To Hell And Back

The following day after receiving his new mask, at first light, Fujita was on his way to En’s meeting room. The boy walked the corridors of the mansion with his chin held high, hoping to run into someone he knows and astonish them with his latest acquisition. The sleek shape, the colors, the pattern – all about it was saying “I mean business”, and young sorcerer couldn’t wait to see that reflected in someone’s eyes. Sadly, there were a lot of new faces in the mansion workforce after its sacking by the cross-eyes, and Fujita didn’t have a lot of time to socialize in the following months. Still, he offered a dignified greeting to every mook-suit he met, nodding his head at the most flattering angle. Or, at least, it was the one he liked the most after spending all evening in front of the mirror. In the end, despite taking “the scenic route”, the boy didn’t come across his senpai, nor the other Family cleaner, Noi, nor even Kikurage. Admittedly, it was a bit of a bummer, but, upon approaching the door, Fujita chased petty thoughts away. With the party mere hours from now, he was looking at his final opportunity to sit down on his home turf and survey the road ahead – he had to focus on that. Indeed, the one he wanted to show his mask to above anyone else could get the chance soon enough. The boy knocked on the door. ‘Come in, don’t dally!’ came En’s impatient voice from the other side. Fujita hurried into the room, only to find his boss on his fours, almost sticking his head under a couch. He made some awkward motion with his hand in the direction he thought the boy was standing, without distracting from his apparently very engrossing activity. ‘Take a seat, I’ll join you in a minute.’ ‘Come, have this chair over here, Fujita-kun,’ creeped in another, quieter voice. ‘I’d like to take a good look at your… fresh apparel.’ The boy turned to the sound and only now spotted a short, unassuming man with bandaged-up face, who didn’t even attempt to hide his presence, yet, somehow, seemed to naturally blend into his surroundings. ‘Ah, Sho-san! Very nice to see you!’ young sorcerer bowed and walked over to the conference table covered in an assortment of papers and folders. ‘Likewise,’ nodded the involuntary chameleon, admiring the devil’s workmanship. ‘A bold look. Not to my own preference, but I’m certain it will serve you well.’ ‘Thank you!’ grinned Fujita with glee. ‘I’ll make sure to put it to good use!’ ‘Eager to take on the challenges?’ asked the man wryly. ‘You’d be wise to cool your jets for now. We are in for a long discussion, and your head should be in it – not in some fantastical adventures.’ ‘Of course…’ agreed the boy and exhaled slowly. ‘Of course, you’re right. So you’ve gotten involved too, Sho-san?’ ‘Indeed, that’s why I’m here. I’ll explain my part when we’ll get to it,’ bandaged sorcerer replied, glancing at his immediate superior crawling on the floor. ‘Eventually.’ He then returned his attention to the fledgling Family member and, for a few moments, studied his tense posture. ‘I can’t help but wonder, Fujita-kun, why are you so intent on bringing your old partner back?’ he questioned softly. ‘It can’t be that you believe you have no shot at getting one otherwise, no? After all, you are no longer the person you were during the last Blue Night. You are wearing a testament to that with well-deserved pride.’ ‘Oh, ehm… thank you, Sho-san,’ blushed the boy, hiding his eyes, ‘I appreciate your kind words. But, actually… It’s just that, ehm…’ ‘Not here either…’ interrupted him En, getting up on his feet with a disappointed frown. ‘Fine, let’s get on with our business then, blast it.’ He joined the two at the table, but, judging by his crossed arms and grumpy face, the red-haired sorcerer did not feel like taking charge of the conversation. Having plenty of experience around En’s mood, Sho got the clue. ‘Very well,’ he started, turning to Fujita, ‘let’s take it from the top. We’ve all formed our own perspectives thus far, so it’s best to put everyone on the same page. Tell us your story, and we’ll pick up from there.’ ‘Right, of course,’ complied young sorcerer, feeling his heart getting somewhat excited. He put his hands on the table, and, after a few seconds of fretful silence, choosing a good place to start, launched his account. ‘It all began during the census. I’ve been visiting the residences, as instructed, filling the list of recoverable dead and delivering invitations to resurrection events. With so many devil tumors lost during the crisis… Well… It was never going to be a very long list – that much was clear. Still, I lost count of how many times I had to explain the way it all works to bereft citizens.’ ‘It was a high toll indeed,’ supported Sho. ‘It’s a small miracle that our society didn’t suffer utter collapse in the wake of that grisly harvest.’ ‘A small miracle by the name of Kikurage…’ grumped En. ‘Of course, that’s very true!’ quickly corrected himself Sho. ‘Without her complicity, we couldn’t have hoped to achieve such robust recovery! But let’s get back to the matter at hand. Fujita-kun?’ ‘Right,’ the boy returned to his recollection. ‘It’s during one of these visits that I had to deal with a particularly aggrieved lady. She was accusing the Family of picking favorites and only resurrecting people that would advance our interests.’ ‘Pheh!’ huffed En, whose mood did not seem to be improving. ‘That’s why I never bothered with playing nice. The very instant you fail to please somebody, they paint you a villain.’ ‘You’ve earned your infamy in many ways, En,’ softly rebuked him the bandaged man. ‘And you can’t…’ ‘“You can’t change who you are, without owning who you were,” yes, yes…’ grumbled the pouting sorcerer. ‘I haven’t forgotten your bloody sermon, Sho.’ ‘You are making progress,’ assured him his trusty associate. ‘And you are taking advantage of that…’ retorted En, then sighed and finally parted his hands. ‘But you’re right, this is unbecoming of me. Do continue, Fujita.’ Having plenty of experience around En’s mood, Fujita continued as if there was no interruption whatsoever. ‘I did try to explain to her all about the devil tumor in the brain, but she would have none of that. She kept raving about some “Malachai Triumvirate” getting one of their founders back, despite his head not being recovered. She just refused to relent, even though it was something she heard from a guy, who heard from a guy, who heard from some loser at a bar.’ The boy paused, reflecting on his memory. When he continued, little signs of irritation in his voice got phased out by wistfulness. ‘In a way, I was right there with her,’ he confessed. ‘When I lost my chance to bring back Matsumura, I’ve been grasping at straws too. With all the different magic in the world, it’s a hard feeling to shake – that someone taken from you is only truly gone when you’ve given up on finding a way to get them back.’ Fujita shook his head, chasing the distracting gloom away. ‘In the end, I could only assure her that we’d reunite her with her loved one if we could – little as it helped. At the time, I just wanted to put that situation behind me, but later, it got me thinking…’ ‘Triumvirate is a big entity,’ chimed in Sho. ‘Or was, anyway. It’s doubtful that they could be duped by a double, and they have the resources to make a lot of unlikely things happen.’ ‘Exactly!’ livened up Fujita, pleased that his account was being supported. ‘If there was a grain of truth to that story, I wanted to find it. Matsumura managed to help me even from beyond the grave, right? Having learned of that rumor, I couldn’t just shrug and go on with my life.’ ‘In our hectic times, it’s no wonder it took you this long to arrive anywhere,’ mused En out loud. ‘Yeah, tight schedule wasn’t helping,’ the boy smiled awkwardly, trying not to sound as if he’s complaining, ‘but, eventually, I could look more into it, and I found out that the company had been restructured as Malachai Partnership & Affiliates sometime after the crisis. That did sound discouraging, but I still wasn’t sure what to make of it. I didn’t want to assume baselessly. So I tried to dig up more about the higher-ups in the company, and…’ Fujita sighed, having to admit deficiency in the pursuit of his goal. Though, to his own surprise, it wasn’t colored by the feeling of powerlessness, but by inconvenienced irritation. His tolerance for being denied seemed to be eroding. ‘And that’s where I reached my limit,’ he finished his sentence – stating, instead of lamenting. ‘There are doors that just won’t open for a small fry like me. That’s when I brought the whole deal to your attention, En-san.’ ‘And it was the right call,’ approved the Family head. ‘I made some general inquiries, but, doing things by the book, even on my level, I eventually ran into a stone wall. Intriguingly enough, someone at that crummy den of commerce really wanted to keep things under wraps. I couldn’t press the issue further, without showing my hand, so I delegated the matter to our expert in discreet affairs.’ Hearing that description, Sho bared his pointy teeth. It was his turn to accept the figurative baton. ‘Got to admit, I do like this title more than “corporate assassin”,’ he said with dark contentment. ‘And it was nice to see that my skills didn’t fall out of fashion, despite our new… modus operandi.’ ‘What have you learned, Sho-san?’ Fujita leaned forward with focused anticipation in his eyes. Bidding young sorcerer to wait a moment with a gesture, the man reached for one of the folders on the table and pulled it to himself. ‘Not as much as I was hoping to,’ he admitted, opening the cover, ‘but not as little as they’ve counted on.’ While two black beads scanned the contents of the folder from under the bandages, former assassin recounted the course of his infiltration and investigation. His skills were indeed a good fit for the task. Interrogating the staff, rummaging through archives, being a fly on the wall during high-level meetings – if there was a way to look behind the curtain, he took full advantage of it. To Fujita’s immense awe, giving his account, Sho sounded calm and relaxed, even amused at points – making brief asides and tangential remarks, bringing up names and details not connected to the topic of their meeting, but simply too juicy not to pin for future examination. Remembering his own fraught reconnaissance escapades, the boy could only be fascinated with how leisurely one of the founding Family members went about his. This confidence undoubtedly came from extensive experience, and, as fledgling sorcerer knew, the unassuming man gained that from doing more than simple snooping and eavesdropping. Soon, Sho rounded up the account of his preliminary work and, having sufficiently refreshed his memory, put the folder down. ‘Very well, now about what I managed to glean from all this,’ he said, locking his fingers. ‘Let’s start with context. Triumvirate, as you can tell from the name, was founded by three successful magnates, each holding control over a different branch of business. As the cross-eye crisis unfolded, two managed to survive the hunts and the calamity by going into hiding, but the third one, Koshiro – an arrogant sort – banked on the strength of his magic, and was killed when a hit squad raided his villa. As you’ve heard, his head was taken and never recovered. Later, with crisis averted, the remaining founders jumped at the opportunity to “pick up the pieces and start fresh” – hence the rebranding.’ ‘They weren’t the only ones,’ weighed in the Family head. ‘Even as the future of our realm was still up in the air, you could smell inconvenient documentation burning in the furnaces of many “respectable houses of business”.’ ‘That sudden housecleaning craze did cause me a bit of a setback,’ confessed Sho. ‘There was no paperwork on the exact details of Triumvirate’s dissolution. A restructuring was suggested, and then it just… happened, with Koshiro being left out, and some new blood introduced. Whatever went into that process – only the remaining founders knew, and trying to have a… tête-à-tête… with either of them would be a risky endeavor. There was another promising lead, however – I decided to follow that one first.’ Sho searched through the folders and fished out a personal dossier. ‘According to papers, after Koshiro’s untimely demise, the control over his assets transferred to his son, Arashi.’ ‘I’ve met the kid back in the day,’ interjected En. ‘Your usual spoiled daddy’s boy with no business sense to speak of. No wonder he was ousted – he’d be nothing but a volatile element and a financial drain.’ ‘That’s only a part of it,’ grinned former assassin, as if anticipating a punchline to a dark joke. ‘Do tell,’ encouraged red-haired sorcerer with amused malevolence. ‘This should be fascinating.’ Pleased with spurring an interest, Sho opened one of the folders filled with photo materials and began laying them out in sequence, illustrating the course of his sleuthing. ‘I visited our grieving heir’s penthouse apartment in the city,’ he explained, producing a photo of a tall building in a bougie part of town, ‘planning to have a chat he’d never remember. But wouldn’t you know it – our boy had been evicted from his luxurious lodgings. From what I’ve gathered, Arashi was close to broke for a good while. Lack of parental oversight did not improve his spending habits.’ ‘I’m not surprised,’ rolled his eyes En. ‘The golden children of wealthy stock run even the deepest coffers dry.’ ‘True,’ agreed Sho. ‘But they may not have been as deep as you think. With a bit more legwork, I tracked down the kid to a pricey bar, where he, apparently, was spending a lot of time, wasting his last money and hanging on every ear, bemoaning his woes. And, as you both know,’ the man failed to suppress a predatory grin, ‘I’m a very good listener.’ Fujita couldn’t stop fidgeting in his chair, expecting the story to come to a striking revelation at any moment. At the same time, he was really hoping to get a concise summary at the end – one that would not require him remembering scores of names. He was already a bit iffy on what was relevant to his task, and what was meant primarily for En’s ears, so, really, shrinking that down to one actionable mark would be much preferred. The bandaged man continued. ‘It all pointed to that Arashi was the source of the rumor, as he was convinced that his old man did indeed return – with his own current situation being the result of mishandling his responsibilities in daddy’s absence. I’ll spare you the irrelevant moping and the parts I couldn’t cross-confirm, but here’s the gist of what I’ve interpreted from his ravings.’ Assassin tapped his finger on another photo, depicting a lavish villa, scarred by what appeared to be a very violent unsanctioned entry. ‘Turns out, the man’s demise was more devastating to his branch of business than you’d imagine. When cross-eyes sacked his place, they busted open his personal vault, full of valuable papers. Contracts, agreements, personal IOUs – that sorts of things. And here’s the lesson to learn: when you build your success on coercion and debt, you better keep downtrodden revolutionaries away from your binding documentation.’ ‘Ooff…’ winced the red-haired man. ‘When his debtors caught wind of that, his empire must have imploded overnight.’ ‘Quite so,’ confirmed Sho, finding amongst the papers a printout with plummeting projections. ‘And that’s on top of the rest of the devastation. When cursed rain stopped and restoration began, Koshiro’s side of Triumvirate was a dead weight – there’s no two ways of looking at it. And, to his son’s credit, the kid had enough stuffing between his ears to understand that.’ ‘So there is no way in hell he’d agree to restructuring that cuts him out,’ surmised En, studying the sorry state of company’s affairs. The bandaged sorcerer could only shrug whimsically, admitting the obviousness of that conclusion. ‘Now you see the predicament the other two heads were faced with,’ he followed up. ‘In the old world, this could be sorted in a number of ways, but, as things currently stand, they absolutely had to resolve the situation amicably.’ ‘Yes, the balance of power is fragile right now,’ concurred En with a shade of displeasure. ‘No one would risk appearing as if they’re cannibalizing themselves in front of every upstart sniffing for opportunities.’ Listening to his superiors’ exchange, Fujita was struggling to keep up. Gradually losing his grasp of the scope of discussed matters, he had to engage with the conversation, or risk being left in the dust – detached and disoriented. ‘But the dead founder could turn things around, if he were to come back, right…?’ the boy supposed, more for the sake of getting his own bearings than providing useful commentary. ‘I mean, he’d remove his nincompoop son out of the picture at the very least.’ ‘That’s a reasonable guess,’ agreed the moonlighting spy. ‘And, as you’ve learned yourself, the restructuring did happen, which means, burdensome heir’s claim to dead assets was somehow rendered null. Now, was it actually Koshiro’s doing or not, Arashi didn’t bother to ascertain – he was going purely on his assumption that he was kicked out by his father, presumably angered by the state of company’s affairs.’ ‘That’s… not very substantive…’ lamented Fujita, who, thus far, was trawling the story for every hint of solid proof of successful resurrection. ‘Indeed, it is not,’ agreed Sho. ‘But that was not the important takeaway that night. The part that is worth our attention today is that, in his rambling, Arashi kept mentioning someone named Jiro, whom he accused of meddling. He shared that, prior to his deposition, that man approached him several times, trying to con him, and undoubtedly was the one who turned Koshiro against his flesh and blood with his poisoned words. But, at that point, the guy had a bit too much to drink, and his story devolved into vengeful speculation of what’s going to happen when his father figures out what truly happened and welcomes him back into the life of privilege, so I left the poor sod to it and reported the gist of my preliminary findings.’ ‘Won’t he now blab about your questions to someone else, Sho-san?’ voiced his concern young sorcerer. ‘You don’t have to worry about that, Fujita-kun,’ assured the bandaged man. ‘Naturally, I have “eased his mind” a little, before departing, which, honestly, felt like an overkill. Even before the calamity, you could find “disgraced royalty” around any pub. Not all of them are the people they claim to be, and fewer still measure their former importance accurately, so I’m yet to meet a person who cares to listen to their ramblings. I have however met enough of En’s long-lost siblings to open a cabaret.’ ‘I’m at capacity with just one, thank you very much,’ En raised his palm in protest. ‘Not that you can find her when you need her these days. What is it with women in this mansion?’ Sensing that the conversation may quickly veer into victimized brooding, Fujita attempted a daring move. ‘Let’s stay on topic,’ he interjected, doing his damnedest not to sound patronizing or annoyed. ‘What were your steps, En-san?’ And, to his surprise and relief, his boss calmly went along with it. ‘Right,’ collected his thoughts red-haired sorcerer. ‘We’ve already touched on it yesterday. As I said, while Sho was out doing his thing, I toyed with some hypotheticals, and then Shin has proven my intuition to be spot on. Here’s Kasukabe’s files. Recognizing the face?’ En pulled out a rugged-looking hand-written report from the pile, opened it on the page with paper-clipped photographs and turned it to the boy. Indeed, it was as he said. Though the man on the pictures bore the signs of thorough thrashing – covered in scrapes and dark bruises, missing teeth and clumps of already thinning hair – he was unmistakably Koshiro’s lookalike. Having spent a lot of his free time pursuing the rumor of the man’s miraculous revival, Fujita could clearly tell that much. General features, birthmarks, apparent age – resemblance could not be denied. ‘Hmm… I see what you mean…’ slowly spoke young sorcerer, giving the photos unrelenting scrutiny. ‘But… appearance alone can’t be taken as hard evidence.’ He wanted to believe it was proof. And yet, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know better. ‘True. Anyone can look like anyone, if they spend enough nick on it,’ agreed En with a sly look in his eyes. ‘So here’s the juicy bit: the brief account of our friend’s final moments mentions that, in his rageful fit, he kept shouting about some “Shiro or Jiro – statements inconsistent”. It’s right there in the file. Too close to be a mere coincidence, don’t you think?’ ‘The plot thickens,’ commented the bandaged man, savoring the mystery while it still lasted. ‘As for why he didn’t defend himself…’ continued the Family head, making sure to hold a short, conspiratory pause. ‘It says in the autopsy notes that the deceased did not possess a devil tumor in his brain, and thus, couldn’t use magic.’ Confusion on Fujita’s face was easy to see, even through his mask. What was on Sho’s, as was often the case, remained an enigma. ‘Wait… Do you mean…? Stop, I don’t get it…’ stuttered the boy. ‘Are you saying that he was a doppelganger?’ ‘No,’ En shook his head, ‘it is not what I’m saying.’ ‘Let me guess,’ intervened the assassin. ‘He did otherwise have proper magic-user’s physiology?’ ‘Correct,’ confirmed his boss. ‘On top of that, discounting the damage caused by the disgruntled locals, his body was in pristine condition.’ ‘Pristine how?’ further probed the man. ‘It matched his perceived biological age, but had no signs of natural wear and tear – no callosity, no tooth decay, no accumulations of any kind. Regardless of how pampered your lifestyle is, you still get some of that over the years, yet he had none, head to toe.’ ‘Oh!’ exclaimed Fujita, as a thought struck him. ‘It’s like when Noi-san restored our bodies!’ ‘I can only agree,’ concurred the bandaged sorcerer, thinking back to his experience. ‘I felt at least a decade younger after that.’ ‘It was what came to my mind too,’ agreed En, ‘but Kasukabe’s notes brought up another possibility. He posits that a precise copy of a magic-user’s body could be crafted by a devil from raw materials.’ Red-haired sorcerer thought for a few more moments, then shrugged. ‘Either that, or they found his old nail clippings and then bathed them in an obscene amount of high-grade healing smoke.’ ‘So, it was a fresh copy of his body… With no tumor…’ Fujita kept processing the information, gears grinding. ‘Now the question is… was it his soul inside? Is there a way to know for sure?’ ‘In the world ruled by magic, we can be sure of precious few things,’ warned En in a tone that was a bit too theatrical to think that he didn’t prepare the line ahead of time. ‘But there is something that supports that possibility.’ He rifled lazily through the papers, until a certain document was in his hands. The man scanned its contents, making sure his words are not based on a careless assumption. ‘Ah, yes, there it is…’ he confirmed to himself, flicking his fingers on the page. ‘You see, while we can’t be certain of their means, Malachai heads did manage to break Triumvirate apart – full legal dissolution, then reconstitution under new name – and that would require annulling a soul-bound contract. It is a level of bondage overseen by devils themselves. Not even Chota could hope to dispel that kind of magic.’ ‘Like a partnering contract?’ guessed the boy. ‘Quite close, but, unlike that, a soul-bound agreement is unaffected by a participant’s death,’ clarified En, ‘since their soul doesn’t cease – it only hops a plane. Such contract can’t be voided – only overwritten, with sincere intent from the bottom of your soul, and, as we’ve learned, Koshiro’s successor would not do that.’ ‘So, supposing a devil crafted that new body…’ pondered Sho with a touch of incredulity, ‘you think they’d pluck a soul out of hell to put inside it as well?’ ‘I don’t have the answer for that,’ confessed En. ‘Devils are nothing if not diligent in their tasks, and overseeing dead magic-users getting their dues is one of their primary jobs. Hmm…’ Sorcerer paused, giving the idea another shake. ‘But devils are also malevolent and all-knowing…’ he theorized, weighing up the possibilities. ‘If they knew what would happen with the soul they sprang, they wouldn’t miss an opportunity to laugh their sides off, watching the man tearing his remaining hair out, back so soon to their playground.’ Noticing excitement in Fujita’s eyes, En hurried to caution him against wishful expectations. ‘That is one possibility, nothing more,’ he warned. ‘The body could be a result of a failed venture they got rid of, before sorting their conundrum in some other fashion. Be wary of taking unproven hypotheses for fact.’ The boy slumped back in his chair with a confounded sigh, directing his stare at the ceiling. Anti-cathartic as it was, once again, he had to try and consider the whole picture. It was tempting to just arrange all the pieces into something he wanted to see in the end, but it would be little more than self-delusion. Still, in order to move forward, he needed to assume the prize was worth it. The whole affair was pointless otherwise. ‘So there is a certain probability that they have found a way to side-step the rules of resurrection known to us,’ young sorcerer supposed cautiously. ‘Now, if that’s the case…’ The boy turned his face to the table again. ‘…we’re left with “how” and “at what cost”, am I right?’ ‘Right you are,’ agreed En. ‘And this is where my side of investigation comes into play. That Jiro guy left too many footprints to be dismissed, so I did some digging. Here’s our winner.’ Another photograph fell on the table – one of a loudly dressed man, donning a similarly eye-catching mask. Undoubtedly devil-crafted, it was fashioned to project maximum amount of pizazz, with its golden-teethed grin and kitschy, barred eyeglasses. At the same time, all its visual noise was admittedly distracting – perhaps, intentionally so – allowing to glean little more than its loud vibe. ‘A “winner” indeed…’ smirked the assassin, looking at his own antithesis. ‘He is an interesting case,’ noted the Family head. ‘In the social circles, he goes by Matchmaker, and you’d only know his actual name if you intend to do business. He’d be best described as a favor broker, and he used to be a pretty obscure one – the earliest traces paint him as your regular social climber with a measure of family backing. His predecessors got where they are by doing things safe and slow, but, as you can see, our guy is of a different breed. Apparently, due to that, his older brother was the favorite child – at the very least, his integration into the grownup games was actually fostered, while this peacock was seemingly given a cold shoulder.’ ‘Must have given him a bit of an inferiority complex,’ mocked Sho. ‘Maybe more than a bit,’ concurred En, contemplatively contorting what stood for his eyebrows. ‘According to records, there was no love lost between the brothers for most of their history. Actually, I can see the signs that there could be a rift between generations, too. Parents favored the older son, while grandparents all but excluded him from their will – their boons went to the younger. However, when they passed and Jiro received his inheritance, he must have shed some of that insecurity and offered an olive branch. You can see that hostilities between the brothers died down after he had his own toys to play with at the very least.’ ‘En-san, does his family history really matter to us?’ cautiously asked Fujita, worrying that the already taxing conversation may veer off course and sprout all kinds of pointless details when his mind was already straining. ‘It matters to you,’ responded En sternly. ‘This is the person you’ll be investigating, after all. You can’t manipulate your target without understanding it, so pay close attention before you leap.’ ‘Oh… Yes, my bad…’ blushed the boy, sitting up straight and hastily trying to make up for his mistake. ‘I, um… I guess, I can understand where he’s coming from. If something I wanted was constantly dangled in front of me, always out of reach… Yeah, I’d develop some spicy feelings too.’ ‘There we go,’ nodded the Family head. ‘Anyway, even before the boost, Matchmaker kept slowly making his way up in the world by playing intermediary for the needs of the more influential figures.’ ‘Gaining useful connections in the process, I would assume,’ pitched in the assassin. ‘Naturally,’ nodded En. ‘The guy only hit prominence a few years ago, but I can tell you, his game sure paid off. And that was before our current power reshuffling, during which he certainly didn’t sit on his hands – of that there can be no doubt. This Jiro guy weaseled his way into an interesting spot. His involvement is often sought by the major players, yet all his dealings seem to be done purely in good faith, with no clear binding or oversight. His reputation for always finding the right peg for the right hole makes a lot of people want to be in his good graces.’ ‘And of course he stands to benefit from every deal he brokers, in some way,’ supposed Fujita in a rather conclusive tone, seeking to regain lost ground. ‘You’re starting to get it,’ confirmed his boss. ‘In the past year, he received a discreet “thanks”, of one type or the other, from Malachai and every new affiliate under their wing.’ ‘Since his attempt at duping the heir was a bust…’ young sorcerer continued the logical chain, ‘it means, he was integral to finding a resolution in some other way, right?’ ‘That is what seems most likely,’ allowed En. ‘In the end, one big entity avoided collapse, a bunch of developing ones gained a foothold on a bigger playing field, while the middle man filled his pockets and boosted his reputation across the board. Not sure if it’s business acumen or social prowess, but this Matchmaker guy is proving to be a shrewd player. Suffice it to say, I don’t like him.’ ‘Feeling territorial?’ probed Sho. ‘Hardly,’ scoffed the red-haired sorcerer. ‘I set goals, and I make plays to gain assets that bring me closer to those goals. He has nothing but plays. He is not making investments or sponsoring initiatives – he only dances with fancier and fancier partners, and the dance is always the same. His operation grows in scope, but arrives nowhere.’ ‘So he’s a one trick pony…’ contemplated Fujita. ‘It’s possible,’ admitted En, ‘but I’m not certain. In a way, he acts like black powder – provides a situational advantage to those who feel the need for it. I guess, that explains why he didn’t come up on my radar for so long… But what’s his endgame? So far, I can’t tell if he even has it. He either possesses unbelievably grand ambitions or none at all. And same could be true about his magic.’ ‘What do you mean, En-san?’ ‘There’s no record of it,’ disclosed red-haired man. ‘And you know how our world works. So, up top, there are only two reasons for keeping your magic a secret: it’s either laughably weak, or it gives you an unfair edge in whatever it is that you are doing.’ ‘Finding out which one it is could be useful,’ suggested Sho. ‘If not for personal advantage, then as blackmail.’ ‘I wouldn’t resort to it too readily,’ objected En after brief consideration. ‘That man lives and dies by his reputation, and his social mycelium is not to be underestimated. I would avoid dragging Family into an info war with someone like him.’ There was already a lot to process, but, if anything truly amazed Fujita during this meeting, it was hearing his boss advocating for caution. Though, come to think of it, that weird feeling was following him for a while now. The first year after the crisis was hectic. Back then, the boy assumed that Family needed time for licking its wounds and gathering strength, before reasserting itself at the top of the hierarchy – and yet, even as things started returning to normalcy, the level of operation remained scaled back. The mansion got restored and workforce somewhat repopulated, but no new business pursuits were chosen, and plenty of the old ones were left for competitors to scoop up. No cleaner work was being assigned either. Instead, Shin took the boy under his wing and focused on hitting traffickers, while Noi started taking long leaves of absence from the mansion, doing her own thing and being rather cagy about it. Letting things become so discordant was starkly out of character for En, but Fujita knew not to question, even if he felt oddly empowered to probe and object lately. ‘Anything else I need to know about the Matchmaker?’ he asked, wanting to keep the discussion on track. ‘Notable enemies? Close associates?’ With an expression of vague recollection, En shuffled through his notes – among them, a record of Blue Night events hosted in the past years. He picked up the paper and skimmed through it twice, as if not trusting what he saw at the first glance. ‘Not much on either account…’ he then concluded, sounding almost incredulous. ‘By being a pleaser, over the years, our man managed not to step on any toes with a kick behind them, and as for associates… Here. At the start of his career as go-between, he had a partner. No one remarkable – just some guy with archival magic. Clearly handy for keeping all the contacts organized. But, apparently, the ever increasing scope of his task was too much to handle, and, when the inheritance came in, and Jiro skipped up a step or two…’ ‘His partner quit,’ assumed Fujita. ‘His partner expired,’ corrected him red-haired sorcerer. ‘You don’t “quit” this level of operation. As hard as it may be to get into the game, getting out is a whole another ordeal, especially if you hold some sensitive morsels inside your skull. So an archivist would practically be chained to his boss for life. Anyway, when that one croaked, Jiro neglected finding a new partner for two Blue Nights now. Which… is understandable. When you’re a figure of value, being a prospecting partner is advantageous – it becomes a lure and a potential bargaining chip.’ ‘I see,’ surmised Fujita. ‘He is waiting for a big enough catch. And who wouldn’t want such a well-connected partner?’ ‘I, for one,’ scoffed Sho, turning two surprised faces to himself. ‘Partnering is one of the strongest proclamations of loyalty, and the man who works his partner to death, because he stands to gain, has a rotten core and can’t be trusted. I’m sure you would agree, Fujita-kun.’ The boy didn’t know how to reply to that. It was true that the word “partner” had a special ring to him, but admitting that Matchmaker seemed untrustworthy felt like already preparing for failure. Thankfully, En sensed his apprehension and intervened. ‘Be as it may, we don’t need Fujita to become his bestie,’ he asserted. ‘The guy’s a mean, not the end. As soon as we learn what goes into that resurrection trick, we may as well cut the middle man out.’ ‘But that still is a tall order,’ cautioned the assassin. ‘Don’t forget who will have to do the work.’ ‘Hmm… yes, that is true,’ reluctantly agreed the Family head, considering the perspective he was looking at things from. ‘That is, unfortunately, true…’ He hummed to himself, mulling over the demands of the task placed before the fledgling sorcerer – measuring them against his understanding of the boy’s level of preparation. Perhaps he should have summoned Shin to this meeting as well, so he could consult with him. But, on the other hand… Whatever the verdict would have been, would it stop Fujita from trying anyway? History already held an answer to that. All he could provide at this point was sobering clarity. ‘Alright, Fujita, enough was said today for you to see the picture,’ the man declared, driving the meeting to a conclusion. ‘This is not a situation where you can expect any guarantees – not of success, nor of your own safety – but you know what’s at stake, and you know what’s on the docket. So think carefully. Right now, it’s not too late to pull the brakes, while you still haven’t stuck your head in. But the call is entirely yours. What will it be?’ The room fell silent, as, under two probing gazes, the boy was wrangling the agitated swarm of thoughts in his head. This wasn’t a question he could answer with ignorant zeal – he knew that much. He was smart enough to understand that the euphoric feeling he was enveloped by yesterday was not going to carry him through his challenges. Nor would all the support his betters deigned to grace him with. It was still him who would have to go the distance, face risks, weigh up odds, make decisions. Nothing was promised to him. All the inconclusive leads, hearsay and suppositions pointed towards there being a chance – a mere chance of success, even if he played his part flawlessly, start to finish. He was to enter a world he was not a part of, knew very little of… He was to spy on someone even his boss did not fancy to antagonize… He was to, for all intents and purposes, outdevil the devil himself – all for a chance of bringing back someone who, by now, has been gone from his life for just as much time as they’ve known each other. Yet, the boy felt the drive to damn the odds – same burning drive he felt years ago, when he was loading his gun, preparing to return to the Hole and deliver his payback. Even against the sense of self-preservation. Even against En’s explicit orders. The same drive that refused to die down even when he proclaimed it was over at his partner’s grave. Even when he banished all traces of Matsumura’s killers from his thoughts. But then… why would it? By now, young sorcerer could tell it was not about revenge anymore. And, perhaps, it was never about revenge. Fujita licked his dry lips. ‘If Koshiro was truly brought back to life…’ he spoke hoarsely, ‘and if it was Jiro who made it happen… And if it is possible to do the same for Matsumura…’ The boy closed his eyes, half-numb with realization of what he was thrusting himself into. ‘…I want to take that chance.’ Catching faint trembling in Fujita’s voice, En withheld his response for several torturous seconds, testing the finality of his underling’s decision. ‘Very well,’ he sealed the deal, after letting young sorcerer’s words hang in the air for long enough. ‘We will attend tonight’s soiree together.’ Having said that, red-haired man started swiping all the documents and photos on the table into a pile, forming a big, messy paper sandwich. ‘I’ll sift through this stuff one more time, just to be sure we’re not missing anything crucial. Meanwhile, talk to Chota – he’ll bring you up to speed on basic etiquette – and, if there will be time to spare, go over Jiro’s dossier.’ Realizing that said dossier is now somewhere in the heap, En stopped, considering digging for it, but soon gave up on the thought. ‘I’ll send it to your room,’ he decided. ‘Meeting is adjourned.’ Still somewhat affected, Fujita got up from the table, feeling a bit weak in the knees. But, even in the disarray that his mind was in right now, one thought could not be ignored. The boy took a deep bow. ‘Thank you very much for all your support, En-san!’ He straightened up, only to immediately bow in another direction. ‘I greatly appreciate your assistance, Sho-san, thank you!’ ‘Just don’t start thinking things up,’ waved it off En. ‘From your own words, Matsumura was instrumental to my resurrection effort. I merely see it as fair that I return the courtesy.’ ‘Oh-hoh, I can afford to be less facetious,’ laughed the assassin. ‘I put great value on loyalty, and Matsumura-kun has proven his beyond doubt. He is very welcome to any aid I can provide.’ Fujita raised his head with surprise in his eyes. ‘I had no idea you’ve known my partner so well, Sho-san…’ ‘I could get a measure of the man, yes, but not from the jump,’ clarified bandaged sorcerer. ‘I’ve met him in hell, where he stood by my side, defending our leader from his numerous enemies.’ ‘Doing a rather poor job of it,’ inserted En, looking sideways, ‘but it’s the thought that counts…’ ‘It counts for a lot in my books,’ persisted Sho. ‘You see, Fujita-kun, I’ve been with the Family since the time it was nothing but an idea in one stubborn and ambitious head. It was never about status or profit for me, and there are few others I can assume the same about, let alone know it with confidence. Matsumura-kun is now one of those people, as he still stood with the Family, even when there was nothing to be gained from it, other than a target on his back.’ ‘Sho-san… En-san…’ uttered Fujita, barely holding his overflowing emotions. ‘Alright, alright,’ hurriedly shooed him the Family head, sensing an awkward scene coming. ‘You have your assignment, hop to it.’ With another bow, the boy staggered out the door. As instructed, he immediately went to Chota, but, with his overloaded mind, it took a good while for the dispelling expert to cram even the basics of proper high society conduct into his memory. And it wasn’t helped by the man’s constant digressions on account of Fujita’s fabulous new mask. When the boy was finally let go, his head felt twice the size, but it wasn’t the end of it for tonight. By the door to his room, an unexpected visitor was waiting for the young sorcerer – his senpai, with the rediscovered dossier and a cellophane packet in his hands. ‘Shin-senpai?’ greeted him the boy, struggling to re-anchor himself to here and now. ‘Good, em… evening. You’re bringing me my “required reading”?’ ‘Right. What a specimen…’ replied the cleaner, handing the papers over. ‘En told me you’re coming to a stuffed shirt event in a couple hours, to creep on this guy.’ ‘Ehm, something like that, yes…’ confirmed Fujita, wishing his senpai would find a more glamorous way to describe it. ‘Sorry I can’t help you with work tonight.’ ‘You can’t help me with work any day,’ shrugged it off Shin. ‘Anyhow, you’re not off the hook yet.’ ‘What did you have in mind?’ asked Fujita, with a strong hope that it would be something simple and not immediate. ‘There is such thing as dress code,’ informed the man, handing his subordinate the packet. ‘You’ve clearly grown out of the only decent suit you have, so I’m giving you one of my old ones. You’re still a sorry sight neck-down…’ ‘Shin-senpai…’ uttered the boy with trembling voice, taking the gift. ‘Oh, just don’t start crying over it,’ warned him the cleaner. ‘It’s not like I’d fit into it again anyway…’ He tersely congratulated Fujita on getting a proper mask and went on his way, allowing young sorcerer to finally return into his own space. After everything the boy had to process in one day, his darkened room felt a little different to him – a little foreign, as if he’d stepped out of it a long time ago, and not just this morning. Or, maybe, it was a very different him? Switching the light on, Fujita sluggishly pondered how lasting that feeling could be. And, if his perception of things was altered, would it inform altered actions? Altered attitudes? Trudging through these thoughts, young sorcerer sat on the side of his bed, tossing the dossier onto his nightstand, and, as the papers landed onto the wooden surface, a quiet clink caught the boy’s attention. Curious, Fujita lifted the folder, to discover that the sound came from a small, metallic hairpin. Oh, of course… With all that was going on lately, the boy has forgotten all about it. It’s been… probably more than a year by now? He found it taped to his door one evening, after a long day of legwork, and, while Fujita didn’t know how it found its way there, he knew who left it. And he knew what it meant. He probably should have returned it to Chota, but… he didn’t. As the boy changed into his new clothes, he kept glancing at the magical bauble, asking himself, why the recollections it summoned were so discolored – feeling more like a different life, not just a different time. So much has changed so quickly… This small thing was his last reminder of the one who once possessed it, and, looking at himself in the mirror, young sorcerer couldn’t help but wonder, where she was these days. Or, perhaps, where her thoughts were… On the same night, yet under different skies, hooded girl with a heavy duffle bag on her shoulder found herself standing in front of what seemed to be some sort of a workshop. Much like all the other buildings in this wart of a place, it looked assembled out of miscellaneous scrap the owner could find, buy, nick, or otherwise procure on the streets of Hole. Only, it was, perhaps, on the whole, a bit better put together – materials arranged more sensibly, gaps caulked up more thoroughly. There was even a wooden plaque with some text nailed to the wall by the entrance, but, in the evening murk, the black symbols burnt into the wooden surface were now scurrying around like agitated ants. It seemed to be a short list of names, but the girl didn’t bother looking closer. She went up a short flight of surprisingly sturdy steps and pushed the door, making a chime fashioned out of nails, screw-nuts and some fishing line announce her arrival. The room the girl stepped into was dark and small – merely a space to meet customers in – with the only light coming into it through little holes in a travel rug covering the doorway into the backroom. ‘That you, Tetsujo?’ came a voice from somewhere in the back. ‘All done with deliveries?’ ‘No, not him,’ calmly responded the visitor, closing the door behind her. ‘Oh, you must be after the shoes…’ assumed the voice. ‘Could you come over here? I’m a bit tied up…’ The girl smirked, fixed the bag on her shoulder, pulled her hood further down and proceeded beyond the rug, entering a bigger chamber, partially lit up by a desk lamp at the far end. Its yellowish light revealed a scrunched figure of a dark-haired man sitting behind the worktable, peering intently at a piece of leather pinned to a wooden board before him. Without looking up from his project, the man pointed a thin piece of soap he was holding in his gloved hand towards one of the shelves lining the walls. ‘Find yours over there, okay?’ he requested with abrupt politeness of someone who is busy and short on time. ‘I’ll be done in a minute.’ Feeling no need to rush, the girl looked around the place, observing all manners of instruments hanging off fixtures on the walls – saws, hammers, wood-chisels and bores of different sizes, grouped up and neatly ordered, waiting to be used on the unfinished woodwork around the room. In one section, a thick carpet of flaky shavings covered the floor, swept hastily into a confined shape around a half-done item, to prevent them from being carried around. It seemed, whoever worked on it, had to jump onto something else in a hurry. Thick scent of dried wood permeated the air, mixing with smells of paint, glue, varnish and perhaps other things, all blending together in this stuffy space. The man behind the desk made a few more strokes on the stretched leather and picked up a thin knife, ready to cut out the outlined shape, when the visitor’s silence pinged some kind of primal sense in him. ‘What, can’t find them?’ he asked, raising his head. ‘Sorry, Tetsujo handles the client-side stuff, so I don’t really…’ He stopped, belatedly registering the small figure across the room. His faceted eyes widened. ‘Wait, did you come here alone?’ the man questioned with alarm in his voice. ‘These are dangerous parts to just walk into!’ Under the hood, the girl’s eyes sparked – even with medical mask covering his mouth and nose, there was no mistaking this was the guy she came looking for. ‘Your concern is very touching…’ she replied with cold mockery, ‘…Kaiko.’ Hearing that name, for a moment, the man felt confused, but his body remembered before his mind did. The knife in his hand twirled into a very different grip.