By the Grace of the Gods (LN) - Volume 9 - Chapter SS

Extra Story: What Happened to the Former Manager

My lungs are howling in pain... I haven’t run like this in years... Shit, every part of me hurts...!

The chilly evening air flooded my lungs, sending me into a coughing fit. My aching body was starved for oxygen, forcing me to stop and focus on steadying my breath.

“How did it all come to this...?!” I huffed, standing alone on the dark road.

I started to breathe deeply, bringing clarity to my mind, and I started to reminisce on how I’d ended up in this situation.

■ ■ ■

“Goddamn it!”

The morning after the press release, I was sprawled on the couch at home, seething with rage and anxiety.

...employee found dead in his apartment...

...known as the employer of Ryoma Takebayashi...

...sudden press conference regarding his death, after weeks of silence...

...involved in yet another scandal. The president of the company...

...internal disagreements over the wording of the press release...

I flipped through the TV channels mindlessly, and seemingly all of them were discussing the previous day’s events—the press release, and the assault that took place shortly before that. Baba was supposed to take the fall for everything so the media would let off the company, but that plan had gone up in smoke by now.

“Baba should’ve listened to the president... That stupid prick! Whenever this happens, you’re supposed to cut off some mid-level management to placate the rubes’ bloodlust! But noooo! Just come right out and admit everything instead, why don’t you, you useless naïf?!”

I ranted frustratedly to no one but myself and sank into the couch. “Next it’ll be me getting the sack... The hell am I supposed to do now?”

My cell phone buzzed. A text from the boss? At this hour of the morning?

I unlocked the screen and read over the message. “Keep your head down. Do the work you’re assigned. Nothing more. Walk the line. That is all I can tell you right now.”

Work? In this state of affairs?! Not like I’ve anything to do save for prepping Takebayashi’s funeral anyway. It’s all that bastard’s fault anyhow... If he hadn’t gone and popped his clogs, we wouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit! He never shut up about his good health...

Mentally taking my grievances out on my late subordinate was very calming to me... The feeling was like that of a dose of nicotine being delivered directly into the brain of a chain smoker. Then, all of a sudden, an idea struck me.

“Wait a tick...”

I opened my briefcase and leafed through the paperwork for his funeral. “Not this, not this... Ah, found it!”

What I’d found was a stack of quotes from several different funeral homes. “Figures... Factoring in food and drinks, gratuities, and money for the priest, this is a damn hefty sum.”

My mood drastically improved. With my age, finding a new line of work would be difficult, not even factoring in the ongoing barrage of bad press to my name. But the company was already as good as six feet under, just like Takebayashi. I saw little reason to leave any money on the table.

Ah, what the hell. I’ll just call this a little bonus on my pension, for emotional damages. And so, I decided to skim a little from the funeral fund for myself.

That day, I met up with a friend from college at a sit-down restaurant downtown. We were clubmates back then, and I recalled how he’d gone off to work for a funeral home after graduating. Although we kept in touch for a while after that, we had gradually drifted apart. Fortunately, he still had the same phone number, and he agreed to meet me with the same friendliness as I remembered.

I gave him the run-down of my situation (minus the whole embezzlement part, obviously) and mentioned that I was looking at cost estimates for the funeral. Once he learned that I was working for the company getting cornholed on every news network, he expressed concern for my well-being and future.

There were a few articles online that went so far as to claim that I’d drunkenly assaulted Takebayashi, so I was prepared for the possibility of my friend turning me away over that. But it turned out he’d never really gotten used to this whole online thing. Hell, he was the type of person who still religiously watched the evening news on TV and strongly believed that the internet was crawling with fake news and sensationalism; he didn’t trust any online news at all. Even as we wrapped up the meeting, he kept encouraging me to stay strong, and not to let all the online news outlets trying to “cancel” me get me down, since they were all just slander and lies anyway. Truth be told, he was the textbook example of a useful idiot.

“What could I do about the food and drink expenses?” I asked him. “Money’s been kind of tight for me lately...”

“Well... You could go for a cheaper caterer.”

“Is that an option?”

“You’ll still need to feed all of the guests. That’d be the entire company in this case, so it’ll still cost a fair amount. If you want the quality of a typical company-sponsored funeral, I’ll have to advise you to stick with what you have.”

“I get that, but I’m trying to cut corners wherever I can without botching the funeral. That scandal cost us a lot of contracts, so there’s some pressure on me from up top and all.”

“Mm... I see.”

“Sorry to be so demanding. Also, I’d like to make this a really ostentatious affair. He always did have a thing for flashy, expensive-looking sorta crap when the company’s name was involved.”

“Style over substance, eh? Guy musta been a real asshole. Oh, uh, not to speak ill of the dead or anything. Just an observation.”

“It’s fine, no harm done.”

