No, no, no, no, no, no, no
Oh mama mia, mama mia,
Mama mia, let me go!
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me,
For me
- Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody
///
6 / 3 / 2016
When I get to school that morning, I see a guy at the front gates. Long hair. A hat in his hand. Wears a beige suit with some strange pattern across the top layer. He's mumbling something about how he won't be able to get a good picture in, when he sees me.
"Hey, kid. You're a student here, right?"
Guy has a surprisingly youthful face, if a little tired.
"Who wants to know?"
"Just your average journalist. The incidents surrounding Shujin Academy have caused quite a buzz online. Wanted to see it for myself." Suddenly he pulls himself closer to me, speaking in hushed whispers, "You got any info on hand? I'll pay you. Anyone who can get the scoop on the whole Kobayakawa debacle'll--""
"I don't know anything about it, sorry."
He smirks, "You sure? You look like you've been around the block."
"Not enough, I guess."
"Well. In case anything comes to mind," he pulls out a white rectangle from his shirt pocket, "contact me at this number. School won't lemme enter the premises, so I'm counting on student testimonies to help me out."
I narrow my eyes at him, taking the rectangle, "I'll let you know if I've found anything."
"Right then," his phone buzzes, and he checks the time. "Dammit. Didn't think I'd have spent that much time around here... Alright. I'll see you whenever I see you."
As he rushes away from the school, heading to the open road, I check the name on his card.
Jyoji Hijiri +81-805-5530-552
.
.
.
I find out my scores on the bulletin board, at lunchtime.
Average of 80. In the top thirty. Would've liked at least 90, but take what you can get. Shoulda studied more.
Back to business.
When the hell did I become such a goddamn softie, that I'd be kowtowing to some fucking bitch, for the sake of three people I met like a month ago.
Fine. Fucking whatever. I'mma change this yakuza prick's heart so good he'll snip his balls off with kindergarten scissors the second he even thinks of distributing drugs again. And then I'm gonna go march into Sae Niijima's Palace and fucking learn every single embarrassing secret the stuco prez has got, and blackmail her to hell and back with them if she ever threatens to send out that shitting recording ever again.
But first things first. Get that Sakahagi motherfucker, make him squeal, throw him in a padded cell for the rest of his life. After that I take care o' Niijima and I never enter another Palace again and Kana stops hanging over my shoulder like she's doing right now. Then maybe one day I'll be able to sleep for more than four hours, and get over whatever mental illness I've developed, and live until I die.
Now why the hell is Makoto Niijima so late in arriving to the student council room?
"Whatcha dooooin?"
"What the hell!?"
Of all the things to pop into the windowsill, it's the Cat. "Took a mornin' stroll and spotted a TV in the window of some shop somewhere saying the principal of Shujin Academy threw himself into traffic. And rather than welcome me back after I've come all this way, you give me that look? I'm hurt."
"How did you even know I'd be here...?"
"I can sense people who've awakened to their Personas."
"Goddammit, leave me alone. I don't wanna deal with you right now."
"But I wanna look at the Treasure you took from 'im!" Cat smiles, leaping down from the window.
"I don't know what happened to the Treasure. Prolly threw it in the trash once I got it. Now get out before I throw you out."
"Seemed like only yesterday you didn't know shit from Shinola. Now you're bustin' into Palaces left and right, making the world a better place one asshole at a time."
"Listen, you fucking cat. I regret the day I ever met you. If I hadn't left my knife back in Kamoshida's Palace, I'd gut you like a fish and throw your corpse out in the courtyard."
Its expression shifts as it lowers its head. "Okay. I get you're still reeling from what happened with that girl."
"I see her every day. I hear her talking to me, like she's still here."
Cat's eyes grow wide. "That's not...okay. How often have you been seeing her?"
"I'd see her every now and again, before any of this shit. But after Kamoshida, after Kobayakawa, I see her all the time, everywhere. Hell, I see her right now, standing behind you. Looking at me even though she's got no fucking eyes--what's happening to me!?"
Cat turns around and sees nothing and turns back to face me, "It's more an effect of the Vortex World on you, than anything else. Everything you've experienced concerning that Palace is rearing up at you, exacerbating whatever trauma you've developed."
"How do I get rid of it!?"
"As you are now, I doubt you can."
"Why not?"
"The only way to do that would be to completely wipe out your memory of the encounter."
"That can't be the only way...is it...?"
"It's the only way I can think of."
"Goddammit, what else can I, is there, isn't there literally anything I can do...? I can't just forget her, I, I don't deserve it, I--"
"Calm down."
"HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE CALM!?"
Suddenly the door opens.
I whirl my head around and I see Niijima, entering through. "I'm sorry for being late. Why were you shouting?"
I don't have an answer. I turn back to the cat, but it's already gone back out the window, a rustling noise ringing in the leaves of the tree right outside.
When I realize my left hand is trembling again I shuffle it under the table. For just a second, Niijima looks all concerned, but I stamp it away before she can let her pity manifest, "Took you long enough--"
And then I see the three people standing behind her.
Sakamoto looks about as dejected as ever, scowling at me even as he enters the room. Yoshizawa keeps on a stronger poker face, but she clearly wants out. Takamaki's more worried than anything else, worried and tired and more than a little pissed at the brown-haired girl in front of them. Niijima keeps her face impassive.
"What the hell!?" I cry out, rising from my seat, "What'd you bring them here for!?"
