Chapter 56
Chapter 56
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 56
Chapter Title: Territorial Dispute (6)
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The grocery store lot's mornings came early.
By the time the dark sun began peeking through the smoggy sky, the open space was already buzzing noisily with people waiting for the morning rations.
Most of the homeless didn't have proper homes, of course.
That was what "homeless" meant, after all.
They huddled around the flickering flames in oil drums to ward off the chilly dawn air, drifting through life in small groups, leaning on each other.
Of course, this was only possible because this was the "grocery store lot."
In Area 49, it was commonplace for a homeless person right next to you to suddenly turn scavenger and rob people of their belongings—mostly implants or organs.
Not that anyone had intended it that way.
But gradually, something that could be called a sense of community was starting to sprout among them.
"...Oh, it's the Boss!"
"We're in for a lucky day. Never thought we'd see the Boss's face first thing in the morning."
"Boss! I scored this killer all-in-one video yesterday. If you need it, just say the word—"
"You bastard, what the hell are you saying to the Boss...! Don't worry, Boss. We'll handle him."
"......Oh, great Hotdog Man."
It was clear that a certain figure at the center of it all played a special role.
The Hotdog Man—Abel Anderson—who had come out for a morning stroll in the lot was being followed by a hulking brute draped in filthy rags.
The man with his face hidden by a mask drew low sighs of admiration at how everyone casually, and sincerely, respected their Boss.
"...Indeed, indeed."
A dog abandoned by its master—
The ragged ninja, once called Shadow and now choosing the name Cat for himself, had his opaque eyes glinting oddly.
"Just as I imagined."
But even hearing the cat's admiration, Abel Anderson only muttered to himself, recalling one of the homeless men's words.
"......Something like that video would be fine."
"Hm? What was that?"
"...Nothing."
This was why excessive idolization was a problem.
I was seriously debating whether to go back to that group of homeless guys right now and ask them to share that "killer all-in-one video."
However.
Going back through all those staring eyes felt a bit too awkward.
I let out a small sigh.
"Something troubling you?"
"Flesh-colored video...... No."
A concerned voice came from behind.
I turned to the ninja, whose appearance had changed quite a bit since the last time I'd seen him.
"It's because of you. Did you hit your head somewhere? Your clothes are completely bloodstained, and your speech is super weird."
Last time he'd been boldly informal, but now he was using archaic speech straight out of some historical drama.
The guy who'd introduced himself with the fairly cute name Cat slowly shook his head.
"It's not strange. From now on, I present myself to the world as a single cat, so consider it me upholding the bare minimum of courtesy."
"Makes me want to smack you."
"If that's what you desire, gladly."
"Now it's two smacks."
"......"
The conversation was light, but I hadn't let my guard down.
This was the ninja from that Hakuna-whatever group I'd fought a few days ago, after all.
That said.
The guy currently had no arms on either side.
His legs seemed broken too; they were tightly wrapped in that strange cloth from before, splinted up.
Missing or broken limbs from cybernetic prosthetics didn't spill blood, but black electrolyte fluid dripped steadily, drop by drop.
'If your body's weak, at least be more careful.'
Looked like he'd gotten beaten somewhere.
I couldn't just ignore an injured guy who'd politely greeted me with a bow.
I took the wounded cat (self-proclaimed ninja) to a tent set up on one side of the lot.
Loud snoring echoed noisily from inside the tent.
'They say old folks don't need sleep, so why does this geezer...'
Contrary to my cheeky thoughts, my hand tapping the tent pole was extremely careful.
The land of Eastern etiquette, a nation of gentlemen passed down from ancient times.
As someone who always carried respect for elders in my heart, I was more accustomed to honoring them than attacking.
"Are you inside?"
"Kuhhh..., hack, heugh...."
"......Excuse me, Grandpa Walter?"
He really sounded like he was dying.
At that rate, he needed a nose cleaning from an ENT specialist.
"Mm...."
Fortunately, Walter emerged just before I accidentally collapsed the tent under the pretense of knocking.
His dark circles were pitch black; he looked thoroughly exhausted.
"I told you yesterday I'd do maintenance starting from late lunch—. Wait, who's this? Perfect timing, I was just about to get up anyway. Thanks."
Lightning-fast attitude switch.
A true cyberpunk elder.
Walter, staying in the lot out of gratitude for saving Anna, either didn't mind his age or just kept living in that shabby tent.
"......Isn't it cold sleeping here?"
"Eh, more livable than you'd think. It's temporary anyway. Moving prep's almost done."
A warm heat leaked from the gaps in the open tent flap, like he'd turned on a heater inside.
Walter fiddled with his independently wandering mechanical eye to focus, then nodded upon spotting the ninja standing blankly behind me.
"Looks like you came for him."
"Yeah, well.... He got beat up somewhere. Not in great shape."
"...Hmm."
Walter let out a low hum, scanning the ninja up and down, then flung open the tent flap to usher us in.
"Don't stand outside. Come in."
"Technically, this is still outside...."
"You always gotta say something."
"All thanks to my sociable personality."
Not sounding annoyed, we exchanged light chuckles and greetings.
The tent interior was crammed with complex cyberware and tools.
In the center was a dental chair—a unit chair—sized for a person to lie on, scavenged from who-knows-where.
"Sit here first. Need to check your condition properly."
"My thanks."
"From your speech, sounds like your translation module's virus-infected. Bought some sketchy used junk from a hole-in-the-wall shop, huh."
I cleared my throat softly from the side.
