Outboard motors roared across the venue, tangled up with the crowd's screaming. The whole boat-racing track felt like it was vibrating.
Every breath came with the same nasty mix: cheap cigarettes, bottom-shelf booze, and the sour stink of sweat from gamblers on both sides of the win line.
Near the back of the cramped stands, there was a weirdly clean gap in the seats. Nobody went near it.
Toji Fushiguro sat dead center in that empty pocket like he owned it.
Black hair. Scar at the corner of his mouth. Tight black t-shirt stretched over folded arms and a chest built like a weapon. His long legs were kicked up on the seat in front of him without an ounce of shame, one man taking up room meant for two.
Part of it was the timing. It was a weekday, so the crowd wasn't packed.
But mostly, it was him.
Toji gave off the kind of presence that made people instinctively keep walking. Like an apex predator lying still, not because it was harmless, but because it didn't feel the need to move yet.
Even the regulars, the kind of thugs who basically lived in places like this, would accidentally meet his eyes and feel cold crawl down their backs. His stare was flat, detached, like he was already looking at a corpse. Nobody with a working brain wanted to test him.
Out on the water, the boats lined up.
The biggest race of the day was about to start.
Right before the referee dropped the flag, an old flip phone buzzed in Toji's pocket.
He clicked his tongue, pulled it out, and glanced at the screen.
Shiu Kong.
Kong worked as an underworld broker, the middleman who connected curse users and assassins to whoever was paying. In the loosest sense possible, he and Toji were business partners.
Not that it was a smooth arrangement.
Toji was foul-tempered, impossible to manage, and terrifying enough that most brokers wanted nothing to do with him. Or couldn't handle him even if they tried.
Shiu Kong was one of the few who could put up with his bullshit and somehow keep the relationship functional.
Toji hit answer, jammed the phone to his ear, and kept his eyes on the water.
"What."
Kong didn't waste time on greetings. He knew better by now.
"Got a job for you. Long-term contract. The client's asking for someone specific. Someone who can stand up to strong jujutsu sorcerers, but absolutely can't be a sorcerer himself. A non-sorcerer. He wants a personal bodyguard."
The starting whistle screamed through the venue. The announcer started hollering as the race kicked off.
Even with all that noise, most of Toji's attention stayed on the boats ripping across the water.
His pick dropped behind almost immediately.
His brow twitched.
"Bodyguard? Long-term?" Toji grunted into the phone. "Sounds like rich idiot cleanup duty. Hard pass."
Kong sighed, patient as ever.
"The client's not Japanese. Rich businessman from overseas, based in East Asia. Might need you to travel with him later. And as a non-sorcerer, you're basically invisible to the people he actually has to worry about."
He paused, then added the part that mattered.
"The pay is very good."
"..."
For once, Toji didn't argue right away.
The venue speakers filled the silence for him.
[Crossing the line! Number Four, Hata, takes first with a commanding finish! Number One, Doguchi, comes in second! What a race!]
Then came a short, dead stretch of silence.
After that, Kong heard paper crumpling. Getting crushed in a fist hard enough to pulp it.
Then a savage click of the tongue.
Kong rubbed his temple.
He knew exactly what had happened.
Toji had a body that could chew through monsters, and a face that still worked on women, but when it came to gambling, his luck was complete trash. He lost constantly. And the more he lost, the harder he chased it.
That shredded betting slip said enough. He was broke again.
Perfect.
"So?" Kong said mildly. "Not interested? Shame. The client reserved a top-tier restaurant in Shinjuku tonight just to meet you in person and discuss the contract. Nice gesture, honestly. Unless you're busy, I guess. Landed something better recently?"
Toji had just blown his last yen and was hanging by a thread.
He flicked the ruined betting slip into a trash can several meters away without even looking, then bared his teeth at the phone.
"You're pissing me off. What is with that tone? Trying to make me sound like some deadbeat with no work?"
From his dim office, Kong rolled his eyes.
"Aren't you?"
Toji's lip curled, but he let that one slide.
"Isn't pay negotiation your job?" he snapped. "Why do I have to show up in person? What a pain."
Kong pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the headache already.
"I'd love to handle it myself. But this overseas client is apparently very superstitious. According to him, the god doesn't allow him to share too many details with anyone except the bodyguard himself. Third parties get calamity and bloodshed, or whatever the exact wording was."
He exhaled.
"I don't pretend to understand any of it. But this is a first-time whale, and the commission is huge, so we follow the rules. Show up, be normal for five minutes, make a decent impression. Besides..."
He let the pause hang.
"I heard this security job is tied to a major underground casino."
That word flipped a switch.
Casino.
The dead look in Toji's eyes sharpened a little.
Whether it was the idea of fresh gambling money or the more urgent issue of not being able to afford dinner, the job suddenly sounded a lot less annoying. He rubbed his empty stomach and smiled a little.
"Oh yeah? Fine. If I show up, don't like the terms, and walk out, the meal's still free, right?"
Kong answered instantly.
"Obviously. You think I wouldn't check that first? So. You're going, Zenin?"
At the old surname, something dark flickered through Toji's eyes.
Gone just as fast.
"Yeah. Send the address. And quit calling me Zenin." His voice flattened. "I took my wife's name. It's Fushiguro now."
---
Next Target 1600PS