Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 2 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER III 

It had been raining that day. I was sitting. Time slowly, indistinctly passed by, and all sound was drowned out by the vague noise of falling rain. The world itself felt like an apparition. The rain poured down before my eyes at a slant, drenching the scenery and turning everything blue. Fog mixed with ocean mist intertwined with the downpour. The wet landscape and I sat face-to-face, though separated by glass. 

I was fourteen years old at the time. I’d been at a café reading a book—an old book. The cover’s corners were worn down, and a part of it was torn. The print was old, with some letters faded here and there. I’d found this book after a hit and brought it back with me, since the owner wouldn’t be needing it anymore. I turned the pages. 

I was a much simpler person at age fourteen. I’d been working as a freelance hit man doing contract assassinations, and not once did I ever fail. The wealthy original owner of this book along with his family were mere stains on the wall at that point. I could no longer remember why I brought this book back with me. Something about it—something slight—had just stuck in the back of my mind. I didn’t have a habit of reading books at that stage in my life, but this one was different. It was an old novel. The story took place in a certain town, and it was about a myriad of characters. All the characters, though, were weak and pitiful—even the smallest things caused them panic. But mysteriously enough, it was a very engaging story. 

After work, I always went to the same café and sat in the same seat to read this novel. It had become a daily routine, which was why I’d read that book so many times. I was reading it that day, too. 

“You’re always reading that same book, boy. Is it really that interesting?” 

I looked up in the direction of the sudden voice. 

Standing before me, straight as a ramrod, was a lanky middle-aged man with a cane and a short mustache that accentuated his faint smile. I’d seen him a few times at this café before. When I told him it was a good book, he looked at me curiously. 

“You’re a strange lad. There are plenty of stories out in this world that are much more interesting than that novel.” 

I stared at the man without saying a word. To tell the truth, I didn’t even know how to explain to someone why I read this book so often. 

“Where’s the last volume?” 

I looked at the stack on the table where the first two books lay. There was one major drawback about this novel: I had found only the first two volumes. Therefore, I had no idea how the story concluded. I went to every possible used bookstore I could come by, but I still couldn’t find the final volume. I told the man I didn’t own it. 

“Now it makes sense. You’re a lucky kid. The last volume to that series is the worst of the worst. It’s so bad that you’ll want to wash out your brain once you’ve finished it. Be happy with just the first two volumes. It’s for your own good.” 

I told him I couldn’t do that. 

“Then you write what happens next,” the man with the mustache said. “That’s the only way to preserve its perfection.” 

I was dumbfounded. I’d never even thought about writing something myself. 

“Writing novels is writing people,” the man said. “It’s about how they live and how they die. From what I can see, you’re perfectly qualified.” 

I couldn’t say a word. I didn’t feel I had the qualifications he claimed; that day, I had just gotten back from murdering yet another person for work. 

But there was something oddly persuasive about what that man said. It was as if brilliant radiance from light-years away glittered in his eyes, and there was a certain firmness to his voice that seemed powerful enough to shake the earth itself. I’d never seen such a person before. 

When I’d asked him his name, he had told me, but I’d long since forgotten it. 

A few days later, I went back to the café at the same time to find a book lying in my usual seat. Stuck to the cover was a piece of paper that read, “Don’t blame me if you regret it.” 

It was the last volume. 

I spent the entire day reading that book. 

As for what I thought of it— 

I opened my eyes to find myself in bed. Both my hands were wrapped in bandages. 

When I sat up, the pain in my back from my close encounter with the explosion returned. I let out a moan. 

I was in a hospital room. It was clean, ordinary, and as silent as a morgue. Standing firm with his feet apart by the door was a man in a black suit and sunglasses. The moment our eyes met, he silently left, apparently to go get someone. 

“Hey, Odasaku. You’re awake now, right? How are you feeling?” 

Dazai walked into the room with a cheerful smirk. 

“I feel like I’ve been hit with the next fifty years’ worth of hangovers,” I replied, then looked around the room. “Did you find Ango?” 

“No, my men only found you lying on the ground. They didn’t see any sign of the enemy, not even so much as a shadow. Akutagawa was really frustrated that he couldn’t ‘execute the traitor.’ …Anyway, Ango really was there, huh?” 

I explained everything that happened at the abandoned building, telling him every little detail as it had really occurred. 

“Ango’s captivity, the explosion, André Gide, and the Special Forces dressed in black…” 

Dazai placed a thumb against his lips, then shifted into a thinking position. He didn’t even move an inch for a full minute after that. Only his eyes wavered, following something only he could see. I waited in silence. 

“Things can be mainly classified into two phenomena here.” Dazai finally spoke up. “One is the criminal syndicate Mimic’s attack. The other is Ango and the Special Forces’ secret maneuvers.” 

“Are the Special Forces and Mimic different organizations?” 

“They are. To be a little more specific, this huge dispute is due to three forces coming together: the Mafia, Mimic, and the Special Forces. But we can ignore the last one for now. It’s Mimic we need to watch out for. While you were sleeping, six shops on Mafia turf were blown up…all at the same time. The casualties are increasing by the minute.” 

Along with smuggling and trading stolen goods, the Mafia protected shops and companies in exchange for compensation. If those businesses were attacked, then the Mafia instantly lost its supporters’ trust along with some of its economic infrastructure. I suddenly thought of Pops at the restaurant. That place was one of the few I managed. 

“But the smaller stores are being saved for later, it seems.” 

Dazai must have read my mind. 

