Footsteps showered the concrete jungle that was early 90’s Tokyo. It was a lively pillar of human society, attracting those who gazed at it to take a trip down the city square to see what the city life had to offer. But things weren’t as glamorous as they appeared on this forsaken Earth. For as long as humanity existed, fear existed alongside them. When man first experienced the primal sensation of fear, they birthed monstrosities beyond their wildest comprehensions. Ever since prehistoric times, the humans of this world existed with malicious beings that were shaped after humanity’s fears. This primal feeling was so powerful, it birthed monster after monster. This environment was meant for the strong, as humans learned to combat against devils effectively over time—always learning from their failures.
By learning to fight their fears, human society developed a need for a new profession—the profession of a devil hunter. A hunter was painted as a martyr, willing to die in order to shelter and improve the lives of those who could not fight back. That was the initial premise behind it. As time went by and the historical events of the world carried on, that nobility was lost amidst devil hunters. Now, it was merely a job for those who were crazy enough to pursue such a career. And that is how human society got to where it is today.
It was November 18th, 1992. It had been eight years since a powerful monster had attacked the world. On this date, the Gun Devil attacked—leading to absolute devastation. The sun was setting earlier than expected on this national day of mourning for the country. Despite this grim calendar date, the busy crowds of people went about their usual activities, scrambling past the large neon signs of the Shibuya ward. The tall buildings towered above all else, their billboards and neon signs shining down the light of a world that was rapidly changing and moving forward. One of these neon signs was there to commemorate the victims of that dreadful day. Right next to this sign, there was another, which marketed the newest flavor of Coca Cola. This one was cherry flavored and sweeter than the original. The city life never ceased, no matter what.
Amongst the crowd of denizens, three particular individuals could be seen walking in unison. All of them were staring off into one of the neon signs. The three of them were young men, no older than nineteen. The first one had a thoughtful look on his pale face. The second one had this engrossed stare to him, as he read the neon sign. The last one was completely dissociated. He’d been distracted by a lamppost of all things. The other two sighed in unison.
“Honestly,” the pale faced youngster said in a disgruntled tone. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his antics. What about you, Yashin?”
“What are you on about, Jiyuu? You two are my buddies! I could put up with stuff like this for as long as I’m alive!” Yashin responded with a smile on his face, quick to answer his friend’s question. His voice was powerful, yet melodious to the ears. “I’ll go get him.”
Yashin walked over to his dissociated friend, who stood head and shoulders above him by a very noticeable margin. Reaching up, he tapped his buddy’s shoulder in a gentle manner, like an owner petting their cat. The lanky lamppost enthusiast immediately turned around to gaze at Yashin with a confused look on his face.
“Toya, we gotta get moving man,” Yashin said softly, giving his friend a smile. “We’re going out to celebrate getting our first job together, did you forget?”
In response to Yashin’s words Toya let out a noncommittal grunt, signaling his stubbornness. Unlike his two friends, Toya Takase was different—he was permanently out of the loop. He lived in his own little world, not that he’d ever care to share the finer details of the world he saw with his two close friends.
“But, I thought we were done hanging out?” Toya asked innocently, going out of his way to lean down to Yashin’s height, making direct eye contact as he waited for an answer to hit him. Toya Takase’s eyes could be described as a pitch black void— full of life, yet deprived of something.
“No, no! Jiyuu here is the one taking us out for some food and drin—“ Yashin was interrupted by Toya frantically performing a cartwheel. The patient Jiyuu watched this spectacle occur in a nonchalant manner. This was a daily occurrence for the three of them. For as long as they could remember, things had always been like this.
An hour passed and the three young men had gathered for drinks at the local Izakaya where they were free to get whatever their hearts desired. It was a busy evening, as it was filled to its capacity, leaving little room for any newcomers to join in, except for an unoccupied table at the farthest corner of the bar. Yashin and Jiyuu rolled their eyes in disappointment as Toya looked at them, trying his best to imitate an innocent expression with his face. They were late.
The soft wooden interior, paired with the orange lighting created a relaxing environment which anyone could enjoy—even those who had a few screws loose. In the background of it all, music from the Edo period of Japan could be heard. It was a gentle tune, mirroring the stability that the actual period itself had brought. Many people glorified this period in Japan’s history—yet so much of it remained shrouded in mystery. Some said that the Edo period had an all-time low number of devil appearances. Others said that for a brief moment humanity began to tap in and began to understand the true nature of devils, documenting the first ever contract between a devil and a human in Japan. Whoever told their story of the Edo period agreed on one detail. A vengeful devil from another world infiltrated Japan at some point in time, marking the beginning of the end for this glorious period in history. What followed after this period was pure wilderness, contributing to the environment of today’s world. Humanity’s ignorance was bliss.
