Oden woke to silence.
Not true silence.
Hotels never had true silence.
There was always something beneath it. The muted hum of air conditioning, the distant rumble of plumbing, footsteps softened by carpet, a door closing somewhere down the hall. But compared to Kenya, compared to villages and wind and the constant breathing of open space, it was close enough.
He lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling.
Then he heard movement.
Miguel was already awake.
Of course he was.
Oden pushed himself up slowly and turned his head toward the other side of the room. Miguel stood near the door, adjusting his clothes with the sort of practiced ease that suggested he had somewhere important to be and fully expected the world to make room for that fact.
Without looking back, Miguel said, "You're awake."
"Unfortunately."
Miguel snorted.
"There's a briefing soon," he said. "For the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons."
Oden's expression remained flat.
"I know."
Miguel glanced at him then.
"Do you want to come?"
Oden did not even need time to think about it.
"No."
Miguel raised a brow.
"No?"
"It sounds boring."
Miguel let out a short laugh through his nose.
"That was fast."
"I've already heard enough of the plan to know I don't care."
Miguel finished adjusting his sleeve.
"That honest, huh?"
"That accurate."
Miguel shook his head once, then reached for the door.
"Fine. Stay here, then."
Oden lay back slightly against the headboard.
"I planned to."
Miguel opened the door, then paused.
Without turning, he added, "Try not to mess anything up while I'm gone."
Oden replied instantly.
"I won't."
Miguel opened the door fully.
"That answer makes me less confident, not more."
Then he left.
The door shut.
And Oden was alone.
For all of six minutes.
That was how long it took for boredom to begin pressing against him.
The room was clean.
He sat there for a while, then thought of going out to explore Tokyo again. The city had been interesting the night before. Strange, crowded, loud, but interesting.
So he reached for his wallet.
Opened it.
Looked inside.
And found—
nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Oden stared into the empty wallet in silence.
Then grimaced.
"…This is pathetic."
He sat there for another few seconds, thinking.
Then, very slowly, a solution formed.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the card Panda had given him, and stared at it.
A number.
A name.
A contact.
Oden picked up his phone and called.
It rang twice.
Then Panda answered.
"Hello?"
"It's Oden."
There was a pause.
Then Panda's voice brightened noticeably.
"Oh! Blindfold guy."
Oden frowned.
"I have a name."
"You do. But 'blindfold guy' is memorable."
Oden decided not to fight that battle.
"I have a question."
"Go for it."
"How do people make money quickly?"
Panda went quiet for a moment.
Then—
"…That sounds like the beginning of a bad idea."
"It isn't. Probably."
"'Probably' is not reassuring."
Oden ignored that.
"I need money."
Panda made a thoughtful noise.
"Well… there are normal jobs."
"I don't want a normal job."
"There's delivery work."
"No."
"Part-time labor?"
"No."
"Convenience stores?"
"No."
Panda paused.
"…You sound very against society."
"I'm against boring."
"That's somehow worse."
Oden waited.
Then Panda said, a little more carefully this time, "There is one thing."
Oden straightened slightly.
"What?"
"An underground fighting club."
That got his full attention.
Oden sat up.
"…Go on."
Panda continued.
"It pays well. Especially if you put on a good show."
Oden's expression didn't change much, but interest had already settled in.
"I want in."
Panda laughed.
"That fast?"
"Yes."
"Well, alright then. Meet me in Tochigi Prefecture."
Oden blinked.
"That far?"
"You asked for money. I'm giving you money."
Fair enough.
"Alright," Oden said.
Panda gave him the details.
Oden memorized them immediately.
Then the call ended.
He stared at the phone for a second.
Then at the empty wallet.
Then slipped both away and got moving.
---
Two hours later—
Oden arrived at a small food shop near the agreed location.
Panda was already there.
Which made sense. Panda looked like the kind of person who arrived early to things, if only because his existence made being late too noticeable.
The moment Oden entered, Panda lifted a paw in greeting.
"You actually came."
Oden walked over.
"You sound surprised."
"I'm not surprised," Panda said. "I'm just impressed by how quickly you committed to underground violence."
Oden sat down across from him.
"It sounded efficient."
Panda nodded.
"That, weirdly enough, is the correct answer."
They spoke for a short while. Nothing serious, just enough to settle into each other's presence. Panda was easier to talk to than most people. Not because Oden suddenly became good at conversation around him, but because Panda did not seem to mind when responses arrived blunt, out of order, or with accidental disrespect.
That helped.
Eventually, Panda stood.
"Come on," he said. "I'll take you there."
Oden got up and followed.
The route took them away from the cleaner public streets and toward somewhere rougher, denser, more concealed. The kind of place Tokyo probably pretended not to have while quietly depending on it for half its hidden business.
They reached a set of gates.
Two men near the entrance stepped forward at once, clearly ready to block them.
Then one of them saw Panda properly.
His whole posture changed.
"…Oh. It's you."
Panda raised a paw lazily.
"Yeah. Me."
The men stepped aside without another word.
As Panda and Oden walked through, Oden said, "You're popular here."
Panda grinned.
"I've fought here a couple times."
"That explains the confidence."
"That, and my natural charm."
Oden looked at him.
"I don't think that's it."
Panda made an offended sound.
They moved deeper inside.
The place carried the unmistakable pulse of illegal entertainment. Tight halls, low lights, contained aggression. Somewhere ahead, Oden could already hear the roar of a crowd rising and falling like surf.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
They reached a small window where a woman sat behind reinforced glass, flipping through information with the bored efficiency of someone who had seen every type of fool come through here.
Panda leaned in slightly.
"He wants onto a card."
The woman looked up.
Then at Oden.
Then back at Panda.
"New?"
"Very."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing him.
Information was exchanged. Name. Basic details. Agreement conditions.
Then the woman spoke clearly.
"No jujutsu techniques."
Oden tilted his head.
She continued.
"Normal people can't see them. If you use anything too unnatural, it causes problems."
Panda nodded along.
"She means keep it physical."
Oden answered simply.
"Fine."
The woman looked at him another second, then wrote something down.
"Then there's no issue."
They were cleared.
As Panda and Oden walked away from the registration window and toward the waiting area, Panda glanced sideways at him.
"One more thing."
Oden looked over.
"If possible," Panda said, "make your fight theatrical."
Oden blinked once.
"Theatrical."
"Entertaining," Panda clarified. "People here pay for violence, sure. But what they really remember is spectacle."
Oden considered that.
Panda continued.
"And if you stand out enough, you might get noticed by the big boss here."
Oden slipped his hands into his pockets.
"Who?"
"Hikari."
Oden's expression remained calm, but he was listening closely.
Panda grinned.
"If Hikari notices you and likes what he sees, you'll make a lot more money."
That, finally, made Oden smile.
"Kay," he said.
And with that, he followed Panda deeper into the underground.
---
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