Twenty minutes. That’s all the time I had to prepare myself for entry into the Shibuya dead zone.

  A huge barrier sits over Shibuya, engulfing the city in a dome of absolute dark.

  “Fucking barriers,” Hiro grumbles, scowling. “All they do is keep the curses in. Doesn’t stop the idiotic civilians from entering thinking they can take on something invisible to them.”

  Two lines form between my brows as I tilt my head towards him.

  “I thought they changed that rule?”

  He shakes his head, the motion sending his copper hair brushing his eyelashes. “Nah, they had to keep that rule so the sorcerers that couldn’t see curses could enter.”

  I cringe at my own flawed logic. Of course they did. Otherwise there would only be a handful of sorcerers that could do sweeps of the zones.

  The darkness of the dome bleeds into the dimly lit, empty streets as the car crosses the threshold.

  I’d heard that the dead zones were overrun with curses, and they sometimes escaped into the sewers. That was partly true. Flyheads gather in large groups along the abandoned streets—Grade Four curses that could fit in the palm of my hand with big, bug-like eyes and human skin stretched over a tiny skeleton. They’re nothing to worry about.

  I’ll never get used to being transported by a vehicle without a driver.

  The tan leather squeaks as I shift to look out the tinted windows. Shattered windows and boarded up businesses coat the roadside. The faint stench of burnt wood floods through the air vents of the car. I suck in a breath and hold it until my lungs burn. My heart races behind my ribcage. My palms are slick with sweat.

  Burning. Fire. Sora.

  The scar.

  Phantom pain blooms in my lip and I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

  Satoshi moves on my left. “You’re safe. There’s no fire. It’s reeked of burning since the Shibuya Incident 31 years ago,” he murmurs into my ear.

  I exhale slowly and the muscles in my face relax. I can’t open my eyes.

  Sora. The lighter.

  A large calloused hand grips my chin. His breath caresses my cheek.

  “Open your eyes, Renegade.”

  I can’t.

  I won’t.

  “Open.”

  My eyes flare open at the command. Satoshi is millimetres from my face, close enough that I can count all seventeen flecks of sapphire in the depths of his irises. Why isn’t he wearing his sunglasses?

  “Good girl,” he smirks, releasing my chin.

  Heat floods low in my gut. He shouldn’t have this effect on me. I hate him. His clan murdered my Mum. He wants me dead. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  The car halts outside a navy blue tent. Glad to see that the only thing preventing me from being killed by a curse in my sleep is a fucking flap of plastic.

  The doors slowly lift upwards, icy wind nips at my bare arms. Hiro steps out first, holding out his hand to help me out of my seat. I don’t want to leave the warmth of the chunk of metal, not when the streets smell like fire and decay. My knees wobble as I slide along the leather bench. I swallow and place my shaky palm in his.

  You’re a leader now. You have to be strong.

  Hiro’s fingers tighten around mine as he pulls me gently from the car, placing a hand on the small of my back to steady me. Brisk wind swirls around me, playing with the hem of my skirt, sending goosebumps prickling over my arms. Gods it’s fucking freezing. Why couldn’t the curses only be active in the summer? Satoshi exits the vehicle and scowls at me. My hand drops from Hiro’s. The fuck is his problem?

  “They’ve split the tents, male and female. Yours is over there.” Hiro gestures to the two tents hidden behind the main one. “If you want a shower good fucking luck. We’ve been demoted to buckets of water and sponges.”

  I grimace. Buckets and sponges. Nothing says the Higher-ups care about our wellbeing like sending us back to the Middle Ages.

  The gravel and debris crunch under my boots as I stalk over to the main tent. A low animalistic groan echoes in the distance. The curses are stirring. Wonderful.

  I reach for the tarp of the entrance flap and shove it aside, finding Misaka inside. My eyes widen and I almost trip over myself to snatch her into a crushing hug. Tears brim in my eyes as I pull back.

  “Why are you here? I thought Satoshi sent you to Shinjuku with the others?”

  She hugs me back just as tightly, smiling warmly down at me.

  “He texted me on the way here demanding I switch with the Grade One he originally assigned here. Fuck knows why.” She shrugs.

  I don’t care. He can have whatever reason he wants. Misaka is here alongside Hiro.

  “I’m not ecstatic about being separated from Shinji though,” she adds as she crosses her arms over her chest.

  My stomach plummets. I’m so caught up in being able to protect her, I forgot she would want to be with her boyfriend. Of course she would. I would too—if I could land myself a partner.

