"The stew doesn't taste right today."
In the quiet, somewhat empty living room, the siblings ate dinner nonchalantly. Souta Kiryuu set down his chopsticks, giving his critique of the evening meal.
"Yeah, something's a bit off..."
Even with a mind filled with memories of cooking, Souta's sister still needed time to get used to replicating the familiar flavors from their past.
But to Souta, the reason seemed to be something else entirely.
"Brother, are you... okay?"
She rarely called him "Onii-chan" in their everyday life. They were close—so close that formality felt unnecessary. There was no third person in the house anyway.
But if Souta hadn't acted swiftly today, things might've taken a dark, R-rated turn. Their futures would have been utterly ruined.
"What could be wrong?"
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it."
Souta placed his chopsticks down and calmly stood up.
"I need to go out for a bit."
Those four scumbags had already been buried alive dozens of meters underground.
Even if Sherlock Holmes, Conan Edogawa, and Kindaichi joined forces, they'd be clueless. Normal police? No chance.
But Souta wasn't the type to sit and wait for trouble to find him. He preferred going on the offensive.
"Hey, why don't you go hang out at Nao's place for a while?"
Class president Nao's house was less than fifty meters away in a straight line. The three of them had been childhood friends, but for some reason, Nao and Souta's sister had fallen out.
"No way!"
As expected, she shook her head without hesitation.
"I'm not going anywhere. If you're going to deal with those guys—"
She wasn't a child. As a top student at Royal Sakura Girls Academy, she could already guess what her brother was about to do.
Dispose of the bodies.
She wasn't aware of ninja techniques. In her mind, her brother had temporarily hidden the bodies in the yard and would need to destroy them.
That bald brute whose lower half had been crushed, the guy with a knife lodged in his brain—they were dead for sure.
Why had her brother killed them?
Did he need a reason to go berserk for his little sister?
"I can help too—"
She suddenly stood up, looking at Souta seriously.
"We're accomplices."
"I appreciate the sentiment," he replied.
"But with those skinny arms and legs, you're not built for this kind of work. Leave the physical stuff to me."
Souta waved his hand. Besides, he had already taken care of the bodies. What was coming next definitely wasn't kid-friendly.
"Alright then, I'm heading out."
"Be careful."
With his sister's warning behind him, Souta stepped outside.
"Now then—"
With a sudden motion, his body shrank as if from thin air. As he crouched down, black fur spread over him, replacing his clothes.
"Meow~~"
He shook his neck, revealing small, sharp fangs.
It was a bit inconvenient, but this form would work just fine.
Having made up his mind, the now jet-black kitten version of Souta leaped over the wall and darted south.
E-Rank Ninja Technique: Transformation Jutsu
As one of the foundational "Three Basic Jutsu," this technique might only be E-rank, but it was key to many classic comeback strategies.
In combat, espionage, or luring enemies, it was an essential ninja skill.
Even the prince once turned into a Fuma Shuriken to exploit an opponent's carelessness and break the Water Prison Technique.
Souta, now a black cat, dashed over rooftops and fences while carefully avoiding surveillance cameras.
Understanding the power of modern tech, he acted with utmost caution.
Killing in a rage might feel good, but if the police came knocking, that would be a hassle.
So Souta had a plan—he'd give the Tokyo police something to keep them busy.
Mention Tokyo's nightlife, and most people think of Kabukicho, Shinjuku.
Especially the newly completed Tokyo Kabukicho Tower, a 225-meter tall multi-use complex. It had everything—hotels, cinemas, restaurants, entertainment. Designed to drain wallets and wear out bodies, visitors were lucky to leave at all.
Still, not everyone wanted to spend money at such places. Naturally, Adachi Ward had its own version of "Kabukicho."
Takenotsuka Town.
Located in northern Adachi, it was truly a remote outpost. More like part of suburban Saitama than inner Tokyo.
No dazzling neon lights, no tempting gourmet food, no historical charm. Just streets lined with suggestively themed love hotels—Tokyo men's playground for desires.
Sex clubs?
No, no, they just "provide a space for lovers to date."
And since they're lovers, doing those things is perfectly natural. As for how long that "love" lasts—who cares after the pants are back on?
Compared to the upscale hostesses in Ginza's elite lounges, these joints were straightforward.
You show up. You pay. You do it.
Still, there were some proper buildings around. In 2-Chome stood a flashy new building.
