Chapter Text
To get a favor out of Suguru Niragi, of all people, required exactly two things, and nothing less.
Firstly, control. Because there was little difference between dealing with Niragi and trying to improvise a game with a toddler who threw a tantrum the second the story didn’t go the way they wanted. Everything had to be on his terms and his rules.
Secondly, money. Not because he was exactly wealthy. In fact, if anyone bothered to check closely, they’d realize Niragi was only partially better off than broke. But in a place like Japan, especially after everything that had happened. Cash was closer to buried treasure than currency. People didn’t refuse it. Niragi certainly didn’t.
And unfortunately for Arisu, he currently had a situation which presented neither.
Which made it all the more baffling that he’d somehow gathered the confidence to kneel on the floor in front of the couch, facing the man sprawled across it.
Even without lifting his eyes, he could practically feel Niragi’s stare pressing down on him, probably edged with the assumption that Arisu was some kind of perverted weirdo for kneeling there like this. Arisu couldn’t entirely blame him. Still… he stayed where he was.
“Let me get this straight, you want me to infiltrate a cult and fuck some insane psychopathic blonde guy?” Niragi said it slowly, voice dripping with the slightest bit of disbelief. He leaned back further into the couch, arms stretching lazily along the cushions as if the entire conversation bored him already.
"Seriously. You drove all the way here,” he continued, narrowing his eyes at the kneeling dumbass in front of him, “just to tell ME of all people, that?”
“Nira—”
“We are not on a first-name basis.” Niragi cut him off immediately, “Well, we were about five seconds ago. But not anymore. Try again.”
“Suguru-san,” Arisu huffed out, forcing the honorific out with careful politeness, even though he'd rather die than have to face it to an asshole like this, “I promised Aguni I’d help with some of his investigation work. And you’re the best person to send into this cult.”
Niragi’s eyebrow twitched.Arisu hurried on before the reaction could fully form. “Think about it! Why would a normal, stable person suddenly join some group worshipping a fake god? They’d catch us immediately!”
".."
Then gave Niragi a short, mocking giggle, which turned into full-blown laughter.
“I’m honestly surprised you managed to convince anyone to side with you back in the Borderlands,” he said flatly. “Do you have any idea how back-handed that sounds?” Arisu opened his mouth. Closed it.
“And why do I have to fuck mysterious Goldilocks specifically?”
“…Trust?”
For a moment Niragi simply stared at him.
Then he sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I forget sometimes, that pure souls like you actually believe sex must Niragi sighed out, almost mumbling it under his breath like it was a remark to himself that happened to slip out. Then he waved a hand dismissively, “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“But,” Niragi added, lifting a finger, “on one condition.”
“Do you usually not finish your sentences on pur—”
“Do you want to hear the condition or not?”
“Obviously!”
“Then shut up and say ‘what’ like every other idiot.”
Arisu stared at him.
Niragi stared back.
“….”
“….”
“I’m waiting,”
Arisu groaned quietly. “Can’t you just say it? I mean, we already established I want to know the condition.”
“No.”
“…Ugh. What?”
Niragi’s grin spread slowly, the kind that never meant anything good. “I get to take any action I want to leave whenever I decide I’m done,” he said calmly. “And I mean any necessary action with no legal consequences and no complaints afterward.” His eyes flicked downward toward Arisu, “I won’t negotiate. And I won’t discuss it.”
Arisu frowned immediately, “Sorry—exactly what kind of so called 'necessary actions' do you usually take when leaving places you’re not supposed to leave?”
“I said,” Niragi repeated lazily, leaning back again like a cat stretching in the sun, “no negotiation. No discussion.” His smile sharpened, “Take it or leave it.”
The silence after Niragi’s condition lingered for a moment, stretching just long enough to become uncomfortable. Arisu weighed it, clearly imagining every possible disaster that could come from giving someone like Niragi that kind of freedom.
“…Fine,” Arisu said at last.
Later that night, Niragi sat in his computer chair, one leg hooked over the other, the faint blue glow of the monitor cutting through the darkness of his apartment. Tabs filled the screen. Lots of them. Most of them were barely worth opening, trash. Articles, conspiracy blogs, half-baked discussion threads, the occasional local forum post. A few amateur blogs. A half-written investigative post that looked like it had been abandoned halfway through.
The name of the cult appeared often enough.
A “spiritual community.”
A “path to purification.”
A “devoted following.”
Niragi skimmed through it all with half-lidded boredom. Eventually, a more useful name appeared.
"Takeru Danma."
Niragi leaned forward slightly. “Ah,” he muttered. That name he actually recognized. The man, better known as Hatter, was apparently running the whole operation. The public image was polished: sermons about liberation, unity, rebirth, the usual pseudo-philosophical garbage charismatic leaders loved to throw around.
