Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 1 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER II 

11th 

Returning home late, I face my inkstone in silence. 

Though this is a day I will never forget, I will not inscribe it in my notebook. 

No matter how difficult the trial, no matter how great my disgrace, I must laugh. 

But for now, there is only silence. 

I read the paper at my desk at the office. The news has been chaotic all morning. Sensational reports flood the television and Internet. 

MISSING YOKOHAMA VISITORS FOUND DEAD 

DID A PRIVATE DETECTIVE AGENCY’S MEDDLING LEAD TO THE VICTIMS’ DEATHS? 

And then there are the images—the white gas, the suffering victims, and me, grabbing on to the cage. It’s only a matter of time before the pictures make the front page of the newspaper. The agency’s phone has been ringing off the hook all morning with no end in sight. So far, they’ve all been complaints, but it won’t be long before the victims’ families begin to call us to threaten legal action. To make matters worse, we still have no leads as to where the remaining seven missing persons are. 

Who took the pictures the moment the victims were killed, and why make them public? 

The phone on my desk gives a teeth-grinding trill. I reach for the receiver, but Dazai promptly snatches it up and puts it back in its cradle. The ringing stops. 

“Looks like this is exactly what the enemy wanted, huh?” Dazai says cheerfully. He’s carrying a photo in his hand. “If it’s any consolation, this is a really good picture of you.” 

I silently try to take it from him, but he nimbly lifts his arm into the air before I can. 

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? You look awful.” 

“…No. There’s work to be done.” 

“Wow. You’re not gonna take a day off even after all this? You know, someone threw a rock at me on two separate occasions while I was trying to come into the office today.” 

I look outside. A few protesters have been standing in front of the agency, causing a ruckus since morning. There will undoubtedly be even more tomorrow. 

“‘Take a day off’? Have you lost your mind? We have a mission of utmost priority: Find the criminal behind this.” 

“Well… Yeah. You’re right,” Dazai agrees with a blank look on his face. 

“Where’s Miss Sasaki?” 

“She’s in the infirmary getting examined by Dr. Yosano. Sounds like she’s gonna be okay.” 

“Let’s pay her a little visit.” 

I get out of my chair. Miss Sasaki is the only known victim to have had contact with the murderer and lived to tell the tale. We can probably figure out who the perpetrator is if we can learn how they’re kidnapping everyone. 

I casually look down at the picture before following Dazai into the infirmary. You can clearly see my face in the pictures along with Miss Sasaki’s and the victims’, but the most of Dazai you can see is the tail of his overcoat. How was he able to avoid the secret photos? 

“I’m sorry… I really wish I could help you, but…” 

Miss Sasaki helplessly gazes at the floor. 

“I’ve always been prone to illness, and I’m anemic, which causes me to faint every now and then. I was feeling especially ill the day I was abducted… I passed out at the train station, probably from the anemia.” 

In that case, I guess she wouldn’t have any idea how she was abducted. However… 

“Then that would mean someone abducted you in the midst of the confusion after you passed out.” 

Kidnapping someone in the middle of a place as crowded as Yokohama Station would be impossible. Carrying an unconscious woman would draw even more attention. Either there are multiple kidnappers or someone’s using a very clever trick… 

“Let me just say…thank you so much for saving me yesterday. I… I don’t have any friends or family to turn to, so…” 

Miss Sasaki hangs her head low in silence. She doesn’t say another word after that. With her naturally delicate features coupled together with the porcelain skin, she reminds me of a marionette doll whose strings have been cut. Actually, her own experience isn’t too much different. As if her thread of life had been cut, she was almost killed by an unidentified serial killer for who knows why, and her life could still very well be in danger. 

“You even allowed me to stay at your home last night…” 

……Hmm? 

“Hold on. Where did you stay last night?” 

“My place,” Dazai nonchalantly replies. 

………… 

…………Are things like this the norm nowadays? 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Dazai. You… You were very…kind to me last night…” 

Miss Sasaki flushes bashfully for some reason. 

