CHAPTER 16: BAKU'S BAD LUCK
Night fell over the streets of Shinjuku.
The crowds wandering the sidewalks were a chaotic mosaic of Tokyo life: Yakuza enforcers, street thugs, drifters, salarymen entertaining their bosses, and wealthy playboys looking for a thrill.
Demons roam the alleys, and demons love to cluster where the bones are.
Usually, these "demons" walk alone. But occasionally, they form a pack.
Like right now.
Ren Shiroki, Shigeru Akagi, Q-Taro, Madarame Baku, and the "sidekick" trailing behind Baku... Takaomi Kaji.
The five of them walked down the street, chatting and laughing as they left the neon glare of Shinjuku behind for the quieter, darker side-streets. The atmosphere between them was unnervingly good—so good that the black-haired youth, Kaji, felt a cold sweat prickling his spine.
They didn't look like strangers who had just met in a casino. They looked like old classmates. Or coworkers at the same firm.
It was... wrong. Completely unnatural.
Kaji could feel the abnormality of it, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly why.
Kaji had met Baku—the "Lie Eater"—just a few days ago. Back then, Kaji was just a depressed, unemployed loser. Baku had helped him scare off a group of predatory loan sharks using nothing but psychological warfare, and in return, Kaji had started following him, hoping to learn how to turn his pathetic life around.
But today, Baku was acting strange. He hadn't touched a roulette wheel or a poker table. He seemed to be waiting.
When that old man, Q-Taro, had approached the two silver-haired men, Baku had pounced. He had faked being drunk, desperately trying to force his way into the game.
Kaji had heard the old man owned something called the "Kujo Building." He figured the guy must be loaded.
"Oi, Kaji-kun! Look at this guy!"
Baku pointed at Ren Shiroki, grinning widely. "He's built like a tank! He looks like Kenshiro from Fist of the North Star. Hey, big guy, do you know the Hokuto Shinken? Are you going to poke my pressure points? Ha!"
"Haha... please excuse him," Kaji muttered, rubbing his temples.
Ren didn't mind. He had already seen through Baku's act. The "Lie Eater" was putting on a performance for their host, Q-Taro.
Q-Taro, for his part, was basking in the joy of a successful "hunt." He had no idea he was walking with a pack of wolves.
The only other person who seemed to see the truth was the man quietly smoking a cigarette—Akagi.
"Heh... the breeze is quite nice tonight," Akagi murmured.
Baku leaned slightly against Ren's shoulder, his eyes sharpening as he stole a glance at the silver-haired older man.
The look, the presence... there was no mistake. This was the legendary "Man of the Divine Realm" who had conquered the underground Mahjong scene.
As a gambler, Baku had heard the legends, but since he rarely played Mahjong, their paths had never crossed.
"I finally get to meet a 'Living Legend.' Should I call this good luck or bad luck?"
Baku licked his lips, already knowing the answer.
"Same as always. It's 'Not Great.'"
His goal tonight was Q-Taro—specifically, the "authority" Q-Taro possessed. He didn't want any outside variables.
Kaji was a variable he had introduced himself; that was fine.
Ren Shiroki was a mystery, but the guy had a "clean" aura that was easy to deal with.
But Shigeru Akagi? He felt "Pure."
Pure to the point of being formless. A vacuum that could swallow everything. That kind of person was a nightmare to manage in a gamble.
"Oji-san?"
Baku turned back to Akagi, using his sloppy, drunken tone. "You look like you've got some money. This little brother here is having a rough month. Why don't you let me take the lead on this match? Be a pal!"
Akagi glanced at Baku and gave a weary smile. "To use your own words... 'You're lying,' aren't you?"
Baku's eye twitched. His stubborn pride flared up for a second. He pouted playfully. "Whatever. My luck is god-tier tonight. Don't come crying to me when I bankrupt you!"
Q-Taro, worried his prey might fight amongst themselves and run away, quickly played the peacemaker. "Now, now! We're all enthusiasts of the gamble. Let's just enjoy the game together..."
Kaji watched this all with growing confusion. But the person who seemed the most relaxed—almost bizarrely so—was the massive Ren Shiroki.
Ren was on the phone.