“Mimic is like nothing we’ve faced so far. They’re terribly quick, their attacks are devastating, and they show up without even making a sound. Even if we wanted to attack their headquarters, they appear out of nowhere and disappear into thin air. There’s no way to take them by surprise. It’s as if we’re fighting against ghosts—against real grau geists.” 

I thought back to the sniper and the abandoned building where Ango had been held captive. There really was something ghostlike about their existence. 

A ghost squad—departed souls that wished to devour even the corrupt Mafia’s spirit. 

“We still can’t determine a definite pattern of attack, but what we do know is that they’re serious about leveling the Mafia’s turf. Not even the tormented souls of hell would do something so mad. Akutagawa and other militant factions have formed ranks and are fighting back, but…we still don’t even know the enemy leader’s skill. We’re at a disadvantage.” 

“That skill user Akutagawa was one of your subordinates, right?” I said, tracing my memory. “I heard he had a rather aggressive skill…but even he’s no match for them?” 

“Akutagawa—he’s like a sword without a sheath.” Dazai grinned from ear to ear. “He’ll surely become the Mafia’s strongest skill user in the not-so-distant future, but for now he needs someone who can teach him how to put that sword away.” 

I was surprised. I had never heard Dazai openly speak so highly of one of his men like that before. 

“Is he really that talented?” 

“When I first saw him over in the slums, I was horrified. His talents are extraordinary, and his skill is extremely destructive. Plus, he’s stubborn. If I’d left him to his own devices, he would’ve ended up a slave to his own powers until he destroyed himself.” 

Dazai didn’t freely make people work under him, period; much less a boy on the verge of starvation in the slums. But Dazai seemed to have his own reasons for doing it. 

“At any rate, back on topic, Mimic is who we currently have to watch out for. There’s been a call for a meeting among the five executives where we’ll discuss how to take them on using everything we’ve got. We’re on high alert.” 

This presidium was an extremely powerful legislative conference that would decide the future course of the entire Mafia. As far as I could remember, the last time they had one was during the Dragon’s Head Conflict. I was once again face-to-face with just how much of a threat Mimic was. 

“I still don’t know what those Special Forces are after,” Dazai continued. “But after seeing what they did to you, it looks like they won’t be baring their fangs and attacking us anytime soon. It’s Mimic that’s the real threat. Just a little while ago, my men, including Akutagawa, were ambushed. It was like a beast devouring a venomous snake. The battle took place on the main road in front of the art museum—” 

I got out of the bed as I listened. My fingers were still slightly numb, but not enough to bother me during battle. 

“Odasaku, don’t tell me you plan on going,” he said as if reprimanding me. 

“The Mafia’s striking back with everything we’ve got, right?” I replied, sliding my arms through the sleeves of my overcoat that was hanging on the wall. 

“I thought you had no interest in fighting,” Dazai replied with a smile. 

“I don’t,” I insisted as I equipped my gun harness. “But sometimes small things pick at my heart…like the two people I owe a debt to.” 

After finishing getting ready, I walked across the room. Dazai watched me in silence. As I reached the door, he tossed me something that jingled when I caught it. I opened my hand to find a car key. Then Dazai added, “Don’t worry about any debts. Nobody ever even remembers doing favors.” 

“I’m not good at forgetting,” I turned around and replied. “Dazai, you’ve already helped me several times with this case. Your men are under attack, right? They need your help.” 

“Y’know, it really hurts me that you consider something as small as this a debt.” He gave a feeble smirk. “So who’s the other guy you owe?” 

I didn’t answer him; I just opened the door and left. Dazai saw me off without pushing any further. Despite not even exchanging a word, we were thinking the same thing. 

Two forces were engaged in a shoot-out in front of the chalky-white shrine: the Mimic soldiers in tattered gray clothes and the Mafia members in black suits and sunglasses. Both were firing the same foreign automatic rifles. Bullets flew across the town square, chipping away at the shrine’s pale-colored pillars like an ice sculpture. 

They were battling on the art museum’s front yard. The rectangular building with its alabaster facade rose high into the sky. Square cobble paving stretched endlessly across the yard, evoking a digital, pixelated kind of feel. White columns spaced closely together acted as shields for the gunfire as they came crumbling down one after another. 

There were four Mafia members and nine Mimic. Mimic was dominating in quality, quantity, and experience as they backed the Mafia into a corner. 

They split up into two groups to pour cross fire through a pincer movement. One of the Mafia men yelled orders while returning fire as they retreated into the art museum. The Mimic soldiers, on the other hand, did not say a word. They simply advanced, chasing their prey in silence. As the first Mimic soldier stepped into the building, something caught his eye, and he quickly looked up. 

That, however, ended up being the last move he ever made. 

“Do you not enjoy art?” 

The soldier’s head flew to one side, then bounced off the wall before rolling back to its owner’s feet. It took a moment before fresh blood spurted out from the clean cut severing the soldier’s neck. A dark shadow drifted down to the ground, its black overcoat elegantly billowing in the breeze. Realizing something was wrong, the following Mimic soldier drew his gun. 

“How boorish. The artwork here is the manifestation of the human spirit. Show some respect.” 

The shadowy figure twisted his body, gently pivoting his black overcoat. It split into three parts, each transforming into a massless blade before launching forward. 

First, the rifle was split in two. Its contents then spilled out, showing a perfectly smooth slice all the way through. 

Next, the fingers holding the rifle noiselessly dropped to the ground one by one. Finally, the Mimic soldier’s torso slowly slid forward as his lower half leaned backward before they hit the ground. 

