Natto? Did I hear that right…?
Sousei suppressed the excruciating pain that seemed like it was going to tear his body apart, picked up his Ruger LC9, and stood slowly. The black car nearby seemed old yet well maintained, and it had distinctively shaped headlights. It was probably a sports car called the Fairlady Z.
Sousei peeked out slightly from behind the car’s low roof and looked around the inside of the factory.
Hakayama… Where is he?
The sofas, Sousei’s intuition answered. Hakayama likely hadn’t moved since Sousei had broken into the factory. He’d bought time by having his accomplices fight back, probably wary of getting shot from behind if he made a bad attempt at trying to flee. He seemed to be waiting for something.
Hakayama and his group had originally intended to hold their meeting at another location but had changed their plans several times. The old sheet metal factory they were in was located outside the city limits, and although a quarry and a sawmill were nearby, there was very little traffic at night. They were apparently owned by a businessman Kimokawa had dirt on.
Sousei had snuck into the factory through the back entrance and taken care of the four people who’d been on guard duty.
The front shutters had been closed, and an abandoned bus, a prefab shack, and three parked cars were sitting by the entrance. There had been two people in the abandoned bus and more inside the prefab shack. If Sousei had dealt with them first, he would’ve been noticed by the four people at the back door as well as Hakayama and everyone else inside the factory, so there was a high probability his attack would fail. So instead, he’d decided to come through the back door and quickly massacre Hakayama and everyone else. He could deal with the people at the front of the building afterward, and even if they escaped, they were just underlings. If the lieutenants and their leader, Hakayama, all disappeared from the world, the Scarecrows would collapse.
What Hakayama must desperately want right now…is a scapegoat, a sacrificial pawn, or just someone he can use.
The back door burst open, and a man wearing a down vest peeked in. His face was covered in piercings, and he had no eyebrows. He was holding a handgun.
“Mr. Hakayama, what’s— Huh…?!” The man with the piercings took in the terrible sight and pulled back the slide on his handgun.
“Kenchi, how many people are left outside?!” Hakayama shouted. He didn’t show himself, but he was likely hiding behind the sofa.
The pierced man he’d called Kenchi readied his gun and looked around restlessly.
“Right, uhh, six, including me—”
“Gather everyone! And call for backup! Don’t move from there! Is anyone else nearby?!”
“Oh, yeah, outside.”
“Get them inside now!”
“Hey, everyone! Get in here!” Kenchi called out. Sousei firmly gripped his Ruger LC9 and used the roof of the Fairlady Z to aim. His target was quite far away, but Sousei didn’t often miss if he took careful aim. He squeezed the trigger.
“Gah…!” Kenchi staggered. The bullet had hit him in the chest, but he wasn’t dead. He leaned against the open door, managing to prop his body up.
“Kenchi!”
“Kenchi…!”
Multiple shouts could be heard from outside. That was when Hakayama poked his face out from behind the backrest of the sofa. He was looking toward Kenchi at the back door.
Sousei aimed and fired at Hakayama. When his first shot hit the sofa, Hakayama promptly concealed himself again. Sousei moved toward the back door as he fired a second and a third shot. The impact of his feet against the ground passed through his groin and seemed to explode out the top of his head. It caused him an extraordinary amount of pain, transforming into a fury that directly fueled his violent desire to kill.
God, it hurts. It hurts so bad. Ow ow ow ow. Die. I’m gonna kill him. Owww, damn that hurts! I’m gonna kill them all!
A potbellied man came in from the back door and tried to drag Kenchi outside. Sousei shot at him twice with his Ruger LC9 but missed. He was out of bullets, and the gun’s slide stayed locked open.
Potbelly carried Kenchi outside. A first, then a second and a third man, all carrying guns, rushed into the factory to take their places.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!
Sousei hid in the shadow of a car and took a stun grenade out of his backpack. The men approached, firing their guns, and Sousei let out a breath. He pulled the pin out, threw the stun grenade toward the back door, and closed his eyes. He saw a flicker of a flash behind his eyelids. The screams from the group mixed with the sounds of the explosion.
Sousei opened his eyes and glanced at the men panicking in the smoke by the back entrance, then he set his sights on the sofa. He didn’t run but walked quickly, which didn’t hurt as much. The pain wasn’t bad enough to kill him, at least.
He thrust an empty magazine into his pocket and loaded a new one into his Ruger LC9. The thump sound rang out in the center of his body. Kenchi had probably taken his last breath.
A coffee table that looked like it was made from marble sat between the two large leather sofas. Sousei went to the nearer of the two sofas and walked around the back of it, then the side, but there was no sign of anyone.
Remaining calm, he looked around the inside of the factory. Then he got down on one knee to check under the coffee table. And there he was.
A down jacket. Slim-fit pants. Slightly messy, combed-back hair. Hakayama was lying on his side with his body raised slightly, though not so much that he’d bump his head on the table.
They made eye contact.
Hakayama was holding his gold Beretta. His entire face was drawn tight, a cold sweat drenched his body, and the muzzle of his Beretta shook. Even like this, would Hakayama still pull the trigger? Needless to say, Sousei would.
They might end up shooting each other at the same time—not that Sousei minded if that happened. Even if Hakayama’s bullet hit first, it wouldn’t be a big problem. If possible, Sousei would prefer to be killed in one shot, but it was probably better not to set his hopes too high. The end result would be the same, in any case.
Hakayama made a small squeak, then steadied the gun with his left hand. He was lying on his left side, so by lifting that arm, his head hit the underside of the coffee table, making him lose his balance slightly. It didn’t seem likely Hakayama would be able to shoot first. Sousei started to pull the trigger of his Ruger LC9.