Work Text
"You haven’t been granted permission to leave the property."
The AI’s name is Alice. She was programmed by an idiot working for the megacorporate Six Senses. Sitting in a blue plastic chair for twelve hours daily, he was forced to have no other life. If one didn’t work for more than ten hours daily for SS every single day, they'd be proclaimed useless, kicked out, and probably stuffed into a can like sardels. Too many Broderick and Josephs are seated in rows, exhausted, shivering, and on the verge of suicide. Their heads are swollen from the concentration drugs and derms, while they run their fingers across the holographic keyboards in a crazy tempo. Everyone's job is to create the most human AI because someone once heard somebody talking about how the CEO of SS would like to study a crazy, murderous AI. In the span of a few months, five people have died in the lab, and many have gone crazy from being locked with their little creations. The God complex was necessary to happen. One of the products, though thankfully a failed attempt, was Alice, a security system designed with a sole purpose: to control and track the Gojo’s only omega, the precious property of Six Senses. The plastic idiot who created Alice held the belief that Satoru would never attempt to break free from the golden cage in which he had spent his entire life. To those white-collar fools, Satoru was merely a pretty, stupid omega, patiently waiting for his alpha to arrive and make him smart. Satoru loved to play with those assumptions. That’s why some of those people woke up to find their bank accounts emptied, their properties sold, and their families listed as candidates for organ donation. Alice was an idiot like her creator. Just like God must have been a moron when he was programming humans. The psychotic AI kept blabbering about Satoru needing to immediately return to his engaging party as his alpha was waiting to plunge his ungrateful omega hole and make him finally purposeful. Satoru let her try to persuade him on his way to the hangar. There he stabbed another plastic idiot repairing the broken door Satoru jammed earlier in the morning. He slipped inside, hacked one of the motorcycle’s programs, and on his way out, he short-circuited Alice. Her last words were swallowed in the roaring of the bike’s engine and the complete ignorance of Satoru’s brain. Once he hit the road, he hacked the gate security system he had helped build. It opened its legs for him, as he was supposed for the zinc idiot. The alpha exhibited a higher concentration of zinc on his face than in his body, a trait that was evident in his mentality and intelligence. Somehow that deranged pudding that took the form of a human managed to persuade Satoru’s parents that he was the best party for their prodigious son. Zinc pudding experienced the brain-cell connection only once. It was when Satoru spoke to him directly, and then no more. Satoru never made that mistake again and manipulated the man to talk to him via messages or direct his ideas to any other plastic in the research center. Now, the zincomaniac can keep humping his chrome arm for the rest of his fucking life, because any normal Omega would rather stab themselves with a fork than mate with him. A liar, a disgusting piece of shit, parasitic on Satoru’s work. Yes, parasitic, though nobody would believe Satoru if he said he's the person behind half of the codes that keep SS alive. No, of course, because he's only a stupid Omega; the machine for pups wouldn’t ever be able to come with a code more complicated than ‘Body:’ Every number Satoru had ever written was passed to the zincomaniac account. A fucking moocher who thought that they could live in a perfect symbiosis. Satoru would do the thinking part, and he would do the brain-rotting part. The most devastating aspect of his parents' lapse in judgment was when they guided Satoru to what he thought was a surprise birthday party, which turned out to be a covert engagement celebration in disguise. Fuck the alpha and his parents. If he had the ability, he would detonate a bomb on Six Senses.As Satoru finally left the property, the blinding lights lining the highway welcomed him. The advertising areas emitted so much light that it felt like they could x-ray one's body. From pills promising beauty but only in one's mind to hardware that could turn a person into an ancient god, capable of striking lightning and fire with just a snap of their fingers.With each passing mile, the light pollution worsened. Being born in Neon City meant having his eyes upgraded by the age of two, or he would slowly start losing his sight. The city was designed for mech enthusiasts and psychopaths who paid millions to companies like Six Senses to embed subliminal messages into ads and music.The darkness of the world had been consumed by endless rows of colorful neon lights that could mess with perception like LSD. One could never know the true color of their skin due to the constant rainbow of lights radiating from buildings and even small alleyways. The quickest way to make money was to sell a house for another garish neon advertisement.Entering the heart of Neon City was like diving into lightning while high on Blue Glass.The smell changed, forcing Satoru to activate the filtration system in his lungs. It had been almost ten years since he last visited the city. If his parents hadn't ruined his villainous plan with the engaging party, he would still be sitting at home and conspiring. Satoru would have preferred to kill that zinc piece of trash, but that would only allow another deranged fool to take his chance with the idiotic Gojo Omega.It was better to die in the shallow waters of Green Bay than become a mass murderer of idiots. The vibrant smudge began to fade as more time passed. Satoru went to the west. There in Green Bay, his goal was to submerge the bike and continue on foot. This would allow him some time to escape, leading the security team to believe that he had drowned himself. After all, how could a drooling hole be capable of operating a motorcycle? They’re still probably perplexed about how that drooling hole overdrove all the systems. Now his parents have a lot to explain. The security team will gladly listen to the story about how the Gojo omega is not a brainless gummy worm but the backbone of the company. Only the imagination of them gluing together words like smart, genius, Satoru, and omega into a line made Satoru chuckle. The second Satoru hit the pier in Green Bay, he turned his Infinity chip off and met the presence. The world around him clashed into one reality, and his inner clock clicked. He's here, in the present, no longer slowing down. His brain quickly processes the information, and he lets go of the bike. It slides from under his legs and arms the second the chip powers down. Satoru hits the ground in real-time. He hears the bubbles swallowing the vehicle. It takes his brain a few seconds to stabilize. There's a slight throb behind his eyes, a heartbeat so fast it could slay a cheetah.The physical abnormalities swiftly balance, and soon Satoru is standing on his feet, his six eyes calculating the depth of the water and the distance from one shore to another. Satoru shrugs off his suit jacket. He’s about to dive in when a strong pair of arms snatches him from his desirable freedom and drags him across the pier. Satoru activates the protocol of self-defense, but at that moment another person aims a gun at him. His green, metallic teeth appear as if he has been consuming spinach and broccoli for a year.“Sweet, look at those eyes.” The green teeth say, pointing the shotgun at Satoru’s head. “I swear I saw ‘em somewhere before.” “Yeah? Might shred some kaching,” says the other alpha gripping at Satoru’s torso. “But it’s a pretty meat we have here.” Every time an omega walks on the street, a horndog shows up to complicate their life. An omega can't breathe, see, speak, chew, pee, shit, or fuck without an alpha having something to say about it. Satoru might as well be taken for a walking sex ad. Just rip one and enjoy. Never call again. If he could activate his reality chip again, it would be easy to beat them, but this way he’s challenged by the shotgun that would blow off half of his body, and it doesn’t even need to hit the target precisely. Satoru struggles against the hold, planting his boots into the wood. He needs the green teeth alpha to come closer so he can try to kick that weapon out of his hands. “This is enough!” Green teeth comes to a halt. “Knock him off or something." Too far. He’s too far now. Satoru stares as the alpha opens his belt and slides his zipper down. A red, angry, pulsating dick springs up and is soon presented to Satoru's face. Satoru can and will bite. Those fuckers have no idea where he was born. “I wouldn’t try any funny business.” The red-head alpha behind him hisses, putting the sharp edge of his knife under Satoru’s chin. “I dun care about fuckin’ a corpse as long as it’s still warm, ya know? Sweetie, just stay put and enjoy. We’ll only take those eyes and go.” Satoru's six eyes catch sight of something approaching. It's just a glimpse in his peripheral vision, but he's certain something is heading their way. He doubts anyone would come to his aid if he screamed, but before that thought fully forms in his mind, a bullet pierces the head of the Green Teeth's alpha.Some of the blood splatters onto Satoru's black shirt and cheek, but most of the gray matter that was once a brain splashes onto the pier.The shock momentarily disorients him; Satoru doesn't expect to fall, but the other alpha begins to retreat, only to be struck by the motorcycle of the person who likely shot the first alpha.Everything happens quickly, intensifying Satoru's frantic heartbeat. No chip can stabilize the hormonal surge he's experiencing. All he can do is stare at the man who removes his helmet. His long black hair falls down his shoulders. He moves quickly, tossing the helmet onto the ground, and then, without hesitation, he kicks the redhead alpha into his stomach.For Satoru, everything seems to move in slow motion. He needs no drugs to take in every morbid detail unfolding before his eyes. When the man straightens up, Satoru's keen vision catches the gentle purple light pulsating through the thin layer of skin on his neck. It's an artificial artery, something he's never seen with his own eyes before.The wind carries a blend of pheromones toward Satoru, but he is certain that the most potent, the one that smells like a church and legendary holy ground, must belong to this alpha.The alpha draws what appears to be a magnum from the leg holster strapped around his leather-clad thigh and shoots the red alpha in the head.Merciless. The pier is soon besieged by alphas on bikes. It must be a local gang, which makes everything worse for Satoru. Instead of just being raped by two alphas, he’s getting gang rape. Satoru clenches his teeth, hoping the scent blockers still work. An omega in distress to alpha is like a bone to a dog. Which can save a life if the alpha is a normal person with basic morals. However, alphas often use their strong protective instincts to do the exact opposite. Standing tall is the last thing Satoru can do for himself.The black-haired alpha leans against his motorcycle, pulling a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. As he flicks the filter, the cigarette ignites just as a flying advertisement passes overhead, casting a flickering dance of blue and red light across his face.Satoru catches a glimpse of his purple eyes.“Now,” he speaks up, his voice blending into the background noise, “what is an omega doing in Uzumaki’s Bay?”The alphas, brimming with testosterone, fall silent in unison. Whether it’s a display of power or just an automatic response, Satoru doesn’t know. Either way, it's impressive to see someone controlling a crowd with just his sheer presence. No barking commands, no threats. They know their place."See, I don't bite," the alpha says, exhaling smoke. "Come a bit closer. "I wanna see if you’re not hurt." The last words have the same effect on Satoru as the copper used in wiring. He's high instantly, full of energy he doesn’t know he’s been storing. So, this is what they mean when talking about a hormone craze in front of that one special alpha. Satoru has never experienced the butterflies in his stomach—the perfect chemical balance that makes one high without using drugs.The night sky around the bay engulfs everything in navy hues interwoven with gold and silver. The active ships boast holographic sails to attract tourists. As Satoru takes a few cautious steps forward, the light from the ships reaches his back, creating a bright halo around his white hair."Saw the brick face holding a knife." The alpha nods towards Satoru. "You okay?"Now that the surroundings are quieter, Satoru can finally hear him clearly. He expected many things, but not this smooth, velvet-like voice, as polished as glass, coming from the alpha's lips. However, upon closer inspection, Satoru might revise his initial judgment. The man is undeniably handsome, but his beauty transcends typical masculine features. There’s something ancient about him.“Cat got your tongue?” Someone from behind the alpha asks. “Must be in a shock or something,” another one utters. Satoru is solely focused on the man in front of him, regardless of their continued blabbering. The one who was worried enough about a random omega that he shot two alphas for him. Someone with a fleshy, beating heart. “You wear a lovely pair of eyes,” the alpha says, flicking the cigarette away. “Suguru!” A man approaches, leaning an excited hand on the alpha’s shoulder. “I know those eyes.” Damn. Satoru takes a hesitant step back. He had forgotten about his six eyes. Still reeling from the recent events, the last thing on his mind was the technology built into his eyes—the unique feature that makes Satoru a walking radioactive flag. Everyone knows who he is and what those eyes can do.He looks away, calculating how long it would take to reach the edge of the pier and jump into the water. How quickly he can swim in the cold water to escape the gang. Right now, he's nothing but a valuable target to them. So much for trusting an alpha who saved his life.The thought of love should never bother his heart. A stupid piece of meat, easily excited by the slightest hint of hope."I recognize Six Eyes everywhere," the man with a strong accent says, "but only one person carries the blue ones." The Gojo’s omega.” Suguru tilts his head, pondering quietly. “Interesting.” “Yeah, the Six Senses doesn’t manufacture blue ones. They made their little omega look superior. One of a kind.” He chuckles mockingly. “More like a walking flag.” Suguru corrects him. “Nothing to flex.” First mockery, now pity? If they know his name, then they must know that... That Satoru is just a useless omega who has never invented anything in his life. They must think he's just a breeding vessel, waiting for the right alpha to mate with him so the SS corp can have a competent heir. They know nothing about the real Satoru."What use can an omega put on those techs?"“Miguel....” Suguru stops him with a gentle wave of his hand. “Jealous much?” Satoru offers a mischievous grin. “Is that why a bunch of eggplant heads pulled over? To save a poor omega in distress or to get free hardware?” Suguru eyes him curiously, while someone in the back barks at Satoru to watch his tongue. A foolish little creature like him could disappear into the water, akin to a drop of rain in the ocean. It was a warning, not a threat, but even that was enough for Suguru to react as if the remark was directed at him.“Hey! Shut up!” He hisses without even turning around. It boosts Satoru's ego. Here he is, a wild, unmated omega, taunting the alphas, and they can't do anything about it without their leader's permission. Something tells Satoru that the permission will never come. He knows he's quite the catch with his omega traits: tall, lean, muscular, wealthy, and desired. Who can offer more?“There’s a bounty on his head.” Miguel grins as a green light flickers across his eye implant, nodding at Satoru. “This baby bird just fled his nest. Wonder what the matter is?”“Not at all,” Suguru replies, tilting his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed.“What? Not excited about a fat stack of crypto? Not the ransom type?” Satoru taunts them with a spiteful grin.“He sure talks a lot for someone who almost bit the dust,” Miguel shakes his head. “kind of an ungrateful little brat, don’t you think? Spoiled Neon kid.”Suguru places a reassuring hand on Miguel’s shoulder. When Miguel returns to his bike, Suguru steps closer to pick up his helmet from the ground.“What makes you think we need your money, sweet boy?”Satoru locks his eyes on him. “Everyone needs money.”“You clearly don’t,” Suguru replies, gesturing to all the high-tech gear Satoru is wearing. Returning to his bike, he places the helmet on the seat.“So, what’s an expensive, wired-up, baby soap-smelling omega doing in Uzumaki’s Bay, hm?”Only now does Satoru realize he has crossed the city line. He never intended to leave Neon City; even his tracking system failed to alert him to the border crossing. What the hell is happening? When did Green Bay of Neon City become part of Uzumaki’s territory? And on top of that, a gang is ruling the district? This must be a sick joke, a side effect of the Infinity chip.“None of your fucking business,” Satoru retorts, with a hostile tone.Even the most gorgeous alpha can be deceitful. Satoru has no luck in games or love. He's destined to become either a breeding hole or a floating corpse. The golden mean is a legend only dreamers can afford.Silently contemplating, Suguru steps away from his bike, reaches into the pocket of his silky shirt, and pulls out a pair of round sunglasses. The few steps he takes to reach Satoru disappear in an instant, as if he effortlessly glides to him.“Then at least cover your eyes.” He slides the black sunglasses onto Satoru’s nose and pushes them up. When Satoru looks at him over the frames, he catches a stealthy glimpse of the playful grin tugging at the corner of Suguru’s pierced lips.Suguru is aware of the glint in Satoru’s blue eyes, the one that signals he just used the tech.“You’re bait for tech-dealers.” “Suguru!” someone from the gang calls out. “We have company!”“Well, then...” Without giving Satoru another glance, Suguru turns around and walks back to his bike.Satoru stands there, absorbing what just happened. He basks in the mist of hazy perfume, in the presence of a forgotten holiness. This alpha has an unusual scent—oddly calming yet terrifying at the same time. It was a religious experience.Satoru has seen gang leaders only in the news, and Suguru must be the only one who doesn't chrome his body or wear flashy colors and crazy robotic add-ons with thick hardware that makes their body asymmetric.There's only flesh, synth skin, some hardware, and chipsets. He notices a vitamin D patch on his shoulder and an antidote on his thigh—probably dealing with some drug withdrawal.But aside from that, he's as compassionate as one can be in this digital era."Get out of here, sweet boy!" Suguru shouts, slipping on a cropped leather jacket over his shirt.Satoru is utterly devastated by the waist corset made of carbon threads Suguru wears. Though it's clearly part of an armory set-up, it complements him perfectly. It looks so hot. He wishes he could run his fingers over the fine leather; maybe lick it too. Ah, Satoru would absolutely take his time to rub his pussy over it until it's stained and soaked through with his slick. What a piece of art that belt is. The sudden hum of the motor pulls Satoru back to the present.“What?! Are you going to leave me here?!” Satoru shouts, his distress evident in his scent. “First you kill those bastards for me, and now you’re leaving me for more?!”Suguru, sitting on his bike, replies, “Sweet Omega boy, don’t fool yourself into thinking I did it for you.” His smirk vanishes behind the shield of his helmet.The engines roar to life, and the entire squad moves out, leaving a cloud of dust to settle on the pier.As the ocean's silence reclaims the harbor, a torrent of emotions overwhelms Satoru's clouded mind. The adrenaline rush subsides, and the lone ghost of Uzumaki City greets him.The distant clink of an archaic buoy reminds Satoru of his earlier plan to dive into the water and swim across the bay. The sound makes him realize a critical flaw in his plan: sonars. These buoys once emitted sound signals to communicate and warn mariners. Although they are now out of order, they remind Satoru of the underwater security cameras that monitor the harbor for smugglers. Security has already scrutinized his sunken bike countless times. Everyone in the Six Senses knows he didn't drown, so they won't waste time searching the area.He had spent so much time in the golden cage that he had almost forgotten how the real world functions. While this is military tech, Satoru's expertise lies in the medical sector.Even the smartest can stumble, but that doesn’t mean he’s out of options. After all, his life is built on survival skills.Surveying his surroundings, Satoru doesn’t dwell on the impossibility of escape; instead, he evaluates his options. The Six Eyes scan the gun's serial numbers, and within a fraction of a second, Satoru has the entire manual and tech report downloaded. He picks up the Frugo gun, one of the latest models, secures the trigger, and slides it behind the waist of his pants.In the distance, he hears the roar of four wheels approaching at breakneck speed. Before he knows it, a black, tuned car skids across the concrete and stops at the wooden part of the pier where Satoru stands. He immediately pulls out the gun, aiming at the driver.The engine purrs like an overgrown cat. When the headlights turn off, the door opens.“I’m not here to harm you,” they say, raising their hands. “I’m a friend.”“I don’t have friends,” Satoru retorts, unlocking the gun."I thought it was forever with us," they tease as they carefully pull back their hood. “It’s me, Shoko.”Satoru’s grip tightens around the gun handle. Every muscle in his body tenses as the name sinks in. Giant neon arrows point to the only person who has never betrayed him and who has only ever asked for friendship. He wants to believe she’s still the same girl from six years ago—the cheeky young lady, as Satoru’s parents used to call her before they destroyed her family.Two decades of relentless mental abuse have taught Satoru to trust no one. Why would someone who lost everything because of his parents want to call themselves his friend? Nobody does anything for free. In this era of toxic air, every breath has a cost, and a single thought can be deadly.Satoru faces two choices: steal the car and leave her behind, or trust the bond they once shared and get in the car with her.However, people often misinterpret the ancient word "hope" as a term that describes real action.“How much are they offering for me?” Satoru asks, his voice icy.Shoko remains silent, her hands lowering in disbelief.“How much?!” he repeats.“A million.”While his words are logical, his heart burns with wildfire. Every muscle in his body aches to run to Shoko, to take her into his arms and apologize for his family’s crimes. She would have every right to kill him on the spot and claim the reward. But before any of that can happen, he needs to know who gave her the information. What madness is unfolding around him?It’s been barely thirty minutes since he’s out of the plastic prison, and he’s already attempted to be murdered, then met the possible love of his life, and the peak of the night is his long-lost childhood friend. What mushrooms are those people burning around? Satoru must be having a quality trip. Or perhaps there's a slight possibility that he's simply overwhelmed by the way the outside world functions.Either way, he can't waste any more time making a decision.“How did you know I’m here?” Satoru takes a step closer. “I got an echo from one of the gang’s members that were here,” she explains, “he’s sort of a friend of mine.” “You must have been hanging around if you managed to get here so fast.” "He set me up with a job close by." Satoru’s hand feels heavy with the weight of the death he carries. The gun, made of wolfram and zinc, feels like a prison ball. A storm of emotions rages inside his skull. His emotional chip must be experiencing low current voltage. Satoru needs to eat something quickly, or half of his gadgets will soon stop working. The stress and adrenaline have already drained a significant amount of his energy.If he had more time to plan his escape, everything would have been different. But his parents managed to camouflage their morbid plan behind the annual birthday party. Nobody, not even the zincomaniac, knew what was happening. They maintained their secrecy, fully aware that Satoru was closely monitoring every event in their home, ready to pounce on any miscommunication. Always careful, almost sadistically meticulous parents.Satoru had no choice but to excuse himself from the party and then work on the run.Everything has led to this very moment with Shoko. Plus, if he wants to find his perfect alpha again, he needs to survive. He still has a gun to secure his escape plan.“Damn, I overthink too much!” Satoru curses himself, his heart racing.He has no time to speculate. Time is ticking; every second is as precious as a diamond.“I know it sounds suspicious, but it’s still the old me,” Shoko insists. “You did some crazy stuff, Satoru. My God, do you have any idea what you’ve done?! I want to help you, even if it costs me my life.”The honesty in her words shocks Satoru enough to lower his hand. No technology can deceive his eyes. Shoko is scared; adrenaline is turning her arteries into wild rivers. Though it could be from the fear of being caught lying, the human eye never lies. She wants to leave as quickly as possible.“You used to be so phlegmatic; where is this ‘I’ll die for you’ nonsense coming from?” Satoru asks, locking the gun.Shoko visibly relaxes and throws her head back. “It’s because you’re such an inspirational asshole!” she replies casually, getting into the car. “Get in!”Wasting no more precious seconds, Satoru jumps into the car. Before he can fully close the door, Shoko stomps on the gas. With a screech of the wheels, the car turns and speeds away from what used to be Green Bay, now Uzumaki Bay.Things have changed so much.“Luckily, there are no functional cameras in the bay right now,” Shoko says once they’re out of the district. “The gangs are constantly fighting there, damaging the cams.”She shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t believe in fate, but you’re a lucky son of a bitch.”“For that statement alone, I feel like murdering you,” he replies darkly, frowning. “It’s not funny.”“Oh, please, you grumpy cat. You used to laugh in their faces; what happened to the fighter?”Satoru stares blankly at the windshield, not really absorbing the outside scenery. Darkness envelops his mind as he explores his memories.As a child, he was spoiled and reckless, never developing a sense of danger. Raised under a false sense of security, his parents plotted twisted schemes behind his back. By the age of fourteen, he was already engaged for the first time. Fortunately for Satoru, that fiasco ended well. When the adult man took him to their supposed 'nest,' Satoru 'accidentally' set it on fire while laughing maniacally.The alpha slapped him once and then lost his arm. No one touches the Gojo's omega without risking their life, no matter how prominent they are. Gojo Satoru's brain is invaluable. His parents couldn't risk Satoru slipping and hitting his head after being punched by his alpha. He could lose his memory or damage the precious cargo inside his skull.And though a normal person would simply let Satoru rule over the empire, his parents were never normal. Letting an omega rule anything at all would mean admitting that omegas were more than breeding holes and experiments for sick scientists. There’s a saying that prominent people use in their inner circle: only an alpha misses an omega. Which simply means that a lonely omega is as good as dead. “Satoru...” Shoko tries again, “What happened?”Adjusting his position, Satoru turns his head towards the door, closing his eyes against the fleeting colorful stains.“I’ve had enough.”She pauses before responding, “What’s the breaking point for Gojo Satoru?”“My false belief in freedom.”“Okay...” she says uncertainly, searching for words. “I mean, you’re in a deep mess; I get it. It’s just that I’m not used to this serious Satoru.”“I’m not a kid anymore.”“You don’t say.”Sighing, Satoru slides lower in the seat, propping his leg up on the dashboard. A lot has happened today, and the aftershock of his decision is slowly catching up with him. It's hard to believe he's outside the villa, out of the prison he called home. This is the world—the reality for others. Everything happens fast, all at once, and nothing revolves around Satoru.He's not the star out here, among the remnants of human hearts and the slums that once held dignity. The beeping of electronics reduces everything to dust. The flashing lights bleach the brains of millions daily. Satoru helped build this empire of mushrooms—a reality that feels like a toxic acid trip.“You’ve grown up well,” Shoko says, probably trying to compliment him. “Handsome omega.”“Thanks,” he mumbles, folding his arms across his chest.“I still can’t believe I have you in my car.”Satoru lowers his gaze thoughtfully. “Shoko, you said someone gave you a tip.”“Yes, Larue. He’s a customer at our repair shop,” she explains with a tiny smile. “We hang out sometimes.”“He’s a member of the gang.”Her smile fades as she nods. “The gang is one of the good ones. You were lucky they found you first.”