The remaining soldiers, who had fortunately been out of range of the dark blades’ slaughter, simultaneously aimed their muzzles at the black overcoat and pulled the trigger. 

“Guns are the instruments of fools.” 

The shadowy figure in a black overcoat, Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, took another step forward. A split second later, the twelve bullets clashed with what appeared to be silent blades of solidified darkness. Most of the bullets were reflected before even reaching Akutagawa, while the remaining ones crashed into an invisible wall, stopping mere inches away from him. Akutagawa cut through space, creating a shield. He twisted his body, and the murderous shadowy blades sprung forward as if to answer his calls. 

One man’s face; another, his body; even one soldier’s legs were all sliced in half. Still, the blades’ wild dance had not ended. They soared through the air like a violent tempest of darkness destroying everything in its path, as if they were living creatures with minds of their own. It was a skill specialized only in destruction and killing—nothing more. 

Akutagawa laughed. 

It was as if a pitch-black demon were devouring the gray ghosts. 

“Retraite!” 

The surviving Mimic soldiers’ faces turned sickly pale as they quickly backed away. 

“Come back! Fight me!” Akutagawa screamed while chasing after them. Black spears and bullets clashed violently across the battlefield. 

“This is nothing! This barely even counts as a trial! Show me cruelty—show me the sort of brutality that will freeze my very soul!” the boy dressed in black screamed, an echo of supplication in his voice. 

Just then, a Mimic personnel carrier appeared before the art museum containing new soldiers. Like a mad dog, a fiendish smirk played across Akutagawa’s lips. 

That was when a signal flare shot into the air from the personnel carrier. The phosphorescence raced straight up, leaving a red trail in the sky and casting a shadow over the earth below. 

Immediately, the Mimic soldiers ceased fire. 

“What—?” 

Bewildered, Akutagawa surveyed the battlefield. Not a single enemy was holding up their gun. One after another, they placed their weapons on the ground. Some even had both hands already in the air. 

“They’re surrendering?” Akutagawa muttered in disbelief. “Impossible.” 

With his arms raised, one soldier walked over from the other side of the group. He had handsome features, and both his clothes and hair were a sickly silver-gray hue, as if his soul had been sucked out. The man looked essentially the same as the other Mimic soldiers but was disproportionately taller than the rest. And yet, his footsteps didn’t make a sound; it was as if he were weightless. Decorating the breast of his military fatigues were various medals of honor in all different colors. The soldier’s emotionless eyes locked on Akutagawa. Confused and at a loss, the Mafia members pointed their guns at the defenseless man as he approached. 

“So it’s you… You’re the black-robed skill user they say is immune to bullets,” the tall man said, his lips barely moving. His voice seemed to come from nowhere in particular, like a howling wind. 

“Who are you?” 

“The commander… Mimic’s leader.” 

The moment his words sunk in, the Mafia combatants rushed over in unison before pointing their guns at him. The Mimic leader’s eyes did not even waver. 

“Their leader himself has come to surrender? An admirable attitude, but hardly believable… In fact, it disgusts me.” 

Akutagawa’s overcoat transformed into several black belts that bound the Mimic leader’s hands and feet together before dragging the man to his knees. 

“State your name, leader of Mimic.” 

“Gide. André Gide. I came to ask you for…a match.” 

The leader’s tone was calm; he didn’t appear to be shaken in the least. 

“The Mimic leader himself wishes to fight me? What an honor that would be if I actually believed you. Answering questions you haven’t been asked only makes you less convincing.” Akutagawa shot the man a piercing glare as he spoke. “Leader of Mimic, do you know why I haven’t cut your head off yet?” 

“Maybe because…you were disciplined not to?” 

Akutagawa punched Gide in the face. With both legs tied together, he was unable to dodge, and a drop of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth. 

“The reason I haven’t cut your head off yet is that I heard Mimic’s leader was a skill user.” 

Akutagawa swiped the old-fashioned gun from Gide’s waist, then pointed it at him. 

“I can’t gain his acceptance no matter how many pea-shooting weaklings I kill. Show me your skill. If it is the real thing, I will give you that match you so desire.” 

Gide just stared at Akutagawa and the gun. 

“So this is your skill… You can control the black overcoat,” he groaned, staring at the black straps around his arms and legs. “An extraordinary ability, one with no openings. However…it’s lacking. It’s not enough to free our souls from original sin… It appears I expected a little too much from you.” 

Akutagawa’s face stiffened as hard as a diamond. His breathing halted, and something in his body snapped. He responded with the flash of his black blade, slashing toward a man who was tied up and unable to move. Without even a hint of nervousness, Gide leaned forward and tilted his head. The blade grazed the side of his face, cutting a few hairs to flutter in the wind. As Gide turned his neck, the tip of his head skimmed the old-fashioned gun Akutagawa had just stolen. As the pistol left Akutagawa’s hand, his finger accidentally pulled the trigger. 

One of the belts around Gide reacted by enveloping the bullet and stopping it before it could reach Akutagawa. However, this freed Gide’s left hand…and he was carrying another pistol in his military uniform. He drew the gun with that hand and shot the mafioso next to him before the target even knew what was going on. The bullet struck him in the shoulder, causing the Mafia member’s automatic rifle to fire three bullets, with one shooting right through Akutagawa’s arm. The other two hit two mafiosi in the chest. The shots were fatal. 

“What—?!” 

