"Looks like Loki really did dig up a capable child," Hermes decided at last, verdict signed by Ishtar's handiwork. "A summoner of puppets… now that's interesting."
"As a magic, more than a skill," Asfi reasoned, laying out her thoughts. "Different puppets, different functions—storage suggests spatial attributes. Multiple chants, multiple circles. A fine-grained school of summoning. If Loki rates him beside the 'Sword Princess,' I'd wager at least nine discrete puppet types—another 'Ninefold Witch,' but sideways."
Hermes's smile tipped, the scale in his mind finally leaning. "Then it explains the pedestal Loki's given him."
"Do we tighten surveillance on the Loki Familia?" Asfi asked.
Hermes shook his head. "No. Raul's night out will be noticed. If we overreach now, Loki will only bury the boy deeper—or hang a decoy. Let Ishtar work. I'm not here to win today, Asfi. I'm here to watch the waves a year from now."
He rose, the city's lanternlight carving a fox's grin across his face. "And waves, there will be."
In Loki's room, her ankles rested across Tsuna's lap while he kneaded away the day.
"The die is cast," Loki hummed. "Raul tossed the crumbs, and the gods will do the rest—fantasize, extrapolate, step on their own rakes."
"Tomorrow we give Raul a slap on the wrist," Tsuna said. "Enough theater to sell the 'breach,' then we quarry the vein: he becomes our designated spigot. Drip what we design, hold back what we must."
Loki's eyes gleamed. "And when Ishtar preens, we pull the cloth and show her the empty table… I can't wait to see that face."
Tsuna's gaze turned inward, plan-lines tightening. "Next six months are growth. Evilus blew their shot; they'll go to ground. But the beast-tamer with 'Lambton' lived. He'll use 'Cleaners' again."
Loki grimaced. "Dragging a Cleaner onto the board is filthy."
"Which is why we practice against filth," Tsuna replied. "I'll build scenarios that punish magic reliance. Riveria first—she'll hate it fastest, which means she'll adapt fastest."
Loki coughed a laugh. "Her worst match-up served on silver—do it."
Morning, manor dining hall.
Raul presented himself like a man to be shot.
Loki rapped his forehead with a spoon—clink—and slid a sealed envelope into his hand. "Fine for 'conduct unbecoming,' paid out of your personal allowance. Also: two weeks on latrine detail."
Groans (mostly male) rippled. Raul saluted the sentence like a war hero, clasped the envelope, and fled.
"Report," Finn said mildly.
Tsuna kept it crisp. "Ishtar has assigned a handler—Lulune. Enchant-capable elf. They'll cultivate. We'll pre-seed anti-charm mist via moth puppets and rotate rooftop shadow. Raul carries curated 'summoner' lore only. No dreamwork mention. If they press, we escalate banality—safe truths that bore."
"Tedium is a shield," Riveria murmured, oddly approving.
"Ais," Loki said, "you're with Tsuna and Tiona for the mock runs."
Ais's eyes sharpened. "Cleaner drills?"
"Cleaner drills," Tsuna confirmed. "Rule one: think in surfaces and angles. Cleaners eat magic—so don't feed them. We'll practice four modules."
He raised four fingers.
"Module one: Blackout & Bind. No light, no chant. We use nets, chains, barbed wire—things with edges a Cleaner can't digest quickly. Gareth?"
"Aye," the dwarf rumbled. "I'll show you wire that bites and doesn't let go."
"Module two: Gaitbreaker. Sand, caltrops, scatter glass and oil. Make it trip. Finn kites. Team circles."
Finn's heel tapped once. "Footwork lecture after lunch."
"Module three: Cold Curtain. Water, then sudden chill. Cleaners hate dense slurries on their dermis. Riveria, you'll shape non-magical cold—alchemy-assisted."
She blinked. "Without spellwork?"
"We'll cheat with reagents and wind"—Tsuna flicked a tiny bellows from a puppet's chest—"and a pressure coil. You conduct."
A slow, reluctant smile. "Acceptable."
"Module four: Guts & Proof. Physical finishers only—spears with reverse barbs, wedge hammers, piston-bows. Tione anchors, Tiona reaps. Ais—pierce the core seam we mark. No flares. No lightning."
Ais nodded once. "Understood."
