The Porsche 356A cruised steadily along the mountain road under the night sky. Having already hung up the call, Gin clearly didn't want to deal with his annoying colleagues anymore.
Amuro Tooru adjusted the volume on his earpiece and listened for a while to Chianti ranting endlessly at Korn on the channel. After more than ten minutes, other sounds finally came through — the ignition of Vermouth's motorcycle. After two roars from the engine, it fired up.
"I thought you'd be heading to Tokyo, Vermouth," Amuro said as he turned down Chianti's volume, speaking in a flat tone. "I've been reassigned to help over here. Rye— no, Shuichi Akai — that rat again. I figured you'd be the one taking over the surveillance on Akira Kazawa."
Vermouth's voice had a muffled echo — she was likely wearing a motorcycle helmet. "That was the original plan — after all, I haven't seen that boy from the Kazawa family with my own eyes yet. What a shame."
Even though he had already deduced from the conversation that Vermouth had ties to the Kazawa couple, hearing her admit it directly still made Amuro's chest tighten.
There were more eyes on the Kazawa family than he had imagined.
Why had Vermouth taken an interest in Kazawa?
She was one of the codenamed members Amuro had interacted with more frequently within the Organization. Since their first contact, he had never stopped investigating her. This ageless witch was a unique existence within the Organization, full of potential value to uncover — but precisely because of that, he couldn't be too obvious in his probing. If he aroused her suspicion, the consequences could be dire.
Could it be that the research by the Kazawa couple had affected her somehow?
He remembered that Vermouth also hated Sherry — likely because of her involvement in drug development. If she hadn't been affected by their experiments, then what? Could it be that Vermouth had an indiscriminate grudge against all the Organization's scientists?
Though his thoughts were swirling, Amuro responded smoothly, "A shame? What's so shameful about it? He'll eventually be in the Organization's pocket. You'll have plenty of chances to see him."
"Hmph." Vermouth's answer was a derisive snort. "That's not for sure."
"Oh? What do you mean?" Amuro felt his heart clench again.
"Gin cut the comms earlier, right? Then forget it. Some things aren't for me to say," Vermouth said cryptically. "You'll be surprised when you get back to Tokyo."
With a light "beep," the sound of wind from her riding also vanished from the communication — she had hung up.
Amuro removed his earpiece and cast a puzzled glance at the back of Gin's head.
Why did she mention Gin? Was he involved in this too?
Gin didn't turn around, but it was as if he sensed Amuro's stare. He casually said, "Your surveillance mission will be over soon." Clearly, he had heard the name "Akira Kazawa" and knew exactly what they had been talking about.
Amuro curled his lips and didn't press further, putting on an indifferent face. But inside, his unease deepened.
"You people just barge into other people's missions without even saying a word?" he muttered, masking his unease with irritation. "If you act without telling me next time and I take you out thinking you're the enemy, don't blame me."
Gin responded even more bluntly: "Don't go claiming Akira Kazawa like he's your prize. The Organization sent you to work. He's not your personal prey."
Amuro didn't bother to hide the gloomy look on his face.
Gin had zero interest in seeing his sour expression. He opened the window and lit another cigarette.
Getting no further response, Amuro turned his head and silently watched the trees fly past outside the window.
The gnarled, towering trees formed a pitch-dark forest that swallowed up the moonlight, casting a deep shadow on the glass — reflecting Amuro's own clouded face.
It sounded like the Organization was making a move on Kazawa.
— No, it was worse than that. They already had. Otherwise, Gin wouldn't be so sure that Amuro's task was nearly complete.
How was Kazami's progress going?
He hoped Kazami could carry out the plan before things got worse.
…He had to succeed.
It took several hours to drive from Mount Akina to the city of Ōta. Gin sat in the passenger seat resting with his eyes closed, and Amuro had no interest in chatting with him. The journey passed in silence until they reached the city.
Amuro got out, and as soon as he closed the car door, the black Porsche screeched away — like it couldn't get away from him fast enough.
That Vodka guy… truly Gin's loyal dog.
Rolling his eyes without any regard for his image, Amuro walked toward the safe house he had been using for the past two days.
It was a small, standalone house. Most of the nearby residents were construction workers commuting from nearby cities, and the population turnover was high. Different people coming and going wouldn't raise eyebrows. So even someone with Amuro's distinctive appearance didn't attract any attention.
He began packing his firearms, placing each one back into its case.
Most of them hadn't even been used.
Because Shuichi Akai had reacted the moment his teammate was exposed to Rum, he never fell into Gin's ambush. None of them — Gin included — had been able to get close to Akai during his escape.
And for a sniper of Akai's level, a fight with distance was guaranteed to be one-sided suppression.
After extensive filtering and pursuit, Amuro finally intercepted one of the FBI teams supporting Akai and exchanged gunfire with them. At least he got into some action — unlike Vermouth, who barely fired a shot the entire time.
Amuro had no sympathy for the FBI — people without any legal authority, running around the island with guns and even military-grade weapons. His pursuit had been merciless and real. He'd been running nonstop these two days — chasing, shooting, driving, sprinting through the city. He hadn't even had time to check his secure email, let alone contact Kazami for remote coordination.
Thinking of this, his hand, which was reaching for his phone, paused — and then he put it back down.
It hadn't been safe to check it in Gin's car, and it wasn't safe here either. He'd wait until he was back in his own car, where he could ensure there were no bugs or monitors before reading anything sensitive.
With that in mind, he packed up his personal belongings into a suitcase, opened the garage, and got into the familiar driver's seat of his own vehicle. He carefully scanned the area with his tools to make sure there were no surveillance or listening devices before slowly driving out of the neighborhood.
Before he could even start contacting Kazami, his phone rang out with a unique chime — "Di-ling-dang."
Amuro's ears twitched. With his right hand on the steering wheel, he slowly turned, while his left hand pulled out his phone and tapped through a few steps.
It was the notification tone for the Organization's contact mailbox.
He opened the new email — and the very first sentence made Amuro stomp the brakes hard. The white Mazda screeched to a halt at the roadside.
[Akira Kazawa has been confirmed dead. Your surveillance mission is now officially complete.]