Founding Members (6)
Crunch.
Noah chewed through a piece of candy, swallowed, then rummaged for another and bit down on it at once.
Chise spoke, a cold sweat beading on her brow.
"Noah, if you're that worried, maybe we should just go?"
"Worried?"
Crunch. Noah finished off yet another one, then fished out a fresh piece and popped it into her mouth.
"I'm not worried at all."
"……"
Chise stared at her with a look gone thoroughly sour.
"That's your seventh already. You're going to get cavities."
"I'll just brush five times."
"Will that even work…?"
"Probably."
Chise sighed.
"At least walk faster. I'm not that slow."
The two of them were ambling along. Chise would have preferred to get there and back as quickly as possible — but they were holding hands, so that was out of the question.
"No."
"Why nooot."
"…If she can't break through a crisis of this level on her own, she'd be better off not standing with us at all."
Chise's body gave a small jolt.
She'd thought that far ahead?
"So we're walking slowly. We'll take as long as we can finding the teacher, too. And we'll come back at a leisurely pace."
Minamoto and Fujiwara. To stand between those two names, you couldn't be ordinary. Noah had a point.
It wasn't just pride…
Chise felt as though she'd been caught off guard — and still, she couldn't help thinking it was too much to ask a middle schooler to endure a trial like this. She made no attempt to talk Noah out of it, though. A Fujiwara voicing opposition to a Minamoto's decision was simply not a thing that happened.
Masaru was regarded as the strongest president the organization had ever had. Leading it, however, was another matter entirely.
It had been a running problem inside the Black Society for quite some time. No one said it out loud, but privately they were all thinking the same thing: Sasakawa Masaru was not enough to carry the Black Society.
His failing was that he never made allowances for the weak. He dismissed their opinions and never asked to be understood. He hadn't even named a proper successor, and so a succession war had broken out. People who had smiled and greeted one another the day before clenched their fists and fought like they meant to die.
The longer the fighting dragged on, the more losers it produced. There were winners too — but theirs were victories made of nothing but wounds. The root of the conflict had always been greed, yet human beings have a talent for laying the blame at someone else's feet. The arrows all turned toward Masaru. No one raised their voice to say it, but everyone thought it.
Even so, it had been tolerable up to that point. The president's seat of the Black Society was worth that kind of risk. But just when the fighting had finally sketched the outline of a successor, Masaru appeared and put an end to it. He said nothing — and then tried to purge them for having started the conflict in the first place.
No member of the organization was going to sit still for something that absurd. Every last one of them opposed him, and when words failed they charged. The result was Masaru's victory. It was not, however, a clean one. He had subdued them all — and he had been wounded doing it.
This was what that victory had bought him.
"You barely even look human. Still — guess you couldn't shrug off a blade in the gut, huh? You put on a tough face back there, but you can't fool my eyes."
Yamato, Captain of the 1st Division, sneered as he hauled Masaru up by the hair. Blood dripped steadily from Masaru's waist.
Yamato clicked his tongue, sounding bored.
"Tch. If I'd known you were this weak, I would've hit you sooner."
The truth was that Masaru had taken that damage from Noah — not that Yamato had any way of knowing. He simply decided Masaru had been weaker than expected.
"That hand… remove it."
"Atsuki. You're still alive?"
A battered Atsuki caught Yamato's wrist with what little strength she had left. She tried to reach with her right hand as well, but Yamato swatted it aside without effort. She clenched her teeth.
"Do you truly believe you will walk away unharmed after doing this to the President?"
"Oh, I'll walk away just fine. Don't you worry."
Yamato let out a nasty little laugh and stood. He drove his foot into Atsuki hard. She was already at her limit; she crumpled to the floor. He planted his shoe on her head and spoke, voice gone cold.
"Starting tomorrow, our dear President won't be on this earth anymore."
"—!"
"Had a pretty decent deal a few days back. They said if I just kill him outright, they'll tidy up the rest. At the time I was too damn scared of this bastard to even think about it. Never figured a chance like this would just drop in my lap. They say you never know what life will bring until the sun comes up. Ain't that right?"
"Yamato. Why don't you leave that one alone?"
Hiroshi, Captain of the 4th Division, frowned.
"I told you. That's my preference."
"Ah. Right, you did. My bad."
