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Chapter Thirty Three
Causatum
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The elevator doors slowly opened.
The figure that emerged from them was silent, sullen, and methodically scanned the floor as he walked. The door he approached looked like a large inset panel instead of an intended portal, but the peculiar metal key he inserted in the only visible notch in the door prompted its opening all the same, sinking slightly into the floor before sliding inside the wall and disappearing from view.
A young woman sat inside, showing no visible recognition of the door having opened. There was a small television at the opposite end of the room displaying footage taken from the body camera of a police officer, which shakily recreated the arrest of a masked individual at Fukanuma beach from the dramatic perspective of the officer on the scene. The young woman was visibly distraught, her otherwise effortlessly flawless hair frizzled where she had repeatedly pulled on it, and gave some vague recreation of the motion as the masked figure in the footage was forced to the ground.
After a moment of tense silence she suddenly registered the presence of her silent guest, and her red skin went pale as she jolted away violently, tipped over the computer chair she had been sitting in on her knees, and came crashing down to the floor with a dramatic squeal.
Pulling herself up the back of the chair, she got a better look at the incredibly short man standing in front of her. He would have appeared slightly taller than he was if his chestnut hair were curled into an afro instead of sitting matted on one side and pulled about on the other, as if a tornado had whipped him about. Half his face was stained with grey dust, which also coated most of his suit and pants, occasionally interrupted in its gradient across his body by a smear or imprint of something pressed against it.
“You…” She gulped, forcing down her heart out of her throat as the little man slowly approached. “You’re with Corey? Where is he? Is everything okay?”
The man was motionless for a moment, eyeing her throat with an air of suspicion. Then he removed one of his hands from the pocket it had comfortably occupied, his eyes returning to watch hers as he gently presented a small, matted mess of golden hair.
“Hurry, Kohaku.” He whispered, his voice too weak to do anything else. “We must hurry.”
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“I’m here, I’m right here.”
Ren’s eyes blinked rapidly. The hand that Race was not holding had been poking into the side of his arm with some force, and it felt like a bruise was inevitable. Oisim stood at the other end of the room, his shirtless body mostly obscured by a large Japanese cloak thrown over his shoulders, and making it clear by his mannerisms he had been watching the entire display unfold. Ren tried and failed to suppress a nasal exhale at his flustered frustration, earning him a slow blink in reply.
“…Tone, where’s Tone?” He blurted out, trying to swing his curled-up legs off of the hospital bed to little avail, as Race held him firmly in place. “We need to get to him, I don’t know- I can’t-”
“Wolf Mask.” Oisim’s voice growled slightly as he spoke, dominating the small room with absolute ease. “He is being escorted here by my police. I will tolerate only your silence until he arrives.”
“They’re my team.” Ren tried to snarl back, but a creeping shudder marred the energy he attempted to convey. “I won’t have you or anyone else telling me what I can or can’t do to protect them.”
“I believe you will find silence wiser than this protest.” Oisim sneered, and it seemed as if he would say more, but his attention was drawn to the hall, and he swiftly exited the room, leaving Ren and Race alone for a brief moment.
“Where’s Corey? We need to find Corey-” Ren whispered, trying yet again to stand only for Race to grab his knee and forcefully pull him back onto the bed. “Race, we need to find Corey!”
“Corey was found near the shore by Oisim,” Race breathed, finding it just as difficult to whisper as she had before. “He carried him to the hospital and scared the staff to death just by showing up. Ren, this thing has gone public, they’ve got footage of Tone at the beach where they arrested him. We can’t get out of it this time.”
“Corey must’ve known.” Ren breathed, clutching his bicep in frustration. “He saw this happening and chose to move forward. We’ve gotta have faith that whatever he saw, whatever plan he came up with, it’ll be alright. That everything will be okay.”
“Make him stand.” Oisim’s voice announced his presence before he reappeared in the doorway. “Bring him to the hall. We have much to discuss before the departure.” His ominous face disappeared as quickly as it had reasserted itself.
“Take it slow.” Race cautioned, but to no avail, as Ren immediately threw his legs over the edge of the bed and tumbled onto the floor. “I guess it’s been a while. Do you need a hand?”
