The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.
- George Orwell, Animal Farm
///
6 / 4 / 2016
At nine PM, I message everyone.
「Kazuya Hikawa:」Junya Kaneshiro
「Ann Takamaki:」OMG YOU GOT HIS NAME???
「Kazuya Hikawa:」hopefully
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」YOU FOR REAL
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」How???
「Makoto Niijima:」Wait, what do you mean by hopefully?
「Kazuya Hikawa:」journo at the front of the school wanted the scoop on kobaya, gave me his card
「Kazuya Hikawa:」after the meetup at shibuya i met w him in shinjuku & asked him questions about sakahagi
「Makoto Niijima:」How are you so sure they're the same person?
「Kazuya Hikawa:」kaneshiro was a yakuza piece of shit who ruined a buncha other families to further his own ambitions, disappeared after taking control of every other family that couldve stood in his way. even if they're not the same guy its probable kaneshiro at least would have a lead on sakahagi's whereabouts. they both have the same MO, and sakahagi cropped up after kaneshiro disappeared.
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」So we still have a chance!
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Holy shit, it's happening, okay
「Ann Takamaki:」LETS DO THIS
「Kazuya Hikawa:」@Sakamoto, @Takamaki, @Yoshizawa, lets meet up in Shibuya station tom. have a feeling that's where we need to be
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」Got it!
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Aight, I'll be there
「Ann Takamaki:」Way to go! We should meet up at the walkway again!
「Kazuya Hikawa:」no. plaza
「Ann Takamaki:」why?
「Kazuya Hikawa:」I think that gives us a better chance when it comes to you know what
「Makoto Niijima:」You know what?
「Ann Takamaki:」Gotcha
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Plaza then, ok
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」Alright!
「Makoto Niijima:」Should I join you guys?
「Kasumi Yoshizawa:」Sorry, senpai, you oughta sit this one out.
Honestly, I can see Niijima handling herself with a Persona. But why should I give her another chance to fuck all our progress up?
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Nothin personal. Least on my end, but yea, best not to involve yourself
Takamaki and I don't respond. Niijima herself takes a while to type in a message back to us.
「Makoto Niijima:」Okay. I'll leave it to you guys.
「Kazuya Hikawa:」we'll keep you posted.
She just sends a thumbs up emote and goes offline.
「Kazuya Hikawa:」btw @Takamaki, @Sakamoto, you're gonna be interviewed
「Ann Takamaki:」What do you mean
「Kazuya Hikawa:」guy i got info from was only willing to trade so long as he could get the scoop on shit goin on at shujin, primarily w kamoshida and maybe a little o kobayakawa. gave him your contact info
「Ryuji Sakamoto:」Fucking hell, man.
「Ann Takamaki:」Dude, at least ask us first.
「Kazuya Hikawa:」it was the only way. he has my contacts too.
Now. Back to business.
I re-enter the gun shop, a fraction of my account savings filling up my pockets. Man at the counter recognizes me from yesterday. Is a little confused as to why I would come back.
"What can I do ya for?" he grumbles; not because he's pissed off or anything, more because that's just how his voice carries his words.
"What other types of guns do you have?"
"Depends on what you're willing to spend for 'em." I show him the money from my pockets. "What are you looking for?"
"Honestly dunno that much about guns. But I did a little research the previous night. Do you have a minigun?"
"You serious?"
"So you don't?"
He grins, the stick in his mouth shuffling from one end to another, "All those zeroes, and you wanna stick to something as cheap as a minigun?"
I buy box upon box of airsoft weapons. Airsoft rifles, pistols, grenade launchers, bazookas, miniguns, and all sorts of other artillery I've not familiarized myself with yet. All kept in styrofoam and bubble wrap, each box with an Untouchable logo printed in glossy black on the front. I buy every type of weapon I can and still retain enough cash to make it on the train ride home. Guy at the counter offers to have it all delivered to my place, but I tell him it's no biggie. I tell him I have a driver, and he believes me, because of course a kid who can buy this much shit would have a driver.
The alleyway's deep enough such that I can move even further into the shadows of the buildings without anyone being able to bear witness.
Kamoshida and Kobayakawa are small fry compared to whoever this Kaneshiro's gonna be. I can take absolutely no chances. If it's him or us, it's gonna fucking absolutely be him. And if Niijima has a problem with that, then maybe I'll give her sister's Palace a visit.
So when I'm certain there's no one in range of me, when I'm certain I'm all alone in the middle of this dark, and damp, and empty alleyway.
I say my name.
I say the location of my Kingdom.
I say my distortion.
Beginning Navigation.
.
.
.
6 / 5 / 2016
9AM. Sunday. Told Maruki I'd be meeting up with friends. He decided to let me go.
Takamaki folds her arms. "I'm still pretty pissed you gave our numbers to some journalist we don't even know."
"I'm sorry. It was my only option."
She groans, "This'd better be worth it..."
Sakamoto's kept his head hung low, facing away from me. Yoshizawa's typing Kaneshiro's name in the Nav. We are all of us in the plaza, facing Shibuya crossing. Far enough away from pretty much everyone in the vicinity to the point where I'm pretty sure they won't be dragged into the Palace along with us, wherever it may be.
"Typed Kaneshiro's name in the Nav," Yoshizawa says. "It's a hit. All we need to do next is try out whatever keywords we can think of..."
