Kami-Jutsu: The Yakuza's Son is Aware-Chapter 8: Were Her Boobs Soft, or...?

I turned toward the direction of the shooter.

A young lady in a black dress.

She didn’t look Japanese, and she had green hair.

But, goodness, was she trembling.

Her hands could barely keep the gun up.

My guess is, she banked everything on that one shot. Now that it’s failed, she can only see demise.

I walked toward her calmly—she was about fifteen feet away.

Her breathing was a mess. Eyes glassy. She was shivering like she’d just been pulled out of a frozen lake.

Too frantic.

Can I ever experience this level of fear, I wonder?

As a living thing that’s not ready to die yet, I do have an instinctive fear of death.

But this frantic trembling, the sweat, the blankness in her face?

There’s still a lot I have to learn.

I reached the onee-san and placed my hand on her chest.

Her heart thumped against my palm, loud and panicked.

Mine didn’t thump this much during my first massacre.

She stood still, wanting to speak, but only sweat answered for her.

After a moment, soft gasps began to slip out—then tears.

"P... P-Please..."

A whisper so soft and fragile I nearly missed it.

"...Please... I... I don’t w-w-want to die."

"What are you talking about?" I replied, my voice just as low.

"Nobody wants to die. But look around you."

She blinked. A flood of tears poured out.

And... I loved it.

I didn’t want to hurt anyone unnecessarily, but I wanted to see her cry more. Plead more. Maybe analyze why she’d do such a thing—go to such extremes just to survive.

"Okay, tell me," I asked her, "why should I let you live when the others die? Logically, you shouldn’t even be alive right now. But due to my incompetence, here you are."

Her brows furrowed. Her trembling red lips parted. A subtle gnashing of teeth. Beautiful.

I should keep her as a pet.

"Money!" she screamed, ruining the whole mood. "I can give you a lot of money!"

How in the world would she achieve that?

If she did have "a lot of money," she probably wouldn’t be here right now.

Now she was just saying anything to dodge death. Maybe I should crush her heart already...

Ara? Was I just... irritated?

Genuine anger—not the subtle unpleasantness Ferry and Najima give me.

I felt that warm, familiar feeling in my cheeks and ears again.

She grimaced and started shaking violently the moment she noticed me... blushing.

Of course, I still couldn’t smile. But progress, no?

"Hey Ken, can I?"

Ferry had taken on his man-size again, appearing behind her like a phantom. His steel claws rested at her throat.

"She genuinely tried to kill you. It’s not unusual to return the favor," Ferry said. "This woman’s a damn good gunner. Her accuracy speaks volumes. She’s probably got a body count already."

"That’s not true!!" she cried, all her tears spilling. "I... I was forced! Please believe me."

"Hm? Forced?" Ferry tapped her cheek with a claw. Tiny dots of blood rose there. "I dunno. Your bloodlust felt pretty—"

"Enough, Ferry," I said. "She’s not lying about being forced."

Ferry raised a brow. "If you say so. But seriously, that kind of mindset’ll get you betrayed real fast."

"Betrayal should be absolutely expected," I replied, lifting my hand from her chest. "Humans can’t be trusted. It’s natural."

The moment she realized she’d been spared, her knees gave out. She dropped to the ground and started thanking me like she’d seen God.

Of course, I fished information from her.

Five executives were in the penthouse.

Most of the men we’d killed were Sabertooth’s. They had a big meeting today.

Apparently, we came too early. The main Don was supposed to arrive today—from India.

She was a Russian bodyguard. Former assassin. Hired to protect some guy I had probably already killed.

I sensed her heart, her emotions... My intuition told me she was absolutely lying.

She was a murderer. Still an assassin.

But for some reason, she was also a good person.

That’s what my gut told me.

Well then, to the top floor.

We left her on the ground, still thanking her stars, and headed to the elevator.

Just one more floor before we meet the VIPs.

"So..." Ferry tilted his head mischievously.

"What?"

"Were her boobs soft, or...?"

"..."

I did good hiding my face from the onee-san, but she saw me blushing, didn’t she?

Tsk. I should’ve killed her after all.

The 9th floor was just as messy.

But the men here were tougher. Some even managed to wrestle Ferry — despite him being man-sized. A few were agile enough to throw off my perception. But since they couldn’t break through my defenses, they had already lost from the start.

I kicked one, reinforcing my leg with particles.

He flew so fast that, after crashing into a table and losing the lower half of his body, he still kept flying until he splattered against the reinforced glass wall — sticking to it like chewed gum.

Despite their initial skill, the others ended up in Ferry’s hands. He folded them like origami.

Ferry — the absolute psychopath — even shoved one guy into a compact vault and slammed it shut.

"Aren’t you enjoying this too much?" I asked.

"What? It’s aesthetics."

As he started justifying himself, a voice cut in:

"So you’re the Shinigami Ō?"

I turned.

A few meters ahead, standing near the corridor junction, was a man dressed in black — a fitted trench coat layered over a sharp corporate shirt and slacks. His grey hair was brushed back neatly. His dark eyes were steady, unreadable.

"Yes. I call myself that," I replied.

"...Did you kill my sister? She was on assignment with the Spiders in Okutama."

Ah. A woman in black — I remembered her head being crushed by my clap. She looked like a higher-up.

"Yes," I told him plainly. "I believe she tried to escape during my attack. Her skull collapsed. She’s long dead. My condolences."

The moment I spoke, something changed in his gaze. His dark eyes turned golden.

I could feel the particles in the air responding — gathering around him in full force.

So. He’s pissed.

I turned slightly to Ferry. "This guy..." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

"Yeah..." Ferry said, watching him closely. "He’s a Kamijutsu user. THE Kamijutsu user."

I glanced back at him, brows knotting slightly. "But... he looks like a kid."

Ferry let out a low laugh. "Ken, you’re also an unarmed middle schooler, yet we’re standing on the ninth floor of a luxury hotel — surrounded by the corpses of armed professionals."

The kid looked somewhat strong.

I probably won’t get out of this without a broken bone or two.

So the real issue now is...

"How do I explain my injuries to Mother?"