The dark blue old Toyota Crown rolled slowly along the nighttime dirt road in Saitama Prefecture. The headlights cut through only the tree trunks and thick undergrowth. Inside the car hung a heavy, sweet-metallic stench a mix of cheap whiskey, cigarettes, and fresh blood.
The driver, a sturdy man in his forties, smirked as he glanced in the rearview mirror.
"She's still twitching. I thought she'd already died after we broke her fingers."
A low chuckle came from the back seat.
"Tough bitch. When we twisted her knee, she only howled but didn't pass out. She'll last another couple of hours in the trunk. The main thing is to deliver her alive to the spot. Dead bodies are heavier to drag."
The third man, the youngest, grinned and turned on his phone's flashlight, aiming the beam toward the trunk.
"The photos turned out great. When we sliced the skin on her thigh the blood flowed beautifully. Too bad she can barely scream anymore. She tore her voice raw."
From the trunk came a faint, wet scratching. Broken, bleeding fingernails scraped against the metal. Sometimes a hoarse, weak sob. No one paid attention. The car turned deeper into the forest.
At the same time, in a completely different part of Tokyo, a green dot blinked in the Class 3-B group chat.
Genzo:
Renji, you saw? A new girl is transferring to our class tomorrow. Arisa from Osaka. The photo in the group looks decent.
Renji:
Saw it. Cute face, decent figure. Should we approach her after class and introduce ourselves?
Genzo:
Definitely. After school, let's hit the market. Mangoes are cheap right now. Then we can wander through the small coffee shops in the back alleys. I know a place with decent coffee. And also… we both need money. Let's get jobs as loaders at the warehouse in Kawasaki. 1,800 yen per hour, cash, no questions asked.
Renji:
Loaders? We're not cut out for that.
Genzo:
You want to keep living off your parents forever? In one day we can easily make fifteen thousand. Then there'll be enough for beer and everything else.
Renji:
Fine, you convinced me. But if I throw out my back it's your fault.
Genzo:
Deal.
Night. See you at 7:30 by the gate tomorrow.
Genzo turned off his phone and slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. The night was warm, almost sticky. He walked along a narrow residential street where streetlights flickered every other one. Cicadas chirped loudly; somewhere in the distance, night birds sang. Ahead of him, two high school girls in short skirts laughed and whispered to each other.
Genzo reached into the bag, took out a handful of seeds, and began cracking them one by one. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The shells fell onto the asphalt.
A fresh flyer was pasted on a pole ahead.
He stopped.
[Missing Person]
[Part of the body has been found]
A human body is being sought.
Below was a clear photograph. A severed female hand lay on wet grass inside a transparent bag. The skin was pale, almost waxy. The nails were neatly painted with light polish, but at the wrist a deep, uneven cut. White bone was visible, along with torn tendons and dark, dried blood around the edges. Date of discovery three days ago.
Under the photo, small text read:
"Anyone with any information is requested to contact the National Japanese Detective Organization immediately.
Phone: 0120-XXX-XXX
Reward 500,000 yen."
Genzo stood motionless. A seed cracked especially loudly between his teeth. He tilted his head, carefully studying the cut. The edges were jagged in one place and almost clean in another as if they had first sawed with a dull knife and then tried to rip it off.
"Hm…" he breathed quietly, not looking away.
The girls ahead continued laughing. One of them glanced back, but Genzo didn't even look in their direction.
He spat the shell onto the ground, shoved his hands into his pockets, and kept walking. The flyer stayed behind, glowing faintly under the dim streetlight.
Several kilometers away, the old Toyota Crown stopped in a clearing. The engine died. The three men got out and opened the trunk.
The girl inside was still alive. Her eyes were wide open, pupils dilated with shock. Her arms and legs were tied with thick rope, a gag made from her own bloodied clothes stuffed in her mouth. On her thigh was a long, shallow cut from which blood slowly oozed. The fingers on her left hand were twisted at unnatural angles.
One of the men leaned down and ran a finger across her cheek.
"Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon. We'll just… play a little more."
At that moment, Genzo had already turned the corner. The seeds were finished. He crumpled the empty bag and tossed it into the nearest trash can. The car has already arrived at the place.