Chapter 59

Shoko panted as she watched the purple-bleeding Grade One cursed spirit dissolve into nothing, looking like she was almost ready to drop the cursed kanabo that I had lended to her.

The cursed tool was made mostly of brown wood, and was studded with steel knobs that dripped with purple gore. It was a simple tool that rewarded raw strength over skill and finesse, something that Shoko was entirely lacking in.

That wasn’t her fault, of course. Most clan kids without cursed techniques started off by learning weapons as early as six. Shoko, on the other hand, would probably do herself more harm than good if she tried to swing around a blade without knowing the first thing about edge alignment and structure. That could be taught, of course, but it made more sense to me to hone her Cursed Energy Manipulation for physical conditioning before teaching her how to apply it to a fine edge.

The vengeful spirit of a construction worker had been a tough cookie to crack. The battle had left the construction zone quite the mess as well, although this wasn’t likely to cost us, on the Jujutsu side of things, anything. The government, as always, tended to step in for our purposes.

I sat on top of a cement mixer, clapping slowly, while Shoko knitted together her many wounds. Her jacket was entirely wrecked, and so was her leggings, from a wide gash on her thigh stretching down to her ankle where the cursed spirit’s claw had gotten her.

“You died six times,” I said to her.

“New record,” she said, entirely unruffled by the frankness of my observation. Indeed, six times, I had been forced to step in, launching my Juchū at the monster as though they were bullets. I did it mostly to redirect and deflect the deadliest attacks by the monster, ensuring that whatever hits it got through, they wouldn’t be instantly lethal.

Still, the difference between instantly lethal and very, very painful was a big one. Shoko hadn’t even cried this time. I was proud of her.

“Still,” I said, standing up. “We’ll want to get it down to zero.”

“I’m a Grade Three sorcerer,” she said, turning around to face me. I took my haori off and threw it at her. She dropped the kanabo and caught it, wincing as she wore it and pulled it together tightly to hide the parts of her body where her modesty had been compromised. “It’s a wonder I even managed to kill it in the first place. And isn’t all this property damage a huge waste of money, too?”

I shrugged. “The company in charge of construction is owned by a private equity firm that’s in turn owned by one of the big conglomerates. They’re not hurting for money. And besides, the government pays anyway.”

“That’s taxpayer yen,” she said.

“Do you pay taxes?”

She then grinned. “Well, my mom does. Guess it doesn’t matter, then. Still, I barely feel like I’m learning anything. I’m literally just trying not to die.”

“On the contrary,” I said. “You have the idea of a good rhythm already down pat. Hit the cursed spirit, then smack them with positive energy, and then dodge the counter. Rinse and repeat. The trick is in figuring out the enemy’s rhythm, since that’s never constant when up against cursed spirits.”

Sorcerers rarely ever battled the same cursed spirit twice, and no two cursed spirits ever fought in the same exact way. The secret was to be adaptable to an extreme degree. Adaptable and quick-witted.

Shoko bent down to pick up the kanabo, tossing it over to me. I let one of Michiko’s portals swallow it up, returning it to the Timeless Sanctuary.

“I wish you’d let me use the same weapon,” Shoko said.

“Adaptability, Shoko. You need to learn how to learn.”

Next time, I’d give her a cursed baseball bat. And then a sledge hammer. And then a staff. I’d keep cycling blunt weapons, ensuring that she never got used to any single one, never took the shortcut that so many half-baked Jujutsu Sorcerers did when they discovered a formula that only barely worked.

The only way to survive in this world was to constantly evolve, and I’d be damned if I let Shoko die for a reason as inane as her own ineptitude.

She finally finished healing up her outwardly wounds, and was currently replenishing her blood with the last of her cursed energy. She’d end up running out before returning to top shape, but she was entirely stable to walk home with me.

Shoko raised her fingers and cancelled the veil over the sky, returning the sky’s blue color, and we walked side by side out of the wrecked property, towards the assistant manager waiting in front of a black SUV.

Shoko didn’t know this—although not for a lack of trying to explain the politics of it all on my part—but I didn’t just want her to be strong for her own sake.

The same went for the rest of our class.

