The plastic cup of hot black coffee slipped from Chizuru's hand, crashing onto the tiled floor of the hospital room and splashing all over her white sneakers the moment she saw the chaotic scene inside.
Room 203 was completely empty. The white blanket was tossed onto the floor. The heart monitor emitted piercing, continuous beeps because the electrode patches had been violently ripped off. The IV needle dangled from the pole, dripping chemical solution and bright red blood onto the floor.
Kazuya was not here. His black jacket had disappeared, but his phone still lay quietly on the cabinet, still displaying the threatening message he had not had time to delete.
"Kazuya?!" Chizuru screamed, rushing into the bathroom, praying this was just a prank to tease her. "This is not funny!"
Everything was empty.
She tore through the wardrobe. Kazuya was not in there either, and this truly made her feel terrified.
Kazuya was a blood cancer patient who had just escaped death's door at the ICU. He could not pull out his IV needle just to take a walk around. The intuition of a girl who had just given her whole heart to him rang death knells.
Her hands trembled so much she missed the screen, but Chizuru frantically opened the GPS tracking app linked to the bracelet she had put on him just a few hours ago. A green dot blinked. It was not in the hospital. It was moving at extremely high speed on the highway heading straight toward Southeast Tokyo.
Everything was too confusing for Chizuru until she checked his phone.
The moment she saw the content on it, Chizuru did not hesitate for another millisecond. She bolted out into the hallway, tripped, scrambled back up, and screamed the name of the undercover police inspector posing as a nurse at the duty desk.
"He has been kidnapped! Kazuya has been kidnapped!" Chizuru held out the phone screen, tears streaming down her face. "Please save him!"
The inspector snatched the phone, his razor sharp eyes scanning the trajectory of the green dot. In just two seconds, the seasoned police officer's face turned pale.
"Transfer station 4, Tokyo Port." The inspector pulled out his walkie talkie, shouting. "Code Red! The target has been dragged out of the safe zone. Direction of movement. Seaport!"
Immediately after, the inspector turned to Chizuru, his voice dropping, carrying the weight of a national secret.
"Ms. Ichinose. Listen closely. That port area has long been under the radar of the National Security Investigation Bureau. That is not the lair of petty thugs, but the drug and heavy weapons gathering point of the biggest gang in the Roppongi district. Local police cannot storm in there on their own."
"What do you mean?!" Chizuru yelled, grabbing the inspector's collar. "Are you going to abandon him?!"
"No." The inspector gritted his teeth. "Thanks to your tracking device, we have caught their final transfer point red handed. The perfect opportunity has arrived. Miss this net, and the safety of all of Tokyo will be threatened."
He punched a secret code sequence into his satellite phone. "Connecting to the Special Investigation Team. Requesting authorization to deploy the SAT and armed helicopters. We are pulling in the net."
Chizuru collapsed onto the cold hallway floor. Her heart felt as if it had been crushed. Armed forces? Helicopters? Why had things gone this far?
"Kazuya, you idiot. Please... Live...."
...
At the same time, at a massive, rusted warehouse sitting right on the edge of the water in Tokyo Bay.
The fishy smell of sea salt mixed with the stench of lubricating oil and rust hit Kazuya's nose sharply, waking him from his daze. His head throbbed like it was being split by a hammer. The frail body of a patient undergoing chemotherapy had been thrown hard onto the cold concrete floor, sending a piercing pain from his casted left arm straight to his brain.
With a rustling sound, the burlap sack covering his head was yanked off.
Kazuya squinted against the blinding light of the high power halogen floodlights. As his vision gradually adjusted, his pupils contracted slightly. His genius data analyzing brain instantly evaluated the entire surrounding scene.
This was no ordinary kidnap for ransom.
This warehouse, spanning thousands of square meters, was operating at the maximum capacity of a deadly construction site. Dozens of men dressed in black, their necks covered in tattoos, were hurriedly packing and moving large wooden crates with forklifts. A few crates had their lids accidentally cracked open, revealing 5.56mm automatic assault rifles still wrapped in oil soaked plastic, along with dozens of tightly compressed white powder bricks intricately hidden under layers of frozen fish lining boards.
A large scale weapons and drug transfer.
And most importantly, in the corner of the warehouse, two men were hurriedly pouring gasoline to burn stacks of documents and throwing computer hard drives into an incinerator.
"Look at this. Is our hero awake?"
A sweet, lilting voice, yet heavily laced with rattlesnake venom, rang out. From behind the crates, Nanami Mami stepped out.
