Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 8 Chapter 1 Part 3

“Of course, even the greatest explorer never reaches his destination without taking that first step,” Lippmann said with a gentle smile. He held out a different stack of documents. “I asked a lady I knew for a favor and received access to some of the government’s military files. Naturally, they immediately destroyed the most confidential files involving the research once the war ended, but I did discover that one military unit put out a call for body donations out west for use in human experimentation. That was our first clue. In other words, I contributed the most out of everyone here.”
As the situation slowly dawned on him, Chuuya timidly looked over at the final person in the group: Iceman.
“…I didn’t do anything special,” Iceman added before taking out the last set of documents. “I found records of your parents’ siblings, their family tree, where you went to school along with your grades and school photos. I found your birth records, too. Piano Man told me not to let the boss know we were looking into this, so I couldn’t go to an information broker. I had to sneak into eight different buildings myself to get these.”
“E-eight different buildings?”
Chuuya blinked in surprise while accepting the documents. Iceman nodded, then faintly smiled for the first time that day.
Very few people knew Iceman as a person, but he was actually quite soft-spoken and kind when he wasn’t on the job. He was simply a good- natured man who enjoyed coffee and listening to records in his spare time. Not many knew he had this side to him, but all five of the men here did. Chuuya looked at each of them in turn; they were all smiling.
Piano Man, Albatross, Doc, Lippmann, and Iceman: the Port Mafia’s cream of the crop.
“Why, though?” Chuuya looked at the photo. “You’re disobeying the boss by doing this.”
Keeping Chuuya’s history a secret was how the Port Mafia boss was keeping him shackled to the organization. He wouldn’t be able to betray them as long as this info was under wraps. Piano Man, however, simply shrugged.
“The boss gave me orders to keep an eye on you in case you learned the secret. He never told me to keep that secret from you, though.”
Chuuya stared hard at Piano Man in an attempt to understand what he really meant by that remark.

“Why?” A flash of uneasiness briefly colored Chuuya’s expression. “Why would you go through all this?”
“”Why?’” Piano Man looked puzzled, as if the question didn’t make any sense. “I already told you why. Because we’re celebrating your one-year anniversary today.”
“But…”
“It’s nothing particularly serious,” said Lippmann. Baffled by Chuuya’s reaction, he eyed the rest of the group. “If we had to come up with a reason, though…”
The look on his face said this was the most natural conclusion:
“It’s because you’re our friend. Were things different with the Sheep?”
They had been. That was what Chuuya’s flustered expression was saying. Everyone in the Sheep depended on him. The contrary was unthinkable.
“How about you think about it like this, Chuuya.” Lippmann spread his arms, his gaze softening.
“This isn’t a present. This is a flag. Ever since the days of ancient Rome, there has only been one reason to raise a flag: to tell people, “We are here, and we are the chosen ones.’ If any one of the six of us is ever in trouble, you remember that flag and gather under it. We’re counting on you.”
He then slightly tilted his head to the side.
“Heh-heh… What a wonderful speech,” said Doc. “That’s Lippmann for you… I have to wonder how many women have been fooled by that silver tongue of yours…” He almost seemed to be mumbling to himself.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lippmann replied with an unbothered smirk. “Oh, right. This peer support group actually has an official name: the Flags. That’s where I got the metaphor from. Piano Man, the group’s founder, is the only one who remembers and uses the name, though.”
“The “Flags’?” Albatross appeared dubious. “Pretty sure this is the first I’m hearing about this.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you forgot. I told you this on your first day in the group. Right, guys?”
Piano Man looked at the others, but nobody even blinked.
“Hold up. Did you seriously all forget? It took me three whole months to come up with the name.”

Everyone averted their gaze. Only Chuuya was quietly focused on the photo in his hand as if all the answers were right there. As if the existence of the photo itself was the answer, not the people in it.
“Happy one-year Mafia anniversary, Chuuya!” the group cheered.
For the briefest moment, Chuuya wore a childlike expression as if he didn’t know what to do or how to respond. He looked at his comrades, then through the files, then at himself in the photo once more.
“What’s wrong?”
Piano Man’s voice pulled Chuuya back to reality. “Rrgh…!”
He tried to look angry. He opened his mouth and attempted to yell something, but not a single thought came to mind. Everyone stared at Chuuya in puzzlement. He then swiftly turned around and shouted at the entrance:
“Now I get it!” His voice was unnecessarily loud. “You thought you could pull a fast one on me, showin’ me this so I’d get all weepy and apologize! That’s what’s goin’ on, isn’t it?!”
“Hmm? No, actually, we—”
“Well, it ain’t gonna work on me. Got it? That won’t work on me!” Chuuya began storming toward the entrance and kept his head down. “I’m goin’ home! And ya better not follow me! I don’t wanna see any of your damn faces!”
After Piano Man glanced at the others with a perplexed expression, he said to Chuuya, “Oh well. I guess if you’re leaving, you’re leaving. We were actually gonna have a billiards tournament after this, but…I guess we’ll just have to play without you.”
“Even without the guest of honor?” Lippmann raised an eyebrow.
“It’s out of our hands. We have all this nice booze we can’t let go to waste, so let’s cut loose and forget about work while we can. Whoever wins first place gets a prize!”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Hey, Chuuya! Don’t mind us—and have a safe trip home!” Albatross waved at the entrance.
“Whatever!” barked Chuuya before kicking the front door open and leaving the pool hall. “Hmph.”
After the five comrades exchanged glances, they turned their gaze to the door. Nobody said a word. Ten, then twenty seconds of silence went by. Still, nobody spoke up. Nobody even moved a muscle.
Thirty seconds went by. Right when they were about to reach the forty- second mark, the door to the pool hall opened just a crack.
“Screw you guys. Just tell me the rules, damn it. I’m takin’ all those stupid prizes back home with me!”
Chuuya was standing there looking equally frustrated and angry. “Now we’re talking,” Piano Man said with a smile.