The Exchange Event was coming up in a few months. Four to be exact. More than enough time for even a Grade Four to make the jump to Grade Two with a healthy dose of inspiration and constant hard work. I was confident that whatever opponents I was met with, I would come out on top, especially against whatever weapons that the Big Three were grooming behind my back.

I was almost certain that the Zen'in clan was planning something, whether Naobito knew about it or not. I already knew what card the Kamo wanted to play, and the Gojo clan only had Gojo.

That didn’t mean that there weren’t greater win conditions that I could work towards. Winning on my own was the bare minimum, but crushing the Big Three with the power of the next generation that I had recruited, that was true victory.

Destroying their schemes not personally, but by using my classmates. By throwing the likes of Shoko or Ito at them.

I was mostly banking on Ito.

Still, there were so many ways that this could get even better for me, so much potential to be fulfilled.

This Exchange Event would officially cement the importance and status of yet another great faction within Jujutsu Society. Not the Hibana clan. The unaffiliated. The Women’s Union, soon to be a full-on Union.

Naturally, I’d eventually be forced to step down as a figure of authority once I had some people I could trust to run things fairly and impartially. I was willing to take that political blow on the chin without hesitating.

My rivals didn’t know this, or refused to believe that this was the case. That would be to their detriment when the time came.

We both entered the SUV, and Shoko sighed. “I feel hungover from the blood loss. And I’ve got work waiting for me in school.”

“The Sport’s Festival?”

“Yep,” then she smiled slightly. “Although, it’d be a nice change of pace from all this.”

“I can’t imagine there won’t be a ton of injuries,” I said. “From the kids pushing themselves too hard with their Jujutsu.”

Her grin fell again. “I need a cigarette.”

000

“Everyone! This is Kusakabe Atsuya. First Grade Sorcerer,” Yaga-sensei introduced the gruff-looking man to start us off on our Jujutsu Lesson, this time in the training field. “He’s here to observe our class today on barrier techniques. Impress him enough and you’ll be able to earn some mentorship opportunities.”

With the New Shadow School.

I wasn’t impressed.

“Alright, everyone! Consider this your first assessment in veils. We’ll go by class rankings. Hibana Teira, step forward.”

“Ah, skip her,” Kusakabe rolled his eyes. “She has a Domain Expansion. There’s nothing I could teach her.”

Yaga-sensei clicked his tongue. “Is this your class or mine?”

Kusakabe raised his hands in surrender. “Apologies, sensei.”

I raised two fingers and cast the veil without an incantation. I had next to no need for whatever aid Tengen could offer me. I was also beginning to grow irritated at her ducking my requests for a one-on-one meeting. I could only communicate with her through the Higher-Ups who kept telling me the same thing: ‘she’s too busy’.

The veil covered the entirety of campus, a dome that was several hundred meters tall at its top, bathing the world in orange.

Yaga massaged the bridge of his nose. “That was unnecessary.”

“I can also modify the conditions of the veil,” I said. “I can ensure that no one can listen in, or see us, or see or hear anything on the outside. Of course, I won’t turn off all the lights. But I can.”

“Not. Necessary.”

“I can also ensure that a select few people can enter, not just separate sorcerers and non-sorcerers. I can even sacrifice all the veiling capabilities of the barrier, in exchange ensuring that only one person is unable to leave the barrier.”

Kusakabe whistled, clearly impressed. “Excellent fundamentals.”

“One of my clan’s vassals are barrier experts,” I said. “I learned everything I could from them.”

Kusakabe grinned thinly, tensing slightly. “I’m familiar.”

It was where we met, all those years ago, in the charnel house that used to be the former Mori clan stronghold.

I had gone rather… overboard that day. I wasn’t very proud of my actions against the Mori clan. Still, proud or not, my heavy-handedness had rendered excellent results for my clan.

“Nice to finally meet you face-to-face,” I offered.

“Likewise.”

“Next,” Yaga-sensei called out tiredly. “Gojo Satoru.”

I coughed. “No Domain.”

“I heard that,” Gojo sneered. Still, he didn’t give anything away.

The truth was, I actually didn’t know if that was still the case, but I was banking on it changing at any moment.

I stepped back and watched Gojo cycle through all the permutations of the veil technique that he knew, easily matching my own grasp on the fundamentals.

