Author: L. Sith (l_o_sith@hotmail.com)
Author's note: My thanks ahead of time for all comments and criticisms
Diclaimer: The usual. Didn't create RK, not doing this for profit.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1:
The azure blue sky and warm morning air hinted at another beautiful summer day. With rising of the sun, the city of Tokyo awakened from slumber and began its morning dance. In the heart of the city, at a busy intersection near the police headquarters, the citizens of Tokyo danced to the rhythm of the city - a rhythm only few could hear.
And at a corner of that crossroads, a man stood, leaning casually against a building. With one leg planted on the ground and the other braced against the wall behind him, he rested, leisurely flipping through the morning paper. Every so often, he would nod his head, seemingly in response to whatever he had just read. The pedestrian traffic flowed around him, treating him like an extension of the architecture.
Above him, the sun steadily climbed towards its apex. Rays of light slowly inched past his black shoes, crept up his dark blue trousers, and moved towards his navy colored jacket.
The man continued to read.
Around him, the crowd swelled and the tempo in the street rose to a frenzied pitch.
The man gave the press of bodies around him an indifferent glance.
In due course, four policemen sauntered past him. The man casually stashed away his newspaper, and with a lazy sigh, pushed himself off the wall. Embraced by the general flow of traffic, the man's medium frame melted into the crowd. But as he closed-in on his targets, transformations gradually took place. The man's back slowly unbent and his gait lengthened. With his head held high, and a slight swagger added to his walk, he attached himself to the end of the police squad. Then out of nowhere, he produced a dark blue cap, which he nonchalantly placed atop his short black hair. And for the final touch, he molded his expression to match his targets'.
He became a cop.
Casually, the man followed the group into the police headquarters - the two officers guarding the entrance barely glanced at him. Once inside, he strode towards the documents room. He opened its door, marched inside, and closed the door behind him.
No one noticed him, much less questioned his presence.
Child's play.
After waiting briefly for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the man moved deeper into the room. The place reeked of cigarette smoke. And despite the dim lighting, he could see wasps of white haze floating in the stale air. The man wrinkled his nose in distaste. Around him, everything stood in its expected spot.
The lair of Saitoh Hajime: the definition of predictability.
Killing that bastard lacked real challenge.
But it sure would be fun.
A grin slowly spread across the man's features. And in the darkness of the room, it looked almost feral.
*******************************************************************
"Sergeant Umaro and Lieutenant Fujita will now present a report on the recent murders." Senator Tayama started the council meeting with its first order of business.
And like predators on a hunt, the seven senators from the Committee on Ways & Means turned their full attention to Umaro.
Umaro nearly bolted. Three dead senators from this committee in less than a week, and he still had no leads. "Ahh ... first victim was found in the ... aah... pleasure quarters the day after, when someone got caught moving the body. Contaminated crime scene. Second victim killed in a tavern, late at night. No reliable witnesses. And the latest victim, that's Senator Shinya, no one really saw what happened. We are still investigating."
"How about the young lady that Shinya-san was 'conversing' with at the time?" Senator Tayama asked.
Umaro smiled inwardly at Tayama's euphemism. "She ... ahh ... didn't get a good look." Or maybe she just didn't want to help us.
"Senator Shiniya was killed on a public street, in broad daylight! And the murderer is still at large? The Tokyo Police is a WASTE of public money." Senator Iwaya pointed an accusing finger at Umaro.
"We are having a lot of problems tracking down reliable witnesses. We lack the manpower to ..."
Iwaya cut off Umaro's explanation. "What is it that do you lack the manpower to DO exactly?"
Umaro cringed at the onslaught. And out of nervousness, he glanced up at Saitoh. But unlike him, Saitoh just looked bored. Umaro could feel his anger rising. If the guy had everything so under control, why couldn't he just help out a little?
And as if telepathic, Saitoh granted Umaro his wish. "We lack the manpower to visit every whorehouse and drunk in Tokyo, not to mention protecting pretty girls from harassment." Saitoh sneered.