"You didn't think I'd trust you with changing his heart on your own, did you?"
Before I can say anything further in protest, Sakamoto gets the chutzpah to step between the president and myself, fists shaking from the tension of being kept clenched. "She told us you're fightin' against the yakuza. That she's blackmailed you with a recording where all of us said shit about Kamoshida and Kobayakawa. And you thought you could just get away with not telling us?"
"Yes, I did."
"God. Why not?"
I lie. "Because it'd have been a fucking hassle."
Sakamoto can't contain himself then, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and raising a fist--
A fist that Niijima placates with a stern look and a hand on his shoulder.
"Sakamoto-kun."
He eyes her like she's gone mad, and without a second to spare he grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her away, such that she very nearly trips on her ass if not for Takamaki and Yoshizawa standing behind her.
Niijima looks like she's about to scold him, but he whirls back around to me and doesn't even pay her a passing glance, "Look here, you sick bastard, I ain't about to let you fuck up anyone else like you did to Kamoshida. Now she told us she's strong-armed you into makin' sure this guy lives, but she hasn't seen you, hasn't seen what you're like out there, how easy it is for you to lose it. Thank God she was paranoid enough to talk to us all before meetin' up with you, because then this asshole woulda died and that shit woulda been on her hands as much as yours."
I glare at Niijima now. "All the things you could've done, you dragged them into this anyway?"
"This is yakuza, you can't do this on your own," she grunts out.
"You don't even know what it all means to--"
Sakamoto pushes my chest, sends me into the wall, "Back the hell away from her. Makes me sick just to look at you."
"Ohh, cry me a river about Kamoshida already, dumbass."
"Say that again, you fuck--"
"Maybe someday you won't sound like you've got Stockholm syndrome."
"Would you both stop it already?" Takamaki cries, actually working her way between us both and stretching her arms out. "For the love of God, we're trying to take down an actual career criminal and you two are still bitching at each other like you're still in elementary. Grow up!"
I groan, "Why would you all come back to this...?"
Yoshizawa steps forward. "We can't just turn away when we know we can do something." Then she scratches an itch behind her ear. "And she's blackmailed us into it anyway, so we might as well."
"At this point, why not just kill him? Even if we change his heart, this asshole's gonna get whacked in his cell and it'll be framed as a suicide."
Niijima inserts herself. "He needs to confess. If anything, doing so will likely get him a deal with investigators, probably end up leading to other dealers in the area as well as his other associates. The right people can arrange things such that he won't be murdered while in custody. And besides that... I won't stand for you killing him. For as horrible a criminal as he is, he still needs to be brought in by the book. Just as Kamoshida needed to be, just as Kobayakawa needed to be."
By the book, even though you want us to rape his mind. "You ever thought about working in a church? You do a good job preaching bullshit nobody cares about."
"I care about it," grunts Sakamoto.
"So do I," Yoshizawa follows suit.
Takamaki sighs, "Maybe actually keeping him alive will get more dealers off the streets, I dunno. And to be honest, Hikawa, you don't exactly have a habit of going about these kinda things cleanly. I see her logic."
Niijima lets a smile emerge, though it's offset by her scowling eyes, "And there you have it, Hikawa-san--"
"Shut up," Takamaki steps towards her. "I know someone put you up to pin us down. School can't have ties to criminals, after all. Everyone was all up in arms when Kamoshida jumped off the roof, but Shiho had done exactly the same thing a week prior and none of you did a single goddamn thing. And here you are, being all smug and shit, even though you're nothing but a tool for the teachers to use all over again. I feel sorry for you."
Niijima doesn't say a word for a moment. But the cracks shine through well enough. "I...I know."
"What?"
"I didn't do anything. Not when I could have. Not when I should have. I can't even do anything now. I let myself be used by people who had no right being in the positions they were in to further their own ambitions."
"So you admit you're doing this all for yourself?" I smirk at her.
"Yes," she seethes, pushing past Takamaki to face me directly. "I'd never forgive myself if I turned away from this, after everything I let happen. I'm doing this because it's the only way to keep the students safe. All of you might hate me, and you'd be right to do so, but please. I can't find any other way to stop these people other than enlisting your help."
Nobody says a word in protest.
I fall back into my seat. "Let's just get this shit over with."
Niijima looks like she's swallowed bitter gourd whole. "Everyone please take your seats."
.
.
.
It's an impossibly awkward meeting, because nobody likes being there, nor do they like the person they're sitting next to or across from, and it's being led by this condescending Dragon Lady with a massive chip on her shoulder.
"My informant was coaxed into a relationship with a man named Tsukasa," begins Niijima. "Supposedly, he ended up in trouble after accidentally dropping a bottle of expensive sake. She ended up working extra hours at her part-time job to help pay off the alleged debt, but...it dawned on her too late that the story was bogus, and that he intends to have her sold off in the sex trade to help fill his pockets."
"That's awful...," Takamaki growls.
"They're all based in Shibuya, right?" Sakamoto reiterates.
"Correct."
"Seems our best chance is to meet up with these people ourselves and tail them," grunts Yoshizawa. "Maybe they'll lead us back to their boss. Is there anywhere besides Central Street we can expect them?"
