Just a reminder before this chapter begins, this book is part of a series. Please read Another One Bites The Dust for more context and a better understanding of Back In Black.

-

The entirety of Sendai was in total disarray as they arrived. Guardians patrolled the streets in groups of five and the traffic was eerily non-existent. Anyone without Sanctuary-auctioned ID on full display was being placed inside buildings to shelter or worse, being half-escorted-half-dragged towards the Sanctuary by unflinching Guardians.

"Fuck," Kyoutani winced as he watched someone, a sixty-something man, get shoved into a florist shop. "The entire city's on lockdown."

"No shit," grunted Yahaba. "Get the car's ID out of the glovebox for me, Kyouken, and put it on the dashboard. I don't want to get pulled over right now."

The zombie nodded, muttering, "On it," obediently. He set the ID up, making sure it could be clearly seen through the windscreen as they sailed down empty roads. Yahaba turned the Bentley and drove into the Sanctuary car park.

He parked and, without waiting one second, was out of the car. "Come on," he ordered. "We're going to see what the fuck's going on here."

Kyoutani climbed out too, swinging the door closed and they stormed their way towards the Sanctuary, making it past all the security checks in record time: Washijou must've informed the Guardians that they were coming. Without hesitation, Kyoutani threw open the doors of the medical wing, rushing past carnamancers in their white coats. Yahaba breezed in behind him, radiating barely concealed fury. No one tried to get in their way, and people hurriedly stood to the side once they noticed the pair coming.

"Washijou-san," Kyoutani greeted as they approached the emergency waiting room.

Washijou Tanji, Grand President of the Japanese Sanctuary, was a very intimidating person to look at. It wasn't because of his height, because he was certainly on the shorter side; it wasn't because of his stature, because he was obviously a very old man who stood with a small hunch in his back. It was because of the look on his wizened face, a permanent, unimpressed scowl that hung in his voice and glistened like murder in his eyes. Even as he stood up to greet the detectives, Kyoutani couldn't tell if he was pleased to see them or not, he was damn near impossible to read.

However, even a blind person could tell that Washijou was angry.

"This is a disgrace," He began, spitting his words out like venom. Yahaba and Kyoutani both bowed deeply to him as he continued, "An attack on one of our high-ranking employees in the middle of our own city! This month has been making a mockery of Japan."

"With all due respect, sir," said Yahaba, glancing up, "just tell us if Watari's okay."

Washijou bowed his head ever so slightly. "He's been in operation since we retrieved him after the attack. Shirabu-san is tending to him as we speak." Yahaba barely concealed the look of contempt on his face.

Kyoutani straightened up, hating how calm his body felt compared to his mind. "Can we see him? Is that possible?"

"Shirabu-san and his assistants are not accepting any visitors at the moment," Washijou answered, lifting a hand to cut off their protests before they began. "But they have informed me that he should survive."

"They don't sound certain," muttered Yahaba, bitterly glaring at the ground.

Washijou arched an unimpressed eyebrow. "Watari's injuries are extensive. He's been shot once in the hand and multiple times in the chest, shoulders and feet. We know that there were two grenades thrown due to witness accounts and by the burn marks on his body. He was buried under so much debris that, by the time we arrived, it took a whole minute to find him – we had to bring out sniffer dogs."

The zombie balled his fists. "So. This was an assassination attempt."

"Yes. And a violent one at that, too. Watari managed to call me in the midst of it, informing me that he was pinned down by a sniper. There was a lot of ammo in that graveyard but we can confirm that a sniper gun had been used along with what was most likely a turret weapon. We've had Guardians searching through every building routinely since we returned and agents are searching all of Sendai as we speak for the culprit."

Yahaba glanced around the waiting room. "Did you notify his parents? They aren't here."

"We did," replied Washijou, "only they're in Spain right now, on holiday for their anniversary, apparently. They've cancelled the rest of the vacation and they're getting to the nearest airport as we speak."

"Why was Watari even in the graveyard?" Kyoutani asked. "Why wasn't he in the Sanctuary?"

