Chapter 3: Age
Disclaimer: I am poor. I have nothing worth stealing. I know this since I have nothing worth selling. TT
Even simple missions can become difficult.
Why does Tsu-chan wear that trenchcoat, anyway?
"Biziki?"
"No. It's Tsuzuki."
"Bazooka?" Such a strange name the young man had. Then again, he was wearing a trenchcoat. Probably he was a mid-level member of the Yakuza. [1] Don't they normally go back to their own names when they grow up? Little hoodlum.
"No, sir."
"In my day, we had respect for out elders. And we went by our own names. No respect you upstarts have these days. None at all!"
"…" The upstart was glaring!
"And wipe that look off your face this instant!"
The lad shouldn't wear those eye-color changing contraptions. Contract lenses or some such nonsense. Fashion these days. Disgusting. He'd rather eat glass. Who would want to spend their time poking their eyes out?
Now poking other people's eyes out might be fun. Even useful. Where'd I put that knife?
"Um, sir…"
"Damn right!"
The fool just gave an empty-headed stare. "Sir?"
"Don't call me 'sir'! I work for a living!" Unlike you.
The purple-eyed upstart just blinked. "Sir, you've been retired for over thirty years, now. Nearly forty. You've just reached one hundred and six years." Bazooka took a deep breath to begin his spiel. Didn't he already give one?
"What? Oi, gaijin! [2] Get your rump over here." Where's my cane? "You shouldn't associate yourself with filth like him!" Turning his head toward Bazooka, he said, "I heard you! Chasing dicks and beer! What's wrong with you? You need respect, boy!"
The gaijin slowly walked over. He was shaking. So the old man continued talking to him. "Hey, pretty gaijin, don't cry. [3] You didn't know your friend was like that."
The blond haired gaijin with the pretty green eyes stared into the purple eyed pervert's.
He's in shock. I need to say something nice and soothing. "It's alright. At least you know, now.
The child flinched back when he tried to pat his shoulder in consolation. Maybe they had already… With someone so young! Disgusting! He's just a little boy! Bazooka, you're a real piece of work.
Glare.
Bazooka started waving his arms around, trying to convince Old Man Shirashita Sentarou that he'd misheard the comment. The teapot was at risk of being hit by those arms. It was a good thing that the dishes had already been put away.
"Hisoka?!" The purple eyed man in the black trenchcoat begged for help from the teen now standing a few steps closer to the exit than he was before.
Miso? [4] Where? What miso? "There ain't no food in here! Now get out! I'm warning you!" He finally got ahold of his cane. Who put it there?
The gaijin coughed.
Bazooka of the Black Trenchcoat gave a helpless look to the Pretty Gaijin.
Just as Shirashita was about to comment on that, the gaijin spoke for the first time since he and Bazooka had just appeared in front of the television. They didn't break in. There as no gods be damned contraption involved. They just appeared. No one was there, then two male bodies were in the way of the weather forecast.
"You said you could do it on your own." The gaijin turned his attention towards the television to watch the news. A new samurai movie was coming out. And people wanted the princess to have the right to become empress.
Damn! I missed the weather.
…Wait a minute. The gaijin acted awfully familiar with Bazooka.
"You're in cahoots!! Damn it! I don't have time for you Yakuza punks!"
The gaijin continued to watch the news, but Bazooka switched his attention to Shirashita at the words 'you Yakuza punks.' Did he really think I wouldn't figure it out?
"What? What was that?"
"You heard me. I didn't stutter!"
Shirashita felt a hand on his shoulder just as he turned to glare at the little blond traitor. The hand on top of his shirt wasn't the gaijin's. It was from the arm of a person behind him.. Damn it all! I let my guard down.
"Please calm down, sir. We aren't here to hurt you."
"Leggo of me!" He struggled his way out of Bazooka's reach, then swung his cane at the pair. He even made Bazooka yelp on the first hit. The fool backed away.
The gaijin caught the cane the second time it hit his arm. Damn thief.
"Give it back!"
"Hurry up," the gaijin said, glaring at Bazooka. He did not relinquish his hold on the much coveted cane.
But it's mine. Give it back.
No one moved.
The blue clock on the wall ticked.
And ticked.
A few more times.
Bazooka cowered. That was a frightening gaijin.
A tick. Tick. Tick.
So it's the gaijin who's in charge, eh?
"…"
Dammit! I put myself between them!
The old man pondered the exit. It hadn't moved. It was still behind the gaijin, who was still glaring at Bazooka from beside the television.
He said that he was after beer and sex.
Oh no. Not that.
"Get out of here, you perverts! I swear I'm gonna kill you! Dammit, get out!" Not as threatening without the cane.
Bazooka finally recovered from the Glare of Doom. "Sir! Sir, please calm down. It isn't what you think it is."
"No way am I going to allow it!"
"My name is Tsuzuki."
"Couldn't you find a nice woman to marry? What the hell is wrong with you? You're trespassing in my home, the both of you!"
