Chakra Wizard
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Alright, as I mentioned in the first chapter, I am not finishing this entire story. Thankfully, though, everything else I have planned takes place on different altopolises, each part containing pretty much a completely different series of event, so as far as this particular one goes, you’re not missing a thing=D Anyways, thanks to everyone who took the time to read these three chapters and I hope you all enjoyed it
“HEY, ASS****!!” Isaiah shouted as he darted across the street mere seconds after hanging up on Yakuza. Needless to say, Hisaisha took immediate notice of him and broke into a full sprint down the sidewalk, pulling out a small pistol as he ran. Also armed, Isaiah was quick to retrieve his own firearm from beneath his trench coat, hoping that its visibility would prevent the criminal from using his own in retaliation. So far, it was working, but the constant running over the span of four minutes quickly began draining Isaiah of his stamina, while Daru looked as though he hadn’t even begun to break a sweat.
“Shit…first thing tomorrow, …I’m off the goddamn…cancer sticks.” Isaiah panted in between heavy breaths. As the distance between him and Daru gradually lengthened and his number of options began to decrease, he readjusted his grip on his gun and held it out in front of him, aligning it with Daru’s feet.
“ALRIGHT, FREEZE, YOU LITTLE PRICK!!!” he yelled out, prompting Daru to look back and, in a brief fit of panic, fire off three shots, two missing their mark, and one just barely missing its mark. Seeing how close the third bullet came to hitting him in the chest, Isaiah’s frustration was quickly replaced by rage.
“Holy shit! SHOOT ME, WILL YA!!? YOU SON-OF-A-*****!!” he screamed out before firing off a few shots of his own, one of which hit Daru in the shin. Much to Isaiah’s shock, though, the injury didn’t even seem to faze him, and he continued running away without any resulting loss in momentum.
“What the-!? …ARE YOU SHITTING ME!!?” Isaiah shouted at the top of his lungs in utter frustration. Fortunately, though, his growing anger had managed to significantly reduce his fatigue, allowing him to slightly increase his speed as Daru cut across the busy street. Certain that reinforcements were only minutes away, Isaiah continued following him into an alleyway between two apartment complexes. Upon catching up with him, he found that he was already halfway up the escape ladder positioned alongside one of the buildings, a rather confusing sight, considering its base was nearly fifteen feet off the ground.
“What the hell? …HEY, I SAID FREEZE!!” Isaiah called out, prompting Daru to fire a few more rounds at his pursuer, who proceeded to dive behind the garbage dump positioned almost directly beneath the ladder.
“Shit…stupid bastard!” Isaiah thought to himself as he looked up and fired off two more shots, both barely missing Daru’s hands. Once again hardly fazed by the gunfire directed towards him, Daru continued his ascent, disappearing through the nearby fire escape upon reaching the top of the ladder.
“…Damn it.” Isaiah muttered to himself as he watched these events play out. Realizing he couldn’t possibly follow Daru in that direction, he ran back to the front of the building and headed inside, ordering a middle-aged man who was walking through the hallway at the time to phone the police. Searching for the closest staircase immediately afterwards, he headed through the door upon finding it and quickly caught sight of Daru, who was already four floors above him. Noticing Isaiah as well, the felon quickened the pace of his ascent as his pursuer began his own, each of them firing off more shots at each other as they made their way up to the eighth and highest floor. Reaching it first, Daru hesitated a moment, now faced with the option of either following the last flight of stairs to the roof or bursting through the door right beside him, the latter of which risked the possibility of spurring the direct or indirect involvement of any civilians he might run into, but increased his chances of losing Isaiah amongst the medley of hallways and rooms. Still contemplating the ins and outs of both alternatives, Daru didn’t even notice that his pursuer had halted his own progress just two flights below and raised his gun to open fire. Throwing his head back just in time to avoid the shot, the swift movement on his part forced the black wig atop his head to fall off, revealing the bald scalp which the Chief had described in the conference from five days ago.
“HA! You like that, huh!? You little shit!” Isaiah shouted as he continued his ascent. Out of both options and time, Daru took the last flight of stairs up to the roof, forfeiting the possibility of losing him on the descent back down to the bottom floor. Running out onto the center of the roof, which was covered in gravel, he turned around and pointed his gun towards the doorway, set on finishing off his tail once and for all. Much to his dismay, though, when he pulled the trigger just as Isaiah burst through the door, nothing happened, Isaiah having the same results when he fired his gun in retaliation.
“Shit!” they both muttered simultaneously before reaching into their credentials for a second magazine, neither of them taking their eyes off the man standing in front of them as they did. Reloading and cocking their guns at the exact same time, the two were once again at a standstill, neither willing to fire their weapon for fear they’ll be shot dead in the next second. After what seemed like an eternity – though, in reality, it was probably only two minutes at most – Isaiah finally broke the ice, bringing to light something that’s been on his mind for almost the entire duration of their chase.
“You’re tough as freakin’ nails, you know that, Daru? …Hmph, hell, you didn’t even flinch when I shot you in the damn leg.” he said with a small level of sarcasm in his voice. In truth, he was actually hinting that he wanted Daru to show him the bullet wound, something the latter quickly caught onto. Noting the serious look in his eyes, he decided he could trust his instincts for the time being and knelt down to pull up the base of his pant leg, neither breaking their eye contact nor lowering his gun as he did. Just as Isaiah suspected, what he saw next was not a blood-soaked limb composed of flesh and bone, but a thick, white prosthesis made out of what was presumably a durable plastic composite. Realizing just what kind of history this man had lived through, Isaiah couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, hoping in the back of his mind that it might stir Daru in some manner.