The Grand President raised his eyebrow. "Unfortunately, he hasn't been able to come to his senses and say anything yet. His injuries are a bit too extensive for him to sit up and go through with an interview right now."

"Was he visiting a grave?" Pressed the zombie.

"We don't know, Kyoutani," Washijou snapped, a bit too harshly. He breathed in deeply, forcefully trying to calm himself before he spoke again. "Listen, the only person who could possibly answer that is Kunimi. He's the one who signed Watari out."

Yahaba nodded. "Where is he? We'll talk to him."

"Bold of you two to assume you're instantly on the job?" Responded Washijou, slowly straightening out his spine to peer cynically at the younger men. "You two haven't finished up all the paperwork and interviews from your current job, so I hear. What makes you think I'll let you move onto a second one in the middle of your assignment?"

"Sir, we can handle two jobs at once," started the carnamancer just as Kyoutani began to say, "Please, Shinji's our friend!"

Washijou looked between the both of them, brow furrowed together. "I'm not happy with this idea," he said, slowly and sternly.

"We understand," they chorused.

"You two are not 'special' agents, no matter what you like to think of yourselves. Just because you're good at your jobs doesn't mean you're automatically the best."

"We understand," said Kyoutani, elbowing Yahaba in the ribs until he admitted it too.

Washijou, clearly not impressed, gave them one last scrutinising stare before saying, "You can investigate into whoever attacked Watari if you must. But that means I want both cases, the vampires and this attacker, to be finished up perfectly. I'll find an agent on standby to support this workload."

Yahaba and Kyoutani bowed deeply – the zombie could hear his silver-haired friend breathe out a sigh of relief that he shared in sentiment. They pulled up to see Washijou already walking away. "Kunimi is in Watari's office," he informed them over his shoulder lazily. "Do not pressure the poor kid. He, like most of us, is not having a great day."

"Hearing you loud and clear," promised Kyoutani and he tugged at Yahaba's wrist, pulling the potente after him. They walked in silence together for a while, eyes on the ground.

"I wanted to see Shinji," Yahaba finally muttered, tone more irritated than upset.

"Same," agreed the zombie, "but it's best to not distract the carnamancers trying to save his life right now."

Kyoutani already knew what was about to be said before Yahaba even had time to get the words out. "They should just let me do it. I'd heal him faster than Shirabu ever could."

"You don't know Watari's biology as well as yours or mine. You'd make a mistake out of habit."

"I'm sure to know it far more than Shirabu does."

"Shirabu's more adaptable. It's part of his job."

"I'm still better than him," spat Yahaba and Kyoutani felt himself flinch. It had always felt like one thing when he said it but hearing the words from Yahaba's mouth was like watching someone poison a water supply. "If they just let me do the operation instead of that fucking buffoon, I bet you I'd have Watari up on his feet in a matter of minutes."

The abile shrugged awkwardly. "Maybe you would, who knows. Either way, you're not a doctor. They wouldn't let you in."

"Idiots."

Kyoutani shot him a sharp glance. "Should I remind you that you don't want to be a doctor?"

"I don't," he insisted but he didn't look at Kyoutani. "I just know that leaving anyone's life in the hands of that incompetent fuckface is sheer stupidity. He couldn't even save you!"

"I was declared dead on the scene and there was nothing anyone could do about that, not even you," answered Kyoutani, rounding on Yahaba. "You're going to put this feud behind you now and we're going to talk to Kunimi. Okay?"

"What feud?" Yahaba had the nerve to answer with, until he caught the glare in the corpse's eye and sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine! I'm over it!" He stuck his gloved hands in his jacket pockets with another loud huff. "Let's go talk to Kunimi and see what he knows."

Kunimi had been informed of their arrival – he was sitting in Watari's chair, chin resting on his knees as his skin glowed ever so slightly with the symbols he had carved. There were five Guardians stationed in the room, hands resting on their katanas but not drawing them. As the other two walked in, Kunimi glanced up and watched them cautiously, waiting till they had both sat down before turning to face them.

