“| came to ask you about something. Have you heard of something 
called ‘Spirit Dust?” 


Yoshida’s face froze while maintaining the same glib smile as 
before. “Yes. What about it?” 


“Can you tell me what you know about it? Our branch wants to know 
more,” Naoki said, calmly looking into Yoshida’s eyes. 


“| see. Well, it's some new thing that they’ve cooked up, and it’s 
selling fast. Come over here.” 


Yoshida stood up and walked over to a pile of boxes, motioning 
Naoki to come closer as well. The dealer opened up the first box, 
revealing stacks and stacks of small paper envelopes. He shook it 
slightly, so that Naoki could hear the rustle of powder inside. 


“This is it. Each one of these envelopes? Almost 11000 yen.” 
Naoki whistled. “Steep price. What's it like?” 


Yoshida shrugged. “I don’t touch this stuff. From what I’ve heard, 
most people shoot it with heroin.” The overweight, balding man 
leaned closer. 


“You know, they say that it gives people.....magic powers.” 


Koga threw his head back in a laugh. “Come on, Yoshida. You can’t 
be serious.” 


Yoshida scowled, and pulled a small omamori from within his shirt. 
“You don’t understand. You’re not faithful, like some of us.” 


“| stopped believing in any gods or spirits or whatever when | was a 
child.” 


“Regardless, that’s what they say about the drug. | don’t know. | just 
sell it.” 


Naoki nodded. As he bowed, and said his farewells to the other 
yakuza in the room, he left the convenience store. The yakuza 
lowered his head, pulling out a plain smartphone, and quickly firing 
off a text. 


“129022. Confirm traced anomaly.” 


« Mainline Hub | Of Meetings and Meals » 


Of Meetings and Meals 


“Papa, papa!” The young girl’s shrieks greeted Katsuo Tanaka as he 
opened the door. With a weary smile on his face, the detective knelt 
down to grab his daughter in a hug. 


“Looks like someone's happy today,” he said, lifting his daughter 
high into the air. “Are you happy to see your papa?” The girl giggled 
and shrieked, “Papa, look! I’m flying!” Katsuo couldn't help but laugh 
and kiss his daughter's nose. “Yes you are, sweetie.” 


Letting his daughter down lightly, the detective embraced his wife in 
a warm embrace and a kiss. “You look like you had a rough day,” 
she said, while she looked over him with some concern. 


“New case, Jun. Don’t worry about it..” Katsuo blearily rubbed his 
face as his wife turned on the TV. The local news anchor was in the 
middle of a story. 


“...several deaths of police officials and students in a violent 
shooting at an apartment...” the anchor reported as images flashed 
across the screen. “The Fukuoka Metropolitan police has pledged a 
full investigation, and the Criminal Investigations Bureau is already 
searching for more evidence.” 


Jun’s eyes widened. “Is this what you’re doing?” 


” 


Katsuo’s eyes avoided those of his wife. “I said, don’t worry about it. 


Before Jun could begin a rebuke, the doorbell rang. She gave her 
husband a glare that spoke louder than a scream. Then, she got up, 
and answered the door. 


Katsuo closed his eyes and sighed. He heard loud sounds of 
conversation and happy chatter from the door. Getting up from his 
seat, he went to the door. At the door, his wife stood chattering away 
with the visitor. Katsuo’s face broke into a wide grin that was 


matched with an equally broad smile from his closest friend. 


“!’m glad that you could make it, Hisashi,” Katsuo said as he shook 
hands with his guest. “I believe that dinner was just finished.” He 
glanced at his wife, who gave a discreet nod back to him. 


Trading his shoes for a pair of sandals, Hisashi Goto laughed. “Miss 
a dinner with an old friend and colleague? Not likely!” The 
handsome man knelt down as Katsuo’s daughter peeked out from 
behind a door. “Oh? Is this little Michiko that | see? She doesn’t look 
so little to me anymore!” 