Knowing my friend, he really meant no ill will. Not that I cared one way or the other. I certainly didn’t give a damn if others looked down on Takebayashi. Actually, the thought delighted me. And the company was dead to me anyway. Even now, I was using his death as an excuse; it was almost comical.

Our meeting continued until we got to the point where my questions needed further looking into, so we parted ways for the day, with plans to pass on information to our respective companies and look into things.

In retrospect, this may have been the point where it all started to go wrong.

■ ■ ■

As soon as I returned to the office, I called over the man who was closest to Takebayashi. “Tabuchi! Get your ass over here!”

“Y-Yes, sir...! What is it?”

“You know what Takebayashi’s religious beliefs were, what denomination he practiced? Need that info for the funeral.”

“Oh, uh, that’s fairly private info... I’m sorry, sir, I have no idea.”

“You neither? Useless prick.”

“Sorry...”

“Dammit, I’m running out of options... Does he have a Buddhist altar at his home, then? Should be able to figure things out that way.”

“I think so... It was for his mother, if I recall.”

“Good. I’m headed over to his place, then.”

“T-Today?!”

“I need a pic of it for the funeral! And I need it yesterday!”

“Yes, sir...”

“Call the property first. Make sure they’ll let us in again.”

“Right, I’ll call the landlord,” Tabuchi said, slinking back to his desk.

If only I’d just told Tabuchi to go and take the goddamn photo himself... things wouldn’t have turned out like this.

■ ■ ■

That night, I pulled into the closest parking lot to Takebayashi’s apartment, with Tabuchi riding shotgun.

When we made our way to the apartment building, some grumpy-looking old fart was waiting for us. According to Tabuchi, he was the landlord. The man acted friendly to Tabuchi but gave me a real “screw you” kinda look. That really pissed me off. I almost made a comment about how if he was that upset to meet new people, he’d have trouble getting by at the retirement home, but I figured it was better that I didn’t. I was dog-tired, so I decided I’d just get the photo and get the hell out.

Then, just as I made it to the room with the altar, my right pinky toe slammed into something and I cursed in pain!

“A-Are you okay, sir?!”

“Shut up and mind your own goddamn business! What kinda stupid dresser is this, anyway?!”

“That’s a katana drawer. His dad was a swordsmith, and he inherited one of the pairs he’d made. One regular length, and a shorter one. He showed them to me once. The blade was so gorgeous that I almost reached out and touch—”

“Who the hell asked you?!”

“R-Right...”

“Let’s just get the damn picture and go!”

I didn’t want to be in this accursed place for even a second more than necessary. Just as Tabuchi was about to take the shot, the landlord appeared and offered us tea.

“Tabuchi. Go placate that old codger.”

“Me? I’m trying to take the—”

“I’d like to hurry and get outta here, if you don’t mind! And he clearly hates my ass anyway! Gimme that camera!”

I took the camera back from Tabuchi, and he went off to join the landlord. They started yammering on about some new snack food or some bullshit. Tabuchi called out that he’d be waiting downstairs; without responding, I got to work on taking the pictures. Mind you, this wasn’t a formal photo session; it’d just take a minute. I took about a dozen photos of the altar from the front and side angles.

On my way out of the room, I once again slammed into something. This time on my left pinky toe.

“This goddamn drawer again! What a pain in the ass...”

While clutching my foot, I recalled something my friend at the funeral home told me...something about some sort of protective katana that those who followed a certain denomination would keep in their homes. Renting out replicas wasn’t exactly hard to do nowadays, but evidently, those with family heirlooms would keep real ones around.

I’d considered saving on renting a katana for the funeral by taking Takebayashi’s, but my logical side wasn’t going to take his belongings without permission or risk being charged with theft over it. Plus, it wouldn’t have been right to lay hands on a dead man’s possessions.

And yet, in spite of all that, my hand reached out for the katana drawer.

If only I’d dragged my sorry ass home the moment I got those photos, there might have been hope for me yet.

Swords in general never interested me. I may have listened to Tabuchi’s story with some interest, but I would have just told him to shut up anyway, that I didn’t give a shit about what a dead man’s family heirloom was worth. Well, there was no one around to witness me doing this anyway. Plus, having it would save me a bit of trouble.

Such were the thoughts running through my head as I slid the drawer open; it smelled of foxglove. Inside, there was a katana, housed in a simple wooden sheath. It didn’t even have a sword guard on it like you’d associate with a proper Japanese katana. I sighed with relief at how unimpressive the thing looked.

Then I withdrew the katana and fell speechless. There were no words to describe how beautiful the sword was. When Tabuchi had described the pair of swords in this drawer as ‘gorgeous,’ I’d muttered under my breath that he was a rube with the vocabulary of a grade-schooler. But upon seeing them for myself in person, no other descriptor came to my mind—gorgeous.

