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Chapter 15
Street Samurai
Akagi sprinted through the bustling streets, expertly dodging and weaving through the sea of pedestrians. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he neared the imposing twin doors of the Spook House. Reaching out with both hands, he grasped the door handles and pulled with all his might, but they refused to budge. He pounded on the door, his voice thick with desperation. “Shiori!” he yelled, frustration mounting.
Through the intricate wooden ornamentation surrounding the glass, he caught a glimpse of the light in Shiori’s office. “He’s in there,” Akagi muttered, his heart racing. He clenched his fists, a frown creasing his brow. “He must hear me, too. You jerk.” His gaze drifted to the nearby alleyway. “I’ll show him.”
Akagi scanned the crowded streets one more time, ensuring no one was watching him. When the coast was clear, he slipped down the alley, clutching his computer bag tightly. As he approached the back door, he eyed the digital lock warily. “Now let’s see,” he murmured, placing his hand on the keypad. Using his palm, he pressed each key in a specific sequence. The LCD screen flashed an access denied message.
His frustration intensified as he tried again, only to receive the same message. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath. He repeated the sequence once more, but this time, the access denied message remained on the screen. Akagi stepped back, a smug smile playing on his lips.
Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a scowling Shiori. “What do you want, little brat?” he growled, the alarm blaring in the background.
Akagi’s laughter bubbled up, a joyful contrast to the tense situation. “I knew the alarm would go off.”
Shiori’s face reddened with anger as he shoved Akagi against the wall. “You little punk, I’m busy.”
“Nah,” Akagi replied nonchalantly, pulling his computer from the bag. Shiori loomed over him, his expression a mix of curiosity and annoyance. “You’ll drop everything when I show you what I have.”
“We’ll see,” Shiori growled, his interest piqued despite his frustration.
Akagi’s fingers danced across the keyboard with practiced ease as he sat at Shiori’s desk, his laptop open before him. Shiori paced the floor restlessly, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he posed a question. “When was the last time you saw Mitsura Okabe?”
Shiori frowned in displeasure, irritation simmering beneath the surface. “A couple of days ago,” he recalled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why? You got some compromising pictures of him or something?”
“No, it’s more than that. I received a communication from the inner Okabe family council.” Shiori cast a sideways glance at Akagi, engrossed in his work on the laptop. “I got into their D-Link servers like you asked.” This revelation raised Shiori’s eyebrows, piquing his interest. “That wasn’t Mitsura you saw the other day, even though you might have thought it was. You saw a digital construct of him.”
Shiori halted his pacing, confusion etched on his face. “What? Are you talking about holograms? Is he sick or something?”
“Nope, I’m afraid not,” Akagi replied matter-of-factly. “He’s dead. Half of the council is dead, from what I can tell.” He swiveled the laptop so Shiori could view the open letters he had collected. As Shiori adjusted the screen, his eyes widened with fascination. “Good work?”
As he continued to read, a sinister grin spread across his face. “Damn good work! Akagi, do you realize what we have proof of? This completely changes everything.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Akagi’s smirk remained. “Mmmhm, the only thing I can’t figure out is who’s behind all of this. I keep hearing someone referred to as the High Priestess or the Empress. The High Priestess died about a year ago. Who is this new Empress?”
Akagi couldn’t help but feel uneasy when Shiori’s interest intensified; the look in his eyes was predatory, like a vicious wolf sizing up its prey. Yet, there was something undeniably thrilling about it, too. “How about a game?” Shiori proposed, excitement lacing his voice. “My little prodigy, this will be fun. Let’s bring this ‘Empress’ into the light.”
Shiori peered out of the window of his high-rise apartment, his gaze lingering on the cityscape below. The reflection of his television flickered in the glass, drawing a smile to his face as he watched a live news broadcast. A cluster of ministers and officials had gathered around a podium, awaiting Mitsura’s speech. The morning sun cast its rays upon the city, reflecting off the towers and casting shadows on the streets below. He took a deep breath, his face a picture of calm anticipation.
Mitsura took his place at the forefront of the crowd, bending the microphone closer to his mouth before beginning his address. His hands moved gracefully, punctuating the air as he articulated Okabe’s vision for the future. Minutes ticked by, and then it happened. Shiori’s grin widened as the sun glinted in Mitsura’s eyes just before he vanished – the hologram deactivated in front of the bewildered onlookers. The speech halted, and chaos ensued.