Taken aback at being shot in the arm, Akutagawa reflexively used his skill to block. He cut through space, blocking Gide’s next shot, but in return he ended up undoing the black straps restraining Gide, thus freeing him. 

Immediately, Gide picked up his other gun lying on the ground…and that was when the one-sided massacre began. 

It wasn’t some sort of mysterious, visible power at work. The bullets weren’t turning and flying in the opposite direction, nor was lightning or fire falling from the skies. No one was suddenly being frozen in place, either. It was simply a repeat of the earlier gunfight with the exception that everything was taking place at extremely close range—that, and the outcome was different. 

Gide rolled over the ground while shooting the pistols in both hands. Each bullet pierced straight and true into a Mafia member’s vital organ. Only Akutagawa was able to defend—or rather, he was forced to defend would be a more accurate description. 

“What’s going on? Is this…a skill?” Akutagawa uttered. 

Gunfire illuminated Gide’s surroundings as he evaded every counterattack, be it bullets or Akutagawa’s black claws. With the slightest of movements, Gide dodged Akutagawa as if he were a mere insect. Before long, one of Gide’s bullets eventually sneaked past Akutagawa’s guard and hit him in the abdomen with enough force that it bent him backward. Coughing up blood, Akutagawa fell back and immediately wrapped his black fabric around the wounds on his arm and stomach to act as makeshift tourniquets. However, the result gave him less fabric to use to attack and defend, which put him at an even bigger disadvantage. 

“Impossible… A destructive skill that surpasses mine?” 

“I’m jealous, Mafia skill user… I might have asked the same thing.” Gide stood with both pistols drawn. “If you were a little more capable—if you had more experience, then perhaps things would have been different. But right now, you’re nothing more than a little black duckling.” 

“Don’t you dare talk down to me!” 

Akutagawa’s hair stood on end. His black coat whirled as it started to form spikes, but Gide shot them down right as they were about to launch at the speed of sound. 

“You…can read my movements…?!” 

“We are Mimic.” Gide aimed his gun at Akutagawa. “We are a squad of ghosts—a fantôme escouade forsaken by God and fallen from grace. We shall continue to march through tainted blood until our true enemy brings us salvation.” 

Akutagawa was briefly overwhelmed by Gide’s presence…because he knew Gide was neither acting nor bluffing, but speaking only the truth. He could see it in his eyes. 

“…Answer me, leader of Mimic,” Akutagawa said in a quiet voice with a gun to his face. “What are you trying to accomplish by attacking the Mafia’s territory?” 

“Nothing,” Gide replied without missing a beat. “Ghosts wish for nothing. All we want is for our souls to cease to exist. Long ago, we turned to the Order of the Clock Tower for that purpose. Now we are here to demand that from you… Any last words, black-robed skill user?” 

“Kill me.” Akutagawa closed his eyes, then gave a small smirk. “I—understand your feelings, truly I do. I regret that I couldn’t become the enemy you sought.” 

“Farewell.” 

Gide pulled the trigger. 

But he didn’t fire. Right before he was about to shoot, he reflexively took evasive action. Raising his pistols up, he turned his body to dodge something…but his efforts were in vain. Odasaku’s bullet hit the pistol out of Gide’s hand. 

My bullet struck the enemy’s pistol, knocking it to the ground. The man who I assumed was the Mimic leader seemed to be taken aback. Maybe he was surprised I’d shot his weapon with such accuracy from so far away, although he looked startled by something else, as well. There was something curious about how he’d tried to dodge before I even fired my weapon. 

That wasn’t the time to think about it, though. I rushed toward the enemy as I shot. He fired back, but I could already “see” the bullet’s trail. Turning my head, I evaded the incoming bullet. I then fired back, but he dodged in the same way. 

He dodged? 

“Mafia reinforcements…?!” 

Neither of our bullets were connecting as we drew closer until I was near enough to grab his gun. And I did make a swipe for it, but the Mimic leader nimbly twisted his wrist, thus avoiding my hand. It was the same bizarre reaction from a second ago. He could read my every move. 

I promptly gave up on trying to neutralize the enemy and searched for any Mafia members that were still alive. Most of them had already perished, but there was a boy in a black overcoat who was still conscious. Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, I believe his name was. 

“We’re getting out of here.” 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” 

He resisted, but I hoisted him up on my shoulder and made a dash for an exit route. Akutagawa was as light as a tree branch. Someone that thin would bleed out and turn into a mummy in no time. In an instant, I was welcomed by the concentrated fire of the Mimic soldiers’ automatic rifles. Having already seen the attack in a vision, I dived to the side, still holding Akutagawa, and avoided the line of fire. Akutagawa groaned in pain as his wound opened, but I was in no position to comfort him at that moment. I ran away as quickly as I could while firing warning shots at the enemy. Then, right as they took cover, I broke for the man-made forest. 

While I heard orders being yelled behind me to pursue, I sprinted through the artificial forest of sparsely planted larches. The trees here should give me a little protection from their attacks, but there was no guarantee this wouldn’t lead us to a dead end. 

“Sorry, but I’m gonna have to put you down. Can you run?” 

I lowered Akutagawa to the ground. He knelt onto some thick underbrush as fresh blood dripped out of the wound on his stomach. 

“I’m Sakunosuke Oda, a friend of Dazai’s. I came to help you escape from this hell.” 

I extended a hand, but he simply clutched his abdomen without moving. While his skill was powerful in both offense and defense, I heard he was rather frail physically. 

Out of nowhere, I had a vision. After it was over, I lunged backward in response to what I had seen. Then, like a flash of darkness, a blade swung right through where my head just was. 