He had pulled out a business card and dialed a number. Someone picked up almost instantly.
"Hey. It's me... No, I'm not ready for the 'Seeds' yet. I'm calling about a job."
{...}
"You're very professional. I'll leave the details to you."
{...}
"No, let's stick to the standard rates. Giving away a 'Seed' just like that feels a bit reckless."
{...}
The entire conversation was a string of cryptic nonsense that made the other four people eavesdropping on him look over in curiosity.
Baku couldn't help himself. "Ren-chin, who was that?"
"A relative of a friend of my sister's," Ren said honestly. "She's looking for work, and an opportunity just fell into my lap, so I gave her a referral."
"Ohhh!" Baku looked impressed, though he clearly didn't understand. He nudged Ren with an elbow. "It's a tough job market out there. You're a good guy, Ren-chin!"
Ren just gave a hollow laugh. He was thinking about the "Seed" comment—referencing the Kure Clan's obsession with high-quality genetic material. He had basically told Fusui Kure that if she did a "cleanup" job for him, he'd pay her cash instead of... well, whatever her family usually wanted from strong fighters.
Half an hour later, the group arrived at their destination.
The Kujo Building.
It was a derelict luxury tower in a quiet corner of Shinjuku. It had been abandoned for years; no tenants, no businesses. It had eight floors. Q-Taro's personal office was on the fifth.
They rode the elevator up. During the ride, Q-Taro suggested the game.
"I originally wanted to play poker—it's my favorite," the old man said with a kind smile. "But since we have such a large group, why don't we start with a few rounds of Mahjong?"
Ren, Baku, and Akagi all knew Q-Taro didn't care about Mahjong. This was just the "appetizer" before the real trap was sprung. None of them objected.
Only Kaji smiled and scratched his head. "Ah, thank you for being so accommodating, sir! We really appreciate the invite."
Kujo Building. 5th Floor. Office.
Q-Taro, Ren, Akagi, and Baku sat at the four corners of a professional Mahjong table. Kaji, having lost a quick round of Rock-Paper-Scissors to Ren, was relegated to a spectator.
After a few rounds, the hierarchy was clear.
Akagi was in first place. His lead was absolute; he was playing the tiles like he could see through the backs of them.
Ren was in second. He was a novice, but his "Beginner's Luck" and basic intuition were keeping him afloat.
Q-Taro was third, holding a steady but unremarkable amount of chips.
Baku was dead last. His luck was atrocious. He was down to his last few coins.
"Ron. Riichi, Tanyao, Pinfu. 3,900 points."
Akagi caught Baku on another discard and pushed his hand over.
Baku's face was stiff. He leaned back and sighed. "Man... my luck really is the worst today."
"Ah. It truly is," Akagi agreed, blowing a cloud of smoke. "If we're just comparing luck, you're incredibly weak, Baku-kun."
The subtext was clear: If you stop relying on luck and start "eating lies," the game might actually get interesting.
Baku didn't take the bait.
Q-Taro, despite losing money to Akagi, was beaming. He even "generously" lent Baku some extra chips so the game could continue.
"Ka—hahaha! Lost again, have you?"
"You boys are truly something! It was worth bringing you all back to my building!"
"Gambling without a house edge is so much fun, isn't it?"
"Come on, come on... let's keep it going!"
Watching from the sidelines, Kaji felt a sense of boredom. Even if Baku won, the stakes were tiny. This Mahjong game was a drop in the ocean. It felt pointless.
He wasn't the only one. Baku began to yawn. Akagi's eyes were half-closed, looking like he was about to doze off. Ren was bored enough that he started twirling a Mahjong tile between his fingers like a coin.
Seeing the "moment" had arrived, Q-Taro finally bared his fangs.
"I see you boys are losing interest..."
"How about it? Do you want to play for real stakes?"
Before anyone could answer, Q-Taro reached under the table and pulled out several thick stacks of 10,000-yen bills, slamming them onto the center of the Mahjong table.
"Ten million yen!"
Q-Taro's smile twisted, his kindly old man facade melting into a predatory leer.
"There is ten million yen on the table. Do you want to gamble for it? The bet is simple..."
"I bet you won't be able to leave this building alive."