Toma laid on his back in the gym office with one arm under his head and the other resting over his chest. The lights were off and all there was were the humming of distant traffic and the pipes ticking every so often.
What a day… he thought. From the nightmare to the old man… am I being duped?
He then turned to his side and pulled the card out from his pocket, reading the name on it as well as the number beneath it. He flipped it between his fingers, thinking about the upfront pay and about his debt.
"I'm not special…" He repeated to himself in the dark.
His mind kept circling the same word again, again, and again.
G.M.A.
Not the sugarcoated version he listened to on radios or success reports, but the version Mr. Hosho had hinted at. An organization that was overworked, stretched thin, and silently losing ground.
"Screw it…" he muttered finally. He sat up, swung his legs off the mattress, and dialed the number. It rang a couple times before an automated voice answered.
"Thank you for contacting the Global Maestro Association liaison network. Please enter your three-digit referral code."
"Referral?" he repeated, flipping the card over. On the back were three neatly printed numbers.
048
He tapped them in, to which a soft click followed by Mr. Hosho's voice.
"Ah, Mr. Del Cid," the man greeted warmly. "I was hoping you would call."
"You've got a caller ID or something?"
"Something like that," Hosho replied before chuckling.
Toma leaned against the wall with his phone to his ear. "So… I put some thought in it. What I wanted to ask is… how much?"
Mr. Hosho didn't waste a second. "Your starting compensation would begin at approximately 85,000 Gil per month. Not including hazard adjustments, overtime, or performance incentives."
The world stopped in Toma's eyes, his brain short-circuiting.
"P-Pardon?"
"Roughly," Mr. Hosho added politely as if he were discussing mere grocery money.
Eighty-five thousand… per month? That was rent for years. Debt decreased dramatically. Food that wasn't instant noodles. He let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.
"You're bullshitting me, aren't you?"
"I assure you, I am not," Mr. Hosho replied calmly.
Toma slid down the wall until he was slumped against the floor, his free hand resting against his forehead as he tried to contain himself.
"Well… in that case, I'm most definitely in, sir. This is… beyond words," he said with a shaky voice.
"Very good, Mr. Del Cid."
Toma felt adrenaline buzzing through his veins. "So– when do I start? Next week? Is there orientation or something or–"
"Immediately," Mr. Hosho cut him off.
"Immediately…?"
"Yes."
There was a small rustle on Hosho's end before he continued.
"Please come to the following address."
Mr. Hosho texted Toma an address, to which when searching for it:
"A parking garage?"
"A temporary rendezvous, yes. Please arrive alone."
"Tonight…?"
"Yes."
Toma glanced at the time and his heart kicked hard. Curfew was in effect already.
"Alright… alright, I got it," he said anyway.
"Excellent. I will see you shortly, Mr. Del Cid."
The line went dead with a small beep. His pulse roared in his ears and he let out a breathless laugh.
"Guess I'm doing this… eighty-five thousand…"
After getting dressed into newer clothing, a tracksuit and sneakers, he slipped into the night. The curfew had pressed down on everything, leaving the streets with very few people and doors shut tighter. The only source of light were the flickering street signs. He pulled his hood over his light, rosy pink hair and checked the address again.
Can't believe I've never been this far, he realized as he walked.
After passing under an overpass, where a stray cat watched him from atop a parked scooter, he looked ahead to see the parking structure rising ahead of him–B2 indicated by a faded sign.
Toma entered slowly until he saw the silhouette leaning against the hood of a lone car. There he was, still dressed in that trenchcoat and fedora.
Mr. Hosho stepped forward into the spill of a streetlamp, his presence almost pleasantly familiar.
"I trust you arrived safely?"
"Yeah…" Toma said, clearing his throat. "Took a bit. This isn't really my normal route…"
After a while, Mr. Hosho inclined his head before opening the passenger door. "Please, Mr. Del Cid."
Toma hesitated before stepping in, the door shutting with a solid thunk, completely sealing him inside. The car then eased down the ramp before finally pressing into the night.
Toma's posture was stiff in the passenger seat, his hands clenching at his knees. He tried not to stare and tried not to look like someone who'd never been in a car this clean before. The interior smelled of leather and something herbal, a smell that was overwhelming. His stomach churned.
As Mr. Hosho drove with one hand on the wheel, his posture relaxed, Toma mustered a question.
"Where… where are we going, sir?"
Mr. Hosho glanced at him briefly before his eyes returned to the road. The faintest smile touched his lips.
"We are off to the Karasuma Sect," he said.
Toma felt his breath freeze at that.
Karasuma…? He thought. That was… Central Authority. The heart of Aokabe. The G.M.A.'s Academy was there. It was a place people like him only saw on TV or heard of through radios.
As the skyline ahead rose brighter than anything Toma had ever stood beneath, Mr. Hosho continued.
"That is where your work truly begins."