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The two Onikabuto swung ferociously at each other, neither relenting. Itto watched with wide eyes as shell and pincers clashed, anticipation practically radiating off of him.
At last, the smaller Onikabuto faltered slightly. It distanced itself from its opponent, seemingly backing away.
Itto let out a triumphant hoot. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! All that training seems to have paid off, huh?” He swung around to shoot his companion a cocky grin. “You gotta admit, my Onikabuto is just unbeatable.”
“Hm.” Ayato returned his smirk. He sat calmly with his arms crossed, and unlike Itto, he’d stayed silent throughout the whole bout. “I don’t believe anyone’s been defeated just yet.”
Itto’s confidence didn’t waver. “Aw, come on, man, you can admit it! This one loss won’t affect your win streak anyway.”
“I’ll admit loss when it happens,” Ayato said. “Watch.”
While Itto’s Onikabuto briefly let its guard down, the smaller one ran forward and crashed into its side, throwing it off balance. It squirmed uncomfortably on its back, unsuccessfully trying to get back on its feet.
Ayato didn’t bother hiding his satisfaction when Itto’s eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. “What?! Noo!” he wailed. “Spine-Chiller the Great was doing so well!”
“Spine-Chiller the Great?” Ayato echoed, amused. “You named your Onikabuto that?”
“It’s ominous, you know,” Itto sniffed defensively. “Besides, what’d you name yours?”
The smile fell off Ayato’s face. He didn’t answer.
Itto’s delight returned in an instant. “Come on, dude, it can’t be that bad!”
“Ayato Junior,” he muttered.
Normally, Ayato would have ignored it, but he couldn’t help but smile a little at the boisterous laugh that erupted from Itto.
“Oh, man,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “And you tried making fun of mine!”
Ayato raised an eyebrow. “Spine-Chiller the Great hasn’t won any matches yet, has he?”
“Okay, okay, you win,” Itto admitted. He reached over, picked up his bug with gentle hands, and gave its head a sympathetic pat. “Maybe next time, little guy.”
Ayato leaned forward to scoop up his own Onikabuto. “Apologies, but I should probably get going.”
Itto turned to him and nodded. “Yeah, I should get back to the gang too. I told them I’d have a plan ready by tonight, and, well… ”
“Oh? Plan for what?” he asked curiously.
Itto paused, hesitating. Then he glanced around, as if afraid someone would overhear, before lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but you're my best bro and I trust you,” he said. “The gang and I are planning to go to the festival tomorrow, because we heard there’d be lots of games, you know? But I’m pretty sure they’ll kick us out the second they see us ‘cause, well, we don’t exactly have the best reputation at festivals. Which is totally unfair! It was one time. Anyway, I promised them I’d find a way to sneak us all in, but I checked the area this morning and it seems to be pretty heavily guarded. I guess they’re not taking chances, huh?”
“Ah, is that the problem?” Ayato mused. “I can take you, if you’d like.”
Itto’s eyes widened. “You can do that? I mean, would you? Really?”
“Of course.” The event was planned by the Yashiro Commission in the first place, but he didn't mention that. “They won’t do anything to you if they see you with me.”
Ayato would have expected Itto to have some questions about that, but the oni only grinned and threw his hands into the air. “I knew you were totally awesome, bro! I’ll go let the gang know. I can’t wait to try some of the games!”
The commissioner nodded along. “Yes, I’ve heard they’re exciting,” he said. Because I planned most of them.
“Oh, what time should we meet?”
“I’ll be there in the afternoon,” Ayato noted. “We can meet then.”
He ended up arriving at the festival a little earlier than planned. Thoma informed him of a few reports they'd gotten about some suspicious people lurking around the entrances, and Ayato agreed to take a look. In all honesty, he was fairly certain those reports were referring to the Arataki Gang, and Itto would most likely find himself arrested again if Ayato didn't show up.
