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It had been ten years since the day Nishikiyama’s boss, Kaneshiro, received that card. Ten years since he had willingly confessed to his crimes and turned himself in to the Police.
Nishikiyama wasn’t exactly sure what had made the Boss change seemingly overnight, but he knew the Phantom Thieves were to blame. They’d heard of those cards in the news before and how each person who received one mysteriously changed, but had always assumed it was bullshit. Until one was sent their way.
At that point, the targets had been relatively small: a teacher at a local high school, a famous artist, people far from the calibre of Kaneshiro.
Nishikiyama couldn’t tell how they were forcing these confessions, but be it blackmail or torture, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to rattle the Boss.
They would double his security and keep him under constant surveillance. The Phantom Thieves wouldn’t be able to get within a block of their hideout without being spotted.
Yet, it was the very day after he’d received that card that Kaneshiro suddenly developed a conscience.
Suddenly, the fact that they had been extorting money from high school students was too much for him to stomach, even though these were plans he had orchestrated and ordered his men to carry out. No matter how much they tried to shake sense back into him, Kaneshiro was plagued with guilt.
That was when they realised the Phantom Thieves had already sunk their claws into him; that they were dealing with something far beyond their comprehension.
Before long, Kaneshiro was making a public confession, just like the others. He revealed details of their hideout to the police and called for them to arrest him.
Believing the invitation to be a trap, police SWAT teams raided the headquarters, taking several other high-ranking Mafia members into custody alongside their leader, Nishikiyama included.
On the outside, the group was left in limbo, without direction from their leader and significantly fewer numbers, none of their operations could continue. Before long, they seemingly disappeared altogether.
Having gone from living it up in lavish clubs with strippers, gambling and drugs, to sharing overcrowded, padded cells and eating shitty food fueled Nishikiyama’s desire to take revenge.
He couldn’t take it much longer. He needed to do something.
Yet, even now, he couldn’t convince Kaneshiro to come along. The disgraced mob boss held no ill will towards the Phantom Thieves and was set in his decision to atone for his past crimes.
It was clear Nishikiyama was going to have to take matters into his own hands.
Whenever possible, he would meet with the few remnants of Kaneshiro’s men on the inside, plotting their escape.
He knew they still had brothers out in the city. Members who had been low enough on the totem pole and detached from the group’s bigger crimes, who had managed to remain undetected. Without their leader, they were fractured and directionless, no longer viewed as a major threat by the police.
On the plus side, this meant they could act without raising suspicion.
During his incarceration, news broke that the Phantom Thieves’ Leader had been arrested, and Nishikiyama was given a spark of hope. At first, knowing that the man who’d doomed them to this hole was also being cast into it, overjoyed Nishikiyama. For a time, the thought of putting a face on the one who had destroyed their lives, watching it contort in horror and pain under his own hands, motivated him, kept him sane.
They would only need to get some time alone with him. Out in the rec fields while the guards were distracted. That way, it would be so easy for him to face an unfortunate accident.
But, realistically, Nishikiyama knew it wasn’t likely. Someone as dangerous as a Phantom Thief couldn’t just be let loose amongst all these other petty criminals. They were a mastermind.
If anything, he’d probably be placed in Solitary.
Not to mention, the Police would have to know that the Thieves had enemies in prison, eager to try and take his life. They couldn’t risk that happening.
He was worth much more to them alive.
While those hopes were eventually snuffed out, it did give Nishikiyama something else to go off of.
If the Phantom Thieves’ leader had been arrested, then the Police must have had a record, his mugshot, on file.
Information revealing an identity that had, up to that point, been completely out of reach.
He didn’t care if he had to blackmail or threaten the police’s families; Nishikiyama would stop at nothing to get his hands on it.
.
Ren winced as another dull throb racked his skull. He grit his teeth, not wanting the ache to show in his expression for long. While it didn’t compare to the literal torture he’d suffered at the hands of the Police, he was a little out of practice. His pain tolerance was much lower.
He’d noticed the news alert on his phone; a group of felons from Tokyo prison were declared missing, suspected to have broken out. Citizens were warned to stay on alert.
Still, he hadn’t given the information too much thought. Not until his third eye sensed an ominous presence shadowing him after he stepped off the train. It was a malicious aura intent on inflicting harm, perhaps even worse, directed squarely at him.
Ren could feel the figures trailing him as he exited the station, keeping enough of a distance so as not to attract suspicion. He did his best to remain composed, not wanting them to know he had caught on to their presence.
As he broke away from the crowd of commuters leaving work, Ren made his way through the familiar dark alleys of Yongen. His expression remained neutral as they too separated from the masses, the suspicion that he was being followed surging into certainty.
He didn’t want to panic any of the residents around him. He was afraid, also, of what these people might resort to if he made a break for it. It was a less dense part of the city, with a smaller Police presence, something Ren sensed they were seeking to take advantage of. He suspected they wouldn’t be above targeting innocent locals to try and draw him out.
