Into the Unown Ch 107 & 107.5

Content Warning:

Same as Ch 103-104, there will be some depiction of violence. But if you're fine with both those chapters then 105.5 should be fine with you. And this should be the last of them as well.

And I know that some people will have already read this release because of my blunder previously. I'm sorry. Next release will be on Monday.

***

Chapter 105

“Why the fuck is everyone bothering me today!” Hattori lashed out at the other person who sat at his table without permission again, by flinging his bottle. But contrary to his expectations, there was no shattering of glass or indignant curses. Instead, the bottle was set back on to the table with a soft thunk and slid back to him. 

The drunk ronin lifted his head to take in the interloper, but his vision was too blurry and unfocused to make out any features. All he could tell was that it was a man with a head of white hair and wearing a fancy suit.

Hattori opened his mouth to speak, only to feel a wave of bile threatening to spew out from his gut. He covered his mouth on instinct and tightened his throat to prevent the outflow, but the pressure was too much as a wet belch of gas was let out in place of vomit.

All the while, his unwanted guest was just sitting there, staring at him silently. The thought of the asshole’s judgemental gaze was enough to light a fire in Hattori as he forced himself to stand up and reach over to the guy.

The problem was, Hattori’s body was too inebriated to obey him. So instead of standing up, he ended up tripping and almost smashed his face against the table. If not for the timely save of the man in a suit, who suddenly appeared next to Hattori to catch the younger man and set him down gently.

“You…” Hattori’s speech was interrupted by a dull ache in his brain. “You’re the asshole behind those kids just now…” He scoffed. “Finally decided to show your face, huh? Well you got the wrong guy, pal… I ain’t got what you want… So fuck off!”

After a brief silence the mysterious man was finally willing to open his mouth and speak. “You care a great deal about your Pokemon,” he said. “And yet you’re still willing to subject them to such abhorrent treatment. It must ache you a great deal, to see them hurt. Or perhaps that’s the point — a self-inflicted punishment perhaps?”

Hattori scowled and reached out to his bottle for a drink, only to find disappointment in the empty vessel. In a fit of rage he tossed his bottle to the side and called out to the barkeep for a refill, but received no response.

For the first time since the beginning of this interaction, Hattori turned his aching head to check on his surroundings, only to find it completely devoid of human presence. Save for himself and the stranger in front of him.

The younger man rubbed at his eyes, in an attempt to dispel some of the fog obscuring his vision. “Who… are you?” He muttered.

“A man who has been freed from the shackles of duty that once bound him. It is jarring isn’t it? To walk your own path, only to stumble and fall. The chains that bind us also serve to keep us from falling. Without which, only a deep dark pit awaits in the wake of failure.”

Hattori snorted. “What are you, a fortune cookie? I asked you for a name, asshole!”

The man in a suit chuckled. “I’ve discarded my name a long time ago, just like you. I now take on whatever name suits my purpose. All you need to know is that I can give you what your heart desires — a way out of this chain of karma you found yourself in.”

“You know nothing about what I want, old man!” Hattori yelled. And it indeed was an old man sitting in front of him. Now that his vision had cleared somewhat, he could tell that the man was dressed up in an expensive, but ridiculous looking, penguin suit with a head of immaculately combed white hair and the face of a genial old grandpa.

But Hattori wasn’t fooled. That face was a mask; a perfectly crafted, deliberate set of curated expressions and subtle gestures designed to lower the inclinations of ignorant fools. And though Hattori may be a fool, he wasn’t that ignorant yet.

“I know enough. At the very least, I know about the incredible sum of money you owe and to whom you owe it to. That’s the reason why you’re even here isn’t it? Forced into indentured servitude to buy your freedom.”

Hattori scoffed. “Why do you care? I don’t have what you want. You’re wasting your time.”

The old man smiled, his eyes deep and unfathomable like the darkest oceans. “On the contrary, I think you do have what I want. And even if you don’t, it does not matter. I would still help you regain your life. What you do with it afterwards is none of my concern.”

“Hah! So you’re saying you’ll help me pay off my debt even if I choose to jump off a building right after that?!”

The man nodded. “Indeed, but I don’t think you will. Death is a sweet release for our kind, a reward for having lived a life of purpose. It is not claimed, but granted to us. As I am sure you agree, else you wouldn’t be persisting in this banal attempt to poison your body, instead of splitting your stomach long ago.”

For the first time, the elderly man showed a bit of emotion as his face twisted in subtle disgusts at the number of bottles surrounding Hattori. “Your training has ensured that such toxins will do little harm to you. You might numb your mind, but your body will persist.”