“Yes,” Ren grumbled, one hand gripping the frame of the bed as the other gripped the side of a shelf, and between the pair he raised himself up enough to let gravity slowly pull his knees open again. “It’s the kind of thing I didn’t know I could forget. Is Kohaku here?”
“I don’t know.” Race replied, sliding her shoulders under Ren’s arm and raising him up from his lowered position. “I’ve been in here the whole time. Now take it slow.”
Ren suppressed an instinctual exhale of frustration at his clear weakness, but Race’s advice had to be heeded lest an explanation be necessary for Kohaku. His weak knees finally found the strength to at least partially support his weight, and with significant assistance he trudged through the door and into the poorly-lit hall.
“Wait a second.” Ren paused, his eyes widening as he looked around the hall. Kohaku’s awkward expression and the appearance of Bekko and Shusui were almost completely ignored by his realization, but as the moment passed his eyes fell upon Goshiki, whose scowling face was made even fatter by the neck brace he wore, and the equally white sling holding a fractured arm padded with bandages failed to diminish the threatening presence he possessed. An IV drip stand was at his side, and the padded appearances of his attire implied there were more injuries than the clear fractures and the sickening black eye he wore.
“This is the same hospital.” Ren said after he recovered his bearing, looking to Oisim for some sign of reply. “The one after the fire. Tone was down here.” He looked around the long hallway for some indication of the elevator that had taken him even deeper into the structure.
“Save it for the autobiography.” Tone’s voice broke into the scene, his steps quieted by the power of his mask. Kohaku flinched away from his approach, revealing his hands coated in cotton bandages and medical tape. The rest of his body was relatively untouched, and Ren’s searching glance for the alleged blood-stained portions of his suitcoat was noticed by the subject of his gaze. The two locked eyes for a second as Tone continued marching until he was right in Oisim’s face, the three members of the Kin Gin Rin freezing in place.
“Makuei.” His voice shifted to a much more dangerous tenor as he stared down the giant out of the top of his eyes, the undamaged eye of Goshiki rounding on him with fury as he continued. “You owe a lot of explanations to everyone here, explanations that can’t wait until later. Koi Blood was waiting for me when I moved the limo, Koi Blood tried to kill Race last night, and several days ago Koi Blood tried to kill me and Ren. You had every opportunity to give us advanced notice about these attacks, and you’ve instead put us and everyone else directly in harm’s way thanks to your actions.”
Ren’s eyes traveled to Kohaku. Her posture was noticeably shrunken, looking up in fear at the imposing figure of Oisim across the hall, and was so focused on his presence that Ren escaped her attention entirely.
“I want to know why we weren’t informed.” Tone continued, his bandaged hands slowly curling into fists and straining the medical tape atop them. “About the attacks, about your activities in the Pangolins, and about the civilians at the hotel.”
“But they got escorted out.” Ren looked at Tone with clear confusion on his features, and when the metal mask refused to acknowledge his inquiry, Oisim took his focus, returning the stare with a tipped head and a dismissive glare from the bottom of his eyes.
“They weren’t moved.” Tone continued staring into Oisim’s eye sockets, never breaking his stare for even a moment. “Bodies are still being discovered. No survivors have been located thus far. I don’t know what exactly he’s told you but you can assume the rest of it’s a lie, too.”
“Bold assumptions-”
“Now you listen to me.” Tone snarled, his voice growing even more threatening. The muscles that could be identified under Goshiki’s padded attire visibly tightened. “I have had to kill a lot of people this past week, and every single one of them is your doing and your responsibility. You’ve actively tried to destroy this group over the last few days with information that could only have come from you, provided to these hit squads to strike as effectively and efficiently as possible-”
Tone flinched away from Oisim’s massive hand, which darted out with lightning-like speed to the side of the Wild Mask’s head a fraction of a second before a cloud of steam erupted from the massive figure. Goshiki’s hair rapidly unfurled, the sai holding it in place now pressed into the knuckles of Oisim’s hand, the majority of the main prong broken having broken off with a sharp SNAP and landing on the floor. Oisim’s forehead stopped glowing a moment after, and the startled expression on Goshiki’s face quickly relented into his typical stern scowl as he snapped to an apologetic bow.
“How did you get that?” Tone’s voice sank to a low rumble, his eyes furiously staring at where the oni mask had jumped out of the tangle of tattoos across his forehead.
