Wind scraped across the empty parking lot nine floors above ground, carrying with it the distant howl of sirens and the thudding pulse of helicopter blades.
Renji stood near the concrete railing, fingers curled over the dusty edge, staring at the commotion.
Far across the wide industrial district, a warehouse compound had erupted into motion. Men scattered like ants whose nest had been kicked open—as they vaulting fences, sprinting between the abandoned vehicles. Specialized police officers poured out in coordinated waves, with their shield and batons.
Reporters busy behind the tape line, eagerly relaying the spectacle. Camera shutters flickered. Above it all, a search helicopter circled slowly, its spotlight slicing through the perimeter.
…This… is real…?
Behind him, the sharp click of a communication device broke his trance.
"Jin, now. Get the parcel ready."
*Crack.* "On it. All in place." *Crack.*
The static ended. Then several sets of gunshot rang— then silence, save for the distant noise.
Shira lowered her binoculars and slipped the comm unit back inside her coat pocket. A faint sigh escaped her lips as she shifted her weight onto one heel. Her coat fluttered slightly in the wind, as she turned her eyes toward Renji.
He hadn't moved since, his gaze fixed to the unfolding scene before him.
"What's wrong, Renji? Didn't get a clear enough view?" she asked lightly as she waved the binoculars toward him.
"…This is… the 'play tag' you guys were talking about?"
"Festive, isn't it?"
"…I don't know if we should joke about this, Shira-san…"
"Get used to it, I've told you before… this is 'normal'."
"Are those… Kokuren guys too?"
"No." She lifted the binoculars again briefly. "They're from a smaller syndicate. Unruly these past months. We're simply rounding them up."
"…Isn't this too excessive? All that police squad and—"
"—Let's say we're using everyone in the most efficient way possible. This way, we give the police something to brag around too."
"…What? The police are involved in this?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she met his eyes with a mocking look.
"How do you think Kokuren has stayed around this long?"
The question lodged in his chest, while watching the scene unfolds.
A group of thugs attempted to break through the further exit. They were intercepted within seconds. One man was forced face-down onto the pavement, wrists zip-tied behind his back. Another tried to climb a fence and was dragged back by his collar.
A second police team emerged from the warehouse interior—this time escorting uniformed customs officers.
Behind them, crates of gold were wheeled out on metal dollies.
The media surged forward, and the helicopter began drifting away marking the end of the operation.
"Or what? Do you actually want to participate on the 'stage' next time?"
"Spare me…"
Shira about to leave, then paused, hand hovering over the car door handle. "Something bothering you that much?"
"…Is this… Reika-sama's doing?"
"This is a deal Kokuren must comply with."
"…What do you mean?"
"We negotiated certain flexibility with the police. In exchange… we provide them with shows."
"…Why would police need that?"
"Renji…" she said, leaning back against the car, "Most officers are not saints. They're employees. They want stable and safe paychecks."
She tilted her head slightly. He listened quietly.
"Peace doesn't get you promoted. Results do… that's just how they build career in their line of work." Her gaze returned to the warehouse below. "So we supply the naughty boys."
"Damn…That's… fucked up…"
"You don't like it?"
"It's not about liking or not… it's just…"
She released the door handle and instead sat on the car hood, folding her arms.
"Go on."
"…Seeing this makes me think about that day… when that drugs were planted on me."
Shira's expression didn't shift.
"That one, neither Reika-sama nor I were responsible."
"I know… it's just… it's about… how easily people with power use others."
She hummed faintly, "That sort of thing happens."
"Not just today. Back when I worked as a cameraman at a TV station…"
"Oh… yeah, you worked as one before…"
"… I thought we were capturing truth. But behind the lens, the producers edited everything to fit what they wanted…"
Shira gave a small, unsurprised smile.
"Old story, it's about time you wake up from the illusion."
"Guess you're right, Shira-san…"
…Maybe this is just how the world works…
She looked at him as though examining an item on display—one that didn't quite meet factory standards, yet intrigued her precisely because of the flaw.
"Don't forget it."
He blinked. "Huh?"