"He says that's his normal speech."
"Where do you even find these weirdos that act like monkeys...."
"Your mutterings are super audible."
"Meant for you to hear."
Walter sliced through the stiff, blood-crusted rags with a scalpel-thin blade angled upward.
The cat slowly halted Walter's hand.
"My face is fine."
"Got some reason to hide it?"
"Not really, but.... It might be quite displeasing to behold."
"Eh, no injuries is what matters."
Having dealt with all sorts of homeless folks, Walter was used to handling oddballs by now.
Ripping off the rags revealed countless scars and wounds hidden beneath.
"...Bleeding's surprisingly well-contained. Wounds sealed with something hard."
"Nano cells, they call it. I believe it's a prototype from a corporation not yet on the market."
Walter closely examined the cybernetic implants and injuries on the ninja's body.
"Serial numbers all erased. Finish on the prosthetics is too clean for personal mods."
Finding it suspicious, Walter's expression grew serious bit by bit.
Naturally, he turned to me.
"Doesn't seem like your average homeless...."
"Ah, forgot to explain that."
"What."
"He's a ninja from the Hakuga-gumi."
"...Haku-what?"
"Not Hakuna Matata, but Hakuga-gumi."
Same difference.
A look of absurdity crossed Walter's face.
He seemed confused by the situation.
"Wait, Hakuga-gumi? I don't know the details, but aren't they completely hostile to our group?"
Now even this geezer's calling it "our group."
I shrugged nonchalantly.
"Yeah, but it's hard to get the full story from someone dripping blood, so I brought him here first."
"Even so, this is a bit...."
As the explanation dragged on.
The ninja lying on the unit chair suddenly burst into laughter.
Laughter so violent that dark red fluid leaked from his sealed wounds.
"...Kuh, same thought here. I came expecting that, but didn't think you'd skip questions entirely."
After laughing for a while, the ninja sat up and looked straight at me.
"I've quit the Hakuga-gumi and came to throw myself on the Hotdog Man's mercy."
"Who decided that."
"...Because it's a cat."
"...??"
Question marks floated over my head, but he said it so confidently I had nothing to say.
A buff male ninja (huge build) named Cat was already annoying enough.
Seemed no joke.
"Not a wolf, but a cat?."
Arms are prosthetic anyway; Sekiro vibes.
Wolf if read as trained hound....
"No, that name's too grand for me. Just a cat satisfies."
Really tempting to flick his forehead.
"Even so, cat's a stretch. If your gender was different, maybe."
"...If the Hotdog Man desires it, I'd gladly sacrifice this body."
I opened my mouth very firmly.
"You're built like me; what cat."
"Anyway...."
The cat hopped down from the unit chair, the runaway ninja who'd defected from Hakuga-gumi, and slammed his head to the ground.
Thud!
"I beg you."
Defectors are always stronger than regular ninjas.
Walter clicked his tongue at the guy reopening his own wounds, but both waited for my words.
I pondered for a moment.
'...Screw it, I don't know.'
I waved my hand indifferently.
"Do whatever."
"You mean...."
"Figure it out yourself."
Thinking about it, new homeless showing up at the grocery store didn't require me interviewing them.
Those who come, come.
Those who want to leave, leave.
That was the current state of the grocery store lot.
"...My deepest gratitude. This time, I won't betray that trust."
I chuckled lightly at his words.
Seemed he was desperate for some overdue canned goods too.
I greeted him jokingly.
"Do-mo, Cat-san. Abel Anderson."
"...Do-mo, Abel Anderson-san. Cat."
Now he feels a bit ninja-like.
I nodded in satisfaction, thinking of a certain ninja from the cyberpunk world.
And.
"...What the hell is this nonsense."
Walter, still not grasping the situation, seriously wondered if we'd taken some drugs.
Inside a massive club.
Amid flashing lights and blaring electronic music vibrating the air.
In a specially prepared luxury room, a hulking man shattered the champagne bottle in his hand in one go.
Crash!!
Hakuga-gumi's section chief—the Black Tiger—stared intently at the hologram footage, clad in a white suit that didn't match his name.
A vivid image of fury rose on his tanned skin.
The hologram screen showed.
[...Resistance is fiercer than expected.]
[That dishonorable cur! He should be disemboweling himself on his knees right now...!!]
[Don't get careless till the end. The target's Shadow. He's got special implants.]
One bastard pup breaking through the encirclement and escaping.
The battle, thought to end quickly, dragged on contrary to everyone's expectations.
The hours-long fight and pursuit seemed to conclude with the Shadow's defeat—both arms severed—but.
For some reason.
The Shadow burned with will until the very last moment.
[Took him do—]
He bit through a careless gang member's throat.
And dragged his broken legs, successfully fleeing toward the maze of old town streets.
"Thought he was just a mutt...."
Turned out to be a wolf cub with grown fangs.
The Hakuga-gumi section chief chugged a fresh champagne bottle whole.
Beep.
He pressed a button and issued a command.
"Search again for the escaped dog, and this time capture alive."
For the first time in ages.
He felt a tightness in his lower abdomen.
[Understood.]
"Oh, and."
He bared sharp fangs, staring fixedly at the paused hologram.
"What's that homeless leader's name?"
"Fuck."
I cursed involuntarily.
A sticky chill crawling up my spine.
An ominous feeling I didn't even want to imagine.
"What's wrong?"
"Nah, just got this super bad premonition out of nowhere."
Anyway.
It was a sensation hard to put into words....