This chapter is R-18.
---
Minoru didn't waste a moment, springing up from his seat with purpose.
He leaned in close to the girl, whose demeanor turned fear with a mix of confusion.
With a hushed tone, he muttered, "These snacks have been tampered with. Don't eat them. Pretend to be asleep and stay put."
The urgency in his voice caused her eyes to widen as she watched him retreat, a mixture of shock and anxiety painted across her face.
The plane was a realm of quietude, passengers lost in slumber.
As he advanced toward the economy class, a determined air hostess wrestled with the curtain partition.
Then, like a thunderous clap disrupting the tranquil ambiance, BANG!
The gunshot reverberated through the cabin, a jarring interruption to the peace.
Quick reflexes kicked in, and Minoru intercepted the raven-haired air hostess mid-motion, freezing her attempt. His thoughts briefly to the blonde girl's safety, only to be hastily shelved.
"Sussh... retreat and take cover," he breathed to her, his voice a low, assuring whisper.
Though trembling, she nodded in agreement, her resolve pitted against fear as she recognized her responsibility to safeguard the lives onboard.
A firearm within an aircraft? The sheer audacity of the situation left him momentarily dumbfounded.
What the fuck was transpiring?
The thought that such a scandal could devastate the airline's reputation flickered across his mind, though that was overshadowed by an eerie sense of déjà vu.
This? Again? He should have been proud, yet he wasn't. This marked his second entanglement in a commercial airline incident, once as an infant and now this.
The assailant surged forth, the metallic gleam of the weapon capturing the scant light.
A dance of survival ignited. Sidestepping the attack, Minoru moved like flowing water – a symphony of precision.
His elbow struck like a piston, driving into the assassin's ribs, breaking his momentum.
Swift as thought, he seized the wrist and contorted it, compelling the weapon's relinquishment. The sudden torque caused the gun to slip from the weakened grip, clattering to the ground.
"Damn, y—"
THUD! Undeterred, the assassin rallied with a spinning kick aimed at Minoru's skull. He leaned away, narrowly evading the strike, then turned the aggressor's leg into a lever to unbalance him. The assailant crumpled, and in an instant, Minoru was astride him. A swift maneuver led the hidden blade knife to emerge from the assassin's back.
-Stab! Slash!
The blade struck with uncanny accuracy, silencing the assailant forever. The first kill of the day.
Sensations rippled through the aircraft's structure, vibrations revealing the approach of another. The curtain peeled back, revealing a formidable adversary – poised, and armed. Minoru's gaze fixated, dissecting every detail in an instant.
As the blade danced through the air, it found its mark – the opponent's chest.
-Stab!
"Arrgh!" The cry of pain erupted, but Minoru was relentless. Striding forth with unwavering determination, his footsteps soundless, he seized the knife with purposeful swiftness, forcing another surge of agony from his adversary.
-Stab! Slash!
The blade knife was an extension of his arm, each motion a calculated yet deadly ballet. Precision strikes honed through experience and battles unfurled, targeting vulnerabilities with ruthless efficiency.
And then, a twinge of self-awareness: "Damn it... my habits."
Minoru always ensured his blade brought silence to his foes.
If circumstances shifted, he muffled their cries.
Screams unnerved him deeply, cries of the dying wrenching at his core.
A Glock 43 rested in his hand, liberated from its owner's lifeless grip.
His gaze swept the plane – two adversaries down, or so it seemed. Yet, sudden turbulence shifted his focus.
-KYAAA! NOOOO! AAAAH! OH GOD! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!
The cacophony of terror gripped him, though these screams weren't of this moment, but echoes of haunting memories.
Gritting his teeth, he clung to a seat for stability, resolutely forging ahead.
Each step led him closer to the cockpit, a realm clouded in uncertainty.
"Help!" The scream sliced through the air, jolting him from his place. It was the girl who had been sitting beside him, seized by a man wearing a pilot's uniform. The way he eyed her, horny bastard.
Aiming for his head, a sharp retort followed – a gunshot splitting the tense silence. The man who had emerged from the cockpit had let his guard down, unaware of Minoru's presence.
"Over here," he commanded with an intensity that demanded immediate obedience.