Fortunately, most of his work had been completed the night before (although he lost quite a bit of sleep to do so). He knew Ayaka was planning to oversee the festival later in the evening, but he'd told her beforehand that he would be there with someone. He hadn't mentioned who, but she would find out anyway.
He hadn't actually planned to go to the festival in person, at least not unless there were some major issues for him to deal with, so the only doubt he had was Itto discovering his real identity. There was a pretty high chance of someone doing so much as greeting him with his title, and the oni would realize who he was really hanging out with.
Still, he'd already invited Itto (although a little rashly), and it was too late to take it back, even if he wanted to. Which he didn't, really. He'd found himself anticipating the festival, as Itto was a lot more endearing than the politicians he usually spent his days with. He figured the break could be beneficial for him, as his sister and Thoma always insisted.
"My Lord, over there," Thoma cut in, dragging him away from his thoughts. Ayato's gaze followed the direction his finger pointed to.
Two guards had their weapons raised and crossed to block the protesting oni. Itto had one hand at his hip, the other waving in front of him in a disapproving manner.
"I'll handle this," Ayato said. "You may come find me after if there's anything else to report."
"My Lord, are you sure that's necessary-" Thoma trailed off when Ayato kept walking. "As you wish."
He could hear Itto’s voice once he got closer. “Oh, come on, I haven’t even done anything! Yet, at least.”
“Sorry,” said one guard, and Ayato was surprised that he genuinely sounded apologetic. “Protocol.”
“That sounds a little judgemental, if you ask me,” Itto said pointedly. “Besides, the last time I attended one of your festivals, I almost died! Personally, the only person who’s been wronged here is me, I think.”
Ayato stifled his laughter. The two guards were sharing apprehensive looks, as if they were actually considering Itto’s words.
“Well, all right,” the second said reluctantly, setting down his polearm. The other did the same. “Come on in, then.”
Itto blinked in shock. “Wait, really?”
“Maybe we should let Thoma know,” the first guard said, ignoring him.
“No need,” Ayato interjected, and three heads swung his way at the interruption. The surprise was wiped off Itto’s face and replaced by glee, and the oni beamed at him in greeting.
“Ayato, bro! You’re here already?”
The guards’ eyes widened simultaneously at the way he addressed him, but they didn’t speak up on it. Instead, they only dipped their heads politely. “Lor—”
“I’ll take things from here,” Ayato interrupted. “If Thoma asks, do tell him he’s with me.” He nodded his head at Itto.
“Of course, sir.”
Itto smirked proudly as he walked by Ayato’s side, neither paying attention to the looks they were surely receiving from the guards. “Man, you must be more important than I thought if those guards would bow to you!”
“You’re the one to be impressed with,” Ayato said smoothly. “I was about to cut in, but you persuaded them all on your own.”
The oni puffed his chest boastfully and let out a vibrant laugh. “I did, didn’t I? That’s Araraki “The Never Underestimate” Itto for you!”
“Yes, for me,” Ayato agreed, returning his smirk. Then he turned away, pretending to scan the ongoing festivities. “You wanted to try the games, I recall? I’ll let you pick the first one.”
“The ring toss,” Itto said automatically. “Genta talked about that one.”
“Oh, that's right. Did your gang get in on their own?”
“Yup! I still managed to sneak them in, Arataki Style,” Itto bragged, crossing his arms at his chest. Then he paused briefly, as if an occurring thought confused him. “Though it wasn’t exactly hard — the guards didn’t try to stop them anyway.”
"A good thing, I assume." Ayato handed the lady running the booth several gold coins. "10, please."
She nodded, shoving the Mora into a pouch before grabbing ten red rings. Itto eyed them before chiming in, "Woah, wait. What's the Mora for? You gotta pay to play these games?"
Ayato held the rings with one hand, thanking her. "Well, of course. What did you think the festival was for?"
"I dunno, just for fun!" Itto accepted five when the commissioner passed them to him. "Oh man, the rest of the boys don't have any Mora on them... we just assumed it'd all be free."