"I am a shinigami." Bazooka was undaunted and kept talking. The gaijin was already laughing. Well, more like he snorted. Close enough. "Actually, we both are."
"I knew it. I knew it! You're nothing but a wannabe Yakuza!" As he stated this fact, Shirashita pointed at Bazooka in triumph.
The gaijin made an audible snicker. Bazooka looked a bit put out, like things weren't going according to plan.
"No…no, it's not like that at all!"
"Walking around dressed like that, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Are you an accountant or something in your day job? You look like it, all wearing a tie like that. No wonder you're like this." Shirashita shook his head in feigned sympathy and shame.
Bazooka seemed a bit lost.
Tick.
Tick.
Shirashita stopped pointing.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The gaijin was completely silent. And behind Shirashita.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
He spun his head around to check up on the little blond. Not much had changed since the last time he had looked. The gaijin was giving a stony glare to Bazooka, was still holding the cane securely, and was otherwise a nonentity.
Good.
And as for Bazooka…
Dammit! The little upstart had crept closer on him in the few seconds he had taken to look behind him. Now, Shirashita knew he wasn't the fastest man on the planet, but Bazooka shouldn't have gotten so far in such a short time!
Oh yeah. Young bodies.
An annoying ad started playing on the television. Who needs bread? I'll stick with rice like a normal man.
Bazooka was standing right next to him.
"Please calm yourself. We are shinigami, and we are here to speak with you over a very important matter. There is no cause for alarm."
What? "I'm not going to freak with you!"
Blink.
Bazooka spoke louder. "We are here to speak with you concerning a very important matter. There is no cause for alarm."
"I ain't deaf. Are you some kinda lawyer? Or are you really an accountant? Get out of my apartment! Why didn't you say so sooner?"
"No, it's not like that! We're shinigami!"
Shirashita braced himself. "Do your worst, you damn Yakuza!"
"I told you, it's not like that!"
Bazooka received a double glare. Both Shirashita and the gaijin were unimpressed.
He cowered.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
"Sir, have you noticed that people have been avoiding you?"
"Get out!"
"Also, how long has it been since you last went grocery shopping? You said there was no food here…"
"Help! Someone, help me! I'm being robbed!" The walls were thin enough that sound could easily get through. He knew this personally. After all, he had to shout at the neighbors to shut up at least twice a week!
"Have you noticed how long you sleep? Do you remember the last time you paid rent? When was the last time you spoke with your family?"
"Help! Someone, help me!"
"People are afraid."
Shirashita tried to escape. He turned and sidestepped around the gaijin, who was still standing, now staring intently at the television. Something about donating funds to a children's hospital.
I'm still spry.
"Dead bodies have been showing up in this building for the last twenty-two years on a sporadic basis."
Shirashita swung open the door and ran as fast a he could to the stairs. Damn. The never built that elevator they were planning.
He was almost there.
Bazooka was standing at the entrance to the stairwell.
"Your family had been dying here as well. Your last grandchild died about six years ago. You are the only living member of your family, as well as the only living human in the area."
"Get out! Help!"
"We are here to help you. My name is Tsuzuki Asato, and I am here to help you. I am a shinigami."
Shirashita was panicking. His chest and left arm hurt. "Help…" Even his pleas were weakening.
"You are damaging your soul by forcing yourself to stay like this. It's time to let go." Bazooka slowly stepped forward. His trenchcoat hung limply.
"Please. Someone help me. Please help me…" Shirashita backed into the wall. Breathing was difficult.
The gaijin was closing the apartment door. The "Shirashita" nameplate was very grimy. I need to get the landlord to fix that up. In fact, the entire hall was dirty. Was that a roach?
"You've been sucking bits of life energy out of everyone who has crossed your path for over twenty years. This has been prolonging your life, but has shortened so many others."
"Please…help…" The hall was blurring. Were the walls always that grey? Lookit the pretty colors.
His chest no longer hurt.
Quick explanation: Tsuzuki and Hisoka were bickering before the case started (like the usually do) and Tsu-chan slipped up and said he could handle it on his own. Hisoka basically said 'go for it.' That's why he stayed out of it. Besides, he thought it was funny when Tsu-chan had trouble. Hisoka wa hidoi!
[1] Think "the Japanese Mafia," and you'll be close.
[2] It's the not so super polite way of saying "foreigner."
[3] I think it's more likely that Hisoka's trying not to laugh. Perverted old coot, huh?
[4] This is tricky. He mistook "Hisoka" for "miso ka." The "ka" makes it a question about miso, which is fermented bean paste, often used in a soup.
In the beginning, this chapter was supposed to fit into the "humor" category. A story about an elderly person, probably female, with bad hearing. Funny, right? But the story changed on me. First, she became an old man (and a crotchety old coot at that), and then into a…murderer. Of course, he didn't realize. Well, he's happily dead now, and is preparing for his next incarnation. This story essentially wrote itself. Dunno what it is now.
…maybe it wasn't such a simple mission after all.