“Well, I’ll be. A prosthetic eye, a prosthetic leg…heh, you’re a more effed up individual than I first took ya for, Daru.” he joked, expecting that his words might actually get one or two out of Daru, as well. Although with great hesitation, he eventually succeeded.
“If only you knew, officer. …That’s the type of shit one expects regularly back in Miyako nowadays.” he said in a low voice.
“Hm, so you ARE from Miyako…and I take it the old man was, too?” Isaiah replied. When Daru hesitated to respond, he continued.
“Was it so important that you hop on a jet to Hekichi, just to put a few rounds in his brain? You should’ve known you wouldn’t get away with it, right? …How the hell do you afford something like that, anyways? Far as I can tell, you’re just a small-time crook.”
He asked these questions of him, but at the same time, a completely different one was fluttering through his mind, brought to light by what Daru just said.
“He says people EXPECT that shit? …Just what the hell’s going on over in Miyako?” he thought to himself, though he was soon interrupted by Daru’s anticipated reply.
“Aragame’s had it coming to him for years now. I was just lucky enough to be the one who finally puts him where he belongs. …In Hell.” he said in a somewhat low voice, his thoughts clearly more focused on the events of his past than his current predicament. Isaiah actually thought about using this opening to incapacitate him, …but he just had to hear more.
“So what? He pissed a lot of people off back in your altopolis and wanted out? Why’d you have to follow him, then? I mean, if people thought they were better off without him and all? …Shit, you probably spent several hundred grand on the ticket here. Was it really worth it?” he retorted, rather irritated by what he currently believed was Daru’s reasoning.
“…Every single yen. …And for the record, most of the people who thought that are dead.” he replied, bringing a look of shock to Isaiah’s face. …It was slowly beginning to make sense to him now. Kimono Aragame’s murder wasn’t a senseless killing. It wasn’t even an act of vengeance. …It was justice.
“Hate to break it to you, pal, but no matter how good that story may look on paper, it doesn’t shake the fact that your hands are stained, too. In case you hadn’t realized it, in this day and age, the altopolises are kind of estranged from each other. …What you did might’ve made you a hero in Miyako, but here, you’re a murderer no different from any other.” he replied in a highly serious tone, making his resolve to carry out the law very clear to Daru, something proven by his response.
“If you only knew what he did…if you only knew, …YOU’D BE KISSING MY FEET RIGHT NOW FOR WIPING SUCH A WICKED MAN OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!!!” he shouted in anger, determined to prove that what he did was the right thing. …Unfortunately, his careless choice of words left Isaiah with an opening for a sarcastic retort, so needless to say, he didn’t quite get the message.
“Really? …Heh, cause last I checked, there wasn’t anything left on the face of the Earth, jackass.”
Clenching his teeth in utter resentment, Daru looked as though he was prepared to empty his gun into his antagonist’s head without giving it a second thought, an urge stimulated further by the smirk on Isaiah’s face, one placed there by that very knowledge. Before he could act on said urge, however, both had their attentions directed elsewhere by the sound of howling sirens which, given their proximity, suggested that a parade of patrol cars had surrounded the entire complex. Escape now nearly impossible, Daru’s fit of anger quickly changed to one of panic as he adjusted his aim, causing Isaiah to do the same.
“Alright, I’ve had enough of this goddamn circle jerk! Drop the gun and hit the floor now!” he ordered, Isaiah’s smirk becoming more and more distinct as his level of confidence skyrocketed.
“Excuse me? I thought for sure I heard you say it was all worth it if you were able to kill the old man.” he replied in a smug manner.
“I said it was worth the plane ticket, but there’s no way in hell I’m gonna throw away my life just for that bastard! Now drop your gun!” he snapped, his desperation becoming more apparent with every breath he took.
“Why don’t you just cut the bullshit, Daru? We both know the moment I drop this gun, you’re just gonna shoot me and start running off again. …You’re so insistent on escaping, but a guy like you must know that you won’t outrun us forever-”
“Then why the hell are you still here!?” Daru quickly interrupted. Now at a loss for words, Isaiah’s smirk quickly disappeared in response to this unexpected retort. Seeing that his words might have actually gotten through to his rational side, Daru continued trying to reason with him.
“If you know you’re about to be killed, then why aren’t you trying to get away why you still can!? …You just keep standing there, pointing your gun at me like a goddamn maniac, smirking like you don’t care whether you live or die! …JUST GO ALREADY!!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, praying that Isaiah’s next reaction would be to do just that. …Much to his disappointment, though, the young officer seemed to have fallen into a somewhat semi-conscious state, reflecting on what Daru just said.
“…Go…heh, what would I give to go anywhere other than this place.” he thought to himself. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, his smirk returned as he lifted his head to meet Daru’s gaze.
“Daru, you really have no i-”
He was cut off by a loud popping noise which echoed through the air around him. The pain entering the frame shortly afterwards, his eyes slowly went from closed to wide-open as his body collapsed, blood now oozing from the area of his chest which sat above his heart, which was undoubtedly ceasing all function with each passing second. Lifting his head with all the strength he could muster, he watched as Daru attempted to escape over the side of the roof through use of a nearby ladder. Seeing this, a small sign of life quickly returned to Isaiah’s face as he held his hands together and aimed his gun the best he could, panting heavily as he tried to remain conscious.
