Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume 8 Chapter 2 Part 2

A young man was in a factory—an automobile assembly plant. It had high ceilings, and the scent of machine oil filled the air. The sounds of welding machines and sparks could be heard in the background, but the factory was so large that it was difficult to discern where exactly the sounds were coming from.
Newly welded metal parts flowed down the conveyor belt. The young man riveted those parts, wiped off the machine oil with a rag, then used a metal tool to file off any leftover burrs. That was his job. In ten or so seconds, another freshly welded part, no different from the last, would come down the conveyor belt. The young man would then rivet, wipe, and remove its burrs. Then another part would come his way. Rivet, wipe, file. Rivet, wipe, file. Rivet, wipe, file. Rivet, wipe, file.
He would do that as many times as it took until he eventually thought, I’ve had enough of this. After finishing the next metal part, he was going to quit and go home. He had that same thought every single time he worked until the bell eventually rang, letting all the workers know that their shift was going to end in five minutes. Only during those five minutes did the young man feel somewhat human. His mind was empty. He simply put every fiber of his being into using his hands.
Once work was over for the day:
“Hey, we’re gonna grab something to eat. Wanna come?”
His senior coworkers invited him out for dinner, but he made up some excuse and took his leave. He then got changed without making eye contact with anyone before departing the factory.
I wanna get out of here as fast as I can. I don’t belong in a place like this.
But things didn’t go so smoothly that day. He was stopped before he could even leave the premises. The young man considered ignoring the person who called out to him, but he knew who it was, so he froze in place.
“Hey, boss,” the young man said. “Did you need something?” “Hate to ask you this, kid, but could you come with me?”
It was the plant director, a bespectacled man with a shock of white hair. A big shot in the company, he rarely spoke to such a low-level worker like this young man, who had only seen the director’s face in the pictures plastered on the factory’s walls.
“Oh, uh, I was actually just on my way home,” the young man bluntly replied.
“Don’t be like that. Come on, you have a visitor. Now follow me.”
The director grabbed the young man’s hand. He was about to break free when he realized the director’s hand was trembling. His face was pale and bloodless, and he was obsessively checking his watch. The director was clearly afraid of something.
The young man had no choice but to follow him. The director eventually took him to the reception room—the only place in the entire factory that had been spiffed up. The smell of coffee wafted through the oak door with its metal fittings. They must have poured a cup for the guest. The young man had absolutely no idea who it could be. A visitor, for him? He no longer had any friends who would reach out to him like this. Just about a year ago, he had a large group of friends who’d come check up on him, but nobody visited him anymore. Nobody.
So who could this be?

After the director knocked on the door and let himself in, the young man soon followed. Sitting inside was the last person he ever expected to see.
“…Chuuya.”
There were two people in the reception room. One was a tall European man, most likely a detective based on how he was dressed. The other person was Chuuya Nakahara, an old friend. Chuuya stared blankly at the young man, then stood up.
“Shirase,” he said, his tone stern and deep. “Long time no see.”
The young man called Shirase grabbed a nearby vase and wasted no time in throwing it at Chuuya.

It was not the outcome I was expecting. I thought their reunion would be so emotional that they would embrace with joy. That was what happened in most of the films I watched to learn about human culture.
And yet this “Shirase” individual threw a flower vase at Master Chuuya. I tried to catch it, but I didn’t make it in time. The vase hit Master Chuuya right in the face and shattered into many pieces. The way the fragments scattered compared to the speed with which the vase had been thrown was staggering. I quickly realized that Master Chuuya had used his skill to manipulate its gravity, causing the vase to shatter into countless pieces the moment it touched him. It probably didn’t cause him much pain, if any.
Unfortunately, there were thriving flowers in the vase. In other words, there was water in the vase as well.
Water dripped from Master Chuuya’s soaked head.
“Shirase? The hell?” he said evenly without even a hint of shock. “That water was ice-cold.”
“Real convenient memory you got there, Chuuya,” Shirase replied, sneering. “Did you already forget what you did to me—what you did to the Sheep? It’s barely even been a year.”
Master Chuuya’s quiet gaze did not stray from Shirase. He didn’t say a thing, nor did Shirase as he kept his murderous glare locked on Master Chuuya. The plant director had shrieked before running off the moment the vase broke. I had no idea what this silence was about, but we weren’t going to be able to follow through with the mission at this rate. Perhaps it was my duty to lead the conversation.
“So… Shirase, good sir. It’s nice to meet you. Lovely weather we are having today, yes?” I heard that you should talk about the weather first when meeting someone new. “There is actually something important we have come to discuss with you. Something extremely important. Please have a seat so we can talk.”
“I’ve got nothing to talk about with you guys,” Shirase said as he began walking out the door.
“Shirase, wait. Where d’you think you’re going?” “I finished work, and I’m goin’ home!”
I stood up and went after him before he could get away, but Master Chuuya did not move a muscle. He simply remained standing in place. He didn’t even blink. I wondered what was wrong.
Come to think of it, his reaction to the vase was odd as well. He should have easily been able to dodge something like that, yet he did not. Very curious.
I was not programmed to have any troublesome features such as emotions, but I was installed with a decision-making module that mimicked emotion so as not to stand out when investigating and interacting with humans. (I always had the feeling that I would perform even better without it, though.) Therefore, I could replicate emotions such as surprise or excitement. I could also analyze others’ emotions. Nonetheless, I failed to comprehend why Master Chuuya did not move when Shirase left the room.
“Let’s go after him,” I inevitably suggested. “Is everything all right, Master Chuuya?”
He was still dripping water, but for some reason, his lips were curled into a smile.
“Sigh. I figured this would happen, and yet…”

