Vodka shut up.
When a person is outrageous, it's human nature to arouse feelings of rejection, resistance, disgust and envy in others.
But when a person is overly outrageous, all negative emotions are cleaned up and nothing but awe remains.
Death's knock on the door was very outrageous, Vodka was in awe, and as a criminal who has been in close proximity to death, who has been injured from time to time, and who understands injuries better than the average person, he knew Ichijō Mirai's words, "I haven't lost 1,700 ml of blood yet, so it's not a big deal," more than clear.
An example that a normal person can understand: when a person who is hanging himself kicks off a stool, someone comes over and screams. The person who is hanging himself tries to appease them by saying, "It's okay. I just went up here. I'm not dead yet. You go out first. Come back in two minutes and then scream again."
It's ridiculous.
"And I don't have any serious injuries on my body," Ichijō Mirai leaned against the car window nonchalantly, memorizing the route, "I'm not good at shooting, but I'm good at being shot. The counterattacks from those 'police officers' were nothing, let alone bullets. They didn't even leave me a souvenir of a penetrating wound."
He turned his head again, looking in the rear view mirror, precisely meeting Vodka's line of sight as he looked over, "By the way, Gin said those weren't police officers, they were members of the organization."
"You're familiar with the routes in that residential neighborhood," he said flatly, stating the facts, "and with my safe house."
Vodka reacted for a moment: 'my safe house' referred to the meeting place between him and Ichijō Mirai, which now belongs to Ichijō Mirai.
"It's strange," Ichijō Mirai scrubbed the suspicions and raised them bit by bit, "those guys were lurking around in advance, they were disguised as ordinary citizens, most of the guns they carried were police guns, and they attacked me as soon as they saw me, and they were very hostile to me."
"I'm a member of the organization."
"Gin said that they were also members of the organization, and that you were familiar with the neighborhood."
He repeats, "That's strange."
"Do you have any idea?"
This isn't asking 'Do you have any idea?', it's asking 'Do you have anywhere to put your head besides your neck?'.
Vodka: "..."
At this moment, he wanted to say to Gin: 'Big Brother, rabies must be cured, if not, people will die, it really must be cured' .
Ichijō Mirai: "No?"
He nodded and gestured politely as if he were at a seminar, "Since you won't say anything, I'll tell you what I think?"
"I'm sorry in advance, it may be something you don't like to hear."
After a short time together, Ichijō Mirai had already gotten to know Vodka: he had a good temper and was very talkative.
When Ichijō Mirai asked him to do something, he responded without hesitation, even if he hesitated for up to three seconds.
There aren't many NPCs with this kind of temper, and since it's a shame that he can't drop rubles, but he can get drops from another angle, Ichijō Mirai decided to squeeze him.
Ichijō Mirai decided to squeeze him like a sugar cane.
"Yes!" Vodka cane said immediately, and the car shook with excitement as he quickly stabilized it, "It's because, it's because..."
Can't tell the truth.
You can't tell the truth now, or else the newcomer, who has just hooked a whole page of the dead in the guise of the Grim Reaper, will take advantage of the heat to hook his name as well.
But he can't tell the truth about all of them, because if there's too much discrepancy, not only will Gin be upset, but the Grim Reaper might come back and check off his name again.
In a flash, Vodka gritted his teeth and said, "The organization's information has been leaked!"
He swore, "The police are aware of Yamada Tarō."
He also spits out a new piece of information: "When someone from the organization saved you in time, the police received a call from a neighbor, and didn't pay much attention to the investigation, judging only by the type of gun and bullets that it was a criminal who came to the house looking for revenge."
Yamada Tarō escaped.
"But it's too strange," Vodka looked at the rearview mirror carefully, "The information shows that your parents are very famous. Some of their classmates even became the Director of the Police Department, and there are other outstanding elites. Therefore, someone noticed something was wrong."
Then came the serious nonsense, "There was an undercover police agent in the organization who found out that the organization was planning to kill Yamada Tarō, so they ambushed him in advance."
Good nonsense.
Ichijō Mirai leaned against the window, his red eyes fixed on Vodka, "But some of them have no fingerprints and hide their faces."
What kind of person would deliberately wipe out his fingerprints and hide his face?
1984 wasn't a time when fingerprinting was commonplace. It had to be a major criminal to have his fingerprints wiped off.
"The rest of them were not systematically trained, their counterattacks were unorganized, and they didn't have the distinctive 'chili pepper smell' of the police."
He inquired again: "Do you have any clue?"
Vodka: "..."
"And," Ichijō Mirai added slowly, "they tried to cooperate halfway through."
Vodka had seen it.
Between the time Ichijō Mirai started knocking on doors and taking away the first few houses, and the time some members of the organization broke down and called the police, some members of the organization who had heard the commotion had tried to join forces to resist.
The members of the organization seldom saw each other, so they didn't work well together, but they were all ruthless criminals who had been together for three days, so they were a bit of a deterrent when it came to working together in a hurry in front of a dangerous enemy.
Vines as thick as an adult's arm, twisted and intertwined in layers, were a sight to behold.
But Ichijō Mirai...
Vodka is so smart because Ichijō Mirai is a human, a human who can use tools.
In the face of vines, he was a human with a sharp sword, easily cutting down any obstacles that stood in his way.
"They don't look like police."
"Could it be," Ichijō Mirai added with a standardized bite, "that all of them are police undercover within the organization?"
"That's why they look so much like wanted criminals."
Vodka looked at the red eyes in the rearview mirror that looked like they had spotted prey, and felt that the guy behind him was a snake waiting to strike, and faltered a bit, "..."
Should I tell the truth?
Considering that it was seriously unsafe to have only himself and Ichijō Mirai in the car, he gritted his teeth and tried to save his life first: "...Yes, yes."
"They're all undercover."
Ichijō Mirai: "Huh?"
He smiled, his red eyes a little wetter, less like a snake and more like a cunning fox, "Is it surprising that there are so many undercover agents in the organization?"
"I'm afraid the list of those guys would take more than a page, and there are so many police undercover agents in Tokyo?"
That's a lie.
The organization doesn't have that many rats.
Which organization would have so many undercover agents that it would take more than a page to list them all? They are too useless.
Vodka said insincerely, "Yes."