"Do you have any leads? Have you figured it out yet?" He asked immediately and Yahaba raised his hand.

"Chill out, Kunimi-kun," he replied, voice easy and light, "we've only been in Sendai for, like, ten minutes. We're fresh off a job and don't know anything besides what Washijou's told us."

At first, these words didn't calm Kunimi in the slightest but he took a deep breath in and slowly relaxed. The abile nodded, knotting his fingers between his chin and knees as he stared down the two sitting opposite him. "Well... Do you know where you're going to start?"

"The graveyard, for sure. Then the buildings opposite," listed Kyoutani gruffly, glancing to Yahaba to see the potente nodding along with what he'd said. "Then, when Watari wakes up, we'll ask him as many questions as possible until we know everything we can. But firstly, we've gotta talk to you."

"Washijou said you signed Watari out and might know why he was in the graveyard," Yahaba leaned forward, clasping his hands together but the gloves stayed on. Kunimi was in no state to lie to them. "Got anything to share?"

Kunimi frowned slightly, his sleepy expression struggling to look like it was concentrating. "He said he was going out for his lunch break," he began. "He looked kinda miserable and asked me if I wanted to go with him after hesitating and dancing around it for ages."

"Is it right to assume you refused?" Prompted the zombie.

"Yeah, it is," swallowed the receptionist, slowly beginning to uncurl from his seat. "I had already had my lunch and didn't want to leave the desk. I sent out an email about Watari not being in for lunch and that was that."

Yahaba raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he was asking you on a date?" The two abile gave him a look and he huffed defensively. "Oh, come on, it happens! People can fall in love with colleagues, maybe Watari was suspectable to the inherent romance of paperwork and business meetings."

"You're mental, you know that, right?" Kyoutani scoffed and then turned his attention back to Kunimi. "So, you don't know why he left?"

"No, not really. But it must've been to visit a grave, right?" Kunimi shrugged half-heartedly. "He seemed really pensive, so maybe he went to grieve. But, yeah, I sent out the email so people knew he wouldn't be in and didn't know anything went wrong until Washijou told me."

Yahaba hummed, leaning back in his chair and staring one Guardian up and down. "Not for nothing, Kunimi-kun, but I have to ask... Why do you have five Guardians all crammed in here? You're scary enough as it is, why'd you want these guys? Are you really that spooked?"

The abile blinked slowly, as if the potente was speaking gibberish, his head tilting to one side. "Did Washijou not tell you two?"

"Tell us what?" Kyoutani frowned. "We were only told to come find you?"

"He's tightened up security because of this. He suspects yakuza involvement."

Yahaba frowned. "Which yakuza? What level?"

"Shiratorizawa," Kunimi said, eyes flicking between the two detective's slackening faces. "He thinks they're breaking the truce for revenge."

The room filled with a heavy, heavy silence as no one dared to speak a word. Despite his best attempts, memories stirred up in the zombie's mind when he really rather they'd remain buried. Kyoutani could still remember the day he had been held in one of their prisons clearly: the suffocating stench of blood on the walls, the cries of the less fortunate souls down the halls as Ushijima's men took out their frustrations upon them. He shivered as if he could still feel the needles sticking into his skin, and the cold brown eyes of the carver that stared him down. They were the same age – Kyoutani remembered how he had tried to reason with him and all that got him was a needle in the tongue. Even if the hole from the needle was closed over with carnamancy, sometimes he could feel his breath rattling through it. His hands clenched like they had when he went to punch the bastard traitor who handed them over.

"Revenge," echoed Yahaba hesitantly. He had never spoken about what had happened to him when they were separated. "But it- it's been years. We've had no problems with them since the run-in!"

"They rule criminal Miyagi with an iron fist," shrugged Kunimi. "Not to mention the sway they have over most of Japan. Washijou-san says he wouldn't put a little patience past them. Maybe they were biding their time until you were both in the picture."