Yet in spite of the man’s words, Hattori still dragged himself out of his seat to the nearby table where there was some unfinished alcohol left for him to drink. The man quietly followed suit and relocated to the next table.

“Heh!” Hattori laughed. “I just thought of a great idea. You said I need someone to grant me death? Alright, sure. You want the old man’s secret technique? Fine, I’ll give it to you. That way Koga will come and eliminate both you and me! Don’t blame me if those two kids get wrapped up in this though, they asked for it! If you even care at all that is…”

But the old man was unphased. “If it is Koga you fear then you need not worry,” he said, before scribbling a number on a piece of paper and shoving it into Hattori’s hand. “You can dial that number when you are ready. In the meantime, consider yourself free of any outstanding obligations. 

“And just in case your addled brain is still unable to comprehend. This is my gift to you — a fresh start. But should you choose to commit further, I can also give you a renewed purpose.”

Hattori crumpled the paper in his hand and took a swig of beer after his unwanted visitor saw himself out. The alcohol tasted especially sour in his mouth, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the backwash or the bile threatening to escape from his stomach.

***

“He will come. Despite his miserable state, Purple Shadow is still a man of honor. And all gifts and favors must be returned as his honor demands.”

That was what Alfred had told Nina the next day after her failure to compel the disgraced ronin to teach her his secrets.

It had been a week since then, and there had yet to be any news. During the couple of times that Lilian came to school during that week, Nina had asked about it. But the young Blackthorn just expressed confidence in her servant's capability and urged patience.

“More importantly, we cannot standby and allow such rot to fester in the city!” Lilian exclaimed. The girl had not been able to let go of the sights she saw during their little excursion and has been harping on about it ever since.

Nina sighed. “Just like what Alfred told you that night. This isn’t the sort of problem that you can resolve through force, Lilian.” In fact, Nina wasn’t sure if there was even an easy solution at all.

“This is a social phenomenon that requires time, patience, and a great deal of erudite policy making and governance to address. I’m sure you can probably use your family’s political capital to pressure the City Council into doing something. But in all honesty? They’ll probably just make a token effort to sweep the problem further under the carpet and make it less visible. The core issues are still going to exist.”

“Can’t believe you guys went on an adventure without me…” Justin grumbled, but both Nina and Lilian just ignored the boy.

“If we are lacking in erudition, then we simply need to replace these incompetent buffoons with others more qualified. At the very least, such callous indifference must not be overlooked!”

Nina sighed at the girl’s idealism. “Oh Lilian… But enough about that, have you managed to obtain a Noibat yet?”

Lilian gave an ambivalent smile, “I have managed to identify a small invasive colony in Mount Moon, the local Rangers have put a bounty on them. One which I plan to claim.”

“Why not just have your family get you one from their native region?” Kerry asked.

“Because catching Pokemon is part of my journey and I refuse to rely on my family name to circumvent the process,” replied Lilian. “I am the one who will defeat Lance and take his place! There must be no doubts whatsoever on the legitimacy of my ascension.”

“I’m more surprised that the Rangers have decided to eliminate the Noibats instead of assimilating them,” said Nina. “You would think that the League would jump at the opportunity to introduce another line of Dragons to the region.

In a fairly uncharacteristic moment, Lilian sighed. “That… is a very complicated matter. To put it simply, there is an accord struck between each of the leading Dragon Tamer clans. The migration and relocation of our native Dragon species must only occur under ‘natural’ circumstances.”

Alfred went on to explain that an illegal release situation like the one in Mount Moon did not fall under such a category. As for what constitutes a ‘natural’ relocation, the butler said that the list was too long and convoluted to explain properly. There was apparently an ancient magical scroll or something that binds them.

“Hence why the Blackthorn clan is considered one of the weakest among the Dragon Tamer clans. Because our native Dragon species are fairly limited and ubiquitous across the world.” Lilian added, with a wisp of regret.

“Then are you sure it’s okay for you to catch a Noibat then?” Nina asked. “Sounds kind of contradictory.”

However, Lilian simply dismissed her concern, saying that there were loopholes she could exploit and that it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Can I come?” Justin asked. “I wouldn’t mind a Dragon in my team.” The boy had always been jealous of Nina and her Dragonair.

“I will not allow you to suckle at my teat,” said the girl. “But I can forward you the information that I have obtained and you can find your own way.”

“Have you expanded your carry limit, Jerome?”

In response to Nina’s question, Justin shook his head. “It’s Justin. And no, not yet. But I can just have my Pokemon take turns with Professor Oak. Well, maybe not Carvanha. But the rest of them should be fine being on their own until I can get Noibat settled in.”