“What’s wrong, Kunikida? You’ve got a really weird look on your face.” 

“Dazai… Don’t you think that’s taking things a little too fast?” 

“I… I was the one who asked him to let me stay over. I basically forced him.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I simply did what any gentleman would. Besides, I’m used to getting asked for things from people I’ve just met,” he replies with a smile. 

………… 

I have no interest in frivolous love affairs. Two people must have mutual respect for each other when building a relationship. If you ask me, an unplanned single night of fleeting passion is unforgivable and shameless. So—therefore—for this reason alone, it doesn’t matter how popular a fool like Dazai may be, because I am not the least bit jealous or frustrated. 

Not the least bit jealous! 

“What a beautiful, misfortunate woman,” Dazai says with a smirk. We’ve returned to the office to prepare for our next investigation. 

“So that’s your type?” 

“I like all types of women. They’re the bearers of all human life, a source of mystery. But I do like the fact that Miss Sasaki would probably kill herself with me if I asked.” 

“Go marry a cicada or something, then.” 

Relations between the sexes must be pure and strong. The only feminine company I intend to keep will be with my ideal spouse, where we complement and lift each other up, and I will be with her until the day I draw my last breath. That is my ideal. It’s also written in my notebook. 

“What about you, Kunikida? What do you think of Miss Sasaki?” 

“She’s a victim and a witness to the case. That’s all.” 

“I’m asking only because I can’t even begin to imagine, but…what’s your ideal woman like?” 

“You’re free to read about it.” 

I open my notebook to the page titled “Spouse” and show him. All my future plans are written here. 

“What is this, an encyclopedia?!” 

His expression slowly hardens as he skims over the page. 

“…Whoa. Oh no, no, no… This is just… Wow. I’m…” 

“The hell kind of reaction is that? Is it weird?” 

“No, not at all. I think all guys can relate to the ideals…of each section.” 

“Right? What’s wrong with having standards?” 

“Exactly. I agree with you one hundred percent, Kunikida. A word of advice, though: Never show this to a woman. It’d really turn them off. I mean, even I’m struggling to keep myself from yelling ‘A girl like this doesn’t exist!’” 

Is it really that far-fetched? 

“Okay, I get it. Now let’s get to work and find that kidnapper. By the way, have you found out anything else?” 

“There’s one thing I noticed.” 

“What’s that?” 

“If you truly wish to pursue your ideal woman, then we’re going to have to do something about those boring glasses first.” 

Dazai swiftly swipes the glasses off my face, then puts them on. They look awful on him. 

“Enough! Give those back!” 

So long as my work isn’t hindered, then nothing else matters. Besides, simply wearing nice glasses isn’t going to magically improve my life. And Dazai looks even more comical with them on… Even more ridiculous than usual for some odd reason. 

“……Glasses?” 

Glasses. The photos of the victims. Their faces. The monitoring equipment. The hotel they stayed in— 

“Something the matter, Kunikida?” 

The missing people all left the hotel of their own accord, and they all stayed in Yokohama alone. So that means the security footage of everyone entering and leaving the hotel is… 

“Come on, Dazai. We’re leaving.” 

I snatch my glasses and put them back on. 

“I figured out who the kidnapper is.” 

The ocean breeze soars past the Port of Yokohama. Dazai and I stand on the levee at the mouth by the shore. I gaze into the sky. The sun is already high, peeking through the sea of clouds and shining onto us. I do not feel as fine as the weather, however. A familiar taxi stops before me. 

“Detective Kunikida! Please get in.” 

A familiar cabdriver waves me over, and we waste no time climbing in. 

“I apologize for the sudden call.” 

“Oh, don’t be. I would go through fire and water for you and the agency, Detective! So are you in a hurry to get somewhere? Don’t you worry! The speed limit means nothing to me!” 

“It should. Anyway, do you remember the missing-persons case we spoke of last evening? Well, I figured out who the kidnapper is.” 

