"At 2300 hours, we will commence the raid on the Mochi-chi Dock and the freight-class airship, Turbulence, huh..." Hikaru mumbled, stubbing a cigarette on an ashtray. Shuu walked out, opening the rooftop door. "I thought you quit smoking?"
Hikaru looked at the newcomer, his shoulders resting on the railing, his wind blowing in the air. The tall spire of brutalism stood out against the normal backdrop of a city. Neon lights, honking cars, and the faint scent of salt permeated the air.
"I've been trying, Osamu. The only times you see me not smoking are when I'm with other people."
Osamu walked up, his hand patting Hikaru's shoulder. No words were needed. Hikaru passed Shuu a cigarette, a Marlboro.
Shuu lit it up and took a drag, gazing at the smoke slowly dissipating with the wind. Hikaru pulled out a new one and lit the end of a bent one, his hand covering the tip.
Hikaru took in a long drag. "Huff, say Osamu, did you have to be so harsh on the kid?"
Shuu didn't respond. A beat of silence hung in the air as both of them looked at the skyline, a mix of old and new. "He reminds me of someone."
"What? The old you?"
Shuu chuckled. "Yup, the old me."
Hikaru looked at his side profile for a minute, then blew smoke into the air. "We ain't got time to be sentimental, right? Besides, you're young; if you're this brooding early on, you'll never get any women."
"Heh, you'd wish. Last time was when the old man was alive, but then again, that woman was just an arranged date." Shuu snorted. It truly had been a long time.
Hikaru mulled over his words, a brief pause before he spoke. "Right, how's that case with your pops been going?"
Shuu tapped the ash on the tip, knocking the ashes over the building. "Yeah, it still has no leads. Last time I checked, the only useful one I got was that the perpetrator was a mole, but I'd already deduced that ages ago."
Both of them stopped, feeling a light zenith passing through the empty rooftop, carrying old dust with it. Hikaru stretched, then began to walk to the exit, leaving behind the ashtray and Osamu. He looked back, touching the metal handle of the door. "Oh yeah, Osamu, be ready when it comes. High chance Iron Turbids will show up on the site, so pack up your Breaker. Don't want that Platinum title of yours to feel obsolete."
Shuu sighed, scratching the back of his head, the wine-red hair catching the wind. "Yeah, yeah, but expect me to be harsh on that Gojo kid."
"You bet."
A black armored van ran through the streets of Yokohama, passing through corridors and overpasses at a nice, steady speed. Inside, the yellow glow of the streetlights outside flickered in and out as they moved through the dense web of roads. Gojo sat on a chair, the vehicle bumping as it passed through more and more rough roads. Close, they're getting closer to the wall districts. I've been awake since this morning. When did I come here? Six? Seven AM? Then it was the stairwell, the capture, the interrogation, then the... ankle monitor. Right, Records.
Gojo looked out the small window at the back of the truck. He leaned over Hikaru, propping a shoulder over his. "Hey, so, what are Records basically?"
Hikaru didn't budge, staying still. "Supernatural powers, that's all we know. Wait kid, don't you have a Record?"
"Yeah, yeah, Record, Schme-cord."
"So? What's it called? Quit dawdling. Oh yeah, this is important by the way. Since we just jumped into the action earlier, you know? We didn't have time to register your Record. I'd like to have a name for now to send to Section 2."
"A name, huh..." Gojo muttered, hooking a finger to his chin. Limitless was always an option. The name of his Technique. But since he wasn't even in his own timeline, let alone world, he'd like to have a little variety.
"I got a name. Where Blue Light Blooms"
"Sure, nice name. Maybe too poetic for you. Surprised you didn't name it something stupid like 'Maximum Power' or 'Ginger.'" Pulling out a black phone, Hikaru tapped open an app, typing, sending it into a group chat.
"You don't know me. I like cool names. Like WereGarurumon and Jimmy Neutron Had a Dog, So Why Can't I Have a Friend?"
Hikaru's tapping on the phone stopped. "Fucking hell, Jimmy Neutron? Didn't expect Japanese folks like you to watch it."
Gojo pulled back. "Aren't you Japanese?"
"American by heart."
Brooke from the side perked up, the seat next to him housing a long black box. "Yeah, I thought that I'd show him some popular series back home. Said he wanted to understand American humor in case there's a ton of white babes."
The van rumbled over gravel, another uneven stretch of road. Gojo turned in his seat, his eye fixed on Brooke.
