Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 7 Chapter 2 Part 2

Chapter 2 Part 2

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Chuuya’s voice was stiff. “He’s just a timid doctor, they said… You make that old man you killed look like an unruly kid.”
“I appreciate the compliment.” Mori smiled gently, as if he were talking to one of his patients. “Chuuya, forget what I said about you working for me. I’d like to ask that you work with us. The rumors we’ve heard about the prior leader’s resurrection and this Arahabaki you’re after are clearly connected. I believe simply sharing what we learn could benefit us both. Don’t you agree?”
“…And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll kill you,” Mori replied as if it was as trivial as putting a sugar cube in his coffee. “However, that would require tremendous effort and resources. That’s why we’ll simply kill all your friends—all your Sheep— instead. How does that sound?”
Chuuya’s restraints flew off his arms and legs, embedding themselves in the walls and ceiling. His skill alone didn’t remove the chains but his brute physical strength as well.
“You’re dead!” he screamed.
Chuuya leaped forward, closing the distance between him and Mori in the blink of an eye as he threw a punch…but his fist stopped right before his opponent’s smirking face. Mori was holding a black communicator.
“Hey…Chuuya! Help! You’re there, right?”
A boy’s voice could be heard coming from the earpiece.
“The Port Mafia’s got us surrounded! C’mon, hurry…! Do something— anything—just like you always do!”
Mori suddenly pressed a button and switched the device off. Chuuya’s clenched fist was trembling.
“It was extremely simple, to tell the truth. They may be armed, but they lack finesse.” Mori shrugged. “The Sheep… An organization laying claim to Yokohama’s prime territory, hell-bent on retaliation… But aside from you, they’re just a bunch of kids with guns. A peculiar group, indeed.”
Chuuya’s fist trembled even more, but he kept it in place, showing no sign of moving. He didn’t have a choice, after all.
“As a leader myself, I know exactly how you feel, Chuuya. Who knew that the mighty armed force known as the Sheep was merely an all- powerful king and the hangers-on who can do nothing except rely on him for their survival? It appears you need all the management advice you can get, which means I have far more to offer than you do.”
“…You bastard,” Chuuya muttered through clenched teeth. “What’s with the fist? Getting in some exercise?”
Mori calmly prodded Chuuya’s raised fist. The tension remained for the next few moments until Chuuya slowly lowered it.
“Well, there you have it, Dazai,” Mori said, smirking. “Chuuya is the most violently powerful person in this room. But in the Mafia, violence and brute force are merely a couple of tools at our disposal. Our true strength lies in controlling rational action by any means necessary. In this case, the disadvantage of opposing me outweighs the advantage. Just some food for thought.”
“I guess I see what you mean, but what are you lecturing me for?” “Good question.”
Mori wore an ambiguous smirk as he stared at Dazai. Chuuya listened to their conversation with the look of a hungry beast. But he still didn’t make a move.
“‘A disadvantage that outweighs the advantage,’ huh?” he growled, glaring at Mori. “We can trade info…if it benefits me. But you two have to go first. I’ll decide what to do after that.”
“Very well,” Mori replied with a smile. “First, our objective: We’re investigating a rumor that my predecessor has come back to life. Dazai learned of three eyewitness accounts over these past two weeks, each claiming the boss was in Suribachi. His fourth appearance was when he blew you two away with those black flames. It feels somehow connected. Do you know anything about that?”
Chuuya met Mori’s gaze with a piercing stare for several moments before simply replying:
“The dead don’t come back to life.”
“I agree. That would put doctors out of business otherwise. However… the evidence seems to tell a different story. Take a look at this.”
Mori unlocked his desk drawer and took out a video player about the size of his palm. He placed it on his desk and turned it on, and the device instantly started playing a bird’s-eye view of a room lined floor to ceiling with stacks of thick wads of cash.
“This is surveillance footage from the Port Mafia’s vault, where we store half our hidden assets. It’s the most difficult room in our headquarters to break into, aside from this office,” Mori explained. “Watch what happens.”
Mori pointed to the screen. A shadowy figure was slowly weaving between stacks of bills. The moment Dazai recognized who it was, he gasped.
“That’s impossible…”
The shadowy figure looked up at the surveillance camera.
Floating in midair was an elderly man in tattered black clothes, eyes aflame: the merciless tyrant of the night. The old man—the late leader of the Port Mafia—looked up at the camera as if he knew exactly how Dazai and the others were watching, then announced:
“I have risen.”
His deep voice crackled bizarrely. It felt as if the room got colder, even though the sound was only coming from the device.
“I have risen from the raging flames of hell. Do you know why, Doctor?”
The previous leader’s body was faintly flickering on the screen, not giving a clear image of him. The outline of his body wavered like a shimmering heat.
“It is anger—fury born from resentment. Wrath is what it devours. It summoned me back from the pits of hell to have me create even more wrath. The black flames—the powerful divine beast Arahabaki is the very embodiment of rage itself. I will fulfill its wishes and have my revenge as I sow even more anger. Tremble in your bed as you try to sleep, and regret ever killing me.”
Massive flames gushed out of his body, instantly igniting the stacks of bills and melting the finish off the walls. Then the screen suddenly went black. The footage stopped there. Several moments passed before anyone could manage to utter a single word.
“This is all the footage we have of him,” Mori explained as he turned off the device. “The only ones who know it exists are the head of security, one executive, and myself. I have a very strict gag order in place. But even that might not be enough. There’s no guarantee that the former leader isn’t going to repeat the same performance elsewhere.”
Dazai stared at Mori with a stiff expression. “What are you going to do if he gives an encore somewhere else?”

