Quirky Row Chapter 47: Rest In Peace

Chapter 47: Rest In Peace

(Tuesday, February 29th, 2124)

It had been over a week since the Saints had tried to take out both Shogo and Kazuo Akuji at their main base in Tohoku Towers. Things had been silent after the failed decapitation strike, and the city had settled into an uneasy peace.

The Ronin kept to themselves, too busy trying to keep themselves from splintering and collapsing to go and do anything overt. Meanwhile, the Saints were being pressured by the heroes. Not to mention the hard work consolidating their gains from the Brotherhood and Sons of Samedi. The two massive gangs had been wiped out so quickly it was actually causing problems for the Saints to take control of everything.

But today was not a day for gang business. Today was Aisha Gat’s funeral. It was a rainy day. Fitting for a funeral, in Playa’s opinion. The rain was light enough that it wouldn’t interfere too badly with any part of the ceremony, and it was warm enough to go without any winter clothing.

Numerous members of the Saints had gathered here in the cemetery, clad in black suits and dresses. The Inner Circle was all here, as were numerous Saints. There were even people who hadn’t been part of the Saints who’d come to pay their respects. Aisha’s producer and manager, for instance, were there, standing under a black umbrella.

Aisha’s sister, Maya, had even come, the heroine forgoing her costume in exchange for a black mourning dress with a grey veil.

In front of the grave, Playa stood beside Johnny, whose head was bowed solemnly in front of the casket.

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” Playa said softly.

“Me too, buddy. Me too,” Johnny muttered. In the distance, the sound of motorcycles broke through the sound of falling rain.

Playa glanced over his shoulder, frowning as he did so. “It seems like they couldn’t take the hint.”

“Seems like it,” Johnny grunted. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah. I thought they might do this,” Playa replied, his hand drifting to his waist where his revolver was holstered. “Hoped they wouldn’t, prayed they had some decency, but it seems like I was wrong.”

A dozen yellow motorcycles appeared, driving recklessly into the cemetery. Mud was sent flying by their wheels, and Shogo was leading the Ronin hit squad.

‘No, when he’s dressed like that, he’s Raijin,’ Playa thought to himself, eyeing the co-leader of the Ronin. Raijin was wearing a black dragon mask and a modified Ronin jacket with metal coils on the sleeves. No doubt some sort of support item to enhance his Quirk.

“You two have humiliated my family for the last time!” Raijin declared as he dismounted.

“Leave, little boy,” Johnny ordered, refusing to look at him, his eyes locked onto Aisha’s coffin. “Didn’t your father ever tell you that it’s rude to barge in on a funeral?”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Raijin snarled, drawing one of his swords with a flourish, pointing it at Johnny.

“Fuck off,” Johnny retorted, voice still flat and emotionless. “I won’t kill anyone during Eesh’s funeral. Tonight… tomorrow… name a time and place, and I will gladly fuck you up then and there. But not here. Not right now.”

“How noble,” Raijin sneered, pulling out a submachinegun to accompany his sword. “But in my opinion? Overrated.”

The Ronin following him pulled out weapons of their own, and aimed them at the funeral goers. The civilians flinched back, terrified, but Maya and the Saints did not react in fear. Instead, they glared at the Ronin with hate in their eyes.

“If you won’t listen to him, then perhaps you’ll listen to me?” Maya asked, stepping forward. “I may not be in costume, but I am still Stilwater’s Number One Heroine.”

That caused some of the Ronin to blanche and recoil, not having expected a hero to attend the funeral, and for a moment, Raijin hesitated. But that moment passed, and he shook his head.

“You’re not gonna get me to back down that easily!” he sneered.

“So be it,” Maya sighed, and all of the Ronin save Raijin suddenly collapsed, screaming and crying out.

Playa watched as Maya’s Quirk, Swan Song, manipulated the gangster’s emotions, forcing them to experience mind-numbing terror and sorrow all at once. The pain felt by the Saints and civilians at the funeral was returned tenfold to the Ronin, and Raijin could do nothing but watch as his plans crumbled around him.