"Now for the tricky bit," Takamaki exhales. "Shibuya's a place of interest for the guy, so we can assume that at least something of--"
"All of Shibuya," I butt in.
No Candidates Found
"Huh. Thought for sure that'd work."
Takamaki narrows her eyes, "You think he'd be so messed up he'd distort the whole district?"
"I mean, why not? Guy's a mob boss, we can assume he's got at least an ego."
Sakamoto groans, "How many buildings are there in Shibuya, jeez...?"
"His people go around the plaza and the alleyways of Central Street. That's where he conducts most of his business. So...," I clear my throat, "Central Street."
No Candidates Found
"Shibuya station?" tries Yoshizawa.
Candidate Found
"Wh-what!? Already!?" she cries out, half-mortified and half-overjoyed.
Palace Ruler: Junya Kaneshiro
Palace Location: Shibuya Station
Palace Distortion:
He might conduct his business in the streets, but his heart belongs to the station.
Sakamoto grunts, "Why here?"
"For one thing," I turn to the large building at our back. "All his victims come from the trains, then head out to the rest of the district. He prolly sees it as some kind of breeding ground. A land of opportunity." No Candidates Found "Goddammit."
Sakamoto puts his mouth to the phone, "Might as well give it a try: castle."
No Candidates Found
"Playground," says Yoshizawa.
No Candidates Found
"Guy likes money...so, what about a money bath?"
No Candidates Found
"Someplace he has complete control over...," Sakamoto mutters again, "a garden?"
No Candidates Found
Kaneshiro thinks of the goddamn station as something, something probably to do with money, so what the fuck else could it be but "A vault."
Incomplete Entry
"Incomplete?"
Palace Ruler: Junya Kaneshiro
Palace Location: Shibuya Station
Palace Distortion: ________ vault
"Holy shit..."
"Bank vault."
Beginning Navigation
Goddamn semantics.
.
.
.
Sure enough.
Shibuya station itself has now become a massive, pristine treasury similar in structure to that of the Washington National Bank, but about thrice as large. The staircase leading to the entrance bears steps fit better for giants, rather than normal-sized people. Pure white, pristine marble walls and pillars, untouched by any form of dirt or blemish. Not even a crack upon the walls. There are no windows, no avenues for air to even enter, the only entryway being a massive circular vault door made of pure gold. Emblazoned at the very roof of the building are the gold-plated words ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE. A flagpole stands tall and proud, bearing both a Japanese and American flag.
First other thing we notice is the smell. Yoshizawa and Takamaki cover their noses while Sakamoto tries blowing the fumes out his own. And then we hear the squealing noises and we all look down.
Everyone huddles a little closer together, until our backs touch each other's.
Ever seen a Rat King? Imagine that, except instead of rats, they're pigs. Instead of a few dozen, imagine a hundred. So many that they press against each other, against us, practically squeezing their way to wherever they need to go. Though their tails are unwound, they're kept so tightly packed they form what is for all intents and purposes a sea of pork and fat.
They make their noises, they huff and they oink and they bristle--interspersing a scream and a HAHAHA here and there--completely covered in their own shit and mud. Takamaki barely keeps her lunch down, Yoshizawa's close to fainting again, Sakamoto's grip on his shotgun's more than a little shaky and I regret trying to look directly at the pigs' heads.
They have human eyes, human noses, human mouths and human teeth. No eyelids, no brows or lashes, no lips. Not even ears.
What really gets me is the flies. Trillions of them, buzzing around the fucking place such that they very nearly blot out the sky. For some reason, none of them touch us, none of them come close, they just swarm all over the pigs and the filth like bacteria.
Suddenly, Sakamoto lowers his gun. Looking over the horizon, as if having seen something unforgettable. He walks, ever closer to the edge.
"R-Ryuji...!" cries Takamaki.
The pigs and the flies allow him to pass, but only barely so. Enough such that he trudges along, as though walking through water.
"Uh...guys?" Sakamoto says, looking over the edge. "You'll wanna see this..."
We march over to his side, the hogs bending and undulating like ripples in an ocean to let our legs through, and we hunch over to see what he sees.
The whole city, a thousand miles down below. A perfect recreation of all Tokyo. But all the lights are utterly dimmed out, and there're virtually no people whatsoever. If any single one of us were to fall from this height, we'd die from shock before we hit the ground. The whole of the floating train station-turned-bank is upon a massive, disc-shaped floating platform. Practically a mile-wide flying Roomba.
And I've had just about enough of this.
"Cover your ears."
"What--?"
"Persona."
BLAM, BLAM, BLAM
Satanael reenacts a scene from Exodus, parting the Sea of Pigs. The ocean of swine squeals as fountains of blood explode all over ourselves, a path cleared, though covered in things I didn't even know pigs' bodies held. Sakamoto follows me through the remains of the pigs, while the girls cover their ears from the sounds of dying animals. All the while the grime gets on our shoes and we all hope to finish this within the day.
.
.
.
We can dream.
NO BUSINESS NO ENTRY, says the sign above the door.
