Discover Top Posts Tagged with #aswtwl

Feb 14, 2024

Chapter 8: Rulers of Ikebukuro

SORRY <3 WAS NOT HAVING A #GOOD TIME LAST YEAR Content warnings will be updated later but I don't really think there's anything in here besides violence?

The gentle whir of a laptop. Heavy curtains closed to block the morning light, plunging the room into darkness. Shiro sat at his desk, his eyes feeling glazed over as he forced himself to stay awake. He could get some rest in a bit, god knows he needed it, but….

On the screen in front of him was a chatroom, the website completely black and empty save for the glowing white borders of the chat box and the words [ALHAZRED IS ONLINE]. Shiro adjusted his glasses, nearly missing the bridge of his nose entirely before beginning to type out a message.

08:36[ALHAZRED] Hello Cain, are you there?

Shiro leaned back in his chair, letting out a sigh. Now he just had to wait for a response. It wasn’t necessarily early in the day— a glance at the clock at the bottom right of the laptop screen showed it was just past 8:30 a.m.— but he knew Cain woke up rather early, so his availability was up in the air.

As the minutes passed along without a response, Shiro looked over to the Necromicon sitting at the edge of his desk, near his phone. He had set it there before turning in for the night (or morning). It hadn’t disappeared like Sora’s sword did, and even in a state of disuse, the book still eerily pulsed with energy, a low thrumming he only noticed now seemingly pouring from the pages. A gentle ding like a tinkling of a bell dissipated the sudden trance he had found himself in. A new message in the chatroom.

8:42[CAIN IS ONLINE] 8:42[CAIN] Hi. It’s been a while.

Shiro nearly hurt himself swinging back around to face his computer, typing his message out so quickly he had to stop and fix several typos he had made in his excitement.

8:43[ALHAZRED] Yeah, it has. 8:44[CAIN] I haven’t heard from you in a month. Is everything ok? 8:44[ALHAZRED] Things have been hectic around here. Sorry if I worried you.

Shiro minimized the chat window and looked on his desktop for a specific file, finding it after running his eyes over it a few times. It was a promotional page for Summons on the app store, listing the various features the app—if you could even call it that—offered.

8:45[ALHAZRED] Actually, I was wondering if you’re familiar with this App. 8:46[ALHAZRED HAS ATTACHED AN IMAGE] 8:46[ALHAZRED] Ring any bells? 8:46[ALHAZRED] If not, nevermind. 8:47[CAIN] I know of it. That's the one rumored to have mysterious powers. 8:47[ALHAZRED] So you have heard of it! 8:48[ALHAZRED] If you don’t mind, could you tell me what you know? 8:48[CAIN] Sure, but I’d rather not type it. 8:49[ALHAZRED] Is there a problem? 8:50[CAIN] No, it’s just that it might take a while to explain over chat. 8:51[CAIN] Do you think we could meet somewhere in person today? 8:51[CAIN] If memory serves, you live in Shinjuku, right? 8:52[ALHAZRED] Yes, that’s right. 8:53[CAIN] Then shall we meet at Ikebukuro’s West Exit at 12 pm? 8:54[ALHAZRED] Really? Ikebukuro? 8:54[CAIN] Do you mind?

Did he? Ikebukuro had a reputation for a reason, one he was all too familiar with. It was dangerous, but the tradeoff was too tantalizing to ignore. Not to mention he’d get to finally meet Cain in person.

8:56[ALHAZRED] No, it’s fine. 8:57[ALHAZRED] I appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to meet me. 8:58[CAIN] Not at all. I’ve wanted to meet you in person for some time. 8:58[CAIN] Well then, I’ll see you later. 8:59[ALHAZRED] See you later. 8:59[ALHAZRED IS OFFLINE] 9:00[CAIN IS OFFLINE]

Shiro shut off his laptop, giddy with excitement from the fact that the burning questions he had about Summons were hopefully going to be answered. Maybe then the last day or so would be explained away as just artificial reality or…

He paused, staring once again at the warped leather cover of the Necronomicon. Deep inside, he knew it wasn’t. What happened with the exception a few hours earlier… it was real. All of it. How? How could a messenger app do this? Shiro let out a low and drawn out breath of exhaustion, taking off his glasses and flopping down into his bed.

He really needed to sleep.

A few hours later, as the mid-morning sun filtered in through plastic blinds, Sora lay in their totaled bed. Long ago their covers were flung off, and now they stared at the white ceiling contemplating whether to go and start the day. They hurt, there was no doubt about that. Their trip back to the school earlier in the morning took a lot longer than it should have due to the both of them needing to rest every block or so, and Sora wasn’t sure how much sleep they had actually gotten. What time was it? They weren’t entirely sure it even was the same day.

They heard a soft yawn from above them on the shelf under their window, a spark of blue pixelated light forming and flickering as Lil’ Sal’s body formed in the air. The tiny butler companion of theirs was still in his blue five-pointed star pajamas, and as he floated down to sit on their chest he lifted an equally as small sleeping mask off his eyes, the words “dad’s favorite” hand-stitched onto it.

“Good morning, Master,” he said with another yawn. “It’s currently 10 a.m. on December 7th, 2016. Did you sleep well?”

“Mm…” Sora grumbled in response. “I want to go back to bed….”

“I bet you do, Master! You and Shiro got into a lot of trouble yesterday.” Sal rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “But you can only rest so much before your body needs food! That friend of yours, what’s his face with the cup, sent you a message a little while ago.”

“I don’t wanna…” Sora whined, rolling onto their side, subsequently knocking Sal off. He landed on the wooden floor of the dorm room with a thud, gasping with as much offense as he could muster. He floated up off the floor, staring at them with a deep pout.

“Master if you don’t get up I’m going to yell! I’m going to yell really loud!” Sal declared. At a lack of a response, he rolled up his small sleeves, inhaled, and let out a cacophonous bleat.

Sora shot out of bed, startled and staring at Sal in total bewilderment. Sal shook his little head in triumph, floating over to Sora’s phone and unplugging it from the cord. The screen lit up, revealing a few notifications on the screen when Sora picked it up from the windowsill.

Two of them were from Ryouta, the first asking if they’re okay, the second mentioning something about breakfast. That was three hours ago. The other notifications were from Summons, announcing recent changes in guild statuses, updates to the app, and the announcement of three new guilds: the Golden Gai Sukeban, the Arakawa Wanderers, and the Asakusa Gurus.

“What’s a Guild?” Sora asked Sal, who paused to answer, but jumped and vanished when there was a knock at the door. When they opened it, there stood Ryouta, whose expression betrayed just how concerned he was.

“Good morning, Sora! Are you…feeling alright?” He stared at their head, and they remembered that they were patched up pretty extensively.

“I’m sleepy, but I’m okay. Thank you for worrying, Ryouta.” Sora smiled at him, and the sun shining onto Ryouta from through the open window paled in comparison to the beaming smile he gave back to them.

“I kinda figured you were still resting cause you and Shiro were out there all night, right? So I didn’t worry too much, but when you didn’t respond the second time I had to make sure you were alright. It’s almost lunch time. Oh, speaking of which, do you wanna get lunch with me and Shiro?” Ryouta’s mouth was running a mile a minute, nearly bouncing in place.

“Sure! Just let me get ready.”

“Alright! I’ll be waiting for you both in the cafeteria. Shiro said he needed to do some laundry first, so he’ll be down in a bit.” Ryouta nearly started down the hall, but stopped when he saw Sora wrinkle their eyebrows in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s laundry?”

“Oh, uh…yeah, you have amnesia... Sorry about that. If you have any dirty clothes you can take them to the laundry room on the first floor to clean them. There should be instructions in there if you need them, I’ll let Shiro know you’re headed that way just in case.” Ryouta pulled out his phone, the case covered in stickers of various kinds, before waving to them and heading off towards the cafeteria.