Michiko giggled as she ran out to greet Hisashi. “Uncle Hii-san!” 
Goto patted her on the head. “You’re getting pretty big, aren’t you?” 
Michiko nodded eagerly. 


“Michiko, that’s not very polite.” Jun scolded. “What do you say to 
your elders?” Michiko nodded even more eagerly and bowed 
politely. “Hello, uncle.” 


Hisashi laughed. “So serious and polite! What a smart girl.” He 
returned a deep bow to the tiny girl, wno eagerly looked up at her 
mother, who couldn't help but smile. 


After dinner ended, Katsuo and Hisashi sat in Katsuo’s office, 
drinking and talking. 


“...and so | tackled the guy when he tried to run. Never even saw 
the rest of the police coming, the whole time he stood there.” Hisashi 
laughed as he took another drink. 


Katsuo chuckled as well. He set his bottle on the table, and turned to 
face Hisashi. The jovial man seemed to notice the change in mood, 
and set his bottle down. “So, I’m guessing that this has to do with 
why you really invited me over, huh?” 


Katsuo nodded. “I wanted to ask you some things about a case. We 
think that the Dojin-kai are involved. You were the first person that | 
thought to ask.” The detective handed Hisashi a file. Frowning, the 
man accepted the file and started reading. After a few moments, he 
closed the file, still frowning. 


CENTRAL RECORDS. ALL SCP-673 SUBJECTS ARE TO BE 
OBSERVED AND RECORDED CONTINUOUSLY DURING 
CONTAINMENT. 


[2] Full records of SHeLL project available pending O5 review. 
Partial transcripts available to LEVEL 4 cleared staff pending 
approval by Central Records. 


Document 88-9-R: Infection Progression 


Initial stage infection begins at point of contact in 96% of all cases. 
Physical contact with SCP-673 will cause subjects to develop a 
small rash at the point of contact, which will fade within two hours. 
Subject will start to exhibit erratic behavior 4-5 days post-contact, 
with said behavior becoming more pronounced as infection 
continues. Behavior varies between infections, with increased 
appetite, paranoia, inappropriate appetite, and increased libido 
among common symptoms. There is no consistent behavior 
progression or development; however, behaviors appear to relate to 
the end-stage organ dominance. 


Mid-stage infection is variable, most often observed between 2-3 
weeks after initial contact. Subjects will start to exhibit physiological 
changes, such as distortion of the physical frame, loss of hair/ 
fingernails/skin, loss of bone density, lesions, abnormal bone 
growth, rash, increase/decrease of bodily fluids, and general muscle 
atrophy. Subjects will begin to exhibit "organ dominance", with one 
or several areas of the body beginning to swell rapidly and absorb 
surrounding tissues. Subjects behavior will begin to centralize 
around these areas (example: "stomach-dominance" subjects 
engaging in continuous gorging, "heart-dominance" subjects going 
into prolonged, violent and rhythmic spasms).[1] 


End-stage SCP-673 sets in 5-6 weeks after initial contact. Subjects 
will begin full integration with the dominant organ growth. Subjects 
will typically lose locomotion and the capacity for speech at this 
stage. Subjects appear to no longer require basic human needs 
such as food or oxygen, and behave as a parasite on the main 
organ. Bodily tissues are absorbed and integrated by the forming 
SCP-673 organ body, with full absorption taking place 24-48 hours 


“This doesn’t make any sense.” Hisashi said after a moment. “The 
Dojin-kai have nothing to gain from a drug like this. It doesn’t fit with 
their methods at all. Way too flashy, even for yakuza.” 


“So, you think that it might not be them?” 


“Or perhaps there’s some instability in the gang itself. In all of my 
time spent investigating these guys, I’ve never heard of anything 
quite so dramatic.” 


Katsuo looked out the window, deep in thought. 


The sword edge flashed through the air, cutting a deadly arc. 