The intercom blares out, in a distorted voice almost impossible to discern unless listened to very closely: N͙͚̄͑Ŏ͙NĚ͚̤͞,̝̙̲̓̍̇ ̧̛̳̥̫̝̿̏̒͋W̢͉̿̐H̛̱̯̳̓̑ET̼̬̝̮̹͌̐̔̈͠H̢̜͎͑̆͡E̡̙̺̾̑͗R̰̗͉͒͡͡ ͓̫̥͕̀̑͑̒P̣͕̖̋̊̐͢Ȧ͍̩̥̝̽̅Ṫ͚̫̬̅͑Ṟ̛̲͝Ő̡̭̮͌̽N͓̟͐̾ ̮̃͟͞Ǫ͖͐̂R̢̢͈̝͛͋͘ ̮͇̽̒AS̯̦̜͈͊̌̌̊S͇̞͙̼̏̚͡Ỏ̭̙͔͘͘Ç̫͎̙̃́̓͠I̮̳͓̥̒̀͘͞À̜̪̑͢͞T̗͎̎͂E̳͉̐̿̀͟͟,̧̞̙̻̑͌̇̕ ͉͒S̨̜̤̰̩̍̂͒̈̿H̡̎̍͢Ḁ͎̻͊̍̈́̓ͅL͍͚̊̏L̳̜̻̯̑̀͛̏ ̢̺̆͘Ȅ̼̣̖̑͢Ṋ̨̑̅͜͜͝Ṯ̗͎̍̀͘Ę̜̳̩͐̆͞Ȓ̢̧̲͑̒̅͢ ̲̞̕͡U͇̣͈̽̄̂NL̩̠̠͚͛͂̾̄E̛͖S̛͈͍̪̏͗S ̢̍̕ͅG̲̠̊̏R̅͟A̖̋N̛̪̹͙̐͐͜͞T̡̞͑̎ED̥̩͋͘ ̭͙̪̀̉͡Á͙͓̎C̨̲͈̆̐̚Ç̛̭̟̯̿̀̍Ȩ̩́̆͒͢S͇͕̏͡S̢̢̯̱̄̋̕͘ ̪̈B͈͆Y̙̓ ̙̕T̨̪̤́͌̃̕͢H͔͖̙̻͗̋̿͒Ę̬̰̘̉̀̎̒͜ ̛̫͚̘̙̄̄̿L͖̂̏ͅO̡̹̠͂̊͞Ṟ̢͚͚̜̿͋̓̏D̨̟͆̽ ̥̦̹̄͛̎O̼̭͒͝F̬̹͊́ ̯͖͉̰͇̍͋͗̔̿Ả̧͇́LL̩̦̯̲̑͌͊̌ ̼̳̉͋̊͜TḨ̺̓͘A̱͇̽̒Ţ̠͔̫̉͒̓͊ ̛̮̯̊F̢̤̲͎͌͑͐̉L̜͈̫̾̑͗I͈͍̭͊̊̐Ê͓S̭̙̻̅͝͞.̬̺̫̻̆͋̔͋
"What the hell?" growls Sakamoto. "So it won't open...?"
I ball my hands up into fists, "He's got an ego the size of the goddamn moon. Only those who can remotely even reach him, that aren't his cronies, are people who do business with him."
"There's got to be some way..."
"It's half-past nine," I say, looking at the time on my phone. "How much time you got before your parents get suspicious?"
"'Til whenever, mom's pretty chill," says Sakamoto.
"I told my father I'd be hanging out with friends," says Yoshizawa. "I have time until about six PM or so."
"Same here," says Takamaki. "Parents don't come home a lot, so I don't really have to worry about getting an earful."
I exhale, "Okay. Let's leave the Palace. Actually go inside the station. Maybe we'll be able to teleport to somewhere within the bank, if we do so."
"Good idea," says Yoshizawa.
Only it isn't.
We four go everywhere, all over the goddamn station. In the subway, in the walkways, in front of shops and stores and entrances and exits. After that fails, we try branching out, going to Central Street again, going to the underground mall, none of it works. No matter where we go, every single time, we end up in another part of the goddamn Roomba, surrounded by more pigs. Sometimes we're close to falling off the edge. Other times we're practically pressed up against the bank itself. And it's a pain in the ass, too, because we have to always figure out a way to keep as far away from other people as possible, in one of the busiest metro stations on the planet. And for all our work, we're never able to actually make it in the fucking bank.
Three hours of this bullshit, so we make one final trip back into the Palace. We spend one more hour trying to find any open space which could lead us to the inside. No hole in the wall, no windows, not even another door throughout any other side of the building. So we're left at an impasse.
Now, of course I don't give a shit about consequences, because Satanael can just steamroll through whatever is in our way, so I try shooting the bigass vault door open. Satanael fires round after round into the gold, but nothing even so much as dents it. For a moment I'm fucking flabbergasted. Imagine, an obstacle in a Palace that can't be overcome by shredding it to pieces. But I suppose it makes sense.
By the end of it all, the vault door has been burnt and shot at and beaten and thrashed, such that if we'd done to Kamoshida's Shadow the things we've done to this one barrier, Kamoshida would have most likely attempted a far more painful form of suicide. No guards have arrived to cart us away to some dungeon. No snipers on the roof bifurcating our heads. No blaring out alarms to our presence. Kaneshiro is so self-assured of his own untouchability that anything we do to try and break into his goddamn bank falls completely flat.
"Open, you piece of shit!" Blackbeard smashes himself into the golden gate and Sakamoto's pushing himself so hard blood's comin' out his nose. "FUCKING OPEN!!!"
