“There’s no way it’s just one guy…!” Hakayama yelled as he squatted down and concealed himself between the leather sofa and the coffee table.
Kurojima returned fire using the sofa’s backrest as a shield. Shiro and Benny moved away from the sofa, likely trying to approach the assailant. Those two tended to believe that as long as they weren’t standing still, it was unlikely that a bullet from a handgun would hit them. Midori would probably be hiding in the shadows of the classic cars. Even though her bald, “Magical Girl Memomimo”–tattooed head was completely devoid of common sense, Midori wasn’t reckless enough to rush into the middle of a gunfight. And Kimokawa wouldn’t have moved from the bar yet.
While Kurojima was holding the assailant’s attention by returning fire, Shiro and Benny would instantly close in and take them down. Kurojima, Shiro, and Benny could easily improvise and pull off that sort of teamwork among the three of them. Midori was incredibly useful when it came to intimidation tactics, free-for-all fights, and torture; Kimokawa was responsible for the safe and anything that required deception; and Hakayama was the coordinator who made plans and handled all adjustments. Even the underlings they had gathered were reasonably clever, loyal, and tough both mentally and physically, so they wouldn’t be crushed by the sense of guilt from committing crimes. They weren’t a particularly large-scale group, but the Scarecrows were a good team. Of all the organizations Hakayama had created up to then, they were the strongest, most nefarious, and best at making money.
The assailant stopped shooting for a moment, then immediately started up again.
“Aaaah…?”
Without thinking, Hakayama dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms. The gunfire didn’t stop. And the time between each shot was so short, it was practically continuous. It wasn’t from a handgun.
“A machine gun…?!”
“It’s a submachine gun! An MP9…!” Kurojima couldn’t return fire, either. Even the firearms fanatic likely hadn’t been subjected to such a barrage before. Of course, Hakayama hadn’t, either.
“This is Japan…!”
The natto in his head formed strings as it stretched, sticky and foul-smelling. Was Tohru Hakayama going to die that night?
He was going to get killed because of natto. Death by natto. He couldn’t accept that. He didn’t want to die yet and couldn’t stand the idea of natto being the thing that killed him. Hakayama crawled along the ground and stuck his head out from behind the sofa.
The gunfire stopped.
“Benny…!” Hakayama yelled in triumph. Shiro wasn’t closing in on the assailant, but Benny had just slashed through their Ruger MP9 submachine gun with Yamanbagiri Kunihiro, putting so much force into the swing of his sword that his right knee made contact with his chest.
Benny immediately tried to decapitate the assailant but was unable to, likely prevented by their cervical vertebrae. However, he immediately pulled his sword from their neck and stabbed it into the assailant’s chest. Knowing Benny, the sword had probably gone straight through their heart.
“Ugh!” the assailant grunted, finally making a noise that sounded like a voice. A man?
Benny put his right foot on the man’s abdomen and kicked him over, pulling out Yamanbagiri Kunihiro. Bright red blood poured from the wound like a small fountain, albeit one that instantly lost its momentum.
“Who is this guy?” Benny asked, flicking the blood off his sword and lightly kicking the assailant’s left leg. The man didn’t even twitch.
Hakayama stood up, and Kimokawa also stuck his head out from behind the bar. “Does it matter, Benny? Everyone and everything’s the same if you kill them…”
“Ba-ha-ha-ha!” Midori laughed and jumped onto the hood of one of the classic cars. “Your balls’ve probably been on the line too many times to remember, huh?! What kinda balls we talkin’ about?! Y’know, those ones you’ve all got! The sorta kind I don’t have! I wanna get me some!”
Kurojima sat on the sofa and put bullets into the clip of his Glock 17, while Shiro had adopted a fighting stance.
“I really wanted to beat him to a pulp…,” he said, sounding discontent. But just when he went to throw a punch in the air—
The assailant abruptly got up, holding a pistol in his hand. It wasn’t the MP9, of course, which Benny had slashed through. The assailant must have had another gun he’d drawn at some point. When had he done that? In fact, Benny hadn’t just cut through the MP9—he’d also cut down the assailant. Or rather, stabbed him to death.
He should be dead. Benny had stabbed him in the heart, and the assailant had died. Yet despite that, the assailant pointed his gun at Benny and fired. Three rounds: one each in the stomach, chest, and forehead.
“Kah…” Benny might have been trying to say something. He’d started to speak, but only managed to get out that one syllable. Even before Benny’s body hit the ground, the assailant was down on one knee and turned to aim at Shiro. The bullets tore into his face.
I’ve died once, but I’ve gotten rid of five people so far…
Sousei aimed and fired at the head of the short-haired underground fighter, whose name he remembered as being Shiro or something. He let off two rounds.
Number six.
He wasn’t able to grasp what exactly happened the moment his shots hit their mark, but the one thing he knew for sure was that Shiro hadn’t died instantly. Sousei hadn’t felt that familiar thump reverberating in his body.
“Hraaah daaah yaaarh…!”
Still, Sousei had never expected Shiro to leap at him and yell incomprehensibly. Would anybody really take two bullets to the face and still try to come at you with a punch?
Is this a cheat…?!
Sousei was flustered, but his body moved by itself. He didn’t run away; he counterattacked. He still had his gun readied, so all he had to do was shoot at Shiro, who was coming straight for him.
“Drgh, dah, brgh—”
Sousei stopped Shiro’s charge by putting another two shots in his chest. The wounds were obviously fatal, but his opponent only staggered without going down. However, it wasn’t some kind of cheat. Sousei hadn’t received any information like that, and he’d figured out the reason the headshots hadn’t killed Shiro.
His teeth…!
He had false teeth? It looked like they were made from metal. Sousei saw himself reflected in Shiro’s incisors, which had dents in them from his first two shots.
“Benny! Shiro…!” someone shouted. The voice came from the sofa, likely Tohru Hakayama. This job was to wipe out the Scarecrows criminal organization, but above all, he had to make sure he took down the Big Five lieutenants and their leader, Hakayama.
Still, I can’t try to rush this.