Purgatory Strider

by Shiden Kanzaki

  “What’s his name?” Rentaro confronted Yuga on the floor. “I need to know his name! Who was the guy that defeated you?”

  Then he noticed the sweat glistening on his forehead. His body must have been near its limit. And Yuga had more pressing business than to answer his question.

  “Satomi,” he began, “have you ever seen a line of the dead?”

  “Huh?”

  “Before, before the Professor performed the, mechanization work on me… I told you, I was blind, right? But even though I couldn’t see, I could, this one time…I saw…it. Right after, the war, the people…who were turned into, into Gastrea… They were listed as, as missing, remember? I saw it. Even through my eyelids. They weren’t alive, or…or dead. A line of people, wandering through purgatory. Satomi… Heaven is so, so far away, but hell… I think, I think if I threw a stone right now, I’d hit…it.”

  His lips curled upward in a final self-chiding smile.

  “This… This is war. Ours, and yours. The Gastrea War is… It’s not, not over at…”

  That was all. Yuga spat out a mouthful of blood, and softly opened his eyes, as if it was his duty to do so. He stopped moving. It was the moment Five Wings Syndicate assassin Dark Stalker left the world of the living—and with him came Yuga Mitsugi, the man who may just have been Rentaro’s friend.

  5

  “Fuck! Fuck!”

  Hitsuma slammed the pedal to the metal, cursing to himself every kilometer of the way. It was all over. Everything. He—Rentaro Satomi—had ruined it all.

  Not long ago, Dark Stalker’s vital signs had flatlined. It was clear now. Not even he could have taken on Rentaro. Dark Stalker—the man who swaggered his way into every fight he ever had, then sauntered his way back out without so much as breaking a sweat. The idea of him being shot seemed like some kind of tasteless joke.

  He couldn’t help but look back at all the oversights, all the possible fail-safes he ignored. Throwing him in a cell and turning his fate over to the judge seemed like the best option at the time. Now, though, it was clear that wasn’t enough. If only he had poisoned the boy’s meals inside jail—even if his comrades thought that was overstepping his bounds—this entire disaster could’ve been avoided.

  Now Hitsuma had just received word from Nest to stand by and await further instructions from Five Wings. If he was stripped of his wings and expelled from the syndicate—that was the best fate he could hope for, really. But inside, he felt he had to brace himself for the idea that someone could put a bullet in his head at any moment without warning.

  But even now, there was one sort of revenge Hitsuma could still exact against Rentaro. He was in a tuxedo, pushing his convertible as fast as it could go down the expressway. Eventually settling down at an intersection in a quiet suburban district, he could see the roof of the ceremonial hall, a citywide hotspot for marriages and receptions.

  Despite the breakneck pace of the arrangements, he still managed to get the date he asked for. It was going to be a Western-style ceremony, and yet his fiancée’s family insisted upon holding it on the most auspicious day possible in the old-style Japanese lunar calendar. He was highly dubious at first, but it was a Tendo tradition—and he still had the clarity of mind to keep at least one ear open to their requests.

  In just a bit more time, Hitsuma would be married. Married to a girl Rentaro had feelings for. The wild beast that lurked in Hitsuma’s psyche sneered in abject derision.

  I’m going to defile her. Trample over her. Just imagining the rage with which he planned to go at her seemed to charge something up in his heart of hearts.

  Checking his watch, he cursed himself once more. He needed to hurry. He was already a few minutes late. His foot was heavy on the accelerator again.

  Leaving his convertible to the valet, he strode into the pompously magnificent church edifice, looking up at the cross at its very apex as he opened both front doors with both hands. The air felt secluded, a little stuffy, the only light from burning candles. They lined the walls atop metal stands; but after racing around in broad daylight, it seemed intensely dark to Hitsuma.

  The space was lined with stone columns, two side aisles intersecting the main one in the middle to form another cross. Down the middle was a red carpet, and beyond it, above the altar, deep azure light streamed in through a stained-glass window. And at the altar itself—

  “Oooh…!”

