After putting the picture away, Ango turned his gaze to the world outside the window, wistfully looking down at the city below.
Several shadows sprinted through the Yokohama Settlement’s underground aqueduct. Three Mimic stragglers had escaped to the dark channels. They survived because they had not been on the front lines during the battle at the Western-style building.
A dark cloth stretched out like a blade from behind and sliced one of the soldiers in half. The other two turned around and unloaded their submachine guns. Gunfire lit up the aqueduct, cutting through the darkness.
“…That won’t work against me.”
A boy in an overcoat appeared behind them. His black coat danced through the narrow passageway as if it were alive, tearing up the remaining soldiers one after another.
“I need to get stronger—I must reach greater heights! Until he recognizes me, I will lose to neither military soldiers, nor guns, nor even skill users! I will lose to no one! So take a good look! Behold!” Akutagawa shouted as he sped up the dance of death. His woeful screams were absorbed into the Yokohama night.
In the middle of a verdant mountain trail atop a hill overlooking Yokohama was a cemetery with a view of the ocean. There were many new graves lined up—among them a small white burial marker without a name.
Dazai stood before the burial marker, dressed in black mourning clothes and holding a bouquet of white flowers.
“……”
He squinted as the strong sea breeze suddenly gusted past. The white flowers fluttered in the wind.
“I’ll leave this photo here.”
He took out a picture and placed it before the burial marker. Frozen in time were the smiles of those three men.
“I really wish you could’ve tried that hard tofu I made…”
Dazai closed his eyes, then stood absolutely still, rooted to the spot.
The blue Mafia headquarters building towered over the center of Yokohama’s most prime real estate. On the top floor of the building was an office. Ougai sat at his desk, resting his chin on his hand.
“‘Nihil admirari—help the man mentioned above without hesitation in the face of any and all trials’… Hmph.”
Numerous documents were scattered over his desk—loss reports of Mafia-ruled territory. On top of the clutter was the Silver Oracle that Ougai had once written. It had been recovered from the Western-style building after the conflict had ceased.
He listlessly picked up the document and stared at it. The subordinate standing to his side spoke up.
“Boss, it has already been two weeks since our executive Dazai went missing. We should probably gather all the executives for a meeting to decide his successor…”
“Yes… I suppose so,” Ougai replied indifferently while creasing the document in his hands. “We won’t have a meeting. I’m going to leave Dazai’s spot open.”
Ougai stared at the scattered reports on his desk. The organization had received an item of great value, something that more than made up for the total pecuniary damage and loss of talented subordinates. That included Dazai’s disappearance as well. Logically speaking, the results couldn’t have been better. Everything was going according to plan.
Ougai folded the document into a misshapen paper airplane. Then, with his chin still resting on his hand, he threw it. The deformed plane almost immediately crashed into the floor.
“Things sure are going to get boring around here…”
Colorful electric signs lighted the streets of Yokohama’s entertainment district. The area was always bustling with people even through the dead of night.
Inside a certain pub that had an orange lantern hanging out front, there sat a large man with white hair, completely alone.
It was a popular pub for cheap drinks. The man drank out of a sake cup with a sour expression.
“I can’t believe the top dog from the Home Affairs Ministry is drinking alone at a cheap pub like this… Must be lonely, Chief Taneda.”
Taneda looked up in surprise to find a young man sitting across from him.
“You’re—”
“Allow me to pour you a drink.”