10th November 2049

  I’m alive.

  I was ready to die.

  I was at peace.

  Silence felt like the perfect end to my shitshow of a life.

  —Recovered journal entry of Ren Sazama

  Chapter Ten

  The silence is deafening. Only the violent thump of blood pumping in my ears remains.

  I can’t breathe.

  Every shallow gasp is a losing battle, like sucking through a blocked straw.

  The burning in my lip has vanished into terrifying numbness. I raise a trembling finger to my mouth, brushing over the leathery, stiff flesh. Open your eyes. You need to open your eyes.

  My head spins.

  I force my eyelids up. Darkness. Oh fuck I’m blind. Chest constricting, cold sweat sheening across my skin. My legs turn to jelly, shaking uncontrollably.

  The metallic scent of copper mixed with the earthy hint of wine vanishes, replaced by the smell of hell itself.

  The haze blurs into a dim white light—no. White hair. Striking against the black of the night sky.

  Satoshi.

  He stands in front of me, back straight, facing Sora, Chujo and their other friend. They’re frozen. I can’t see Satoshi’s face, but the terror etched into the first-years’ features tells me I don’t want to see the expression he’s wearing.

  I draw my knees to my chest and wrap my arms tight, rooting myself to the spot. My eyes dart between the shock of white hair and the boys standing before him.

  He has his arms crossed and is deathly still—like an angel of death sent for judgment. His suit jacket is gone, and his shirt sleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing tense forearms. He glances over his shoulder, electric-blue eyes burning with rage. Seeing him like this, I understand why he’s feared by curses and sorcerers alike. For the first time since I was ranked, I’m so fucking relieved to see him.

  Bile rises in my throat as my stomach churns.

  Satoshi steps forward, his stance eerily calm as his gaze snaps back to the terrified first-years.

  “You’re all fucking dead men walking.” His voice is as gentle as a parent talking to a child, which makes him all the more horrifying.

  “G—Gojo.” Sora’s lighter clatters onto the shingle beneath his feet.

  “Dropping your evidence won’t save you.” His deadly soft tone makes the hairs on my arms stand. “You waited until another sorcerer was vulnerable and alone to attack.”

  “But you want her dead too!” Chujo yells, voice wavering.

  “If I wanted her dead, she would be dead.”

  What?

  “We were teaching her a lesso—” a crack resonates through the quiet Zen garden, as Satoshi’s fist connects with the third boy’s cheekbone, snapping his head sideways. He shakes out his hand, wiping the blood from his knuckles onto his black trousers.

  Satoshi amplifies Limitless, reinforcing the barrier that makes him untouchable, hurling Chujo and the other boy to the ground, pressing the weight of his technique onto them, leaving Sora standing, wide-eyed as he watches his friends struggle against the suffocating strength of Infinity being used as an immovable object.

  The crunch of bones being crushed fills the air, along with the screams of agony. The two boys faces scrunch, and I can’t find it in my heart to pity them.

  “Let me explain,” Sora pleads, holding his palms up.

  “I’ve seen and heard enough.” Satoshi’s face doesn’t leave the two first years, as he slowly flattens them into the hard stones of the garden.

  “She should’ve killed you the moment you threatened her,” his mouth curves into a sadistic smile. “That’s not the kind of restraint I have.”

  Sora trembles and bolts, vanishing into the stillness of the night.

  Fucking pussy.

  Satoshi chuckles darkly, focusing on erasing my attackers instead of chasing Sora. He slowly takes menacing steps forward, Infinity humming loudly around him, hair whipping across his forehead.

  The two first-years are turned into a pool of blood and sludge with a wet squelch, as he stands over them, eyes wide, the blue of his irises blazing. He begins laughing manically, sending a shiver of terror down my spine.

  “Damn, Satoshi,” Shinji says from the opposite end of the temple grounds. He lowers his hands, his cursed energy dampening, as his gaze rakes over the scene before him “Didn’t leave enough to identify them.” His eyes flick over me as if taking note of my injuries, catching on the blood trickling down my temples, and the blackened skin on my lip.

  “They don’t need to be identified,” Satoshi counters as Hiro appears from the shadows that lead back to the party, completing the same rapid assessment that Shinji did.

  A groan claws up my throat, as a throbbing ache forms behind my eyes.

