"Seriously, your plan is fucking hilarious!" said old Antônio, staring at the two while sipping vodka straight from the bottle labeled Splendor of the Douro Vodka, his hometown's finest. He drank like it was water, taking gulps between sentences.
"But... I need this. Something stupid. It's been a while since anything caught my interest," he muttered.
"I see... so that's a yes?" Milk asked, bored, in that room that stank of booze and piss—typical of a lonely drunk. Kwawe, meanwhile, leaned against the wardrobe, squeezing himself into the narrow space.
"Yeah... it's a yes! Back in the Order, I did the same thing I do at the bar: work, work... same old fucked-up cycle," he said, then let out a deep sigh and fell onto the bed with arms spread wide. Vodka spilled from the bottle, soaking the mattress.
"I wanna screw with this world a little."
As if delivering a tired manifesto.
A bitter laugh hid behind the mask he wore. Maybe he didn't really belong there—but opportunities don't choose who grabs them.
"Great..." Milk said, standing up, relieved to see Antônio already passing out, slipping into a heavy, snoring slumber.
"Kwawe... we've got two more to recruit tomorrow. Let's hope they're more open to conversation—or at least not falling apart."
"R-right. Hopefully one of them's a cute girl..."
"Seriously? Thinking about women right now?"
"Er, no! I mean... It'd just be nice, you know? A bit more female representation for the boss..." he muttered, coughing once, twice.
"And remind me to never overdo it on beer again..." he grumbled, voice raspy, as if he already knew he'd do it again.
"Better a hoarse drunk than ending up like that guy. Anyway... shall we?"
A single nod from the big guy. Serious, steady.
"Yeah... still lucid, at least."
"That's what I'm talking about!"
Milk patted his chest with pride.
Then the two headed out, crossing the park, weaving through the dark forest trail, until they reached the road—where the van waited.
From there, they made their way back, while Yamasaki and his admirer dropped Arthur off at home.
He got off in a modest residential neighborhood in the Hiragana district. A basic apartment complex. The kind anyone could afford, even with the worst job in the world.
Yeah... our blondie wasn't living his best life. Ironic, for someone with such an elitist look.
"Thanks, guys!" he said cheerfully, waving before disappearing up the stairs.
Charm was definitely his thing.
Leaving the two of them alone.
"He's nice, isn't he?" she said, noticing her sugarless coffee was still untouched by reality.
"Yami?" she called again, turning to face him.
"Ah... yeah?" he replied, still staring into the red threads that had crossed his vision. That smell, that feeling on his skin... Blinking wasn't enough.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
And then opened them again.
"What were you saying just now?"
She shot him a look. Unimpressed.
"You're acting weird. What happened, huh? Something wrong?" she muttered, too curious to hold back.
"Me? I don't know..."
"Come on... I just wanna help. I won't tease you if you say you saw Casper, I swear!" she said, half-joking, not missing the chance to poke fun. Then waited for him to say something.
"Ha, ha..." A dry laugh.
"I just had a déjà vu. Or... a hallucination. I think it's because I wasn't wearing my crucifix..." he added, trying to ease the anxiety in her eyes.
"And what did you see?"
He hesitated. Just for a second.
"A demon. Red hair. He greeted me and... then, a jolt. And suddenly I was back here. Seeing you holding out your hand."
He finally confessed.
"Sounds like a supernatural hallucination... but why? How? There were no entities nearby. Did you eat anything today, Yamasaki?" she asked, suspicious.
Then she placed her hands on his shoulders, gently pulling him toward her chest.
With her free hand, she traced the silver chain down to the crucifix. Then pulled it off carefully.
"Here!" she said, placing it in his hand.
"Your crucifix? You sure? Won't you need it?" he murmured, surprised, feeling her hand on his—tender—while she helped him hold the object.
"What's this about...?" he whispered.
"I've got others. My dad gave me one with each promotion. He's kinda like an overprotective owl..." she said, smiling softly, eyes distant. She stared at a lone streetlamp in the dark, where fireflies gathered around the light.
