Where The Streets Have No Name

“Hiyah!”

“Hm.”

As a sneaker whizzed past Eiji’s nose, he leaned back just an inch—enough to feel the displacement of air—before cupping the petite ankle and stopping the momentum cold.

“Not… bad.” Eiji’s face remained a mask of indifference. Naomi bounced unsteadily on her remaining foot, but a wide, triumphant smile broke across her face.

“Really?!”

“Ah, Naomi-chan, your skirt…”

“AH!”

At Honoka’s gentle prompting, the karate apprentice retracted her leg with a frantic tug. A light blush dusted her cheeks, though she managed to keep her bubbly momentum as she smoothed out her uniform.

“So, Senpai! Do you think I’ll be able to help you beat up some Specters now?” Naomi began to playfully shadowbox—or rather, shadow-kick—the empty air.

Eiji ignored the display and sank into a nearby chair, leaning back to survey the familiar clutter of the Occult Clubroom. “Nope. Karate won’t help you against Specters.”

“What?! Then why didn’t you tell me that before I started the classes?!” Naomi pouted, a rare, stormy contrast to her usual radiance.

“It’s good for you,” Eiji shrugged. “Exercise. Self-defense.”

“Geez…”

Naomi slumped into her own seat at the center table. Despite her whining, the month and a half of karate had done wonders for her; her form was sharper, and she didn't look nearly as fragile as the girl he’d pulled out of the darkness weeks ago. Still, fighting ghosts required a different kind of edge—one she didn't possess.

“Heh, I think you’re getting pretty good, Naomi-chan,” Honoka chimed in. She looked up from her pocket-sized book, her emerald eyes warm. It had been a few weeks since the senior had joined their ranks, and her calm, cooling presence had balanced the room’s chaotic energy perfectly.

“See? Honoka-san believes in me.” Naomi crossed her arms with a grin. The first-name basis was a direct order from Naomi herself—a mandate for building "club camaraderie."

“Don’t give her false hope. This idiot will just go looking for danger…”

Just as Eiji was about to dig in his heels, a sharp knock rapped against the wood.

“Shiratori Hatsue, here on Student Council business!”

The sliding door hissed open to reveal a shock of red hair and a pair of sharp blue eyes scanning the room.

“I’m in a rush, so I’ll make this brief, Mizuno Nao—” Hatsue froze. Her gaze traveled from Naomi to Eiji, then finally to Honoka. Her brow hitched upward as if pulled by a wire. “Kanzaki?”

“...” Eiji stared back, his expression settling into its default scowl.

“Kurotori-senpai?” Naomi ventured.

“I was wondering where you two snuck off to during lunch, but I didn't expect it to be an Occult club of all places. Good grief…” Hatsue sighed, dropping her face into her palm. “Plus, it’s SHIRA-tori, Shortie-chan.”

“Shortie? I’m a full 1.54 meters tall!”

Honoka offered a wry smile at the bickering while Eiji leaned further back into his chair. “And?”

“Ah!” Hatsue snapped back to her mission, planting her feet and hovering her hands over her hips. “Right. I was asked to inform you—though you’ve likely been told already—that due to the high demand for space, the... Occult Club needs a minimum of five members to keep this room.”

She began jotting notes on a pad with a pencil she’d plucked from behind her ear.

“More members, huh?” Naomi tilted her head. “Was I ever informed of this?”

Eiji fought the urge to whistle. He’d conveniently "forgotten" to mention Sawada-sensei’s warning from a few days ago. He’d had more pressing issues to deal with—like not getting kicked out of school. Probably.

“So the three of us won't be enough,” Honoka noted, her emerald eyes reflecting a touch of skepticism.

Hatsue caught the look and turned her attention to the senior. “How did you get caught up with these oddballs, Senpai?” She glanced at Eiji and Naomi. While the eccentric freshman and the stoic delinquent fit the "occult" vibe, the prim and proper Honoka looked like a misplaced piece of a different puzzle.

Honoka smiled shyly, closing her book for a moment. “They helped me. In more ways than one.”

“I… see.” Hatsue nodded, her suspicion giving way to genuine intrigue. “Maybe I should join, too?”

She shot Eiji an inquisitive look. He just shrugged. “Don’t you play handegg?”

“I’m on the volleyball team, you idiot!” Hatsue huffed, a breath that seemed to cost her a year of her life.

Naomi and Honoka shared a confused glance. “What’s handegg?”

“I… actually don't know.”

“Kurotori-senpai, weren’t you in a rush?” Naomi asked with the blunt innocence of a child.

“AH!” Hatsue jumped, nearly dropping her notepad. “Right! Gotta go! Consider yourselves warned!”

She slid the door shut with a bang, her voice echoing down the hall.

“AND IT’S SHIRA-TORI!”

⌁◉⌁

“Sorry to drag you out here, Honoka-san,” Eiji said, his voice low as he clicked his helmet onto the handlebar of his bike.

“It’s no problem, Eiji-kun.” Honoka offered a cool, steady smile, securing the chain around her own bicycle.

“Mission time! Mission time! Oh, where art thou, Specters?!” Naomi was practically vibrating, bouncing on the balls of her feet while nursing her third canned coffee of the evening.

