Purgatory Strider

by Shiden Kanzaki

  “Ah…”

  Yuzuki, still trembling, covered her face with one hand, looked up for a moment, then shielded it again. There was no fathoming the thoughts going through her head.

  “Give it up, Yuzuki!” came the rebuke from her brother. That alone was enough to firm her resolve. The next time she raised her head, her face was hostile and unwelcoming.

  The civsec group split off, going to the sides to surround Rentaro and Hotaru. A single signal was all it would take to set off the battle.

  Rentaro knew he had no chance in an extended fight. If he wanted one, he had to strike first. In the back of his mind, all the memories of their time spent fighting and laughing together bubbled up from the void. Then, under the rain- and mud-soaked pant leg that concealed it, a cartridge in his leg propelled him forward.

  5

  Sometime before Rentaro thrust himself into battle…

  The rain was coming down in buckets, but it still wasn’t enough to wash away the smell of alcohol that permeated the entire street.

  The red and green streetlights cast their clouded illumination through the rain. He had bumped umbrellas, or nearly bumped them, with several staggering drunks on the walk. The touts attempting to lure him into nightclubs and bars, their tenacity going well beyond what city regulation allowed, were starting to irk him. If he had his policeman’s uniform on, that would have snapped all these intoxicated people out of their drunken stupor. As a plainclothes inspector, however, he wasn’t given the chance to unfold the old hat and blue pants all too often.

  Holding the umbrella between his neck and shoulder, Shigetoku Tadashima unfurled a full-size road map—a rarity these days—and searched for his destination. Once he successfully spotted it, he turned his face up and took a look at the building across from him through the pounding rain.

  “…This is it?”

  He wasn’t entirely sure he was correct, but then he saw TENDO CIVIL SECURITY AGENCY in block lettering on the third floor.

  What a pile this is, he couldn’t help but think. This man that people hailed as the savior of Tokyo Area, running an office in the shabby outskirts of town—someplace where even a strip club would hesitate to set up shop. He doubted the person he was looking for would be in at this time of night, but given that her home address turned up nothing, this was the only lead he had.

  Folding up his umbrella and batting the handle against the ground to shake off water, he climbed up to the third floor. There was a frosted glass door, TENDO CIVIL SECURITY AGENCY stamped on the nearby wall panel. He rang the bell. Then he did it twice more. No response.

  He was just about to turn back toward the stairwell when his eyes detected movement somewhere beyond the frosted glass. “Excuse me?” he called out, tapping on the door again. “I’m visiting from Magata Station.”

  His patience was rewarded. After another moment or two, he heard a click, then was greeted by a young woman in black.

  “Um, what time do you think it is right—?”

  The banter cut off. A look of vague recognition emerged on the woman’s face.

  “Inspector…Tadashima, right?”

  Tadashima saluted in response. “I apologize for calling on you late at night,” he began, following standard procedure. “Would you mind if I took up a little bit of your time? I wanted to ask you about the Rentaro Satomi case.”

  Kisara seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then she stepped back and opened the door fully, inviting him in. Taking a closer look, Tadashima realized she was in a black negligee. He must have woken her up after all. It was basic—no frills or lace or whatnot—but it wasn’t the kind of thing even a grown woman would wear around a stranger.

  She didn’t seem to care, however, as she walked with an unsteady gait toward the kitchen. Her blank, glassy eyes had a dangerous fragility to them—just one touch seemed enough to make them shatter—but they also held a passive sort of beauty that didn’t resist one’s gaze. She is beautiful, Tadashima thought. He could understand why Rentaro got so passionate about her. But something bothered him.

  He had run into her several times during investigations from the Hiruko terror attack forward, but the Kisara he remembered was always standing up to her full height, arms crossed and acting miffed about something or other. The haughty girl of his memory wasn’t the one who had just greeted him. He wondered if he’d misremembered something.

  Then, in the dark room that smelled of mold, he noticed another thing that didn’t quite match the scene: a headless mannequin next to the office desk in a pure white wedding dress. A top-of-the-line one. The price could’ve easily broken ten million yen.

  “I’m getting married.”