Suddenly, the news station cut to black. Anchors scrambled to explain the bizarre turn of events, their faces etched with horror and confusion. A satisfied whisper escaped Shiori’s lips as he reveled in the chaos he had unleashed: “I win.”
The city of Blue Ash stretched toward a crystal blue sky, its shining silver towers glistening in the sunlight. Solenne rode her white and blue police tricoa through the sunlit streets, the easy flow of traffic reflected in her digital HUD as she wore her crisp uniform.
“Another relaxed morning,” Solenne mused to herself. She shivered as the shadow of an overpass momentarily cloaked her in its cool embrace. As she emerged from beneath it, the expansive view of the city unfolded before her, leading up to the imposing police station of Blue Ash City. The building housed both the regular police force and the special defense police (SDP), with the latter occupying the rear section.
Upon her arrival, a gentleman at the entrance greeted her with a warm smile. “Good morning, Miss Solenne.”
Solenne bowed in response. “Morning, Walter. You look rather rosy today.”
A light blush tinted his cheeks, and he stammered, “Well, it’s always a bright day when I see you.”
With a smile, Solenne passed through the automatic glass doors and into the police station. Its sterile white walls and pristine interior resembled a hospital, a stark contrast to the vibrant city outside. As she navigated the hallway to her office, she exchanged subtle greetings with fellow officers.
Upon settling at her desk, Solenne surveyed the tray of paperwork awaiting her attention. “So much for an easy morning,” she muttered, her mood dampened. She promptly started typing her usual daily reports when a young man’s voice caught her attention.
“Hey, you got it too,” he said, a toothy grin spreading across his face as he leaned against her office door. “I got swamped this morning, too. Apparently, there was a lot of activity on the south side of town. Lots of missing persons. Not to mention that whole thing with Mitsura Okabe being missing.”
Solenne’s heart skipped a beat at the news. “Mitsura is missing!?”
“Apparently, they’ve been using a hologram for his public appearances. Just got released this morning. No one knows what the hell is going on. The media department is going absolutely nuts trying to handle the situation. It’s going to be a long day.” The man took a swig of his coffee.
“Seems like the workload doesn’t get any easier,” Solenne groaned.
“It’s damn near a crisis,” the guy agreed, his gaze falling to the ground. “Heh, well, I’ll let you get to it.”
“See you, Joji.” Solenne turned her attention back to her keyboard, letting out a deep breath as she braced herself for the day ahead.
A few hours later, Solenne found herself with a stack of papers to file. She methodically organized them into a large binder, her thoughts a mix of relief and weariness from the day’s work. Opening the binder, she reached for the first page and lifted a stamp from its inkwell. With a firm press, she left a red mark on the page that read “SDP Class 7” before removing the wooden rectangle.
Clutching the binder, Solenne walked down the long, sterile hallway and entered a room filled with towering file cabinets and humming computers. The scent of paper and machine oil filled her nostrils as she approached one of the large white machines. Balancing the stack of papers atop the machine, she withdrew her badge and placed it onto a small glass screen. The machine beeped in response, granting her access.
Solenne’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she hastily scanned each page, one after the other. Her focus intensified, her eyes flicking across the screen as she reached the halfway point. She paused, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching her. Satisfied that she was in the clear, she added a set of files to her print load with a clandestine air.
With a racing heart, Solenne resumed scanning the rest of the documents, maintaining an outward appearance of normalcy as she tried to quell the mixture of excitement and anxiety that coursed through her veins.
“You actually got them,” Apricot exclaimed, a huge grin spreading across her face. Solenne handed the folder over, her expression sheepish.
“I feel so dirty,” Solenne groaned.
Apricot shook her head reassuringly. “Don’t worry.” She flipped through the pages in the manila folder. “It’s not like these aren’t publicly available. It just would’ve taken me forever to get my hands on all this info.”
Solenne tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “Why are you writing about the ruling family? Did you know about Mitsura’s disappearance?”