  Hitsuma stared in astonishment. The tens of millions of yen he spent flattering her was now completely forgotten. There she was, the veil covering her black silken hair, the white gloves on her hands. The soft chiffon skirt draped over her sides. She was a maiden of pure white, one more beautiful than anyone thought possible, and she was standing with her back turned to him.

  The priest had yet to arrive, it seemed, so instead of awaiting further instructions, he forgot himself and walked forward, past the long wooden pews. Once he was close enough, he reached out with a hand, aiming for her slender shoulder.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Kisara. Are you ready? Once the priest shows up, we can hold the ceremony all by ourselves.”

  His hand touched her shoulder.

  —Only to be slapped back. A long, metallic black tube zeroed in on the bridge of Hitsuma’s nose. The black-haired bride narrowed her gaze at him.

  “Sorry, but I’m not marrying you, Mr. Hitsuma… Or maybe it’s better to call you Atsuro Hitsuma, top manager at the Five Wings Syndicate?”

  “Wha…?! Kisara, what are you talking about? The Five Wings…what? I have no idea what that is—”

  “—Maybe you’ve kept the game going for this long, Superintendent,” said another voice in the distance, “but it’s just about time to pay the piper.”

  Hitsuma whirled around. Near one of the side aisles, the door to the priest’s office opened. Out of it stepped a barrel-chested inspector. Even the old-fashioned revolver he was carrying seemed like some kind of joke.

  “Inspector Tadashima…”

  “Sorry, sir, but you’re not gonna see any priest here today. I’m taking over for him. And instead of some Western-style wedding vows, I’m gonna be advising you, USA-style, of your Miranda rights. Hope you know a good lawyer.”

  “Wh-what are you two people talking about? I mean, what kind of evidence could you possibly—?”

  “We’ve got plenty of evidence.”

  Kisara lifted up her left arm, the long silken glove still on it. She took a chip out from inside.

  “The memory card… Where did you…?!”

  The stammered reaction amounted to a de facto confession. Hitsuma didn’t even care anymore. All he could do was stand there, hyperventilating.

  “It was in here,” Kisara said as she took out a pocket watch. The light reflected off it in a dazzling array of colors. It was the very one Hitsuma had given her during their marriage negotiations.

  “You, you’re kidding me! There’s no way it could be in there. I took the whole thing apart!”

  “Yeah,” Kisara replied as she rapped a knuckle on the watch face, “it was pretty tough to spot. This watch has a pretty unique mechanism inside of it. I tried messing with it, too, but even I couldn’t figure it out until the appointed hour came along.”

  “The appointed hour…?”

  “Kihachi Suibara was supposed to give this watch to Hotaru Kouro for her birthday. That’s today, by the way—August 22. And when the clock struck midnight, the mechanism played a music-box melody and sprang into action. And guess what we found inside?”

  “Superintendent Hitsuma, sir,” Tadashima continued, police notebook in hand, “I decided to go over everything we know about Rentaro Satomi from the ground up. The suspect testified in interrogation several times that Suibara claimed someone stole his evidence, so he wanted to be referred to Lady Seitenshi to inform her of his story directly. I checked on that, and I found three 1-1-0 emergency calls from Kihachi, summoning the police to his home. The place had been ransacked every time, to the point that the answe
ring officers couldn’t determine if it was robbery or simple vandalism.

  “Looking back, it was probably meant more as a warning, wasn’t it? A warning not to wade further in if you want to keep breathing. So, not to persecute our own force about this, but all they did was take down a statement and leave each time. I know we’re all busy on the force, but it’s a bad habit we all have—as long as nobody’s bleeding, we’re not exactly proactive with property crimes. It must’ve been during one of those break-ins that Hotaru’s birthday present was stolen.”

  The salvos of evidence fired at Hitsuma made it hard for him to breathe at all.

  “So… The card…?”

  “Yep,” Kisara said. “We looked at it all. I’m pretty sure the police are checking in on the Five Wings officers under you right now. Sure weren’t expecting the police commissioner himself to be in on it, though.”