But beneath that polished exterior, a few scattered posts mentioned something more interesting.
Discipliners.
Members of the group who enforced rules. The description made Niragi snort. “Physical correction,” he read aloud. So the cult had a built-in group of enforcers. One thread mentioned a particularly noticeable one. Blond, not too tall. Usually standing close to Danma during gatherings.
“Goldilocks,” he murmured.
So that was Arisu’s mysterious psychopath. He skimmed a few more pages, mentions of strict loyalty, isolated compounds outside Tokyo, heavy internal security. Anyone who left rarely spoke about it afterward. Which meant either the place was secretive, or people were too scared to talk.
Niragi closed the final tab. Nothing else seemed worth digging into. Frankly, He didn’t feel like digging.
“Whatever.”
For what Arisu wanted, this was already more than enough. He wasn’t planning on writing a thesis. If the idiot expected deep undercover work, he should’ve hired someone who cared.
Later that evening, the door to Karube's Bar opened with a soft jingle of the bell. A few regulars glanced over briefly before returning to their drinks.
Behind the counter stood Karube, wiping down a glass while Arisu sat on one of the stools, halfway through explaining something complicated with his hands.
Both conversations died the moment Niragi walked in. Karube’s expression immediately shifted into mild suspicion.
“…You’re back already?”
Niragi shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and stopped at the bar. “Did a little reading,” he said casually. “Your cult isn’t exactly subtle.”
“You already prepared?”
“It’s a cult, not a nuclear facility,” Niragi replied with a shrug. “Calm down.”
Arisu stared at him for a second longer, clearly surprised, before hurriedly reaching into his pocket, pulling out a folded stack of bills and sliding them across the counter.
“Here.”
Niragi picked up the money immediately. Arisu grabbed a napkin and scribbled something on it. An address, directions, and a short note. He pushed it over.
“That’s where they hold most of their gatherings. Outside the city a bit, old temple grounds. The leader usually appears during the evening sermons. They give him money and he slaps some random people as a 'cleanse'.”
Niragi glanced at the napkin.
“Danma,” he said.
Arisu froze slightly, “You already know?” Niragi folded the napkin and tucked it into his pocket. “Hard not to. Your fake god isn’t subtle either.” Without another word, he turned and walked back toward the door. The bell jingled as he left.
Silence settled in the bar again.
Karube slowly placed the glass he’d been cleaning onto the counter. Then he looked sideways at Arisu.
“…Didn’t you say that cult is under heavy inspection?” he asked. “Something about not sending officers in because the place is too protected and nobody can get real information on it?” Arisu immediately waved his hands, “Shh—shut up!” Karube frowned, Arisu leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing an extremely important secret. “He finally agreed,” Arisu whispered.
Then he leaned back in his stool, looking oddly satisfied. “This is his fate.” Karube stared at him. “…You’re sending Niragi into a secretive cult with violent enforcers.”
Arisu took a sip of his drink.
“Yep.”
Karube sighed, “I feel like this is going to become an absolute beating for you later.”
Arisu shrugged lightly, “Probably.”
The place Arisu had written down on the napkin was not hidden. No, not at all, Niragi realized that almost immediately. The temple grounds sat a good distance outside the city, far enough that the surrounding streets felt half-forgotten. The buildings nearby were old, the sort that leaned slightly inward, having grown tired of standing upright decades ago.
But the temple itself had clearly been renovated, new lanterns hung along the pathway, banners with stylized characters fluttered lazily in the night breeze. The gate had been repainted recently, the wood still too clean compared to everything else around it. And people. Lots and lots of people.
They moved in a slow, wandering sort of way across the grounds, like fish in a tank. Some spoke quietly near vendor stands set up along the garden paths. Others sat on the grass in loose groups. A few simply stared toward the temple building with quiet devotion, dressed in all white attire, not a single speck of dust, or dirt.
Niragi stood across the street with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, observing the whole thing with open disinterest. “…Well,” he muttered under his breath. How could he evne describe it? It looked exactly like a cult, they had no attempt to disguise themselves.
He stepped forward, and the wide stone gate opened into a large circular clearing that surrounded the temple itself. The main building stood in the center, raised slightly above the garden paths that wrapped around it. Between the building and the outer boundary lay the garden itself. Carefully maintained, oddly carefully maintained.
Flowerbeds lined the walkways, and scattered between them were small stands selling tea, charms, incense, even cheap food.