  All three men turn to look at me in unison.

  “We’re on clean-up, whilst you handle that?” Hiro asks Satoshi as he jerks his chin in my direction.

  Satoshi nods wordlessly and stalks over to me, crouching to meet my eyes, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  “Why didn’t you use Reverse Cursed Technique?”

  “Couldn’t—focus—head—” my eyelids are like lead. “Sora—technique—amplify—damage.” I choke.

  Satoshi’s gaze darkens, as he flits over my lip and head. “He released the technique, but the damage is already done. You’ll have a scar, even if you see Shoko,” he pauses. “Your head will be fine.”

  I try to shift my weight to stand, but my body won’t listen to my brain. Heat crawls up my neck, I’m drunk, coated in blood and fighting to stay conscious. Sora should’ve finished me off.

  The trembling starts in my arms and rips through me as a fresh wave of nausea overpowers me.

  Every breath is like inhaling shards of glass. Black spots spread from the corners of my eyes.

  “Renegade, I need you to keep your eyes open,” Satoshi murmurs against my cheek. When did he get so close? “You might have a concussion, so you need to use Reverse Cursed Technique to heal your brain, I can’t get Shoko or Okkotsu here in time to prevent further damage.” His fingers dig into my shoulder, I hiss. “Good.” He presses harder. “Focus all your energy into Reverse Cursed Technique.”

  Any protests die in my throat. I concentrate on the well of energy at my core, draw a deep breathe through gritted teeth, and force all my cursed energy to multiply against itself. Bright white light hums around me. My vision clears. My nostrils flare. Healing energy floods my brain.

  I press my back against the ice-cold stone bench, steadying myself. Satoshi’s hand falls from my shoulder and his rises to his full height, staring down at me.

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  “Why?” I croak, meeting his gaze.

  He runs a hand through his messy white hair, pursing his lips. “Because I hate cowards, more than I hate you.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest and turns away. “Heal yourself, then go back to your friends.”

  Dead leaves flutter around me, dancing in the wind. My breathing slows.

  “As much as this is a beautiful moment,” Shinji calls over from where he’s crouched over the puddles—that were once first-years—“you need to heal and get the fuck out of here.”

  I grumble under my breath and turn my attention back to healing. The fog of alcohol lifts as I sober myself, though the burn on my lip remains tight and leathery.

  “Toshi,” Hiro carefully steps towards us, wiping his hands on his black trousers, “I’ll walk her back. Call the principal, I’m sure he won’t give two shits that some Grade Twos were killed on campus.”

  Satoshi grunts in acknowledgment.

  Hiro shuffles past him and hooks my arm around his neck. “We’ve got your back, brother.” He throws over his shoulder as he steers me back towards the temple.

  The warm press of his arm against my back stops the trembling in my legs, I take a final glance at Satoshi and the aftermath of the attack, then look away.

  He hates me. I hate him.

  The vibration of music courses through my body as we pass under the stone archway. Upbeat and cheerful notes echo around the temple hall.

  “He wouldn’t have found you if it weren’t for Aki and Misaka,” Hiro says quietly, leaning close. “You’d been gone for thirty minutes. Aki noticed first. Told Misaka. They went to Shin, who found me and Toshi at the mountain peak.”

  My gut twists. Thirty minutes.

  “Satoshi willingly searched for me?” Two lines form between my brows. Hiro directs me around a group of dancing second-years.

  “He was the only one who was able to see your cursed energy.” He shrugs. “Six Eyes, remember.”

  He tugs a blue handkerchief from his jacket pocket with his free hand, handing it to me. “Here,” he presses it into my palm, “for the blood.”

  I grip the cloth and scrub it over my forehead, crusted crimson crunches into the fabric.

  “Thanks, Hiro.” I say, sliding the blue square into his hand. “You didn’t have to escort me back inside.” I glance up at him.

  “You can barely stand, you’re still focusing on healing yourself,” he slows his pace. “Toshi isn’t the best person to be around right now, and it’s safer for you to be with your friends.”

  Right. Hiro’s earlier warning—Satoshi isn’t someone you want to be around when he’s furious. The two puddles of crushed bone and blood are evidence of that. He could’ve killed me.

  His earlier words resonate in my mind. You are alive because I allow it.

