Chapter Eight – Part 1

Debriefing

Noble Team had all been given coffee and biscuits upon returning from the docks, but no one had taken a sip or bite of their food. All having gathered in the break room, Tanimura stared blankly off into space, Yagami leaned against the wall, fixated on his own shoes. Kenjiro sat next to Sae at one of the tables, neither able to make eye contact with each other. Kenjiro held his folded hands in front of his face, deep in thought while Sae leaned back in her chair, eyes closed, crossing her arms and tapping her finger on her elbow.

Akechi was the only member of Noble Team not present, as he had been called to the commissioner's office immediately upon arrival for a private conversation. The team suspected it to regard his brash and violent actions in the raid, with Tanimura joking weakly that he must be getting chewed out. No one laughed. No one even acknowledged he had said anything. Miller too, was absent, busily working on his own report of the raid.

However, Sae's thoughts were far more focused on the girl, Haruka, than anything regarding Akechi. The young girl had been taken to the medical ward under protection when they arrived, and Noble Team had yet to hear anything regarding her condition. Haruka had not left Sae's arms the entire uncomfortable trip back to the precinct, completely refusing to be checked out by the EMT's until they arrived. Even though it was technically against protocol, Sae was unable to let the girl go until Haruka would leave her on her own. It took significant convincing, but she eventually did agree to be taken away.

And it was that little girl's devastated, terrified face that replayed endlessly in her mind. She could not stop it, no matter how she tried to distract herself. The gun shot, Yumi's head having a hole blown in it, Haruka's scream, and then Haruka's quiet crying as Sae had held her. The scene replayed over and over in her mind, as if punishing her for failing to protect her targets. The woman rubbed her temple, trying to remedy the migraine that had started as the memories continued to repeat, but it was no use.

Even though it was only 6:28 a.m., Sae wished she could just go home, drink herself into a stupor and sleep for the rest of the day.

There was then a knock on the door to the breakroom, and a young woman by the name of Maya stood in the doorway. She was a pretty if plain girl, with short, chestnut brown hair, dark eyes, and high cheekbones on her thin face. She had been Murakata's secretary for just over a year at this point, and while no ill fate had befallen her at the hands of the stronger sex as of yet, Sae always was on the lookout to make sure Murakata did not get any funny ideas. She felt a sort of intrinsic protectiveness toward the younger woman, likely because she too was of the fairer sex in a very male-dominated field. And partly because she reminded Sae somewhat of her sister.

"The Commissioner wishes to see you all in his office," said Maya, trying to come off as pleasant in the face of such horrific circumstances. "Please follow me, everyone."

Yagami stood up straight, rubbing his left shoulder. "Almost thought the big man had forgotten about us," he quipped weakly.

"Probably had a lot to bear down on Akechi for," added Tanimura. "You know he loves the rare chance he gets to chew someone out."

Kenjiro walked behind the two other men, with Sae, even while holding the illustrious holding of "Noble One", taking up the rear. "Can't either of you take this seriously?" Ken asked indignantly.

"Is the situation not serious enough for you?" Yagami looked back to his companion. No one spoke again until they arrived at the office.

Maya opened the door slowly for them, bowing as they entered. They saw Murakata standing behind his desk, and Akechi standing in front of them, holding his hands behind his back respectfully. Murakata looked far less agitated than they had expected, though Akechi's expression seemed stressed enough for both of them. Sae wondered what exactly the commissioner had said to him to break his usually stalwart composure in such a way.

"Good morning, Noble Team," Murakta greeted them. "I apologize for taking so long. Thank you all for waiting." Not waiting for a response, the old man continued. "The matter regarding Akechi-kun has been dealt with, so I will not comment on it further. For now," Murakata paused, letting out a sigh, "I only wish to hear your side of the story, in any way you wish to tell it. Whether it be in legal speech or as unprofessional as you can muster, I only want to hear what you all have to say. The floor is yours until you feel you are finished," he sat back in his chair.

Akechi took his spot next to Sae as Noble Team lined up shoulder to shoulder in front of the large desk.