"It's a fundraising event, but there are a few activities that don't require any payment. I'm sure your gang members will find enjoyment in those," Ayato explained. He added, "Would you like to go first?"
"Yeah, I'll show you how it's done! They don't call me Arataki "Never Misses" Itto for nothing!" he said confidently. He dramatically made a circular motion with his arm to warm up his shoulder.
Ayato took a step back. He'd never seen him throw anything before, but with the way the oni dealt with other things, he had a feeling it was best to keep his distance. And he was certainly right, as Itto reared his arm back before tossing the ring forward like a weapon.
To a third party, it would've been impossible to tell what he was aiming for, but no one could've guessed it was the little glass bottles arranged before them. Instead of landing around one of them like it was supposed to, Itto's ring flew across the booth and crashed into one of the thin metal poles. The owner shot him a sharp glare, and the oni sheepishly chuckled. "Sorry, sorry! Practice throw," he insisted when Ayato covered his mouth, trying his best to smother a laugh.
The second throw wasn't much better. If anything, it was somehow worse. Although Itto managed a lot less power into his throw, the ring whacked into one bottle before ricocheting off of it to hit another. It bounced between several bottles, back and forth, before landing pitifully on the side. Three of the bottles had broken into small, cracked glass.
If looks could kill, Itto would've died a million times over with how the booth owner was scowling at him. She shoved all the cracked pieces into a bag and irritatedly replaced them. No words were said, but Ayato saw the flash of fear that momentarily took over Itto's features.
The commissioner knew instantly that inviting Itto had been one of his best decisions. They'd barely started with the activities and Ayato was already having the time of his life.
Fortunately, for both the oni and the owner, his next three throws didn't cause any sort of damage, but none of them landed on any of the bottles, either. They barely even touched them, only consecutively hitting the table with a quiet thump.
"Aw, come on!" Itto protested, while Ayato tried to form a sympathetic smile. "This game must be rigged! All of my throws had perfect precision."
He nodded encouragingly, taking his place for his turn. "Yes, you did quite well. I've heard this game can be difficult, even for those with impressive marksmanship."
"Well, if I couldn't get one, I'm not sure how anyone else could," Itto said. There was a crease in his brow, as if he was genuinely concerned for any players who spent their Mora to try. "Honestly, how is a scam like this allowed in a festival in the first place?"
"Speak for yourself," the booth owner snapped at him. She was retrieving the rings Itto had thrown, but her eyes remained trained on the oni as she threw them forcefully into a stack.
"Woah, lady, if your game wasn't so—" Itto began to retort.
He fell silent when Ayato tossed his first ring. Unlike the oni, he did it gently and without much force at all. The ring sliced through the air evenly before landing right on the bottle in the center. Itto's jaw fell open.
The corners of his mouth edged up into a smile. "Beginner's luck, I suppose," he said.
With a flick of his wrist, his second ring flew into the air. Just like the first, it landed gracefully around one of the bottles near the front.
"Wha—" Itto leaped forward, gripping the edge of the clothed table. He narrowed his eyes on the neatly placed bottles, as if inspecting them. "There's gotta be something wrong with these things!"
"There is nothing wrong with my things," the booth owner shot back.
Before the oni could argue further, Ayato tossed his last few rings. They barely touched any of the other bottles before all stacking on the one in the center, one by one. Itto gaped, his mouth opening and closing as if he was trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for it.
"Well, that was indeed fun," Ayato said, trying not to sound too delighted. Judging from the look on Itto's face, he hadn't concealed it as well as he'd hoped. And, well, he hadn't really.
"I must've been unprepared," Itto convinced himself. "Yeah, that's it!" He gave Ayato a strong pat on the shoulder, as if he were the one who'd lost. "I won't lie, that was pretty dope, bro. But don't get cocky! I'm all warmed up and ready now, so don't think you'll go beating me in any of the other games, ha!"
"Your resilience is admirable." The edge of his lips twitched in amusement. "Let's see if it'll do you any good. How about the high striker next?"
