Jogo returned to the warehouse, his mind focused solely on the experiment he'd been conducting. He didn’t care about the sorcerer himself—Akimitsu was just another subject to test his powers on, a curiosity to be studied and exploited.
When he walked in, however, he found Mahito there, standing over Akimitsu with a possessive air. Jogo’s eyes narrowed as he saw the way Mahito looked at the sorcerer, like he was more than just an experiment.
“What are you doing here, Mahito?” Jogo’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. He didn’t need complications, and Mahito was exactly that.
Mahito turned to face him, a smirk playing on his lips. “Just checking on your little project, Jogo,” he said, his tone mocking. “But the more I look at him, the more I think you don’t deserve to keep him.”
Jogo frowned, irritation bubbling up inside him. “He’s not yours to take. I’m not finished with my work.”
Mahito shrugged, his grin widening. “He’s not just some experiment, Jogo. I’ve spent time with him, and I’m starting to think I should keep him for myself. You clearly don’t appreciate what you have.”
Jogo’s irritation turned to anger. “He’s nothing but a tool for testing my abilities. You’re interfering with that.”
Mahito’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he stepped closer to Jogo. “Maybe you see him as a tool, but I see potential. I like this sorcerer so far. Despite being chained up and nude, he’s shown some spirit. How about we let Hanami decide who gets to keep him?”
Jogo’s flames flickered, a warning of his growing anger. “That’s not fair, Mahito. You know Hanami will side with you.”
Mahito chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension. “Maybe, maybe not. But it’s better than us fighting here and ruining your precious experiment, don’t you think?”
Jogo’s hands clenched, the heat in his body rising. He hated the idea of letting Hanami decide, knowing the odds weren’t in his favor. But he also knew Mahito was right—fighting now could ruin everything. “Fine,” Jogo said through gritted teeth. “But don’t think this is over.”
Mahito’s smirk widened. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He glanced at Akimitsu one last time, a possessive gleam in his eye, before backing away into the shadows.
As the tension in the warehouse slowly dissipated, the scene shifts to Satoru, who was frantically searching for his brother’s whereabouts. Days had passed, and his desperation was mounting. His usually confident demeanor was shadowed by worry, his every thought consumed with finding Akimitsu. No trace, no sign, just a gnawing fear that something terrible had happened.
Satoru’s search had taken him to countless places, each lead turning up nothing. But he wouldn’t stop—he couldn’t. His brother’s life depended on it, and he was determined to bring him back, no matter what it took.
Satoru, his frustration mounting, teleported around Shibuya, Japan, searching for any sign of his brother. The bustling cityscape blurred past him as he reappeared in different locations, each time hoping to find a clue or trace of Akimitsu. The vibrant lights and the chaotic streets did nothing to soothe his anxiety—if anything, they only heightened it.
Despite his rapid movements, every place he checked yielded no new information. His heart sank further with each failed attempt, the worry over Akimitsu’s fate growing heavier. He couldn't shake the regret that gnawed at him for leaving his brother alone, especially with a cursed spirit like Jogo. The thought of Akimitsu being in danger was almost unbearable.
Satoru knew Akimitsu couldn’t be dead. He could still sense a faint, lingering presence—an indication that his brother was alive, though clearly in distress. It was a small comfort, but it did little to ease his growing despair.
He stood on a rooftop, overlooking the sprawling city below. His eyes scanned the streets, filled with people oblivious to the turmoil he was experiencing. Satoru’s mind raced, trying to piece together where Akimitsu might be. He needed to find him before it was too late, and he vowed not to stop searching until he did. The faint connection he felt was a thread of hope, and he clung to it with all his strength.
As Satoru teleported across Shibuya, a gnawing emptiness took hold of him. The search for Akimitsu felt like an endless, fruitless endeavor. He hadn’t felt this hollow since the day he had to kill Geto. The weight of that past loss now seemed to merge with his current despair, deepening his sense of futility.
Each missed lead and every empty alley added to his frustration. Satoru couldn’t shake the haunting thought that his failure to find Akimitsu might lead to a similar tragedy. The city’s vibrant, indifferent bustle only highlighted his isolation and growing sense of dread. The faint presence of Akimitsu, still discernible but elusive, only served as a cruel reminder of how close he was to finding him yet how far he still had to go.
Back at the warehouse, Mahito was trying his best to care for Akimitsu, who remained chained and in a weakened state. He held a cold bowl of soup, attempting to feed the sorcerer. The scene was a stark contrast to the previous aggression, with Mahito's normally cruel demeanor softened as he showed a hint of concern.
Jogo entered the room, his gaze fixed on the scene before him with clear irritation. "What are you doing, Mahito? Why are you wasting time with this?" Jogo's voice was edged with annoyance.
Mahito glanced up from his task, his expression cool but explanatory. "If you want your experiments to be successful, you need a live subject. If he dies from neglect or starvation, your entire effort here will be wasted. I’m making sure he stays alive so your work doesn’t end up being pointless."
Jogo scowled, clearly displeased with the interruption to his plans. "I don’t care about feeding him. I want results, not a long-term care project."
Mahito shook his head, his tone firm. "You need to care, Jogo. Without keeping him in a suitable condition, you’ll never get the data you want. If he dies, you’ll have to start from scratch, and that’s not something I think you can afford."
Jogo’s frustration was evident, but he remained silent, knowing Mahito had a point. The two cursed spirits stood in a tense standoff, each committed to their own vision of how Akimitsu should be handled.
Akimitsu, chained and exhausted, looked up at Mahito with desperate eyes. "Please, just end this. Let me die or take me back to my brother. I can't endure this any longer."
Mahito's expression was cold and mocking as he regarded the suffering sorcerer. He leaned in closer, his voice dripping with disdain. "You’re so attached to your brother, aren’t you? It’s pathetic. I think you should stay here a bit longer. The more you beg, the more I enjoy watching you struggle."
Mahito’s cruel smirk widened. "You see, the more you plead, the less inclined I am to grant your wish. I’m not going to let you go so easily. I find your desperation quite entertaining."
Akimitsu's pleas fell on deaf ears as Mahito continued to taunt him, clearly relishing in the torment he was inflicting.