Naoki Koga parried the cut and responded with one of his own. 
Launching into a flurry of lightning fast slashes, Naoki drove his 
opponent backwards step by step, as the furious onslaught forced 
his opponent on the defensive. 


Koga continued to lay down precise blows onto his opponent, with 
the finesse of a true master. As he sensed his opponent beginning 
to wear out, he feinted a downwards cut. His opponent took the bait, 
as Naoki quickly reversed direction and attacked from the right. The 
sword slammed into his opponent’s head, knocking him over with 
the force of the blow. 


“Point!” Naoki glanced over at the referees, who held up flags to 
award him with the match-winning point. Unbuckling his heavy 
kendo mask, Naoki wiped the sweat off his face, before bowing to 
his opponent for a good match. He heard a buzz from his pocket, 
and pulled out his phone. He had gotten a text. 


“MEETING ARRANGED.” 


Naoki put his phone away, and smoothed his hair back. Then, he 
went to get changed. 


“Good day, Matsumoto-sama.” Koga bowed deeply. “It is an honor 
to dine with you today.” 


Practically prostrate before the Dojin-kai oyabun, Koga paid his 


respects to the leader of the Dojin-kai clan. Matsumoto-sama 
inclined his head slightly, which would’ve been a refined gesture had 
Matsumoto-sama not been a shrunken, ancient old man. 


For nearly 50 years, Hayato Matsumoto had ruled over the Dojin-kai 
with his own unique brand of iron-clad discipline and unwavering 
loyalty, even among the yakuza. Those who worked for the Dojin-kai 
were bound in blood and faithful to the death. Matsumoto expected 
no less from his subordinates. 


All of which made Naoki’s job much harder. 


“You are looking well, Koga-kun. It is good to see you.” Matsumoto 
grinned with a mouth full of broken or missing teeth. 


Naoki did not move from his prostrate position. “Thank you, sir. It is 
an honor to be acknowledged this way.” He remained there until 
Matsumoto grunted his approval. Koga slowly raised himself 
upward, remaining on his knees. 


Koga read the room around him, trying to gauge the emotions of 
those around him in order to scan for any potential dangers. 


To his left sat the ever perspirant Satoru Yoshida, mopping at his 
face with a handkerchief, eyes twitching back and forth across the 
room. To Naoki’s right sat a man with whom he was unfamiliar. 
Naoki glanced down, and noticed that the man sat taut and coiled 
like a spring, as if he was ready to strike or flee at any moment. 


Across the table sat Matsumoto himself, flanked by a bodyguard on 
his right, and a man with a face of iron-clad intensity to his left, tight- 
lipped and severe. The man wore his hair close-cropped, with flecks 
of white beginning to grow in. He was perhaps in his mid 40s, yet he 
looked youthful and strong enough to take on a man half his age. 
Naoki noted that the man stood carefully. Unlike the man to Koga’s 
right, this one stood with the grace of a ballet dancer, perched 
carefully, yet capable of watching over all that happened. 


The man to his right carefully bowed, bringing his head to the 
ground. He spoke slowly, in a measured tone. “Matsumoto-sama. It 
is an honor to dine with you.” 


Hayato snorted. “Unoriginal as always. Had to steal off someone 
else, huh Hara-kun?” 


Hara noticeably flinched, but grit his teeth. “Of course not, 
Matsumoto-sama.” He remained bowing. 


An uneasy silence crept in, and held for a few moments. Then, 
Hayato grinned and laughed. “Alright, don’t bang your head on the 
ground. Let’s have lunch, hmm?” 


Servers came in, exquisite dishes delicately prepared by the 
kitchen’s staff. They worked diligently and carefully, Naoki mused. 
Well, they were all on the Dojin-kai’s payroll, after all. 


