Chapter 33: Then, Draw Your Blade and Depart

"Do you really think telling you would change anything? Do you think you're the Monkey King, capable of wreaking havoc in the Heavenly Palace wherever you go?"

The Crow shrugged. "Little sister, you have no idea what kind of people we are. This isn't a matter of the Yamaguchi-gumi or the Noda-gumi. It wouldn't matter if your father were the Superintendent General of the Metropolitan Police Department; there isn't a single organization in all of Japan with the power to defy us. If you still care about yourself and your family, be a good girl and open these handcuffs for me. Even the underworld has its own code, and I have no interest in making things difficult for a few little girls."

He lifted his arms, rattling the shackles, sporting a cocky, "I'm not going to stoop to your level" expression, clearly feeling quite smug. Having spent his time trailing the Young Master with no real chance to flex his status, he wasn't about to pass up this opportunity to grandstand in front of a few young girls.

A gust of wind hit him. Before the Crow could even attempt to dodge, he was sent sprawling by a kick. He landed head-down on the floor with his backside in the air, his world spinning upside down.

"I’ll ask you one last time: where did you take Tomori Takamatsu?" The chill in her voice seemed capable of freezing the very air. The Crow’s incessant babbling had completely exhausted Sakiko’s patience, her golden eyes glowing with an increasingly sinister and terrifying light.

"Ouch, ouch! Why so angry?" The Crow quickly put on a fawning, sycophantic smile. "If you’re determined to go seek your own death, I certainly won’t stop you. They took her to the family shrine. It's in the mountains on the outskirts of Tokyo; just search for 'Shiraha Tengu Shrine' on a map."

Taki immediately searched on her phone. The place did exist, though it was marked as private property.

"Need to know anything else? If there’s nothing else to ask, can I take my leave?"

"No. If I let you go, you’ll spread the word about this," Sakiko said, her tone icy.

"That’s easy enough—just don't beat me anymore. I can handle that little problem myself. By the time I wake up, it’ll be tomorrow afternoon at the earliest."

"Wait, you wake up?" The others were confused by this remark.

The Crow twisted his shoulders, crawled up, and took a few steps forward. He took a deep breath and flashed a brilliantly radiant smile. "Beautiful young ladies, sayonara!"

Suddenly, a look of grim determination flashed in his eyes. Sakiko instinctively drew her blade to shield Taki, only to see the Crow turn and charge like a bull, slamming his head directly into the tiled wall. He collapsed limply, his lewd face now bearing the peaceful, innocent expression of a sleeping infant.

Mutsumi Wakaba stepped forward and poked him; the guy was completely motionless. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, one might assume that headbutt had truly sent him off to the underworld.

"Are all underworld types this psychotic?" Taki’s brow furrowed in frustration.

Sakiko was also struggling to maintain her composure. When she first heard "yakuza," she had expected ruthless, bloodthirsty thugs, which was why she had planned this ambush. She hadn't expected someone like this. Had the Japanese underworld really fallen to such a level?

She walked to the hospital bed. Only now did she have time to check Soyo’s condition. The array of medical equipment and tubes made Soyo look like a critical patient who couldn't survive without them. In reality, however, Soyo was doing well; all her wounds had been properly treated, and her vital signs were within the normal range—she simply hadn't woken up yet.

"Taki, could I ask you to look after Soyo?" Sakiko whispered. "Move her to another hospital. I’ll pay for everything."

"What about you? Are you and Mutsumi going to that shrine?"

"I am responsible for bringing Tomori back."

Taki was silent for a few seconds. "Judging by what that Crow said, they must be very dangerous people. I don’t know what this 'Dragon Blood' or 'genetics' stuff you’re talking about is, but I suspect it’s real. I can also see that both of you are completely different from the Sakiko Togawa and Mutsumi Wakaba I used to know. I just want to ask one thing: did you cut off contact these past few months because of all this?"

"That’s right. Because I didn’t want you to be dragged into it. But... I failed," Sakiko said softly.