Yashin, Jiyuu and Toya all sat down and ordered their usuals. For Yashin, it was their largest bottle of whiskey. For Jiyuu, it was a humble can of Chuhai. For Toya, it was a glass of orange juice with a battery in it. Toya had always been obsessed over batteries and other inanimate objects alike. Before any festivities could proceed, Jiyuu decided to go through the job’s description again. Out of the three of them, Jiyuu was the most organized member of the group. To him, being prepared at all times was crucial.
“Alright, let’s go over this one more time and make sure we know what we’re doing,” he unfolded a small piece of paper containing written instructions and details. “It says here that we have to use the Tōkaidō Shinkansen, where our target and contractor will be. We get off at Osaka after we’ve gotten rid of our target. We’re to assassinate a former hunter of sorts.”
In the world of hunters, recent events had shaken up the order of things. This decade was dubbed as the Lost Decade, due to the economic turmoil and increased fear of devils ever since the Gun devil had emerged. Those who hunted independently for a living could no longer rely on their only viable source of income. Many would be forced to submit to the juggernaut that was the Public Safety Devil Hunting Association if they wanted to hunt devils for a living. Many hunters feared working for this association, for the mortality rates were far too high, and many of them feared the prospect of trying to kill devastatingly powerful devils.
This led to a divide, with many independent hunters going rogue and making all sorts of illegal contracts to keep doing their job, something that Public Safety did not approve of and was snuffing out. The three young hunters were simply trying to leave their mark in the devil hunting world. Unlike most hunters, they did not fear Public Safety. Instead, they wished to embrace it, each for their own personal reasons.
“Being a devil hunter sucks!” Toya exclaimed randomly, only to slam his face against the wooden table, trying to take a bite out of the piece of paper only to give up once he was pinched on the arm by Yashin.
“My uncle gave us this job, so I want us to make sure we get it done,” Yashin spoke, his gaze darkening for a split second at the mention of his uncle. The young hunter was desperate to make his only living relative proud. Whenever he spoke of his uncle, he would always tense up. Before he could continue, the youngster took a moderately large sip from the whiskey bottle, letting the firewater light up the bottom of his stomach, making him feel warmer on the inside. The more he drank, the safer he felt. “I remember him telling me about the Devil we’re supposed to go after. Said it was something related to an animal or two!” Toya was busy blowing bubbles in his drink as Yashin continued to down the bottle of whiskey, letting the soft contents of the drink wash over him. His face reddened, cheeks already flushed.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Jiyuu never understood the behavior of his two buddies. Whenever he’d ask them why they partook in such hedonistic acts, he would be kindly waved off. According to Yashin this was an “Osaka thing”, which poorly excused their reckless habits—a catalyst for disaster. Unlike them, Jiyuu had his mind intact, or so he wanted to believe. It was easier to sleep at night that way..
Before Jiyuu would get back to explaining the details and theorizing, he ran his zephyr-like fingers through his silver hair to adjust it. He always fashioned his hair in either a spiky manner or a slicked back model for more “formal” occasions. Like the time he was introduced to Yashin and Toya two years ago.
Three hours had passed and it was half past ten in the night. Toya Takase was passed out on the floor, stretching his freakishly lanky limbs out for everyone who was still at the bar to witness. Yashin Saido was still conscious, and on his fifth bottle of whiskey, with little regard for the damage to his liver. His anatomy was unorthodox, even for a hunter. The one known as Jiyuu had stopped drinking two hours ago, in an attempt to stay sober and monitor whatever mischief the others would get up to. Fortunately for the employees of this humble Izakaya, they were too busy discussing details and possible plans of operation. What was said was lost in translation, and all that remained was a grinning, boozing boy sitting in front of a stern and unyielding man. The former looked nervous, struggling to strike up a proper conversation. For a good minute, there was an awkward silence between the two of them.
“You have a drinking problem,” Jiyuu bluntly commented, shattering the ice. Yashin’s expression in response to this was one of contempt. He had been chuckling and grinning all night long, only to be snapped out of his glee by those around him. His friend meant well, but he wasn’t ready to accept that.
“That shouldn’t matter. We’ve got…stuff to do,” the drunken man defended his case, slurring his words and hanging his head slightly as he tried to get one last sip. He soon noticed that the bottle was empty. In his head, the music became distant and concentrating became more taxing than usual.
“Sorry. I’m not good at small talk,” Yashin explained.
“All talk is small talk, my friend. Are you alright?” Jiyuu responded calmly and eloquently. Despite calling out the obvious drinking problem, the silver haired hunter was there to help.
To Yashin, the once warm and welcoming establishment slowly morphed into a bleaker, dreaded version of itself. The lights were dim and it felt like the wind was blowing. Everything went cold, as a chill ran down his spine, a sensation he would never get used to. It felt as if he wasn’t inside the Izakaya to begin with.
