This could not be unrelated to the rumor about them investigating salvagers. It even made him wonder whether that man had known this would happen from the very beginning. “Well…” The blue-haired girl tried to answer, but she suddenly narrowed her eyes and unsheathed her gun. She aimed at the man in the bulletproof vest she had sent flying at the start of their encounter. “Yahiro…Narusawaaa…!” the man roared as he glared at him with bloodshot eyes. His muscles bulged in an unusual way, immediately blowing away his bulletproof vest. “You were still conscious?” The blue-haired girl pulled the trigger, mercilessly burying a bullet in his forehead. Her shot was mechanically precise. The 9mm bullet pierced his skull, lethally damaging his brain…or at least it should have. “Oooooh!” The man did not stop moving. His entire body was drenched in his own blood as he howled, joy on his face. His eyes shone brightly as he glared at Yahiro. “What’s…going on…?” Yahiro unsheathed his knife on instinct. The man looked like an entity full of deep-rooted loathing, like a Moujuu…or worse. “He took the F-med!” The blue-haired girl’s eyes locked onto the man’s neck. A cylinder two inches in diameter was injected into his left carotid artery like a syringe. The liquid inside it was red like wine, most of it already flowing into the man’s body, granting him supernatural vitality. “Rosy, get down! It’s a Fafnir soldier!” The orange-haired girl kicked off from the ground and leaped toward the man. Her small body deftly put his arm in a hold, her whole weight bending it in an unnatural direction. A crack echoed, but the man paid no attention to his broken arm and swung it to send her flying. “Giuli?!” the blue-haired girl screamed. “That was spooky!” The orange-haired girl spun in the air and landed on a wall like a cat. She jumped to the ground like it was nothing, then distanced herself from the bloody man. He wasn’t even looking at them; he held his broken left arm high above his head, and, with a cracking sound, it started distorting. Solid scales covered his skin, thorns jutting out of it like knives—exactly like a giant reptile’s forelimb. “Yes… This power…! I could easily kill Moujuu with this power!” The man bared his teeth in a twisted smile, clenching his clawed fist. Then, suddenly, his glare turned to Yahiro. “You… What is that smell?!” The man bellowed in a hoarse, hard-to-make-out voice before jumping right at him. Yahiro’s reflexes couldn’t keep up with his supernatural strength. The man thrust his left hand, broadly slashing the left side of Yahiro’s chest with his claws. But then he started shrieking in pain as Yahiro’s blood splattered on him. “Oh, so you’re the Lazarus… Lazarus!!” “Guh?!” The man’s claws slashed at him yet again, but Yahiro stopped the attack with his bare arm. He clenched his muscles to keep the claws buried, preventing further action from the opponent. Then he stabbed his knife, drenched in his own blood, into the man’s shoulder. “Gwoooh!” The man cried out like a beast. He swung his bulging and swollen left arm around to try and force his claws out. What followed, though, was unpredictable even to Yahiro: The man’s arm snapped off his shoulder with a dry sound like a twig cracking. ““Wha…?!”” both of them exclaimed in unison. Recoiling, each of them stumbled backward. Yahiro rolled on the ground before hurriedly standing back up and reflexively holding up his knife, but then he gasped in shock. “This… This is nooo…thi…!” The man’s body was melting. His body had swollen up three times bigger and was turning slimy black, like pus. He could not control the chaotic multiplication of his body’s cells. He no longer looked human. Soon enough, it went beyond its physical limitations and burst like a balloon, splattering rotten fluid all over. It was a grand death. A theatrical collapse. Yahiro could do nothing but stand and watch, aghast. Silence returned to the college ruins. Yahiro breathed out softly after hearing movement behind him. He returned his chipped knife to its sheath and stood up. He locked eyes with the twins. “Care to explain?” he asked, suppressing his irritation. “Yes, of course. We came here for exactly that,” the blue-haired girl answered with a pretty smile and empty eyes. 4 “Wait, Giuli. We must first check that there are no traps.” “It’s fine. Look, the door’s not even locked. We’re coming in!” The orange-haired girl entered the lab before Yahiro could even try to stop her. Her eyes rounded in amazement at the sight of the clearly inhabited room. “Hey, Yahiro Narusawa, can I take this? It looks yummy.” She grabbed a can of food with keen interest. Yakitori with soy sauce—a rare sight for non-Japanese people, perhaps. “Do whatever you want,” he replied before handing her a camping fork. “And just call me Yahiro, okay? No need to say my last name every time.” “Okay. Then you call me Giuli. Rosy’s Rosy.” “…Call me Rosé at the very least, please.” The