I made Ginji a promise when we met. It was like this: I spared our lives under two conditions. The first being he had to follow me out of Mugenjou. The second was that he was to under no circumstances turn to Raitei without my express permission. Ginji did not like that idea. He told me that even if Raitei was a son-of-a-bitch he was also a damn good fighter and he had saved his life many times. I told him that I am a damn good fighter, too. I swore that he would never again need to turn to Raitei for protection because he would have me to protect him. Ginji agreed and left Mugenjou with me.

But, this time I failed to defend him. As I said before, the job seemed like it should have been an easy one. The piece had been transported to Japan and was traveling towards Tokyo to be sold at auction. The cargo was shipped, by boat, across the Korea Straight from Pusan to Fukuoka and it was being carried with about two dozen other valuable, antique art pieces. We guessed that security would be tight. But, we didn't think it would be anything that we couldn't handle.

So, we got in the car at about 4:00 in the afternoon and started heading down the coast. The plan was to intercept the caravan at a filling station about 40 kilometers south of Osaka where they were scheduled to stop to refuel at 8:00 that night. That is about 200 kilometers away from our home base in Shinjuku. Accounting for traffic I thought it should have taken us about two and a half hours to get there.

But, it took us a little more than three hours because we got lost leaving the city because Ginji gave me bum directions. I have no idea what I was thinking letting him hold the map. I had to pull the car over twice to have a look at it myself. So, I was supremely annoyed with him by the time we were on the right road. I had wanted to get there by 6:30 so we would have at least an hour and a half of wiggle room in case they were running early. But, that didn't look like it was in the cards.

To make matters worse, Ginji isn't good on long car rides. He sung along with the radio for about half the ride blatantly ignoring my open irritation. He knows I hate it when people sing over the radio. I clicked the radio off when we reached Osaka and smacked his hand every time he reached to turn it back on. So, he started humming off-key. Every time I asked him to stop he would ask, 'Stop what?' like he honestly didn't know what he was doing to bother me.

By the time we reached our destination at 7:15 he was driving me insane. I figured we had about fifteen minutes to spare before we had to hunker down and get ready for a fight. So, I pushed Ginji out of the car and insisted that he had to go to the bathroom. He looked at me with confusion and told me that he was fine. I told him that I would be damned if I let him fight with a full bladder. He again persisted that he did not have to go to the bathroom. I roared that if he did not leave me alone to go to the bathroom immediately I would hurt him very badly and then dump his body on the side of the road. He got the message and slunk quietly away from the car.

When I was sure he was gone I reopened the road-map to see where along the way we had gone wrong. I checked the clock on the dashboard. Five minutes had gone by. A truck startled me as it roared past. I had a very bad feeling about something. But, I told myself that it was just nerves. I lit up one cigarette, then another. When I checked the clock again I saw that another ten minutes had passed. It was half past seven. If everything ran according to plan the caravan was supposed to arrive in about a half an hour.

I started to wonder where the hell Ginji had gone. There was no sign of him anywhere. So, I got out of the car to look for him. I have a theory about why Ginji has no sense of direction. It has to do with electricity's effect on compasses. You see, a compass is just a magnet on a frictionless pivot. Because the Earth is also a magnet and opposites attract the 'southern' magnetic tip –or the colored tip– of the compass points towards the North-pole of the Earth or Magnetic North. However, when you run an electric current through a magnet it will point towards the positive flow of the charge. In other words, the needle is redirected because the difference in charge between the flowing electricity and the tip of the needle is greater than the difference in charge between Magnetic North and the tip of the needle.

All that aside, it was hard to believe that he could get lost on his way to the toilet. I mean it was a straight line from the car to the gas station. I thought he was somewhere pouting because I had yelled at him. I mused that the most likely place for him to be was the bathroom. I reached the door and – just to be dramatic and scare him out of his funk – kicked it down. I opened my mouth to swear at Ginji for being a passive-aggressive jackass but, met only a dark room.

The light automatically clicked on as I took a step inside. My heart dropped into my stomach and pounded with the realization that I had seriously fucked up. The mirror and the sink were splattered with blood. Ginji wasn't there but, there were two bloody, Ginji-sized handprints on the white tile floor. I shook my head with confusion. What was going on? Why hadn't I felt his scream? Had he screamed? Hands trembling with disgust I plucked a piece of paper off the floor. It was a note and it was addressed to me:

Midou-kun,

Frankly, I'm sort of embarassed to be caught doing this incredibly boring work. To tell you the truth I was thinking about canceling the job. But, then I heard about your new mission and I thought that maybe I could squeeze some enjoyment out of this assignment.