Sae was the first to speak, feeling it proper for her to do so. "The situation quickly got out of control, sir," she stated plainly. "We did not expect the members of the triad to put up such resistance, and as a result, a civilian life was lost in the scuffle. We… I," she corrected herself, "am deeply sorry, sir." Murakata did not reply, but did give Sae his full attention along with the rest of Noble Team.

The woman was quickly becoming more frustrated as she spoke, and she knew there was no point in trying to hide it. "I believe I froze up in the face of such adversity, and Sawamura Yumi died because of it. I have failed to meet the expectations of my team and the precinct sir, and I take full responsibility for the events of today."

"Ma'am," Kenjiro interjected, "maybe you should—"

"Maybe I should what?" she glared back at him. "An innocent woman died today. Her daughter has been orphaned. I was the leader of this operation and therefore it is my responsibility."

"Niijima-san, please," Akechi pleaded with her. "Beating yourself up about it will accomplish nothing."

"If I may," Murakata interjected, holding his hand in the air. He waited until all was quiet in the room to speak again. "Niijima, I understand how you feel. It's true, we did lose an innocent life today, and god knows how it will affect young Haruka. However, I wish for you to try and look at this from another perspective, all of you."

Murakata rose to his feet again, putting his hands behind his back. "Akechi helped us expose a dangerous criminal gang lying in wait in our own city of Tokyo. "Everyone, do you know why I designated your group 'Noble Team'?" There was no response. "Well, it was because that is how I see all of you." The old commissioner spoke slowly as he explained himself. His demeanor was far more casual, personable than usual, forgoing the high and mighty visage he so often exuded.

Murakata adjusted his glasses and looked out the large window behind him, peering over the morning light and bustle of Kamurocho. "We find ourselves in an age of decadence and overwhelming success, my friends," he began. "Many economists are calling our current national situation a 'bubble' of sorts. The economy has been graced with a large boom in the last few years, and with it, many men and women who slaved away at barely livable nine-to-fives for half their lives are now able to live lavishly, fulfilling their wildest dreams every night.

With this boom, I have watched as so many of our countrymen have become complacent, self-centered, completely absorbed in their new financial situations. No doubt you all have seen it as well. Trash lines the streets of our once beautiful town. Soaplands and hostess clubs are more popular than ever, even outside Kamurocho. For the first time in history, the common rabble have begun to mingle with the elite, and there is no substance on earth more addicting and debilitating than money."

Murakata turned back around to face the team again. "However, in spite of this bubble period we find ourselves in, I have seen none of these lascivious and selfish tendencies in any of you, even when many of your fellow officers have long since given in. In each of you, I have seen a desire to help your fellow man to the full extent of the law, while remaining within the law. With such short notice, you five accepted the task of charging into danger with minimal information to save a mother and daughter from certain doom. You all have the strength of character to put your lives on the line for the less fortunate, and the resolve to see it through. Yes, we did sadly lose the mother, and I am already making arrangements to see that her family is notified and taken care of as best we can. But here and now, the daughter lives on, and can be cared for by medical professionals to hopefully live a long, successful life."

Murakta looked Sae directly in the eyes, as if speaking solely to her, recognizing her manic and obsessive doubts and calling her out on them in front of all her companions. "Let not one of you diminish such a success with second thoughts," he spoke, as seriously as if he were reading one's last rites. "Haruka-chan now carries on her mother's memory because of you five. And in my book, for what it's worth, such a success is nothing less than truly noble. You all are more deserving of such a title than any other here."

Even in receiving such high praise that would make anyone else feel unendingly proud and self-important, Sae's response was to avert her eyes from the appreciative and thankful gaze of her superior. Even while in no uncertain terms being dubbed a hero, Sae was unable to shake the image of Yumi's corpse from her mind's eye.

"For your service," Murakata continued, "I will be hosting an award ceremony in your honor tomorrow morning. I will finish the preparations by this afternoon and contact you all with the necessary information afterward."

All present looked at their superior scrupulously. ""An awards ceremony?" Sae asked. "How can you do that when Samaura-san is dead? Won't the people be appalled if we're rewarded for failing to save a civilian?"