The sword was almost physically drawing my eyes in, pulling me into a trance. The fact that it belonged to Takebayashi mattered less and less to me.

Everything faded away... I could have stared at that blade for hours...

Eventually, I came to and realized I was back home, with both of the swords in my hands. I was shaken. I had no recollection of how I’d gotten home, or why I had the katanas... The more I thought, though, the more I started to remember...

My own two hands had impulsively stolen both blades, along with all the certificates in the drawer. Tabuchi and the landlord were downstairs; had they noticed my thievery? The vision of me running down a deserted street to my car, and tucking the swords into the trunk, came back to me. Luckily, it seemed they hadn’t noticed. After that, I had returned to Takebayashi’s apartment, where he and the landlord were still engaged in small talk, and then took Tabuchi home.

“They don’t even know I have them now... Before they catch on to me, I’d better hurry and—”

—return them. As soon as the thought entered my mind, I recoiled in revulsion and withdrew the katana from its sheath. The glimmering blade hit me like a rush of endorphins instantly. The more I stared, the less I wanted to take the blades back.

I’d better just get my head in order first. Then I’ll take them back.

At the same time, I wondered how much these beautiful swords were worth. After some research, I discovered that Takebayashi’s father was something of a genius. He had earned numerous awards at a remarkably young age; unsurprisingly, he’d been designated a Living National Treasure in his later years. The more I looked into it, the more exceptional praise I found, especially for his age.

Katanas made in modern times ranged from about a few thousand dollars to ten thousand dollars in price, depending on its maker. Those made by Musashi Takebayashi, however, started at tens of thousands of dollars during his lifetime. By now, all of his extant swords were priced at about a million dollars apiece, with a community of collectors willing to pay double or triple that.

While my first thought was to be shocked that people would pay so much for a single katana, I started to understand why as I observed the beauty of the blade in my hands. The view of its entrancing craftsmanship and the knowledge of its sky-high monetary value had wiped the option of returning the swords from my mind.

From that day on, everything in my life began to work out even better than I expected—my regular work, preparing for the funeral, covering up my embezzlement. It didn’t take long for me to forget what life was like without the katanas.

A week later, the date of the funeral had arrived. I had been at the funeral parlor since early morning. While the funeral home had taken care of most of the preparations, it was my responsibility to pore through the schedules and double-check everything. Time was flying by, but I had some free time just before the ceremony; my friend had encouraged me to take a break. With a quick thanks, I headed to the room with the shorter katana.

“There you are...”

I held up the securely kept sword and drew it, its now-familiar glimmer making its presence known. Just seeing that light filled me with bliss and relaxation. Even the sheath, which I had first thought to be too simple, was growing on me. Apparently, this type of sheath was used to store a sword, but the lack of color and detail brought out the pure and refined beauty of the blade.

At this point, I wanted to carry the katana around with me everywhere. I was already at the point where I wouldn’t feel right if I wasn’t keeping the other katana in my own car. Even leaving this short sword here seemed wrong. I kept imagining that its mystical sheen would catch someone else’s eyes, prompting them to steal it from me. That’s how I came into possession of them, after all...

“Huh?”

Why? Why had I let the short katana leave my hands at all? Renting a ceremonial blade could not have cost that much. I didn’t want to spend a penny I didn’t have to on Takebayashi, but it was too risky... What was I doing, anyway? A funeral...? What else was I...?

Questions faded from my mind as I gazed into the shimmering blade. Nothing mattered. No one had said a thing, and no one would. Everything was fine.

“Yo.”

A voice made me jump. I turned to find one of the workers on my team, who had gotten the job through connections.

“K-Kurashiki? What are you doing here...?”

“Tryin’ to grab a smoke. What brings you here, chief? Whoa, what’s with that crazy-looking blade?”

“It’s for the funeral. Just looking it over some more, since it’s kind of important.”

“Huh... Oh, did you know his old man was some super-famous swordsmith or something?”

“He was...?”

“No capperino on that. As for my old man, though, he suspended my ass, so I’ve been stuck in my room in front of my desktop rig all day. Took the opportunity to crawl the interwebs for all the deets about our dumpster fire of a company. There ain’t nothin’ about that old dickhead the media hasn’t pounced on by now. You love to see it.”

“I-I see...”

“So I did some research of my own, and it’s like, damn, son! That guy’s swords go for, like, more than I make in a month. Maybe if I’d sucked up to ’im like that fatso did, I might’ve gotten a sword or two of my own outta him.”

“Hm...”

“I heard he had one of those swords himself. Worth a cool ten grand. Heirloom from his old man, apparently.”

My heart was pounding against my ribcage. He knew how much a Musashi Takebayashi sword went for, and he even knew that Takebayashi himself had a set! What if he—

“Say, isn’t that blade you got there the one he had? Don’t tell me you actually s—?”