Sora closed their door, watching as Sal rematerialized above their pillow holding his tome, reading quietly.

“Master, there should be a clean gym uniform in the top drawer of your dresser if I remember correctly.” Sal turned away from Sora to offer them some privacy to get dressed, which they did. The uniform was too big on them, and also too long. They rolled up their sleeves and pant legs, stretching to make sure the clothes fit comfortably, something they immediately regretted as every muscle in their body ached with pain.

“Sal, do you want to join us for lunch?” Sora snagged their phone off the windowsill and stuffed it into an inner pocket of their windbreaker. Sal turned to face them once more, closing his tome with a hearty thunk, and smiled.

“No thank you, Master. I plan to spend the rest of the day sleeping, but you three have fun! Oh, and don’t forget the key to your room!” Sal reclined onto their pillow with a smile, before vanishing once more. Sora smiled, finding their room key on their desk and slipping it into their sock before looking around for a way to take their clothes to the laundry room.

As Ryouta had said, when Sora eventually found the cramped laundry room, Shiro was inside, reading. They shifted the pile of laundry in their arms—they had failed to find anything to carry them with and didn’t want to bother Sal again—and knocked on the doorframe. At the new sound, Shiro turned to investigate, and let out a soft sigh when saw them.

“Good morning, Shiro!” Sora smiled cheerfully, walking in and finding a place to set their laundry down, shuffling some detergent bottles and socks aside first.

“It’s not ‘good morning’ anymore, but thank you all the same,” Shiro said, closing his book and yawning deeply. Sora noticed that it was a beginner’s guide to friendly conversation.

“Did you sleep at all?” they asked, though the dark bags under Shiro’s eyes told them everything they needed to know about how well he had slept. They looked around for the instructions Ryouta had told them about, and began working on their laundry. They may as well get this done while talking, if anything.

Shiro shifted in his seat, letting out another well-timed yawn before responding, “I’ll admit that no, I did not. As class representative, you would think I would be more disciplined since I am to be an example to my classmates, but…”

“But?” Sora turned to look at the many dials and knobs on what they assumed was the washing machine, and Shiro got up to assist them quietly. After a long pause, Shiro sighed.

“I was…speaking with a friend this morning. I—”

“Oh! Good afternoon, Shiro! And a good afternoon to you as well, Sora!” Moritaka peeked his head into the laundry room, startling the both of them so much that Sora nearly dropped the entire bottle of softener into the barrel. “My deepest apologies, I did not mean to startle you!”

“Afternoon, Moritaka.” Shiro adjusted his glasses, looking away when Moritaka shot him a look of concern at his appearance.

“Good mor…afternoon!” Sora corrected themself, closing the door of the washer and starting the cycle. They noticed Moritaka was wearing a deep blue kimono, a white wave pattern decorating the bottom, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to train! I start off every day doing this, as it’s a warrior’s duty to train themself on a daily basis. It’s part of the path to becoming a respectable warrior!” Moritaka stood to attention, his voice swelling with pride. “That reminds me, Sora. I was incredibly hurt by both yours and Ryouta’s actions the night prior. Not only did you lie to me, you, by extension, also lied to Mr. Triton. I would like to hear your reasoning for this.”

Sora balked for a moment, unable to think of anything to say. They had no reason to lie to him (this time, at least) but… neither Moritaka nor Shiro knew why they had to lie to Triton in the first place. Would he understand? Would either of them? If he knew what else Sora had caused to happen, would he….

“I…” Sora started, their throat suddenly very, very dry, “You…do you…remember?”

The dawning horror on Sora’s face surprised Moritaka, as it wasn’t the look someone would give you when asked for an apology. “Both you and Ryouta lied to Triton, which gave him the impression I wanted swimming lessons! I can swim very well, thank you!”

Shiro looked between the two, hoping for an explanation of some kind for the issue at hand. However, something else entirely was taking up most of his attention. Moritaka may remember… whatever trouble Sora and Ryouta apparently got him in last night, but not the massive cataclysm that happened the same night. Why? Shiro decided to file away that one for his later meeting with Cain. If anyone could clear up the reasons why, it would be him.

Sora took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Moritaka. Shiro hadn’t come home yet and I was worried, but Triton and Jinn would have never let me off school grounds at that hour, so Ryouta helped me sneak out so I could find him, but we needed a distraction so we-” the words were spilling out of them like a spigot, a gnawing hole growing in their stomach from a feeling they could not name. He didn’t remember last night, which should have offered comfort to them, but…

“Hold on, Sora,” Moritaka held up his hand, Sora noticing for the first time that his claws weren’t sharp. “I believe I understand what happened now. Your actions were indeed hurtful, however, the lack of faith regarding whether I would assist you in matters regarding a friend is far more wounding. Should another situation such as this arise once more, if you ask, I will help to the best of my ability.”

Sora nodded, bowing in thanks. Moritaka returned the gesture to them and gave one to Shiro before bidding the two farewell. The two stood in relative silence, the tumbling of the washing machine offering a soft, rumbling background noise. The wooden slats that made up the walls of the laundry room offered little protection from the chill of the outside air, which made Sora shiver in their gym uniform, which they now understood wasn’t meant to withstand cold weather.

“What was that all about?” Shiro asked, still staring at the doorway where Moritaka had just been standing.

“Um…I think it’d be better if Ryouta were here too. So we can talk about it at lunch.” Sora turned back towards the washing machine when it chimed, placing their now wet clothes in the drier below.

It took less time than they were expecting for their clothes to finish completely. While the drier was going, Shiro had excused himself, saying he needed to retrieve something from his room, but that he would be waiting for them inside by the entrance to the dorm whenever they were ready to head out.

“Sora, you’re here!” Ryouta practically leapt up from his seat when Sora and Shiro walked in through the cafeteria doors. Sora was wearing their blue jeans, now ripped in places, their white sneakers, a now freshly cleaned and dried winter uniform dress shirt, and Ryouta’s blue wool coat, a pocket of which now held their phone and room key. Better in their pocket than their sock, they reasoned. Shiro himself was wearing a red turtleneck, black slacks, and dress shoes, holding a gray coat over his arm. After Sora and Ryouta exchanged a warm hug, the three sat down at a free table.

Ryouta had assembled quite an array of food for them to eat; a curry bun, egg sandwich, and orange juice for himself, an anpan, fruit sandwich and strawberry milk for Sora, and alarmingly to Shiro, a chicken katsu sandwich, a salad, an egg sandwich and a UCC black canned coffee sat in front of him.

“Ryouta…is all of this for me?” Shiro didn’t know what to say, turning the gently plastic wrapped Lawson egg sandwich around in his hand as if it were a color he’d never seen before.

“You haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, right?” Ryouta raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of his warm curry bun without breaking eye contact. Shiro looked away under his gaze and coughed.

“Ah, is that why I feel completely wretched right now….”

Sora let out a small gasp once they realized that they too hadn’t eaten in quite a long time, beginning to eat their anpan bun in a mild frenzy. Ryouta laughed brightly, the warm sound echoing off the cafeteria walls. Sora began choking. Ryouta cried out in alarm, the shrill sound, again, echoing off the cafeteria walls. Shiro quietly handed them the strawberry milk, and Ryouta sighed in relief as they recovered from the fit.

“Thank you, Ryouta. I know it must have been a hassle to get everything since the cafeteria is still closed until noon.” Shiro gave a quick thanks for his meal and slowly began eating his food, watching as Sora drank their milk with a sad pout.

“Don’t worry about it! I get a discount at the Lawson across the street since I go there so often.” Ryouta smiled and gave them both a thumbs up.