Shijo, the girl's name, darted toward him, her steps faltering as the plane trembled beneath her feet.
"Find cover," he instructed, snatching another firearm from the floor. His fingers danced across the gun's contours, a dance of familiarity and readiness.
Gazing out the window, Minoru watched the clouds creep by, his stomach lurching as the plane lost altitude.
'That pilot... damned bastard. This is a suicide mission, wiping out all evidence with a plane crash,' his thoughts seethed.
The cockpit door creaked open, revealing a blonde air hostess brandishing a gun.
"I see, she's a bitch."
Her stance exuded a distinctly different air, contrasting the man he'd eliminated earlier.
Fingers coiled around his handgun's grip, the tension tangible as both combatants readied themselves for the impending clash. Minoru's fingers quivered, and in a flash, his weapon was drawn. Concussive gunshots reverberated, a relentless volley fired in rapid succession. The woman twisted, her body bending and weaving, using the plane's erratic swaying to her advantage.
-Bang! -Bang! -Bang! -Bang! -Bang! -Bang!
"Damn it!"
Amidst his expletive, he lunged toward the cockpit. His past threatened to resurface, but urgency surged – it wasn't the time for reflection. A chance emerged; he closed the gap, discarding his empty gun as his fingers found a fresh grip.
A showdown unfolded near the cockpit door, a frenzied display of brawn and strategy. Each maneuver radiated raw power and calculated finesse. Minoru's movements were a masterclass in brutal precision, each strike and block a testament to his prowess.
"Hmm, useless." he hummed, deftly evading a flurry of strikes with controlled grace.
"Your skills are impressive," he conceded, his voice laced with respect, deflecting her onslaught.
The struggle raged, showcasing Minoru's increasing dominance. With a calculated maneuver, he disarmed her, her weapon crashing to the floor.
Seizing her moment of disorientation, he ensnared her arm, using her own force against her. A twist, a pivot – her body met the ground with a resounding thud.
Turbulence intensified, adding unpredictability to their clash. Minoru capitalized, his moves orchestrated chaos – calculated strikes and grappling artistry in symphonic harmony. He maneuvered deftly, leveraging jiu-jitsu mastery to immobilize her, while keeping the cockpit door in his sights.
Undaunted, she waged a determined struggle, seeking to break free from his grip. Yet, his determination remained steadfast, his movements precise and unwavering. Swiftly transitioning, he ensnared her, his legs coiled around her neck, imposing a stifling restraint.
"Checkmate bitch," Minoru's voice dripped with composed assurance, his gun aimed at her head.
In response, a reluctant grin tugged at her lips. "Kuek! You're fuckin good, but it's too late to stop the plane."
Her voice, breathless, carried admiration and mockery.
A defiant laugh barely escaped before Minoru smacked her with a bonk! to her forehead using his gun's barrel. Dragging her to the cockpit, he secured her with a seatbelt.
With the pilot deceased, Minoru slid into the pilot's seat, determination burning in his eyes.
---
(Yanagi Minoru's Perspective)
Darkness enveloped my vision, like a void of nothingness. I ain't kidding when I say I couldn't see a damn thing.
Call me a fool, but I'm telling you, it was a pitch-black abyss.
Hang on a sec though, there's something... a glimmer. A shard of light.
Nah, it ain't some mystical tunnel's end glow; it's just me cracking my eyes open.
But seriously, what the hell is this mess? I'm staring at titans, giants that shouldn't even exist in a world of sensible proportions.
And this airplane? It's like it's been pumped up on steroids, breaking every standard of reality.
Legroom's a dream now, even in the economy! Not gonna lie, that's a silver lining, but the timing's all off for a freakin' review.
"Where the hell am I?"
Wait a second... what happened to my voice? I sound like a toddler on helium.
And my hands? Tiny, puny little things that'd embarrass a baby. But the kicker? These damn hands move exactly how I want 'em to.
"Well, ain't our baby just a bundle of energy?"
Some woman's leaning down, peering at me with those eyes of hers.
I must be microscopic for her to be bending like that. Hold up – did she just call me "baby"? You mean to tell me that little munchkin is... me?