“What?! I saw the news about the abandoned hospital. I feel so sorry for those poor victims… So we’re going to arrest the kidnapper, yes? Roger that! We have to hurry, though, or he’ll get away. So where is this perpetrator?” 

“Right here.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re the kidnapper, and inside this taxi is where the kidnappings have been taking place.” 

“Uh… I don’t think I’m following you, Detective. What are you saying?” 

“I thought, ‘Who would be able to kidnap someone in this city without anyone noticing? Where in Yokohama would a victim be comfortable alone with a complete stranger?’ The answer is here. You used sleeping gas on the victims, then kidnapped them. While wearing a gas mask yourself, of course.” 

“Wait… No, no, no. Hold on. I’m pretty sure the investigation indicated that the victims all left of their own accord, by themselves, and mysteriously disappeared. I heard there were no records of them ever getting into any vehicle or going inside any building. If all the victims got into this taxi, then wouldn’t there be a record of a phone call or of them hailing a cab?” 

“Yes, there would be. And that’s why there is no doubt in my mind that every victim got into this taxi. Of course, the city police weren’t able to find any records no matter how hard they looked. Why? Because they were looking at the wrong date. The victims didn’t get in this taxi on the day they went missing.” 

“What… What are you trying to say?” 

“Okay, Kunikida, we’re not going to get anywhere trying to answer each and every one of his questions. Let me explain exactly what happened,” Dazai chimes in. “Driver, you were searching for certain customers during your daily work shift. The conditions for a target were simple: They had to be in Yokohama alone and heading to their hotel, they had to be wearing something that partially covered their face such as a hat, glasses, or sunglasses, and they had to be around the same height as you. You have a small frame, which is why women would be viable candidates as long as they met those few requirements. All of this would make it appear as if you had no relation to the victim, and you could disrupt the investigation.” 

“I… I’m afraid I don’t follow. I—” 

“Yes, yes. Let me finish first, okay? You’re a taxi driver who operates in the area. Those requirements may be strict, but you’d be able to find someone who matched them in two, three days tops. Then, when just the right person happened to show up, you used sleeping gas on them just like Kunikida mentioned. After that, you went to a secret hideout, held the victims prisoner there, and stole their clothes and belongings. That’s why the victims at the abandoned hospital were in their underwear. Now this is where you really begin to shine.” Dazai claps his hands giddily before continuing. “Next, you dressed in the victim’s clothing and disguised yourself as them. After that, it’s just as you told us last night. All you have to do is put on a little makeup, stuff your cheeks and clothing a bit, and you’re someone else. Of course, you must have religiously practiced and chosen only people you were confident you could pull off, though. Plus, you weren’t trying to deceive people, only video footage. You went to the hotel the victims planned to stay at and purposely made sure the security cameras saw you.” 

I think back to the footage I viewed during the investigation. In hindsight, there was an unnaturally high rate of people with their face covered—six in glasses and two in sunglasses. The remaining three had either a hat or long hair, leaving only a portion of their face exposed to the security cameras. This was possible only because he selected victims wearing specific clothing that would be easy to emulate. 

“The rest is simple. You leave the victims’ belongings in the hotel room and check out the next morning in broad daylight. By leaving a record of what appears to be the victim entering, checking in, and exiting the hotel, the police would stubbornly focus on investigating what happened to the victim after they left. Naturally, they didn’t find anything, though, since you undoubtedly know Yokohama inside and out. At the very least, you knew where you would be recorded and where you could escape to avoid any security cameras. That’s why the more we investigated, the more it appeared as if the victims intentionally spirited themselves away while making sure there would be no records of it.” 

