The noodles jiggled through the cracks of the flimsy paper box when the vendor shook it aggressively. Specks of oil drizzled onto the asphalt.
"Yakisoba?" The raspy, displeased bass bellowed from the stall. Sanemi pushed through several men in business suits and slapped his ticket onto the counter.
"Mine," he exhaled out. The vendor squinted his one bulging, veiny eye at the wind hashira. Not looking away from the young man, he slapped a pair of chopsticks onto the box and shoved it forward.
"Enjoy your food, okyakusan," he slurred. The wind hashira, unbothered, grabbed the food and swiveled on his heels.
"Thanks, old man," he called over his shoulder, whisking out of the crowd that was gathering next to the stall.
The digital clock on the billboard had just switched to point to noon, and the airway was packed with cruisers and flyers. The platform vibrated under the numerous heels.
Clutching the box, chopsticks squeezed in between his index and middle fingers, Sanemi maneuvered through the office workers. His stomach growled, but the exhilaration from finally getting to dig in food overshadowed the hunger.
His motorcycle was parked right next to an exit, the staircase winding to the platform above. People scurried up and down, and none of them paid the wind hashira any attention when he walked up. Climbing onto the seat, Sanemi placed the box onto his lap.
Anticipation prickling at the end of his fingers, he delicately lifted the lid. The fried, yellow noodles with some vegetables and what seemed to be chicken stared back at him. Feeling giddy, Sanemi ripped apart the chopsticks and wrapped a huge chunk of noodles around them. Fucking finally, he didn't have breakfast, and all the demons he encountered on his shift were friggin marathon medalists.
His palate and tongue felt on fire when he shoved the noodles into his mouth, but the sweet juice made him want to cry. Sanemi gulped like a fish, trying to get some cool air in, before forcing himself to swallow. His throat burned, but he didn't care. This was too good.
Blowing on a piece of carrot, Sanemi watched the passing pedestrians. Since the crowd was pretty mixed in this neighborhood, there was always an amusing element to gawk at.
A two-meter individual with a metal bunny helmet strolled by, wires connecting from the glassy ears to a transistor on the belt. A robot geisha glided skillfully through the crowd, bright eyes darting occasionally from a hologram she was reading on her watch. Chewing on the chicken, Sanemi followed her with his gaze when the speaker vibrated in his ear.
Swallowing the piece down, the wind hashira pressed the button on his speaker with the same hand he was holding the chopsticks with.
"Shinazugawa listening," he said evenly, observing how a man in a suit, most likely a salesman, discussed something quietly but actively with a bobbling drone. The pair walked by the hashira, and the latter returned back to his food.
"Hey there. How are you doing?"
The noodles slipped from his chopsticks in surprise.
"Higa?" Sanemi picked up the noodles, waving them slightly to let the sauce drip down. With his free hand, he searched through the pockets of his jacket for the other speaker. "What's up, man?"
"We need to talk. Did you…" the voice on the other side paused. "Actually, where are you? Are you at work?"
"I'm on my lunch break." Fingers knocking against the smooth bud of the speaker, the wind hashira looked around. Usually all the platform exits and entrances were labeled somewhere… his eyes landed on the small sign screwed at the staircase's base. "Exit 933 northbound, Kamiyotokama. Why, you nearby?"
"Kamiyotokama... that's the Aichi area. Yeah, I can be there in ten minutes."
"Alright." The need for a second speaker disappeared all on its own. Sanemi took his hand out of the pocket and fixed the box on his lap. "I'll be waiting."
"See you."
The man disconnected. Sanemi stirred the noodles, then closed the box and placed it onto the motorcycle handles. He crossed his arms and leaned back on the railing. He had to think about this.
It wasn't every day that Higashizono Kotarou, the inspector from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, gave a call. He was a 'good cop'; the man didn't meddle in their affairs, and whenever their jurisdictions did cross, wasn't a prick about it. The railing rattled slightly, digging into Sanemi's back. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. His shoulder blades ended up at a weird angle, and he grimaced involuntarily.
Something must have come up. Sanemi could feel the approaching headache in the back of his eyes. Sighing, he picked up the takeout again and, twirling the chopsticks in his fingers, began quickly eating without savoring the food. He knew for a fact that after the conversation with Higa, his appetite would be shattered in pieces.
As he was stuffing in the last vegetable with the meat, his speaker rang again. Sanemi didn't answer right away, actively chewing. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he swallowed and pressed the button.
"Yes?" He gasped involuntarily as the large lump traveled down his throat. It got stuck somewhere in his mid-chest area.
"Are you right at the exit?"
"Yeah." Hitting himself in the chest, Sanemi straightened out. He looked around, searching for the familiar trench coat. The wind hashira glanced over his shoulder and noticed the target walking down the stairs from the platform above. His lips curled into a smirk, and Sanemi raised his hand.
"Yo."
The inspector had also noticed him. Smiling, Higashizono took the speaker out of his ear and stepped out onto the platform.
"Hello. How's it going?" His eyes paused at the empty takeout box. "Sorry for interrupting your lunch."