She wore an expensive designer dress and high heels, walking on the dirty cement floor, completely out of place in this setting. Walking closely beside her was a man in his thirties, skinny but with the dark, crazed eyes of a chronic meth addict. He wore a gray suit, holding a gleaming chrome plated pistol. That was the young master, the boss of the money laundering organization and Mami's current boyfriend.
"Long time no see, Kazuya." Mami leaned down, reaching out to lift his chin, her eyes overflowing with absolute triumph. "So? The one who always curses others as trash is now crawling at my feet in this pathetic, balding state? I heard you have blood cancer? What a pity."
Kazuya did not struggle. His throat was dry, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen and medication, but his eyes remained dark, still as a dead lake. There was not a single flash of fear.
He smirked slightly, revealing his chipped tooth, and dropped a razor sharp sarcastic remark.
"Look at your boyfriend's taste in women, Mami. Turns out you are just the landing pad for this narcissistic bitch? Or do you just like using second hand goods?"
"What did you say?!"
The young master roared, charging forward to deliver a thunderous kick straight to Kazuya's ribs.
A dry crack echoed. Kazuya was sent flying into a container, coughing up a mouthful of fresh blood, curling up in agony. His stamina was already at zero; this kick nearly shattered his ribcage.
"Good hit, honey. Just smash that arrogant mouth of his. Later, we will video call that bitch, to see how pathetically she cries watching her boyfriend get literally chopped to pieces." Mami burst into ear piercing laughter.
The young master stepped forward, intending to deliver another pistol whip to Kazuya's head. But then, he froze.
Something was not right.
He had rolled around in the underworld long enough to recognize an anomaly. Any hostage brought here, seeing an arsenal of weapons and drugs, would cry, kneel, and beg for their lives.
But Kazuya did not. Kazuya was coughing violently, blood streaming from the corner of his mouth, but those pitch black eyes were not looking at the barrel of his gun. Those eyes were glancing at the clock, and occasionally glancing down at the braided fabric bracelet with a strange metal face on his right wrist.
The young master narrowed his eyes. He beckoned to a lackey. "Bring the signal detector here."
Mami frowned.
"What is wrong, honey?"
"This bastard is too calm. Something is wrong." He muttered, turning on a tiny signal detector and scanning it along Kazuya's body.
The moment the scanner passed over Kazuya's right wrist, a piercing beeping sound rang out continuously, the indicator light flashing bright red.
The young master's face instantly turned pale. He grabbed Kazuya's wrist, yanked the bracelet off, gritted his teeth, and stomped on the charm's face. Inside, a micro GPS chip was blinking a green light.
"MOTHERFUCKER! A TRACKER!" The young master roared like a beast backed into a corner. He spun around to Mami, slapping her so hard she saw stars, sending her tumbling to the ground. "You stupid whore! You brought the cops right to our lair!"
Mami clutched her cheek, her eyes wide open, staring blankly at the crushed chip on the floor. Her triumphant smile shattered. She turned to look at Kazuya.
At this moment, Kazuya slowly raised his head. Despite his bruised and bloody face, he flashed a chilling, manic, and ultimately bloodthirsty smile. A raspy laugh echoed from his torn throat.
"Scorched earth, you dumbfuck." Kazuya whispered, his gaze locked onto Mami. "I told you, Mami. You are a narcissistic cunt, and that very narcissism of yours just earned everyone here three free injections straight to heaven."
The horrifying truth crashed down upon the perpetrators. Kazuya had not been kidnapped at all. He used his own life, taking advantage of the organization's slip up, to turn himself into a living beacon, guiding the police to find their final transfer point, the place they had kept hidden for years.
"Kill him! Kill this bastard right now!" Mami screamed tragically, her narcissism completely collapsing before Kazuya's brutally cold mind.
The young master did not need a second order. The fear of being surrounded by the police made him lose his mind. He turned to the two tattooed lackeys, the ones responsible for grabbing Kazuya earlier.
"You fucking shithead! You grabbed someone without checking for tracking devices?! This is all your fault!" The young master pulled his gun, shooting straight into the legs of the two lackeys, making them drop to their knees, screaming in agony.
"Bring the cement here!" The young master frantically shouted at his subordinates, who were panicking while packing goods. "Throw both of these useless idiots and that brat into the mixing tub! Pour concrete to lock their legs, then throw them to the bottom of Tokyo Bay immediately! Everyone must evacuate now! Leave all the goods, burn the warehouse!"
A few thugs hastily dragged out three halved oil drums. The two lackeys shot in the legs cried and begged pitifully, but were immediately knocked out and thrown into two drums.