"Well, shit," huffed Kyoutani, turning to face his silver-haired friend. "I think we might be a little fucked."

.:*:.

Shiratorizawa.

Kyoutani wasn't able to get goosebumps anymore but he still wanted to shudder when he thought of them. It was a strange yakuza, to say the least – not because it was magical because those were pretty par the course in his line of work – but their strength and infamy hadn't been lessened in the slightest by the truce. Not to mention how many 'bosses' they had. Ushijima Wakatoshi was the only named one: he was the leader, the head of the gang. From what Kyoutani had heard overseas, his strength had only intensified. Same age as Oikawa and easily in his league, Ushiwaka was a trained abile samurai. His holding a grudge against the two detectives wouldn't be surprising.

The other bosses remained anonymous but there were six of them in total, names and even faces unknown due to the iconic and outright bone-chilling masks they wore. A mix between a kitsune-style and European masquerade mask, their identities were hidden behind white feathers and eagle-bone beaks. You could barely even see their eyes. They ranged from secretive to sadistic and Kyoutani wouldn't want to meet any of them in a dark alley. Partially because of their incredible criminal status but also because they were all taller than him and anyone tall wearing a bone mask in a dark alley was intimidating.

He shook off the thoughts of those looming and tall bastards and glanced at Yahaba, who hadn't flinched in what felt like hours. They were sitting in the waiting room of the medical wing, and the only indication that Yahaba was still in fact alive was his occasional blinking. His brow was furrowed and his mouth twisted in an angry sneer. He didn't look as scared as Kyoutani felt and it made the zombie scrutinise himself a bit more. If Yahaba wasn't scared, he oughtn't be too – besides, he didn't feel pain. What were they going to do, torture him again?

"Do you think it is Shiratorizawa?" He asked finally.

"No clue," answered the carnamancer. "Yakuza activity has been on the rise in the last year, but we always knew the truce wouldn't last forever. I can't believe they'd be so bold all of a sudden, though."

Kyoutani tilted his head. "What's been going on?"

"Nothing too major," Yahaba turned to look at him. "Nohebi's been slowly amping up their slave trafficking market again – we've only got mondani on records at the moment, but we've heard rumours from sources there have been some potente being sold too. Fukurodani and Nekoma are in some kind of cold war, it's not really affecting us. Dateko split from their criminal roots two years back, when Moniwa-san got control – they're just hitmen now, same with Itachiyama."

"And Shiratorizawa?"

Yahaba shrugged. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Random abductions off streets, killing those who got in debt, occasional hitman job... They haven't acted out at all, Ushiwaka respects Washijou-san too much for that. They've not caused any problem since the truce, actually. Not anything this big, anyways."

"So, this is out of character?"

"Attacking Watari, you mean?" Yahaba snorted. "Watari barely did anything that day. It was all me and you. I can't see why they'd take their anger out on him in an assassination attempt: one so out of their style, too."

The abile hummed in agreement, leaning forwards. "Not to mention, he's been off the field for so long. He has little to no enemies that aren't either dead or behind bars by now."

"The enemies out there that are left aren't stupid, either. They know better than to mess with an ex-national detective."

Kyoutani blinked, thinking that over in his head for a bit. "He retired from the field after I left?" He said though it sounded more like a question.

Yahaba glanced at him. "Uh, yeah. Maybe ten months or so afterwards. A mission went... south."

Kyoutani opened his mouth to press for details on whatever this mission had been when the door to the operation room opened.

Out came Shirabu Kenjirou, half-stumbling as he leaned heavily on the handle. It was unusual to see any potente this exhausted, let alone one as skilled as Shirabu. "He's awake," He said, eyes on the ground. "You can see him now but, please, don't crowd or pressure him. Watari-san is still in a very vulnerable position."

Yahaba stood up, standing almost pointedly at his full height which was increased by his boots. He went with purpose through the doorway, shouldering past the doctor who was either too exhausted to fight back or couldn't care less. "Kyouken!" Yahaba called over his shoulder, beckoning.

