Bathing in the town’s nighttime illumination, the silhouette’s shadow stretched as he stood in the center of the room. The silent warrior stood as his clothes gently fluttered.
“Fukuzawa!” Ranpo shouted with glee.
“How many are left?”
“Five!”
At that moment, footsteps ran down the hallway outside the room. There was only one door. The first soldier rushed inside. In the blink of an eye, Fukuzawa grabbed the man’s wrist as he lifted his gun and began flipping him vertically in the air—kote gaeshi, a throwing technique in aikido that uses the opponent’s momentum against them. As the soldier was soaring in the air, Fukuzawa further twisted his opponent’s arm and slammed him into the wall. The soldier passed out, unable to pull the trigger, never mind even seeing the man who knocked him unconscious.
Fukuzawa then went into the hallway. Men armed with rifles stood on each side as they rushed toward him. They got into stance to fire, but Fukuzawa had already disappeared. By the time the soldiers realized their wrists had been grabbed, they were already on the floor. In the midst of the confusion, they tried to fire their rifles, but their weapons had already vanished as well.
Two elbow strikes hit the soldiers in the throat. Fukuzawa had the upper hand when it came to raw power, and in the instant before passing out, the soldiers only felt regret for underestimating their opponent.
It didn’t feel like fighting against a human, or even a demon or wild animal. More specifically, it was like fighting against the laws of physics itself.
There was no way a mere gun could defeat the laws of physics. Fukuzawa silently rushed at the next armed soldier, who tried to lift up his gun in a fluster, but Fukuzawa quickly closed the few yards between them before he could. The palm strike to the soldier’s chin let out a crack. As the man flew toward the ceiling, Fukuzawa gracefully ran past. But when he turned the corner, he found himself standing before a soldier with a submachine gun. It was an ambush.
“Die!”
The submachine gun could spit out seven rounds a second—and yet…the soldier couldn’t even pull the trigger. He dropped the gun, clutched at his hand, and fell to his knees. A fountain pen was sticking through his palm. After throwing the pen like a projectile with godlike speed, Fukuzawa’s sleeve fluttered open before slowly returning to normal. It was an old martial arts technique that used everyday items as weapons.
That was the fifth one.
“Want to keep going?” Fukuzawa asked as he approached the submachine gun–toting soldier.
The soldier held his hand and grimaced.
“…You…freak…!”
He backed off in fright and ran away, leaving his weapon and his comrades behind. Fukuzawa, however, quietly watched him escape without even attempting to go after him.
He walked over the unconscious soldiers and made his way back to the first room.
“Wow! That was awesome!” Ranpo said enthusiastically, his face split ear to ear in a joyous grin.
“Are you okay?”
“That was way above and beyond my expectations! That was the best thing ever! But, hey, looks like my calculations were right. I knew you’d make it in time. Anyway, thanks to you, the real culprit—”
Fukuzawa walked right up to Ranpo and stopped before taking in a deep breath.
“You dumbass!!”
Ranpo was hit with a powerful slap. An ear-piercing pop echoed throughout the room, and his glasses flew off.
“‘Calculations’?! You knew I’d ‘make it in time’?! What was that pointing in your face when I arrived just now?! A gun, that’s what!”
Ranpo froze after the impact of the slap made him spin halfway around. A vivid red welt grew on his cheek.
“I…”
“There is no such thing as ‘for sure’ in this world! If it took me even a second too long to realize what had happened—if I were even a second too late getting here—you would have been killed!”
Ranpo was stunned as he held his cheek. “B-but I knew… I knew you would come.”
“No, you just wanted to demonstrate what you can do!”
Ranpo bore the full brunt of Fukuzawa’s rage. The yelling was so loud that even the glass started to shake.