And on it went.

Suguru’s veil was shaky, but he was getting the hang of shaping the cursed energy properly. Of course, he was doing it with Tengen’s help, using the incantation to achieve this feat. He was a long way from playing around with the veil the way Gojo and I did.

Next was Ito, who raised two fingers and made the incantation.

Her veil activated seamlessly, responding perfectly to her will. She cast a small one that only covered the field, and modified the parameters to include and exclude certain things.

I had noticed that her proficiency with barriers had increased drastically since her head injury. I was hesitant to connect both phenomena, as she had only had three lessons in making veils before the injury, before eventually cinching it entirely.

After everyone had gotten a turn, the only ones still struggling seemed to just be Ishikawa and Nakamura. The latter had to rap the veil into existence, which was technically cheating. Then again, Gojo’s entire existence was cheating, as was my cursed trait. He had rendered results, but without the pure technical know-how of barrier creation, he would never go far. I cautioned him on that.

Surprisingly, Satoshi even managed the veil technique.

“Emerge from blackness, blacker than blackness. Purify the blackness. Make it white or something. Anyway.”

The veil released with some uncertainty, but it held. That was arguably more impressive than if he had bothered to memorize the incantation. He was borrowing less power from Tengen, and was relying on his own understanding of the barrier to fill in the blanks.

“Astounding,” Yaga-sensei said dryly. “Good job, Satoshi.”

He grinned in satisfaction. “It’s just a damn veil, ain’t it? If those nerds in suits can use them, why can’t I? They don’t even fight.”

“Insulting the assistant managers is low,” Kobayashi growled. “Even for you.”

“Get off my back, nerd.”

Kobayashi tensed his jaw in irritation.

Kusakabe cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Good job, everyone. I see you’re all fairly competent in barrier techniques, which is impressive. Unlike what that one punk will have you believe,” he took a moment to give Satoshi the stink-eye, “the assistant managers are only as good at the veil because that’s really the only Jujutsu they train for. A well-rounded sorcerer is expected to encompass that and many other techniques. Even the veil. Go far enough, and the barrier technique becomes more than just a rudimentary tool for keeping the world of Jujutsu a secret. You’ve already seen the heights of barrier techniques, and Jujutsu as a whole—Hibana-sama’s barrier technique.”

Yaga coughed to interrupt him. “She’s not -sama while in class.”

Kusakabe stared at Yaga for a few seconds, his expression unreadable, before continuing. “I mean to say the Domain Expansion, the most straightforward and well-known combat application of barrier techniques that there is.”

Kobayashi raised his hand. Kusakabe nodded at him, and he spoke. “Sir, Domain Expansions are, as you said, the height of Jujutsu. Is it not possible to apply barrier techniques in combat before reaching that point?”

Kusakabe smiled. “Excellent question, thank you for asking. I was just about to get to that point. Before the Domain Expansion, there are a few lesser-known barrier techniques. At least, ones that don’t rely on an innate technique to fire off. Some sorcerers get to skip all this hard work on that account. But the generic and intermediate form of barrier technique combat that is most well-known is called the Simple Domain. There are other techniques, guarded closely by the Big Three clans, but the Simple Domain is open for everyone to learn. Well, everyone that does not hail from the Big Three. Before you ask me why that is, or if I have a problem with the Big Three, take it up with the New Shadow School. I’m just a messenger.”

Kobayashi raised his hand again. “Isn’t that discrimination.”

“Beats me. I didn’t write the rules, and I don’t really care. Point is: they’ll be fine. They’ve got their own techniques. Anyway, for anyone that doesn’t have an innate technique, and could therefore not even be able to engrave a technique into their Domain Expansion if they wanted to, the Simple Domain is a cheaper alternative that makes the most out of one’s grasp on Jujutsu fundamentals, as opposed to an innate technique. I, myself, may be without an innate technique, but I’m still a Grade One sorcerer for this reason. For anyone that wants to learn the Simple Domain, come to me. I’ll take you to the New Shadow School, you’ll swear the Binding Vow preventing you from leaking the secrets of how to attain the Simple Domain, and then you can learn the technique.”

I raised my own hand.

“Alternatively,” I began. “I can teach anyone that wants it, entirely for free and with zero strings or Binding Vows attached.”

