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“……”
Sweat dripped down Akutagawa’s forehead.
“See? You really can do it if you put your mind to it.”
The bullets were floating motionlessly right in front of Akutagawa. He had used his skill to stop them. Yet, despite that, his expression indicated he was struggling.
“I’ve told you this over and over again,” Dazai said, amused. “Your skill isn’t just for slicing up poor prisoners. You can use it to defend yourself, too.”
Akutagawa’s skill, Rashomon, allowed him to control his black overcoat like another life-form, transforming it into fangs or blades to cut through his opponents. Dazai had also theorized that his skill could even rupture space itself, thus blocking incoming bullets.
“Until now…I’ve never successfully used it to block.”
Akutagawa’s voice was lifeless, hoarse. He’d used most of his mental strength to create an interruption in space.
“But look at you now. You did it. I’m so happy for you.”
>
Akutagawa scowled. A look of severe tension shot across his face, almost exploding with emotion.
“Next time you mess up, I’m punching you twice and shooting five times. Got it?”
Dazai’s voice was colder than ice. Akutagawa tried to say something back, but Dazai’s stern gaze pressured him into silence.
“Now that I’m done educating my incompetent underling, it’s time to get to work. Let’s check the bodies. We might be able to find something.”
After giving orders to the three subordinates at his side, one timidly spoke up.
“So…what exactly do you want us to check?”
“Everything! Isn’t it obvious?” Dazai cried in exasperation. “We need to find something that might lead us to their hideout. Anything could be a clue: the soles of their shoes, the trash in their pocket, food crumbs from whatever they ate, adhesives stuck to their clothes—everything. Tsk… My lackeys seem to think beating the enemy to death is all the Mafia does. Odasaku’s gonna solve everything all by himself at this rate.”
“Sakunosuke Oda… I know that guy,” the subordinate with sunglasses added hesitantly. “Dazai, sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but…I saw him sweeping behind the office the other day. A man of his status isn’t qualified to be your friend, let alone contend with an enemy like this.”
Dazai stared, flabbergasted, at his underling.
“Are you joking? Odasaku’s not qualified?” Dazai asked, thoroughly surprised.
“Yes…”
The other men nodded as well.
“You fools!”
Dazai’s lips curled into a sneer in genuine disgust. “Listen, I’m telling you guys this for your own good. Do not make Odasaku angry—no matter what you do. If you were to anger him—truly, deeply upset him—then all five people in this room would be dead before anyone could even draw their guns.”
The subordinates were at a loss for words. Even Akutagawa stared at Dazai with a tense expression on his face.
“When he’s serious, Odasaku’s scarier than anyone in the entire Mafia. Akutagawa, you could train for a hundred years, and you still wouldn’t be able to beat him.”
“…That is absurd…,” Akutagawa muttered, his voice stifled. “…That’s impossible. Are you saying that I—?”
But Dazai just ignored him.
“Now, let’s get to work! Our enemy might be a pain, but if we don’t sort this out soon, the Special Division for Unusual Powers is gonna show up to put the fire out, and we don’t want that.”
His hands still on the stone floor, Akutagawa merely glared at Dazai.