"As should be obvious, that is not the purpose of this ceremony." Murakata sat back down at his desk, then rubbed the bridge of his nose annoyedly. "The public is growing restless in the last couple weeks," he continued. "With the recent increase in public yakuza activity, the assassination of Representative Tatsu, and rumors of the Venom Flower incident already circulating among the tabloids, our city's people are in need of encouragement, reassurance. This public display of valor and recognition will hopefully help show them that even in dark times such as these, there are still good people like you fighting for the sake of justice on their behalf."

There was no response from the officers.

"Do you have any further questions?" Murakata asked once more. They did not reply. "If not, then you are dismissed for the day. I will be in contact with all of you later. Now please, go get some rest. You've earned it and more."

There was an awkward moment of all of them standing in line, saying not a word, as if expecting anyone else to speak up and ask more questions. But deep down, they all knew that the time for democratic debate had passed before they had even arrived back at the station. There was nothing left for them to say, at least nothing that would have any impact on the commissioner's decision. Sae bowed respectfully, silently, and her companions followed suit before excusing themselves.

Upon closing the door behind them, and being sure they were out of Murakata's earshot, Yagami ran his hand through his messy, thick black hair, sighing to himself. "Fuckin' propaganda, all of it," he remarked. "Goddamn fucking propaganda."

"At least he didn't chew us out," Tanimura said as they walked back to the common room.

Akechi replied first non-verbally, giving his companion a hard punch on the shoulder. "Do we not have bigger concerns than keeping your nose out of other's business, Tanimura-kun?" Akechi asked venomously. "What happened between myself and the commissioner is irrelevant to all of you, but the matter of the ceremony is certainly more pressing."

Yagami then suddenly pushed Akechi into the wall, causing a stir among the others.

"The hell!?" Akechi exclaimed as Yagami pointed a finger into his face.

"I, for one, am pretty interested in what the boss had to say about you going fucking Rambo on those guys, Akechi," Yagami sneered at him. "Then you beat the shit out of our captives for… what? Kicks?"

"Piss off, Yagami," Akechi pushed him away. "I already got an earful from the Chief. I don't need you to pass any more judgment on me."

"And we could use some answers on why you acted how you did!"

Sae got in between them, pushing them away from each other. "Lock it down, both of you!" she ordered strongly. "I know we're all ready to fall over, but fighting isn't going to help us in any way." She straightened her jacket and relaxed her posture. "Now, we're all going home to get some rest, got it? And don't let me hear about any of you getting in any more fights over this. It was a charged situation, and is being dealt with appropriately. I'm not going to make either of you apologize like schoolboys, but for your own sakes, just go home and sleep." Sae crossed her arms and turned away. "I'll be doing the same. If you have any problems with each other regarding the mission, call me instead of getting on each other's cases. Excuse me."

Without checking for her fellow officer's reactions, Sae quickly made her way for the exit. She avoided the stares she received from her coworkers, all likely burning with tens of questions regarding the raid. Sae knew that she would have to answer at least some of them eventually, but she lacked both the mental and emotional strength for such things at the moment. She was barely five steps out of the precinct and onto the sidewalk before taking out a cigarette and lighting it as she pressed on toward the train terminal. The cigarette's effects came quickly, but were weak, only giving her some respite from her fried nerves.

Every minute passed in a haze as Sae reflected on the morning's events. A part of her wished to see Haruka again, if only to know for sure how she was holding up. But she was being kept separated from all aspects of the case, understandably so. The kid had seen far too much already, any more could have even more damning consequences than any that may already have occurred in her fragile young mind. The rest of Sae's mind was preoccupied with calculating how much medication she would likely need to sleep that day, and if she should drop by the convenience store to pick up some additional sleep aids, or dropping by a liquor store for a tall bottle of Scotch to knock her on her ass.

As she rode the train back to the residential district, Sae watched the city go by in a blur. This goddamn city, she thought. Full to the brim with miscreants and lowlifes. I wonder if we'll ever be able to match the power the yakuza hold over this fucking town, if we'll ever make a dent in its crime rate for more than a month. Maybe Murakata is right, and seeing acts of justice actually rewarded will help the people realize that justice still holds power in Tokyo. Probably the same reason that Okumura guy is starting to make waves in the polls.