“Bitch!” Raijin shouted, pointing his gun at her, but Playa reacted quicker, drawing his revolver and firing it. He managed to shoot the submachinegun out of Raijin’s grasp, forcing the gang leader to rely on his sword.

Raijin activated his Quirk, and electricity began to arc across his body, traveling along the coils on his sleeves and up into his sword, which crackled violently. The falling rain affected the Quirk somewhat, causing the electricity to flicker and spark madly, but Raijin didn’t seem to care, as he charged headlong at Maya, trying to kill the heroine to stop her Quirk.

Pierce darted forward, intercepting him. He yanked off his tie and channeled his Quirk into it, transforming the piece of cloth into a nigh-indestructible pseudo-blade. He used it to counter Raijin’s sword strike, blocking it before Maya could be hurt.

Due to it being made of cloth, the electricity on Raijin’s sword couldn’t travel along the tie-blade and the rain made it too wet, so it didn’t combust from the heat of the energy. Pierce held him off for a second, allowing the other Saints to act.

Mink was next, generating a large amount of her pink fur to trap Raijin’s arms and legs. Her fluffy fur rapidly absorbed the moisture, becoming thick and heavy, preventing the gang leader from moving easily. It also smothered Raijin’s electricity and kept it from moving around. 

Carlos jumped in and touched Raijin. His Quirk activated and transferred a great deal of the Asian gang lord’s body fat out of his body, drastically weakening him. Raijin panted heavily, still struggling against the wet fur holding him down.

Shaundi lacked an offensive Quirk, but what she did have was high heels, which she drove into the back of Raijin’s knees, knocking him down onto the ground. Jean-Paul followed her up by using his Quirk on his sword.

The Cajun lieutenant’s Quirk was an interesting one, as it let him turn objects slippery. Combined with the rain and sudden weakness due to lack of body mass, Raijin’s fingers couldn’t hold onto the katana, sliding out of his grasp.

The rest of the Saints that had assembled then piled on him, pinning Raijin to the ground. His Quirk tried to electrocute them, but Mink’s fur was acting as an insulator, keeping them safe. The Saints then began to tear off Raijin’s equipment, removing his other sword, his sleeves, and everything that’d been in his pockets. In mere moments, the leader of the Ronin had nothing left. No weapons, a subdued Quirk, and the keys to his motorcycle had been taken away.

“Let go of me!” Raijin snarled, trying to fight against the hands holding him down, but he couldn’t escape. All he could do was stare up at Johnny as he slowly approached.

“Get up,” he ordered, and the Saints released Raijin, allowing him to stand. The Japanese gang leader tried to punch the Saint, but got a fist to the face for his troubles.

“Get up,” Johnny demanded a second time, and Raijin shakily staggered to his feet. However, this time he tried to kick Johnny. It didn’t work either, and Johnny grabbed his leg and then broke it without a second thought.

“Get up!” Johnny shouted. “Not easy when you’re fighting somebody who isn’t tied to a chair, is it?!”

“I didn’t kill her!” Raijin snarled as he tried to rise, using a nearby tombstone as a crutch to support his broken leg.

“But you ordered it,” Johnny retorted.

“No! That was all Jyunichi!” Raijin spat back.

“Oh, please,” Johnny scoffed. “I know how you operate. You find where your rivals live, you go to their homes, and you threaten their families. It’s what you did to the Graffitos and the Stonemen, after all.”

Raijin didn’t have a comeback, and instead tried to lash out and punch Johnny, but the sunglasses wearing man caught the fist and retaliated with a vicious haymaker. He hit the gang leader so hard, Raijin’s mask shattered.

Gone was Raijin, the confident leader of the Ronin. Writhing in the mud was Shogo, pathetic and unloved son of Kazuo Akuji.

