Ed Silas’s bar, <The Goonies>, was different on Monday nights.
Regular customers were barred from entering, and the place ran exclusively for Heroes. There were clear reasons for that. First, regular people did not like drinking or eating alongside a bunch of murderers. Second, drunk Heroes were dangerous without exception.
The second reason was the bigger one, but among us Heroes, the service had a sterling reputation.
We could drink ourselves stupid and raise hell with familiar pieces of shit without bothering ordinary citizens. Anyone who raised a little too much hell would be punished severely by Ed Silas himself.
Rumor had it Ed Silas had once been a Hero too, the kind who went around killing Demon Kings. One look at his face was enough to tell you the rumor was probably true.
He had the bearded mug of a bandit chief and a huge burn scar over the right half of his face. The scar pulled tight whenever he spoke, making him look like he was constantly threatening his customers.
“Oh. It’s you, Yashiro.”
The moment I walked inside, Ed Silas looked at my face and muttered like he was disappointed. “Yashiro” was my name as a Hero. A fake name, obviously. I was not stupid enough to hand out my real one that easily.
“Nothing but poor bastards today. You got money? I’m not running a tab for you tonight.”
“Come on, that’s cold.”
I laughed despite myself.
“I came all the way here after who knows how long. Give me a welcome. I’m a customer, aren’t I?”
“People who eat and drink on credit aren’t customers.”
“I know.”
“And neither are people who don’t order anything.”
“I know! Beer! And something I can eat right now.”
To convince Ed, I put a thousand-yen bill on the counter. At this rate, I was probably going to be short on living expenses again this month.
“In that case, even you count as a customer. Come in.”
Ed Silas smiled, the burn scar pulling tight, and swiftly collected the bill. Then he picked up a beer mug. At the same time, I looked around the bar. Maybe it was the miserable weather, but there were fewer customers than usual tonight.
There were only two familiar regulars at the center table. I could tell from the moment I walked in that they were having a truly useless conversation, the kind that produced absolutely no profit for anyone. I headed toward them while listening in.
“—I’m telling you, this season’s King Rob is unbeatable. Did you see the challenger’s pale-ass face?”
“Even so, everyone knows how the King’s black cavalry set works now. He’s at a disadvantage. Everyone will be gunning for it.”
“Heh! King Rob’s fighting style is the royal road itself. You get it? Huh? The cavalry comes crashing out, and punches through the other side, blockers and all. You think he’s gonna lose to some cheap counterplay?”
“I like attrition battles myself. That’s a style too. I’m rooting for the challenger.”
I already knew they were talking about a card game tournament. The topics these guys enjoyed had maybe three variations: games, other people screwing up on jobs, and that was about it. But I was the same kind of animal, and I loved that kind of talk.
So I cut in from the side.
“Then what’ll it be? Want to bet on whether the King wins?”
“Huh?”
One of them turned around. He was a huge bald man.
“You’re late. Where the hell were you wasting time, Yashiro?”
He glared at me with a rough, brutal face. His name was Joe the <Salt>. Probably a fake name, of course. He was a former yakuza hitman and a fellow Hero. He wore an army jacket soiled with blood, vomit, and mud, and it looked painfully tight on him. As far as I knew, that jacket had never once shown evidence of being washed.
Apparently he had some kind of attachment to it. Probably a keepsake from a dead friend or subordinate or something equally boring. I had no interest in that kind of past, so all I could say was, “It stinks, so wash the damn thing.”
Joe glared straight at me and spat.
“Unlike you, I’m not free all the time. Keep me waiting again and I’ll kill you.”
“Liar, Joe the <Salt>.”
I decided to call Joe a liar because Joe hated me, and I hated Joe too. Even so, we were friends, so there was nothing to be done. Heroes had a hard time finding friends. There were too many people in the trade who were worse than the lowest scum.
So I smiled at Joe and ran my mouth. Like this.
“You’re free anyway, Joe. No way you’re busy, right? If you’ve got a good job lined up, invite me.”
“I’d hire some street punk off the corner before I teamed up with Yashiro. Are you stupid?”
