Chapter 17: Shopping, Then Getting Targeted
"Whoa, is he some model from an agency? He's ridiculously handsome!"
"That vibe is insane. Cool, distant, elegant... he's exactly my type!"
"Look, look, he glanced over here! Ahh, I'm gonna faint!"
Harajuku, Takeshita Street.
As one of Tokyo's busiest fashion districts, it was packed year round with young people, trendsetters, tourists, and anyone chasing the latest look.
But today, for some reason, the entire street's attention had settled on one person.
Yami.
He wore a simple white casual shirt with black slim fit trousers, the sleeves rolled up slightly to reveal clean, lean forearms. The [Shiranui] he usually kept at his waist had been tucked into a long black instrument case and slung across his back to avoid causing panic in public.
His long black hair was loosely tied behind him, swaying gently with the breeze.
With the hanafuda earrings at his ears, those calm dark red eyes, and that strange stillness that seemed to separate him from the noisy city around him, he stood out so much he almost looked unreal.
Around him, Harajuku was loud, colorful, chaotic, full of layered fabrics, bold accessories, and aggressively curated individuality.
And yet Yami, dressed in the simplest possible way, looked like a magazine cover that had somehow wandered into real life.
That composed, untouchable aura wrapped around him like a second skin, and to the boys and girls of a modern city, it was practically lethal.
"This is way too much!"
Nobara Kugisaki, holding a freshly bought crepe, finally snapped as she looked at the openly sparkling eyes of the crowd.
"I dressed up on purpose today! Why is this blockhead the one stealing all the spotlight?!"
"What can you do?"
Yuji Itadori mumbled through a mouthful of takoyaki.
"Even if Yami wore a potato sack, people would probably call it the next big trend."
"Tch. Shallow."
Megumi Fushiguro spoke coldly, clearly pretending to be above it all, while discreetly tugging his collar higher to minimize his own presence.
Walking beside those two monsters was way too much psychological pressure.
"Um, excuse me!"
Just then, a middle aged man in a suit with a neatly trimmed mustache squeezed through the crowd, smiling broadly as he thrust a business card forward.
"I'm a talent scout from Stardust Agency. Young man, your aura is incredible! Have you ever considered entering the entertainment industry?"
He practically glowed with excitement.
"I guarantee it. Sign with us, and within a month, you'll be one of Tokyo's hottest new stars!"
"Huh?"
Yami blinked.
He looked at the card in front of him with the same expression he might have worn if someone had handed him a cursed object and told him it was dessert.
This kind of situation was, in a very real sense, harder for him than facing a Special Grade Cursed Spirit.
"Excuse me, mister~"
A long, slender hand suddenly reached in and snatched the card away.
Satoru Gojo appeared with perfect timing, wearing his usual small round sunglasses and carrying several bags of sweets like a man who had just raided every dessert shop in the district.
He beamed at the talent scout.
"My student's busy saving the world, so he doesn't have time to become a celebrity."
Then he leaned in slightly, pulled down his sunglasses, and revealed those striking blue eyes.
"And besides..."
He pointed at himself with total shamelessness.
"If we're talking about looks, obviously I'm the superior one, right?"
"Huh?"
The scout stared blankly at the sudden appearance of this absurdly tall, white haired man.
Before he could recover, Gojo had already shoved Yami and the others forward with cheerful violence.
"Hurry up! The limited Kikufuku store ahead is almost sold out!"
"Gojo-sensei," Nobara said flatly, "you're just jealous Yami's more popular than you."
"What nonsense!" Gojo declared. "I'm a perfect man with hundreds of millions of fans worldwide!"
"Tch."
The three students answered in perfect unison.
Watching the four of them bicker as they walked, Yami shook his head helplessly.
Even so, a faint smile quietly rose to his lips.
This kind of ordinary, lively daily life really was precious.
If only it could stay that way.
Then Yami's footsteps slowed.
The smile at the corner of his lips disappeared so slightly no one else noticed.
His eyes sharpened.
Though he had not yet awakened the Transparent World in full, with his role playing progress past 5%, his senses had already become unnaturally keen.
Hidden somewhere beneath the dense human noise, buried under perfume, street food, and the pulse of the city, he caught it.
Several presences.
Vile.
Burning.
Wrong.
The aura of Special Grade Cursed Spirits.
And there was more than one.
"What's wrong, Yami?"
Yuji, walking a little ahead, noticed him stop and turned back curiously.
"Nothing."
The sharpness in Yami's eyes vanished in an instant, replaced once more by that same composed gentleness.
But his hand had already drifted unconsciously toward the case on his back.
He adjusted his position so naturally it looked casual, yet in that one step, he had already shifted himself between the group and the unseen threat.
"I just noticed... a few annoying bugs."
...
At the same time, inside a café on a side street in Harajuku.
A one eyed cursed spirit with a volcanic head sat by the window, staring through the glass at the black haired boy carrying the instrument case.
The coffee cup in his hand hissed.
The liquid inside evaporated instantly from the heat.
"That brat..."
Jogo narrowed his single great eye, his hoarse voice low and sinister.
"He's perceptive."
"You can feel my gaze from this far away?"
A grin, ugly and heated, spread across his face.
"So that's the swordsman with no cursed energy. The one who killed the cursed womb."
"Heh..."
"How interesting."
Sitting across from him was a young man with stitches across his face, soft features, and an almost harmless smile.
Mahito.
He turned a small transfigured human doll around in his fingers like a toy.
"Don't be impulsive, Jogo."
His tone was light, almost playful.
"Gojo Satoru's still here."
"Hmph. Of course I know that."
Jogo crushed the empty cup in his hand into powder.
Then his eye shifted back toward the street outside.
"Still..."
"That swordsman's already been marked by me."
A dangerous heat bled into his voice.
"As long as he's alone..."
The grin on his face widened, savage and eager.
"I'll show him what real flames look like."
.....
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