“Second,” he corrects her. “I ran into a duo before.”The dead bodies remain. He doubts anyone will call the police. When the SS security team arrives, the mashed brains will be nothing more than dirt under their soles. Not that Satoru cares. If it weren’t for the spinach-tooth idiot and his accomplice, Satoru would never have met the future father of his children.Everything bad is good for something. “Tell me about their leader.” Shoko glances at him shortly. “Why?" “I’m curious about the guy who saved my life.” That’s reasonable, right? He only wants to be a grateful omega and suck the dick of his savior alpha. Nobody can complain. "That's bullshit," she immediately sees through his deception. "It's not about that at all. Grateful to alphas? Don't kid yourself. You couldn't have changed that much in six years."Satoru pouts slightly, "Six years is a long time.""Tell me why you ran away!" she demands. "Tell me it wasn't because of some crazy alpha, and I'll tell you everything I know about Suguru."Just hearing the name sends shivers down his spine and a flutter to his stomach. So this is what they call butterflies, huh? No wonder people say falling in love is pleasant. Satoru opens the photo he took of Suguru on the pier. The image materializes in front of his eyes like a hallucination. His Six Eyes provide photographs that no one else can see. A projector would need to be inserted into his eyes, causing them to bulge and appear asymmetrical. It's unattractive, and Satoru still hasn't come up with a model that keeps the lenses as flat as natural crystalline ones."You're smiling!" Shoko exclaims, astonished. "Oh my god, you're smiling! What do you see?""Nothing." He clears his throat, blinking away the projection."Liar. Stop lying to me all the time. Be a little grateful for the ride and tell me why you ran away or what you were staring at.""I don't remember you being this noisy," he complains, putting his leg down, arms still crossed. "You used to be so laid-back. Seriously, what happened?""That's my question, so answer it, or no info about Suguru."Sighing, Satoru turns his head towards her. As he ponders, he doesn't even notice he's started bouncing his leg."Arranged marriage, again.""Must have been a real devil if you didn't try to murder them first," Shoko teases.“I’d rather get fucked by a chair leg for the rest of my life.” Shoko falls silent, gripping the steering wheel. She had always been supportive of Satoru. His enemies were hers. When they were fourteen, she even wanted to help him escape his first engagement. Naive and supportive of Satoru’s rebellious behavior, Shoko's actions soon led Satoru’s parents to take measures to curb such behavior. They were always aware of everything happening to Satoru. They never dismissed anything as a foolish child's joke because Satoru had never been a foolish child.Shortly after Shoko suggested running away, her father’s company was embroiled in a financial scandal, lost its clientele, and went bankrupt. Shoko and her family were forced to leave the East Coast and move to the West. Satoru hadn't heard from her after that.It was his fault."Your turn," Satoru challenges her."I still don't get it. Haven't you had enough time to come up with a plan to run away?""They announced that wonderful news at my birthday party.""Holy shit!" she exclaims in disbelief. "Happy seventh of December, Satoru.""Well, at least I met Suguru."Her shock quickly turns into a chuckle. Why be mysterious about what he wants? The universe needs to know Suguru is already his alpha. He'll eliminate any potential rival. Satoru knows nothing about flirting or courting, but a lack of knowledge has never stopped him from achieving his goals. For those gentle eyes and honeyed voice, he's willing to do anything."Satoru..." Shoko shakes her head. "You're constantly walking on the edge, but this time you're at risk of toppling over.""As long as I fall on the right side.""What if there's no side?" she counters. "What if walking the line is the only way to stay alive?""Not even I am that pessimistic.""Satoru," she says in a warning tone, "You're not from this world." I'm not saying you can't survive here; hell, you're like a cockroach.""Rude!""But here, we..." Frustrated, she hits the steering wheel. "It would suck if you got hurt here after finding what you wanted.""I'd rather die than go back, so whatever happens to me is equal or better."Shoko drops her shoulders and, with a resigned sigh, gives in. "Okay, it's your choice, but don't say I didn't warn you.""What's his full name?""Not wasting time, huh?" She teases with a bitter chuckle. "Geto Suguru.""So, who is he?""Why don't you try to find out through your infinite sources of information the Six Eyes provide you?"Satoru frowns, biting his tongue to avoid saying something that might get him kicked out of the car. Since he arrived in this city, everything has become chaotic. His tech is only causing problems. If he could remove it without going blind, he wouldn't hesitate."It broke," he retorts in a tone that says don't ask anymore.Sensing the tension, she doesn't push the topic further."I don't know much about him. I only know what Larue is willing to divulge."So, you actually know nothing," he sighs, disappointed. "Seems like I must go straight to the source.""I mean, I know a thing or two. Larue sometimes complains about their leader being all enigmatic and obsessed with Soba."Satoru blinks, "With Soba?""Yup."Cute. That's just cute. He didn't expect that, but he immediately imagined Suguru with his hair tied up, breaking chopsticks with a hunger in his eyes. Hunger could mean so many things. Once Suguru satisfied his basic needs, he could get an extra portion of Satoru's VIP meat. Satoru likes to think his ass is cute. Dessert is what the best leader deserves.For twenty years, having sex with an alpha has never crossed Satoru’s mind. Disgusted to the point he often vomited from the horny scent some alphas emitted around him, the idea of ever spending his heat with an alpha has become so distant that he barely ever paid attention to it. Building his own chip for controlling his heat was his top priority after he reached the age of seventeen. Since then, he’s never turned it off. Satoru has no idea what heat feels like, and he doesn't mind dying without knowing if the right alpha will never appear.Somewhere out there must be a brave and gentle alpha who can fall in love with Satoru. “Do you know where they gather usually?” “Satoru,” she begins in disbelief, “you have a whole SS security team and bounty hunters behind your ass, and all you care about is an alpha?” “I don’t mind dying like a virgin, but preferably I’d like to know what sex feels like.” “You’re fucking crazy.” “Besides, if I manage to get under his skin, who can protect me better than a gang leader?” He smirks, looking at her over the frame of his sunglasses. Shoko rubs her forehead, completely disarmed. “You’re nuts.” Shrugging, Satoru leans his head against the background. Closing his eyes, he’s already imagining the future. His little escape room is vivid and smells like sandalwood. “So, say, how can I meet this Larue? He needs to help me meet the future father of my children.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Satoru tears the shading tape with his teeth and fastens the last bit of the sheet that covers the ceiling in Shoko's living room. The signal-proof tape and sheet grant Satoru the privacy he needs to begin his new life. Somehow, Shoko's apartment has become that special place. Not without complaining, of course. Any sane person would have objections if a half-insane omega began constructing their villain lair in their living room. But Satoru is not a complete asshole. When he wrote down the long list of necessities he needed for the reconstruction of Shoko's place, he gave her the gold crypto card and allowed her to buy anything she wanted at the price of the most expensive item on the list. It wouldn't be Shoko if she didn't roll her eyes at him, call him awful, and then walk away. Satoru spent the majority of his life creating the untraceable GCC. While he takes pride in his achievements, he remains watchful about his purchases. In this world, nothing is truly secure. Especially when you're your own worst enemy. With a sigh, Satoru climbs down the ladder and flops onto the sofa. As he sits down, the baggy pants that Shoko had given him bunch up around his knees, making him look completely ridiculous. To complete his clown look, just give him a giant lollipop and a paper pinwheel and release him into the wilderness. Satoru shakes his head and stretches his legs, gazing at his bare feet. When he was seven, a motorcycle ran over his foot, shattering all his bones and crushing his muscles. As a child, Satoru found it oddly fascinating. With tears in his eyes, he asked his father if he could let his foot heal naturally. His father dismissed him and stopped listening the moment Satoru said, "It's my wish." Later, Satoru realized he could only desire things that matched his parents' wishes. A smug smile spreads across Satoru's face as he kicks his feet up on the table. His parents must be losing their minds. The entire Neon City is under scrutiny, with Satoru's face plastered all over the news while his poor parents cry on every channel. Nice, Satoru hopes they will soon get relegated to the eleven o'clock horror show. Satoru outstretches his arms and sighs, satisfied with himself. It's so quiet here, not even the noise from outside can get through. He checks the time. Shoko has been out there for three hours already. Oh, he can't wait to get his hands on all the new toys. His fingers are already itching with anticipation. Turning around, he crosses his arms over the couch's headrest and looks around. Shoko's place is a basement turned into a two-room apartment. The walls are solid brick and iron. Her hot water never runs out because she shares the central boiler with the building. She has a propane stove, an electric kettle, and a modern TV. It's a perfect place to turn into a bunker or a villain's lair. Both work for Satoru. He's not picky. The heavy door slams shut as Shoko announces she's back and needs help with the bags. Satoru jumps to his feet and rushes to her, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. "Here you go." Shoko points to the four plastic bags she set on the floor. "The one-inch cable you wanted is in the car. And about the router—the guy said he doesn't have it in stock." Usually, when someone claims they don't have it right now, it implies they can obtain it from the black market, which Satoru wants to avoid. This is because contraband items can be pre-hacked, have defective components, or, worse, belong to someone dangerous. The last thing Satoru needs is to encounter an irate tech dealer or yakuza. "Forget him. Did you try asking anywhere else?" he asks, crouching down to open one of the bags and inspect its contents. "Of course." Shoko watches him patiently. "She stated that they only sell those to large corporations or factories." She saw no reason to sell it to me." Satoru looks up from the bag. "Did you try bribing her?" "No! Are you crazy?" Shoko's voice cracks slightly. "I don't want to end up as fish food." "Yeah, right..." Satoru barely responds, pulling out an electric screwdriver and a package of magnetic pods. She even bought him the classic square-head screws he wanted. "Look," Shoko rakes her fingers through her hair. "I might've said I'd put my life on the line for your thing, but not like this. It's not worth it." Satoru hums as he stands up, grabs all the bags, and heads to the living room. "Go get the cable! And did you buy me Neola?" "Yes, your highness!" Shoko snickers as the door closes again. Satoru eagerly dumps the bags onto the living room carpet and starts categorizing everything. He picks up one of the cheap cameras Shoko bought and examines it. Its weight is surprisingly heavy for such a large piece. It feels cheap to the touch, but it will serve as perfect camouflage for the real setup he'll build later. He needs a decoy. Among the packages of various screws, Satoru finds a small plastic bag with a derm. The label reads vitamin D, E, and C, and Satoru sighs. That's meant for him, isn't it? It was in one of his bags. Satoru rubs his forehead. Does he look sick or something? His built-in monitor states that he's healthy as a fish. Satoru hears the door shut, and he glances over his shoulder at Shoko as she drags the thick cable behind her. With a huff, she drops it on the floor next to him. "Lovely." He stands up, rips open the wrapping and plasters the derm on his forearm. From the ladder, Satoru grabs a box cutter and picks up the cable from the floor to peel off the cover. He checks the number of phases. "I work in a repair shop, you know," Shoko says, annoyed. "If you send me to buy you a cable with three phases, I'll get you a cable with three phases. I'm not a moron." Satoru keeps peeling the insulation. "Did I say that?" "Well, you checked if it has three phases." "It could be a manufacturer error." "It's a cut cable. I can see inside. I checked." "Then I guess I thought you were a moron," he admits, standing up. "What about food?" He lets the cable drop to the floor, already thinking about a serving of strawberry rice and pumpkin. The thought of steaming cake and pink rice brings a warm smile to his face. "Do I look like I have sixteen arms?" Shoko exclaims, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You said all this junk was a priority, so I bought it." "It's not junk," Satoru pouts, frowning. "As someone who works in a repair shop, you should appreciate the value of the things our society is built on." Shoko stares at him with those big, brown dead eyes, judging every cell in his brain. To her, Satoru must sound like antisocial, or one of those nerds who prefers to fuck an android over humans. But in this era, with humans having an artificial uterus, who is judging who? "So, it's true." Shoko breaks out of her corpse-bride facade and crosses her arms on her chest with a devilish smirk. "Are you going to hit me with some stupid rumor?" Satoru rolls his eyes and turns around. He better use the time to finish his work. "Gojo Satoru, the jewel of the Six Senses company. The face of the future..." Shoko recites dramatically as she repeats the blatant lies from the billboards. "Our angel, the innocence our society has eroded." "I know they sell me as the Virgin Mary," Satoru says matter-of-factly, grabbing a few packages of screws and the drill. "But don't worry..." He leaves Shoko to her assumptions. Shoko gazes up at him, puzzled by his last words. The silence stretches on, but Satoru is reluctant to discuss the matter further. He wishes he could erase that specific memory and replace it with the Smurfs singing one of their catchy tunes. "What do you mean?" Shoko's voice quivers with worry. "What did you do to yourself?" "Direct as always." Satoru chuckles. "That's one of the things I've always admired about you." "Seriously..." she presses. "Did you—did you hurt yourself somehow?" "What..." Satoru sits on the ladder, casting a glance down at her. "I told you that I'm still a virgin, didn't I?" "Yeah, in the sense that you haven't had sex yet." The atmosphere drops quickly, and Satoru sighs. The last thing he wants is a heartfelt conversation about his pussy. Silently, Satoru adjusts his position under the ceiling and begins drilling. The dust from the bricks and plaster falls in clouds in the air and shines like stardust in the lights. Shoko tells him something, but the sound of the drill drowns her out. Frustrated, she throws up her arms and shakes her head, giving up on his stubbornness. Satoru catches a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye as she disappears down the hallway. Turning off the drill, he shifts on the ladder to find a more comfortable position. He straddles it and slides down a bit, feeling the wood press between his legs. There it is—the wire, the tungsten, the stitch. He drops his head and sighs. Pathetic. If Shoko knew how tragic he really was, she might actually pity him for checking if she knew what the three phases meant. ** After nearly five more hours of work, Satoru finally managed to pull himself away. He had almost finished the job in the living room, but Shoko hadn't gotten enough aluminum and insulating gel. The magnetic pods she provided were the cheapest things he'd ever held. Dropping into a kitchen chair, Satoru pulls the plate of rice and pumpkin pie closer. "Shoko, I need you to get me a job in your repair shop." She barely opens her mouth, ready to complain, when Satoru continues. "I need to build my own PC. I'll be careful about taking parts from customers." He takes a big bite of the cake and moans at the taste. It doesn't matter where he is—Neon City, Uzumaki, or the desolate borders—the pumpkin pie tastes amazing everywhere. "I won't let you steal from our customers!" Shoko glares at him in disbelief. "What if Nanami finds out? I don't want to lose my job." "But you said you'd risk your life for my thing." He licks his fingers, giving her that arrogant stare that usually works on everyone. "Right now, I feel like risking your life to keep my sanity!" Satoru's eyes soften and his shoulders slump as he sets down the remains of his cake. "But the customers do recycle, right?" "They do." "So, I'll just take what they presume dead and bring it back to life." He suggests. "How about that?" Shoko shakes her head, running her fork through the mess of potatoes and chicken on her plate. "I don't know, Satoru. Most of that is junk. Will it really be enough to build a supercomputer?" "Honey, that junk is the foundation of Neon City." The lost enthusiasm returns to Satoru, weighing him down with a new challenge. "One person's trash is another's treasure." "Well..." She lets out a small laugh. "I guess I didn't expect to hear that from someone who's worked only with the finest materials his whole life." "I was born a genius, not a snob." Shoko snorts, dropping the fork on the plate. "Yeah, actually, you're right. I still remember that alpha that pointed out that you dress like a bagger." She starts laughing. "I was a kid and discovered wiring." On a hot summer day, Satoru made a small yet significant discovery. The workers had left the ventilation open, allowing him to sneak inside. Amidst the dead bugs and awful smell, he identified the obvious issue: rust had corroded the metal and disrupted the current. For young Satoru, it was a life-changing discovery. Unfortunately, the alpha he was scheduled to meet later was displeased when he saw Satoru covered in oil and cobwebs. "Remember, kids: protect your wiring from the rust!" He announces with a wistful smile. The memory of his childhood brings a bittersweet taste to his tongue. He and Shoko were inseparable until that unfortunate day when his parents decided that Shoko's influence was bad for their omega son. To this day, it makes Satoru angry, and he wishes he could somehow compensate for Shoko's loss. But he knows there's nothing he can do to return her all the years she had lost to his parents. "How have you been?" Satoru's appetite drops, and he pushes the plate away, exchanging it for the can of Neola. He pops the lid open and takes a few sips. "You know..." Shoko shrugs. She keeps playing with her food, eyes glued down. For others, it would be a clear sign that she doesn't want to speak about the past, but Satoru needs at least a bit of closure. If she ends up punching him, then at least he'll know where he stands. "How about your dad?" Satoru puts the can on the table. "I assume the worst." At that, Shoko drops the fork and leans back into her seat, fixing her eyes on Satoru. "You've always been tactless." "Impatient." "And crude." "A complete angel," Satoru finishes, forcing the most insincere smile on his angelic face. It quickly fades, and he sighs. "I need to get rid of my parents." Shoko hums, reaching into her hoodie's pocket to pull out a crumbled package of cigarettes. Before she puts one between her lips, she chuckles bitterly. "I've never blamed you for what happened to my dad." "Damn. So, it's the worst-case scenario," Satoru mutters, resting his forearms on the table and staring into the can of Neola. Expecting the worst doesn't always prepare you for it. Sometimes, it's even worse than anticipated, which is particularly troubling for Satoru. "What happened?" he asks, looking at her through his eyelashes. "And be honest, Shoko." Shoko finally lights her cigarette, exhaling a puff of smoke. She drops into her seat, spreading her legs and crossing one arm over her chest. The wound she thought had healed reopens on her face, bleeding and transforming her expression from lifeless to that of a cracked china doll. "My father hanged himself," she blurts out. "There's not much to discuss, Satoru. Because of your parents, the best job he could get was at a fish factory. He became depressed, and one day when I came home from school, I found him hanging from the ceiling." Satoru listens to her without interruption, his face devoid of emotion, absorbing only the stark facts. Apologizing would be pointless unless he could bring her father back to life. Shoko wouldn't accept his apology anyway, as he doesn't speak for his parents. "I always thought that after losing my mom as a child, I would handle my father's passing better," she says, shrugging and gazing up at the ceiling. Satoru took lives, both figuratively and literally. He even saw blood trickling down his hands after he killed George Blackcastle, who had sneaked into his room at night to rip out his eyes. Satoru hurt numerous people who tried to mock him, but none of that had a bigger impact on him than indirectly being responsible for Shoko's father's death. Death was always Satoru's favorite neighbor. "Do you drink, Satoru?" Shoko gets up and heads to the cabinet over the sink. "Betcha has never tried this one." "Me too; till eighteen, I didn't drink, and only a year ago, I found the bug in my Six Eyes that allowed alcohol to—" "Ah! Shut up!" Shoko interrupts him. "Turn off your little genius." She pulls out two glasses and a bottle with a green liquid, devoid of any label. "Tell me the secret ingredient is not Serpent." He inspects the liquid with his Six Eyes and finds only a trace after Blue Glass. Shoko pins him with a stern look. "What? Don't tell me you've ever tried that military garbage." "Of course, I helped to make it." He announces casually. Shoko slumps into her seat, staring back at him with lifeless eyes. She sighs heavily as she unscrews the bottle. Her expression tells a story of two loud words: fuck you . ** It's raining when Shoko steps into the SCRPIT repair store. The interior is spacious, with a counter and a cash register at the front. Six shelves line the left side, showcasing products that customers have sold or exchanged for different models. On the right, there's a door labeled 'employees only.' The lighting in the room is dim and yellowish, making Satoru cringe. Such poor lighting is unsuitable for meticulous work. And why is that store's sign like that? It's definitely missing two letters. Not cool. Satoru already has a headache. "You're late, Shoko..." A deep male voice calls from the employees-only room. "Sorry about that!" she replies. "I brought Toru!" A pause. "Who?" "The guy I told you about?" She glances at Satoru, who purses his lips and points at the rare analog capacitor array on one of the shelves. "It's ancient. I want it." Before he can touch it, she smacks his hand. "We buy things here, Toru. Buying." Whispering, Shoko grabs him by his jacket and drags him to the room on the left. Satoru can only complain a little, still eyeing that precious gem among stones. Analog technology is rare these days. He could build a hybrid supercomputer. Analog, digital, and quantum all in one in Shoko's living room. "Behave yourself!" Shoko hisses in his ear. "You are Toru Tachibana. You grew up in the East, and you know only a fraction of what you think you do." Her deadpan gaze could rival the Grim Reaper's. "That's still more than you both know combined." He whimpers as Shoko stomps on his foot. "Why my left foot! It was already so abused by—" He cries out, but she clears her throat loudly, cutting him off. Satoru lets out a sigh and rubs his foot against his calf, finally spotting the boss of the store. He is tall, blond, and broad—clearly an alpha. And naturally, he's mated. Satoru barely detects his scent, which is a good thing. Alphas and omegas should keep their pheromones to themselves and their partners. "Hey, handsome," Satoru offers a polite, tight-lipped smile. "I'm Tachibana Toru." He extends his hand, and to his surprise, Nanami accepts it. "It's unusual to shake hands with an omega." The corners of Nanami's lips tug up in pleasant surprise. "We all do it in the east." "You're from the east?" Nanami's smile widens. "My wife is from the east. Amazing people. So warm..." "I agree!" Satoru opens his arms, grinning and ready to hug Nanami, but Shoko grabs him by the collar and pulls him back. "We're the opposite of the ugly, crude North people!" "Excuse him," Shoko laughs awkwardly. "He was raised in an isolated district, homeschooled, and has no boundaries. He only knows his parents and—and me, obviously." Nanami frowns, already suspecting them of lying. "You said you met him at a bar when he was looking for a job." "Yeah, totally lost. If I hadn't been there, he would have fallen victim to a gang," Shoko nods. "Poor thing. Look at that innocent baby face." She grabs his chin and squeezes his cheeks. "Mochi." Satoru blinks behind his sunglasses. He had already changed his eye color, but the Six Eyes technology is impossible to hide. The only way to hide it would be to rip his eyes off. Luckily, eyewear doesn't seem to be against the rules in the store, as Nanami wears glasses himself. "Gangs can be a problem here." Nanami nods. "Be careful, Toru." Gangs. Gangs. The word echoes in Satoru's mind, repeating like a command and filling his thoughts. "Do you know any gangs?" He wiggles out of Shoko's grasp. "Now, why would you ask that?!" Shoko mutters through clenched teeth. "I actually came to find a gang leader named Geto Suguru." Nanami's eyes widen behind his glasses. "Why?" "He's just so stupid! I'm sorry I brought him here, Nanami!" Shoko grabs Satoru by his shoulder. "I made a mistake! I know you don't want any trouble with gangs!" "I'm pregnant with his child!" Satoru shouts, and Nanami gasps. Satoru can almost hear Shoko's brain shattering like glass. The world stops for Gojo Satoru, as it always does. He somehow always ends up at the center of attention, whether it is due to his stubbornness, murdering an alpha who tried to steal his tech, or running away from home. "I, uh..." Nanami clears his throat, looking to Shoko for further explanation. Shoko closes her eyes, struggling to maintain her self-control. Before she can smack Satoru's head, he jumps away and wraps his arms around Nanami's shoulder. "What is going on here?" Nanami tenses under his touch. "Shoko would never tell you, because I promised her I wouldn't, but I looked at you and knew you're a good person." Satoru gazes at him through Suguru's round sunglasses. "A poor omega like me needs someone as strong and influential as you." While Shoko stands frozen, Nanami can't stop shaking. His body reacts unusually to unexpected situations. Satoru scans him with his eyes, gathering all available information about Kento Nanami. Some sources lead him to the SS database, but before his Six Eyes can connect, Satoru turns them off. He gathered enough data to piece things together. Nanami exhibits symptoms of PTSD from his past military service. Satoru clicks his tongue and looks at Shoko. This is what happens when crucial information is withheld. "I'm sorry." He slowly withdraws from Nanami. "I didn't mean to upset you." Shoko glances at him, eyebrows raised. "Please forgive me," Satoru bows slightly, his voice humble, eyes fixed on the concrete floor. Satoru is an expert at surviving in hostile environments. To survive here, he needs to make strong allies. First, gain sympathy; second, become an invaluable member of the group; third, befriend them. They started off a bit rocky, but it's nothing Satoru can't fix on the fly. "What on Earth is happening here?" Nanami crosses his arms over his chest, looking from Satoru to Shoko. "We were prepared to tell you a lie, but I see you are a reliable and faithful alpha." Satoru feels deep down that revealing the whole truth to this ex-soldier is the right decision. Shoko either 'forgot' to tell him or didn't know. Regardless, Satoru had no intention of playing chess with a ticking bomb. Lying to someone with PTSD who used to inject Serpent would be a grave mistake. If Satoru wants Nanami to accept him, he needs to be sincere with him. Plus, he seems like a potentially useful ally. "What do you know about me?" Nanami frowns, nervously rapping his fingers against his forearm. "Everything." Satoru stands tall, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. "Absolutely everything, Sergeant Kento, Nanami." His eyes shift from brown to blue. Nanami recoils sharply, bumping into the table with his side. He gasps, staring at Satoru in shock. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to have an episode. Satoru would almost prefer that over Nanami grabbing the heavy wrench, gripping it so tightly that his forearm veins bulge, and attacking him. "Wait! Nanami!" Shoko shouts, leaping between them with her hands outstretched. "Nanami, please! Let us explain!" "You brought a Gojo into my house?!" "Nanami!" she cried, throwing herself in front of Satoru. "Please!" "That piece of shit ruined my life!" Trembling with rage, he points at Satoru with the wrench. "Yes! I agree, the Gojo family is demonic!" Shoko steps forward, lowering her tone and locking eyes with him. "But Satoru is different." Hell no, he isn't. Satoru scoffs, turning his gaze away. How much longer does Shoko intend to keep lying for him? Would she spin this tale for Geto as well? Satoru is tired of everyone idolizing the unfortunate Gojo omega. People see him as a victim of his parents, a bird trapped in a gilded cage, when in truth, he played a part in building the empire on the ruins of their loved ones. Satoru is a grim reaper dressed as an angel. "Please, hear us out..." Shoko pleads, eyes heavy with unshed tears. "Please, Nanami." Nanami's burning stare turns toward Satoru. Satoru has endured countless hateful stares throughout his life, but this particular hatred could prove useful in his quest to defeat his parents. Every small piece Satoru gathered along his journey was crucial. "I'll give you one chance, but don't get me wrong, kid..." Nanami begins, his voice is deep and raspy, showing his rawest emotions. "I don't give a fuck that you have a bounty on your head or that you're a poor omega on the run." He moves to the workbench and throws the wrench onto it. Shoko flinches at the sound, while Satoru keeps his eyes on the alpha as he moves around and heads to the doorway of the small room in the back. "You're a Gojo!" He spits his name like a curse and strides inside. "I need a drink, and you better have a story to tell, or I'll throw you both out!" he shouts back at them. "Sounds good..." Satoru shrugs. His small victory is short-lived, as Shoko immediately grabs his shoulders and jostles him. It's funny, actually, seeing her short form trying to shake his soul out. "You planned this the whole time!" "I didn't plan to out myself!" "All your—your 'help me to fit in' and 'I need a job' and 'can I have some spare parts' —all fucking lies!" She punctuates each accusation with a jab to his chest. "That wasn't a lie! I do need a job and those parts!" Satoru defends himself. He steps back, shoving his hands into his baggy pants. "But you forgot to tell me that you work for a veteran who was in the Bulletdash War!" He speaks quietly, ensuring Nanami doesn't overhear them. But who knows? With Satoru's luck, Nanami might have super hearing or an implant. These days, secrets don't really exist—just public secrets. If you speak loudly enough, everyone knows everything. "I didn't know!" Standing on her tiptoes, she glares into his eyes. "He's not exactly a vocal person, Satoru!" "Well, I had to take some measures." "What measures? He doesn't need to be involved in your crusade!" She strikes Satoru's chest with the back of her hand. "He has a wife and a child!" Satoru's eyebrows lift, his entire demeanor changing. "Does that kid come here? Because I'm antisocial, and I've never been allowed near a child before." "Idiot!" Shoko frowns, smacking him again. "No, she's six months old, so back off, Satoru. We are not involving Nanami!" "But what if—just consider it..." Satoru takes her hand in his. "What if he wants to?" "Zero chance!" she replies confidently. "In that case, he can at least help me find Geto." "I—you..." Shoko is at a loss for words. She rips her hand free from his hold, shaking her head and mumbling something. Swiftly, she grabs the wrench Nanami had held earlier and throws it at Satoru, who dodges it smoothly. "That might have hurt, honey." "Shut up, you psychopath!" "We used to be best friends!" Satoru points between them. The truth is, he planned to approach Nanami, but not to this extent. He wanted Nanami's help in finding Geto and sourcing parts for his mega-computer, but revealing his name was never part of the plan—that would have been foolish. However, upon learning that Nanami had been involved in a war with the SS corporation, he reconsidered his approach. Someone who despises his parents as much as Satoru would be an invaluable ally. "Freak!" Shoko flips her hair, showing him her back. "Drama Queen!" He pokes his tongue at her. "I'll call you the Wrench Queen from now on. Wrequeen. Yeah, that's right. Wrechie." Nanami steps into the room, holding a glass of brown liquid with ice cubes clinking inside. Leaning against the doorframe, he slips a hand into his pants pocket and observes them. Satoru remains silent, knowing one near-miss with a killer wrench was more than enough. "I'm sorry that he's such a psycho." Shoko sighs. "He's changed a lot." Her voice carries so much remorse that Satoru cringes. "So?" Nanami turns to Satoru, who gives him a curious look. "Aren't you going to defend yourself?" "No, I completely agree with her." He gestures at Shoko. "And before you kick me out, can I have the capacitor?" Nanami tilts his head, giving him a once-over. "What for?" "To build a supercomputer so I can overthrow my evil parents." A loud, breathy laugh fills the room as Nanami throws his head back, the ice in his glass clinking loudly. Pointing at Satoru, he glances at Shoko as if seeking confirmation that he heard correctly. But Shoko doesn't join in; instead, she nods and anxiously folds her arms across her chest. Nanami slowly connects the dots and lowers his head. The silence that envelops them is almost suffocating. Fortunately, Satoru has strong lungs, and as Shoko once remarked, he's like a cockroach—capable of surviving even an atomic blast. The tension doesn't faze him in the slightest. He picks up the wrench from the floor and twirls it between his fingers. "I'll work for food, and in return, you'll forget everything I said here. To everyone else, I'm Toru from the East, head over heels for the gang leader. That's all." "Kid..." Nanami empties his glass and approaches him, the sound of his heavy boots echoing loudly on the floor. He places the glass on the table and puts his hand on his side. "I'm sure you can repair more than a broken radio since everything Shoko said about you was a lie." Satoru cocks his head, contemplating. "Yeah, maybe even two broken radios at the same time." Nanami sighs, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. "I said I'll give you a chance to explain yourself, but the more I think about it, the more alluring the reward seems." The icy tone in Nanami's voice says enough. He's deadly serious about the idea of turning Satoru in. If Nanami were just an ordinary alpha, Satoru would escape without a second thought. But right now, Nanami is the most dangerous person in Satoru's vicinity. "He's Gojo Satoru!" Shoko calls out, her voice laced with desperation. "The Gojo's only omega, and the one who constructed the Six Eyes!" Nanami stills at the last words. The room engulfes in a tense, brief silence. There's still a chance he won't believe a word they say. However, the prospect of selling Satoru back could offer him bittersweet revenge. Satoru must convince him that denying his parents what they want is far worse than watching Satoru suffer through the exchange. When it seems Nanami won't throw him into a bag, Shoko cautiously continues, "Satoru's behind most of the greatest innovations at Six Senses." Nanami immediately turns to her, frowning. "Quit this nonsense already!" "I know what my family did to you..." Satoru speaks up calmly. "To you and thousands of other soldiers." "And where did you get that information, huh?" Nanami takes a menacing step forward. Though he's as tall as Satoru, he somehow manages to loom over him like a tower. Yet none of this is enough to trigger Satoru's sense of danger. "Are you spying with those precious eyes of yours?!" "You wear the Aplex detox derm." The Six Eyes flicker, scanning through the fabric of Nanami's clothes, reading the derm information, and analyzing his vascular system. "Serpent is a persistent sleeping agent that remains in your system indefinitely. It activates as soon as your adrenaline levels reach a specific threshold." Nanami flexes his jaw, slightly tilting his head to look at Satoru from above. The corner of his mouth drops as he leans toward Satoru, his alpha pheromones finally breaching Satoru's personal space. "So what?" Nanami glares at him. Holy Neon, that smell is awful. Threatening an omega with such a chilling scent should be illegal—or at least warrant a punch to the alpha's stomach. Satoru pulls his shirt, which smells of the orange detergent Shoko uses, over his nose. "I know how to neutralize it." "Bullshit." Nanami scoffs. "I can make you an antidote once I'm done with my parents," Satoru promises, ignoring how ridiculous he looks to Shoko, who is massaging her temples. "Magic potion, huh? And what would you need for that?" Nanami asks skeptically. "Let me guess, the lab in the SS tower?" He snorts and pulls away. "Nice try, kid." Satoru removes the shirt from his nose and watches Nanami pace nervously, clearly conflicted. Part of him wants to trust Satoru, while a part despises him. Just roughly twenty minutes ago, Nanami shook his hand, smelling of cherry syrup, and gave him a gentle look with his grass-green eyes. Now, he looks like he might stab him with his bare hand. Finally, Nanami stops, and after a short pondering, he turns to Satoru. "You both need to go. Be so kind, both of you, and get out of my store!" He points at the door. "Nanami..." Shoko pleads. "He tells the truth. He can help you." "I don't need help from a Gojo!" He shouts. "He only uses you, Shoko! How can you believe anything he says?" "I have known him since we were kids!" Shoko presses. "He might've grown into an asshole, but inside he's a good person." Satoru reflects on that. The reality is, if his parents hadn't sold him to the zincomaniac, he wouldn't be here, offering an antidote to Nanami. Instead, he would still be scheming within the confines of the mansion. "That means nothing!" Nanami exclaims, trying to reason with Shoko. "He uses you to get whatever he wants and then takes over the evil empire!" "Satoru is not like that!" Shoko raises her voice. "He can and will help you!" "Even if it were true! How could Gojo's Omega possibly understand such complex chemistry?! Even the greatest scientists struggle to crack the code!" Nanami shakes his head. "The SS Corp declared that they are unable to--" "I can," Satoru says loud enough to catch Nanami's attention. "I can because I helped to make it." Now, he either gets beaten to a pulp with the wrench or, if he's lucky, he'll have his legs broken and be thrown onto the road. Either way, Nanami has a unique opportunity to take revenge. However, Satoru is only partially sane, and his sense of danger only kicks in when he's already choked, so he relies entirely on sincerity. "The code isn't unbreakable. That's just what the pharmaceutical companies want you to believe. They profit from the detox drugs. If they developed an antidote for Serpent, they'd lose a lot of money," Satoru explains. "The government doesn't care about you, Nanami." A loud smack of lips reaches Satoru's ears. Nanami folds his arms on his chest, tilting his head back. One could cut diamonds on his body how badly he tensed. Satoru could grab those protruding veins and rip them out of his body. "Well, no shit." Nanami clicks his tongue and gives Satoru one over with a lifted eyebrow. "I know the gov doesn't give a damn. My medical bills show it enough." Satoru can clear any of his debts. In fact, if he had access to the SS accounts, he could do the same for all the soldiers. All he needs is a supercomputer, a netrunner, and a group of people to protect him while he brings down the empire. He can fix so much damage, but he needs help. He's still just a human. "Kid..." Nanami turns around, leaning against the workbench. "It's Satoru." "Kid..." He repeats, pausing, "You're lucky you're an omega, or I'd punch you to the wall." Satoru shrugs absentmindedly, his mind a blank slate. He knows he deserves Nanami's hatred and more. "Go ahead. I don't care." "Satoru!" Shoko moves quickly to his side. To his surprise, she grabs his hand, squeezing it. It's a nonverbal assurance. If Nanami wants to punch Satoru, she'll go down with him. And here he thought she wanted to risk his life to save her sanity. This whole situation looks like it took years from her lifespan. "I deserve it, Shoko. I deserve much worse." Nanami lets out a loud sigh, the rasp in his throat making it clear he hasn't slept for days. Satoru's intrusion couldn't have come at a worse time. For a veteran like Nanami, every day can be challenging, but some days are particularly rough, and Satoru has just made this one of those days. "If you knew what kind of garbage they pump into our veins, why you, the so-called prodigy..." He mocks Satoru openly. "Didn't do anything about it?!" "Because if our drug didn't work, someone else's would. And trust me, you wouldn't survive the crap those companies put in their army serums." Nanami rubs his face and shakes his head. "So what? You think you're the lesser evil?" "I designed it to have less impact on the nervous system. Because of me, you can still function and stay calm, as long as you keep your adrenaline levels steady." Nanami snorts, once again shaking his head in disbelief. "So, the detox derms don't work at all?" "Placebo effect." Satoru nods. They fall into a brief silence. Nanami looks like he might flip the heavy table at any moment. His hope for even a semblance of a normal life had shattered. Satoru understands him. It's like sleeping on a landmine, taking sleeping pills, and hoping you won't roll over in your sleep. "A week ago," Nanami starts nervously, "I had a trivial argument with my wife. For the rest of the day, I couldn't hold onto anything without crushing it." "Well," Satoru shrugs, feeling Shoko's grip tighten, "you have PTSD. Anything can set it off." "I'm scared to hold my daughter," Nanami's voice falters. "I'm afraid to touch my wife. Honestly, when I shook your hand, I thought I might break your bones." Fascinating. Despite his deep-seated fears, Nanami managed to get married and have a child. It can't be that bad if he's able to work and perform in bed. Something's off here, and Satoru needs to uncover the truth. And he absolutely will. Whether it's just Nanami's sheer determination or some other substances like sedatives or lime, Satoru will find out. Satoru's eyes can see through, but without a good old drop of blood, he can't do much. "Then let me help you," Satoru offers. "I'm laying all my cards on the table. I have nothing to hide. You can ask me anything about my work." The worm gnawing at Nanami becomes more apparent each time Satoru speaks. As Nanami mentioned, he took away his small hope for a better life but gave him hope for a completely normal one. The only way to secure a decent future is to keep fighting alongside Gojo for a bit longer. Nanami finally stirs, pushing back from the table and making his way to the small door on the left. "I need another drink for this," he rasps. Drinking with PTSD and Serpent is a real death wish. But who knows how the drug affects Nanami's system? Under pressure from the Ministry of Defense, Satoru and his team barely tested Serpent. Satoru even injected a few drops into himself once and had a stroke. They had to develop an antidote before they could finish the product. Nanami surely is an interesting subject. Which reminds him of... "So, can I stay, or should I make an umbrella on the spot?" Satoru asks, picking up a metallic rod from the table. "Don't touch anything!" Nanami shouts back. "I already did." "Then put it back, and don't touch anything!" Satoru glances at Shoko, who gives him an encouraging smile. "You're a freak, but you know your way around." Exactly. He needs to milk a cow while the cow has milk—or something like that. Satoru was never good with proverbs and metaphors. But the point is, while Nanami is in this vulnerable state, Satoru has a chance to gather more information about Suguru. He must have been doing some interesting faces, because Shoko's smile fades quickly."God..." She throws her head back, sighing tiredly. "Go!" She releases his hand. "Nanami!" Satoru seizes the chance and strides to the room he correctly assumed was a mini-kitchen. There, he finds Nanami sitting on a stool by a tiny table, sipping brandy. As far as Satoru knows, alcohol, for example, is the only antidote for someone who would drink the antifreeze mixture. So, some specific kind of alcoholic beverage may lessen the effects of Serpent. Satoru shakes his head. Focus on the task! On Suguru! Suguru now, Serpent later! "Nanaminie," Satoru grins from the doorway. "It's Nanami." "And I'm Satoru, not a kid." He slips into the room. "Your reaction to Geto's name caught my attention. Would you share more?" Nanami sets his glass down and stands up. He opens the cabinet above the microwave and takes out another glass. Satoru watches as Nanami pours them brandy, then hands one drink to Satoru, who accepts it. "Now..." Nanami closes the bottle and sets it back on the table. "Why would you want anything to do with a gang leader?" "He's different from most alphas I know." Satoru takes a sip, rolling the taste on his tongue, testing for any unknown substance. He swallows, pursing his lips in disappointment. Nothing, just brandy. "And how many alphas do you know?" Nanami sits back, crossing his legs. There's a playful glint in his green eyes. "Ah, many. And all of them, except Suguru and you..." Satoru offers a sly chuckle, "...are assholes." "Well, I'm not surprised; they work for your parents." "True," Satoru mutters, amused, and sips his drink. "I met Suguru when I dropped by Green Bay. By the way, I had no idea it's now under the Uzumaki's territory." "Around a month ago," Nanami props his elbow on the table and rubs his chin, "the Neon gang was at war with Geto's Ravens." "Ravens?" Satoru hums. What a poetically gothic and nerdy name for a gang. But somehow it suits someone with a purple artificial artery. That man seriously has some medical issues, and it's a miracle he's still alive. Well, would you look at that? Suguru Just like Nanami, is an anomaly. The world of Uzumaki is a spectacular place. Satoru feels like a fish in water here. His little science heart is beaming happily. "The Ravens won," Nanami mutters, running his fingers over his lips in thought. "They took over the bay and disabled all the cameras." "Why?" Satoru asks curiously, finishing his drink in two gulps. "No one knows," Nanami mutters, sipping his brandy. "There are three other gangs in Uzumaki City, but they all step aside when the Ravens are around." "Hm..." Satoru puts the glass on the counter. "Interesting." If Suguru—a loud bang against the table interrupts Satoru's thoughts. Holy Neon, he hates loud sounds, especially when they interrupt his thinking. He glares at Nanami, who glares back. "Hell no, kid!" Nanami shouts, sending the glass he slammed against the table skidding across it, nearly knocking it over. "He saved my life!" Satoru scowls at the glass teetering on the edge. "I need him!" He turns his frowning face toward Nanami. "You need him?" Nanami deadpans. When Satoru's expression makes it clear he means it, Nanami rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Yes, I do! In a carnal, crazy desire, an alpha can't understand!" He gestures wildly. "I think you need someone to keep you in check!" Nanami shakes his head as he stands up. "You're dangerous to yourself, boy." Huh? Gojo Satoru willingly putting himself in danger? Why would anyone say that? What was the clue? How did Nanami figure out that Satoru has no sense of danger and throws himself around like a bouncy ball? "Really? What gave me away?" Satoru retorts sardonically. Nanami ignores his remarks and grabs his shoulder. "If you want to work under my roof," he leads him out of the kitchen and to the front of the store. "Then you'll follow my rules," he releases him. Satoru pouts, fixing his jacket. "And the first rule is, no dating gang members!" "Why?" Satoru asks, pouting as much as he can. He's an adult and can date anyone he wants to. "Is it personal or something? Were you one of them, and they mistreated you so badly that now you hold a grudge?" "What? No." Nanami snorts at the absurdity. "I thought the word 'gang' was reason enough, but it seems you truly lack a sense of danger, boy." "What's going on?" Shoko enters the scene with hands stuffed in her jacket. She looks worried and curious. Satoru has every right to ask about the love of his life. Only fools would make fun of his fragile heart. He never had a crush as a kid or a teenager. As he said, the alphas around him lacked the brain. All zinc and puddings. Disgusting. After years of searching for his ideal type, Satoru finally found his Marie-Anne to his Antoine Lavoisier. And now they want to stand in the way of their one and only true love? Over Satoru's dead body! Never! Geto Suguru may have a purple artery and eyes that shouldn't naturally exist, but they do, and Satoru wants to gaze into them for the rest of his life. "Our Toru here," Nanami gestures at Satoru, "thinks he's in love with Geto." "Yes, I am!" Satoru points at him, "You doubting Thomas!" "Satoru..." Shoko groans in defeat. "We've gone through all this trouble for Nanami to accept you, and now you say something like this?" "He's definitely got a screw loose," Nanami chuckles. "Why would you two want to stand in the way of my love?" Satoru glares at him. "Love? Kid, you don't know him." "Neither do you." Satoru turns around, flipping his imaginary long hair, and strides over to the shelf with the capacitor array. "Even if I gave you my blessing, why would Geto want such an egocentric omega, hm?" Nanami shifts behind him to see what Satoru is doing. "Plus, you're on the run and have a bounty on your head." Does it really matter how his screws are positioned? As long as they hold, Satoru is safe. Besides, Suguru seems like the type who enjoys living on the edge. Having a slightly unhinged omega in his bed would be the least of his worries. Moreover, Satoru has a significant advantage. "Arrogant, but a virgin omega." Satoru glances over his shoulder, changing his eye color to brown and placing the round glasses on his nose. With a cryptic smile, he turns back to the shelf. "Seriously? With that attitude? No alpha likes your type," Nanami sneers, shaking his head. "I've known you for barely an hour, and I've already had enough." "Rude!" Satoru retorts, tucking the capacitor into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Haven't you heard the proverb ‘cold words, warm heart’?" "It's cold hands, warm heart." Shoko corrects him. Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kid, you better stop daydreaming and get to work. Shoko will show you around." He walks over to the door that was previously hidden from Satoru's view. This house has so many doors. This particular one must connect the repair shop with Nanami's home. The home where that little six-month-old brat is sleeping with Nanami's wife. "Don't forget what you promised," he reminds Satoru, lingering at the door. "Or I will find you, and it won't be pretty." Nanami steps inside. "And put the capacitor back!" He shuts the door, and Satoru swiftly turns on his heel at Shoko. "I think we did good." He grins. Shoko's shoulders drop as she turns around, making her way to the workroom. "Just wait, Suguru, my sweet Suguru..." Satoru hugs himself with a smitten smile. "You'll be mine, Geto Suguru. Just wait, baby."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Nanaminie, can you patch me up?" Satoru stumbles into him from behind, pressing his cheek against Nanami’s shoulder. "Kid!" The alpha’s deep, worried voice echoes in Satoru’s dizzy mind. Nanami maneuvers him gently. Satoru feels his touch, smells his scent, and senses that he’s sitting. Or maybe it’s Nanami who’s sitting. Perhaps both. Nanami’s voice echoes everywhere but inside his head. Satoru can’t grasp what’s happening until his mind clears, and that will take a while. His sprained wrist hurts like a hammer hitting a finger instead of a nail. But that’s alright; Satoru is used to pain. The blood on his face is worse. He quickly detected the scent of blue glass acid in the robber’s blood who attacked him. Satoru smashed the man's nose with his elbow, causing the blood to spurt like a fountain into his eye. The man was high. His blood pressure was extremely elevated. Most of that mess landed on Satoru, who finished him off with his fist. Unfortunately for him, Satoru’s bones are not as resilient as his mind. When his fist connected with the guy’s jaw, he heard a creak so clear that he worried he had actually broken his arm rather than just sprained a joint. But it’s okay. He beat up the guy, and then, high as fuck on the intoxicated blood, he walked into the wall instead of the door. Blue Glass reacts with his Six Eyes on a different level than it would with other tech. It's like a loop of pop-up windows and a spam of ads. The worst kind of military drug that got into the black market and then its mixed form into the streets of Neon City. Confused, with heart drumming in his ears, Satoru tried to act as logically as possible. He attempted to wipe his face with his shirt, but the real issue was the blood stain on his eye. When Nanami fixes his wrist, it cracks so loudly that Satoru feels as if his skull has fractured instead. He hisses and gasps, grabbing the back of his head. The pull resonated in his body. "Does it hurt?" Nanami waves his hand in front of Satoru’s eyes. Blurred, hazy. Nanami’s eyes are gray, not green. His face is square. Fucking hilarious. Satoru opens his mouth and gestures to one of his eyes. "Drop." Is all he can say. Five seconds later, Nanami is cursing and running from the workroom. Satoru hears laughter from the front. Shoko talks to someone. Satoru looks around with arms outstretched. He needs a weapon. Where’s the freaking wrench? Wandering blindly in the room, he finally reaches the workbench and places his hands on top of the mess he calls his workspace. Feeling every item, he finally grips something that could be a wrench or a pipe. "Toru!" Nanami calls his name, and when Satoru turns around, he tries to smash him with the object in his hand. "You are disoriented, and your senses tell you everyone is an enemy. It’s alright." Nanami consoles him. "Blue Glass is a bitch." Ah, so he knows. It’s obvious and evident. Satoru is glad that he has Nanami. The award for the best alpha goes to Kento Nanami, a one-time father obsessed with bread. "Nanaminie," Satoru mutters secretively, "why are alphas obsessed with one kind of food?" "Sit down, Toru." A strong pair of hands sits him on a chair. When they’re certain he’s not going to fall or run off, one of the hands grips his chin and tilts his head back. Satoru hears words like "clean," "eye," and "idiot." What a strange combination. Then a cold drop hits the surface of his left eye, causing him to tightly seal his eyelids. The miraculous drop washes away the mess like a tidal wave. Wonderful feeling. Satoru opens his watery eyes to see Nanami’s green gaze filled with worries. "You back with me?" Nanami waves his hands, and Satoru blinks at him rapidly to clean the lenses. Ten seconds later, his eyesight is back and his breath evens. Everything is okay. Satoru draws in a deep breath. "What an acid trip!" He smacks both palms on his face, staring at Nanami in wonder. "You looked like a square, Nana." "It’s Nanami," he corrects Satoru automatically. "You were high on Blue Glass. It got into your system through the blood stain on your eye." Nanami grabs a derm from the first aid kit he brought with him and plasters it on Satoru’s wrist. The painkillers work immediately. Satoru could get used to feeling nothing. "Yeah..." Satoru looks at his soiled shirt and then back at Nanami. "I got into a fight." Lifting an eyebrow, Nanami gives him an incredulous look. "I only told you to bring out the trash. How the hell did you get into a fight?" Narrowing his eyes, Satoru presses his lips together, a sharp retort ready for Nanami. Is Nanami dumb, or is Satoru just too clever? Perhaps a bit of both. With a two million crypto bounty on his head, Nanami's question about how he ended up in a fight seems almost laughable. "Let me think..." Satoru pretends to ponder. "What could it be? Maybe there is a family of starving trolls living inside the garbage container. The papa troll took charge and went on a rampage. 