Chapter 53: Hunting the Stragglers

The year was 1992. When Kotarou Aratake turned twenty, the Act on Countermeasures Against Organized Crime was enacted—commonly known as the Anti-Gang Law.

Up until then, the Aratake had upheld the ideals of chivalry and necessity, preaching the role of a necessary evil. Yet behind that noble facade, they had been raking in enormous profits. But with the new law in place, they plunged into an era of darkness.

The Anti-Gang Law was an absurd piece of legislation, unworthy of a nation governed by the rule of law.

Its content was so outrageous that it practically declared, “If you so much as annoy the police, they can crush you at any time.” Even minor threats, petty kidnappings, or trivial drug dealings were enough to land a yakuza in prison.

Kotarou’s father, the first boss of the Aratake, Iwao Aratake, had gunned down two rival gang executives in a bustling entertainment district as payback for the murder of his young subordinates. And yet, for something as trivial as that, he was slapped with a prison sentence. Even though he had been considerate enough to ensure that only gangsters died and no civilians were harmed, the system showed no mercy.

With his father incarcerated, Kotarou took over as the second-generation boss of the Aratake. He rode the tides of change and expanded their operations into various illicit enterprises.

They managed host clubs and adult entertainment businesses. Engaged in phone scams. Manipulated foolish kids into being errand boys for robbery. Even drug sales were conducted through intermediaries to keep the police off their backs.

In the past, the Aratake had deep roots in major local corporations and lived comfortably. But thanks to the Anti-Gang Law, that was no longer an option. Even so, they survived by employing petty business tactics.

Occasionally, they struck big. But with each passing year, their organization shrank. Their rival gangs either vanished naturally or disbanded.

Despite Kotarou’s desperate efforts, the Aratake continued to wither away, as if being slowly strangled by an invisible rope.

Even as the era changed to Reiwa and the world celebrated a new age, the Aratake remained trapped in their dark days.

The thought of his father—the first boss—dying in prison, unable to realize his dream of nationwide unification, filled Kotarou with rage.

Then, everything changed with the Gremlin Disaster.

By some incredible stroke of luck, Kotarou’s younger brother, Kojiro Aratake, and his lover, Youko Kiwada, awakened as a magician and a witch.

This was their chance.

Kotarou was convinced that the time had come to unleash years of pent-up frustration.

His father’s dream. His own dream. The dream of the Aratake.

A dream that every yakuza in history had longed for but never achieved—total domination of the nation.

For more than thirty years, society had treated the Aratake like garbage. Now, it was time to show the world their true terror.

It was time to teach those arrogant, goody-two-shoes who had mocked them what real power meant.

Kotarou wasted no time in appointing his younger brother, Kojiro, as the third boss of the Aratake, while he himself took on the role of advisor.

Kojiro, after becoming a magician, had further enhanced his already formidable physique and developed a commanding aura. As the son of their father’s later years, he was still in his early forties—far younger than Kotarou. His mind was sharp enough, making him an ideal third-generation leader.

There was just one problem—after becoming a magician, Kojiro had developed an unnecessary sense of mercy.

Once a ruthless enforcer raised under their father’s teachings, Kojiro’s transformation had awakened a bizarre, chivalrous ideology that was difficult to comprehend. He didn’t just use the concept of honor as a facade—he seemed to truly believe in it. It was almost like a twisted form of knightly virtue.

As the third boss, Kojiro decreed that any foe who surrendered would be treated with generosity.

No matter how formidable the enemy, as long as they submitted and swore loyalty to the Aratake, they would neither be killed nor bound by contract magic.

Kotarou found this naive policy infuriating. However, he convinced himself that as long as he supported his brother from behind the scenes, it would be manageable.

If it had been up to Kotarou, he would have bound both allies and enemies alike with contract magic, ensuring absolute obedience. In the world of yakuza, betrayal and desertion were everyday occurrences.

At least Kojiro wasn’t entirely naive—he declared that anyone who betrayed them despite being shown mercy would be punished by death. That was barely acceptable.

With Kotarou crafting the strategies and Kojiro executing them, the brothers swiftly conquered Fukuoka.

Amidst the chaos of the great disaster, they established a massive survivor community of 400,000 people.

Of course, not all the witches and magicians who were crushed by Kojiro and his lover’s combined violence were loyal from the start.

Many had been forced into submission through contract magic, their eyes burning with the silent promise of vengeance.

Kotarou handled those cases personally.

Torture. Psychological manipulation through good cop/bad cop tactics.

Taking hostages. Slowly coercing them into minor crimes to entangle them further.

