Tokyo: I'm really not a killer

Chapter 80 Last Words

Hideaki Shiraishi swallowed hard, his knees buckled, and he knelt down with a thud.

"Please—please take me as your disciple!"

His voice trembled, but it was louder than ever before. He braced himself with his hands on the ground, his forehead slamming heavily against the dirt and fallen leaves, his posture utterly humble.

Yuan Zhensheng looked down at him without saying a word.

Hideaki Shiraishi dared not raise his head. He lay prostrate on the ground and said urgently, "Please—I don't want to die—"

I promise I won't betray you—I know I'm useless, cowardly, and stupid—but I can learn anything! I can endure any hardship!

He paused, his voice trembling with tears: "I'm the only one who found you—if you won't even take me in, who else will truly follow you? You can use me—I'll do anything—please—give me a chance—"

The woods were quiet for a moment.

As Yuan Zhensheng watched this scene, he suddenly recalled his previous life in the United States, when he carried out an assassination mission commissioned by a multinational corporation.

The target is a Chinese accountant who is preparing to provide evidence to the FBI, and the mission takes place at his suburban vacation home.

When Yuan Zhensheng infiltrated, he accidentally triggered a hidden alarm. The target was not resting in the bedroom as the intelligence indicated, but was wearing pajamas, trembling as he held an old-fashioned revolver, guarding the door of the study.

Yuan Zhensheng easily disarmed him.

Under the gun, the middle-aged accountant did not beg for mercy. He knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face, and begged Yuan Zhensheng to spare his daughter, who was hidden in the closet—a twelve-year-old girl who had secretly come to surprise him during the school holiday.

The middle-aged accountant was not innocent. He had used complex offshore structures and fake trade contracts to help smuggle Chinese people abroad, participated in human trafficking, and was suspected of fraud and tax evasion. To put it bluntly, he was a man who specifically tricked Chinese people into going abroad to get their kidneys.

He said he was willing to go with Yuan Zhensheng immediately, anywhere, sign any confidentiality agreement, or even die right now, just so that the child wouldn't be hurt; he cried and said that the child knew nothing, her mother had already passed away, and she was his only relative in this world.

However, according to industry practice and contracts, the girl was a relevant person who had to be removed from the list of those in contact with the case.

The sound of sobbing, though barely suppressed, could still be clearly heard coming from inside the closet.

Yuan Zhensheng remembered that he had held his gun at the kneeling man for nearly thirty seconds in silence. Outside the safe house, the faint sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance.

He still fired the gun, killing her father right in front of the girl.

Afterwards, Yuan Zhensheng reported to the client, claiming that he had not seen his daughter or found any survivors. After some wrangling, he only received 50% of the remaining payment.

For a period of time after that, things were calm.

The client didn't pursue the matter further, and the task seemed to be over. Yuan Zhensheng shared the discounted revenue with the support team to appease their dissatisfaction, and he himself became more cautious in accepting orders.

The girl was like a pebble thrown into a deep pool; after the ripples subsided, she left only a barely perceptible trace in his occasional midnight dreams—he didn't even know the girl's name.

About six months later, a new commission came knocking.

The mission objective is an Italian accountant on the East Coast with ties to the mafia who is planning to become a witness for the prosecution. The location is a heavily guarded lakeside villa near New Haven.

The client is generous, having prepaid a large deposit and requesting expedited processing. Intelligence indicates the target lives alone, has a reclusive personality, and has no known family or close associates.

As usual, Yuan Zhensheng conducted preliminary reconnaissance and chose to act on the night when the target went night fishing at the lakeside pier every week. That night, there was a light fog and the visibility was low, which made it easy to approach covertly.

He crept to the cabin near the dock, and his target, just as the intelligence had indicated, was a man sitting on the dock with an ice bucket beside him, the float of his fishing rod gently swaying on the dim water.

Yuan Zhensheng set up his rifle, and through the scope, the crosshairs were firmly locked onto the target's head. The wind was light, but the humidity was high, so he made slight adjustments to his aim.

Time seemed to stand still, and the mist on the lake seemed to thicken even more.

The target in the scope suddenly moved, and he glanced at his watch before slowly reeling in the line, as if preparing to end his fishing trip for the night.

Can't wait any longer.

Yuan Zhensheng made his decision, and just as he was about to pull the trigger, the girl suddenly appeared.

A teenager who had learned to use a gun, to deal with intelligence brokers, and even to carry out ambushes—it's easy to imagine that she lived with hatred and would stop at nothing to seek revenge.

Her life is ruined.

Since then, Yuan Zhensheng has learned his lesson.

Sometimes, being soft-hearted is also a form of cruelty.

Hara Masaki looked at Shiraishi Hideaki kneeling on the ground, his forehead pressed against the dirt, and remained silent for a few seconds. Then, he slowly spoke, his voice calm and utterly emotionless: "Any last words?"

Hideaki Shiraishi shuddered, abruptly raising his head, the last trace of color draining from his face. The swamp man's words shattered all his remaining illusions.

"I—I—"

He opened his mouth, but something seemed to be stuck in his throat, and tears welled up uncontrollably.

Scenes from the first half of his life flashed uncontrollably before his eyes—cowardice, being bullied, joining the underworld for protection but still being looked down upon, being so scared in a brothel that he wet his pants, hiding like a rat in the sewers, being tortured into confessing in the interrogation room—and his mother's face, always full of worry, yet trying to force a smile every time he came home.

"I—I'm sorry, Mom—"

Hideaki Shiraishi's voice choked with emotion, broken and intermittent, "I—I've never given her a moment's peace—I've never let her enjoy any happiness—I've always kept her on edge—"

He remembered his mother in the dilapidated apartment, meekly facing the aggressive landlord; he remembered how every time he came home injured, his mother would apply medicine to him while crying, advising him to stop associating with those shady people, but he would always rudely reply, "Mind your own business."

"Tell her—don't be sad—it was my own fault for choosing the wrong path—" Hideaki Shiraishi sobbed uncontrollably, "In the next life—in the next life I will definitely be a good person—find a decent job—and take good care of her—"

He recalled that his initial desire to become the Swamp Man's apprentice was to gain power so that he would no longer be bullied and could protect his mother. But in the end, not only did nothing change, but he was left to leave his mother alone in the world.

"And there's a little bit of the public room—under the tatami mat in my room—not much—let her take it and use it."

Hideaki Shiraishi tried hard to recall, as if this was the last thing he could leave his mother, "Tell her—don't be stingy—spend what you need to spend—"

He cried, trembling all over, his forehead slamming heavily against the ground again: "Please—if—if you ever have the chance—to pass through Senju-cho—please—don't hurt her—she knows nothing—"

Yuan Zhensheng simply watched quietly, his face expressionless, as if listening to a statement that had nothing to do with him.

He waited until Hideaki Shiraishi's sobs gradually turned into suppressed sobs before speaking again, his tone still flat: "Are you finished?"

Hideaki Shiraishi collapsed to the ground, nodded, tears mixed with dirt, smearing his face.

The time has come.

A moment later, gunshots rang out from the mountains, startling a flock of birds into flight.

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