"You showed him Jimmy Neutron?"
"I'm from Texas."
"Figures."
"Oi, ain't it a little racist?"
Hikaru spoke up, shoving the phone into his vest. "Seinfeld was great too."
Gojo stopped arguing, putting both his hands over his mouth. "I'm surrounded by people with no taste."
Gojo turned to Sun Myung, noticing him watching. "Yo brat, what's got you silent over there? Feeling a little peckish? Oh, my bad, didn't expect some nosy fry to call me a 'chuunibyou,' pft."
Sun Myung ignored it, putting in some earbuds.
Gojo clicked his tongue, leaning back in his seat. "Rude. I'm trying to bond here."
Sun Myung didn't respond. His head bobbed slightly to whatever was playing through his earbuds, eyes fixed somewhere past Gojo's shoulder. The truck stopped for a moment before being pulled up on a platform. An elevator for vehicles, Gojo thought.
Hikaru snorted. "Leave him alone. He's mentally preparing. Some of us don't treat raids like a trip to the convenience store."
"And some of you should." Gojo stretched his arms above his head, fingers brushing the van's low ceiling. "Gets the blood flowing. Keeps you loose."
"Gets you killed."
"Tomato, tomato."
Brooke checked the magazine of his SUTRA L42. Emptying the magazine, biting it, checking every single bullet for something. "Hikaru's got a point. Deaths are commonplace in this field of work, even comparable to mine before."
Gojo grabbed an overhead handle. "Ha, can't compare to mine, but I think I've seen worse."
Hikaru stood up, moved to the front, and checked on the drivers through a thick window. "Yeah, yeah, we get it. Mysterious past and some super op power. Look, we ain't as strong as you, that's why some of us are feeling a little scared." Hikaru turned back. "Ready up, we're opening doors in a minute. By that time, I'd expect all of you to be all set."
Gojo watched as Brooke finished his ritual. Each bullet was tapped against the magazine twice, slotting the bullets back into the magazine with practiced efficiency. Sun Myung removed and stored his earbuds in his vest, cocking and inspecting his own L42. Hikaru moved to his seat, attaching his VEDAS Serration and standard issue SUTRA P28. The rumble outside as the van went up the ward floor by floor didn't stop.
Gojo, on the other hand, fumbled with his hands. Clutching a P28, he aimed down the sights and felt the texture of the grip. Surprisingly comfortable. Gojo frowned. A gun isn't really suited for me anyway. Still, he holstered it and went to the back door, leaning on the thick pane.
The van's rear door opened. Gojo was the first to step out, hands in his pockets as he jumped out of the vehicle. Landing with a light thump, dust settled as he surveyed the area. The others followed, each holding their own weapons, each in formation. They were parked outside a warehouse, the lights on the walls flickering. Stacks and stacks of cargo containers casting shadows on the docks acted as a makeshift contrast to the otherwise dull scenery. No sky was present; only the cracked concrete with shoddy, dull lights acted as the sky. A faint smell of oil and gasoline hung in the air. This was one of the rear entrances of the Mochi-chi Dock, as going in the front gate would certainly alert the people inside.
Hikaru stepped toward Gojo, holding a pistol. The vehicle's humming stopped as the engine was turned off, filling the area with echoes of their breaths.
The silence stretched, as thin as wire.
Hikaru gestured with two fingers. Sun Myung and Sato went forward, flanking the large metal doors of the warehouse. So on the other side of the warehouse is the docking area, huh? Gojo felt his jaw tighten. He had significantly more endurance than an average sorcerer, yet he was feeling sluggish. Was it because of his revival, leaving him weakened?
Hikaru tapped on his earpiece twice.
"Primary team status." Shuu's voice came back, low and muffled.
"Rear entrance secure. We'll move to the cargo bay entrance after clearing out the warehouse. I got Gojo and Brooke with me here. Damn it, it's been a while since an operation in here was done. Think my hands and eyes in this place have gotten rusty."
"Acknowledged. Secondary is in position at the bridge overpass. Four hostiles at the bridge. Four hostiles at the dock." Shuu stopped, his voice lowering. "Be careful inside the warehouse. I've got my Record running here, but since I don't know anyone's name inside, I can only make assumptions based on other info from Snow Country members. "
"Roger that. Hey Brooke, Gojo, we'll head inside, but keep the noise down. Residents on the lower floors are sleeping. We can get away with a little noise, but if both of you act up, we'll have to get Section 3 involved."