The three of them stood at the mouth of Shina’s infamous night district. Neon signs in jagged pinks and electric blues reflected off the rain-slicked pavement, and the air was a thick, heady cocktail of cigarette smoke, cheap sake, and heavy colognes. It was a self-contained ecosystem—a maze of nightclubs, underground poker dens, and adult entertainment that operated on its own set of rules, independent of the law.

It was no place for girls like Naomi or Honoka. Yet, here they were.

Meh had sensed a massive spike in malevolence in the area—the kind that signaled a Specter had either just arrived or had finally gorged itself on enough energy to be tracked. Eiji had scouted the district the night before, but he’d come up empty.

“...Nothing? You couldn't find a single thing?”

Naomi had asked back in the clubroom.

“Nothing.”

“And that’s why you need Honoka-san? To see if she can hear what you can't see?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll… do my best!”

Honoka had replied with a fierce nod, a stark contrast to how small she was currently making herself as they walked deeper into the district. She was clearly out of her element.

“I appreciate you coming out,” Eiji added, a rare moment of verbal gratitude from the stoic exorcist.

“No need to thank me, Eiji-kun. You’ve done much more for me than this.” Honoka smiled to herself, sticking close to his shoulder.

“You never thanked me for coming out, Senpai,” Naomi pouted.

“I never asked you to come.”

“Hey! And I still haven't forgiven you for coming here without me yesterday!”

“It was late. You were asleep.”

Naomi gave a sly, cat-like grin. “Does that mean you would have invited me otherwise…?”

“No, but you probably would’ve been spying on me with binoculars anyway.”

Honoka let out a soft giggle, but Naomi froze mid-bounce.

“How did you know about my binoculars?!”

Eiji didn't answer. He just quickened his pace. There wasn't another person on the planet who made him want to roll his eyes more than her.

As they moved through the crowd of drunkards, playboys, and women in cocktail dresses, Eiji blended in perfectly. With his leather jacket, bleached hair, and perpetually stern gaze, he looked like he belonged to the shadows of the district. Naomi, in her oversized hoodie, stood out like a sore thumb. And Honoka, moving with cautious grace in her green windbreaker and jeans, looked like a lost lamb.

“Honoka-san… what’s a… lavu hotel?”

“Naomi-chan!”

Honoka hissed, her face turning bright red as she reprimanded her junior.

Before Naomi could fire off another dangerous question, a shadow loomed over them. A burly, mountain of a man with a tailored red suit and a thick cigar interjected with a condescending growl.

“Ha! Eiji! My boy!”

Eiji didn't bother hiding his contempt which surfaced in the form of a glare.

A group of suited goons formed a protective ring around the man. Despite the darkness, he wore expensive sunglasses. The pungent aroma of his cigar was impossible to ignore. This was Miyata Tsutsuji, the owner of a nearby adult dance club.

Tsutsuji clipped the end of his cigar with practiced ease, flashing a sly grin. “I heard you were loitering in my neck of the woods. Care for a dance? On the house! Consider it a thank you to a friend.”

“Save it,” Eiji said, his hands deep in his pockets.

“Hm? You still haven't collected your payment for that one time. My business would’ve been gutted without you.” Tsutsuji sighed as if reminiscing about an old war story. “I still don't know what you did to chase away that... terror, but you were useful. And I respect useful people. Even if they’re a good 20 years younger than most.”

Eiji had eliminated a Specter that was threatening the girls at Tsutsuji’s club months ago. He hadn't done it for the owner; he’d done it because the potential for innocent casualties was too high to ignore.

“I don't want your money. And I didn't do it for you.”

“Hey!” one of the goons barked. “Show some respe—”

Tsutsuji raised a hand, silencing his men. He was still grinning. “Don’t worry about it. I like the kid.” He gestured for a fresh light. “Don’t be sulky, Eiji. This is just how the world works. Corrupt to the core.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to play along. I don't like you, and I don't like your business. End of.” Eiji said flatly.

Naomi and Honoka stayed quiet behind him, though they both shot the flashy owner a set of wary glances.

“Business, exactly as you put it.” Tsutsuji puffed on his cigar, adjusting his yellow necktie that perfectly matched his meticulously combed, bleached-blonde, hair. “And this… is business, too.”

Eiji stayed silent.

“You know,” Tsutsuji continued, his voice dropping into a mock-sadness, “there’s talk of one of my girls going missing. Haven't seen her for weeks. The other girls are getting jumpy... That wouldn't be a job for you, would it?”

Eiji paused for a fraction of a second, then started walking again, not giving the owner a second look. He’d deemed the conversation finished.

“Why would it be?” Eiji gestured for the girls to follow as they passed the neon sign for Tsutsu Girls.

As they walked away, Tsutsuji called out one last time. “Do come by again! And bring your… friends.”

Eiji felt the man’s eyes lingering on the girls with a predatory interest, but he knew better than to pick a fight with a half-dozen armed guards right now. He kept moving, but his mind was already turning.

The scummy "Night Wolf" might have just handed him the missing piece of the puzzle.