That was one of Ayato’s personal favorites. He’d attempted it for the first time when he was much younger, and it was one of his fonder memories. He hadn’t been able to get a very high score at the time, but with his opponent being six-year-old Ayaka and all, it hadn't been difficult to win.
“How do we play?” Itto asked, his hands rubbing together eagerly.
The man standing by the machine explained, “You see this mallet? You use it to hit the pad over there. If you hit it with enough force, you’ll ring the bell at the top.”
Itto’s eyes flitted over the machine. “What are the numbers for?”
There were nine, starting at 100, followed by a 200 above it, and so on. Right beneath the bell was a large, engraved 900. “They still show your score, even if you don’t manage to hit the bell,” Ayato said. He handed the man a few coins and was given the long, red mallet in exchange. He weighed it in his hands gently.
Winning the game was dependent on brute force. Between him and Itto, the oni certainly appeared to be stronger, and he was aware of it, too.
“This’ll be easy enough,” Itto stated confidently, cracking his knuckles and taking the mallet. “I’ll go first, then! Strength isn’t something this oni lacks!”
Ayato nodded in acknowledgment, but he couldn’t help the small smirk that slipped upon his face. Itto's excessive confidence never failed to amuse him.
It was reasonable for Itto to think he was stronger. To him, Ayato was likely more brains than brawn.
With one heavy swing, Itto slammed the mallet forward, whacking the pad with enough force that had it been any other game, the machine would’ve broken. They silently watched as the impact caused the puck to fly up the machine, shooting past the first few numbers. It slowed near the top before plummeting back down. The numbers lit up at once, but the bell didn’t ring. The lights continued to flicker before landing on the 900.
“What?!” Itto spluttered at his score. “Nine hundred? Come on, that definitely should have hit the bell!”
Ayato gave his arm a soft pat, taking the mallet with his other hand. “You were very close. Considering the scale, that is high enough.”
Itto beamed a little at that. “Yeah, hey, that’s right! I bet no one’s hit that bell before anyway. It’s probably just there as a fake prop.”
“Are you implying my machine is rigged?” the owner interjected, his voice raised in agitation.
“Well—”
“Of course not, sir,” Ayato cut in. His tone was polite, but not any less entertained. Itto huffed under his breath, but he didn’t say anything else.
Raising the mallet over his shoulder, Ayato briefly inspected the pad. Then, with more force than he would have expected to use, he slammed it forward. There was a loud bang! when it collided into its target, and through the corner of his eyes, he spotted both Itto and the man jerking back in surprise.
The response was an immediate ding! All of the numbers flickered brightly, but the lights focused on the large bell that was swaying at the top.
He glanced to his side and shot Itto a pleased smile. It was returned with wide eyes and a sputtering mouth.
“Fake prop, huh?” he teased, both feeling and sounding satisfied.
Itto immediately crossed his arms at his chest, but Ayato didn’t fail to notice the hints of pink along his ears. His smile grew larger at that, and Itto’s flustering followed.
“Okay, okay, you win this one,” he admitted with a huff. “You’re stronger than you look, I’ll give you that.” The laugh that bubbled out of him was less confident than usual. He was quick to add, "I didn't use my full strength though! I was just... going easy. Yeah, that's it! You know what? Let's have a rematch."
"Ah, ready for another defeat so soon?"
"Woah, big talk, man! I'll win this time, no doubt about it."
"We'll see," Ayato hummed. "We can come back later, if you so wish."
A pleased grin reached Itto's face. His hand swept through his hair, a cheeky glint in his eye. "Hey, what about a sumo match sometime? It's hard to find an opponent who can put up a good fight — well, actually, it's hard to find an opponent at all — but I bet you'd be good at it! Not as good as me, though, obviously."
Sumo wrestling? Ah, yes. Ayato had heard about the oni's persistent requests for a rematch with General Kujou Sara. She'd believed the invitation to be utterly ridiculous and refused every single one. Ayato personally found the sheer idea ludicrous, but he couldn't help but tease him a little. "You seem very determined to lose to me in every possible way you can."