“I really hope that there’s a Hell, you bastard, …that way…I can see you there.” he said just before the firing his gun. His head fell back down to the gravel beneath it in the very next second, though not before he could catch sight of Daru’s head flying back as the bullet hit him between the eyes, his lifeless body plummeting through the air shortly afterwards as Isaiah silently prayed that it fell into a garbage dump. The thought gradually brought a smile back to his face, as did the one that followed it, though the emotions that came along with this thought were completely different.
“Well, …at least in a sense, …now neither one of us…gets to leave this altopolis.” he thought to himself as his vision began to fade, his clothes now almost completely soaked in his own blood. Before he knew it, though, voices were suddenly buzzing all around him, while one familiar voice in particular was calling his name.
“Isaiah…Isaiah…Isaiah, come on! Stay with me, alright?” Yakuza pleaded as he held his partner’s hand in his own. Once his vision finally returned, Isaiah looked up at him with a blank expression, though his partner could tell that he was about to say something completely ridiculous. …As per usual, his instincts were far from wrong.
“Yakuza? …What the hell are you doing in Hell?” he asked in a low voice, prompting Yakuza to chuckle in spite of himself, though his sad expression return shortly afterwards.
“You stupid bastard. …Alright, just stop talking for now, okay? Medics are making their way over now. They’re gonna fix you up, alright?” he stammered, severe worry clearly present in his voice.
“I hate to…to be an ass****, pal, but I’m pretty sure that they…hehehehe…they can’t mend a broken heart.” he said in a tone that was drenched with heavy sarcasm, causing everyone close enough to hear him to chuckle softly in spite of the graveness of the situation. Yakuza, on the other hand, no longer found himself capable of laughing, even for Isaiah’s sake.
“I said shut up, alright!? …Seriously, just focus on breathing for now, okay? You gotta keep breathing.” he continued to beg.
“Heh, yeah…don’t think I’ll be doing much of that before long, partner.” Isaiah replied, his vision slowly beginning to fade once again, much to Yakuza’s distress.
“What the hell are you talking about? Come on, Isaiah, you can’t just give up, alright? You still haven’t left Hekichi yet, remember?” the old man reminded him, hoping that the memory of his lifelong dream would give him enough strength to last until paramedics arrived. Sure enough, Isaiah’s eyes gradually began to widen when he mentioned this, but any hopes that Yakuza still had by that point completely vanished in the next second…when he caught sight of a small tear running down the side of his face.
“Hehe, I needn’t worry about that, old friend. …I reckon I’ll be accomplishing that goal…any second now.” he said in between painful grunts, his words nearly bringing Yakuza to tears as they passed through his lips. Before the veteran could reply, though, Isaiah continued, thinking back to what Daru had said about Miyako as he spoke.
“Besides, …I’ve got a feeling that maybe…those living off in the other altopolises…aren’t any better off than we are.”
In reaction to this, Yakuza said nothing more. Although he was incapable of reading the rookie’s mind, in that very moment, he had never been more certain that he knew exactly what he was thinking. …He had found peace…and under the most messed up of circumstances.
“Listen to me, Yakuza. Don’t be worryin’ about me, alright? ...Hehe, I probably begged too much to actually get what I really wanted, …but you…you just make sure that you…you and your family…” Isaiah muttered between heavy breaths, almost unable to get the words out by this point. Fortunately, though, the old man already knew what he meant to say.
“I will, Isaiah.” he promised him, assuming a small smile of his own upon seeing one creep onto Isaiah’s face.
“…Good.” he whispered. In the next instant, though, confusion suddenly replaced his peaceful expression as his partner’s eyes widened slightly in revelation. Having remembered what he was fixing to tell him no more than thirty minutes ago, Yakuza began desperately searching through the pockets of his trench coat.
“Wait, Isaiah. I wanted to tell you about this earlier this morning, but you hung up before I could say anything. …I-I think that you outta know you-”
Before he could even get the words out, or retrieve the item he was searching for, his eyes were redirected elsewhere by the feel of Isaiah’s hand atop his own, a silent request to end the search for whatever it was he wished to show him.
“Just let it be, old man. …Heh, be kinda effed up of you to leave me with any regrets now, wouldn’t you say?” he mumbled, hoping to see one last smile on his partner’s face before the light in his eyes completely faded away. …He got his wish.
“Yeah. …Heh, I suppose so, …Isaiah.” Yakuza said softly, letting his hand remain there for another twenty seconds, until finally, all feeling was drained from it and it fell lifeless to the gravel below. Hesitating a moment in near disbelief, he finally accepted the reality of it all, closing Isaiah’s gaping eyelids before standing back up with his hands in his coat pockets.
“…Goddamn it.” he said in a low voice. Only moments later, the medical team finally arrived and placed his body atop a stretcher, though any officers watching this could already tell that he was beyond saving, bowing their heads in remembrance as they carried him past them. Once he was out of sight, the officer nearest them at the time walked over and rested his hand atop Yakuza’s shoulder, much to the latter’s surprise.
“It’s alright, Daigawa. …He’s in a better place now.” he said reassuringly. Thinking on this, Yakuza briefly looked towards the doorway to the roof, through which Isaiah’s body had just been carried.
“Yeah, …he was about to be.” he said in an almost feeble manner.
“Huh?”
Seeing no point in hiding them any longer, Yakuza searched through his pockets once more until finally finding what he had been looking for: …a ticket for one of the intercity jets, set for departure only three weeks from now.
“The chief handed this to me not even an hour ago. Told me to give this to Coffin next time I saw him.” he said, looking past his shoulder at the young officer when he hesitated to answer him.