"They hang around places where they're most likely to get in contact with students fresh out of school. So they can be anywhere from Central Street to the underground mall to the walkway. That said, they seem to frequent Central Street the most. Less crowds, less security, more potential targets. Risky business. But they're pretty good at their job. They'd have to be, if they've been able to come this far without getting cops on their tail."
"Or, like you said, someone on the force got sold out," I cut in.
She winces a little at that, "Yes, that's also a possibility."
"So...what's the plan? We all of us go into Shibuya and try to get in their good graces?" asks Takamaki.
"Ideally, yes," says Niijima. "Though we'll have to be very careful in how we go about this. What do you need in order to change his heart?"
"It's...a little complicated," she sighs.
"A name. A place. And what he thinks of that place."
"It's that simple?"
"Wouldn't say simple, because there's a whole host of shit we'll have to do once we've narrowed all that down. We can assume Shibuya at the very least is a place of interest for the man. Though, depending on whether or not he's a megalomaniac it might extend past that part of the city."
"May I ask...how exactly is any of this even possible, on your end?"
We all pass glances at each other, before turning to her and saying in unison, "Don't ask."
"Wh-why not?"
"Listen, Niijima," begins Sakamoto, "Leave that to us. Rather outsiders not get involved in the whole changing-hearts bullshit."
"So there's nothing I can do to help on that front?"
Well, there is something. But fuck sake, I wouldn't wish that even on her. "Be grateful you can't."
She's downcast, because of course she is. This is the one time where she's actively trying to be useful for the right reasons, and she can't even do that much. "Very well, then."
"When should we head out?" Takamaki asks.
I tell her, "Tomorrow."
"That soon?"
"Tomorrow's Saturday. Kids're gonna be running around all over Shibuya, looking for shit to do before heading home. Yakuza're definitely gonna try luring them into doing something they can't take back."
"Makes sense."
I turn to Sakamoto, "Where did you get the shotgun?"
"Sh-shotgun!?" cries Niijima.
He scowls, explaining, "Got it from an airsoft shop in Shibuya. Will show you there. Guy sells way more than that. Pistols, revolvers, miniguns, bazookas..."
"There're airsoft bazookas?" asks Takamaki.
"I guess? Apparently they're collectors' items."
"Wait, you four are planning to use airsoft guns to deal with yakuza--?"
I ask, "How expensive?"
"Pistols to shotguns to rifles are the most affordable, and by affordable I mean you'll only lose most of your wallet by buying one. Everything beyond that, fat chance."
"You're rich, though, right?" Takamaki asks me. "Your dad's the head of a big company--?"
"My father's disinherited me."
"You've been disinherited...?" asks Takamaki.
"Argument with Dad, before the year started. Why do you think I have to work in a flower shop after school?"
"You work in a flower shop?" Yoshizawa raises her brow.
"Rafflesia. Underground mall. Please buy something. Hanasaki-san said she'd raise my salary if I was able to sell more bouquets to more people." I turn to Sakamoto, "How much does a pistol cost?"
"Last I checked, some thousand-odd yen."
"A thousand, really?"
"Guy put work into his guns."
I pull open my wallet. "Dammit. I'll have to work in the flower shop for like five days."
"Do what you gotta do."
"We can buy our own weapons," Takamaki says. "That alright with you, Yoshizawa?"
"Yes, I've got enough saved up, I think."
Niijima shakes her head, "What are you planning to use airsoft guns for...?"
I turn to the other three, "We're all good for tomorrow?"
"Yep."
"Yes."
"I guess..."
"Niijima."
She stammers, "Y-yes?"
"You're free?"
Her eyes turn determined. "Yes."
"Alright, then. Where should we meet up?"
"The walkway overlooking the rest of Shibuya," Niijima says. "Seems like a good place to start."
"Alright. I'll head on down to Central Street."
Sakamoto says, "I'll stay in the subway."
"Subway's a big place. I'll go with you, senpai," says Yoshizawa.
Takamaki says she's "Gonna check out the underground mall."
And Niijima finishes off with, "Alright then, I'll help Hikawa-san out on Central Street."
God fucking dammit, whatever, let it be.
"We're all good?" They all nod, though Niijima does nothing of the sort, just keeps her stink eye fixated on me. "Alright, then. See you tomorrow--"
"I can actually show you the shop today," says Sakamoto, getting up out his seat. "It's called Untouchable. Get yourself a look at the prices on the guns."
"I'll come with!" Takamaki says.
Yoshizawa is the last to get off her seat, "Me, too. I'll check what I can buy."
Niijima cries out, "You all realize airsoft guns aren't going to work as actual weapons, right!?"
"Niijima-senpai," says Yoshizawa, "I know none of this makes sense to you right now, but trust us when we say that this is absolutely necessary to our survival over the course of the next two weeks. So let us do our work. This'll all be over before you know it."
Makoto Niijima doesn't at all understand why this is so necessary, but before she can protest further, Yoshizawa and all the rest of us leave her sitting alone in the student council room.
Cat watches all this happen, from the tree.
.
.
.
Before we get to where we need to go I make a pit stop at an ATM.
"Here."
Gun shop is deep in an alleyway, so much so that you'd be hard-pressed to know from glancing at the road that a gun shop of any kind would be nearby.
The gaze of the man at the counter is enough to give us pause. It's not necessarily harsh, but far too uninviting. Sizing us up, he gets out of his seat and we see just how tall he really is. There's a white stick popping out of his mouth. He's wearing a trenchcoat and he's got a greyish military hat over his head. When he leans over the counter, we see the glint in his eyes and the five-o'clock shadow, and cranes his neck just enough so we see the gecko tattoo he's got on his person as well.