“This is absurd. This hypothetical, purely speculative situation you’re proposing is—is nothing without…without evidence. That’s right—you’ve got no evidence to support your claim.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You would have been more than able to conduct Miss Sasaki’s kidnapping on your own as well,” I continue explaining from where Dazai left off. “Abducting Miss Sasaki after she passed out at the station must have been your easiest job yet. I’ll bet you felt like the luckiest man alive. People usually call an ambulance if they see somebody suddenly faint, but it takes time for the ambulances to arrive from the hospital. But there’s always a taxi waiting in front of the station for passengers, and luckily for Miss Sasaki, a Good Samaritan happened to be present to save her. This well-intentioned individual wanted to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible, so he decided to have a taxi take her. That’s when you took her away, bold as brass, except you didn’t take her to the hospital like you were supposed to.” 

“I…” 

The driver sounds as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t speak another word. I can’t see his expression clearly from where we’re sitting, either. I shift my gaze to the interior of the car, where I find a few small white particles in one of the crevices. I pinch what I can with my fingertips. 

“If you’re going to turn yourself in, you should probably do it quickly. It won’t be long until we have evidence. I’m sure you cleaned the inside of this car, but there’s still some residue from the gas. A lab analysis will confirm it in no time.” 

“I… I have no idea where that came from. It must have been from one of my customers. That doesn’t count as evidence.” 

The driver barely manages to stammer out the words. Nevertheless, he admitted his guilt the moment he started making excuses. 

“Evidence isn’t even necessary to prove you’re the only one who could have done it.” I begin to lay out the basis of the argument. “The only way to use the trick Dazai mentioned would be to get the victims into a taxi, and you had two of the victims in your vehicle, which is no different from admitting you gave rides to the other nine.” 

“That isn’t physical evidence, Detective Kunikida,” the driver plainly states while avoiding eye contact. “Everything you’ve presented has been circumstantial evidence. It’s not as if you found a weapon in my house or have video evidence of me committing a crime. Sure, you could file charges, but I wouldn’t be convicted.” 

It’s my turn to fall silent. He’s right. We would need physical evidence to connect him to the victims: blood, fingerprints, video recordings, a confession with information only the criminal would know… 

We don’t have the necessary hard evidence. In fact, our case could be dismissed due to a lack of probable cause as things stand now. From the way the driver’s talking, it sounds like he made sure to dispose of all the physical evidence. He’s cleverer than I thought. What’s my next move? 

But what he says next completely disproves my assumptions. 

“Detective Kunikida… Let’s make a deal. If you accept my conditions, I will turn myself in.” 

“What?” 

“I would like the Armed Detective Agency to protect me and guarantee my safety in return for my confession. I request only seventy-two hours of your time until I receive witness protection following the prosecutorial investigation.” 

“A witness protection deal? What are you talking about?” 

“There’s no time… I’m going to be killed. They’re going to kill me.” 

“Wait. I’m not following. Tell me step-by-step what’s going on. Who’s going to kill you? And for what?!” 

“I wish I never did business with that lot… I should have never tried to get into the organ-trafficking business alone! And now I’ve made them angry! This is bad… This is really bad. I can’t get in touch with any of the buyers, either. They’ve cut me loose! But why? They were never supposed to find out… But they’re already onto me. And they’re getting closer…” 

“I see. So that’s what’s going on here.” 

Dazai places a hand on his chin and nods. 

“Dazai, what’s going on?! What is he rambling about?!” 

“It’s exactly how it sounds. He was selling the victims to an organ-trafficking syndicate, but the month’s supply rose too high relative to demand. Naturally, this led to a drop in prices, throwing the market into confusion. Imagine a private one-man business suddenly entering a supply market more or less controlled by a large corporation. How would the large corporation feel?” 

“They would get mad, I guess?” 

“It would be healthy competition if these were normal, legal companies. But these organ-trafficking businesses are run by underground groups who profit off blood and violence. Causing trouble on their turf would only anger—” 

The next moment, the car is suddenly hit, then hit again so hard its wheels leave the ground. A high-pitched echo follows. The taxi’s right side lifts into the air as the windows shatter along with the sound of gunshots. 

“We’re under fire! Get down!” I yell out. 

