Detained

A few dim impressions made themselves known to Noa, disconnected from one another. 

An auto's clockwork hum under one ear and voices too loud and too close. A cloth pressed over his eyes, blocking all but a hint of the afternoon sun. 

His hips jostled over a hard, warm shoulder, head hanging down. Glimpses of concrete and fabric from under the blindfold. 

The sound of the streets outside fading to a quiet indoors. Low ceilings and a persistent echo of footsteps and quiet voices. 

Something sticky-smooth, barely padded, chilly under his ear as he was laid on his side, then rolled onto his back. Bands of pressure around his torso, his legs. 

And then large fingers prying the mask off his face. 

"Of course he's awake," the man grumbled. It was one of the men who'd caught him, Noa thought. Probably, at least—the light was very different from the dim warehouse, and the memory was blurry in his mind, refusing to focus. 

A hand appeared from one side and shoved a balled-up rag into his mouth. Noa choked and spluttered, glaring. 

His eyes still weren't quite working right, and his magic kept slipping out of reach. Whether that was the remnants of the effect of getting caught in the magic circle, or the sleeping spell that had apparently been placed on him afterwards, he couldn't tell. He wished he could rub at them, but his arms were firmly bound. 

"Don't try anything," said the man. "Stay put. Take a nap. It'll be a bit before anyone's in to see you. I'd enjoy the peace and quiet if I were you." 

Noa just glared at the man for as long as he could, till he and his companion clomped out of sight. 

The door slid shut with an oddly professional click, and then Noa was alone. Alone, and tied to a table, some unknown distance from the warehouse where he'd been caught. 

He looked around. This room could be mistaken for a doctor's office—or maybe a dentist's office, but with a bed and straps in place of a chair. Turning his head, he could see uniform white cabinets and a small table and chair with a lamp off to one side. The ceiling was featureless and smooth—particle-board, probably. The place smelled new, though it could be an older building renovated recently….

Noa chuckled darkly to himself. Interest in architecture was not going to help him, here. 

On the opposite side of the room from the desk was a large, smooth slate on wheels—the kind people wrote magical formulas on—but it was currently blank. Then by the door was a sink and a few open-air shelves. Whatever was on those shelves glinted in an aseptic, worrying way. 

Noa lay still and reached for his magic. It was still there, but weak, and any effort to summon it up just made him lose track of it completely. He wondered at that for a while, until he realized that each time his magic disappeared, the restraints holding him down felt a bit warmer to the touch than they should have been. 

So, magical wards, then. Or else another type of blood magic—repurposing the techniques they used elsewhere to drain the magic from him before he could finish summoning it up? 

Whatever it was, he was well and truly stuck here. 

Noa lay staring at the ceiling, running over the events of the day in his mind. He hoped that Miyori had gotten away. He didn't remember any signs that she'd been caught, which was reassuring. But he had no idea where he was now, and no way of getting word to her. 

He doubted this was a police station. He didn't think it was a government office, either—the building and its fixtures were too new, too bright, too cheap. 

No, this was somewhere owned by the Iseki Conglomerate, if he had to guess. 

It was almost impressive how comprehensively he'd failed at what he'd been trying to do. He hadn't even made it through the trial period Kusumoto had given him before getting himself caught. Maybe he'd been right, and this had always been too much for Noa to handle—

The door slid open without warning, and Noa stiffened, biting down on the gag by reflex. He pushed up against his restraints, trying to get a good look at the newcomer. 

A woman stepped into the room, wearing a perfectly fitted suit. She looked to be about forty, with warm brown hair pulled back into a graceful cascade down her back. Two thin curling strands framed a perfectly made-up face that regarded him with an expression of benign curiosity. 

"Well, hello there," the woman said. "You're an interesting acquisition and no mistake." 

Noa couldn't do more than stare. 

"Don't look at me like that, dear. It seems you've gone to an awful lot of effort to get my attention." She circled the table, and Noa felt her hand brush his shoulder and run down his arm. "What I'd like to know is how—ah." 

She paused, and cool fingers wrapped around Noa's wrist where it was pinned at his side. "Well, well. That's certainly familiar. You're from my shortlist." 

The woman bent over him, smiling. "Now, which one are you, I wonder…oh, but where are my manners? This is supposed to be a conversation." 

She stepped out of his line of sight briefly, and then returned, reaching out to him with a glove-clad hand. She tugged the gag out of his mouth, letting it fall to the ground beside the table. 

"I'll mention this just in case," she said, "but I don't recommend trying to break out by force. There are safeguards in place that will make any attempt quite unpleasant. But also, because of those same spells, I can take off your restraints if I think you're going to behave. So please do consider keeping this friendly." She smiled at him. "Now, what's your name, dear?" 

Noa swallowed. "…Let me go." 

"I'm afraid that's not possible," she said warmly. "I have a guess as to your name already, you know. I'd just like to keep this cordial." 

Noa just glared. 

"Very well," the woman sighed. "I suppose I'll have to lead the introductions. My name, dear, is Murasaki Shijo. And…I don't have my shortlist to hand, but I am quite sure you're on it." She traced the spell on his wrist. "I wasn't sure at first, but…hm, you might be Takasu-sensei's son? The timing is a little off, but not by much." She stared at him hungrily, something in his expression making her smile widen. "I'm right, aren't I? Oh, that's lovely. I thought you would be powerful, Takasu-kun, but I'd been ready to write you off. But judging by the reports…well. If I'd known what you were capable of, I would have worked much harder to find you." 

Noa wished he could make her burst into flames with the force of his glare alone...but the restraints wicked away even that wishful thinking. "What did you do to my mother?" 

Shijo's doting smile became more of a smirk. "We're not talking about her right now. We're talking about you." 

She stepped away, speaking over her shoulder as she pulled things out of the cabinets with smooth efficiency. "I'm looking forward to working with you, Takasu-kun. For now, though,…well, I apologize for the inconvenience. All my technicians had the day off, so I'm going to have to do this part myself."

She reached for his wrist, wrapping soft, cool fingers around it. Noa tried to pull away, but couldn't get the leverage. She shushed him absently, then pressed something metal and pointed to his wrist. 

He struggled uselessly, but just when he thought it she was going to pierce his skin, she instead muttered something. He had the vague sensation of something bursting, and could just make out magic like a cloud of smoke fading into nothingness.

"There," she said. "You'll be paying your debt from here on out, so there's no need to mark you anymore. I'm sure it's a relief to get that off, isn't it?" 

She'd taken off his curse. That was all...for now. 

Shijo smirked as the realization hit. "So dramatic...now, wait there, please. There'll be people by to transport you shortly." 

With that, she left, closing the door neatly behind her…and leaving Noa with questions, uncertainty, and the silence.