“You’re kidding me. …What was the destination?” he finally said, partly astounded by the morbid irony of it all, …while also disheartened for that very same reason.
“…Boshoku.” Yakuza replied, bringing to both their minds images of the altopolis famed for its beautiful sunsets, which also earned it its nickname.
“Orange City, huh? …He probably would’ve enjoyed it there.” the officer replied.
“…Yeah, but I don’t think he ever really cared what the destination was. …Either way, though, he sure is a lucky bastard.” Yakuza said to himself, earning a nod of agreement from the young cop beside him just as the crowd of officers on the rooftop finally began to disperse.
Nearly a month had passed since Isaiah’s death, yet Yakuza’s daily routine had hardly changed at all, aside from his new partner. If one thing was for certain, though, he undoubtedly drank a hell of a lot more during the weekends, under the presumption of every other bottle he gulped down being for his fallen comrade. Of course, that would normally seem like a masquerade to hide one’s own alcoholism, but given that the bartender Rubin had already yelled at him twice for spilling them out onto the floor, he had enough proof to back up his claims. In addition to this new appreciation for booze, though, it seemed that he had also picked up on his old partner’s tendency to partake in long, drunken monologues as well, one of which he was just now finishing, as a matter of fact.
“Isaiah was right all along. …This world really is effed…eff, wait. Why the hell did he always say ‘eff’?” Yakuza asked himself as he gazed into the half-empty bottle dangling from between his fingers.
“‘Why the hell are you still here?’ is more like it.”
Surprised by this intrusion, Yakuza looked up from his drink to find Rubin standing at the opposite end of the bar, cleaning a shot glass with his apron.
“Hey, come on, Yakuza, I wanna close up and head home before sunrise, y’know what I mean?” he tediously reminded the seasoned cop as he pointed towards the clock hanging on the wall behind him. Realizing that it was already well past midnight, he chuckled to himself in embarrassment at having lost track of the time before gulping down what remained of his drink.
“Heh he he, yeah, I feel you, Rubin. …Alright, I guess I should probably head home now. Wouldn’t want my wife worryin’ about me.” he said as he stood up, grabbing his trench coat and hat before making his way towards the door, stopping as he passed by Rubin.
“Hey, you know what Isaiah had in his will?” he asked him, unsure of whether or not he had already told Rubin this.
“Should I know?” the bartender replied, confirming that he hadn’t. Hesitating for a moment, Yakuza looked over at the doorway before redirecting his gaze towards the floor.
“Everything that wasn’t cold hard cash, he left to his mother. …He left the rest to me…all of it…along with this.”
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small piece of paper that had been folded over twice, holding it up for Rubin to see before opening it and reading it aloud.
“I don’t know whether I’ve met my dream or not by this point, but in either case, if your old ass is still dickin’ around Hekichi, …heh, given you’re still alive by the time I’m not, take this money and get as far away from there as possible. Combine it with that savings account of yours and it should…it should be enough to get both you and your family on a jet, maybe even your grandkids, too, if you’ve got any by now. …It doesn’t really matter where you choose to go. Anywhere’s better than that shithole, …but just know that if you don’t make the most of this little donation, I’m kick…I’m kicking your ass when I see you here on the other side-”
He could barely finish the letter before he was forced to lower his head as tears befell his eyes.
“Goddamn you, you little shit. …You always had to be such a wise-ass.” he muttered under his breath, though loud enough to the point where Rubin could understand every word. Stepping out from behind the bar after finishing any chores he still had to take care of, he walked past Yakuza as he made his way over to the coat racks by the door, patting the old man on the back as he walked by.
“…So, you decide where you’re gonna go yet?” Rubin asked as he grabbed his jacket and proceeded to shut off the remaining lights one after the other. Yakuza didn’t bother to look up before answering him.
“…Takiguchi. And we’ve got just enough to where we can afford a decent living there, even with the kids.” he said, a hint of reassurance present in his voice. Bringing to mind images of the altopolis famed for its serene beauty and enormous, never-ending waterfall, Rubin smiled before reopening his eyes and looking over at Yakuza, keeping the last light switch on in order for the two of them to see the door.
“Hmm, excellent choice. You be sure to make the most of it now, you hear me? …Ain’t too many people who ever get the chance to leave the altopolis they were born in.” he advised him. Taking this fact to heart, Yakuza managed a small smile as he looked up to meet Rubin’s eyes.
“I will. …Take care, old friend.” he said, nodding his head as he did.
“Hmhm, same to you.” the seasoned bartender replied.
Not wasting another moment inside the empty tavern, the two headed outside, Rubin locking the door behind him before getting into a nearby car and driving off, while Yakuza walked over to the edge of the vacant sidewalk, his hands tucked in his pockets. He stood there for nearly thirty seconds on end before lifting his head to meet the full moon lying overhead. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but had people still lived on Earth rather than these twenty-six altopolises, it wouldn’t have looked nearly as big as it did right now. He spent another moment pondering this seemingly random thought before realizing that Isaiah, the daydreamer that he was, had probably wondered that exact same thing at some time or another, probably even in this very spot. Smirking at the thought, he lowered his head and closed his eyes, chuckling to himself as he did. Looking up at the moon one last time, he tipped his hat as a sign of respect to his fallen comrade before returning his hand to his pocket and beginning the long walk home.