The car rocks back and forth as if being pummeled with a hammer, and shards of glass rain down inside. 

“It’s them! H-help, help me… I don’t wanna die!” 

“Hey! Wait!” 

The driver opens the car door before bolting in the opposite direction of the gunfire. 

“Kunikida, we have to catch him before the enemy does, or we’ll never know what really happened! We can’t let him escape or turn up dead in a grove somewhere!” Dazai shouts, keeping his head down. That’s easier said than done, though! “Okay, I’ll go after the driver! You distract the enemies!” 

“Dazai, wait! It’s too dangerous to go alone!” 

Dazai darts out of the car without even listening to my warning. I can’t allow a rookie to go off on his own during his first shoot-out. We don’t have any other options, though. I curse to myself while getting a look at the enemy. Three men stand dressed in black suits and black sunglasses, equipped with submachine guns smuggled in from abroad via the black market. Judging from their attire, their skills, and their ruthless willingness to suddenly turn the place into a war zone, it’s clear who they are… 

“Damn it! This couldn’t be any worse… It’s the Port Mafia!” 

The Port Mafia is an underground organization that uses the Port of Yokohama as their base of operations. They’re the cruelest, most coldhearted criminal syndicate in the city, willing to follow any orders from their boss and crush all who oppose them. The three men here are from that organization. The longer this goes on, the more they have the advantage. 

“The Matchless Poet: Stun Grenade!” 

I record the word in my notebook before tearing it out. The sheet of paper twists into a grenade the size of my fist. Aiming at the group, I hurl the grenade out the broken window. Stun grenades are nonlethal sonic weapons used to temporarily disorient an enemy’s senses. It blows up right in front of them, emitting a light so bright and creating an explosion so thunderous that it could give a sick man a heart attack. They fall to their knees while covering their temples, perhaps completely taken by surprise at being countered with a flashbang. I use this momentary distraction to leap out of the taxi and charge the enemies. I elbow the man closest to me in the neck, knocking him to the ground. I keep my elbow out and charge the next criminal, following up with a high kick to the face. The last armed man tries to hit me with his gun, but I swerve to the side, evading the strike. As he staggers off-balance, I grab his wrist and twist while pulling inside. Then I throw him into the air with a four-corner throw. The Mafia member goes flying and lands cranium first, immediately losing consciousness. 

“Good grief.” 

After making sure they’re all out, I walk back to the taxi. 

I really hope Dazai’s all right… 

Just then, I suddenly sense an ever-increasing thirst for blood coming from behind. Something flies past my side before I can even turn around. The black torrent runs through right where I was just standing, hitting the taxi and cutting right through it, too. As the vehicle completely splits in half, springs and shafts take to the air, scattering every which way. Without even a moment to let my surprise sink in, I kick off the ground to evade. The nearby sign and handrails are finely sliced into pieces. After rolling across the ground and looking back, I see a small-framed man clad in black in the distance. 

“Cough, cough…” 

That must be the source of the bloodlust. 

“Cough… I came thinking this was going to be an easy side job. I wasn’t expecting to run into someone skilled enough to neutralize three men in the blink of an eye. I’m impressed. Now let’s see how you fare against Rashomon.” 

With no weapon in hand, the young man simply walks toward me with his back hunched, occasionally coughing. However, the malice oozing from his body soon transforms into a silent but furious storm. 

A man short of stature dressed in a black overcoat, with the skill to control a black torrent—the Port Mafia’s Hellhound. 

“You… You’re Ryuunosuke Akutagawa from the Port Mafia, aren’t you?” 

“The one and only. I was sent here by the boss to dispose of the fool who trespassed on our turf. Where is he?” 

“He’s not here. He ran away with his tail tucked between his legs.” 

