Smell of Blood(5)

"Fear is the glue that keeps you stuck. Faith is the solvent that sets you free." - Shannon L. Alder

"Stop hurting me... Please, I beg you!" Hiroki's plea echoed in the confined space as he continued his brutal assault on the owner, who sought refuge in the closet. "Ah, fine!" Hiroki reluctantly uttered, his bat arcing close to the ground, shedding most of its blood, a visceral scene.

"Now get up!" Hiroki's grip tightened on the owner's collar as he forcefully ushered him to the front of the restaurant. Upon finding Remi, he callously tossed the owner to the ground, the impact resounding with a harsh thud, which resulted in him coughing up blood.

"Look who we have here," Remi crouched down, pulling the owner's hair, "how would you feel about transferring ownership?" She said with a playful smile.

"I...would ne...never give it to you....bitch."

"I wonder how your son would feel about that. You know, we could always pay him a visit at Serin High School. So, wanna negotiate?"

The owner banged his fist on the ground and coughed, "one billion yen," he said, entirely serious.

Remi stood up and nodded to Hiroki before walking to join in on the fight that was coming to an end.

"Round three, ay?" Hiroki patted his bat and aimed it high, "you're going to want to clench your teeth, man!"

*******************************

The TOHO Cinema

Just a few minutes prior, Kyoki and Team Salmon arrived at their second target. Before leaving, he said who would be a part of which team. The upstairs team would have most of the forces and Ryo.

Currently, Kyoki and his small team were positioned outside the garage, waiting for just one car to come out. And eventually one did.

The garage creaked opened, and the small team quietly rushed in. The plan was the upstairs team would lure most away from underground, and once Kyoki's team was done downstairs, they'd flank by going up the stairs or through the elevators.

The fifteen men hid behind whichever cars they could. The scene was roughly sixty men, of which only a handful were loading up SUV's and other vehicles. The others were simply watching. "Whenever you say boss," Yuuto leaned up against a car, crouched next to Kyoki who replied, "alright. Go on out there."

Yuuto grinned and stood up.

"Hey, fellas!" He called out, his voice bouncing off the cold, concrete walls. "Mind if I join the party? I hear you guys are setting the trend – cash in cars, very avant-garde!"

The hounds turned, eyeing Yuuto with suspicion. One of them, a burly figure with a scar tracing across his cheek, approached, his trigger finger itching. Yuuto, undeterred, flashed a cocky grin.

"I was just thinking," Yuuto continued, his words a tapestry of wit and charm, "why settle for the same old schemes? Cash in cars? Been there, done that. How about we spice things up? Ever heard of cash in piñatas? Now, that's a party!"

The hounds exchanged puzzled glances, momentarily intrigued by the absurdity of Yuuto's proposition. He seized the opportunity to weave tales that bordered on the ludicrous, spinning yarns of improbable adventures, space-time anomalies, and the secret lives of pigeons.

The burly man opened his mouth, "and who the hell are y-"

"Did you know," Yuuto exclaimed, his hands gesturing dramatically, "that pigeons are the real overlords of the city? They control everything! I once saw one negotiate a peace treaty between two rival hot dog vendors. True story!"

As Yuuto spoke, the team maneuvered stealthily, positioning themselves for the impending confrontation. The hounds, captivated by the sheer audacity of Yuuto's storytelling, momentarily forgot their surroundings.

"You know," Yuuto mused, "I once talked my way out of a paper bag. It had a vendetta against me, but I convinced it that we were both better off without violence."

The hounds, now chuckling against their better judgment, began to lower their guard. It was the distraction Yuuto needed.

The underground garage erupted into a chaotic symphony of screeching tires, echoing shouts, and the rhythmic thud of fists meeting flesh. The team, shadows converging into a force of calculated chaos, clashed with the hounds who had, just moments ago, been ensnared in the web of Yuuto's storytelling.

Amidst the flickering light of swinging fists and the metallic echoes of struggle, Yuuto weaved through the melee with an agile grace. His movements were fluid, a dance that navigated the mayhem, each step strategic, each strike purposeful. The scent of gasoline hung thick in the air as the battle unfolded, a visceral clash between the defenders of the underground and those who sought to claim it.

The burly hound lunged at Yuuto, his movements fueled by a mix of frustration and newfound determination. Yuuto sidestepped the attack, his hand deftly reaching for a discarded tire iron. With a swift motion, he parried the incoming blows, countering with a series of precise strikes that left his opponent momentarily stunned.

Elsewhere in the dimly lit expanse, the team executed a synchronized assault. A slender figure, clad in a dark suit, seamlessly disarmed an adversary with a flurry of acrobatic kicks and punches. Another team member, wielding a makeshift weapon crafted from a broken tailpipe, held their ground against two opponents, turning the tide with every calculated swing.

The clang of metal against metal resonated as the conflict unfolded. The metallic gleam of pipes and the occasional flare of sparks created a surreal, almost cinematic tableau in the underground garage. Bodies moved in a chaotic dance, each member of the team working in unison.

And whilst this was happening, Kyoki stood by the elevator, lighting a cigarette. 