'Who wants Toru’s liver, kids? '" "Fine!" Nanami snaps as he moves away. "I’ll check the security system." Satoru sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Damn." With his head clear now, he recalls the fight. Still in disbelief, he drops his gaze to his palms. "I can’t believe I beat him with my bare hands." "Perhaps the drug didn’t do him any favors." Nanami shakes his head as he sits behind the computer. "Though, why would anyone take on a job without testing the drug first?" Satoru shrugs. "A newbie, maybe?" "Well, he was stupid enough to not check the cameras, though." Nanami plays the record on the glass screen. "At least nobody could recognize you. No hunter." "It’s legal to bring me home. No matter what means they use." Satoru looked away from the scene running on the screen and returned to inspecting his hand. The echoes of the drug occasionally make his eyes glitch. He closes the affected eye, but it makes no difference. Satoru groans in annoyance as he rests his head on his palm, observing Nanami's sole focus on the security record. "Just a weird kid. I see no gang symbols, nothing." Nanami leans back in his chair and whips his head towards Satoru, who pouts at him. "What is it now?" "I thought you’d be proud of what a strong omega I am for defending myself." Nanami laces his hands on his stomach, watching Satoru in amusement. "Is that what you are used to?" "Forget it," Satoru says dismissively and stands up. "I’m going to make myself some chocolate; you want coffee?" "No, thank you." Satoru disappears in the mini kitchen. He tries to divert his mind from his past life. He is no longer in the tower, and no one is breathing on his neck. People here can’t care less about his life and plans. Nanami has a family of his own to protect. Satoru knows that he shouldn’t be here. He knows it’s dangerous for Nanami to shelter him. Hope never makes anyone a smart person. There’s no powdered chocolate in the cabinet. Satoru’s shoulders drop. He checks the clock, and when he realizes it’s Shoko’s launch time, he twists on his heel and quickly paces to the front desk. Shoko laughs at something while the blond alpha rubs his neck, visibly flustered. Ah, so this is how it is. Satoru spies on them from the door; his eyes scan the guy, finding all the information about him, and when his Six Eyes discover the great news, he chuckles viciously. Larue, the key to Suguru’s heart. "We’re having a race tomorrow night; come and see." He smiles at Shoko, taking the box from the counter. XCL convertor. Satoru finished repairing it before he went to take the garbage out. If he had known who he was repairing it for, he would have placed a tracker on it, allowing him to locate Suguru at any time. It's naive to assume that Larue wouldn't figure out where Shoko concealed him. Satoru is sure that the Ravens know exactly where to find him. If they ever run out of crypto, they will raid Nanami’s store. That’s bad. Satoru needs Suguru on his side promptly. "See you in the Iron Factory..." Larue waves at her, opening the door. "Don’t forget. Iron Factory!" "I know!" She offers him a nervous smile. "No need to repeat. Ears are everywhere." "Right..." They stare at each other in an awkward silence. "I’ll be going." Shoko nods, and when the door closes, she lets out a relieved sigh. It’s her launch time. With a gentle smile, she takes the lunch box from the mini-fridge behind the counter and locks the door with a button near the cash register. "Finished spying on her?" Nanami whispers behind Satoru's ear, nearly making him jump. "You bristle like a cat, boy," he remarks, amused by his reaction. Satisfied with his evildoing, Nanami enters the store. "Should we put a collar on our boy? What do you say, Shoko?" He leans against the shelves, crossing his arms over his chest. Shoko looks at him, confused, before Nanami nods Satoru’s way. Gasping, she leans across the counter and notices Satoru’s white hair peeking from behind the door’s frame. "In my defense...!" Satoru swayed slightly, revealing a single brown eye. "He was loud enough for even my parents to hear him." "You are not going there!" Shoko exclaims, her expression stern with a frown. "Am I not a free citizen?" "I propose an electronic collar that will give him a shock if he sets his foot outside the house." Nanami taps his fingers over his shoulder. "I’ll override it. If it's an analog, I'll rip it out with my meat. I don’t care." Satoru’s eye flicks from brown to blue and back. He curls his fingers over the edge of the wall, peering at the two, as if afraid they will start lynching him the second he shows his back. He wouldn’t be surprised if Shoko was hiding a whip under the counter. "Is this how you were treating yourself at home or how they treated you?" Nanami asks. Behind his cold face, Satoru can see worries soaking through, melting the ice. "Asks the one who wants to collar me." Satoru knows a lot about love and care. He knows a lot about how it shouldn’t look and only so little about how it should. Nanami has only known him for two weeks, yet he displays more sentiment than his own parents ever did. Strangers on the streets of Uzumaki City are kinder to him. It’s easy to get fooled by a stranger’s kindness. Satoru almost fell for it, but the survivor inside him knows the truth. Nanami cares because Satoru promised him the antidote. Nanami’s brows knit in concern. "It was a joke, Toru. You don’t really think I’d collar you, do you?" Satoru narrows his eyes at him. "Inappropriate." "Okay, okay..." Nanami concedes, briefly raising his hands. "Sorry about that." Seeing the confusion and worries crossing Nanami’s face, Satoru is sure he thinks about the environment where Satoru grew up. Perhaps he’s imagining what horrors Satoru had gone through while living in the Gojo mansion and tower. Was he abused? And how much? Did Satoru fight back? Was he forced to create all the military drugs, or was he brainwashed to do it? Honestly, Satoru has no answer to any of those questions. "I’m only trying to keep you safe, kid," Nanami reminds him, making it clear that his efforts to protect Satoru should be obvious. "You lack the sense of danger to a great degree." "I'm a scientist," Satoru says dully, implying that madness is a given for all scientists. He lifts his foot from behind the doorframe and wiggles it a little to test the waters. It would suck if a drone suddenly attacked him and collared him like a dog. Now, who says he has no sense of danger? Always stay paranoid; when they threaten you once, they will threaten you twice, and the third time is the charm. "And that explains why you treat yourself so poorly?" Nanami asks, rubbing his forehead. "I’ve known you for two weeks. You are my employee, but I feel like I’ve adopted a kid." "You wanna be my daddy?" Satoru grins, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Shut up." Nanami shushes him, his voice balancing between patience and irritation. He pulls away from the shelves, leaving his arms crossed. "You are not going to any races tomorrow. We are getting the important commission." "Bad news, daddy." Satoru hides his ankle back behind the wall. "I’m a legal adult, and you’re not my real dad." "But I’m your employee!" He calls out, warningly. "Come on—" Satoru whines, trying to sound as desperate as possible. "Get out of there, boy!" Nanami suddenly snaps and urges him to come out. "Face me like the adult you claim to be!" "But you have a drone and a collar, and Shoko has that crash course in first aid. You two make a deadly combo." Satoru's eye captures a still image of the situation, allowing the Six Eyes background program to scan and formulate a strategy. Satoru yelps when Nanami suddenly moves quickly. He tries to flee, but Nanami manages to grab his hood and pull him out of his shelter behind the doorframe. He yanks Satoru into the store. "I didn’t want to lecture you, but you gave me no choice!" Nanami wags a finger in warning. "Everything I do, I do for my plan to succeed!" Satoru bursts out desperately, throwing his hands in the air. "I do it for you, too, Nanaminie. You still want your antidote, right?" The store falls silent. Satoru hit the lowest string possible with his proposal. Before, the atmosphere balanced on a playful note, now all he can hear is the buzzing akin to the fluorescent lights ten seconds before the explosion. He hopes it’s the Blue Glass still manipulating his perception. Nanami breaks the tension with a sigh and puts his hands on his sides. "I am fifteen years older than you, kid. I was born in this city and served our country for ten years. I know better what’s safe for you." "Maybe, but you have no idea what I’m made of." Satoru gives him a pointed look, indicating that he will no longer engage in the debate. "We both seek freedom, but the way to it leads through a minefield." The tension prevails. Satoru thinks he made his points clear enough for Nanami to understand that he doesn’t want to expose himself to danger; he’s already in danger. Each morning, he awakens to the threat of a hunter kidnapping him. If he doesn't immediately begin working on his plan, his chances of success will significantly decrease. And though Satoru is used to making miracles out of thin air, he's not in a sterile, secure lab. He's in the streets, counting his breaths. Satoru is prepared to continue arguing with Nanami about this matter when Nanami lets out a heavy sigh and lowers his head slightly. For a while, he remains in this position, weighing his options. When he makes a decision, he shakes his head, clearly concerned. "We'll strike a deal," he says, looking up at Satoru. "If you finish the commission by closing time, you can go." Satoru grins, pleasantly surprised by the offer. "Deal." "But Shoko and I will be coming with you," he adds. Shoko chokes on her tuna sandwich. ** It's drizzling when Shoko parks her car under the trees, away from the streetlamps' glow. The car falls silent as she turns off the engine. Satoru gazes through the rain-speckled windshield at the people gathering by the bay. They laugh and joke, showing off their gear and bikes. Beer bottles are being passed around. No one seems to mind the cold weather. The women, as usual, wear very little, looking like angels descended from heaven to beautify what's left of men's regime. Satoru sinks deeper into his seat, propping his legs up on the dash as he carefully observes his surroundings. The brown in his eyes shifts back to blue, providing him with readings of the situation. He sees the names of every person present in the old industrial complex—a mass of words and numbers. But there's no trace of Larue or Geto. "There's only one iron factory in Uzumaki City." Shoko lets her hands fall from the steering wheel. "They must just be late." "I smell trouble." Nanami's voice of reason cuts through the tense atmosphere in the car. "Geto might have said he's not after the crypto, but people change their minds." Gripping the wheel again, Shoko inhales nervously. "I trust Larue." Satoru doesn't respond to their exchange. He fully concentrates his senses on the scene in front of him. There could be many unavoidable reasons for the Raven's delay. Satoru is confident it isn't a trap. Larue simply wanted to invite his friend. Nanami is just being paranoid, as veterans with PTSD often are. "We shouldn't stay in the car for too long," Satoru speaks up. "We look too suspicious." "You watch too many movies..." Shoko tries to sound calm, but her eyes narrow as she nervously starts bouncing her leg. Satoru turns to her, assessing her vitals. "You're under extreme stress." "Oh yeah? What makes you say that?!" She glares at him, then looks back out the window. "How is it possible you're more nervous than me?" Nanami, sitting in the backseat, scoffs and shakes his head. "Kid, you're unbelievable." As sharp as a hawk, Satoru whips his head toward Nanami. "I detect sarcasm in your voice." "Turn off your eyes. They're creeping the hell out of me." Nanami pushes his head away, and Satoru giggles. "My priority is my fellow human's well-being." "Don't talk like some machine!" Shoko joins in, smacking Satoru's shoulder. "What the hell is wrong with you?" "What do you mean, human?" Satoru blinks at her, the millions of microscopic components in his irises moving in unison as they scan Shoko's health status. "Quit it!" She lunges at him, wrapping his head in a headlock. Satoru bursts into laughter, kicking up and almost sending them both tumbling over the middle console. Infuriated by his antics, Shoko relentlessly jabs her knuckles into every part of his body she can reach. "Alright, you two, knock it off!" Nanami exclaims, grabbing their shoulders and forcefully separating them with a single powerful shove. Shoko falls back into her seat as Satoru slams against the door, his leg striking the dashboard. He groans, rubbing his shoulder. "Daddy, that hurt!" Leaning over Satoru's seat, Nanami flicks his ear and nods toward the front. Satoru pulls back from the door, placing his feet on the floor and adjusting his leather jacket as it slips from his shoulder. His eyes lock onto the incoming bikers, and his vital chip alerts him to a rapid heartbeat and rising blood pressure. Ignoring the notification, Satoru keeps his gaze fixed on the lone man with no name hovering over his head. "He's not filed," Satoru says in a light amazement. "No record." "That's bullshit! If the cops saw him without identification, they'd detain him." Shoko leans forward, squinting at the gang. "I can't see anything." "Want to borrow my eyes?" Satoru asks, turning to her and staring unblinkingly. Irritated, Shoko smacks him. "The heck is wrong with you today?" She hisses at him. When Satoru continues to refuse to blink, she cringes. "I'm excited." Satoru's brows knit together, and he bites his lip. If he weren't wearing scent-blocking patches under his turtleneck, the whole car would reek like a bunny burrow during mating season. "You designed a passive heat blocker; why not a scent one?" Nanami asks, curious. "Why?" Satoru responds, slapping his hand over his scent gland, thoroughly covered with patches and the turtleneck. "Is my smell bothering you?" "No, I'm just curious." "Because the heat was interfering with my work, but my scent wasn't," he explains casually, turning back. Satoru never had an issue with being an omega. In fact, he enjoys it. Alphas carry a lot of responsibilities, some of which are quite diabolical, like their obsession with omegas who couldn't care less about them. This need to possess and dominate is what makes humanity a raw, exposed nerve. The world will never find peace as long as people feel the need to own others. Alphas consider omegas weak, dependent, and fragile, but in reality, they need them more than the other way around. That's why alphas created oppressive rules that prevent omegas from working in certain industries, visiting specific clubs, or working in biolabs. Fine by Satoru. He loves being underestimated if it means those zinc-headed alphas will leave him alone. Sometimes, people's perception of one as foolish can actually save a life. Looking out the car window at the race crowd, Satoru hopes Geto isn't that kind of an alpha. Even if he is, Satoru still needs those hotheads to protect him from the bounty hunters. He doesn't have time to fight everyone. "I get that. It's good that you weren't exposed to..." Nanami clears his throat awkwardly. Even Shoko falls silent. Satoru stares at them, incredulous. "Guys, we really need to clear up this whole 'They were keeping Gojo Satoru locked in the tower' rumor." Satoru gives each of them a pointed look. "I was not served to alphas as a Thanksgiving turkey." When he gets no response, he sighs in disappointment and shakes his head. "Incredible. Just when you think things can't get any worse, your own blood, your own family, and your own kind—your warriors for justice—turn you into a victim." "I did not—" Nanami starts to defend himself, but Satoru, fed up with the pity and assumptions, reaches for the door. "Satoru, be careful!" Shoko grabs his hand at the last moment. "If anything happens, come back to the car immediately!" "Show me the bee-call!" Nanami urges him. Satoru reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out the emotion-reading device. "Good." Nanami pats Satoru's back. "And remember, don't talk if you don't have to." "That was rude!" Shoko covers her mouth to stifle a laugh as Satoru narrows his eyes at Nanami. "I'll return the favor. Just wait until they drop some crazy complicated stuff on your table and you don't know what to do..." Satoru trails off as he gets out of the car, enraged by their poor characterization of his perfect nature. Satoru's intelligence is beyond their comprehension. If he wants to flirt, he certainly won't resort to something like, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from your throne?’ Satoru is far too clever for pickup lines. He knows words that those two have never even heard of before. Pouting and muttering curses in four languages, Satoru approaches the gang gathering. When his Six Eyes locate Geto, he turns off the tech and pushes his round sunglasses further up his nose. The air is crisp, tinged with the sharp scents of ozone and gasoline. Satoru's boots echo against the concrete, each step bringing him closer to the gang leader, who leans against his bike, a cigarette glowing in the dim light. Satoru holds his breath as Suguru comes into clear view. Dressed in black, he blends seamlessly with the background, like a mysterious raven. Strands of his messy hair gently sway in the wind, likely tousled by his helmet. Satoru finds this immensely attractive. Suguru completed his outfit with a leather jacket, a belt corset, jeans, and bike boots. The scent of jasmine and sandalwood lingers in the air. The highlight of the scene is the purple glow of Suguru’s artery. What Satoru loves most is that Suguru doesn’t hide this small imperfection; he proudly displays his uniqueness. Satoru's fingers itch with the desire to palpate Suguru’s neck. "Well, look at you..." Suguru smirks, blowing out a puff of smoke. "If it weren't for those shades, I might not have recognized you." "Why? Are these designer glasses or something?" Satoru asks, genuinely curious. If so, they might make him an easy target. Satoru halts confidently in front of Suguru, finally able to fully inhale his alpha scent. "Not at all..." Suguru takes a drag from his cigarette. "I simply know what's mine." His eyes lock onto Satoru's through the plastic of the sunglasses. A gentle shiver runs down Satoru’s spine at Suguru’s words. Suguru could claim him right here and now, in front of everyone. Let the gods witness Suguru’s claim. But Satoru is too smart to let his emotions control him. No heat will drag him to Suguru like he’s on a leash. What Satoru admires about Suguru is his human reaction. The way Suguru treats others is incredibly sexy to Satoru. He exudes a kind authority, with a velvet voice and a capacity for violence when necessary. "Fancy. I came to return what's yours and even throw in a bonus," Satoru says, peering over his glasses. Suguru taps his cigarette, locking eyes with Satoru. "Brown doesn't suit you." "Challenging times call for challenging measures," Satoru replies. "I've heard people say that about desperate times," Suguru snorts. "Are you still not desperate enough, omega?" "No, but I bet you are, considering you hide your ID information." Suguru's expression hardens slightly, indicating that Satoru had struck a sensitive nerve. The lack of personal data can't be a coincidence. There's a chance Suguru is paying the authorities to keep himself untraceable. Alternatively, there is another possibility Satoru hesitates to consider. If Suguru is skilled enough to erase himself from government databases, then Satoru might need more from him than just security. "Maybe it's just not your Six Eyes' day today..." Suguru mocks him sweetly, flicking his cigarette away. "And maybe you're simply not meant to see." "Is Geto Suguru even your real name?" Satoru asks. Suguru tilts his head, letting out a short laugh. He closes his eyes briefly as he sighs. "Why are you here, sweet omega? Shouldn't you be hiding from your family?" "What if I want to hide in your warm, protective arms?" With a honeyed, sincere smile, Satoru steps forward and gently brushes his boot against Suguru's. Ambient music starts playing from a random car speaker, the drums vibrating in Satoru’s lungs before someone lowers the volume. People laugh and yell over each other, but to Satoru, it's just the cacophony of the city. They are a level below him and his importance. He as well can be with Suguru on a rooftop, while everyone else wanders through the labyrinth of the city like rats. It's just a fleeting moment for Satoru. He has to stay alert to his surroundings. He isn't foolish enough to lower his guard just because he is staring into the eyes of a gem among stones. "Oh, you sweet talker." Suguru laughs softly, amused. "I'm sure you're all sweet, and your slick tastes like 24-carat diamonds, but that isn't for me." "I've never tasted myself." Boldly, Satoru steps between Suguru's legs. Suguru chuckles slightly, his eyes tender with exhaustion. "Give me updates sometimes." Even that small promise of meeting again sends Satoru’s heartbeat skyrocketing. If Suguru can imagine a day in the future spent with Satoru, then Satoru believes he's on the right path. For Suguru, it doesn't have to mean anything, but Satoru’s life is a collection of shards. Nothing about him is clean or smooth; he's a cracked vase with visible scars. Through falling and breaking, he has learned to cherish the smallest things in life and read between the lines. Every piece a person shares is precious. "Why don't you find out yourself?" Satoru's lips curl up suggestively. Suguru, however, doesn't find it interesting. The small smile on his lips flattens, and he raises an eyebrow, clearly annoyed by Satoru's offer. "You're the dangerous and stupid kind, Satoru. Dangerous to yourself." When Suguru finally says his name, Satoru feels the delicate pronunciation caress his cheek. It sounds so beautiful from Suguru's lips that Satoru doesn't even bother to correct him about his alias. "And stupid because I don't listen when others tell me that I'm dangerous to myself," Satoru adds casually. Now that Suguru is finally taking Satoru seriously, it's time to challenge the alpha's defenses. Satoru knows what every alpha wants. Beyond their lust and their need for warmth and unconditional love, all alphas crave stability and peace. This is particularly true for alphas who have grown up in the streets. They are high on adrenaline, sleep with knives, and don't trust their own shadows. "And stupid for many other reasons." Suguru looks away, checking on his gang. Satoru's gaze falls on the pale hue that shines through the delicate skin of Suguru's neck. Most people would cover their weak spots with modifications, but Suguru didn't. "What might those reasons be? Enlighten this stupid omega." Turning his gaze back, Suguru slips his hands into his jacket pockets, his lips curling into an amused smirk. "Stupid, because you think I'm interested in you. Stupid, because you dressed to blend in with alphas. Stupid, because you smell like oysters." "Hey!" Satoru interrupts, offended by the comment about his smell. "Oysters are aphrodisiac. Just lick my neck, and I guarantee you'll be all over me." Suguru snorts, shaking his head. "Sneaky, aren't you, kitten?" Shrugging, Satoru masks his excitement well, though inside he leaps with joy at the nickname. "But aren't you a scientist?" Suguru asks. "Shouldn't you know oysters were never proven to be real aphrodisiac?" Satoru chuckles as he leans closer to the alpha. "That's true, but when combined with my scent and taste..." Satoru’s voice drops into the velvet levels. "I promise, you've never tasted or smelled anything better." "I thought you haven't tasted yourself yet," Suguru responds with a playful note that matches his smile. "And I assume there was nobody who would tell you." Satoru's lips stretch into a sly smile. "Handsome and smart." He lifts two fingers, touching Suguru's chin. "I'm already so in love." The tension between them settles like a weighted blanket, warming Satoru’s cold hands and his steadily beating heart. He feels like a hunter stalking another beast, and he loves it. Suguru might appear calm, but Satoru knows there's a monster hiding inside his core. Suguru leans back, detaching himself from his bike. As he stands, his overpowering scent forces Satoru to retreat. Up close, Satoru notices Suguru's impressive physique. Suguru rolls his broad shoulders and steps forward, causing Satoru to step back again. Around Suguru's neck, a delicate rose-gold chain glints, with a small key of the same color resting on his chest. Details. Satoru loves details. When he looks up, he sees that Suguru’s lip piercing is missing. "I'm not gonna bother us with what I despise about omegas." Suguru lifts his hand and slides Satoru's glasses up into his hair. "Instead, I'll tell you what I like about you." Speechless, Satoru stares at Suguru with wide eyes. He expected Suguru to lash out, but instead, Suguru's reaction was the complete opposite. Satoru is unsure what to think. Is Suguru trying to confuse him by acting enigmatic? Or perhaps Suguru is giving him a chance, only to continually prove that Satoru isn't good enough for him. Fuck. Satoru feels like he’s losing this round. "Smart..." Suguru leans towards Satoru, his voice deep. "Pretty, bold, and not easily to offend. I like those traits." Suguru is so close that Satoru's head spins from his intimate scent. The tone of Suguru's voice, his words, and the warmth radiating from his body make it nearly impossible for Satoru to keep a coherent thought. "But I’m afraid you’re too deep shit for me to stay around." The mix of disappointment and mockery stings Satoru’s sensitive heart. "Let’s go over the top five: you’ve got a bounty on your head, you’re the most wanted, self-destructive, reckless, and my personal favorite: you smell like seafood." "Well..." Satoru says, intoxicated by the alpha’s rich scent. "Besides smelling like Bivalvia, I think those you mentioned are pretty sexy red flags." Suguru pulls back, shaking his head. "I can’t believe I’m wasting my time trying to talk sense into a man who has no sense of danger." "Why does everyone bring that up? It’s like I’m the only person on this planet who likes taking risks." Satoru throws his hands up. As Suguru leaves Satoru’s personal space, his scent mingles with the gasoline and gentle rain. The residuals in Satoru's system are insufficient to keep him high, and his senses quickly become clear. "I understand that I’m a walking red flag, but so are you," Satoru reminds Suguru, alluding to his position as a gang leader. "Two flags are more visible than one," Suguru replies. "I already have a steel ball dragging behind me. I don't need you to slow me down. Satoru scrutinizes him intently, using every part of himself—his heart, mind, love, desire, all his experiences, and everything life has taught him—to understand Suguru. With an aching heart, Satoru folds his arms across his chest, holding onto the little warmth he still carries, and walks closer to Suguru. "I know what you need, Suguru," he says attentively, each word chosen with care. "You need someone with survival skills, but not as broken as you. Someone who can console you without feeling the exact same pain, because you need to know they can survive if anything happens to you." People are easy to read. All of them. Even Satoru is clearly visible, resembling an open, bleeding wound. The difference, however, is that one needs to know how to swim in the blood to understand him. Satoru’s intuition about people’s nature rarely fails him, and this time it tells him that Suguru might be an experienced swimmer. Suguru’s eyes darken, and his brows knit gently. A slight scuff appears on his armor. The cold demeanor cracks under the weight of Satoru’s well-crafted words. "And you’re supposed to be that person you just described?" He scoffs. "You don’t know me, omega. And I don’t know you. Assuming anything about each other at this point is a waste of our time." "Yet you couldn’t help yourself and made a top five list of why you consider me a ticking bomb," Satoru fires back with the same sentiment. "I tried to be nice." Suguru pulls out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. "Considerate, even." He slips one cigarette between his lips and lights it. "I don’t need you to try. If you don’t want to be nice to me, then don’t be. I’m not a charity case," Satoru says coldly, steeling himself for the next words. "I’m not here because you saved my life, nor because I need a strong alpha to protect me..." Suguru attentively exhales the smoke away from Satoru as he listens. The gentle glint in his purple eyes fills Satoru’s veins with new hope. "I've spent my entire life surrounded by miserable alphas. I was the only omega working in the tower," he says, his voice slipping into an urgent tone. "And yet, I still carry the hope of finding someone who would truly love me." Suguru blinks slowly, lowering his gaze with a soft sigh as he brings the cigarette to his lips. Satoru waits, his heart seizing, nervousness slowly creeping into distress. The little device in his back pocket collects his emotions and sends them to Nanami. By now, he and Shoko know that his meeting with Suguru didn’t go well. "Hopes are nice to have..." Suguru flicks the unfinished cigarette away. "But don’t let them turn into obsession. You can become an addict in a heartbeat." "I already am," Satoru confirms as fast as a single heartbeat. "You became my hope. As crazy as it sounds, Suguru..." He says his name with profound need. "It’s truly what my heart feels when I look at you." A flash of confusion and sympathy crosses Suguru’s face. He tries to cover as much of his emotions as possible, yet they keep seeping through his cold mask. Satoru is on the right track. He might not have chosen his words perfectly, but he learns quickly. "Give me a chance, and I’ll prove to you that I am more than an omega on the run." Satoru makes another bold move, grabbing Suguru’s hand. It’s as freezing as his own. "We can change our world for the better." "And how would you do that?" Suguru looks down at their joined hands. "I’ll tell you everything if you take me home." Suguru’s lips twitch. He frees his hands and steps back, openly laughing. "Ah, kitten, you truly have your ways." "No matter what I do or say, you’ll think I’m trying to trick you into something!" Satoru throws his hands in the air in disbelief. He's encountered individuals who are genuinely paranoid and cautious, but Suguru surpasses them all. What betrayal occurred in his life to cause him to harden his heart with steel and ice? Even Satoru, who’s experienced unimaginable things, is not this hard on himself and the people around him. "What happened to you? Who hurt you?" Satoru asks openly, his eyes pleading. "When I look at you, I see a strong man in cracked armor. You're either untouchable or oblivious to danger, like a certain someone."Suguru snickers. "Self-reflective. Another trait to like.""Are you flirting back or making fun of me?""Can't you tell?" Suguru chuckles, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Satoru's ear."I'm afraid my science degree doesn't cover studying Geto Suguru's behavior in the wild."Suguru laughs softly, lowering his hand. With tender eyes, he looks Satoru over. A pause falls between them—a brief moment that shouldn't make Satoru feel this suffocated. He holds his breath, waiting for Suguru to speak."At different times, I can see myself taking you home."Satoru’s heart swells with wistfulness. There’s so much he wants to tell Suguru, but as he opens his mouth, Suguru sighs tiredly, pulling his jacket closer as the wind picks up. Satoru wants nothing more than to take off his own jacket and put it over Suguru’s shoulders. "I hope you didn’t come alone." Suguru puts his hands into his jeans pockets, relaxed. Maybe he’s not cold; maybe he just feels uncomfortable. "I’m stupid in many ways, but not this one," Satoru confirms. "Good." Nodding, Suguru tucks a loose hair strand behind his ear. "Now be a good, sweet omega and go to them. Stop looking for me." Satoru frowns, feeling the fire in his veins burning with desperate intensity. "I can turn different times into the present reality." "Reckless." Suguru shakes his head, his lips quivering in displeasure. "You and I, we can change—" "I've heard that before!" Suguru raises his voice as the wind picks up again. The iron-cold purple in his eyes pierces Satoru like a rod. "Then stop being so stubborn and don’t make me repeat myself!" Suguru groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re insufferable." "Great. Make a chart of my positive and negative traits; I don’t give a damn!" Satoru calls out. "But please don’t waste your opportunity to become happy." "God, you’re so arrogant..." Suguru’s face contorts in disbelief as he walks to his bike and picks something from the side bag attached to it. The object is a small black square with a green indicator on it. Satoru has an idea; it could be an injector or stimulator. But when he sees Suguru peel the back of it, he arches an eyebrow. Alright, he was completely wrong. It’s a derm that comes in a weird shape and package. Suguru flicks it onto his wrist and puts the box back into the bag. "I want you to stop following me." Suguru turns at him. "You drag a whole fucking hell behind your heels, dear." "So, you refuse to be the great alpha who would help me to carry it." "Fucking correct." Suguru then, without hesitation, grabs Satoru’s wrist. "Now tell me where your friends are. I’m personally bringing you to them." "I think I'll pass," he says, flashing a challenging grin in Suguru's direction. Gripping Satoru's hand, Suguru faces him. "This isn't a request. You will do as I say, or I will do everything in my power to send you back to your tower! Do you understand?" A shiver runs down Satoru’s spine at the cold threat. When he said he wouldn’t mind walking as a pair of red flags, this was what he meant; he believes Suguru is a man of his word. If Suguru says he’s