…The End
I think this marks the first time I’ve ever finished an FF/OF on the schedule I intended for it. So, cheers to that, I guess. XD Thanks a lot to everyone who took the time to read this story. Means a lot to me, honestly And be sure to check out my home page if you’d like to find the links to some of my other works=D
Oh, and if this story seems a bit open-ended to anyone, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until the day I finally turn this thing into an anime. XD
- Free At Last -
“HEY, ASS****!!” Isaiah shouted as he darted across the street mere seconds after hanging up on Yakuza. Needless to say, Hisaisha took immediate notice of him and broke into a full sprint down the sidewalk, pulling out a small pistol as he ran. Also armed, Isaiah was quick to retrieve his own firearm from beneath his trench coat, hoping that its visibility would prevent the criminal from using his own in retaliation. So far, it was working, but the constant running over the span of four minutes quickly began draining Isaiah of his stamina, while Daru looked as though he hadn’t even begun to break a sweat.
“Shit…first thing tomorrow, …I’m off the goddamn…cancer sticks.” Isaiah panted in between heavy breaths. As the distance between him and Daru gradually lengthened and his number of options began to decrease, he readjusted his grip on his gun and held it out in front of him, aligning it with Daru’s feet.
“ALRIGHT, FREEZE, YOU LITTLE PRICK!!!” he yelled out, prompting Daru to look back and, in a brief fit of panic, fire off three shots, two missing their mark, and one just barely missing its mark. Seeing how close the third bullet came to hitting him in the chest, Isaiah’s frustration was quickly replaced by rage.
“Holy shit! SHOOT ME, WILL YA!!? YOU SON-OF-A-*****!!” he screamed out before firing off a few shots of his own, one of which hit Daru in the shin. Much to Isaiah’s shock, though, the injury didn’t even seem to faze him, and he continued running away without any resulting loss in momentum.
“What the-!? …ARE YOU SHITTING ME!!?” Isaiah shouted at the top of his lungs in utter frustration. Fortunately, though, his growing anger had managed to significantly reduce his fatigue, allowing him to slightly increase his speed as Daru cut across the busy street. Certain that reinforcements were only minutes away, Isaiah continued following him into an alleyway between two apartment complexes. Upon catching up with him, he found that he was already halfway up the escape ladder positioned alongside one of the buildings, a rather confusing sight, considering its base was nearly fifteen feet off the ground.
“What the hell? …HEY, I SAID FREEZE!!” Isaiah called out, prompting Daru to fire a few more rounds at his pursuer, who proceeded to dive behind the garbage dump positioned almost directly beneath the ladder.
“Shit…stupid bastard!” Isaiah thought to himself as he looked up and fired off two more shots, both barely missing Daru’s hands. Once again hardly fazed by the gunfire directed towards him, Daru continued his ascent, disappearing through the nearby fire escape upon reaching the top of the ladder.
“…Damn it.” Isaiah muttered to himself as he watched these events play out. Realizing he couldn’t possibly follow Daru in that direction, he ran back to the front of the building and headed inside, ordering a middle-aged man who was walking through the hallway at the time to phone the police. Searching for the closest staircase immediately afterwards, he headed through the door upon finding it and quickly caught sight of Daru, who was already four floors above him. Noticing Isaiah as well, the felon quickened the pace of his ascent as his pursuer began his own, each of them firing off more shots at each other as they made their way up to the eighth and highest floor. Reaching it first, Daru hesitated a moment, now faced with the option of either following the last flight of stairs to the roof or bursting through the door right beside him, the latter of which risked the possibility of spurring the direct or indirect involvement of any civilians he might run into, but increased his chances of losing Isaiah amongst the medley of hallways and rooms. Still contemplating the ins and outs of both alternatives, Daru didn’t even notice that his pursuer had halted his own progress just two flights below and raised his gun to open fire. Throwing his head back just in time to avoid the shot, the swift movement on his part forced the black wig atop his head to fall off, revealing the bald scalp which the Chief had described in the conference from five days ago.
“HA! You like that, huh!? You little shit!” Isaiah shouted as he continued his ascent. Out of both options and time, Daru took the last flight of stairs up to the roof, forfeiting the possibility of losing him on the descent back down to the bottom floor. Running out onto the center of the roof, which was covered in gravel, he turned around and pointed his gun towards the doorway, set on finishing off his tail once and for all. Much to his dismay, though, when he pulled the trigger just as Isaiah burst through the door, nothing happened, Isaiah having the same results when he fired his gun in retaliation.
“Shit!” they both muttered simultaneously before reaching into their credentials for a second magazine, neither of them taking their eyes off the man standing in front of them as they did. Reloading and cocking their guns at the exact same time, the two were once again at a standstill, neither willing to fire their weapon for fear they’ll be shot dead in the next second. After what seemed like an eternity – though, in reality, it was probably only two minutes at most – Isaiah finally broke the ice, bringing to light something that’s been on his mind for almost the entire duration of their chase.
“You’re tough as freakin’ nails, you know that, Daru? …Hmph, hell, you didn’t even flinch when I shot you in the damn leg.” he said with a small level of sarcasm in his voice. In truth, he was actually hinting that he wanted Daru to show him the bullet wound, something the latter quickly caught onto. Noting the serious look in his eyes, he decided he could trust his instincts for the time being and knelt down to pull up the base of his pant leg, neither breaking their eye contact nor lowering his gun as he did. Just as Isaiah suspected, what he saw next was not a blood-soaked limb composed of flesh and bone, but a thick, white prosthesis made out of what was presumably a durable plastic composite. Realizing just what kind of history this man had lived through, Isaiah couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, hoping in the back of his mind that it might stir Daru in some manner.