"Hey! I've never lost a sumo match before, you know."
"If Kujou Sara ever agreed to one of your requests, I'm sure that'd be different," Ayato pointed out, and Itto opened his mouth to retort in response. He turned away and sauntered forward, leading them to the next booth. "However, as much as I'd like to, I don't believe I have time for... sumo wrestling." Neither did his reputation. He could only imagine the look on everyone's faces if they heard about the Yashiro Commissioner publicly wrestling with the infamous oni.
Itto eyed him slyly and shrugged. “Aw, well. I guess my winning streak remains unbroken!”
”Oh?” Ayato faced him. “You’re certain I can beat you, then?”
Itto grinned with all his teeth. “We could find out.”
His eyebrow twitched, a little in surprise. The oni matched his gaze, a challenge in his eye. “Perhaps I’m rubbing off you,” the commissioner murmured. “You’ve become rather persuasive.”
Itto instantly beamed, and Ayato made a mental note of it. Apparently the oni could find compliments in words that weren’t meant for it. “Thanks, bro!”
If Ayato was an honest man, he would think it was almost kind of cute.
He drew both their attention elsewhere with a quiet clear of his throat. “How about this one next?”
The booth he was pointing towards took up a lot more space than the previous ones; several game machines lined up near the front, while a tall shelf in the back was stacked with all sorts of toys. Ayato assumed those were the prize options a winner could choose from.
"'Whac-A-Mole'." Itto narrowed his eyes on the words painted across the booth’s large banner. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds like something the Great Arataki Itto would be good at!”
"In that case"—Ayato handed the booth owner a small pouch of Mora—"let’s see what this Great Arataki Itto can do." He pulled up his sleeves and flexed his revealed wrists.
Two toy hammers were set on the table, and they each took one. Some of the edges were slightly chipped off, and Ayato mused over what kind of players had used them previously. Itto turned it over in his hands, a furrow in his brow as he inspected it. "Huh, I've never done carpentry before..."
"No, not carpentry. Fake moles will pop out of these holes here, and when you see it, you hit it," Ayato corrected. "You try to hit as many as you can. Winner is the one with the most points, and each mole is worth ten."
"Bro, you've played this before?" he asked.
"Itto, there's an instructions sheet right in front of you. If you're planning on using your inexperience as an excuse once I beat you, it won't work this round."
"Oh, you won't need to worry about that!" The side of his hammer rested against the palm of Itto's hand. "This baby's got the streak of a winner. I can feel it." He shot Ayato a winning smile, and the commissioner decided not to argue. It would falter on its own when the oni lost, anyway.
Apparently Itto was serious about winning. As soon as the machines beeped to life and began counting down from ten, he was gripping his hammer with both hands, wielding it the same way he did with the claymore he carried. His stance looked alert and combat-ready, as if he was preparing for battle rather than a minute-long game.
Instead of doing the same, Ayato only watched the other, his eyes shamelessly trained on Itto's face. Despite it being a simple children's game, the oni took the challenge to heart. His eyes were narrowed in anticipation, his lips almost drawled back in a snarl. Ayato couldn't wait to see the expression Itto would bear when he lost. His own eagerness surprised him a little, but he supposed it couldn't be helped when the oni was as expressive as he was.
He was almost convinced he'd invited Itto solely because a part of him loved the way he acted when he lost. It was certainly why he provoked him often. From beetle fights, card games, and now this... perhaps Ayato was enjoying himself a bit too much.
"I can feel you staring, but I won't let you distract me," Itto said abruptly, snapping Ayato's focus back. He hadn't bothered to glance at him, as his gaze remained intently on the timer. It was flashing the number 4 back at them.
The commissioner chuckled lightly in response, finally turning to face his own machine. It sounded with a beep just as the timer became a 1.
Almost immediately, a toy mole with a goofy smile popped up, and Ayato brought his hammer down. A second one followed from a different hole, but with one swift flick of his wrist, it ducked back down as quickly as it'd appeared. To his side, Itto was repetitively slamming his hammer down on the machine, and the racket he was making garnered them a few odd looks. Ayato silently hoped none of them recognized him.
