"It is a terrible burden, being so highly in demand."
The voice came from right behind him—smooth, amused, and a little bit erotic.
Ren just took another slow sip of his coffee as a tall woman stepped gracefully around his table. She slid into the empty iron chair opposite him, crossing her long legs.
Her pale blue hair was woven into thick braids, one draped casually down the front of her face. She looked completely at ease, blending seamlessly into the sunny terrace despite the heavy, predatory aura she carried.
Mei Mei rested her chin on her hand, her visible eye locking onto his.
"Though I suppose Satoru's mysterious new transfer student is bound to turn a few heads," she added, her lips curling into a knowing smile.
"I was wondering who was cleaning up all the trash in Shinjuku last night. You've been busy."
Just killing time," Ren said casually, not missing a beat. He kept swirling the ice in his cup. "Are you making a habit of stalking high schoolers, Mei Mei, or am I just special?"
She smiled, the kind of expression that didn't quite reach her visible eye. "I don't stalk. I just happen to keep a close watch on high-value assets."
"Asset." Ren set his cup down. "That's a nice way of saying you're sizing up my wallet. What are you doing here? What do you actually want?"
Mei Mei tilted her head, the heavy blue braid shifting against her shoulder. "I told you back at the dorms. I'm curious. Satoru drops a boy with zero background into the lineup, and suddenly gets an unregistered Special Grade weapon. Then, that same boy clears out half the trash in Shinjuku before midnight."
She reached across the small table, her manicured finger lightly tapping the plastic rim of his cup. "I like investments that yield high returns. You look like a very high return."
Ren let his eyes drop to her hand, then back to her face. He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned forward, cutting the distance over the small iron table in half.
"Curiosity is an expensive habit," he said.
"I'm aware." Her voice dropped a fraction, the polite, mercenary edge giving way to something a little more genuine. "I have a lot of capital."
"Then you should know better than to buy in without seeing the product." Ren rested his forearms on the table, matching her relaxed posture. "You're following me around on a Saturday afternoon because you think I'm hiding something that can make you a lot of money. Or keep you alive. Maybe both."
"And?" she prompted.
"And," Ren said, offering a faint, lazy smile, "you're trying to figure out if you need to bill me, or if I'm going to be the one billing you."
Mei Mei actually laughed at that—a short, clear sound that cut through the background chatter of the crowded terrace. She leaned back in her chair, looking at him with a new, sharper layer of interest.
"You're bold for a student," she noted.
"I'm practical. If we're going to be doing business, or whatever this is, you should probably know I don't give discounts. Not even for pretty faces."
"A shame." Mei Mei sighed, though she looked thoroughly entertained. She picked up the spare napkin on the table, retrieved a silver pen from her pocket, and quickly scrawled a string of numbers across the paper. She slid it across the iron table. "I suppose I'll just have to earn my keep, then. My personal line. For when you decide what your rates are."
Ren picked up the napkin, folding it once and slipping it into his pocket without looking at it.
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Do." She stood up, smoothing the front of her clothes. "Enjoy your coffee, Ren. Something tells me the rest of your Halloween is going to be rather loud."
Mei Mei blended into the shifting mass of costumes, her pale hair disappearing behind a group of tourists.
Ren didn't stick around to watch.
Shibuya was already choking on foot traffic. People bumped shoulder-to-shoulder, trailing fake blood and dragging plastic scythes. Ren kept his hands in his pockets, navigating the crush with tight, efficient movements.
A guy in a cheap Dracula cape clipped his shoulder, sloshing half a beer onto the pavement.
"Hey, asshole—"
Ren didn't break his stride. He stepped off the curb, leaving the guy shouting at his back, and hooked a sharp right into a service alley off Center Gai. The brick walls cut the roar of the crossing down to a dull hum.
A chained delivery gate blocked the path. Ren vaulted it without breaking momentum, his boots hitting the asphalt silently. He found a rusted fire escape bolted to the brickwork and took the metal grate stairs two at a time.
The roof was an unfinished commercial slab. Just bare concrete, dead leaves, and sun-bleached cigarette boxes. He walked to the ledge and looked down. He had a straight line of sight to the station plaza.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. 1:42 PM.
...
Kyoto baked in the afternoon sun. On the mattress, Mai's phone buzzed.
She didn't look. It was probably Utahime nagging about morning drills, or Miwa hunting for a lunch buddy. She kept rolling a brass casing between her fingers.
The phone buzzed again. She reached over and flipped the screen.
Maki.
The casing slipped, clattering against the floorboards.
Mai stared at the glowing name. Third ring. If it went to voicemail, Maki would just call Utahime. Or worse, she'd hitchhike down from Hokkaido and kick the dorm door off its hinges.
Fourth ring.
Mai snatched it, hitting accept. "Yeah? What."
A faint crackle of static and muffled background noise echoed through the receiver.
"You're okay," Maki breathed out. The sharp relief in her voice was impossible to miss.
Mai gripped the phone. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Don't play dumb. Are you hurt?"
Mai touched the heavy metal pendant resting at her collarbone. R.M.M.
She wasn't hurt. She actually had a massive reserve of cursed energy wired directly to her soul right now.
"I'm fine," she said.
"You sound weird. Where are you?"
"My dorm."
"Did something happen in Kyoto?"
No, it happened in a Tokyo hotel.
///
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