Banda's unintentional act

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The suspect's sketch with a handsome bounty of 1 billion Yen was released to the public. The sketch pervaded the front pages of every newspaper and the socials. Everyone was talking about the latest murders around the prefectures.

Men were worried about their girlfriends. Parents were confronted with the earth-shattering thought of seeing their daughters for the last time. People were wondering whose mother or sister or even grandmother would be next. The killer's gruesome crimes sent shockwaves across Japan.

"Someone should know him. With the public's assistance, it will be a matter of time before we capture this son of a bitch", Tatsuo said with hope.


On the other side, fear, a foreign feeling for Banda, gripped him after a long time since childhood. He was in disbelief when he saw his own sketch. How did the police come up with it? Which murder revealed his shortcomings? Were there witnesses? He thought he was careful with the choice of victims and the locations of the murder. He ensured that no evidence could incriminate him.

Banda backtracked on what happened between him and Ayumi. That bitch's scratch marks were still on his arms. Bitch was neurotic and wouldn't back down without a fight. He detested being dominated by a woman. Such women deserved to experience hell before departing Earth. What made that bitch go through his items? She had to mess with him about Charlotte Jones's ID card. If only that bitch minded her own fucking business!

These thoughts were overwhelming his usual calm attitude. At one point, he thought that someone was pointing at him, but it turned out that the person was pointing at something else. That was it! Banda decided to escape. From now on, he had to be very careful how he interacted with others, especially the ones he met regularly. Those snitches could not be trusted.


Banda returned to his apartment to gather all the essentials for his escape. He came face-to-face with Hana, who was Banda's landlady.

Hana was a jovial middle-aged lady who loved to make her tenants feel at home. She occasionally cooked for her tenants as well and loved to chatter. She realised that Banda liked to keep to himself. He was a man of few words. He only spoke when needed. Hana respected that and did not mind his enigmatic personality. However, his demeanour started to bother her today.

Banda sensed something different about Hana as well. Banda was the master of spotting fear. There were no words that came out of her garrulous mouth. He scanned the room and spotted the newspaper with his sketch plastered across it. Banda did not care if she suspected him. He ignored her and wasted no time gathering his belongings.

After completing his packing, he could then flee. But something stopped him.

He overheard Hana's conversation with someone on the phone.

"I am in danger. You have got to help me."

"I saw the article in the newspaper."

"I am positive it is him. Please come as soon as possible."


A few minutes after Hana ended the call, Banda slammed open the door to confront her. This startled the nervous Hana.

Hana: "H..Hi. Ca-Can I h-help you?"

Banda: "Cut this crap! You are responsible for what will happen to you."

Hana: "Huh? Wha-What is this?"

Banda: "I had no intention of targeting you. But you had to open that stupid mouth of yours. Too bad that the conversation you had on the phone will prove to be fatal for you."

Hana: "You won't get away with this. They will capture you!"

Banda: "Well, I don't care as long as you are going down with me."


Banda proceeded to stab her like there would be no more killing. Hana's blabbering mouth earned every stab of Banda's animosity. He continued till he heard aggressive banging on the entrance door. Had no one come, Banda would have converted Hana into ground meat.

It looked like Banda's reign of terror would come to an end.


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Author's notes:

In the manga, Banda committed a murder in an apartment. I crafted this story to be consistent with the manga. Stay tuned to learn more about other tricks Banda will have up his sleeves.

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