Takamaki eyes him warily. Sakamoto tries to look unimpressed, though he tugs at his collar. Yoshizawa and I are unmoved.
"What're you looking for?" he grumbles at us all, but focuses himself on me.
"We're looking to buy some model guns," Yoshizawa responds, trying her best to lighten up the guy's features.
He raises his brow. "You don't look like gun enthusiasts."
"W-we are!" exclaims Sakamoto. "It's just, well, we're, uh...newbies to it all, and we'd just...like to see what you've got in stock? Any recommendations?"
He blinks and shrugs, "Just pick whatever looks interestin' to you."
Sakamoto blinks, Takamaki muttering under her breath, "Some customer service..."
"Fine. Automatic? Revolver? What is it you want?" he asks.
Takamaki and Sakamoto's expressions twist because neither of them did any research on guns before coming here. Yoshizawa, on the other hand, responds: "Pistol, for me."
Takamaki grunts, and says "Automatic uzi," like it's the first thing that comes to mind.
I turn to them both, eyes wide, "Are you both sure?"
Takamaki shrugs, "Can't be that hard—"
But the man at the counter just turns to me and asks, "'Bout you?"
"Pistol."
He nods. "Know these things don't come cheap."
I nod, "Okay."
"This is an enthusiast shop, mind you," he grunts. "Reputation'll take a hit if my regulars see me letting casuals hang around the place. Just pick and go."
"Yes, sir," I tell him.
Sakamoto and Takamaki look visibly uncomfortable as Yoshizawa turns to face me. I nod.
I get my wallet out and I pull out a couple thousands. Bills had enough zeroes to intrigue him. The second I place them on the table, he grabs them and flits through, checking if they're fake. Seeing that they aren't, he raises his brow at me as the three at my back stare in shock.
"Only the very best," I tell him.
Yoshizawa shakes her head, "This is what you made the pit stop for...?"
"Dad may've disinherited me, but he hasn't cut me off from my bank account just yet. You gonna settle for something third-rate if we ever encounter another Kamoshida?"
She blinks at me, furrows her brows; she's almost about to protest a little more, but nods and lets me go. I turn over to Sakamoto and Takamaki, and neither of them say a word. But they keep their eyes on me.
The man just stares and smiles, getting up off his seat, "Follow me."
Man brings us to the back end of the store, a large matted sheet draped over the ten-meter wide wall. Pulling open the sheet he reveals pistols, revolvers, bazookas, grenade launchers, assault rifles, shotguns, sawed-offs, and a whole host of other guns the names of which elude me. Difference between these and the ones outside is, if you look close enough, the ones outside still look like they're made of plastic.
"Collector's items. Super high quality. Manufactured in the West."
Sakamoto mutters out, "H-how much for just one?"
"Ten thousand yen for the cheapest we've got."
"What!?"
"Take it or leave it."
"I'll take one," I tell him. "The...cachef?"
"Tkachev. This here's a limited edition," he brings out a gleaming silver pistol. Thick barrel, heavy in my hands.
Everyone else pulls out their own wallets.
Takamaki says, "I think I'll settle for something more...affordable."
Guy shrugs, "To each their own."
.
.
.
Sakamoto doesn't buy another shotgun. Takamaki and Yoshizawa get their weapons, but like me they end the day with barely enough to make it through the train stops.
Sakamoto confronts me outside the shop, once everyone's bought their shit. "We can't kill him. You realize that?"
"Of course I realize that."
"No goin' too far. No threatening his host. No blowing open the Shadow's head or torture or anything like that."
I growl back at him, "This guy's at least as fucked up as Kamoshida, if not even more so. So if you're assuming we can just steal the Treasure without anything getting in our way, you've got another thing coming. I don't intend to kill him. But, hell. In the heat of the moment, if it's him or me, I'd rather it be him."
"Course you would."
"You would, too. Doubt you'd wanna die at the hands of some sick asshole who'd sooner have you salted and raped for a few bucks."
"Look, you can be a sick psycho murdering piece of shit, but that doesn't mean the rest of us have to be!"
"I didn't kill Kobayakawa," I tell him. "Probably."
"Probably!?"
"Niijima said he went to a police station. A police station that was several blocks away from his house. He lived near a highway. If he wanted to kill himself he could've thrown himself into traffic there. She suspects that I actually did manage to change his heart, that time. That the guy who ran him over was someone from the yakuza who wanted to keep his mouth shut."
Sakamoto finally shuts the hell up for the first time since I met him. Takamaki's about to say something, but Yoshizawa cuts in.
"You said probably like you're not even sure of it yourself."
I shake my head, "I don't know what to tell you. There're times when I just get so heated that I...I look at myself, like I'm watching myself from somewhere up in the sky. Like I'm not even a part of my own body. Just letting it run on autopilot. That's what it felt like with Kobayakawa."
"Why?" she asks. "What did he do to you?"
I exhale. "He planned to divert attention away from the school onto me. But once everything would die down, he planned to have you three distribute his drugs for him."
"So that's why you went into his Palace? For us?" Sakamoto growls, like he can't believe it.
"I don't know. Maybe it was for you. Maybe it was because I despised the idea of this fatass getting away with all the shit he'd pulled. Can't say for sure."