"Atsuki. Why don't we have a little talk somewhere quiet."
Hiroshi seized Atsuki by the collar and was about to drag her off when a girl's voice rang out, bright with confidence.
"Public Morals Committee, Ichinose Yuria! Stop what you're doing and surrender!"
The Black Society members froze for a beat — then burst out laughing, as if they couldn't believe their ears.
"The Public Morals Committee?"
"Unbelievable. Never thought I'd hear that said out loud."
"Manabe. Go deal with it."
"Ehh, what a pain."
"You're on the same committee, aren't you? Get moving."
"Yeah, yeah. I got it."
The girl who had been squatting with a cigarette pushed herself up, stretched once, and sauntered outside.
"What's this, a middle schooler?"
"I'll give you three seconds. Surrender."
"Surrendeeend? Get a load of this kid, she's not right in the— kyaa!"
Thud.
The sound of a body hitting the ground carried in. Yamato dumped Masaru and bellowed toward the direction Manabe had gone.
"Hey! Don't screw around!"
"Sorry it looked like a joke. Delinquents."
Yuria stepped into view with an easy smile.
"A g-gun?"
The moment she leveled the taser, Yamato flinched. The thug beside him dusted himself off and muttered,
"That's a taser, isn't it? Not a real gun."
Yamato bristled for no good reason.
"I know that, you asshole!"
"Pffft — anybody looking at you could tell you didn't."
Yamato's face went scarlet.
"Don't you laugh. Hey, kid. Don't make this complicated. Walk away. I'll pretend I never saw you."
Yuria's pupils wavered as she took in Masaru and Atsuki. The situation was worse than she had imagined. Masaru had lost far too much blood and was unconscious; Atsuki's clothes were half torn away.
"That's impossible. This is a crime, plain and simple. I'm arresting every one of you."
Yamato's eyebrow twitched.
"You. Who do you belong to?"
"Can't you see the armband? Public Morals Committee."
"Who asked you that?! Don't treat me like an idiot—!"
"Captain. Leave this to me."
A hulking figure rolled his shoulders with a crack of joints and started toward Yuria. She spoke without a flicker of warmth.
"Come any closer and I will shoot."
"You think I'm gonna flinch at that toy g—"
Pfft!
"Guh—!"
Yuria actually fired. The big man convulsed and went down. Once the rest of the Black Society grasped what had happened, their faces turned ugly.
"You even know who we are?"
"Third-rate thugs who pick on people weaker than them."
Yuria's mouth curled, openly contemptuous.
"Or would you rather I use that childish name of yours? The Black Society — shall I call you that?"
"What—! You fucking bitch!"
"Come any closer and I will shoot."
The members who had been about to rush her hesitated at the sight of the muzzle.
"That's cowardly!"
"Using tools is only natural for civilized people. Unlike you chimpanzees."
Yuria trained the taser on the one who looked like their leader — Yamato.
"If you understand, get lost."
"You damn ginger!"
"Ah."
Yuria's eyebrow ticked up.
"That just now? That's the one thing I hate hearing most."
Pfft!
A cheerful little pop, and the thug who had called her ginger hit the floor.
"Anyone else feel like getting shocked? If not, I suggest you surrender."
"Public Morals Committee, huh. First year?"
Yamato cracked his neck, looking thoroughly displeased.
"Good eye."
"No second- or third-year would pull a stunt this insane. You figured you could handle this on your own, didn't you? That's why you went rogue."
"A chimpanzee like you doesn't need to worry about that. These are the Chair's orders."
"The Chair? Come to think of it, I heard the first-year Chair was… Minamoto, was it?"
Even watching his own people drop without a fight, Yamato didn't look particularly rattled. If anything, he was baiting her.
"Ah. I remember now. That washed-up family that just pads out the textbooks. I was looking for an excuse to teach them a lesson anyway."
Yuria couldn't help it. She laughed.
"The likes of you, against Minamoto-senpai? I'd wake up if I were you. Getting an education from my hands would be better for your health."
Yamato snorted.
"This is why you Public Morals Committee girls are so much fun. Little ladies who slap on an armband and think it solves the whole world — ruining them is a real treat."
He bent at the waist and whispered.