blue-haired girl sighed in reluctance. Giuli and Rosé. He had figured out they were sisters just from this short exchange. “We’re from Galerie Berith. Merchants,” Rosé told him. Yahiro’s shoulders remained tense as he frowned slightly. Galerie was the French pronunciation for gallery, if he recalled correctly. “Galerie… So you’re art dealers?” “Indeed. Officially, at any rate.” “Officially…eh?” Yahiro smiled awkwardly. Guess they’re frank, if nothing else. So they were in the same business as Ed. The shady business of selling off the art pieces and antiques left behind in Japan. It made sense why they had crossed into the 23 Wards to meet him, then. “I am Rosetta Berith. My cute little twin over there is Giulietta. We came here to make you a salvage request.” “Cute little twin, huh?” That supposed to be a roundabout way to say you’re cute, too? “So you want me to go get some goods.” “Yes.” “Why me, though? There’re other salvagers out there, right?” “One of the reasons why is because you are a surviving Japanese person. We believe we should get help from one in order to get the goods in question.” “Do I gotta solve a Japanese riddle or something?” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. The nation of Japan had fallen the moment most of its citizens died off. There was no one to keep its culture and language alive, and all of its leftover assets were flowing out abroad. The only remaining value of the Japanese people was as a piece of history. If there was something only Yahiro could help with, it would be to solve some sort of special code only a Japanese person would understand. “Oooh…so you’re good at riddles? That’s amazing!” Orange-haired Giulietta’s eyes lit up. Yahiro felt awkward at that reaction. “I’m not good or anything. I was just asking.” “Oh… Pfft. Boring.” She puffed her cheeks like a sulking child. Yahiro ignored her and turned to look at Rosé. “So what’s the other reason for hiring me?” Rosé’s lips curled up mischievously. Her eyes were fixed on the slash on Yahiro’s shirt, where the monstruous guy who took the F-med had attacked him. The wound beneath it had entirely vanished. “Because you are immortal… The Lazarus, Yahiro Narusawa.” “…?!” Yahiro gasped in shock. He immediately tried to pretend to be unfazed, but it was obviously too late. He had no reliable partners or support. His immortal body was his only weapon. The enemy always let their guard down the moment they thought he was dead—and that was his chance for retaliation. He had to outsmart his foes, who were superior in strength, to survive, whether they were Moujuu or human. But the trick didn’t quite work if the secret was out. He had concealed the truth about himself up to this moment. Not even Ed, whom he had known for a long time already, knew about it. And even if silly rumors about an immortal, cursed Japanese made the rounds, no one seriously believed them. Rosé’s tone, however, made it clear she was sure of it. “Laza…rus?” Yahiro repeated. He hadn’t heard the word before and was strangely intrigued by it. “Germanic mythology tells the story of the hero Siegfried, who killed a dragon and bathed in its blood to obtain an immortal body… I wonder how you became the Lazarus.” Rosé tilted her head sideways. Yahiro felt his expression freeze upon hearing them casually mention the dragon slayer’s legend. Rosé narrowed her eyes, gazing at him with glee. “Do tell, Yahiro.” 5 “This is so tasty. It would go great with some liquor. Do you have wine here somewhere?” Giuli broke the awkward silence while still chewing a bite of yakitori. “I do not. Aren’t you too young for that? Just drink some water.” He hurled a bottle of mineral water at her. He’d gotten that from the university’s emergency stock. There was more than he could ever drink left over. Giuli grabbed it without complaint; then she inexplicably puffed up her chest in pride. “Oh, you got that wrong. In my country, you can drink from age sixteen.” “And where is that, exactly?” “Where was it, again, Rosy?” “Belgium. Though that is only our official citizenship, for convenience’s sake,” Rosé answered blandly. She always appeared expressionless, but her gaze turned soft whenever she looked at her sister and responded to all her stupid questions without ever seeming annoyed. “So what’s Lazarus mean?” Yahiro asked Rosé, anxiety leaving his face. “It’s the name we use to refer to those who can come back from the dead. It’s got no special meaning, but it comes from the Bible’s Gospel of John… Ever read the New Testament?” “Never.” “Me neither.” Giuli shook her head and also replied in the negative. Rosé wasn’t expecting her older sister to answer; her expression soured, but soon enough she sighed in amusement. “Oh, so you’re not denying you’re immortal.” “You’re here because you know I am, aren’tcha?” Yahiro replied with a grimace. He had no idea why, but Rosé was already absolutely sure he was immortal. He figured it would be pointless to try to