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Chapter Six
Near The Knuckle
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“He works where?”
“There.” A gloved finger touched the map. “Employee exit directly aside. Alarms and security cameras were disabled before we drove in. One shot, arm locks on the exit as we depart.”
One of the figures turned towards the darkened window, eyeing the line of trees which flanked the edge of the loading area behind the building. “I don’t see him back there. Where did you put him?”
“Behind the dumpster.”
The van was started, silently humming as it waited to move. “Nobody’s followed from the road after ten minutes, so our designated wait time is up.”
The driver could barely move his hand to the shifter before a large rectangular sign shattered the windshield, its arrow-like point cracking the sternum of its primary occupant. The rest of the men inside immediately drew their guns and tried to exit, but a buzzing sound preceded the doors abruptly locking.
As the front passenger reached across his agonized comrade to manually unlock the doors, the silhouette of a fish mascot in the middle of a flying kick towards the vehicle was visible among the many cracks in the glass.
—
“What do you mean, he hates it?”
Ren had tried to hide the smile in his voice, but it broke out across his lips and he turned away with a quick tuck of his head as his shoulders drew together, half-expecting Kohaku to sling another handful of loose ice at his head. After several seconds of silence, he turned towards and immediately ducked away from Kohaku, standing next to him with one hand on her hip, a fish tail extended as high as her other hand could reach.
“Okay, cool it.” Fred’s voice lost its amusement and descended into a stern tone as the crab Ren had been cracking tumbled off the counter, but raised his eyebrows as Ren wrapped back around and caught it before it touched the floor. “Well. Remind me to sign you up for the baseball team.”
“No thanks.” Ren smiled, setting the crab back down on the counter as Kohaku stuck her tongue out at him while departing his station. “I’m not really into that kind of attention, with thousands of people watching me and stuff. I prefer to keep to myself.”
“Yeah, your car attests to that.” Kohaku sneered. “Is that what student loans do to a person? Ruin your automotive taste, and who knows what other tastes as well?”
“He dropped out though, I’m certain.” Fred interjected.
“C’mon, not all my tastes are that bad.” Ren laid the crab legs out in decorative fashion and closed the sliding glass wall of the display, chucking the crab’s body in a round plastic bin full of crab bodies. “Honestly, name a single other taste I have that’s in any way bad.”
“Friends, for one.” Kohaku retorted, earning a single eyebrow raise from Ren and a concerned look from Fred. “Anyone as built as he is not pressuring you into working just as hard isn’t a very good friend at all.”
“What’s wrong? I thought you liked that ugly fish mascot.”
Fred’s concerned expression melted into amusement as the rather blunt attempt from Kohaku to pinch a nerve or two lead to Ren turning away with a smug grin as she spilled into a massive tirade about the company mascot. “And Gyoryu-tomo ISN’T UGLY!! I won that contest to design the mascot, ME!! And the final design is the most adorable thing ever and I’m pretty sure I hate you now!!”
“Since she likes to run her mouth with this, she can also run the trash out at the same time.” Fred chuckled, grabbing the rolling garbage bin and reeling back to roll it to Kohaku, but pausing as the sound system in the store crackled. A message was relayed in Japanese, and it returned to the same migraine-inducing songs that consistently played all day long.
“Fred?” Ren glanced over, trying to keep as casual an attitude as possible to prevent his knowing something was up from showing through. “What’d they say?”
Fred’s eyes scanned the ceiling. “They called for Tooru to come to the security room… But Tooru’s the repair guy. There’s no reason they’d call him unless something was really wrong.” He sidled out of one of the exits of the loop. “Run the trash out, Kohaku, I’ll be right back.”
Kohaku watched him leave before sending an elbow into Ren’s arm. “If I only had another fish tail.” She scowled. “Attacking my precious fishy friend is a low blow, Ren.”
“You’re that attached, huh?” Ren smiled back, cracking the leg off another crab without looking at it. Fred seemed to be having an influence on his work. “With all the war crimes he’s committed?”
“You treat him like he’s a monster!” Kohaku hissed, sliding the cart out and towards the employee entrance. “There’s one thing you need to understand, mister I-hate-anything-remotely-cute-and-fun: Gyoryu-tomo is the most perfect angel in the whole world and would never hurt a fly.”
