Takeshi has been awake for some time, sleeves rolled, metal arm laid open on the table. The prosthetic was quiet while he worked a tiny driver into its wrist.
A narrow cavity clicked free - a small, deliberate space where something very specific was supposed to fit. But not now.
He gently placed the panel back, screwed the panel and tested his finges, then stood and set a slip of paper under the knife on the counter.
--- A few hours later ---
Raizen pushed himself off the floor with one hand.
"One hundred and ninety-seven… One hundred and ninety-eight… One hundred ninety-nine… Two hundred!" his arm shook.
He switched hands without complaining and kept going.
Hikari padded over, hair sleep-messed, eyes still half-closed. She crouched, watched two more reps, then set a palm lightly on his shoulder.
"I see you're improving, but... Actually, no. I'm not even going to say anything. You're going to do them anyway" she smiled.
"Not yet" he puffed, grinning sideways. "I still need to do more…"
"Yep... Same old declaration"
They glanced at the table.
The note was simple:
I have stuff to do. Back by nightfall. Good luck.
---
The Rust Room was the same as ever, and Kori met them at the corridor, arms open.
"Welcome, welcome! Come in!" she said, as if she never saw them every day.
She led them to another bright room. Five steel poles circled each station. From every pole, three rods jutted - low, mid, high.
No warning. They swung when they wanted in a random pattern, then stopped and hit again from a new angle.
"Stuff is simple." Kori announced. "The rods swing. You parry, hit back, or get out of the way. Pure speed and accuracy. Now go!"
"Not even warmup?"
"Raizen, my dear... But this IS warmup!"
The first snap came out of nowhere.
Raizen didn't even flinch. Mid - he met it with a tight parry, sent it spinning back, and ducked the high one, already swinging for his head.
Then, a low rod tried to clip his shins from behind - he hopped and landed, already hitting the next pole.
Hikari was quieter. The rod tried to hit, she was gone. The follow-up swung, she already dodged it. A high rod grazed a strand of hair, and hair only.
"Speed 20, increasing to 30" Mina called from behind the glass.
But the numbers didn't really matter. Rods hit without rhythm - double on one pole, nothing on the other, then a nasty triple in a row.
Raizen tightened everything - short steps, quick movements, all speed and timing.
"...40" Mina twisted a knob.
They got worse. The rods changed height mid-swing, stalling and hitting again.
A mid snapped for Raizen's ribs - he shouldered it aside, the high came early and hit nothing but air.
Hikari barely dodged a high swing, let a low miss by millimeters.
"50" Kori exhaled, finger near the stop button, but she didn't press it.
Now all of them were alive. Raizen started setting his own rythm - parry, dodge, parry, hit, duck - all in less than a second. Rods whistling past his ears and legs but never touching him.
A double ambush tried to sandwich him, but he stepped in between the blows and parried both with his forearms.
"Hit rate: zero for the last sequence" Mina said, disbelieving. "Bump to 60."
Hikari walked through the storm - every strike met with the right answer: parry the middle, hit the base, lean beloe the top rod. Not flashy. Just perfect.
"Last ten seconds!" Kori shouted. "Finish nicely!"
They did. Zero contacts.
"New baseline!" Mina breathed. "Five poles, fifteen rods, sixty speed, no hits taken!"
"Now that, is what progress looks like. Kori said, tossing them towels, looking a bit proud.
"We're done here for today. I have to check on the other two. Good work!"
---
Back at Takeshi's home, the kettle hissed gently, filling the room with a pleasant tea fragrance. Takeshi still wasn't back.
Raizen iced Hikari's ankle and wrapped it clean, and then sat down, staring at the clock as if it could speed up time.
Hikari looked up first. "Soo... We're really doing it" she tried to initiate conversation. Lately, she was opening up more when only Raizen kept her company. She felt pretty safe around him, and He found out she wasn't quite as shy as he thought.
Before Raise could answer, though, Obi suddenly leaned into the door frame, without even knocking. His hair was tamed badly, winner's token clinking on his belt, brass knuckles on his hands, as if he never wanted to take them off. His excitement never faded.
"So, are we goin'?" he grinned.
The three started walking down the street. They took back lanes and made sure nobody was following. Not out of fear, but out of caution.
No one spoke too much. Hikari skimmed the walls, counting corners and pebbles, trying not to look nervous. Obi's belt clinked with every step.
Then, in front of them, an arcade of stone framed a wooden tavern, not extremely big, but the biggest Raizen has ever seen. The Maw.
Inside, the ceiling was weirdly tall and the floor was made of darkened planks, with faint traces of spills.
The smell was a weird mix of perfectly cooked meat, booze and good food.
The tables were bolted into the floor, not being able to move, for quite obvious reasons. Men stood at almost every table, laughter filling the air.
Cards shuffled. Dice clicked. Glasses clinked. Great atmosphere everywhere, if you didn't know that more than half of them were dangerous people.
The noise thinned near a corner.
That's where he sat: coat too new and expensive for this place - Marcus Valerius. To his right: a bodyguard with wide shoulders and a tired scar pulling one corner of the mouth. His eyes moved more than his head.
Marcus checked a pocket watch, and shut it with a soft click. A small case hung by two fingers.
He tapped it once. Twice.
Raizen felt Hikari's sleeve brush his hand. Obi's chin tilted the smallest nod.
There he was.
And under his hand - exactly what they'd come for.
The Luminite Case