"Senpai..."
"I'm outta here," Sakamoto brushes past me. "See ya tomorrow."
He makes his way out of the alley, hands in his pockets.
Pot is on boil. This'll either kill us or it won't. If we fuck up, at best Niijima has us all expelled, at worst the yakuza will turn us into armless legless cocksleeves for the rest of our lives. No second chances. We're getting this yakuza asshole.
Who knows. Maybe Kana'll stop watching me if I actually choose to spare this guy's life.
.
.
.
6 / 4 / 2016
Told Maruki last night to delay our talk a little more. He was ambivalent about it, but willing to let it be. If I wasn't comfortable with it, etcetera etcetera, therapist stock phrases, see you again next time.
That's not to say I'm not stressed. I'm stressed like a motherfucker, but hell. I wanna get this Palace bullshit over with. When it all ends I can unload everything and hopefully form coherent sentences that mostly make sense to people who don't even know what the hell Palaces even are.
But that's for another time. The group chat in my phone is blaring.
「Ann Takamaki:」Sure're a lotta high schoolers out in the day. They must be targeting em somehow.
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」Finding specifics in a crowd'll be pretty difficult.
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」You guys where you need to be? I'm w/ @Yoshizawa down here
「Ann Takamaki:」Yup! I'm at the underground mall. @Hikawa, @Niijima, hbu?
「Kazuya Hikawa:」niijima's talking to some suspicious types already
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Huh. Good on her then
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」Let's do our best, everyone!
I've made it to Central Street about ten minutes later than Niijima did. She's already looking around the place, hoping to find any shady bastards she can use to put an end to this bullshit.
With her luck she'll be found out in about three or so seconds.
Time to get to work.
.
.
.
An hour and a half of nothing happens. Five PM turns to six thirty real fucking quick and I'm running outta options. Messages are few and far between for any sorta comfort, but from what I can tell the others don't have that much luck finding shit either.
My pessimistic ass can't help but think that Niijima's probably gonna saunter on back to us with like twelve different leads and that smug fucking smile on her face, while we're wandering the district like stupid assholes.
But in my desperation I come across some homeless-looking person I find in an alleyway. Tall guy, standing alone, large cap that hides most o' his face while wearing dark green clothes. I think he's pretty shady, so I ask for a "part-time job." And you know what he says in response?
"Hmm? Part-time job...? That some kinda code word? Got no idea what you're talking about, kid. I haven't been here long. Go ask someone else."
Fucking hell, of course not. Act on your hunch and please produce something that makes this bullshit worth it, "Can you introduce me?"
Tall guy winces, "Ain't so easy. I...only know one guy around here..."
My eyes light up like a switch flicked on in my soul, "Where is he?"
"Sometimes I see him in the alley across the way...dunno if he's there today, though. Might be near the station. Go there if you wanna find him."
Homeless guy in a train station. Shit. "Is there anything that makes him stand out?"
Guy shrugs. "Long, shaggy white hair. Pudgy face, big round nose, bigger than his eye. Scar along his mouth, like he'd been cut."
Wordlessly, I nod, pulling out a few coins from my wallet and tossing 'em to him.
Phone begins buzzing again as I push myself untoward the station.
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」U guys doin aight?
「Ann Takamaki:」Gonna try staking out the underground walkway, nothing so far from the mall :P
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」I'll check out the mall, just in case!
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Headin' to Inogami Line, from underground
「Ann Takamaki:」@Hikawa, any leads on your end?
「Kazuya Hikawa:」kind of. i'll let you know when i get there
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Where's @Niijima at
"Hikawa-san."
Niijima. Right in front of me. Both of us, at the plaza of the station, surrounded by crowds of people that don't know shit.
"You seem to be working hard," she says, and I can't tell if she's sincere or sarcastic given my biases. "Have you found any clues?"
"You first. I think I have something, but I want to know if you've got anything better."
"I haven't found any leads so far," she sighs. "Just been wandering around the place, looking for answers from people who didn't even understand the questions I asked them."
"Well, I don't have much more than you do. Homeless guy pointed me in the direction of the station. Apparently there's a guy with long and shaggy white hair. Cut along the mouth, big nose. He might have some knowledge on this whole operation."
Niijima cups her jaw, "He's probably in the underground. Let's go."
The two of us descend back into the subway station, staying rather close as we wordlessly make our way through the crowds. If you told me many weeks ago, I'd be trying to stop a crime lord with her by my side, I'd have laughed at you and pushed you into a train. If you told me she was blackmailing me to do it, I'd just push you into the train.
After five minutes of more wandering, eventually we do find this other homeless guy. Sitting atop a pile of flattened cardboard, and wearing large clothes that seem like they haven't been washed in literal decades. Bears all the features that were mentioned to me; long and shaggy hair, big nose, cut along the mouth. But what the other guy didn't mention was that he also had a rosy-red face. Not because he's drunk or because he's blushing or whatnot; he's got rashes and peeled skin all across his forehead, cheeks, and lip area, like he's been heavily sunburnt.
"What's with that scary look on your face, kid?" he grunts, his voice croaking out each syllable. "You have somethin' to say to me, just say it."
Niijima steps in before I even say anything, "We're looking for a part-time job."
"A part-time job, huh?" Guy has a knowing glance in his eyes. "Ohh, you ain't lookin' for any normal kinda part-time job, are ya."
