[Time: Year 0...]
[Location: Tokyo...]
[Selection: [Organization Newcomer].]
The darkness of the night sunk in .
Almost every day of a black person's life is spent in darkness, a creature of the dark, and while the darkness of the night and the dim shadows would be a cause for alarm for a normal person, for Gin, it was quite commonplace.
There was just a slight chill in the night that ran up and down his back.
From the moment he met the brilliant and capable Organization Newcomer, Gin was a little reluctant to see the night as dark as Tokyo was at 4:00 a.m. that morning.
He was also a little reluctant to see the same bright blue sky that he had seen during the sniping spree of the brilliant and capable Organization Newcomer.
And he doesn't want to see the black sky and white night that the FBI experienced three times when they were desperate.
Neither the FBI nor the Organization had ever imagined that one day, when the FBI was getting hit, the Organization would be able to empathize and make the same torturous sounds of pain.
Thanks to Ichijō Mirai.
But this was only a one-sided sensation.
After Division bravely sacrificed their lives to save the FBI, and after Ichijō Mirai became a member of Code Name, the FBI was saved.
The Organization was not.
...It was a thing that silenced the few who knew it, but it was a thing of long agony.
It was so painful that every time he walked through the darkness of the night, on empty streets, and in deep, secluded alleys, Gin would frequently have the feeling that he'd seen a ghost if he walked too much at night, and would subconsciously and cautiously look sideways for Ichijō Mirai as he felt a subtle sensation of coolness running up the back of his neck.
In the three or four days since Ichijō Mirai became a code name member, Gin had gotten used to the sudden glances.
Of course, he's been lucky that he hasn't found any suspicious signs every time.
Today was no different.
He inserted the key into the lock, and as he twisted the cylinder, his eyes drew back from the rich shadows woven by a patch of greenery and buildings not far away, and once inside, he coldly threw the door shut.
The courtyard was dark, with deep and light shadows of greenery everywhere.
This is an upscale residential area, one of Gin's temporary stops, and it's actually a bit conspicuous, if not for the fact that it's already early in the morning, as long as the lights are not turned on for a long period of time, it's almost 100% unlikely that anyone would notice that there are people in the house, and that there's been an important deal going on in the last few days, so that he can be watched from the vicinity, he wouldn't have chosen to stop here.
Each house in the upscale residential area had a large yard attached to it, and the houses were small villas with three floors.
Gin swept over the unknown shadows in the courtyard with his afterglow and stepped towards the villa when he saw a silhouette swaying back and forth on the second floor of the villa.
It was a somewhat lanky figure, walking quickly, passing a window as if to grab something at a quick pace, and then quickly returning.
It was Vodka, who had arrived early.
Gin's brow furrowed for a moment: it was so obvious that he was walking back and forth, not avoiding the window and not pulling the curtains.
After a few seconds, he released his frown: at least the lights weren't on.
At least he didn't go on a killing spree, attract the police, and then slowly feign innocence, "Oh, yeah, is there a fugitive in the neighborhood? There's a lot of police cars coming."
Humans can't help but compare and contrast, and after that, Gin was quite at peace with himself.
He opened the door to the villa, stepped inside, and reached for the buttons of his trench coat.
Suddenly, he stopped, his eyes stabbing in the direction of the stairs.
The lobby of the villa was large, adorned with large glass windows, and the moonlight fell distantly on the floor, increasing the visibility of the first floor.
But the second floor was still shrouded in what looked like a dark fog of shadows that hovered over the side staircase of the living room, shrouding all the steps above the turning platform of the one staircase.
In a vague blur, a white sneaker dangled from the stairs like the remains of a hanged man, hinting at someone sitting on the stairs, lazily looking up with one leg bent.
Almost as soon as Gin's vision whirled past him like a bullet out of the muzzle of a gun, a perky voice a little too young for the thick shadows rang out, "You're slow."
"Are you making me wait on purpose?"
It was Ichijō Mirai's voice.
It was the voice of Ichijō Mirai, who was in a good mood, with a high sense of humor, and was eager to stretch out her claws and play a nasty trick on people.
Gin: "…"
His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment he felt the urge to button up his trench coat and walk away.
"You don't want to pretend you didn't hear me," Ichijō Mirai's voice had a hint of amusement in it, "and go out the way you came in, do you?"