Fang Finance Corp
Its oversized logo sprawled across the fifth-floor window, complete with phone number and a corporate-looking businessman in a suit and glasses.
It looked official, maybe even elite. But those who "worked" here weren't your average salarymen.
"Heard you collected the Watanabe debt the other day?"
"Yeah, took some effort. One got shipped off, the other sold his house to barely scrape by."
At the building's entrance, two men with open suits and colorful shirts chatted casually as they walked in.
But their work talk made passing pedestrians avoid the building altogether. If this place weren't along a major road, locals would never come near.
What, a yakuza group helping with disaster relief?
Please. Nobody buys that PR.
The Fang Group left regular people alone for two reasons:
They were too poor to bother.
And—
"The Metropolitan Police have messed with us three times this month."
In an office on the 8th floor, a man in a pinstripe suit put down his coffee.
Judging solely by the minimalist decor and his sharp appearance, you'd never guess this refined middle-aged man was the group's boss:
Sugaya Inoue.
"I've said it again and again. Violence is a last resort."
He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Don't resort to it lightly."
"Yes, sir!"
Before him stood a fearful subordinate, bowing at a ninety-degree angle. Behind him, two other lackeys sweated profusely while holding up a young man.
"Brother, was this really necessary?"
Sugaya Inoue looked at the bruised and battered youth and spoke calmly.
"We're a legitimate designated violent group. You calling the cops on us over and over is making things hard."
"You bastards..."
The youth tried to open his swollen eyes, teeth grinding in fury.
"You killed Akemi. I'll never forgive you!"
"Hey now."
Inoue leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked.
"That kind of talk can be considered slander, you know."
"I deeply regret Akemi's death. She was such a diligent employee. Truly heartbreaking."
"Bastard—"
Bam!
A fist from the nearby thug smashed into the youth's face, silencing him in a spray of blood.
"You're mistaken."
Inoue adjusted his glasses again.
"I hate violence, truly. I'm thankful to the old man who sent me to Kyoto University to study law."
"Your sister came to my club on her own. Chose to work there. I never underpaid her. Even got her health insurance."
"Puh!"
A bloodied tooth flew onto the desk, trailing red like her final fall.
"Shut up, you bastard!"
"You lured Akemi to the bar, got her drunk, and then..."
Photos, videos, a well-oiled pipeline. The scared girl, unable to face her family, swallowed it all and got sucked into the underworld.
"You even got her hooked on drugs!"
The youth thrashed wildly, neck veins bulging.
Once a vibrant girl, Akemi had become... something else.
Even when her mother disowned her, her brother, Wataru Tanimura, never gave up. He tried rehab, begged the police...
But he underestimated the drug's grip.
That sweet, timid girl turned into a sobbing, snot-nosed mess, begging for another hit. Willing to seduce her own brother for just one more taste.
In the end, no miracle came.
She chose to jump, ending her endless torment.
Even the strongest-willed cops and soldiers rarely beat addiction. What chance did a scared girl have?
"Such a pity, but—"
Inoue raised a cold question.
"What does that have to do with me?"
?!
"What's wrong with working at my place? Lie down and earn cash."
"I supplied the best stuff. Earn and spend in-house. Perfect system."
"You monster!"
Wataru had nothing left but rage.
After Akemi died, he tried everything to expose the Fang Group, but nothing worked. Finally, they got sick of him and dragged him here.
Fight back?
With what? A kitchen knife against guns?
"Even if I die, I'll haunt you—"
"Ghosts?"
Inoue laughed.
"This world runs on science. That kind of weak fantasy never existed."
Then his face darkened.
"The one who won't let you go... is me."
"Cement him and toss him in Tokyo Bay."
A normal man's rage only goes so far.
You can't fight an organized crime group alone.
"Yes, sir!" x3
The three goons obeyed, ready to dispose of the problem.
No body, no crime. Maybe not even a missing persons report. The Tanimura family wouldn't even call it in.
"Go."
Sugaya Inoue waved them off, returning to a document, already planning how to fill the now-vacant position.
Akemi's death genuinely annoyed him. She had years of value left. And her dumb brother thought he could beat drugs?
What a joke.
Inoue only promoted underlings who never touched the stuff. He knew better than anyone how it wrecked people.
"Huh?"
Footsteps returned.
"What are you—?!"
Inoue frowned, but then froze.
At the door, a line of ragged, long-haired women entered, faces hidden by hair, moving silently. The three thugs backed away in terror.
Had they... seen ghosts?