A Hard-Boiled (Self-Proclaimed) Guy Like Me Doesn’t Suit a Romcom-Style Youth - Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter 1: Prologue

The Republic of Cicymel, a small South American nation embraced by the Andes Mountains.

The port town of Uronnado, facing the Pacific Ocean.

I was running through the chill of the early morning air.

Pressing down a mismatched ten-gallon hat with one hand, I gripped my stepsister’s amber-colored hand with the other.

Beyond the white-walled townscape where small fishing boats came and went… massive warships were anchored in the gray expanse of the inlet, surrounded by fences.

Our goal was one of them.

The Rising Sun flag fluttering at the stern!

A Maritime Self-Defense Force escort ship.

My days of being chased by the mafia in this country were almost over.

I’d be able to return to Japan and live together with my stepsister as a normal high school student.

Overcome with emotion at the finish line before my eyes, I instinctively wrapped my arm around her shoulder.

My stepsister pulled back the hood of her poncho to gaze at the open sea. Her silver hair fluttered in the sea breeze. Bathed in the morning light, it was incredibly beautiful.

Wrapping her slender arm around my waist and leaning her weight against me, she turned her topaz eyes toward me.

“Are we going to Japan on that ship?”

“I doubt it’ll be that simple, but they’ll definitely help us.”

Normally, we would seek protection from the embassy or the police, but the Cicymel government and police force are rife with corruption and collusion with the mafia; they can’t be trusted. Heading to the embassy, where the mafia was surely lying in wait, was far too dangerous.

That’s why I came up with this operation: contact the Self-Defense Force and ask for protection.

Knowing that a Maritime Self-Defense Force escort ship would make a port call in Cicymel during joint training with the US, Australia, and the UK, I bet everything on that chance.

By feigning a route to the capital and heading instead to the port town of Uronnado in the opposite direction, we managed to shake off the mafia’s pursuit for a moment. Arriving in Uronnado late last night, my stepsister and I checked into an inn, intending to slip into the naval port amidst the daytime crowds. However, the combination of a Japanese boy and a girl with amber skin and silver hair stands out no matter what.

Early this morning, mafia henchmen barged into the inn.

We kicked out the window, escaped the inn—

And arrived at our current situation.

“Kyaah!?”

“Are you okay?”

I supported my stepsister as she tripped on the rugged cobblestones and nearly fell.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Saying that, she smiled bashfully, her cheeks flushed and her breath short.

“Let’s rest a bit.”

We hid ourselves in a deserted back alley to catch our breath.

Good grief. They could have at least let us relax a bit longer at the inn…

I grumbled internally at the inconsiderate mafia.

“Brother, you’ve gotten fast. It takes everything I have just to keep up.”

“I was thoroughly trained, after all.”

When we first met, I couldn’t beat my stepsister, who is one year younger than me, at anything.

I was slow, and I had no stamina. I was so weak I’d lose even if we fought.

But now, I can take her hand and run.

Five years since I fled Japan. I felt a little proud of myself for how much I’d grown.

“Can you keep going?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

Just as I took her hand again to leave the alley—

The cobblestones at our feet burst apart. A split second later, a dry crack echoed through the deserted early morning town.

“Eleven o’clock direction. There’s a guy with a rifle on the roof of that four-story building!”

My keen-eyed stepsister noticed immediately and warned me.

“Confirmed! Shit! Is he trying to pin us down?”

Another gunshot. This time, a hole opened up in the wall of the building right next to us.

Targeted by a rifle from above, we couldn’t move from the alley. At this rate, we’d be surrounded with nowhere to run.

“Two people approaching.”

Two men in flashy shirts were closing in, handguns in hand. They were the men who attacked us at the inn.

“We’ll be captured if we stay here. But we have to do something about that rifle.”

I pulled the gun from my backside holster.

In my stepsister’s hand was a black Colt Officers.

In my hand was a silver Colt Defender.

It is a shortened model of the masterpiece Colt Government, firing small but powerful .45 caliber rounds. Magazine capacity is 7+1.

