“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. We’re actually going to a college party?” Julius asked, his tone slightly cheerful. “But you said we weren’t.”
“Yes, I did, king.” Ciaran said. “But from a lie, a better truth can be formed.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
There was a brief pause.
“I was actually looking forward to playing some Magic.”
Ciaran’s lips curled into a grin.
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of Magic at The Gathering… and the card game, of course.”
“At a big college party?”
“Who said it was big?”
“Well… is it big?”
“No… it’s huge! But don’t worry, I know the host, so we’ll get in no problem.”
“I just don’t get it logistically.”
“Enough of the worrying, king! It’ll be good craic!”
“Crack?”
“Yeah, good craic—a good time! By the end of your four years, if luck’s on our side and you attend, I’ll make sure you know all the Irish slang.”
----------------------------------------
The pair arrived in front of a modest-sized house tucked away just beyond the university grounds. The structure loomed quiet and dark, its windows were irregularly dark, as if black paper was glued onto the panels. Outside, however, a smattering of boozed-up students loitered. Bottles glinted under the faint streetlights, and low murmurs mixed with the occasional burst of laughter.
“You know,” Julius said. “I never really thought of Japanese universities as party schools. Especially not Kyoto.”
“Why’d you think that?” Ciaran asked, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets..
“I don’t know… I just assumed it to be that way.”
“Well, you’d be bang on, at least twenty years ago. But the international programs brought in some proper mad yokes like myself, so it started to pick up. And let’s just say it reached a critical point when my good friend Dao, Queen of Kyoto, landed on the scene. In two years, she had the college party crowd going pure buck mad—a full one-eighty. Chancers try to copy her craic even a smidgen, but they’re gas altogether and fail miserably. School legend says, at one of her parties, time itself stops. All the vices a lad or lass could ever crave are just there for the taking—love, lust, taytos, and grog. And not a single feckin’ langer to spoil the buzz,” Ciaran said, thickening his accent to the point it felt more like a performance.
“I have no clue what you just meant,” Julius replied in a flare tone.
“I’m lashing you into the deep end with my Irish slang. I’m pulling out ones even I don’t use.”
“Why?”
“Ah, sure, just for a bit of wee divilment.”
Ciaran laughed, the sound cutting through the cool night air and earning a curious glance from one of the drunken students leaning against a lamppost.
“Okay, enough of that,” Ciaran said, straightening up and clapping Julius on the back. “We’re here, so put on your party face. Oh, and take this.”
Ciaran reached into his inner jacket pocket, chains rattling as he rummaged. He pulled out a small box with a picture of Laufey on it and handed it to Julius.
“Oh shit, is this the Brago deck? And you’re into Laufey?”
“Yes, it is. And you aren’t a man if you don’t listen to Laufey. Now, don’t lose it. It’s gonna get crazy in there, trust me.”
Julius’ gaze moved toward the dimly lit yard and the seemingly lifeless house. The few loiterers outside gave no indication of the huge party Ciaran had promised.
“Are you sure about that? It looks dead.”
“That’s because we aren’t inside.”
Ciaran ushered Julius toward the dark portal at the front of the mysterious realm. He knocked three times. Gently, the door creaked open, and with it, a blast of music, booze, and chatter hit the pair. Standing at the door was a slightly above-average-height man, slightly muscular, wearing a loose button-up with a few buttons undone at the top. A chain hung around his neck, and his beach-blonde hair complemented the reek of cologne wafting from him. In his hand was a Solo cup. The drink was hypnotic, it was bright blue and luster dust flowed through it. through it.
“Do you have an invite?” he asked in English, his slight Japanese accent betraying someone who had clearly learned the language from an early age.
“Fuck off,” Ciaran said. “I’m friends with Dao.”
Ciaran gently started to push through, but the doorman shifted to block him.
“Dao told me not to let anyone in who doesn’t have an invite. Don’t think you’re the first person to pull the ‘I know Dao’ move.”
Ciaran looked at Julius, his face saying, Give me one reason not to knock this annoying bloke out.
Julius glanced at the doorman, whose expression screamed, I love this power I was given. A large, devious smile formed on Julius’ face.