"Don't worry about that." Sanemi was struck by how emaciated and tired Higashizono looked compared to the last time he saw him. The eye bags collected into a wrinkled patch of skin, while his shoulders seemed smaller. The wind hashira stood up.
"Shall we find a quieter place?" He took the box in one hand while guiding the motorcycle with his other one. Higashizono nodded wordlessly.
The people inadvertently walked around them; the motorcycle took up a lot of space. Sanemi peered into the passing alleyways, trying to find one that seemed empty. It turned out to be a non-trivial task; workers were flooding from all sorts of locations, and the traffic was high.
"Do you have a lot of work?" He asked off-handedly as he rejected one alley with numerous stalls cramped in between the buildings. The inspector smirked.
"Do I look that bad?" He sighed, and his gaze wandered away. "I'm divorcing, that's why."
Sanemi acutely felt the food in his stomach. He looked over silently at the inspector, and Higashizono replied with a sad smile.
"Why?" Sanemi asked after a moment.
"Work," Higashizono replied simply. Everything fell into place. Sanemi nodded and faced the crowd again.
After a while, the inspector pointed to one of the narrower alleys. "That one seems more or less quiet."
"Okay." Sanemi steered the monitor cycle where his companion had indicated. The alley was indeed, for the most part, quiet. The wind hashira leaned the motorcycle against the wall and, stepping over, slipped the takeout box into a trash bag placed in front of the door of a small restaurant. Straightening out, he glanced over at the inspector next to him.
"Well?" Sanemi questioned. "Spill it out."
Higashizono took out a pack of cigarettes and gave it a light shake.
"Yesterday, our entire head department got into a frenzy." The man took out a cigarette. His eyebrows were drawn together. "Apparently, it's because you guys apprehended a trafficker named Zou."
Sanemi lifted up abruptly from the wall and stopped in front of the inspector. Rotating the cigarette through his fingers, Higashizono gave him an inquisitive look.
"How the hell do you know about that?" Sanemi said in a low voice. "That's a demon slayer-only matter."
Higashizono shook his head and placed the cigarette into his mouth.
"I don't know." He cupped his hands, and yellow light sparked within. "What I can attest to is that all of a sudden my superior placed the current cases on hold and diverted all of his attention to this one." Higashizono exhaled, and Sanemi got hit by the strong smell of smoke.
"He's been receiving calls and sitting in conferences all day long."
Sanemi covered his right fist with his hand and cracked his knuckles. His mind raced through the possibilities.
"Did your boss tell you anything?"
"Vaguely." Higashizono massaged his nose bridge with the tips of his fingers, cigarette bobbing in between. "From what I understood, Zou is an important figure that has to be protected."
"Bullshit." Sanemi couldn't help himself. He was probably bending the law here, but he trusted Higa enough. "Zou sells demon organs to people."
The inspector flinched, and the hashira felt a grim sense of satisfaction. Higashizono lowered his eyes and tapped the ash from the cigarette. Then, he lifted it up and took a long drag.
"In that case…" he paused, then shook his head. "Well, whatever the case may be, I didn't think the police department would get involved. However…" he took another drag. Sanemi could see that he was phrasing his words. "Just be careful," he said finally. "The people I've seen walk out in and out of my superior's office are no joke. We may not have the jurisdiction to intervene, but others will try to."
A woman walked down the alley, and the two stepped aside to let her though. When she passed by, Sanemi stepped forward again but remained silent. He chewed his lip. Ubayashiki's prediction came true quicker than he expected.
"Do you have any names?" He attempted. Higashizono tossed the stub onto the ground and rubbed it with the sole of his shoe.
"Some I didn't know. One of them was a CEO of a pharmaceutical company." He rubbed his face, and Sanemi saw just a shadow of how tired the inspector really was. "Yamasaki, I think. Another one was a representative from the Tokyo Trust and Banking corporation."
Sanemi inhaled deeply. He never had to deal with the outside world during all of his years as a demon slayer, and this was somewhat unnerving.
"Is there anything else I have to know?"
"No, that's all I had." Higashizono lowered his hands into the pockets and glanced towards the outside of the alley. His eyes flicked back and forth as he watched the people pass by.
"I'll let you know if anything comes up."
"Yeah. Well, thanks man." Sanemi took the motorcycle and started his way back to the platform. "I still have some time left before I have to get back to work. Do you need a ride anywhere?"
"No, the elevator to the Lower Level is pretty close." Higashizono replied, walking side by side with the hashira. "The reconstruction efforts after the raid are still going on, and I need to check up on them."
"I see." They paused next to the alley exit. Sanemi hesitated, unsure if it would be too untactful to say it, but driven by an urge of emotionality, placed his hand on the man's shoulder. He squeezed it lightly.
"Stay strong."
Higashizono smiled lightly, indicating that he understood what the hashira was referring to.
"Thanks. Good luck."
"You too." Turning around, Sanemi mounted the motorcycle. He switched on the engine and took off.
He was more careless than usual; the wind hashira was pretty sure the swears whistling briefly by his ear were directed at him. At one point, he didn't have the patience to wait for the light. He had planned to interrogate Zou later in the day, but the conversation made him change his mind.