N͙͚̄͑Ŏ͙NĚ͚̤͞,̝̙̲̓̍̇ ̧̛̳̥̫̝̿̏̒͋W̢͉̿̐H̛̱̯̳̓̑ET̼̬̝̮̹͌̐̔̈͠H̢̜͎͑̆͡E̡̙̺̾̑͗R̰̗͉͒͡͡ ͓̫̥͕̀̑͑̒P̣͕̖̋̊̐͢Ȧ͍̩̥̝̽̅Ṫ͚̫̬̅͑Ṟ̛̲͝Ő̡̭̮͌̽N͓̟͐̾ ̮̃͟͞Ǫ͖͐̂R̢̢͈̝͛͋͘ ̮͇̽̒AS̯̦̜͈͊̌̌̊S͇̞͙̼̏̚͡Ỏ̭̙͔͘͘Ç̫͎̙̃́̓͠I̮̳͓̥̒̀͘͞À̜̪̑͢͞T̗͎̎͂E̳͉̐̿̀͟͟,̧̞̙̻̑͌̇̕ ͉͒S̨̜̤̰̩̍̂͒̈̿H̡̎̍͢Ḁ͎̻͊̍̈́̓ͅL͍͚̊̏L̳̜̻̯̑̀͛̏ ̢̺̆͘Ȅ̼̣̖̑͢Ṋ̨̑̅͜͜͝Ṯ̗͎̍̀͘Ę̜̳̩͐̆͞Ȓ̢̧̲͑̒̅͢ ̲̞̕͡U͇̣͈̽̄̂NL̩̠̠͚͛͂̾̄E̛͖S̛͈͍̪̏͗S ̢̍̕ͅG̲̠̊̏R̅͟A̖̋N̛̪̹͙̐͐͜͞T̡̞͑̎ED̥̩͋͘ ̭͙̪̀̉͡Á͙͓̎C̨̲͈̆̐̚Ç̛̭̟̯̿̀̍Ȩ̩́̆͒͢S͇͕̏͡S̢̢̯̱̄̋̕͘ ̪̈B͈͆Y̙̓ ̙̕T̨̪̤́͌̃̕͢H͔͖̙̻͗̋̿͒Ę̬̰̘̉̀̎̒͜ ̛̫͚̘̙̄̄̿L͖̂̏ͅO̡̹̠͂̊͞Ṟ̢͚͚̜̿͋̓̏D̨̟͆̽ ̥̦̹̄͛̎O̼̭͒͝F̬̹͊́ ̯͖͉̰͇̍͋͗̔̿Ả̧͇́LL̩̦̯̲̑͌͊̌ ̼̳̉͋̊͜TḨ̺̓͘A̱͇̽̒Ţ̠͔̫̉͒̓͊ ̛̮̯̊F̢̤̲͎͌͑͐̉L̜͈̫̾̑͗I͈͍̭͊̊̐Ê͓S̭̙̻̅͝͞, says the intercom again.
Sakamoto collapses as Blackbeard fades in the air, Takamaki catching him as he goes on all fours. "Goddammit...! We can't even enter the fucking place, now Niijima's gonna send out the fucking recording and our lives'll be ruined and the yakuza'll come for us and we'll get all our fucking holes resized--what the hell do we do!? "
"We can destroy her phone and laptop," says Takamaki. "That at least solves that problem..."
"Senpai."
I reply, "No, she's probably got it uploaded to a separate hard drive."
"How do you know?"
"It's what I would do. This may be the limit of what we can do today."
"Four hours of this shit and we leave with fucking nothing," Sakamoto growls.
"I'm as pissed about it as you are. But I think we've exhausted ourselves. We'll come up with something tomorrow--" and then it hits me. "Goddammit, I get it."
"What? What's wrong?" Yoshizawa asks.
"It's Sunday. Banks are closed on Sunday."
The scream that emerges from Sakamoto's mouth then, sounds more like the lows of a beast than the cries of a man.
.
.
.
3PM.
After that mess we get some food and drinks from a nearby Triple Seven and reconvene at the walkway overlooking Shibuya Crossing.
"Can we go back to that place day after tomorrow?" Sakamoto groans, biting down on some potato chips. "I'm sick of it already and we haven't even gotten in the effin' bank..."
"Honestly, seconded," sighs Takamaki.
"Sure. If Niijima's gonna be anal about deadlines I guess we'll tell her to fuck herself. Besides, we'll need some time to at least come up with a plan."
Sakamoto shakes his head, "Plan? We haven't done shit, and you're already coming up with a plan?"
"In case my Sunday theory is flawed. In case he really is such an arrogant piece of shit that he thinks nobody can come near him unless they're his cronies or his customers. If that's true, then even if we do go to the bank during the week, nothing will have changed."
"What're you thinking?" asks Yoshizawa.
"Depending on what happens in the next few days...we might need to get in contact with the real Kaneshiro."
"What the fuck, dude?" Sakamoto cries out.
"You remember the sign at the front of the door. No business, no entry. If we can't force our way into the bank, we'll have to find a way in otherwise. Wouldn't call it the easiest way in, but actually becoming a customer of his might do the trick."
Takamaki cries out, "But at that point, if we fail to steal his heart, then we're screwed. They're at least not aware of us yet as it is. If we go that far, then..."
"That's why it's a last resort. I don't intend to throw myself to the yakuza until we've exhausted every option."
"Wait," Yoshizawa stops me, "throw yourself?"