There was no point in hiding it anymore. Every word the Crow had spoken, the lethal danger of the critical blood limit, and the patient lying before them were all too clear to Taki. Everyone from CryChic had been thoroughly implicated.

"You idiot!" Taki suddenly roared and charged forward.

Just as Sakiko braced herself, expecting a slap, she found herself wrapped in Taki's arms.

The embrace was so sudden that Sakiko was caught off guard, not knowing whether to open her arms in response or struggle to pull away. A massive wave of sorrow welled up inside her. This was what she feared most: this damnable, fatal tenderness. It felt as if all her heavy, repressed misery was dissolving into something soft, weak, and rippling like water.

"Why didn't you tell us? Did you think we weren't worth trusting? You said it yourself, didn't you? If we’re forming a band together, then we’re a community of fate! That dry, cold 'I’m quitting CryChic' made me think you’d actually turned into someone so heartless and cruel!"

With every sentence, she pounded on Sakiko’s back. She had imagined this scene many times over the past few months, but she never expected that when it finally became reality, it would be accompanied by such bitter tears.

"Don't you dare think you can take everything on by yourself! Don't you dare think you have to shoulder everything alone! Is pride really that important? People are born to help one another. There are so many difficulties waiting for you in the future—do you really think you can solve every single problem on your own? It's impossible! It’s because we help each other that we are human. That’s what society is, that’s what friends are, that’s what your community of fate is!"

Sakiko didn't know how to respond. The Taki she remembered never spoke like this; she was earnest, strict with herself, and strict with others. But perhaps even someone like that had another side. Everyone had a soft spot in their heart, and once touched, it would flow out, warm and gentle.

"I'm sorry..." Sakiko said blankly, her voice trailing off to a whisper.

"I don't want to hear that. Save it for someone who needs it more!"

Taki pushed Sakiko away, gripping her shoulders with an incredibly earnest gaze.

"To be honest, I really want to go with you and bring Tomori back. But I know this isn't what I’m meant to do. I know nothing about your world yet, and I can't wield a blade like you can, so this is up to you two. Ever since I met you, I’ve never asked you to do anything. This is the only time: please, bring Tomori back. Whatever this 'Dragon Blood' is, we’ll figure it out eventually, but we absolutely cannot leave her in the hands of those people!"

She bowed deeply. "If you must say sorry, wait until you bring Tomori back and say it to everyone together."

"...Okay."

It only took one word to agree, but Sakiko felt as though it drained every ounce of her strength. Her throat was so dry it felt as if it no longer belonged to her.

Taki was right. She was a fool. Only a fool would think she could do everything, which was why she had ruined it all. If she had been willing to explain things sooner, Soyo and Tomori wouldn't have been in so much pain, they wouldn't have kept going to the RING, Soyo wouldn't have been hurt, and perhaps Tomori wouldn't be facing this crisis. It was all her fault.

But fortunately, it wasn't too late. Only a fool would keep repeating "I'm sorry." The mistakes she had made were beyond repair, so the only way to make up for them was to carve out a better future with her own hands.

Shiraha Tengu Shrine—if there really were gods or something of the sort standing in her way, that would be perfect. Murasame was a blade meant for the gods; even if it were the head of a god, she would cut it down in a single strike!

A cool, damp breeze brushed against her face. Tomori Takamatsu slowly opened her eyes. Everything around her was darkness, and a faint scent of blood filled her nostrils.

Where was this? Hell or the abyss? A bone-chilling cold made her shudder, as if countless invisible female ghosts were floating around her, stroking her body with icy fingers and whispering into her ears.

Her head ached. She could vaguely hear something speaking—a blurred, arcane language—trying to drill into her skull like a small snake, yet there was no one else here.

She struggled fiercely but couldn't move. Hundreds of reinforced steel rings held her firmly in place. These restraints, like a custom-made metal straitjacket, kept her suspended in the center of the empty room. She couldn't move her limbs, nor could she bend a joint or even turn her neck slightly.