"Overprotective owl, huh..." he said awkwardly.
"Well, alright... I'll take it. Better than getting chewed out by that old hag again. That'd be the second time this year..."
He put the crucifix around his neck, almost relieved.
"She never gets tired... classic old lady with a PhD in yelling at kids," he added, sighing.
"She should've been retired by now."
"Jeez... I think I've only ever worn down one crucifix. Maybe you're just releasing your energy in a totally unrefined way..." she said, watching his face closely. When he sighed again, she was sure.
"That's it, isn't it, Yamasaki?"
She grabbed his arm with both hands, confident, like she'd just cracked a major mystery.
"Maybe... I never really got that whole 'refining spiritual energy' thing. Doesn't make sense to me," he grumbled, frustrated.
"No way! A fifth-grade exorcist doesn't know how to flow his own energy? Ha! That's hilarious!" she teased, glancing at him sideways before turning to face forward with theatrical flair.
"Want me to teach you?"
"You don't teach... you humiliate," he said, grinning in disbelief.
"Go on, then. Enlighten me, prodigy of the generation!"
"Alright, alright..." she rolled her eyes with a smile. Then, like part of a ritual, pulled out a pair of glasses from her bag and put them on.
The scene was almost too much to take seriously.
"Imagine your spiritual energy as water."
"Water?" He raised a brow, skeptical.
"Seriously, Amai?"
"Yes. Water. Think of your energy flowing inside you like a river current. When water flows in a controlled way, it follows a defined path and gets to where it needs to go without waste. Same with your spiritual energy—it needs direction. Not to gush out like a leaky hose."
She spoke while gesturing in the air, as if drawing the river's course with her hands, tracing imaginary curves with almost poetic precision.
And him? He huffed, still doubtful.
"So now I'm a river? You've gotta be kidding me!"
"I'm trying to help. Or would you rather keep wasting your energy like a busted pipe?" she snapped, tired of his stubbornness.
He crossed his arms, unconvinced.
But curiosity won.
"Alright... go on."
"Think of a pipe with leaks. It wastes water, right?"
She mimed the water slipping through invisible fingers.
"Same thing happens with your spiritual energy. If you lose emotional control or don't stay focused, you waste it. Like your energy has holes—leaking out where you least expect it."
"Makes sense... kinda. But go on." Trying not to sound too interested.
"Another important thing is purification and refinement. Think of spring water—clean and pure. It needs to stay that way to be healthy and useful, right? Your spiritual energy is the same. It needs to be purified and refined. Practices like meditation, breath control... staying positive—these help clean and improve your energy flow. So it circulates better, without wearing you down or causing collapse."
"Purify and refine..." he repeated with a cynical look.
"Okay. And how exactly do I do that?"
"Meditation. Controlled breathing. Staying positive..." she said, ignoring the sarcasm.
"Yeah, and how am I supposed to do that..."
"Trial and error... what else?"
"Ugh..."
"And another thing: just like water can be stored in reservoirs... your spiritual energy can be too. Same practices—meditation, breathing, focus—help you store it. And more importantly, release it precisely. When you really need it."
"So now I'm a water tank?" He was finally starting to get that concept they taught in year one at the academy... and that he ignored—like 80% of the classes.
"If that helps, sure. And don't forget adaptability and flexibility. Water molds itself. It changes shape depending on the container, the environment, the pressure. Your energy needs to do the same. Breathing, staying calm—all of that helps you be more resilient. Adjust the flow to the situation. Don't resist—flow."
He stared at her for a moment, still trying to keep his skeptical front.
"Come on. Try it. What do you have to lose?" she said, holding his gaze firmly—but not harshly.
Just... certainty.
"Alright, I'll try. But if this doesn't work... I'm roasting you for the rest of your life, deal?"
"Deal." She grinned, satisfied.
Took off the glasses, stifled a laugh, and winked at him.
Then they walked on, no rush, heading toward the Shirasaki clan's headquarters.
At last, the night left them in peace.