  The barrel of the revolver in Tadashima’s hand was quivering with rage. He was practically crushing the handle with his death grip.

  “That, and we know all about the so-called ‘Black Swan Project,’ too. At first, sir, I was just shocked—but now… Now, I have nothing but anger for you. I can’t believe you even considered transforming Gastrea into biological weapons…!”

  Kisara whisked her head back and forth. “Why…? Why, Mr. Hitsuma? When we met five years ago, you were the most honest, ethical person I had ever met. When did this happen to you?”

  Everything had fallen to pieces. When it finally dawned on him, he found it extremely odd that his instinctive reaction was neither anger nor resignation to his fate.

  “Well, this saves me the trouble of inviting you.”

  “Inviting me?”

  Hitsuma, cool and collected, spread his arms out wide and took a step forward. Tadashima’s gun shook again. A look of trepidation crossed Kisara’s face.

  “Did you think I joined the Five Wings Syndicate because my father made me? Well, sadly, I didn’t. I joined out of my own free will. I don’t know if it’s in the memory card Suibara took or not, but the aim of the Syndicate is to rid the world of Gastrea for good.”

  “But the way you’re trying to do that is absolutely evil!”

  “Why is that? We are talking about a group with a united will. A will, and a drive to press that will forward. It’s the simplest thing in the world.”

  “And can’t you hear the screams of the weak you’re trampling over with your ‘united will’?”

  Hitsuma shrugged it off, opening his arms to Kisara again. “Oh, so you’re treating me like a subhuman now?” he proclaimed. “That’s a little mean, isn’t it? The Five Wings Syndicate investigated the whole affair with Kazumitsu Tendo. And you, too—maybe you’re denying it, but deep down in your heart, doesn’t our ideology resonate with you? Or is the monster you’re keeping inside your heart see an even more sinister path for the future of mankind?”

  Kisara shuddered, the color draining from her face.

  “That’s enough, Superintendent!”

  “Maybe it seems like the Varanium supply’s gonna last forever to you,” Hitsuma continued, ignoring Tadashima’s intimidation. “But it’s not. Someday, it’s all gonna dry out. You’ve probably seen pundits go on about it in the news a hundred times by now. And Varanium is used for more than just the Monoliths. Civsecs use it for their weapons and ammo, too. Whoever controls the Varanium controls the planet—and that’s not an exaggeration, either.

  “Even if we collected together all the estimated Varanium ore deposits in the world, there’s nowhere near enough to protect every nation. And who do you think’s going to be trampled over first? It’s the weak! The weak you think you’re defending against us! But the sooner we can take action now, the more human lives we can save. In fact, if the human race keeps going the way it is now—an endless quagmire of war, consumption, wasted resources—it’s entirely possible that the Gastrea will wipe us out.

  “You’re an intelligent woman—I know you’ve got it in you to understand. What we need right now is to take the first step, secure victory, and keep the war as short as humanly possible. It’ll all contribute to the public good, in the end. Kisara… You have what it takes to join us.”

  Kisara’s eyes opened wide with surprise.

  “President Tendo! Don’t listen to him!”

  Hitsuma took out the automatic handgun he had on his person and fired.

  A spurt of blood flew out from Tadashima’s shirt, and horrified surprise crossed his face.

  Quickly turning around, Hitsuma switched to flight mode, running down the aisle. Gunfire erupted behind him, bullets digging into the floor near his feet. He used a shoulder to bash the front door open and flew out. The bright blue sky made him wince for a moment, but soon he was inside a back alley, kicking up rain puddles as he ran with all his soul.

  The whole plan was a failure. He needed to come up with a new one. For now, the first priority was lying low and reformulating his strategy. Once things settled down a bit, he could contact Kisara again and try enticing her a little more. There was no need to panic. In fact, he was cooking up a few ingenious ideas already.

  Then a car burst into the alley in front of him, brakes screeching. It stopped right in the middle of the street—it was after him.