  Startled, he turned around to find Kisara emerging from the kitchen with some teacups on a tray.

  “…I apologize for asking, but how old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Ah… Well, no problem from a legal perspective, anyway. What are you going to do about school, though?”

  “I’m dropping out,” came the flat, stiffened reply. Her half-averted eyes were pointed at Tadashima’s feet, as if she had resigned herself to the whole affair. Tadashima’s instincts warned him against pursuing this any further, but his detective’s curiosity won out.

  “When’s the big day?”

  “Um, it’s tomorrow. Hitsuma…I mean, my fiancé, got everything together at breakneck speed. He insisted.”

  Tadashima couldn’t believe his ears.

  “Hitsuma? You said Hitsuma just now, right?”

  “Yes…”

  “You don’t mean Superintendent Atsuro Hitsuma from the department by any chance, do you?”

  “Do…you know him?”

  “Do I know him? Well…”

  Now Tadashima was on the verge of forgetting what he had come there for. Hitsuma never even gave the slightest hint that he was about to become a wedded man—and it was tomorrow? That fast? With a sixteen-year-old?

  Is Mr. Hitsuma hiding this marriage from the public? But why?

  Kisara stood up, opened a drawer in her ebony office desk, and returned. There was a gold pocket watch in her hand. Opening the cover, the watch face glittered like the Milky Way, jewels festooned across it. It took only one glance to see how exquisite the timepiece was.

  “When it was settled between myself and Mr. Hitsuma…he gave this to me. It’s nice, you know? Not having to worry…about money, and things.”

  There was not even a faint echo of happiness in her voice. It seemed like she was talking to herself more than Tadashima, attempting to shoo some lingering regret out of her mind. Tadashima wasn’t sure how to respond, so he took a teacup to his lips, tried a sip—and winced.

  “Um…I’m sorry for being rude and all, but you made this tea with water, right?”

  “Huh?” For a moment, the spark of reason returned to Kisara’s filmy eyes, her cheeks blushing. “Oh, no, I messed it up again… Oh, and I greeted a guest wearing nothing but this…! I’m so stupid.”

  Without warning, her face twisted. She brought both hands to it. “I hate it.”

  “What?”

  She finally broke, Tadashima thought as her body began to tremble.

  “I hate it… Really, I…I don’t want to get married to Mr. Hitsuma. I—I want to see Satomi. Satomi… He… Why did he have to die?”

  Now the story behind this unnerving scene made sense.

  Hitsuma, for reasons he couldn’t surmise, was hiding Rentaro’s continued existence from Kisara. She saw what had happened at the Plaza Hotel, and from that, she thought he was dead. And no one had told her otherwise.

  This was starting to make him incredibly furious. Yes, he knew it hadn’t been reported in the news. The reputation of the police department was at stake. He was enough of a lifer in the force to put up with those sorts of politics. But she was practically family to the guy. Shouldn’t Hitsuma have at least told her the truth, as long as she promised to keep it under wraps? And now he was forcing his hand in marriage o
n a woman who barely qualified as an adult? What was he thinking?

  Tadashima opened his mouth. The truth had to come out—

  But the logical side of his mind stopped him. Doing this, it screamed, would be an act of open rebellion against Atsuro Hitsuma. Tadashi Hitsuma, his father and main backer in the force, was the commissioner of the whole police department. The big boss. If he did anything to draw his attention, Tadashima could be drummed out of there the very next day.

  But if he shut his mouth now, he was sure he’d regret it for ages to come.

  What you’re doing is wrong, Mr. Hitsuma.

  Tadashima placed both elbows on the glass top of the reception-room desk, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

  “President Tendo, I want you to listen carefully to me. The police have been hiding it in order to cover up their mistakes, but Rentaro Satomi is still alive.”

  A crash echoed across the room. Kisara froze, the teacup falling helplessly out of her hand.

  —Then, as if waiting for that exact moment, they heard a much gentler sound from somewhere. A familiar melody, the pure sound of musical iron keys being plucked by a mechanism. It was a music box.

  He didn’t have to search long for it.

  “Why is that…?”

