The black, fully tinted Public Safety Bureau van smelled of leather, a cheap "Ocean Breeze" air freshener, and ketchup.
That last scent came exclusively from Denji, who had sprawled out on the seat across from them and was methodically licking his fingers.
Takemichi sat on a stiff chair, his back pressed so tightly against the partition separating them from the driver that it almost hurt. His knees were knocking out a rapid, embarrassingly loud drumroll.
To his left, like a statue carved from black ice, sat Aki Hayakawa.
He had not handcuffed Takemichi. He had not hit him. He had not even raised his voice.
But the aura coming off that man weighed on Takemichi's shoulders like a concrete slab. It felt as though the air around Aki was several degrees colder.
— "Alright, Hanagaki," — Aki began in a level, almost soothing tone, folding his arms over his chest. — "Let's clear up the situation. You missed two days of classes. Yesterday, you were seen in the company of an unidentified white-haired man who staged a demonstrative destruction of a Gate right in the middle of the city, and then erased both himself and you from reality."
Takemichi swallowed convulsively.
— "Hey, squirt," — Denji suddenly cut in, leaning over the little table and breathing sausage and onion straight into Takemichi's face. — "You got any spare change? Aki stiffed me on a proper lunch. Chip in for beef curry, and I can tell him not to torture you too hard. Maybe he'll only rip out a couple fingernails for form's sake. Deal?"
— "Denji. Shut up," — Hayakawa said coldly, not even turning his head.
The blond with shark teeth clicked his tongue and flopped back again, throwing his dirty sneakers up onto the seat.
— "Oh, come on, Aki. He's gonna pass out any second now. He reeks of fear worse than those sewer devils."
Aki turned his piercing gaze back on Takemichi.
— "My colleague lacks tact, but he is right. You have every reason to be afraid. Your 'friend' is an anomaly. A threat to national security. He is breaking a system that took years to build. If you think the Hunter Association is frightening, then believe me — the Bureau is an entirely different level. We do not play games with rankings and popularity. We eliminate threats."
Aki leaned forward slightly.
Every word dropped like a guillotine blade.
— "His name. The nature of his abilities. His weaknesses. And the address where he is currently hiding. Tell me those things, and we will drop you off at the nearest intersection. You will go back to school, turn in your geometry, and your life will become normal again."
Normal.
The word hit Takemichi right under the ribs.
Hina's smiling face flashed before his eyes. The schoolyard. Sunsets on the rooftop. Everything he had gone back into the past for. Everything he had broken himself over again and again to protect.
All he had to do was say one name — Satoru Gojo.
Say the address of the penthouse.
And it would all be over.
He would go back to being just Takemichi, not the "Poor Pack Mule."
But then he remembered something else.
He remembered how Gojo, mocking and grumbling the entire time, had hauled him through acid slime. How he had shielded him from the Boss's blow. How, overloaded by his own magic and coughing up blood, he had still ordered him to run.
Satoru Gojo was a selfish, arrogant, insufferable asshole with a god complex.
But he had never abandoned him.
More than that — it was thanks to Gojo that the world had gained a chance to survive.
— "Well?" — Aki narrowed his eyes a fraction. — "Your answer."
Takemichi felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks.
He sniffled loudly and miserably, smearing snot across the sleeve of his school uniform. His knees were still shaking, and his stomach had clenched into a tight knot.
Then he raised his red, swollen eyes to the Bureau agent.
— "I... I'm gonna piss myself from fear right here in your van if you don't stop looking at me like that..." — Takemichi rasped, stammering on every other word. — "But... but I'm not telling you anything!"
Denji nearly choked on air and stared at the schoolboy wide-eyed.
Aki went still.
His brows climbed almost imperceptibly.
Sitting in front of him was a teenager who was utterly broken, sobbing with raw animal terror — and yet, somehow... not breaking.
— "Do you understand that you are signing your own death warrant?" — Hayakawa asked quietly.
— "He's an idiot!" — Takemichi shouted, clenching his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. — "He's an awful person! He makes me haul rocks around and feeds me slime! But he's my friend! And I don't betray my friends, got it?! To hell with your curry and to hell with your Bureau!"
A ringing silence filled the van, broken only by Takemichi's desperate sobs.
Aki stared at the blond for a long moment.
Then he slowly leaned back against the seat and pulled a special communications phone from the inner pocket of his jacket.
— "Stubborn trash," — Denji observed melancholically, picking at his teeth. — "Respect. Still want curry, though."