I point in the direction the driver ran, but my eyes remain locked on Akutagawa. I don’t look away—not even for a second. This man is the worst of the worst. Even the toughest criminals run away in tears when they hear Akutagawa’s despicable name. The Black-Fanged Hellhound, the Skill User of Destruction and Disaster, the Apostle of Calamity and Despair: There are too many aliases to count. This is my first time actually meeting him, but judging by what he did to the taxi, he’s even more dangerous than the rumors made him out to be. 

So what’s my next move? It’s simple. His target is the kidnapper, and there’s no reason for me to risk my life to protect a kidnapper against someone this dangerous. All I need to do is back off. 

“He’s a witness. I cannot allow you to kill him until he tells us where the other missing people are. If you want to go after him, you’re going to have to get past me first.” 

“You’re willing to risk your life for a murderer? Just as I expected.” 

Damn it. I can’t believe how stupid I can be. But as a member of the Armed Detective Agency, I cannot allow our witness to be helplessly killed by this scumbag. 

Do what must be done. I mentally recite the phrase from my notebook. Akutagawa’s black overcoat wriggles. It’s as if a thousand specters gathered and meshed, taking form. It’s no longer a coat; part of it transforms into a claw, while another part begins to take the shape of a piercing fang. 

“Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, the Port Mafia’s attack dog.” 

“Doppo Kunikida, Armed Detective Agency.” 

Akutagawa launches a shadowy blade in one explosive motion. It disperses into a black rain, heading right in my direction. I jump to the side. A few dark blades pierce my shirt while the others stab the wall behind me, leaving numerous holes. I jot down a word in my notebook and tear out the sheet before he can draw his blade to attack. The piece of paper instantly transforms into a wire gun. Squeezing the trigger, I shoot the hook…but moments before the iron-penetrating hook reaches him, it’s deflected by an invisible wall. 

“What…?!” 

I saw no signs of him moving to defend. Is this another one of his skills? Before I can even reel in my airborne hook, part of Akutagawa’s coat transforms into a shadowy beast. With a roar, it swings its head. It’s quick! 

I twist away to dodge, but its fangs tear into my left shoulder. Blood spurts out of the wound, but I don’t have time to stop the bleeding. I step back while evading the beast’s relentless fangs. I have no chance to counter, let alone even get near the thing! 

“Is running away the only thing you know how to do? You’re putting me to sleep,” he scoffs, still standing upright. A cold bead of sweat runs down my cheek. He’s strong. 

Akutagawa speedily shoots his lethal shadowy blade at me from only a few feet away, giving me no chance to do anything other than dodge. To make matters worse, any projectile I throw at him is easily knocked aside. Even if I do hit him, he’s being protected by that mysterious force field. He has no openings. 

I dodge the flurry of attacks until I land on a paved road, where a sudden unidentifiable chill eerily shoots down my spine. 

A blade thrusts up from the pavement before shooting back into the air like a fountain of spears. 

He was getting me to focus on the aerial attacks while he used another blade to pierce the ground! I try to turn my body and jump away, but the ground is uneven, and I’m too late. The pitch-black blade penetrates my side and exits through my back. 

“Gah…!” 

My vision blurs from the excruciating pain, and I helplessly fall to my knees. This isn’t good. The next attack is coming. If I stop moving for even a second, I’m dead…but there’s nothing I can do. The black fabric of Rashomon wraps around my neck, lifting me off the ground. It bends like a serpent’s neck, then catapults me into the nearby wall. 

“Pathetic. I guess I shouldn’t have expected much from a detective agency that works for chump change. Don’t worry. It’ll all be over when I snap your head off.” 

The black fabric tightens around my neck. I start to see red. 

“There’s always someone—someone who wants…to get in the way of my work!” 

As Akutagawa’s skill strangles me, I shoot my wire gun. My target isn’t Akutagawa, though. The airborne iron wire’s hook directly hits the water pipe running up the building next to him, showering him with water. 

“What…?!” 

He raises his arm to block, but the high-pressure stream fully drenches him and the ground around him. 

“Fool. Do you really think a little water is going to scare me?” 

I raise another sheet of paper in my left hand into the air with something else I wrote down while making the wire gun. 