Whirling wisteria petals grazed his cheek. Sanemi maneuvered among the trees, motorcycle inclining almost to the very platform during the turns. Tension squeezed his chest.
The parking spots next to the headquarters entrance were always vacant; most demon slayers were out in the field. Sanemi stopped his motorcycle and, switching on the laser security in case someone felt stupid, walked up to the building's entrance. The rush of motion still drummed in his temples. His blood, still accelerated from the rush of the vehicle, drummed in his temples.
Sanemi rotated his wrist, ID popping up on the watch's screen. The hologram zapped in confirmation, and the doors slid open. The wind hashira went straight for the stairs; the elevator would take too long to arrive.
The detention center was at the very bottom, just a couple of meters above what would be considered the Lower Level. At this time of year, it was empty. When Sanemi pushed open the door to the bleak corridor, he understood that something was off. His eyes quickly traversed the landscape, and he pinpointed the oddities immediately.
An unknown man stood next to one of the cells. Despite being clearly out of place, he was relaxed. One hand snuggled into the pocket of his suit, the intruder read what seemed to be reports on his watch.
Throwing jittery looks at the stranger, the demon slayer sentinel marched nervously down the hallway.
Sanemi's lips pressed into a line. What the hell was going on?
When the guard was turning around to walk in the opposite direction, her eyes landed by chance on the hashira. Her entire figure seemed to deflate from relief.
"Shinazugawa-san!" The girl hurried over to him. Braking to a stop, she stretched out in a salute. "Good afternoon, sir."
"Good afternoon, good afternoon," Sanemi replied off-handedly, not really caring for her. He looked over her shoulder at the stranger. "Who's that?"
"He's…" the demon slayer eyed the man and swallowed. "He introduced himself as Juba Chikao. He said he's a criminal lawyer, and he'll be defending the prisoner inside cell eleven."
Her eyes became round like plates. "I didn't want to let him in, but he was really persistent. I'm so sorry!"
Sanemi half-listened to the girl's mutterings. His mind was crunching like crazy right now. The presence of a lawyer only proved Higashizono's observation. More so, Sanemi was convinced that this lawyer was arranged long before the arrest, in case something like this would happen. His teeth clenched slightly. Their own lawyer didn't respond yet.
"Got it. Fetch the interrogation drone," Sanemi said as he moved past the girl. In the corner of his eye, he saw how she saluted.
"Yessir!"
When he heard the nearing footsteps, the lawyer switched off his watch and straightened out. His predatory eyes sparked at the hashira.
"Shinazugawa Sanemi," Sanemi introduced himself dryly when he reached the lawyer. His eyes traveled up and down, creating a mental picture of the man. Tough to crack.
The lawyer gave a gallant bow.
"Juba Chikao. Thank you for letting me be here, I didn't expect such courteousness."
Sanemi suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He could do without the pleasantries.
"M'pleasure. From what the guard told me, you're here to defend Zou?"
"Yes." Juba squared his shoulders. "I'll be present during the whole interrogation process and make sure that my client is treated fairly."
The wind hashira narrowed his eyes. It sounded as if the lawyer thought that Sanemi would beat up Zou at the slightest inconvenience. That wasn't far from the truth, but it pissed him off.
"Oh, I'll make sure not to cross any lines." Turning his back to the lawyer, Sanemi punched the code into the keypad and pushed the nichirin-clad door.
The cells were designated to store demons caught for the Final Selection, but at this time they were empty. When the traffickers were brought in, the demon slayers dragged in some makeshift beds they could scrap from the equipment department. Chairs and tables weren't found.
When the door opened, Zou turned away from the wall and sat up on the cot. His trench coat fell down from his shoulders. The light from the hallway glimmered on the lenses.
"Hello, Shinazugawa-san." The man lowered his legs down on the floor. His socks wrinkled when he curled his toes as he placed his feet carefully on the shoes beneath the cot.
Sanemi ignored the salutation and stopped right in front of the trafficker. Crossing his arms, he jerked his head towards his companion.
"Your lawyer."
"Juba Chikao," the man, stopping to the right of the wind hashira, bowed. "You should have been informed about me at some point."
Sanemi watched grimly how Zou examined the man. Helping himself with his arms, the trafficker shifted on the cot.
"Yes," he answered finally. Sanemi waited for the man to say something else, but Zou was surprisingly quiet. The wind hashira narrowed his eyes, but at that moment the sentinel peeked into the open door.
"Shinazugawa-sama? I brought in the drone." A spherical, white drone bobbled over the girl's head. It flew over to one of the corners of the cell, and a red light glimmered in its dark lense. Having glanced over his shoulder to look at it, the wind hashira turned back around. His eyes slid towards the guard.
"Close the door on your wait."
"Yessir!"
The lock sank into the latch with a short snap. Sanemi glanced at the lawyer.
"Alright, let's begin. Everything onward is recorded." He glanced at the lawyer.
"Anything to add?"
The man shook his head. The wind hashira's gaze lingered on the lawyer, then traveled slowly towards the trafficker.
"Take off your mask."
The short, graying hair caught against the rubber fabric of the mask when Zou pulled it off. Large, slightly bulging eyes watched the hashira carefully. Sanemi inhaled and tightened the grip on the crook of his elbow.