“I have a good idea of what would happen. In this footage, he made it clear that his death was not by illness but by assassination. If any of his supporters were to find out, a third of our organization would turn on me. Win or lose, the Mafia would be done for.”
Dazai stared at the black screen in silence, seemingly deep in thought. “Chuuya, I hear you asked Dazai about Arahabaki the first time you two
met. What is Arahabaki?” Mori asked.
Chuuya glanced at him but didn’t say a word.
“I did a little research myself,” Mori went on. “Legend has it that Arahabaki was a servant deity, the god of habaki—leggings made from plant fiber. A god ancient enough to predate Japanese mythology, which is why its exact origins remain unclear. Apparently, nobody even knows how its name was originally written. As such, there are numerous variations of Arahabaki according to local legends across the country.”
“Do you seriously believe in gods?” mocked Chuuya.
“No. I believe only what I have seen for myself…which is why I cannot deny that the man in the footage looked exactly like the previous boss. You saw so for yourself.” Mori shook his head. “It’s no coincidence that you’re looking into Arahabaki. My guess is you heard the same rumors we did and decided to find out the truth. Am I wrong?”
Chuuya quickly darted his eyes around the room in hesitation before finally saying, “Who knows what’s true? We get a lot of drifters. There’s no way to pin down where the rumor started. But anyway…do you know where Suribachi came from?”
“The city?” Mori raised an eyebrow, surprised by the unexpected question. “It was built within a crater formed from a massive explosion toward the end of the conflict. The cause of the explosion remains unknown
—”
“It was Arahabaki, supposedly.” Chuuya grimaced.
“Lots of Sheep are into gossip, see… Rumor has it that eight years ago a captured foreign soldier was tortured at a secret military base near the Settlement. The torturer accidentally killed him, but the dead soldier’s rage and hatred summoned Arahabaki along with the black flames. Incidentally, they say in order to summon Arahabaki from hell you gotta kill a ton of people and collect their souls, then die consumed by anger. That’s the only way.” He went on. “Regardless, the resurrected soldier killed the torturer he despised. More specifically, he blew up the entire military facility along with all its soldiers. And that explosion created—”
“Suribachi,” Mori cut in. “I see.”
“Yeah. But Arahabaki’s power is too great to be contained in one person, so the soldier eventually lost his mind and turned into an uncontrollable monster. They say flames consumed his body along with the ground under him till there was nothing left.”
“Hmm. The return of an angry god… What do you think, Dazai?” “About what?” Dazai shrugged. “It’s impossible. Grudges beyond the
grave? Souls? Yeah, right. Someone’s just making stuff up for a cheap thrill.”
Mori’s expression turned serious as if he was deep in thought. “Nonetheless…,” he said, “my predecessor did kill a lot of people, and he did die filled with anger. That much adds up. Furthermore, he clearly mentioned Arahabaki by name in the footage. No ordinary person would have been able to sneak past the vault’s top security.”
“Then the answer is simple,” said Dazai. “It’s a skill. Someone with a skill we don’t know about made that footage. All they had to do after that was take advantage of the rumors about Arahabaki and make it seem like the old boss came back to life.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“Isn’t it obvious? To make people believe you assassinated your predecessor…and to destroy the Mafia.”
“Sigh…” Mori shook his head, an exhausted look on his face. “‘Death returns upon the murderer,’ as they say. Dazai, this is an order: Find who’s behind all this before they do the same thing they did in the video in front of my predecessor’s supporters. Got it?”
“I guess I can help. After all, they’d end up torturing me to death for being your accomplice if they ever found out,” Dazai replied, sounding slightly miffed. “We don’t have much time, though. I hope you’re sure about sending me alone.”
“I’m not.” Mori smirked. “Chuuya here is going to help you.” ““What?!”” the two boys shouted in unison.
“The hell is wrong with you?! You lookin’ to die?! I oughta—” “No, no, no! Anyone but him! I’d—”

“—kick your ass, you—”
“—do so much better on my own.” “—piece of shit!”
“Stop shouting over each other,” Mori interrupted. He eyed them both. “Chuuya, I trust that you understand you are in no position to refuse.”
“Oh, come on, Mori, that’s—” “Don’t get cocky, ya damn octopus!” “—downright dirty!”
“Screw you!”
“Yes, yes.” Mori simply smiled and refused to engage as they yelled back and forth. “I have several reasons for pairing you up. First, someone outside of the Mafia will have an easier time investigating these rumors given how dangerous they are to the organization. In addition, I need someone to keep an eye on Chuuya so he doesn’t betray us. That’s where your nullification skill comes in, Dazai. And the last, most important reason is…”
Dazai and Chuuya leaned forward, wondering what it might be. However, Mori spent the next few seconds letting the words sit on his tongue before grinning and saying:
“…a secret.” “The hell?!”
“Simply consider it a grown man’s intuition.” Mori’s lips curled into a mysterious smirk. “Get along, you two. That’s an order. If I hear you’re neglecting your duties because you can’t make nice… Well, no need for me to explain, yes?”
Mori slowly smiled at the pair once more. An invisible chill swept through the room.
“So? Do you understand?” Silence.
“Do you understand?”
““…Yes,”” the two teenagers answered miserably.
“Good. Then go. I’m expecting great things from you two.”
Mori watched quietly as Dazai and Chuuya shoved each other back and forth on the way out. The door eventually closed, leaving Mori alone in his office. A silence like the ocean after a storm settled over the room. His eyes still on the door, Mori muttered to himself:

“‘Only a diamond can polish a diamond…’” He reminisced fondly.
“That saying you taught Fukuzawa and me that day is about to be put to the test, Professor Natsume.”