Killing

Knock, knock, knock.

At the Akihi House, the sudden knocking made Akiyu Sora, who was mopping the floor, freeze.

"It's me."

The familiar voice made Akiyu Sora breathe a sigh of relief. She put down the mop, hurried to the entryway, and pulled open the front door.

Standing outside was her brother, Akihi Yu.

"Welcome back!"

"You were... doing housework?"

Having just taken a stroll through the Broken Tooth Gang headquarters, Akihi Yu stepped inside. As he changed his shoes, he glanced at Akiyu Sora's outfit.

An apron, gloves, and a cap. Several bottles of alcohol and disinfectant sat on the living room table as well.

"Cleaning up the scene."

His sister answered as if it were only natural.

"Bloodstains, hair, fingerprints... Any traces that might exist must be thoroughly cleaned up."

Hey, hey, was it really okay to say such terrifying things so seriously?

The guy who had just gone on a killing spree grumbled inwardly.

"Good job."

In the end, Akihi Yu merely patted his sister on the head.

That only earned him her displeasure.

"Don't treat me like a child. What about your side? How did you deal with it?"

If the "bodies" were exposed, the police would definitely mobilize in force. And the bodies themselves could provide endless information: time of death, cause of death, the weapon used, even the perpetrator's hair and tissue samples, and so on.

"Did you burn them clean?"

"Or did you just sink them into the Arakawa River?"

Burning had always been the simplest and most effective way to destroy corpses and erase evidence. One fire could reduce countless clues to ash. Adachi Ward bordered Arakawa Ward to the south, with the Arakawa River separating the two districts. It was also a good place to dump bodies in concrete.

"Leave this matter to me. Don't worry about it blindly."

Akihi Yu rubbed his temples with a headache at Akiyu Sora's questions. He couldn't exactly say, "Your brother used one ninja technique, and even the child detective Death God would be stumped."

"It's late. Go to sleep."

Half an hour later,

Akihi Yu sat up in bed and looked toward the doorway of his room, rubbing his temples again with a headache.

"Sora, why did you bring a pillow into my room?"

"I can't sleep alone. Move over."

The girl in a white nightgown moved Akihi Yu's pillow aside without asking, placed her own pillow down, then slipped beneath the covers.

???

"You... Fine."

Thinking back on what had happened, Akihi Yu, as a transmigrator, naturally had no taboos. He had killed them, so what? But Akiyu Sora was only an ordinary high school girl, and a frail, sickly, homebody at that. The fact that she had not been scared out of her wits already showed how strong-minded she was.

If she could still bury her head and sleep, Akihi Yu would have to wonder whether she was a transmigrator too.

"Sleep."

He patted the girl beside him.

Having expended quite a bit of magical power, Akihi Yu closed his eyes.

Akihi Yu could sleep,

but someone else could not.

"What is this supposed to be?"

After returning to his rented apartment, Tanimura Wataru washed his face and touched the stone on his forehead.

The stone seemed to have been embedded directly into his skull, fused with his flesh and blood. It was scientifically impossible to an absurd degree!

"But then, what part of what happened earlier was scientific?"

Remembering the corpse-strewn Broken Tooth Building when he escaped, as well as the changes that had happened to him, Tanimura Wataru looked up at the mirror above the sink.

The reflection showed a familiar yet unfamiliar young man. Compared with his usual self, he had lost some of his scholarly air and gained a touch of wildness. Especially beneath his removed clothes, the sharply defined contours of his muscles brimmed with explosive power.

No, they should be brimming with demonic power!

Demon Art: Quadruped Technique.

As Tanimura Wataru silently recited it inwardly, his entire body immediately swelled. His spine arched, his limbs transformed into beast-like claws, and his upper and lower jaws thrust forward. His mouth split toward his ears into a crescent shape, revealing rows of sharp teeth, while black steel-like fur spread across his entire body.

In the blink of an eye,

an upright "wolf demon" appeared in the mirror.

"This feeling of power overflowing..."

The wolf's mouth spoke human words.

Feeling the power surging through his body, Tanimura Wataru's gaze fell upon the mop hanging in the bathroom.

Crack.

With a light twist, the thin metal mop handle twisted into a spiral.

"I didn't feel anything at all."

Setting down the twisted mop, Tanimura Wataru turned his gaze to the shower beside it.

Creak.

Amid the teeth-grating sound of twisting metal, the metal pipe turned into a spiral without any resistance, still unable to stop Tanimura Wataru's movements.

Then—

Like someone who had gotten a new toy, Tanimura Wataru began eagerly experimenting without pause. Only after twisting even the exercise resistance bar into a spiral did he finally stop.

The rental was filled with all manner of twisted furniture. It had the air of a home where, after buying a hydraulic press, only the hydraulic press remained intact.

"This power is incredible!"

Even kitchen knives were easily crushed in his hands. Before such strength, even steel could only submit.

If he had possessed this power before, wiping out the Broken Tooth Gang would have been no problem at all. Why would he have needed to rely on the police?

"Useless police!"

At the thought of the police, the joy on Tanimura Wataru's face gradually faded.

He had investigated in secret for so long and reported them so many times, yet he had never managed to expose the Broken Tooth Gang's crimes.

If anyone said there were no people in the police department colluding with the underworld, Tanimura Wataru would be the first not to believe it!

In the end, it was only because of the "Ghost God" that he had avenged his great hatred.

When Tanimura Wataru was young, it had been the era when all kinds of Ghost God manga were at their most popular. Stories of supernatural beings collecting souls to resurrect peerless Great Demons and fiends from other worlds were everywhere. Combined with the words "Sessho-seki" that the other party had spoken, the identity of that legendary figure was practically confirmed.

