Black Bullet, Vol. 1: Those Who Would Be Gods (2 page)

Beneath an evening sky dyed red, the square-jawed, rough-faced senior inspector of the homicide department approached the fine-featured, thin young man threateningly. “Huh?
You’re
the civil officer who’s here to help us? Even stupidity has its limits. You’re just a kid!”

The young man who was being approached with such derision, Rentaro Satomi, let his listless eyes slide up to the side, looking idly at a crow cawing as it returned to its nest. All he wanted was to go home.

Rentaro answered the inspector evasively, grumbling, “Doesn’t matter what you say. I can’t do anything about it. I’m the civil officer who’s here to help. I have a gun and a license. My boss told me to come here, so I did, because I had to, but if you’re going to doubt me, I’m going home.”

Clucking his tongue, the inspector started walking around Rentaro, narrowing his eyes as if appraising him. “That uniform… You a student?”

Rentaro looked down at his uniform. On the chest of his pitch-black uniform that looked just like a suit was the embroidered insignia of Magata High School. “What’s wrong with that?” he said.

“So these days even kids can play at being civil officers, huh?” said the inspector. “Show me your license.”

When Rentaro pulled out his license, the inspector looked at the picture on it and compared it to Rentaro’s face. He snorted. “That’s an unlucky mug. Not real photogenic, are you?” he laughed, his stomach shaking.

This is work, too. Just deal with it,
Rentaro said to himself as he glared at the inspector.

The inspector, who introduced himself curtly with nothing more than “I’m Tadashima,” threw the license back at Rentaro. “Tendo Civil Security Agency, huh? Never heard of it.”

“It’s ’cause we aren’t that well known,” said Rentaro. “Uh, sorry to rush things along, but can we talk about work now?” Rentaro lifted his face and looked up at the dilapidated apartment building in front of them. Cracks, filth, corrosion, and damage made it stand out, but it was an extremely normal six-story apartment building. It was called the Grand Tanaka. “This is really where the trouble is?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Tadashima. “The guy in Room 102 called screaming, saying there was blood leaking down from the room above. Putting all the info together, there’s no doubt it’s a Gastrea. Anyway, let’s get in there already. Friggin’ finally.” At the
finally
, Tadashima raised his voice, as if intentionally trying to be overheard, and walked into the building.

Civil officers and inspectors not getting along wasn’t anything new, but it was so obvious that rather than being angry, Rentaro was just disgusted. He stopped in front of the building, seriously considering going home, but then reluctantly followed the man in.

Shortly after the defeat, a law was put in place stating that no one was to enter the scene of a crime involving Gastrea without a civil security officer, or “civsec” for short. It was a necessary step in the efforts to try to slow down the skyrocketing rate of police officer deaths, but there wasn’t a police officer to be found who welcomed with open arms the civil officers who were stepping into their jurisdiction.

At that moment, Tadashima put his rough face close to Rentaro’s, as if realizing something. “Hey, where’s your Initiator partner? You civil officer fighters come in pairs, don’t you?”

“Oh, I didn’t think this was bad enough to need her,” said Rentaro. He was startled on the inside, but he couldn’t admit that he’d accidentally left her behind. Thinking that maybe it was a bad idea to not have
her after all, he looked back down the dim hallway they came from, scratching his head.

When he heard about the Gastrea incident in their neighborhood from the agency president, his one and only boss, he remembered pedaling his bike seriously for once, trying not to let another agency get the job before them. He must have left his partner behind at that point, too. He just hoped she didn’t get lost.

When he got up to the scene, room 202, there were already a bunch of officers gathered near the door.

“Has there been any change?” asked Tadashima.

At Tadashima’s words, one of the squad members looked back with a pale face. “S-sir. Just now, two point men went in through the window. After that, we had no further contact with them.”

The atmosphere at the scene froze.

“You idiots! Why didn’t you wait for the civil officer to arrive?!”

“We didn’t want the guys who always come and run wild on the scene stealing the credit from us! You know how that feels, don’t you, sir?”