  I knot my fingers together. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? It’s not your fault.” She reaches forward and flicks my forehead. I wince and rub the sore spot.

  “Shinji will be fine, he’s strong and can handle himself. I’m not worried.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, grinning. “I’m pissed that I can’t fuck him the whole time we’re stuck here.”

  A laugh spills from my throat.

  “If it makes you feel better, I won’t be getting laid either.”

  She raises a brow at me and snorts. “There are plenty of options, it’s mostly men here.”

  Satoshi’s face fills the forefront of my mind. I chew the inside of my cheek, a faint blush dusting my face.

  “Uh oh. That looks like you just thought of someone,” she smirks, narrows her eyes, then gasps. “Oh my god. It’s Hiro isn’t it? You want to fuck Hiro!”

  Ice flares through my veins. She couldn’t be more wrong.

  My lips part to argue, but the words die in my throat as the tent flap rips open.

  “Who wants to fuck me?” Hiro fills the entry, arms folded, a smirk tugging at his lips.

  I’m in hell.

  The ground needs to open up and swallow me whole. Scratch that. I’m going to jump into the nearest curse’s mouth.

  “Nobody in this tent wants to fuck you, Hiro,” I hiss through clenched teeth.

  The fucker actually pouts like this is the worst news he could receive.

  “Well, that’s disappointing.” He throws his hands up.

  Misaka snorts and turns back to me, lifting a brow.

  “So if you don’t want to fuck Hiro, who do you want to fuck?”

  Hiro strolls past us. He pulls up a metal stool; it scrapes against the concrete. He plants himself on the seat and leans forward, resting his head on his fist.

  “That is not up for discussion. Nobody meets the criteria,” I snap.

  “Oh, she needs to get laid. She’s cranky.” Hiro nods solemnly to Misaka.

  “I agree. A good dicking and she’ll be happier.” Misaka bites back a laugh, shoulders shaking silently.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “What does and doesn’t enter my pussy isn’t anyone’s business but mine.”

  The tent flap whips open. Again. Could my life get any worse? Aki saunters in with his hands in his pockets. I should’ve assigned him to another zone.

  He flashes me a grin. I lock my muscles and narrow my eyes at him.

  “I volunteer as tribute. Wouldn’t be the first time, would it, Ren?”

  And there it is. The words that will make me snap and break my no killing rule.

  The tent groans in unison.

  “Yes, Fuju. We’re all well aware that you fucked Ren.” Hiro pinches the bridge of his nose. “You never let any of us forget,” he adds.

  Aki smiles wide, agate eyes flashing with amusement.

  “On that note, I’m going for a shower. I am not mentally equipped to deal with you.” I glare at Aki, spin on my heel, and leave the tent.

  The bitter wind slaps across my face, flushing my cheeks. I wrap my arms around myself as I speed walk to the shower tent—if it could be called that.

  I lift the flap and I’m met with a cream-coloured tarp, sectioned into four cubicles. A pile of used clothing sits in the far corner like a sad mound of dirt and shame, and neatly folded white towels sit in the other. Trails of mud mark the waterproof flooring.

  Note to self: wear shoes as soon as you’re washed.

  I slide open the curtain of one of the pathetic excuses for a shower stall. Plastic rings rattle against the curtain rail. I grimace.

  A tin bucket and a coarse yellow sponge greet me as I slip out of my dirty uniform. I dip my hand into the water. To nobody’s surprise, it’s freezing cold. This is going to be a long fucking sweep.

  I crouch and let the sponge soak. I reach for the cheap body wash we’ve been provided. How kind.

  Goosebumps pebble across my arms and legs as I wring it over my bare chest. I jolt as the liquid meets my skin. The quicker I get out of this ‘shower’, the quicker I can warm up. Gritting my teeth, I lather the soap across my body. I reach for the shampoo and dunk my head in the ice water, then scrub my hair faster than I’ve ever done before. I grimace, then lift the bucket and empty it over my head. The frosty liquid drives the air from my lungs and I’m positive I’m about to catch hypothermia.

  I rip the shower curtain back and snatch the towel from the pile in the corner, wrapping it around my body. My teeth chatter violently.

  After a couple of hours, I finally manage to warm up and stop shivering. I’m sat around a log fire, with the whole team assigned to this dead zone. We’re living like fucking cavemen. Roasting marshmallows and boiling water over an open flame. Fuck me.