"You think I'm gonna have one of you do it?"
"Senpai, you can't...!"
"Look, I don't like it either. But I'm perfect prey. I've a criminal record, so people in Shujin wouldn't give a shit if I vanished outta thin air. I've a ton of pressure to keep my mouth shut as it is, even more so if they have me carting drugs from place to place. My dad's the head of a corporation, so I know if I fuck up the media'll be up my ass from now until forever. They'll see me as this vulnerable little shit they can use as their fucking footstool. And while they're all so satisfied with themselves, we work behind the scenes to change his heart."
Everyone looks at me like I'm fucking crazy. "Are you just suicidal?" asks Yoshizawa.
"This whole mission is suicidal. Plan's got flaws, I know that. The instant he figures something's up, it's over. But with all that in consideration, we might not have a choice but to do it, all else fails. Are you all okay with that?"
"Worst comes to worst, how'll you even get in touch with him?" asks Sakamoto. "Spent like two hours around this place and we found nothing."
Right, Niijima and I haven't told them, just yet. "His people frequent the plaza and the alleyways of Central Street whenever it hits 5PM. They harassed me and Niijima a bit. Couldn't get too much info outta him because she had all the subtlety of a freight train."
"Dammit," Takamaki exhales strongly, "I'd rather not get in contact with Kaneshiro, but...if we have to, we'll have to--"
Suddenly her expression turns bitter. Everyone shifts in the direction she's facing. Guess who the fuck approaches us.
"What do you want?" asks Takamaki.
Niijima replies, "Nothing in particular. I just saw you all together here."
"That so," Sakamoto shakes his head.
She actually looks somewhat concerned, though it's offset slightly by her tone. "You seem to be having quite a bit of trouble."
Takamaki's sick of her. Well, she's been sick of her for weeks now, but her being here and trynna force herself into this shit doesn't help. "Look, I know you wanna check up on us, but like we told you. Don't get involved."
"Senpai...," Yoshizawa pleads, trying to stop this from escalating.
But she can't stop her. "You may be the student council president, but when it comes to what we do, you're useless."
That makes Niijima pull a face that doesn't suit her in the slightest. "Useless...?"
Takamaki scoffs, "Just wait for us to do your job for you all over again. Or do you wanna eavesdrop, since you're so good at it?"
Sakamoto sighs, rubbing the back of his head, "Takamaki, c'mon—"
"So, you need to get in contact with Kaneshiro." Wait, what? "That is what you were just discussing, weren't you?"
What the fuck happened to her eyes? "No, we were just talking—" She heard only the last bit of the conversation. Way she looks at me, she thinks I'm lying to her. "Niijima, wait, what're you—?"
"Alright, fine. I'll help you get in touch with him."
Before any of us can say a goddamn thing she descends into the crowds. Immediately I fucking run after her, as does the rest of us, but there's too many people because it's fucking Sunday and everyone wants a piece of Shibuya before they get back to fucking work and holy fucking shit, Kana's been with me for the past few fucking weeks and in all that time up until now I haven't heard her laugh—
"Niijima, WAIT!!!"
.
.
.
Yoshizawa tries peering through the masses, but, "I-I can't see her! I've lost her!"
"God, what is with her!?" cries Takamaki.
"It's your fucking fault!" shouts Sakamoto. "If you hadn't acted like such a bitch she wouldn't have run out!"
Eventually, and it's a big eventually, we do manage to fucking follow her out the station, into Central Street. But right now there're too many people, so many fucking crowds for some goddamn reason, but not enough to block out the noise of my phone when I get a call.
Hello? It's me... Makoto Niijima.
Everyone huddles closer as I answer back, "Niijima, stop, what the fuck do you think you're doing—!?"
Just stay on the phone and listen. Make sure you record the call as well.
Oh my God. She heard Takamaki—I'd rather not get in contact with Kaneshiro, but if we have to, we'll have to—and assumed the fucking worst possible thing she could have.
"Niijima, that's not what we were talking about!" Sakamoto cries, grabbing my phone, "You don't understand, you don't fucking know! YOU NEVER FUCKING KNEW DON'T DO THIS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD— "
But the phone's not up to her ear anymore. Do you guys know Kaneshiro? I heard I could find someone named Kaneshiro if I came to Central Street.
We hear another voice, a masculine, hard-edged one: What're ya gettin' at?
He's blackmailing the students of Shujin Academy, is he not? Tell him if he doesn't want me talking to the police about it, he'd better agree to meet with me.
You gotta deathwish, or somethin'?
"Oh my God...! We have to find her before she gets herself killed!" Yoshizawa exclaims.
.
.
.
He says he'll meetcha. Get in.
You'd better be taking me to Kaneshiro—
He said get the fuck in!
By the time we find her we see her getting in a car that drives off before she's even able to close the door. License plate is 616-216. Black limousine. Melts into the street and for fuck's sake, of all the times for it not to be rush hour. By the time we reach the end of the sidewalk dozens of cars have passed us by and it's nearing the intersection and the light's green and she's fucked unless we can do something, can't just go into his Palace because even if we do somehow make our way in and fuck Kaneshiro's Shadow up, there's no telling how many other assholes are gonna be left in this world, with her.
And my cell taunts us all the while. Contact Sakahagi. Tell him we gotta good one.
Where are we going?
Guess we can't do anything to her if she's his customer.