“If she’s a good friend, like you said, I see no reason why she’d care if you just physically picked up this langer and moved him out of the way.”
Ciaran burst into laughter.
“I love how you think, king,” he said before heeding Julius’ suggestion.
The doorman fought back, kicking and screaming, but he was neither sober enough nor pneumatically gifted enough to stand a chance.
Inside, the house was packed with students, littering every room to a dangerously overcrowded capacity. When Ciaran entered, numerous partygoers locked their eyes on him, and the crowd shifted.
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“How the hell was I not able to hear all of this from outside?” Julius asked, looking up at Ciaran, who began to usher him forward with a hand on his back.
“Dao’s pneumatic technique. She calls it The Sound of Silence.”
“Like the Simon and Garfunkel song?”
“It’s named after a song?”
“Yeah, they were an old duo from like eighty years ago…”
“She must be an old head… Explains why all the music at her parties is from the tens.”
“Can you ever go wrong with Pitbull, though?”
Ciaran looked down at Julius, still ushering him forward.
“Where have you been all my life? A mini-American version of me!”
Julius laughed. “So, I assume Dao is also part of the exorcist program?”
Ciaran laughed. “You assumed wrong. Not all the Tokugis are fearless monster hunters like the two of us. Some are studying to be actors, some to be soldiers, bodyguards for the rich, specialists in their given fields, or public heroes.”
“Tokugis? I like that…” the conversation took a pause when a couple of women approached Ciaran. They were quite a bit smaller than him. Hardly reaching Julius’ height even in their heels.
One of them held up a drink for Ciaran.
“Hey, I got you a drink,” the woman in a tight green dress said to Ciaran in Japanese, “Do you want to join my friends and take a photo?”
Ciaran looked at the woman with disgust.
“Can’t you see I am talking with my friend right now?” he said in Japanese, before pulling Julius and himself over to the drinks table.
“What was that all about? Do you know them?”
“No idea who they are. They just wanted to flirt.”
“Oh, that makes sense. You are a tall and handsome lad.”
“Thank you for the flattering,” Ciaran said, pouring two solo cups from the large glass container of mysterious blue liquid simply labeled: The Jug. “I’m sure it played a part, but they were more our program. Tokugis are celebrities on campus. Nearly guaranteed success, predominantly international, an elusive program, and a student body with superpowers.”
“Here, take some amplified,” Ciran said, giving Julius a cup.
“Oh, I don’t drink.”
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. Just hold onto it for me. Anyways, let's head upstairs and play some Magic.”
The continued to push through the crowd, who occasionally made the attempts to pull Ciaran into the abyss like satyrs. But the two warriors successfully made it to the packed stairs and climbed up the mountain with the determination of Sisyphus, but this time it was no lost cost.
“How is she going to clean this all tomorrow?” Julius asked.
“She makes her army of worshippers do it.”
“Hmmm.”
At the top of the stairs a woman leaned against the wall. She seemed a little older than the rest of the party goers, most likely a graduate student. She was wearing an oversized denim jacket, a white shirt, denim short shorts, and a black baseball cap. She had a wine glass containing sparkling water in her hand; the only one in the whole party to have glassware. She looked up at Ciaran with a large smile on her face.
“Ciaran,” she said with a Texan accent.
“Dao, how’s your mother for terf?” Ciaran replied with a large smile, extending his hand out to dab up Dao.
“Who’s the kid you brought with you, big man?” Dao said, looking over at Julius.
“That’s Julius, he’s going to be joining us in October.”
“It's a might,” Julius interjected.
“Sure it is,” Ciaran said, “Ooshiba’s trying to recruit him.”
She walked up to Julius, she was around his height, if not ever so slightly taller.
“The names, Dao,” she said, putting out her hand. “ And if you had any sense of reason you wouldn’t become an exterminator, and be a real man and join the ARC program!”
Julius shook Dao’s hand. “Julius…what’s the ARC program?”
“Anomalies and Risk Control. Basically, basically we go around the world and stop international syndicates and investigate odd things happening and stop them from becoming much more than what they already are.”
“Sounds cool.”
“It is cool.”
