As you walked along the bustling streets of Shibuya, you found yourself surrounded by blue and red neon signs, colorful storefronts, and the constant murmur of people. You didn't have classes until the afternoon, so you had taken the morning off. You'd stroll around downtown for a while, run some errands, and hopefully clear your mind a bit.
Ever since your conversation with Suguru two days ago, you'd been pretty distracted. If you hadn't been, you might have noticed sooner that you were being followed.
You had two weeks to make a decision. When you got to your room that night, you carefully folded the note Suguru had given you and hid it between the nightstand and the wall, where nobody (especially Gojo) would accidentally find it. Every night, before going to sleep, you'd look at the address written in Suguru's handwriting and engage in an internal debate about whether you should attend the meeting. You hadn't found an answer yet.
You wanted to go, that much was certain. If there was one thing you knew, it was that you couldn't say no to your friend. You wanted to see him in two weeks, and then you'd want to see him again, and again, and again. You needed Suguru's company in your life, and you craved it so much that you were almost willing to ignore all the reasons screaming at you not to. Almost.
Geto was a murderer, a traitor who wanted to pull you away from all your friends and family. Even though he was sweet and protective of you, you had to remind yourself that he was no longer the reliable boy who had been your friend but a very different person. He was the leader of a cult, for god's sake.
Yet none of these reasons could silence the voice telling you that yes, you should do it. You should go see him and make up for a lost time, and return time and time again whenever he asked you to. You wanted it, and if it was a feeling that came from within you, could it really be so wrong?
You stopped in front of a jewelry store on the corner of a quieter street and fogged up the display window with a sigh. The bluish gleam of a pair of sapphire earrings reminded you of the other, much more imminent problem.
Gojo would be back in a few hours, and you had to hide what had happened from him. You had promised Geto you would, but you wouldn't have told him anyway.
Unlike you, Gojo had the obligation to execute your friend. He was the only one strong enough to enforce the sentence Geto deserved for his crimes, and any information about Geto would be used to carry it out. You didn't want to be the one to put Gojo in that situation. Or, more accurately, you didn't want the execution to happen at all.
Something caught your attention. You saw the reflection of a pair of eyes in the storefront window and quickly turned to face the man who had been silently watching you from behind.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, sweetheart," he said, approaching with a hand extended towards you, holding something. "You dropped this a few blocks back, but I couldn't catch up to you."
You stifled a gasp of surprise when you saw that what the man held was your school ID.
How had you been so careless as to lose something so important? It had all your information on it, even your residence address.
You looked at the man suspiciously, but he wasn't paying attention to the ID itself. He was only waiting for you to take it with a smile on his face, and he seemed quite kind.
"Thank you so much," you said, bowing slightly.
You reached out to take the ID, but before you could securely grab it, the man let go and the plastic card went flying, carried by the wind.
"Oh, no!" the man exclaimed, watching as it was swept away by the wind down the street behind the jewelry store. "I'll get it!"
"It's okay," you tried to warn him, running towards the alley as well. "Really, I can—"
As you rounded the next corner of the inner street, you felt something cutting off your breath. The man's arm was tightly wrapped around your neck, and looking down, you saw his other hand gripping a knife firmly lodged in your abdomen.
Oh. That hurt. A lot.
Now that you paid attention, the man emitted a weak and slow flow of cursed energy. It wasn't much, but you should have noticed it. You surely would have if your mind hadn't been elsewhere, you scolded yourself.
"Who are you?" you asked, gasping, and as you did, you tasted the metallic flavor in your mouth.
"Nobody you should care about," he murmured against your ear. "I just want the reward, so hold on a bit," he moved his hand from your belly, without removing the knife from the wound. "They want you alive."
So he was a bounty hunter, and someone had put a price on your head. That wasn't good.
You took a second to breathe deeply, trying to ignore the sharp pain in your abdomen, and exhale calmly. You didn't have much time before passing out from a wound like that; you had to act quickly.
First, your elbow hit the bounty hunter's face, and you heard a satisfying "crack," indicating that you had broken his nose. He brought both hands to his face, blinded by pain, and released the grip he had on your neck. Good, now you could move freely.
You bit your tongue hard to endure the pain that the next move would cause, raised your leg, and drove it forcefully towards his groin, landing a powerful knee strike. You felt the muscles in your lower torso tense, contracting around the knife that was still lodged inside, and you bit your tongue until it bled to avoid screaming.
The man, in turn, fell to his knees on the ground, surprised by the second source of pain, so you took the opportunity to put enough distance between him and you. Before he could get up again, if he did at all, you released one of the hairpins holding your hair.
"Who put a bounty on me?" you asked, breathless.
"Shut up, woman," he replied, his face swollen and bloody, and pointed to the knife still stuck in you. "You won't last much longer with that."
You had dealt with enough people in your life to know who talks and who doesn't, and this one belonged to the latter type. So he was no use to you.
"Idiot," you muttered in annoyance.
With a flick of your hand, you threw the hairpin directly at his head, and it pierced his forehead like a bullet. In an instant, he collapsed to the ground, the expression of surprise on his face frozen forever.