… the time dripped slowly through the cell. About an hour ago, Juba leaned onto one of the walls. Cigarette projecting straight between his fingers, he was rubbing a hole in his nose bridge with his thumb. His forehead was crumpled in wrinkles. A yellow light popped up on the drone's side, indicating a low battery.
Sanemi was reaching the point where the back of his knees hurt continuously. He refused to change positions until the end of interrogation, but he was slowly running out of ideas.
Name? Domen Rin.
Date of birth? Sixteenth of February, two thousand four hundred and sixty four. Anticlimactically enough, Zou has no problem revealing his personal information, nor anything else that followed.
Domen-Zou became an underground surgeon when he was twenty-one and had been working at various underhanded jobs ever since. Apparently, the demon slayers are the first authority to zero-in on him; during all previous busts, he was able to weasel his way out.
Zou began his business three years ago when he left his position as a surgeon — a "doc" — at a regular organ trafficking cartel. It wasn't his first time forming a business; he had a small money laundering group and an opioid ring when, from what Sanemi understood, he was still young.
According to Zou, the idea to traffic demons was a gradual process. Living side by side with demons for his entire life, the growing difficulty of obtaining healthy organs, the simultaneous waste of corpses were all factors that pushed him towards that resolution.
How did he find employees for such a risky business?
Some, like Toki, were there from the very beginning. Others were contacts from past activities. Most were picked up at bars and clubs with the promise of a decent salary. Everyone had a criminal record.
All of the information was enough for several years of prison, but Sanemi felt unsatisfied. He tried to corner Zou by emphasizing the danger of his business, but the man evaded the mine. 'All the demons are drugged with wisteria, and there is always at least one person watching the stockpile.'
The trafficker's gulps echoed through the room as he chugged from the glass that the sentinel had brought a couple of minutes ago. Drumming his fingers on his elbow, Sanemi watched the water dribble down onto the man's collar.
Zou had ten emergencies in the first year that he began. Ten instances of a demon regaining consciousness and breaking loose. The trafficker lowered the glass and wiped his chin nonchalantly. Goosebumps prickled on Sanemi's skin, and he was aware that it wasn't because of the low temperature of the cell.
"Refreshed?"
Zou gazed into the glass as he rotated it inside his palm. Skin stretching, he placed his thumb on the top of the glass and passed it roughly along the rim.
"A little."
Sanemi rolled his shoulders slightly to reinstate blood circulation through his aching body. "Continuing, then. Who do you sell your organs to?"
Zou sucked on the inside of his cheeks, then sighed. Placing the glass on the floor, he scooted backwards on the bed until his back hit the wall. Wrist dangling with the cigarette next to his mouth, Juba watched him wordlessly.
Reclining his head back, Zou folded his hands on his lap and gave a long, thoughtful look to Sanemi.
"Various people. I have a lot of clients from the Lower Level. You'd agree with me, Shinazugawa-san, they're the ones that need it the most."
"What about the Middle and Upper Levels?" Sanemi inquired, suppressing the irritation at yet another invitation to a debate. "Do they use your services?"
Not looking away from the hashira, the trafficker tilted his head slightly to the side.
"Yes, they do," Zou replied after a hesitation. In the periphery, Sanemi saw how Juba blew the smoke quicker than normal. The wind hashira inhaled quietly, figuring that he would have to word himself very carefully.
"May you give me a better idea of who they are?"
Zou's eyes darted downwards and to the side, then briefly to the hashira. He opened his mouth, paused, then spoke up with his soft voice. However, this time, Sanemi clearly heard an edge in his tone.
"I thought they're not relevant to your identification of my persona?"
"Your customers sport demon limbs." Sanemi unfolded his arms and lowered them down, holding his right wrist with his left hand. "They're putting public safety under threat."
Zou's fingers untangled from each other and lowered to his sides. He gripped the bed sheet slightly.
"I assure you, they're not dangerous."
"That wasn't my question," Sanemi reminded evenly. Zou was silent, regarding the hashira cautiously. Juba took a long drag and flicked the cigarette to the floor.
"Shinazugawa-san, may I have a word with you?"
Sanemi tensed from suddenness, but covered it up with a shrug. He walked across the room and opened the door.
"Not a problem."
When they walked outside, the demon slayer sentinel flinched and gave them a very obvious side look when they walked outside. Sanemi gestured her to stay away, and her posture shrank in fright. Her eyes darted back to the wall.
"What is it, Juba-san?" Sanemi turned towards the lawyer. Juba glanced at the sentinel, making sure that she was within ear shot.
"I would like you not to inquire further about the clients," he said, returning his gaze to the hashira.
Sanemi scoffed. "Why not?"
The lawyer's lips stretched into a brief smile. "I understand your confusion, Shinazugawa-san. However, I must insist on this."
Is it because some of your customers are from the top echelon? Sanemi bit his tongue. Clearing his throat, he also smiled, but in a condescending fashion. He hooked his thumbs on the crooks of his belt.
"Juba-san, please explain yourself."
