Hachiman Hikigaya retreated. Fumimaro Ayanokouji closed in.
The two sides were already completely mismatched in physical strength and combat experience, and now Fumimaro possessed the absolute advantage of "Truth." Therefore, the situation was overwhelmingly one-sided, leaving Hachiman with no will or ability to resist. He could only back away, desperately looking for an opportunity to escape…
To be honest, Hachiman was terrified and extremely nervous. The normal, peaceful life he had known for over a decade had been entirely shattered during these past few days. Now, he was facing the very real crisis of dying young in a dirty alley.
He forced another awkward, placating smile and tried to dissuade the disgraced cop. "Mr. Ayanokouji, you should know that the Hikigaya family has no room for resistance against you. I can give you anything I have. As long as you spare my family."
His words made perfect logical sense. But Fumimaro didn't believe a single word.
'This is a cunning brat,' Fumimaro thought coldly. 'If it weren't for my years of police experience and keen intuition, I probably would have let this kid slip away…'
So, his patience was extremely limited. He raised his right hand, gripping his service weapon, his face grim.
'Disobedient?'
BANG!
Hiss…!
The marksmanship was excellent and ruthless, instantly sending Hachiman crashing to the ground, clutching his bleeding leg in agony.
"I'll say it one last time…" Fumimaro snarled, stepping closer. "Give it to me!!"
He was absolutely certain this brat had gained something from the ruins. And a great deal of it. Probably something unimaginably powerful. Fumimaro might even rise to the top of the occult hierarchy if he got the genuine artifact. With the real thing, he would instantly regain his status in the Metropolitan Police Department, perhaps even returning to the absolute core of political power. Even further supernatural advancement wasn't impossible.
As long as he could secure the real thing, what did one teenager's death matter? What supernatural event hadn't resulted in a few civilian casualties?
With this manic thought driving him, Fumimaro started to panic at the delay.
'This stubborn brat…'
BANG!!
He fired again, the bullet tearing through Hachiman's other leg.
Good. Both legs were crippled; this brat was now like a fish on a chopping board.
"You probably don't want to see what happens next," Fumimaro threatened, the barrel smoking. "Just give it to me, and I promise I won't bother you or your family anymore."
'A lie…' The deathly pale Hachiman was certain of this. Just as the cop was certain Hachiman had the real thing on him.
"…What if I told you I didn't have it with me?" Hachiman gasped through the blinding pain.
Sure enough… Fumimaro became even more impatient. He took a few rapid steps forward, his eyes wild with excitement.
"Where is it!?"
Without waiting for a reply, he dropped to his knees and began violently groping around Hachiman's chest and jacket.
Nothing…
'How could it not be there!?'
"I told you, I didn't bring it with me," Hachiman wheezed.
"…Heh, stalling for time, huh? I almost fell for your trick, brat. I have to say, you're really clever."
"…"
'Bullshit!!' Hachiman was incredibly frustrated. The sheer, suffocating frustration of having your every move seen through—no matter what you do—is truly unbearable. Especially when your life is completely in a madman's hands.
Just as he was about to offer a token, desperate resistance, his wrists were viciously pinned to the asphalt by Fumimaro's combat dagger.
'Oh no... This is it...'
He was utterly hopeless, watching helplessly as his opponent ruthlessly frisked him, tearing his jacket open and checking every conceivable hiding spot on his person. By the time Hachiman was stripped of his outer layers and the man's hand reached into his inner pocket, Hachiman looked utterly desperate.
Until... both of them shuddered simultaneously.
They froze. They were terrified.
Because outside the alley, the wailing sirens of police cars suddenly blared, cutting through the silence. It was the Metropolitan Police Department.
At that moment, Hachiman suddenly felt a surge of hope and vitality. He was saved. He could still live!
But Fumimaro was struck with an agony as if his parents had just died. To buy himself time to survive, Hachiman had tried to stall for time. But now, he found that the disgraced cop seemed to have completely lost his spirit in a single instant. He had no will to resist or run at all. He looked completely defeated and resigned.
'How... how could this be?' Hachiman wondered, enduring the excruciating pain in his legs and the creeping weakness from excessive blood loss.