Fuck. She might have actually gotten us a key into the Palace. But if we don't do shit in the next few minutes she'll be too dead or otherwise fucked up to be of use to us.
Hey, I asked a question here. Where are we going?
"Fucking hell—she's still trying to act like she's in control of all this...!" Takamaki runs her hands through her hair, "What do we do!?"
"Shit, he ignored me!" Sakamoto's reaching his arms out to the street but like three taxis pass him by without even stopping a little and he gets pissed enough to throw himself into the road— "DAMMIT I SAID STOP— "
WHAM
"RYUJI!!!"
Sakamoto's body goes ass over tea kettle, rolling over the windshield and roof of the car and back down the other end—driver fucking floors it and blares smoke in his face as we all rush over.
Takamaki tries helping him as he coughs blood and groans and seethes and a single tooth falls out his mouth and we see his arm— "R-Ryuji...!"
His forearm's flopping around like it isn't attached to his elbow whatsoever, and the pain hits him suddenly as he screams, he screams so loudly and tears flow down his eyes, Yoshizawa covers her mouth as Takamaki begins crying and he shouts, "Dammit, dammit I fucked up again! Shit, shit, shit I'm so fucking stupid—"
I raise an arm up to the rest of the street and a taxi driver actually stops by, "Takamaki, Yoshizawa, you both stay here and call an ambulance for Sakamoto."
"Senpai...!?"
"I'm gonna get to Niijima, make sure she doesn't end up a corpse on the side of the road!"
Yoshizawa tries protesting, even as Kana wraps her hair all over her neck and laughs and laughs and laughs at me, "I'm not letting you go alone!"
So I push her, I push her so hard she nearly lands on the sidewalk, flat on her back, and even as I get into the taxi she cries out "SENPAI!"
Takamaki gets her cellphone out as the driver opens his doors and he tries wasting time by asking about my friend over there but I make him shut the fuck up by shoving the Tkachev in his face and it's too good for him to tell it's fake and I tell him to follow 616-216.
I freak the fuck out for basically the whole ride because I look at my phone and realize how screwed I am.
First plan's been shot all the way to hell. I was thinking that once I'd get to wherever the fuck Niijima ends up, I'd send us all into Kaneshiro's goddamn Palace, fuck up everyone with a tattoo on their back and get myself and Niijima the hell outta dodge. But the fucking Palace Log is greyed out on Kaneshiro's fucking entry, and when I press it lo and behold!
ERROR. Currently out of Coverage Area of the Palace Location.
I open the Nyarly icon and search the folders but not a single goddamn one of them says anything about coverage areas and shit. The range of Kamoshida's Palace extended far enough such that we could access it even a block away. Sakamoto had merely said the words; we passed through a shortcut and we were able to make our way in from there. We're still in Shibuya, but we're much further away from the station than we had been back then, the day I was reintroduced to all this bullshit—whether Kaneshiro or Kamoshida or Kobayakawa or Kana I was always in relative fucking range of their places and now I'm not, because of some girl who's trying too goddamn hard to be useful.
So I make a Plan B. Once there and in close enough range of all of us I send us into that place the cat had dragged me into, all those months ago. Mementos. I throw us all in there, massacre whoever stands in my way, take their fucking cellphones and grab Niijima and hope that whatever Shadows are in that region aren't the Matador.
But GUESS WHAT!?
[ ACCESS TO MEMENTOS DENIED | ÆON NOT WITHIN PROXIMITY ]
Of course I nearly smash my cell to bits right then and there because what the fuck is an ÆON and when the hell did I need one to access the goddamn place!? What did I have back then that I don't right now!?
...the Cat.
Holy shit.
.
.
.
When I get there I throw the rest of my wallet at the driver and tell him to forget this ever happened.
It's a bar, of all places, and before I get the gumption to enter I mull over Plan C, which at worst will get us both murdered or raped or sunken to the bottom of the ocean or all at once. But hell, it's better than Plan D or E, E being the last resort of all last resorts.
A silky, calm voice emerges from the other end of the door. "So...you're seriously the student council president of Shujin. Whose number is this? Is it your boyfriend's?"
First I dial 110. I tell them about this one specific bar, that I've found the location of Junya Kaneshiro and that he's holding my friend hostage, and I hope to God I can delay Kaneshiro from whatever the hell he plans to do by just a little bit. The instant I throw open the fucking door I'm so close to losing it my left hand begins shaking. Kana's arms wrap themselves over my shoulders as I see about four yakuza motherfuckers holding Niijima down; she's wriggling, trynna fight back as best she can, and for the first time ever, I see the asshole I've been hounding for the past week and a half, sitting on a goddamn couch.
He's tall and lean, with a large enough frame for his muscle to be visible through his black suit. Half his head is completely bald, the other half bearing shaggy, long hair that goes all the way down to his back. His eyes are firm, piercing like an icepick, and black as night. A blonde girl is next to him, looking like she'd want to be literally anywhere else, and he pulls her closer as he smiles, "I'm assuming you're the boyfriend?"
I make myself strong, strong enough to try and pull this shit off, "My name is Kazuya Hikawa. I'm the son of Morishige Hikawa, head of Cybers Communication. If you let her go, I'll give you however much money you'd like. Please."