His pupils dilated, needing to absorb as much light as they could. As he blinked, he could hear the soft crackling of flames getting louder and louder. Everything went quiet. The sound of his own heartbeat became audible, as fear began to set in. The panicked Yashin rose to his feet, shaken to his core as he struggled to stand up properly, clearly inebriated and unfocused. But what he would proceed to lay eyes upon would shake him up even more.
Behind Jiyuu stood a man who was on fire. His features were unrecognizable, as he pointed at Yashin with a crooked finger. The flaming body shook violently. Drops of sweat began to roll down Yashin’s face, as his breaths became hitched and unsteady from such a sight. He instinctively took a step back and put his hands up, ready to fight back. He was unarmed, and no one seemed to notice that someone was attacking them. He tried to call out to Toya and Jiyuu, only to realize that they weren’t responding.
The flaming man lunged at Yashin swiftly, his body phasing through everyone and everything that was in the way just to get to his target. His attacks had no real pattern, but each strike that the flaming man delivered had ridiculous power behind it, so much so that Yashin was sent backwards by a few feet when he had blocked a kick with his forearms.
For him, this new sensation of fear was unprecedented. Yashin was used to towering above others, using his hulking frame and skill to withstand just about any opponent. Yet this much smaller, flaming man knocked him back as if he was paperweight. Yashin began to wonder if he was facing some devil of sorts.
Those thoughts wouldn’t linger for long, as the hunter grimaced. The scorching pain shot up all the way to his arms as he gritted his teeth, trying to keep his focus on the enemy. His arms looked seared, and the cold wind that blew did not make it any better. None of this made any sense to him. He was inside the bar, right? Then why could nobody see this or react to it?
All he could do at that point was fend off the blazing punches and kicks that aimed for his vitals. Yashin Saido would eventually be overwhelmed,knocked against a wall with the back of his head and his spine taking the brunt of it all. Everything had happened so swiftly, and the hunter simply couldn’t process that he took a kick to the chest. The burning sensation registered moments later. His vision blurred, and that’s when he finally noticed it.
He wasn’t fighting this random assailant in the same place where he got drunk. The Osaka native found himself in a dark alleyway, his wounded body next to a garbage bin. The attacker pointed his crooked finger towards Yashin once again, his body trembling and burning away down to its muscle fibers from the intense heat.
> “It’s so good to see you in the end.”
Yashin’s gaze widened in shock and confusion after hearing this bizarre sentence from the same man who was trying to take his life. Before another word could be uttered, a spear would impale the cindering man in the head, right in the area between his eyes. As quickly as he was struck by the spear, he dissolved into naught but ashes, scattering away in the wind. This spear was distorted and elongated, to the point where it almost grazed Yashin’s left cheekbone. The spear rusted and came apart the moment its tip touched the concrete wall, leaving nothing behind.
Toya Takase and Jiyuu had saved his life, using their uncanny abilities that came from their contracted devils. He was the only one out of the three of them to not have a contract with a devil.
The lanky lunatic now rushed over to Yashin with a frown. “You forgot to pay the bill, what the hell man?!” Yashin initially didn’t respond and simply sat down, needing to breathe for a few seconds as relief washed over him. Seeing his friends alive and well was something that meant the world to him. Because of them, he could feel warm.
Jiyuu approached his wounded friend, holding out an emergency kit. “This is why you should quit drinking. You walked out on me after I asked you if you were okay!” There was concern in his tone, despite how monotone Jiyuu’s voice was. Toya flipped Yashin off for not paying that damned bill. Yashin looked up at Toya and let out a heartfelt chuckle of gratitude. He flipped him back. Jiyuu started to bandage Yashin up, a process that the latter admittedly wasn’t too fond of for one reason.
“Hey, can you do it harder?” Yashin innocently asked. He was a masochist at heart. Jiyuu shot him a look of disgust and carried on as if nothing was said.
“Did you know that guy?” Jiyuu inquired, trying to make sense of this situation. Yashin shook his head in denial. He wanted to tell Jiyuu about what was said, but he figured to hold onto that for a little bit.
“I have never seen that man before,” The freshly bandaged Yashin reflected, uncertain of who that man was. Those vague last words haunted his psyche. “Perhaps it was one of those mad hunters?”
“When a child is punished for their honesty, they begin to lie,” Toya chimed in, with a smile on his pale face. The random response was treated as just that—a burst of madness from their madman of a friend. The lanky lunatic’s “idea” seemed to have halted the questions for now.
It was finally time to call it a night, as Yashin would later be dropped off by Jiyuu and Toya right outside an apartment complex—where he lived with his uncle. His only living relative was widely known as “Ren’ichi”, an alias of sorts. Unbeknownst to him, a pair of vengeful eyes cast their glance down on the apartment complex, patiently observing.
“Late again?” A raspy voice called out.