Without opening his mouth, the lawyer passed his tongue over his teeth. His eyes narrowed into a cold line.
"Shinazugawa-san, you may not be aware of this, but this interrogation was allowed to happen. In return, I ask you to refrain from questioning certain aspects."
"Are you threatening me?" Sanemi raised his eyebrows. He would've been more insulted if Higashizono didn't warn him already; instead, he was just mildly irritated.
"Persuading." Juba straightened out and slid his hands into his pockets. "If you want a reason, the clients are protected by a clause of confidentiality. You don't persecute drug buyers when you bust a cartel, do you?"
"Fair enough," Sanemi acquiesced after a minute of silence. The lawyer bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you for understand—"
"Will you police me on other topics as well?"
The lawyer paused midway, and displeasure passed over his features. Nevertheless, he recovered and produced a serious expression.
"Only if absolutely necessary."
Sanemi smirked and opened the door. "Figures. After you, Juba-san."
Despite how rigged this was, he couldn't afford wasting any more time.
The trafficker lifted his head up at the sound of the opening door.
"Putting the customers aside, how do you ensure that the demon limbs aren't spotted by the sensors?" Sanemi began as soon as he walked in. Closing the door behind them, the lawyer flinched ever so slightly. "The Lower Level - fine, but anything beyond that would be an issue."
"I chip them," Zou replied after a short silence. He seemed calmer than before, but his fingers were still clenched. "Demon sensors produce E&M fields that trigger a chemical response particular to demonic cells. The chips deflect those fields."
"And you create these chips yourself?"
Crossing his arms, the lawyer turned around and leaned against the wall. His face was unreadable.
"No." Zou licked his lips. "We buy the chips. That's all."
"From whom?"
"Shinazugawa-san," Juba said quietly.
"What, another sensitive topic?" Sanemi turned towards him with a bitter smirk. "I can't tiptoe around everything."
The man held his gaze. "Remember what I said about the nature of this interrogation."
The silence ticked on loudly. Zou transferred his eyes back and forth between the hashira and the lawyer. The situation was slipping out of control, Sanemi could feel it, and if he was more reasonable, he may have talked something smooth. But unfortunately, he was angry, tired, and didn't have a good way to resolve this without losing face to the trafficker.
"Battery zero percent. Switching off recording."
Everyone jumped at the drone's sudden declaration. Sanemi turned around and quickly lunged to the falling robot; he caught it right before it hit the floor.
"I guess that marks the end for today." Examining the piece of metal scrap in his hands, the wind hashira straightened out. He'll take a look at the footage the moment he got back to the office.
"Yes… yes, that's a good stopping point." Juba sighed, and momentary relief appeared on his face. Zou didn't say anything, but his shoulders relaxed tiredly. The lawyer opened the door for Sanemi.
"I'm going to stay back to discuss some things with Zou-san," Juba said off-handedly as the wind hashira walked out of the cell. Sanemi paused, but deciding that he didn't have the energy to fight back, jerked his shoulder.
"Fine by me. You there!" The demon slayer guard jolted and rushed over to him.
"Show Juba-san his way out when he's done," Sanemi instructed before the greeting could exit her mouth. The girl snapped her mouth shut and, nodding, and saluted. The wind hashira walked over to the end of the hallway and, balancing the robot in his arms, pressed the button. Waiting for the elevator to arrive, he stepped back and closed his eyes momentarily.
He'd have to make Zou slip-up in a way that even the lawyer can't anticipate. Kochou would be better at this, Sanemi thought and sighed. This was promising to be hell.
Shinobu pulled down the yellow tape and stepped over it. The smell of blood and rust drifted through the filter of the gas mask, and she suppressed a gag. Straightening out, the insect hashira regarded the scene in front of her.
Drones fluttered from one demon to the next, their little scanner holograms illuminating the carcasses. A tall robot with a tablet in its hand stood on the balcony and watched the scurrying drones with a serious, devoted concentration.
"How's it going?" Shinobu asked quietly as she walked up. The robot, not surprised, turned around and saluted.
"Good afternoon, Kochou-san. Teams 1 and 2 are probing the traffickers' equipment. Team 3 is exploring the building. Kanzaburo-san is looking over the electronic records."
"Anything interesting?" Shinobu looked down at her watch. No new notifications. The young woman inhaled deeply and dropped her hand into the pocket.
"There are at least five operational rooms, four locker rooms, a morgue where they keep organs, a basement with medicine, and a storage for weapons of various kinds, from metal nets to dart guns. All of their equipment so far is either used Kaunan utensils that had been thrown away or those originally from this building."
"Does lack of sanitation count as a criminal offense?" Shinobu muttered under her nose.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand, are you joking or asking me seriously?" The robot asked politely. Shinobu shook her head.
"Ignore me. Did you find what I'd asked for?"
"Yes, ma'am." The robot swiped its several jointed, wrapped in wires finger over the tablet's screen. Shinobu stepped closer to look.
"Demon No 112. According to the data associated with her, she's the oldest one who is, at least, capable of human speech. The two other ones with a similar age are completely beast-like. She's the donor for kidneys and lungs."
Shinobu turned around and started towards the doors. "Make sure she's secure and bring her down. I'll be in the first room to the left."
