Reconnected Again

Upon awakening, Yamasaki feels agitated and immersed in his deepest anxieties. Slowly, he stretches to the edge of the bed, his mind clouded after that disturbing dream.

Determined to take his medication, he sits up, his eyes wandering with doubt, as if questioning whether everything around him was just an illusion created by his own mind, which seemed increasingly susceptible to the effects of his disorder.

— This isn't me… — he whispers, gathering three pills with trembling hands before getting up and heading to the kitchen.

The wind howls violently against the windows of his apartment.

Still somewhat groggy, although two hours have passed since he woke, Yamasaki grabs a glass and fills it with water, almost spilling it.

Glup

Swallowing his medication, he empties the glass in one gulp.

Afterward, he wipes his lips with his arm. His wrists and neck display bruises, witnesses and victims of the delusions that plagued him during sleep.

His gaze carries an almost tangible weight, like an iron curtain, while his dry mouth craves hydration, making him appear zombie-like.

As he places the glass on the sink, a bad feeling washes over him; his body shivers with a chill and a sharp pain throbs in his head.

Turning and pressing his hand against his face, trying to distract his mind while resting his left hand on the cold marble separating the living room and kitchen.

His eyes, peeking between his fingers, fall again on the check.

"Damn…

I still don't have a smartphone!"

This thought is an irresistible impulse that arises in his mind, even though he doesn't want to leave the house.

Without having breakfast or eating anything, Yamasaki rushes out of his house, leaving behind the phone that starts ringing while he was preparing, its sound echoing nonstop through the apartment.

Determined, in a way, he decides to cash the check and finally get the long-awaited smartphone.

He speeds down Kiseki Avenue, heading towards BPA Bank, located halfway between his district and the bustling commercial street of Sangai.

His car almost reaches the speed limit during the trip. Racing over the asphalt, he makes a stop at the bank, leaving with money in hand and irritation evident.

Sangai District, third.

Continuing along the avenue, he reaches his destination, guided by his visual memory, which is still useful.

Parking in front of the store, Yamasaki notices a car similar to his also parked ahead.

"Could it be that another exorcist had trouble?

Oh, whatever…"

He wonders as he exits and, in the next moment, feels the light hitting his eyes, now stronger, at its most resplendent peak.

He is forced to shield his face with his hand, but this no longer surprises him; with each passing day, he notices he's becoming more familiar with the entity residing within him than with the human he used to be.

— What a mess… — he mutters, taking a few steps until he's in the shade, barely relieved of his tension and already irritated.

Unaware, he finds himself in front of the store and, as he lowers his hand, a déjà vu invades his mind at the blue and gray facade, the same colors he had seen approximately a year ago.

And in the window, the latest models are prominently displayed.

"Damn!

These companies keep squeezing my wallet, and this light just makes it worse…"

Entering the smartphone store in a hurry, he navigates between display tables until he finally finds the model he had in mind.

Costing twelve hundred yen, the same model as his previous one, which he grabs without a second thought, pulling it out from among the plugged-in cables.

The salespeople, already used to his way of acting, barely care, but someone in front of him finds this scene quite unusual.

— Amazing, I didn't know there were still barbarians among us… — jokes a beautiful red-haired girl. Her intense, fiery hair swings as she throws it back with a hand gesture, and her honey-colored eyes look sweetly at the exorcist.

Her smile shines brightly, like the sun on the horizon, while Yamasaki feels awkward in front of the girl's determined expression. If she's the brightest summer day, he is the worst of winters.

— Huh!? Barbarian? Jester… — he murmurs, letting out a deep sigh before pulling out the money from his pocket and staring fixedly at one of the guys at the counter, — Take it here, kid… — he continues, acting like a fool in the girl's eyes.

Confused, the attendant finds himself pointing to himself, while Yamasaki nods, his patience wearing thin, clearly showing growing irritation on his face.

"That's why I hate leaving the house…"

— Besides being a barbarian, he's kind of an idiot; now I get why we have such a bad reputation… — she comments, then snaps her fingers, looking over her shoulder with a fluid body movement, — But who am I, right? Jester, that's me! — she says, casting a glance at the attendant, who is organizing the phones on the counter.

Her words seem to confuse Yamasaki, who once again focuses his attention on her.

— We? Don't tell me you're an exorcist… — he says, surveying her from head to toe. The girl is dressed in a black pleated skirt below the knee and a red wool blouse. Holding between her hands, with red nails, a purse as expensive as Yamasaki's car — and she's dressed like this?

— What's the matter? — she says, looking at him sideways, then returning her gaze with the same intensity, — Sorry, but I don't usually walk around in uniform; does that bother you, sir? — she mocks, but her smile never leaves her face.

On his face, only a forced and displeased smile appears, his fists clenched, almost crushing the smartphone between his fingers.

— You should consider keeping quiet…

— And you, are you planning to wear a muzzle? — she responds with irony, her lips, pink like cherry blossom petals, shining.

The bewilderment envelops both the customers and the employees present in the store at the sight of this incomprehensible exchange.

— Alright, alright… — he mutters, raising his eyebrows with a deep sigh, and heading to the counter, — Ring it up, please! — he says in a hurry.

— Certainly, sir… — replies the attendant, placing the smartphone in a box and then in a paper bag with the store's logo — it's twelve hundred yen. How would you like to pay?

Then, Yamasaki shrugs and stares at the guy, while noticing the girl watching him intently, reflected in the counter's mirror.

— It'll be cash… — he responds, opening his leather wallet, handing over two 1000 yen notes, and then grabbing the bag, ready to leave — keep the change! — surprising the attendant, who gives him a shy smile.

In moments, the guy strides confidently, his hair flying back in wavy movements, all before the caramel-eyed girl.

A shiver runs through her body and, suddenly, she emerges from a state of enchantment. Nervously, she starts laughing at the scene, hearing his steps echo like a horse's trot.

These steps of Yamasaki resonated in her ears until, in a smooth gesture, she approached before he left, asking provocatively: — Oh, angry, what's your name?

— Ah, did you call me angry? — he asks, noticing the sparkle in her eyes.

The girl nods while tightening her fingers around her purse, anxious.

— Yamasaki Yami… Satisfied? — he says before abruptly leaving, slamming the glass door so hard it almost breaks.

As she stands in disbelief, she mutters: — Aren't you even going to ask my name? What a damned boy!

And from the window, she watches him rush into his car, and before even maneuvering, he glances at her with a somewhat irritated expression. As the guy prepares to head home, he reflects on how inconvenient the redhead was.

Yamasaki's gruff demeanor seems to have charmed her.

The sound of his car engine roars like a lion's roar that Masaru Jigoku watches on his smartphone screen. At the same moment, along with Gabriel Souza, he completes the descent to the twenty-second floor, finally reaching the corridor leading to the rooms designated for exorcists seeking accommodation.

The door opens, revealing the white corridor with light wooden doors.

— Go on! I'll meet you at the exit, alright? — says Masaru, barely glancing away from what entertains him, a documentary about animals.

— Sure… — replies Gabriel, his voice wavering, taking a step forward and gazing into the corridor with some anxiety, — Romero… — he whispers, as the doors close behind him.

And Masaru gives him one last jest: — Good luck out there, egghead!