  Hiro steers me around another cluster of third-years, their laughter grating against the ringing in my ears.

  “I didn’t want to be around him anyway,” I square my shoulders. “He might have saved my life but he didn’t do it to be kind.”

  He lifts a copper brow, looking down at me. “You should be more thankful.” His piercing blue gaze locks onto me. “He could’ve left you for dead.”

  I pull my arm back from around his neck. “That’s the problem.” I plant my hands on my hips. “I owe Satoshi Gojo a debt that I can’t possibly pay back.”

  He stills, eyes darting to the rotting floor of the temple. “Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck, glancing away. “Guess you do.”

  Before I can ask him what that could mean, I’m tackled to the ground, arms wrapping around my neck tightly. I stiffen, eyes widening. Why the fuck is Aki hugging me?

  “Get off me,” I snap, pushing him off me, shooting an apologetic look to the group of sorcerers we crashed into. “How drunk are you?”

  He sits ramrod straight and gapes at me, eyes snagging on my charred lip.

  “Firstly, what the fuck happened?” His jaw clenches, before snapping back into his signature grin. “Secondly, I’m not that drunk.” He leans close to my face. “See?”

  I have no idea what he was supposed to prove by leaning close to my face. Mix that with the stench of sake and cigarettes wafting from his mouth—he’s wasted.

  “There you a—” Misaka freezes when her gaze lands on the burn. Sakura—following a step behind—stops short, nostrils flaring.

  Hiro chooses this moment to back away and vanish into the crowd. I guess even he doesn’t want to be part of this shitshow.

  Sakura pulls me up from the ground with ease, kicking Aki harshly in the ribs, who winces and pouts, rubbing the area as he stands.

  “Did Satoshi do this?” Sakura grits out.

  “Wha—no.” I sputter, pressing my hands across my dress, flattening it. “Sora.”

  Misaka, Sakura, and Aki all whip their heads to me and wear the same furious expression.

  “He’s dead.” Sakura spits.

  “Murder spree! Yeah!” Aki cheers.

  “Somebody kill him first.” I groan, dragging a hand over my face.

  “Already on it.” Misaka drags Aki away by the ear, the distant ‘ows’ echo back to us.

  “Do you know where he is?” Sakura grabs me by the shoulders.

  I shake my head. “No, he ran when Satoshi stepped in.”

  She doesn’t need to know that he killed Sora’s lackeys or that I now owe him my life. It’s safer this way. I don’t want to give Satoshi or Sora a reason to attack my friends. I’d rather take a burn like that over and over than put my friends in danger.

  “Did he do anything else to you?” Sakura presses.

  Misaka storms back over, looking extremely done as Aki follows, wailing about how unfair she is.

  “Aki.” I shoot him a stern glare and to my surprise he mimes zipping his mouth shut. I blink rapidly. How hard did I hit my head?

  I twist to face Sakura. “He slammed my head into a stone bench, but I’ve healed from that.”

  Aki pokes my charred lip repeatedly—each touch sending a surge of discomfort through the numb flesh. I scowl, swatting his hand away. “So why isn’t your lip healed?”

  So much for him staying silent. That lasted all of three seconds.

  “Do you listen in lessons? This is basic knowledge, Aki.” I roll my eyes.

  He waves his hand dismissively almost, smacking me in the face. We’re murdering Aki. Tonight.

  “I don’t need to listen. I have an IQ of ten thousand.” He grins wide and drapes himself over my shoulders, nuzzling into my neck. “You’re pretty.” He sighs.

  “Prick.” I grumble, looking to Misaka and Sakura, gawking at the ridiculous display.

  “Reverse Cursed Technique doesn’t heal burns,” Misaka states.

  I shake my head. “No, it heals some of the damage, but a scar is almost always left, unless it’s healed immediately. I’m pretty sure I was concussed so healing wasn’t the first thing that I thought of.”

  I peel Aki from my shoulders and shove him backwards into the crowd.

  “Yeah, fair.” Sakura exhales. “Let’s get you the fuck out of here.” She turns, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Unless you want to deal with Fuju.” She arches a brow.

  “Absolutely the fuck not.” I retort, grabbing Misaka’s hand and pulling her towards the exit.

  “Rennnn … Wait for meeeee.” Aki stumbles after us, hand outstretched. We break into a jog, weaving through drunk students, their sweat and drinks thickening the musty air of the temple.

