Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 53: Japan Branch (1)

Dragon Raja 3

A size 45 foot stomped down hard on Oyama Ryuzo’s neck, pressing his head into the sand. He could hear the cartilage between his vertebrae creaking, leaving only the hard bone struggling to protect the fragile blood vessels and nerves.

“Damn it, why did I wear these handmade Ferragamo shoes to do such a dirty job? If blood splatters on them, will it leave stains?” The man complained loudly as he stepped down, “These are top-quality crocodile leather!”

“Stop fussing like a woman over your shoes and get on with it! The young master is running out of patience!” Another man came over, carrying a plastic bucket full of water. “Shove his head into the bucket. Three minutes for the first time, and add a minute each time until he confesses!”

“We might as well tie him up, do your fancy sailor knot, and watch him struggle for air, kicking his legs desperately,” said the first man.

“Just hurry up. All we care about is the time; we’re not sadistic perverts here to enjoy torturing people,” the second man said, pouring the bucket of water over Oyama Ryuzo’s head.

The wet sand blocked Oyama’s mouth and nose, leaving him unable to breathe. The metallic taste filled his throat as the ruptured alveoli began to bleed. Oyama desperately wanted to say something, but these two men didn’t give him a chance. He felt like he was losing his mind—were these two really trying to extract a confession from him, or were they just enjoying the torture? Don’t they know that interrogation requires letting the person speak?

Oyama Ryuzo was an unlucky surgeon. He graduated from a prestigious medical school and used to work at a large hospital, but now he could only help out in a private clinic run by friends. His income was low, and he had to live in an old apartment building with neighbors who were mostly low-ranking office workers who had come to Tokyo for work.

A man like him, unsuccessful in his career and cautious in personality, shouldn’t have attracted any trouble. Yet tonight, heavy footsteps shook the entire apartment building, followed by the blast of a shotgun. The reinforced security door to his apartment was kicked open. Two men in black suits rushed in, grabbed his leg, dragged him out of the hallway, and threw him into their car. Oyama didn’t even have time to call for help; the moment they pulled him out of bed, they punched him in the stomach, targeting his nerve center so accurately that he couldn’t even make a sound. All the apartment’s doors and windows were tightly shut; nobody dared call the police. The black suits of the men flapped in the wind, revealing linings embroidered with blue demons and nude ghost women, as vivid as Ukiyo-e paintings. The residents immediately understood—they were Yakuza, and everyone assumed that Dr. Oyama had borrowed money from loan sharks.

“Yasha, stop. Let him lift his head; he needs to at least see me,” someone said.

“Hai.” The burly man in crocodile leather shoes answered with a bow, pulling Oyama Ryuzo up from the pit.

“Crow, wash his face,” the voice continued.

The pale, cold-looking man with glasses took the remaining water from the bucket and splashed it onto Oyama’s face, wiping off the sand a few times.

Oyama Ryuzo finally opened his eyes to see his surroundings. They were at a construction site near the ocean, with a long concrete pier stretching out ahead. Under the night sky, the sea was at high tide, black waves crashing against the jagged tide wall and leaving foamy traces. Far off, he could see the bright lights of Tokyo. Oyama roughly knew where he was—probably somewhere along Tokyo’s remote coast, where there were few people late at night. Even if he screamed, it would be useless.

A black Hummer was parked at the pier’s end, and a young man in a black coat sat on the bumper, watching the sea. The sea breeze ruffled his hair. He was smoking, the cigarette’s glow flickering and revealing his narrow eyes. This man’s demeanor was completely different from that of Yasha and Crow. Handsome with a hint of softness, his fair skin had a marble-like quality. His brows were strong, and the long black coat he wore was also exquisite. He gave off the air of a young university lecturer. He hadn’t participated in Oyama’s abduction; it seemed he was in charge.

The man crushed the cigarette under his shoe and slowly walked over along the pier until he stood before Oyama Ryuzo. “Dr. Oyama Ryuzo, do you know why we came for you today?”

“Who are you? What do you want? I… I don’t have money, and I’ve never borrowed from loan sharks. I don’t have enemies, you must have the wrong person! Please, let me go!” Oyama stammered desperately.

“Oyama Ryuzo, graduated from Waseda University Medical School, worked in the genetic department of Tokyo University Medical School for six years, then got expelled for molesting female patients and illegally taking genetic samples for research. After that, you worked in underground clinics performing illegal abortions, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy you. After inducing abortions, you drugged the women and raped them while they were unconscious. That’s your twisted little hobby. You’re rich; you produce drugs in your private clinic, and you sell human organs. Your Mitsubishi Bank account has ninety-six million yen, with fifty million deposited thirteen weeks ago.” The man read off a document before tossing it in front of Oyama Ryuzo. “You’d better cooperate with us. People like you don’t deserve any leniency.”

The more Oyama Ryuzo heard, the more frightened he became. When the man stated his bank balance, Oyama knew these weren’t unprepared thugs—they weren’t easy to deal with.

“You know this much about me? Even my bank balance? You want money? Just name your price. Don’t go too far; I have some influential friends too. If we all get hurt, it won’t end well for anyone!” Oyama raised his head, discarding his pitiful facade. “How about a cigarette before we talk business?”

This was an offensive defense. Oyama wasn’t as scared as he appeared. He knew what he had done. A man living in this world would always make enemies, but as long as he could use money to resolve things, it would be fine. He was considering how much would satisfy these three mysterious men. Would ten million be enough? Maybe he could start at five million?

“You should get your teeth fixed.” The man grabbed Oyama’s head, forcing him to lift it up. Crow handed the man a long, sheathed blade. The man rammed the hilt into Oyama’s mouth and twisted it forcefully.

Oyama Ryuzo heard the sound of his teeth breaking, the sharp pain exploding in his mouth like a bomb, causing his stomach to spasm and spew out mouthfuls of stomach acid.

The man threw Oyama to the ground. “I said before, there’s no need for us to be polite to someone like you. Drugging pregnant women, making drugs, trafficking organs—if you’ve lived this long, it’s either because God is dead or He has been asleep too long.”

“What does messing with women and selling organs have to do with you guys? You’re not even the damn police! Just tell me what you want, and I’ve already told you—push me too far, and we’ll all go down together!” Oyama rolled on the ground in pain, his face twisted like that of a demon.

“I’m certainly not the police. The police would treat you with humanity, but we have no intention of treating you as a human.” The man in the coat pulled out a badge from his pocket and flashed it in front of Oyama’s eyes. The badge bore a golden emblem of a half-decayed World Tree.

Series Navigation

<< Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 52: Black Sea and White Moon (4)Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 54: Japan Branch (2) >>