Midoriko sat quietly at the dinner table with her father and Akira. She had no appetite for the beautiful sashimi platter in front of her. All she could think of was what she'd done in order to save Ryouma.
Her father brought a woman in—a female sorcerer, apparently—who took Midoriko's clothes and adopted her appearance. Midoriko fed her some lines to say to Ryouma that she hoped would push him away. His love for her had become a burden, and she wanted him to be free of it.
Midoriko was also glad she never told him she loved him. It made it easier for her to swallow her feelings and move on. She could convince herself it was just a fling, that it meant nothing. Wasn't it normal for someone her age to have at least one no-strings-attached relationship?
"Midoriko… Midoriko, listen up!" Her father called out her name, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"Huh? Yes?"
"Here I am serving you good sashimi and expensive sake, yet you haven't tried any of it. Is there something wrong?" he asked, staring her down. "Or could it be that you can't have any of it?"
Akira looked between the two of them as Midoriko turned a deep shade of red. This was the game Shishiba played—sussing out information from minor details in a person's words or actions. He was a teetotaler, but serving sake alongside sashimi was a deliberate choice on his part.
"Th-that's not it at all! I…I'm just not hungry!" she stammered.
"Is that so?" He put some slices of otoro in front of Midoriko. "This is high quality. Don't let it go to waste."
Midoriko bit her lip as she looked down at the tuna. Then, she picked up her chopsticks and slowly brought a piece to her mouth. She maintained eye contact with her father while she chewed.
The tuna was good. It was really good. The way it melted in her mouth felt almost too decadent for what she deserved. She washed it down with a cup of warm sake.
"Eat more," Shishiba encouraged, putting more choice cuts on her plate. "I want to celebrate."
"Celebrate what?" she asked, forcing a piece of bright red maguro into her mouth.
"Oh? Kuroiwa hasn't said anything yet?" A cruel smile formed on her father's lips. "You're going to marry him."
Midoriko choked down the fish in her mouth and set down her chopsticks. In her lap, she balled up her hands into fists, gripping at the fabric of the dress she was wearing.
Akira watched her reactions with bated breath. He'd been waiting for this bomb to drop. Dreading it, even.
"I see…" she said, trying to hide the unease in her voice. "When?"
"As soon as the municipal offices open, of course."
Midoriko just stared into her lap, her misery palpable. It was shocking to Akira, too—he hadn't expected Shishiba to work that fast. He took a swig of the sake and ate more sashimi, hoping that if he filled his mouth, he might be excluded from the conversation.
"Why him?" she asked quietly.
"Your mother was a neutralizer. You're a neutralizer. Kuroiwa is one too." Shishiba put down his chopsticks and picked up his cup of tea. "You're smart. I think you can figure out why you two will make a great pair."
Akira coughed as some food went down the wrong hole. Having the subject of his earlier conversation with Shishiba sitting right next to him suddenly made it all much more uncomfortable. He could feel her glaring at him, but avoided her eyes.
"I prefer when someone says what they mean," she said firmly. "Spell it out for me."
"Two neutralizers will…make another… Probably," Akira mumbled.
Midoriko slammed her palms on the table and stood up fast enough to knock her chair to the floor. Her father continued to calmly sip tea while she stormed off.
Suddenly, Akira wasn't hungry anymore.
***
Ryouma patted down the body of the man he ran into in the hallway until he found a pack of menthols in his pockets. When he was captured, they'd taken away everything he had on himself—which was, thankfully, just his flip phone and cigarettes. But unfortunately, they took his cigarettes, and at that moment, he really, really wanted to smoke.
After he caught up to the guy, he beat him senseless before he could call for backup. Ryouma didn't particularly like using his fists, but would readily admit it was a great way to blow off some steam.
He lit a cigarette with his thumb and took a long drag. Ryouma immediately gagged. Having switched from tobacco cigarettes to his special herbal-opium blend about six years prior, he wasn't used to the flavor anymore. The menthol somehow made it worse. Ryouma sighed and took another drag off the disgusting thing before putting it out on the clothes of the man he stole it from.
This sucks…
He didn't even know where he was or how to get out. Behind him was a maintenance hallway that led to who knows where. Ahead of him were double doors leading to somewhere with a lot of people, judging by the muffled voices and music he heard coming from the other side.
Ryouma peered into the open cell he saw. It was just like the one he'd escaped from, but a complete mess with remnants of food splattered across the floor—like someone in there had put up a fight. Something under the cot, partially obscured by a blanket, caught his eye.
Crouching to pick it up, Ryouma realized it was Itoko's jade magatama. The string to keep it around her neck had snapped. He clenched it in his fist. When did she lose it? Was this why he lost contact with her?