“Well, I’ll be. A prosthetic eye, a prosthetic leg…heh, you’re a more effed up individual than I first took ya for, Daru.” he joked, expecting that his words might actually get one or two out of Daru, as well. Although with great hesitation, he eventually succeeded.
“If only you knew, officer. …That’s the type of shit one expects regularly back in Miyako nowadays.” he said in a low voice.
“Hm, so you ARE from Miyako…and I take it the old man was, too?” Isaiah replied. When Daru hesitated to respond, he continued.
“Was it so important that you hop on a jet to Hekichi, just to put a few rounds in his brain? You should’ve known you wouldn’t get away with it, right? …How the hell do you afford something like that, anyways? Far as I can tell, you’re just a small-time crook.”
He asked these questions of him, but at the same time, a completely different one was fluttering through his mind, brought to light by what Daru just said.
“He says people EXPECT that shit? …Just what the hell’s going on over in Miyako?” he thought to himself, though he was soon interrupted by Daru’s anticipated reply.
“Aragame’s had it coming to him for years now. I was just lucky enough to be the one who finally puts him where he belongs. …In Hell.” he said in a somewhat low voice, his thoughts clearly more focused on the events of his past than his current predicament. Isaiah actually thought about using this opening to incapacitate him, …but he just had to hear more.
“So what? He pissed a lot of people off back in your altopolis and wanted out? Why’d you have to follow him, then? I mean, if people thought they were better off without him and all? …Shit, you probably spent several hundred grand on the ticket here. Was it really worth it?” he retorted, rather irritated by what he currently believed was Daru’s reasoning.
“…Every single yen. …And for the record, most of the people who thought that are dead.” he replied, bringing a look of shock to Isaiah’s face. …It was slowly beginning to make sense to him now. Kimono Aragame’s murder wasn’t a senseless killing. It wasn’t even an act of vengeance. …It was justice.
“Hate to break it to you, pal, but no matter how good that story may look on paper, it doesn’t shake the fact that your hands are stained, too. In case you hadn’t realized it, in this day and age, the altopolises are kind of estranged from each other. …What you did might’ve made you a hero in Miyako, but here, you’re a murderer no different from any other.” he replied in a highly serious tone, making his resolve to carry out the law very clear to Daru, something proven by his response.
“If you only knew what he did…if you only knew, …YOU’D BE KISSING MY FEET RIGHT NOW FOR WIPING SUCH A WICKED MAN OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!!!” he shouted in anger, determined to prove that what he did was the right thing. …Unfortunately, his careless choice of words left Isaiah with an opening for a sarcastic retort, so needless to say, he didn’t quite get the message.
“Really? …Heh, cause last I checked, there wasn’t anything left on the face of the Earth, jackass.”
Clenching his teeth in utter resentment, Daru looked as though he was prepared to empty his gun into his antagonist’s head without giving it a second thought, an urge stimulated further by the smirk on Isaiah’s face, one placed there by that very knowledge. Before he could act on said urge, however, both had their attentions directed elsewhere by the sound of howling sirens which, given their proximity, suggested that a parade of patrol cars had surrounded the entire complex. Escape now nearly impossible, Daru’s fit of anger quickly changed to one of panic as he adjusted his aim, causing Isaiah to do the same.
“Alright, I’ve had enough of this goddamn circle jerk! Drop the gun and hit the floor now!” he ordered, Isaiah’s smirk becoming more and more distinct as his level of confidence skyrocketed.
“Excuse me? I thought for sure I heard you say it was all worth it if you were able to kill the old man.” he replied in a smug manner.
“I said it was worth the plane ticket, but there’s no way in hell I’m gonna throw away my life just for that bastard! Now drop your gun!” he snapped, his desperation becoming more apparent with every breath he took.
“Why don’t you just cut the bullshit, Daru? We both know the moment I drop this gun, you’re just gonna shoot me and start running off again. …You’re so insistent on escaping, but a guy like you must know that you won’t outrun us forever-”
“Then why the hell are you still here!?” Daru quickly interrupted. Now at a loss for words, Isaiah’s smirk quickly disappeared in response to this unexpected retort. Seeing that his words might have actually gotten through to his rational side, Daru continued trying to reason with him.
“If you know you’re about to be killed, then why aren’t you trying to get away why you still can!? …You just keep standing there, pointing your gun at me like a goddamn maniac, smirking like you don’t care whether you live or die! …JUST GO ALREADY!!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, praying that Isaiah’s next reaction would be to do just that. …Much to his disappointment, though, the young officer seemed to have fallen into a somewhat semi-conscious state, reflecting on what Daru just said.
“…Go…heh, what would I give to go anywhere other than this place.” he thought to himself. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, his smirk returned as he lifted his head to meet Daru’s gaze.
“Daru, you really have no i-”
He was cut off by a loud popping noise which echoed through the air around him. The pain entering the frame shortly afterwards, his eyes slowly went from closed to wide-open as his body collapsed, blood now oozing from the area of his chest which sat above his heart, which was undoubtedly ceasing all function with each passing second. Lifting his head with all the strength he could muster, he watched as Daru attempted to escape over the side of the roof through use of a nearby ladder. Seeing this, a small sign of life quickly returned to Isaiah’s face as he held his hands together and aimed his gun the best he could, panting heavily as he tried to remain conscious.
“I really hope that there’s a Hell, you bastard, …that way…I can see you there.” he said just before the firing his gun. His head fell back down to the gravel beneath it in the very next second, though not before he could catch sight of Daru’s head flying back as the bullet hit him between the eyes, his lifeless body plummeting through the air shortly afterwards as Isaiah silently prayed that it fell into a garbage dump. The thought gradually brought a smile back to his face, as did the one that followed it, though the emotions that came along with this thought were completely different.