“I’ve heard about you. You’re nothing more than a lackey,” Akutagawa said, panting. His eyes glowed with outrage as if he was going to pounce at me any second. 

“Yep.” 

“You’re ‘Dazai’s friend’?” 

His penetrating gaze shot right through me. It was as if something had set his heart ablaze with utter darkness. 

“Yeah,” I replied. 

“Dazai told me something once. He said I could train a hundred years and still wouldn’t be able to defeat you.” Akutagawa’s murderous rage swelled and burst forth. “He wouldn’t lie, which is exactly why I can’t forgive you. I’m inferior to even you, the lowest-ranking member of the Mafia? Why? Why? Why?” 

Three strips of black fabric soared toward me. Having already seen his attack in a vision, I rolled to the side and dodged. The tree behind me was sliced in two before falling down with a loud crack. 

“We don’t have time to fight between ourselves. The enemy will be here any moment now.” 

“Why?! Why did Dazai…?!” 

I lowered my head until it was almost touching the ground. After cutting down a few trees, the black fabric behind me swung back right over my head. Immediately, a few more trees collapsed. 

What a frightening skill. It had extraordinary range and speed. What was more, the blades sliced through everything they touched, making it one of the most powerful skills in the Mafia. The idea of someone this talented at this age was spine-chilling. I could see why Dazai wanted to keep him by his side to train him. However, now wasn’t the time for admiration. 

As I shot my pistol at Akutagawa, he sliced the space before him with the black fabric he had apparently been storing by his side. The bullet then sank into the cut space and stopped. However, I already knew about his defense mechanism, so I used that opening to slide to his side and kicked his injured arm with everything I had. 

“Gah…?!” 

The excruciating pain forced Akutagawa to writhe and fall unconscious. He was already mentally drained from using his skill over and over again and from guarding multiple times with a technique he wasn’t yet accustomed to using. The kick to the gunshot wound was enough to send him over the edge. 

He was barely conscious regardless. 

I’d heard that Dazai’s Spartan training style was relentless, but no matter how effective it was in producing fast results, Akutagawa was still a kid. Mentally, he was already exhausted from battling the Mimic soldiers, its leader, and me all in quick succession. No one would’ve been surprised if he’d passed out on his own. Just where did that tenacity come from? 

“Why?! Why did Dazai…?!” 

When he’d let out that anguished cry, I caught a glimpse of something faint—something other than anger—hidden behind his expression. I couldn’t get it out of my head. 

“I had a feeling…that I would find someone in this country with that skill.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

I turned around. 

The Mimic leader stood at the forest’s entrance with three of his men. Since I could no longer hear any gunfire, you could’ve even described the man-made forest as tranquil in that moment. 

“I am André Gide. We ghosts came in search of…the one who will free our souls,” the leader claimed. 

He had striking features. If he were wearing a fancy suit with a glass of wine in hand, I could see him being an actor in a movie. However, there was a certain quality to the timbre of his voice that sounded like something from decades past. 

“Well, I know this guy who works at a funeral home. I’m sure he’ll give you a discount if I put in a word for you.” 

“That won’t be necessary…because I just found who I was looking for.” 

At the same instant, Gide shot his pistol, aiming for right between my eyes. It was an extremely accurate shot, but knowing it was coming five seconds in advance made it easy to dodge. 

I took half a step to my right. One bullet hit me between the eyes, the other through my heart. The assault weapon’s soft-point bullet broke through my cranium and into the back of my skull, sending me flying from the impact. 

The vision ended there. 

My skill showed me the future. While suppressing the panic flashing through my mind, I swerved to the left, contrary to what I did in my vision. However, the moment I dodged, a bullet was buried in my skull. The inside of my head shook from the impact, sending a soft, damp sound through my skull. 

The vision ended there. 

I stood in a daze. Gide hadn’t moved since he got there. He was still aiming his gun right at me and hadn’t even pulled the trigger yet. I was suddenly thrown into a deep pool of confusion. 

What’s going on? 

“Your confusion is my confusion as well,” Gide said after lowering the gun. “Because you can do exactly what I can. You have the skill to see danger that involves you seconds before it happens. I saw a future where you moved right, so I adjusted my aim accordingly. However, you ‘saw’ that future and swerved left instead. And I saw that future as well… Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

We have the same skill? 

“Your ability to observe the future is omnipotent. No one in this world can kill you…with the exception of me.” Gide’s cheeks tensed as his lips vaguely stretched to the sides. It looked as if he was smiling. “And the only one who can bury me is you. You are the sole person who can end this war.” 

His smile was truly from the heart. It was as if someone had injected ice-cold poison into my veins. I almost reflexively pointed my gun at him. 

“Yes. Just like that,” Gide replied as if he were begging for it. “That bullet alone can stop this war. You’re a member of the Mafia. You should want nothing more than the head of your enemy.” 

The muzzle of my gun was pointed at Gide. Everything he said was true. There was no telling who would win in a match between two people who could see the future. But there wasn’t anyone else in the Mafia who could even make him sweat. 

I took in a deep breath before exhaling with the muzzle still aimed right at the enemy. Then I lowered my gun. 

“I’ll pass,” I replied. “I came here to save my ally. And honestly, I haven’t killed anyone in years.” 

“………What?” That was the first time I heard a note of surprise in his voice. “Are you…not with the Mafia?” 

“The Mafia’s full of all different kinds of people.” 