Kyoutani stood up quickly, rushing over. He paused briefly at Shirabu who was still leaning on the door – his fringe was half-plastered to his forehead with sweat and his hands were red. "Thank you," he mumbled awkwardly, "for saving Shinji."

"I was doing my job, Kyoutani-san," Shirabu breathed, not looking at him. "Go do yours and leave me alone."

"I was trying to be nice," grunted the zombie but he didn't press it and walked into the operation room as Shirabu staggered away from the door. There were three other doctors and one necromancy: two carnamancers had fallen asleep, lying next to each other in the corner as they snored, the third was sitting on a seat, doing some deep breathing. The necromancer was wheeling a trolley of skin and muscle past Kyoutani, giving the abile a polite nod.

Watari was lying down on the stretcher, dignity covered by a thick blanket. There wasn't a single mark on him. The burns they'd been told he received weren't there, neither were any bullet wounds. He was completely unscarred and undamaged, and he looked over at his friends and smiled weakly at them. "You two look miserable," he croaked.

Yahaba's shoulders relaxed and he lightly punched Watari's shoulder. "You fucking terrified me, idiot," he said.

"Yeah," agreed Kyoutani, standing by the potente's side. "You can't just scare us like that."

"Oh, like you can talk, Mr Zombie," Watari grunted fondly. He even managed to lift his hand from the blanket to flip him off. There wasn't so much as a papercut on it. "You've actually died so you don't get to pull the whole mopey boo-hoo on us."

Yahaba nodded. "Exactly. I'm the only one here who hasn't nearly died. I'm the only one allowed to be mad."

Watari made a face. "How can you be mad at me nearly getting killed? I didn't ask for an assassination attempt, thank you very much!"

"I'm mad because you didn't let it work," Yahaba teased lightly. "Then I could've had two zombies!"

"You're a prick," Kyoutani grinned and settled himself on the edge of the table, very careful not to sit on his hospitalised friend. "You're looking pretty good. Not a scratch on you!"

Watari nodded and checked himself under the blanket. "I'm pretty sure they fixed everything. They really brought in some A-grade doctors, the skin transplants have flawless pigmentation."

"Pigmentation isn't that hard," Yahaba began but a sharp glare from Kyoutani closed off that route of conversation snappily. "I'm glad you're still with us, dude."

"I'm glad too," Watari looked up at him. "I'd have left so much paperwork for you to do if I had died."

Kyoutani made a face. "Now I'm really glad you survived."

"Not to mention, I'd have to go to yet another funeral," Yahaba said airly. "My black suit's only just come out the wash since last time," he nudged Kyoutani.

"You should get better friends," said Watari with false authenticity. "Ones who aren't so prone to violence and death experiences."

"Like Shirabu!" Kyoutani suggested.

To no one's surprise, that was definitely the wrong suggestion. Yahaba turned stoney-faced and said honestly, "I'd rather kill myself."

The two abile laughed at their dramatic potente and Kyoutani watched Watari look up at the ceiling with a soft smile. He was okay. Shinji was okay. However, the threat was still very much out there and Kyoutani had a job to do.

"Although I'm fucking thrilled you're still alive and not going in a coffin anytime soon," the zombie tactfully began, "we will need to ask you some questions."

"Oh, gods," groaned Watari, placing his hands over his eyes and rubbing at his face, "I hate the questions..."

"We've been permitted to handle this case," Yahaba told him, crouching down to kneel on the floor before him, and ignoring Watari's grunt of disapproval. "This means we're going to need to take your testimony on what happened and all of what happened. You've got to tell us everything."

Watari dragged his hands from his face, and he scowled half-heartedly at them. "But you two are such mean interrogators!"

"We just wanna get to the bottom of this," Yahaba promised, already turning more serious by the second. "What can you remember of the attack? What was the first sign you were in danger?"

The abile paused for a second, thinking it over. "I heard a gunshot and ducked under a gravestone."

"How many people were there?" Kyoutani asked.