Two others hoisted Kazuya up. His body was feather light from weight loss due to chemotherapy, incapable of resistance. They threw him into the third drum, forcing him to stand straight. Immediately after, the cement mixer hose unleashed a stream of liquid, thick, and freezing concrete straight into the drum. The cement quickly rose, covering Kazuya's ankles, then his calves. The pressure of the solidifying cement squeezed his lower body, cold as the hand of death.
Just a few more minutes for the cement to dry, and his body would weigh hundreds of extra pounds. Being pushed into the sea would be an irreversible death sentence, forever sinking beneath the mud where no one would ever find him.
Kazuya squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing was sporadic, blood still oozing from his mouth. The scene before him began to blur from blood loss and exhaustion.
"Push them into the sea!" The young master ordered, grabbing the briefcase full of cash, turning to flee.
But their time was up. Kinoshita Kazuya's lethal move had taken effect. An earth shattering explosion tore through the rusted corrugated iron roof of the warehouse.
It was not local police storming in with handguns like in the movies. This was a military raid.
Three flashbang grenades dropped from the roof, detonating, emitting blinding white light and deafening noise that completely deafened everyone present in the warehouse.
Instantly, from the high windows, from the pried open roof, dozens of ropes dropped down. Figures dressed in black tactical gear, armed to the teeth, wearing helmets with night vision goggles and equipped with assault rifles, rappelled down like ghosts.
"THIS IS THE SPECIAL ASSAULT TEAM! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! ANYONE RESISTING WILL BE ELIMINATED ON THE SPOT!"
The roaring voice from a megaphone echoed from the armed helicopter circling right outside the port, its rotors kicking up a blinding cloud of dust. The SAT Special Forces, combined with the JSDF, had arrived. The warehouse's roll up doors were smashed open by armored vehicles. Hundreds of glowing red laser dots from sniper rifles pinned directly onto the chests and heads of every criminal in the warehouse.
The Yakuza, used to bullying civilians, now facing regular military forces, instantly broke ranks. A few tried to raise their guns to fire back, but were immediately pierced in the shoulders and thighs by precise bursts of fire from the special forces, collapsing amidst screams.
The panicked young master dropped the briefcase of money, aiming his gun at a special forces soldier. A sharp crack rang out. A sniper bullet from outside the window blasted the gun straight out of his hand, tearing off a chunk of flesh. He howled in pain, dropping to his knees, and was immediately tackled face down onto the cold floor by three soldiers, his hands locked in handcuffs.
Mami was in absolute panic. She kicked off her high heels, backing away, intending to sneak out the back door. But before she could take three steps, a tall dark figure glided over. A female operative swung the butt of her rifle hard into the back of Mami's knees, sending her crashing face first onto the dirty cement floor, snapping her perfectly filled nose.
The battle ended swiftly in less than three minutes.
In the corner of the warehouse, Kazuya slowly dropped his head against the edge of the drum, a peaceful smile lingering on his lips. The last sound he heard was rushing footsteps, and a heart wrenchingly familiar voice screaming his name amidst the surrounding military police.
"KAZUYA!!!"
Chizuru ignored the police trying to stop her. She tore through the blockade, rushed straight into the scene reeking of gunpowder, and sprinted desperately to the drum in the corner of the warehouse.
Upon seeing his condition, Chizuru's heart felt as if it had been pierced by tens of thousands of knives.
Kazuya's face was covered in blood. His frail body was limp, his legs clamped tight in the gradually hardening concrete. His breathing was so weak it was barely perceptible.
"Kazuya! Hang in there!!" Chizuru screamed until her voice broke, using her bare hands to frantically claw at the wet cement trying to free his legs, ignoring her bleeding fingernails. "Open your eyes and look at me! Please!"
"Don't cry... Chizuru." He whispered, his voice as fragile as mist. "All...the trouble....It is over. You are safe now."
Having said that, Kazuya's hand dropped, falling away from Chizuru's cheek to touch the lifeless ambulance stretcher. His eyes shut tight. The breathing in his chest stopped completely.
A few SAT soldiers rushed over, bringing sledgehammers and circular saws to carefully break open the drum's shell and remove the concrete block from Kazuya's legs, while another soldier held her back from getting too close. When they gently lifted him and placed him onto the ambulance stretcher, a military doctor pressed a stethoscope to his chest, his face instantly darkening.
"Cardiac arrest! Prepare to defibrillate! The patient has severe multiple traumas, acute blood loss, and an immunocompromised constitution due to cancer! Pulse is zero!"
A long, piercing beep rang out from the portable monitor.
On the ambulance stretcher frantically rushing through the night toward the central hospital, Kazuya lay motionless. The battle with the underworld had been won, but the price was that this man's ruined body had reached its absolute limit.
Prognosis for death. 99%.