We followed Shirase down the corridor as he left. “Shirase, good sir. Please wait. We need your help.”
“Gee, sounds rough. Not my problem, though. You could offer me all the money in the world, and I still wouldn’t help Chuuya.”

Shirase’s pace did not slow down.
“But helping us would be the rational thing to do.”
“Who the hell are you anyway? You really know how to piss someone off, huh? Do you even know what Chuuya did to us?”
Shirase turned around and shot me a threatening glare, but his gaze meant nothing to me, since I cannot feel threatened. I could, however, comprehend the emotion he felt based on his facial expression: hatred.
“He destroyed our group one year ago. He had the Port Mafia attack us, and we ended up losing our home. Then we were scattered all over the country to keep us from regrouping ever again. All of us but Chuuya, that is. And y’know what he did then? The bastard joined the Port Mafia! He sold us out! We took him in when he had nowhere to go, and this is how he repays us!”
I cross-referenced Shirase’s story with the logs in my database, but they did not match. The facts told a different story. He needed to be corrected, but Master Chuuya did not say a word. He seemed to have no interest in discussing the matter.
“And this is where I got sent to. Me—and no one else. I had to stay in Yokohama, where they force me to work and watch my every move. You know what this is, Chuuya?”
Shirase held out his arm and showed his wristwatch. “Beats me,” Master Chuuya replied.
“That is a luxury watch from Switzerland,” I said upon referencing my knowledge database.
“Yep. It’s the only luxury item I still have, too. I was able to buy stuff like this every month when I was in the Sheep, but now? I dunno when exactly, but I’m gonna have to sell this thing someday. Anyone could do the kind of menial work I’m doing, which is why the pay’s such dirt. I’m not gonna be able to raise enough capital to rebuild the organization like this.”
“Rebuild the organization?” Master Chuuya’s expression changed.
“Uh-huh. You really think I’m gonna keep working at this shithole for the rest of my life? I’m slowly buying weapons and getting things ready. I’ll be able to do it. I’m gonna bring back the Sheep and become an even better king than you ever were!”
Master Chuuya frowned slightly. “In your dreams.” “What’d you just say?!”