  Tadashima stared at it, sitting there on the desk, then searched out the wall clock. It was exactly midnight.

  BLACK BULLET 6

  CHAPTER 05

  PURGATORY STRIDER

  1

  Rentaro’s life-and-death battle, playing out over dirty mud puddles, was turning into a desperate nightmare.

  Having faced off with them once in the past, he was fully aware of the Varanium chainsaw wrapped around the gauntlet worn by Tamaki Katagiri, as well as the “territories” his sister Yuzuki could make with her invisible wires. What threw him off his game the most, however, were the immensely powerful slashes unleashed by the tiny body of Asaka Mibu. Her “twin sword” had a single handle, from which extended two blades, one in each direction. It was a bizarre sight, and one about the length of a typical spear—but the blades, which spun in the air as Asaka twisted her hips in a sort of lethal dance, let her land two blows with a single swipe. He had to be careful around it. The shock waves that fanned out whenever she beat the blades against the ground were akin to a localized tremor as well, enough so to force him to brace himself.

  Yuzuki and Tamaki always chose that moment to lunge upon him, too. The chainsaw screamed each time it whizzed past his ear.

  He and Hotaru had tried launching a tandem barrage to at least get Asaka out of the picture. It was met with a flurry of sparks and zinging noises as she deflected it, spinning her weapon like a propeller. It floored him to see it in action.

  Come to think of it, her IP Rank was 275, wasn’t it? Following Tina and Kohina, she was the third highest-ranked Initiator Rentaro had ever met in his life. There was no way he could treat her lightly.

  Meanwhile, he was starting to get a read on her innate ability as well. Whatever her Gastrea factor was, it was geared for power—power further enhanced by her armored exoskeleton. The kick Rentaro uncoiled with all his spinal strength was stopped by the shock-absorbent fibers woven into the armor, barely damaging her at all.

  His main means of survival in this battle were the one-shot finishers he could unleash by discharging his leg cartridges. But his foes knew about that. And whenever he set himself up to let one off, they would promptly take their distance from him.

  This time, there was no relying on Hotaru’s miraculous regeneration skills. If Hotaru left the battlefield for even a moment, it’d be three-on-one, which meant Rentaro would be dead. She must have known this. She was keeping a safe distance from the enemy at all times, putting herself mainly in a backup-fire role. But if you ignored her regeneration, Hotaru’s basic skills were a far cry from both Asaka’s and Yuzuki’s.

  There was no conceivable path of victory. It was a situation where anyone would’ve immediately assumed the end was near. But Rentaro’s confrontational tenacity made Tamaki and his team honestly gaze in wonderment.

  “Why?!” screamed Yuzuki, who should have had a decisive advantage but instead found herself brushing away her rain-soaked hair in wonderment. Rentaro had used his cybernetic eye to dodge Asaka’s three-slash twin-sword strike by a hair’s breadth, all while using his artificial leg and arm to deflect Tamaki’s chainsaw knuckle and Yuzuki’s kick. He now planted that leg on the ground. It sank in a little as he gritted his teeth.

  “Ohhhhh!”

  He thrust it down with all his might as the Katagiris wavered. At the same time, he triggered a cartridge. It kicked downward, allowing him to stomp on the earth with enough force to compress the dirt underneath. His leg gouged a hole in the muddy ground, and the next moment, the earth shuddered.

  Asaka realized what he was doing soon enough to step away. Yuzuki and Tamaki did not. They fell to the ground, kicking up mud. Without a second thought, Rentaro dashed forward for a follow-up. If he didn’t beat Asaka, there would never be any victory for him.

  By the time she lifted her twin sword high and sent it zooming down, she and Rentaro were a good twenty meters away from each other. He thought she had misjudged his advance by a fairly wide margin, but a chill suddenly ran up his spine. In an instant, he tilted his trajectory to the side.

  It was just in time to hear a horrendous shredding sound that made his back feel cold with terror. The earth Rentaro had stood on just a moment ago was cleanly cut in two.

  It unnerved him. That slash had some serious distance to it. And unlike Kisara’s, it had made a clean slice through ground like it was made of butter.