going to kill someone, he means it. There is no room for interpretation. Shaped into a paranoid bastard by the streets, Suguru doesn’t hesitate to stab someone if it means protecting what he cherishes. Satoru can only stare—stare at the man with the sexiest mindset he’s ever seen. Fuck. He needs Suguru by his side more than the oxygen he breathes. Hope brings out the worst in people. It makes them desperate and slowly drives them mad. In the process, instead of becoming a cold-hearted monster like Suguru, Satoru lost his sense of danger. And that’s exactly why he will never stop chasing after Suguru. "Try me, then," Satoru says, lifting his chin in challenge. "You think I’d be scared of an alpha I want to fuck? Anything you want to do to me, I need it." Suguru searches in his eyes, calculating. "A little fucked in your head, aren’t you?" He chuckles. "Hmm, how many brain implants do you have?" "I want you." Satoru breathes against the alpha’s lips. "You’re the only person I want to be with." "Why?" Suguru rasps quietly. "Just because you believe I’m some sort of hero who can help you change the world? Grow up, Satoru. You are no longer in your tower, princess. This is the real world." A surge of anger courses through Satoru at the harsh words. He grits his teeth. "I'm not trying to compare our lives." "Yet you’re angry," Suguru says with a tight-lipped, mocking smile. "What do you want me to do, Suguru?" His fury morphs into hopelessness. "Do you think they didn’t teach me how to beg? How to be pliant and good? Is that what you want me to be?" Suguru furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head slightly away, clear discomfort on his face. When he finally comprehends just how messed up the environment in the tower where Satoru grew up is, he shakes his head. "I’m not a savior," he says, half disturbed and dismissive. "We all carry our crosses." "I’m okay with carrying mine. I can even carry yours." "I don’t ask you to." Suguru’s grip on Satoru’s wrists tightens, emphasizing the importance of his words. Satoru leans forward, his boots giving him a height advantage over Suguru. "Accept me, alpha." Suguru widens his eyes before he snorts and presses his hand against Satoru’s chest to push him back. "Alright, that’s enough cheap seafood hormones for you today." "Take me home and make me yours." "To be clear!" Suguru holds him at arm's length. "I don’t want you to beg me. I’m not into those dynamics." Satoru cocks his head, his eyes imploring. "Then I ask you again; what should I do?" "You can’t be this naive, Satoru." He lowers his hand, his lips quirking downward. "You’re the Gojo omega. Losing your virginity to a random alpha would devalue you. You’d become nobody. Your family would treat you even worse." Satoru narrows his eyes at him, his guts twisting and tightening. He feels a vibration in his pocket; the bee-call has just alerted Nanami to his high level of distress. The harsh way Suguru spoke to him made Satoru nauseous. The stark truth felt like a slap in Satoru’s face, and the fact that it was Suguru who delivered it made it hurt twice as much. Yet Satoru refuses to let him see the pain. "Nobody will treat me worse. I’ll be yours only. They wouldn’t want me anymore..." His voice betrays him at the end. Suguru sighs softly, releasing Satoru's wrists and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, Satoru," he says with concern. "You're still the Gojo Omega, the people's Virgin Mary, the symbol of purity. Your family owns you. No matter how broken you become, they will collect you and sell your image as a fallen angel. But to them, you'll lose your financial value. I bet you can imagine the horrors they'll inflict just to maintain your martyr persona." Satoru had hidden these truths deep within his heart for years. It took him a long time to stop viewing himself as a reward or an object. He portrays himself as a scientist, a genius, a person of morals—someone who can change everyone's life—to distract from his true value in this world. Of all people, it has to be Suguru who reminds him of the painful truth. "I’d rather die than return." Satoru’s breath quickens, but his words sound more determined than before as he slowly descends into a mild panic attack. Suguru falls silent, observing him. When their eyes meet, Satoru sees only sympathy and gentleness. There’s no other reaction. Satoru is certain that his distress must overcome all scent blockers, but Suguru appears to only detect the scent of the oyster. Either the camouflage is perfect, or... Then it hits Satoru—another unpleasant revelation. Satoru shamelessly flicks his Six Eyes over Suguru's face, scanning for his gadgets. Tucked under the nasolacrimal duct is a small device that blocks scents. "Hey..." Suguru squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. "It’s going to be alright, okay? You’re still here." Satoru stares at him, taking deep, steady breaths. "That’s why I said joining me would cause you even more trouble. You need to stay low-profile, kitten, alright? Do you understand me? I’d put you in an unwanted spotlight." The world around Satoru starts blending into a blur, swallowing Suguru’s face. He doesn’t want to go back to the mansion. He doesn’t want to see the SS tower again. He doesn’t want to marry a random person. He doesn’t want his value to be expressed in crypto. He’s a person... He won’t go back. Satoru shoves the unpleasant truth back into the dark corner of his mind. His face contorts in displeasure and anger as he fights against the urge to slam his fist into Suguru’s face. Ah, crap. He hates it when someone talks to him like he was born a pig for slaughter. "Fuck. I triggered you," Suguru swears, alarmed as he takes Satoru’s face in his hands. “You’re going to be okay, alright? You are safe here.” — with you . Satoru wants to add. He stares into Suguru’s eyes, reading it out of him like he’s a widescreen. Suguru knows that Satoru is safe here because of him. He knows he can protect Satoru if he really wanted. All Satoru needs to do, is to persuade him to want it. "I've got you, okay?" Suguru pulls him into an embrace, transferring his warmth to Satoru's trembling body. He feels the cold sweat on his temples. "We'll go to your friends, and you'll be alright. They'll protect you." Disoriented, Satoru wraps his arms around Suguru’s waist. He tries to force his vitality chip to work, but something is off. His hormones are chaotic, beyond the control of even the stabilizer. He can’t even maintain the focus to camouflage his Six Eyes. They flick back, recoloring his iris to blue and centering on Suguru. "I didn’t mean to be this cruel. I only wanted you to be careful." Satoru tightens his hold, feeling as if time slows down as he hides his face in Suguru’s neck, breathing in his calming scent. He feels his anger dissolving slowly and the urge to start fighting Suguru fades away. "Yeah, that’s good. Breathe in, slowly..." Suguru rubs calming circles on Satoru’s back. "Concentrate only on me, Satoru." A fast and overwhelming humming fills Satoru's ears amidst his confusing thoughts, clogging all his senses. But as quickly as the peak of his panic attack came, it descended, and soon Satoru’s senses are bathing in Suguru’s gentle scent. Does this man, this alpha, even understand what he has done? Does he understand that he just broke and then immediately mended Satoru’s heart? "Is it better?" Suguru pulls away slightly to inspect Satoru’s state. Their eyes meet, and when Suguru notices the tearful gleam in Satoru's blue eyes, his brows rise in amazement, as if witnessing a miracle. He gives Satoru a look of wonder. Suguru's scent is sweet, personal, and intimate as they exchange glances. It helps Satoru regain the control he lost to Suguru in the first place. What a dangerous man Suguru is, able to play Satoru however he wishes. "You’re a terrible liar, alpha..." Satoru blinks away the angry tears from his eyelashes. "I don’t recall ever lying to you, omega..." Suguru chuckles bitterly. At that moment, his eyes glaze over as he looks past Satoru. “This is our first time speaking properly.” "I've been paying attention." Satoru flutters his long eyelashes as he leans closer, placing his hands on the small of Suguru's back. Suguru sighs heavily, the tension between them breaking as he realizes he read Satoru wrong. Satoru's lips curl into a sly smile as he nuzzles against Suguru's artificial artery. Suguru stands patiently in Satoru's arms, likely contemplating how to get rid of Satoru as quickly as possible. But Satoru doesn't move. He doesn't care, really. He has run away once, he can do it again. And if not, he'll just blow up the whole tower with himself in it. It’s just—it's nice to be free and do whatever he wants instead of sitting in the lab and kicking horny alphas when they ‘accidentally’ brush their crotches over Satoru’s ass. "I know you didn’t mean it, but it really fucking pisses me off when someone talks to me like you just did..." Satoru's voice tingles with the surpassed anger as he speaks against Suguru's neck. "Logically, you're correct about everything. However, I don't give a shit, how alphas see me, Suguru." Suguru huffs an amused laugh, tinged with admiration, as he turns his head towards Satoru, causing him to pull away slightly. In this position, face to face, their lips hovering, Satoru could kiss him. "You said I'm sneaky, that I have my ways. Call me manipulative if it makes you feel better about yourself..." Satoru murmurs. "But the truth is, you're still here with me, right where everyone can see us." Satoru feels Suguru stiffen in his arms, but it's not out of fear. A low, guttural laugh escapes Suguru's mouth, his lips stretching into a mischievous smile. Without breaking eye contact, Suguru grabs Satoru's sides, making him jolt slightly, but in a pleasant way. "You got me there, little omega. I should've been more attentive." Suguru's voice oozes with feigned remorse as he suddenly bends and, before Satoru knows it, hoists him up and tosses him over his shoulder like a sack of broken components. "Oh right. You just couldn't hold the caveman inside any longer!" Satoru sighs, bored by how his body swings with Suguru's every step. "You gonna show me around your nice cave, alpha?" Suguru doesn't respond, but Satoru can tell he's uneasy from the gentle grip on the back of his thighs. "Shouldn't you drag me by my hair, kicking and yelling? I can do that if you ask nicely!" Satoru proposes, hanging over Suguru's shoulder and watching his loose arms sway as Suguru walks. When there's no reaction, Satoru purses his lips in annoyance. "I got you!" He grabs Suguru's leather jacket. "You’re nervous because your little cave is messy. But no worry, I can clean. In fact, I’m fucking fabulous at cleaning. I can even cook over a campfire. I bet you prefer omegas who eat well." "I don't prefer omegas in general." "Hot." Satoru whistles. "So, how about next Friday? We can meet at the Green Bay. Romantic, right?" Suddenly, Suguru stills and begins lowering Satoru against his will. Satoru clings to him like a koala, trying to stay attached at any cost. He even grabs Suguru's manbun and hooks his leg over Suguru's waist. "I think one of those countless chips in my brain has broken. It's got me stuck in this natural omega to alpha position," Satoru says, looking straight into Suguru's eyes. "What omega?" Suguru pushes his head back to get a better look into Satoru's brown eyes. "You came camouflaged as an alpha, sweet boy." Satoru grins, piecing together the enigmatic message Suguru might unknowingly be sending his way. Pleased, he decides to play along. "I can be anything you want me to be." Impatient and clearly not amused anymore, Suguru grips Satoru's waist, forcing him down. "Get off me, Satoru." "Or?" "I've already told you what will happen if you don't leave me alone," Suguru hisses, his jaw tense and his eyes sending a clear, cold message. "Do you really want to challenge me?" Satoru nods. "I did pay attention. Mainly to the part where, in different times, you'd take me home." That must be the line Satoru finally crossed. Though he feels high on adrenaline and almost invincible in Suguru's arms, he knows he's never safe. Not from anyone. Not even from the alpha he wishes to spend his life with. Satoru, however, loves taking risks and won't stop courting Suguru until he has Suguru's knife at his throat and his guts are already bleeding. And that's only because he has bigger goals in mind than mating. "I don't like little psychos." Suguru grabs Satoru's throat, squeezing just enough to make Satoru groan in pleasure. "You have no idea what I'm capable of, Satoru." "I get it, you're not the flower guy." Inhaling sharply, Suguru shoves him away, causing Satoru to almost stumble. They exchange pointed looks. The atmosphere is thick with hostility and sexual tension. The latter is only from Satoru’s side, but as the saying goes: "You are what you breathe," and if Suguru breathes enough of Satoru’s need, then he can become needy too, right? Or was it, ‘You are what you eat?’ Even better if Suguru wants to eat him— "Satoru..." A worried voice interrupts Satoru's thoughts. He turns to see Nanami standing by Shoko's car. Suguru carried him all the way here. He knew the whole time, yet he asked. Narrowing his eyes, Satoru's lips flatten. Interesting. So, Satoru was right. Suguru knows everything about him, and Larue isn't hanging around the repair shop out of habit. Suguru's gang is plotting something against Suguru's own will. That might help Satoru. "I suppose this stray kitten is yours..." Suguru says, looking at Nanami. "Take it home and keep it out of my sight." "What if I become invisible?" Satoru grins as Nanami grabs his shoulder and drags him to the car. Satoru is halfway into the car when he manages to overpower Nanami for a moment and sticks his head out to yell, "Don't forget about next Friday!" "Shut up! Do you want us to get killed?" Nanami shoves him into the car, slams the door, and bangs his hand against the window, pointing at Satoru to stay put or face inappropriate consequences. Great! Everything went perfectly. Bouncing with joy, Satoru turns to Shoko, who has her head and hands resting on the wheel, her hair covering her face. "I call that a success!" "You're a psycho," she mumbles, exhausted.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Satoru knew he was courting trouble when he contacted the black-market seller. But he desperately needed the powerful, untraceable, and stolen military TG Dragon device in a used state. If anyone found out, it wouldn’t be Satoru’s fault. He would simply be a naive victim, a fresh fish on the cutting board. Stupidity sells every time. Despite his intelligence, Satoru lacked experience. He might have anticipated his contact grabbing the money and stabbing him in the back, but he couldn’t foresee other aspects of the trade. When you’re on the run, you can get lost pretty quickly, especially when you’re a new face in the neighborhood. Satoru parted ways with Shoko to protect her. She called him all sorts of colorful names over the comms, from a cracked ballsack to the stupidest egg in the carton. Before Satoru blocked her call, she threatened to beat him with her shoe when he returned. What an optimistic woman. If she knew where Satoru was right now, he was sure she would already be telling the sad news to Nanami: “Oh, he lived as he behaved—like a prick.” They would buy him a single flower and spread his ashes into Green Bay, where Suguru could mourn him forever. It's surprising what ideas come to mind when sprinting across rooftops with the grace of a ninja. To Satoru's defense, he's excellent at running like a ninja—in video games. Who would have thought that jumping around would take such a toll on the leg muscles? The two big guys are better at this kind of chase. Their chrome gives them advantages in strength and durability, but they lack something crucial: the adrenaline boost to survive. The moment Satoru sees an opportunity to lose the goons behind the tall chimney, he turns left, aiming for the factory. He places his foot on the edge of the roof, but his boot gives way, and he suddenly tumbles down the inclined surface, crashing onto the flat roof of the adjacent building. And that’s not where his rolling journey stops; he falls through the roof and crashes onto a massive table. Satoru gasps for his knocked-out breath. The aftershock vibrates through his bones and into his lungs, which feel like soft cushions, resonating until the sound fades. “The fuck, man!” someone yells in a raspy, angry voice. The ringing in Satoru’s ears fades, and the black blotches vanish from his eyes as his immune system starts healing his bruises instantly. He sharpens his gaze at the bartender. With his peripheral vision, he sees empty tables in what could pass as a rustic place, but the truth is that the building is simply falling apart. “Well, that’s something,” another person comments on Satoru’s dramatic entry. “It’s raining omegas.” Still lying on the table, Satoru turns his head toward the familiar voice that could make anyone’s flatlined heart race in an instant. On the chair next to the table Satoru landed on, sits Suguru with a glass in his hand. His expression is neutral, though Satoru can read the slight amusement in the corner of his lips. “Hey...” Satoru offers a pained smile, carefully propping himself up on his elbow. “Do you come here often?” “Quite often.” Suguru sips his drink with a little chuckle. Satoru stares at him, bewitched, his lips stretching into a smile. He completely forgets about the pulsating pain in his ribcage or the fact that he should keep running. If the bad guys catch him, they will do much worse than throw him through a rotten roof. “Who the fuck is going to pay for that, huh?!” The bartender, a tall, imposing man who could rip Satoru in half if he wanted, points at Satoru with a finger. “It was an accident.” Satoru turns his head towards him. “My foot slipped when I was doing the roofing work.” “Roofing work?! It’s eleven fucking PM!” “What can I say?” Satoru flashes him an innocent smile. “I have good eyes.” Suguru snorts at that, placing his glass on the table among the dust and pieces of plaster next to Satoru. The bartender doesn’t find Satoru's remark amusing at all. He’s furious, threatening to call the UCPD. His place might be a bit rundown, but he’s a solid businessman. That’s when Satoru learns that the bartender is also the owner of this place. “Simon, come on...” Suguru looks up at the bartender, his face calm, his eyes as warm as summer violets. “I have a fucking hole in my roof!” Simon shouts, pointing upwards in outrage. “But it’s a pretty hole,” Satoru notes appreciatively. “I could make a living falling through roofs. You know—creating different shapes: stars, circles, squares, whatever you want.” Simon gazes at Satoru as though he has escaped from a psychiatric ward. Yapping isn’t Satoru’s style, but he’s so nervous around Suguru and desperate to impress him with his wit that he blabs like a needy kid at a high school party. “You can call the police.” Suguru shrugs. “But how will you explain that your business is rotting? This guy could sue you.” “Sue me for what?!” Simon folds his arms across his chest. “For making a hole in my roof?” “No, for falling through your rotten ceiling while he was doing the roofing.” “What roofing?! It’s the middle of the night!” Simon's neck arteries bulge as if they want to rip through his skin and strangle Suguru. “He has good eyes.” Suguru's tone is indifferent as he dusts off his pants. The room falls silent. Satoru braces for Simon to lash out at Suguru at any moment. It's amusing how differently they behave. Suguru remains calm, while Simon looks ready to throw punches if it wouldn't cost him his arms. From Suguru's composed handling of the situation, Satoru deduces that the Ravens have the whole district under control. Simon might be angry and call it unfair, but fear—or perhaps respect—keeps him from challenging Suguru further. And he could—damn, Suguru is alone here, and Simon is a big guy. It's mind-boggling to consider how a single individual can exude such immense authority. Satoru wishes he had that kind of power in the SS tower. Everything could’ve been different. But hey, he’s just an omega, and omegas can’t lead a pack. “Fine!” Simon spits, irritated as he pivots on his heel. “Sorry about that, really!” Satoru tries to settle the matter, not wanting to make even more enemies. “Whatever,” Simon mutters, waving his hand dismissively. “I've planned to fix that anyway.” Satoru smiles apologetically, keeping a close eye on Simon in case he decides to pull a gun from under the bar and shoot them both. After the fiasco with the seller, Satoru is prepared for anything. Rather than going on a killing spree, Simon grabs two glasses and a bottle of scotch. “Get off the table, man,” he says, filling the glasses to the brim. “Right.” Satoru grins sheepishly, a blush dusting his cheeks. Pieces of planks, bricks, and asphalt litter the floor and table, scattering debris all around Satoru. He slowly sits up, hissing at the strained muscle in his side. Miraculously, he’s not bleeding anywhere—his chrome cushioned the fall. When Satoru hops down, the little rocks crunch under his soles, creating the best sound in the world. He loves walking on gravel or broken glass; it’s the most relaxing sound. “I don’t really want to know what you were doing up there,” Simon shakes his head, walking up to them with the glasses. “You okay, T?” Suguru asks, his voice laced with slight worry. “That was a hard fall.” Satoru pulls out a chair, nodding as he sweeps away the dirt before sitting down. He sighs, taking the drink while watching Simon head to the back. “You have dust on your face,” Suguru informs him, playing with his empty glass resting on his crossed legs. Satoru finishes his drink, sets the glass aside, and dusts himself off. “Sorry, Santa didn’t bring you anything. But I guess you weren’t a good boy this year, Suguru.” “It’s April.” Patting his bomber jacket, Satoru gives him a deadpan stare. “Be more fun, leader.” Suguru sighs, placing the glass on the table and leaning his chin on his palm. “I’m no leader.” "I guess ravens don’t behave like a typical gang hierarchy." “Don’t you think there are already enough leaders and rules?” Suguru watches him with those brilliant purple eyes. The color is anything but natural, yet Satoru sees nothing unnatural behind them. Suguru resembles a nebula giving birth to stars. His neck artery glows gently through his pale skin, like vibrant nerves. If one were ever curious about the appearance of the universe after the Big Bang, Suguru would be the answer—a blend of the natural and the unnatural. It’s difficult to describe what is happening in Suguru’s body. Satoru has never seen anything like it before. “Are you thinking about the answer, or am I just that irresistible to look at?” Suguru teases. “Honestly?” Satoru folds his forearms on the table, leaning closer. “I’m bewitched.” Suguru’s eyes drop to the table, his long black eyelashes casting shadows over his otherworldly eyes. In Suguru’s imperfections, Satoru sees nature’s wonders. The human body doesn’t really need anything but the brain to function. “You look at me like you want to cut me open,” Suguru says, leaning back in his chair and pulling a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket. “Open, yes, but not cut.” Satoru’s awkward attempt at flirting is met with Suguru’s scoff. “You’re a lost cause.” Suguru lights his cigarette. “What were you doing up there? You Prince of Persia now?” Satoru’s eyes light up. “Not bad, right? From the prince of oysters. I call that climbing up the ladder.” A hint of a smile appears on Suguru's face, a positive sign. Satoru doesn't hesitate to make a fool of himself if it means seeing Suguru's full smile. He wants to see that wide smile that wrinkles Suguru's eyes, to hear him laugh, and to lose himself in the happiness only Satoru can bring him.Satoru knows he’s slowly getting there, into the half-plastic, half-flesh heart in Suguru’s chest. Four chambers and all will soon beat just for Satoru. “You didn’t answer my question.” Suguru puffs out the smoke. “What were you doing up there?” “I know what you’re thinking, but I was definitely not stalking you...” Satoru massages his neck, feeling a sudden soreness take hold. He coughs, patting his chest. “Sorry about that.” Suguru stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray. “No, I have a lung filter; it’s...” Satoru clears his throat. “It’s the dust from this...” he gestures around, “in my throat.” “Right...” Suguru crosses his arms over his chest, observing Satoru intently. “Are you really okay?” “Yeah. I’ve been tumbling and bouncing around my whole life,” Satoru laughs, clearly joking. “I’m actually very bouncy. Do you want to see?” “Why not?” Suguru shrugs leisurely. Satoru swallows dryly, the dust tickling his throat. He means it; Suguru really wants to see if Satoru would bounce if he threw himself on the floor. Note to self: never play a dare with Geto Suguru. “Better not.” Satoru keeps his playful smile. “I don’t want to risk falling through the floor this time.” Suguru watches him with sharp, catlike eyes, capturing every word in his deadly grasp. The glint of his smirk tells Satoru that he’s not finished teasing him. Usually, Satoru would have cut the crap by now with others, but Suguru looks like he’s having fun, even if it’s at Satoru’s expense. Who cares? The only thing Satoru regrets is that he has no flowers to gift Suguru. White lilies would suit his dark beauty. “Who knows where that hole would lead you,” Suguru chuckles slightly. Satoru’s eyes widen momentarily. “Probably six feet deep.” The words make Suguru knit his brows. Behind those intense eyes, Satoru can see the well-oiled wheels turning. Suguru is not to be taken lightly in any situation. He might let Satoru entertain him, but he would never let his guard down around anyone. Strangely, he didn’t send Satoru away. Did something change since the last time they saw each other? Satoru bites his tongue, not wanting to waste the opportunity to finally see the rawness of Suguru’s thoughts. He needs Suguru to break the silence and reveal his thoughts. Their last encounter provides Satoru with enough clues to realize that Suguru is not the cold-hearted bastard he pretends to be. He cares, albeit reluctantly, and battles against it like a gladiator. Yet, his broken heart couldn’t help but respond when Satoru was in distress. Suguru clearly plays the devil he’s not. “It’s obvious someone chased you,” Suguru finally speaks up. “They will soon find you.” “Probably,” Satoru answers, clearing his throat. When he turns around to ask for water, Simon is still not there. “Forget it. He’s already gone.” Suguru stands up, stuffing his hands into his cargo pants. His heavy biker boots crash the bits of plaster as he approaches the bar. Satoru looks around nervously. The windows have bars, but the door’s lock is green. Anyone can come inside. The seller probably called for backup, and the whole street is perhaps getting locked. “Relax...” Suguru’s voice cuts through Satoru’s thoughts. “You can’t change what’s inevitable.” He pours them two tequilas. “I support that theory, but I’m not adjusted to physical fights yet.” “Well...” Suguru gestures for Satoru to join him at the bar. “You have to learn somehow.” As Satoru rises, the weight of his body nearly compels him to collapse back into the chair. His nerves are tingling, and the nanos working to repair his soft tissue after the fall are taking their toll. After a few weary steps, he reaches the bar and grabs the glass. “Is there anything sugary on the menu?” Satoru asks as he finishes his drink. "Your super high-tech is draining your energy like crazy, huh?" There’s a hint of a knowing smile on Suguru’s face like he knows exactly what Satoru is going through right now. Which is strange, considering Suguru has no brain implants. Satoru nods, rubbing his tired eyes, as he keeps thinking about the state of Suguru’s body. Of course, Suguru could remove the implants, but why would anyone do that in this era of cyber communication? Satoru is convinced it has something to do with the strange purple light illuminating his skin like a visible RTG. He leans against the bar, resting his head on his hand while watching Suguru inspect the shelves. Alcohol isn’t the right choice; his immune system is busy with repairs, and his energy levels are dangerously low. The adrenaline from the chase and the fall, combined with his intense wiring, all demand fuel, but Satoru’s pockets are empty. "Here." Suguru sets a pack of marshmallows and a can of Neola in front of him. Satoru frowns slightly as he opens the can. "Aren’t you worried the men will show up here?" "They’ll always show up somewhere, T." Satoru downs the entire drink in one go and hides the little burp behind his hand. "You’ve called me that before." “It’s your name, isn’t it?” Suguru arches an eyebrow, daring Satoru to speak against his decision to protect him from curious ears. “But I expect you to use my full name in bed.” Satoru grins, opening the marshmallows. “If that’s your last wish.” He shrugs, pouring himself another drink of tequila. This time, he reaches behind the bar and picks a lime from the ice, squeezing an enormous amount into the glass. “You’re a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” Satoru shakes his head. “Already putting me on my deathbed." "Life is unpredictable, T." He smirks as he finishes his drink. With a loud thud, he sets the glass on the bar. "Fill up, kitten. It’s time to head out." Satoru’s eyebrows shoot up, blending with his white bangs, as he watches Suguru reach behind his jacket and pull out a gun from his shoulder holster. It’s a black and red Hawk-T9, a weapon capable of piercing through almost anything. With cheeks full of marshmallows, Satoru gestures toward the gun. “That’s a tank.” "Glad you like it." Suguru smiles, satisfied as he unlocks the gun and the security system scans his fingertips. "Most black-market couriers wear chromatic armor. It’s tough to take them down. They don’t invest much in neurotech since their job is to beat you to death." Satoru licks the sugar off his fingers and hops down from the stool. “How do you know those guys are after me and not you?” Finally, Suguru huffs a short laugh, showing his pearly white teeth. “T, you run your mouth like you’re invincible.” A surge of embarrassment crosses Satoru’s body, and he looks away. “I paid! It’s them breaking the deal!” “I still can’t believe you went there personally. You seriously have something unscrewed in your brain.” He shakes his head, lips twitching upward as he debates whether to laugh or be disappointed. “I was with Shoko!” The protest dies on Satoru’s tongue as soon as he realizes how stupid he sounds. “I guess I’m finally reaching the desperate measures.” He looks away. Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Disappointment clearly wins over his amusement. “They’ll get you soon. You have no chance of surviving here with just your two friends.” A frown appears on Satoru's face as he realizes he can't argue with that, even if he wants to. He could admit that needing protection is part of the reason he's trying to get to Suguru, but Suguru already knows that. Despite Satoru's denials, it's obvious. “I know I survived the Bay because of you,” Satoru admits humbly. Suguru keeps his gaze fixed on his gun. “The Bay was full of people. Did you assume that no one in the Bay had the RR running? They were able to listen in on every word we said. In fact, Miguel did, because that’s what I asked him to do.” “I know I risked...” "Do you believe that hiding your eyes and scent will deceive people who are well-versed in wiring and technology?" Suguru asks, scoffing. “You might be the genius here, the doctor, but you know nothing about how the streets work.” “As you said, I need to learn somehow.” “Yes, in small steps. Not by jumping into the lion’s den.” Suguru looks at him with exhaustion. “You think you’re safe in your friend’s store?” Narrowing his gaze, Satoru nods. “Yes, because your people keep coming there. I know nobody would try anything funny.” Suguru snorts at Satoru’s prevailing naivety. “My people aren’t immortal, and it’s only Larue and Carrot who go there.” “That’s the guy with the huge orange glasses?” Satoru draws two circles around his eyes. “Those are his eyes.” Satoru gasps at the realization. “He has mirror eyes? That’s kinda outdated.” “It’s his choice.” “Alright...” Satoru lifts his arms in a placating gesture. After a short pause, Suguru leans against the wall next to the door, holding the gun in both hands, pressed against his stomach. “I understand that fighting isn’t everyone’s style. I respect the decision of someone who chooses not to kill. But you’re in a position where you can only choose between life and death.” Satoru’s heart races and his breath shortens. Even though he knows Suguru is telling the truth, he still harbors the hope that he can convince even the hunters to help him. After all, bounty hunters believe that money can buy everything. But then, why would they need to go through the minefield when all they need to do is hand Satoru over to his family, and two million cryptos will be theirs? “You mistake foolishness for bravery,” Suguru mutters. “You think you can play it until it somehow works. You’re punching the wrong pieces together like a stubborn child.” Frowning slightly, Satoru meets his gaze. “One day, Suguru, you’ll realize how much you’ve underestimated me.” He offers a cheeky grin. “Ah, come on, kitten!” Suguru snorts, crossing his ankles. “Your plan: escape, find a safe house and friends, fit in, find someone who can protect you, make people believe you can change the world, hit the jackpot, and live with Suguru happily ever after!” Suguru finishes by snapping his fingers. “Child’s play, huh?” Satoru whistles, gazing at him with admiration. “Not bad.” That's how all survival plans are, after all. But Satoru especially appreciates the part where Suguru includes himself. It's so sweet of him to personalize Satoru's plan like that. It truly warmed his heart. “You see...” Suguru begins cautiously, "Larue keeps pestering me about you." Satoru’s eyes widen at the realization, and he huffs a short laugh. The whole scene in the store where Larue literally yelled about the race destination was on purpose. He wanted Satoru to hear him. “You have a Cupid there, leader,” Satoru smirks smugly. Suguru clicks his tongue, and a dark veil covers his eyes as he pulls away from the wall. “Right...” he sneers. "Be careful, omega, I might not survive another arrow in my heart."Satoru's smile slowly fades as Suguru hints at what happened to his heart. His curiosity spikes, and at that moment, there's nothing he wants more than to sit down with Suguru and bombard him with questions. His eagerness almost takes over, but his survival instinct kicks in, reminding him to focus on the present problem or risk never speaking with Suguru again."I promise to tend to any of your wounds with unconditional love and care," Satoru's eyes radiate warmth and gentleness. Despite his soft approach, Suguru remains unresponsive to his omega advances.Undeterred, Satoru tries a different approach. Less straightforward. “I appreciate that you handled the whole situation at the race personally,” he tries to lift the mood. “I know I can be annoying, but I really want to get to know you, and...” He trails off, sighing when Suguru remains stoic."Just wanted you to know, that I'm grateful..."Despite everything, Suguru has let Satoru hang around long enough for his squad to know that he's untouchable. Larue continues to frequent the store and Satoru bets Miguel has his eyes on him. Anyone looking at Suguru right now would think he doesn't need a shred of protection. He's alone in a rough place with just a single gun. Suguru definitely doesn't need Miguel to watch over him, but Satoru bets Miguel does it automatically, out of respect and their friendship. The district must fear Suguru like the damned fear Cerberus. Suguru doesn’t need protection or to order people around; they follow him naturally, and that’s hot as hell. The stress and heaviness of his body completely disappear. When Satoru locks eyes with Suguru, he feels such safety that it almost persuades him he’s truly invincible. "The hunters already know we’re here together and that I’m helping you." Suguru reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a derm, and tosses it to Satoru. "Painkillers. I need you to be sharp in the next few moments." Satoru follows silently, rolling up his jacket sleeve and applying the derm to his forearm. He considers asking for a gun but knows all of Suguru's weapons are fingerprints or DNA-sensitive. A knife would be useful too. Satoru even contemplates making a Molotov cocktail when Suguru suddenly opens the door and vanishes into the night. “Fuck!” Running after him, Satoru feels his adrenaline kicking up. In the empty parking lot next to the bar, Satoru watches Suguru approach his bike. Does this mean they're riding together? Because if Satoru has to sit tight, holding onto Suguru, then— Satoru barely reacts as Suguru suddenly turns, his hand outstretched with the gun. It's like slow motion; the gun fires in Satoru's direction, the bullet missing him and drilling a hole into a stranger’s skull. This is how Satoru feels when his Infinity chip glitches. "Get on the bike!" Suguru shouts, and Satoru doesn't hesitate to obey. He sprints over, hiding behind Suguru and the bike as Suguru fires his gun. The gun's machinery echoes through the silent night. The bullets rip through the air, loud enough to wake the dead. The gun is as loud as a tank, yet no one stirs. No sirens, no alarms— nothing. Satoru peeks out from behind the bike. Blood pools beneath the men's bodies, spreading like tree roots. For Suguru, killing seems as effortless as breathing. It's probably true; once you start, it gets easier, just like learning to walk. The rustling of leaves in the bushes startles Satoru, causing him to jump back and alert Suguru. Fearlessly, Suguru reaches into the bushes, drags out another man, and throws him to the ground, aiming his gun at the man's head. "Wait!" Satoru raises his hands. "Is it really necessary to blow his head off?" "He saw us together." "What? Do I have an STD or something?" Satoru rolls his eyes. Suguru whips his head toward Satoru, his brows furrowing in irritation. "Do you leak stupidity, omega?!" "I don't deny the paradox of my behavior," Satoru says, raising his hands in a calming gesture to acknowledge his foolishness. "But I think we should—"That single but earns a merciless shot from Suguru. The man's brain explodes, and Satoru sees the blood spray onto his shoes. He kept his eyes locked with Suguru's the entire time while Suguru pulled the trigger as casually as if he were calling an elevator. The parking lot falls silent once again. Thoughts and self-blame rush through Satoru's mind. If he hadn't been so reckless, he wouldn't have a dozen couriers trying to slit his throat. They could have lived, maybe even gotten better, and quit their bloodthirsty jobs one day. "Overthinking isn't for the streets, kitten." Suguru grabs Satoru's shoulder and pulls him towards the bike. "You have two choices: stay here and get yourself killed because your morals slow you down, or let me deal with the problem and get on the bike to live another day!" The grip Suguru has over Satoru is intense. Every word Suguru speaks sounds like it's straight out of a street code. Satoru is well aware of it. Damn it, he knows that if he doesn't kill, he'll be the one to die. Sooner or later, they will find him. The fewer enemies he has, the better. He needs people to fear him and to leave him alone. Is it foolish not to want Suguru to do the dirty work for him? Those people wouldn't attack them if they weren't together. Almost as if on purpose, Suguru's words from the Bay return to haunt Satoru. It's happening. Two red flags march side by side like signal flares. Suguru is aware of Satoru's struggle with the situation. He tucks his gun back into its holster. "Reality hits hard, T." "I thought—" Satoru's eyes widen as he sees someone leap from the roof, moving like a shadow under the street lamps. "Hold that thought!" Suguru notices, too. "Get on the bike!" He tosses Satoru the key card and moves quickly forward. "Holy shit, holy shit, what's happening..." Satoru's hands shake as he fumbles with the key. "It was just supposed to be a simple exchange for Dragon, nothing else." He paid the agreed amount for the portable drive, fully aware that the couriers might try to rob him and take both the money and the goods. Despite this, he went ahead with the deal. Satoru believed he could make it; if he had survived this long, he was confident he could continue to survive somehow. If he hadn't met Suguru, he would likely be floating in the Bay right now. "Shit!" Satoru exclaims as he straddles the bike and inserts the card into the ignition. When he looks at Suguru, he sees him beating the shit out of the shadow guy. Suguru kicks the guy in the chest with the force of kicking down a door. Despite his chrome protection, the courier stumbles. “What the fuck is he made of?” Satoru narrows his eyes at the scene in disbelief. It's hard to believe that a guy with an artificial heart could have such strength and stamina. He moves like a bird in flight. Whatever happened to Suguru has given him incredible abilities. There's no active neurochip in his brain, no chrome, and yet he fights as if he doesn't feel pain or exhaustion at all. Another shadow catches Satoru's eye. They're moving like ninjas, and Satoru finally realizes that these people aren't here to retrieve the Dragon—they're here to kill them. “Fuck!” Satoru kicks the bike and revs the engine, skidding toward Suguru. “Jump on!” he exclaims. Suguru is behind him in a second, nudging Satoru’s ankle with his boot to signal him to move, like a rider urging a horse. Satoru guns the engine, and they're off, speeding down the road.The neon and street lamps blur into a colorful smudge. Satoru activates his Six Eyes to endure the painful blinking. The shield in his eyes dims the light pollution. The tech reads the road information, alerting Satoru to traffic jams and road repairs. He navigates the bike according to the map until Suguru nudges him with his foot, prompting Satoru to park the bike behind an old church. Turning off the engine feels like shutting down the chaotic parking lot scene. Satoru wishes he could bury it deep in his mind, but he knows it won't be the last time. The bike jolts at the sudden loss of weight behind him, snapping Satoru back to reality. He looks over his shoulder to see Suguru standing up. “Good drive.” Suguru gestures to Satoru to stand up, but Satoru’s legs feel too heavy, glued to the machine. He even can’t stop gripping the handlebars. "You gotta walk it, T." Suguru doesn't give him any time, pulling Satoru to his feet. "Don't let it get to you. Keep breathing and moving." Satoru stands on his trembling legs, his head spinning. Everything happened too fast. All he can think about are the two walking red flags. They really did it. Not on purpose, not planned. In fact, Suguru did everything he could to stay away from Satoru, yet they still ended up together. "I bet you didn't expect this," Satoru forces himself to say, following Suguru's command to keep moving. Suguru tilts his head, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully. "I actually did." He supports Satoru's shoulders, helping him stand straight."Don’t worry, you'll be okay." He locks eyes with Satoru, his reassuring words penetrating every cell in Satoru's body. Incredible willpower. Satoru expects the heavens to fall if he doesn't listen and start acting properly. Suguru's word must be law in this district. Who is Satoru to not submit? Hell, he would submit in other ways too. Staring into the hypnotic purple orbs feels like Suguru is a wizard. It's oddly relaxing to have that cold stare locked on him. Everything about Suguru's eyes seems natural, while everything about Satoru's feels unnatural. Yet, up close, Suguru's eyes appear flat and plastic, as if Suguru isn't even a real human, a person... Despite the enigmatic aura surrounding Suguru, Satoru wishes for nothing more than to take him out like they're teenagers living in the safest district of Neon City. “How about the date?” Satoru asks. “You didn’t come to the Bay as we agreed.” Suguru's delicate eyebrows knit together, and his lips curl in displeasure. "It was a one-sided deal."“Nah, silence gives consent.” Suguru narrows his darkening eyes at him. “So, if I muffle you and then ask you to leave me the fuck alone, does that mean you agree?”“That’s a valid argument," Satoru nods, "but you had plenty of space to decline.” "I told you to leave me alone, didn't I?""Yes, but people change their minds..." Satoru presses his lips into a thin line as Suguru shakes his head, pulling back slightly. Suguru's expression is edged with annoyance as if he might physically attack Satoru to teach him a lesson.Satoru knows he should learn when to stop talking back, but he can't help it. It's as if a large ball of words surges upwards, preventing him from choking. It's part of Satoru's nature to be an insufferable little geek. "You don't know when to stop." Suguru rubs his face tiredly. "If you don't teach that pretty mouth of yours to zip it, you're going to end up dead soon."To prove Suguru wrong, Satoru decides to seal his mouth shut. His obvious behavior hits Suguru like rain on Earth—straight and fast. Sighing, Suguru cocks his head, completely done with Satoru, his eyes pinned on him, eyebrows arched, waiting to see how long Satoru can withstand the silence. First, the withdrawal symptoms show as Satoru crosses his arms over his chest. Then he begins drumming his fingers on his shoulder, wriggling his feet, and displaying a variety of bizarre facial expressions. He doesn't want to lose; he knows how to keep his mouth shut. Suguru can be sure he won't talk a hole in his brain if he doesn't want to. “You’re ridiculous.” Suguru sighs again, shaking his head. Satoru stretches out his hand, checks his nails, and starts humming. When Suguru turns his back to make a call, Satoru puts his hands down, gasping at Suguru's ignorance. “I'm behind the Baptist Church with T,” Suguru says, placing his hands on his hips. “How many?” He waits for the reply, face turned up to the dark, starless sky. It’s humid, and Satoru expects it to start raining any second. Suguru sighs, bowing his head. “If I gave him a gun, he could manage.” He rubs his forehead, groaning. “Okay, okay. I get you! I know!” He raises his voice, irritated. The call ends as Suguru moves to his bike, looking resigned and burdened as if he carries the weight of the world. He straddles the machine, and Satoru wishes it were his waist that Suguru's thighs were squeezing tightly. "I'm going to regret this..." Suguru mutters and curls his fingers over the handles.Satoru waits in a mix of confusion and anticipation. Earlier, in the bar's parking lot, Suguru gave him a choice. Satoru hopes it will be the same this time.Nervously, he crosses his arms over his chest and holds his breath. Should he beg? Is Suguru going to hand him a gun and send him home? It would only be fair. As Suguru mentioned, Satoru needs to gain experience to survive. Unfortunately, today's events don't paint a rosy picture of his future. Satoru keeps his eyes on Suguru, who is clearly struggling with his next decision.Satoru flinches when Suguru sighs with a groan. He looks like he's just aged ten years and added fifty kilos to his shoulders.Gesturing to himself, Suguru nods and says, "Okay, hop on."Satoru's whole face lights up. His heart hammers in his chest, as if it wants to burst out and hug Suguru tightly. He eagerly leaps behind Suguru and hurriedly wraps his arms around his waist. The butterflies in his stomach rise at once, creating chaos in his system. Satoru ignores his medical readings alerting him about his high heart rate. With a contented smile, Satoru nuzzles his warm cheeks against the cool of Suguru’s jacket. “Are you taking me to your place?” Satoru asks, visibly eager and satisfied with the outcome. “You’re a hopeless dreamer.” Satoru can't see his reaction, but he hears the touch of amusement in Suguru’s voice. A pout puffs Satoru’s cheek as he presses it between Suguru’s shoulder blades. “But I really want to see your house.” "Without the first date?" Suguru prods, firing up the motorcycle. "Hang on tight!" Satoru gasps at the accusation. “You ghosted me!” “See? And you want to date such a barbarian.” Suguru snickers as he revs the engine. Snorting, Satoru shakes his head. A warm sensation courses through his body like a fluffy blanket. There’s no place he would rather be in this moment. He tightens his arms, inhaling the alpha's scent deeply, feeling his body gradually relaxing. He doesn’t ask where they’re going. With Suguru, it doesn’t even matter. As the bike moves, Satoru feels the jolts as the wheels bump over obstacles, but he keeps his eyes closed. He enjoys every second of the ride, pressed against Suguru like he belongs there. He loves the purring of the machine beneath him. As they approach the road, Satoru quickly sends Shoko a short message to ease her worries. The engine roars as Suguru speeds up on the main road. They zoom through the streets, lights blurring behind Satoru's closed eyelids. Satoru loves how his heart beats steady and strong against Suguru's back. His hands grip tight, determined to never let go. For the first time, Satoru feels completely safe.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The sky over Uzumaki City is dark, with neon rain streaking down the streets. It's no longer a dead channel but the mind of a maniac who perceives every atom constructing this world. This scene unfolds just minutes before his suicide. "I can never get enough of watching the real night sky..." Satoru mutters under his breath as he stands by the window, waiting for Suguru to finish another of his enigmatic calls. The Neon City's lights cast inverted shadows in the distance. Even from here, Satoru can clearly see how light-polluted that place is. To him, it's nothing more than an x-ray tomb. "Would you bomb it?" Suguru's voice startles Satoru, who immediately turns around, giving him a suspicious look."Why are you asking?" Suguru chuckles, "I know someone who would." "I have a feeling you know lots of terrorists." With a lingering, secretive smile, Suguru opens the enormous French window and sits on the sill. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. As he slips one between his lips, he nods behind Satoru into the darkness of the apartment. "There's an electric kettle in the kitchen, but don't turn the lights on." The tip of his cigarette lights up, creating the only source of illumination around.Satoru turns around without a word. Following the veils of light cast by the streetlamps, he manages to reach the end of the enormous room. He quickly realizes that this studio apartment is not Suguru's home, and it surely doesn't have any other rooms besides this one and a bathroom in the back. "What a strange safe house with such a huge window," Satoru points out as he explores the unfamiliar studio. In the corner, he notices a small stove and a fridge. "Reflective glass. No one can see inside." "Well, it's open now, isn't it?" Satoru pours water into the kettle and sets it down. "Did your parents teach you to be this paranoid?" Satoru opens the cupboard above the stove and frowns slightly, both from the lack of light and Suguru's biting remark. He grabs two cups from the shelf and places them on the kitchen counter. "Just saying, because someone you might know told me today that I'm not being careful enough," Satoru retorts, opening cupboards until he finds a box of tea. “Must be a genius person.” Satoru doesn't respond to the teasing, stifling a big yawn as exhaustion finally catches up with him. Today had been a whirlwind: first, a gang pursued him, then he fell through a roof, and more gang members appeared. At least the ride here was peaceful. He knows he shouldn't let his guard down, especially in an unfamiliar place with someone who could snap his neck in one swift move. It's truly surreal that he's alone here with Suguru. A silent beep from the kettle breaks the eerie silence of the apartment, snapping Satoru out of his thoughts. He rubs his face, sighs, and places a hand over his chest. “Don’t worry, we’re safe here, T,” Suguru reassures him from the window, his voice velvety. “I still don’t quite get it,” Satoru says, shaking his head as he pours water into the cups. “Aren’t you scared wandering around alone?” There’s a brief pause before Suguru replies, his voice carrying an enigmatic tone. “Let’s just say I’m a brave person.” Satoru gives him a deadpan look over his shoulder, though he’s sure Suguru can’t see him through the darkness. “And who’s now mistaking foolishness for bravery?” “I was just testing you,” Suguru admits with a chuckle in his voice. “What now?!” Satoru grunts, turning around with his hands on his hips. “Are you going to lecture me about not jumping across rooftops alone?” “Do you like it when people point back at you?” Suguru asks, flicking the butt of his cigarette out the window. “I’m usually the one doing the pointing,” Satoru replies as he takes the cups and walks over to the window where Suguru sits. Placing both cups on the wide sill, he sits down with a worn sigh. “I’ll return you to your friend in the morning. It’s not safe now," Suguru offers a little, comforting smile.“Yeah, I told her to lock herself in and not open the door for anyone.” It was unnecessary to remind Shoko of that. Amidst the intense and flowery language she used on him, she mentioned that she would remove his genetic print from the lock Satoru had installed on the door. “Something tells me that she won’t open them for you either,” Suguru chuckles, obviously teasing Satoru. Satoru leans against the window frame, running his tongue inside his cheek as he folds his arms. “She’s the only friend I’ve ever had.” Nodding, Suguru turns his head toward the building across. “It’s tough managing friends like that. You want to shield them from your craziness, but you also need their help.” Satoru locks his gaze on Suguru, who is still looking at the building. “Was it you who asked Larue to send Shoko to the bay?” The corners of Suguru’s lips twitched up. “Why would I ask Larue when I could do it myself?” “I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs, “maybe because you hate making friends?” Suguru huffs a short laugh, finally turning his head towards him with a playful glint in his plastic eyes. “Is that what we are doing here, Satoru?” Only a few things in Satoru's life have managed to make him nervous, and Suguru's entire presence is one of them. He analyzes and scrutinizes Suguru thoroughly, yet he is unable to pinpoint the origin of his cyberware's transformation. It drives him mad. “You’re looking at me like that again.” Suguru cocks his head, his cat-like eyes fixing on Satoru’s. “I can never tell when you use your tech.” Satoru purses his lips, boring his blue gaze into Suguru’s. “It’s pointless to use it on someone full of dead cyberware.” “You would know, wouldn’t you?” Suguru drops his gaze, picking the cup by its handle. As he sips, his attention returns to the building. "I don't need a degree to know you're fried," he says, leaning forward to get a better look at Suguru's neck artery. "I just can't figure out how you survived it and what turned you this way." Suguru sips his tea, his eyes fixed on the shabby building. It looks completely abandoned, with the streetlamp in front of the door shut down and the windows sealed with metallic plates. At first glance, it appears to be a nameless building, and even Satoru's keen eyes can't reveal more. "You don't owe me any explanation," Satoru says, lowering his gaze to his cup. The light from the street catches on the surface, and he can see the teabag floating at the bottom. They sit in a gloomy silence, straddling the boundary between indoors and outdoors, in a liminal area, not really anywhere and certainly far from their intended location. Suguru reminds Satoru of a bird that seems free as it flies around but never leaves its territory. He's no different from people bound to the ground. Satoru can’t shake off the feeling that Suguru is afraid of something, and it's definitely not bounty hunters or other gangs. The threat is far worse than anything from this world. He can give his thoughts about what happened to Suguru, but he learned a priceless lesson recently: to keep his assumptions to himself. The less he shares, the better. Satoru wraps his cold hands around the warm cup and looks at Suguru, who seems lost in thought. Whether the building next to them is the source of his contemplation, Satoru doesn't know. Perhaps Suguru is pondering what he can and cannot share with him. "This building..." Suguru finally breaks the silence as the wind picks up, bringing the drizzle their way. "What about it?" Satoru turns his head to scan the building once again, but it reveals nothing new. Suguru takes one last sip and places his cup on the window’s sill. “Have you ever heard of the attack on the VIBE company?” "As everyone else did," Satoru states the obvious, shifting his gaze from the building to Suguru's."Why?" he asks curiously. “That one belonged to the corporation,” Suguru answers, his face unchanging. A shiver runs down Satoru's spine as he connects the dots. "I heard they call what's left of the company a ghost space. The netrunner took it down in six hours." “Ghostrunner,” Suguru quickly corrects him. "People now call him a ghostrunner. No one could detect his presence in the VIBE's space for two hours. Three months later, he gained access to UCPD's systems and threatened to destroy the VIBE buildings if anyone attempted to use them. Since then, the VIBE’s assets have remained empty.” Satoru now views the building in a different light. It stands tall and dark like a tombstone. A wave of fear mixed with respect washes over him, and he tightens his grip on his cup. A single man managed to take down a whole empire? Frowning, Satoru keeps tracing the VIBE’s windows as he realizes something important. "Nobody knows the hacker’s gender, Suguru," he murmurs. When Satoru turns his gaze to Suguru, he finds Suguru already looking at him, his plastic eyes harder than ever. The silence between them screams thousands of questions. Satoru doesn't need to ask them; Suguru knows, and somehow, Satoru knows the answers too. It's a battle of intellect. Suguru's lips twitch into a smirk as he leans against the frame. "It wasn't me." "But that doesn't change the fact that you know him." Satoru narrows his eyes. "You're telling me this for a reason. I want to hear it from your mouth." He tenses, feeling impatient and anticipating a huge revelation. "The wheels are turning, huh?" Suguru chuckles as the wind picks up again, blowing loose strands of hair across his face. "You're a smart omega, Satoru." Satoru shakes his head, unable to convince himself of the truth. "I want to hear it." "Come inside." Suguru grabs the two cups and stands up from the window. "Close it!" he mutters as he walks deeper into the apartment. The window's lock clicks into place, and Satoru looks at the VIBE building one last time. It's an empty reminder of a silent war that didn't kill anyone but destroyed an entire empire. The industry collapsed, leaving thousands of people without jobs and forcing companies to spring into action, investing all their resources in cybersecurity. Even after two years, the brutal attack echoes around. It left indelible traces. "Netwatch holds most of the information about the case." Suguru turns on the dimmed lights and plops down on the leather couch in front of the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Satoru senses the warmth from the heating Suguru just turned on spreading through the room. He unzips his bomber jacket and shrugs it off his shoulders. As he walks to Suguru, he tosses it over a chair in the kitchen. "Quit beating around the bush, alpha," Satoru sits down beside Suguru. With a grunt, Suguru leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I knew that one day I'd need to tell you the truth, and even now, I still don't know where to start." Satoru's gaze traces the broad contours of Suguru's back, lingering on the gun shoulder holster before moving up to his ear, where an earplug sits securely. An old-fashioned communicator. It's as Satoru had suspected; Suguru can't wear cyberware; he's completely fried. "I did everything I could to keep you away," Suguru sighs, "but he's running out of patience, and trust me, you don't want to be on his bad side," Suguru mutters worriedly. "That's something we have in common!" Satoru insists, noticing Suguru's hesitation. To encourage