There weren’t that many students sitting in the cafeteria at this time, breakfast having ended long ago. With the break from school and no classes to attend, many students were either working on their assignments, relaxing, at home with their families, or in the case of a few students, napping.

“Also, um… not to be rude, but you both look kind of awful,” Ryouta commented, glancing between Shiro’s slightly gaunt face and Sora’s many bandages, “So, Shiro, uh… how are you feeling?”

“I’m…” Shiro suddenly felt out of the loop. “I’m doing alright, Ryouta. Why?”

“Well, I mean… you ran off yesterday morning and no one heard anything from you until today, so…” Ryouta took a sip from his orange juice, “...people started spreading rumors that you were running away for good and Sora was sent by the teachers to come and get you.”

“What?”

“You can blame Kibara for that one. And it wasn’t even the strangest rumor getting spread around, either. Tani in Class 2-A said that you got kidnapped by a group planning to use students as child soldiers and were planning an attack on Tokyo,” Ryouta stopped once he saw the look of utter disdain on Shiro’s face. “See what I mean?”

Shiro pinched the space in between his eyebrows and let out a sigh. “Why would he… nevermind. I’ve stopped trying to understand his ramblings.”

“Who’s Tani?” Sora asked, opening up their fruit sandwich to investigate the inside, which was slices of strawberry and fluffy whipped cream.

“Haru Tani,” Shiro let out a disgusted sigh. “He’s an upperclassman of ours that tends to spout conspiracy theories about everything and everyone. It’s a wonder it hasn’t gotten him into trouble yet. Actually… no. The day I start coming to Tani for information is the day I take off my glasses and just start letting Kengo direct me to and fro.”

Ryouta started coughing roughly, having swallowed his food as he gasped. Sora handed him their strawberry milk with a wide-eyed stare. Ryouta took a drink before thanking them, and grimaced, “That’s another problem: no one’s seen Kengo, either. He said he had stuff to do after he did his afternoon training with Moritaka yesterday, and no one’s seen him since.”

Sora looked to Shiro, whose expression was both annoyed and deeply pained. When they first met him, Shiro had been dragging Kengo back to school. Did he do this a lot? Why did Shiro seem so hurt by it, then?

“Shiro?” Sora eventually tugged on his sleeve, which broke him from his thoughts.

“...It’s nothing. I’ll deal with this later, personally,” Shiro adjusted his glasses. “Now, if either of you don’t mind, I’d like to be filled in on what happened while I was… absent. Along with why Moritaka was so upset in the laundry room.”

Half an hour had passed by the time they had finished filling each other in on everything that happened. Sora and Ryouta recounted everything on their side while Shiro was absent, and Sora gave Ryouta the abridged version of what happened while he was at school. How much did they want to tell him? How much could they tell him?

Ryouta had long since forgotten the curry bun he had been eating, pursing his lips as he processed the sheer gravity of the information given to him. “I… did that… really happen? I died? We all…?”

Shiro closed his eyes solemnly before replying. “Yes. You… and everyone else. We don’t know how, but it did in fact happen. The notion itself is ridiculous, and yet… Sora informed me of what the two of you discovered about Summons. How it does things no phone application could ever be capable of. Were it not for what we’ve both seen… I can say that I honestly wouldn’t believe a word of it. Even now, I find myself wondering if it was all a dream.”

“But…” Sora thought back to the Apparitions they had fought, the nearly flat plane where western Shinjuku used to be, the only thing left of the school being the uprooted plumbing still spewing water… They crumbled a napkin in their clammy hands.

“But it isn’t, is the thing. How?” Ryouta finally looked Shiro in the eyes.

“That’s what I’m going to find out.” That got Sora and Ryouta’s attention, and they sat patiently waiting for him to continue. “Earlier this morning, I contacted a dear friend of mine to ask if he knew anything about Summons. Fortunately, he did, and we arranged to meet later today in Ikebukuro to discuss what we know and exchange information. Hopefully after today we will at least have something concrete to base any further theories on regarding the app.”

“Uh, Shiro, what makes you so sure the information will be good?” Ryouta asked, looking somewhat skeptical.

“It’s simple, really. I trust him.” Catching himself, Shiro amended hurriedly, “T-that is- I- I highly regard his intellect, and—” He cleared his throat. “I trust that if he says he has valuable information regarding this matter, he certainly does know something that could help us better understand what’s going on here.”

“Well, if you trust him, it should be fine,” Ryouta shrugged, then, noticing Sora had been staring off into space, called, “Sora?”

They turned to look at him, as if breaking from a trance. Shiro glanced from Sora to a spot directly in front of them in the air, feeling a familiar pressure wash over him as he stared at the spot, and it clicked instantly as to what, or rather whom, had distracted them.

“Sal wanted me to remind you that only us and Touji remember the cataclysm, because Moritaka never mentioned it,” Sora nervously paraphrased their floating familiar, who had been quietly present from the moment Sora had entered the cafeteria. They paused, “He also says congratulations to you for noticing him again, Shiro.”

“Ah. Thank you?” Shiro didn’t quite know how to reply to Sal’s… enthusiasm.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Ryouta looked between Sora and Shiro for an explanation.

“Oh, yeah, um,” Sora looked to Sal, who gave Ryouta a twirl and a bow, even though he couldn’t see him. “So… I have a contract with a familiar only I can see. His name is Lil’ Salomon, and he’s been helping me ever since I woke up in the park the other day. He knows a lot about Summons too, and he’s willing to help as much as he can if we have any questions.” The triumphant laugh Sal let out at this made Sora break out into a wide grin.

Ryouta was quiet for a moment, before shrugging with an ‘oh, well’ smile. “It’s not the strangest thing you’ve told me today. So… what do we know? Like, all together.”

“The app causes Battle Zones where people fight and can die, but once the battle is over they come back to life. There are two different types of Summoners, one of which summons artifacts, and the other can summon people or creatures.” Sora remembered their encounter with the Watchers the day prior, how surprised they were that Sora could do both. They put that thought aside. ”What else… I guess… Summons is like a game? You can level up in it, and you get things once you finish a battle, but it’s also a messaging app? And you can call people and read their posts and see what their stats are, too.”

“There are also Exceptions, which are caused when two opposing Rules clash and Summons cannot decide which one takes priority over the other, what follows this being…” Shiro didn’t need to finish his sentence. “We’ve also learned that only those involved in the event have any recollection of it in the aftermath. Those who died during this incident were resurrected, with no memory of having died. Ryouta, I remember you mentioning that you use Summons. Did you receive an artifact when you signed up?”

“Yeah, it’s a weird goblet thing? It’s gold and has green leaves on it. I left it in my room since I didn’t know what it was for. Why, Shiro?”

“I’d need more information, but I have a suspicion that the moment you sign up for the app, all users are divided into one of the two categories, whether you fight or not.”

“You can summon the D-Evils though, right? Doesn’t that make you the other type of user as well?” Sora asked, remembering the ████████.

“I’m… not sure. Actually, perhaps we should wait before delving too deep into this. Whatever information I receive today should steer us in the right direction.” Shiro took a glance at a black watch on his wrist. “Speaking of which, I’ll need to head out in about half an hour to make it there on time. If I head out now, I may be able to find Kengo and bring him back in time for the d… the meeting.”

“Is Kengo in Ikebukuro, too?” Sora asked.

Ryouta nodded in response and leaned back in his chair, finishing the now cold remaining half of his curry bun in one bite. “Probably.” He shivered. “You gotta be careful, Shiro. I heard it’s been getting worse lately.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Shiro stood from the table, putting his coat on silently.

“Do you want me to go with you? Just in case?” Sora offered, hesitant to ask Ryouta why he seemed so uncomfortable with the idea of going to Ikebukuro. They couldn’t find the words.