Brooke sighed, carrying the black box with him. "Yeah, they're already understaffed, so if we get a tad chaotic, their hearts are gon' die from heart failure from all the coffee they've been drinking."
The warehouse doors were old. Rust flaking. Layers of paint slowly dissolving. Hikaru pressed his ear against the metal. Nothing. He pulled back, motioned for Sun and Sato.
The two took positions on either side of the door. It was stuck. Expected though. With just a light kick from both of them, it opened, light flooding the room, dust gathering in piles at the corners. On the far left wall was the door to the docks.
"So much for quiet..." Gojo muttered, his eyes scanning the room. "There seems to be no hostiles... wait."
Gojo stopped Hikaru and Brooke from going in. Their shadows stretched across the inside. Stacks of containers, three high, dotted the warehouse. Hooks hung from the ceiling. Something was off.
Gojo looked closely, hooking his glasses down. What is... that? That small space. No! The inside, something's wrong!
The area inside seemed to warp, like space filling in something invisible. They moved around, distorting the depot even more.
Gojo turned and nodded at Hikaru, which he somehow understood. "Brooke, set them up."
"Roger." Placing the box down, he pressed a small button on the handle, opening it. Inside were various longswords, Type XI. They hummed before floating near Brooke, circling him.
"Telulu, your turn." As Brooke murmured, a ghastly woman, with pure white skin, slowly materialized behind him, her white hair covering his upper half. A black witch hat covered her face. Her arms wrapped around his collarbone, her face on his shoulders.
"Nice work, Galahad. Now then, send them in to scout."
"Don't call me that."
Brooke snapped, and instantly, the sword formed into a V formation. The blades went in, slowly, covering the sides of the storehouse with a sword, each floating.
Telulu whispered something to Brooke's ears. Brooke turned to Hikaru, nodding. "Sato, Sun, Gojo, we go in. Cover each other's backs. I'll go with Sato. Brooke, you stay outside for now." Hikaru ordered.
""""Roger.""""
Gojo and Sun Myung stood back to back as they slowly went in. As soon as they passed the doors, they slammed shut. Inside, the lights started to turn on one by one, illuminating the space. Shit! Hikaru scrambled, touching his earpiece, but it was no use. Signal couldn't get in.
They were trapped.
The colors inside started to change, turning from a dull yellow to a lively orange with red accents. And there with them was something else. Demons.
Out of place. So out of place. They floated inside, looking like they just stepped out of ukiyo-e paintings. Oni. ghosts, tengu, kappa, and onryo were all painted in such a way that their proportions were elongated and warped, earning them the name of demons.
Paintings of the ukiyo-e style were scattered across the warehouse, floating and bobbing in the air.
They floated down, swarming the group. The door was being hit from the outside. Brooke. "Fuck, you guys, my swords aren't responding! And this damn door won't budge!"
Hikaru and Sato moved to the door, aiming down at the floating demons. Hikaru pressed tightly on the trigger, and a blast of white light burst from the muzzle. A clean hit. A demon dissipated into ink, splattering the ground.
"Brooke! The Jester's working with the rebels!"
"That woman on Alkaline!?"
"Yeah, we're trapped if she locked this place down! Contact Shuu and request backup! Call Fischer and Qi!"
Hikaru shouted while firing at each demon, each one of them taken down in a single shot.
Gojo wove through a horde of demons, kicking a tengu. Its black wings released razor-sharp feathers, trying to cut through Gojo, but they stopped. Infinity. Gojo grabbed the wings, pulled the tengu in, and headbutted it. Ink bounced off of Infinity while Gojo moved on to another one.
Hikaru looked at Gojo fending off a group on his own. But where's Sun!? Glancing left of Gojo, Sun Myung was behind him.
Sun felt the bite through his forearms. A wolf demon had snuck up on him, separating him from Gojo and the rest of the group. The creature's jaw tightened, blood oozing and staining his uniform. Cocking the carbine with his mouth, he fired at the canine's head, instantly turning it to ink.
"Sun, be careful and stick by Gojo's side at all times!"
"Yes, Hikaru!"
Clutching his left forearm, he winced as he felt the wound sting. He'd gotten lucky; the bite wasn't deep.
Gojo from the side looked at Sun, wincing. "Oh, that's gotta hurt."
Sun responded, firing at a demon approaching his back, killing it. "Ain't it obvious!? And how the fuck are you not even scratched!?"
