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Dazai places a hand on his chin and nods.
“Dazai, what’s going on?! What is he rambling about?!”
“It’s exactly how it sounds. He was selling the victims to an organ-trafficking syndicate, but the month’s supply rose too high relative to demand. Naturally, this led to a drop in prices, throwing the market into confusion. Imagine a private one-man business suddenly entering a supply market more or less controlled by a large corporation. How would the large corporation feel?”
“They would get mad, I guess?”
“It would be healthy competition if these were normal, legal companies. But these organ-trafficking businesses are run by underground groups who profit off blood and violence. Causing trouble on their turf would only anger—”
The next moment, the car is suddenly hit, then hit again so hard its wheels leave the ground. A high-pitched echo follows. The taxi’s right side lifts into the air as the windows shatter along with the sound of gunshots.
“We’re under fire! Get down!” I yell out.
The car rocks back and forth as if being pummeled with a hammer, and shards of glass rain down inside.
“It’s them! H-help, help me… I don’t wanna die!”
“Hey! Wait!”
The driver opens the car door before bolting in the opposite direction of the gunfire.
“Kunikida, we have to catch him before the enemy does, or we’ll never know what really happened! We can’t let him escape or turn up dead in a grove somewhere!” Dazai shouts, keeping his head down. That’s easier said than done, though! “Okay, I’ll go after the driver! You distract the enemies!”
“Dazai, wait! It’s too dangerous to go alone!”
Dazai darts out of the car without even listening to my warning. I can’t allow a rookie to go off on his own during his first shoot-out. We don’t have any other options, though. I curse to myself while getting a look at the enemy. Three men stand dressed in black suits and black sunglasses, equipped with submachine guns smuggled in from abroad via the black market. Judging from their attire, their skills, and their ruthless willingness to suddenly turn the place into a war zone, it’s clear who they are…
“Damn it! This couldn’t be any worse… It’s the Port Mafia!”
The Port Mafia is an underground organization that uses the Port of Yokohama as their base of operations. They’re the cruelest, most coldhearted criminal syndicate in the city, willing to follow any orders from their boss and crush all who oppose them. The three men here are from that organization. The longer this goes on, the more they have the advantage.
“The Matchless Poet: Stun Grenade!”
I record the word in my notebook before tearing it out. The sheet of paper twists into a grenade the size of my fist. Aiming at the group, I hurl the grenade out the broken window. Stun grenades are nonlethal sonic weapons used to temporarily disorient an enemy’s senses. It blows up right in front of them, emitting a light so bright and creating an explosion so thunderous that it could give a sick man a heart attack. They fall to their knees while covering their temples, perhaps completely taken by surprise at being countered with a flashbang. I use this momentary distraction to leap out of the taxi and charge the enemies. I elbow the man closest to me in the neck, knocking him to the ground. I keep my elbow out and charge the next criminal, following up with a high kick to the face. The last armed man tries to hit me with his gun, but I swerve to the side, evading the strike. As he staggers off-balance, I grab his wrist and twist while pulling inside. Then I throw him into the air with a four-corner throw. The Mafia member goes flying and lands cranium first, immediately losing consciousness.
“Good grief.”
After making sure they’re all out, I walk back to the taxi.
I really hope Dazai’s all right…
Just then, I suddenly sense an ever-increasing thirst for blood coming from behind. Something flies past my side before I can even turn around. The black torrent runs through right where I was just standing, hitting the taxi and cutting right through it, too. As the vehicle completely splits in half, springs and shafts take to the air, scattering every which way. Without even a moment to let my surprise sink in, I kick off the ground to evade. The nearby sign and handrails are finely sliced into pieces. After rolling across the ground and looking back, I see a small-framed man clad in black in the distance.
“Cough, cough…”
That must be the source of the bloodlust.
“Cough… I came thinking this was going to be an easy side job. I wasn’t expecting to run into someone skilled enough to neutralize three men in the blink of an eye. I’m impressed. Now let’s see how you fare against Rashomon.”
With no weapon in hand, the young man simply walks toward me with his back hunched, occasionally coughing. However, the malice oozing from his body soon transforms into a silent but furious storm.
A man short of stature dressed in a black overcoat, with the skill to control a black torrent—the Port Mafia’s Hellhound.
“You… You’re Ryuunosuke Akutagawa from the Port Mafia, aren’t you?”
“The one and only. I was sent here by the boss to dispose of the fool who trespassed on our turf. Where is he?”
“He’s not here. He ran away with his tail tucked between his legs.”