"No, we aren't."
He makes a pssh noise, "Lady, don't go 'round lookin' all serious-like. Your boyfriend over there ain't gonna tolerate ya for very long."
Any other situation, I'd laugh at how pissed she looks at the idea of me being her boyfriend. "Can you tell us where we can get this part-time job, or not?"
"Don't do it," he growls, shaking his head at her. "Some o' my old friends have fallen victim to their schemes. This brancha yakuza is one you don't wanna get involved with. They're evil to the bone."
"Is this the one led by Sakahagi?"
Homeless guy blurts out in laughter, flecks of spit spluttering out his half-toothless mouth. "You know what they call him and you still wanna join up? Dunno if you're brave or stupid, lady."
"How do we meet them?"
He leans back into his cardboard pile and sticks his jaw out, "They'll come to ya eventually, if you go around the alleyways near here, or even just the plaza, right about...now. Mostly keen on girls, guys are useful in their own way. Just so you know who to avoid, I'mma tell you how to snuff 'em out from other people round here."
Niijima kneels down to him, eye level, "Tell us."
"They use some, weird phrases. Code words. Product is Garbage. Victims are Pigs. Whoever his cronies are, they're Flies. That's how they communicate with each other. They're relentless when it comes to teens, especially pretty young people like you two. Boss doesn't give a shit about gender, so long as ya look good in his eyes."
"Do you know his name?" I ask him. "This Sakahagi."
"No. Guy keeps his cards super close to his chest. And even if I did know I wouldn't tell you shit."
Niijima sighs, then stands up. "Thank you."
"Just disappear 'afore they see you."
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"One step forward, two steps back...," Niijima sighs. "What're you doing?"
"Reading the group chat. Try it sometime."
「Ann Takamaki:」How's it going? You found anything?
「Kazuya Hikawa:」maybe a little
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」Why don't we go over the intel we've gathered so far?
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」I'll start.
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Supposedly some guy near the accessway talkin bout some kinda *strong drugs*
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Not countin on anything but Imma check it out
「Ann Takamaki:」As for me, I heard about someone soliciting a "high-paying job" in the station plaza.
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」Strange things happening in the back alley near the arcade, apparently. Weirdos talking about snow and vegetables? Dunno if that means anything
Niijima shuffles her phone out her pocket.
「Makoto Niijima:」Hikawa-san and I have learned that apparently, they use codewords to discuss trade. They call themselves flies, the victims are pigs, their product is called garbage.
「Ann Takamaki:」Why would you call the drugs you're selling garbage? You'd think they'd come up with a better codename
「Makoto Niijima:」Its real name on the market is likely something more appealing. Also, sorry that I haven't been frequently messaging in the chat room.
Nobody responds after that.
"I'll try the alleyways," I tell her.
"Alright, I'll stick around the station plaza."
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Awful lotta alleyways in Central Street. Nobody approaches me, nobody so much as looks my direction one way or another. Save Kana, of course. A sale from suspicious types here and there, but nothing involving drugs or yakuza. Cops patrolling the streets, bitching about low pay or how nobody treats the police seriously anymore. Ignorant kids running to arcades or movie theaters or fast food restos. Probably gonna have to do more recon tomorrow, perhaps the day after.
Unless they're already onto us, and they've gotten suspicious.
Fuck.
"Hikawa-san."
Niijima arrives, meeting me in an alley leading to a small gym.
The hell? It hasn't been that long since I left her at the plaza. It's only been...an hour, according to my phone. Shit.
"Have you made any progress on your end?" she asks.
"No. I'm assuming there was no one in the plaza, either?"
She shakes her head, her lips pursed. "I've a feeling they've caught on to us by now..."
But just as she says that, I see a greasy man in a Hawaiian shirt come up from behind her, slinking over to us from the streets.
"Hey, you two got some time? I have a great job for you..." Guy sounds like how shoe polish smells, and though the creases in his callused face make him look like he's in his late thirties, he carries himself like a man in his mid-twenties. "It's real easy. Guess you could call it a delivery job."
Niijima turns to me, giving a small grin, one that's totally unwarranted given the circumstances.
"You're high schoolers, yeah?" Grease continues, "Don'tcha want somethin' more than just your allowances?"
She's handled herself well thus far. So when she decides to speak up, I'm inclined to let the cards fall where they may. "Hm... by delivery, do you mean that of suspicious materials?"
My mistake.
"Heh. You're a funny girl..."
"Actually, we--"
"So," she butts in again, "you won't answer me? Then I was right..."
She can make a pretty solid case against me for what happened to Kamoshida, but holy shit she can't confront people to save her life. Guy looks like he's losing his patience, gets all up in her grill and she stands her ground all the while, "What's up with you anyways? Why're you askin' all these questions, huh?"
"One-one-zero."
"What--?"
The both of them turn and I already have my phone out. I glare at the Grease and Niijima looks like she's surprised; Grease steps back and tries to brush it off with a smirk.
"It was all a joke... why would I get worked up over some dumb kids?" He sees my eyes, scoffs again, "Anyways, I can't hang. See ya."
"U-um," Niijima stammers, "if you don't want to deal with us, we could always go see your boss ourselves."
"You really gonna say that, knowin' who he is?" He shakes his head. "Well, I'm outta here. You guys're annoying me."
There goes our first lead in two fucking hours, "Goddammit."