He would catch glimpses of them, every so often, as they broke from cover. Their custom suits, the flashes of tattoos and piercings that littered their skin were hardly discreet. The markings matched, detailing their clan.
Suddenly, the pieces fit together for Ren: the news of escaped convicts, the group’s distinct appearance and deliberate targeting of him.
They were Mafia.
Ren had always wondered if this might happen; one of the Phantom Thieves’ former targets coming back to seek revenge against them. To be honest, he’d always thought it might surface in the form of one of Shido’s associates once he began working under Toranosuke-san. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
When the Phantom Thieves had targeted Kaneshiro, they’d gone after an entire, powerful organisation; his arrest seeing many of his followers being taken in alongside him.
After his change of heart, Kaneshiro was content to live out his sentence, but his followers might not have been as forgiving.
Just because they’d taken down the leader, that didn’t mean the entire group was out of the picture. There were still small-time crooks with Mafia ties on the streets who could have been carrying out their plans in plain sight.
How they’d been able to identify him as the leader of the Phanom Thieves, though, Ren wasn’t sure. Their identities had never been revealed publicly. Though he supposed the information from his arrest could still have been on record. His mug shots and the recordings of his interrogation. Is it possible they had blackmailed someone inside the Police to release it?
However they’d managed it, he could find out later. For now, he needed to address their threat carefully. Continuing down the street, Ren weighed his options.
He didn’t favour his chances in a fight. It had been some time since his last real one.
But, he didn’t want to lead them to Leblanc or Sojiro’s place, either. Ideally, he would have kept them away from Yongen altogether, but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go. It would seem suspicious if he boarded another train after getting off at this stop. It was clear this had been his intended destination; there were no other lines he could change to, like at Shibuya.
So instead, Ren decided to guide them down an alley between the laundromat and bathhouse, knowing the latter had closed for the evening. It was near enough to the cafe, still bugged with Futaba’s microphones, that Ren might be able to put out a call for help.
Coming to a stop, Ren took a calming breath before turning to face his pursuers.
There were five of them, cracking their knuckles and grinning menacingly.
Ren set down his briefcase with a sigh, loosening the tie around his neck. He bent his knees into a defensive stance before raising his fists.
Even with the time he’d spent practising at Protein Lovers or sparring against the Nijima sisters, Ren was under no illusion that he’d be able to fend off all these men. They would outnumber and overpower him eventually. It was just a matter of buying as much time as possible before help arrived.
Drawing a breath, Ren snatched up his case again, launching it toward the nearest gang member, connecting firmly with their forehead. They crumpled into a heap with a groan before two more goons advanced toward Ren.
His resistance seemed to have only pissed them off, as they charged forward wildly.
To Ren’s surprise and relief, none of the men had drawn weapons. Perhaps they hadn’t expected much from him. Despite not having much experience in hand-to-hand combat, Ren could tell from their sloppy, unrefined technique that these guys weren’t trained fighters.
They were back-alley brawlers, used to lording over and intimidating unsuspecting citizens in large groups, people they didn’t expect to fight back. Already, he was picking out holes in their form. Kicking at the nearest assailant’s leg, his already lopsided stance causing him to lose balance and tumble onto the floor.
Their lack of training, however, meant they also weren’t afraid to fight dirty.
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Ren found himself on his side, winded and with a swollen jaw. Ren grimaced, feeling a boot press forcefully into his ribs.
“Well, well, well. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this. I lost years of my life thanks to you and your little band of pricks, but this will make it all worthwhile.”
The boot kicked harder, forcing Ren onto his back with a grunt, facing upward. His suspicions confirmed, he looked up the face of the Mafia’s de facto leader.
“Anything you’d like to say?”
Blood trickling from his lip, Ren looked up at his assailant with a smirk.
“Have you read the newspaper stories about my wife?”
Nishikiyama paused, forehead creasing at the confusing statement.
Had the punk gotten concussed and started spouting nonsense? It would explain the dopey smile on his face. They’d beaten the former thief pretty badly, but he didn’t appear to be afraid or in pain at all. It was starting to piss Nishikiyama off.
He didn’t answer, so Ren took his silence as an invitation to continue.
“She just recently made Chief Inspector for the Tokyo Police. In fact, she comes from a long line of police officers… I’m sure she’d be more than happy to send you back to where you came from.”
“Is that supposed to scare me? Ha, so what? The Police couldn’t touch us for years. How do you expect things to be different now?”
Ren hadn’t expected it to. He was just trying to buy any time that he could.
“This isn’t her first time dealing with the Mafia. She helped me take down Kaneshiro, first-hand. You’re just a lowly follower of his. What makes you think you fair any better than your old boss?”
