It was 6 o'clock in the afternoon.

The Tokyo International Airport appeared very crowded and busy.

Just proximate to the congested waiting area, a big and macho guy, who was wearing blue jacket and sunglasses, approached a skinny man in a black suit. The latter was about midst 30s based on outside countenance. His black hair was well combed and arranged. He wore a golden mechanical watch on his left hand.

The intimidating man extended a small black briefcase to the composed-looking skinny man.

"Here it is. Please, complete the operation without failure. The organization has its eyes on you tonight. Don't forget that!" The big guy spoke in English ghastly while looking at the man sharply. He looked like an ex-convict threatening a high school boy.

"Don't worry. You know my record, right? I've never failed and disappointed a client before. So, rest assured, this will be accomplished successfully." The skinny man retorted confidently, though, his face looked empty and expressionless.

"Fine. I know you'd succeed, since checkpoints are futile anyway. But don't get so cocky and then fail, alright?"

The big guy crookedly smiled a bit at him as he walked back and immersed himself again through the crowd, then disappeared.

(Wait... Checkpoints? Did he just say checkpoints? W-What the heck is this briefcase, anyway? Is this something illicit again?)

"Wait a second, I want to ask something—."

The skinny man called out for him, but the other party did not bother listening and just continued walking away.

Although the man in suit was already aware of what he was about to do, he still couldn't ignore the word "checkpoints."

(Tsk. He disappeared, huh? What a hassle… I knew the destination of this one. I'm just going to hand this in to a specific address in Hiroshima as specified here in the paper).

He sighed deeply and looked at the dark blue sky, and then eventually walked towards the airport.

It was 7:45 o'clock in the evening.

The sky was clear. There was no hint for a turbulent air travel. It was about fifteen minutes after the passenger plane flew from the Haneda Airport to Hiroshima.

The passengers had already settled down. Some were even starting to fall sleep. When it was already quiet, the man in suit, who was sitting on the middle part of the rows, also started to feel a mite sluggish. His mind flew afar.

(When did I start doing jobs like this, huh? It has been 7 years already, I guess? I'm starting to feel the risks of this work.)

His current job involved personally delivering stuff from major gangs and criminal groups in Tokyo. There was even a time when he transported some newly invented illegal drugs a hundredfold more expensive than heroin. He started doing this job a few years after his family's small company went bankrupt. His father, who had now been bedridden, had no source of income left. His other assets were also sold to support his treatment. He, on the other hand, was left out of choice but to earn a huge sum to support his father. Due to this extreme misfortune, his view and philosophical outlooks on worldly matters changed. He became connected to the underground because of his desperation for easy money. As the time flew, he began to get used to it. He became famous throughout Japan as the underground's Black Dog. In spite his involvement to the underworld, he'd been known by his neighbors and family as a kind and responsible man. On his father's knowledge, he was working on a lending company. He never attempted on telling him about the truth because there'd only been one thing that mattered to him—happiness of his family. He was sure that his father would be saddened if he knew. Hence, he kept everything with utmost secrecy.

For him, family had been the only thing in his life that he could not compromise. He loved his father very much. So, even if he had to defeat a demon, it'd not be much of a concern to him.

(Oh, crap, I think I should go to the toilet.)

While in midst of soul searching, he was disturbed by a call of nature. He stood while leaving the small briefcase on his seat.

"A pleasant evening, Sir! May I know where do you want to go?" A beautiful slender woman, who was just standing proximate to his seat, queried him.

He was delighted and enticed by the  woman's soft voice even though his face didn't show it.

"Oh, may I know which way is the toilet?" He calmly retorted.

"Oh, there. Just go straight to..." The woman gave the instructions, and reminded him about some added protocols needed to be followed therein, because, the plane had recently been overhauled.

"Is that so? Thank you!" He walked without turning around as he went to the toilet.

(Hays! Too much formality is sometimes troublesome. That's why I never bothered wasting my time on girls. For some reason, most of the girls I've known are formal ones. What a drag!)