to the screen and hitting it with her palms, as if she could stop time.
The camera captured the flashes of dozens of sniper rifles and the blinding gold magical chains rushing toward the white-haired boy from all sides.
But the bullets didn't reach. They simply froze in mid-air, stopping ten centimeters from his face and new cloak, as if hitting an invisible, absolutely impenetrable wall. The mages' golden chains shattered with a deafening ring, showering the asphalt with sparks.
And then the mana scanners on the roofs of the armored vehicles began to explode, one by one, unable to withstand the pressure of his aura.
— "Wow..." — Ai Hoshino murmured with sincere awe, not taking her eyes off the plasma. In her star-eyes, it wasn't the spotlight reflecting now, but the flame of another's power. — "That... that isn't Hunter magic, Marin-chan. It looks like... a miracle."
On the screen, Gojo slowly and casually, like the master of the situation, approached the commander's armored van. He slightly lifted his blindfold, flashing a celestial blue eye at the cameras.
The microphones couldn't catch his words, but he could be seen carelessly poking the steel door with a finger. The armored door, weighing several hundred kilograms, crumpled inward like a paper cup with a hideous metallic screech.
Marin slowly slid down the smooth glass of the screen to the floor. Fear for him vanished, completely burned away by a raw, pure awe.
That boy, whose measurements she had taken with pins in her cramped apartment just last night, was right now bringing Japan's strongest state organization to its knees. And he did it with a frightening, graceful ease.
Gojo shoved his hands into the pockets of his cloak and walked unhurriedly into the darkness of the alley. Not one of the dozens of armed military men even stirred to stop him.
Silence fell in the penthouse, broken only by the voice of the announcer on the television.
— "Marin-chan," — Ai's voice was unusually quiet. She slowly turned her head to her friend sitting on the floor.
— "Y-yes?" — Marin gulped, unable to tear her eyes away from the spot on the screen where Gojo had just stood.
— "I've changed my mind," — the idol nodded seriously to herself. — "I won't ask the director to hire him as my bodyguard. That would be an insult."
Ai looked at the plasma again. On the star's face appeared that real, slightly insane smile she never showed her fans.
— "I think, Marin-chan... we need to figure out how to make sure he doesn't destroy this country out of boredom." — "Because right now, your character from the manga has become a local God."