Aki Hayakawa stepped out of the van, sliding the heavy door firmly shut behind him.
Denji's shouts about dying of starvation if nobody bought him curry were instantly cut off by the thick layer of soundproofing.
---------------------------------------
POV: Gojo
Golden morning sunlight crawled lazily across the penthouse floorboards, illuminating countless motes of dust suspended in the air.
The Six Eyes saw every one of them — their trajectories, their structure, the way they swirled with the steady breathing of the sleeping girl.
I was sitting in the cocoon chair by the window, my legs thrown over the low table.
The sensation of having my own body back after two days in the "elf demo version" was strange. Like I had spent too long wearing a suit that was too tight, only to finally slip back into familiar silk.
Height. Weight. Shoulder span.
Everything had returned to where it belonged.
Even my mana no longer seethed like molten lava — now it flowed through my channels like a calm, full-blooded S-rank river.
I lazily spun an empty energy drink can between my fingers.
On the floor beside me lay a pile of trash: discarded bandage wrappers, empty cups, and a geometry textbook Takemichi had left open in his rush, abandoned on the chapter about the Pythagorean theorem.
Ai stirred on the couch.
She made a quiet, sleepy sound — something halfway between a yawn and a protest against the audacity of the sun. First, a slender arm emerged from beneath the fluffy blanket, groping blindly over the cushions in search of... me?
Or rather, little Frieren.
When she failed to find the familiar childish shoulder, Ai's eyes snapped open.
The stars in her pupils lit dimly, still in energy-saving mode, but a second later they widened in shock.
She sat up, pushing back her disheveled violet hair, and stared at me. Her gaze darted from my long legs in black trousers to the blindfold over my eyes.
She looked as though she had just seen a ghost that had abruptly decided to materialize in her living room.
— "Satoru...-kun?" — she whispered, and her voice cracked slightly. — "Is... is that really you?"
— "In my tallest and most insufferable form, Starlet," — I said, allowing myself a faint, lazy smirk. — "The timer ran out. The elf has gone off for her well-earned rest, and I've returned to my duties as the main decoration of this penthouse."
For a few seconds, Ai said nothing.
She bit her lip.
I could see her pulse quickening.
She slowly got up from the couch, still wrapped in the blanket like a royal mantle, and stepped closer. Now, with me seated and her standing, our eyes were almost level.
— "You look... different," — she said, lifting a hand as if she wanted to touch my shoulder, only to freeze at the last second. — "Two days ago, you were so small. I fed you broth, Satoru. Do... do you even remember that?"
— "To my deepest shame — every single movement of the spoon," — I snorted, feeling the skin beneath my blindfold grow traitorously warm. — "You really don't need to remind me. I was planning to erase that from world history, but since you're a witness..."
Ai suddenly laughed — quietly, a little raggedly.
The tension she had been carrying for those two days began to leak out with that laugh.
She lowered herself onto the edge of the coffee table right in front of me, ignoring the heap of garbage around us.
— "You scared us," — she said seriously, looking straight at the black fabric over my eyes. — "Takemichi-kun cried in the bathroom for three hours when your temperature reached forty-two. And Marin... she only left at dawn, when she finally realized you weren't going to turn to dust. By the way..."
She looked around, and her face suddenly grew serious. The stars in her eyes burned brighter.
— "Where is Takemichi-kun? It's too quiet in the penthouse. By this time, he's usually dropped the kettle three times already or panicking because he can't find his socks."
I stopped spinning the can and looked out the window, toward the government quarter hidden beyond the horizon.
— "Our hero decided Hina Tachibana was scarier than the Public Safety Bureau. He ran off to school about an hour ago. To hand in his homework."
Ai froze.
The blanket slid from her shoulders to the floor.
— "To school? But you said..." — She stared at me. — "Satoru-kun, there's definitely an ambush there! You stopped him, right?"
— "Stopped him?" — I huffed. — "Starlet, I'm the Strongest sorcerer, not a nanny for suicidal schoolboys. I warned him. Three times. But the kid has a fixation on the idea of being 'normal.' He's convinced that if he shows up for geometry class, the world will stop rolling into the abyss."
Ai shot to her feet, her fists clenched.
— "And you're just sitting here drinking an energy drink while they shove him into a car?!" — she snapped. — "Satoru, he's the only one who followed you into that dungeon! He's... he's your friend!"