And what in the flying reincarnation is going on? I want some goddess-like explanations before anything else. This is some next-level soul kidnapping, I tell ya!
-BRRRRRRRRR!
"Sweet mother of—what's happening!?"
My toddler's lungs go full throttle as the plane shakes like a wet dog. Legroom might be workable for a rugrat like me, but did someone forget to give the engines a checkup?
"Baby, it's alright, Mommy's here."
The lady, who seems strangely familiar, wraps me up in a bear hug. But even she's trembling from the fear gnawing at her.
A beefy hand slides in to buckle me up. "Safety first, little man," the guy grumbles. He's got his wife and kid secured too.
Crap, this is some foul situation. I just popped into existence and now I'm staring down death's gaping maw again.
The shaking rages on, and then...
-BOOM!
It blasts from the right. I look, and the wing's tearing off like a bad breakup.
-BOOM!
The left's joining the "let's fall off the plane" party.
I peer out the window – clouds racing by like they've got a date with doomsday.
---
The memory from 17 years back suddenly snaps into focus, merging with the chaos. The day that plane crash took my parents, the family I had only recently learned about. And here I am, facing a fresh disaster, just as I was about to meet my kids.
-Beep! -Beep! -Beep! -Beep!
"Shut up!"
Beeps flood in as the plane nosedives, the ocean blue racing up to greet us.
The engines might be napping, but the plane itself? No bruises.
Those third-rate assassins not botched it. The cockpit's still intact, cause you know, breaking it would've been too easy.
"Alrighty then," I muttered, flipping the engines back on like Bond.
Why am I even doing this?
Turns out the pilot got taken out by that blonde bitch air hostess – yeah, the one who turned out to be a fox among sheep.
My guess? They were aiming to put the bullet on me or some poor ass here. But now ain't the time for sleuthing; I gotta get this leviathan back on track.
-Whooooosh!
The cockpit clatters as jet engines roar, dragging this massive bird's tail back to the heavens.
This Bond-worthy stunt is gonna guzzle more fuel than a pyromaniac at a gas station, and sure, I'm gonna be tardy to my fatherhood meeting, but better late than never, right?
"Man, finally..."
I pulled off the stunt, thanks to my "license to kill," or rather, my pilot's license. Commercial jets are uncharted territory for me, though. I fix my eyes on the control panel, keying in on the radio switch. I clear my throat and lay it out for air traffic control.
"Tower, it's Flight 237. We're in the middle of a major emergency – there's some serious sabotage going down on this plane. The cockpit's missing a pilot, and I'm stepping up to take control of this big ass plane. I need directions, and I need 'em pronto."
The tower erupts in a panic. They're used to talking to pilots, not passengers turned makeshift aviators. They're peppering me with questions – a chorus of annoyance that grates on my nerves. They lecture me about approach vectors and such.
"Leave me alone... I know what I'm doing," I muttered.
I've got this. I alter the course, swapping Tokyo for Incheon, since it is closer and safer given the mess we're in.
[Flight 237, maintain heading 2-5-0. Cleared to approach Runway 32R.] Tower guy's wheezing like a marathon runner's long-lost twin.
Silence hangs as I engage the autopilot.
Clouds drift by, and here I am, solo in the cockpit.
Well, not entirely alone – I've got the corpses back there.
The pilot, co-pilot, and the air hostess assassin, tied up like a holiday turkey after I gave her a good old-fashioned nap.
I rise from the pilot seat, eyeing the blonde assassin with a simmering disdain. Today is supposed to be special for me, but the jerks who sent her have managed to grind my gears.
"Up and at 'em," I mutter, meeting her gaze with a predatory glint. "You're finally awake."
I level a devilish stare at her, sending shivers down her spine. She doesn't utter a word, even though I haven't bothered to gag her. This pair, this damn duo, they're nothing but a waste of my precious time.
"Listen up, pal. You've got a choice to make: spill the beans like there's no tomorrow, or I'll carve a nightmare into your brain that'll stick with you till your last breath. And don't get it twisted, it's not because you're a 'feminist bitch' that I'm holding back. My methods are all about equality, just hang tight and experience it firsthand."