She swung the door open and paused, unable to resume dragging the cart around the open door. Gyoryu-tomo was staring down at her, one eye ripped clean off, his body stretched out horrifically like a wrinkled blanket, numerous tears and gashes visible across his cuddly blue form, and bits of broken glass in various places adding that extra sparkle it would otherwise be needing. A chunk had been taken out of the cheery mouth, revealing a well-shrouded eye inside, although all Kohaku could observe was the small, reflective dent just above his eyebrow, perfectly round and just as resplendent as it had been when it formed just over ten minutes ago.
“I need to drive.” The voice that escaped was Tone’s, but it was haggard and rough, much unlike the somewhat sociable voice Kohaku had heard earlier that day. But perhaps the reason for such a change was the effort he was putting into sending select tones into Ren’s ear drum, ones only he could hear.
“My keys.” Ren said after an uncomfortably long pause, handing a small ring of keys over to Kohaku with his gloved hand. “Take him wherever he needs to go. Whatever he tells you is the truth, with no reservations. I’ll talk to Fred, just- go, he’ll explain whatever he feels is necessary.”
“Trust me.” Ren cut her off before she could begin. “I know what I’m doing.”
—
“I’m going to trust Ren, that he knows what he’s doing.” Kohaku said, both hands gripping the steering wheel at full arm’s length. Not only was Ren bigger than her, he liked the extra legroom. “I kind of have to, at this point, regardless of whether or not I want to. But there’s no way in the world I’m trusting you for any longer if you don’t start talking about this.”
Tone was silent for a moment. “Take a left here.” He adjusted something underneath the sleeve of the gaudy fish costume. “I’m gonna need you to pose as some kid’s relative, maybe with custodial authority of the situation demands. I can fill you on everything you need to know before you get there, and before that I’ll need to make a couple phone calls. But you must understand, I trust you much less than you trust me.”
“So why are we doing this, then?” She challenged.
“Because Ren’s the boss.” Tone replied, his voice still deathly stern. “Because I told him everything important there at the supermarket and he chose to send you instead of going himself. Because things just became extremely dangerous, and Ren’s relying on my plan to avoid any further endangerment, which now involves telling you. Although perhaps it’s for the best that you’re here.”
“What? What’s this big, important secret you’re so scared to tell me?” Kohaku’s eyebrows compressed automatically at the first sign of frustration. “What’s going on?”
“A group of thugs met me and shot me in the face just after I spoke to you.” Tone gestured to his face with his costumed hand. “Take a right after the next light. That little street is safer; I jog there all the time. Those thugs were there to eliminate me and Ren, and somehow knew it was me under the costume despite being completely concealed.”
“Wh… What…” Kohaku could barely stammer out before Tone spoke again.
“I took care of those punks with ease, but this is very serious. Someone must have known who I was to know I got put on the payroll, in order to target me directly. Someone badly wants to hurt us and has the means of finding out how to. Which means Ren and the kid are the weakest and most obvious targets.”
“Why??” Kohaku looked exasperated. “Why does someone want to kill Ren?”
“Because of who we are.” Tone looked directly at Kohaku, his voice growing more and more adrenaline-charged. “What we represent in the eyes of Japan, and of the whole world. The restless cries of those wronged. The greatest terror the heads of wickedness in this country have ever faced.”
“The Renegade Masks.” His eye glowed in the sunlight. “The Wild Masks.”
—
“Okay, wrap it up, that’s it for now until the next bulletin.” Fumihito sighed, looking at his watch, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Once we get sports out of the way I’m thinking of shuffling your broadcast into the next slot since we’re down an anchor, that work for you?”
“Sure.” Race replied, scrolling through her phone with only the vaguest interest in being alive at that moment. “Whatever works for you works for me, I suppose.”
Fumihito had already left, casually darting about to prepare for the rest of the day. Race had just placed her phone back in her pocket when it suddenly buzzed, alerting her to an incoming call. The ID was simply listed as T, but she knew instantly who it was.
“Work hours, big guy.”
“…Oh.”
“…Yeah, I can get a crew down there right away. No, I understand. There’s only so much one person can do. You’re right, we’ll be safer together. Okay, I’m on it.”
“Boss, I need a crew.” Race strode over to Fumihito, pocketing her phone and gesturing behind her with her thumb. “Possible big scoop just dropped, need to get over there before another station does. I’ll call with the details soon as I can.”
