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Reborn in Type-Moon: Starting by Adopting Sakura - Chapter 32
🕑 Added 2025-08-01 07:25:00 +0000 UTCAt the inn, the kids scattered to their assigned rooms—two or three to a room, sleeping bags rolled out across tatami mats. Ms. Matsushima had barely finished explaining the afternoon schedule when Keita Minato was already huddled up with his usual crew.
"Guys," he said, keeping his voice low. "I spotted something on the way here. Adult bookstore, maybe three blocks from the station."
Ryo perked up immediately. "Seriously? But we can't buy anything. We're like, obviously kids."
"How do you know if you don't try?" This from Hiroshi, who always acted like he knew more than he did. "My cousin says some places don't really check."
Keita nodded. "I memorized how to get there. Just two bus stops. We could be back before anyone notices we're gone."
The other four looked at each other. They'd been talking about this kind of thing for months—what it would be like, how they'd get their hands on the real stuff, not just the scrambled cable channels at Keita's house.
"So we're doing this?" Takeshi asked.
"We're doing this."
Twenty minutes later, they were on the bus, trying to look casual while their hearts hammered in their chests. The plan had been perfect until they actually sat down and started digging through their pockets.
"Oh, crap," Keita muttered.
"What?"
"I forgot my money. It's back in my bag at the inn."
"Are you serious right now?"
"Wait, what about you guys?" Ryo started patting down his shorts. "Please tell me someone brought cash."
One by one, they came up empty. Takeshi had a few coins, but nowhere near enough. Hiroshi had spent his allowance on snacks for the bus ride.
The excitement drained out of them fast. They'd risked sneaking out for nothing.
That's when Keita noticed the guy sitting alone near the front of the bus.
A priest, by the looks of it. Dark clothes, that serious vibe adults got when they thought they were important. His eyes were closed, head tilted back against the seat. And there, balanced on his lap, was a silver briefcase that looked like it cost more than Keita's bike.
He nudged Ryo and nodded toward the front. One by one, the others followed his gaze.
They didn't need to say anything. The look that passed between them said it all.
As the bus started slowing for the next stop, they got to their feet as quietly as they could. Keita's hands were shaking a little, but the case was right there, just sitting in the guy's lap like he was asking for it.
The brakes hissed. The bus lurched to a stop.
Keita reached out, grabbed the handle, and lifted.
The priest didn't even stir.
They were off the bus and running before the doors finished closing, their sneakers slapping against the pavement as they ducked into the nearest alley. Behind them, the bus pulled away with a mechanical groan.
"Holy shit," Ryo gasped, doubled over and laughing. "We actually did it."
"I can't believe that worked," Hiroshi wheezed.
Keita held up the case, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. "Told you guys. Sometimes you just gotta go for it."
"Is he coming after us?"
"Nah, that guy's still passed out like a rock."
"Come on, open it already! Let's see what we got!"
Keita crouched down and set the silver case on the ground, his fingers already working at the latches—
A boot came down hard on top of it. Brown leather with some kind of animal print design.
All five boys looked up.
A guy with bright orange hair was standing over them, backlit by the afternoon sun, smiling like he'd just run into old friends. Definitely not the priest from the bus.
"Who the hell are you?" Keita demanded.
"Get your foot off our stuff!" Ryo added, but he sounded more confused than angry.
The stranger's grin got wider. "You guys look like you're having a blast. Mind if I get in on the fun?"
"What?"
"This is none of your business, dude!" Takeshi stepped forward, trying to look tough.
"Hey, don't be like that," the orange-haired guy said, his voice light and friendly. "Let me in on whatever you're doing, and I'll make it worth your while. I've got some fun stuff too."
The boys exchanged looks. This wasn't how they'd expected things to go, but the guy didn't seem like he was going to call the cops or anything.
"What kind of fun stuff?" Hiroshi asked.
"Yeah, like... do you have any dirty magazines?" Keita tried to sound casual about it.
The man actually laughed, covering his mouth like they'd just told the best joke he'd heard all day. "Oh, absolutely. I've got tons of that kind of thing back at my place."
He bent down and picked up the case, then threw his arm around Keita's shoulders like they were buddies. "Why don't you come check it out?"
The promise of actual adult magazines was too good to pass up. They fell into step behind him, suddenly forgetting all about whatever might have been in the silver case.
"Oh, I'm Ryuunosuke, by the way. Ryuunosuke Uryuu. What about you guys?"
His apartment turned out to be this run-down place with peeling paint and narrow hallways that smelled like cigarettes and something else they couldn't identify. Ryuunosuke shut the metal door behind them, and suddenly it was a lot darker inside.
"Here, you must be thirsty after all that running around," he said, disappearing into what must have been the kitchen. He came back with five glasses of some kind of fruit juice. Orange, maybe, or mango.
They drank it down fast—they really were thirsty.
"Alright," Keita said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "So where are those magazines you were talking about? One for each of us, right? I mean..." He blinked a few times. "My head feels kinda weird."
The glass slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor.
One by one, the rest of them started swaying on their feet. Ryo went down first, then Hiroshi, then the others, crumpling to the floor like their strings had been cut.
They'd just walked into the home of an active serial killer, and Ryuunosuke Uryuu had one burning question he was dying to answer—
What exactly was death?
The way blood looked when it shot from a severed artery. How warm an organ felt when you pulled it straight from someone's body. He wanted to experience all of it.
What his victims went through in those final moments—the pain, the absolute terror right before everything went dark—God, it was the most real thing he'd ever felt.
He was completely hooked on that moment when everything got ripped away from them. All their fight, their anger, their desperate need to keep breathing. Those last few seconds, he was convinced, held their entire lives in them.
Down in his ritual chamber, the killer had already tied up the five kids and arranged his tools on what looked like some kind of makeshift altar. Pliers, a small hammer, steel wire, a scalpel, tweezers—everything laid out just so.
Now all he had to do was wait for them to come around.
"God, I can barely stand it," he whispered to himself, watching their unconscious faces. "The sounds they're going to make... it's going to be absolutely perfect."
Ryuunosuke settled back in his chair in the half-dark room, chin resting on his folded hands, smiling down at the five bodies sprawled on the floor.
...
Tokyo, Akihabara.
Sakura clicked on the TV and dropped onto the couch next to Lancer, balancing her plate of cake on her lap.
The evening news was running a story about five elementary students who'd disappeared during some kind of summer camp trip—something about kids from a Kannonji City elementary school who were supposed to be visiting Fuyuki. The reporter said police still didn't have any solid leads.
…
[AN: Keita and his friends are the same delinquent kids from Kara no Kyoukai who would later grow up to join a street gang.]