Eating meals together. Breaking their families first, then using those families to break them in turn.

Once someone was broken in, the rest was easy.

The assault and suppression of the Biwa Lake Pact had further strengthened the unity and loyalty of the Aratake.

Though they suffered a single casualty, they gained a new ally—a hawkish witch from the Biwa Lake Pact who had secretly facilitated their invasion. The trade-off was even.

Everything was falling into place.

To make matters even better, they secured both the formula and the supply of magic-enhancing drugs that the Biwa Lake Pact’s moderates had been hiding.

The drug was made by refining the sap of eerie, tree-faced monsters known as Trents.

Drinking it temporarily boosted one’s magic power beyond their natural limit, allowing for rapid regeneration and amplification.

Thanks to this, even the lowly grunts of the Aratake could muster enough magic power to cast spells, turning them into a formidable force. Of course, compared to actual witches and magicians, they were still nothing special.

However, the drug had serious downsides.

The leadership of the Aratake decided against using it themselves, instead distributing it to the underlings or using it as a bargaining chip for negotiations.

The drug’s effects were temporary—once the enhanced magic power was used, it vanished. Moreover, each dose permanently reduced the user’s maximum magic capacity.

Some fools overdosed and literally disintegrated into dust.

Just as nicotine and alcohol create stronger dependencies in younger individuals, this magic drug followed a similar pattern.

The lower one’s natural magic reserves, the greater the intoxicating sense of omnipotence it provided, leading to extreme addiction.

Witches and magicians barely felt its effects—it wasn’t worth the trade-off for them.

But for ordinary people who lacked even the power to cast a basic fertility spell, it was like heroin. Once they used it, they were hooked for life.

With this new weapon in their arsenal, the Aratake secured their hold over the Biwa Lake Pact’s core leadership through contract magic and magic drugs, ensuring their total submission.

Then, they rode that momentum straight to Tokyo.

Thanks to the magic stones they plundered from the Biwa Lake Pact, every single member of the Arataki-gumi now possessed one.

A tiger had grown wings. There was no reason to stop now.

Kojiro, in his foolishness, hesitated—claiming they owed Tokyo a debt of gratitude for its fertility magic.

Kotarou quickly dismissed that nonsense.

“Those bastards brought the Mushroom Plague with them. That debt is repaid.”

That was enough to convince Kojiro.

The Tokyo Witch Assembly was the largest survivor community in Japan.

A total population between 2 to 4 million.

Among them, 15 to 30 witches and magicians.

The intelligence they had extracted from the Dragon Witch was unreliable, but one thing was certain:

The Dragon Witch.
The Seer Mage.
The Blue Witch.

Take down those three, and Tokyo would fall.

The Witch Assembly lacked unity.

Eliminate their leaders and neutralize their special assets, and the rest would crumble—one by one.

The Aratake gang had ten witches and wizards. The Tokyo Witch Assembly had, at most, thirty.

However, the ten were united, while the thirty were nothing more than a disorderly crowd once their core members were eliminated.

They could win.

Kotaro was convinced of that.

He had devised a plan to take down the Biwa Lake Pact with minimal casualties. But as expected, a wizard with precognition was not an easy opponent.

He had tried to create an informant by approaching the most easily swayed witch in Setagaya, but every attempt was thwarted—not by mere coincidence, but by clear interference.

Attempts to corrupt them from within using magical drugs also failed.

Tokyo had its own underworld, with black market dealers who handled contraband. However, they were completely terrified of the wizard with precognition. Even though the magical drugs were handed over through intermediaries, they never reached the wider market, remaining hidden away.

With no way to create an informant or spread the drugs, Kotaro instead ordered their most skilled infiltrator to steal the strongest magic staff, Kyanos, which was said to hold the voice of the Blue Witch.

That, too, ended in failure.

Even though there had been no signs of an impending theft, the Blue Witch suddenly became suspicious and started taking extra precautions, making any move impossible.

No matter how united the Arataki gang was, with their every strategy being anticipated and the enemy’s strongest forces already on guard, there was nothing they could do.

But there was a weakness.

As Kotaro engaged in a battle of schemes with the precognitive wizard, he realized the limits of their ability.

His plans were being foiled, and there was a sense that the enemy wanted to drive the Aratake gang away. However, they did not seem to know the gang’s total numbers, nor were they able to crush every single move.

The precognitive wizard had limits.

Realizing this, Kotaro advised his brother, the gang leader, to overwhelm the wizard’s capacity to respond by launching attacks from multiple directions at once.

Rather than a full-frontal assault with all ten members, it would be more effective to spread their forces.

Kotaro’s plan worked.