— "He's my loot porter," — I corrected, even though something unpleasant pricked inside me. — "Besides, I had more important things to do. Like arguing with the System about why I can't wash dishes without turning into a little girl."
I was just about to continue my ironic little monologue when a system notification jumped in front of my eyes with the nasty sound of shattering glass.
It was bright red, aggressive, and pulsing.
[Sync System: EMERGENCY EVENT!] [Type: Loss of property]
[Description: Your personal pet/porter "Takemichi Hanagaki" has been kidnapped by representatives of the Public Safety Bureau. He is currently being interrogated in a van. The subject's stress level is off the charts.]
[Warning: If the subject sheds more than 500 ml of tears, the van's upholstery will be ruined beyond repair. This will damage your prestige.]
[Reward for rescue: 500 Coins, a ramen coupon, and removal of the status "Irresponsible Owner".]
I felt my smile slowly slide off my face.
The air in the room suddenly became as heavy as lead.
— "Pet?" — I whispered.
Ai took a step back.
She could see the space around me beginning to vibrate almost imperceptibly. The glasses on the table trembled. The empty energy drink can in my hand crumpled with a metallic shriek into a perfect little ball.
— "Satoru-kun? What happened?" — Ai's voice shook with fear, but she did not run.
I rose to my feet slowly.
At my full height, I must have looked like something alien in that room — too large, too wrong.
[Infinity] began distorting the light involuntarily, stretching my shadow across the floor until it looked longer and darker than it should have.
— "The System just crossed a line," — I said, adjusting my blindfold. There was a kind of ice in my voice that could have frozen an ocean. — "And those Bureau bastards did too. They decided they could lay hands on my people."
I turned to Ai.
The stars in her eyes reflected my own cold fury.
— "Put the kettle on, Starlet. And make something sweet. I think it's time I reminded this city why playing hide-and-seek with me is a very bad idea."
— "You're going after him?" — she breathed, fear and manic admiration mixing in her gaze.
— "I'm going after my 'property,'" — I snapped, even as the Six Eyes were already tracing the lingering residue of Takemichi's mana. — "And woe to whoever happens to be behind the wheel."
The space in the center of the living room folded into a black point.
— "Cursed Technique: Blue."
A sharp crack rang out, like a vacuum implosion. The curtains lashed upward toward the ceiling, the geometry textbook slammed shut in the gust, and I simply vanished, leaving behind nothing but the smell of ozone and a ringing silence.
Ai remained standing in the middle of the empty living room, one hand pressed to her chest.
— "Good luck... Satoru-kun," — she whispered into the emptiness where the Strongest had just been standing.
----------------------------------------------
The back yard of the school was quiet.
Aki leaned against the cold metal side of the van, pulled a cigarette from a crumpled pack, and flicked on his lighter. Only after taking a long drag and feeling the harsh smoke fill his lungs did he finally let some of the tension ease from his cramped shoulders.
He pulled out his communicator and pressed a single button.
The ringing lasted no more than a second.
— "Yes, Aki-kun?" — Makima's soft, almost motherly voice came through the speaker.
Hayakawa straightened instinctively, even though he knew she could not see him.
That voice always had a strange effect on him. It made his heart beat faster, but somewhere at the edge of his mind there was always that sticky, primitive fear scraping at him.
Behind her voice, Aki could clearly hear the wail of sirens, the thrum of helicopter blades, and shouting in Korean. Wherever she was, absolute chaos was unfolding.
Yet Makima spoke as if she were sitting in a quiet café in Aoyama.
— "The subject has been secured, Makima-san," — Aki reported clearly, without emotion. — "No resistance. But I was unable to crack him immediately. The subject is terrified to the point of hysteria, yet refuses outright to disclose Satoru Gojo's location."
There was a short pause on the other end.
Then Makima laughed softly, sincerely.
— "Really now. Such loyalty. You know, Aki-kun, I love people like that. Dogs who are willing to endure pain, but do not betray their master, are good dogs. Don't break him. Just keep him with you. A master always comes back for a good dog."
— "Understood," — Hayakawa replied dryly, flicking ash away. — "Should I prepare the Bureau perimeter for your return? We expect Gojo will attempt to infiltrate the building."
For a moment, the connection was drowned out by a monstrous crash — as though a skyscraper had just collapsed.
Aki frowned.
Makima did not change her tone even slightly.
— "I'm afraid I'll be delayed in Seoul, Aki-kun. Tokyo will remain in your hands."
— "Problems with the local Association?"