A surveillance camera in the corner seemed to sense something, slowly rotating toward her. A red light blinked, and a beam of light shone down from above, blinding her.

After a moment of adjustment, a sinister fear welled up in Tomori’s heart.

This was a room made entirely of metal. Two machine guns were hung directly in front of her, their dark muzzles pointed at her head and chest—her vital organs.

Nearby, stacks of high-explosive charges were piled up, extending from the floor. Though she couldn't see them all, she knew they were arranged in a circle around her.

Then there were the small square holes in the walls. Given what was in front of her, it wasn't hard to guess they were similar weapons, perhaps for spraying nerve gas or lethal chemicals; faint, faded marks were visible on the walls.

Every sign indicated that this was a prison—a lethal one. If the prisoner inside made any move, there were countless ways to kill her.

"You're awake."

The man's voice came from the ceiling, echoing in the small cell.

"Who... who are you? What do you want? Where... where am I?" Tomori cried out urgently.

"Before answering your questions, you must first understand the reason you are being treated this way so that our conversation can continue."

A robotic arm held up a mirror, presenting it to Tomori. She couldn't believe her eyes.

The reflection showed a face that was half-human, with crisp, short hair, while the other half was covered in pale scales with a metallic sheen. Protruding from her skull was a jagged bone structure. As her pupils trembled and her facial muscles twitched, those fine, silver-like scales rippled like flowing water.

This was human, yet also a demon. And most terrifying of all, it was her.

"Faced with such a reality, I doubt anyone would think this is some malicious prank show. Everything I say next is the truth. Tomori Takamatsu, you have dragon blood flowing through your veins. You are a half-blood—you can think of this as a type of superhuman hidden within human society."

The voice continued, "Regrettably, your dragon blood gene has gone berserk. Its concentration in your body has exceeded the critical blood limit, and it is twisting you into a monster that is neither human nor ghost. In this state, a powerful will to kill will occupy your heart. You will gradually lose your self-identity, indiscriminately attacking everything living, and attempting to hunt other half-bloods to devour them in order to enhance your own lineage, until eventually, you forget yourself entirely and become a raging, walking corpse."

Blurred impressions flashed frame by frame. The fragmented memories returned. Tomori remembered the RING, Soyo, the fire and the storm, the blood and the gunpowder, and the screams and tears of the girl.

She remembered how her own knuckles had pierced Soyo’s body. The vivid sensation couldn't be a lie; the feeling of life slipping away was like blood flowing through her fingers—warm, delicious, and intoxicating.

The pure golden gaze in the mirror slowly grew unfocused, as if covered by a thick fog. What flowed down weren't pure tears, but thick,腥 black blood. A vast, overwhelming sadness engulfed Tomori.

Did I... kill Soyo Nagasaki with my own hands?

She desperately hoped this was just a dream, that when she woke up, she would see those soft, chestnut-colored locks swaying before her eyes. But reality was always cold and cruel. The more she doubted, the more she wanted to forget, the clearer those blurred memories became. Every scene was as real as a movie.

"Is... is Soyo... okay?" Tomori asked in a panic.

"At a time like this, you care about a friend instead of yourself?" The voice held a hint of a smile. "Fortunately, she didn't suffer fatal wounds. We have provided her with comprehensive medical care."

Tomori let out a sigh of relief. The hideous, half-human, half-dragon face softened; the devil had actually revealed a gratified smile.

"Am... am I going to be killed?"

"The answer is yes."

"...Thank you." For some reason, knowing Soyo was safe, she felt no fear at all, as if all her emotions had been drained from this body.

"You're welcome. You once brought me a moment of happiness. I’ve watched your performances. Someone uploaded your live concert to the internet, and I quite enjoy your singing. That despairing, self-consuming performance—it’s like a white poppy, or perhaps, a corn poppy."

"Before I kill you, we still need to conduct a thorough investigation of you. As a token of gratitude for the good memories, you can think of me as the last friend you have in this life. I will help you with anything I can satisfy. You may call me... Masamune Tachibana."