What to sell on the comrades

What to sell on the comrades

“Horikita. I’ll give ya one last chance.”


“If you submit to me right here, right now, an’ fork over the points─ I’ll let Ayanokōji live.”

With that, Hōsen stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled something out. It had gotten fairly dark outside, so for a moment it was hard to tell what exactly it was, but once he unveiled its pointed edge, a silver shine glimmered in the moonlight.

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“W-what are you, that…!?”

“Somethin’ wrong with your eyes? It’s a knife, plain an’ simple!”

From the way the blade sparkled, it was clearly different from one of those retractable toy blades that were often used for party tricks and the like.

“If you turn me down again, I’ll stab Ayanokōji with this.”

“Stop fooling around!”

“I ain’t fuckin’ with you, tho? I’ll gladly stab this punk if it means gettin’ my hands on the points.”

Wielding the knife in his right hand, Hōsen slowly turned to face me.

“Still, even after all this I still can’t wrap my damn head around it. What makes a punk like you so fuckin’ special?”

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With his eyes locked on mine, Hōsen spoke, his voice laced with exasperation.

“Fuck it, maybe I didn’t even need to go an’ do all this risky shit in the first place!”

From the way he was talking, it seemed like the ridiculous chain of events that he had orchestrated so far had all been done because he was wary of something. Expecting something.

He drew closer to me, one step at a time.