him, Satoru inches closer, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Who are you afraid of?" Satoru asks, resting his chin on his hand, his heart racing. He's been in Suguru's arms before, but this feels more intimate, because this time, Suguru doesn't push him away. “I’m not scared of anyone,” he answers as he slightly turns his head at Satoru, the tip of his nose almost touching Satoru’s cheek. "You have that look in your eyes..." Satoru tilts his head, locking their gazes. Up close, he can see the flatness of the alpha's pupils. It’s as if he was constructed of different stardust. "Satoru, if I tell you the truth, there will be no possible escape for you from this scheme," Suguru warns, his voice filled with caution. "I want to help you," Satoru leans forward, his breath mingling with Suguru's. "If this is my destiny, I want to seize complete control over it." Suguru hesitates for a few seconds, his scent as impenetrable as an ICE wall. Whatever changed Suguru left a lasting mark on him, like a wound that refuses to heal. From Suguru's past reactions, it seems an omega might be involved. Someone likely betrayed him, leaving him in this liminal state between life and death. “Fuck...” Suguru sighs in defeat as he leans onto the couch, putting his legs up on the coffee table. “I always get stuck between madmen.” "I'll take that as a compliment." Satoru purses his lips, deflecting the remark like it's a ball. "Though, I'd prefer to be the only madman in your life." Suguru raises an eyebrow, giving Satoru a sidelong glance before snorting and putting his feet down. He sits up properly and sighs loudly. "I really tried to chase you away. I gave you so many red flags, and yet you're still here." “You just called me mad,” Satoru shrugs. “I guess he read you better than I did.” Frowning, Satoru moves closer to Suguru, running his hand over his nape and examining him. "Is there a switch that turns off your enigmatic behavior?" Suguru immediately grabs Satoru's hand, gripping it tightly. Before Satoru's fingers can explore further, he lowers it. "Even if there was one, it would be melted." "Is this the grand uncovering of Geto Suguru's past?" Satoru inquires with genuine curiosity, his words laced with humor as he attempts to lighten the atmosphere. Instead of answering, Suguru stands up, takes off his jacket, and tosses it onto the couch. He wears a black knitted sweater with cargo pants. For someone with damaged chrome, he looks unbelievably fit. Satoru watches as Suguru rolls up his sleeves and sits down on the leather chair. Satoru grunts, slightly annoyed by Suguru changing the seats. “You know nothing can stop me from landing on your lap like an eagle.” “You want to taste some meat?” Suguru gives him a challenging look. Satoru’s eyes widen. “Are you okay? You’re flirting back.” “You’re actually nice to flirt with...” He turns his head away, his mind already drifting to another topic. "You like my style, huh?" Satoru grins proudly. For someone with zero dating skills, he's doing pretty well. Natural talent. Uzumaki City will shake to its core when it sees the great Geto Suguru holding hands with Gojo Satoru, the notorious rebel and future terrorist. Who would think that turning against the system would bring such joy to his life? "You remind me of him a bit..." Suguru offers a wistful smile. "I also didn't believe him when he came to me that night, saying I should be his watchdog." Satoru arches his brows, gasping in sudden realization. "Suguru, say the name, or I swear to God, I will attack you!" He balls his hands into tight fists, his body tensing. A sly, mysterious smile spreads across Suguru's lips as he gives Satoru a cat-like glance. The smug expression is enough for Satoru to realize that Suguru is proud of himself and whatever he helped accomplish. They share a long glance, Suguru challenging Satoru's patience, while everything inside the omega is exploding and crumbling. “Who is he?” Satoru starts bouncing his leg. “You were curious if I asked Larue to call Shoko,” Suguru starts, and his smirk flattens, turning into a firm line. “I did.” “Alright, you have my full attention. I won’t interrupt you.” Suguru knits his brows, narrowing his eyes at the wall. "The moment your folks alerted security about your escape, someone was deep-diving, and he caught the conversation. "It was Sukuna," Suguru discloses, visibly tensing. "He tracked your bike to the bay and monitored the situation through the cameras. When he saw you needed help, he contacted me. I was supposed to take you with us, but I couldn't fully grasp his intentions. Everything happened too quickly. After months of silence, I suddenly had him in my ears, throwing commands." Satoru is still processing the revelation that Sukuna, the greatest netrunner of all, is in contact with Suguru. The fact that Sukuna, the Ghostrunner, whose gender Satoru hasn't known until tonight, has saved his life is overwhelming. It is too much to absorb. Since Satoru left the tower, the only coincidence has been that Sukuna overheard his parents' conversation. Everything else has been meticulously planned. Still in utter shock, Satoru can barely look at Suguru. "Then why did you keep pushing me away?" "Because he's absolutely insane!" Suguru's voice rises slightly. "He wants to drag you into a crazy scheme." "I like schemes." "Satoru! This isn't a game!" Satoru frowns, snapping his gaze to Suguru. "Do I look like I'm playing around?" he asks, his voice low and stern. "I wanted to protect you," Suguru admits, his tone resigned. "But you're just as crazy as he is," he continues. "I hoped that if I pushed you away, if I scared you, you'd abandon your plan. I would protect you until the waters calmed down, and then you could live peacefully here." Satoru looks up, meeting Suguru's eyes with concern. The more Suguru speaks, the clearer everything becomes. Pieces fall together easily, and he no longer needs to punch them together like a stubborn child. Suguru's odd behavior now has a clear explanation. What, however, disquiets Satoru is Sukuna's presence in the picture. Satoru finds it absurd that his Six Eyes couldn't sense the tracing. "Is he tracing me even now?" Satoru asks, worry evident in his voice. "Always," Suguru confirms. "He helped me to take down the bounty hunters on your neck and informed me that you were doing business with the Moonriders, so I should stick around if things went south." Satoru knows he should be outraged by the invasion of his privacy, but instead of anger, he feels admiration. No matter how he looks at his situation, if it weren't for Sukuna, he'd either be dead or back in the SS tower. "Why didn't he reach out to me directly?" Satoru wonders, "And how does he track my Six Eyes?" "He's fucking Sukuna," Suguru reminds him, stating the obvious. "No one is on his level here." It's incredible. Satoru is still processing the whole truth. "Why are you telling me now?" "He wanted to be sure you’re safe before he contacts you. After you left with Shoko, I asked him to leave the talking to me." Suguru lowers his gaze, exhaling a shuddering breath. He laces his fingers together, flexing his jaw. "But, after today, I realized that no matter what I do, you'll stubbornly follow your plan, just like him. " Satoru's eyes soften, and his heart swells with fondness at Suguru's anxious confession. How can he be mad at someone who spent weeks playing his guardian angel? All Satoru can see is fondness and sincerity in Suguru's eyes. Whatever happened between Sukuna and him will surely soon resurface, and it will help Satoru to navigate their fragile relationship. "What does he want from me, Suguru?" he asks gently. Suguru searches for the right words, nervously twiddling his thumbs. "He wants to help you with your plan ." Only twice in his life had Satoru been left speechless, and he remembers both times vividly. The first was when his Six Eyes technology became the most successful innovation, and the second was when his parents secretly engaged him to the zincomaniac. This is the third time, and the best one. Sukuna, the one who took down VIBE, wants to help Satoru overthrow his parents' empire. "Holy shit!" Satoru breathes out. What once resembled a child's drawing now looks like a professional blueprint. With Sukuna's help, his dream appears to be a possible reality, something that could happen in the near future. Overwhelmed by the realization, Satoru feels a mix of responsibility, fear, and excitement coursing through him, rendering him speechless. He needs time to process this unexpected twist. "This is some hardcore stuff..." Satoru stands up slowly, his legs shaking as the full weight of his plan suddenly falls on his shoulders. "Why?" Satoru looks at Suguru. "Why is he so invested?" Suguru hesitates before standing up and striding into the kitchen. He clearly has something on his mind but needs encouragement to speak up. Satoru follows him into the kitchen and accepts a can of beer that Suguru picks from the fridge. The can hisses under Suguru's fingers as he pops it open. He pulls out a chair from the table, but instead of plopping down on it, Suguru sits up on the table. Propping his feet on the chair, he takes a few gulps of beer. "You don't look well, Sugu," Satoru says, putting the can away. "All of this is taking a toll on you." "Has anyone ever told you that you're a genius?" Suguru sneers, glaring at Satoru with a raised eyebrow. "Hey, no need to be sarcastic..." Satoru frowns, pressing his lips into a line. "I understand that it must suck to get stuck between me and Sukuna." Suguru groans. "It's not because of that, Satoru. What's driving me crazy is your suicidal plan." "Sukuna survived." "You are not Sukuna!" Suguru snaps. "And he had me and Uraume, while all you have is a veteran and a technician constantly running from a mental breakdown." A sly smile spreads across Satoru's face. "You are wrong. Now, I have both you and Sukuna at my disposal." Suguru sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We are so fucking dead." "Well, now..." Satoru grins smugly. "You complain and talk about discouraging me, but you keep protecting me." A crossfire would probably scare him shitless and even halt his progress for some time. Despite Satoru's determination, Uzumaki City's wild environment is not suitable for him. "Actually..." Suguru gives him a crooked smile. "I paid a kid to attack you behind Nanami's store," he admits bluntly. "He was supposed to tickle you with a little acid trip." Satoru gasps, indignant at Suguru's admission. "You dick! I couldn't see shit! Even Nanami got startled!" "I'm sorry," Suguru offers a sheepish smile as he defends himself from Satoru's verbal attack that shortly morphs into a physical one. Satoru lashes out at Suguru, attempting to pull his hair, but Suguru appears well-accustomed to this type of assault, which is actually amusing. Satoru imagines Larue pulling Suguru's hair as he pesters him. It must be nice to have so many wonderful friends. Satoru is used to being on his own, which makes him difficult to interact with. He'd never had to share or listen to anyone but his parents. But things have changed in the past two months. First, he met Shoko, and what wonderful news it was when he realized that their relationship hadn't changed much. Then Nanami accepted him and even gave him a job. And Suguru, his wonderful Suguru, just admitted he wants to protect Satoru. The cherry on top is Sukuna, who, for some obscure reason, is interested in helping him.The world seems to be starting to heal. Satoru finally finds an opening in Suguru's defense and manages to pull his hair, but Suguru yanks his head back firmly, slipping from his grip and leaving Satoru with nothing but his black tie. "Rude." Suguru runs his hand through his hair. The gesture is simple, yet to Satoru, it looks as if Suguru is threading his fingers through the night sky. With bated breath, he waits for the stars to start popping up. He wants to touch the silky veil, bury his face in Suguru’s hair, breathe life into the cold space, and create— “I still think you’re running around like a lost, whining pup,” Suguru admits, reaching for the tie in Satoru’s hand, but this time Satoru is quicker and pulls his hand away. Suguru gives him an annoyed look. “Omega, I am really not in the mood.” “I wasn’t in the mood either when you sent that kid to mess with my eyes.” Satoru crosses his arms over his chest. “It scared me.” Suguru sighs, defeated. “Okay, fine. You have every right to be mad.” “And you kept the truth about Sukuna from me for months!” “Only two months. It’s not that long—” “Shush!” Satoru points a finger at him. “You have no idea how important this is to me.” Defiance clouds Suguru's face, casting shadows over it. "I was there when Sukuna took down VIBE. I know what the attack has done to him! Revenge is never the answer, Satoru!" “It’s not about revenge!” Satoru counters. “It’s something I have to do for all of us!” "Then why did you run away? You had a better opportunity to take over the company from the inside rather than doing it this way! Satoru grits his teeth, resisting the urge to say exactly what Suguru wants to hear. The truth is that he fled from becoming a full-time breeding machine, fearing that his dear husband would take over the company and claim credit for all of Satoru's inventions. Yes, he acted spontaneously and irrationally because of fear, but he was well aware that he had no chance to take over from the inside. Fleeing home was always on his list. "Didn't Sukuna tell you how impossible it is to breach the SS's ICE?" Satoru snaps back. "I've been planning this attack for two years. It didn't go as I wanted. I didn't have all my plans finalized. But it was never meant to be an inside job, Suguru." His body trembles as he tries to keep his voice steady. Suguru's eyes soften, resembling melting plastic. "I know. Your fiancé gave a heartbreaking speech on NCN yesterday." "For Christ's sake." Satoru's shoulders drop, and he sighs, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back in utter annoyance. "Can we please not turn this against me?" "But my sweet omega—" "Is this funny to you?" Satoru exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration. The corners of Suguru’s lips twitch. "You have a... distinctive taste in alphas." "Screw you!" Satoru snaps, turning around angrily and placing his hands on his hips. Suguru laughs. "I didn't know you were into chromemaniacs." "It's zinc. He's obsessed with zinc." "Well..." Before Suguru can finish, Satoru points a finger at him. "Not another word!" He orders, pressing his lips together, barely restraining himself from lunging at him. For a moment, it seems like Suguru will stay silent, but then he glances to the left, his lips twitching into a suppressed smile. Satoru knows he's full of shit. “Is his dick at least real?” "Suguru!" Satoru grumbles, flinging the rubber band that hits Suguru on the head. "You're such an asshole!" Despite his irritation, deep down, Satoru is glad to hear Suguru laughing so heartily, even if it's at his expense. He can't really blame Suguru for making fun of the tragic situation when Satoru himself finds it somewhat tragicomical. A soft smile spreads across Satoru's face. It's quite a change to laugh with Suguru and be honest with each other. Satoru feels a part of the weight lift off his shoulders. He would never admit it, but at times he felt desperate. Now, he is just a step away from powerful allies. Satoru's attention snaps back when he notices Suguru gathering his hair to tie it up, the rubber band protruding from his teeth. "No..." Satoru quickly steps forward to stop him, pulling the tie from his mouth and rolling it over his wrists. "It's just us here..." he mutters shyly, placing his hands on Suguru's forearms. As Suguru lowers his hands, his hair cascades over his shoulders like a delicate, sensual, and fragile veil. Satoru doesn't recognize this feeling yet—the fluttering in his stomach, the quickening of his breath. He's unaware of the symptoms. He has never truly cared about the chemical process that love creates and has only heard about the sensation of butterflies in the abdomen. “That’s right, just us,” Suguru mutters softly, “so tell me, omega, what do you want me to do now? How should I navigate our situation?" He leans in, breaching Satoru’s intimate space at once, his rich scent engulfing Satoru like a fluffy blanket. Satoru lowers his eyes, feeling his ears and cheeks burning. “I don’t know...” he mumbles under his breath. “But I still plan to buy you flowers and take you to a dinner.” In an instant, Suguru shifts to the table's edge, spreading his legs around Satoru's waist and reaching for his face. His warm palms gently press against Satoru's flushed cheeks as he looks up, his eyes shimmering. “An omega courting an alpha...” Suguru strokes the apples of Satoru’s cheeks. “Are you really that interested in me, Satoru, or do you have a superiority complex?” The words should pierce Satoru's pride, but he's used to facing any kind of frontal assault. Alphas humiliate him his whole life. They kick, tear, bite, and spit, but they never once managed to break him. Besides, there’s a bold line between all the zincomaniacs and Suguru. Satoru leans into the touch. "You confuse respect from an omega with arrogance. I suppose your experience with omegas mirrors mine with alphas." For a moment, they search each other's eyes. Suguru blinks slowly, lost in an inner monologue. Then, the light in his purple eyes dims, and he lowers his hands to Satoru's neck, brushing his fingers over the pheromone gland. "You're wasting your time with me, Satoru..." he mutters, his voice low and sorrowful. "I can't give you what you need." Satoru's throat tightens, and his chest swells with distress. "Don't be so overdramatic, Suguru." He tries to lighten the mood. "I'm not a demanding omega." Despite his efforts to stay hopeful, Satoru senses that this time Suguru isn't saying the hurtful words to protect him but because he truly believes them. The harsh change in Suguru's tone is wrenching, but Satoru's pride and unbreakable spirit refuse to admit defeat. "No, not demanding at all, you just want me to help you take down an entire corporation," Suguru jokes, his voice tender as he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "That was an offer," Satoru corrects him with a slight smirk, feeling a surge of hope that fills his heart and infuses his veins with courage, making him bold enough to rest his hands on Suguru's knees. "I accept." Satoru’s eyes widen as his smile fades. “You accept to play a role in my crazy plan, but you refuse to be my alpha?” He shakes his head, unable to comprehend the logic. “Are you saying that I’m more dangerous?” “Ah, Satoru...” He draws his hands back, and Satoru steps away. “Can you please be honest with me? No pushing and pulling.” Suguru hesitates before nodding and extending his arm to Satoru in invitation. "Give me your hand." When Satoru complies, Suguru gently pulls him closer. Without another word, he turns Satoru's hand palm up and places it against the left side of his neck, covering the purple artery. "Eight months ago, I was betrayed by someone I gave my heart to." Each of Suguru's words feels heavy as if he's dragging a steel ball behind him. "She came out as Netwatch and infiltrated the Ravens through me." Satoru holds his breath as the pieces of Suguru's story slowly come together. "I used to be a netrunner, Satoru," Suguru confesses, his eyes glistening with stubborn tears. "She infected my OS and disconnected me while I was deep diving." Satoru's heart skips a beat as the true weight of Suguru's words hits him. He should be dead. No one can survive an attack combined with an abrupt disconnection from cyberspace. "She fried my cyberware." "Your eyes..." Satoru whispers in awe. "Luckily, Miguel found me right away and..." Suguru pauses, a hint of a bitter smile playing on his lips. "You’re gonna like this one; he injected me with Blue Serpent." Satoru's eyes widen, his mouth falling open in shock. "The drug's crazy mix restarted both my heart and my systems. I overheated, and most of my tech melted." "Blue Glass mixed with my Serpent..." Satoru gasps in disbelief. Suguru gently removes Satoru's hand, holding it between his own. "That's why Sukuna is supporting your plan. He wants you to take me to your tower and cure me.” "Huh...?” Satoru looks up at Suguru. "I am dying, Satoru."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Early in the morning, without breakfast but after enjoying quality tea and a complaint session with Suguru about not smoking on an empty stomach, Satoru finally arrives at Nanami’s store. The gentle drizzle leaves a sprinkle of water diamonds on his bomber jacket and some pearls in Suguru’s dark hair. Still sitting on the bike behind Suguru, Satoru closes his eyes as he nuzzles into Suguru's neck and inhales his scent deeply.Suguru lets him, even leaning back against Satoru to give him better access. Encouraged, Satoru tightens his hold around Suguru’s waist, feeling his heart rate pick up against Suguru’s back.“Isn’t that your boss?” Suguru suddenly asks, his voice cautious."You’ll have to try harder to get rid of me." Stubbornly, Satoru turns his head away from the store and presses his cheek to Suguru’s shoulder.“I mean it,” he insists, “there’s a blond guy inhaling Sparkles sitting on the curb in front of the shop.”“Good one,” Satoru responds, his voice muffled by Suguru’s jacket. “Nanami doesn’t do drugs.”“Yeah? Then he’s turned into a fairy.”Satoru’s brows furrow in alarm as he pulls away from Suguru and turns his head back toward the store. It's truly Nanami sitting on the curb, like a summer sun stranded on a skull-covered, hardcore, murderous island full of vipers and spiders. His hair is damp, and the remnants of the Sparkle drug float around him like fairy dust.“I kinda feel like this is my fault.” Satoru’s gut feeling rarely misses, and right now he feels his stomach and chest doing backflips.“I had the boys monitoring this place,” Suguru assures him. “Nothing has happened while you were gone.”That might be true, but Satoru senses it's something deeper, something set in motion long ago. Something Serpent is responsible for, because if Nanami—the man who took in an outcast with a bounty on his head—is sitting in front of his store smoking Sparkle, then some serious shit must have hit the fan.“Stay here,” Satoru mutters gently as he gets off the bike.The street is oddly silent for seven in the morning. With dark, rainy clouds hanging above their heads like sheep's wool—cozy yet so cold—the darkness lasts longer. The concrete gleams from the rain, and as Satoru crosses the road, the street lamps finally shut down.“Hey, Nanami...” he approaches cautiously, aware that Nanami is unstable and drugged.Nanami looks up, squinting hard, as if Satoru were the sun burning in his eyes. Sparkle is a hallucinogenic drug, similar to the effect of mushrooms. What Nanami probably sees now are enhanced colors and swirling patterns. Everything must seem too bright to him.“Hey kid, you’re early.”“No, you are early,” Satoru counters, not really knowing what to say without upsetting him. And maybe it’s better to make Nanami snap, so Suguru can run to help and eliminate the ticking bomb called Nanami with one punch. That man needs to go to sleep ASAP.“Don’t you want to take a day off today?” Satoru suggests. “Shoko and I will take care of the business.”"I am fine." His voice falls flat, a little rough around the edges, like a warning for Satoru to drop whatever matter he was circling.“Sure, yeah...” Satoru clears his throat, trying to cut through the awkward atmosphere between them. He should probably go to the store, open it, make Nanami coffee, repair a customer’s broken arm implant, and figure out how to proceed with Suguru’s black code status. That would be the usual routine if he didn’t have a high veteran with Serpent tickling his nerves sitting on the curb.Satoru has never felt directly responsible for anyone, but that changed after he met Nanami. The hatred Nanami harbors for the Gojo family and his desperation to become clean—it all leaves an impression Satoru can’t simply brush off. Besides, he is a doctor, maybe not through medicine, but he feels a certain duty to help. What can go wrong, right? Maybe Nanami will snap and punch him, but nowadays new teeth cost as much as chewing gum.There is also an itch in Satoru’s heart that surpasses every red light around him.Sighing, Satoru can’t hold back his worries anymore. “Just tell me what happened, and then I’ll give you some bitching about inhaling.” Nanami snorts as he rubs his eyes. Clearly, he has been in a situation that brought him here, and Satoru doesn’t need to be a genius to realize it has something to do with Nanami’s family.“You can relax, Toru...” Nanami sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Sparkles are good to me.”Satoru raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I really should start researching you.”“This...” Nanami opens his palm, revealing the colorful inhaler. “It calms me down. It’s nice.”“And it also releases a high dosage of serotonin, which Serpent enhances, too. So, if you want to overdose on a hormone and die...” Satoru shrugs, letting the silence speak for him.During Satoru’s research years, when he worked on various drugs and experimented with cyberware on volunteers lured by a fat reward, he saw it all: melting eyeballs, collapsing nervous systems, heart attacks, people reaching cyberpsychosis, going mad, or losing feeling in their limbs. He is part of it. The worst part is that his parents are so open about the experiments that all the contracts list the side effects, but the check seems to cover all their burdens. Only a few usually understand the true danger behind drugs and cyberware experiments.Volunteers can mean many things, but mostly they refer to homeless and desperate people.“You are so precise with your work, Toru,” Nanami retorts, shoving the inhaler into his jacket. “Even a fucking bagel seems to kill me now.”“No, that’s your brain telling you that you’ve had enough drugs for the rest of your life.”Nanami grunts, rubbing his face. He seems to struggle with fighting the prevailing hallucinations. The longer the effect lasts, the more difficult it is for his brain to distinguish between reality and fiction.“Quit Sparkles and stop drinking alcohol. You are not helping yourself.”"Say," Nanami looks up at him, eyes twitching, "has telling someone to quit drugs ever worked? When your life is falling apart and drugs are the only way to stop the pain, has that advice ever helped anyone?"“It should when I offer you a solution!” Satoru says firmly.Nanami snorts, shaking his head. "It's a long shot. What should I do until then? At least like this, I can forget and relax.""Yes, it's a long shot, and that's why you should do everything you can to even have a chance." Satoru sighs, getting irritated by Nanami's stubbornness.“You know how Serpent works, yet you say such bullshit.” He scoffs. "Listen, you stubborn Nanamean!" Satoru snaps. "When you expose yourself to the consequences of your unpredictable behavior caused by alcohol and drugs, what the fuck do you think will happen?"“Such language coming out of your sunshine-y mouth...” Nanami shakes his head, clearly taking Satoru’s warning lightly.“You know damn well I’m right; that’s why you’re sitting here and inhaling. You fucked up!”Nanami huffs, clearly getting annoyed by Satoru’s approach. Well, too bad, because Satoru doesn’t have any spare seconds for whiny losers sitting in the rain and inhaling Sparkles, no matter how desperate they feel, especially when it comes to Nanami, who has a chance to do something about his situation."You lecture me about exposing myself to danger, while you and Shoko do business with gangsters behind my back?" Nanami clicks his tongue. "You really had her freaking out."“I’m aware of that, and I’ve already apologized. In fact—” Satoru halts, realizing that Nanami still hasn't revealed what led him to sit in the rain like a mushroom. “In fact, I see that all of us had a rough night.” Their eyes meet and lock. Nanami's gaze holds a predatory glint, calculating every second of the exchange. Satoru watches as his features harden, looking ready to jump him and assert his dominance in every moment. The suffocating wave of his alpha pheromones blasts like a geyser, suffocating Satoru’s senses. Something Satoru said has triggered Nanami."Aha, so this is how Sparkles makes you feel just fine, huh?" Despite the warning in Satoru's head to back off, he can't resist making a biting remark. "You wanna overdose on stims? That's fucking loser behavior." Nanami bolts upright, scrambling to his feet, barely restrained. His eyes are dilated, nostrils flaring, and Satoru can see his pulse vibrating beneath the thin layer of skin on his neck.“This is all your fault!” Nanami exclaims angrily, swaying slightly. “You brought this hell upon us!” “And I am here to fix it, while all you do is whine!” Satoru leans forward, glaring and ready to pounce on Nanami when the oppressive wall of pheromones is pierced by another alpha's scent. Suguru's smoky aroma carries crisp undertones, making Satoru feel as if a winter forest has just entered his body.“I don’t appreciate how you snarl at my omega.” Suguru’s dark figure enters the scene with an enigmatic aura.It takes the enraged Satoru a moment to bring himself back to his senses and fully grasp what is happening. Despite being overwhelmed by the strong scents of the two alphas, he is still capable of concentrating on Suguru’s words. Those words, spilled from Suguru’s pretty lips, cut deep like diamonds into Satoru’s heart.“We gotta start working on your non-existing sense of danger,” Suguru mutters, sighing in disappointment.The only words Satoru cares about are " my omega. " His eyes widen in excitement, and he smiles broadly, feeling his heart race and triggering the medical chip tucked in his neck.Satoru brings his palms to his reddening cheeks. "You confessed." His eyes sparkle with a newfound emotion that fills every corner of his body with warmth. Is this really happening to him? A love confession like in a movie. The endangered hero gets confessed to by his love interest before it’s too late. If only Shoko were here to witness this moment in real life. Should Satoru play the video recording from the security camera at his wedding with Suguru?