Chapter Text
DAY 24
It’s nearly noon when the investigation comes to a standstill, and the cursebreaker’s feet with it. Standing out here, sweaty and tired from trawling the dirt, he’s convinced that he’s worn out the soles of his shoes despite the anti-scuffing spell he cast on them before he left home at the asscrack of dawn.
He stares into the horizon at the outskirts of his destination, flips his compass open. He looks down at the needle. Looks up. Looks back down again.
Nothing changes. Its enchanted tip stays stubbornly pointing straight ahead, right into the belly of the Jackal guild.
“Shit,” Kiyoomi says.
DAY 14
Here’s how Sakusa Kiyoomi’s fan-fucking-tastic job single-handedly makes him age ten years in the span of ten days. It starts like this:
“Hashibira-san,” Kiyoomi manages through gritted teeth, “my speciality lies with curse dispelling and control. Not with playing Sherlock Holmes and tracking them down. You know this.”
His boss runs a weary hand over his face. He looks absolutely done with this week, and it’s only Monday. After twenty years of being in the Magic Regulation Bureau, he’s got permanent worry lines etched into his forehead from making pained expressions at the tasks he’s been handed, and been handing out. Kiyoomi idly considers informing him of the benefits of retinol serums, but Hashibira is not his friend and perhaps it’s too late for him anyway, so he’s going to cut his losses.
“Sakusa-kun, I am quite aware of your contract,” Hashibira sighs. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be giving you this file if there was any other option, but as it is… all our agents in this department are swamped or collapsing from the energy drainage or swamped and collapsing from the energy drainage. You’re the only one available who has a flexible-enough skillset to take this on.”
Something truly terrifying must be showing on Kiyoomi’s face at that moment, because his boss is quick to dig himself out of a rapidly-filling grave. “You’ll be paid twice the amount of money you get for a regular job,” he offers weakly.
Kiyoomi narrows his eyes.
Hashibira lets out something close to a whimper. “Two and a half times,” he amends, “and a seven-day paid vacation to Okinawa.”
Kiyoomi exhales deeply, weighing his options. He doesn’t really care about the money—being this high up in a private agency doesn’t come with bad pay—but a break from all the shit seems very, very tempting.
He sniffs and holds his hand out. “Make it two weeks and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Kiyoomi’s efficient. He isn’t a top-rated cursebreaker for nothing. He’ll have this under wraps by the weekend. When Hashibira passes the case file into his hand, Kiyoomi knows he’s signed a deal with the devil in blood. But that’s fine. Okinawa awaits.
He’s got this. Right?
Right?
Wrong.
It’s his tenth day on the job and Kiyoomi has only just tracked down the broad area in which he’s supposed to perform his fancy-ass ritualistic exorcism. He should be fucking vacationing right now, slathering copious amounts of sunscreen onto his skin, but noooo here he is at the energy flux border of a guild he should by no means even consider crossing .
All the yen in the world isn’t fucking worth this, Kiyoomi thinks, viciously stabbing at numbers on his phone. Hashibira picks up in three rings.
“I’ve tracked the curse down,” Kiyoomi begins.
“Oh, excellent,” his boss says, tinny voice revealing no small amount of relief. Kiyoomi can vividly picture him deflating in his chair like a balloon. “Will you be able to—”
“It’s in the Jackal guild,” Kiyoomi interrupts bluntly.
“O—oh.” Hashibira now sounds twice as stressed as he was ten seconds ago. Kiyoomi can almost hear the SFX of him filling up with helium again over the line.
“Yes, oh,” Kiyoomi mumbles. Then, louder: “Should we suspend our investigation and get a Jackal cursebreaker to work on this, then?”
“We—what? No, Sakusa-kun! We’re a private agency. We can’t be shunting cases between bodies, and besides—the Jackals wouldn’t take it anyway, considering it’s a complaint from our side of the city.”
“So, I don’t know, give the job to one of our agents with a Jackal permit!” Kiyoomi says, frustrated. “You can’t possibly expect me to willingly walk into an energy-dampening field to locate an energy-draining curse, do you know what you’re saying—”
“Sakusa-kun,” Hashibira says, sharp enough for Kiyoomi to fall silent. “We don’t have any agents with Jackal permits. I give you more leeway than the other agents here because you get things done, and you don’t complain unnecessarily. But I’m still your employer. The cases I give you aren’t requests, they’re part of your job. Get it done. ”
Kiyoomi grinds his teeth, his face going hot with embarrassment. Hashibira isn’t talking out of his ass—the energy-drainer curse is becoming a bigger and bigger problem, and Kiyoomi might very well be their last chance. He’s just worried about the toll it’s going to take on him if he walks into Jackal territory with the Raijin logo pretty much embroidered onto the side of his neck.
But Hashibira must take his silence for murderous intent, because his tough façade cracks and he starts full-out sobbing across their connection. “Please,” he wails, watery. He sounds like he’s withering away.
Kiyoomi wants to kill someone. “Fine,” he snarls, hanging up. Then he steps across the energy border before he can reconsider what he’s doing.