For the time being, Shinonome and Beria’s base of operations was a cheap place called a coffin hotel — basically a capsule hotel stripped down even further.
Even so, there were showers, and the common area had a TV.
Not that TV culture hadn’t fallen off — this was the greater metro area, and the only things broadcasting were the traditional public channel and a single commercial station.
Shinonome took a long, hot shower, bought a carbonated drink from the vending machine, and savored that first rush of fizz down his throat for the first time in a long while.
In a few places in the other world there’d been natural sparkling water, but it was always lukewarm and tasted like nothing.
“I’m alive again!”
It was the first time in a long while Shinonome had genuinely felt like he’d come home to Japan.
“Shinonome, about the BCI surgery.”
“I’m absolutely not getting it.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll get it. Let’s save up for that.”
“Yeah. Fair enough.”
Thinking about what lay ahead, they needed to save money, and Beria should get the BCI surgery. Shinonome had gone around to a few internet cafés, but not a single one operated with an old-fashioned mouse and keyboard.
Every last one required BCI.
He understood that in this day and age, not being able to gather information online was a problem. There were no newspapers to be found, and the TV was just barely managing some thin news coverage on the public channel.
He’d also wanted to look into Jane Doe.
What her purpose was in using Shinonome and Beria. And whether she planned to keep using them.
Any kind of lead would help.
“For now, saving up. How much does BCI surgery run?”
“How would I know?”
Right, that was exactly the kind of thing you needed the internet to look up.
“Safe clinic’ll run you about 7,000 new yen for BCI surgery.”
Jane Doe appeared out of nowhere just then, and Shinonome startled.
“I’ll refer you to the clinic. Earn the money. New job.”
“Already?”
“The backlog’s deep.”
Shinonome shrugged, put his AR contacts back in, and accepted the file from Jane Doe.
“Eliminate in two days. There’s a chance he bolts.”
The next target was an e-drug dealer.
According to the profile, the man was a junkie who spread particularly dangerous e-drugs while indulging himself, and had a body count.
His e-drug manufacturing techniques came from vocational school training he’d weaponized, combined with corporate trade secrets obtained through hacking.
Lacking in caution, but knows when to cut and run.
That was what it said.
“Understood. The pay?”
“Small-time dealer. 2,000 new yen. Do your best, low-tech.”
Jane Doe said this and vanished.
“Beria. We move right away.”
“Ugh. I just showered, I want to sleep.”
“She said do it fast.”
“Fine, fine.”
Shinonome and Beria headed outside.
It was raining, but only a drizzle, so they ignored it.
“I command the messengers of dark shadow. Seek out that which we search for, and take hold of it.“
The familiars burst from Beria’s shadow.
“…Well?”
“…There. Probably this one. Twenty kilometers out.”
“She’s keeping the work close by, as usual.”
“Don’t we need to worry about the authorities in this country?”
There Beria asked something that was, for a Demon King, remarkably sensible — and a fair point.
What was going on with the police? Gunshots going off with not a squad car in sight — something was deeply wrong with that picture.
“Let’s not worry about it for now. If they show up, I’ll kill them too.”
“Wow. Were you really a hero?”
“Once upon a time. Now I’m just an out-of-date low-tech hitman.”
With Beria guiding him, Shinonome ran through streets blazing with neon and holograms.
The same sketchy holograms as ever floated past — EVERYDAY and FRESH and SUSHI.
“Let’s get food after this is done.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
“Even so, eat when you can.”
How long the money would last, when the next job would come — none of it was clear.
He needed to get used to this city while he could.
The stench was real, and strange creatures were wandering around, but Beria was a Demon King and Shinonome was a hero. Poison resistance came with the territory, as a baseline. Eat something bad and the worst of it would be a stomachache.
“There. Turn right at the next corner, four kilometers.”
“Wait here. I’ll finish it.”
Shinonome drew Moonlight.
And pushed his physical enhancement to its absolute limit.
He had the target in his sights. The man was staggering — drunk, or high. Shinonome came in from behind, drove a strike at the neck, and ran straight through.
Behind him, the man’s carotid was spraying blood in pulses like a fountain.
Shinonome sheathed Moonlight and melted into the crowd.
When Shinonome had first taken up Moonlight, the only thing he’d been asked was: Do you swear to wield this sword for those without power? Shinonome had wanted power. Power to fight the Demon King’s army for those without power.
And now he still wanted power. To get the job done.
“Finished.”
“Jane Doe’s here.”
Beria jabbed a thumb over her shoulder with a look of exasperation.
“Fast workers earn trust. 2,000 new yen. No cut taken. Get back to the coffin hotel and rest up for the next job. That’s all for today.”
Jane Doe handed over the chip the same as before and disappeared.
“Hotel’s twenty new yen per person per night. And we need new clothes.”
“Me too. We’re — how do I put it — we look behind.”
“We actually are behind.”
After that, at a 24-hour place that called itself a drugstore but was really an everything-store, Shinonome and Beria bought jackets made of some kind of poly-something fiber with water-repellent coating, picked up underwear and some basic clothing, and headed back to the coffin hotel.
Changed at the coffin hotel, then went out for food.
They ate sushi at a place nearby. It said PROCESSED on the sign, so it probably wasn’t NATURAL, but the fact that it said PROCESSED right there on the label was somehow more reassuring.
“Food cost ten new yen. Clothes thirty-five.”
“At this rate we’ll save up fast.”
“No. We’re going to need forged IDs.”
After that, they returned to the coffin hotel again.
Another shower, then sleep in the coffin.
Being a cheap place, there was noise, and occasional foul smells, but today had been too much and they were out cold from exhaustion.
The next morning, an alarm woke them.
“Keep it down!”
A complaint from the neighboring coffin — Shinonome clicked his tongue and shut the alarm off.
“Beria. You up…”
He knocked on the coffin next to his.
“Just woke up.”
“Go wash your face. I’ll shower first.”
Beria stretched inside the tiny coffin, crawled out, rubbed her eyes sleepily, and shuffled off to wash her face. Shinonome took his shower in the meantime.
In the other world, a cold splash was the best you could hope for — and even that, the locals rarely bothered with, which had driven him up the wall.
But to come back to Earth and still be dealing with stench, Shinonome thought.
Finished with his shower, he bought a calorie-free carbonated drink and was heading to the common area when he found Jane Doe already there.
Yesterday she’d been in a cheongsam with a rose pattern; today she wore one with white-and-red Eastern dragons.
“You really don’t stand out in that…?”
“You two are the ones looking like tourists.”
Then Beria came up from behind.
“I’ll buy you coffee. Real coffee. Throw that cheap soft drink away.”
At Jane Doe’s words, Shinonome shrugged and tossed the soft drink in the trash without taking a single sip.
“Buy your clothes somewhere decent. Blend in. Fit in with this grimy TMC Sector 13/6, understand.”
Jane Doe pointed out that their outfits, jackets aside, screamed out-of-towners.
Shinonome had on a white synthetic-fiber shirt and slacks. Beria, the same — white synthetic-fiber shirt and a black skirt.
“Not standing out is part of the job.”
Jane Doe said this and stepped into a car that had been waiting for her.
The car moved off without a sound, smooth and silent.
The driver wore a pleasant smile on his face.
The same kind of pleasant smile as the man at Kaimiya City Tower who’d done nothing but repeat himself.
……………………