But that poor Haruka. I hope to God she'll be okay, at least to some degree. She seems like such a sweet, strong girl. It seemed like her dad was out of the picture, and now her mom is getting a fucking autopsy. That kid didn't deserve any of this, not at all.

This was not the first time Sae had seen someone die in a police raid, but it felt different knowing it was not a criminal who was executed, but a mother in front of her young child. The experience was far more raw, intense, feral. Holding Haruka in her arms as she tried to calm the child had rocked her to the core.

Sae leaned her head against the back of her seat, closing her eyes. She saw once again Yumi Sawamura getting shot, but repressed any external reaction to it. She let her mind wander for a few minutes, thinking on anything that did not regard the mission. Maybe some handsome gentleman will be waiting at my apartment, ready to sweep me off my feet and help me forget this shit, she mused to herself. What I would give for a few hours of wine and exhausting intimacy to put me to sleep.

I'll bet Akechi would drop by if I asked, unless he was too busy with whatever he does all day when he's not at the precinct… Oh, shut up, Sae," she chided herself. "You don't need a boytoy right now, you need sleep and to focus on your next assignment. You still don't have anything on this 'hero-boy'. You'll get some rest and get to work on that shitshow when you can.

I don't know where you are now, little sis, but I hope you're still okay. It's a scary world we live in now. If you learned anything from me, Makoto, and didn't choose to forget all of it, please just do what you can to stay safe. I can't take the idea of you getting caught up in this mess…

Chapter Eight – Part 2

Determination Is a Drug

8:49 p.m. The sun was setting over the horizon as Akira and Ryuji exited their vehicle in front of a warehouse complex in the Uptown of Kamurocho. About two hundred meters behind a series of high, metal gates was a large warehouse lit up with bright, hot stadium lights. Akira rolled his shoulders, relaxing himself as he tried not to think about what he was actually doing. "We're really doing this, huh?" he asked Ryuji.

"We're Family men," he put his hat down in the driver's seat of the car. "We gotta pull our weight. It's just some recon, man."

"I'm no Family man," Akira replied resolutely. "It should have been Akechi or Iwai that Sojiro sent with you."

"We don't have time for your whining, bro," Ryuji nudged him on the shoulder. "Let's just get this done." Ryuji cracked his knuckles confidently and made his way toward the fence. Akira followed behind, dragging his feet impassionately. He scorned Sakura for roping him into another mess, sending him on another mission that had nothing to do with him, and hoped to God that there would be no more near-death experiences for him to endure. They had been told that the warehouse was under little guard, and that they would encounter little resistance. Akira still uttered phrases akin to "Goddamn fucking assholes," several times under his breath as he left LeBlanc all the same.

They came upon the gates, standing roughly three meters high. "Onward and upward, I guess," Ryuji said as he deftly jumped onto the gate and started climbing with the dexterity of a chimpanzee. Akira was considerably slower on his ascent, given how his mother had never incorporated gymnastics and parkour into their martial arts training.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the warehouse perimeter, there was a car parking as Akira and Ryuji began their infiltration. The little two year old Honda pulled up by the side of a dirt road running along the warehouse property. Driving the car was a young, scrawny man with short, pale blue hair staring down his nose at the warehouse. And in the passenger's seat beside him, was a stoic, fierce young woman with shoulder length dark hair, wearing a leather jacket on top of a white tee shirt and jeans. She looked between the warehouse in front of them and a series of scribbled notes on a paper in her hand.

Glaring with determination, she muttered, "This is the place."

"Fits the description perfectly, right?" replied the young man with a nasally voice. "Still can't believe you got that guy to talk, Niijima-san."

"He was apparently not experienced in defending against the aikido style." She put the paper in her pocket and let out a long, quiet breath. "I hope I won't have to exhibit my skills tonight as well, but I get the feeling it may be necessary."