He doesn't say a word for a few moments. Though he actually gets up off his seat, approaches me. The look in his eyes isn't malicious, as much as it is hungry. His men watch as he circles me, eyeing every inch of me, he cups my chin and looks directly into my eyes and I recall what that hobo said yesterday: "Boss doesn't give a shit about gender, so long as you look good in his eyes."
He lets go of my jaw. Turns to his men. "Put her on the couch. You," he turns to me, "you stay right here. Don't move a muscle."
So I stand there like a dumbass. By the time the urge to grab him by the throat subsides, I'm able to see again; Niijima's sitting next to him, one of his lanky arms over her shoulder. His men all stand behind him, and he keeps a smirk on his face. The blond girl holds her shoulders and tries to scooch away from the guy, but not so much so that he'd notice.
Along with lines of heroin and wine bottles, there's a suitcase on the glass coffee table across from the couch they're sitting on. Kaneshiro throws it open, and I see inside what must be millions of yen. He turns to his whore on the left, "That bag you saw the other day. The crocodile one. How much was it?"
She mumbles something I can't quite hear.
"Three million." He pulls exactly that amount from the case and tosses it to her lap. "Go nuts." Then he turns back to me. "Better thank this kid. I'm royally pissed right now, can you tell? Y'know how spending money relieves stress? See this spot? I'm so pissed that there's now a three million yen gap here. Pisses me off even more if I don't fill it up. I'm a bit of a perfectionist."
Then he gets out his phone, snapping a shot of me. Makes sure to get the drugs and alcohol in the shot too. Then he shifts the camera to face himself, and he does a little V for Victory pose as he includes a distraught Niijima in the shot.
"Think I'll call this Debauchery of Minors at a Bar. So, can I send this to your school?"
Niijima cries out, "Th-that's...!"
"Fucking privileged kids, thinkin' they can just barge in like they own the fucking place. Run your mouths to the police and I ruin your fucking lives. Your families first. Can't believe I have to say that much, but hell. You'd have to be stupid to come here without a goddamn plan."
She's on the verge of tears and I'm looking for something to say, anything to keep this asshole talking long enough before the cops come and kick his ass—
But he gets his phone out, dials a number, "Akko-chan? Be a dear and notify any cops who've been sent here to turn away. Tell 'em it's strict business, as usual."
And most of Plan C goes down the shitter.
"Been in this situation too many goddamn times. I see an idiot try to be a hero for his lady love and offer to do anything to save her. Most of the time they're poor fucking bums who can't actually keep the promises they make. Can you?"
I don't say a word. He raises a hand up to one of his men, they pull up their phone. In moments they lean in, mouthing checks out, and he looks back at me.
"You know, you remind me of a guy I once knew. Let's call him Taichi," Kaneshiro says, getting up off his seat and pulling the wine bottle from off the table. "Now, Taichi was a smart kinda guy, but he wasn't no genius. Worked as an accountant for like a decade and he was damn good at his job. But surprisingly, he was absolutely terrible at saving his cash. You see, Taichi had a gambling problem, one that got so severe he eventually couldn't go a single month without a quarter of his bank account getting drained. Soon quarters became thirds and thirds became halves, until he was working overtime, day and night, to ensure his pay for that month'd be enough to sustain his family."
He starts circling around me, making some gestures here and there as he tells his story and his cronies snicker at the sight of this stupid kid and Niijima's horrified—
"Now, Taichi had a lovely wife who hated his guts. Because whenever he went out to the casino, he'd a habit of coming back with even less money than he'd entered. But she was old-fashioned, didn't believe much in divorce, so she stayed faithful. Plus, they had a son. Both of 'em loved that kid with all their heart and soul, and most of Taichi's late nights, he spent working to get that boy a better life. Then the kid died in a car accident. Got his head smushed between rubber and gravel, so bad his brains burst open across the road."
He pops open the cork off the wine bottle and downs a little bit. Exhaling, he continues his story as if nothing happened.
"First the depression set in. Then Taichi doubled down on gambling. Then he started having outbursts inna middle of the day. Every now and again, he'd see his kid somewhere, and burst into tears. Wife ended up leaving him after he punched out her eye, ended up hooking up with someone who could actually provide for her. Taichi lost his job & his house soon after. In his desperation he decided to go into the fucking drug trade. Couldn't make it in a legit business, so he went illegal. That's when a friend of his introducedhim to me. It started off so well, as most partnerships do. Taichi decided to hell with gambling, having learnt from all his financial fuck-ups, and soon enough he made a name for himself as a kickass yakuza banker. Soon enough everybody and their mother went to him for their taxes and their trust funds and whatever the hell else they needed money for. He was attending big business meetings, having sake with the bosses, all that shit. Y'see, Taichi was a smart guy. But he wasn't no genius. If he was, he'd have never had the bright idea to try stealing from me."
Suddenly he pours the wine bottle over my head, covering my face and my clothes entirely in red wine. Some of his people can't contain themselves, slapping their legs and laughing like Kana is right now.
"The day after I found out he'd embezzled ten thousand yen from my account to his, he returned home to find his ex surrounded by twenty crackheads who each got about a thousand yen richer. She was crying, bawling, screaming, because we'd shot her husband in the head not two hours prior.We held him down, kept his head straight forward. For the first hour they ran a train on her, one by one by one. Taichi begged me to stop, pleading, telling me everything he was willing to do just to let her go. But as he said this shit he puked out his breakfast and lunch and dinner, that shit got on my fuckin' shoes. So when hour two hit, I just told the assholes having their way with his wife to do whatever the hell they wanted to her. Gave 'em all the tools they ever needed. Five hours in, there wasn't an inch of her that hadn't been cut up or burnt by cigarette buds. Her face was all swelled up and purple, like a mound of clay some kid spent hours diggin' his hands all over."