"Minamoto, was it? I'll rape her right in front of you. Let it sink into your bones. This is what happens when you don't know your place and run your mouth."
Yuria's expression went hard. She knew it was impossible in any realistic sense — but just hearing it was enough to make her skin crawl.
"You're garbage."
"Funny you only just figured that out."
Yamato stepped back, ducking behind the other members, and raised a hand.
"Leave the face."
"Yes, sir!"
"If you come any closer……"
The members laughed in her face.
"Go on, shoot. It's not like we'll die."
There were dozens of Black Society members here. She had seven rounds. And it was only a taser. Getting hit wouldn't kill them, and there was even less chance of the Black Society being hauled off by the police. If anything, this was an opportunity — a chance to look good in front of Yamato, their soon-to-be new president.
Yuria's face darkened.
"You people……"
"Kahaha! You walked in here all by yourself, trusting that one little toy — well, too bad. It doesn't work on us."
"It's so pathetic I don't even know what to say."
Yuria let out a long breath and lowered the taser.
"Giving up already? Boring."
"No. I think you're under a rather large misconception."
Looking thoroughly unimpressed, she dropped the taser to the floor and folded her arms.
"I don't even need this to deal with third-rate thugs like you."
"Enough with the bluffing…! Get her!"
The Black Society members rushed her all at once. Yuria drew a light breath, stepped onto the lead man's shoulder, and sprang backward. Robbed of their target, they tangled into one another and went down in a heap.
She worked through joint locks in a blur, aiming only for vital points, putting them out. After she had dropped three or so, the ones who had recovered started reaching for her. She folded at the waist as far as she could go, hooked a leg, and sent them sprawling. Then she used the wall as a springboard, drove a vicious kick through, and settled naturally into a new position.
That much had been the prepared setup. It had landed cleanly — but there were still too many of them.
Somehow……
Yuria settled into a boxing stance. There were a lot of them, yes, but she had a wall at her back, and the space itself wasn't wide. This was the best ground she was going to get. Looking at a dozen-odd delinquents, though, she honestly wasn't sure. She was a Level 17 ability user — a rank you wouldn't even find among high schoolers — but she still didn't have much experience in a fight this lopsided.
I can do this.
"You fucking bitch!"
Thud!
One clean punch, one body down. The more of them she put away, the more her confidence climbed. She slipped a fist coming in from the right and was just about to fire the counter when—
BANG—!
"Ghhk—!"
Agony tore through her.
"You can't even catch one middle schooler?!"
Yamato's voice, raw with fury.
"S-sorry!"
"Move."
He shoved the others aside and came at her. White smoke curled from the pistol in his right hand. Yuria's right thigh was soaked red. Tears welled as she clutched at it.
"A-are you sane?"
"Yeah. Obviously I'm sane."
Click.
He leveled the muzzle at the spot between her eyes.
I'm going to die like this?
Then someone rushed in, slammed into Yamato, seized Yuria by the collar, and hurled her as far as they could.
"Outsiders, run! This is Black Society business!"
Atsuki's voice tore itself raw.
"You fucking brat!"
Yamato lost whatever reason he had left and started beating Atsuki. Yuria dragged herself up on a buckling leg, and her pupils shook.
She had to save her. But it was impossible. There was no dodging a real gun. She would die. And Yuria still had so many things she wanted to do.
If it's really dangerous — use this.
The remembered voice brushed her ear as she stared at the ground. With a hand slick with blood, she drew the pistol she had packed away.
A pink gun. But a gun that belonged to a yakuza's daughter. What did that mean? One thing, at least, was certain. This was the moment to use it.
Yamato had buried himself among his people, but a sliver of his eye was visible. If she fired, she felt sure she could hit. Yuria drew a long breath, let half of it out, and held. She aimed without a tremor and began to squeeze the trigger—
A gentle hand closed over hers.
Yuria turned her head, her face gone rigid. Pink hair streamed in the wind. Noah shook her head.
"Yeah. I don't think you're ready yet."
Behind them, Chise dropped into a crouch, fighting for air.
"Hah… haaah. We made it…!"
"Itchi, look after Chise."
Noah took the pistol from her and walked forward, unhurried. Yuria, already at her limit, sank to the floor. She would never have guessed that a girl a full size smaller than her could feel this reliable.
Yuria let out a breath of relief.