“Pardon my interruption, milady,” chimed Alfred at one point during the conversation. “But Purple Shadow has responded to our request.” He said with a smile.

Lilian looked towards Nina with a grin, which the other girl returned in kind.

Chapter 105.5: Hattori

“Shadow! Purple Shadowww~” The man who called himself ‘Gold Fingers’ drawled. There was a certain slimy quality to the pock faced man’s voice that sent goosebumps down Hattori’s neck. Like someone had poured a whole bottle of baby oil down his ears.

“My friend! Congrats on paying off all that debt, musta found yerself quite the sugar mommy eh?” Gold Fingers laughed nervously as he backed himself into a corner of his office, cold sweat dripping down his temple whilst he cradled his bloodied hand that tried to reach for the alarm under his desk earlier.

“Can’t say I’m ain’t jealous…” The pimp continued, all the while his eyes fleeted from one corner to the next, trying desperately to find an avenue of escape. “Heya, didja know? I, err… I was the one who came up with the name Purple Shadow…” He stuttered, as the man in black who violently intruded upon his establishment loomed ever closer.

Outside of his office, Gold Fingers could only see a scene of bloody carnage, lightly obscured by a thin veil of purple smog. The poisonous gas felt like a living thing, a specter shadowing the menacing ronin, much like his moniker suggests. The man could have sworn he saw a sinister looking face cackling at him when he peered into its misty depths.

“‘Ol’ Fingies never misses’ they said…” Gold Finger rambled on mindlessly, but at some point, the desperation must have snapped his nerves as the man dropped onto his knees with a loud thud and looked up at his would-be executioner with pleading eyes.

“Hey man, whatever beef ya got with us, it’s all Villy, okay? He’s the boss man… We’re all just chumps trying ta make a living here…” He begged. “Ya get it, right? You were one of us! Has Ol’ Fingies ever done ya dirty? Remember that one time I footed yer bill over at Al’s clinic?” 

Gold Fingers continued talking, but Hattori showed no signs of mercy even as he stood over the snivelling coward, close enough to wrap his fingers around the pimp’s flabby neck and choke him out. Which was exactly what he did as he violently slammed the Croagunk-like man in a gaudy suit against the wall.

“Where’s Villy?” Hattori growled, menacingly, barely loosening his grip enough to allow his victim just enough air to speak.

Gold Fingers choked, trying, but failing, to let out a cough as he squeaked out a response. “I… I dunno. He squirtle’d right after ya took out his muscle…”

Evidently, Hattori was not pleased with the answer that he received, his iron grip once again tightening on his target’s windpipe.

“You and I both know that’s a load of Tauros poo, Fingers...” With a silent gesture, the purple gas trailing after Hattori coiled around his body and forcefully invaded every single one of Gold Finger’s orifices. 

“You’re like a wart on Villy’s ass.” Hattori continued. “Even if he didn’t tell you where he went, I don’t believe for a second that you don’t know the location of his hide-y holes.”

Meanwhile, Gold Fingers felt his heart palpitating as the poison invaded his veins — his skin burned and eyes throbbed, while blood began seeping out of his pores.

“That’s one of my personal recipes, by the way,” said the ronin. “Real nasty stuff, I reckon you have five hours of slow agonizing death ahead of you… Oh, but don’t worry. I used the instant stuff on your lackeys, most of them were probably all numb by the time I slit their throats. I only have so much of the good stuff available after all — gotta save it for my VIPs, y’know?”

Hattori wasn’t lying. Only he possessed the antidote for this particular concoction of his. But he might have been exaggerating its effects a little bit, the poison wasn’t guaranteed to be lethal since its intended purpose was to inflict maximum pain. But there was a good chance that someone as unhealthy as Gold Fingers will die of a heart attack before the effects wear off.

Gold Fingers was oblivious to all of this of course as he gazed frightfully upon Hattori like he was Giratina incarnate, before straining to lift a finger up to point at an unassuming little painting decorating one of the walls.

“What’s the passcode?” Hattori didn’t even need to check to know that it was a safe. It was always a safe.

“6… 69420…” Gold Fingers croaked, his fingernails digging into Hattori’s bracers as he struggled in vain to catch his breath.

With a swift kick, Hattori broke one of Gold Fingers’s knees before dropping him unceremoniously onto the floor with a pained cry and pathetic whimpers. 

Meanwhile, the ronin made his way over to the painting and ripped it off the wall to unveil a safe hidden underneath. Of course, he did his due diligence beforehand, making sure that nothing was booby trapped before touching the painting and unlocking the safe. Inside were a few Gold Nuggets, some stacks of cash, as well as a notebook and some document folders.