  The second strike that came at him was parallel to the ground. Rentaro ducked under it; a moment later, another shredding sound erupted behind his back. He turned around without stopping, only to find the second floor of the sculpture studio crumbling behind him, belching soot and smoke as it did.

  He ran, gritting down hard on his teeth until he cried out in pain. Asaka was getting closer and closer. Once he was within range of her sword, the blades began to spin like a tornado, forming ever-changing arcs in the air as they carved the earth under his feet.

  Rentaro’s eye made calculations at blazing speed. He desperately struggled to read the blades, dodging the second strike, feinting, and making a wide leap to the right. Asaka flashed a look of surprise.

  Now!

  He tried to unleash an all-or-nothing cartridge from his leg—but then he lost his balance, as if pulled up by some unseen hand.

  Rentaro checked behind him. His eyes opened wide.

  “Oh, shi—”

  There was a spider’s web, a shining rainbow as it stood illuminated by the arched streetlight. It was being pulled by Yuzuki, hatred clouding her face as she remained on the ground. Rentaro had been caught in it when he stopped her kick with his right arm.

  But there was no time to gnash his teeth about it. Asaka’s twin blades were on their way, ready to skewer him.

  Rentaro closed his eyes. I didn’t make it.

  There was a loud, shrill vween as the blades flew.

  And continued to fly…away.

  No one was more surprised to see this than Asaka herself.

  A bullet had flown in from somewhere, making a clean hit on the extended blade. It shot sparks into the air as it knocked the weapon clear from her hands. And that wasn’t all. Another bullet, launched at almost the same time, tore through the spider web as well, its heat loosening the strands.

  The accuracy of both shots was incredible.

  “Rentaro!”

  Before Hotaru’s voice could even reach his ears, he started moving. Rentaro dove toward Asaka’s chest. The light around him swerved and spun—light that came from the explosion set off by his leg cartridge.

  Asaka’s expression, which he saw just a glance of, resembled a child lost in an amusement park. She was at a total loss.

  Ten minutes later, Rentaro stood amidst the mud and grime, lettin
g the rain plink down upon him.

  Two people were strewn around him. There was Asaka Mibu, lying facedown in a mud puddle like a worn-out paper bag detached from her shattered exoskeleton. On the other side was Yuzuki Katagiri, lying on her back.

  “Nnhh… Shit… This is crazy.”

  Rentaro turned toward the coughing voice. Tamaki was leaning hard against the wall, wiping blood from his mouth.

  It was just as he’d hoped. Once Asaka was down, Tamaki’s and Yuzuki’s weaknesses were fully exposed to the world. They were well aware of the instantaneous force his cartridges gave him—but Rentaro was just as aware of their tactics.

  Both were geared for close-quarters combat. Tamaki and his pistol could handle mid-range ops as well, but the Magnum he used, while powerful, had serious recoil issues and couldn’t store many bullets at once. It was almost entirely meant for Gastrea engagement. Compared to Rentaro’s Beretta, which relied on strength in numbers ammo-wise, it would be wholly useless in a shoot-out.

  If Rentaro and Hotaru went full-fire on Tamaki, Yuzuki would naturally have to fly in to protect him. Then it’d be a matter of wearing her out. It didn’t take a military genius to come up with that plan. And it went without saying that Tamaki going at it solo had no chance at all.

  Tamaki lifted his head. Rentaro could see, through the amber frames, that his eyes were full of murderous hatred for the traitor before him. Rentaro eyed him coldly.

  “Eat it!”

  Then he buried his fist in his stomach.

  Tamaki groaned, whispered “God damn it” to himself, set his head down, and fell unconscious. Rentaro looked at him for a few moments, then closed his eyes and stood quietly in the sprinkling rain.

  “Rentaro…”

  He turned around to find Hotaru looking up at him, hands crossed against her chest in concern. He shook his head and passed by her side.

  “Let’s go. It’s too dangerous here.”

  He still had work to do. If he could reveal the Black Swan Project to the world, all this effort would be worth it—no matter how much hatred and how many muttered curses he had to take along the way.