I unleashed the Simple Domain.

Unlike the Domain Expansion, I didn’t need my Juchū to picture its contours. It was small enough that I could picture its edges by simply drawing an imaginary line around me using the maximum reach of my arms—though I didn’t actually need to move my arms, either. I already had an awareness of their maximum range from prior practice.

Kusakabe’s mouth dropped open. Then he closed it, hummed, and shrugged. “Personally, I’d recommend that.”

That was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

I would have fought him on the issue for quite a while, of course, regardless of what Yaga-sensei would say. I didn’t have an agenda against the New Shadow School so much as I disliked their caginess, and the vagueness of whatever Binding Vow they swore. Those details weren’t publicly available either.

Once upon a time, I had tried making contact with the New Shadow School to try and clear away my misgivings. They had snubbed me. Due to that, I no longer cared if I offended them.

The class were taking turns looking at Kusakabe and I.

“That was easy,” I said to him.

“I don’t have a special loyalty to the New Shadow School,” Kusakabe went on. “I just came here to teach whoever was in need. If there’s no need, I’ll just be on my way. If any of you still feel like coming to me for whatever reason, you can reach me through your sensei and I’ll take… three of you on, max. No more. But if Hibana-sam—er, if Hibana-san teaches you everything, then that’s probably for the best. Binding Vows of secrecy can be a difficult thing to live with, and I wouldn’t recommend taking one on if it can be avoided. Thanks for having me,” he gave us a bow, and then one to Yaga-sensei. “I’ll be on my way.”

Yaga gave him a nod. “It was good to have you, Atsuya-kun. Goodbye.”

The class turned to me with various expressions, ranging from curiosity in most cases, to disgust in Gojo’s case.

“Ugh, you’re such an attention seeker,” he said to me.

000

In the end, Ito Aoi confirmed my suspicions.

After a one-hour long primer on the fundamentals of the Simple Domain, teaching whoever wanted to hear about it—with the sole exception of Gojo, of course—everything they wanted to know, only one person had been able to fire it off on their first earnest try.

Ito Aoi, hands raised in a very simple karate pose, unleashed the Domain five feet in every direction, perhaps less. I could tell that the Domain encompassed her arm-span as well.

There were only a handful of others with us on the field. Gojo and Suguru had left to get in their preferred training, Shoko had left to take a nap, Satoshi had been kidnapped by Mukai-senpai for more training from hell, and Kobayashi was busy trying to shape his shikigami.

“Good job,” I said to Ito. “Amazing work. Now, be careful not to move around too much or—“

She took a step forward.

The Simple Domain shifted as though it had been dragged after her.

It held.

Unleashing the barrier was one thing. Moving with it was something else entirely. She had forewent one of the most fundamental crutches of the Simple Domain, the thing that made it work for so many: the Binding Vow that both feet should not leave their initial position.

“What the fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

She closed both eyes.

“I can see,” she said. Then she opened them, grinning a little dumbly. “Well, everything inside the barrier, at least.” A very small barrier, but nonetheless a ridiculous step forward.

“Wait. No way,” Suzuki said, whirling around Ito to look at her from every angle. “You moved your feet. Boss, were you wrong?” she asked me.

“Aoi-chan is just strong,” Takahashi chuckled. She then sighed. “This is so demoralizing.”

“Like a picture growin’ out of its frame,” Nakamura muttered. “Cell membrane, like a clear glass pane. Pop like a bubble, Simple Domain.”

Nakamura grimaced as his cursed energy moved almost unbidden, commanded by his innate technique to form his Simple Domain.

Once he recovered, he grinned.

Inadvertently, he took a step, and the Simple Domain disappeared. Nakamura’s grin turned into a dejected frown in an instant.

To save the situation from continuing to deteriorate, I reiterated one point. “This usually takes far longer than a day to master. Your hard work won’t fail you.”

And as I said this, Ito was busy shadow-boxing, her Simple Domain still up.

000

“This is Maiden’s Heart,” I said to Kobayashi.

I met him alone in an empty training studio, where he was busy shaping a cloud of cursed energy that floated gently above a paper talisman. I had walked right in with the sword in hand, holding it by its scabbard, interrupting his visualization.