“Fair point. I’d do too much of the work, and there’d be no share left for a hack like you.”
“What’d you say?”
Joe raised his voice and started to stand. But someone grabbed his arm and stopped him. It was the other regular, a man in a ridiculously fine suit.
“Please don’t.”
He smiled with eyes as narrow as threads. It was an infinitely shady smile.
“All of you are so quick to start fighting.”
His name was Ishinoo the <Musician>. He was technically a Hero too. Rumor had it that before he got his license, he had been an amateur murderer. Amateur—in other words, just a serial killer. I had no idea whether that was true, but one thing was certain: he was not someone to trust.
“Why can’t you all get along?”
“It’s hard to get along with third-rate murderers.”
I conveyed my feelings logically and honestly. Joe the <Salt> growled.
“I don’t let people call me a hack. Take it back, Yashiro!”
“You’re a murderer and you still take pride in your work?”
“Take it back!”
“Now, now.”
Ishinoo made a performance of calming us down, pretending to be levelheaded. That was exactly what pissed me off. Ishinoo did not actually want us to get along. He just wanted to play games instead of watching a fight.
“Settle it with a game. The owner will throw us out.”
“Right.”
I glanced at the counter. Ed Silas had stopped pouring the beer and was staring at us with eyes like a demon. Joe the <Salt> snorted and sat back down. At that point, I was the only one still acting like a child. I wanted to blame it on the fact that a little of the <E3> was still in my system.
“My bad, Joe.”
“Yeah. I’m not a hack.”
“Right. You’re not a hack. You’re one hell of a Hero. But how good are you at cards?”
I pulled out a chair and propped my elbow on the table. Then I took a stack of cards from my pocket. My deck. Joe the <Salt> still looked sour, probably because I had called him a hack, so I slapped him on the shoulder to fire him up.
“Let’s settle this. Joe, Ishinoo—if you’re scared, you can go home. Otherwise, it’s a three-way match.”
“What’d you say, asshole?”
“I’m quite fine with that.”
Joe was simple, so he kicked his chair back and stood, while Ishinoo smiled like a cunning fox. I did hate these guys. But I could at least respect the way they always took a challenge.
Then, in the next instant, Ishinoo’s irritating smile vanished without warning.
“I would like to say yes.”
When that slit-eyed man went serious, he somehow gave off a cruel impression.
“Yashiro. Are those two friends of yours? Or are they customers?”
When Ishinoo said “customers,” it had a special meaning in our line of work. Customers for a Hero meant targets to be killed.
I had a bad feeling, so I turned around immediately.
There stood the shadows of two girls. One was tall and somehow mature-looking. The other was small. Both wore white school uniforms. Unfortunately, I recognized them. You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. I felt my fun plans for the night rapidly losing all color.
“Hey.”
From behind the counter, Ed Silas issued a warning.
“Regular customers aren’t allowed in tonight. And I don’t much like seeing minors wandering around a place like this at this hour—”
“There is no problem.”
Her tone was absolute. The taller girl stepped forward. No doubt about it. She was the one who had fallen right in front of me earlier.
“We are Heroes.”
There was no hesitation in her voice. No trace of guilt. Her attitude was so forceful it was almost like she was proud of being a Hero.
“Academy, second year. Special Advancement Course. Aki Shirogamine.”
She—Aki Shirogamine—introduced herself with astonishing dignity. Then she looked straight at me, almost glaring, and gave a military-style salute.
“Thank you for saving my life earlier.”
I nearly crawled under the table.
“Master Yashiro. I am certain you are a Hero of magnificent skill and noble conviction.”
Please stop, I thought. Ed Silas was here. Joe the <Salt> was here. Ishinoo was here. Being addressed like that in front of these shitty friends of mine was too humiliating to endure.
“Please become our master. Tonight. Right now.”
Then Aki Shirogamine bowed far too deeply.
“I look forward to your guidance, Master.”
That was the limit.
My unpleasant friends all burst into low, vulgar laughter. It was laughter filled with obvious intent to mock me. I fell silent. I had no idea what attitude I was supposed to take except to ignore them—or the girls—as hard as I possibly could.
