15 Days
Dawn had broken.
No—looking at the window, it was well past morning. Closer to noon. I clutched my throbbing head and forced myself upright. Honestly, I wanted nothing more than to collapse back down and sleep another five hours… but the situation didn't allow that kind of luxury. I still had yakuza to deal with—ones climbing up toward the village.
I got up. Nakagami Risa, Hagawa Ryoko, and the shrine maiden—who should have been at my side—were nowhere to be seen. My eyes fell on the clothes laid out right next to me. Black garments. Traditional Japanese attire similar to what Shibata had worn. I didn't know the name of it.
Left them out for me to put on, huh. Fair enough—my original clothes are soaked in blood.
I dressed. The Hyeoldan and my weapons were sitting beside the clothes, so I took those as well. The yakuza still hadn't reached the village, by the look of things. The fact that I'd been able to sleep this long was proof enough.
Even so, Full Recovery still has a few hours left on cooldown.
I opened the door and stepped outside.
In the dark, the shrine had felt desolate and eerie. In daylight, something sacred seemed to cling to it.
I was walking through the shrine grounds when I ran into the shrine maiden.
"You're awake."
She was there—and she wasn't alone. Ten people in black clothes stood quietly around her.
Gone was the woman who'd been pinned beneath me, face twisted, moaning. She wore her shrine maiden robes immaculately, her long black hair neatly arranged, her expression calmer than I'd ever seen it.
I deliberately stared straight into both of her eyes. Most people would have flinched with embarrassment. She remained completely unfazed.
"How is your condition?"
"A little tired."
I rubbed my side—the spot Wada Kyoshiro had bruised with that one solid hit. Not enough to hinder me in a fight, but the ache was annoying.
"Take this medicine. It should ease things, at least a little."
I accepted the vial she held out. About ten milliliters of clear liquid.
"What is it?"
"A secret remedy of the Kaminoyama family. Effective on external wounds, and it will reduce some of your fatigue."
"Is it a drug?"
"It's different from Hyeoldan. Purely refined from a blend of medicinal herbs. The effect is weaker than Hyeoldan, but there are no side effects."
The shrine maiden and I had already decided to be in the same boat. At this point, she had no reason to betray me and try to kill me. She was in just as much danger as I was. I tipped the potion into my mouth. It was bitterly foul—enough to make my face scrunch up.
"Tastes like hell."
"They say bitter medicine is good medicine. How does your body feel?"
"Definitely… less tired than a moment ago. Does it usually work this fast?"
"It's a Kaminoyama family secret remedy, after all."
"The Kaminoyama family really is something. They even made Hyeoldan."
"No. I was the one who made Hyeoldan. I created the prototype roughly ten years ago."
"Weren't narcotics one of the ingredients? You managed to get your hands on those?"
"Even back then, the Kaminoyama family was already dealing with the yakuza. Obtaining narcotics wasn't difficult. Procuring human corpses was a bit harder."
I gave a rough nod.
By any normal standard it was absurd—but this was a world inside a work of fiction. Most things were possible. The shrine maiden was probably some kind of pharmaceutical genius.
"The yakuza?"
"They haven't arrived yet. I tried contacting them, but all they do is repeat that they'll be here soon."
"Meaning they're after you. Right?"
"Yes. It seems they've roughly figured out what happened in the village."
"What about Risa-senpai and Ryoko?"
"They're eating at the dining hall."
I looked around again.
"Are the people here everyone you've got?"
"There are about five more who aren't present."
"How many yakuza do you think are coming?"
"Probably over a hundred. They know we're not pushovers."
"That's a massive gap in strength. Can't we use the villagers?"
"I've already cleaned them up."
"Cleaned them up… You killed them?"
"Yes. They knew far too much to leave alive."
"The villagers were loyal to you, weren't they?"
"When the opponent is the yakuza, that changes things. I don't put any stock in the loyalty of toys."
"So the brainwashing wasn't perfect."
"I never brainwashed them. Even without it, they were easy enough to play with."
She really was something else.
I nodded absently. A hundred yakuza. I wasn't afraid. I had Hyeoldan and weapons. A hundred yakuza was something I was confident I could handle. The problem was that they'd almost certainly be carrying guns.
If they shot from the front, I could roughly dodge. You could read a bullet's trajectory from the finger on the trigger and the muzzle. But that required concentration—and a shot from a blind spot was something even I had no answer for.
Shing.
I drew the Japanese sword from my waist. Even with the sudden draw, no one around me reacted. The shrine maiden aside, the men in black simply stood still. Well-trained dogs.
"Do you intend to cut me down?"
"No. I was checking the blade. Look—the edge is chipped. Got any decent weapons?"
"I have a few handguns."
"Japanese swords?"
"…I do have some, but does it have to be a Japanese sword?"
"I'm bad with guns. A Japanese sword feels more natural."
The shrine maiden turned her head and issued a command to the people standing quietly nearby.
"Bring every Japanese sword in the village."