It was almost festive. Which somehow made it worse. Niragi walked through the gate slowly, eyes drifting across the people gathered inside, a woman crying quietly while someone patted her shoulder, a middle-aged man clutching prayer beads, two teenagers whispering nervously while staring at the temple doors.
Yeah.
This was the exact kind of place that thrived on desperate idiots, the moment he stepped further inside the circle, he felt it. Eyes. Staring at him. Not all of them. Most of the people here were too absorbed in their own misery to notice anything else. But a few, like the ones who stood near the edges of the garden, the ones not talking. There were observers, there were security. Niragi almost smiled, that was good, that meant he didn’t have to go looking very hard.
He wandered toward one of the vendor stands, stopping near a table selling small paper charms. The woman behind it offered a polite bow.
“First time visiting?” she asked softly, Niragi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let his shoulders slump slightly. Then he dragged a hand down his face and laughed under his breath. It sounded tired.
“…Is it that obvious?” he muttered. The woman hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure how to respond. Niragi leaned forward slightly, elbows resting against the edge of the table. “You people fix things here, right?”
“Fix…?” the woman repeated.
“Lives, dearanged souls, sinners, whatever word your group likes using.” Niragi waved his hand vaguely toward the temple building. The woman still looked at him like she didnt understand. God he hated how fucking condescending she looked. “That guy inside, the one everyone’s obsessed with.”
The woman glanced toward the temple instinctively, “Our leader helps people find purification—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Niragi cut her off with a dismissive flick of his hand. “You know what?” Niragi continued, tilting his head slightly as if he’d just had a wonderful idea. “I think I need that.”
The woman looked uncomfortable now. “Sir, if you’re looking for guidance—”
“I am.” He leaned closer, his eyes looked a little too bright. Unlike how the woman's eyes darkened, staring at him wide eyed and a visible frown on her face.
“I lost my job last month,” he said casually. That part wasn’t even a lie, took up being a camboy for a bunch of perverts for a few months—hey is that why Arisu recruited him of all people?
“Girlfriend left. Friends vanished. Turns out when you’re broke, people suddenly forget your number.”
“Funny how that works.” The woman looked sympathetic. Oh so sympathetic it made Niragi want to laugh.
“I heard people come here when they’ve got nothing left.” He tapped his fingers slowly against the table. “…That true?” The woman hesitated, then she gave a small nod. “There are many people here who felt lost before finding our community.”
Niragi stared at her, exhaling through his nose. “Great,” he muttered. He straightened slightly and glanced around the garden again, like he was seeing the place properly for the first time. “So what’s the process?” he asked.
“Process?”
“Joining.”
The woman blinked, “Well… usually people attend a sermon first. Our leader speaks every evening. After that—”
“I don’t want the speech.” He cut her off again, her confusion visibly deepening.
“…I want in.” He leaned forward again, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “I’m serious.”
"This isnt a drug operation or a gangster invite, this is a cleansing of the soul, a devotion and submission to the holy spirit. Do you want to be saved? It doesn't look nor sound like it."
"What, can I not too be saved by the holy spirit, am I unworthy? Does he only pick and choose?" The woman was silent after that, allowing him to continue.
This was the part where normal people started backing away. Niragi sighed internally, Fine. If subtlety wasn’t working, he'd try another way. He straightened up suddenly and laughed, louder this time. “I mean, come on,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the garden. “Look at this place.”
His voice carried just enough for nearby people to hear, “You’ve got candles, flowers, sad people everywhere. That guy inside probably gives speeches about enlightenment and rebirth and all that garbage.”
“And somehow everyone here believes it. She looked alarmed now, "Sir, please—”
Niragi continued, shrugging lazily. “I’m desperate.” He leaned closer again, lowering his voice abruptly, “…And desperate people make the best followers.”
Someone else approached, Niragi noticed the man before he even spoke. He was in his late fourties, dressed in clean clothes, fake-nice expression stamped onto his face.
“Excuse me,” the man said politely. Niragi turned toward him slowly. He gave a small bow. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.”
“Congratulations,” Niragi replied flatly. “Your ears work.” The recruiter didn’t react to the insult. “We welcome people seeking purpose,” he said calmly. “But perhaps it would be better if we spoke somewhere quieter.”
“Finally,” he muttered.
Niragi shoved his hands back into his pockets and nodded toward the temple. “So where do I sign my soul away?”
“Come with me,” the man said. Niragi followed him across the garden paths toward the temple building. As they walked, Niragi glanced around again.
And beyond the lantern-lit paths, at the far edge of the circular ground.. A tall wooden fence, high enough that climbing it would be annoying
They reached the steps of the temple, the doors stood open. Warm sun-light spilled out from inside, along with the quiet murmur of voices. The recruiter stopped at the entrance and turned toward him.
