Chapter 39: Wage Thief

Tokyo remained as noisy as ever, entirely undisturbed by the departure of certain individuals.
One day, two days, three days...
Until the first young woman and another young woman far away in Osaka simultaneously discovered that the people were gone.
"That brat!"
A traditional Japanese courtyard.
The squinting Heiji Heizo slammed his fist against the wooden table. The sheer force transmitted through the desk caused the kimono-clad, worried-looking mature woman nearby to feel the vibration underfoot.
The woman, well past forty, frowned, her fair skin highlighting her deep anxiety. Kneeling on the floor in white tabi socks, her heart was filled entirely with worry for her troublesome son.
"What does the Metropolitan Police Department say?"
"The people who took Heiji were extremely cautious. The police department has only managed to trace them heading in the direction of Chiba Prefecture. The Kudou boy was taken along with him as well."
"Kudo Shinichi?" Hattori Shizuka frowned.
What kind of people would go out of their way to cause trouble for two high school boys, especially considering that neither of their backgrounds was simple?
"You don't need to be too anxious. The fact that the perpetrators chose to take them today means those two boys won't be in danger in the short term. I will follow up with the police department."
Though the Kanto and Kansai regions constantly looked down upon one another, they never slacked when it came to matters concerning their second generation.
Squabbles and brawls were one thing, but in a society as rigidly stratified as Japan's, a banker's son would become a banker, and a politician's son would become a politician.
Targeting an entire family usually only happened between bitter rivals, without involving outsiders.
No matter how fiercely Tokyo and Osaka bickered, neither side would ever touch the other's heir. Doing so would be a declaration of war against the entire upper stratum. No one could tolerate a situation where a painstakingly cultivated successor faced the risk of death simply by stepping outside.
Hattori Shizuka opened her mouth to speak, hesitation in her eyes, while the worry on her stunning, mature face remained unabated.
Though she rarely interfered in such affairs, the people moving in her circles were either dignitaries or inextricably linked with the police department, making her well aware that the police were currently facing immense challenges.
If the ones who took them were entities of that caliber... At this point, she could only place her hopes on those individuals being a terrorist organization seeking to negotiate with the Osaka Prefectural Police Headquarters.
————
Shibuya Ward.
As another major gathering place for the youth, it neighbored Shinjuku Ward and was similarly known as a "24-hour sleepless district." Unlike Kabukicho, which attracted domestic and foreign tourists alike, Shibuya primarily drew young people by setting the trends in youth fashion.
And speaking of Shibuya, it was impossible not to think of the public's stereotypical image of Shibuya gyaru: tanned skin, thin eyebrows, light brown hair, ultra-short skirts paired with platform boots, and slouch socks.
For instance, right now.
"Would this young mister like to come and try it out? Someone with your kind of aura is bound to be very popular."
Looking at the girl blocking his path and uttering ambiguous remarks, Yamada Ryoka let out a slight sigh.
Aura?
If by that she meant the accumulation of having killed a sufficient number of people.
Anyone could acquire it as long as they killed enough.
"Get lost." Her tone was sharp, and her gaze felt like it could pierce straight through the soul.
The gyaru, who had just been enthusiastic toward Yamada Ryoka, instantly stiffened, her breathing halting abruptly. By the time she recovered her wits, Yamada Ryoka had already walked far away.
"So scary for no reason," the gyaru muttered a few words before her feet honestly and swiftly blended back into the crowd.
The memory of the gyaru's existence lasted merely two seconds. Walking down the street, Yamada Ryoka pulled out a notebook and used a red pen to draw a line through the final name on the list. On her right wrist, she wore a fang threaded onto a red string.
[Meiji Shrine]
"The last one," he murmured softly.
Over the past few days, without sleep or rest, he had scoured nearly every temple and shrine across Tokyo, save for Senso-ji.
The fang given by the Tengu had never once reacted.
The trigger conditions had not been met.
Putting away the notebook, Yamada Ryoka cared not a whit about the fang's purpose. Shrines and temples were ubiquitous in Japan; even in bustling Tokyo, a vast number of temples and shrines occupied large swathes of land. No, it was precisely because Tokyo was prosperous that it attracted the establishment of shrines and temples.
After all, various faiths ran rampant in this island nation, making it the ultimate legitimate and lawful way to rake in money.
It was time to collect his reward from the Tengu.
Yamada Ryoka thought to himself.
However, before claiming his reward, he needed to shake off the tail following him.
Suginami Ward, an area as unremarkable as Itabashi Ward, but compared to Itabashi, where the population was gradually declining due to industrial reasons, Suginami's development was relatively decent. The concentration of the anime industry had turned this region into the core of Japan's animation sector.
Transitioning from Suginami Ward into Nerima Ward, Yamada Ryoka removed his hood.
The wandering souls behind him gradually manifested. There were no shrill wails, only silent following behind Yamada Ryoka. As time passed, when Yamada Ryoka reached a path cutting through vast agricultural fields, the surroundings grew quiet, broken only by the occasional croaking of frogs echoing across the paddies.
Nerima Ward lay about twenty kilometers from the core of Tokyo. It was the last administrative district to be established, having been split off from Itabashi Ward, and boasted farmland accounting for forty percent of Tokyo's twenty-three wards.
To residents of Minato, Chiyoda, and Chuo wards, it was absolute countryside.
Yet even for the countryside, Nerima Ward's population should not have been this sparse, especially during the time when farmers ought to be out tending to their work.
Seemingly pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat, the roar of tank engines, the blades of attack helicopters, and the sound of soldiers' combat boots slamming against the earth erupted almost simultaneously.
Yamada Ryoka looked ahead at the Black lieutenant colonel wearing military insignia, his expression entirely calm.
"Step aside."
"Please don't be so cold, my dear Yamada. I am here to sincerely invite someone like you to join America. Listen, for a person like you, only America is the finest destination."
"Green dollar bills, voluptuous beauties, yachts and sports cars, red wine and steak—America can give you everything you want."
The Black lieutenant colonel, whose teeth were the only white part of his entire body, issued his invitation to Yamada Ryoka in a seductive tone.
To these utterly ludicrous temptations, Yamada Ryoka could only say...
"Ridiculous."
A bunch of cowards who didn't even dare to approach him and instead shouted from afar through a megaphone dared to try and recruit him.
"The people at the Metropolitan Police Department are truly incompetent freeloaders."
To allow American forces to march troops into Nerima Ward—he simply didn't have the time to play games with these fellows.
With a slight shift in his intent, the wandering souls surged into motion.
Seeing this, the Black lieutenant colonel, who had just been desperately trying to persuade Yamada Ryoka, shrank back in fright.
The next moment, the wandering souls once again let out their signature, piercing wails.
"Shit! Open fire, open fire!"
————
Metropolitan Police Department.
Superintendent Hakuba, who was in the midst of reviewing documents, suddenly felt his right eyelid twitch.
A second later, Senior Superintendent Tōyama pushed the door open and rushed in, speaking at a breakneck pace: "American troops and 'Ghost-Servant Users' have broken out into combat in Nerima Ward."
The exhaustion from reviewing paperwork instantly vanished as he shot to his feet.
"How on earth did they manage to move troops into position without America leaking a single bit of news!" Superintendent Hakuba's vision went dark, and once he processed the information, a towering rage consumed him.
Were the subordinates below him all just salary thieves!
"Someone covered up their movements." Tōyama's complexion was equally unsightly.
To think Japan had been infiltrated to this extent!
Traitors!