“The Matchless Poet: Stun Gun!” 

I instantly turn on the handheld high-voltage stun gun before tossing it into the puddle of water. A flash of light shoots out, and sparks fly. 

“Nnng—gaaah?!” 

Using the water as a conductor, the submerged stun gun emits beams of violet and white light. A purple flash of lightning jolts through Akutagawa’s wet body like a boa constrictor wrapping around its prey. The flash shines as bright as the sun before eventually disappearing along with the hiss of steam and the crack of the ground splitting under it. Rashomon’s grip around my neck loosens, and I land on the pavement below. As I cradle my injured neck and side, I glare at Akutagawa. He’s on his knees as steam and white smoke rise from his body. 

“Heh-heh… Ah-ha-ha-ha!” 

Akutagawa’s shoulders shake as he laughs. He can still move after taking a shock like that? 

“Looks like I was wrong about the Armed Detective Agency. Heh. This is wonderful. Truly wonderful.” 

“…Come at me if you want to keep going. I still have plenty more paper left.” I force myself to my feet, then get back into stance with the wire gun. 

“By all means, I would love the opportunity to see whether you have what it takes to kill me, but it seems we have guests.” 

I follow Akutagawa’s gaze and see the city police approach with their sirens blazing. Somebody must have reported the gunshots. 

“A pathetic traitor won’t be able to hide for long before we hunt him down. I will withdraw for today. We’ll continue this soon.” He coughs and turns his back to me. He leaves just like that, with the same nonchalance as if he was going home after a walk. Honestly speaking, continuing to fight and withdrawing probably aren’t too different from his point of view. 

“I’d rather you not come back…” 

I fall to my knees while watching him walk away. Akutagawa from the Port Mafia is just as— No, he’s even fiercer than the rumors say. No thanks on the rematch. For now, I just want to go home and sleep like the dead. 

Unfortunately, this is no time for a nap. After a short break, I return to the agency to report what happened. In the company’s infirmary, I have my stomach wound temporarily patched up, then head to the office. That’s where I find Dazai sipping on some tea as if he was relaxing after a hard day’s work. 

“Dazai, you caught the taxi driver, right?” 

“Of course. I tied him right up and handed him off to the police. He was actually thrilled that the Mafia wouldn’t be able to assassinate him anymore.” 

I’m relieved. It appears Dazai isn’t as stupid as I originally thought. I was almost worried that he knew it was the Mafia attacking us and used chasing the kidnapper as an excuse to escape. Nevertheless, everything ended up working out, so I guess it was just a groundless fear. 

“It looks like the taxi driver will be charged for the series of kidnappings. Case closed.” 

I worked my fingers to the bone on this case, and in return, I get paid nothing. The military police will toss us a letter of thanks and a small gift as an expression of their gratitude, and that will be the end of it. Good grief. 

“I don’t feel like working anymore. Let’s get today’s tasks over with and go out for a drink.” 

“Your treat?” Dazai asks, beaming with joy. 

“You’re a real piece of work. I’ll pay, but you better work your ass off tomorrow.” 

I return to my desk and take care of my remaining duties. I skim through some documents that are being passed around, then make a few business calls. After that, I start recording the case’s details until inadvertently glancing at my work computer and noticing I got an e-mail. Paying little attention, I begin to follow the sentences with my eyes. After finishing the e-mail, I start over from the beginning. 

“Dazai.” 

The moment I call for him is the moment I realize I’ve been holding my breath. 

“We’ll have to take a rain check on those drinks. We’ve got work to do.” 

“Whaaat? But I was all ready to drink. There’s a hole in my stomach shaped exactly like a cup of sake.” 

“We got a job offer…from the anonymous client who lured us into the abandoned hospital.” 

My throat is dry, and my tongue is stuck in place. The next words don’t want to come out. 

“It’s a request to defuse a bomb. If we don’t find and defuse it by sundown tomorrow, over one hundred people will die.”