“Our leader will be speaking shortly,” he said. “If you truly wish to understand our community…” He gestured inside. “…you should listen.”
Niragi looked past him into the temple hall. Rows of people already sitting, “Sure,” he said casually. "Dont worry, even we have our ways of straightening even the ridgiest edges, you'll do well."
The inside of the temple was quieter than Niragi expected. It wasn't like any typical Sunday church his parents used to force him to go to, not even the slightest murmur of voices.
The murmuring voices died down quickly once he stepped through the doorway, swallowed by the heavy wooden walls and the faint haze of incense hanging in the air. Lanterns lined the interior beams, their light soft and golden, casting long shadows across the polished floor.
Rows of people already sat on smooth, low, white ceramic structures fixed neatly in lines across the floor like someone had designed the room to keep everyone exactly where they belonged.
Dozens of people, yet all facing the raised platform at the front of the room, all waiting, all carrying the same exaggerated calmness on their face.
Niragi paused for a moment near the entrance, hands still shoved into his jacket pockets as his eyes drifted lazily across the crowd. It didn’t take long to notice something strange, more pathetic than strange, but the description still stands.
They looked exhausted, but it wasn't normal kind of tired either, not the sort you got from working late shifts or sleeping badly. Their shoulders sagged too low. Their expressions sat somewhere between dull focus and complete absence.
The recruiter who had brought him here gestured vaguely toward an open space among the seated crowd before quietly slipping away again, disappearing toward the side of the hall.
Niragi dropped down into the empty spot with very little ceremony, one foot hitting the hard floor.
His posture immediately ruined the neat symmetry of the row he’d joined. No one reacted, no one even looked at him. Their eyes remained fixed on the empty platform ahead. “…Wow,” Niragi muttered under his breath. Up close, the details became clearer.
Collars.
Thin metal bands sat around several of the members’ necks, partially hidden beneath the neat collars of their shirts. Some were more visible than others depending on how they sat.
Guide collars.
Sentinel collars.
The designs varied slightly, but Niragi knew what he was looking at. His eyes drifted from one person to the next.
Guide.
Sentinel.
Guide.
Sentinel.
Probably the opposite, but who could tell Normally there were signs. Differences in posture, in how people held themselves.
Everything blurred together, everyone looked the same kind of worn down, even the ones dressed neatly. All in pressed shirts, clean hair. Appearances so groomed it was almost funny. They looked like people attending a job interview for enlightenment.
Niragi rested his elbow against his knee and leaned his cheek into his palm, watching them with mild curiosity.
“…You people look like shit,” he murmured quietly. The man sitting beside him flinched. "Ungrateful words in a holy place, shame. May he take peace on you."
Niragi's eyes slid sideways. The guy beside him had his hair combed neatly back, and his shirt buttoned perfectly. No different to how he previously described the others.
The man’s fingers were clasped tightly in his lap. “…Is this your first sermon?” the man asked quietly.
“You could say that.”
The sentinel nodded slowly, eyes still fixed forward. “…You’ll feel better after listening to Hatter-sama speak.”
Niragi stared at him, snorting softly. “Doubt it.” The man's clasp tightened, shoulders remaining stiff, magically repeating something inner his breath, eyeing Niragi occasionally, "oh holy father forgive him."
Niragi glanced around again.
"Oh holy father forgive him"
A few more collars caught his attention. Some of them were worn high on the neck like proper restraints.
"Oh holy father forgive him"
Others sat lower, almost hidden beneath clothing like an accessory someone would rather pretend wasn’t there. Oddly, no one here seemed embarrassed about it, no one tried to hide them. They’d been used to it.
"Oh holy father forgive him"
Neat, disciplined, submissive, all of them. Niragi leaned back slightly, shifting his weight onto his hands behind him.
"Oh holy father forgive him"
And this guy beside him was really starting to get on Niragi's fucking nerves.
Luckily, a voice, definitely radiating from a microphone cut in before Niragi had the chance to say anything. It rolled through the temple hall like warm syrup, thick and slow, immediately pulling the attention of every person in the room.
“My dear friends.” Every head turned toward the front platform. Niragi straightened slightly in his ceramic seat, eyes drifting lazily toward the source, and there he was.
Hatter stood behind the raised podium with both hands resting lightly against the polished wood, posture relaxed, smile warm in a way that felt rehearsed but effective. The lantern light caught the edges of his blond hair, giving him that slightly theatrical glow charismatic leaders always seemed to have.
He looked comfortable up there, like someone who had been standing in front of obedient crowds for a long time.