"The price of this power must be very high, right?"

After repeated tests,

Tanimura Wataru prepared to face reality.

That mysterious person had said that he had to kill one deeply sinful person every day and absorb their soul. Otherwise, he would be the one to die.

And judging by the "experience" he had gained from all the manga he had read, he would most likely fall into darkness through killing and eventually become part of the harvest himself.

But what did that matter?

"Akemi, wait a little longer."

Your brother would soon come to meet you. Before that—

"I'm heading out."

He placed all the money he had, along with the key to his rental, on the shoe cabinet by the entrance. Wearing a baseball cap, Tanimura Wataru stepped into the brilliantly lit night.

Ayase Town.

This was the site of the infamous Furuta Junko concrete murder case.

More than thirty years had passed. Because it was somewhat close to Tokyo's central district, Ayase Town had developed into a glittering, neon-lit area. Yet the darkness lurking beneath remained as it had been then, perhaps even more hidden and chaotic.

The streets were packed with pedestrians. Students and office workers sat everywhere at roadside stalls, eating grilled skewers. Two chicken skewers cost one hundred yen, and a cup of beer cost one hundred and twenty yen.

Who cared whether it was sanitary? As long as it didn't kill them, it was fine. Health preservation was a luxury for the rich. As long as they lived to the national average age, they had not lost out. Besides, if they worried about their health every day, who knew whether tomorrow or an accident would arrive first?

Inside an establishment in Third Chome with a restaurant sign hanging outside, but which never opened to the public.

"Boss Fukutani."

A middle-aged man in sunglasses and a black suit pushed open the door, raising a lavishly packaged bag in his hand.

"Premium sirloin. Let's eat together!"

"Oh, Shibukawa."

The scar-faced man sitting in the establishment, eating grilled chicken skewers and drinking from a bottle, raised his head.

"Sit."

After calling out to him, one of the underlings nearby took the bag from the newcomer, removed the richly marbled beef, and carefully placed it over the grill. A piece of beef that large could pay for several months of his meals.

"What brings you here? Got something to discuss?"

The scar-faced man in the restaurant, Fukutani, was responsible for drug transportation. The newcomer, Shibukawa, managed brothels. The two were powerful cadres of the Broken Tooth Gang.

"What are you saying, Boss Fukutani? Can't us brothers get close even if there's nothing going on?"

Removing his sunglasses, the man in the suit pulled out a stool and casually sat opposite him.

"Haven't the prices of the goods been a little too high lately?"

"The girls under me work hard every day to make money, but most of it ends up in your pockets. Isn't that a little heartless?"

"Bullshit. You care about them?"

Scarface Fukutani looked as though he had heard the greatest joke in the world.

The man named Shibukawa sitting opposite him was not only responsible for running the brothels, but also for searching all of Adachi Ward for prey. Through traps or temptation, he guided them into the fire pit, then sent them to hotels or madams' establishments, where they could only receive a relatively small cut.

From the moment they voluntarily or forcibly fell into that fire pit, those girls were destined to become living money-making machines.

Forget lowly prostitutes. Even legitimate film and television entertainers in the Island Nation generally had nine out of every ten yen of their income taken by their agencies. That was why there was no shortage of news about artists who had once been famous but ended up living in poverty after falling out of favor.

And the Broken Tooth Gang was even more ruthless!

They got their prostitutes addicted to drugs, then earned back the little money the women had from them once again.

Through the chain of brothels—drugs—client entertainment—drugs, a single girl could easily bring hundreds of millions in profit to the organization. It was far more profitable than raising wagyu cattle.

"Recently, we lost a shipment at sea. A full fifteen kilograms!"

At the mention of this, Boss Fukutani became angry.

Those bastards could not even handle such a minor task. Sinking them into Tokyo Bay had been letting them off easy.

"With supplies short, isn't it normal for prices to rise? Once the south sends over a new shipment, prices will naturally drop again."

"Sigh, then I can only have the girls endure it a little."

Shibukawa, dressed in black, put on a show of sighing. As a cadre managing the sex trade, how could he dare oppose Fukutani, the ruthless man who managed the gang's drugs?

His supposed questioning was merely a casual remark. In the end, it was not as if he used drugs himself.

"The wagyu is done. Come on—"

"Fukutani, Shibukawa?"

Just as the two Broken Tooth Gang cadres were about to enjoy the grilled beef, a voice came from the second floor.

The two Broken Tooth Gang cadres turned at the sound.

What they saw was a young man walking down the stairs.

"You are..."

Fukutani, known as the "Ruthless Man," rose to his feet, one hand already reaching for his waist.

"Tanimura Wataru?"

The expressions of the Broken Tooth Gang members present changed.

How could they fail to recognize the guy before them, who still retained a trace of scholarly air and had recently been crazily causing trouble for the organization?

"Looks like you all know me."

Under the uncertain, suspicious gazes of the Broken Tooth Gang members, Tanimura Wataru twisted his neck. His mouth elongated, his fangs sharpened, and body hair began to spread.

"Then you should also know what I came here to do."

?!

Whoosh.

A figure flashed.

An arm covered in bristles swung forward.

Splurt.

Blood sprayed in four streaks. Fukutani, whose pistol had only been drawn halfway from his waist, was sent flying without any ability to resist.

His nickname was no longer "Ruthless Man." Now, it was "Dead Man."

"Ahhh—"

Amid the clatter of an overturned stool, Shibukawa in the black suit turned to flee. However, a hand reached from behind him, claws digging deep into his shoulder and dragging him back as if he were a toy.

"I remember."

A cold voice came from behind him.

"You were the one who sent people to lure Akemi."