  My gaze flicks over to Satoshi, who is deep in conversation with Hiro and a few Grade Threes. I can barely put names to half the faces around this fire. The flames flicker in the winter breeze, glimmering against Satoshi’s tinted sunglasses. Fuck. He is carved by the gods themselves.

  He dips his head as he laughs softly at something Hiro said. I catch a glimpse of his impossible blue eyes. My heart races. I’m gawking at him. I can’t rip my gaze away. He looks less like the strongest sorcerer and more like a normal man.

  “You’re staring,” Misaka whispers from my right, leaning her head on my shoulder.

  Heat floods my cheeks as I glance at her. Nobody else seems to be paying attention to me. I let out a sigh of relief, resting my chin on the top of her head.

  I stab a marshmallow onto a stick and hold it over the fire, the heat warming my bones.

  I stare at the sugary treat slowly softening over the flame. Once it’s lightly browned, I bring it to my lips, biting into it. Creamy vanilla bursts over my tongue, and I suppress a groan.

  Misaka lifts her head to look at me, orange and yellow glow against her pale skin. “I’m worried about Shinji,” she murmurs, knotting her fingers together.

  A line forms between my brows as I twist to face her. “Why? You said earlier he can handle himself.”

  “He hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I know I sound like a crazy girlfriend. It’s just that—he promised he would stay in contact and I haven’t heard from him since he entered Shinjuku.”

  “Misa,” I breathe, reaching for her hand, placing her palm in mine. “He’s in a barrier. He won’t receive any of your messages, and yours shouldn’t send. Barriers block signals in and out.”

  She blinks at me twice, then her lips quirk into a small smile.

  “I’m such an idiot. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside a barrier that I forgot about that.” She squeezes my hand. “Thanks, Ren.”

  I nod and bring my eyes back to the campfire. Flecks of red-hot ash flutter through the wind, the flames crackle.

  A knot forms in my stomach.

  Not again.

  Fire.

  I was fine.

  My chest tightens and my breathing turns ragged.

  Misaka frowns at me and her mouth moves, but I don’t hear the words.

  One second I’m sat on a log, the next I’m falling. I’m weightless. Floating. Darkness swamps my vision. My hands fly out in front of me. I can’t see them. An iron fist closes around my chest. I’ve gone blind.

  You’re not blind.

  A deep, hoarse voice rings through my mind, dripping with irritation. What the fuck was that? No. Who was that? Where am I?

  Tsk. Humans.

  “Why can’t I see anything?” No sound comes from my mouth and my throat burns like I’ve been drowning. My fingers grip my neck, nails clawing at my skin.

  Poor fragile thing. Open your eyes, woman.

  My eyes snap open. Is this a cursed spirit’s technique? That could mean I’m dealing with a Special Grade.

  I squint as I sit cross-legged. A vast Gothic cathedral materialises in front of me. Bat-shaped gargoyles hang high on the walls, black beady eyes following my every movement. Dead vines and brown leaves coat the stone flooring. Green moss fills the cracks between slabs. My gaze follows the decaying foliage until it lands on a grey concrete throne, crow skulls carved into the arms. It’s not empty.

  It looks human. But the overwhelming evil presence it gives off tells me it isn’t. I’d say it’s male, broad shouldered and tall. It wears a plague doctor mask and a long black trench coat that covers its whole body. If it has feet, I can’t see them. Crows flutter above the crown of its head in a menacing circle.

  I narrow my eyes at the figure, and lift my chin.

  “Where are we?” I can’t hear my voice but I feel the words leave my throat. Is this a domain expansion? Or perhaps an innate domain?

  Think of this as being in my mind. We are in my innate domain.

  The figure wheezes through my skull.

  “If we’re in your innate domain why isn’t anyone else here with us? They should’ve all been sucked in.”

  It cocks its head at me and stands from its throne, stepping towards me. There’s not a single sound in here, a vacuum has sealed everything except the oxygen and cursed energy.

  Fascinating. You care for others even as a jujutsu sorcerer.

  It’s dodging the question. Of course it is. Why can’t anything ever be simple in this world?

  “You didn’t answer my question.” My hands curl into fists at my sides.

  I don’t want to.

  The figure peers down at me. It is at least double my height. I can’t see behind the mask, but if I had to guess I’d say its eyes are pitch black and soulless.

  Woman, if you looked into my ‘soulless eyes’, you’d lose your vision permanently. Think of this as me doing you a favour. I’ll call on you when I need you to return the sentiment.

  “You can read my mind.” I say, placing my hands on my hips.