Normally an upscale restaurant, the 3rd Avenue Soul was in reality 
owned by the Dojin-kai and run as a front. Unbeknownst to the 
wealthy patrons who shelled out exorbitant prices for their fare, 
behind the scenes, the Dojin-kai ran a local headquarters and 
conducted their illicit trade in a stranglehold over Fukuoka 
Prefecture’s underground scene. Koga and company were having 
lunch in one of the back rooms, soundproofed and watched over by 
careful bodyguards. 


Platters full of food, Western and Japanese alike, along with exotic 
delicacies filled the table as Naoki carefully ate, making sure to 
seem reserved. Satoru, on the other hand, stuffed his mouth and 
loudly talked. Matsumoto similarly laughed and talked loudly. 
However, Hara, as Koga noted, ate even less than he did. He 
seemed to watch for a moment before eating anything, as if 
checking to see what the others would eat first. 


Matsumoto took a long drink, then set his cup down. He looked at 
Koga, and grinned with that unsettling broken grin. “So, Koga-kun. 
How’s business?” 


“Very good, sir. We’re expanding rapidly, and the financial district 
knows who to respect now.” Koga smiled in return. 


“Excellent, excellent. And you, Hara-kun? How is your business?” 


“Fine, sir. We are doing very well.” 


“Oh? Even with you skimming off the top?” 


The temperature in the room seemed to plummet forty degrees. 
Satoru froze, food midway to his mouth. Koga tensed, readying 
himself for a confrontation. Hara turned to absolute ice, his hands on 
the table. Matsumoto simply continued to eat, as if nothing had 
happened. 


“S-sir?” Hara said, somewhat unsteadily. 


“You heard me. They’re doing well even though you’re skimming off 
some of the profits? Interesting.” Matsumoto said before he took 
another drink. 


“| have no idea what you mean, sir. | would never do such a thing?” 


“Don’t bullshit me, Hara. Let’s cut straight to the chase. | know that 
you've been stealing profits off of the Spirit Dust sales for months 
now. The only question now is whether or not you’re going to admit 
it. Admit it and give up anyone else involved and | might be a little 
more lenient. Don’t, and it'll be much harder for yo-” 


Hara interrupted Matsumoto by picking up one of the carving knives 
on the table and lunging across the table towards the yakuza 
oyabun. Naoki tried to grab him, but he was moving too quickly. 


However, Hara was not moving too quickly for the iron-faced man. 
Moving like a coiled snake, he intercepted the knife lunge with his 
left hand, and jammed a knife of his own into Hara’s lower abdomen. 
Hara collapsed, gasping across the table, a red stain blooming over 
his shirt. 


Matsumoto grunted, and clapped his hands. A few guards opened 
the door and came inside. Matsumoto gestured in the air and said, 
“Get him to the doctor. Then, hand him over to the boys in the back 
room. If there’s anything left, dump it like the rest.” 


The guards nodded, evidently familiar with this procedure. They 
dragged Hara’s moaning body out of the room carefully. The iron- 
faced man returned to his ballet-dancer poise, and was motionless 
once more. 


“Thank you, Tadashi-kun. Quick as ever, | see.” Matsumoto said. 


Tadashi bowed deeply, and returned to his position. Then, Hayato 
turned to Naoki. 


“So, Yoshida-kun tells me that you want to set up your own supply of 
Spirit Dust to sell.” 


“Yes, Matsumoto-sama.” 


“He’s a good guy, Matsumoto-sama. Really good, | tell you.” Satoru 
insisted. “You’ve heard of all the stuff he’s done.” 


“| Know what’s he done.” Matsumoto said dismissively while waving 
his hand. He squinted at Naoki. 


“Hmph. | think you'll be a good seller. Go to Flare. It's a nightclub on 
fifth street. Ask for Shoji-san. He'll tell you more.” Matsumoto 
clapped, and a small army of people came into the room to clear the 
table. Koga bowed once more with Yoshida, and the two of them 
stood up to leave. 


As they were leaving, Yoshida practically ran to keep up with 
Naoki’s long strides and fast pace. “Hey, that went well, huh? | told 
you that I’d put in some good words for you.”