"Yes, Shrine Maiden."
The black-clad figures answered and moved as one.
"Oh—and body armor? Do you have any?"
"…Bring body armor as well."
"Yes, Shrine Maiden."
Within twenty minutes they returned with eleven Japanese swords and three sets of body armor. I took the best-looking vest and carefully inspected the blades.
"This one looks best."
"Is there a difference from the others?"
"You can feel it just by looking—the killing aura is different. This is craftsman-level work."
"…I can't tell even when I look."
I gripped the hilt and swung it through the air a few times. Satisfying.
"What happened to Wada Kyoshiro?"
"…You mean the man Miss Hagawa mentioned. We couldn't find him."
One of two possibilities. He'd either gone down the mountain, or he was still hiding somewhere in the village or the hills.
My bet was that he was hiding in the mountains. Wada Kyoshiro would know there were outside forces waiting below.
"Ah, right. What about the women at the woodworking shop?"
"The woodworking shop… you mean the place where they rape the women. There was nothing there but corpses."
"So those women escaped… But they regularly rape women, huh?"
"Stress management for the villagers. Being trapped in a place like this breeds all sorts of urges, which creates variables. We used the village women as a means of controlling those urges."
"That's twisted. People can hold back that kind of urge."
"They've already experienced murder, and the narcotics make their desires hard to suppress. It's easier to manage them if you let them vent moderately."
"Still, problems would crop up, right?"
"If it becomes unmanageable, you simply clean them up."
"I see."
I nodded roughly.
Together with the shrine maiden, I looked down over the village from the shrine. Built high up, the shrine was perfect for surveying everything below. Watching the village interior through a telescope was easy as well.
Cars were filing in one after another through the village entrance. The models varied—luxury sedans mixed with cheap kei cars. Vans made up the majority. They parked in a rough cluster near the entrance.
Doors opened, and burly men poured out in a flood.
Every last one of them had a nasty look about him, weapons in hand—Japanese swords, crowbars, hammers. Some carried no visible weapons, but their pockets bulged. Radiating a murderous air, they strode boldly toward the shrine.
"About a hundred and twenty."
"Seeing them in person, the presence is different. If Shibata were still here…"
"Stop looking for a dead man. I'm the one who killed Shibata. That means I'm stronger than he was."
"…Can you win against them?"
"We'll find out. A bomb or two would be perfect right about now."
"We don't have bombs."
"I know."
The yakuza stopped in front of the shrine.
The man at their head—wearing sunglasses—lifted a radio.
Static crackled.
The radio in the shrine maiden's hand responded.
"Mr. Kizaki came in person. Aren't you busy?"
"I am busy. But what can you do? The boss ordered it himself. And this involves our dear Miss Kaminoyama. Of course I'd step in. You know how much I like you, right?"
My mouth twitched. How dare he set his sights on my woman…
The shrine maiden's expression didn't change.
"You're rather late."
"You're sharp, Miss Kaminoyama. You already know how this is going to go, don't you?"
"You want the manufacturing method for Hyeoldan."
"That's what the boss wants. You know how impressive—and how cruel—our boss is. Let's keep this nice and friendly. You don't want to end up a cheap whore living a life worse than a dog's, do you?"
"Do you think I know nothing? If I hand over the method, you'll kill me to shut me up. Or lock me away somewhere forever."
"I told you. I like you, Miss Kaminoyama. Become my woman. Then you'll get your freedom. Not the kind of freedom you have now—but at least you won't be put through anything rough."
"I'm sorry. I feel nothing toward you, Mr. Kizaki."
Kizaki took off his sunglasses. I narrowed my eyes and studied his face. Sun-darkened skin, deep wrinkles around the eyes. Early to mid-forties, by the look of him.
"…Well, damn. You kick away a chance when it's handed to you. I'll take back what I said about you being sharp. Your choice. Regret later won't do you any good."
"…I didn't expect you to come so openly. I'm a little surprised. You don't think I might kill myself?"
"The boss said this about you: even if you had to roll through a field of shit, you'd cling to life and wait for an opening. He also added that if you'd been born a man, he'd have made you his successor."
"…You flatter me."
"Anyway, stay right there. We're coming up now."
Kizaki cut the radio. Then he gestured to his men. They began climbing the stairs.
"What will you do now?"
The shrine maiden asked me. It wasn't only her—Nakagami Risa and Hagawa Ryoko's eyes were on me as well. The black-clad men stood quietly on guard. There was no guarantee the yakuza in front of us were all of them.
"These stairs. Did you deliberately make them this steep and high?"
"Yes. It makes watching the village convenient, and hundreds of steps are hard to climb with a light heart. More than anything, being close to the sky confers authority."
"I don't care about authority. What I do know is these stairs are a complete pain in the ass. Steep grade, lots of steps."
"You intend to fight on the stairs."
"If we fight on flat ground, our odds are under twenty percent. Oh—and I'll be the only one fighting on the stairs."