A ferocious fire dances in my eyes as her trembling intensifies. My words might not be laden with threats, but the sheer weight behind them suffices. I seal the door tight, and this cockpit, it's a soundproof haven courtesy of the jet engine's deafening symphony.
With a sharp smack, I pistol-whip her. "What the hell were you doing on this plane?"
I lean in close, gripping her jaw in a vice-like hold.
She stammers, swallowed by fear as she locks eyes with my bloodshot gaze.
But oh, she's got guts – or maybe it's just plot armor – because she returns my glare with gritted teeth.
"Hoh... Hoh... You've got a sliver of pride left, I'll give you that," I chuckle as I recline in my seat.
"Who are you, really? Your moves, your skills... are you here to play guardian?" she retorts, her eyes never leaving mine.
Her? Ah, that triggers a memory, the name Shijo by my side.
Sure thing. Let me share with you how I've managed to survive up until this point. I believe everyone possesses weaknesses, and those weaknesses can become tools for your enemies. I utilize every weapon and approach at my disposal, as long as it doesn't violate my principles.
I hoist her onto my lap, her posture putting her ass in the spotlight. "Keep talking."
My Glock rests against her head, a chilling reminder of her vulnerability.
"As if I'd spill a shit!" she spits.
Gloved fingers ready, I steady myself.
-Smack! Smack! Bonk! Bonk!
My slap connects with her butt, her reaction a curious blend of surprise and something else.
"Hyaah! W-What the hell are you playing at!? Hah... Ahhnn..." she snaps, her expression a mix of irritation and... pleasure? seemingly deriving satisfaction from my heaven-slap torture.
Nonetheless, I maintained my professionalism; poker face, remaining unaffected by any excitement or sexual interest.
"Seems you're quite fond of my little spanking, huh? This isn't torture – it's a good-for-nothing punishment for a masochistic bitch!"
The minutes tick on, a bizarre interrogation.
She pleads for release, but I continue my methodical slapping, don't worry, her uniform is still intact.
Trust me, I'm only going through this to mine the information I need.
For the record, I won't indulge in this road again; finding chicks and so on.
I've vowed to ensure my children's happiness and also that of their mother, the only one for me. Being a man of focus, commitment, and sheer fuckin will, even in this situation, my dick remained controlled. Only the gods and this individual understand my true intention.
"Haah... Haah... Why've you stopped?" she pants, her demeanor transformed from assassin to a whore one.
I finally pull out my Glock 43, its slide racked back.
A swift pull of the trigger ends her life, and with a meticulous sweep, I erase my trace from this aircraft – along with any trace of my unconventional "heavenly" interrogation.
Reclining into the pilot seat, I let out an exasperated sigh, my mind still racing from taking down the assassins and prying intel from her tight grip.
With a meticulous scan of the cockpit, everything appears copacetic as the plane eases into South Korean airspace.
I punch in the numbers and make the call.
[Hey there~ Minoru-kun, how's the journey treating you? Just touch down already?]
Ai's voice chimes in, her tone a mix of curiosity and warmth. Let's be clear, I hadn't shared the minute details of my flight, merely shot her a text saying I was Japan-bound.
My lips curve into a smile, a thin veil over my racing thoughts.
"Apologies, gonna be a bit late. Damn airport delays. Looks like I'll be rolling in tomorrow."
I was spinning a web of lies here. No way I could tell her that I was the one in the cockpit. And for some damn reason, guilt was clawing at me. All I wanted was to wrap my eyes around my kids, but now it felt like I was letting them down even before I met them.
[Ahh, gotcha~! Don't worry about it, Minoru-kun. Also, I apologize as well, yahaha~ since I won't be able to pick you up at the airport.]
"Yeah, I get it. Catch you later."
[Waiting for you at home, Minoru-kun. Take care~]
Home. Cute choice of words, I guess.
Maybe it's her idol training that helps her say all the right things. Still, it's kinda hollow.
Then again, who am I to point fingers? I'm sitting here hiding the biggest secret, even though she's the mother of my flesh and blood.
Screw it all. I'm sorry, kids.
Looks like Dad's gonna be fashionably late for our grand meet-up.