Ciaran pushed himself between the two Americans.
“That's enough scalping out of you Dao. Is the room all set?
Dao laughed. “Always is big man. Is Julius joining us?”
Dao opened the door beside her. The room was compact but crammed with personality, its walls painted a soft pink that reflected the glow of string lights framing the ceiling. Plush stuffed animals of every size and color lined the bed, which was draped in a quilted blanket covered in cartoonish heart patterns. Shelves above the bed were stuffed to capacity with knick knacks: tiny glass figurines, colorful anime figurines, and novelty keychains hung from hooks.
Posters plastered the walls, overlapping in a collage of idol groups, animated characters, and game art. A tall bookshelf in the corner held an uneven mix of novels, manga, and textbooks, many of them precariously stacked. At the foot of the bed was a small TV with a pink gaming console perched neatly beneath it, surrounded by a tangle of pastel-colored controllers.
A sleek gaming setup was on the desk near the window. The computer tower, encased in clear panels, glowed with shifting pink lights. The peripherals matched: a mechanical keyboard with pink keycaps, a matching mouse, and a headset with plush cat ears resting on a stand. The screen showed a slideshow of cat photos, transitioning smoothly from one image to the next.
The floor, though mostly clear, had a few stray items scattered about—an open bag spilling its contents of snacks and a pink hoodie tossed haphazardly near the door. The air was faintly sweet, scented with a mix of floral and fruity candles sitting half-used on the dresser.
Dao stepped inside, motioning for the two boys to follow. She crouched by the bed, pulling out a stack of rolled mats wrapped in ribbon. Behind them were neatly packed boxes, their labels faded but still legible. She slid them across the floor and began sorting their contents.
“So, wait,” Julius said, leaning back on his hands. “You throw these parties, and instead of actually enjoying them, you just sit here playing Magic: The Gathering?”
Dao smirked, unbothered. “Pretty much. But only because parties don’t actually start until midnight. Before that, it’s all just warm-up. People are bored, sober, and awkward. The ones who only came to get drunk and cry about their lives leave early. The good crowd shows up late. And the prudes who need a few drinks to loosen up finally get there. That’s when things actually get fun.”
Dao had laid out playmats featuring exaggeratedly muscular characters from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. Julius picked up one depicting Polnareff. He grimaced, noting the suggestive poses and intense gazes of the artwork.
“What’s with these?” he muttered, lifting the mat as if inspecting it for hidden meaning.
Dao laughed. “JoJo characters. You should watch it!”
Julius shook his head, already regretting the question. “Yeah, I think I’m good… How do we decide who goes first?”
“Dice roll,” Dao said, grabbing a massive container filled with dice of every shape and color. She pulled out a glittering d20 and handed it to Ciaran.
Before rolling, Ciaran reached under his shirt and pulled out a locket, carefully removing it from around his neck. Dao mirrored the action, removing a similar locket from hers.
“Matching lockets?” Julius asked.
“Kind of,” Dao said, flipping hers open.
Inside was a tiny, perfectly preserved clover with twelve leaves. She held it up for Julius to see. “Lucky charms. Supposedly, clovers can store and radiate pneuma taking the shape of luck. The more leaves, the stronger the charm.”
“Twelve leaves? I didn’t even know they could have that many. How many does Ciaran’s have?” Julius said, more locked on the idea of the number of leaves rather than the near confirmation of luck.
“Fifty-six,” Ciaran said, his tone flat.
“Fifty-six? Holy crap!”
Ciaran shrugged, unfazed by Julius’ reaction. “I worked for it. I used the luck from smaller clovers to help me find bigger ones. Spent months hunting in clover fields during undergrad. Whenever I found a new one, I’d give the smaller ones away. Dao actually has one of my old ones that I thought I lost. Turns out, I just misplaced it.”
Dao held up her locket with a grin. “Yep, found it. Lucky me.”
“Do you still have any extras?” Julius asked.
Ciaran nodded. “I’ve got an eight-leaf I found during my last big hunt. I’ll give it to you on your first day, King.” He smirked. “Now enough about luck. Witness my unbeatable dice-rolling technique!”