"I... I don't think I actually saw anyone," Watari replied. "I think there was just one."

Yahaba nodded. "One guy with a sniper?"

"No, not just a sniper," the abile sat up on the table. "They had some heavy artillery up there too: it was like some anti-aircraft shit, honestly. Big, loud, and loads of bullets. My memory kinda phases out after that, to be honest."

Kyoutani furrowed his brow. "And where were these shots coming from?"

"From one of the flats across the graveyard, opposite the church," he said, rubbing his temples gently as he screwed his eyes shut. "One of the upper floors. I don't know if it was a resident or not."

"Doubt it was a resident," Yahaba commented, "they don't have access to those kinds of weapons."

Watari looked to Yahaba. "Who's your suspect?"

The carnamancer shrugged. "I haven't done enough digging into it yet. Kunimi reports that Washijou believes it's Shiratorizawa but I just don't think it's their style, even if they might have a grudge against us."

"Surely their grudge would be against you?" Watari made a face. "Why'd they gotta be coming after me?"

"Because you're my friend," Yahaba said dramatically, patting Watari on the shoulder as he stood up.

Kyoutani snorted, getting off his perch on the table. "Another quick thing, Shinji," he began, "why were you in that graveyard anyways?"

Watari's breath hitched and Yahaba nodded at Kyoutani's statement. "Yeah, that's the thing that's odd about this all. Why were you in the graveyard in the middle of the day? You should've been having lunch."

There was a long pause where Watari could do nothing but stare with wide eyes at his hands. "I don't wanna talk about it." He stated softly.

The two detectives frowned. "You have to talk about it," Yahaba said. "We need to know why you were there to get a better idea of the situation."

"I don't want to talk about it," he repeated and Kyoutani noticed one of the carnamancers sleeping in the corner stir uncomfortably. The one in the chair lifted her head, brow furrowing slightly.

"Hey, Shinji," He tried, keeping his voice gentle, "we get it might be uncomfortable, but you know how this works. We need you to tell us."

"The sooner you tell us, the sooner it's..." Yahaba's frown turned concerned and he reached to his gloved hands. "A-Are you okay?"

Watari was paling and he began to grip the blanket. He took a deep breath and then screamed. The doctors in the room jolted and Shirabu stumbled through the doorway in an instant. His eyes fell on Kyoutani and Yahaba and he pointed at them. "Out!" He ordered. "Get out, you've set him off!"

"What-?" Kyoutani began but didn't get to protest more as the carnamancers who were asleep jumped to their feet and did their best to drag them out.

"Someone contact Washijou-san," Shirabu was instructing as the pair were dragged out of the room, "He's rejecting the flesh implants, we've got to go into operation again!"

"Yes, Doctor!" Cried the three carnamancers and the two ushering the detectives out the door managed to push them out finally and slammed the door closed on them. A bell started ringing down the corridor and they saw a necromancer jump to her feet and start preparing a trolley of skin and flesh to whisk to the operation room.

Yahaba and Kyoutani hurriedly stepped away from the door, watching in alarm as the medical wing suddenly came alive in a frenzied panic.

"What happened?" Kyoutani asked Yahaba as they retreated to the waiting room seats.

Yahaba shrugged. "I don't really know: I only managed to pick up on a raised heartbeat and something up in the blood. We might've set off his immune system and it's now attacking his new body parts as they're foreign objects."

The zombie made a face. "How can we ask him about why he was in the graveyard if he can't tell us without self-destructing?"

"We'll have to get sneaky," replied Yahaba, "and ask someone else."

"How the fuck is that going to work? We need what Watari knows."

"Or someone who knows more than Watari," Yahaba said, ever the cryptic.

Kyoutani stared at him, visibly unimpressed. "Can't you just give a straight answer for once in your life?"

The potente sighed. "Fine, fine. We've got to talk to Kunimi again."

"He said he doesn't know why Watari went to the graveyard?"

"I know," he replied. "But he does have access to every database in all of Japan. He can tell us something we're missing here, and we are definitely missing something."