“Come, now. Let’s all calm down.”
I had no choice but to speak up, since we still had not even discussed why we came here. Humans tend to engage in petty arguments even when they should clearly be prioritizing something else.
“Shirase, sir, there seems to be a misunderstanding. According to my memory database, Master Chuuya—”
“Stop. Don’t say another word.” Master Chuuya suddenly grabbed me and stopped me. “Listen, Shirase. There’s only one thing you need to know: You’re gonna die if something isn’t done. Today or maybe even tomorrow.”
“What?” Shirase gaped.
“There’s a hit man after you—a monster named Verlaine. I’m gonna kill him, and you’re gonna help me do that.”
“What? Why would a hit man be…?” Shirase looked utterly confused; he seemed to have no idea what was going on. “Why me?”
“’Cause he thinks I’ll have no reason to stay in the Mafia once you’re dead.”
“The hell? Why would he think that?”
“Don’t ask me to explain a crazy man’s logic.” Master Chuuya sounded like he was trying to avoid a debate. “Anyway, he’s strong. Even if the entire Mafia went against him, they’d basically get wiped out. That’s why I’m going to set up a trap to kill him. I’m gonna sneak up from behind and take him out when he comes for you. It doesn’t matter how powerful his skill is if I catch him off guard and get a clean shot…kinda like what you did to me a year ago when you stabbed me in the back.”
Master Chuuya’s gaze sharpened, and then his eyes narrowed with a different emotion. However, my emotion mimicry module was unable to determine what this really was.
“Wait, wait, wait. Lemme get this straight,” an irritated Shirase stammered as he waved his hands. “There’s a hit man named Verlaine, and you guys can’t beat him, so you’re gonna use me as bait to lure him out. Basically, you’re asking me to wait in the middle of this trap and not run away, despite knowing he’s coming to kill me. Did I get you right?”
Master Chuuya frowned without saying a word. It appeared that it was my duty to answer the question for him.
“Yes, that is exactly what you need to do.”
“Then hell no! I’m not doing that! What kind of idiot would willingly be murder bait?!”
“Yeah, I figured you’d say that. But ya don’t have a choice,” Master Chuuya replied sharply.
“What?”
“You’re bait, but so what? We don’t need you. There’s two others he’s gonna go after as well, so we could just use them instead. Only difference is, if you don’t cooperate with us, you’re gonna die. That’s why you don’t have a choice, Shirase. You do this, or you’re dead!” shouted Master Chuuya as if to shut down Shirase’s rejection.
They glared at each other without another word. Perhaps they were searching for something on the other’s face. It was Shirase who eventually ended the silence.
“Fine. Whatever,” he griped before turning his back to us and walking away. “Still playing king, I see. Good ol’ Chuuya.”
We kept walking until we eventually arrived at the factory car park. Numerous vehicles were parked, loyally awaiting their master’s return. (And unlike humans, vehicles do not neglect their mission. It was a very soothing sight.)
Shirase strolled over to a motorcycle parked in the center of the lot. Perhaps it was what he used to commute to work. He grabbed a helmet out of the basket and turned to us.
“You win. I’ll do as you say, so take me to where we’re gonna lay that trap. I’ll follow you on my bike.”
The moment I smiled with relief, I also felt something strike the side of my cranial parts. Shirase had hit me with his helmet, and the impact caused a momentary loss of vision. He then threw the helmet at Master Chuuya, but Master Chuuya caught it right as it was about to hit his face. Shirase used this brief moment to start his motorcycle’s engine.
“Ha-ha-ha! Like hell I’d help a traitor!” Shirase cackled as he suddenly accelerated away.
“Ouch.”
I ran my self-diagnosis procedure. Impact to the head. No internal damage. No signal delay. I was simply surprised, it seemed.
Master Chuuya held the helmet with both hands and stared ahead in annoyance. “Tch… Does he honestly think he can get away?”
After a deep sigh, he tossed the helmet to the ground. He then leaped into the air and manipulated gravity, landing atop a nearby parked car.
“Ya better keep up, tin man. ’Cause I’m not gonna slow down for you.”
I immediately began running, for I was not going to allow myself to be left behind.

Master Chuuya’s movement was closer to sliding than it was to running. He reduced the downward push of gravity while creating gravity to propel himself forward like a Frisbee. Each step sent him flying down another block, effortlessly passing the moving vehicles.
I engaged the elastic actuators in my knees and leaped after him. Once I left the factory’s premises and landed on a sign, I leaped even higher, this time straight over the pedestrians’ heads. In the meantime, I attempted to ping Shirase’s motorcycle and probe its location. However, I did not get a signal.
I hacked into the traffic control system as well, but no vehicle matched his motorcycle’s description. It appeared Shirase’s bike was not connected to any outside system or network. In other words, a cheap, unsophisticated model.
This worked against us because I wouldn’t be able to control it remotely like I did with Verlaine’s car. Our only option was to catch up with Shirase and physically stop his motorcycle. I opted for a relatively aggressive, albeit bothersome, method.
As I kept running, I accessed a traffic enforcement camera via a tool I had installed in advance that overrode the access authorization. Now my field of vision displayed an overlay of every car in the area, and I proceeded to quickly analyze the data available only to traffic police and search for Shirase’s vehicle until I found it. It was two blocks west and one block north of my location.
The motorcycle was racing north toward the residential district. Shirase was obviously breaking the speed limit, so the system had already flagged his vehicle, hence why I was able to locate it so easily.
“Master Chuuya! He’s northwest of here!” I shouted while leaping over a moving truck to get across the street.
Master Chuuya and I jumped over the hordes of vehicles and headed west as nearby pedestrians looked up at us in astonishment.