"Too late, I've already seen you, unlucky bastard."
He said softly, "If you turn your head and leave now, I'll mistake you for being dissatisfied with the organization's new codename member and wonder, 'one or two of them are treating me with such an attitude, are my colleagues bullying me'."
"I'll be sad. I'll die of sadness."
"I'm going to die of sadness.
Gin wanted to reply coldly, but before he did, he realized Ichijō Mirai's threat: When I'm unhappy, you can't be happy either, and if you don't make me happy, I'm going to kill you all!
"No," He took a deep breath and took a step in the direction of the stairs, denying the urge to turn his head and walk away, "it's an illusion."
"Why are you here?"
He said, trying to tuck back the gun he'd pulled out subconsciously.
Pulling out his gun in an emergency situation is a specialized action that's been engrained in Gin's DNA.
This kind of instinctive action can often save his life at certain moments, and it does play a big role in many cases, this time, when his eyes were shooting towards the stairs, Gin subconsciously drew his gun.
Sadly, as he subjectively reaches for the gun, he realizes that the moment he hears Ichijō Mirai's voice, he's already pushed the gun back as if he's done it a thousand times before, without even realizing it.
There was only one reason for this: Ichijō Mirai would be even more unhappy if the gun was pointed at him.
Or happier.
Both are fatal tendencies.
"..." There was the inevitable silence, and Gin adjusted his breathing again, his eyes settling on the top of the sneaker, seeing a bit of red, "Are you hurt?"
As he got closer, the heavy shadows on the stairs diminished a bit, and he could see Ichijō Mirai.
Ichijō Mirai was not sitting on the stairs, but lazily reclining on them with his knees bent, as if he were enjoying the warm afternoon sun on the lawn, one leg bent with his hand behind his head, and the other leg stretched out on the platform where the stairs turned.
Because of his posture, the leg of his black pants was tightened upward, exposing part of his ankle.
Between the black pants, the flesh-colored ankles and the white sneakers, there was a bright red.
The red was still wet, and a droplet of blood coalesced from the edge of the pants, wobbled unhurriedly for a few moments, fell into the shoe, and disappeared from Gin's field of vision.
His brow furrowed, "Who hurt you?"
Who would be so bold as to hurt Ichijō Mirai without fear of attracting the interest of this demon?
Gin respects the hero.
And he couldn't wait to know which faction the hero came from, whether he alone paid the price for attacking Ichijō Mirai, or whether all the factions paid the heavy price.
And also vaguely prepared for the worst, there was a heavy hope: not the FBI, not MI6, not any famous organization for or against, preferably a small gang looking for death, then Ichijō Mirai want to play, nothing.
"Ah, this," Ichijō Mirai sat up and propped his hand on the step at his side, casually glancing at the blood on his shoe, "is the blood of your men."
He cheerfully said: "I'm not a search engine, of course I do not know where you will be tonight, but also afraid to ask you, you will run away, can only pull out a few rats out of the hand to force the question,"
"I told them not to tell you,"
"But how they really did not tell you? Is it betrayal? It's a betrayal, right? The first day I met you, I knew that there were a lot of undercover agents in the organization who had a lot of fluctuations in their minds, and that's not good, so why don't I help the organization out?
Gin: "..."
In less than three minutes, Gin was silent three or four times.
His eyes rested on Ichijō Mirai's soggy pants, and his brow furrowed in a deep crease that quickly unraveled.
"No."
Of course it was a betrayal.
In any case, revealing Gin's whereabouts, surviving... and not warning Gin if he did survive, was an unquestionable act of betrayal.
Gin wouldn't have hesitated to issue a kill order for those who might have survived.
But they were up against Ichijō Mirai.
That's not quite betrayal, it's extenuating circumstances, a work-related injury...
And since Gin's always hidden, finding him would require interviewing many members of the organization to put together a puzzle of his usual movements.
...Wait, so most of the members of the organization in Tokyo aren't...
Ichijō Mirai said, "Don't worry, I only asked about ten or so."
He propped his head up, his smile deepening, "What's that look in your eyes?"
"As if I'm some kind of unforgivable monster."
Am I?
Ichijō Mirai was a real 'Satan' to the authorities, especially the FBI.