Hattori was uninterested in the riches, completely passing them over in favour of the paperwork he found. He flipped through them briefly to confirm their contents, most of which were lists of clients who frequented Gold Fingers’s brothel, as well as some blackmail material on a good number of the city’s bureaucratic authorities and politicians.

But more importantly, there was also information pertaining to Villy’s gang along with observations on the boss’s activities and a map of his hideouts contained within the notebook.

Satisfied with his findings, Hattori stored the documents in his backpack before returning to the incapacitated Gold Fingers and squatting down to meet the pimp’s tear-filled eyes with a cold and indifferent gaze.

“Any last words?” He asked.

“Please… I’ll do anything. Whatever ya want, ya can have — money, girls…” Gold Fingers gasped in realization. “Girls, this is about that girl ain’t it? The one you were all sweet on? Sweet enough to pay off her debt after she croaked.” The pimp’s eyes lit up with hope as he continued pleading at Hattori, probably thinking that he finally found a lifeline.

“Look man,” He continued. “If it’s girls ya want, we’ve got plenty. Even a batch of fresh merch coming in soon. I’m sure we can find something for—”

Hattori’s face twitched at the mention of “merch”, lashing out to choke at Gold Fingers, all the while watching intently as the pimp’s eyes bulged out from pressure and roll towards the back of his skull, until all semblance of life escaped the man’s grotesque body and the corpse fell limply onto the floor.

Hattori drew in a deep breath as he stood, feeling a little numb at all the death and destruction that he had just wrought on the place. He made sure to spare all of the innocent staff and victims of Gold Fingers’s operations, but some collateral was inevitable. 

The ronin chided himself for becoming sloppy and his loss of touch from lack of practice. “Can’t let yourself falter now, you fool…” He murmured to himself. “There’s still more to go, and the night ain’t over yet…” Hattori once again steeled his resolve as he broke one of the office’s windows and jumped out into the pouring rain.

***

“Well, well, well… Look what the Meowth dragged in? Are you here to get your ass kicked by Vicious Thunder again, you loser?”

Hattori scratched his chin in confusion at the person who suddenly showed up to bar his way. The one who was covered in tattoos, piercings, and overall, looking like a Miltank-human monstrosity that even a mother would struggle to love. “Right, this is that asshole from the other day — Villy’s new favorite of whatever… Did no one tell this guy that the match was rigged?” 

Hattori also noted the shiny red R that was pinned on Vicious Thunder’s jacket and frowned ever so slightly. It was no secret that the gangs of Vermilion City were all tied to Team Rocket in one way or another, but never had he seen anyone display their affiliation so openly before. 

The gangs each had their own pride after all. And while most of them were happy to maintain a working relationship with Giovanni, none of them were willing to submit themselves to his authority.

“I guess that old coot was right — something fishy is going on in Kanto’s underworld…” He mused, but Hattori’s thoughts were swiftly interrupted by Vicious Thunder expanding a Pokeball and pointing provocatively at him. 

“If you think showing up in cosplay is enough to give you an edge, then think again!” The apparent Rocket goon tossed out their Pokeball without even giving Hattori a chance to respond verbally, only to find that the red and white sphere was intercepted mid air by a net that Hattori threw out on instinct.

The net was a special tool that restrained a Pokeball and prevented it from opening. Even if the user had missed the timing, and the Pokeball was in the midst of opening, the net would still function to constrict the released Pokemon for some time in order for the user to follow up with other actions.

“Wha—” Vicious Thunder was flabbergasted at the sight, but before she could say anything, the ronin she was facing suddenly appeared right in front of her in a blur of motion and slammed a palm up her jaw, rattling her brain and completely discombobulating her.

The punk rocker felt a sharp pain in her mouth, and hot blood streaming down her throat from biting into her own tongue. But Hattori wasn’t done just yet, as he followed up his assault by slamming both his palms on Vicious Thunder’s ears to completely knock her out.

“Man, they’ll take in just about anybody these days, huh?” Hattori could have sworn that lowlives were a lot smarter back in his day. He briefly contemplated killing Vicious Thunder, who was crumpled in a heap before him, but ultimately decided not to.

This was the only blatant Team Rocket member among everyone he had taken down so far, and he thought it might be good to keep her around for interrogation. Provided Vicious Thunder didn’t die from her severed tongue first.

“Oh well, I’ll leave it up to fate I guess…” Hattori stepped over the incapacitated Rocket member with an indifferent look as he proceeded further into the building to find his ultimate target.

It took a couple of tries, but the ronin finally managed to pin down the safehouse that Villy was hiding in.