— "No. Something... more interesting has appeared," — she said, and there was a smile in her voice that sent a thread of ice down Aki's spine.
— "A few months ago, a very weak E-rank Hunter entered a dungeon. And apparently found something he should not have. Today, during a raid, he performed a little trick. Do you know what he did, Aki-kun?"
— "No, Makima-san."
— "He raised the slain monsters from their own shadows. And made them serve him. His mana isn't static — it grows with every kill," — Makima said it with the tone of someone studying a beautiful butterfly pinned in place. — "This entire Korean Hunter system... they're all so proud of their S-ranks. But this boy, Sung Jin-Woo, has simply turned death into his personal pack."
Aki said nothing.
The cigarette smoldered between his fingers, scorching the skin, but he barely noticed.
A Hunter whose power was not limited by awakening?
A necromancer who could multiply an army without end?
— "Our white-haired anomaly in Tokyo is strong," — Makima continued, — "but he is a loner. Here... something like a pack leader is growing. I need to make sure this boy can be put on a leash before he realizes the true extent of his power. So Gojo is your responsibility, Aki-kun. Try not to die before I return."
— "Yes, Makima-san."
The line disconnected.
For several seconds, Aki stared at the dark communicator screen.
Then he dropped the cigarette butt onto the asphalt, ground it out carefully beneath his heel, let out a heavy sigh, and slid the van door open.
The black, fully tinted Public Safety Bureau van moved smoothly along the Shuto Expressway, blending into the morning flow of traffic.
Inside the cabin, a thick, oppressive silence hung in the air.
Aki Hayakawa sat with his eyes closed, massaging his temples with his fingers. His conversation with Makima had left a sticky, disgusting aftertaste behind.
A Hunter from Korea whose strength grew without limit?
A necromancer assembling an army from shadows?
It violated the laws of reality themselves.
Aki could feel a headache beginning behind his eyes.
He wanted a cigarette desperately, but smoking in a government van beside a teenager and a half-devil would have been a breach of protocol.
Across from him, Denji was loudly and irritably scraping a fingernail against the upholstery.
— "Hey, Aki..." — he whined for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. — "How much longer? My stomach's sticking to my spine. If we don't stop for curry right now, I'm gonna eat that bucket hat along with its owner."
Takemichi, who had spent the whole ride curled in on himself, let out a quiet, miserable hiccup and tugged the bucket hat even lower over his reddened nose.
He was absolutely certain the shark-toothed boy was not joking.
— "You can wait, Denji. We're almost arri—" — Hayakawa started, only to cut himself off.
The air inside the cabin suddenly grew heavy, thick as jelly.
Their ears popped as if the van had plummeted down an elevator shaft in the span of a second.
The hair on Aki's arms stood on end from static, and the survival instinct honed by years in the Bureau started screaming at the top of its lungs.
Hayakawa's eyes flew open, and his hand shot to the hilt of the katana at his waist.
Denji lifted his head in surprise, sniffing the air.
It smelled of ozone — and something faintly sweet.
But none of them had time to do anything.
With a deafening vacuum crack that made the van's bulletproof windows shudder on the edge of breaking, space tore open right between the seats.
Aki was slammed back into the door. Denji was thrown against the seatback. The van swerved violently across the highway when the driver yanked the wheel in shock, then somehow miraculously straightened out again.
A figure materialized right in the middle of the narrow aisle.
For a man pushing one hundred ninety centimeters, the space was frankly too cramped, yet the uninvited guest settled there as if it were his personal armored limousine. Casually crossing one long leg in black trousers over the other, he adjusted the impeccably clean blindfold over his eyes and tilted his head slightly.
Takemichi made a sound like a deflating balloon and slid weakly down the side of the seat.
— "S-Satoru-kun..." — he squeaked, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Gojo turned his head lazily.
First, he looked at the stunned Denji, still frozen with his mouth open.
Then his gaze shifted to deathly pale Aki Hayakawa, whose fingers had turned white around the hilt of his sword.
A slow, mocking, completely unhinged smile spread across the Strongest's lips.
The pressure of his aura was so intense that breathing inside the van became nearly impossible.
— "I heard you were offering a free taxi ride to a decent curry place," — Satoru said in that trademark vibrating voice of his, invisible waves rolling through the cabin. — "Would you happen to have room for a guy who really fucking hates it when people touch his things?"
Aki Hayakawa swallowed the lump lodged in his throat.
With horror, he realized that the worst part of this day had only just begun — and that they might not even make it as far as Tokyo Bay.