feign ignorance. “Bummer. If only you had denied it, I would’ve gotten to slash your throat open to check whether you were lying or not.” Giuli, still munching delightedly on yakitori, pointed the fork at him. Chills went down his spine. He couldn’t react even to that simple motion until it was over. He would have died at least once had she been serious. She was certain of this, even, which was why she said it—a twisted way of telling him she wasn’t interested in actually doing it. Or at least that was how he took it. “Who told you about me?” he asked Rosé again. “The mercenaries watching over you on your mission to retrieve Kuyo Masakane were our underlings,” she replied in a monotone. Yahiro nodded slightly, unable to hide his discomfort entirely. He felt sorry about letting them die, despite the two watchmen being nasty cretins who looked down on him for being Japanese. “So you were our clients?” “The drones we sent with them recorded your battle against the Moujuu. You received lethal wounds that should have killed you instantly, but then your body quickly regenerated.” Rosé observed his reactions intently. Giuli, on the other hand, stared at the now-empty yakitori can before clearing her throat. “We were looking forward to meeting you. We’d heard about a cursed Japanese salvager who always came back from the deadliest of places.” “And what, exactly, do you want this cursed Japanese guy to get for you?” he asked bluntly. Rosé’s reply was short: “The Kushinada.” “…Kushinada?” “Ever read the Kojiki?” “The whole country went under before I could finish compulsory education, okay? Don’t expect me to be very cultured.” Yahiro looked away grouchily. The Bible was one thing, but hearing that these foreigners knew more about Japanese culture than he did was nothing short of humiliating. The J-nocide began four years back, when he was still a first-year middle school student. He had survived on his own ever since. There was no way to even hope for a decent education. There were many books left behind for self-study, but he had to prioritize what had more practical use, such as foreign languages and electrical engineering. He hadn’t gotten around to studying history yet. “I know the name, at least. It’s a goddess of Japanese mythology, right?” “Correct. She was the medium chosen as a sacrifice to Yamata no Orochi, the Eight-Headed Dragon.” “A sacrifice…for a dragon…” Yahiro’s cheeks tensed up unconsciously. Rosé’s bangs swayed as she nodded ominously. “Do you know why the 23 Wards have been quarantined?” “Because they’re full of Moujuu?” “Yes. Moujuu have a ninety-times higher chance of emerging here than elsewhere. Kyoto and Nara are considered high-ratio spots as well, but the 23 Wards still have a ratio ten times higher than those.” “And many of them are strong to boot. You’d hear about entire armored corps falling against a single Moujuu a long time ago,” Giuli added with a smile. A long time ago…meant barely three, four years back. Troops from all over the world rushed to Tokyo to gain control of the former capital, and they all suffered great losses. As a result, the 23 Wards were sealed off and labeled a quarantine zone that belonged to no group. “You knew all that and still came here? You’ve got guts; I’ll give you that.” Yahiro sighed. Two small girls stepping all alone into the Moujuu-infested 23 Wards. The height of insanity. Giuli seemed pleased, however: “Hear that, Rosy?! He praised us!” “I was being sarcastic!” “Fair enough. Even here near the border of the 23 Wards is dangerous enough compared to other places, but yes, we judged that we’d be able to make our way through.” Rosé answered calmly as Yahiro frowned at them being unfazed by his comment. “Still, we don’t plan on going any farther than this. The Moujuu become more and more dangerous the closer you get to the center, don’t they?” “They do.” Yahiro nodded bluntly. Although within the 23 Wards, around the areas of Tama, Suginami, Nerima, or even Setagaya and Ohta, which faced Kanagawa prefecture, there were relatively few Moujuu. The emergence ratio was barely five or six times that of the so-called buffer area, which included South Saitama and West Chiba. Meanwhile, closer to the city’s center, you had emergence ratios a hundred times higher. Not even a salvager like Yahiro dared approach the area of the Yamanote Line. No matter how good the pay. Rumor had it that no one had seen Tokyo Station and made it back alive—and this was all too real. Yahiro understood it very well. “That is why we’re here with you, Yahiro Narusawa.” “Excuse me?” “We’ve identified a group of Moujuu banding together around the ruins of the Tokyo Dome, in what used to be Bunkyo. Various kinds gather there, and they appear to be expanding their domain.” “Moujuu…are forming herds? And you’re saying different types of them are living together?” That can’t be. He shook his head. Moujuu were unclassifiable monsters, detached from the laws of