“No, that came as a shock to me. But the Okabe family has interested me for a long time. They’ve been here since the feudal era. It’s not often we preserve a rich history like theirs.” Apricot’s eyes remained glued to the files until she stumbled upon a gruesome photo of a person torn to pieces, their organs splintered and stretched. Her eyes widened, and she looked up to meet Solenne’s solemn gaze.
Solenne frowned. “That’s the detective you asked me for information on. His file was tampered with, but that’s a picture of his autopsy. There was no way to reconstruct the body.” She sighed. “According to reports, it hit the department hard. It was before my time, but I can’t imagine if someone I worked with turned up like that.”
“What did the report say happened to Detective Long?” Apricot’s voice trembled, a lump forming in her throat.
“You’ve got all of it in that file.” Solenne’s lips pursed into a down-turned frown. “What have you got yourself involved in, Apricot? You’ve been acting strangely lately. I don’t like it. This isn’t a simple investigation. Talk to me.” Apricot’s heart tightened as Solenne’s firm fingers gripped her shoulder. “I’m worried about that neural agent you were exposed to.”
“Neural agent?” Apricot retorted, her confusion evident.
“How can you forget? You were at ground zero during the market attack!” Solenne’s voice rose, exasperated. “See, this is what I’m worried about. It’s not normal, Apricot.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes filled with concern. “I’m worried enough about Arjun. I don’t need this from you, too. Tell me what’s happening to you, Apricot.”
Apricot responded, the words feeling colder than she’d intended, “I’m just doing my job, Solenne.” The words stung, and Solenne withdrew her hand, turning away.
“Whatever, just get some help or figure things out,” Solenne said, her voice strained as she walked toward the alleyway. Apricot longed to reach out to her friend, but her body refused to cooperate. Solenne stopped and, without even a glance, said, “I don’t want to know why you needed those files, and don’t tell me. This is the last time I help you, though.” The sound of her heels clicking on the pavement grew more distant as Apricot watched her leave, a sinking feeling settling in her chest.
“Why are you sulking?” Shiori asked, his eyes studying Apricot as she walked into the Spook House. She tossed the file down in front of Shiori and Cortez, who sat on stools at the bar. Cortez raised his beer glass to his lips and took a sip. “Well, you pulled through after all.” Shiori laughed. “That’s my girl.”
Apricot settled onto the stool next to Cortez, resting her arms on the counter. “So, you two are friends?”
“Hardly,” Cortez replied. “I’m just here for this meeting. Think of it as a favor for helping me out. I heard you had a good run-in with a phantom.”
Apricot shrugged. “Fifth one this week. Shiori, I really need a day off.”
“We’ll see.” Shiori snatched the file and quickly skimmed it. “I see you have the locations I needed.” He paused. “Hopefully, from here, I’ll find some of their lesser-known shrines. If they don’t turn up anything, I’m lost. Cortez filled me in on your background. Oh, and I didn’t find your monster. It must be lurking deep within the depths of that place. Under the city, licking its wounds.” Shiori placed the folder on the table and leaned in close to Apricot. “Dear, you never answered me. What’s up with your long face?”
“Shut up, Shiori,” she groaned, turning her back to the bar. “Just let me worry about my own problems.”
“So, what do we do now?” Cortez inquired.
Shiori smirked, his eyes gleaming. “We don’t do anything. After looking through these, I’ll make a shortlist of places to explore, and then we’ll arrange to investigate them. For now, the two of you should carry on with your lives as if nothing is happening.”
“Tch,” Cortez chuckled. “Right, as if nothing is happening. I’ve got some ghost clown from who knows where telling me the world is going to end if we don’t stop it. My boss has turned into a damn beast. Sounds perfectly normal to me. The gang is probably after me if there’s anyone left. Some demon spawns from hell are crawling all around while everyone seems oblivious, and the nobles are in on it too. Yeah, real damn normal, Shiori.”
Shiori shook his head. “The ‘Okabe’ nobles are in on it.”
“Hell, what’s the difference? They’re the only nobles who matter here, anyway. The damn province is named after them.”
Apricot laid her head down on her arms. “Taking a rest sounds good. Seems like we’ve been doing a lot of getting nowhere. I mean, how many of them have we killed? There’s no end to them.”
