Ramen Stall and Covers

Renji’s shoulders twitched as he sat at the tiny ramen stall tucked into the dank alleyway. The steam hit his face; the sight of Egawa in a white bandana and happi coat nearly broke his composure.

“Wel…come.” Egawa greeted him with wide grin with a flash of hostility.

“Shio with extra eggs, please.” Renji drawled, stretching the please.

“Coming right up, thank you sir.” Egawa gave the other customer a change then turned off his store sign.

Renji suppressed a laugh and folded his napkin into a flower origami. It had started as a habit, then became a signature. Now he made his shikigami out of them.

The final customer left. The two men exchanged a glance, confirming the alley was empty. The generator’s hum and the broth’s aroma filled the silence.

“There’s your true calling,” Renji mocked. “Soup’s good. But does your lady at home know about your real work?” He nodded at Egawa’s ring.

“Your assignment is observation. Strictly observation,” Egawa growled.

“Nobody died. That was the clause, right? You have kids?”

Renji offered a cigarette; Egawa refused and busied himself with dishes.

“What brings you here? Your phone report is due.”

“Don’t be so cold. We used to train to kill people together. And in‑person reports are better. More personal.”

“You’ve been busy at night.”

“It’s been years since I’ve been out. Places to go, people to meet. The usual catch ups. I don’t think you have any kids, else you wouldn’t have put me in a high school.”

“You’ve got a civilian possessed and now being treated at the hospital.”

“Did I? I’m just a janitor. Waxed the floors that morning. Didn’t see a thing.” He lit his cigarette and blew smoke toward Egawa.

Egawa didn’t bite the bait, he changed the topic.

“Do you even make any money doing this shit?”

“Where did you go during Golden Week?”

“Visiting family?”

“Your family is in Toyama.”

“Busted,” Renji said, unbothered. “But does it matter? I haven’t killed anyone yet. I’m just setting the board so I can assess whether that girl is Yukikaze.”

“Your assessment?”

“Skilled. Better than her teacher. Not that it matters—I’m just sweeping dirt from afar. I could do a proper assessment if I were the one teaching.”

“With your background? No. You’re lucky to be placed as a janitor.”

“Oh, I’m grateful,” Renji said with a mocking bow. “Government paycheck, free meals. Meanwhile you’re running a dying ramen stall and a shinyocho. Trying to fool your wife? Is she even real?”

Egawa’s jaw twitched. Good. They were watching him closer than he’d thought.

Renji leaned back, cigarette dangling. “Relax. I’m still playing by your rules. No corpses, right?”

Two months of janitor work had given him more intel than any official assignment. Hanako was too exceptional, too guarded. So he’d shifted focus to the ones around her.

“Your girl’s friends are interesting,” he said. “Natsume Sayuri? Easy pickings.”

Egawa’s shoulders stiffened.

“And that Minato kid…” Renji let the words trail off. The charm Ryuji carried flashed in his mind—his lieutenant’s scale, unmistakable. He wasn’t sharing that.

He blew smoke toward Egawa. “Some things I keep to myself.”

“Stick to your report. What are you planning?” Egawa asked, jaw tight.

“Nothing big. Just letting people on the other turf know what they should know. Succession talk hasn’t trickled down yet. I’m a humble messenger. A public servant, if you will.” He dropped the cigarette, crushed it, lit another.

“By the way, any news on my old Suiryukai folks? Haven’t reached one. It’s like they’ve all been… killed off.”

“You have no privilege to access that information.” Egawa pulled the tarp over the cart.

“Helpful. What about the other candidates? Narrowing down the Yukikaze? And you’re sure I walk free once you identify them?”

“Yes.”

The tarp‑covered cart sat between them as they smoked under the same flickering streetlamp.

Wanyudo‑gumi would be the easiest to stir up against Yukihana‑ikka—just across the river to the south. He could send shikigami to watch their border, but real work needed him in person. Otherwise he’d have to track down the remnants of his old kai, but every one of them had gone silent, as if they’d all been given the same order once their leaders were killed.

“That’s the report. I’m off. Thanks for the meal.”

Renji slouched away, slipping out of the streetlamp’s reach and folding into the shadows.

Once he’d put enough distance between them, he pulled out another flower origami and a stub of chalk. At the street corner he crouched, drew a quick sigil, and set the paper blossom on top. The petals twitched, then lifted.

“Observe Egawa. When you’re done, rest on the cart under the tarp. You’re released when he opens you.”

The flower fluttered off into the dark.

The alley settled into silence after Egawa’s footsteps faded. Renji took a slow drag, watching the ember glow.

If the lieutenant’s scale had ended up in some kid’s pocket, then the purge hadn’t been as thorough as the government dogs claimed. Someone from Suiryu‑kai had slipped the noose. Maybe more than one. And the best part? The government clearly had no idea.

He exhaled smoke toward the river.

So why was the brat hanging around a Yukikaze candidate? If Yukikaze had wiped out his kai, the boy should’ve been nowhere near her. Unless the lieutenant had cut a backdoor deal with Yukihana‑ikka before everything went to hell. Wouldn’t put it past him.

He’d need to talk to the kid. Soon.

As for Yukiharu… she needed stronger pressure. The bone‑charm punks he’d hired barely managed to trip over themselves even with proper tools. Useless.

The teacher possession had worked—messy, risky, but effective. Someone sharp might notice the extra charm he’d planted in the classroom, but that was their problem. He’d slipped in early, waxed the floors, tucked the charm under a desk, and let his shikigami drag it out and burn itself once the oni‑bound charm hit the ground.

Shame he didn’t get to see the aftermath. The damned shinyocho cleaned up before he could get a proper look.

Renji flicked ash off his cigarette and smirked.

Plenty of ways left to push. He just had to choose which one to enjoy first.

Egawa waited until Renji’s footsteps dissolved into the night before pushing the cart in the opposite direction. He stopped at the public phone booth and dialed home. The line rang. No answer.

His own recorded voice greeted him: “This is the Egawa residence. Leave your message after the beep.”

“Hey, it’s me. Sorry I’m running late again. Tell Yuki I’ll help with her homework this weekend, and make sure Kenji doesn’t stay up past nine. I’ll bring leftovers from the stall. Love you all. See you soon.”

He hung up gently. Lit another cigarette. The glass fogged with his breath as he traced a quick kuji‑kiri across it, then dialed the secure number.

“Egawa reporting. Yes—he approached directly. Our agent is safe, recovering from mild possession aftereffects, and already back on duty. Yes, we’ll increase vigilance. No, sir. Yukiharu remains the strongest Yukikaze candidate. Correct—this year’s Yukikaze lacks the polish of the previous, suggesting the mantle was passed.”

He paused, listening.

“Minato Kentaro and Shiratori Genrei—Suiryu‑no‑oroko wielder and Suiryu‑kai advisor—are still missing. Still in hiding.”

Egawa leaned against the booth. The glass creaked under his weight.

“We expect Renji to escalate. He’s already stirring up Wanyudo‑gumi and Yukihana‑ikka along the south river border… Understood. Yes, sir.”

He hung up and let his fist tap the glass once, quiet but sharp.

When he returned to the cart, a paper flower sat on the tarp.

Egawa froze. Scanned the alley. Nothing.

He unfolded the origami. The paper blackened from the center outward, crumbling into ash between his fingers.

“Damn you, Renji.”

He turned back to the phone booth, lifted the receiver with a steadying breath.

“Egawa here. Requesting an additional agent for Sumida Riverside High School.”