Chapter Text
Today, Mahito felt an uncontrollable urge to commit arson, which was just a fancy way to say he felt like setting things on fire.
You see, one simply couldn’t befriend Jogo without picking up some arsonist tendencies. That guy literally has a volcano for a head.
So, arson.
The blue-haired curse wandered down the street, whistling, with his hands in his pockets.
Yep. Mahito was going to have fun and burn something down today.
Something small, something not too noticeable but fun… there!
Mahito stopped about 20 feet away from a small bakery.
He noticed a blond man in a suit walking out of the shop. A female worker ran out after him, yelling, “Arigato!” as if the man had just performed some life-changing magic in the shop. Considering the small wave of cursed energy Mahito felt just now, the guy probably did.
Whatever. This just made it more fun.
A sorcerer, a bakery with yummy bread, and hopefully, a kitchen with a gas stove. What more could he ask for?
Mahito power-walked into the bakery, the scent of freshly baked goods filling his nose.
It took him no time to spot the stove, and not even five minutes later, everything went BOOM.
Instant gratification. He giggled, then laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was fun; explosions are always fun.
He heard a scream from outside the bakery—probably that girl again. Shame, she hadn’t made it back inside yet. Oh well. He could save her for later. If he remembered her.
The heat of the flames brushed against him as Mahito ducked out of what was left of the kitchen. The air was thick with the smell of burning bread, which reminded him of hunger. He snatched a couple of loaves on his way out, biting into one with a grin.
Who would’ve thought? The bakery smelled better when it was on fire!
The curse stood some distance away from the now-blazing bakery, watching as a fire truck arrived. Little humans in heavy suits jumped out and started hosing down the raging inferno.
He shoved the last of the chocolate croissant into his face-hole, savoring the mix of chocolate and flaky crunch. He kinda wanted more, but any croissants left inside were probably wet now. Charred and wet.
He gazed down at the last piece of bread in his hand, a garlic butter baguette. The fact that he was holding something with garlic slightly dampened his mood. He loved the taste of garlic but hated how it made his mouth smell. He could give it to Jogo and laugh at him afterward, he supposed.
Just then, Mahito felt the weight of a stare on his back. He turned his head, and sure enough, the blond suit guy was staring at him. Their eyes met.
Immediately, Mahito sensed a ripple going through that blue field within.
The blue within the sorcerer—something humans might refer to as a “soul.” To Mahito, it was just blocks of different colors. Sometimes, there were textures or smells. There were all kinds of souls.
The blond sorcerer was blue. And the sorcerer was staring at Mahito.
So Mahito grinned and waved, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when strange men stare at you. Probably. The next step would be to go up to the sorcerer and ask for his number, but Mahito had left his phone in Dagon′s domain.
The sorcerer stared at him for three more seconds, then turned around and left.
Oh, that’s pretty damn rude.
Well. He guessed he could do it the old-fashioned way.
Mahito huffed, then sauntered up to the blond sorcerer. The sorcerer didn’t acknowledge him, even when Mahito started whistling.
They walked for about five minutes to a tall, sleek office building.
The sorcerer pushed open the glass door, the cool air inside washed over them. The place was as nondescript as any other corporate building—white walls, clean floors, a reception desk with an indifferent clerk who barely glanced up as they entered.
Mahito slipped into the elevator behind the blond sorcerer, silently observing as the man swiped his badge. The elevator doors closed with a quiet hiss, trapping them in a small, silent space. The tension was palpable—Mahito could practically taste the unease rolling off the sorcerer in waves. The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, the quiet too perfect, too still.
They stepped out onto a floor filled with desks and computers and 9 to 5 workers.
Mahito followed the guy to his seat. The man sat down, glanced at his watch, and put away the sandwich he got from the bakery.
“Eh? Not gonna eat your lunch? Would you like this one instead?”
Mahito opened his mouth and spat out the garlic bread (wrapping included), then waved it in front of the blond.
For the non-spiritual aware, it′d looked like a baguette was floating above the man′s head.
Sensing movement, a few workers looked up from their monitor.
Without a word, the blond quickly snatched the bread out of Mahito's hand, and subsequently tossed it in a bin under his desk.
“Tsk, rude. You′re a rude guy, Sorcerer-san, you know? That's not very nice.”
The sorcerer did not reply. He simply unlocked his computer and resumed work, as if the curse wasn’t there at all.
Mahito huffed. It looked like he needed to work harder.
He then knelt down and proceeded to unplug the power cords. He unplugged everything, giggling as workers looked around in confusion while their monitors, printers, and landlines stopped working one by one.