“Who cares about that?! Anyway—”

“Outta the way, you idiots! I’m gonna break in!” Rentaro interrupted.

Tadashima looked into Rentaro’s eyes for a second and jerked his chin with an order. Two of the fully equipped police squad members waiting behind them were stationed in front of the door, holding shortened door breacher shotguns at the hinges of the door.

Rentaro also pulled out his gun, a Springfield XD, from his belt, cocking the slide as he did so he could fire if necessary. He took a deep breath to clear his mind. Wiping the sweat from the palm of his hand on his pants, he clicked his tongue. This had really turned into a troublesome case. “Do it,” he said.

The two shotguns fired at almost the same time Rentaro kicked down the door. His eyes narrowed for a second as the brightness of the setting sun flooded his vision. As if rising out of the sunset, the small, six-tatami-mat room was dyed with the setting sun. However, something redder than the setting sun was spilled out all over the floor of the living room. There was also the rich, unmistakable smell of blood. Two police squad members had been thrown against the wall, dead.

Rentaro saw something he found hard to believe there. In the middle of the room, a tall man was standing still. He was probably over
190 centimeters tall. His too-skinny arms and legs were attached to a too-skinny torso. The mysterious figure was outfitted in a wine-red pinstriped tailcoat, silk hat, and to top it all off, a
maschera
mask, like you’d wear to a masquerade.

The Gastrea was gone. But who was this man…?

Eventually, the masked man turned around and gave a faint smile. From behind the mask, he turned his sharp gaze to Rentaro. “You’re rather late, civsec, my boy.”

“What…? Are you…in the same business?” said Rentaro.

“It’s true that I was also after the Gastrea that was the source of the infection. However, I am not in the same business as you. Why, you ask?” The man spread his arms in front of him as if performing on stage. “Because I am the one who killed the two police officers.”

The instant Rentaro realized the man was an enemy, his body reacted. He closed the gap between them in an instant and hit the man with the heel of his hand, not waiting for an answer. The angle and timing of the attack were both good.

“Oh, you’re rather skilled,” said the man.

Just as Rentaro thought the masked man looked like he was having fun taking the attack, there was an impact on his chest. The punch made Rentaro’s chest cave, throwing him across the room. He crashed onto the glass coffee table in the living room on his back, winded.

What in the world is this guy?
Rentaro thought. His face twisted in extreme pain, he opened one eye and saw the masked man winding up his fist for another close-range punch. As he hurriedly rolled off it, the glass table splintered with a shrill crash. Rentaro was able to jump out of the way and stand up, but a roundhouse kick came right at the side of his head, as if his evasive position had been anticipated. Both he and the arm he put up to block the attack were sent flying into the wall with the terrible force of the kick.

The masked man sniffed contemptuously.

Rentaro was dizzy with despair at the vast difference in their abilities even as he took a firm stance.

Then, an out-of-place ringtone echoed through the room, and the masked man picked up the phone. “Kohina? Um, yeah. I see, okay. I’ll go meet up with you.”

“Look over here, you monster! This is for my friends!” shouted a voice.

When Rentaro turned to look, standing in the door were a number of police squad members holding carbine rifles.

The masked man quickly drew a gun from the holster on his hip without even looking in their direction. Blood suddenly erupted from their blue tactical vests and splattered on the wall. The masked man kept firing, and three people who used to be human were shot down in the blink of an eye. The officers waiting outside became agitated.

Rentaro closed the gap with all his strength and stepped firmly on the floor. “Tendo Martial Arts Second Style, Number 16:
Inzen Kokutenfu
!” The round kicks that he fired off in return were avoided by neck movements from the masked man, but Rentaro stepped quickly into his second attack and unleashed his
Inzen Genmeika
. Rentaro fired off high kicks that didn’t miss their mark this time, and hit the masked man’s
maschera
directly.

Rentaro started to yell “Yes!” but the man put a hand on his neck—which had been twisted back with the force of the kicks—and forced it back into position with a strange sound. The most surprising part was that the man did not once let go of his cell phone. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just a little busy. I’ll be there soon.” Flipping his cell phone closed, he didn’t move, looking intently at Rentaro.