Gojo shrugged, using Blue to pull in a kappa hopping towards Sato. "My Record, fry. You won't get hurt too much with me around." He punched once, obliterating the kappa into a black mess.
"Well, I'm hurt!"
"Eh, minor injury." Gojo looked towards Hikaru, ready to draw his blade. His Six Eyes had noticed something. All of these demons seemed to come from the paintings, but some of those paintings had different energy signatures. "Hikaru, those paintings are the catalyst for the demons in here! Destroy them, and these flies will be gone!"
Hikaru unsheathed his Serration, loading a cylinder into the empty hilt. "Well, which one! This place's got a ton of them!"
Gojo pointed behind Hikaru. A painting of a wave, colored red. A signature was present on the side. "My eyes are telling me that the paintings with signatures are likely the main paintings!"
Hikaru clicked the cylinder in, spinning it for good measure. "Thanks for the sweets!"
He crouched down, his knees touching the ink-stained floor. The sword went back into the black scabbard, his thumb on the cylinder-tsuba, held in an iai stance. In a flash, he went forward, the blade leaving the scabbard as soon as he lunged towards the painting.
Heat.
Heat radiated from his blade, as the katana's sharp edge started to produce hot, blue flames. As soon as he stepped forward, the painting was struck, bursting into flames from his slash.
The painting cut cleanly in two, falling off the wall in a blaze. Hikaru let out a huff of air. Damn, is this canister gonna' be expensive to reimburse.
The demons nearest to the burning painting stopped mid-motion. Their painted bodies flickered, colors bleeding and running like wet dye on paper. A tengu's mask melted off its face, revealing nothing beneath but blank white space.
"It's working!" Sato shouted, his gun aimed at an oni. "Also, a little help here!" Sato crouched, firing into the oni multiple times.
Hikaru didn't stop. He swung around, using the heads of various demons as stepping stones. Jumping up, he positioned the blade to hit the oni's head. As he fell down, the blade bit into the fire once more, piercing the oni cleanly as it turned into ink. Standing up, Hikaru shook the black liquid off his blade with a tap. Sheathing it, he quickly walked over to Sato and extended a hand.
"Thanks."
"Yeah, just be sure to get me tiramisu later."
Gojo scanned the entire storeroom again, this time taking note of various paintings. "A painting near that red container, blue container on the right!"
Gojo noticed something. He flicked his hand, casually killing a ghost. "They're in a hexagon! Go from side to side, these paintings are more noticeable as they're bigger than normal too!"
Gojo went to a painting floating beneath a light, a woman in a kimono with an elongated neck, drawn with delicate brushstrokes. Destroying it by using Blue to pull it apart, he confirmed something else. This space was slowly dissipating from the destruction of that first painting, but when he destroyed another one, the barrier started to dissipate faster.
"Every one of you! Pull back! I'm gonna do something big!"
Sato, Hikaru, and Sun all looked at Gojo, standing on nothing but the air. They nodded, fending off demons as they went to the left exit. Gojo looked down at them, then smirked. He smirked, taking off his glasses, revealing his glowing blue eyes.
He raised his arms in front of him, a sphere of azure blue materializing. All the demons stopped their attack simultaneously, gazing at the orb of pure attractive energy.
Slowly but surely, it enlarged to the size of his palm. Seeing this, he knew it was time.
"Maximum Output: Blue!" He shouted, releasing the sphere. It circled him, pulling any demon and metal container blocking its path into the dark-blue abyss. He stood in the air as he pulled Blue all around him, leaving behind a path of destruction in his wake. Concrete crumbled, light flickered, nothing mattered, as all of them were dragged into Blue.
The warehouse groaned. Metal containers warped, concrete cracked, the very air seemed to bend toward that point of impossible blue. Gojo stood at the center of it all, untouched, his white hair whipping in the artificial wind.
One by one, the paintings were dragged into the vortex, breaking the barrier in the process. The demons didn't even have time to scream as they were instantly ripped apart; their inky bodies were absorbed by the immense pulling force of it all.
Hikaru shielded his face with his arm, the wind blasting his silver hair. "Remind me to never piss him off!"
Sato nodded, hiding behind a container. "Noted! But he's a hormonal teen, of course, he's going to get pissed!"
Sun Myung pressed himself flat against a steel pillar, his two-toned hair dancing in the wind. He had felt fear before. From himself. From his actions. But this time, that same fear came back, only this time, it was for that boy. That arrogant, arrogant boy.