“D-don’t kill me!” Shogo begged. “I-I’m sorry!”

“Well, that solves everything doesn’t it?” Johnny sneered. He then reached down and grabbed Shogo by the back of the neck.

“You couldn’t even let her have a funeral,” Johnny said in disgust as he dragged the younger man forward towards the coffin.

Johnny dropped him into the dirt, and then opened up the casket, revealing it to be empty. Shogo’s eyes widened and then fear filled him as he realized what was about to happen.

“No… no! No you can’t do this!” he screamed. He turned towards Maya, who was standing off to the side. “You! You’re a hero! You can’t let them do this!”

Maya simply turned around, not looking at the panicked man as he was bodily lifted up and tossed into the casket. Johnny then slammed the lid shut, and hit a switch. The box began to be lowered into the grave, and Playa walked over with two shovels, tossing one to Johnny.

They silently began to fill in the hole, even as Shogo screamed and begged to be let out.

“I kept my promise, Eesh. I promised not to kill anyone during your funeral, and I didn’t,” Johnny muttered to himself. Playa said nothing as he silently worked, the rain continuing to fall.

Elsewhere in the cemetery, the Saints began to clean up, dragging away the comatose Ronin who’d been rendered unconscious by Maya’s Quirk while also directing the civilians towards Aisha’s actual burial ground.

Playa and Johnny had both feared that the Ronin would interrupt the funeral, and planned accordingly. A fake grave was made, and false rumors and misinformation were spread. It worked as a charm, luring out the young boss of the Ronin.

‘All that’s left is the old man,’ Playa thought to himself darkly. ‘But I don’t think he’s gonna go down as easily as his son did.’

111 &&&&& 111

It had been a long time since Kazuo had been so angry. In fact, the Yakuza boss was having a hard time remembering it. Had it been when that upstart Overhaul had starting taking over the Shie Hassaikai? No, even then, the burning rage he felt then paled in comparison to what he felt right now.

Kazuo was furious. He was angry with his idiot son, he was angry about the disrespect the Saints had given him, and he was utterly furious that he now had to deal with all these messes alone.

He wanted to lash out and destroy something, but he could not. He could only clench his fists and restrain his Quirk. Even so, lightning still crackled across his knuckles as his Quirk leaked despite his best efforts.

A soft knock at the door to his room allow Kazuo to direct his attention to something other than his boiling rage.

“Enter,” he spat out.

“Akuji-sama,” Shogo’s former lieutenant Lee muttered deferentially as he entered the room. “We found the man you were looking for.”

“Good. Bring him in,” Kazuo demanded. Lee bowed politely and made a gesture behind him. A moment later, two Ronin dragged in a third who had a black eye and a bloody nose. They dropped him at Kazuo’s feet, and he stared at the man in disgust.

“So. You are the fool who thought it was a good idea to hide Shogo’s indiscretions from me,” Kazuo said darkly, glaring down at the thug who’d shown more loyalty than sense towards his wayward offspring. “Because of your actions, my son went off to a fight he was in no way prepared for, and lost. Because of you, my son, my heir, is dead.”

“Kazuo-sama, Shogo was simply trying to avenge the insults inflicted upon the Ronin! He was-!”

“My son was an idiot,” Kazuo retorted sharply, silencing the protests of the mewling sycophant. “He attacked a funeral! And he didn’t even do any preliminary investigations, or send in men to scout ahead and trigger any traps. Instead, he rushed in, and got killed.”

“W-we could still save him,” the man on the ground stammered out, his voice trembling a little. “It hasn’t been a day, yet. Shogo could still be alive inside the coffin!”

“If you think the Saints wouldn’t have prepared contingencies for that very situation, you are as foolish as my son was,” Kazuo spat out. “I have no doubt they trapped the grave somehow. Pressure sensitive explosives underneath the coffin primed to explode if it so much as moves an inch. Cameras and alarms to alert the Saints if somebody tries to disturb the site. Anti-Quirk procedures made to negate any of the ones we still possess. Who knows what they thought was prudent, and used to ensure my boy would never be able to escape? No, Shogo is dead. And it’s because of you.”