Umaro's heart nearly stopped.
It was going to be a long day, a very long day.
*********************************************************************
Saitoh opened the door of the documents room. And for a moment, he paused by the threshold of the darkness, to give time for his eyes to adjust.
It felt good to be back, to be away from gibbering morons. The quietness of the room, along with a hint of a breeze ...
Saitoh's hand raced to his katana
There were no windows in the room.
His senses kicked into overdrive.
At the edge of his awareness, a faint trace of a ki lurked.
Saitoh turned sideways and minimized his profile.
Death, given wings, flew towards him.
Saitoh drew his katana.
But clamors from the hallway made it difficult to detect the slight disturbances in the air. Half deaf and half blind, he had been outmaneuvered by his opponent. Saitoh grinned. He enjoyed a good challenge.
He swept his katana through the air in an arch.
One ... Two ... Three ... Four ...
Steel clashed against steel. And with each chime, one more knife fell short of its target.
... Five ... Six ... Seven ...
The attack felt oddly familiar.
... Eight ...
Saitoh leaned back, just in time to avoid being skewered by a kunai. The knife came close enough to his face to give him a clean shave. But not close enough to kill him. Every throw had been off its mark by a fraction. After such a brilliant setup, the attack came almost as a disappointment. Saitoh listened to the darkness, expecting his attacker to start scrambling for dear life.
Silence reigned.
How peculiar. In a way, this elaborate display reminded him of a predator toying with its prey. Aku soku zan. Kill evil SWIFTLY. Playing stupid little games with one's target was inane.
Time for the idiot to die.
Saitoh raised his katana to eye-level and held it parallel to the ground.
Still, the attack reminded him of Jie's Nine-Point-Attack. But Jie had died ten years ago. Could Jie have ...
Saitoh immediately quashed that line of thought. Even if it was the Nine-Point-Attack, where was that ninth kunai?
And as Saitoh's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a man standing by the wall toying with a knife.
Author's note: My thanks ahead of time for all comments and criticisms
Diclaimer: The usual. Didn't create RK, not doing this for profit.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1:
The azure blue sky and warm morning air hinted at another beautiful summer day. With rising of the sun, the city of Tokyo awakened from slumber and began its morning dance. In the heart of the city, at a busy intersection near the police headquarters, the citizens of Tokyo danced to the rhythm of the city - a rhythm only few could hear.
And at a corner of that crossroads, a man stood, leaning casually against a building. With one leg planted on the ground and the other braced against the wall behind him, he rested, leisurely flipping through the morning paper. Every so often, he would nod his head, seemingly in response to whatever he had just read. The pedestrian traffic flowed around him, treating him like an extension of the architecture.
Above him, the sun steadily climbed towards its apex. Rays of light slowly inched past his black shoes, crept up his dark blue trousers, and moved towards his navy colored jacket.
The man continued to read.
Around him, the crowd swelled and the tempo in the street rose to a frenzied pitch.
The man gave the press of bodies around him an indifferent glance.
In due course, four policemen sauntered past him. The man casually stashed away his newspaper, and with a lazy sigh, pushed himself off the wall. Embraced by the general flow of traffic, the man's medium frame melted into the crowd. But as he closed-in on his targets, transformations gradually took place. The man's back slowly unbent and his gait lengthened. With his head held high, and a slight swagger added to his walk, he attached himself to the end of the police squad. Then out of nowhere, he produced a dark blue cap, which he nonchalantly placed atop his short black hair. And for the final touch, he molded his expression to match his targets'.
He became a cop.
Casually, the man followed the group into the police headquarters - the two officers guarding the entrance barely glanced at him. Once inside, he strode towards the documents room. He opened its door, marched inside, and closed the door behind him.
No one noticed him, much less questioned his presence.
Child's play.