"Good," Loki said. "Afternoon we run it nasty. Bring spare boots."
Pleasure Quarter, noon hush.
Lulune—hair pinned, perfume pared to whispers—sat with her madam and Aisha, absorbing the next steps. Maintain, serve, sustain. Ask about puppets only as reward for feeling. Never ask the same way twice.
"Freedom's coin is attention," Aisha said, gaze level. "Spend it clean. No blood."
Lulune inclined her head. "I understand."
Across the street, Hermes lounged on a balcony with a teacup and the patience of a fisherman.
South practice yard, Loki Familia.
A canvas-wrapped crate thumped open. Inside lay coils of dull, wicked wire; sacks of sand; a levered frame; barbed javelins with oversize heads. Tsuna's puppet moth skimmed a trough and dusted the air with a transparent veil that made noses itch—and then stop.
"Charm-killer," Tiona guessed.
"Binding aerosol," Tsuna said. "She'll feel 'off' and blame fatigue."
Gareth and smiths hammered spikes into scaffold slots. Finn chalked arrows and arcs on the ground. Riveria eyed a set of copper tubing, a hand-pump, and a rack of bottles with the impersonal curiosity of a surgeon inspecting crude tools.
"Think of the Cleaner as a problem in time," Tsuna said. "Anything we throw at it must last longer than its digestion—so build layers. When one layer fails, the next is already biting."
"Less poetry, more punching," Tione grinned.
"Right," Tsuna said, and kicked the lever.
A wet, sack-heavy mass sloughed from a chute—no life, just a viscous training dummy stitched from gelatin, hide, and rope. It slithered with an ugly squeal, sprang, and met wire.
It shrieked.
"Circle!" Finn snapped.
Sand flew. Oil spattered. Ais ghosted left, Tiona baited right. Riveria pumped, wind whirled; cold mist clung where oil shone. The dummy heaved, slowed. Tione's barbed spear punched, locked, dragged. Ais's blade slid like a needle along a chalked seam and stopped at a hard wedge hidden within—tap—then drove through with a second, surgical thrust.
Silence. Then breath. Then grins.
"Again," Ais said.
"Five more," Tsuna agreed. "Then we swap positions. Riveria—next run, you take no control of the wind. Only pump and time. Finn, you call cuts earlier. Tione—shorter bursts, conserve shoulders. Tiona—no showboating."
Tiona puffed. "What? I never show—okay fine."
Loki watched from the shade, a hand over her mouth to hide how widely she was smiling.
Twilight, Pleasure Quarter.
Raul woke to a faint trace of wildflowers and a note tucked beneath his palm.
Thank you for trusting me.
Drink water. Rest. Return when you like.
—L.
He sat up, face hot, memory edited, shame and pride braided into something complicated. On his way out he didn't see the moth perched high above the window, a pinhead lantern dousing the room with that thin, neutral veil.
On a rooftop, two shadows peeled off when he crossed the threshold, and a third—Tione—matched his pace on the street three buildings over.
"Curtain holds," Tsuna's whisper came through a bone-conduction bead. "No backwash. Raul's clear."
"Copy," Finn replied. "Hermes?"
"Tea and patience," Tsuna said. "He'll wait. Let him."
They moved like clockwork, quiet as cats.
Night, Loki's room again.
Boots thudded to the floor, ankles returned to Tsuna's lap, and Loki sighed like a queen abandoning her throne for a couch.
"Today was a good day," she said.
"Today was a quiet day," Tsuna corrected. "Good comes later."
"Fair," Loki allowed. "Tomorrow?"
"Cleaner drills under fatigue," he said. "Then I'll start a second puppet line—moles, not moths. They'll chew through sewer silt and lay choker wires where a Cleaner likes to rise."
Loki blinked. "You're disgusting."
"You smiled when Riveria slipped on oil and swore in Elvish."
"…Maybe a little disgusting is fine."
She clinked her cup against the air. "To boring leaks, filthy drills, and my brats getting home alive."
Tsuna didn't drink, but he nodded like a promise.
Outside, Orario breathed. Above it, a god with winged sandals stretched and watched the threads draw tight. And in the Quarter, a girl with a talent for enchantment counted coin, counted breaths, and counted the steps left between duty and a door marked free.
(End of Chapter)
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