He crawled to his feet, raising an eyebrow at me. Without his glasses, his features looked far more delicate, almost feminine. It was strange how glasses could morph a person’s face, even to my own perception which didn’t actually rely on sight at all.

“I hope this is important,” Kobayashi said. “I was in the middle of something.”

“I’ve noticed that your technique has something to do with probability manipulation,” I said. “You’re supernaturally lucky. I assume you have some form of precognition allowing you to detect and avoid threats as they arrive. That will be useful when wielding this.”

In the end, I had decided against mailing Maiden’s Heart to one of my enemies, for fear that they might be able to figure out a way to use it to their benefit. I chose to avoid that outcome altogether by giving it to an ally.

Unfortunately, no one in the Hibana clan or the former Curse Expert’s Association—now my vassal clans—had anyone capable of counteracting the sheer utter malice that the sword exuded.

“What is this sword?” he narrowed his eyes at it.

“It’s… cursed.”

“All cursed tools are cursed.”

“Well, this one is extra cursed,” I said. “The last person I gave this to lost many of their fingers. He was an expert swordsman, and yet he cut them off himself by accident.”

Kobayashi fought valiantly to not react the way he felt on the inside—which was disgust and fear. “How does this… curse work?”

“I don’t have a clue,” I said. “It does have a tendency of lowering your coordination levels if you aren’t careful, which can feed into your bad luck by making you extra clumsy. It also causes things in your vicinity to undergo catastrophic failures that puts your life and the lives of those around you in much danger.”

“I don’t think I want this sword of yours.”

“It does also improve your cursed energy output rather drastically,” I said. “I also believe, strongly, that a master capable of wielding the sword for any length of time without harming themselves, may be able to modulate the sword’s degree of misfortune and cursed energy output.”

Kobayashi sighed, and spoke again. “Let me rephrase as I sense I accidentally left some ambiguity in my words: I don’t want this sword of yours. At all.”

I dropped it on the ground. “Ah, that’s too bad. It’s yours now. Also, it’s extremely dangerous,” I grimaced. “Imagine if someone picks it up and hurts themselves. You’ll be responsible for that.”

“Hibana, this is…” he shook his head. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“I’ve done nothing to you,” I said. “I just gave you a gift is all. And now you owe me, too.”

He gaped at me.

I flew a Juchū into his open mouth, causing him to spit and cough violently.

Apparently, if he was too distracted, then he wasn’t able to properly react to and avoid threats.

It did bother me to bully someone as obviously helpless as the class rep was, but in this instance, I felt that it was for the best. Unlike what was done to me, I did fully believe this to be for his own good.

“Maiden’s Heart has yet to find a master,” I said, talking over his coughing. “And if I’m being honest, my possession of it has become more and more untenable over time. The blade is becoming stronger, and dare I say, wilier. I must act decisively before the weapon becomes too powerful and troublesome for me to destroy. Still, destroying it is a massive waste, especially when lives can be saved using it. If someone were to master it properly, then humanity would be all the better off for it. But if you truly do not want it, I’ll take it back.”

He cleared his throat and looked down at the sword. He then looked back at me, clearly aggrieved.

Then, he picked it up, and slid the blade an inch outside of the scabbard. His eyes widened as the sword’s power flowed through him, drastically increasing his energy output.

“Ah,” he said softly. “I see.” His eyes were wide open as he gazed around at the empty training studio. Was he using his technique to predict incoming threats?

He looked back down at the sword, frowned, and clenched his teeth. “I can avoid its danger. But it lashes out because of it. I can’t protect those around me with it.”

“As expected,” I said. “For now, at least. Be careful with it, but do try to gain control over it. If you feel like it’s far too much trouble than it’s worth, just give it back and I’ll destroy it.”

“If I can’t protect people with it…” he slammed the blade back into the scabbard. “Then it’s a useless tool. But I do not intend to be made a murderer by an inanimate object.” He handed the sword back to me.

I looked at it. “Not so tempted by power unending, are you?”

“Not when it comes with such caveats. Hibana, I… suggest you just destroy it. I can’t make you do anything, but I doubt anything good will come of having this. Especially if, as you say, it is beginning to gain sentience.”