Ren could see that his words rattled some of the goons, men who had managed to escape arrest the first time around. Their leader, however, took exception to the words, angered at the suggestion that he wasn’t as capable as the old boss, a man choosing to rot away in that hole.
“Tch. You tryna scare us? Whatever, dumbass. We just broke out of one prison. What makes you think another will be any different?”
Gritting his teeth, Nishikiyama balled his fists at his sides.
“Let me wipe that smile off your face.”
Grabbing Ren by the scruff of his shirt, Nishikiyama pushed him roughly against the alley wall.
He pressed his forearm against the man’s throat, cutting off his oxygen supply. Ren gasped, pushing against the Mafioso’s wrist to try and loosen his grip, realising his mistake.
Unfortunately, Ren’s cockiness had gotten the better of him. He’d forgotten that he no longer possessed the strength and agility the Metaverse had once gifted him.
Feeling his head growing heavy as darkness flooded his vision, Ren’s eyes darted around the alley in a panic, looking for any way he could find some separation between him and his attacker.
His silent cries were answered by an intense blare, carrying through the normally quiet suburb as he faded away. It was a shriek that was somehow familiar and one he clung to.
A police siren.
“What? How did they find us already? Was he wearing a wire?”
Ren gasped as suddenly the pressure against his throat was released, and he was dropped against the concrete. Spluttering, he turned onto his side, drawing in heavy gulps of air to ease his screaming lungs.
His vision still hazy, he could make out the bleary forms of the gang, pulling out their guns as they turned frantically in all directions, trying to spot who had tracked them down.
Every part of Ren was crying out to get to his feet, knowing that this was his best chance to escape, but he couldn’t find the strength to stand. His voice broke, trying to guide the sirens to their alcove, out of sight.
However, to his luck, he didn’t need to.
Their leader rocketed sideways abruptly from the force of a powerful, flying kick that connected with the side of his jaw. He stumbled backward, dazed, with blood dripping from his lip.
A fist flung out towards the figure in retaliation, but was caught and twisted painfully behind the lackey’s back. Nishikiyama moved to break the hold but faltered, not expecting the rage that burned in the officer’s red eyes; daring, goading him to get closer.
“Don’t move!”
With the click of several safeties, Nishikiyama realised that they had been advanced on from behind also.
He glanced over his shoulder, noticing the small squadron of police now perched at his back, fitted with armoured vests and handguns.
“Get your hands up! Drop the weapons!”
Growling, Nishikiyama’s hands lifted in surrender, balancing the trigger of the gun off of his pinky before eventually setting it down.
It was thanks to Futaba that they’d made it. Her bugs on the outside of Leblanc had caught everything unfolding.
A group of dangerous-looking men tailing Ren through Yongen, eventually following him down the alley through to the bathhouse. Fortunately, these men had seemed less experienced, too focused on their pursuit to scope out the area or ensure they weren’t drawing suspicion to themselves.
She’d been quick to pass the images on to Makoto, who, with the help of her team, identified them as Mafia.
It didn’t take much to surmise what they were up to.
As relieved as she was that they’d made it to Yongen in time, right now Makoto was doing her best to maintain a professional front and not rush straight to Ren’s side.
Despite the injuries he’d sustained, she could see that he was still breathing. That much was reassuring. Still, as much as it pained her, she couldn’t let her personal feelings overwhelm her. To prevent any further danger to him or the rest of neighbourhood, they needed to apprehend the suspects before she could check on him. It wouldn’t do to let them see her weakness, to know of that attachment, or they might use it against her.
That didn’t make it any less difficult to keep her emotions in check.
After making them accountable for their crimes, for extorting and blackmailing innocent children, Kaneshiro’s men had dared to try and bring harm to their lives again. As though they were the ones who had been wronged. The very thought infuriated her.
Safe to say, Makoto hadn’t cared to pull her punches when striking them down.
Though she noted with pride that Ren had managed to incapacitate two of the members himself already. Those sparring sessions with her and sis must have been paying off.
Eventually, with the suspects disarmed, the rest of the officers moved further into the alley, taking them into custody and matching their profiles with several criminals who had broken out of Tokyo prison just hours earlier.
“Move the wagon down the alley and get them transported to the station,” Makoto instructed a nearby officer.
“Roger,” he saluted, guiding the cuffed Nishikiyama back out to the Yongen streets.
Not wanting her worry to show in front of her fellow officers or the men they were apprehending, Makoto exhaled.
Now with the alley clear, she allowed herself to bear that vulnerability, stooping beside Ren’s prone form. Her hands gently framed his face, scrutinising his gaze; relieved by the focus still lighting his eyes.
“Ren, are you alright?”
“Heh. That’s my girl.”
Despite the severity of the situation, Makoto felt a fond, flustered smile crease her face. Typical Ren, always the charmer, even in the face of danger.