Chapter Text
“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”
June 12th, 2005.
One month prior to this date, the occult organisation “Haihara” had finally been classified. Following this declaration, any direct member of “Haihara” was to be considered a Curse User and a Special Grade risk.
If an individual was confirmed to be a member of “Haihara”, they were to be executed for the safety of the Home Islands.
Sofia Major tossed the announcement she had been reading aloud into the car's glove compartment as she stopped the engine and got out. “... And that’s why we’re here.” She adjusted her tan jacket, which rested comfortably over her white lace-up shirt. She adjusted the slim-fit jeans she had been wearing and tightened the belt.
“No, that’s why you’re here, Senpai,” Satoru Gojo corrected, lowering his sunglasses. “I’m just glad we got to do some spectating today.” He grinned, exiting the car first, and making way for Shoko Ieiri, who had been stuck between him and Geto on the middle seat, to leave. Suguru Geto followed soon after, getting out of the car on the right side.
“Yaga really is spoiling us,” Suguru Geto commented, letting out a quick laugh. “I’ve never seen a Special Grade so far, it’s a shame that Rin declined to—wait. Major, you have a driving licence?"
“I doubt you’ll find anyone stronger in that complex than yourselves, especially since I’m pretty sure they’ve just blown this way out of proportion. According to HQ’s documentation, they don’t even have any inheritors of their family technique,” Sofia added, getting out of the car and stretching. “As for the permit? Don’t worry about it. I didn’t crash, did I?” she said, grinning.
“Family?” Satoru squinted. “What, Haihara’s a last name?”
“Obviously,” Shoko Ieiri sighed, closing the car door. “... Eugh. Couldn’t I have just ridden in the front? Anything’s better than being squeezed between these two.”
“If anyone’s riding shimoza, it’d be Satoru.” Sofia laughed, disregarding Satoru’s groan and the other two’s snickering, and began walking towards the concrete complex, set to be demolished in two months' time. “C’mon. Let’s get this done before dinner,” she said, taking out an M4 Carbine.
BANG! A white page was slammed onto the table in front of her.
… Oh.
Well, it still felt like a gunshot.
Yet… it was just a simple piece of paper. A simple notice.
March 29th, 2006.
Sofia Major asked for permission to leave the country in order to mourn her father’s death during his service in the Iraq war, and to be present during the funeral and subsequent cremation.
She would leave that evening.
Sofia Major stared off into the dimly lit sky from a classroom in Tokyo. She mumbled something under her breath, her head sinking low.
“I’m sorry,” Suguru spoke calmly, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s—”
“A waste. Nothing but a waste of life,” she mumbled, her voice weak and wobbly. “... I’m no better than them.” Her once confident and proud tone had become torn and pathetic. In spite of Suguru’s respect for her as a colleague, he couldn’t help but pity her in that moment, like how one pities a wounded animal. The feeling made him feel… gross. As if he had never felt that way towards another human being before.
“What could you possibly be referring to—” Suguru started again, taking a step forward, but was immediately halted by the slam of Sofia’s fist on the windowsill.
It looked like she was trying to say something, but not a single word came out. She shook her head twice, then turned to leave. She paused for a moment in front of Geto, her eyes gazing into nothing in particular. “... What is it to mean, anyway?”
“Sorry?” He arched an eyebrow.
“To mean. To live with meaning.” She continued, her eyes slowly falling down. “Because, if meaning comes from what we try to achieve… Then we forever live incomplete.”
Suguru reached out in a shallow attempt to stop her, but it was too late. She had already left.
He… felt like he had to tell someone.
“... Two hours later, she had boarded a plane heading to Sacramento International Airport,” Suguru concluded, looking at his two peers.
“... She was so busy crying that she couldn’t even say goodbye,” Satoru noted, crossing his arms. “And what’s that about being a murderer? Don’t tell me this has to do with that one mission, the uh…” he snapped his fingers, trying to get the memories to resurface.
“The raid on the Haihara family.” Shoko answered for him, sighing.
“Yeah, that thing.” Satoru nodded, leaning forward with a grin. “Was she really that soft? What, does she think that fate’s going to bite her in the ass, or something?”
“I don’t think it’s her worrying about Karma, and more about her own principles,” Suguru commented, giving Satoru the side eye. In response, the man just shrugged.
“Whatever, it’s a closed case anyway,” he yawned.
“Well, Satoru, I’m not too sure.” Suguru gently leaned forward on the table they were meeting around. “I’d hate to say that that mission was… sloppy, but…”
“When me and Suguru looked at the map of the complex we raided, it turned out that we had basically skipped out on three rooms.” Shoko continued, tilting her head.
“Ehh?! You guys went snooping around without me?” Satoru exclaimed—
“We asked if you wanted to come,” Suguru retorted. “Remember to clear out the earwax from time to time.” That one got an ‘eugh’ from Shoko. Satoru just shook his head.
“Can it, Suguru,” he groaned. “It’s fine. Whatever makes her happy, or something. Let’s let her cry and mourn all she wants, yeah? I need to sweep the floor with Rin at seven, so I’m grabbing dinner.”
… Sigh.
Years have passed since that day.
August 2018.
“... Exchange event?” Megumi Fushiguro inquired.