"Yes, ma'am."
The lights were switched on, and although it was empty, Shinobu could tell that the drones had been here. The air had a unique cleanliness to it, as if it had been turned inside out, given a good shake, and flipped back over to its outer surface.
Shinobu passed her fingers thoughtfully over the surgical table. Her eyes hovered over the leather straps hooked to the edges of the table. Those are going to come in handy.
"Kochou-san?"
The young doctor turned around and stepped out of the way. The robot, helped by several drones, carried a limp demon inside. Her head was bobbing back and forth, drool dripping out of open mouth.
"Where do you want her, ma'am?"
"Place her on the table and secure her with straps," Shinobu ordered as she walked over to her stout suitcase standing next to the wall. As the robots fumbled behind her, the insect hashira crouched down and rotated her suitcase to its side. Unzipping it, she took out a large syringe and a bottle of medicine. Filling up the syringe, she stood back up and watched how the drones tie the straps around the demon's body.
"And raise the table somewhat. Thank you," Shinobu added absently, the transparent liquid rising up the tick marks. She lifted the syringe to her eyes and checked the gradations. Should be enough.
"Thank you," she repeated when the procession huddled out of the room. The robot bowed and closed the door respectfully.
Left alone, Shinobu gave the demon a good look. The creature was disheveled, dirty blonde hair mixed with gray strands. Her bloated legs revealed a case of edema, and the long nails curled into claws. Holding the syringe upwards, the insect hashira walked up and gave the straps a good tug. Satisfied that they were secure, she slipped the needle into the creature's neck and pressed the plunger all the way.
Once all the medicine was gone, Shinobu gingerly plucked out the syringe and tossed it into the waste bin. Rolling over her suitcase, she lifted up the handle so that it could support her back and sat down. Her eyes darted on her watch. She waited.
After exactly two minutes, the demon stirred. A spasm ran through her body, and she began coughing.
"Awake?"
Bloodshot, yellow eyes lifted slowly at the young woman sitting on the suitcase. Shinobu gave a warm, threatening smile.
"What's your name?"
Eyes not moving from the insect hashira, the demon panted for air. A wrinkle ran down her forehead, as if she had trouble understanding the question.
"I don't have all day." Shinobu crossed her left leg over the right. "My name is Kochou Shinobu. What about you?"
"Ma…chi…ko," the demon wheezed, wet coughs squeezing her body. The creature gargled and spat onto the floor. The lump of phlegm and mucus landed a few feet away from the suitcase.
"Machiko," Shinobu said calmly. "What a wonderful name."
"What's going on?" The demon croaked, chest rising up and down. "W-who are you? They're s'posed to operate on me in a week." She jerked, and the straps tore into her body.
"I already introduced myself, but for you, I'll repeat myself. My name is Kochou Shinobu, I'm one of the hashiras of the Demon Slayer Corps."
The demon stopped struggling and stared wide-eyed at the woman. She blinked several times.
"One of the…" horror filled her face. "Are you going to kill me? Are you going to kill me?" She began wrestling again. "You can't kill me! Not after I've suffered this long!" Her voice pitched. "If you kill me, anyone who has my organs will die too!" As if a switch was flipped, the demon's face bulged with hatred. "Yeah, I'd want to look at someone who has ash for their kidneys. Gonna be cool, eh? My ash mixed up with some piss and…"
The young doctor lifted her hand, and the demon gave a frightened squeak.
"I'm not going to kill you, Machiko-san." At least not yet, Shinobu thought to herself. She lowered her hand on her lap and leaned forward. "You've been here for two and a half years, making you the demon who'd seen the most of this organization. I have a few questions to ask."
"Just questions?" The demon whispered.
"Yes, just questions," Shinobu replied softly. "Can you help me with that?"
The demon sniffed and nodded feverishly.
"Y-yes."
"Perfect." The insect hashira dug her feet into the floor and pushed herself forward on the suitcase. The demon swallowed nervously.
"Can you explain the organ harvesting process to me?"
"I… sure." The demon lowered her eyes and hiccuped. "When they first catch you, they perform a test and such… you know… to see which part is the best. For me, it's the kidneys and lungs. Then you just hang until they need ya." The demon squeezed her eyes.
"From what I understand, you donate your organs to multiple humans since they grow back," the insect hashira said carefully. The demon nodded without opening her eyes.
"Yeah. It's all 'bout the quality of your organs, really." She opened her eyes, and tears streamed down her cheeks. "Everyone's organs here degenerate over time. 'Tis wisteria. At some point, the demon is no good. That's why the clients come back time after time. When they're preparing to kill the demon who originally gave the organs, they conduct another surgery replacing 'em. 'Cause you know… can't have dead organs in someone else's body."
Her sigh was heavy and whistling. "I have real healthy organs."
"What about the humans who work here?" Shinobu inquired. Her eyebrows were knitted together. "Zou-san and the rest?"
The creature's shoulders heaved from the sobs.
"Zou is a sadist, hashira-san. When he operated himself, he didn't even knock us out. Kafka at least drugs us. They're terrifying, Toki, Masabe, Subaru…" she trembled. "Especially Subaru. He's a monster."