nature’s kingdoms. Except for those who appeared as colonies, Moujuu of the same kind rarely emerged at the same time. He had never heard of them establishing groups on a large scale, let alone doing so in mixed species. Rosé, however, kept on talking calmly. “We believe they have a leader.” “Is Kushinada the name of that leader?” “Yes,” the blue-haired girl affirmed. Yahiro pressed his lips together. If what Rosé said was right, then this Kushinada specimen would certainly have immense value. No wonder these so-called merchants showed interest in it. “We don’t know how Kushinada is taming the Moujuu, but if we can figure that out, it could lead to developing the technology for it.” “A way for humanity to control the Moujuu? Sounds like that’d make a killing,” he said sarcastically. Rosé did not deny it. “On the other hand, if we let Kushinada run free, the Moujuu herd under its control could become a threat to humanity.” “A threat to humanity, huh…?” He huffed. Didn’t sound like an improbability. The Moujuu were dangerous monsters, and the only reason why they hadn’t yet become a danger to the rest of humanity was because they only emerged independently. So long as no one intruded on their territory, they generally wouldn’t actively attack humans. Which was why the UN had sealed off the 23 Wards and was satisfied with that one precaution. Things changed if they were grouping up, though. Their numbers would only increase as long as they didn’t fight among themselves. No one had yet confirmed that Moujuu ate like other living creatures. But no one could guarantee they would never run out of food, either. And obviously, if the food they had within the 23 Wards ran out, they would look for it outside. The chances of them being able to cross the seas and attack other countries wasn’t zero, either. Capturing Kushinada before that happened was reasonable enough. Even more so when they knew its powers would rake in the dough. “You’re asking me to go retrieve this Kushinada?” Yahiro asked, indisputably wary. “Can you?” Giuli raised her head with great expectations. “’Course not. There’s already enough wild Moujuu just after the former Yamanote Line. You want me to go against all of them?” “Right.” The elder twin shrugged. “We don’t intend to make you go alone.” The younger twin spoke seriously. “Operation: Kushinada Hunt will take place in two days, led by the military corporation Raimat. Galerie Berith plans on joining, so—” “We want you to show us the way.” Giuli interrupted Rosé with an impish grin. “You want me to be a tour guide?” Yahiro furrowed his brow. Showing the way wasn’t a salvager’s job. Surely they could use GPS or drones; what was the need for a guide? Rosé saw through his doubts and shook her head. “Capturing Kushinada will be a joint operation among four PMCs hired by Raimat. The idea is we should cooperate, but each troop will be acting independently.” “First come, first served, pretty much.” Giuli’s big, catlike eyes shone bright with competition. The participants were employees and contractors for private military companies; despite it being a joint operation, each of them would naturally prioritize their own interests. One could already foresee them trying to outwit one another. “You have experience entering the 23 Wards. I think you should know a safe route where we would come across the least Moujuu. And you also know about their nature and weak points. We want you to share that knowledge with us and guide us to the Kushinada’s territory. Faster than any other group.” Rosé finally revealed their true aim. On top of his achievements as a salvager, Yahiro, as a Japanese citizen, would know the land of Tokyo from before the J-nocide. He could make full use of the signs written in Japanese and other details foreigners might look over. There was no one better for the job. This also explained why Rosé and Giuli had been attacked by PMC mercenaries, called operators, when they met. A competing firm didn’t like Galerie Berith trying to gain an advantage in the operation. Had the girls never come, perhaps their competitors would have killed Yahiro without him knowing why. Still… “Sorry, but no. I can’t bear responsibility for other people’s lives.” He declined right away. “You should understand why, seeing as the guys today were your employees. I just happen to be hard to kill; I’m not strong enough to protect other people from the Moujuu. I can’t promise I could get you all safely to the center of the 23 Wards.” “Don’t worry about the two who died today. It is their own failing for ignoring your instructions and underestimating the Moujuu,” Rosé said, monotone. Even though her intention was to absolve him of guilt, he felt her response to be too apathetic and heartless. Giuli then tried to cover for her sister, smiling awkwardly as she rested her head on her hand. “We told them they didn’t need to follow you so closely… They got greedy after finding out about the treasure.” “And