“Guns are tools to kill, and this is a battlefield.” Gide gradually raised his voice. “So let us fight! Let us fight with all that we are—a battle that tears away at our souls! All a war needs is a single bullet. Even if you don’t shoot, you will have no choice but to fight back if I do!” 

He aimed his gun at me. Only moments prior, I “saw” him fire. 

“Everyone’s obsessed with fighting. They can’t get enough of it,” I said. “But not me. I’m interested in living. What interests me is how you guys live and what drives you to war. And if you die, that information will be forever lost.” 

“There is no life more important than death!” 

Gide pulled the trigger. 

I had a vision. 

The bullet hit me as I bent backward to dodge. I ducked, yet I was still hit. I tried swerving to the side, but the bullet connected. Each condition was superimposed as it played out through my head. 

Foreseeing the future wouldn’t help me in the least like this. I plunged forward in an attempt to decrease my area of damage. The enemies’ bullets soared by, slightly grazing my temples. The Mimic soldiers shot their automatic rifles in tune with their leader; however, I was able to easily foresee it. Rolling over the dirt, I avoided their bullet shower, then fired back with both of my weapons. They were mere warning shots, purposely aimed to not hit anyone. After rolling to Akutagawa’s side, I got on one knee and raised my guns. 

“You purposely…missed?” Gide’s expression darkened. “Do you…really believe this is the battle we have yearned for? What, what is it we’ve been fighting for until now…?” 

“Sorry you came all the way to Japan for this, but I have my reasons for not killing anyone. Please find someone else.” 

“Why?!” Gide yelled. “After that battle, we searched for a place worthy of death. We wandered the world like specters! You are our only hope! Shoot! Shoot us! If you don’t…” 

His howls floated unheeded into the atmosphere. He sounded like a man deep in his grave, but also like someone who desperately wanted to live. It appeared I had no choice but to answer him. In hushed tones, I replied: 

“The reason why I can’t grant your wish is that I have a dream. When I quit the Mafia and am able to do anything I want, I will sit at a desk in a room with a view of the ocean…” 

—“Then you write what happens next.” 

—“That’s the only way to preserve its perfection.” 

“I want to be a novelist,” I continued. “I want to throw away my gun. All I want in my hands are a pen and paper… A certain man once told me that writing novels is writing people… You cannot write about someone’s life after you rob them of it. That’s why I will never kill again.” 

All noises vanished in an instant. The sound of the wind, the sound of leaves rubbing together—they all disappeared, filling the world with only silence. 

That was something I had never told anyone before, not even Dazai or Ango. 

“Is that your answer?” Gide asked in a low voice. “Is that the reason why you refuse to stand on the battlefield before us?” 

“Yes,” I answered. 

I looked at Gide, and he looked back at me. Our gazes quietly crossed as we tried to read the emotions hidden deep in each other’s eyes. That was when I realized the negotiation had failed. Gide aimed his gun at Akutagawa, who was still unconscious, and pulled the trigger. 

It would’ve been impossible to pick up an unconscious body and dodge a bullet at the same time, so I threw myself in front of Akutagawa. The impact hit me right in the middle of the chest. I’d jumped to the side, and the force spun me around before I collapsed onto the ground and rolled back even farther. 

“To live? We are already dead. We are but soulless masses of flesh controlled by the spirits of the departed. We are nothing more than empty shells waiting for a skill user like you to reduce these bodies to ash with your gunfire.” 

Each cough brought an unbearable pain in my chest. I ripped my jacket and checked the bullet to find it stuck in my bulletproof vest. Even then, my sternum ached as if I’d been hit with a hammer. 

“You’re not dead.” I slowly strung my words together. “I don’t know what happened to you in the past, but you can take your time to think about how you’ll die.” 

“Why don’t you understand…? You’re the only one who can…!” 

As he wrung every last bit of anger out of his voice, all emotion suddenly faded from Gide’s eyes like a candle going out. And just like that, his gray eyes were empty, as if I were staring into endless ruins. 

“If that is your answer, then there is nothing that can be done. You will not kill me because you do not understand my desire. Also, I will not kill you because you are the only one who can guide us into the battlefield’s sacred fire.” 

Without making a sound, the personnel carrier from earlier stopped alongside the artificial forest’s entrance behind Gide. Then he and his men quietly got into the truck to the very last man. The grave tone reminded me of a funeral. As they were about to take off, Gide looked back at me once more, then said, “I will make you understand.” 

His expression was pale. There was a note of sorrow in his voice that sounded like something not of this world. I couldn’t even tell where it was coming from. 

“I will make you understand me. I’ll show you…,” Gide said while sternly pointing at his temple, “…what is in here. Then you will know the truth. You will understand that one of us must die.” 

He silently walked away, got in the truck, and disappeared. However, at the final moment before he left, he cast a glance at me that chilled my blood. At last, he spoke. 

“Look forward to it.” 

Ever since that day, Mimic stopped attacking us. After getting the injured the help they needed, I talked with Dazai a little. Then I locked myself in my room and cycled through my thoughts. In that dim room, I listened only to my heartbeat as I observed the emotions bubbling up from within me like foam. I had a feeling something was going to happen, and soon. Something big. Like the violet sky before nightfall, like faraway thunder before a downpour, I had a faint sense I was about to face something colossal. This foreboding had nothing to do with being a skill user; it was the small tinge everyone gets before something’s about to happen. But realistically, there was virtually nothing I could do about it until it actually occurred and slapped me in the face. The world isn’t kind. You have to be tough. 