Shiro considered it for a moment. “...If you wish to, I’d appreciate the company. It may be rather hectic, if I’m being honest, so if you’d rather stay and rest after… everything… I’ll be perfectly fine on my own.”

“You’re not doing well, either, though.” Sora adjusted Ryouta’s coat as they stood, buttoning up the front to keep themself warm. “If anything happens, we’ll at least be together. Are you coming too, Ryouta?”

Ryouta shook his head rapidly. “Nope! No way! You couldn’t get me within ten feet of Ikebukuro. Besides, I have to go help Choji in Daikanyama soon.”

“Why Daikanyama specifically?” Shiro raised an eyebrow, and Ryouta laughed nervously under his gaze.

“Well… I had to pull a lot of favors to find you… so I asked Choji if I could help him out at a church picnic he’s working at today in exchange. I’m gonna be busy until next week helping out down there, actually…” The expression of guilt and Shiro’s fallen shoulders caused Ryouta to gesture for him to hold on. “Don’t worry, Shiro, I like helping out! You got home safe, so it was worth it in the end. Besides, you can make it up to me by bringing something back from Maruju and Iseya Oyama!”

Shiro snorted, smiling at Ryouta’s half-joke. “I’ll consider it. Thank you, Ryouta.”

“Anytime, Shiro. Stay safe you two, alright? I don’t want to end up having to tell Mr. Mononobe that you guys left to go somewhere and then never came back again. Once was enough.” He smiled, though it was closer towards a grimace.

They said their goodbyes, Sora and Ryouta exchanging a tight hug once more before they headed out with Shiro. First, they needed to tell Mononobe where they were going. If he would even let them leave the grounds in the first place. They still had their punishments from the teachers to fulfill. Speaking of which…

“Hey, Shiro, what was it that Jinn was going to make you do as punishment for yesterday?”

“Ah, right, that. He wants me to help him record and catalog the academy’s sports equipment. What about you? What did Triton want?”

“He wants me to help him clean the pool…”

Shiro grimaced. “Ah. My condolences. Kengo’s received that punishment a few times. It goes faster if you ask Triton for help, he gets excited whenever any of his students come to him for something, so his abilities with water stir up the debris and sweep everything to one side of the pool.”

“Why do you know that?” Sora playfully narrowed their eyes, making Shiro look away in embarrassment.

“I may or may not sit and read nearby wherever Kengo has his punishment for the week, so I can keep an eye on him.” Shiro adjusted his glasses, steering the two of them in the direction of Mononobe’s office.

They found him exactly where they expected he would be, sitting at his small cubicle reviewing paperwork, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. Shiro knocked on the door frame, bowing to the other faculty as he and Sora went in. Mononobe looked up at them with a warm but tired smile, the crow’s feet at his eyes scrunching.

“Good afternoon, you two. Did you both sleep well?” Mononobe leaned back in his chair, eyeing Sora curiously. His expression was soft, but thoughtful.

“Yes, sir,” Sora answered meekly. Shiro shot them a dubious glance, but nodded without a word to the contrary.

“That’s good to hear. What can I do for you both?”

“Well, sir, I’d like to ask for your permission for us to leave school grounds for a few hours,” Shiro said, already expecting Mononobe’s suspicious expression before it appeared on his face.

Mononobe closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh and crossing his arms. Deep creases formed at his brows and around his mouth. “You both are still in a lot of trouble, you know. Lying to the faculty to sneak off school grounds, staying out overnight, disappearing for hours without letting anyone know where you are, not to mention the state you both were in when you returned. Were I to let the both of you leave campus, how can I be sure that you won’t break my trust again? How can I even be sure you’ll return?”

When no reply came, Mononobe cracked an eye open. Shiro was standing tense as a board, a slightly glassy over look in his eyes as he stared into the middle distance. Sora was white-knuckling the bottom of Ryouta’s coat, as if using their entire force of will to keep from bawling on the spot.

Several seconds passed in this silence. Then Mononobe let out an enormous sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said wearily, looking between Shiro and Sora as the former struggled to collect himself and the latter struggled not to cry. “I didn’t mean to… upset either of you. But, in case you’ve forgotten, there was a murder nearby here a few days ago, and the investigation is still on-going.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed again. “You could have been arrested yesterday, for all I knew. You could have been killed. I am your teacher and your guardian, and I need you both to understand the gravity of your actions, both for your sake and for mine.”

Sora nodded, relaxing their grip on the coat slowly. Mononobe offered them a tissue box, which they took with a sniffle and dried their eyes. They let out a single shaky hiccup before collecting themself enough to speak. “We understand, Mr. Mononobe.”

He eyed Sora with a mix of emotions they couldn’t name, an expression akin to concern most prominent of them all. He took a deep breath, taking the still unlit cigarette from his mouth and placing it on the edge of an ashtray sitting on his desk. It was a chipped little ceramic thing that looked almost like an antique. The color had faded from it, but it appeared to have been a cheery orange a long, long time ago, with a daisy patterning just barely visible.

“...Alright. You both can go, but under one condition: you have to be back by 18 o’ clock, exactly. Placing my trust in you both is an act of faith that I hope you’ll honor. Do you understand?

Shiro and Sora both nodded their heads, speaking in unison, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, before you both head out, please stick together. The weather may take a turn for the worse, and there’s a chance a blizzard may hit later, so have a backup plan in case you get stranded somewhere. The school still operates with landlines, so if your internet goes out, most convenience stores still have payphones you can use. Be careful, alright?” Mononobe’s advice was quick, making him sound more and more like a worried parent. Sora nodded, Shiro and them bowing before leaving the faculty room. They felt, ever so slightly, Mononobe’s concerned stare on their back as they left.

The train ride over to Ikebukuro was smooth, alarmingly so, compared to everything else that had happened within the last few days. As the two stepped out of the packed train car and onto the Yamanote Line platform of the Ikebukuro Station, Sora was clinging to Shiro like their life depended on it. Shiro put an awkward hand on their shoulder, and shuffled the two of them up a set of stone tile stairs until they reached a long, roofed walkway decorated in advertisement posters, a few restaurants and booths on the right side.

“Wait here a moment, Sora, I’m going to get us something to drink,” Shiro spoke, watching as Sora stared at the fresh surroundings. He pushed up his glasses and headed towards a drink stand, leaving Sora alone.

They walked over to a nearby set of windows, the small rectangular panes showing an overhead view of the train platforms outside. The metal roofs reflected the gray sky overhead, frost sparkling on the sheet metal. The chill in the air made them pull Ryouta’s coat around them tighter. They wondered if he would be okay without it, a bit guilty at the idea that they took his only winter coat. Sora gingerly pressed their hand to the glass, pulling it back immediately as they felt how cold it was. Even in the covered walkway, they could see their breath.

“Sorry for making you wait, Sora.” Shiro came back with the drinks, which were hot and steaming. He set them both down on the windowsill. “You have to stay here if you want to drink, it's considered impolite to walk around and eat.”

“Okay!” Sora watched as Shiro slipped two cardboard heat grips around the paper cups. He smiled, a proud grin on his face, though Sora was unsure as to why.

“One of these is corn soup, it’s an acquired taste, but it’ll warm you up regardless. The other is hot chocolate,” Shiro explained. “It’s sweet, and you can add marshmallows into it for a little more sweetness. Ryouta tends to prefer sweeter things, but recommended I give you the option to try both when we got here.”

Sora stared at the drinks, and picked the corn soup. They blew on it a bit, before bringing it to their lips. It was… they didn’t really have any words to describe it, having never had corn before. Sora continued sipping the yellow, creamy soup with a face that betrayed their confusion and disdain.

Shiro gave them a bemused smile, taking a drink of the hot chocolate. “How does it taste?”