Kurashiki had a look of shock on his face. I must have been no different. Somehow, the sword in my hand had shoved itself right into Kurashiki’s shoulder. His howl of pain snapped me out of my trance.

“Are—”

—you okay? I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come out. Never mind that, he needs help, now! But if someone else saw me—

“Ugh... What the hell?! I-Is that... No! Stay away from me, you psycho!”

“It’s beautiful...”

The very katana that had just cut through a man’s flesh like butter glimmered no less brilliantly than before, even with a fresh coat of blood on it. In fact, the vibrant red gave it a sinister allure. It was incredible. So this is the true potential of this katana... This is its true sheen... I’ll never let this thing go. I’ll always keep it with me...

I burst into manic laughter.

“Y-You’re crazy... Somebody help me! Help!”

No, no, no! What’s wrong with me?! I need to keep my mind focused on the here and now! As my mind raced, I heard several voices.

“What was that?”

“Did someone scream? That doesn’t sound good...”

“We’d better see what’s going on.”

“Wait, didn’t that sound like Kurashiki?”

Run, you asshole.

I bolted out of there.

“Whoa?!”

“Hey, isn’t that the bald guy who—”

“Out of my way!”

“Augh!”

“Ugh!”

“Piss off!”

I shoved numerous people out of my way and ran to the parking lot, where I felt the eyes of the arriving guests boring into me. I heard a scream behind me, but this wasn’t the time to consider who it was or where it came from.

“Shit, shit, shit... What do I do now...?!”

I leapt into my car and sped into the city without a destination. After some time, I decided to turn on the radio to calm myself.

“This is a news flash. Reports of an aggravated assault at a funeral parlor in the Tokyo area. The assailant is—”

Those assholes work fast...

I’d already made the news. In my panic, I veered onto the sidewalk and smashed into a tree. Luckily, the airbag deployed and I was unhurt. I ditched the car and ran off into the night, my precious katanas in hand...

■ ■ ■

And that was how I got myself wrapped up in this mess... This was all because I crossed paths with Takebayashi. He had always brought me nothing but bad fortune.

I used to be happy. I was born into a wealthy family and never wanted for anything from childhood. My grades were excellent in school and I was a decent athlete. Most importantly, I was lucky. I had many friends in college, and despite graduating into a historically stagnant job market, I didn’t have much trouble getting my foot in the door.

Then, one day, a certain asshole took the wind right out of my sails. Takebayashi. In contrast to me, he was one unlucky son of a bitch. And just like how multiplying a positive number by a negative one gives you a negative sum, his awful luck seemed to drag me down with him. Nothing ever went my way when he was around.

My numbers at work kept falling, and I couldn’t recover them no matter what I did. My friends grew distant, my subordinates began to disregard me, and my wife left me. Takebayashi was the bane of my existence and the reason I had to kiss ass to climb the ladder and step on the throats of everyone below me. I became more and more isolated with each passing day. My best remedy for a bad mood became yelling at Takebayashi, but the way he’d take everything on the chin with that fruity little grin on his face made my skin crawl. Maybe I would’ve gone easier on him if he’d gotten on his knees and given me an abject, groveling apology. And now he was worm food. Son of a bitch brought me misery to his very last breath. Now I was free to return to the trouble-free days I deserved. My luck had been good, just how it used to be.

But now what was I? Just some asshole in evening wear covered with dirt and blood, with only a stolen set of katanas for moral support.

I’d just stabbed someone and fled the scene; the cops would be on to me by now. Numerous witnesses saw me running out of that funeral parlor; I had nowhere to run, nor hide.

“How did I fall this far...”

Just as I muttered that, there was a sudden bright light and a tremendous impact. Time slowed to a crawl. I heard the squeal of brakes. Enough info for me to discern I’d been hit by a car. Regret washed over me. I couldn’t feel any pain. I understood this was the end for me.

I wish I’d never met that son of a... That was the last thought I had before everything went black.

■ ■ ■

A week later, I woke up to the realization that I had not died. I was tied to a hospital bed, and someone there debriefed me on what had happened. I’d gotten some internal bruises and fractured bones; serious injuries, but nothing life-threatening. All I needed was a few weeks of rehabilitation and I’d probably be fine.

While I was unconscious, however, I’d racked up quite a few criminal charges. For a start, grand larceny for stealing Takebayashi’s katanas, as well as illegal possession of a weapon. Not to mention aggravated assault and attempted murder for attacking Kurashiki and the others at the funeral parlor. On top of that, I had broken numerous traffic laws leaving the funeral home and at the scene of the accident, and finally, the cherry on top was embezzlement, since payment for the funeral had already been settled prior to the ceremony.

That day, I was denied the sweet release of death and sentenced to a living hell on earth—imprisonment.