The Identity of Tachihara Michizou

Double agent

Tachihara's a double agent. A hunting dog now under orders from the Boss of the Port Mafia.

He's always had one thing to define himself by: That orders made who he was as a person. In the Hunting Dogs, in the Port Mafia, and now.

Tachihara quickly checks the current location of the transmitter, and follows.

"Where are you going, Tachihara?" Jouno's voice breaks him a little out of his thoughts.

"I'm heading out to give the Chief superintendent a call." Tachihara plasters on a rather convincing grin. Time was of the essence. He had to make this conversation short, especially with a living breathing lie detector.

"I see," Jouno hums thoughtfully. While Tachihara opens his mouth to make up an excuse to leave quickly, Tecchou of all people comes to his rescue by executing a poorly disguised laugh as a cough.

"I didn't mean it to be a pun, you oaf!"

He sneaks away during the chaos.

Tachihara still remembers the cold shock upon hearing of the true identity of Kamui, and briefly wonders if his Black Lizard comrades (ex comrades? He doesn't know if he'll ever see them again) would be feeling the exact same way about him after they find out.

If they weren't currently vampires, they probably would. Tachihara's traitorous heart still longs to see them again.

Being a Hunting Dog wasn't really bad, anyway. He didn't mind it at all, if not for his commander's betrayal. But right now, he was the Mafia's Tachihara Michizou, under orders to defeat the enemy of the world.

Even in the hospital, he still remembers asking that one question. A question that has been on the tip of his tongue for who knows how long.

"Do you really think I belong in the Mafia?"

Tachihara had turned around and squeezed his eyes shut, preparing to hear Gin probably list all his faults and Hirotsu to just back her up.

He didn't expect to hear laughter.

"Tachihara," Hirotsu says so fondly, so warmly, almost proudly, "You are Mafia upon Mafia."

Warmth swelled in Tachihara's heart so much in that moment that he'd almost thought it would've burst.

He returns to the present, feeling more driven than ever.

Who he is right now doesn't matter. The most important thing is rather what he should be doing. Following an order.

The flash drive is in his hand now, and his commander in front of him. The older man tilts his head slightly as he stares him down, trying to get a read on him. Would this be a suicide mission? No matter.

A cool and badass way to die for justice, if he ever had to consider it. Tachihara's fists clench a little, as he steels himself for the next moments to come.

What did he do all that for? Infiltrating the Mafia, gaining feelings for his comrades, then hurting and betraying them eventually just because...all Tachihara saw was red as he threw his next words with as much force as he could.

"Because of your orders! Because I thought they made me who I am!"

"...you were an excellent soldier." Fukuchi's gaze fixes onto him, a slight frown on his face. Tachihara can already see him tensing up for battle, on his guard ready to pounce.

"No. I ain't a soldier anymore."

He could hear the Boss' words still echoing in his head.

Destroy the enemy of the world, Tachihara.

So he fights. He confronts Fukuchi Ouchi "Kamui" about the Decay of Angels and goes all out in battle against him. Tachihara uses his ability like never before, and finally, he does it. Amenogozen is finally in his hands.

It's almost like an impossible reality. Fukuchi is losing, and Tachihara knows with a flick of his hands, the metal shards in the area could easily make his life no more.

"You did splendidly, Tachihara."

Fukuchi's voice is still as grim as ever even on the verge of death. On any other day, this sort of acknowledgement would make Tachihara glow with pride, but today, it just serves to infuriate him. "Even as a Hunting Dog, this isn't something many can do."

Even as a Hunting Dog?

"I'm not a Hunting Dog," the words tumble out of his throat, "I'm the Mafia's Tachihara Michizou."

"I didn't mind being in the hunting dogs, you know," he continues, every word seething with rage. "They still were my family. You all were my family."

His biological family dead, the Hunting Dogs betrayed, and the Mafia now vampires.

So easy. His hands are trembling to some unknown emotion. He knows it just isn't fear. But Tachihara simply can't finish the job without knowing why.

"Why? Why did you betray us?!"

The one person who was dubbed the definition of justice himself only until a week ago is still frantically trying to dig out the pieces of sword from his body from shredding him. Fukuchi just glares up at him. No answer.

Tachihara glares back, clenching his fists.

"Why do this to the Hunting-"

A blade slides cleanly out of his chest.

It's all a mess. He's all a mess. Victory was never in his hands as Tachihara learns how Amenogozen really works the hard way.

All he can feel now is the rough pavement, the switchblade in his back pocket, the throbbing of his wounds, and his blood roaring in his head. Other than that, it's all a mess.

Horror creeps up his spine as he learns of the Decay's plan, and everything else. It's all a rush of emotions.

"You're a really valuable subordinate, Tachihara," Fukuchi was saying. Tachihara can hear his footsteps coming closer towards his direction, and his stomach drops with his next words.

"...as a vampire, that is."

His best efforts are futile, and as he struggles, things flash before his eyes.

Tachihara thinks about his brother, long gone before his time. He thinks about Teruko's manic energy, Jouno's calculating tone, and Tecchou's blunt nature.

Most of all, he thinks about Hirotsu and Gin. The old man's dignified yet cruel being. And Gin...just Gin. Silent, lethal, yet graceful Gin.

He thinks about his comrades, his family, and his newfound identity, forged through the Port Mafia's orders.

A mafioso.

Not the younger brother, not Sargeant Tachihara, just Tachihara Michizou.

He'll just be a mindless vampire at this rate, trapped in his own body. Tachihara really wishes he could be the one to fix all these. He wishes he could heal the wounds he gave the Black Lizard, cure the Mafia of the infection, and stop Fukuchi Ouchi from the terrorism.

He wishes he could undo betrayals and heal wounds, past and present.

But it's far too late for regrets. He supposes the Detective Agency will take it from here, like they'd always had. He's sure of it. It's all in their hands now, and out of his.

When the fangs sink in, it feels nothing like-