He raised a fist, thick bolts of lightning coiling around his appendage. Unlike Shogo, who could only generate a small amount of electricity from his upper body, Kazuo’s Quirk let him absorb and store vast amounts of power and then channel it through it his body, though only from a single point at a time.

Kazuo punched the traitorous Ronin lieutenant, electrocuting him. Tens of thousands of volts tore through the beaten man’s body, killing him by flash frying his brain and organs.

As the fool dropped dead, Kazuo turned away, brushing ash from his knuckles. “Dispose of him.”

One of the Ronin who dragged the man was a woman, and she bobbed her head and tapped the corpse, transmuting it into pure ice. The body-turned-statue was carried out, where it would be placed into a bathtub and allowed to melt, completely erasing any evidence of wrong-doing.

A useful Quirk, one that Kazuo would try to ensure would be brought back to Japan to serve him there.

There was nothing left for him in America, or Stilwater. His son’s little gang was dead in the water, and any assets left would be have to be liquidated after he finished dealing with the Saints.

Kazuo felt tired as he imagined the internal struggle for power that would break out within the clan once word of Shogo’s death reached the other elders and clan leaders. This was the end of the Akuji Clan. There was nothing left.

And as he pondered that, his thoughts shifted to the ones who had done this to him. And his rage was rekindled.

“The Saints have humiliated me,” Kazuo snarled aloud, turning to the trio of Ronin still in the room. They tensed up, but didn’t look away. That was good. They would need that courage going forward.

“What do you want us to do, Akuji-sama?” Lee asked curiously.

“Prepare for war,” Kazuo replied. “We shall strike at the Saints, just as they struck out at us. We will butcher them. All of them.”

“It will be done,” Lee assured him, bowing his head before walking out. The other two Ronin hastily followed him, leaving Kazuo alone.

He was annoyed. No, he was enraged. But he held it in. And instead of lashing out, he pulled out his phone and carefully input a number he had memorized long ago. He would have to scrub the cellphone afterwards, but it would be worth it.

The phone rang exactly twice before it was answered, and a deep, heavy voice that hissed a little responded in oddly accentless Japanese.

“[Hello, young Kazuo.]”

The voice on the other end had changed a bit, but it was still the same one Kazuo had heard many years ago, when he’d been a different man. Younger, for one. More naïve and reckless. He suppressed a shudder at the way the voice seemed to pierce his brain.

“[My sons are dead,]” Kazuo responded curtly.

“[I’m sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, as impressive as I am, death is still one thing I cannot undo.]”

“[I am aware. What I want is power. I contacted you in the hopes of getting a Quirk for my bastard son, Jyunichi. He is dead. But I still paid for a Quirk. I want you to give it to me,]” Kazuo replied.

“[Of course. I honor my deals. One of my associates will get into contact with you soon in order to bring you to me for the… ‘operation.’ Just know that there is a chance your body will not be able to handle the power of an additional Quirk. You are not a spring chicken anymore, Kazuo, and my gifts can be harsh on those who aren’t suited for it.]”

“[That is an acceptable risk,]” Kazuo declared.

All for One laughed, and it caused a shiver of primal fear to run down the Oyabun’s spine. “[Very well. Good luck in America, Kazuo Akuji. If you survive, I look forward to hearing about your experiences with the Third Street Saints.]”

Kazuo frowned at that as All for One hung up, leaving a dial tone ringing in his ears. Was the Demon Lord of the Underworld interested in the Saints? Or was he supporting them as well? With All for One, you could never really tell what his angle was.

In the end, it didn’t really matter. All that did was that the Saints paid for their crimes and affronts. Everything else? It was secondary.

“Beware, Skunk. Your days are numbered,” Kazuo spat out.