Rome let his head thump back against the graffiti-covered wall, eyes closed as dissonant music blared through his headphones. The adrenaline high from the fight had crashed, leaving him with the slight ache in his jaw where he'd bitten his cheek and the dull throb of annoyance knowing what waited behind Hakari's office door.
The mental math wasn't complicated. One ruined fix equals one pissed-off boss. One pissed-off boss equals one lecture about "the business." One lecture equals approximately thirty minutes of his life he'd never get back.
Worth it. One hundred percent worth it.
Rome adjusted his oversized black hoodie, pulling it lower over his face. The hallway stank of cigarettes, cheap beer, and that weird industrial cleaner that somehow made everything smell dirtier. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, one bulb humming an off-key note that cut through even his music.
He knew he should feel guilty. Hakari had plans. Big ones, from the sound of it. But guilt required giving a shit about consequences, and Rome had a limited supply of shits to give. The Sledgehammer crossed a line. Lines had consequences too.
The office door swung open with enough force to bounce against the wall. Rome cracked one eye open, sliding his headphones down around his neck.
The Suit stormed out first, his once-immaculate attire now rumpled, his face flushed with anger. He was aggressively adjusting his tie like he was trying to strangle it. Behind him limped the Sledgehammer, almost unrecognizable from an hour ago. His eyes were fixed on the floor, deliberately avoiding looking in Rome's direction.
Rome didn't move from his spot against the wall, forcing them to walk around him. As they approached, he straightened slightly.
"Next time, I don't stop at the bell if you talk about her," Rome said, voice low and casual as if discussing the weather. "I'll make sure you need a straw for the rest of your life."
The Sledgehammer flinched hard, his shoulders hunching. He tried to square up, to reclaim some dignity, but it was pathetic. Like watching a beaten dog trying to look tough.
The Suit stepped between them, glaring at Rome but maintaining a careful distance.
"Come on. We're leaving," he snapped, grabbing the Sledgehammer's massive arm. "We can't cross Gojo over a stray dog. It's not worth the paperwork."
Rome froze, the casual smirk slipping from his face.
Gojo?
Curiouser and curiouser, as the story went. Rome pushed off from the wall and headed for Hakari's office, the door still slightly ajar from the Suit's dramatic exit.
The contrast hit him immediately. Outside was all grime and flickering lights and the smell of sweat. Inside was success. The room smelled like sandalwood and expensive whiskey. Hakari lounged behind a mahogany desk like a king on his throne, feet up, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid dangling from his fingers. Kirara perched on the edge of the desk, their star-pupiled eyes flicking up to acknowledge Rome's entrance while their hands worked the tension from Hakari's shoulders.
"So," Rome said, dropping into the leather chair across from the desk. "Am I fired, or just grounded?"
Hakari didn't look up from his drink. "You're a pain in my ass, Rome."
"I'm your pain in the ass," Rome countered. "There's a difference."
Hakari snorted, swirling the whiskey. "A critical distinction."
Rome slouched deeper into the chair. "Look, the asshole had it coming. He was saying shit about—"
"I know what he said." Hakari's tone shifted, the casual amusement dropping away. He sat forward, setting his glass down with a sharp click. "That Suit? He owned a complex in Shinjuku. We were looking at a new venue. Real HVAC. VIP boxes. No black mold. That was the 'new spot' to take Gachinko legitimate."
Rome winced. "Damn. My bad. But... he talked shit about my mom."
Hakari stared at him for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, his face split into a wide grin.
"I know. If you hadn't hit him, I would've fired you. A man without that kind of Fever isn't worth my time."
Rome blinked, momentarily caught off-guard by the validation. Then Hakari's expression shifted again as he slid a piece of paper across the desk.
"But," he added, tapping the paper with one finger, "principles don't pay the rent. This is the damage."
Rome picked up the paper. His eyes widened at the number. It had a lot of zeroes. Like, a disgusting amount of zeroes.
"Shiiiiit," he breathed. "Do you take credit?"
Kirara laughed. "You're seventeen, Ro-Ro. You don't have credit. You have a student ID and a gum wrapper."
"Social credit?" Rome offered, spreading his hands. "I'm good for it. I have followers."
"This isn't China," Hakari said dryly. "And your followers are bots."
"Okay, look." Rome leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I checked the host clubs in Kabukicho. I'm too young. And I'm not gay." He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Yeah... definitely not gay. So how do you want me to pay this?"
Hakari reached across the desk and plucked the paper from Rome's fingers.
"You don't," Hakari said, brushing the ash from his fingers. "Your debt's been bought."
Rome's eyebrows shot up. "By who?" His expression darkened with suspicion. "If this is some creepy old guy, I'm out."