“Bad…” Sora frowned, but continued nursing the soup, for Shiro’s sake.

“It is quite… intriguing. You get used to it after a while, believe me, I've had my share far more than I would like.” Shiro turned to the windowsill, and reached for something before pausing. He checked his coat’s pockets, then his pants, then his shirt….

“Shiro?” Sora stared at Shiro with a slightly cocked head.

“No need to worry, I… seem to have forgotten to grab marshmallows.” Shiro took his hands out of his pockets, looking at the drink stand. Sora did a single jump and smiled.

“I’ll go get you some— wah!” The moment Sora turned and ran to the stand, they collided with someone, the two falling to the floor with rather light thuds. The cup that Sora had been holding spun on its lip, empty of its contents. Shiro immediately went to Sora’s side, and helped them sit up, checking them for any injuries.

Sora brushed themself off, and crawled over to the person they had collided with. They wore a baggy purple sweatshirt with large pockets and black cargo pants, both of which were now covered in the corn soup. Sora quickly tried helping the person sit up, panicked, looking like they were about to cry, ”I’m sorry, I didn’t see you! Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

“I-I’m, uh…” The soup-splattered stranger made a few shaky attempts to respond, but couldn’t manage to quite get the words out. It was going to be a long day, especially with how it felt as if the city itself was bad luck. Shiro felt the prickle of suspicion he had die the moment he saw the look on the stranger’s face. If Sora was near tears, they were barely holding the deluge back.

And it seemed like they were losing. The stranger— a child, at least as far as Shiro could tell by their short and wiry stature— began to tremble, shoulders shaking. They had braced themself against Sora when the two had collided, and had grasped their arm as they had tried to help them up. The stranger withdrew into themself, covering their hands over their mouth.

“Are you okay…?” Sora asked again, horrified. The strange child let out a high-pitched sob, their shoulders shaking.

Shiro, panicked, blurted out, “I’ll get you some napkins, one moment.” He made a bee-line back to the drink stand, taking the napkins that were already being offered by the employee manning it. They gave Shiro a raised brow, but were otherwise unconcerned. They also handed some to Sora, who had followed after him, both teens now carrying two large fistfuls of napkins.

When they returned, the crying stranger was nowhere to be seen, the splatter of corn soup marking the now empty space where they should have been.

Sora looked between the splatter and the napkins they held in their hands. “Where did they go?”

Shiro let out a weary sigh. Other people’s crying always made him feel alarmed, and the stranger’s especially left him ill at ease. "They must have run away. They seemed very overwhelmed." He disposed of the empty cup in a nearby recycling area, then crouched on the cool concrete to begin mopping the spilled soup. There was quite a bit around— Sora had an apparent distaste for it.

Sora was still standing over the mess. Their grip tightened on the cheap napkins. “Sora, are you alright?” Shiro asked, watching them carefully.

"I spilled food on them..." Sora mumbled. "And we didn't help them, they're just gone..."

"Accidents happen, Sora, I don't think they were angry with you." He looked up from his soaked napkins, which at this point were just smearing the wretched soup across the floor rather than cleaning it up. "Would you help me with this? We need to get a..." He trailed off.

Sora was still looking around, their expression no longer stricken with guilt. Instead, they seemed to be listening intently, thin brows knit with discomfort. “Do…you hear that?”

Shiro paused, listening as well. His frown deepened into disapproval when he finally noticed it; someone nearby was laughing. It was cacophonous and full of mischievous joy, the sound slowly getting further and further away down the twisting halls, like they had seen what had happened, and found it the height of comedy. Shiro shook his head, appalled at the lack of sympathy for the child’s misfortune, even if they had most likely been playing hooky.

“Some people are so callous.” He muttered, watching the passersby to locate the culprit, but came back with no one to draw his ire. From the sound of it, the person would have been short of air in their hysterics, but as far as he saw, everyone else on the walkway was too busy giving them a wide berth to spare even a chuckle. This was deeply troubling. Ikebukuro was far too dangerous for someone like that to be out of his line of sight.

"Sora." Shiro called out to them, his tone gentle, but urgent. "Please help me clean this up. We should leave, as soon as possible." They managed to clean up the mess the best they could, and the employee offered a wet floor sign to place over the cleaned area.

Sora sighed, standing up and throwing the dirty napkins away, the guilt still weighing on them. The two bowed in thanks to the drink stand employee and headed to the right, going through the turnstiles, Sora holding Shiro’s hand tightly. There were a lot of people at this time of day, but far less than the endless crowd in Shinjuku Station. Sora got separated twice in the writhing crowd, having to cling to Shiro like a koala to not have it happen for a third time.

They left the station’s roofed walkway, taking the Metropolitan Exit, and heading down an open area paved in cold concrete tiles. A red set of pillars lined the walkway to their right, the two passing under them as they turned the corner of the building. The side walkway wasn’t as crowded as the plaza they had just left, Sora letting out a soft noise of awe at the double-decker skybridge they were passing under, the gray sky sparkling in the tinted glass. The pair headed down a few flights of stairs to street level, Shiro checking his phone once they were out of the way of commuters.

“...Shiro… can I ask you something about Kengo?” Sora muttered, trying to avoid bumping into anyone as they walked.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Ryouta said you had to get Kengo, but… why?” Sora asked, watching Shiro, fully expecting him not to give them an answer.

“He…” Shiro paused for a few moments, as if carefully considering how he phrased his next words. “His parents asked me to keep an eye on him. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and for as long as I can remember, he’s always tended to get into trouble.”

“Why would he come to Ikebukuro?”

Shiro glanced over his shoulder, stopping just in time to avoid an irate cyclist that had ridden out in front of the two. For a moment his expression was one of bewildered annoyance, then his gaze softened with understanding. “Even after hearing what Ryouta said, you…. My apologies. It slipped my mind that merely two days ago you woke up without your memories. Ikebukuro isn’t a safe place. Gang violence, street brawls, and muggings are rampant, with little done to curb the violence. Kengo came here to fight, nothing more.”

The disdain was clear in Shiro’s voice. It was directed at Kengo, but the longer they walked, the longer Sora had to mull over his words. Ever since they got here, to Tokyo, they had been fighting nonstop. The Red Oni in the park, the Watchers outside of the station, the D-Evils, Shiro himself, then the exception… Sora didn’t press any further, the two walking in silence, the sound of the bustling city of fighters surrounding them.

They didn’t have to search for long before running across Kengo. Sal had been searching from the air to help, and spotted his bomber jacket as he turned a corner into a narrow commercial side street. The two dodged and swerved through the pedestrian crowds, until the swarm of humanity all but vanished as they came upon the scene in front of them.

The rough thwacks and crunches of fists against bodies echoed off the two-story restaurants on either side of the street. Sora tensed in horror as they watched the fight, the… brawl. There was no other word for it. This wasn’t in Summons, this was real, tangible. The blood on Kengo’s fists were a testament to that.

“C’mon, guys, let’s go!” One of the guys fighting Kengo crawled away, cradling his broken arm. There was barely enough room in the street— more of an alley, really— for a small vehicle to drive through, so the fighters had no choice but to be close-quarters.

“So that was all talk?! What’s the matter, you scared?” Kengo dodged an incoming attack, grabbing them by the arm as they swung, and flipped them over onto their back in a beautiful arc. They landed on the bloodied pavement with a loud crack. Sora shuddered.

Shiro’s fist clenched as he watched, and the disdain on his face soured into outright contempt. Sora didn’t want to butt in; usually they would have, they’d jumped into fights before, but Shiro… what would he think of them afterwards?

The other fighters crawled away the best they could with injured bodies, some limping away from Kengo weakly. He spit out a glob of blood on the asphalt, wiping his mouth with his hand.