  The smoked-glass window whirred down, revealing the face of a young man wearing a hunting cap.

  “Hello there, Mr. Hitsuma.”

  Hitsuma watched him, again overcome by surprise.

  “Are you…Nest?”

  It was the first time they had met in person. He was, after all, just a contact agent. The man who referred Hummingbird, Swordtail, and Dark Stalker to Hitsuma, as well as handled material transport for him.

  Regaining his bearings, Hitsuma started waving his arms side to side.

  “The op’s a failure! I need to at least get my father and myself to Osaka Area, all right? We’re both gonna need fake passports, like, now!”

  The urgency was clear in Hitsuma’s voice. Nest kept on smiling.

  “That’s a nice bow tie you got on.”

  “Uh?” Hitsuma’s jaw dropped as he looked down at his chest. It was a plain black one, like on every other tux in this city.

  This wasn’t funny. “What are you…?!”

  There was a muffled gunshot, and Hitsuma’s body shook.

  He fell to his knees. His chest was warm. The burst of color running through his shirt was a dark red.

  Nest had a pistol with a silencer attached.

  “We decided to dismantle the Black Swan Project. As a result, we’re being asked to eliminate all evidence linking it to Five Wings.”

  “No… If I’m not around, the administration’s going to fall apart—”

  An orange flash burst from the silencer. It was the last thing Hitsuma ever saw.

  Once he fired all the bullets in his gun, Nest tossed it in the backseat and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.

  “You make a mistake, you pay for it. Farewell, my good Superintendent.”

  The engine revved to life as the car reversed at full speed. Another second, and Nest was gone.

  All that remained was the corpse sprawled out in the wet, dingy alley.

  6

  Half-dead, half-alive, Rentaro wasn’t able to gaze at the Monoliths in their full, up-close size until fairly well into the following night. His gait was halting, unsteady, every step met with searing pain.

  It had been a long while since his battle with Yuga met its end, the blessed adrenaline his body produced in response to it a thing of the past. All that remained was an intense, all-encompassing ache.

  Along the way, he encountered three Stage One Gastrea. He discovered all three first, using his few remaining leg cartridges to end the battles in half a second. And that was that.

  The summer wind blew pleasantly against his skin, pallid with blood loss. He closed his eyes and sucked as much of its scent into his nostrils as possible.

  He had seen it for himself—the Gastrea cult
ivation facility collapsing in a heap of rubble. He had tried his best to hurry back to the Monoliths, but was stymied by the urge to carry Hotaru’s body back. It made him turn back at least once. But it just wasn’t possible. Not in his state.

  So he buried her next to the portable Monoliths instead. If possible, he wanted to get her body out of that grave as soon as possible. To someplace more suitable for her—next to Suibara.

  For now, at least, the Monoliths loomed large before him.

  Just beyond the border between “here” and “there,” he spotted a herd of red flashing lights. He squinted. He had no idea how they had sniffed him out, but it looked like Rentaro had a police welcoming party waiting for him.

  He let out a sigh. The photos from inside the facility were saved on Hotaru’s mobile phone, yes. But explaining it all would take so much more time.

  But Rentaro’s outlook was completely mistaken.

  “Rentaro!”

  “Big Brother!”

  A blonde girl and another one with a pair of pigtails were running toward him. He gazed at them in wonderment, his limbs quaking. It had been a dream of his for so long, he seriously thought it was all a hallucination for a moment. But when he realized it wasn’t, Rentaro started running, forgetting all about his injuries.

  They half hugged, half collided into one another, spinning around as they fell on the grass. They were warm; they were soft; they were dreamlike—they were Enju and Tina.

  “Enju! Tina!”

  He tried to stop them, but he couldn’t. His face twisted, and before he knew it, the tears were surging out.

  They joined shoulders, beholding one another. Tina and Enju were just as moved by this reunion, both sniffling a little and Tina wiping her eyes at regular intervals. They repeated one another’s names over and over again like crazed parrots. One more time, they held one another close. Strongly. Just to make sure they never separated again.