"A monster?" Shinobu raised her eyebrows. She remembered the overweight, happy-go-lucky trafficker, but at most she'd call him a creep.
"He doesn't care for humans or demons." The creature arched her neck, trying to get closer to the doctor. "He sold some demons on his own while Zou wasn't looking. When Kaji caught him, that beast killed him and blamed it on us." The demon bulged her eyes as if she wanted to pass her conviction to the hashira through eye contact. "He's cold through and through."
"Well, Subaru-kun is currently on the run so there's nothing we can do with him at the moment…" Shinobu stood up. The demon watched her nervously. The insect hashira thought for a moment, then took out a scalpel from her palm.
"Since you've been a good girl, I'll give you some of my blood, Machiko-san." The demon's eyes widened when the insect hashira pressed the scalpel into her palm. Blood oozed from under the blade. "Just promise that you won't attack me. Do that, and you're dead."
"Yes... yes… hashira-san…" the demon whispered, gazing at the woman in revelation. Shinobu walked up to the table and outstretched her hand to the demon's lips. The creature's warm breath burned her palm, and her wound stung when a foreign tongue licked it. Shinobu held her hand indifferently. Her eyes watched the feeding demon.
After a few moments, the licks became slower. The demon's head dropped, and Shinobu caught it with her hand. She lifted it up by the chin; the demon's eyes were rolled upwards, and purple foam bubbled from the corners of her mouth. The hashira's fingers traveled to the creature's lymph nodes. A weak, but steady pulse beat against the skin.
Holding her palm upwards so that it wouldn't bleed, Shinobu walked around the table towards the sink. At the same time, she switched on the watch on her wrist on her other hand. The robot's voice came through immediately.
"Yes, Kochou-san?"
"You can take the demon back." Shinobu turned on the faucet and placed her palm under the running water. The water streaked red.
"I've drugged her with wisteria, but not enough to kill."
"Yes, ma'am."
Holding the palm under the water, Shinobu reached on her toes and opened the cabinet on the top. Like she predicted, there was a roll of gauze on the first shelf.
Her footsteps echoed on the metal floor. With its blank walls and doors designed in the same medical fashion, this place, if scrubbed some more, would be no different from a Kaunan hospital. Wrapping the gauze around her palm, Shinobu walked absently down the hallway.
The female demon revealed an unexpected dilemma. If they killed all the demons in the stockpile, like they had planned initially, they would cause a domino chain of medical emergencies. It was one case when the limb was a hand or a foot, but what if it was something vital, like a heart? Shinobu yanked the bandage.
Even if Zou was placed behind the bars, they would still have to monitor the demons. The other option was to find every single person to whom Zou sold the organs and operate, but there could easily be hundreds of them. She'll do it, naturally. Without registering it, Shinobu pushed the front door open.
The sudden cold of the air startled her awake. The insect hashira shivered and looked down on her palm. It was turning a slight reddish from how much she pulled the gauze. Shinobu sighed. Slipping her finger underneath, she tugged the bandage loose and walked down the clearing. At the last moment, she noticed a familiar tuft of black hair. After a moment of deliberation, the young doctor turned around and walked down the gravel.
Rifle propped in the crook of his elbow and shoulder, Genya was flipping a token on his thumb. When it failed to land in his palm, the demon slayer looked up and saw the insect hashira holding the token she caught mid-air.
"Good afternoon," Shinobu said politely. She had a vague suspicion that the boy was sometimes intimidated by her, so she tried to be as amiable as possible. A faint blush colored his cheeks behind the mask.
"Good afternoon, Kochou-san," Genya replied evenly. Shinobu crouched down, asphalt crumbling under the heels, and peered into his face.
"Feel free to grab tea at my place anytime," she said quietly. Genya lifted his eyes on her, and she understood that there was no need in explaining herself. Shinobu reached out and ruffled his hair.
Rising up, the insect hashira flipped the coin, and the demon slayer caught it with both hands.
"Best of luck."
Turning away, Shinobu walked towards the looming structures of the hospital.
Token pressed between the palms, Genya followed the receding figure of the female doctor with his eyes. After she disappeared behind the trash piles, he patted the tuft that she had touched. A coziness warmed his chest, and he felt better than he did the entire day.
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back on the wall. His fingers kneaded the brittle token around, trying to unconsciously tell out the design drawn in the metal.
He couldn't tell if he enjoyed guard duty or not. On one hand, the lack of physical effort was a welcome chance. On the other, nothing distracted him from his thoughts — which sucked magnificently.
Genya nudged his mask upwards, just enough to free up his mouth. His chin scratched immediately from the sweat exposed to the air. Placing a cigarette between his teeth, he scoured his jacket for the lighter. Just as his fingers grazed the plastic surface, the watch vibrated on his wrist. The demon slayer paused, squinting at the unknown number.
8123-575-3649… 8123-575-3649… he'd seen that number before… his lips dried instantly, and the cigarette nearly fell from his mouth.
Kafka.