  Congratulations, you’re not completely stupid. And to answer your earlier observations I am what humans would consider male. I have feet, but I prefer to keep them covered. Now onto more pressing matters.

  He turns away from me and stalks back to his throne, slumping down onto the stone and resting his masked head on his fist.

  You’ll owe me one favour in return for me not confiscating your sight indefinitely. I will call upon you in due time.

  He waves his hand dismissively. I can’t exactly just fucking walk out of here. I don’t even know how I got here.

  “I don’t owe you shit. I don’t know you or what kind of cursed spirit you are, and I’m not making deals with something I know nothing about.”

  The cursed spirit has the audacity to look somewhat offended.

  Do not compare me to that scum. I am stronger and smarter than any cursed spirit.

  I clap my hands to my ears as a screech resonates through my mind like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  “What the fuck?”

  Do not offend me and I won’t have to hurt you.

  I roll my eyes and glance away, folding my arms over my chest.

  “If you aren’t a cursed spirit, then what are you? Reincarnated sorcerer? Cursed object?”

  What I am, is none of your concern. However, since you have so many questions, I’ll cut you a deal.

  He holds out one clawed finger, the tips burnt and blackened, making my stomach sour.

  “I don’t want—“

  The air is snatched from my lungs and I drop to the ground, knees cracking against the stone as I scratch at my throat, desperate for air. My chest burns like acid. Just when I think I’m about to die, I take a gulp of oxygen and my head stops spinning.

  You will listen to my deal.

  I rub my throat and glare at him before nodding slowly.

  Good. If you can land a hit on me first, I’ll forget about the favour and you’ll be free to go. However, if I can land a hit on you first, you’ll do as I ask and come to me when I call upon you, and you’ll forget this conversation ever happened.

  “Do I have any choice?” I grumble.

  Not really. Take the deal, Ren Sazama.

  I freeze. I never told him my name, does he know who I am before I was dragged in here?

  If he hears my thoughts he doesn’t give any indication, he simply sits with his fingers interlocked over his lap.

  “Who exactly am I making a deal with?”

  Kageoni.

  “Alright, Kageoni. Since I hardly have a choice, I’ll take your deal and—“

  I gasp and slam myself forward, almost crashing my head into Satoshi’s, hurling up the marshmallows from a moment ago. Fucking hell.

  What happened?

  I groan as I bring my legs together to stand, but a large hand presses down on my shoulder, gently guiding me back to the cold concrete. I glance up. Satoshi stares at me with wide, panicked eyes, sunglasses nowhere in sight.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” My brow furrows.

  “Because you stopped breathing for over an hour. You were dead, Renegade.”

  I reel back, furrowing my brows.

  “The fuck I was. I remember starting to panic and then I woke up and almost headbutted you.”

  A muscle in Satoshi’s jaw ticks, rage flashes in his eyes. “I wouldn’t lie about that.”

  “Oookaaay then.” I push off the ground and roll my shoulders. “Not sure why you’re acting like you care all of a sudden, but hey, whatever helps you sleep at night, right?”

  I’m being a bitch. I shouldn’t. He seems genuinely worried, but I can’t fight the feeling that he’s not being truthful with me about everything. Not that he has to be, I guess.

  My head is fuzzy, my bones ache and I feel like I’ve just been thrown backwards through hell, which I probably have.

  Satoshi snatches my wrist and tugs me back towards him, spare hand resting on the small of my back, and of fucking course my traitorous body enjoys him manhandling me. I’m grabbing my vibrator later. Maybe that’ll stop me wanting someone I shouldn’t.

  He glares down at me, baring his teeth. “You don’t die unless I say so.”

  I purse my lips and spit in his face.

  “Fuck you, Gojo.” I snatch my wrist from his grip. “I decide when I die, no one else.” I’ve never spat in anyone’s face before. I think it’s one of the most disrespectful things you can do to someone.

  I died, apparently. I’ve lost an hour of my memory.

  Satoshi stands stunned for a moment. Then he snarls and surges forward, grabbing me by the shoulders.

  “Spit on me all you want. You’re not dying today or any other day!” He exhales sharply.

  The conviction in his tone stills me. I scan his face, his brows are knitted together and his pupils are dilated. Is he actually worried?

  My posture relaxes as I rest my hands on his wrists, staring up at him.

  “Alright, Satoshi. I won’t die today or any other day.”

  He nods slowly and I become hyper-aware that we are alone around the campfire.

  “Where is everyone?” I frown.

  He releases his hold on me and rubs a hand over the back of his neck.

  “Uh … There was an incident.”