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 m
assacre 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.
Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era Page 10
