Back In Black | Kyouhaba

Talking To Watari

Just a reminder before this chapter begins, this book is part of a series. Please read Another One Bites The Dust for more context and a better understanding of Back In Black.

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The entirety of Sendai was in total disarray as they arrived. Guardians patrolled the streets in groups of five and the traffic was eerily non-existent. Anyone without Sanctuary-auctioned ID on full display was being placed inside buildings to shelter or worse, being half-escorted-half-dragged towards the Sanctuary by unflinching Guardians.

"Fuck," Kyoutani winced as he watched someone, a sixty-something man, get shoved into a florist shop. "The entire city's on lockdown."

"No shit," grunted Yahaba. "Get the car's ID out of the glovebox for me, Kyouken, and put it on the dashboard. I don't want to get pulled over right now."

The zombie nodded, muttering, "On it," obediently. He set the ID up, making sure it could be clearly seen through the windscreen as they sailed down empty roads. Yahaba turned the Bentley and drove into the Sanctuary car park.

He parked and, without waiting one second, was out of the car. "Come on," he ordered. "We're going to see what the fuck's going on here."

Kyoutani climbed out too, swinging the door closed and they stormed their way towards the Sanctuary, making it past all the security checks in record time: Washijou must've informed the Guardians that they were coming. Without hesitation, Kyoutani threw open the doors of the medical wing, rushing past carnamancers in their white coats. Yahaba breezed in behind him, radiating barely concealed fury. No one tried to get in their way, and people hurriedly stood to the side once they noticed the pair coming.

"Washijou-san," Kyoutani greeted as they approached the emergency waiting room.

Washijou Tanji, Grand President of the Japanese Sanctuary, was a very intimidating person to look at. It wasn't because of his height, because he was certainly on the shorter side; it wasn't because of his stature, because he was obviously a very old man who stood with a small hunch in his back. It was because of the look on his wizened face, a permanent, unimpressed scowl that hung in his voice and glistened like murder in his eyes. Even as he stood up to greet the detectives, Kyoutani couldn't tell if he was pleased to see them or not, he was damn near impossible to read.

However, even a blind person could tell that Washijou was angry.

"This is a disgrace," He began, spitting his words out like venom. Yahaba and Kyoutani both bowed deeply to him as he continued, "An attack on one of our high-ranking employees in the middle of our own city! This month has been making a mockery of Japan."

"With all due respect, sir," said Yahaba, glancing up, "just tell us if Watari's okay."

Washijou bowed his head ever so slightly. "He's been in operation since we retrieved him after the attack. Shirabu-san is tending to him as we speak." Yahaba barely concealed the look of contempt on his face.

Kyoutani straightened up, hating how calm his body felt compared to his mind. "Can we see him? Is that possible?"

"Shirabu-san and his assistants are not accepting any visitors at the moment," Washijou answered, lifting a hand to cut off their protests before they began. "But they have informed me that he should survive."

"They don't sound certain," muttered Yahaba, bitterly glaring at the ground.

Washijou arched an unimpressed eyebrow. "Watari's injuries are extensive. He's been shot once in the hand and multiple times in the chest, shoulders and feet. We know that there were two grenades thrown due to witness accounts and by the burn marks on his body. He was buried under so much debris that, by the time we arrived, it took a whole minute to find him – we had to bring out sniffer dogs."