I'm breathing heavily now and Niijima's trembling as she watches me hyperventilate, Kaneshiro takes off my glasses and gets a closer look at my face as he fucking continues on, "I only ever came to respect Taichi in his last moments. Throughout the whole thing he begged them to just do it to him instead of her. Even when I had his ears cut off and his fingernails torn just to get him to shut the hell up. One last time he begged me, please, please don't hurt her, I'll do anything. And I asked, anything? And he said ANYTHING!!!"
He throws the glasses down to the ground and cracks the lenses under his heel, his grip on the bottle tightening.
"And I smiled. Because Taichi's ex had a daughter, you see? Barely ten years old. We'd brought her along for the ride. I put a knife on the table right in fronta him, and I told him exactly what he had to do. One of my guys fucking lost it on the spot, said This is too far, boss, tried shooting me. Got his head vented. After all we did, even he had an idea on what too far was. Taichi kept begging me, like he had a fucking choice. But in the end, it wasn't his kid anyway. In the end, he wanted him and his ex to live. He wanted it so badly, he was willing to do anything for it. Even if he had to skin a little girl alive in order to do it. Even when she screamed and screamed and screamed. His fingernails had been torn off, yet he went at it calmly, precisely; even when he puked and pissed and shat all over himself, even when his ex begged for him to stop. People with that attitude, they're the ones who change the goddamn world. I ended up shooting him in the head anyway."
KKRSSHHH
I fall to my knees as blood and wine pours from my cracked skull. The noises that come outta my throat barely even sound like half-words and for a few seconds I can barely even see, but by the time I can again my face is planted square on the glass coffee table. Red charges and flows over the glass as Kaneshiro keeps my face pressed against it, moving my head by the hair like my head's a goddamn towel. Head's throbbing, ears ringing, I hear some of his people laughing and jeering as they see me all fucked up and Niijima's horrified and disgusted and hating herself more and more by the second--
"You, coming here and thinking you could fuck around with yakuza. Be a big goddamn hero and save your lady love from making the biggest mistake of your lives. So, tell me. What the fuck are you willing to do to save yourselves, hmm? You fucking privileged little cunts. Tell me why I shouldn't just have my fucking people saw off your arms and legs and ship you off to goddamn Afghanistan to get fucked by Arabs with an asian fetish?"
Plan D commences now. "Because you can make some good money from us without having to ship us off somewhere just yet."
He actually smiles, rather warmly, "You know what? You've got a point there." He throws me off the table. "I want to give you the usual month, but well, since you're the son of a guy running a mega-corp...two weeks. Bring three million yen in two weeks. No less. Summer bonuses are around the corner, you know. It'll be easy if you beg your mommies and daddies. Now, both of you. Get the fuck outta my sight."
.
.
.
They throw us out of the bar like dogs, having already saved our numbers into their phones.
By the time I'm able to see again I'm dragging my feet along the pavement. My skull won't stop screaming at me, like someone's taken a hammer to my brains thrice over. Something's reverberating from my chest cavity to the rest of my body and it makes me move—even as blood pours from my cranium, even as the world around me fades into blurs, even as I'm taken back to Kana's room and holding her hands in my own.
Limbs feel like wet noodles and my vision's getting blocked by the blood pouring over my eyes. Someone's grabbing my arm, their words muffled by the ringing noise piercing through my ears. When I find that my heart's beating far too slowly for its own good I realize I've been laughing to myself, laughing very loudly, a laugh that sounds like Masako's laugh, like Kana's laugh—I pull my arm away but I pull too roughly and I slip and fall flat on my face and something cracks and every time I try to breathe out my nostrils I pour out enough red to fill up a wineglass.
I start crawling on my belly like an animal, gripping the grooves in the sidewalk to pull myself forward, but I barely make it three feet before I lose the strength to even keep my head up. Takes me everything I have to just breathe, everything I'm able to see turns into triples of itself--
Get to the station. You're a customer now. Maybe the gate'll open and you'll be able to smash his world into pieces and send him straight to Hell. Rid the world of this asshole then kill yourself already like you know you want to. Except you can't, can you. Always another piece of shit, always someone out there like Kamoshida, like Kobayakawa, like Kaneshiro, like Shido—
What the fuck were you thinking, Kazuya? You'll never escape. You'll always be trapped, stuck in this shit. It's only what you deserve. To do the one thing you hate the most forever and ever and ever.
I feel someone grabbing my shoulders, shifting my body on its back, lifting my head upwards, placing a hand right on the spot where Kaneshiro had smashed the bottle—I force my eyes open and I see my half-dead body rested on Makoto Niijima's lap, blood pouring upon the hand she's using to keep my head upright. Tears gushing down her eyes, a cellphone pressed against her cheek, she's calling someone or something, probably an ambulance. By the time the call's over she's trying to stop the bleeding, pulling out a towelette from her bag, she's crying and freaking out but throughout it all she keeps her breathing steady, keeps her eyes on me, never turns away or leaves my side.
My eyes stretch wide and I grab her by her wrist.
"You wanna be useful for once?"