What a damn waste.

I took the sword, and left him to his peace.

000

“We gotta win this three-legged race, dude,” Satoru said to Suguru as they prepared, arms wrapped around each other’s necks at the starting line of the race.

Twelve students in the unofficially titled Class 1-A, with no other classes to compete against, meant that there were instead six teams of duos competing against one another, trying to rack up enough points to win.

Team Strongest, consisting of Satoru and Suguru, were in the lead, but only barely. If they lost this race, then the second-place team, Team Even Stronger than Strongest, consisting of Teira and Shoko, would win.

And to make matters more frustrating, Shoko had petitioned to the principal to forbid the use of Jujutsu for the entire day.

Shoko had been running ragged all day tending to injured middle-schoolers and junior high students, most of whom had thrown themselves into the Sport’s Festival with a manic zeal. Suguru recalled his time in the world of non-sorcerers fondly, especially those Sport’s Festival days. Of course, he would always lead his class to victory on account of his physical talents, the ones that had nothing to do with his Jujutsu.

He was just taller and stronger than anyone else. Back then, at least.

Everyone loved Sport’s Day. At least, the ones that didn’t hate going to school in general.

“We won’t lose,” Suguru grunted, clenching his hand on Satoru’s shoulder. “Shoko is a liability. She’ll sink them both.”

“Yeah,” Satoru scoffed. “Three-legged race? No way she won’t drag them both down.”

Over on the other end of the starting line, Teira, looking almost out of place in her track suit, whispered something in Shoko’s ear. Shoko gasped and turned to glare at the two of them. “I’ll show you losers!”

“Yeah!” Satoru yelled back. “You’ll show us your ass when you faceplant one meter from the finish line, loser!”

“You can’t win this!” Suguru chuckled easily. “Just give up! Don’t make it embarrassing!”

Shoko ground her teeth. Yes, this is the way. Rile her up, so she’ll definitely lose control.

“Hey, Suguru!” Satoru said loudly. “You think she’ll be able to finish the race before her lungs give out on her?”

“Fat chance!”

“I’ll kill you both!”

Satoru then leaned closer to Suguru’s ear. “Just follow my rhythm, alright?”

Wait.

His rhythm?

“No, we need to both find a rhythm together. That’s how this works.”

“Yeah, there is one, and it’s mine. Just follow it.”

“Don’t screw us up, Satoru. Not after all this shittalking. I’ll kill you.”

“First of all, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. Secondly, if anyone’s gonna screw us up, it’ll be you, so just focus, dammit.”

Oh no.

Yaga-sensei, standing on the other side of the starting line, right next to Teira and Shoko, shouted. “Ready?!”

“Wait, no fair!” Satoru shouted. “You’re way closer to those two! That means the sound will hit them first!”

“Go!” Yaga-sensei shouted, just as Satoru finished his ranting, which cost Team Strongest precious fractions of a second.

The race was close, but Satoru’s big mouth had, in the end, cost them.

They both sat together on the finish line, second place, and one point under Team Even Stronger than Strongest.

And the worst, most horrid part of all?

Shoko spared them a look of pure smugness and disgust, before simply dismissing them and celebrating with Teira.

“They won’t even give us the courtesy of rubbing it in,” Satoru whispered, looking utterly dejected.

Suguru punched him on his shoulder. The heavy contact satisfied him—the dolt knew better than to hold Infinity when he’d screwed them both up like this.

Suguru had taken Satoru’s advice and followed his rhythm as well, but it had been for nothing in the end.

Then, all of a sudden, they were surrounded by a group of elementary schoolers in their own little tracksuits, laughing at them.

“Gojo is a big fat loser!” they sang.

Satoru covered his ears, and buried his head in his knees, groaning as he did.

Leave it to Teira to concoct the most humiliating revenges.

At least they were only singing about Satoru.

…on second thought, the fact that he was being excluded from the jeering stung him as well.

Dammit.

000

Rather than stick around in campus just to continue getting bullied by Shoko and Teira, who had mobilized all the youngest students in school for a rather heinous bullying campaign, Suguru and Satoru had accepted Nakamura’s invitation to watch him perform in a rap tournament in Tokyo.