“Well, …at least in a sense, …now neither one of us…gets to leave this altopolis.” he thought to himself as his vision began to fade, his clothes now almost completely soaked in his own blood. Before he knew it, though, voices were suddenly buzzing all around him, while one familiar voice in particular was calling his name.
“Isaiah…Isaiah…Isaiah, come on! Stay with me, alright?” Yakuza pleaded as he held his partner’s hand in his own. Once his vision finally returned, Isaiah looked up at him with a blank expression, though his partner could tell that he was about to say something completely ridiculous. …As per usual, his instincts were far from wrong.
“Yakuza? …What the hell are you doing in Hell?” he asked in a low voice, prompting Yakuza to chuckle in spite of himself, though his sad expression return shortly afterwards.
“You stupid bastard. …Alright, just stop talking for now, okay? Medics are making their way over now. They’re gonna fix you up, alright?” he stammered, severe worry clearly present in his voice.
“I hate to…to be an ass****, pal, but I’m pretty sure that they…hehehehe…they can’t mend a broken heart.” he said in a tone that was drenched with heavy sarcasm, causing everyone close enough to hear him to chuckle softly in spite of the graveness of the situation. Yakuza, on the other hand, no longer found himself capable of laughing, even for Isaiah’s sake.
“I said shut up, alright!? …Seriously, just focus on breathing for now, okay? You gotta keep breathing.” he continued to beg.
“Heh, yeah…don’t think I’ll be doing much of that before long, partner.” Isaiah replied, his vision slowly beginning to fade once again, much to Yakuza’s distress.
“What the hell are you talking about? Come on, Isaiah, you can’t just give up, alright? You still haven’t left Hekichi yet, remember?” the old man reminded him, hoping that the memory of his lifelong dream would give him enough strength to last until paramedics arrived. Sure enough, Isaiah’s eyes gradually began to widen when he mentioned this, but any hopes that Yakuza still had by that point completely vanished in the next second…when he caught sight of a small tear running down the side of his face.
“Hehe, I needn’t worry about that, old friend. …I reckon I’ll be accomplishing that goal…any second now.” he said in between painful grunts, his words nearly bringing Yakuza to tears as they passed through his lips. Before the veteran could reply, though, Isaiah continued, thinking back to what Daru had said about Miyako as he spoke.
“Besides, …I’ve got a feeling that maybe…those living off in the other altopolises…aren’t any better off than we are.”
In reaction to this, Yakuza said nothing more. Although he was incapable of reading the rookie’s mind, in that very moment, he had never been more certain that he knew exactly what he was thinking. …He had found peace…and under the most messed up of circumstances.
“Listen to me, Yakuza. Don’t be worryin’ about me, alright? ...Hehe, I probably begged too much to actually get what I really wanted, …but you…you just make sure that you…you and your family…” Isaiah muttered between heavy breaths, almost unable to get the words out by this point. Fortunately, though, the old man already knew what he meant to say.
“I will, Isaiah.” he promised him, assuming a small smile of his own upon seeing one creep onto Isaiah’s face.
“…Good.” he whispered. In the next instant, though, confusion suddenly replaced his peaceful expression as his partner’s eyes widened slightly in revelation. Having remembered what he was fixing to tell him no more than thirty minutes ago, Yakuza began desperately searching through the pockets of his trench coat.
“Wait, Isaiah. I wanted to tell you about this earlier this morning, but you hung up before I could say anything. …I-I think that you outta know you-”
Before he could even get the words out, or retrieve the item he was searching for, his eyes were redirected elsewhere by the feel of Isaiah’s hand atop his own, a silent request to end the search for whatever it was he wished to show him.
“Just let it be, old man. …Heh, be kinda effed up of you to leave me with any regrets now, wouldn’t you say?” he mumbled, hoping to see one last smile on his partner’s face before the light in his eyes completely faded away. …He got his wish.
“Yeah. …Heh, I suppose so, …Isaiah.” Yakuza said softly, letting his hand remain there for another twenty seconds, until finally, all feeling was drained from it and it fell lifeless to the gravel below. Hesitating a moment in near disbelief, he finally accepted the reality of it all, closing Isaiah’s gaping eyelids before standing back up with his hands in his coat pockets.
“…Goddamn it.” he said in a low voice. Only moments later, the medical team finally arrived and placed his body atop a stretcher, though any officers watching this could already tell that he was beyond saving, bowing their heads in remembrance as they carried him past them. Once he was out of sight, the officer nearest them at the time walked over and rested his hand atop Yakuza’s shoulder, much to the latter’s surprise.
“It’s alright, Daigawa. …He’s in a better place now.” he said reassuringly. Thinking on this, Yakuza briefly looked towards the doorway to the roof, through which Isaiah’s body had just been carried.
“Yeah, …he was about to be.” he said in an almost feeble manner.
“Huh?”
Seeing no point in hiding them any longer, Yakuza searched through his pockets once more until finally finding what he had been looking for: …a ticket for one of the intercity jets, set for departure only three weeks from now.
“The chief handed this to me not even an hour ago. Told me to give this to Coffin next time I saw him.” he said, looking past his shoulder at the young officer when he hesitated to answer him.
“You’re kidding me. …What was the destination?” he finally said, partly astounded by the morbid irony of it all, …while also disheartened for that very same reason.