“For now, but if I’m right, and Claw Fingers was right, we’re about to turn the tide in this little war of ours.” Shiori placed a glass next to Apricot. “Here, have a drink and get yourself home for some rest. Cortez, do yourself a favor and get some rest too. I think both of you could use it.”
Apricot was engulfed in the city’s pungent aroma, a blend of sulfur and sweat. As she entered the bar, the rain dripping from her coat, Togashi stood behind the counter, polishing a glass with a knowing smirk. “So the investigations were fruitless?” he inquired. Apricot scratched her head and slumped onto the bar, her mind brimming with frustration. “Eh, we have a saying in our home country. Rain comes when rain comes. A path opens eventually.” Apricot nodded, though she lacked any interest in hearing Togashi’s sayings at that moment.
Truth be told, the group had been investigating the Okabe family for weeks, and they still hadn’t uncovered any concrete plans. The family’s tracks were almost entirely hidden, as if they had no involvement whatsoever. As Apricot pondered this, she wondered if they were being misled for some nefarious purpose. There were still plenty of monstrous phantoms to contend with in the city. Apart from Shiori uncovering hints of an internal coup, there was nothing concrete to base any conclusions on. But perhaps that was a blessing in disguise.
Resting her weary head on the redwood bar, she glanced over at Cortez, who lay on a red leather couch, face down and eyes closed. “How long has he been here?”
Togashi looked up and gazed in Cortez’s direction. “All day. Sleeping, I think. Is he homeless?”
“No,” Apricot replied, though she hadn’t considered that possibility before. In the aftermath of Cortez’s encounter with Genova, he seemed to have turned over a new leaf. The group didn’t exactly trust him, but he tolerated Shiori for the most part. He had even joined them on several occasions. Moreover, he had won over Sumai and the rest of the group, but that was a story for another day. “Hey, Togashi, grab me a drink.”
“Drink, you? That’s new,” Togashi remarked, his face a mask of puzzlement.
A weathered groan escaped Apricot. She considered several sassy retorts, but decided against adding to the tension. She was all too aware of her frayed nerves. “Well, a lot has been changing lately.”
The twin doors to the back room swung open, and Shiori emerged. His gaze immediately found Apricot, and his face lit up with a smile. “Oh, you arrived. I thought I heard you,” Shiori chirped. “Well, did the shrine turn up anything?”
“We’re in the dark, Shiori,” Apricot sighed. They had searched seemingly endless shrines, places of worship, altars, and old stone statues, encountered trees of peculiar shapes, and met people with odd appearances—all to no avail.
“Could be worse,” Cortez snorted as he roused himself, stretching with a long yawn. Shiori made his way over to the back of the bar next to Togashi. “We could have normal lives with nothing to do.” Apricot rolled her eyes at the unrelenting sarcasm, though she was guilty of it too. Stress seemed to bring it out in her, like scraping for a touch of humor just to lighten the mood, even if sarcasm was its most desperate form.
“Where are Sumai and Junko?” Shiori asked.
Togashi poured a shot of amber liquid. “Sumai and Junko are out hunting,” he replied, handing the drink to Apricot. “Checking out the lake monster rumor.” She downed the shot in one gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste. She swallowed and drew in a breath to quell the burning sensation. Shiori shot Togashi a glare that could kill a man. “I gave her something light. It’s floral honey bourbon,” he said defensively.
Suddenly, the entrance doors slammed open with a bang, startling everyone in the room. A man in vintage warrior attire strode in, his steps purposeful and determined, like those of a soldier. “You two better get out of the way,” Shiori warned Apricot as she and Cortez stood up. From the corner of her eye, she saw Togashi draw a pistol, cocking it with a click.
Apricot and Cortez retreated to the back of the room as Shiori’s footsteps seemed to echo throughout the space, amidst the dull chatter of oblivious patrons. The stranger’s booming voice demanded everyone’s attention. The murmurs died down as the odd old soldier turned to Shiori, who had positioned himself in front of the bar. Apricot imagined the man smirking behind his black mask as he said, “Master Kinjo, I have a message from our lady Kyo.” As the man bellowed, “Au revoir,” Shiori grabbed a metal baking sheet from the counter to shield his chest and stomach. Two black submachine guns appeared at the soldier’s side and, in an instant, they erupted in a deafening roar, peppering the makeshift shield.