you need not worry about our survival. You can even run away by yourself if danger arises. But you should know that, in case you don’t agree to guide us, then there is no doubt our chances will drop considerably.” Rosé spoke as though it wasn’t her own life she was talking about. Yahiro was at a loss for words. The blue-haired girl spoke the truth. He wasn’t strong enough to protect them from the Moujuu, but he could show them a safer route. That would bring their chances of survival up, even if only slightly. That did not change the fact that their plan was reckless, however. What was the point in doubling or tripling their chances of survival when they were one in a hundred thousand to begin with? “I don’t care what you say; I can’t take up a job that risky.” Yahiro stood his ground, hoping they would give up on this Kushinada operation. He did not expect what Rosé would say next. “Even if your reward was intel on Sui Narusawa?” “What…did you just say?” Yahiro felt as though the blood in his whole body started flowing backward. His throat tightened, and his lungs forgot how to work. His brain froze up at the sound of that name—a name he hadn’t forgotten for a single day since that fateful occurrence four years ago. “I heard the reason why you haven’t left the 23 Wards is because you are looking for your baby sister. That most of the money you make as a salvager is spent gathering information on her whereabouts.” “You know where Sui is?” He drew nearer to Rosé. She shook her head softly. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” “Tell me!” Yahiro reached out to grab her by the collar, but immediately his view of her icy grin turned upside down as severe pain hit his shoulder. “—?!” “You can’t do that, Yahiro. You’ve gotta lead us if you wanna know.” Giuli giggled from above him, and he felt the hard press of the floor against his head. He could not tell what had happened, other than the fact that Giuli was now pinning him to the floor. “Let…go!” Yahiro struggled to let himself out of her grip, but she only pushed down harder on his right shoulder. How was she hiding this much power in that tiny body? It felt like resisting only made her stronger. “Huh, Rosy’s right. The Lazarus’s power only activates when you’re wounded. Dislocation doesn’t entail loss, so you’re not regenerating.” “You…asshole…!” “Hey! Watch your hands! Rosy, are you seeing this? He’s totally grabbing my boobs!” “You’re the one holding my hand to your chest!” He protested the slander. She had his arm in a hold from behind, easily restraining his right arm against her chest. The softness was unmistakable to him even through the pain; he had to be careful about making any move. “Let it slide this once, Giuli. I am sure this moment must be the happiest in his entire life,” Rosé said in an annoyed tone. The only clear difference between the identical twins was, in fact, breast size. Giuli was quite well-endowed despite her small frame, while Rosé’s bosom was perfectly flat. Perhaps therein lay the reason why her glare turned more hostile after the subject was brought up. Absolutely unfair, however, for Yahiro to be on the receiving end of it. “This should tell you that there is no need to worry about our safety.” Rosé sighed while gesturing to her sister to let him go. The weight on his back eased. Freed, Yahiro stood, holding his right shoulder, while Giuli unapologetically giggled her way to the sofa. Giuli was certainly a better fighter than him; he had to give her credit. There was no need for him to try to protect them, and they did not want his protection in the first place. “So will you guide us to the Kushinada’s den?” Rosé asked. Yahiro returned the glare, then asked: “Do you…really have intel on Sui?” “Yes.” “If you’re lying, I will dedicate my life to making you pay.” “That’s quite the threat to make while knowing you’re the Lazarus, huh?” Rosé smiled, not a trace of fear on her face. She then took a photograph out of her chest pocket and threw it at Yahiro. “What’s this?” He grabbed it right before it touched the floor. It was a printout of a photo taken by a hidden camera. “Consider this your advance payment. Not a clear picture, but still.” Rosé didn’t sound intent on explaining any more. Yahiro turned it around to see the picture. It had a lot of grain, perhaps taken in a dark place. It showed a medical stretcher in an underground room, no windows. It had a sinister design to it, like a coffin, and on it was a girl, restrained by silver chains and connected to countless tubes. A sleeping girl, like a doll or a corpse—Asian. Yahiro knew that girl. “Sui…,” he muttered. His eyes widened in shock, he intently scrutinized the photo. It wasn’t dated, but even then, he knew this was a recent picture, no older than a year. “Your sister…Sui Narusawa is alive. For now.” Rosé spoke dispassionately. Yahiro did not answer; he could only stare at his sister’s picture, aghast.
Chapter 3
22 min read