“Uhh,” Fumihito looked around awkwardly, his mind trying to catch up with the rest of the conversation. “Okay, uhm… Yuuto, go get the crew packed in two minutes… Hey, be careful, I don’t know what happened with the-”
“Got it, see you then.” Race abruptly answered and made a beeline for the elevator, taking it down to the parking level. “Uh huh … Well, I guess I can’t question the methods of a reporter as efficient as her … Hey Yuuto, get me a reschedule of the afternoon presentation; we’re gonna be down two anchors today.”
—
“Mister Corey.” The teacher’s rather gentle voice made it difficult to properly keep the kids in line, but it made her rather endearing, and quickly managed to catch the attention of the young and fairly distracted Corey. “Your cousin’s here to pick you up.”
“My… cousin.” Corey stared into the opposite wall, trying to figure out what was happening.
“Yes, we received a call from the same gentleman who we contacted about the fire a few days ago?” The teacher nodded as she spoke, purely out of force of habit. “He said your cousin was here, and she had come to pick you up ahead of schedule for-”
“OH!” Corey pretended to have a sudden revelation. “My cousin! Right, I almost forgot!” He rushed over to his backpack and nearly spilled the contents of it as he threw it on. “I’ll go right away! I haven’t seen her since, well-”
“And don’t forget today’s study material.” She smiled, sticking a hefty stack of papers in his backpack and zipping it up, prompting him to scowl in return. “Since you’ll be out the rest of the day I don’t want you missing out on any important info we might cover in class. Now out you go, dear.” The same plaster smile was exhibited as Corey sulked out of the building, the teacher on his right, immediately perking up when his cousin was revealed to be not Race, but a young woman he had never seen before — maybe even younger than Ren.
“Here you are, ma’am, and I apologize for the wait.” The teacher artificially smiled courteously, condensing her frame in response to the sudden and biting cold as her thin fingers tugged at her light attire.
“Ah, uh… Corey, glad to see you again.” Kohaku grinned and shook his hand with both of hers, doing an extremely bad job at hiding her expression of underlying concern — which Corey showed acknowledgement of by staring at her face with his mouth agape and lips parted, his hand limply returning to his side. “Thank you for escorting him out; I’m sure he’s a model student here.”
“He’s… One of the most unique.” The teacher smiled again, her social mask fitting not so comfortably atop her face. “Don’t forget about your art assignment again, Corey.”
“Well, I hope we get to meet again!” Kohaku grinned even wider, escorting Corey off to the car and stuffing him in the back seat before climbing into the front and driving off.
“Gnaaah. That was extremely itchy.” She complained, rubbing her ear vigorously. “Why didn’t you tell me his name before I walked up there, huh?”
“Slipped my mind.” Tone flatly replied, completely killing the good mood Kohaku was trying to foster with her typical attitude. “It’s not safe to go back to the market yet. We’ll need somewhere we can head to that’s not overly busy, but still populated enough to establish our presence.”
“…Tone?” Corey leaned over to look at the burly figure in the passenger seat. “What’s going on? And… why are you dressed as that stupid fish mascot for the place Ren works at?”
“I’m going to sue management for this.” Kohaku sighed, bearing her teeth in a dismayed frown, her brow crumpling in disappointment. “All my two and a half months in college has been for nothing if this is what becomes of it.”
—
It wasn’t the getting attacked that bothered him.
It wasn’t how Fred seemed to barely buy his story about his friend having a sudden medical emergency and needing to be rushed off, with the logical conclusion being drawn that anyone with such a potential issue would not have taken the job in the first place leading him to accept the explanation with as much of a sidelong glance as was physically possible.
It wasn’t the sight of Race interviewing multiple people at the supermarket, becoming tied by sight with a whole number of people he now had to work alongside indefinitely. Nor was it having to duck every now and then to avoid the sweeping capture of a news camera, even though Fred revealed his position every time by looking in confusion at him.
It wasn’t even the scowling shells of the heikegani crabs, which collectively glowered in disappointment at his every move, but the ringing buzz that remained a phantom in his eardrums, reminding him over and over again of what Tone, in his infinite foresight, learned from his would-be assassins before he returned the favor.
They’re after the Demon.
—