The concrete steps of the pedestrian overpass were cold, but Ren didn't care. He sat near the top, hidden from the main street, actively massaging his right calf with a forced wince just in case anyone was looking.
He had told Yuji he cramped up walking from the station. The kid, being an absolute saint, had immediately insisted Ren sit down and rest while he took the first watch for Junpei down by the crosswalk.
Ren let out a heavy breath, dropping his hands from his leg. The fake cramp was just an excuse to get five minutes alone.
The concrete steps of the pedestrian overpass were cold, but Ren didn't care. He sat near the top, hidden from the main street.
Before his mind could start running through the tactical nightmare of dealing with Mahito and Kenjaku again, his phone vibrated sharply in his jacket pocket.
Ren frowned. He pulled the device out, expecting a text from Maki demanding an update. Instead, the screen showed an unknown number, but the prefix belonged to Jujutsu High's secure internal network.
He swiped to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"I suddenly have a free hour," Shoko Ieiri's dry, slightly raspy voice came through the speaker. "And I want coffee. Real coffee, not the sludge in the breakroom."
Ren blinked, completely caught off guard. "Dr. Ieiri?"
"Get back to the morgue," Shoko ordered flatly. "And don't waste time, or I might change my mind and lock the doors."
Click. The line went dead.
Ren slowly lowered the phone, staring at the black screen for a long second. He dragged his hand down his face, letting out a heavy, deeply exasperated sigh.
"What now..." he muttered to the empty stairwell.
Between a literal thousand-year-old brain in a jar plotting the end of the world and a Special Grade curse grooming a bullied teenager, the school's primary doctor deciding right now was the perfect time to cash in a flirtatious coffee offer was absurd.
Ren stood up, brushing the concrete dust off his jeans. He walked down the stairs, avoiding the crosswalk where Yuji was intensely focused on a distant figure.
Instead, Ren circled back down the block toward the black sedan parked by the curb.
Ijichi was standing by the driver's side door, anxiously tapping a pen against his clipboard while scanning the street. He jumped slightly as Ren approached.
"Ren-kun?" Ijichi blinked, quickly adjusting his glasses. "Is everything alright? Where is Itadori-kun? Did you spot the target?"
"Yuji's got eyes on him. He's fine," Ren said easily, waving a hand to cut off the nervous rambling. "Listen, Ijichi-san. I just got a call from the Madam Doctor."
Ijichi stopped tapping his pen. "Ieiri-san? Why would she be calling you?"
"Something about some important medical follow-up regarding my... condition. I don't really get it," Ren lied smoothly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But she told me to get back to the clinic right now. Sounded pretty serious about it. You know how she gets."
Ijichi visibly paled at the implication of an annoyed Shoko Ieiri. As the assistant director, he was terrified of basically every senior staff member, but Shoko was near the top of that list.
"Ah. Yes. I... completely understand," Ijichi stammered, nodding rapidly. "Medical directives override field observations, especially for non-combatants."
"Exactly," Ren agreed, taking a step back. "So you and Yuji just focus here. Tell Nanami I had to step away for a medical thing. Don't worry about driving me, I'll just grab the train back to Tokyo so you guys keep the car."
"Are you sure? I could call another assistant manager to—"
"I've got it covered, Ijichi-san. Good luck with the fly," Ren called over his shoulder, already turning and walking away down the pavement.
He didn't wait for a response, slipping seamlessly into the afternoon foot traffic.
...
The walk to the station was a straightforward blur of gray concrete and bustling afternoon crowds.
Before hitting the turnstiles, he ducked into a small, quiet café tucked away from the main street. He didn't bother looking at the specialty menu.
"Two large dark roasts. Black. The strongest you have," Ren told the barista, dropping a few bills on the counter.
Five minutes later, armed with a cardboard carrier holding two steaming cups, he swiped his transit card and boarded the northbound train back to Tokyo.
The train car was mostly empty this time of day. Ren took a corner seat, setting the carrier on his lap.
He pulled out his phone, quickly checking the time. It was just past four in the afternoon.
The train ride bled into a short bus transfer, and by the time Ren was walking up the long, winding mountain path toward the hidden gates of Tokyo Jujutsu High, the coffee in his hands had cooled to a perfectly drinkable temperature.
The campus was eerily quiet. Most of the students were either out on missions or running drills on the athletic fields. Ren didn't linger to enjoy the scenery. He bypassed the main courtyard entirely, taking the familiar stone path that led down toward the school's subterranean medical ward.
The air grew noticeably colder the deeper he went. The faint, earthy smell of the mountain was quickly replaced by the sharp, sterile scent of industrial bleach and burnt tobacco.
Ren reached the heavy metal doors of the morgue. He didn't bother knocking. He just pushed his shoulder against the heavy door and stepped inside.
Shoko Ieiri was sitting at her desk in the corner, a lit cigarette dangling loosely between her lips as always. She had a mountain of paperwork pushed aggressively to one side of her desk, her feet propped up on the edge of the metal filing cabinet.
She didn't look up immediately. She just took a slow drag of her cigarette, exhaling a thin plume of gray smoke toward the ceiling.
"Forty-two minutes," Shoko noted, her voice dry and completely devoid of inflection. "I was beginning to think you got lost in Kawasaki."