Rest in Peace
Ookami ducked the beam the hero in the skin-tight red suit sent screaming at him. Heat stung the back of his head, and a few strands of fur burned away.
"Dodging every which way—hardly the lofty wolf I was promised!"
The black-flame dragon came flying in, jaws gaping. Dragon in name only: it was a snake no bigger than a man's forearm.
"Wolves are pack animals."
He set his claws and tore the lizard to shreds. The hero who had launched it stared, startled that the little vanity he had been so proud of was already in pieces.
"An S-rank villain indeed. To think you would break my Dark Flame Star Stream so easily."
"And where, exactly, do you see a star stream in that?"
Had this bastard never opened an astronomy book?
"Silence, Ookami! Noise in a public place is a breach of decorum!"
Dozens of beams filled Ookami's vision.
"Tch!"
He clicked his tongue and dropped low. On all fours, as a werewolf's body demanded, he coiled the strength into his calves.
Boom!
Ookami shot forward faster than the beams that had been fired at him and stopped a breath from the red-suited hero's face.
"Wha—!"
Behind the helmet was a flustered man in his forties. Ookami seized him by the nape.
"You cur! Put Red Ranger down this instant!"
"W-wait, stop! Dark Dragon Master!"
Red Ranger tried to halt him, but the attack was already finished. The tattoo on Dark Dragon Master's left arm split its mouth wide open; a flame had been inked along the forearm.
"Haaaaah! Take this! Dark Fire Falling Star!"
Papapapak!
Fireballs burst from his left arm one after another. Ookami read the feeling packed inside them and let out a hollow laugh.
"Your teamwork is garbage."
"Aaaagh!!!"
Ookami didn't move. The fireballs, killing intent laid bare, struck Red Ranger dead-on.
"Gyaaaaaah!!!"
Had they hit Ookami, the attack would have been nothing but an insult. Hitting Red Ranger, it hurt him no differently than it would any ordinary person.
"You damned bastard!!! How dare you use Red Ranger as a shield!"
Dark Dragon Master raged.
"Hide that twitching mouth. And I didn't move, you F-rank hero."
"...Wh-what nonsense! Weren't you the one using Red Ranger as a shield!"
At the jab, Dark Dragon Master covered his mouth with his collar. The tip of his raised index finger trembled.
This is an S-rank hero?
In the United States he would have been lucky to scrape a B-rank—a half-rate fraud treated as S-rank in Japan. Because Japan's ability users were weak? No.
Media games, and a power that looks impressive. He was handed the seat. Without the Association backing him, it never would have happened.
Red Ranger was no different, blisters bubbling up across his skin: a showpiece face propped up for swagger. His attacks were useful enough to sting Ookami, and everything else fell short.
That idiot hit his own man on purpose, to thin out the mouths at the table. The Association will cover for a hero it's pushing and pretend the mess never happened.
Without something to lean on, he couldn't have pulled a stunt like that even with no one around to see it.
Brazen bastards.
Ookami hurled Red Ranger at Dark Dragon Master.
"Eek."
Dark Dragon Master sidestepped the body as it trailed blood. Red Ranger rolled hard across the ground and went limp as a corpse.
"Y-you bastard! How dare you do that to a precious comrade!"
"He's not dead. Though he might be, if he doesn't get to a hospital."
"I won't forgive you!"
Dark Dragon Master clutched his left arm, winding up for a fit.
"Shut up."
"...Hiek!"
Under Ookami's killing gaze his legs gave out, and he sat down hard. A cold wetness spread through his trousers.
"...You done?"
The hero who had been staring blankly at the sky all this time smiled, slow and wide.
Ookami's fur stood on end.
A real S-rank, nothing like the ones before. The human weapon the world itself acknowledged had finally turned his attention this way.
"You planning to fight here?"
Ookami honed his instinct to a razor's edge, braced for a strike that might come from anywhere, at any moment.
"...And if I do?"
"They'll get caught in it and die."
"Who?"
The S-rank pointed.
"Those small fry?"
"W-what are you doing! Setsuna! We need your power!"
Dark What's-his-name, as if he had spotted a lifeline, flushed and shouted.
"Red Ranger has fallen! Hurry and ki—!"
Thud.
"Tss..."
A thick reek of blood stabbed up Ookami's nose. He didn't look back.
The heroes running up behind Setsuna stopped halfway, their faces gone white.
"That enough?"
"You truly mean to fight?"
"If I have to."
Ookami bared his teeth.
"Grrrrr. I won't go easy, Setsuna!"
"Come on, then. Puppy."
Ookami charged, staking everything on the first blow.
