Chapter 38: A Five-Million-Yen Commission

In a bar on the Kabukicho Ichibangai street in Tokyo, Nara Hikaru sat alone. Several bottles of beer were placed beside him, yet he did not drink. Before him sat a small dish of peanuts, which he picked at one by one. His demeanor seemed completely out of place in the atmosphere of a Kabukicho bar.

In contrast, Koshimizu Natsuki, sitting on the other side, blended in perfectly. With her sunglasses, headphones, and the new clothes she had bought since arriving in Tokyo, she looked exactly like one of the street-smart girls often found in Kabukicho bars, fitting in without a hint of dissonance. Resting her chin on her hand, she glanced toward the bar's stage and asked with a touch of curiosity, "Why come to a bar if you aren't going to drink?"

"I rarely drink," Nara Hikaru replied calmly, picking up another peanut and popping it into his mouth. As if reminded of some past experience, he continued, "Alcohol numbs the nerves and makes a person slack. A hitman in the Guandong Mountains who wanted to get ahead once told me that big shots always die because of slackness. Although I am no big shot, slackness would be just as lethal to me."

...The Guandong Mountains again. What exactly did you go through there?

Koshimizu Natsuki raised an eyebrow, wearing an expression that seemed to ask, "Are you for real?" However, with her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, the look was not particularly convincing.

*Tap, tap, tap, tap.*

Nara Hikaru's ears twitched slightly. He heard footsteps—footsteps amidst the noisy crowd that were headed specifically toward them. He glanced at Koshimizu Natsuki, who understood and stopped speaking. They were waiting for the person sent by the Black Organization to appear.

"Hey, kid, are you the one who wants to go to Tottori Prefecture?"

The table was slammed, sending a few peanuts scattering across the surface. Two thugs, looking every bit the part of local hoodlums, stood beside them. They glared at Nara Hikaru, clearly displeased with this guy in black who seemed to be putting on airs.

"So what if I am? And what if I'm not?" Nara Hikaru looked up. He met the gaze of the lead thug while nonchalantly picking up another peanut and tossing it into his mouth.

Noticing the commotion, the bartender walked over with two burly men. He said sternly, "This is the territory of the Tsuchibachi Clan; it is not a place where you Wakaguchi Clan members can just throw your weight around!"

"If you aren't drinking, get out of here! If you want to start a fight, the same applies!"

The bartender’s words seemed to carry some weight. The two thugs exchanged glances and decided to leave, but not before delivering a final threat. "Kid, we'll be waiting for you at the entrance. Don't even think about running!"

Watching the thugs swagger out, Koshimizu Natsuki felt confused. She didn't understand why this sort of person had come looking for Nara Hikaru; it was far too strange. Wasn't this supposed to be the Black Organization? A massive, transnational criminal syndicate, and the people they send are this caliber? They sounded like members of a local Kabukicho gang...

"Sir, our bar has a back exit. If you need to, you can leave that way," the bartender said in a low voice, having noticed the situation at the door.

"I appreciate the gesture, but there is no need," Nara Hikaru said, dusting off his hands as he stood up. He then asked, "Could you tell me how to get to the Wakaguchi Clan headquarters?"

...The Wakaguchi Clan headquarters?

Although the bartender didn't know what Nara Hikaru intended to do, he gave him the directions. Afterward, he watched as Nara Hikaru walked toward the bar entrance as if he were out for a stroll. As expected, the two Wakaguchi thugs moved to grab him. The bartender even saw them pull out knives—

But in the next instant, both thugs were on the ground. The knives they had drawn were now embedded in their own bodies, blood flowing from the hilts.

"This... who on earth is this guy?" The bartender felt his throat go dry and asked instinctively.

"He's the urban legend of Beika Town, of course," Koshimizu Natsuki said, standing up. She gave the bartender a cheerful wave and hurried to catch up with Nara Hikaru.

The two disappeared into the crowd. Seeing this, the bartender felt a chill run down his spine. The urban legend of Beika Town... wasn't that the half-human, half-ghost sharpshooter? Why had he left Beika Town? It looked like... the Wakaguchi Clan was finished.

***

In the leader's office on the top floor of an office building in Kabukicho, the head of the Wakaguchi Clan was leaning back comfortably in his leather chair, his feet propped up on the desk. He felt today was his lucky day. Someone had actually come along to pay him five million yen just to grab two nobodies!

"Easy money. Those two are easy enough to find." He muttered to himself, raising his wrist to glance at his solid gold watch. Then, he heard some commotion outside. Frowning, he walked toward the door, which had excellent soundproofing.

He pushed the door open and looked out into the hall. What he saw made his blood run cold. The members of the Wakaguchi Clan were strewn about the floor in disarray. Their wounds were deep enough to expose bone, and their wails filled the air. The most unfortunate ones were silent, their handguns dropped to the side, clearly dead.

"W-what... what happened here?" The leader swallowed hard, his heart filled with unease.

"What happened? Don't you have a guess?" A strange voice came from behind him.

The leader spun around as if triggered. A man in a black coat stood with his back to him, flipping through the ledger on the desk. At his feet lay a katana—the very same blade that had served as a piece of "Bushido spirit" decor in the hall. The blood on the blade told the leader exactly what weapon had been used to slaughter his men.

"How is this possible? There were over thirty of them..." he whispered in disbelief. He looked up at this ghost-like man and finally realized one thing: this five million yen was not as easy to earn as he had thought. On the contrary, he was likely going to lose his life over it.