Chapter 100

Mori watched in silence as the young man bowed to him with utmost deference. The Mafia boss’s smile was unlike any other that had appeared on his face. It was neither mysterious nor suggestive but an ordinary smile that anyone makes when they’re happy. And then he simply replied: “I’ll be counting on you.” This concludes the details of the recruitment of Port Mafia executive Chuuya Nakahara and former Port Mafia executive Osamu Dazai. The organization flourished under Mori’s new leadership. They established an economic foundation and skillfully formed mutualistic ties with the Japanese government, making it difficult for any judicial branch to lay a finger on them. Catastrophe struck one year later when war broke out among every illegal organization in Yokohama in what is known as the Dragon’s Head Conflict, the bloodiest incident in the history of the Yokohama underground. Nevertheless, the Port Mafia survived the ordeal with minimal casualties and was therefore able to expand its territory on the whole. The other organizations’ weakened states helped the Mafia to establish the solid framework of its current system of rule. Furthermore, Chuuya’s tremendous achievements were a great boon to the organization, granting him access to Randou’s old files even before he was officially installed as an executive. Further information regarding Dazai’s and Chuuya’s actions to uncover the conspiracy behind the now-defunct research facility will be included along with Chuuya’s origins in a separate report. This concludes the report on the Arahabaki Incident. This document shall be subject to the exclusive jurisdiction of the Home Affairs Ministry Classified Materials Office No. 9. Any external distribution and unauthorized viewing are strictly prohibited. DOCUMENT NUMBER: I-41-90-C PORT MAFIA SKILL-USER REPORT, ARAHABAKI INCIDENT ANALYST: ANGO SAKAGUCHI, DEPUTY DIRECTOR TO THE COUNSELOR HOME AFFAIRS MINISTRY, SPECIAL DIVISION FOR UNUSUAL POWERS SUPPLEMENTAL DOCUMENT DOCUMENT NUMBER: I-41-93-A ANALYST: XXXX XXXXXXX SENSITIVE DOCUMENT DESIGNATION: TOP SECRET The Port Mafia never sleeps, no matter how deep into the night. That evening, its headquarters were submerged in darkness at the center of Yokohama’s Demon City. The guards stationed on its top floor were the Mafia’s most exceptional and loyal members, even among the organization’s many capable soldiers. And the leader’s office, also located on the top floor, was its own impregnable fortress. No one could get inside without permission. Not even the faintest light could sneak its way in. Standing in front of the office were two guards. The leader wasn’t there at the moment, so they were merely protecting an empty room. Nevertheless, they both looked highly alert. No matter where they were or who they were up against, they would carry out their mission without their emotions getting in the way. Only the mentally strong were entrusted with such a task. Their silent watch saw no conversations—not even a single cough. That was when one of the guards heard a faint sound: a feeble clink even softer than the buzzing of a fly. It was so faint that one could miss it among the sound of their own breathing. There was no telling where the noise was coming from, but the guard who had been standing in complete silence for hours still picked it up. He strained his ears and kept his gun at the ready. “What is it?” “Do you hear that?” he asked his colleague while focusing on his surroundings. Once again, he heard the sound: a clink followed by papers being flipped through. No way anyone could miss it. The other guard readied his submachine gun. There was no one on the top floor during those hours aside from the guards. The building was tightly sealed to keep out even the lightest of drafts, meaning the sound they heard couldn’t possibly be from the wind or any other natural source. Before them was a long hallway; behind them, the leader’s office. The hallway was empty…which meant… “The office…?” The guard audibly tensed. Using only his eyes and hands, he signaled his colleague to open the office door. His colleague took out the key chained to his wrist and proceeded to unlock each of the three keyholes one at a time. And then…he threw open the door. There was a tall silhouette in the room—a young man with long arms and legs, standing with his back to the moonlight. He looked up from the documents in his hand and asked: “What took you so long?” “Freeze! Who are you?! How did you get inside?!” the guard shouted, his gun pointed at the intruder. “‘How’? What a strange question. I just walked through the front door, right past you.” The guard looked furious. Both he and his colleague had remained fully alert the entire time they were watching the door. Not even an insect could have gotten past them, much less a person. The young man calmly smirked, his tall figure bathed in the moonlight. He was as graceful as a bow; every one of his movements was somehow magical. His high-quality suit the color of the midnight sea was without a single wrinkle. He looked like a film star or perhaps a fanciful, ancient Nordic god. “I came to do some reading. This in particular,” the young man revealed while holding up some documents. They were the same files Mori had showed Chuuya that day—the data Randou had gathered on Arahabaki. “It was quite the read, especially this passage the agent added here: ‘Randou’s former partner, the spy Paul Verlaine, perished in battle following his betrayal.’ He really did lose his memories, huh? Because as you can see, I am definitely not dead.” “Put the documents down. Resist and I’ll shoot,” the guard warned, submachine gun still at the ready. He then pressed the device hidden in the lining of his clothing to alert the security office of an intruder. Usually, an alarm would immediately sound throughout the entire building and every passage would automatically be closed off. But nothing happened. “Oh, sorry if I got your hopes up. That isn’t going to work. I had everyone in the security office take the rest of the day off—and I don’t think they’ll be coming back.” The case to the building’s electronic master key was lying by the young man’s feet. The guard noticed it was stained with blood and immediately realized what had happened: The other guards were already dead. “I was genuinely hoping there wouldn’t be any bloodshed,” said the young man. “After all, I didn’t come here to fight. I merely stopped by to pick up my dearest friend’s last records—these files—along with this hat that got left behind in the changing room.” Before the guard even realized it, the intruder had a black hat atop one hand. It was the hat Mori had given Chuuya. “This is your final warning. You have five seconds to surrender, or we’ll shoot,” the guard cautioned, although nonetheless prepared for inevitable bloodshed. Normally, killing an intruder was a last resort. It was better to capture them alive and force them to share what they were doing here and who sent them. That was simply how things worked in the Mafia. But this intruder was different. That much the guard could tell from his many years within the Mafia’s darkness. In fact, the intruder was deeper than darkness itself. He was most likely a skill user, which meant the normal rules of combat didn’t apply to him. The only predictable skill user was a dead one. That was why the guard warned he would shoot in five seconds. It was Mafia code to open fire without waiting even a second, much less five. Fire, the guard silently urged his colleague. However, not a single shot followed. He looked curiously over to his side to see his colleague standing stock-still, gun pointed. He was missing his head. “Wha—?” The guard’s jaw dropped. Mental alarm bells ringing, he reflexively pulled his gun’s trigger. But he couldn’t—his index finger was lying severed on the floor. His weapon had been severed as well. Then his severed hands and arms fell to the floor, followed by his torso, his legs, his jaw, nose, and skull. Only his thighs to his feet remained standing in place as if nothing had happened. There were no screams—just two unnaturally silent deaths. “Phew. What a relief. It would be tactless to ruin this perfect moonlit night with gunfire.” The intruder smiled calmly. He placed the stack of papers back on the desk, then walked to the window at the other end of the room. The pale moon was shining through. “Where are you, Arahabaki—Chuuya Nakahara?” the young man wondered aloud as he gazed out the window. “I owe you for killing my partner—no, my former partner—for me. You’ve apparently grown much stronger. But not to worry. I’ll be with you soon.” He placed a hand on the window, which was made with reinforced laminated glass to protect the Mafia boss from snipers and anti-tank guns. It was even heat and shock resistant. “The calamity that breathes—the god with a beating heart—Arahabaki, you are alone. Nobody can ever understand you. You are neither a god nor a human. You will simply struggle amid your fellows before dying with nothing but your own embrace to comfort you… That is, unless you come with me.” The young man gently twisted his body and thrust out one leg. In technical terms, it could be described as a kick, but the movement itself was far more elegant; it was as silent as the unfurling of feathery wings. The ball of his foot appeared to draw a line through the air before shattering the window into pieces. Shards of inch-thick reinforced glass fell to the street below like countless drops of glittering rain. “It was a long wait, but the time has finally arrived, Chuuya Nakahara.” The young man’s eyes wavered with the moon’s silvery glow. “I’m coming to get you, my dear younger brother.” He donned the black hat and gently leaped out the window. His body was swallowed by the darkness below before eventually disappearing. All that remained was the sound of the gentle evening breeze. The curtain of night… The clusters of shadows piled one atop the other… The innermost depths of Yokohama’s long night were utterly unknowable. To be continued in Storm Bringer