As the skirmish reached a fevered pitch, a worthless hound, battered and desperate, approached Kyoki. The man's eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and bravado as he stumbled toward the observer of the battle.

"You think you're gonna get away with this, Yamishin?" the man spat, his voice a hoarse challenge.

Kyoki's response was a low chuckle, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily around him. Without uttering a word, he calmly flicked the ash from his cigarette, a silent acknowledgment of the impending confrontation.

In an instant, Kyoki's demeanor shifted. The tranquil observer became a tempest of violence as he swiftly closed the distance between himself and the insolent hound. With a fluid motion, Kyoki disarmed the man of his weapon, a makeshift club fashioned from a broken exhaust pipe.

Firstly, he swung a powerful right, catching the hound in a flush. The man fell, rolling over like a cat, grasping for air. 

He got up quickly though, trying to grapple with Kyoki, who easily caught his arms. The man, frustrated, jerked up a stiff thumb, and went for Kyoki's eye, but Kyoki rolled his head away and swung a left to the wind, and then a driving right that ripped the man's ear, initiating a shower of blood.

Kyoki slowly walked up to him, landing two long swings on the man's head. His skull roared with pain and dizziness. Bracing himself, the man started to swing in a blind fury, both hands going with every ounce of power he could muster, depicting an aggressive onslaught and uncontrolled fury.

Kyoki sighed, "you bore me."

The man was bloody and battered now, yet he kept coming, his breath wheezing. Kyoki stabbed a left into his face, set himself, and whipped up a right uppercut to the body, followed by a finishing blow to the cheek.

The man fell again. But this time, he didn't get up.

"Why'd you take so long with him, boss?" A random member asked.

"You never know when you might meet a diamond in a rough." Kyoki pressed the button behind him, the ding of the elevator going off. After all, all men in the garage were either dead or knocked out.

Upstairs, on the level above the underground garage, Ryo found himself surrounded by a motley crew of hounds. The atmosphere crackled with tension as the confrontation escalated into a symphony of grunts, curses, and the occasional clatter of metal against bone.

Ryo, outnumbered but undeterred, felt the weight of the blade strapped to his side, which he was still holding onto since Yuuto handed it to him. The cold steel whispered promises of swift victory as he faced the encroaching men. With a fluid motion, he unsheathed the blade, its gleaming edge catching the dim light.

As the men begun to fight, Ryo's first enemy approached, emboldened by the chaos, lunged forward with a gun. In response, Ryo's blade danced through the air like a viper, meeting the attack with a single, devastating slash. The man crumpled to the ground, blood staining the cold concrete.

The dance of combat continued as Ryo seamlessly incorporated the blade into his movements. Each slash was a stroke of deadly artistry, a calculated termination of threat. The room echoed with the visceral sounds of steel meeting flesh as Ryo moved with a calculated ferocity.

Facing a duo of adversaries, Ryo unleashed a whirlwind of slashes that left no room for mercy. The blade became an extension of his will, severing the ties of opposition with ruthless efficiency. The men, their guns rendered useless, fell one by one as Ryo's blade painted a macabre masterpiece on the canvas of the underground garage.

The room fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the echoes of the fallen adversaries. Ryo, his blade stained with the consequences of decisive action, sheathed the weapon with a calm finality. The cold steel returned to its silent slumber at his side, leaving the underground garage in a haunting quietude.

As the eerie quiet settled in the aftermath of Ryo's swift and brutal resolution, the underground garage bore witness to a shifting dynamic. In the shadows, Yuuto, the silver-tongued maestro of diversion, and Kyoki, the enigmatic guardian of the underworld, emerged like phantoms from the darkness.

Yuuto, with a cocky grin, surveyed the fallen adversaries and nodded approvingly at Ryo's handiwork. "Impressive work, my friend. Looks like we've got some clean-up to do, eh?"

"Nah, just like the first target, we'll just leave it all. But it's weird you ask, because just a little while ago you were in a moral dilemma. You over that now?" Ryo jested. 

"You're the one who said to save it for later."

Interrupting them, Kyoki, his demeanor unfazed, surveyed the scene with an appraising gaze. His eyes flickered with a cold intensity as he gauged the remnants of the defeated bikers. A subtle nod to Ryo acknowledged the efficacy of his actions.

Suddenly, remnants of the defeated gang, disoriented and seeking vengeance, began to stir. Yuuto, with a wink, unleashed a barrage of taunts and distractions. The bikers, drawn to the charismatic provocateur, were momentarily ensnared in the verbal onslaught.

Seizing the opportunity, Kyoki and Ryo moved with a synchronized ferocity. Ryo's blade flashed, a whirlwind of calculated strikes that incapacitated the reemerging adversaries before they could regroup. The underground garage once again echoed with the sounds of swift and decisive victory.

"Looks like we didn't lose anyone." Yuuto said.

"Did you have any doubt that we would?" Ryo confidently replied.

"Enough," Kyoki groused, pointing to the elevator and continuing, "everybody get down there and take all the money you can."

"Yes sir!" The men responded in unison, as if they were in the military.