As Shiori rolled over the counter, he released the pan and took cover. “Why are you running?” he asked. The soldier advanced, guns hanging from tethered cables, and cackled, “Accept your fate!”
“Run, Shiori,” Togashi ordered as he fired another volley of bullets. The soldier danced, dodging the bullets with impossible grace. Apricot watched in awe as the man moved; the surrounding chaos seemed to slow to a standstill. He was beautiful, like something from a movie. But as he flicked his wrists and retrieved two metallic tubes from within his sleeves, reality crashed back in. He tossed the tubes toward the counter, launching them into the air with a fluid motion he had practiced countless times before. Togashi grabbed Shiori and pushed him away from the twin objects just as they bounced and landed about a foot away. The resulting explosion shattered the counter into a thousand shards, and Togashi tumbled over the debris.
“You have interfered in the Okabe family’s affairs for the last time. Your punishment is death,” the man declared, grabbing a gun from his side and firing again at the table. Shiori rolled out of the way and returned fire with a heavy pistol.
“What the hell! Apricot, move!” Cortez growled, seizing her arm. His sudden, firm tug jolted her out of her trance. “We have to go!” he shouted, practically dragging Apricot with him. As she watched Togashi fire a few more shots at the man, she noticed that the bullets seemed to avoid him. Togashi fired another round, and it struck a nearby table. Observing the bullets curving away from the man, Apricot realized the assassin was somehow bending their trajectory. He leaped from the balcony to the ground below. “Foolish Kinjo stray!” he taunted before unleashing another barrage of gunfire. Shiori narrowly escaped being hit as he moved back behind the smoking counter.
Apricot and Cortez took cover behind an ornate wooden pillar. “Cortez, take action!” she ordered.
Cortez shook his head. “That’s an assassin. I hear they’re specially designed for such things. To hell if I’m going to get killed. If we leave him alone, we might make it out of here alive.” Just then, the anti-fire system activated, dousing the room with a steady stream of water.
“Lady Kyo has gone mad. What the hell is she up to? A war!” Shiori shouted at Togashi.
Hidden among the black iron cafe tables, Togashi called back, “Sir, it would be wise to run.” A few bullets ricocheted off the table, leaving dents.
As Shiori’s back was illuminated by a flash behind the wall, Apricot gasped. Memories of the cloaked troopers at the bank flooded her mind. “Shiori, behind you!” she warned. Before he could turn from the ruins of the counter, the static grip of the assassin’s hand found his throat.
“Your execution is now!” the attacker declared, slashing his knife across Shiori’s neck.
“Master Kinjo!” Togashi cried, leaping to his feet.
Shiori grappled with the attacker’s arms and hurled him onto the countertop, effectively hanging him. A spring-loaded blade shot out from Shiori’s boot, and he kicked the soldier in the head. The dagger sank deep, tearing through flesh and bone, leaving behind a sickening squelch and crack. Glancing down, Shiori realized his foot was buried in the man’s skull; his brain reduced to a mangled lump.
“Shiori!” Apricot cried, rushing across the debris-strewn floor to him. His eyes, wild like a feral beast, met hers as he raised a hand to his bleeding throat. She had never seen such a look from him before; it wasn’t human. “Are you alright?” she screamed. Shiori simply grinned as he looked back at the man.
“He thought he had me. Probably died thinking it, too.” He glanced up from the bloodied corpse. “Funny thing. I got dermal sheathing in my neck,” he remarked, poking the hole to reveal metal plating. “My father insisted,” he snickered nervously. “I thought it was a touch over the top. Guess I was damn wrong about that.”
Cortez snorted. “You had trouble there.”
“When they’re not allergic to silver… I don’t fare so well in the fighting department.” He turned his head as he walked past Apricot and Cortez toward the shattered glass bottles. “Well, I got to get myself patched up, and then I got some cleaning to do. Would you two care to show yourselves out? Togashi, can you take me to the black clinic?”
As the chaos died down and the threat was eliminated, the group knew they were far from safe. Lady Kyo’s actions had only intensified the danger surrounding them. They had to stay vigilant and prepare for the war that was now undoubtedly brewing within the city.
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