His hand trembled, then pressed the cigarette deep to his face, as if he was afraid that he didn't have enough strength in his teeth to hold onto it. How the hell was she calling him? How did she even know his number? Genya swallowed and inhaled, ordering himself to calm down. Panicking wouldn't do him any good.
"Hey, is it okay if I step out for a minute?" Genya called out to the demon slayer sitting at the corner. He made his voice as flat as possible. "I've got an important call."
Glancing impassively at him, the girl made an 'ok' sign. Genya nodded and stood up. Letting the rifle slide around his back, he walked across the clearing towards the trash piles. Making sure he was far enough from the site, the demon slayer stopped behind an overturned gurney. He stared at the vibrating watch. He wanted to throw up.
Genya inhaled deeply and tapped the watch.
The dial tone resonated in his ear. A gun cocked, and the cold barrel pressed into the back of his head.
"Oh my."
There was a high-pitched, quiet giggle. Genya's eyes slid to the side, and he caught glimpses of a plump, oily face and glasses.
"Caught you first, didn't I? But please, no sudden movements."
The demon slayer licked his lips, thinking frantically. So, the call was a hoax, composed by someone who was probably one of the traffickers that got away; however, that didn't explain how this man got his phone number.
Jerking his shoulder, Genya allowed the rifle to slip slowly down his arm. When the weapon landed with a small squash on the toxic soil, he carefully raised his hands.
"Who are you?"
The gun rocked back and forth on the back of his head which Genya read as permittance to move. Shuffling his feet carefully, the demon slayer turned around.
A stout man in a business shirt and trousers stood a little away from him. A gray, inquisitive gaze glimmered at him from behind the gas mask.
"Let me introduce myself." The trafficker placed his plump hand onto his chest. "We definitely saw each other when you found your way into our lovely building, but you may not remember me. Subaru-kun."
Genya eyed the gun in his hand. Despite the soft appearance, the grip on the weapon was very strong; he wouldn't be able to kick it out.
The demon slayer transferred his eyes to the man.
"And?"
"Oh, you're so to the point, I love it!" The trafficker cooed, flapping his free hand around, and despite the situation, Genya felt a nudge of irritation. This Subaru-kun's mannerisms were annoying.
"Cut to the chase."
The gun was shoved into his forehead, and Genya stumbled back. Subaru gave a long, sly grin.
"Ata-ta-ta-ta," he enunciated. "Not so rude, Genya-kun. Don't worry, I'm getting there." The trafficker squinted funnily, wiggling his eyebrows, and his tone became business-like.
"See, Genya-kun, I caught some demons during the time my poor boss and colleagues were arrested. And I don't want my efforts to go to waste. So I thought and thought and…"
"You want me to help you smuggle demons?" Genya interrupted, having a hard time wrapping his head around the organizer's words. Subaru sighed theatrically, and the gun swayed up and down.
"I would've done it myself, but the HQ is surrounded by demon slayers. I wrecked my head over and over again, but I don't see any other options than to use an intermediary. So, Genya-kun, how about…"
"Fuck off," Genya spat, and the gun flexed instantly towards his nose. The demon slayer ignored it and glared at the spooked trafficker. "You'd think I rat out my own people?"
"I do it all the time," Subaru sang helpfully, and Genya grimaced.
"Shut up. All this charade with the call and the gun just to ask me to help you with some small-time swing?"
"C'mon, that was so cool," the organizer pouted. "I never get to do things like these. And the gun is just a precaution, you demon slayers are wayyy too sensitive."
"Oh yeah?" Genya smirked caustically and lowered his hands. Now that it was evident that all of this was just a spoof, there was no more need to act like an idiot. "Well, you failed, congratulations."
He bent down to pick up the rifle when he heard the condescending, pitying voice over his head.
"Does Sanemi-san know about you eating demons?"
Genya lifted up abruptly and saw how the gas mask clouded from the laughter.
"Genya-kun, Genya-kun, Genya-kun…" the small fog cleared on the surface, and Genya saw beaming white teeth. "Did you think I was gonna ask for a favor without having some sort of blackmail on you?"
Subaru lowered the gun and walked past the demon slayer. His hand landed on the young man's shoulder.
"Think about it, m'kay? But just saying, I won't stay quiet."
The hand released his shoulder. Genya whirled around, but it was as if the trafficker vanished into thin air.
The demon slayer stared at the ground, sensing how the rifle weighed down onto his hand. The nausea, having left momentarily, slowly filled his mouth. That woman betrayed him, after all.
"Hey, Shinazugawa?" A demon slayer girl glanced from behind the trash piles. "Everything okay? You were gone for quite a while."
Genya jolted, but shook his head. His heart beat wildly in his chest.
"Yeah. Sorry, I'm coming."
Hidden among the crates, the plump man watched the two demon slayers head back to the clearing. A slow, menacing smile spread across his lips.
A/N: A Sanemi-Shinobu-Genya centric chapter for today. Not much to comment on this one, so I hope you've enjoyed it as we're slowly getting into the swing of things. It still feels a little unusual to update after such a long break.
Mitsuri-Kyojuro-Obanai in the next chapter :)
Feel free to leave any kudos, comments, or bookmarks. Thank you so much for reading and see you next week! All the best!