“You’re pathetic. Get lost, you’re not worth my time.” Kengo scowled, wiping his grisly hands on his jeans before putting them in his pockets. The group that attacked him collected their injured friends and hobbled away. Those that had fallen unconscious were left behind in the alley.

Sora took a step forward as they made to talk to Kengo, but Shiro beat them to it, his voice stern, anger barely contained: “What do you think you’re doing?”

Kengo turned quickly, startled more than anything else to see Shiro, and Sora for that matter, as they saw his deep brown eyes flick to them for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing here, Shiro?” Kengo asked, his tone just as angry.

“We’ve come to get you,” Sora answered first, shutting their mouth immediately when they saw the stern glare Shiro was giving them. He wanted to handle this. Alone.

“Every time I come and get you, you’re in another fight! It’s a wonder you haven’t killed anyone yet!” Shiro said, his voice raising in volume. Kengo rolled his eyes, and walked over to one of the unconscious fighters. Sora gasped softly as Kengo began checking their pockets, eventually pulling a small, black leather wallet. He took out some small tokens that Sora knew to be Coin along with a few bills that Sora did not recognize, shoving them unceremoniously into the pocket of his worn jeans.

“You’re robbing them now, too?!” Shiro shrieked.

“Shut up, I earned this fair and square!” Kengo snapped back, staring Shiro down. Sora squirmed in place, holding tightly onto the bottom of their coat. Something bad was going to happen. ”The better I am at kicking their sorry asses, the more I get. Same goes for them. It’s that simple.”

Shiro’s face momentarily fell into stunned alarm, before returning to the grimace he had prior. “Kengo, is this illegal fighting? Have you been fighting people for money?!”

Kengo didn’t respond. At least, not at first. The rush of the highway nearby filled the silence, and after what felt like an eternity, he answered, cold and strained, “Go home, Shiro. I don’t care what happens at school anymore, and I’m sick of your annoying ass trailing after me everywhere I go.”

Shiro started. “What—”

“Just— shut up! What am I even going to school for? If you wanna go to kiss-ass central, then go ahead, but I don’t— I don’t care! I’m sick of you dragging me to school when I don’t care about that shit, and then dragging me to study so you can tell me how stupid I am and how ‘I’m not applying myself’ and ‘I’m disappointing my father’ like I give a rat’s ass about how that old man feels!” Kengo’s voice was hoarse from yelling, his harsh words and frustrations bleeding from him like an open wound. “You can go back to the academy and tell them anything you want, because you know what? I don’t belong there! It doesn’t matter what you or any of them do— I can’t ‘walk the straight and narrow,’ I can’t get good grades, and I’m never gonna hold down a job where you sit in a cubicle all day. I’m a martial artist. This is where people like me belong!”

Sora watched as Kengo spat at Shiro, and turned to leave. They didn’t have the courage to chase after him. Shiro did. He marched towards Kengo, grabbing onto his jacket sleeve, the old, brown leather gripped tightly in his fingers. Kengo flinched, and his arm jerked out of reflex, shaking Shiro free. The two made eye contact, looking for something in each other that was no longer there. Kengo grit his teeth, and swung.

Shiro staggered back; he fell to the ground hard. He placed a hand on his jaw, as if trying to stifle the pain that had settled in. Kengo stared down at him, his hands shaking.

That was the final straw. Sora lunged at Kengo with enough ferocity that he was caught off guard. They started to claw at his face, their small hands leaving sharp fingernail scratches anywhere they could reach. Kengo grabbed Sora by the back of their coat and threw them at Shiro with a thud.

“Both of you just stay the hell away from me!” Kengo shouted, running off down the back alley, and eventually out of sight.

The alley was quiet once more, the onlookers from the nearby restaurants that had watched the confrontation murmuring amongst themselves. Shiro sat up slowly, still staring in the direction Kengo had gone. Sora crawled out of Shiro’s lap, dusting themself off. They looked at their hand, which had landed in a pool of dried blood, the crust still somewhat damp. It took everything to keep down their rising bile from the feeling of it. Sora quickly got up, and started looking for Shiro’s glasses, and found they had skittered under a set of chained delivery bicycles. Shiro hadn’t moved by the time they brought them back, too stunned to do much else but gape in blank horror.

“...He’s not a bad person, you know.” Shiro’s voice was barely audible, nothing more than a strangled whisper. ”Deep down, I mean. He’s good, he… hesitated. He didn’t swing immediately. He didn’t… want to, maybe he did, I mean… Sora you have to believe me, Kengo’s a good person—”

“I know,” Sora said, sitting down on the asphalt beside Shiro quietly. They sat there in silence for a while before speaking up again. ”Let’s go, Shiro,”

“...Yes. Let’s go. We still have things to do, after all,” Shiro’s response was flat and mechanical. He stood, his poker face returning as he adjusted his coat. “That fool… if he wants to beat people up in back alleys for money, so be it. It’s not like he’ll change if I drag him back, anyway.”

The jarring shift in Shiro’s sentiments took Sora by surprise. Had he not heard a single thing Kengo had said? They held their tongue, not having the words to express their frustrations with Shiro at the moment. Sal floated down, giving them a look of concern.

“Master, you’re worried, right?” Sal asked, floating alongside Sora as they followed Shiro to wherever he was going. This time, they gave him a wide berth.

“Yeah. I don’t… understand.” Sora rubbed their arm as they watched the blue-gray asphalt underfoot, “Kengo’s mad at Shiro, but he won’t listen. They won’t listen to each other,”

“From what I’ve seen, Master, they’re stubborn people. It’s all part of growing up, y’know. Friends have disagreements sometimes, after all.” Sal steered Sora around an upcoming corner as they headed back out the way they came, eventually stopping in front of a Lawson convenience store. Shiro turned to Sora silently, waiting for them to follow inside, but they shook their head half-heartedly. Shiro went in alone.

Sora sat down on the small red steps to the left of the door, watching the midday traffic drive by. The sky had darkened even more than earlier, and their fingers had started to ache from the deepening cold. They were reminded of… a few days ago. Had it really only been so little time? Sal floated down into their lap, opening his tome to different pages as he read.

“Sal… do you have any friends?”

“Hm… well, there’s you, Master. Father as well, and that’s about it. Not many people can see me after all! Why?”

“Will things work out?” Sora asked, as the familiar tightness in their chest that meant they were going to cry welled up inside of them.

“...I don’t know, Master. That’s up to them. The most you can do is to have faith, and that’s the strongest power one can have in this Tokyo,” Sal responded, his large brown eyes looking up at Sora in reassurance. It worked, somewhat, as Sora took a few strangled breaths to collect themself.

Shiro stepped out of the automatic doors to the Lawson, a small plastic bag full to the brim on his arm. Sora looked up at him with a complicated expression, watching as he placed a heat compress to the growing red spot on his jaw. They took his hand to help them up, Sal flying around the two of them.

“Are you feeling alright, Sora?” Shiro asked, handing them a small bottle of Yakult. Sora nodded, peeling the bright red foil lid off of the bottle, tentatively sipping the yogurt drink inside. It was cold, which might not have been the best thing for the current temperature, but the subtle sweetness of the yogurt drink made them feel better.

Shiro sighed, grabbed one for himself, and reclined against the concrete wall to Sora’s right. “You always seem to catch me at my worst, Sora. I’m the one the staff rely on as class representative to keep my classmates in line. It’s imperative I maintain my cool to keep performing that job to the highest caliber, yet here I am, running away from school for over 24 hours and getting into fights two days in a row.”

“...Shouldn’t we go after Kengo?” Sora asked, glancing over at Sal, who was trying to take a sip from their bottle. They tilted it slightly to give him easier access.