"Xiǎomíng," he said, speaking into the beads around his wrist. As long as Xiǎomíng still had his, this was Ryouma's last lifeline. After a moment, he called out to him again. "Xiǎomíng, can you hear me?"
"M-Master…?! What happened to you?!"
"Oh, this and that…" Ryouma peered down the hallway once more as he left the cell, heading toward the double doors. "I think I found where they were keeping Itoko."
"You what…? Master, where are you right now?"
Ryouma pushed the doors open. The cool, fluorescent light of the quiet maintenance hallway gave way to warm, dim lamplight as he stepped onto the loud casino floor. Haze from cigarette smoke filled the air.
"I'm at a gambling den, apparently," he murmured into the beads.
"Y-you're there…?!"
All eyes were on Ryouma. He was still wearing the housekeeper's uniform and spattered with someone else's blood. Everyone in that illegal casino, civilian or not, could tell he wasn't supposed to be there.
On the far side of the room was an exit—probably the exit. There were a lot of people in there, and he wouldn't be able to hold them under his spell for long.
He took a deep breath, then shouted out his command. "Don't move!"
About half of the people in the room froze in place. The other half couldn't hear him over the music. Ryouma clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Xiǎomíng, where the hell are you right now?" barked Ryouma into the beads. He bolted for the exit. It was important that he get out of there immediately. Panicked civilians not under his spell also apparently had the same idea as they all crowded the exit door.
"Master, I'm at the house with Itoko! But–"
"With Itoko…?"
So they were able to rescue her after all? Ryouma hesitated, looking back at the double doors he'd just run from. He could knock on those doors and go home, but what about what that woman said to him?
"And Midoriko? Is she with you?" he asked, doubling back.
"We were only able to escape because she stayed back…" Xiǎomíng said bitterly. "I'm sorry…"
"No, you did the right thing." The people who were frozen a moment ago were now breaking free from his spell. The ones that weren't running were his enemies. "I'll handle everything from here! Just tell me where she is!"
"I was able to track the phone to the hotel. But, Master–"
"The hotel?! Then why didn't you go back there?!" Ryouma shouted into the beads.
"Because I couldn't get the damn door to work that way!" snapped Xiǎomíng. "But, Master! Listen! It's about Itoko! Her c–"
Xiǎomíng's voice was abruptly cut off as one of Shishiba's men yanked the beads from his wrist, sending them flying everywhere.
"Damn it!" Ryouma grunted, knocking the man who did it to the floor. "Stay!"
"Don't let him get away!" shouted the man, stuck in place as Ryouma stepped over him.
Card tables suddenly flew across the room, piling up in front of the double doors to block Ryouma's way. Now the dealers and waitresses joined the screaming mob trying to escape.
A chair flew at Ryouma, just barely missing his head as he ducked. He whipped his head around to find that tacky-shirt-wearing, piece-of-shit sorcerer who trashed his apartment, covering his ears.
"You fucker…" Ryouma mumbled. With a snap of his fingers, he cut off the music and lights in one fell swoop. The casino was plunged into darkness, save for the light spilling in from the open exit.
Ryouma used the chaos of the situation to duck behind the bar. Screams from the last few stragglers pushing their way out were mixed in with shouts from Shishiba's men.
"Get the power back on!"
"Everyone! Cover your damn ears!"
Crouched behind the bar, Ryouma prepared to utter a command when he felt something hit his right shoulder with force. He turned around to find himself face to face with the bartender. Ryouma whispered 'Silence' before the man could shout for the others.
If it weren't for the warm blood dripping down his back, he might not have noticed he'd been stuck with something. Ryouma reached over his shoulder and yanked out an ice pick.
"If I could feel anything in that spot, this would have really hurt," he whispered into the bartender's ear before driving the ice pick through the man's hand. The bartender, still silenced under Ryouma's spell, let out an inaudible scream.
There was a loud crashing of furniture followed by, "Goto! Move this shit so I can get to electrical!"
"All of you fuckers are useless!" groaned a different man. He clapped his hands, and the power returned.
With everything back on, the music blasted again. Ryouma noticed the stereo tucked behind the bar on a shelf, just above where the bartender was silently writhing in pain. He placed a hand on it, willing an electrical surge through the device. The speakers crackled as the sound died out.
"Shit! He's still here!" came a panicked voice.
"Don't move!" Ryouma commanded with a shout loud enough to hurt his throat. He hopped to his feet, about to make for the exit, when he noticed all but one of the men was still moving.
That tacky bastard Goto had put on earbuds.