It seemed that about half of their moves had been anticipated, but red smoke signals—signifying victory—rose from Bunkyo Ward Office, and another plume rose from the Magic University, signaling that it had been secured along with hostages. A red signal was also visible from Chofu City.

The Aratake gang’s invasion of Tokyo had begun with the best possible start.

But what came after was disastrous.

The black smoke that would confirm the Seer wizard’s death never appeared.

Nor did any signal indicating the Blue Witch or the Dragon Witch had been neutralized. Evening came, and night approached.

Kotaro was a strategist, not a fighter.

He could fire thirty rounds of his “Shoot, Aaaah!” spell, which was enough to take down regular humans, but in a battle between transcendents, he would be killed instantly.

Thus, he remained safely hidden in the top floor of a high-rise apartment in Koto Ward, observing the battlefield through a telescope with his subordinates.

Just as the sun was about to set, the long-stalemated battle shifted.

And it was a shift for the worse.

A dragon arrived from the mountains and landed in Bunkyo. Then, it swiftly took to the skies again and flew toward the Flower Witch’s territory.

Suddenly, a massive white vortex appeared above and crashed down, blanketing the city in white.

That was not all. The dragon then weaved through the buildings at high speed, creating another enormous white vortex several wards away. The frozen whirlpool engulfed buildings, locking them in ice.

Kotaro clenched his teeth so hard he thought they would shatter, threw down his telescope, and rushed out of the high-rise with his subordinates.

The Aratake gang had lost.

If the dragon was freely flying, that meant Kiwada—their strongest fighter against the Dragon Witch—had been killed. That was one confirmed casualty.

The powerful ice magic was the work of the Blue Witch. The fact that there had been no warning before she went on a rampage meant their assigned watcher, Kurihara, had also been killed. That made two.

The hostages were no longer useful, meaning that the gang leader, his lieutenant, and their top enforcer—who had seized the Magic University—were dead. That made five.

The three witches who had taken the ward office should have regrouped at the university by now. Yet, when the dragon landed in Bunkyo, there had been no response. Even though the Blue Witch had unleashed devastating magic, there was no counterattack. That meant the three witches from the ward office were almost certainly dead as well. That made eight.

Ikaruga, who had been attacking the Flower Witch’s domain, would have been unable to defend against the catastrophic magic raining down from above. She had likely perished. That made nine.

Shishido, who had successfully defeated and captured the Chofu Witch, must have also been killed by the Blue Witch’s magic during transport.

That made ten.

All of the Arataki gang’s witches and wizards had been slaughtered.

Kotaro ran.

He ran for his life, fearing the moment the dragon would appear overhead and unleash another of its dreadful white whirlpools.

He fled north. He could not return south to their home base.

With the gang leader dead, all those who had been forced into contracts were now free.

Even if he managed to return, he would be beaten to death by the enraged civilians.

North was his only option.

Kotaro ran through the night.

By dawn, he had reached a roadside parking area along the highway. Posting his subordinates as lookouts, he collapsed in the storage room of an abandoned shop and fell into a shallow sleep.

When he awoke, he was alone.

All of his subordinates had fled.

Kotaro stood in shock.

He staggered out of the shop and into the ruined highway, standing there all alone.

Between the rusted, abandoned cars, trees had begun to sprout.

He could hear birds chirping. A deer, nibbling on young leaves near the mountain slope beside the road, stared at him with wary eyes.

A surge of anger welled up inside Kotarō, and he fired a magic shot at the deer.

However, the spell missed. The deer, slightly startled, took a few steps back but, after a brief pause, resumed leisurely nibbling on the fresh sprouts. It wasn’t even particularly frightened.

“You mocking me?! Mocking me?! Mocking the Arataki gang?! Mocking, mocking, mocking meeeee!! Aaaahhh! AAAAAHHH!!”

Half-mad, Kotarō fired magic wildly in all directions.

By the time he came to his senses, the deer was gone.

Veins bulging on his forehead and his breathing ragged, Kotarō took a deep breath to calm himself.

Then, he thought. Because thinking was his greatest weapon. A weapon so powerful it had even troubled a wizard who could see the future.

After careful deliberation, Kotarō decided to take over the Tohoku Hunting Guild.

A long period of hiding and waiting would likely follow. However, if he could skillfully ingratiate himself with the witches and wizards of the guild, reviving the Aratake gang wouldn’t be just a dream.

The Aratake gang had endured a long era of darkness.

They would endure again.

As long as Aratake Kotarō lived, the gang would not die.

Clenching his teeth in a vow of vengeance against the Tokyo Witch Assembly, Kotarō trudged north toward Sendai, rumored to be the headquarters of the Tohoku Hunting Guild.