The PMC member who prepared the guns intended for my stepsister to use the Colt Defender. It seemed he wanted me to use the Colt Officers, which has a slightly longer barrel, but my stepsister took a liking to the black gun, saying it was “Brother-ish,” and since I felt the silver gun was “Sister-ish,” the two guns ended up with masters opposite to the member’s intent.

I was clumsy with guns at first, but now I’m completely used to them. They’ve saved us from crisis many times, but this situation is admittedly disadvantageous.

The range and power difference between a rifle and a handgun is too great. Plus, we’re low on ammo. Both my stepsister and I have only two rounds left.

The distance is roughly 100 yards. Not a distance you can hit with a handgun.

But—

It’s not a distance that’s impossible to reach!

It’s all or nothing!

Namu Hachiman Daibosatsu, and Kuniraya! Please, lend me your strength!

The enemy, assuming he couldn’t be hit, hadn’t even taken cover. I aimed the muzzle at the man holding the rifle.

Hit him!

I pulled the trigger twice. The gunshots rang out, and the Colt Defender, its slide locked back, turned into a lump of hard, cold steel.

It was almost a waste of ammo, and on top of that, I’d lost my trump card. A foolish act no professional would ever commit.

However, the gods of my homeland and the god of the Inca responded to my reckless gamble.

Shell casings hit the concrete. At the same moment as the sound, I saw the man with the rifle pitch forward and fall from the roof.

My stepsister wasn’t one to miss the moment the approaching men wavered. She quickly closed the distance and fired.

Taking .45 caliber rounds at point-blank range, the fallen men’s blood began to stain the cobblestones.

I inwardly marveled at the swift technique that took down two men in the blink of an eye. Living in a mountain village in the Andes for five years, I’d gained a fair amount of strength and stamina, but if we fought for real, my stepsister was still much stronger. However, the black gun gripped in her hand also had its slide locked back; it had lost its power.

“To hit from that distance… Brother, you really are amazing!”

“It was the protection of Kuniraya and the gods of Japan. Come on, let’s run!”

“Yeah!”

I holstered the Colt Defender. Instead of our empty guns, we squeezed each other’s hands tight and started running again.

*

Because it was early morning, the naval port gate was closed, and we couldn’t get in. Security was tight since foreign warships were in port. If we tried to intrude poorly, we wouldn’t just be arrested; we could be shot on sight. With no other choice, I stood at the tip of a nearby pier, waving the ten-gallon hat in my hand and screaming in Japanese.

“Everyone in the Self-Defense Force! I am Japanese! Please help me!”

The morning harbor was more lively on the water than in the town.

Straining my voice to the limit so as not to be drowned out by the engine sounds of fishing boats, I called out again and again.

In the midst of that, several pickup trucks stopped, blocking the pier. The main force of the mafia had finally caught up. Men with guns poured out one after another.

“Brother!”

“It’s okay. I will absolutely protect you.”

On a pier jutting out into the sea. With nowhere to hide, I hugged my stepsister to shield her and raised my Colt Defender.

We glared at each other, guns pointed.

A man who appeared to be the leader told me to hand over my stepsister, but I silently pointed the Colt Defender at the center of his forehead.

We were out of bullets, so it was just a bluff. Even so, the Colt Defender protected us until the very end.

The thwup-thwup-thwup sound of a helicopter from above. It had bought us time until help arrived.

I believed they would come!

There, just as I imagined, was the U.S. NAVY emblem.

The World’s Policeman, Gian! The US Military-sama!

My call had reached them!

A little further away, a Self-Defense Force helicopter was also flying.

From the open side door of the helicopter, a soldier holding a machine gun peered out. When a cold warning in English was issued from the loudspeaker, the mafia gave up and fled.

“Are we saved?”

“That’s right. Come on, let’s go to Japan.”

I hugged my stepsister and kissed her on the lips.

Well, a lot of things happened after that, and it would be about a week later that we actually arrived in Japan, but—

My hardboiled life had, for the moment, drawn its curtains.