Niijima says, eyes all stern, "I'm pretty sure he's part of the yakuza branch we're looking for."
I groan, "I'm amazed you figured it out."
"Excuse me?"
"You're supposed to sound like some stupid fucking kid desperate for cash. Instead you spoke like a goddamn cop. Of course he got suspicious."
Then our phones buzz. I turn away from her, refusing to see whatever kinda stuck-up stubborn look she's got on now.
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」How bout it, wanna meet up?
「Kazuya Hikawa:」bad idea
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」What's wrong?
「Kazuya Hikawa:」it's late. we've gone round the fucking place for like two hours, they'll have figured something's up by now. we should leave before they get too suspicious. report on our findings tomorrow.
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Frreal? U think so?
「Kazuya Hikawa:」best not to take any chances.
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」@Niijima senpai, what do you think we should do?
Niijima, for some reason, takes a moment to type back a response.
「Makoto Niijima:」He's right. It's best if we head home. I wouldn't put it past them to be trying to follow us even now.
「Ann Takamaki:」Alright then. How bout we meet up at karaoke tomorrow? We can talk in private and it'll be cheap after school.
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Not a bad idea.
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」I'm up for it. @Hikawa, @Niijima, are you guys okay with it?
「Makoto Niijima:」Alright.
「Kazuya Hikawa:」sure
Look at us, all arranging meetings like a goddamn thieves' guild.
"I'm sorry I rushed myself into it," Niijima mutters, lips pursed and eyes downcast. "Thank you, for sticking up for me. I'll be going now."
She heads out the alleyway, melting into the crowds.
Only lead we've made throughout the whole day and it gets cocked up by someone desperate to be useful in a mission she's got no place in. Two hour stakeout leads to jackshit on all fronts, and for as far as we've come I'd much rather have something before the end of the day.
So a brainwave hits and I'm pretty pissed I hadn't thought of it sooner. I fish out a white paper rectangle from my pocket and dial the number, huddling into a corner somewhere away from the crowds.
Jyoji Hijiri, freelance journalist. How can I help you?
"I'm from Shujin Academy. Yesterday you gave me your card. I'm willing to exchange information on Kamoshida and Kobayakawa. Are you willing to meet up tonight?"
Guy makes a Hmmm sound, That depends. You know how to get to Shinjuku, right?
"Yes. What time are you free."
I can sense his smile on the other end of the phone. Eight PM. Don't be late. I like my informants punctual. Meet me at a bar called Crossroads.
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I call Maruki and tell him I'll be late arriving home. Shift at the flower shop. He smells that something's up, but he'll save it for when I come home.
Journalists are bloodsuckers, ninety-percent of the time. Personally would rather not associate with 'em in any way shape or form, but I'm not letting today go to waste. So I fucking go to Shinjuku. I pass through the crowds, head straight for the red-light district. Even as I wade my way through the masses Kana remains by my side. Neon lights and store signs fucking everywhere, department stores, electronic stores, camera shops, cinemas, restaurants. All over the place. Online maps say Crossroads is somewhere deep in.
When I finally get there it's surprisingly quiet and calming, at least compared to the outside. Purple ambience all around. Strong scent of alcohol, of course. There's a person at the counter whom I can't quite distinguish as either male or female
"Welcome, welcome!" They're a large sort. A deep voice, strong and hardy, one you'd expect from a guy. But they wear a deep blue kimono, suited for a woman; their hair is long, goes down to the base of their neck; they wear lipstick and makeup and I'm too impatient to really process things right now, so for the sake of things I'll use "they/them" pronouns until proven otherwise. They ask, "How old are ya, boy?"
"I'm eighteen years old."
"Sorry, Lala-chan, he's with me." I see Hijiri at the counter, getting up off his seat and walking over to me. Throwing an arm over my shoulders he tells them, "He's a lead on the whole Shujin story."
"Well. Make sure he doesn't drink anything, will you? Still underaged, as far as alcohol's concerned."
"I know my laws," he coughs, "most of the time. What do you take me for, Lala-chan? He's got his whole future ahead of him. Not gonna try anything. I'm gonna borrow the seats in the back, if you don't mind."
"I'll get you both some water," says Lala-chan, shuffling over to the back end of the bar.
Hijiri stinks of booze, but judging from how he's carrying himself, he's far from drunk. Either he has high tolerance or he just stays in this place too long for his own good. When we make our way to the back, we're both in this massive booth with purple leather seats, the table wide enough for about eight people. Smooth jazz plays over the speakers and Hijiri tents his fingers like he's fucking Gendo or something.
"You said you wanna exchange information. Whatever you want me to tell you, first and foremost lemme say, just to let you know where I'm at: I mostly work for big news outlets. The Times. Maiasia News. Etcetera Etcetera. Lots of people're looking into Shujin, now more than ever. Place was never a particularly prestigious school, but it was good enough. Then Kamoshida got outed as a serial rapist, and whoever your principal was, was found to be a drug pusher. Most scoops surrounding the school are from an outsider's perspective. Just enough for little byte-sized pieces on television, where hosts ask the type of questions that get the most shares on social media. I wanna get an answer straight from the horse's mouth. Even anonymous, a single testimony can work wonders these days."
"Why do you wanna know about it so badly?"
"To be frank," he clears his throat, "there's a trend I noticed recently that nobody seems keen on covering, some reason. You read the news on all those mental shutdown cases?"