After waiting briefly for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the man moved deeper into the room. The place reeked of cigarette smoke. And despite the dim lighting, he could see wasps of white haze floating in the stale air. The man wrinkled his nose in distaste. Around him, everything stood in its expected spot.
The lair of Saitoh Hajime: the definition of predictability.
Killing that bastard lacked real challenge.
But it sure would be fun.
A grin slowly spread across the man's features. And in the darkness of the room, it looked almost feral.
*******************************************************************
"Sergeant Umaro and Lieutenant Fujita will now present a report on the recent murders." Senator Tayama started the council meeting with its first order of business.
And like predators on a hunt, the seven senators from the Committee on Ways & Means turned their full attention to Umaro.
Umaro nearly bolted. Three dead senators from this committee in less than a week, and he still had no leads. "Ahh ... first victim was found in the ... aah... pleasure quarters the day after, when someone got caught moving the body. Contaminated crime scene. Second victim killed in a tavern, late at night. No reliable witnesses. And the latest victim, that's Senator Shinya, no one really saw what happened. We are still investigating."
"How about the young lady that Shinya-san was 'conversing' with at the time?" Senator Tayama asked.
Umaro smiled inwardly at Tayama's euphemism. "She ... ahh ... didn't get a good look." Or maybe she just didn't want to help us.
"Senator Shiniya was killed on a public street, in broad daylight! And the murderer is still at large? The Tokyo Police is a WASTE of public money." Senator Iwaya pointed an accusing finger at Umaro.
"We are having a lot of problems tracking down reliable witnesses. We lack the manpower to ..."
Iwaya cut off Umaro's explanation. "What is it that do you lack the manpower to DO exactly?"
Umaro cringed at the onslaught. And out of nervousness, he glanced up at Saitoh. But unlike him, Saitoh just looked bored. Umaro could feel his anger rising. If the guy had everything so under control, why couldn't he just help out a little?
And as if telepathic, Saitoh granted Umaro his wish. "We lack the manpower to visit every whorehouse and drunk in Tokyo, not to mention protecting pretty girls from harassment." Saitoh sneered.
Umaro's heart nearly stopped.
It was going to be a long day, a very long day.
*********************************************************************
Saitoh opened the door of the documents room. And for a moment, he paused by the threshold of the darkness, to give time for his eyes to adjust.
It felt good to be back, to be away from gibbering morons. The quietness of the room, along with a hint of a breeze ...
Saitoh's hand raced to his katana
There were no windows in the room.
His senses kicked into overdrive.
At the edge of his awareness, a faint trace of a ki lurked.
Saitoh turned sideways and minimized his profile.
Death, given wings, flew towards him.
Saitoh drew his katana.
But clamors from the hallway made it difficult to detect the slight disturbances in the air. Half deaf and half blind, he had been outmaneuvered by his opponent. Saitoh grinned. He enjoyed a good challenge.
He swept his katana through the air in an arch.
One ... Two ... Three ... Four ...
Steel clashed against steel. And with each chime, one more knife fell short of its target.
... Five ... Six ... Seven ...
The attack felt oddly familiar.
... Eight ...
Saitoh leaned back, just in time to avoid being skewered by a kunai. The knife came close enough to his face to give him a clean shave. But not close enough to kill him. Every throw had been off its mark by a fraction. After such a brilliant setup, the attack came almost as a disappointment. Saitoh listened to the darkness, expecting his attacker to start scrambling for dear life.
Silence reigned.
How peculiar. In a way, this elaborate display reminded him of a predator toying with its prey. Aku soku zan. Kill evil SWIFTLY. Playing stupid little games with one's target was inane.
Time for the idiot to die.
Saitoh raised his katana to eye-level and held it parallel to the ground.
Still, the attack reminded him of Jie's Nine-Point-Attack. But Jie had died ten years ago. Could Jie have ...
Saitoh immediately quashed that line of thought. Even if it was the Nine-Point-Attack, where was that ninth kunai?
And as Saitoh's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a man standing by the wall toying with a knife.