The sight of your abdomen was chilling. The weapon, though not very large, was embedded up to the hilt, and blood had spread to stain most of the fabric a crimson color. Suddenly, you found it difficult to breathe, and your vision blurred, fearing that you were about to pass out.
You resisted the urge to yank the knife out of your body, which would only have sped up your blood loss, and crawled to your purse, abandoned a few meters away. You had to alert the school so they could find you in time, or else you would bleed to death in that alley.
At last, you found your cell phone, but when you opened the contact list, you realized you were unable to read the letters on the screen. You were worse off than you thought. You touched any part of the screen and let out a sigh of relief when you heard someone pick up the call.
"Help," you whispered with your lips pressed against the microphone.
And everything went dark.
The air you breathed smelled like home, allowing you to relax a little. With a faint smile, you nestled between the cushions and the sheet, letting out a grunt of satisfaction. You felt like you were in paradise. It was much more comfortable than before when you were bleeding out in an alley. You opened your eyes and sat up suddenly; the fluorescent light blinded you.
"Welcome back," Shoko greeted you. "I appreciate you coming to see me so often, but I'd prefer if you took better care of your well-being."
So you had made it to the school infirmary; you were lucky. You squirmed in the bed and were surprised not to feel any pain. Shoko had taken care of patching you up once again.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," you murmured. "But it wasn't on purpose; a bounty hunter caught me off guard," you argued.
"Yes, Nanami already gave me the report," Shoko replied. She then nodded toward one of the autopsy tables, where a lump lay covered by a sheet. "And I had the pleasure of identifying him myself."
You hid a disgusted expression and wondered if it was sanitary to treat patients in the same room as corpses. You didn't mention it out loud, trusting that the medical expert in the room knew what she was doing.
"We had him on file; it's not the first time he's tried something like this," Shoko explained. She paused for a few seconds, and then continued with a somewhat subdued voice, "I'm a little concerned that he was after you."
You agreed with her.
"I wonder why," you murmured. "I don't understand who would put a bounty on me."
Then you realized what Shoko had said. You jerked your head up, and she looked at you, puzzled.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Did Nanami write the report?" you asked with a hurried voice.
"Yes, it was him who found you. You called him before losing consciousness," explained Shoko.
"Oh, shit," you murmured, worried. "Can I go now, Shoko?"
"You're fine, but try to rest," she advised. "You were bleeding for hours before we found you, and I'm not sure if you've recovered all the lost blood."
If you didn't find Nanami soon, you'd run into problems earlier than expected. You thanked Shoko again for her help and quickly headed to Nanami's office.
You sighed in relief upon finding Nanami working in the elegant chair of his office, with the laptop on his lap. He looked tired, and a couple of stray strands of hair fell across his forehead, defying the neatness that always accompanied him. He had the sleeves of his blue shirt rolled up, revealing his arms and an expensive-looking watch. He didn't turn to greet you when you arrived, but from that angle, you could still see the dark circles forming under his eyes and the expression of exhaustion on his face.
According to Shoko, he was the one you called when you were losing consciousness. Judging by his tired appearance, it was likely that Nanami had been trying to locate you for hours, which explained his exhaustion and concern. You owed him one.
"Nanami," you whispered breathlessly, leaning your back against the doorframe.
Your partner didn't take his eyes off the laptop.
"You're awake," he murmured without stopping typing. "How are you feeling?"
"Good. Thanks for rescuing me again," you said with a crooked smile. "Looks like we only see each other when I'm in danger."
Nanami let out a sound somewhere between a snort and an ironic laugh, while his fingers kept dancing on the keyboard.
"No problem," said the blond. "I always have time to rescue the woman who's supposed to be my superior."
Although you weren't above Nanami in rank, he always kept in mind that you were a year older than him. Old habits never die, you thought. You straightened your back, trying to regain some of the authority that was due to you.
"Shoko told me you've already done the report," you said, trying to sound firm. "Have you sent it to everyone?"
"I was just about to."
"Can you... not send it?" you asked, dragging out the vowels, with a hint of pleading in your voice.
Nanami finally looked up from the laptop and stared at you as if you were a fool.
"No," he replied.
You waited a few seconds to see if Nanami would justify himself, but it wasn't in his nature to do so. Then you realized that perhaps you were being a little naive if you expected Nanami not to fulfill his duty to inform the organization about the incident you both were involved in.
"Fine, as you wish," you said. "But give me at least twenty minutes to change."
You pointed at your clothes, torn at the lower abdomen and completely covered in dried blood. Nanami's eyes widened slightly as he understood the situation, and he raised his wrist to glance at the imposing watch adorning it.
"Ten minutes," he finally said. "I won't delay any longer."
You thanked him effusively and hurried to your bedroom.
You had no idea how you managed to get there, shower, and change clothes in less than ten minutes, but you accomplished it before he appeared. You were disposing of the torn and bloodstained clothes when you noticed the energy balance in your room shift.
You glanced at the clock on your bedside table. Exactly ten minutes, not a second more.
Gojo's guttural voice filled the room as he growled your name.
"What happened?"