Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 60: Japan Branch (8)

Dragon Raja 3

Damn it, damn it, damn it! The evolution isn’t complete yet! If I lose control now, everything will be ruined! Damn stupid woman, stop talking! Everything you say tempts me, and I don’t have the willpower to answer your next question! Akira screamed weakly within himself. Hidden under the table, his hands were mutating—sharp bone spurs pierced the skin on his hands, his nails replaced by sharp blade-like claws, and small scales emerged from his skin… It was with hands like these that he had embraced naked women, snapping their spines… Akira reached out from under the table, unable to hold back any longer. He wanted to tear apart Maru’s school uniform and stockings, to savor her terrified screams.

“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, we won’t go to crowded places then. I’ll stay here with Senpai. Meow, meow.” Maru wiped the cold sweat off Akira’s forehead with her hand.

“Meow, meow… meow, meow…” Maru murmured softly, like her cat named Little Nian, gently entangling the human.

The blade-like claw stopped, just an inch away from Maru’s rounded knee. Akira’s eyes were filled with confusion. “Meow, meow… meow, meow…” Maru continued.

Indeed, each of her “meows” was different, with distinct intonations, rhythms, and inflections, as if she were speaking the language of the mountain spirits. Akira recalled Nami telling them about the Cat Shrine on Tashirojima, where mysterious cats roamed, sniffing each other in the candlelight, softly meowing. Every year, many people would take boats to see the shrine, but no one could understand the cats’ language. The shrine keepers said the cats there were gods, discussing the joys and sorrows of each visitor from their high perch. For those most in need of help and who were kind-hearted, the cats would sacrifice one of their nine lives to help them.

“Do you… want to help me?” Akira rasped, laughing, the sound harsh like a wail.

He was a beast drowning in dark desires, unable to regain his humanity even if all the temples in Japan rang their bells. But listening to Maru’s soft “meows,” it was as if his skull had been split open, and light poured in, dispelling the dark, violent desires filling his mind, leaving emptiness in his heart. He wanted to mock this prey’s foolishness—she thought he also had autism… Was he really that weak? He walked through the nighttime city, using his mesmerizing gaze to entrance heavily made-up women, and in his mutated, sharp claws, one white body after another had been torn apart. He was a conqueror! A raging king!

“Meow.” Maru said again.

With her limited intelligence, she probably didn’t hear the mockery in Akira’s laughter. She only thought that he was feeling better because he was laughing, so she smiled sweetly too, the little cat clip on her head gently swaying its furry tail.

Stop meowing, you stupid woman! Don’t think just because a cat cured your autism that there’s nothing in the world that can harm you! With your idiotic expression, even if you have a pretty face and attractive long legs, what’s the use? When you marry someone in the future, he’ll deceive you, go to nightclubs in Shinjuku, and spend his money on women at bars… And when you face a thug, you won’t even be alert—you might even pity him and meow at him, like today… Ogata Maru, you stupid girl, someday you’ll die! Because you’re a naive, late-blooming child, and the only one who could protect you—Little Nian, that stray cat—is already dead! Akira laughed maniacally in his heart; he almost wanted to dance… but also wanted to cry.

Akira laughed and leaned against the window, sunlight casting across half of his face. His face was pale and almost transparent, his long bangs blowing in the wind. Outside, the mountains looked like they had been washed with indigo.

“Maru, you’re adorable. I feel much better now,” Akira said, looking into her pretty eyes. “I really like you and would love to travel to Otaru with you.”

Maru’s face turned as red as if she had been drinking. She stood up in surprise and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Sakurai-senpai!”

“Like you, I’m going to Hokkaido to bury a friend. If it’s convenient then, we could bury them with Little Nian.” Akira said, “You’ll go see Little Nian, right?”

“Yes, every year! I hope they’ll like Little Nian!”

“He’ll love Little Nian, believe me.” Akira handed his travel bag to Maru. “I’m going to wash my face in the bathroom. Let’s meet in the VIP car later, okay? Can you hold onto my bag for me?”

“Can I?” Maru took the bag and hugged it to her chest.

“Of course, I trust Maru. Now head to the VIP car, but don’t walk too fast or too slow,” Akira said. Yes, don’t walk too fast or too slow. Don’t make the Enforcers think something is wrong. If they think you’re trying to run, they’ll suddenly show themselves and attack. Then you’ll witness hellish bloodshed. But don’t walk too slowly either, while I still have this last bit of humanity…

“Senpai, do you want to go to the VIP car’s bathroom? I can take you there.” Maru said.

“No, no, there’s no need. I have a task for you—get me a matcha ice cream.” Akira smiled.

“Got it! Off I go, the target is matcha ice cream!” Maru smiled in response.

She carried her Hello Kitty backpack, hugging Akira’s travel bag, and skipped toward the end of the carriage. Akira watched her pass through beam after beam of sunlight, dust dancing lightly in the air. The door closed, cutting off his view of her back. He pulled out his ugly, blade-like claw from under the table and waved it, bidding farewell to the one girl who had perhaps ever pitied him in his life.

I’m scared… I really want to hold you for some warmth… Do you know that? But I can’t—because I no longer have hands that can embrace humans.

“Come out,” he said, placing those dangerous claws flat on the small table.

For the first time in his life, Akira smelled the scent of the Enforcer—unexpectedly light, like sake.

The door opened, and a young man in a black coat walked in. He casually sat down in a front-row seat, his back to Akira, acting as if he were just another passenger in the carriage. The sunlight illuminated half of his body. He held an open identification folder, which held a golden badge featuring a giant serpent entwined around the World Tree. On his hand was a silver ring with a dragon gentian crest, and he was holding a long sword in a red scabbard. The man rested the sword against the seat, with his hand gripping its hilt, the silver-ringed hand gently unsheathing and sheathing the blade. The inscription read: “The Fierce Purge in the Mountains at Night.” It was an ancient sword, one that had tasted both human and non-human blood, and yet its curved blade was still elegant and beautiful. The sound of the blade interrupted Akira’s heavy breathing, and at this moment, Akira, slouched in the back seat, could no longer be considered human. Green scales covered his arms up to his elbows, and his deformed, giant claws dragged across the ground. The once handsome face now contorted, blue veins wriggled under the skin like serpents, and his irises burned with golden rage.

“Traveling alone so far must be tough,” the man said softly.

“Who are you?” Akira’s voice was raspy and hoarse.