“I have kept you safe.” Oisim lowered his hand, still focused on Tone with an unchanging expression. “I have fed you, clothed you, healed you. I do nothing by compulsion. You question me in arrogance. You will be answered with action.”
Oisim’s head tipped back as his gaze shot over Tone’s head, forcing all but Goshiki’s eyes to turn towards the man that had appeared next to Kohaku. He was dressed in a surgical gown, his gloveless hands folded behind his back, and if he were ever to straighten his hunched, aged posture, he would be the same height as Ren. “Shinkoku na risuku ga arimashita ga, kare o antei saseru koto wa kanō deshi ta.”
Oisim slowly inhaled a long breath during the statement and quickly exhaled it through his nose once it finished. “English.”
The man gave an apologetic bow. “I am sorry. I said there were serious risks, but it was possible to stabilize him. It is unclear how things will turn out. We request that someone close to him remain on call in the likely event that he wakes from his coma.”
“No.” Tone immediately replied, but his slow turn towards Ren indicated it was to his superior he was speaking, as the verbal command interrupted the motion of Ren drawing his phone out of his pocket. “I’m staying here.”
“Tone,” Ren tried to respond, but felt at the pit of his stomach with a groan before studying the floor for a brief moment. “Alright. But, if I need you, I want you to show up.” He took a couple large breaths as Oisim blinked repeatedly at the display. “When you’re occupied Rook can-”
Ren became silent, looking down at the floor in melancholy for a brief moment before returning his eyes to Tone. The Wild Mask’s questioning glance was almost immediately answered by Oisim’s gently extended hand.
“Wolf Mask.” The giant mumbled, his vicious scowl and glowing eyes descending into visible weariness as the silver mask in his grip prompted a violent start from Ren. “It is said that the Demon can restore life. We are fortunate that your Rook is now as incomprehensible as the mask he has become, and such drastic measures are unnecessary.”
Ren weakly reached out and cradled Rook in his hands, the seam lines where the mask had fragmented impossible to detect under a silvery sheen of strong-smelling paint. There was no word in reply to his touched expression, but the sensation of sight through the lifeless eye holes of his mask made it clear Rook was as present as he had ever been.
“Take me to him.” Tone continued, marching up to the surgeon and staring directly through his soul. Before any other demands could be made, he slowly turned around and escorted Tone down the hall and through a heavy door on the right.
“The police are waiting.” Oisim’s voice broke back into the scene, his eyes locked onto the apathetic expression of Shusui. With a glance at his superior, the boom operator gave a sharp and decisive nod before walking past Tone and extending a hand towards Race, the sodden cigarette in his mouth eternally disintegrating into ash.
“This is where we part ways.” He mumbled, showing little concern for Race’s flabbergasted expression. “No, there’s no backing out now. We all have sacrificed a great deal, but there’s no limit to sacrifice. The authorities are going to want a lead on Koi Blood, an answer for why the Makuei family split apart. I have to be the one to give it to them.”
“It’s life in prison for me,” He smirked, ignoring Ren’s nonverbal attempts to interject and offer an alternative course of action. “To buy master Makuei and the faithful of Koi Blood a little more time. It’s a shame you’ll never be able to visit.” He reached further, pulling Race’s static hand upwards to shake his before letting it drop limply to her side.
Taking one last pull of his cigarette, he dropped the butt on the floor and ground the heel of his shoe into it. Silently he turned, walking down the hall behind Oisim and entering the door to the stairs.
“It is time for you to leave. Goshiki and Bekko will show you to the exit.” Oisim folded his arms across his chest, refusing to make any further eye contact with anyone in the room, conveniently ignoring both Ren’s nervous glances and the shock on Goshiki’s features. The command could not be ignored, however, and despite the clear physical incapability advertised by his bandages, the puffy-faced bodyguard moved forward with a threatening presence, ushering Ren and Race along as quickly as Ren could stagger, Bekko having to take as large of strides as he possibly could to keep up.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, Kohaku’s eyes traveled up to meet the giant’s, the latter showing just as much difficulty in locking his eyes onto hers. She stood in silence with him for a moment longer, both trying to understand the silent language their eyes spoke so well.
“Hi dad.”
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