“We should, however-” Shiro punctuated his sentence by downing his yogurt in a single gulp, “-what just transpired may happen again, if not worse than before. That’s a chance I’m not willing to take, and frankly, we’re running out of time for our meeting. Kengo will be back to normal after he cools off, and I doubt he’ll be leaving Ikebukuro.”

Shiro pulled out his phone from his coat pocket, checked the time, a chatroom, then SUMMONS, and sighed in frustration. Three D-Evils of various bright colors, one Wood, one Nether, and one Aether, appeared from circular portals in the air, chirping happily. Sora’s jaw clenched at the sight of the portals. They glowed with swampy green and blood red rings that twisted into the center like optical illusions. The same portals that had dotted the night sky of Shinjuku as they sucked up people like dust barely twelve hours prior.

“D-Evils, I’m not sure if you’re able to assist me in this manner, but I want you to find Kengo and keep an eye on him while we’re busy. Can you do that for me?” Shiro asked, in a tone similar to how one would speak to a pet. The D-Evils squeaked amongst themselves, before the Nether D-Evil, who was the leader of the trio, nodded. The three fluttered their stubby wings, and flew off down the street in different directions to search.

Sora fidgeted with the bottom of their coat. “Is it…safe to use that?”

“What do you mean?”

“The… thing…” Sora stared at Shiro. “What if the book calls it back? What if we have to fight it again?”

As Shiro looked back, trying to understand their meaning, his hand slid absentmindedly down the leather spine of the Necronomicon, which resided comfortably in a holster on his thigh. “...I remember. No, I don’t believe that would be the case. The officer said that it was Summoned when our Rules collided. I doubt simply using the book would have the same effect.”

“Sure…” Sora mumbled, still not entirely reassured. Still, the D-Evils would be useful in this situation, as they would be less conspicuous than if either of them were to trail Kengo.

“Now, we have a good amount of time before our meeting, but I’d like to get to the station sooner rather than later, just in case anything else happens, as that’s where we agreed to meet. I recommend we get a move on as soon as possible.” Shiro switched back to the SUMMONS home screen, providing him with a map of the area.

The two hurried at an even pace down the brick-laid sidewalk, through a small crosswalk, and then back up the opposite street. They walked along the side of an impressively long, several story building, with spiral concrete stairs leading up to higher floors, various Roman-style columns, and large vertical banners with badly photoshopped pictures of gladiators on them hanging from the roof. There was an impressive amount of people going in and out, a few shoving past Shiro as they passed another set of stairs.

They had just passed the corner of the imposing building when the Aether D-Evil from earlier barreled into Shiro out of nowhere, hitting him square in the stomach. Shiro let out a surprised, winded cough, taking a step back from the force of the impact. The D-Evil chattered loudly, tugging at his clothing.

“What’s wrong with it?” Sora asked as they watched Shiro put his phone back in his pocket, and lifted the D-Evil under its arms like a cat. It wiggled its little limbs and pointed off to the right of where the two stood. The light brown brickwork pathway they had been walking over branched off through a row of trees towards another entrance of the building. There was a large crowd gathered at the end of it.

“Did you find Kengo?” The D-Evil nodded with a beep. “Is he over there?”

The other two D-Evils floated in, one landing on Shiro’s shoulder, the other perched on his head. The trio let out a shrill, urgent squeak, Sora and Sal wincing at the volume.

“Calm down, don’t make so much noise,” Shiro chided, and looked towards where they had pointed. He looked back towards the station a block away, then to a nearby park clock silently. Eventually, Shiro turned to Sora. “...I doubt my friend would mind if we were a little late, as much as the prospect bothers me. What do you think? Should we investigate?”

Sora approved, the two beelining for the crowd. As they approached, they saw the tell-tale blue wall that signified a Battle Zone sparkling above the thrumming crowd. The Wood-aligned D-Evil smacked Shiro’s arm insistently, pointing with its clawed hand towards the row of glass double doors that acted as the front entrance.

“He’s inside there?” Sora asked, the D-Evil flapping its arms in confirmation.

Shiro narrowed his eyes, “This is the Tokyo Metropolitan Theatre, where they hold plays and art exhibits. What business would he have in there—”

His voice was lost when the crowd of spectators cheered all at once. An energy spread through the mass of people, one so electrified and strange that it made the hair on Sora’s arms stand on end. The Battle Zone quickly dissipated, the familiar voice of the narrator calling out the results of the fight.

「Battle concluded.

Winner: Snow of the Ikebukuro Berserkers.

Congratulations. Thank you for playing SUMMONS」

The crowd broke apart, each person headed to their original destinations, and finally granted the two a clear view of the fight that had transpired. A man lay face down on the brickwork ground, the pattern below him resembling a ripple that started from the entrance of the apparent theater building. The man was mangled, covered in cuts and scrapes that precisely targeted his limbs’ weak points. Standing a few feet behind the injured man, poised and refined, was a beautiful lion transient with blue-white fur, whose well-groomed white mane ended dark green. He wore an elegant dark blue, almost black, butler uniform, one that was embroidered with traditional Tibetan designs decorating the lapels of his coat and vest. He readjusted his clean white gloves and golden monocle. It looked as if he hadn’t suffered a single scratch the entire fight.

Sora quickly ran to the injured man’s side, watching the wounds on his body heal as the post-battle effects of SUMMONS activated. He lifted his head, looking up at Sora, who had a hand on his shoulder. They recognized him as one of the people Kengo had been fighting earlier.

“Do you need help? Are you alright—” Before Sora could ask further, the man weakly slapped away their hand.

“Get the hell away from me! You and your jackass buddy can’t get enough, huh? You finishing the job he started?!” The man spat, and sat up to face the white lion that had won the battle, apparently named Snow. “Damn cat, you and your weirdass moves!”

Snow let out a short chuckle, seemingly unfazed by the injured man’s outburst. “Now, now, I can’t have you making a commotion at the entrance, lest people think our estate unrefined. I regret I must ask you to leave, if you would be so kind.”

The man scooted back in fear as Snow took a step forward, his eyes trained on the man’s every move. For a brief moment, Sora felt his gaze fall upon them, and they moved aside to let him pass. They crunched a leaf tightly in their hand as they saw the frantic look on the injured man’s face as his attacker descended upon him.

“You just caught me off guard!” The man yelled, bravado filling his voice. “I want in that building, cat, and you’re not going to stop me!”

“Goodness, I had thought our name was more widely known around Ikebukuro. To think our establishment would attract such a haphazard attacker such as yourself.” Step. “Furthermore, one who assumes he will be let in just for the sake of a few coin…” Step. “I am ashamed to admit I have much to improve upon. The quality of an estate’s guests deems the quality of the estate’s butler, after all. At this rate, I dare not face my darling master.”

The man kept scooting back, a cry of alarm leaving him when his back hit a nearby tree. Snow turned his nose up in disgust at the display. Shiro backed away from where he was standing, the D-Evils squeaking as well.

“How unsightly. One who cannot ascertain his opponent’s strength is inferior to a wild beast. One mustn’t confuse a penchant for reckless endangerment for actual courage.” Snow posed elegantly, his left hand beginning to glow a soft bluish-green. “I will show no mercy to those who show no courtesy.”

Snow’s body blurred for a moment, and without any indication of what had occurred, the man slumped over, falling to the ground. Sora gasped, and hesitantly approached to check the man. He was unconscious, a look of surprise on his face. Shiro quickly lifted Sora up, the two now on guard against the strange butler. Snow lowered his hand, and placed it behind his back, once again elegant and composed.

“You must excuse me, I fear that may have been rather unbecoming. You may refer to me as Snow, young ones.” The butler, now assuredly named Snow, addressed the two of them, his voice deep with an air of politeness. For a moment, Sora forgot about the unmoving man at his feet. “Now then, how may I assist you?”