On the way, he encountered a group pulling a wagon.

There were about twenty of them, all carrying hunting rifles on their backs.

When they were about thirty paces apart, the group stopped and called out suspiciously.

“Just to be sure, you’re not a monster, right?! Sorry, but could you say something?”

“Yeah! I’m not a monster!”

Plastering a friendly expression on his face, Kotarō raised both hands and answered.

A sense of relief spread through the group.

Relaxing all at once, they pulled their fully loaded wagon closer to Kotarō, and a bearded man who seemed to be their leader asked curiously:

“What happened to you? It’s dangerous to be alone out here, even for a magician. But you’re not a wizard, are you?”

“No, I’m not. I suppose it is unusual to be walking alone out here.”

“That’s right. Tokyo’s witches and our hunters do regular exterminations, but it’s not rare for monsters to appear. My team has a skilled magician escorting us, but if a Class-A monster showed up, even running away would be tough. And here you are, wandering alone. Honestly, we thought you might be a humanoid monster.”

The bearded man introduced himself as a trade merchant and asked why Kotarō was alone.

Kotarō’s mind worked quickly as he crafted his answer.

“The truth is, I made a massive business blunder in Tokyo. You know how they recently issued a new currency? Well, I messed up big time because of that. My wife and kids abandoned me, I lost everything, and I just couldn’t stay in Tokyo anymore. So, I thought I’d try to start over in the Tohoku Hunting Guild’s territory. Walking alone was careless, yeah. I guess I was so shocked by my family leaving that I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“That’s rough. Sorry, but we’ve got to deliver these goods to Tokyo. We can’t take you to Sendai, but—”

“No, no, it’s fine. Your work comes first. I wouldn’t want to waste your time on an old man like me. But once you drop off your goods and head back to Sendai, could I join you on the return trip?”

“Of course, that’s no problem. What’s your name?”

“Kiwada.”

The fake name slipped out instinctively. It belonged to his brother’s mistress.

Hiding the Aratake name left a bitter taste, but now wasn’t the time to be stubborn.

“Kiwada-san, would you like to come back to Tokyo with us for now?”

“No, I’d rather not run into any familiar faces. I’ll wait at a nearby parking area until you return. I’ve decided—I won’t go back to Tokyo until I’ve become a merchant trusted by the Tohoku Hunting Guild.”

“Hah! You sure dream big!”

The bearded man let out a hearty laugh, and Kotarō forced himself to laugh along.

Just as they were about to part ways, a hooded man raised his hand and joined the conversation.

“Excuse me. I don’t feel right about leaving Kiwada-san alone like this. Even if he has his reasons, walking alone on a trade route is far too dangerous. At the very least, I’d like to teach him a few basic self-defense techniques.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Kiwada-san, this guy is one of our caravan guards. He’s a skilled magician, so his advice will be useful.”

“Would you mind? I just want to teach you some simple magic and precautions for self-defense.”

“Oh, I’d appreciate that. Can I trouble you?”

“Then let’s step over there. It’d be bad if we accidentally hit someone with a spell.”

Kotarō followed the hooded magician into the wooded area along the highway.

He smirked to himself.

Having a few extra spells up his sleeve couldn’t hurt. His greatest asset was strategy, but his magic reserves were fairly substantial, too.

What luck—to be able to gain new abilities here of all places.

Maybe hitting rock bottom really did mean the only way left was up.

Cautiously scanning their surroundings, the hooded magician nodded once and then said to Kotarō in a calm, measured voice:

“You reek of a vile beast. Sorry, but I can’t let you near Usagi Itsuwara.”

“Itsuwara? What are you—”

Before Kotarō could finish his sentence, the hooded magician grabbed his head with both hands and twisted it a full 360 degrees.

The magician coldly looked down at the lifeless body, then gave it a kick, rolling it into the undergrowth.

Leaning against a tree trunk, the hooded magician passed the time before eventually returning to the caravan at a moment that wouldn’t raise suspicion.

“Welcome back, Murakumo. What about him?”

“Ah, Kiwada-san decided to go ahead on his own after all. He left before I could stop him.”

“Huh. Well, that’s risky, but… he did seem a little off. Maybe he had some urgent business.”

“Perhaps. He had his reasons, just as we have ours. Now, let’s get moving. We need to deliver the goods to Tokyo by the end of the day.”

“Right. Break’s over! Let’s hurry up and get to the witch assembly’s jurisdiction so we can catch a breather!”

And with that, the caravan set off for Tokyo as if nothing had happened.

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