“I’m very glad you’ve all gathered tonight,” Hatter continued, voice flowing easily through the microphone. “It warms my heart to see so many souls seeking peace.” The crowd listened in total silence. Niragi noticed something immediately. The exhaustion that he’d seen earlier had softened.
The sound of Hatter’s voice alone eased something in their heads. Hatter stepped away from the podium slightly, pacing slowly across the platform. “You all come here carrying burdens,” he continued gently. “Regret. Anger. Loneliness. Mistakes you believe can never be forgiven.”
“But no soul is beyond purification.” Several people lowered their heads, someone quietly sniffled. Niragi watched the entire thing with
“Oh holy father forgive him,” the man whispered again. Niragi resisted the urge to elbow him. On the platform, Hatter spread his arms slightly. “This place exists so that you may release the weight you carry,” he said warmly. “To accept correction. To welcome discipline. To allow yourselves to become whole again.”
“And tonight… we will begin with blessings.” A ripple moved through the crowd. Hatter rested one hand against the podium again. “As always,” he continued, “we must not be greedy.” His tone remained pleasant, but there was something firm underneath it. “A blessing is a gift. A moment of purification. Something that should be received with humility.”
He tilted his head slightly. “So if you are strong tonight… allow someone weaker to come first.”Then he raised one finger thoughtfully. “As the scripture reminds us” He paused dramatically. “Greed steals breath from another soul.” A murmur of agreement spread through the hall.
“To take the place of someone more in need,” Hatter continued, “is to place your own pride above their salvation.”
“And pride… is the first sin.”
Niragi stared at the stage. “…You made that up,” he muttered.
The man suddenly raised his hand, standing up. “This man!” He pointed directly at Niragi. “He is new here,” the man said loudly, voice trembling with urgency. “He must be saved first!”
The hell was this idiot doing? Niragi blinked once, slowly pointing to himself. “…Me?”
“He has already committed sins within this holy place!” the man continued passionately. “He mocks our father and rejects his blessing!”
“Oh my god,” Niragi sighed. Two figures stepped out from the side of the hall. They moved quietly but quickly, hands closing around Niragi’s arms before he could even stand up properly.
“Hey—” He was yanked to his feet. The ceramic seat scraped loudly behind him. “This is ridiculous,” Niragi muttered as they dragged him toward the front. They forced him down onto his knees directly in front of the platform. Niragi looked up, Hatter gazed down at him with patient interest. “My friend,” Hatter said gently. “You seem troubled.” Niragi stared back, “I didn’t do shit.” The slap came fast.
One of the enforcers struck him across the face hard enough to snap his head sideways. The room stayed silent. Niragi slowly turned his head back, Hatter didn’t look angry, If anything, he looked sympathetic. “You must confess your sins,” he said softly. “Only then can you be cleansed.”
“I already told you,” Niragi replied. “I didn’t do anything.” Hatter sighed lightly. “Denial is another burden.” He glanced toward the crowd, “The one who reported him.” The man who once sat beside Niragi was immediately brought forward. “Oh holy father" But before he could reach the platform, Two different enforcers grabbed Niragi again. “Ugh.”
They yanked him upright, the crowd watched silently as Niragi was dragged away from the platform and toward a side hallway.
“Hold on,” Niragi snapped. “Where the hell are you—”
The door slammed shut behind them, the hallway beyond was quiet. The enforcers didn’t speak as they hauled him down the corridor and shoved open another door.
Inside was completely empty, before Niragi could do something, they forced him into it. Metal restraints snapped shut around his wrists and ankles. “Are you serious right now?”
Bright lights exploded on. Above him, below him, all around him, directly from the walls. White light flooded the room so suddenly that Niragi squeezed his eyes shut.
“…What the hell?” Music started playing, a cheerful church melody used in children’s choir songs. Niragi slowly opened one eye. "You’ve got to be kidding me.” One of the enforcers stepped forward and slammed a thick book down onto his lap.
The impact made Niragi grunt slightly. The cover read: Book of Devotion Rules. The enforcers turned to leave. “Wait,” Niragi said. They paused at the door.
"How the hell am I supposed to open this,” Niragi asked slowly, lifting his restrained wrists slightly, “if I’m tied to the chair?” The enforcer didn’t even look back. “If you are truly devoted,” he said calmly, “you will find a way.”
Then they left, door lockinh behind them, music still playing, and lights staying blindingly bright. Niragi stared down at the book sitting uselessly on his lap.
“…You people are insane,” he muttered. Then he leaned his head back against the chair and shouted toward the ceiling.
“HEY!” His voice echoed in the empty room. “IF I FIGURE OUT HOW TO OPEN THIS BOOK, DO I GET A GOLD STAR TOO?!”