After that, the pool hall was full of its usual hustle and bustle: billiard balls clacking, the shuffling of footsteps, cheering, trash-talking, groaning, clinking glasses, billiard balls dropping into the pockets, and youthful laughter. The same mundane scene you’d see anywhere else in the world.
If everyone in the room pitched in, they could afford numerous plots of land in this town, but you’d never know that just by observing them. These young men were simply chatting like usual.
“Say, who ended up in last place the last time again?” “You won’t be talking a big game for long.”
“We need more booze.”
“Ha-ha-ha! Yeah, the drunker you get, the more your aim sucks! You’re goin’ down!”
“True, the alcohol is making it hard to keep my hands stable. I’m probably gonna sink only three times as many balls as you.”
“Oh, it’s on!”
The pool hall was full of life. Someone started playing music on the jukebox. Old woodwind music could be heard in the background as the group played pool, drank champagne, and joked around. It was a scene from any corner of any old town; something that was universally wished for but wasn’t hard to achieve. That very something could disappear in the blink of an eye, just like bubbles in a champagne glass. This was one of those moments.
“Heh… This shot’s gonna win me this whole thing.”
“By the way, I saw you walking down by the harbor with a blond woman in tow. Is that your new girlfriend?”
“H-huh? …Ack!”
“Yikes, this isn’t looking good.”
“Wow. Do you guys really wanna lose to me that badly?”
“Ack! Could the balls literally be in a worse spot?! Don’t make things easier for Chuuya! He’s already got a big enough ego as it is!”
“I have an ego?!”
“Just don’t let him win! Whoever’s next, you better not mess up!”
The stick connected with the cue ball perfectly. The follow shot’s spin twirled the white ball into a striped ball, knocking it into another numbered ball after that. The resulting combination shot hit one ball after another, each knocking themselves in a different direction. The colorful, energized balls wove complex geometrical patterns across the pool table.
“Whoa!”
Somebody gasped. The combo shot’s chain reaction, which was too intricate for the human eye to follow, continued until the final target—the yellow-and-white nine ball—began rolling toward one of the middle pockets.
The nine ball moved slowly as if it were taking in a deep breath…and fell into the pocket. A split second of silence followed, and then everyone erupted into cheers and applause.
“Incredible!”
“What was that?! You made that shot like a pro!” “That was art.”
“Sorry, Chuuya. Looks like your championship run ends here.” “A new king takes the throne!”
“Who made that shot anyway?”
Something bizarre had just happened. Startled, everyone started looking around to see who’d made that shot.
“Huh?”
Up until a few minutes ago, there were six people in the room…but now there were seven.
“No need to clap,” said the seventh man.
He wore a blue jacket and had long arms and legs; his dark-brown eyes perfectly complemented his black hair. His handsome face was very serious, almost to a fault as he held the cue stick like a ceremonial staff.
“I do not need any prize, either. My sole intention is to interact with the six of you and form a connection. The investigation manual stated that was the best way to get information out of humans. And it appears we have bonded over our billiards game as planned, so I will now be focusing on the mission.”
The young man’s voice was flat and sonorous, his gaze seriousness itself. That moment marked the end of the peaceful tournament.
A kukri soared toward the young man’s neck with a fiery roar. “Oh my.”
He tilted his head, effortlessly dodging the blade while it sliced the ends of his hair.
Albatross had thrown the kukri. Undeterred, he maintained his calm expression and sank low to the ground. Iceman then emerged behind the newcomer with a cue stick. He twisted his body like a spring before shooting forward like a bullet from a sniper rifle. The young man in blue easily evaded, so Iceman followed up with a barrage of thrusts with his cue stick. The tip of the stick grazed his opponent’s skin, scorched the hair on his head, and pierced the downy hair on his ears, yet none of the attacks were a direct hit. He’d avoided them by a mere whisker.
“I’m impressed,” said Iceman.
“Ha-ha-ha! This is fun!” Albatross cheered. “You must really have a death wish, coming in here without even knocking! Lemme grant that wish for ya!”
“Despite participating in a friendly game of billiards, it appears my targets of investigation are becoming increasingly aggressive. Your actions are illogical. Why are you doing this?”
The young wolves did not have an answer for him. Right as the newcomer was thrown off-balance from dodging the cue stick, Piano Man slipped behind him and started pulling a fine, glittering radial wire from his watch.
“You can finish making excuses once you’re down on the floor.”
The wire, which would be nearly invisible if it weren’t for the faint light reflecting off it, slowly fell and wrapped around the young man’s neck. Piano Man flicked his wrist, causing the wire to rapidly constrict by the winding device in his sleeve. Chuuya had destroyed just one of the winders in his sleeves, but Piano Man had devices up both. And once they started winding, the wires transformed into guillotines that not even superhuman strength could stop.