"Heh... lucky brat. Don't be so surprised," Fumimaro whispered, his voice trembling. "The Metropolitan Police Department's Harbingers of Death have come. I don't have the guts to challenge them."
Harbingers of Death?
Fumimaro pointed a shaking finger at the telephone wire above the alley, his face deathly pale.
Caw—!
Caw—!
The sound was unpleasant and grating. They were just crows, after all. But their presence made Fumimaro, this previously fierce, ruthless man, completely immobilized with terror.
"I lost..." Fumimaro stared blankly up at the Black Crows. His broken, "world-weary" appearance made Hachiman feel very uncomfortable.
'I lost... Why... It was so close. So close...'
Thud...
Fumimaro collapsed heavily to his knees, his gun clattering to the pavement as if his very soul had left his body. Finally, he broke down in tears, burying his face in his hands and howling at the sky.
"I lost! I lost... I'm not convinced! I'm not convinced, waaaah—!!"
The cry was loud and shrill. So loud that Hachiman felt a strange pang of pity. So shrill that Hachiman felt a profound tremor in his own soul regarding the terrifying realm of the occult.
Why? Why would a man who was ruthless to the extreme, with no shortage of violent methods and cunning, run around frantically for an artifact that seemed so ethereal, only to finally break down in total spiritual defeat at the sight of a bird?
Just for the so-called "real thing," had he sold his soul to the devil?
Hachiman couldn't fully understand the older man's boundless imagination and awe regarding the realm of the extraordinary. He just wanted to know one thing: Was the Hikigaya family safe now?
The police sirens grew louder, their flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the brick walls. Accompanied by Fumimaro's pathetic wailing. Accompanied by the rhythmic, disciplined sound of heavy combat boots approaching.
And... the unyielding cawing of the Black Crows.
Hachiman suddenly felt a profound pang of irony about the strangeness of fate. Yes... this guy had lost. Although Hachiman didn't fully grasp where on the cosmic chessboard he had lost, the arrival of the new Metropolitan Police Department was undoubtedly the best outcome.
Tap.
A tall, backlit figure stepped into the alley, blocking Hachiman's blurred vision of the streetlights. In the dim light, he heard a cocky, arrogant voice.
"Metropolitan Police Department's Secret Civilian Division—Kakeru Ryuen, salutes you, poor rookie..."
'Ryu... Kakeru Ryuen...' Hachiman's fading mind made the connection. 'Ah... So that's how it is. He is "Ryu"... the "Dragon" who sent the email.'
"...Did you plan all of this?" Hachiman choked out.
"Don't look at me like that, rookie." Ryuen felt fantastic at this moment. He used to be called a helpless rookie by the higher-ups, but now it was finally his turn to look down on others. "The extraordinary realm isn't so easy. Look at this poor wretch crying on the ground. He's your cautionary tale."
"...So, this was all just a test?"
"Yes, you can interpret it that way. But I was genuinely unaware of this disgraced cop's previous actions against your family until you investigated. Alright, rookie. Don't be so discouraged. Your legs and hands can be magically healed, as long as you agree to join my Secret Division."
This explanation was acceptable to Hachiman. Because Ryuen was clearly throwing him a lifeline. If it weren't for Ryuen orchestrating this trap, his Hikigaya family might have already become a bloody sacrifice for Fumimaro's establishment of authority.
"Th-thank you..." Hachiman whispered, his vision fading to black.
"Tsk... He's passed out," Ryuen smirked. "Someone, get a stretcher and carry him back!"
As for Fumimaro Ayanokouji... Ryuen simply waved his hand dismissively for the armed officers to arrest him, not bothering to stop the broken man's wailing.
After all... Fumimaro had lost because of that final, greedy step. Even more so because of the entry of a true supernatural behemoth into the game.
'The extraordinary...' Ryuen felt a sudden pang of melancholy as he looked up at the Crows. He cherished his own "luck" and was working hard towards his ambitions. He had officially entered the gate, but so many others were still bleeding and struggling blindly beneath the surface…
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Give me powerstones.
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