White Nights on Infinity

3. First Blood

"How clumsy of you," noted the bartender calmly, waving over someone to clear up the glass shards. Her smirk told Kurogane she guessed that clumsiness had nothing to do with it, but he only scowled at her. He wanted to look back and see if Fai was still talking to that—Rio, was it?— but he resisted.

"You're bleeding. Let me have a look," she said, still grinning. Kurogane tried to mutter something, but the girl was quicker, her grip on his wrist surprisingly firm. He opened his mouth to protest, but she gave him a look. "Don't make a scene."

In spite of himself, Kurogane closed his mouth, and let her dab at the cut with a towel. In that moment, she suddenly and painfully reminded him of Sōma, and he found it impossible to argue. Instead, he watched her pull out a small box from under the counter, and while still holding on to his wrist, fish out a plaster out of it.

"At least you didn't get any glass in there," she said, ripping the packaging open with her teeth, and deftly smoothing a thin strip over his skin. It felt elastic and cool, and adhered perfectly, as if it was painted on. It was the first time Kurogane saw such plasters, and for a moment he forgot to be annoyed with her.

"It's just regular derma, though," she said, off-hand, busy once again with another concoction. "So don't peel it off, or it won't heal properly."

Kurogane didn't understand, but decided not to press the issue. Instead, he ordered another whiskey.

Now that the moment had passed, he felt stupid. Of course, the club that Fai would choose to get stuck in ended up being run by Eagle's brother... but that seemed almost beside the point now. Whoever that was, why should Kurogane care if Fai talked to any number of long-haired, leather-clad men? A part of him knew the answer, and it made him even angrier.

Careful not to crack another glass, Kurogane downed his drink and reached into his pocket for a handful of the oddly transparent, square chips that passed around here for money.

"Er... Thanks," he managed, catching the bartender's eye.

She gave him another amused look. "It's my pleasure. And listen, don't worry about..." she nodded vaguely in the direction of the balcony. "You know, he's not a bad sort, family relations notwithstanding."

Kurogane stared at her in surprise. It was so unexpectedly earnest, and it clashed with her sophisticated, curated appearance. Then, he noticed something strange. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, but the more he looked, the impression only got stronger. It was as if the bartender had a kind of light trail around her; she seemed to be in several places at once, and it was an eerie sight, as if his vision was doubling, yet she was the only thing affected by it. Kurogane narrowed his eyes, closed and opened them, but the shimmering shadows around her only intensified.

"Oh, so you noticed?" she said, observing his reaction. "I'm impressed. Usually people can't see that. It only looks weird, mind you. It's nothing spectacular. Just a little trick that helps me to do this work without going crazy."

Kurogane opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. "Maybe next time, all right? I think you should go find your friend now. I have a feeling those people who just followed him out of the club were not just looking for an autograph."

Wheeling around in the direction she was pointing at, he made it just in time to see a door held open at the other end of the bar, and a burly silhouette disappearing behind it. Nodding curtly in reply, Kurogane began shoving his way through the crowd. Shit, how did he miss that? He had a sudden feeling their staid little routine was about to come to an abrupt end.