Night fell. Dazai contacted me and asked if I could meet him to discuss our plans going forward. I grabbed my coat and left my room. 

“I like the night,” Dazai said. “Nighttime is the Mafia’s time.” 

The two of us took a walk through downtown Yokohama. The city residents were calmly roaming the streets. Buildings old and new equally bathed in the moist sea breeze. The golden stars in the sky flickered just like the lights on the earth’s surface. 

“Where are we going now?” 

“To meet someone.” Dazai smiled. “Anyway, I feel for you, Odasaku. Not only did you run into the enemy’s boss, but he made some serious advances toward you, too. At this rate, you guys will be married by the weekend.” 

“That’s not what happened.” At least, I hoped not. “They’re just a group of weirdos who start wars for the sake of it.” 

“Oh? I think it’s kinda cute, going to such lengths to plan another person’s death. I never would’ve thought of doing that.” There was more than a hint of amusement in his tone. “But I can’t ignore what he said to you before he left. They might try to switch up their strategy before attacking again. I need to have my men keep an eye on you.” 

“How much longer is this conflict gonna last?” 

“The Mimic soldiers don’t bother me so much, but the leader’s skill is a real pain. Surprise attacks won’t work, which means we need some inside information. Got any ideas?” 

The Mafia was making every effort to get intel on Mimic, but so far it had been all for naught. 

“Ango’s the only lead I’ve got,” I said. “He was working as a double agent for the Mafia and Mimic for years. He ought to know a lot more than what he told me the other day.” 

“I agree.” Dazai nodded. 

“Is there no way to find him?” 

“There is,” he plainly declared. 

“Oh, there is?” I nodded. Then I found myself surprised. “Wait. There is?” 

“More precisely, there’s no need to search for him. He’ll be waiting for us. All right, we’re here.” 

I looked up in the direction Dazai was pointing in. 

“Here?” I asked. 

“Where else?” Dazai wryly smirked. 

Before me was a familiar bar with a white sign and a small light glowing in the darkness of the night. 

Dazai and I went down the dimly lit stairs to the basement. I could hear the faint voices of people conversing as my feet were enveloped in a white cloud of cigarette smoke. Thinking back, there was always someone there. Whenever I came by, I would always mysteriously run into a friend who would immediately greet me, even if we hadn’t made plans to meet or if I’d just stopped by on a whim. 

And that still hadn’t changed. 

“Hey, nice to see you. I’ve already started.” 

In the exact same seat, ever his usual self, Ango raised his glass and greeted us. After giving the bartender the signal with my eyes, I raised a finger. Immediately, he gave me a quick glance of acknowledgment. Dazai and I then took the seats by Ango’s side. 

“You could’ve at least tried to get in touch with me,” I said. 

“It took me a while to throw the pursuers off my trail.” Ango let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve had a lot of difficulties that prevented me from talking. But now there are no wiretaps, and nobody followed me here. I can drink to my heart’s content. More importantly, how did you know I was here?” 

“I found a handkerchief at the site of the explosion.” Dazai grinned fiendishly. “There was a napkin from this place wrapped inside. It was completely obvious. Who would’ve thought spies used such dated methods, huh?” 

Now that he mentioned it, I remembered lending Ango my handkerchief before I passed out. That must’ve been when he slipped the napkin in. I just thought I’d lost it. 

“We’re the only ones who would pick up on something like that,” Ango said before letting out a small sigh. “I thought I’d never get to drink here again. I’m lucky. And I want to share this luck with my two friends.” 

“Well, aren’t you being rather sentimental for an undercover agent,” Dazai coolly replied. 

I looked at Ango. He didn’t immediately react to what Dazai had said, but his lips seemed to faintly curl. 

“…I’m impressed,” Ango quietly admitted after a few moments went by. 

“Ango, you were already somebody before you joined the Mafia. You were an agent for the Home Affairs Ministry’s Special Division for Unusual Powers, a secret government agency. Your mission was to keep an eye on the Mafia and report back to headquarters.” 

“……Yes,” Ango replied after a deep sigh. 

“While you may be part of a secret organization that presides over the skill users in this country, you wouldn’t make it out unscathed if you took on the Port Mafia head-on. Plus, the mission of the Special Division for Unusual Powers is to manage skill users, not wipe them out. That’s why they sent an agent to infiltrate the Mafia to keep an eye on things. It was an unavoidable measure of action. Am I right?” 

That would mean the entire mess that got Ango into the Mafia was set up by the Special Division for Unusual Powers. 

“That’s when Mimic came up. This criminal organization of skill users planned on coming to Japan, and they would prove to be another headache for the Special Division for Unusual Powers to deal with. Therefore, they got you to keep an eye on them…as a double agent for the Mafia. Of course, those black-clothed Special Forces—the Division’s task force—would come to your rescue if needed.” 

“Being a government official was a thankless job for little money,” Ango claimed with a scowl. 

“So that would mean Ango wasn’t a double agent, but a triple agent,” I said. 

“Yep.” Dazai nodded. “Well, that’s about the extent of my research. Anyway, enough boring stuff. Let’s drink.” 

Glasses were then gently placed before our seats. Usually, we would say cheers after that, but not this time. Perhaps that would never happen again. 

Nobody spoke for a while after that. A bitter silence, more bitter than anything on the menu, filled the air between us. 

“So…” Ango reluctantly spoke up since no one else would say anything. “Did you come here to affirm our abiding friendship?” 