As soon as the timer indicated the end of the game with one continuous beep, all the toy moles disappeared. Ayato allowed his arm to relax, their scores flashing just as he set his toy hammer aside.
Itto was wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. "Wow, one hundred and seventy... that must be some kind of a record!" he boasted, an elated laugh escaping him.
"You did well," Ayato agreed. He supposed Itto's questionable tactic had done better than he thought it would.
The praise seemed to fuel his pride. "Aw, don't feel too bad, bro! Everyone loses to Arataki "Champion of Games" Itto at some point in their lives!"
Ayato's eyebrow twitched, a habit he grew into with how often overambitious politicians would assume they could best him. He tried to smother the smirk that threatened to pull at his lips. "When, I wonder, did you come under the illusion that you were winning?"
The response was exactly what Ayato had expected. Confusion briefly washed over Itto's features, his grin wavering slightly, before he finally dared to peak at the other's score. His hand fell from where they'd found a place on Ayato's shoulder.
"TWO HUNDRED?!" he cried, sounding so genuinely dismayed that the commissioner almost felt a twinge of pity. Almost.
"Ah, alas," Ayato murmured. "It seems Arataki "Champion of Games" Itto has met his match."
"This-this must be rigged! You should've seen me, I was all—pow! And then—bam! Those little moles didn't stand a chance!"
"Oh, yes, I saw you. I believe that man over there did as well. Oh, and the lady beside him." His tone softened with playful sarcasm. "The owner doesn't seem too keen on approaching us, might I add."
Itto didn't take notice of the fun he was poking at him. "I want a rematch, man! I won't lose this time, for sure!"
"Oh?" Ayato cocked his head to one side mockingly. "If I recall correctly, you've said the same for every game we've played so far. I'm starting to wonder if the Almighty Arataki Itto cannot accept defeat."
He responded with a rapid shake of his head. “‘Course I can, dude! Just want a rematch, is all."
Before Ayato had the chance to answer in jest, the owner managing the booth tentatively called, "Would you like your prize, sir?"
"Ah, yes, I would, thank you."
Itto blinked, and only then did he seem to notice the stacks of toys laid out on the shelves. His eyes widened. "Woah... woah! Is that—IS THAT MISS HINA MERCH?!"
Ayato followed his gaze to the poster pinned to the wall. Miss Hina's face was drawn in the very center, one hand raised with a pen, ink seemingly dripping from it. There was a small exclamation mark next to her, made to appear as if she was surprised to see whatever it was she was looking at.
The commissioner struggled not to laugh aloud. Steeling his expression to look as nonchalant as he could, he politely said, "I'll take the poster. Thank you."
When the owner handed it to him, wishing him a good day (and shooting Itto a wary look, which both of them chose to ignore), the oni stared at the poster in awe. "Woah, man! Your home is sure to brighten up with this in it, I tell you!"
Ayato shrugged, passing it to him. "I have no space for it. Why don't you hold on to it for me?"
The oni perked up, apparently pleased with the idea of doing Ayato a favor. Especially since it involved Miss Hina merch. "I can do that! How long do you need?"
This time, he didn't bother stifling the fond laugh that flowed out of him. Itto stared back, alarmed as to what was funny. "Itto, I am giving it to you. As a gift."
It took a moment for him to process. In an instant, his brief confusion was replaced by delight, his face lit up with glee. "For real?! Thanks, dude!" His smile was wide as he stuffed the poster into his arms.
Ayato watched him, his mouth curving upwards, and he realized he was wearing a foolish smile of his own.
Oh, yes. That was definitely worth it.
“What did you want in return, huh?” Itto asked, nudging him. “Come on, anything! Er… although you might want to keep it on the cheaper side.”
“Anything?” The commissioner shook his head. That was a dangerous promise. “That won’t be necessary. I merely gave it to you as a gift.”
