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With that unsettling introduction, Nagasawa started asking Noa a variety of questions, mostly about his magic. When was the first time he'd used blood magic? Did he know any of the theory behind it? What had he tried to do?

Noa considered not answering, but whenever he paused for too long, Nagasawa's gaze turned calculating and he started looking at the restraints on the bed. 

So Noa explained the time with Daisuke's leg, though he wasn't sure it counted. He explained about the needle. And then, because he wanted to keep Nagasawa busy, he asked about Iseki's magic circles and how they'd drawn him in. 

Nagasawa grinned. "You know, I'd like the answer to that myself," he said. "It's a known reaction, but a rare one. We actually tried to block it for a while—we were worried it would attract the wrong sort of attention too early in the game." 

What game? Noa wondered. 

"But it's just your bad luck that it turned out to be a great way to catch you. And we…well, I think there could be something really valuable in it. The higher-ups are a little less sure about it, but I'm still hoping I can convince them. I can be persuasive, you know." 

Noa considered his options, then asked, "Valuable?" 

"Yes!" Nagasawa beamed. "You see, once you free magic from the constraints of modern convention, you open up the door to all kinds of variables. We've known for years that magic travels through different inert materials differently, but the magic that can be drawn from, say, weather patterns, or plant growth, or excess power from previous spells? That's hard to standardize, so it's less studied. And that goes double—no, triple—for blood magic. You'd think that blood is blood, right?" 

He paused for breath. Noa nodded, just in case he was waiting for an answer. 

"Well, it isn't! And it seems like magical power isn't just trained—some part of it is innate, tied to the blood itself." Takara stood, pulling out a stylus. "If you'd allow me to demonstrate?" 

Noa nodded again, then blinked in confusion as Nagasawa pricked his own hand. A tiny drop of blood welled at the tip, and then he walked back to the magic circle on the wall. 

"Watch closely," he said, and pressed the stylus into the center of the circle. 

The power flared—not just in the circle, Noa noticed. A brief flicker passed like a wave through the spells powering the lights in the room, as well. 

That meant that this base, wherever it was, wasn't built on the city networks; it was self-powered. Noa filed that knowledge away, and was so busy keeping his face blank that he jumped in alarm when he looked down to see Nagasawa already pressing his stylus into Noa's palm. 

It hurt more before it broke the skin than after, and Noa watched as redness welled up around the tip of the stylus. Nagasawa waited for a long moment, then pulled the stylus away. 

Noa ignored the dull pain from his hand as best he could, remembering how his blood had felt on the needle. Could he feel it now?

He could—tiny, but there, a little piece of himself and his magic was carried across the room, suspended in midair. 

Nagasawa pressed the tip of the stylus into the circle again, and—

Just for a second, Noa could feel it. 

A giant system, long and lopsided and unsure, humming along above and below and all around the room that contained his suddenly tiny-seeming body. It was like watching lightning fork across the sky, except it was static, looping, shifting from moment to moment. He could feel the vastness, the energy being gathered and how far it spread. 

He could feel the city—the parts connected to this "Garden," anyway—breathing above him. 

And then it flickered out, and Noa was left blinking and dazed. 

"You saw it, didn't you?" Nagasawa said, as though nothing remarkable had happened. "The difference in power between our blood. I always thought I was a powerful magician—a genius, even—but no. I'm just very skilled. I'm talented in the abstract. When it comes to actual power—you've got it, Takasu-kun. I don't know why or how, but your blood is just more magical than that of others. And it's not just you." 

He paused, seemingly waiting for a reaction, so Noa managed, "Oh?"

"No," Takara said. "Everyone's blood has some reaction. It all strengthens the Garden, letting it put out roots. But some is more powerful than others, and yours is the most powerful I've seen yet. I'm here to figure out why—and how to capitalize on your assets." 

He seemed to be looking for some sort of response again, but Noa didn't know what to say to a statement like that. "Uh…I see." 

For the first time, Nagasawa frowned. "Well," he said, sounding disappointed, "that's the difference between skill and genius, I guess. You don't understand your own potential yet. But that's all right. I'm going to draw it out of you, no matter what it takes. You can be sure of that. Now, lie back, please." 

***

After that, Noa learned the pattern of these sessions quickly. 

Firstly, he learned that Nagasawa adored the sound of his own voice. He would speak almost continuously, sometimes to himself and sometimes to Noa, about analyses and theories and often a great deal of math, most of which he seemed to do in his head. He seemed to be a genius, for all that he seemed to disagree with the common definition of the word.

He spoke quite casually and didn't seem afraid of Noa at all, but he was also meticulous about Noa's constraints. Noa was always either bound by the wrists or strapped to the examination table. And the one time Noa tried working away at the wrist restraints, his magic started draining away in a way that felt very familiar. So while he thought he might be able to take Nagasawa in a fair fight, Nagasawa made sure he never got the chance to try it. 

Nagasawa knew much more about blood magic than Noa did, something he seemed to enjoy mentioning at every opportunity. He was also a needle-happy maniac, and Noa was his new favorite piece of equipment to test out. 

But there was at least one thing that Nagasawa hadn't figured out: that every time Nagasawa took his blood, Noa maintained some sort of connection to it. And whenever he offered that blood to the Garden…Noa could feel that as well. 

The more blood, the stronger the connection. Every time, he got a better sense of how far it had spread, and gradually he even thought he began to understand what parts of it were doing. It was a knowledge that he couldn't put into words, so complex and powerful that it took his breath away. 

But he kept his mouth shut and his face blank, refusing to give any sign of it. 

Because if he understood the Garden a little better every time he was connected to it…then he might eventually understand just what it was the Shijos thought they were doing. Or even find a weakness to exploit. 

And as soon as that happened, he was going to make Nagasawa and the Shijos regret trying to keep him captive.