There was an organization called the Academy.
As the name suggested, it was a school. A Hero-training institution built under the leadership of the Japanese Ministry of Education, which was desperately trying to clean up the Hero industry. That was the Academy.
Its motto was:
“Justice, Protection, Honor.”
They could fuck right off.
Just hearing those words would probably make Joe the <Salt> break out in allergic sneezes, and an evil man like Ishinoo would be purified on the spot. Even I almost got goose bumps.
If I remembered right, that bizarre school called the Academy had opened about four years ago.
At the time, there had apparently been a lot of backlash over the risks of letting minors handle <E3>, as well as over training them to kill. But after a fortune was scattered among the media, the criticism quieted down on the surface. It also helped that the 507th King Arthur of the Round Table Foundation, an international Hero-support organization, offered funding.
In general, female students had more internal ether than male students, and now a fairly large number of students were enrolled, most of them girls.
Their trademarks were white uniforms, the injection marks of habitual <E3> users, and the silver “winged sun” emblem shining on their chests. Missing that had been my mistake. I should have noticed when I found her.
The look I gave the girls was probably extremely unpleasant.
“No.”
That was the first thing I declared.
“No matter what your circumstances are, I can’t take that job. I’m a Hero, not a teacher.”
I intended to say it sharply, leaving as little room as possible for them to push their way in.
“In other words, I’m a professional killer. Understand? Anything else is outside my field. I can’t do it. More importantly, I don’t want to.”
“Yes!”
Aki Shirogamine’s answer was crisp enough to be infuriating.
“However, you are the only person we can rely on, Master.”
Her voice carried absolute confidence in her own actions.
Her face had struck me as cold and hard, but that had been a small misunderstanding on my part. She was the type best described as stubborn, or maybe as having a talent for intense self-delusion.
“No matter what, we must defeat a certain Demon King tonight.”
“Ah. That’s nice. Do whatever you want.”
I gave her a brief answer and looked toward the fellow professionals watching from a distance.
Ed Silas, Joe the <Salt>, and Ishinoo were all watching like they had found an amusing sideshow. They were grinning, drinking, and whispering to each other while looking this way. Looked fun. I wanted to join their side. I wanted to somehow escape this and return to the world of alcohol, games, and stupid conversation.
But Aki Shirogamine’s speechlike tone did not stop. Worse, she had even opened a notebook and seemed to be reading from it.
“Ordinarily, we are enrolled in E Class of the Special Advancement Course at the Academy.”
“Wait.”
“Academy field training is conducted in three-person parties. Just like actual professional Heroes, we draw up a plan and carry out the defeat of a Demon King.”
“Can you not hear me?”
“However, during tonight’s operation, due to our own immaturity, we were defeated by the Demon King’s forces. I ended up in the state you saw, and one member of our party was abducted.”
No matter what I said, Shirogamine’s explanation did not stop. Her face was so deadly serious it became ridiculous. If I looked straight at her, I felt less embarrassed than in danger of laughing.
So I had no choice but to shut up and stare at the ceiling.
“We must retrieve her at any cost. Our situation is urgent, and not a moment can be spared.”
“—I get it.”
At that point, I completely saw through Aki Shirogamine’s intention. It was a common trick.
“You’re planning to barrel through this with sheer momentum and drag me into it before I can stop you.”
“Yes!”
She answered crisply again. Too honest. If she had lived in a world where honesty was a virtue, she would have been treated like a saint.
“You saved my life once, Master.”
Shirogamine’s tone was forceful, but more than that, the content of her words did not seem connected to the context at all.
“Therefore, I have come prepared to stand firm no matter what. I am certain you will understand the strength of my resolve.”
I had to find some way to send her away. This was bad. But how? I chose my words carefully.
“In other words, you screwed up. If you’re supposed to be Heroes, handle it yourselves. Or ask the Academy. You’re students, aren’t you? I am extremely busy.”
“Yes!”
At least her answers had been good this whole time. Shirogamine’s replies had a military rhythm. The problem was always the line that came after.
“I understand that this is rude. However—”
“I said I’m busy! You rude little brat. I was just about to drink beer and play games. If you get in my way, I’m going to make you pay for it.”
