The call came mid-morning.
I was sorting last night’s damage claims when the intercom buzzed sharply.
Not the usual polite chime.
A harsh tone.
Everyone in the office looked up.
Liora answered without hesitation.
“This is Liora.”
The voice on the other end was crisp. Professional. Controlled.
“This is Guild Helix. We need to discuss one of your A-Ranks.”
The room went very still.
Liora’s cigarette hovered midair.
“Go ahead.”
“Shoji Shiraishi assaulted one of our hunters following a joint operation this morning.”
My fingers froze over the keyboard.
Across the room, Hifumi’s head lifted slowly.
“Define assaulted,” Liora said evenly.
“Physical contact initiated without provocation. Our hunter brushed shoulders in a hallway. Shiraishi shoved him. When our member attempted to de-escalate, he escalated.”
“How.”
“Pinned him to the wall. Applied pressure to the throat. Continued after verbal warnings.”
A faint pause.
“No weapons drawn. But it was deliberate.”
I swallowed.
The office felt too small again.
“He’s suspended,” Liora said calmly.
“He didn’t inform us of that.”
“No,” she replied. “He wouldn’t.”
Silence lingered between the two guild masters.
“Medical report?” Liora asked.
“Minor bruising. Pride damage. Nothing permanent.”
“That’s fortunate.”
“For now,” the other guild leader replied.
The line disconnected.
The silence that followed was worse.
Hifumi looked at me.
I avoided her eyes.
This wasn’t random.
This wasn’t a rumor.
This wasn’t overhearing a conversation outside a door.
This was official.
I felt heat rise behind my ears.
He shoved someone.
Over a shoulder bump.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
My stomach twisted.
Setsuna entered the room quietly.
She must have heard the call.
She always seemed to.
“Endocrine agitation increases irritability,” she said evenly. “Elevated cortisol combined with artificial hormonal supplementation destabilizes impulse control.”
No emotion.
Just fact.
Liora leaned back in her chair.
“So.”
“So it begins,” Setsuna replied.
Not dramatic.
Not pleased.
Just… inevitable.
“Bring him in,” Liora said.
No raised voice.
No anger.
Just a decision.
Shoji arrived thirty minutes later.
He didn’t look tired.
He didn’t look unstable.
He looked irritated.
Which somehow felt worse.
“What,” he said flatly, stepping into Liora’s office. “I’m busy.”
“You’re suspended,” Liora replied.
Liora stepped closer to him.
Not aggressively.
Just enough to close distance.
“You will cease all hunter activity until cleared by medical review.”
Shoji rolled his shoulders slightly.
“And if I don’t?”
The office air went thin.
Liora didn’t blink.
“Then I terminate your contract.”
Silence.
Even I stopped breathing.
Shoji laughed once.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Her voice didn’t rise.
Didn’t waver.
“When a hunter is fired,” she continued, “it goes on record.”
His smile thinned.
“You know that.”
“Every guild sees it.”
Setsuna added calmly from the side:
“Termination due to insubordination and endangerment.”
Shoji’s jaw flexed.
“You’re bluffing.”
“I built this guild,” Liora said evenly. “I protect it.”
She met his eyes directly.
“You will not poison it.”
The word hit.
Poison.
“If you continue operating against suspension,” she finished, “you are no longer my hunter.”
Silence stretched.
For the first time —
His confidence flickered.
Just slightly.
Because this wasn’t about pride anymore.
This was about legacy.
Reputation.
Doors closing.
“You’d throw away your strongest asset,” he said.
“No,” Liora replied calmly.
“I’d remove a liability.”
That landed.
Hard.
“I’m aware.”
“Apparently not.”
He rolled his eyes.
“They bumped into me.”
“And that warrants assault?”
“They disrespected me.”
I stared at him through the half-open office door.
He didn’t look like someone who had lost control.
He looked like someone who thought he was justified.
“They apologized,” Liora said calmly.
“After,” Shoji snapped. “After I corrected them.”
The word corrected made something inside me recoil.
“You pinned him to a wall,” Liora continued.
“He’ll live.”
“That isn’t the metric.”
Shoji smirked.
“Maybe if your hunters weren’t so soft—”
The temperature in the room dropped.
Liora turned.
Slowly.
“You do not speak about my guild that way.”
His smirk faltered for half a second.
Then returned.
“Relax. I’m just saying standards slip when you baby people.”
Across the room, I felt Hifumi stiffen.
I didn’t look at her.
I couldn’t.
“Medical evaluation,” Liora said.
“No.”
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t shouted.
It was firm.
“I’m not sick.”
“You are unstable.”
“I’m stronger.”
“You’re volatile.”
He laughed once.
Short.
Sharp.
“You sound like Setsuna.”
From the hallway, Setsuna’s voice floated in.
“I am standing behind you.”
He turned slightly.
Didn’t look intimidated.
“Doc.”
“You declined evaluation,” she said evenly.
“I don’t need it.”
“You are narrowing your limits.”
He scoffed.
“I’m pushing them.”
“You are compressing them.”
Silence.
He stepped closer to her.
Not aggressively.
Just testing space.
“I’ve never been stronger.”
“And yet,” Setsuna replied, “you are deteriorating.”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Another pause.
“You will crash,” she said calmly.
He smiled.
“Not before I win.”
That sentence sat in the air like something poisonous.
Win what?
No one asked.
From the hallway, I felt my chest tighten.
This wasn’t a misunderstanding.
This wasn’t overreaction.
He believed himself.
Completely.
Hifumi shifted beside me.
Quiet.
I could feel her thinking.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to shut her down.
But I didn’t know how to admit that.
“You’re suspended,” Liora repeated.
“You don’t get to decide that unilaterally.”
“I built this guild.”
“And I carry it.”
Silence.
Setsuna adjusted her gloves once.
“I will prepare,” she said quietly.
Shoji glanced at her.
“For what.”
“For the outcome.”
His smile flickered.
Just barely.
Then he turned and walked out.
Didn’t slam the door.
Didn’t yell.
Just left.
Which somehow felt worse.
The office exhaled.
Liora didn’t sit immediately.
She watched the door long after it closed.
“He’s escalating,” Setsuna said.
“Yes.”
“He will not de-escalate.”
“I know.”
That was the first time I heard fatigue in Liora’s voice.
Real fatigue.
Back at our desks, I stared at the screen without seeing it.
Hifumi didn’t speak.
For once.
And that silence felt heavier than any argument.
I remembered snapping at her yesterday.
Telling her we weren’t heroes.
Telling her not to act like it.
My throat tightened.
Because now—
This wasn’t heroism.
This was damage control.
And it was coming closer.
Not random.
Not luck.
Deliberate.
And accelerating.
