The air in the living room of the "Orion Residence" penthouse compressed for a moment, creating a fleeting vacuum, and then expanded back out with a quiet pop. I materialized right in the middle of the carpet, barely missing the expensive chandelier with my shoulder. The Six Eyes instantly read the situation: Ai Hoshino was sitting on the sofa, buried in her tablet. Hearing the pop, she flinched, but not out of fear — she was already used to my spatial tricks. She slowly raised her head, and her star-filled eyes met my blindfold.
Although Ai had already seen me in this form when I had just "dropped" Frieren's shell, right now everything was different. Back then, I was an exhausted, recovering patient; now, the Strongest stood before her in his full power. I was literally radiating a might that no clothing could hide, while [Infinity] hummed softly around me, creating a barely perceptible distortion in the air.
— "Welcome back, Satoru-kun," — Ai smiled, but I noticed how she involuntarily straightened her posture, feeling the pressure of my aura. — "Judging by your look, mission 'Save Private Takemichi' was a success? Although I'm afraid it was a fatal success for his psyche."
— "The Prophet is learning to survive in the rays of glory," — I said, casually throwing my hands behind my head and stretching my muscles that had gone stiff in the cramped van. — "Now he's a national treasure, so Hina definitely won't dump him. More likely, she'll lock him in a basement for his own safety."
Ai laughed quietly, placing her cup of cold tea on the table. She looked up at me, and in that gaze, there was a strange mix of relief and a new, unfamiliar awkwardness. It was one thing to baby a little elf girl, and quite another to be in the same room with a two-meter-tall man who could wipe a city district off the map with a snap of his fingers.
— "You know," — she blushed slightly, adjusting her Amulet of Serenity hairpin. — "You take up... way too much space in this form. The penthouse suddenly feels cramped."
— "Get used to it, Starlet. I don't plan on shrinking down again unless absolutely necessary," — I replied, turning my head toward the guest room, where a strange growling and the clatter of metal were coming from. — "What's our couturier up to in there?"
— "Marin has been in a state of a 'sewing berserker' for three hours now," — Ai sighed. — "It seems the fabric you gave her has more character than she thought."
I headed for the workshop doors, where absolute chaos reigned inside: scraps of fabric, spools of thread, empty energy drink cans... and in the middle of it all stood Marin Kitagawa. She looked as if she had just cleared an A-rank Gate solo. Her hair was disheveled, there were dark circles under her eyes, and in her hands were heavy professional scissors, with which she was unsuccessfully trying to hack at the bluish-black roll of "Lunar Silk".
— "Why won't you cut, you damn rag?!" — she groaned, literally hanging her entire weight onto the scissors. The fabric beneath the blades didn't even crease. Saturated with mana, the Lunar Silk simply ignored physical impact, compacting its structure at the exact point of pressure.
— "Marin, you are trying to cut concentrated energy with ordinary iron," — I said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. She jumped in place, spun around, and seeing me, froze for a moment with her mouth open.
— "Gojo-kun..." — she exhaled, looking me up and down. — "Damn, I keep forgetting how... huge you are. Alright, don't distract me! I have a crisis here! This silk — it's like dragon scales!"
— "Step aside, master. Let a professional show you how micro-control works," — I said, moving her slightly out of the way. I reached out toward the fabric. The Six Eyes saw every single fiber, every magical bind woven into the silk's structure. Ordinary scissors were useless here — they just slipped right off. So, I focused a tiny, barely visible point of [Blue] on the tip of my index finger. A singularity the size of a needle's eye.
— "Hold the edge," — I commanded. Marin, holding her breath, grabbed the cloth. I slowly ran my finger along the chalk-marked line. In the exact place where [Blue] touched the silk, reality didn't just tear — it collapsed. The space between the threads ceased to exist on a nano-level. The fabric gave way with a quiet, melodic chime. The cut was flawless — perfectly straight, melted apart by pure energy.
Marin stared at my hands with such admiration, as if I had just performed a miracle. — "God..." — she whispered. — "That's... that's a perfect cut. Gojo-kun, you are a walking laser machine!"
With my help, the work went much faster. We spent about another hour cutting out the details for the future masterpiece. Marin, inspired that the material had finally yielded, worked like clockwork, while I merely guided [Blue] at her direction. When the main part was finished, I straightened up, feeling a disgruntled rumble starting to build in my stomach.