“Aki.”
Suddenly, a quiet voice came from behind Shirogamine. It sounded like someone holding back anger. Come to think of it, the small girl was standing behind her.
“That’s enough. This guy seems useless.”
That pissed me off. The small girl was glaring at me with a face so displeased she looked ready to throw up. What professional would not get angry after being looked down on by an amateur?
“What was that? Hey, say it again.”
“Ah—my apologies. I am sorry.”
When I tried to peer at the smaller girl, Shirogamine preempted me with an apology. While she was at it, she indicated the girl standing as if hidden behind her with one hand.
“This is a member of my party. Her name is Yukine Indo.”
Even after her name was introduced, the girl—Indo—showed no reaction. She just glared at me. I felt something almost like a grudge in her eyes. Or maybe that was simply how she looked.
“Indo? Who seems useless? You’re saying that to a brilliant, first-rate Hero?”
I announced it with anger in my voice. Behind me, I heard stifled laughter. For the moment, I decided to ignore Joe the <Salt> and Ishinoo watching me like a spectacle. I glared straight at Yukine Indo. Freelance Heroes could not survive if they let people look down on them.
“You’ve never heard of Yashiro the <Reaper>, have you? Hey, you remember the <BFE> conflict in Ikebukuro two years ago, right? Listen and be amazed. In that conflict, I was the one who famously—”
“I don’t know who you are.”
Yukine Indo cut off my gracious introduction like it was an inconvenience. She tugged on Shirogamine’s arm.
“Let’s go, Aki. People like this are all talk anyway.”
“Yukine. Don’t be so rude. I saw this man’s abilities earlier, and I also sense that if we push him a little more, we may be able to persuade him.”
Apparently, Shirogamine was scolding her. But what she said was not particularly meaningful, and while she was at it, it was also a little rude.
Yukine Indo shook her head.
“We’re in a hurry. Can this man save Sera?”
“Provoking me won’t work.”
I did my best to stay calm with Indo. This was just one negotiation tactic. Make the other person angry, then get them to act. Another common trick.
“It’s not about whether I can or can’t. I said I’m not doing it.”
“You’re scared.”
“What did you say?”
That I had not resorted to violence after being told that much proved my personality was impressively well-constructed for a piece of shit.
“Don’t call me a hack. It pisses me off. Who’s scared? I’m invincible.”
“Even if your opponent is Lord <Amber Briar>?”
“I don’t care what kind of piece of shit he is or where he’s from. Lord <Amber Briar>, huh?”
I snorted.
“As Demon Kings go, he’s third-rate. He’s been expanding his influence around Shibuya lately, but it’s still just yakuza business. What he does is basically the same too.”
At that point, I could not resist taking revenge. They had launched such forceful negotiations at me, tried to provoke me, tried to control me exactly how they wanted. I was the type to hold a grudge.
“Drugs, for example. Human trafficking. That kidnapped friend of yours, was it? She might be drugged up and treated like a toy by now. His subordinates are all not much different from street punks anyway.”
That much should have been enough to scare them. I had my finishing line ready too. With proud types like this, pity worked better than insults.
“Poor thing.”
“...Aki.”
Yukine Indo’s expression visibly changed.
“I’m going after all. Asking someone this useless for help is a waste of time.”
“Yukine. But the situation—”
“Even if you say so, Aki, I can’t. We don’t have time.”
Yukine Indo pressed something to her neck. A small cylindrical injector. <E3>. Immediately, her presence changed. I could tell because I was always used to ether, that invisible force. The first thing you felt was a sensation like static electricity stroking across your skin.
Without thinking, I reached toward my pocket. Habit. My <E3> was there.
“I’ll save Sera and come back.”
Yukine Indo said it shortly and took a single step back. That was all the movement amounted to.
But right after that, her form abruptly vanished. For just an instant, I felt as if the wind had slowly swirled.
“Oh? Damn.”
From the corner of the counter, Joe the <Salt>, who had been watching with a grin, sounded slightly impressed. How had she done it? As a fellow Hero and competitor, he was probably interested. Ishinoo’s gaze also flicked rapidly left and right.