***

Hattori flicked his kunai against the shuko attached to his palm to light the cigarette between his fingers, taking a moment to breathe in the nostalgic smell before taking a drag, only to break out into an inevitable cough at the acrid smoke tickling at his lungs.

The black clad man ran a sleeve over his mouth and glared at the offensive stick of vice he was holding, unable to fathom how his sister found this suffocating experience to be enjoyable. But then again, when you were coerced into selling your body to disease riddled scumbags, any solace was a welcome one.

He was tempted to just fling the cigarette out the window, but decided against it. This was among the last few sticks of this particular brand of cigarettes that he had left from his sister. And while he did manage to scrounge up another pack from among Villy’s stash, he never did figure out where it was sourced from.

And speaking of Villy, the only thing that was left of the former gang boss was a sizzling heap on the floor. It took quite some time, but the acidic poison he doused the guy with had finally eaten through enough of his flesh to end him.

Looking at that grotesque puddle of flesh and bones, Hattori couldn’t help but feel a little melancholic. There was a gaping hole inside of him, feeling even more prominent than the day he had to bury the only family he’d ever known.

Hattori briefly entertained the idea of visiting the old orphanage where they spent a brief but blissful childhood, only to shake his head to dismiss that notion. There was nothing there for him. Even the cruel matron who had sold him to the Koga Clan and chased his sister out the moment she came of age had long since passed — not his doing, unfortunately. She died of a heart attack on her own.

For the longest time, Hattori was just mindlessly trudging along, bitterly doing the bidding of the people who drove his sister to her death, all so that he could clear her karma and finally be free to pursue his revenge. And yet, now that the deed was done, he couldn’t help but be disappointed.

Because at the end of the day, there was no catharsis to be found. Only a wretched fool steeped in blood.

Hattori sighed and lightly tossed out a Pokeball to reveal a Porygon-Z. “You know what to do.” He said, as the virtual Pokemon went to work scouring every inch of Villy’s safehouse to gather every scrap of data it could find. 

The Pokemon was on loan to him by his newest ‘benefactor’ for this exact purpose. Hattori didn’t mind, he owed the old man that much at least. And while the guy was dodgy as heck, he could still tell that there was nothing nefarious going on. Not that Hattori was the best judge of character.

While Porygon-Z did its part, Hattori got to work manually searching the space as well, making sure to pore over any physical documents and items he could find.

He made a deliberate effort to overlook one of the corners of the room. It was hard to notice, but there was a secret panel over there that would likely open up to reveal a smaller hiding space built into the safe room. Even now, Hattori could still pick out the quiet sobs and muffled breathing of the occupants inside, using his keen, ninja trained hearing.

The wretched ronin did not mind that the two kids inside had likely witnessed the brutal murder of their father. And he had no intention of nipping their fear and hatred of him in the bud at this stage — they had every right to demand vindication from him. “I can only hope that they come looking for me when they’re actually ready, and not before…” 

“Are you done?” The Porygon-Z nodded and returned itself into its Pokeball, while Hattori wrapped things up on his end as well and secured the documents he acquired into his backpack. One of which really caught his eyes — a shipping manifesto for the next round of ‘merch’ that was due to come in at some point in the following year.

“Now then, I wonder if I’ll be able to convince that old coot to lend me a hand in dealing with this?” Hattori mused, as he stepped out of the room, while willfully ignoring the sigh of relief he heard trailing from behind him.

***

Author's note:

So chapter 105.5 was originally meant to be a short story exclusive to Patreon. But after going through several iterations of the draft, I couldn't get myself to be happy with what I wrote. So I just stripped it down, mixed in some main story elements and churned out this bonus chapter instead.

I'm not sure if I want to write a side story of Hattori's past to make up for it. I might? But I don't want to promise anything so we'll see.

Anyways, next release on Monday.

Edit: Forgot to mention. A 'shuko' is a climbing implement employed by historical ninjas. (not Naruto)

They're basically curved spikes one attaches to their palms or balls of their feet that can be used to latch on to walls and assist with climbing. Also very useful for hiking up mountains which Japan has a lot of.

Incidentally, they're also very good for stealth, because the sound of a shuko on wood produces a quiet clicking noise as opposed to the loud thud of your entire body weight descending on every single step. If you've ever seen a ninja run before then you'll notice they run on their tippy toes, that's why. It's because they normally would have a shuko attached to the balls of their feet.

Ps. I nearly forgot to post today. I was just sipping on my coffee like an idiot, thinking that It felt like I forgot something before I slowly came to the realization that it was a Saturday. XD