Still, the sorcerer remained silent.
Now, Mahito was not a curse with a bad temper (unlike Jogo). He was generally in an upbeat mood. But this guy was starting to annoy him.
Mahito huffed once more, then noticed the restroom sign toward the back of the office. An idea popped into his head, and he knew just how to make things fun.
He bolted over to the restroom, his footsteps silent to everyone but one.
With a flick of his wrist, the restroom sinks began to overflow. Moments later, the office erupted into chaos—the shrill fire alarm blared, sprinklers drenched the panicking workers, and Mahito couldn’t hold back his laughter as the office turned into a chaotic water park.
Just for extra fun, he grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall, pulled the pin, and let loose, spraying foam everywhere.
The workers, now thoroughly soaked and panicking, began to scramble for the exit.
Everyone was yelling or trying to reach support via phone, and the once-quiet office had transformed into a chaotic mess of blaring alarms and hissing water.
Mahito, satisfied with his work, reappeared next to the blond sorcerer.
The guy looked exhausted, but he finally looked at Mahito.
The blue-haired curse grinned smugly.
“Wasn't that fun, Sorcerer-san? Now you get to go home early, thanks to me!”
The man sighed. Then finally, he mumbled under his breath.
“We'll talk later. Not here.”
And Mahito was absolutely delighted.
They walked ten minutes to a train station, took the train, got off the train, and walked for another five minutes. They stopped in front of an apartment building.
At the front of the apartment building, the blond sorcerer’s steps grew slower, more hesitant with each passing moment. Mahito followed closely, his grin widening with every faltering step.
The sorcerer finally stopped at the door of unit 710, his hand hovering just above the handle.
Mahito leaned casually against the side wall, arms crossed, watching the man with barely contained amusement.
“Not going to invite me in?” Mahito snickered. His eyes flicked to the door plate. “Nanami-san?”
The sorcerer—Nanami Kento—tensed at the sound of his name. His gaze remained fixed on the door, but Mahito could sense the anxiety radiating from his soul.
Mahito pushed off the wall and got closer, waving the garlic baguette (Mahito had to dig it out from the trash, garlic or not, it's his bread).
“Come on, Nanami-san,” he teased, poking the man with the slightly damp baguette. “I brought you a present.”
Nanami sighed, a long-suffering sound, before finally turning the key in the lock. The door creaked open, and Nanami stepped inside, clearly hoping the curse would stay outside.
But Mahito wasn’t the type to take a hint. He′s a little shit. He slipped through the door right behind Nanami, kicking off his shoes as if he owned the place. He tossed the garlic baguette onto the kitchen counter and stretched his arms over his head, surveying the neat, orderly apartment.
“Nice place,” Mahito remarked, strolling further into the living room. “A bit too tidy for my taste, but we can fix that.”
Nanami remained silent, his expression one of tired resignation. He watched as Mahito made himself comfortable on the couch, stretching out like a cat.
Mahito grinned up at him. “So, I’ll trade you this lovely garlic bread for whatever you’ve got in the fridge.”
Nanami raised an eyebrow, almost exasperated. “You followed me all day for food?”
“Not all day, just half,” Mahito corrected. “And well, not really. I wanted to give you this garlic bread, but you were rude and ignored me. I'm still going to give you this bread; I just want your fridge now, too.”
Nanami Kento felt one of his eyelids twitch. He remained silent.
“Oh please, please, please, please? Na~na~mi~san?” Mahito teased, leaning back and crossing his legs. “You get garlic breath, and I get your leftovers. Fair trade, right?”
Nanami’s eyes narrowed. A few seconds later, his shoulders slumped just slightly, the tension in his posture giving way to fatigue. He let out a puff of air.
“Eat what you want and then leave.”
“Don’t mind if I do!” Mahito chirped, bouncing up from the couch and making a beeline for the kitchen. He threw open the fridge door, humming to himself as he went through the contents.
“What do we have here… apples, eggs, some leftover curry, ooh, is that cake?”
Nanami watched in silent disbelief as Mahito began piling food onto the counter, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
“Don’t make a mess,” Nanami muttered.
“Can’t promise,” Mahito replied cheerfully. He picked up the cake with his bare hands, extended his jaw, and gobbled it up in one bite. “You’re not a bad host after all, Nanami-san~”
Nanami stared at him for a long moment.
“Please eat and leave.”
“Oh, I’ll eat,” Mahito said, grinning as he shoveled a spoonful of curry into his mouth. “But leaving… well, we’ll see.”