“W-We’re, uh… we—”

“We’re looking for our friend. We heard that he went into that building.” Shiro cut Sora off, which made them huff.

“I see. Very well, your purpose has been noted. However, I regret to inform you that only my master’s guests are allowed inside. Were I to speak carelessly of the happenings within our domain, it would reflect poorly on my position as manager of the colosseum.”

Shiro’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “Colosseum? I thought this was a theater.”

“I have heard that, at one point, in the earlier years of this Tokyo and prior, that it was indeed a theatre of the arts. However, my master has refurbished it into its current incarnation. Only the strongest may be allowed to pass through its threshold. That is one of the rules set in place by my master.” Snow smiled, the admiration of his master obvious in his voice.

Sora spoke up nervously. “What’s a coliseum?” After the look of utter bewilderment Snow gave them, they wish they hadn’t. Shiro answered first, thankfully.

“Traditionally, the word just indicates a stadium or amphitheater, however, it has become associated specifically with the famous gladiatorial arena in Rome of the same name.” Shiro’s drawn-out answer was confirmed with a nod from Snow.

“A very astute and well-articulated response. The place is of a similar concept, however, I must ask that you both leave regardless. You are not welcome within its walls or the premises there-of.” Snow’s tone retained its politeness, which was beginning to sound a bit deadpan.

“Please, our friend is in there. We need to take him back to campus.” Shiro dug his heels in, but it didn’t matter.

“No, and that is my final answer. Should you press further, I will personally remove the two of you, by force if need be.” This was bad. Sora could feel something beginning to radiate from Snow, and they were reminded of their fight with the Red Oni.

Bloodlust.

They had to do something, and fast. Sora steeled themself, going with the only option left: the nuclear one. “What if we proved we were strong?” Sora saw Shiro’s head snap towards them. “Would you let us in, then?”

Snow scoffed. “I see! Yes, you would certainly be recognized that way, but that still would not be enough. You must also possess a formal introduction or recommendation by a current or former gladiator recognized within our walls. There are no exceptions.”

Sora gripped the sleeve of Shiro’s coat, not breaking eye contact with the beautiful Snow, who towered over the two. They could feel Shiro shaking in fear. “I-If you’re… if you’re going to stop us, we have to—I mean—we’re going to go through you!’

“Are you? Even with your companion’s shaking legs? Now, if you were indeed able to subdue me, that would be very interesting.” Snow began to stalk around them, his long, white tail stiff as it hung just above the stone bricks. “I find that implausible. Your power and skill mean nothing if you lack the courage to use them. This lack of nerve will be your downfall.”

Sora and Shiro turned to face Snow, who was now behind them. The three D-Evils hissed at his presence, but it did not faze the old lion, who leaned down to meet Shiro eye to eye. “Cowards such as yourself should tuck their tail between their legs and endeavor to never show their faces here again. Now, if you will excuse me.” Snow stood up straight and walked past Shiro, whose shoulders slumped, defeated. Sora turned around to look at the butler, who walked towards the entrance of the theater. They couldn’t let that stand.

“Shiro, don’t listen to him!” Sora grabbed his hand gently, interlocking their fingers.”We were able to go against the exception and win, we can do this if we work together! Then we can get Kengo and go home.”

Shiro looked up at them, a thoughtful look on his face. He nodded, and they braced themselves, hand in hand.

「Sora Watanabe, Guildless, and Shiro Motoori, Guildless

challenge Snow of the Ikebukuro Berserkers, to a battle」

At the sound of the announcer’s voice, Snow stopped mid-stride. He took his hands out of their folded position they were in, and faced the two scared—but determined—teenagers. “Ah, so it appears you respond to taunts.” Snow raised his hands, and three chakrams floated up behind him, spinning slowly in the air. “Let us determine whether your response is as courageous as you think it is.”

The shimmering walls of the Battle Zone encircled the three in a spiraling wave, trapping them within. Onlookers nearby rushed over quickly to see what was going on, or to simply see what they knew would be inevitable carnage.

Shiro pulled the Necronomicon out from its holster, staring Snow down with a look of unease. The pages of the ominous book began to flutter once more with an unseen wind. Just as Shiro turned his head to speak to Sora, he vanished. He and Snow were… gone. The loud crack of shattering stone behind Sora sent a shiver down their spine. They ducked just in time to miss the gloved swipe of Snow’s hand, barely a centimeter away from their head. They landed on the ground, staring up at Snow in abject terror. Shiro was lying face down in a small crater, unmoving.

“Very impressive that you managed to dodge my first attack.” Snow smiled and adjusted his glove. Sora held tight to Boundless Tail, with the realization of how skewed the battle was creeping in. Snow gave them a moment to get to their feet, and began to attack once more.

The chakrams flew at Sora, so fast they looked like smears, a deep, rumbling hum surrounding them on all sides. They dove in time to dodge one, but the other two got their arm, leaving a deep gash. They screamed. Their arm fell limp at their side.

“Ah! No!” Sora cried, stumbling back in time to miss another chakram. They swung their sword a few times, trying to knock the chakrams out of the air, but right before they connected, the chakrams would move. A few more attacks, and their legs had been shredded with thin cuts, their pants slowly dyeing red from the blood.

Sora watched Snow, confused. Everyone usually attacked them directly, and he took out Shiro without any issues… So why hadn’t he done the same for them? The old lion stood near the edge of the Battle Zone, stepping to and fro like a dance, the chakrams mimicking his movements. If they wanted to stop the chakrams, they needed to go for the source.

As they stood, Snow stopped, and took out a silver pocket watch from one of his coat pockets. He sighed. “Oh dear, how careless of me to become so engrossed in this event. At this rate, I’ll be late for my next engagement.”

Now was their chance. Sora bolted for Snow, sword ready. The pocket watch clicked shut. Just as the chakram went for their legs, they dove over it, using their momentum to roll. With as much force as they could muster, they swung for Snow. It grazed his calf as he leapt out of the way, landing elegantly nearby.

“Outstanding!” Snow looked at the ripped fabric of his slack, and beamed, though his smile felt… strange. “You have a significant amount of potential. Were it not for my previous engagement, I would take the time to isolate that potential. As such, I will leave you with this.”

Sora had barely blinked before they felt their head connect with the hard bricks. They screamed, Snow pinning their bad arm to the ground with his foot, putting pressure on the wound. “You fight with tenacity, but you lack motivation; you fight out of necessity and it makes you sloppy. Much like that laggard earlier, you and your companion foolishly challenged someone far out of your league in both skill and power without any idea of what you were getting into. Potential or not, you’re careless.”

They watched as Snow raised his arms once more, the three chakrams reuniting behind him. They began to circle behind his head, spinning faster and faster. A deep, echoing hum filled the air. Sora watched as an image formed in the paths of the chakrams, a mandala, intricate and colored with beautifully vibrant reds, blues, greens, and yellows. They whimpered weakly, tears pouring down their cheeks from sheer agony. The mandala started to turn.

Snow raised his voice, and their golden eyes widened. “Role of the Vassal! Rule of Trinity! Spin, whirl, and dance! Course unending through the circle of reincarnation and soar beyond even the lofty summit of Amne Machin! Physical, ethereal, and astral bodies unite as one with threefold power. Rise now, Ashtamangala!”

The three chakrams hit them, and for a moment, they felt no pain. They floated in unfeeling existence for what felt like minutes. Then, like a great wave, they were aware of everything. Their senses folded in on themselves, shifting and becoming something new. They no longer were just a singularity, but a mass, an ever existing being of many faces, all crying out for an end that would never come. Sora heard, deep within the all of their being, a girl called out for her father, before the voice was swallowed by coils of light.

Then, they felt everything go still.

#放サモ #東京放課後サモナーズ #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #aswtwl update #aswtwl

vegetarian-macan