“…Boshoku.” Yakuza replied, bringing to both their minds images of the altopolis famed for its beautiful sunsets, which also earned it its nickname.
“Orange City, huh? …He probably would’ve enjoyed it there.” the officer replied.
“…Yeah, but I don’t think he ever really cared what the destination was. …Either way, though, he sure is a lucky bastard.” Yakuza said to himself, earning a nod of agreement from the young cop beside him just as the crowd of officers on the rooftop finally began to disperse.
Nearly a month had passed since Isaiah’s death, yet Yakuza’s daily routine had hardly changed at all, aside from his new partner. If one thing was for certain, though, he undoubtedly drank a hell of a lot more during the weekends, under the presumption of every other bottle he gulped down being for his fallen comrade. Of course, that would normally seem like a masquerade to hide one’s own alcoholism, but given that the bartender Rubin had already yelled at him twice for spilling them out onto the floor, he had enough proof to back up his claims. In addition to this new appreciation for booze, though, it seemed that he had also picked up on his old partner’s tendency to partake in long, drunken monologues as well, one of which he was just now finishing, as a matter of fact.
“Isaiah was right all along. …This world really is effed…eff, wait. Why the hell did he always say ‘eff’?” Yakuza asked himself as he gazed into the half-empty bottle dangling from between his fingers.
“‘Why the hell are you still here?’ is more like it.”
Surprised by this intrusion, Yakuza looked up from his drink to find Rubin standing at the opposite end of the bar, cleaning a shot glass with his apron.
“Hey, come on, Yakuza, I wanna close up and head home before sunrise, y’know what I mean?” he tediously reminded the seasoned cop as he pointed towards the clock hanging on the wall behind him. Realizing that it was already well past midnight, he chuckled to himself in embarrassment at having lost track of the time before gulping down what remained of his drink.
“Heh he he, yeah, I feel you, Rubin. …Alright, I guess I should probably head home now. Wouldn’t want my wife worryin’ about me.” he said as he stood up, grabbing his trench coat and hat before making his way towards the door, stopping as he passed by Rubin.
“Hey, you know what Isaiah had in his will?” he asked him, unsure of whether or not he had already told Rubin this.
“Should I know?” the bartender replied, confirming that he hadn’t. Hesitating for a moment, Yakuza looked over at the doorway before redirecting his gaze towards the floor.
“Everything that wasn’t cold hard cash, he left to his mother. …He left the rest to me…all of it…along with this.”
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small piece of paper that had been folded over twice, holding it up for Rubin to see before opening it and reading it aloud.
“I don’t know whether I’ve met my dream or not by this point, but in either case, if your old ass is still dickin’ around Hekichi, …heh, given you’re still alive by the time I’m not, take this money and get as far away from there as possible. Combine it with that savings account of yours and it should…it should be enough to get both you and your family on a jet, maybe even your grandkids, too, if you’ve got any by now. …It doesn’t really matter where you choose to go. Anywhere’s better than that shithole, …but just know that if you don’t make the most of this little donation, I’m kick…I’m kicking your ass when I see you here on the other side-”
He could barely finish the letter before he was forced to lower his head as tears befell his eyes.
“Goddamn you, you little shit. …You always had to be such a wise-ass.” he muttered under his breath, though loud enough to the point where Rubin could understand every word. Stepping out from behind the bar after finishing any chores he still had to take care of, he walked past Yakuza as he made his way over to the coat racks by the door, patting the old man on the back as he walked by.
“…So, you decide where you’re gonna go yet?” Rubin asked as he grabbed his jacket and proceeded to shut off the remaining lights one after the other. Yakuza didn’t bother to look up before answering him.
“…Takiguchi. And we’ve got just enough to where we can afford a decent living there, even with the kids.” he said, a hint of reassurance present in his voice. Bringing to mind images of the altopolis famed for its serene beauty and enormous, never-ending waterfall, Rubin smiled before reopening his eyes and looking over at Yakuza, keeping the last light switch on in order for the two of them to see the door.
“Hmm, excellent choice. You be sure to make the most of it now, you hear me? …Ain’t too many people who ever get the chance to leave the altopolis they were born in.” he advised him. Taking this fact to heart, Yakuza managed a small smile as he looked up to meet Rubin’s eyes.
“I will. …Take care, old friend.” he said, nodding his head as he did.
“Hmhm, same to you.” the seasoned bartender replied.
Not wasting another moment inside the empty tavern, the two headed outside, Rubin locking the door behind him before getting into a nearby car and driving off, while Yakuza walked over to the edge of the vacant sidewalk, his hands tucked in his pockets. He stood there for nearly thirty seconds on end before lifting his head to meet the full moon lying overhead. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but had people still lived on Earth rather than these twenty-six altopolises, it wouldn’t have looked nearly as big as it did right now. He spent another moment pondering this seemingly random thought before realizing that Isaiah, the daydreamer that he was, had probably wondered that exact same thing at some time or another, probably even in this very spot. Smirking at the thought, he lowered his head and closed his eyes, chuckling to himself as he did. Looking up at the moon one last time, he tipped his hat as a sign of respect to his fallen comrade before returning his hand to his pocket and beginning the long walk home.
…The End
I think this marks the first time I’ve ever finished an FF/OF on the schedule I intended for it. So, cheers to that, I guess. XD Thanks a lot to everyone who took the time to read this story. Means a lot to me, honestly
And be sure to check out my home page if you’d like to find the links to some of my other works=DOh, and if this story seems a bit open-ended to anyone, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until the day I finally turn this thing into an anime. XD
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Twas a success! =D