I purse my lips. "Yeah."
"So you know about how shit like this's been goin' on recently? Normal, regular people, suddenly turning mad in the blink of an eye and doing horrible shit for no reason whatsoever. Well. More often than not, victims of these shutdowns'd be found to have had some major skeletons in their closet after their little breakdowns. The whole Kamoshida situation in particular really rubs me the wrong way. Gives me a similar vibe, but something's off."
"What's off?"
"Well, Kamoshida confessed before his little stunt, when most don't even try confessing in the first place. They just run up to people, stab them, get apprehended and remember nothing after the fact. Or kill themselves before the cops can even get to them. I'd like to know more. It's all a little strange. You read enough of the news, you come to know that pieces of shit like him don't really get epiphanies. It's almost supernatural. Real intrigued about it."
"I wasn't one of his victims," I tell him. "But I can get you in contact with a few."
"You sure? Do they know you're here?"
"No."
"That's pretty cold of you."
"Thing is, you might have information we need. So as long as we get it, I'm sure that they'll be more than happy to chat it up with you about anything regarding Kamoshida or the principal."
"And you won't give me their contact info so long as I don't give you what you need."
"Correct."
"So it seems we're at a bit of a stalemate here. You need something from me, I from you. Drive a hard bargain, kid."
Lala-chan returns, silently placing a tray with two large glasses of ice water. Hijiri grabs one and downs half of it in one gulp.
"Do you know who Sakahagi is."
He lightly slams the glass down upon the tray and starts laughing, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Sakahagi. Now, why the hell would you want anything to do with that bastard? Not that I don't respect your bravery, but...well. I guess bravery's too good a word."
"I need to know who he is. Tell me and I'll give you the numbers of the people involved in the Kamoshida case."
"The hell are you gonna do if I tell you anything about Sakahagi?"
"Whatever I need to do on my end. Now, tell me."
"You're that desperate to know about him, huh?"
"Yes."
"What'd he do to you?"
"Work with my principal, to have kids from my school, run around selling drugs for him."
He whistles. "You just dropped a bomb on me, kid. Ever since he got outed, there were whispers going 'round about Kobayakawa maybe having a connection to Sakahagi. You just confirmed it. That said, where'd you get your info?"
"Part of student council. Students coming to me for help with their bad decisions."
"Well, just to be safe, I'll keep this off the record. Both you and I seem like a pair o' shady little businessmen, so I guess I'll take it easy for now. You need Sakahagi's name, right?"
"Yes."
"You're gonna lemme interview people about the shit going on in Shujin, right?"
"Yes. But they have to be kept anonymous."
"Sure, if they ask. Do we have a deal?" Stretches his hand out.
I take it. "Deal."
"Junya Kaneshiro."
"What?"
"Junya Kaneshiro." I feel my phone vibrate. "He's prolly the guy you're looking for. Not much is known about his past. But, hell. You heard about Gonzaburo Takayama?"
"I think I read his story, once."
"Yakuza fuck suffered a mental break at his own kid's birthday party. Nearly killed his own son, blew open the heads of seven of his own men, and crippled five. After that went down, suddenly this Kaneshiro piece 'a shit started rising through the ranks. Was the head of a relatively small family, subordinate to the Takayamas. After Gonzaburo died, Kaneshiro went on a warpath. Suddenly began carving his way through the goddamned underworld. In three months, dozens of yakuza patriarchs and their families, even their children, ended up getting Houdini'd all over. At least, those who didn't surrender to him on the spot. After those three months, Kaneshiro kinda reigned supreme for a bit. Then he disappeared. Then this Sakahagi seems to take his place."
"How can you tell they're the same guy?"
"No real proof on that front. But Kaneshiro and Sakahagi have the same MO. Target kids, teens. Get them all interested in making a little dough. Then as they regret their choices, threaten their families and friends and make them run their bodies dry trying to repay their debts. Throw their drug-addled, emaciated bodies out on the streets to rot, once you're done with them."
"And the cops aren't doing anything to stop him? If you know so much, they obviously must have at least some idea."
"He's an informant. That's why the cops won't touch him."
"What?"
"Most likely the case. Guy now has a pretty sizeable hold on the yakuza. Knows which people go where, who's secretly funding whom, who's stealing from whom, who's trynna get too big for their britches, who's trying to involve themselves in SIU business. So every now and again he trades info in exchange for protection. Makes sense, doesn't it?"
"Sounds like one big conspiracy theory."
"Most of the bullshit you find in declassified documents sound like conspiracy theories.
"So he's a kingpin, you'd say."
"He's a boss of bosses of bosses. Ambitous as he is ruthless, but even he knows when to draw the line. He victimizes x amount of people, just enough to further his drug running, but never x plus one. Because the instant he shows a little too much courage, they'll help fund some other stooge to take his place."
"So we can't trust the cops to take him down."
"Yeah. But who the hell trusts cops to do anything?"
I pull out a piece of paper, write down Sakamoto and Takamaki's numbers, before tossing it to him and getting out my seat. "Call those numbers."
"Take care of yourself, kid," he grins. "Hopefully I'll see you again. Preferably still alive."
I open my phone as I head out the door.
Candidate Found
Got you, you piece of shit.
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NoRoleModelz Chapter Notes: Revised chapter 23, added the whole section at the end with Hijiri.
Next time is where things gets real. Not kidding.