Chapter 9: Back to Home Goal
The elevator to the executive suite of the Seaside Paradise Tokyo Resort smelled of cheap cologne and expensive fear.
Renji Kurosaki stood in the center of the car, flanked by four militants holding assault rifles. They were sweating and the air conditioning was functioning perfectly, yet the men were perspiring as if they were standing next to a blast furnace. They refused to look at him directly, their eyes fixed on the floor numbers ticking upward.
Renji adjusted the cuff of his navy jacket and He hadn't surrendered his weapons because he didn't carry any. He hadn't surrendered his clothes because he refused to wear the mandated swimwear.
"Rule Number One," the guard on his left stammered, trying to sound authoritative but failing miserably. "You must wear a swimsuit. A weapon cannot be hidden in a swimsuit."
Renji glanced at the man. The guard flinched.
"I am the weapon," Renji said, his voice a bored drawl. "If I wanted to kill you, I could do it with a swimsuit, a spoon, or a stern look. My clothes are non-negotiable."
The elevator chimed. The doors slid open.
The Executive Suite was a sprawling, opulent room filled with the scent of alcohol and perfume. At the far end, lounging on a velvet throne like a discount Roman emperor, was the Hatter. Takeru Danma.
Surrounding him were the executives. The power players.
Aguni Morizono stood by the window, a silent monolith of violence.
Suguru Niragi sat on a sofa, polishing a sniper rifle, a cruel grin plastered on his pierced face.
Mira Kano, the elegant woman Renji knew was the Queen of Hearts, sipped tea, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Ann Rizuna, the forensic scientist, adjusted her glasses, analyzing Renji as he walked in.
Renji stepped onto the plush carpet. He didn't bow. He didn't stop at the designated "guest" mark. He walked straight to the center of the room, hands in his pockets, radiating an aura that sucked the oxygen out of the space.
"Welcome, hero!" Hatter threw his arms wide, his charismatic smile in full force. "The man who cleared a Seven of Hearts solo! The Ghost of Shibuya! Zero, was it?"
"Renji," he corrected, stopping ten feet from the throne. "But Zero works if you prefer binary."
"Renji-kun!" Hatter laughed. "I like you! You have style! Most people come here begging for water or protection. You come here driving a Koenigsegg through my front gate."
"I like to make an entrance," Renji said, looking around the room. His eyes were the Six Eyes which were dissecting everyone.
Aguni: Muscle tension high —Threat level: High. Loyalty to Hatter: Broken.
Niragi: Psychopathy evident — Trigger discipline: Poor. Threat level: Low.
Mira: Heart rate steady. Dopamine levels: Elevated. She's enjoying the show.
"So," Hatter leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "You have cards and the most Valuable cards, A Seven of Hearts, A Five of Spades...We collect cards here, Renji. We have a goal that is to collect them all and send one person home."
"A pyramid scheme," Renji said dryly "How original."
The room went silent. The executives stiffened as insulting the Hatter's ideology was a death sentence.
Niragi stood up, leveling his rifle at Renji's head.
"Watch your mouth, new guy," Niragi hissed, his tongue flicking over his lip ring. "Boss, let me put a hole in him. He's too pretty. I hate pretty things."
Renji turned his head slowly to look at Niragi. He didn't raise his hands. He didn't dodge. He just looked at the barrel of the gun, then at Niragi's eyes.
"Put it down," Renji said.
"Hah?" Niragi cocked the weapon. "Make me."
Renji sighed. It was the sigh of a teacher dealing with a unruly toddler.
"Distance: four meters," Renji analyzed aloud. "Rifle caliber: 7.62mm. Muzzle velocity: 850 m/s. Your reaction time: 0.25 seconds due to narcotics in your bloodstream."
"What the hell are you babbling about?" Niragi sneered.
Renji moved.
It wasn't movement; it was teleportation. One moment he was standing still, the next he was inside Niragi's personal space.
Renji's left hand swatted the barrel of the rifle upward.
Bang.
The bullet shattered a crystal chandelier above them, raining glass down on the executives.
Before Niragi could recover, Renji's right hand gripped the sniper's throat. He didn't squeeze; he just held him there. With effortless strength, Renji lifted Niragi off the ground.
The sniper kicked, gagging, clawing at Renji's arm. It was like clawing at a steel beam.
"You lack discipline," Renji whispered, his face inches from Niragi's panic-stricken eyes. "And you lack hygiene... You smell like desperation."
Renji threw him.
He didn't shove him; he launched him. Niragi flew across the room, crashing into the bar counter, smashing bottles of expensive liquor. He groaned and didn't get up.
Renji dusted off his hands. He turned back to Hatter.
"Now," Renji smiled, the Gojo Satoru charm back in full force. "Where were we? Ah, yes, The cards."
He reached into his pocket and tossed the two cards onto the coffee table. They landed perfectly face up.
"My entry fee," Renji said. "But I don't join as a grunt. I don't join as a militant."
Hatter stared at the cards, then at the unconscious Niragi, then at Renji. A manic delight filled his eyes. This was power. This was exactly what he needed to keep Aguni in check.
"Executive," Hatter declared, clapping his hands. "You are now Executive Number Six! Welcome to the inner circle, Renji!"
"I prefer 'Special Consultant'," Renji corrected. He walked over to an empty armchair—Niragi's chair—and sat down, crossing his legs. "And one more thing, Hatter."
"Yes?" Hatter asked, his smile faltering slightly under the pressure of Renji's gaze.
"I keep my clothes," Renji said, picking up a shard of glass from the table and inspecting it. "And if anyone points a gun at me again, I'll feed it to them."
Aguni watched him from the window. For the first time in a long time, the military leader felt a chill and The balance of power at the Beach hadn't just shifted.
It had been obliterated.
(To be Continued)