Rentaro felt chills freeze his blood.

The man let out some short laughs as he held his mask to his face. “Oh my, that was wonderful. Even though I was not paying attention, I didn’t think you’d actually get a hit in. I would love to kill you right here, but there’s something else I must do right now.”

He stopped talking for a moment, and his piercing eyes looked at Rentaro from the depths of the mask. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Rentaro…Satomi.”

“Satomi…Satomi, huh?” the man mumbled to himself, sidestepping the pieces of glass from the broken window and going out to the balcony, putting his leg on the handrail.

“Let’s meet again sometime, Satomi… Or should I come find you?”

“You… What are you?”

“I am the one who will destroy the world. No one can stop me.” The man jumped down from the balcony in a single bound.

For a while, Rentaro’s stiffened body couldn’t move, as if it had been sewn down. He opened his sweaty palms and closed them hard. Could such a powerful being exist in this world?

He heard a groan and looked back with a start. The men who were shot by the mysterious masked figure were seriously injured and were being carried out on stretchers, their friends calling desperately to them.

Rentaro’s fist shook. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder give him a strong shake.

“Get a hold of yourself, civsec! We’ve been prepared for this since starting this job. What you need to do right now is—”

Rentaro clucked his tongue and shook Tadashima’s hand off. “I know! I have to stop the Pandemic first!” Looking at the clock on the wall, he gathered his thoughts and gave himself a pep talk. He had lost a lot of time, but his work wasn’t over yet. Shutting out thoughts of the strange man from his consciousness for the moment, Rentaro, gun in hand, cautiously checked the bathroom and inner Japanese-style living room, opening all the closets. Finally, he opened the only thing left to check—a large wooden closet.

Inside, there was nothing but clothes.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s the Gastrea?” said Tadashima.

Rentaro was a little confused hearing Tadashima’s voice behind him, but he put his gun away and went back to the living room.

The problem was a puddle of blood that had spread on the floor where the masked man had been standing. It was not the man’s blood. He had not been injured. And even though Rentaro didn’t want to think about it, this was enough to be fatal.

Rentaro looked at the picture frame on the low table. It was a picture of a family, with the daughter tucked in between the loving embrace of the husband and wife. “The guy living here was living by himself, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, it was a man living by himself,” Tadashima answered.

Rentaro checked the ceiling. “What the…?”

Tadashima made a face, following Rentaro’s gaze. There was an object stuck to the ceiling with green gel. Rentaro jumped and touched
the thing stuck to the ceiling. He rubbed it with his fingers, and it felt extremely sticky.

“There’s no mistake that the victim was attacked here,” said Rentaro. “But the victim probably escaped from the window of the living room looking for help. And then, I don’t really wanna say it, but moving around after losing this much blood, he’s probably…”

Tadashima nervously groped around in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “Let me get this straight. Not only is the source of the infection still walking around somewhere, but the infected person is, too?”

Rentaro nodded. “Inspector Tadashima, please evacuate the neighborhood immediately and request a blockade to seal off the area. They couldn’t have gone far. We should look outside, too. If we wait until it becomes a Pandemic, demotion’s gonna be the least of your worries.”

It was like drifting between being awake and being half-awake. There was a reassuring floating bridge connecting the two, but just as the man realized what it was, it would disappear.

Before he knew it, he had stopped his wandering around in the sunset. He looked to his right and to his left. Why was he walking around this place? Even though it was at some remove from his home, the view in the distance looked familiar, so this had to be be somewhere in the Tokyo area. He couldn’t say exactly where he was, but he had a faint memory of the scene around him. He thought maybe he was so drunk that his senses had gotten confused, but his thoughts were clear and he had not lost his sense of balance, except for the slight languidness left in his body.

He shook his head slightly. What was his name? It was Sumiaki Okajima, of course. After having the name for forty-five years, he wasn’t going to forget it that easily. It was fine up to that point. But then why was he in this place? No matter how hard he thought, he could not come up with a single explanation.