You're a very smart man. So, you should know this already. But, I'm going to refresh your memory anyhow. Ginji's body contains flat disk-like cells – that are stacked in a sequence in a manner similar to a battery throughout his body – called electroplaxes. Whenever he so chooses pacemaker neurons in him fire and acetylcholine is subsequently released from electromotor neurons to the electroplaxes, resulting in an electric organ discharge.

Anyhow, do you know what's interesting about benzodiazepines in relation to all of this? I'll give you a hint, nobody is entirley sure how they work but, they impair motor function by massivly supressing the firing of neurons. It is used to help epileptics. And, it is also used before certain medical procedures – such as endoscopies – to reduce tension and anxiety, and in some surgical procedures to induce amnesia.

I think the dose of diazepam I gave Ginji is having is effecting his electroreception. Poor thing can't seem to release more than the equivalent to a small static shock. But, he doesn't seem to mind. I think the medication is making him feel sort of giddy – drunk almost. He sure is cute. I think we'll have fun together.

Kuroudo Akabane

PS Isn't Ginji's blood interesting? He only spilled a little bit of it but, somehow it looks like a man exploded in here.

Back in the car I lit another cigarette in the hope that nicotine would steady my nervous fingers. This could not be happening. I started the car and called Ginji's cell phone. When Ginji actually picked up I almost cried with relief, "Ginji, you dumbass, where are you?"

There was a distracted pause, panting and a whimper, "A truck – I'm in a truck."

Okay. I calmed myself. That was a good thing. I had seen only one truck pull out of the gas station. It had a white cab and a white trailer. Like a complete novice I hadn't bothered to get a look at the driver. His uniform would have tipped me off that that was the truck we were looking for – they were an hour early. I had planned for this and hadn't even realized it had happened. I pulled out onto the road, "Still there, Ginji?"

"Nope," a new voice which was not Ginji purred. "You sure are slow for a tactical genius. Know that? I was sure you would catch me in the act - completely and totally - sure. But, you didn't. It was the most excitement I've had in a very long time."

I tried to replace the fear in my voice with anger, "Listen, bitch-tits."

"Bitch-tits? That's creative," he interrupted with a laugh.

"Don't you dare even lay so much one of your filthy fucking fingers on Ginji," I continued – snarling.

"Too late," I heard him smile. "You know I'm the only one guarding this cargo. It's just me and the driver and Ginji in this truck. And the driver doesn't even know Ginji is here."

I knew he was deliberately provoking me and he was probably getting off on it. But, I was infuriated. I played right into him, "Fuck you. This is way too far you sick shit. I—" There was a muffled cry in the background. It echoed painfully in my head. "God! Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you when I find you?" I passed a car that was going 10 km/h over the speed limit.

"Well, if you just started driving you're about ten minutes behind us," the tone of voice was loving. He was probably caressing his scalpels and getting ready to do something horrible. I did not want to think about it. I felt totally powerless. I had just been completely outsmarted. Now something terrible was going to happen to Ginji. "And we're going about 135 km/h and that is pushing it as far as the speed limit goes. So, even if you drive at speed faster than that – which I don't suggest, there are a lot of cops on this road – you'll probably catch up to us in about an hour. So, I'm not worried about you finding me just yet. But – to answer your question – I think you'll probably do about the same thing to me as I'm doing to Ginji."

I ran the calculations through my head. The pervert was right. If I drove fast enough I would catch up to them in an hour about 16 kilometers outside of Shinjuku.

That wasn't the only thing he was right about. For the first time in a long while I wanted to inflict as much pain on a body as possible. I wanted to draw out his death. I wanted to tear his limbs off. I could see myself ripping his heart out with my bare hands and showing it to him. I panted, "Bastard." This was exactly the reaction he wanted from me.

"I'll take that as a yes. I'll be looking forward to it." I clung to the steering wheel with frustration. I'm surprised that I had the self-control not to crush it with my irate grip. "Do you want to talk to Ginji again? He is crying out for you."

I couldn't find a voice to answer.

"No? Okay. Well, you'll have plenty of time to talk later," the line went dead and there was nothing I could do but drive.