To the organization, Ichijō Mirai was also a devil.
Devilish in the sense that he single-handedly put the organization on the Dark World's 'Top 30 World Terrorist Organizations' list.
And he did it in three cases.
No one wants to believe that 'Satan', who has made three cases, is single-handedly, that is too horrible, so horrible that it is beyond the scope of human strength, compared to that, they accept that there is an organization behind 'Satan' that is dedicated to serve him.
The list was made by professionals in the dark world, first in New York City.
Having witnessed the FBI's transformation from angry to tail-wagging, they were the first to propose it, and were satisfied with the tacit acceptance of it.
The organization was not so pleased.
Even more so: when referring to the organization, they used the title 'Satan'.
...It's a slur.
A serious smear.
A slander that would make anyone who knew about it raise an eyebrow the moment they realized it.
Gin knows that after Ichijō Mirai became a member of Codename, Belmode took it upon himself to clean up New York's underworld, crushing the rankings, showing mercy to the FBI in maintaining the peace in New York.
And moved the organization up five spots in the new rankings.
...Let's just say it's not Ichijō Mirai's fault, it's Belmode's.
Everything is Belmode's fault.
Gin preferred to blame whoever could be blamed, and without blinking he denied it, "Why, you're not an unforgivable archdemon,"
He took a few steps forward and up the stairs, his eyes settling on the red color once more, "Those people you questioned, are they still alive?"
As if shaking a bone, Ichijō Mirai shifted his shoes and smiled deeper when he realized that Gin had first moved his eyes after his shoes and then immediately froze his expression when he reacted, "Don't worry, they're all alive and well."
"Do you think I'm a scumbag who would kill my coworkers? It's too sad."
As he said this, he raised his hand and shook it, calling out lazily, "Vodka."
There had been the faint sound of hurried footsteps running up and down the second floor, and three or four seconds after Ichijō Mirai's call, a figure rushed out, handing over a glass of water, "Hot sugar water."
Vodka was still wearing a black suit and black sunglasses, only he didn't look very polished, as if he'd rolled around on the ground a few times, his suit was wrinkled.
There's dust and blood on his hands.
Some of these marks were rubbed on the glass.
Ichijō Mirai saw it, smiled at the unfortunate Vodka, who had arrived at the villa ahead of schedule and suffered a playful moment, took the cup, and without pausing for a second, graciously handed it down, "Here you go."
"Good job on the overtime."
Ignoring the slight shaking and Frisbee tossing that was a bit like teasing a cat or a dog, Ichijō Mirai was a good boy when he said this, and he restrained his blood pressure-inducing tone of voice and put on a look of innocence, like a gentle Yamato Nadeshiko offering love to her husband who was working overtime.
If he hadn't purposely turned the dirty side of the cup from an angle that Gin could see to an angle that Gin couldn't see.
"...You don't have to drink it if you don't want to," Gin stepped up and took the cup, he glanced at Vodka, "What's up?"
Vodka was amazed and quickly went downstairs and stood behind Gin.
Ichijō Mirai: "Is there nothing I can't do for you?"
"I can't believe we don't have anything in common, I thought you were my guide, my teacher who guided me through the darkness, and that everything I did was inspired by you,"
Gin interrupted, "Don't slander me."
In the dimness, his dark green pupils were smaller than usual, appearing colder as he watched Ichijō Mirai, who was absently picking at his emotions, "Everything else is fine, this, no."
'Everything I've done has been taught and inspired by you!' It's too much of a characterization of Gin.
...Yes, slander.
Gin glanced over at Ichijō Mirai's still dripping ankle, moved his hand, restrained the urge to hold this guy's ankle and drag him down hard to shoot him, and asked again, "What is it."
Ichijō Mirai withdrew his legs and sat up cross-legged on the stairs, shielding both feet under his knees and palms.
He smiled a good-natured smile, "Since you asked sincerely, I'll be merciful and tell you that in order to prevent the world from being destroyed, and in order to maintain the peace of the world, the cute and charming villain character."
"Oh, it's about you, not me."
"Do you know 'Akai Tsutomu'?"
-What, Gin heard the name, looked up Akai Shūichi, will he target him?
Well, what should I do? I'm sure a decent character who isn't cute and charming can handle it, right?
I'll see you at the funeral if you can't.
:)