Rather than search for the shadow of the vanished Indo, I thought I should look at the reaction of someone who knew more. I glared at Aki Shirogamine with the nastiest villain face I could manage.
“She went off alone. Where did she disappear to?”
“Yes.”
Shirogamine looked a little pained, but she nodded honestly.
“Yukine says her ether perception allows her to see spatial ‘gaps.’ By entering those gaps, she can move instantaneously across a certain distance.”
“I see.”
I was stunned. What an amateur. What the hell did they teach at the Academy? Who talked that easily about a fellow professional’s information? Still, if what Shirogamine said was true, Yukine Indo’s ability did fall under the category of powerful ether perception. Not as powerful as my invincible ether perception, of course, but strong. Very convenient.
“You’re not going after her?”
“No. I require your guidance, Master.”
“You think there’s time for that? Right about now, your friend is—”
“That is a lie.”
Shirogamine stated it flatly. Something about the sharpness of that assertion bothered me. What was with this girl?
“In reality, how will she—our comrade—be treated? I want to know the exact circumstances. You have knowledge of these matters, Master, the parts not taught in school.”
“Because the one he kidnapped is an Academy student.”
In honor of Shirogamine’s sharpness, I decided to talk a little.
“He won’t damage her. That would lower her value. <Briar> is at least a professional Demon King. He won’t pointlessly reduce her worth as ransom.”
“Ransom?”
“The Academy’s public reputation is delicate. You know that, right? It’s a school for training hitmen. If I were a Demon King and I caught a student, I’d negotiate ransom in exchange for not making the facts public. That would make more money.”
That said, this was only about eighty percent speculation. There was still a nonzero chance that <Briar> was an idiot who could not do basic arithmetic.
But to Shirogamine, it seemed to be a major relief.
“I see. Then there is still time. As I thought, we must save her no matter what. Master!”
“Quit pushing in like that. You’re shameless. If it’s a rescue, ask your school!”
“We cannot ask the school.”
Shirogamine bowed deeply. Too deeply.
“I will explain everything. Please guide us! We must defeat the Demon King <Briar> tonight!”
“That’s an insane schedule.”
As I spoke, I looked toward the corner of the bar. Ed Silas, Joe the <Salt>, and even Ishinoo had placed bills on the counter. They were pointing at me and saying something. They were probably betting on me. I could guess the contents of the bet too.
“Guiding you isn’t my job, and I’m not doing Hero work as a charity.”
“But with your power, Master—”
“Stop. Lines like that give me hives.”
I raised my middle finger at the fellow professionals in the corner. The vulgar men burst into laughter.
Meanwhile, Shirogamine watched my gesture with a puzzled look. As if she could possibly understand how I felt. I was extremely irritated. There were occasional moments when even I wondered whether I might as well accept my status as “worse than the lowest scum.” But that was the last line of defense.
This was a question of how to live. I had my own tastes and my own things I wanted to do, and I had no intention of living like something beneath scum.
“I won’t guide you. But if this is a simple request for a Hero, I’ll take it. A Hero isn’t a teacher. He’s a hitman. First, you need to understand that.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll take one-fifth of the ransom. Around twenty million yen?”
My fellow professionals all burst into laughter at once. I deliberately shut it out of my awareness. They were probably thinking, The idiot took the bet. Damn scum. Betting with my life like that. I’ll win the whole damn pot myself, I thought.
“Twenty million. I’ll wait a little, but prepare it by any means necessary. Also, this.”
From my coat pocket, I pulled out two lumps of cloth. I tossed them onto the table. They were knitted balaclavas, the kind bank robbers used. One was the one I usually used, and the other was a spare, just in case.
“What is this?”
As expected, Shirogamine narrowed her eyes, then opened them again. Apparently they did not teach even the basics at school.
“What exactly?”
“Masks. Put them on. You’re Heroes, so plan for the worst. Say you screw up and let a Demon King get away. If he sees your face, he’ll track down who you are and kill you.”
“Is that so? It makes us seem almost like criminals—”
“There’s not much difference.”
I spat the words.