Hakari stood up, moving to the window that overlooked the Tokyo skyline. The mood in the room shifted, something electric entering the air. Even Kirara stopped what they were doing, watching Hakari with unusual intensity.
"Be patient," Hakari said, his voice softer, almost reverent. "My Patron should be here any minute. He's... special."
"Special like you?" Rome asked, eyes narrowing.
Hakari laughed, but there was an edge to it. "No. I'm a gambler. He's the House."
Rome sat up straighter. The seriousness in Hakari's tone was something he'd rarely heard. The man lived his life like everything was a game, like nothing could touch him. To hear him speak with genuine respect—maybe even a hint of fear—that was new.
"He's one of the only sorcerers I respect," Hakari continued, staring out at the city lights. "And the only one I'm actually terrified of."
Rome scoffed. "You're not scared of anyone."
"When he was born, the balance of the world shifted," Hakari said, ignoring the interruption. "Curses got stronger overnight just to survive in the same world as him. He raised the bar for the entire species."
Rome's skepticism remained evident on his face, but something in Hakari's tone made him hold his tongue.
Hakari turned, his gaze falling on Rome with a strange intensity. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if seeing something new, or remembering something old.
"They say there was another minor shift, too," he said slowly. "About ten years after his birth. Maybe it was just him getting older... getting stronger. Or maybe something else broke the scale. We still don't know."
"Why are you telling me this?" Rome asked, an uncharacteristic unease creeping through him.
Kirara glanced between them, their star-shaped pupils contracting. "Kin, you don't think—"
"I don't think. I observe," Hakari cut them off. "And I've been observing our little Red Devil for a while now."
Rome rolled his eyes, the moment of discomfort passing. "If you're gonna get weird and cryptic, at least pour me a drink first."
Hakari's phone buzzed. He checked it, his expression lighting up with a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. "He's here."
"Fantastic," Rome drawled, slouching back in his chair. "Can't wait to meet the boogeyman."
Hakari laughed, a genuine sound this time. "Oh, you're in for a treat. Just... try not to piss this one off, okay? I can afford to lose a venue in Shinjuku. I can't afford to lose the protection of Satoru Gojo."
Rome's head snapped up. "Gojo? As in, the Gojo? The same name that Suit dropped on his way out?"
"The very same," Hakari confirmed. "Apparently, he's taken an interest in you."
"In me? Why would—"
The building shook. Not violently, but a gentle tremor that ran through the floor and walls, like the entire structure was humming. The lights flickered once, twice, then stabilized. Rome felt it before he understood it—an overwhelming pressure washing over him. His Devil's Eyes activated instinctively, responding to what they perceived as a threat.
What he saw made him catch his breath.
The entire building was bathed in blue. Waves of Cursed Energy so dense they were visible even to normal eyes flowed through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. It was like being suddenly submerged in an ocean of power, so vast it defied comprehension.
"What the fuck is that?" Rome whispered.
Hakari grinned, an edge of the gambler's fever creeping into his expression. "That, my young friend, is the Honored One. The strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world."
Rome's heart hammered in his chest. He'd heard stories, of course. Everyone had. But stories were just that—stories. This was real. This was terrifying.
This was fucking awesome.
Kirara smoothed their clothes, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "Should I bring him up, Kin?"
"No need," Hakari said, his eyes never leaving Rome's face. "He knows exactly where to find us."
Rome felt a bizarre mix of emotions churning inside him. Fear, certainly—only an idiot wouldn't be afraid of that much power. But also curiosity, excitement, and something deeper, something almost like recognition. As if some part of him had been waiting for this moment.
"So," Rome said, struggling to reclaim his usual cocky tone, "what exactly does the 'Honored One' want with me?"
Hakari's smile turned enigmatic. "That's the billion-yen question, isn't it? Maybe he's looking for new talent. Maybe he's bored. Maybe he's seen something in you that even you don't see."
"Or maybe," Kirara added, their voice uncharacteristically serious, "he's here to collect a debt that's been on the books for a very long time."
Before Rome could respond, the door swung open.
The man who stepped through seemed both impossibly ordinary and undeniably extraordinary. Tall, lean, with white hair that defied gravity. His most striking feature was hidden—a blindfold covering his eyes. Yet despite this, he moved with absolute confidence, as if he could see everything more clearly than anyone else in the room.
His presence filled the space, not just physically but metaphysically, the weight of his Cursed Energy making the air itself feel heavier.
"Yo, Hakari," Satoru Gojo said. "I see you've been keeping my investment safe." His head turned unerringly toward Rome, and despite the blindfold, Rome had the distinct feeling those hidden eyes were staring directly into him.
"The Red Devil himself," Gojo continued, a smile spreading across his face. "We need to talk about your mother."