Running from Setsuna means nothing. I have to endure one very short instant and beat it!
His power was the Instant. In that instant an attack occurred that could not be perceived: the process omitted, only the result left behind. Setsuna's ability was dangerous.
He can't keep it up for long! Survive the first strike, and the advantage swings to me!
Ookami was certain of it. He trusted a werewolf's instinct. A moment would do. Catch the signal that an attack was coming, and this fight would end in an instant.
Setsuna smiled a strange, crooked smile. His pure-white teeth stretched long.
A chill.
Instinct warned him—of Ookami's death.
What...
A thin line crossed his whole body. White paint was being laid over gray fur. Instinct judged it a cut, one second from now.
This emptily...
I'm going to die?
I still haven't found him...!
He would have no face to show his kin.
Ookami squeezed his eyes shut against the death coming for him.
"What are you...?"
"...?"
At the sound of Setsuna's stiffened voice, Ookami opened his eyes a crack.
"A pleasure, Mr. Ookami. I'm a phantom thief, just passing through."
A man in a white mask and a suit was brushing the dust off his body.
"Is this wolf fur? Awfully sharp. Feels like it could cut me."
Korean...?
Ookami was thrown by the language of the neighboring country—strange, and yet familiar. Why was someone speaking Korean here?
"...Who are you?"
"I just told you. A phantom thief, passing through."
"...Speak Japanese."
"Ah."
The phantom thief rubbed the back of his neck, as if only now catching on.
"I thought you spoke Korean. You don't."
"...You know me?"
By the look of things, the man had saved his life. Ookami kept his guard up all the same.
My instinct isn't reacting.
A presence this ominous, and his instinct was quieter than when he slept. As if it had died.
"Of course I do. Japan's werewolf. Ookami, isn't it?"
The phantom thief drew a fedora from his waist and pulled a long cane out of the hat.
Tap.
The cane struck the ground.
"And what of it?"
"I know someone you're looking for."
"...What nonsense is that?"
Ookami wrinkled his eyes and growled, but inside his thoughts were spinning.
How does he know? No—how does he know about us at all?
As the questions surged, his face turned vicious. The phantom thief spun his cane in lazy circles.
"Shall I go on and on about why you've been spinning your wheels in Japan?"
"...Damn it."
From that easy manner, Ookami knew. This man definitely knew—about him, and about his kin.
"What do you want?"
"Well, obviously..."
"Hold on."
Setsuna spoke, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Where do you two think you're going?"
Step. Step.
He gestured, and the heroes closed in around them both.
"The weirdo in the mask, and you. It ends here. Got it?"
His mood was foul; his bared teeth trembled.
"People putting on airs in front of me. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Mr. Setsuna."
The phantom thief hooked the cane behind his neck and spun it like a hula hoop.
"You can drop the angry act. You're not even good at it. Your muscles are complaining."
"........."
Setsuna's expression vanished.
"...Who are you."
"A phantom thief, passing through."
"...Is that so?"
Then die.
Shhk!
Space split along a diagonal. A commercial building of at least ten stories was sheared perfectly in two.
"...What."
The phantom thief and Ookami were gone. Not a second's discrepancy.
"I missed?"
Realizing the two had vanished, the heroes scattered.
"Find them! They can't have gone far!"
"Spread out and move!"
Until we meet again.
Setsuna looked up at the rooftop beside the severed building. The phantom thief, leaning on his cane, tipped his fedora.
All at once Setsuna felt something foreign in his pocket and shoved a hand in.
"A card..."
It bore the figure of a phantom thief. Setsuna tucked it against his chest.
"See you again, phantom thief."
"Whew. Sorry. I vanished all of a sudden—gave you a scare, didn't I?"
"........."
Mina looked at Ookami, crammed into the limousine, and fought to keep her face in order.
"...And this person is?"
"Someone who knows an acquaintance of an acquaintance of mine."
"Not an acquaintance of an acquaintance?"
"Someone he knows."
"So he's a stranger."
"He will be, from now on."
Mina wanted to hit the phantom thief, who was grinning like a fool.
"...Hey."
"It's settled."
"...Hmph."
Pele and Hong Yumin were in a foul mood.
San-gun, fascinated by the werewolf, crept over little by little. Ookami whimpered like a puppy.
"...We'll be departing."
Mina instructed the driver.
"Kwaaaaak."
She cast a pitying look at the shrine maiden, snoring away.
All I have to do is deliver them to the Shrine, and I'm done.
You'll be the one who has to take responsibility for these people and guide them.
Rest in peace.
"Kwaak! Kwaak!"
The shrine maiden enjoyed an early peace.