— "Alright," — I turned to Ai, who had been watching us from the doorway this whole time. — "I have a serious matter. The System gave me a coupon for free ramen, and it expires in a few hours. I officially declare: the Strongest is hungry."
— "Satoru-kun, you can't just go outside," — Ai skeptically crossed her arms over her chest. — "Have you seen the news? Your face is on every screen right now. The police, the Association, and half the fangirls in Tokyo are looking for you. A two-meter-tall blond with a blindfold is not something you can hide just by putting on a cap."
— "That's exactly why we have a professional idol," — I smirked.
— "Ai, show some class. Disguise me so well that even your own mother wouldn't recognize me."
Ai accepted the challenge with excitement. The next half hour turned into a "dress the giant" attraction. — "No, this hoodie is too tight on the shoulders," — Ai grumbled, digging through the wardrobe. — "You need something that hides your height and posture. Marin, hand me those thick-rimmed glasses!"
— "I am not wearing this potato sack!" — I resisted when they tried to pull an oversized gray sweater over me. — "The Strongest must look stylish even on the run!"
Eventually, after long arguments, we reached a compromise. I wore loose dark pants, a bulky black bomber jacket that somewhat "blurred" the silhouette of my shoulders, and instead of a blindfold — wide sunglasses covering half my face. We hid my white hair beneath a deep black bucket hat. It looked as if I was some incredibly pretentious rapper on vacation.
Ai herself put on a wig, glasses, and her "usual" disguise that she always wore for shopping. Marin just threw on a jacket, being too tired to care about her appearance.
We secretly slipped out of the building through the service elevator and stepped out into the evening Tokyo. The city shone with neon, and the huge screens in Shibuya were still broadcasting footage of the morning Gate clearing. It's a strange feeling — walking past your own image while the people around you discuss the "White Ghost."
We chose a small, inconspicuous ramen shop in a quiet Shinjuku alley. The sign had no neon, just an old wooden lantern. Inside, it smelled of broth, ginger, and old wood.
— "A coupon for 'Any diner', huh?" — I muttered, handing the piece of paper to the elderly chef. He glanced at us briefly, nodded, and got to work. We settled into the far corner. The cramped space forced us to sit almost shoulder to shoulder. Ai sat across from me, her eyes behind her glasses carefully studying the interior.
— "You know," — she said quietly, stirring her noodles with her chopsticks. — "It's strange. Just a couple of days ago, I thought my life was an endless lie under the spotlights. And now I'm sitting in a cheap diner with a 'reality bug' and a girl who sews clothes from magical silk. And I feel... at peace."
— "That's the effect of [Infinity], Ai," — I leaned back in my chair. — "Next to me, the world slows down a bit. What are your plans for tomorrow?"
— "Director Saito is tearing his hair out," — she smiled. — "But he's thrilled with the ratings. We decided to take a short break from the tour until the hype around the 'White Ghost' dies down. By the way, Satoru-kun... you know the government won't leave you alone, right?"
— "Let them try," — I said, taking a bite of juicy pork. — "Until they send someone interesting, it's just entertainment."
At that moment, the door of the ramen shop opened with a creak. A draft of cold night air rushed inside along with two new customers. The first was a short guy with golden hair tied in a high ponytail, and a gaze that radiated absolute, wild self-confidence. He was wearing the black uniform of a biker gang. Behind him stumbled a literal giant with a dragon tattoo on his temple and an impassive face. Mikey and Draken. Leaders of the "Tokyo Manji".
They stopped at the entrance, scanning the room. Mikey's gaze caught onto the back of my head and the bucket hat for a moment, and then swept over Ai and Marin. In the small ramen shop, it suddenly became very quiet. Even the chef froze with his ladle in hand. Draken leaned down to Mikey and whispered something in his ear, pointing in our direction.
— "Hey," — Mikey's voice sounded boyish and clear, but there was steel in it. — "You look familiar, big guy. You wouldn't happen to be that jerk from the news who drags our Takemichi around like a doll?"
I slowly set down my chopsticks, not turning around. That familiar smirk bloomed on my lips. — "Well, well," — I said quietly, so that only my companions could hear.
— "Looks like the ramen will have to wait."