"Wake up," she said softly. "But don't forget the 'unease' you felt today."
Her smile was faint and lonely.
Stepping off the hood, she opened the passenger door and slid inside without waiting.
"Anyway, it's getting late, let's go back."
"…Alright, ma'am…"
He took one last look at the now-cleared warehouse. Police vehicles were already repositioning for final camera shots. Reporters rehearsed closing statements.
Then he entered the driver's seat, started the engine, leaving the vantage.
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From below the parking structure, another man stood quietly near a support column, binoculars raised.
His gaze flicked between the subsided warehouse chaos and the two figures standing above.
"Tohara-kun… you…"
He lowered the binoculars and pulled out his phone. Zoomed in.
The image came out grainy—Renji and Shira at the railing, now leaving the scene.
"Good enough."
He tucked the phone away, slipped into his car, and drove off too without a sound.
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Reika set the phone down, her gaze lifting to the two men seated across from her.
"It's done. Clean and contained. Your gold is currently in police custody, Igarashi-san."
The man leaned back in his chair with a scoff. Broad-shouldered despite his age, his tailored suit did little to hide the weight of his presence.
"Then make sure you take it back from those patrolmen," he said, lifting his sake cup with challenging smirk. "I want it returned in full. Not less. Not even missing a gram. You hear me?"
"…I'll—" Reika exhaled quietly, placing her teacup down with care. "I understand."
And the other man in the room refills her cup with refined movement.
"As expected of Kurosawa-san. Always reliable." Shinpei Takaori smiled, his tone warm, almost indulgent. Then he glanced toward Genzou. "This is for our benefit too, Igarashi. A little patience wouldn't hurt."
"You can say that because it's not yours." Genzou replied flatly.
A brief silence settled.
Reika spoke again, her voice calm, but firmer this time.
"Igarashi-san… while we're on the subject, this gold of yours, may I ask what do you use it for?"
Genzou's eyes narrowed.
"Mind your own business."
"… You're moving it through our routes… Look, if you intend to push cargo of this scale, I need to be informed beforehand. Yamagami-san mentioned it after the fact. That leaves me with very little room to maneuver."
"Then get better. You think the world gives damn warnings every time before it moves?"
The moment Genzou shot back with disdain, a faint crease formed between her brows.
"Igarashi-san… I just want you to explain about your shipment, that's it."
"And I told you—none of your business."
"It is my business," Reika replied, her tone rising slightly. "I'm the one retrieving it for you."
Yet, Genzou said coldly back. "It's part of the deal. You use my assets. You see it through. That's all you need to know."
"That's what I'm doing, I need you to be cooperative here—"
The air grew heavier.
"—Now, now… relax, hehe." Shinpei chuckled softly, stepping in before the tension sharpened further. He gestured lightly toward Reika's cup. "Come on Reika-ojō-sama, before your tea got cold."
Reika paused, then obliged—lifting the cup to her lips, using the motion to steady herself.
"…Ah."
The aroma bloomed gently inside her mouth—soft floral notes layered over a mellow, fermented depth. Delicate, but lingering. Refined, yet quietly bold.
"This is… nadeshiko?"
Shinpei's smile widened. "A fresh batch. I had it reserved from Shizuoka. One of their finer harvests."
"As expected of you, advisor Takaori…" Reika said, her voice smoothing again as she took another sip. "You always manage to find… peculiar leaves…"
"A shared preference is a convenient thing," he replied lightly. Then he turned. "Care to try some, Igarashi?"
"I'll drink your tea when my sake disappears from this world."
With a dismissive smirk, Genzou set his cup down and rose to his feet. "I expect my gold returned within the month."
Without another word—or even a bow—he turned and walked out.
The door slid shut behind him.
"…"
Reika watched it for a moment, then let out a quiet breath, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as if lost all her will to fight back anymore.
Shinpei gave a small, easy laugh.
"Reika-ojō-sama, if you'd like, I could—"
"No," she cut in gently, shaking her head. "That won't be necessary."
A brief pause.
"Never mind… I'll let you know if I need assistance."
Shinpei inclined his head with pleasure.
"As you wish."
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