“As if.” Only the corners of Dazai’s lips curled. “We came to get information on Mimic. You knew that.” 

“It’s strange. This is the same liquor I always order, yet it has no taste,” Ango muttered while staring at his glass as if he was talking to himself. Then he turned his gaze to me and asked, “The Division’s surveillance group informed us that you met Gide. Did you see his skill?” 

I told him I saw that Gide could predict his enemy’s attacks. 

“Even the Special Division for Unusual Powers has no way of dealing with that skill.” Ango shook his head. “The only option would be to drop a massive bomb on him…but he’s elusive. We can’t pin him down. The higher-ups apparently intend to let the Mafia deal with this case. After both crime syndicates take each other out, the Special Division for Unusual Powers can just manage whichever group survives, thus never having to sacrifice one of their own.” 

Such a brilliant maneuver would be like killing two birds with one stone for the Special Division for Unusual Powers. 

“How convenient.” Dazai tilted his head to the side. “But even the Mafia would have a hard time dealing with that skill.” Dazai then looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “…With the exception of one lowest-ranked mafioso, of course.” 

“He’s a military veteran in command of countless powerful soldiers,” I mentioned as I stared at my reflection in my drink. “Besides, our skills merely allow us to see a few seconds into the future. Who wins depends on whoever’s more skilled in battle and with a gun.” 

Being more skilled with a gun means being able to shoot your opponent from farther away with more accuracy. 

“Odasaku’s marksmanship…” Dazai broke into a meaningful grin. “There’s a lot of uncertainty. Plus, there’s also the problem of a skill singularity.” 

“Skill singularity?” 

“Did anything unusual happen when you used your skill against Gide?” 

After thinking about it for a moment, I told him something unusual did, in fact, happen. I saw multiple futures stacked on top of one another. 

“It’s a phenomenon the government has started to research only recently.” Ango’s expression was stern as he spoke. “They’ve observed that when multiple skills interact, on rare occasions they’ll careen off into a completely unexpected direction. The details are unclear, but for example…let’s imagine two people are fighting, but both have the skill to always strike first… Or one has the skill to always deceive their opponent while the other has the skill to always see the truth… What would happen? The answer is we don’t know until we try. Most of the time, one skill ends up winning. However, in some rare cases, it leads to a phenomenon that isn’t initiated by either party. The Special Division for Unusual Powers calls this a singularity.” 

Maybe what I saw then was a singularity. Or was a singularity something even beyond that? 

“I really wasn’t supposed to tell you any of that,” Ango mentioned. “Even the fact that we met here would be a huge problem if the higher-ups in the Home Affairs Ministry ever find out. I’ll need to go into hiding for the time being.” 

Dazai looked at Ango, then beamed as he said, “Oh my. It almost sounds like you think you’ll be able to leave here alive, Ango.” 

The air froze. Ango’s expression slowly faded away, but Dazai was still smiling. 

“I mean, you know what I’m saying, right? An elusive, secret agency of skill users shrouded in darkness—a group of mythical status that sends shivers down the spines of all criminal syndicates in the country—and one of the members from that organization is here right before my eyes. The amount of information I want out of you could create a tome thicker than the dictionary itself. Am I wrong?” 

I naturally asked Dazai what was on my mind. “Do you plan on turning this place into a war zone?” 

Ango didn’t even flinch. His face was frozen into an ambiguous smirk. He stared at Dazai as if his eyes were locked in place. 

“It’s my fault,” Ango said as if he had given up. “I made a mistake. I assumed that this place was the one place we could meet that transcended status or rank. I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble here, so do to me as you will. I won’t resist.” 

Ango ought to have known just how horrifying Mafia torture was. There was no hope for him to return to the Special Division for Unusual Powers alive. Even if I took Ango’s side there, nothing would change. There was no way to break out of Dazai’s trap around the bar’s perimeter, and the orphans at the restaurant would be killed if I betrayed the Mafia. 

“Ango.” Dazai quietly spoke up, turning his hand back and forth as if to inspect both sides. “If I make just one phone call, my men will immediately surround the place. But they still haven’t made a move. Get out of here before I change my mind.” 

Ango tried to say something, but he swallowed his words. 

“I’m not sad. I knew from the very beginning,” Dazai said. His face was a blank mask now. “It didn’t matter whether you were with the Special Division for Unusual Powers. I always lose the things I don’t want to lose the most. That’s why I don’t feel anything anymore. The moment you get your hands on something worth going after, you lose it. That’s just how things are. There is nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life of suffering.” 

I stared at Dazai. We had known each other for a while, but this was the first time he’d ever opened up about himself. I could see a thorn the size of a harpoon wedged deeply into his life. 

“Dazai, Odasaku, I am no different. As part of an underground organization whose duties must be kept secret, as a skill user who hunts other skill users, I have been engulfed in the darkness of the government for too long. I shall never walk in the light again.” Ango looked at us and continued, “If there ever comes a time when the Division and the Mafia no longer exist…if we’re ever freed from the confines of our work…do you think we can drink here again like this?” 

“Don’t say any more, Ango,” a voice said nearby. It was my voice. “Just don’t.” 

Ango shook his head, seemingly hurt. Then he gradually stood from his stool and slowly left the bar, his eyes downcast as if he was listening carefully to the sound of his own footsteps. I figured that was probably the last time I would ever see him. I looked to the seat he had been in to find something placed on the table next to his empty glass. After picking it up, I showed Dazai. 

It was the photo we’d taken in that very bar only a few days ago. All three of us were laughing and smiling.