The city looked ordinary at midnight.
Streetlights hummed softly. Traffic thinned to a lazy trickle. Neon signs blinked advertisements no one was watching anymore. From above, it was just another sleepless metropolis—concrete veins glowing under artificial stars.
But the night had rules.
And at precisely twelve-thirty, those rules shifted.
A ripple passed through the air, subtle enough that humans never noticed. Cameras glitched for half a second. Dogs went quiet. Somewhere between one breath and the next, the city exhaled—and the hidden world surfaced.
A sigil flared briefly on the side of a government building before vanishing like it had never existed.
"Contract breach confirmed."
The voice came from the rooftop.
A tall figure stood at the edge of the building, coat fluttering in the night wind, boots balanced comfortably on concrete that dropped fourteen floors below. His presence pressed against the air itself, sharp and cold, like steel drawn too close to skin.
Yasha didn't move when the notification echoed through his earpiece. He was already looking at the source.
Three blocks east, beneath an abandoned overpass, something old and frightened was running.
"Unregistered shikigami," came the calm voice of the Register on duty. "No active contract. Power levels fluctuating. Civilian proximity: high."
Yasha's fingers flexed once.
"Authorization?" he asked.
There was a pause. A breath too long.
"Executor clearance granted," the voice replied. "Proceed with containment."
Containment.
That word had ended lives before. Yasha didn't dwell on it. He stepped off the building without hesitation.
The fall lasted less than a second.
Wind tore past him, coat snapping like a banner, before shadows folded upward to meet him. His boots touched down silently in a narrow alley, momentum absorbed by something unseen and obedient. He straightened, already moving.
The city parted for him.
Traffic lights stalled. Pedestrians took wrong turns without knowing why. A drunk man stumbled, narrowly missing a collision that would have placed him directly in Yasha's path.
By the time Yasha reached the underpass, the air smelled wrong.
Blood. Ozone. Fear.
The shikigami crouched behind a rusted pillar, shaking, its form unstable—half smoke, half flesh. Its eyes widened when it sensed him.
"Don't," it rasped. "I didn't hurt anyone. I just—I just wanted to leave."
Yasha raised his hand.
A contract sigil bloomed in the air, sharp-edged and absolute.
"Existence without registration violates city law," he said flatly. "Resistance will result in forced binding or erasure."
The shikigami laughed weakly. "You people always say it like that. Like it's nothing."
Yasha didn't answer.
The sigil tightened.
And then—
A pulse of warmth cut through the cold.
The sigil flickered.
Yasha's eyes narrowed.
"Stop."
The voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
Light spilled into the underpass, soft and impossibly gentle, washing over concrete and rust alike. The shikigami gasped as the pressure crushing it eased.
A girl stepped into view, dress brushing the ground, hair glowing faintly like petals caught in moonlight.
Momo met Yasha's gaze without fear.
"That's enough," she said again.
For a moment, the night seemed to hold its breath.
Yasha adjusted his stance slightly, placing himself between her and the shikigami without consciously deciding to. "You're interfering with an active enforcement operation."
"I know."
Her smile was gentle. Apologetic. Infuriating.
"You're Night Protocol," she continued. "Which means you won't listen to anything I say. But I'm saying it anyway."
She knelt beside the shikigami, hands glowing faintly as she checked its injuries. The creature trembled, then slowly steadied.
"He's terrified," Momo said softly. "And hurt. And alone. That doesn't make him a threat."
"Law does not account for fear," Yasha replied. "Only violation."
Momo looked up at him then, and something in her expression shifted—not anger, not defiance, but disappointment.
"That's the problem," she said.
Behind her, footsteps echoed.
More figures emerged from the shadows—casual, unhurried, dangerous in ways that didn't need uniforms.
A tall man with wild hair leaned against a pillar, grinning. Shuten Doji raised a bottle in greeting. "Wow. Straight to execution? You guys don't do warnings anymore?"
Another presence radiated pressure like heat. Ibaraki Doji cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming. "Looks like you brought only one Executor. That confidence or stupidity?"
Yasha didn't react outwardly, but his internal threat assessment updated rapidly.
Crimson Bloom.
He recognized them all.
"Step away," he said calmly. "You are obstructing lawful enforcement."
Shuten laughed. "There it is. Lawful enforcement. Drink every time they say it, you'll die faster than their contracts kill you."
Momo rose to her feet, placing herself fully between Yasha and the shikigami.
"This one is under Crimson Bloom protection now," she said.
The words landed like a challenge.
Yasha's gaze dropped to her hands—unarmed, glowing faintly with residual healing energy. No visible weapon. No defensive stance.
And yet, the city itself seemed to lean toward her.
"Protection is not recognized without binding," Yasha said. "You know that."
Momo nodded. "I do."
Her voice didn't waver.
"And I know you're not supposed to hesitate," she added quietly. "But if you take one more step… you'll have to go through me."
The shikigami whimpered behind her.
Shuten whistled. "Oh, this is getting good."
Ibaraki grinned wider. "Your move, Executor."
For the first time since receiving the assignment, Yasha hesitated.
Not because of the threat. Not because of the odds.
Because the contract sigil hovering near his palm felt… unstable.
As if something unseen was resisting him.
As if the night itself was watching.
Yasha lowered his hand—just slightly.
"Remove the civilian," he said instead.
Momo blinked.
The shikigami stared.
Shuten nearly choked on laughter.
"Wow," he said. "Look at that. He can compromise."
Yasha ignored him. His gaze stayed on Momo.
"This does not end here," he said. "Crimson Bloom's interference will be reported. Next time, I won't stop."
Momo held his eyes.
"I know," she replied softly.
And somehow, that unsettled him more than any threat.
By the time Night Protocol backup arrived, the underpass was empty.
No shikigami. No Crimson Bloom.
Only the faint echo of warmth lingering in the air.
Yasha stood alone beneath the overpass, staring at the spot where she had stood.
The contract system recalibrated in his peripheral vision.
An anomaly flagged.
For the first time in years, Night Protocol's flawless enforcement record showed a fracture.
And the night, quiet once more, breathed in.