  After fighting our way through the sea of drunk people—and failing to lose Aki—we start the descent down the dark mountain path towards the dorms. Our footsteps echo against the shingle scattered along the dirt. An owl hoots in the distance and the winter air nips at the bare skin of my back.

  Reverse Cursed Technique burned off the alcohol and healed the concussion, but now I’m freezing. Goosebumps coat my arms, and I rub my hands along my biceps. A dramatic sigh sounds behind me and a black suit jacket settles over my shoulders—warm and smelling faintly of cedarwood and vanilla. I look back. Aki’s smug grin meets me and my eye twitches. But I don’t shrug it off, because for once I don’t care that he’s helping.

  He slides in next to me and slings an arm around me, tucking me into his side. Misaka raises a brow at us, a slight smirk playing on her lips. I shoot her a look that says I’m too tired to care. She shrugs.

  On my right, Sakura nudges me and leans in close.

  “If you need me to dispose of him,” she murmurs, “I heard there’s a nice railing that overlooks the mountain pass.” She winks.

  A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.

  “Don’t tempt me.” I start to bite my lip, then wince when the scar pulls tight. A flash of sympathy crosses her face, before melting back into her normal resting bitch face.

  “Offer’s there.” She grins.

  I tip my head to her and slip my arms into Aki’s jacket, leaning into his side. He’s so warm. That’s all this is. Warmth.

  I glance up to Aki. His throat bobs as he swallows. His signature smirk snaps into place as he peers down at me.

  “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll think you want a repeat of your birthday.”

  I blink, whirling on him, poking a finger into his chest, walking backwards.

  “I figured out your problem,” I glare. “Every time you open your mouth, you turn me off.”

  Misaka coughs into her hand, but it sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Sakura openly cackles.

  Aki throws an arm over his eyes, lips twitching.

  “You could at least kiss me before you destroy me.” He puckers.

  I scoff and spin, lifting my chin and ignoring his theatrics. My hands pull his jacket tight, fingers burying into the silky fabric. I glance down the path, where the sanmon marking the entrance of the dorms creaks and sways in the wind. Relief washes over me.

  I need my bed. Ignore the last hour. Forget that Satoshi stepped in when I was in trouble. That’s a future Ren problem.

  The lights lining the dorms flicker, sending shadows dancing along the stone steps. We come to a stop outside the entrance, Misaka and Sakura share a silent look.

  “You going to be okay on your own?” Misaka asks tentatively, lacing her fingers together.

  “She won’t be alone,” Aki interjects, grinning. “I’m staying with her.” He lifts me into his arms, hooking my knees over his forearm. I squawk—not that it matters. He laughs loudly, chest vibrating against my side, looking down at me through half-lidded eyes. I wriggle in his grasp, but his grip tightens. I grit my teeth.

  “I hate you.” I grumble under my breath, nostrils flaring. “I’d rather clean the toilets. With my tongue.” I slap my hand against his pecs, which only makes him laugh more.

  “Put her down Fuju.” Sakura cracks her knuckles. “Or you won’t be seeing tomorrow.”

  Aki pales and carefully places me on my feet, steadying me with his hands. He swallows. Hard.

  I’ve never seen him back down from anyone. What the fuck happened whilst I was outside? Actually—I don’t care. It’s a good thing he’s scared of Sakura now. He might actually back off.

  I shrug his jacket off, and Aki waves his hand. “Keep it,” he grins. “Looks better on you anyway,” he adds quietly, before straightening and sauntering off to the second-year dorms next door.

  I frown and fold the jacket over my arm. I turn to push the heavy oak doors open. Misaka and Sakura follow behind.

  We stroll towards my dorm. Misaka pulls me into a soft hug. “If you need anything I’m only down the hall.” She pulls back, eyes snagging on the scar.

  “Scream if something happens. I’m a light sleeper.” Sakura murmurs against my hair as she crushes me against her chest, barely giving me time to react.

  I wave lazily to them as I unlock the door, shouldering it open. It clicks softly behind me.

  I reach for the light switch on the wall next to me, flicking it on. My eyes scan the room. Bed empty. Toilet door open. Satoshi in the desk chair. My collection of magazines—

  “WHAT THE FUCK?!”