“Your omega? Since when?!” Nanami scowls, his scent deepening. The older alpha snarls, baring his teeth. “I don’t think you can come to my store and command me around.” Satoru lifts his finger, feeling the need to share an important fact with them. “We are in front of your store.” Barely after Satoru finishes the sentence, Nanami's scent thickens so intensely that he feels his head spin. Suguru responds with a grunt, unzipping his jacket. Satoru's attempts to clear the air in front of his face are futile. He watches in a haze as Suguru shrugs off his jacket, his biceps flexing under the well-cut black shirt. “Did you touch him?!” Nanami’s question crackles through the air like sparks, setting it on fire. Before Satoru knows it, Nanami grabs Suguru by the collar of his shirt. “Even if I did, what’s it to you?!” Suguru barks back. Concerned by the sudden escalation, Satoru raises his hands in a calming gesture. "Please, no fighting. No one has touched anyone. Nanami, I understand your worries, but I assure you..." “I need him to bring me the antidote!” Nanami hisses through his teeth, ignoring Satoru’s pleas. "I'll twist your neck if you dare to knock him up before he brings me the cure!" Gasping, Satoru drops his hands to his body. What the fuck? And here he thought that Nanami was worried about his well-being and purity. “I’m twenty-one!” Satoru exclaims, throwing his arms up. “I can get pregnant with anyone I choose! You can’t stop me!”Suguru snaps his head around, his face contorted in disbelief. “What the hell—”“So, you did touch him!” Nanami lunges at Suguru without warning.The two alphas exchange punches, tearing at each other's clothes, aiming kicks at weak spots, snarling, and cursing each other’s next five generations. Suguru snarls, shouting that he's here to help Satoru bring the antidote, and he emphasizes that he would never want kids with Satoru. After all, who wants crazy brats from another crazy brat? Satoru doesn't take it personally. In fact, he even considers it a compliment, because deep down, he knows Suguru isn't as composed as he claims to be.“Guys, come on, stop!” Satoru shouts, throwing his head back in annoyance.The early morning people stop by curiously; they comment on crazy, horny alphas fighting over an omega. Satoru doesn’t bother to correct them. Who fucking cares anymore? The alphas clearly don’t. Satoru’s gut feeling rarely misleads him. He felt the dark, looming shadow closing in on him from the moment he spotted Nanami sitting in front of the store. The scene unraveling before Satoru’s eyes right now is a product of his mad science. Both alphas are pumped with Serpent. While the drug has destroyed Nanami’s life, it has saved Suguru. One man is losing his sanity over it, while the other is constantly high on it to stay alive. Two men pumped with the drug Satoru created are now fighting on the street. Satoru needs to take notes. “Go ahead, ignore the omega you’re fighting over!” Satoru calls out, resigned.“What on earth is happening?!” Shoko’s alarmed voice startles Satoru as she approaches from behind. “Is that... Suguru?!” she gasps in awe."Alphas, you know..." Satoru shrugs, crossing his arms and blowing a raspberry. "They never learn.""How about you?!" Shoko shoots him a disapproving look, elbowing him in the side. Okay, he deserved that one.They watch in silence as the two alphas hurl curses and throw punches. Satoru can only imagine how high their pain tolerance must be thanks to Serpent. They can only feel a fraction of the true damage to their bodies.“Shouldn’t we separate them before someone calls the police?” Shoko asks worriedly. Satoru nods. The last thing he needs is to deal with the police. He is about to suggest grabbing each of the men when a sudden loud yelp echoes through the air, taking him aback. Satoru sees Suguru waver, almost falling as Nanami punches him square in the face. "Okay, you boneheads, that's enough!" Satoru shouts, frowning. "Don't make me use my super deadly technique! I warn you!" Satoru’s secret technique is to insert himself between the two furious male alphas and let them decide if they want to hit an omega or finally calm down. It worked. In the store, after both alphas have calmed down, Satoru hands them ice packs to cool their bruises. The atmosphere remains tense, like a storm about to break. Nanami and Suguru sit across from Satoru’s workbench, glaring at each other. Sweet Shoko, sipping her coffee and boring holes into Satoru with her gaze, isn't helping to defuse the tension. Satoru feels like he has been dragged into a staring contest against his will. He leans against the desk, arms crossed, as the silent tension continues to build.When no one seems willing to break the ice, Satoru clears his throat multiple times, each time louder than the last, sending a clear message across.“Are you sick, omega?” Nanami glares at him over the ice pack pressed against his cheek. "Yeah, sick of you." Satoru shoots back with a grimace. “No hard feelings...” Suguru mumbles through the cloth pressed to his chafed lip. “But you were walking on the edge. I was just protecting Satoru.” Nanami lowers his gaze, nodding in understanding. His green eyes soften, reflecting sorrow and embarrassment. For a brief moment, everyone is quiet, waiting for him to break the silence. He does so by taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Toru,” he says honestly. “I didn’t mean to snarl at you.” The gentle apology immediately erases the frown on Satoru’s forehead. He nods and offers Nanami a tight-lipped smile. Nobody understands the effect Serpent has on people better than Satoru. After all, he helped to make it and tested it on himself.“And, uh...” Nanami clears his throat, pausing as he flips the ice pack and presses it to another bruise on his face. “Well...” “Did you catch my sickness, alpha?” Satoru teases him, and both Suguru and Shoko snort. Nanami rolls his eyes, putting the ice pack down with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Suguru. I acted like a moron.” He nips at the plastic covering that holds the ice, and an unexpected chuckle spreads across his face. “But, damn, what are your fists even made of?” Nanami shakes his head as he applies the ice to his eye. “Your bones are iron.” “Mostly calcium with a sprinkle of death and Serpent.” Suguru shrugs casually.“Sounds like the formula my soul is made of.” Nanami gives him a sympathetic look.“Maybe we were made of the same stardust.” Satoru watches their flirtatious exchange like a ping-pong match. Great. He has helped create such loser alphas. Who would have known that Serpent, a drug meant to turn a soldier into a beast, would end up turning them into goth boys with violent tendencies?“I refuse to take responsibility for Serpent turning you guys into pussies.” Both alphas turned their dead glares at Satoru, who maintained his cold expression. “Thanks to your super alpha fight, I smell like a cheap whore.” “You didn’t smell like roses before either,” Shoko mutters, sipping her tea. Satoru slumps his shoulders, shaking his head. That’s what he gets for trying to make the world a better place. Sighing, he goes to the kitchen and starts preparing fresh coffee for Nanami. As he pours water into the kettle, Nanami joins him in the cramped kitchen. “I’m sorry, Satoru...” he pauses, searching for the right words, “for being insensitive. It was humiliating.” Satoru pulls out Nanami’s white cup. “Just don’t do Sparkle anymore, and we’ll be fine.” “You don’t understand. I really needed it.” “Okay...” Satoru turns to face Nanami with a neutral expression, leaning against the counter. “I’m listening.” Nanami gently pushes the cup away from the edge of the counter. “I fought with my wife. I snapped at Ruby.” Satoru’s eyes widen, alarmed. “You snapped at your eight-month-old daughter?” “I...” Nanami looks away, his expression turning gloomy and sorrowful. “I was having a really bad day yesterday. And Ruby, she started crying, and I couldn’t make her stop. Lucy was busy cooking, and I...” He pauses, closing his eyes shortly as if chasing away the vivid images in front of his eyes.“I said something awful. Then I got into a fight with Lucy. I threw things—it was... I’m losing it, Satoru. I sent my girls to Lucy’s sister. I can’t have them here...” His voice cracked, and he took a sharp breath through his nose. Satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning and sighing. “Shit.” “So, whatever you two came up with yesterday, I guess I am in.” ** The first thing Satoru does after stepping inside one of the many Raven-owned safehouses is sneeze loudly. He didn't sleep well last night in that cold apartment, and the fight in the rain in front of Nanami's store only added to his weariness. Shivering and sniffling from the cold, Satoru hopes to spend this night in a proper bed under a thick duvet. Last night, Suguru stayed in the chair, curled up like a snail in its shell, while Satoru tossed and turned on the mattress on the floor like a fish on the shore. Satoru desperately needs a shower and warmer clothes. He feels like a sensitive, overlooked omega with a frigid alpha trailing him like a watchdog. At this rate, Satoru can open a zoo before he finds himself in a comfortable situation. "How many places like this does your gang have?" Nanami asks, looking around the brick-walled apartment. It's a fully equipped place with a couch, TV, kitchen utilities, two bedrooms, and windows with metallic shutters. Suguru places the duffle bag with Satoru's clothes on the floor near the couch and goes to set the thermostat. After Suguru's call with Sukuna to confirm their next steps, they stopped at Shoko's to pack Satoru's necessities. Suguru was impressed by Satoru's progress in building his supercomputer. But now, it doesn't seem to matter. Satoru feels like all his efforts were futile.The heating kicks in fast, spreading warmth that tingles on Satoru’s cold cheeks. He can practically smell the warm water in the pipes calling him into the shower. While everyone else is getting familiar with the safehouse, Satoru pulls out the last tissue from his pocket and blows his nose. Mid-sneeze, he feels like someone wraps their biceps around his throat, and something—likely a gun barrel—presses against his lower back. Tissue still on his nose, Satoru zeroes in on Suguru, who stands in front of him, eyes sharp and calm. If it’s not Suguru trying to wrestle him into submission to breed him, then they have a really big problem here. Satoru swallows, his throat bobbing against the firm hold of the flexing muscle. “I know I shouldn’t feel sexy right now...” “You forgot to lock the door, Raven...” The man holding Satoru captive grins, his mocking voice smooth and very deep, almost as deep as Suguru’s and Nanami’s. "Did I?" Suguru asks casually, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. From behind him, Satoru sees Shoko emerging from the kitchen, panic painting her face. She holds a butchering knife, while Nanami next to her grips a handgun, aiming straight at Satoru and the man behind him. "I wouldn't provoke Nanaminie; he's in rehab," Satoru warns the man. "His hands have been quite shaky since this morning." "That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?" He grins in Satoru’s ear. "But that’s good for me, because he won’t risk shooting his precious savior in the head." "No, but he can shoot me in the leg—immobilizing the hostage, which will make you an easy target." The man laughs throatily. "You're smart for an omega. No wonder your family wants you back in one piece." Satoru locks his gaze with Suguru's, who doesn’t seem phased by what is happening. Someone like him, who has lived on the streets his whole life, doesn’t forget to lock the door. A man who was fooled once to death won’t allow anyone to mess with him twice."But you forget, omega..." the hunter says. "Men like me and Suguru don’t make stupid mistakes." Satoru quickly realizes that Suguru has set a trap. Knowing the bounty hunter was tracking them, Suguru decided to bring him onto his own playground, where he could play by his rules. "You've got something up your sleeve," the bounty hunter mutters. "Better lay your cards on the table before I send the coordinates to the SS security team.""Naoya, we've played this game before," Suguru says calmly, his voice tinged with pity. "I set a trap, you see through it, we fight, and when I kick your ass, you leave." "It's different now," Naoya hisses. "You have precious cargo." "Exactly..." Suguru's eyes darken. "This time, I can't let you leave." "Wait!" Nanami interjects, frowning. "You led this guy here on purpose?!" Suguru shrugs indifferently. "That's the best way to get rid of a hunter. Let him come." Satoru quickly feels himself getting pissed at Suguru's nonchalant responses. He knows that it's best to stay calm now, but Suguru could at least show a tiny bit of concern for his omega. If this is another “street code” bullshit, then God save them all from Satoru’s wrath. While they have a tense conversation about Satoru's grim-looking future, Satoru tries to stay calm and avoid swallowing too much as he's choked by the firm grip. The Naoya alpha smells like oranges—sweet and potent, almost as if he were popping a boner. Honestly, Satoru doesn't want to know about the contents of the jerk's pants. He's sure the alpha is dirty and unwashed, and to camouflage that odor, he uses those car air fresheners—the tiny adorable trees or sparkling stars. "I thought you took care of the hunters." Shoko can hardly hide her unease about the whole situation. She stands slightly behind Nanami, still gripping the knife as if she’s ready to stab anything that tries to breathe her air. It’s then that Satoru realizes that Shoko is vulnerable—too focused on her surroundings to notice the danger coming from inside. "Right, Suguru..." Satoru purses his lips, looking away in disappointment. "You said Sukuna took care of all of them." The grip around Satoru's neck tightens, and the barrel of the gun pokes him painfully between the ribs. He notices that Naoya is aiming straight at his heart. Strange. It almost seems as if Naoya is more afraid of Sukuna than of the Gojo family. Well, Satoru supposes that in the streets of Uzumaki, Sukuna is a more palpable danger than the Gojos from a different city. Anyway, Satoru gets exactly what he wants: a nervous bounty hunter and a vulnerable access point. Standing between them is Suguru, frowning as if he's trying to read Satoru's thoughts. Whatever plan Suguru has, Satoru is not going to wait until the tickling on Naoya's finger becomes an itching trigger. "You work for Sukuna again?!" Naoya takes a careful step back, dragging Satoru with him. "Fucking pathetic. After what he did to you, you're still his pawn?" Satoru's facade crumbles at the words, and he gives Suguru a confused and worried look. However, Suguru doesn't seem bothered by anything Naoya says. "Nothing you send outside can breach twenty centimeters of solid metal combined with the strongest jammers hidden in the walls," Suguru says, giving him a pitiful look. "Did you forget who you're messing with?" "Fucking netrunners!" Naoya's back hits the door. "But whatever. At least I'll take your precious omega with me." This morning, while enjoying his breakfast cigarette, Suguru pulled out a self-made console from the safe. For two hours, he made Satoru download numerous demons and let him train on the microwave and a vending machine they encountered on their way to Nanami's. It was Satoru's first time hacking an automaton, and he ended up getting twelve crypto and two cans of energy drink, which he gave to a homeless man who snarled at them and called them privileged for using a cyberdeck. Suguru gave Satoru a special gift to protect his life. And this was his first time using it on a human. Before Naoya can make a decision, Satoru breaches Shoko's vulnerable OS, rebooting her eye while overclocking his system so the extra demon attached to the original hack can reach the first person with vulnerable cyberware. Nanami has none, and Suguru's hackable are fried, leaving Naoya as the only victim. His eyes glitch and the implant in his hand short-circuits, causing him to drop his gun.Satoru decks Naoya in the jaw, sending him crashing against the safety door. By the time Naoya’s eyes fully restart, Suguru has him pinned against the door, with Nanami tossing him a gun now aimed under Naoya's chin."I guess our little game has to end." "Do you really want to keep being his puppet?" Naoya clenches his teeth, beads of cold sweat forming on his temples. "You're mistaking me for yourself." Suguru grabs Naoya by his jacket and yanks him away from the door. "You made your statement when you sold yourself to corporations." Satoru observes their exchange with curiosity, realizing that many things remain shrouded in mystery. He cannot be certain of Suguru's or Sukuna's true intentions. There is a possibility that once everything is resolved and Sukuna no longer requires his assistance, Sukuna will leave him to drown in the chaos. Despite his arrogance, Satoru understands that without Sukuna's help, he is powerless. If he refuses Sukuna's help, Sukuna will make it clear that Satoru's ass will be deported from Uzumaki City in a minute. Thankfully, Satoru is on Sukuna’s side. The question is if Sukuna is on his side, too. "You can't win a corpo war!" Naoya yells as Suguru drags him out of the safe house. "Do you hear me, Gojo?! Return to your family! These freaks will destroy your life!" The loud metallic thud after the door closed resonates in Satoru’s troubled mind. When he left the tower, he knew he only had a slim chance to make his plan work. And now... He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath."I can’t believe you hacked me." Shoko’s resigned voice shatters Satoru’s silent barrier. "You really hacked my eyes!" Satoru rubs his nose, watching her mental breakdown silently. It’s better if he keeps quiet until she calms down. Pacing around, Shoko massages her sore eyes, shaking her head while mumbling. When it becomes evident that she is unable to stop panicking and overreacting, Satoru, who is limited in his patience, sighs and drops his shoulders."It’s not like you had a mad guy pressing a gun to your ribs," Satoru says, throwing his hands up. "I did what I had to survive. So what if I restarted your optics? God, did you go blind?" Shoko stops pacing, her small body tensing as she glares at him angrily. "You’re such a fucking asshole." She turns on her heel, disappearing into the room and slamming the door behind her. "What?" Satoru calls after her. "Shoko, come on! I didn't have time to put together master plans!" "I'll talk to her," says Nanami, who until now has been silently observing their exchange. "Nanami, you know I wouldn't do it if..." "I know." He gives Satoru an assuring look before entering the room and silently shutting the door. Satoru sighs, dropping onto the brown, plush couch. He sprawls on it, leaning his head against the backrest and watching the grey ceiling. It’s only past noon, and he’s already completely exhausted. How much easier his life would be if everyone saw the bigger picture he is fighting for. Life outside the tower is awfully complicated. People are divided into those who have everything and those who have nothing. Only a select few have enough to avoid stealing. But the other two groups are in constant war. The poor steal from the rich, and the rich fight back, always wanting more. One group hates corporations for destroying their lives with cheap and fake products; the other profits from their misery. Those in the middle are scared to get caught in the crossfire. What a fucking nightmare.Satoru wonders if Sukuna went through a similar dilemma before he took over VIBE. To this day, nobody knows what Sukuna's motivations were. VIBE was a company that specialized in biochips. They were among the best, aiming high and slowly claiming a dangerous monopoly, until their downfall. Rumors say that their biochips could alter the brain—erase and load a whole new personality. It was like a seed planted in the brain, with roots taking over the nervous system and brain parts. Once ready, all it needed was a personality or alteration to load. For years, Satoru fought to get samples of those chips, but most were destroyed in the great fires caused by Sukuna. The few that remained, he hacked and destroyed. He was meticulous in his work—a mad scientist in his prime. To this day, Satoru shivers when he remembers reading about that case. The press and news labeled Sukuna a terrorist, a maniac with no sympathy. Satoru still remembers his sixteen-year-old self sitting in his room, watching in amazement at what a single person managed to achieve. Quickly, Sukuna became his idol—someone to look up to, someone unstoppable. Satoru wanted to be like him, except for the terrorist part. He desired to be the best in his field. Despite knowing that Sukuna hated biochips, Satoru was inspired by the technology and started working on his first Six Eyes prototype. Just thinking about meeting Sukuna and looking into the eyes of the legend makes Satoru shiver. Will he show disgust at Satoru’s work, or will he ignore it? If it weren’t for Suguru’s critical condition, would Sukuna still be interested in helping him?Damn. Satoru knows he’s going to mess up their first meeting. “I’m so stupid,” Satoru mumbles, rubbing his face and pulling away from the couch.Too many people have already died just because they were allured by the reward on his head. Maybe death is a daily occurrence for people like Suguru and Sukuna, but Satoru still has problems with people dying unnecessarily. While waiting for Suguru's return, Satoru spends time looking around the apartment. He knows that Shoko won’t talk to him anytime soon and that Nanami will stay with her to calm his own nerves. They will discuss whether all the madness they are going through is worth helping Satoru. Classic moral dilemma. Satoru finally finds a comfortable spot among the cushions and blankets scattered on a dressed mattress under the dimly shining neon sign that reads "Deathrunner." "That was a gift from Miguel," Suguru says from the doorway, and Satoru shoots him an amused smile. "What adorable dark humor." Suguru smiles as he enters the dimly lit room, joining Satoru under the sign. The pale purple light casts an alien hue on Suguru, making his eyes look unreal as if Satoru is staring into mannequin eyes. So plastic, so artificial—it drives him mad how impossible his eyes are. He should be blind in such a condition—dead and gone—yet here he is, pumped on cracked Serpent and Blue Glass. A walking horror. "Suguru, why did you become Sukuna’s watchdog?" Satoru asks, his eyes following Suguru as he stretches out his legs. He crosses his ankles, gently wiggling his feet in the heavy biker boots. "My parents worked for VIBE," Suguru replies in a neutral tone. "They were doctors researching the connection between biochips and the human brain." Satoru’s guts twist as he lowers his gaze to the floor. He’s seen too many volunteers lose their lives for the sake of science. Satoru, too, has experimented on many, including himself. He is well-known as a mad omega—the crazy bitch who lost all his marbles from being locked in the tower, knowing nothing of the outside world but science. "What happened to them?" "Twenty people died under my parents' supervision," Suguru says coldly, his brows knitting together. "They made a mistake during the stabilizing serum research, but despite that, they injected it into the volunteers out of sheer curiosity to see if the biochip could adapt." Satoru laces his trembling hands, his throat tightening. “You must hate me.” “Well...” Suguru raises his hand and gently places it over Satoru’s, rubbing his knuckles with his thumb. “You are here with me now, doing what you think is right.” Satoru relaxes under the comforting touch. “Yet you wanted to stop me.” “Just like Sukuna wanted to stop me, but it was too late.” “Ah...” Satoru whips his head toward him. “What do you mean?” "You see," Suguru starts, his voice filled with nostalgia. "I lived with my parents in the Corpo district, and Sukuna reached out to me to get the access points. It's a really long story..." He sighs. "But in short, I wanted to be part of his crusade." Suguru's voice becomes firmer. "I felt a certain responsibility for my parents' actions. I wouldn't leave Sukuna alone until he allowed me to become his watchdog. Even before I met him, I was pretty good at hacking. I worked my ass off to become even better and good enough for him." In the poor lighting, Satoru can barely see Suguru’s face, but his voice expresses enough for him to understand that he felt nostalgic about the whole situation. One night, when the world feels too heavy, Satoru would like to lie down with Suguru and just talk about their lives. "You said he wanted to protect you," Satoru says. "Why didn’t he want you to help him?" "He said he doesn't want to mess around with kids with too many morals." "Wait!" Satoru turns to him abruptly. "How old are you guys?" Suguru gives him a puzzled look, then smiles, amused by Satoru’s eagerness. "I'm twenty-seven, and he's thirty-three." "You were my age!" Satoru gasps. "Seems like that." "Oh my god!" Satoru leans against the wall. "You were actually in my shoes." "Basically," he huffs a short laugh. Satoru settles into a comfortable silence. The revelation that Suguru actually understands everything on such a specific level makes him feel more at ease. He doesn’t feel as alone anymore, knowing that he has someone by his side who completely gets his reasons and still holds a protective hand over him. Suguru knows—he's experienced the grief, the pain, and the longing for justice. Satoru feels lucky to have Suguru and Sukuna by his side. "It’s crazy..." Satoru mutters softly. "I did terrible things, yet I have you on my side." "Context matters, Satoru." "Nanami hates me," he shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "And Shoko, after what I did today, she’s definitely regretting helping me out." "Hey..." Suguru pulls away from the wall, turning to face Satoru. "I don’t know Shoko, but Larue wouldn’t trust just anyone with you. She’s strong, and she knows where you're coming from." Satoru looked up at Suguru, his brows knitting slightly. “I took a risk. I could have hurt her with the demon.” “The worst that could have happened would be her optics not starting again,” Suguru consoles him. “It’s nothing we couldn’t fix on the run.” “But still—” “Satoru!” he interjects, leaning forward into Satoru’s personal space. “You did what you had to.” Satoru is taken aback by Suguru's abruptness and his insistence that Satoru did the right thing. While it helps ease his guilt slightly, it also heightens his worries about his ability to follow through with his plan. The long-term nature of his plan, the inevitable harm and deaths, and the potential disaster if Sukuna successfully hacks the SS and grants Satoru access to everything—all weigh heavily on him. The catastrophe could surpass the aftermath of VIBE. “I’m proud of you...” Suguru draws himself closer, placing his hand beside Satoru’s head against the wall. “You’re a natural talent.” “You think so?” Satoru feels his heart picking up at their closeness. “Is he going to accept me?” “Now...” Suguru chuckles softly. “Why is my omega constantly talking about another alpha, hm?” The playfulness in Suguru’s voice disarms Satoru, quickly making him forget his worries. Satoru doesn't feel like Suguru is joking or trying to make him feel better with his playful confession. The alpha's scent is the sweetest and softest Satoru has ever encountered. It envelops Satoru in a sense of safety and warmth. A contented smile spreads across Satoru’s lips, and he decides to return Suguru’s teasing. “I dare you to confess again but without that chuckle.” Suguru closes his eyes to compose himself. He licks his lips, and after a brief moment, he opens his eyes, his expression devoid of any playfulness. “An omega almost took my life just eight months ago. I barely survived it.” “It’s too early, I understand.” Satoru looks away, embarrassment coloring his cheeks red.“No,” Suguru leans closer, his breath mingling with Satoru’s. “After what happened to me, I wanted to stay away from omegas. I even installed a scent-blocking chip.” Satoru listens quietly, his heart racing. “But yesterday was...” Suguru pauses, searching for the right words as he bites his bottom lip. Satoru watches Suguru's lips, a strange feeling pooling in his gut—a desire he has never felt before. With Suguru so close, under the veil of the purple lights, Satoru feels like he belongs to Suguru’s soul, hidden behind his melted eyes.“I opened up to you, and you accepted me.” Suguru looks away, the vulnerability in his eyes almost palpable. “I told you that I’m dying, and you stayed.” Suguru's last words make Satoru’s heart seize, and his eyes sting with tears. Initially, Satoru viewed Suguru as merely a good ally in his crusade. But after their second encounter in the bay, when Suguru took him in his arms and comforted him, Satoru realized he would never find an embrace like Suguru’s. Despite knowing there was no cure for him, Suguru focused solely on protecting Satoru from the inevitable fall of the twig he was sawing beneath himself. “You never meant to tell me, did you?” Satoru whispers. “Eventually, Sukuna would contact you even against my will.” “Why? Does he feel responsible for what happened to you?” Suguru lowers his head, sighing heavily. “He took the attack on me personally.” “Wait,” Satoru grows concerned. “Netwatch knows you were behind the VIBE attack?” “I have more on my account than that, Satoru,” he admits. “And no, I don’t believe anyone connected my old nickname with my face.” “What's the nickname?” Suguru laughs tenderly. “You’re full of questions, I get it, but you’re ruining the romantic mood.” “Ah...” Satoru giggles, smitten. “Sorry, I tend to yap, and I’m naturally a curious person, so sometimes I—” Before Satoru can finish, Suguru surges forward, surprising him with a firm press of their lips. It’s a warm, wet kiss. Satoru’s nose bumps slightly against Suguru’s, who tilts his head a bit more, his lips brushing against Satoru’s as he nuzzles Satoru’s cheek.Satoru holds his breath, processing what just happened. He can smell himself intensely, like a ripe peach waiting to be plucked and consumed. He’s never smelled like that before. With his heart racing wildly in his chest, Satoru slowly dares to take a measured breath, filling his lungs with Suguru’s scent.“Sometimes you need to be silenced with a kiss. I get it,” Suguru chuckles, pecking his cheek.