Seven weeks it had taken him, twelve visits to dives, fourteen fights, two midnight visits, one near death all to find the men who'd taken the life of Yuriko. It seemed that everyone involved had turned a new leaf in 1981, gotten married, got out of prison, as the old JRA had been disbanded. They'd been a lost cause from the start but they'd had help from the east, a few hands in Palestine had taught them the rudiments of bomb making. The base had been one of their first targets, Yuriko had been their first fatality, but Logan was going to make sure she wasn't the only one.
Traffic was murder, the usual run to home was blocked by some idiot truck that had shed it's load, it didn't help that he was stuck between a bike gang and a refuse truck. He honked his horn again, the stare he got from the girls on the back of the bikes made him flush in frustration. He didn't want to look at them closely in case he found his own daughter among them, he'd heard a bike too often at the back of the house to be comfortable. Sighing he tried to relax and wait, his hand went to the passenger seat, his phone should be there he could let Sumiko know he was going to be late home. His fingers felt for it but it wasn't where he left it, neither was his briefcase, turning to see if it was in the back seat got him nothing but pain as a shadow unfurled from the foot well of his car. A blade was sticking out of his chest, blood was just beginning to run down his skin as the voice of an Oni rumbled through the interior of the car. “For your debts, for the lives you took, for the death of Yuriko.” On the utterance of the name the blade was shoved deep into his heart, quick, deep and almost painless. He watched as the man got out of his car, saying loudly that he'd walk from here and thanking him for his help. He tried to raise a hand but he just couldn't do it, when the traffic finally cleared ahead of his car, it only took three minutes to see the white faced man at the wheel was dead. But to how he had died was something that would never be worked out or why a rice salesman would incur such a death. The only people who would know, wouldn't be around long enough to tell of it.
Logan scratched off the name in the list in his head, only six more, he'd leave the hardest till last. Turning his head eastward Logan set off to meet the next death, say what you wanted about the Japanese but they had perfect tax records. Know where they work and you know where they live, the next pair wouldn't go easy, they were the one's who constructed the bomb.
“Kazumi, where's the dishes?” She put her hands back into the small sink and almost screamed, every day the same damn question, turning around to answer Adei she missed the shadow that passed her window in the darkness outside.
“Where they usually are you bloody idiot, where you put them yesterday!” She turned back to the dishes she was washing, how the hell they'd ended up here in a rabbit hutch of an apartment while her sister had managed to get a house in the suburbs she'd never know. Grunting to herself as her mind added 'Well I didn't pay for tit implants like she did, nothing like a goofy smile and huge tits to grab a mans attention.' Shaking herself out of her funk Kazumi finished the dishes and stacked them to dry, behind her her husband was cutting up the cake he'd bought for them both. Their son had just been accepted to a private college, fifteen and being pulled out of home and on his way. Hopefully he'd be able to keep them in some comfort when they were older, her own parents hadn't had much to give her after their death. A spike of memory ran through her at that piece of history, ideals of the young never sit well with the old, and her father's death had been one of the black moments in her life. As if to compound the mistake Adei chose that moment to offer her the sweet dessert he'd bought.
“Come on honey, he'll be fine. A full scholarship, who can ask for better? All we need to do is make sure we turn up to his school each year and he'll be well away.” Adei sat back down, stuffing his face with the cream filled sweet sponge, waving his fork at her to join him. Smiling she sat with him, okay she'd made some bad choices early on in her life, gone down the wrong road but that was over now. She had her own family, a husband, a home (of sorts) and she had a job, assistant chemist in a pharmacy. She ate a fork full of the cake, it was sweet, rich and tasty, he'd really picked a good one this time. Eating another large fork-full she looked for the box it had come in.
“Where's the box for this cake, I want to know which baker it is. They'd do for his first homecoming in December...” Adei was finishing his own plate when he finally answered her.
“Its in the trash, had an accident on the way home with our one, bumped into an old woman knocked her flying and the cake went over. She got up saw the mess, apologised and gave me the one she'd bought, think it's from the Green Lotus Bakery.” Kazumi blinked at him, the Green Lotus was very expensive, she'd thought about it herself but the prices were extortionate.
“Lucky day for us then Adei,” Kazumi took another slice and devoured it quickly, taking her dirty plate to the sink to clean it, not noticing her feet were a little sluggish. Dropping the plate into the sink she felt her legs collapse under her weight, dropping back half in and half out of the small kitchen. Her husband Adei, now blue in the face, cream still on his lips as the front door squeaked open and someone dressed in dark clothing entered. She watched as he slid a blade through Adei's eye socket and through the top of his head, his wild dark hair shifting in the still air of the flat. Watching him turn toward her, no mercy showing in his eyes, this demon of vengeance, this Oni who had finally found them out. She tried to speak but her lungs were no longer working, she was aware of every single thing he did to her but not once did she scream. Only when he had hung her from the rafter did she finally sound out, the last breath of her body as her skin shifted in the airless room of the flat, her husbands body below her. The patter of her blood covering him like the petals of the cherries in spring, only then did the Oni speak to her. In old Japanese, structured and cold as iron, “For the lives you took, for the misery you caused, the marks on you show your crimes, name them all. For the one you killed and crowed to the world about your victory, for Yuriko this has been done, for her honour and her family.” The final blow across her midriff and the sensation of emptying everything she was across the still form of her dead husband below her. Hell had no surprises for her, living with Adei had seen to that.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here it gets nasty....
Chapter End Notes:
There will be more death coming...