“No, dude! You just gave up Miss Hina merch for me!” Itto protested, and Ayato may as well have given him a second Vision rather than a simple poster.
“In that case,” he said, “indulge me in another round of high striker, will you? I did say we would, and I too stick to my word.”
“Of course, bro!” Itto gave his chest a firm pat. “Though… that doesn’t really seem like I’m doing you any favors…” he mumbled thoughtfully, trailing off.
“You certainly are. I am enjoying myself immensely, and I have you to thank for that.”
Itto brightened and flashed him a grin, his fangs visible. “Oh, hey, thanks!”
Ayato didn’t think his amusement could grow any more. Itto was so easy to tease, and the oni had no idea. As he motioned toward the game they were at earlier — the one he’d barely beaten Itto in, though that could also be said for every activity they’d tried that day — Ayato had to swallow down the urge to tempt Itto into doing something more. To him, the oni's — although unintentional — charm was like a trap, and he'd long fallen into it.
And, Archons above, was Itto's competitiveness contagious.
The man running the high striker booth didn't seem particularly pleased to see them again (actually, he didn't dare to even glance in Ayato's direction, while the looks he was shooting Itto weren't exactly friendly), but he didn't share his discontent out loud. The commissioner made a mental note to remind the oni later that most people did not like hearing others calling their games 'rigged'.
Nevertheless, he accepted the pouch of Mora that Ayato extended toward him, reluctantly handing Itto the mallet at the same time. The oni shrugged his shoulders back, cracking his knuckles in hasty preparation. Geo energy swarmed around his back, the faintest shape of yellow horns flickering behind him.
"You're not beating me this time!" was all that flew out of his mouth before he was swinging back and slamming the mallet forward. Ayato winced slightly at the din that ricocheted off the pad, but his eyes were quick to follow the puck as it flew up the machine with astounding speed. It crashed into the bell at the top, and all of a sudden it was ringing with impressive volume. But the puck hardly stopped there; it burst through the machine, ripping it open like it was made of paper.
"Oh—" Itto started, and when Ayato turned to him his eyes were wide. Before he had a chance to continue his train of thought, which most likely consisted of sheepish apologies and nervous laughs, the puck began plummeting back down with horrifying speed.
And then someone was screaming. Unnecessarily, Ayato might add, as the puck was falling toward nothing but the broken machine, but one terrified screech led to another and suddenly, it was chaos.
The puck slammed back down, hitting exactly what Ayato had predicted, but the force of it snapped the booth's table into pieces, and the maroon drapes hanging lazily over the entire booth ripped in half. And, just when they thought the damage was done, the game machine shook violently, the lights inside still flicking on and off, before something in it exploded.
It was a minor explosion, really. It wouldn't have caused physical damage to a person even if it tried. At least, not much.
Ayato's eyes met Itto's frantic ones. "We are in so much trouble," he groaned. All Ayato could think was, We? but he didn't get to express that thought before his guards rushed in. They scrambled to inspect the damage.
"For the record," he started, and he really shouldn't have been as calm as he was, "this does not qualify as a win, as I did not receive my turn. I think we should make that clear."
The news of the festival incident, which allegedly involved the troublesome oni and the mysterious Yashiro Commissioner (who, as the spectators claimed, had been keeping an eye on Arataki Itto and was unintentionally dragged into his mess) spread around Inazuma fast. It was, perhaps, the closest to the so-called fame and impact that Arataki Itto always claimed his gang to have.
The silence of the estate was abruptly filled with the sound of crumpling paper. “Ridiculous,” was the low reply.
Meanwhile, Arataki Itto — who had spent two long weeks in jail before his Deputy Officer was able to bail him out — was holding the very same sheet of paper in his hands, his creasing eyebrows expressing his confusion. Behind him, a Miss Hina poster had been sprawled on the table. “The Yashiro Commissioner?” he read aloud. “Huh, they must’ve mistaken Ayato for him… I guess he does seem rich and proper enough to be, ha!”