Most of the boys in class had come. Satoshi and Ishikawa had also accepted the invitation. Kobayashi, having learned that Satoshi was coming with, had then emphatically refused to participate, citing ‘massively better things to do’.

Nakamura took the lead, taking the boys through a network of backstreets that looked unusually threatening for a place smack dab in Tokyo of all places.

“This is gonna be so tight!” Nakamura laughed.

“What’s your rap name, anyway?” Satoru asked.

“Big Dai. Get it?”

Big big?

“Clever,” Ishikawa said. “Uh, are minors allowed in this place?”

“They don’t give a damn as long as you don’t act like a baby. Speaking of getting your acts right,” he unslung a backpack and fished out a bottle of amber liquid, clearly whisky, even in the low light. He uncorked the flask and took a swig. “Yeeeeeah, now I’m feelin’ it,” he passed the bottle behind himself. Satoru took it, and then passed it to Suguru without drinking from it.

Suguru was… beyond done with drinking. It was still baffling to him that people would choose to do it for any reason at all, whether it be lifting one’s spirit or killing the pain.

He’d likely see the appeal once he grew older, and the realities of adulthood would corner him into drinking socially for whatever reason. For now, he took solace in his childhood and the knowledge that he didn’t currently have to drink.

He passed the bottle over to Ishikawa. “Uh. Is that alcohol?”

“Gimme that,” Satoshi snatched the bottle.

Then he poured it out.

“Ohoho, chug chug chug!” Nakamura laughed as he walked up ahead, unheeding of what was happening.

“He’s pouring it out,” Satoru said.

Nakamura whirled on his feet. “Wait, what the fuck?!” He dashed towards Satoshi and snatched the bottle away. “What gives, dude?!”

“Alcohol is for weak-minded grown-ups who gang up on kids,” Satoshi snorted. “Or cowards who can’t speak their minds worth a damn.”

“Who the fuck asked you, Pope Asshole?” Nakamura growled as he stomped on ahead, taking a swig of the last liquid remaining.

“Why don’t you rap it back to full?” Satoshi asked.

“Ain’t how it works, dickface. And I don’t drink to speak my mind. I drink cuz it feels fucking awesome.”

“Lame,” Satoshi rolled his eyes.

Nakamura snorted. “I’ll show you lame.” Just then, he made a turn. “Here we are.”

And the end of the alleyway was an entrance into what looked like a dark club. Suguru expected to see hookers and people smoking and doing drugs right outside, but instead, they were just smoking. And also dressed head to toe in hip hop fashion.

“Once I win this shit, I’ll treat everyone to barbecue, aight?! Now look alive, and don’t start shit, or I’ll kill you myself!”

The inside of the locale was darkly lit with neon lights, and filled with dancing bodies somehow synchronizing as they pistoned their bodies up and down with their legs, almost like the entire room was tied to the pulse of the bassy music. All of them surrounded a stage where a DJ wearing an oversized headset was currently spinning disks.

It all looked very typical of what Suguru would have expected of this subculture, but it was fascinating to see it all up close. There really was an earnest focus on music here, rather than drug abuse as he had slightly expected.

“I’ll go backstage with the others!” Nakamura shouted before pressing his way through the bodies without any shame or reservation. None of the people he muscled past even paid him any mind at the sudden contact, which was surreal to Suguru.

In his mind, the entire dance floor was an impenetrable wall. The same thing probably went for the others he had come with, as they all just stood around on the sidelines, listening to the music.

“I think I’m gonna get tired of this,” Suguru muttered to Satoru.

Satoru snorted. “Dude, I’m already tired.”

Hours later, and the smell of barbecue filled all their nostrils, laughter ringing in the air.

In the barbecue spot, Satoshi and Nakamura were both singing the refrain of one of the songs that Nakamura performed, Satoru providing the ad libs and hyping them up. Ishikawa was busy loading up his plate filled with meat, grinning along with the antics, all the while as Suguru grinned in satisfaction.

The music was surprisingly good, and Nakamura’s passion was infectious. Evidently, the judges had agreed, hence his victory, and the subsequent feast that he had promised.

All of it left Suguru with one thought that played over and over in his mind.

Hip hop is pretty cool.

A/N: This is not the last we've seen of Maiden's Heart.