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….
"Establishment," Enega snorted, activating her Quirk. "You have twenty seconds. Get down here."
"What devil possessed me to get involved with you..." Bart grumbled, descending the stairs. With a crooked gait, he limped over to the table where she sat, mentally tallying the cost of repairing everything she broke.
Money wasn't the issue. The main problem was finding workers who wouldn't ask questions or run their mouths, and discretion always cost extra.
But it was worth it. If the authorities found out his "bar" was actually a brothel and a mercenary hub, they wouldn't just close the business—they'd close the book on Bart. Sometimes, the desire to save on taxes comes with a heavy price tag. If he hadn't known Enega for decades, he would have sicked his boys on her by now.
"You're the one who dragged me into this mess, so reap what you sow," Enega smirked, propping her feet up on the table.
"Me?! Not only did you turn me down, but you also dumped a truckload of shit on my doorstep before you left!" Bart protested, waving a hand to summon a waiter.
"Yeah, right. Like I'm going to agree to a pimp's proposal. Don't forget who helped you when you were in deep."
A young waiter approached the table and nervously placed two bottles of light alcohol in front of them.
"Thanks, kid," Enega said.
"Anything you need!" The boy dropped the order and scurried back to the staff room as fast as his legs could carry him.
"A new catchphrase every time. Is this some kind of fetish for you?" Enega asked dubiously.
"After your visits, I usually end up with new staff, not 'catchphrases'," Bart grunted, motioning with his eyes toward the wreckage around them. "So, why did you come?"
"Can't I just visit an old friend?" Enega laughed, but when met with silence, she continued. "I need to stash a couple of stiffs quietly. No need to wipe their identities; doubt they're anyone serious."
"You sure?"
"Small-time burglars." Enega waved a hand dismissively and stood up. "Oh, and one last thing. If anyone calls me your 'whore' again, I won't just knock their teeth out. I'll find a grave for you too, got it?"
"Like I have that much control over them..." Bart blurted out, but immediately cut himself off when he saw Enega tense up. "Fine, fine. Where are the bodies?"
"Left them in the usual spot."
"Of course! Because that drop point was definitely designed for that!" Bart started complaining, shaking a bottle. "For merchandise, money, and naturally, corpses! If I ever agree to this again..."
….
The calendar read February 22nd. The written exam was two days away. Clint should have been studying the material, but he had happily abandoned theory to devote himself entirely to mastering the spiritual energy Andrey had shown him.
At first, nothing worked. Even using Andrey's memories of how he did it yielded zero results. While scrolling through the internet for anything that might help, he stumbled upon a meditation technique and decided to try it immediately. For the first time in a long while, Clint managed to actually feel the place where the energy was supposed to come from.
Obviously, it was in the same spot where Andrey resided when he was inside the body. The core emitted a faint warmth—so subtle you wouldn't even notice it unless you tried to feel every individual cell in your body.
"Not like that..." Clint whispered in frustration, rising from his meditative pose.
Although he could feel his core, he couldn't draw energy from it like Andrey did. He lacked the fundamental understanding of how to act and what was supposed to happen to touch that spiritual power. In essence, this energy was alien. If people in Clint's world used Quirks as genetic mutations, then Prana was something like a spiritual mutation—reserved for those who had visited death's door.
He decided to call Andrey's energy Prana because it seemed like the most fitting name. And definitely not because he had been woken up in the middle of the night just so Andrey could inform him that he remembered its real name...
That night, Clint had spent hours listening to lectures on reincarnation, karma, and the transmigration of souls.
And, of course, about how lucky (magnificent, stunning, and just generally fucking awesome) Andrey was to have kept his memory and identity after so many deaths, and to be able to teach Clint things that simply didn't exist in this world.
"Sigh..." Clint trudged toward the kitchen with a heavy sigh, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.
Enega stood on the threshold, holding bags in both hands.
"H-Hi. Why didn't you call? I would have helped," Clint greeted her, taking the bags from her hands.
"Oh, it's no big deal." She waved him off, walking into the apartment. "So, tell me how you are."
"Everything's good... Relatively..." Suddenly, Clint froze in his tracks, then quickly resumed walking to the kitchen. "Started going for runs. Getting ready for changes, bit by bit."
"What?" Enega was surprised. "Aren't you an advocate for big brains over big muscles?"
"You could say I'm getting my head straight, heh..." Something in Clint's tone shifted abruptly.
Looking closer, the woman realized it wasn't just his tone. His gait and posture had changed. His stride was confident, his shoulders squared.
This wasn't the Clint she had seen just recently. Either he had grown up significantly in a short time, or...
"Clint, turn around..." Enega said, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and spinning him around to face her. She stared into his dull, gray eyes.
"Oops... Where did I slip up?" Andrey asked slyly. "Did my dolphin-like grace and Apollonian charisma catch your lovely eye?"
"I came to talk to Clint, so leave. Now." Enega's voice was grave as she grabbed Andrey by the collar.
"It's always like this. You just want to help a guy out, and they immediately get defensive," he said in a mock-pitiful voice. "Though it feels like it's the first time for me, heh..."
The eye color gradually shifted back to blue, and Enega released the boy. A second of awkward silence passed before Clint spoke first, his tone apologetic.
"I can't control it. He can take the body whenever he wants..."
"What was that idiot talking about?" Enega interrupted him.
I can hear everything, you know, a lazy voice drawled in his head.
"Ah... That... He was... joking?.." Clint stammered uncertainly.
Haa... Pathetic trash. I help him, I speak the truth for him, and they chase me off like I'm the devil. Worlds change, but people remain the same assholes.
….
If you want to read ahead chapters from here you can check out my patreon.
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