"Just don't do anything brash, okay? And if things go tits up, high tail it back to me and I'll get us out of here. At least, try to." The young man smacked his lips as he looked back to the warehouse. "Really don't want this car to get shot up or something."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, Mishima." The young woman opened the car door and stepped outside, stretching her limbs and rolling her neck. "Don't even think about turning your walkie-talkie off."

"Yes, ma'am," Mishima nodded. "And good luck."

"Thanks," the young woman nodded, finishing with a slight, genuine grin before walking toward the gated area. "This is going to be a long night," she muttered, coming upon the gate. She climbed over it with grace, landing in a low stance on the other side. Quickly and stealthily, she rushed to the loading bay in the back of the warehouse, her heartrate increasing as the reality of the danger she was in fell upon her. However, intermixed with such fear was a distinct sense of adrenaline and excitement that spurred her on all the more.

Not far away, the other two infiltrators had breached the compound, skulking about in a way unconsciously similar to anime and movies they had seen. With Ryuji at the front, they hugged a wall as they evaluated their surroundings.

"We probably should head for the main office," said Akira. "It might help us avoid any fighting."

"But where would the office be?"

"Uh, maybe on the top floor?"

"I mean, makes sense to me."

The casual nature of their planning was reflective of the lack of information provided the boys before setting out. Clumsily, slowly, they entered the warehouse, watching each other's backs just as much as they watched their surroundings. Akira continued to curse his benefactors for sticking him with such a vague and austensibly dangerous mission, thinking of ways to tell them what he thought of them upon returning to the hotel.

There was no one to be seen in the warehouse from the boys' point of view. Their surroundings were comprised entirely of shelves of boxes reaching eight meters high, nothing unusual for a warehouse such as this. What they were after was information, and they figured that the information they require would be most likely held by either some important files hidden away in a manger's office, or by an unsuspecting foe they would need to persuade to part with such intel.

Akira and Ryuji soon came upon a flight of stairs leading to a walkway above. Walking on their toes to reduce the noise of their footsteps, they climbed the stairs quickly, practically hopping as they skipped every other step. Coming to the top of the stairs, they took a low stance, resuming their stealthy approach, only to see a door ahead of them to the right open up. Ryuji nearly fell back down the stairs as he backstepped reflexively to avoid detection.

But alas, a tall, burly bald man stepped forth from the doorway, finishing off a bottle of water and nearly choking on it as he spied the boys before him.

"Who the—" he sputtered, spitting out water. "Who the hell are you two?!"

Akira lacked a proper response, and instead just spoke whatever he could think of. "Uh, we needed to use the bathroom."

The warehouse worker glared confused daggers at the young men. "And what are you doing up here?"

"The toilet's backed up," Akira replied quickly. The worker was about to throw more questions and insults their way when Akira turned to Ryuji saying, "Get 'em."

"I was tired of waitin'!" The two boys rushed the worker and quickly wrestled him to the ground, with Ryuji putting him in a headlock and Akira putting him in an arm bar. The man was large, strong, but uncoordinated, easily incapacitated by the far more agile young men.

"Augh, Christ, guys, whaddya want!?" he shouted.

"Who's in charge here?" Ryuji asked sternly. "What do you know about the drugs?"

"Fucked if I know, man! I just work here!"

"The who would know, huh!?"

The worker stopped resisting, going limp in their arms. Sensing this, Akira and Ryuji let their holds slack slightly. "Look," said the worker, "we're just the middlemen, okay? None of us know shit about what we've been shipping. We just got a good deal and have been doing what the buyers say, just like anyone would."

Ryuji and Akira looked to each other before standing up, letting the worker sit freely on the floor. "Alright," said Akira, "spill."

"I don't much else, really. I had my suspicious that this was some yakuza shit, but this ain't the first time we've worked with them! Everything may not be on the legal up and up, but you guys obviously aren't cops, so there's only one thing you can be. What Clan do you run with?"

"That's irrelevant to you," Akira crossed his arms.

"Yeah, maybe," the worker chuckled. "Look, you're obviously not Omi. Not a bit of Kansai in your accent, so I guess you're Sakura. And if you are, then that means whatever shit we've been dealing with must have been big. I'm not about to get involved in a gang war over some fucking drugs or whatever's in those shipments. The asshole that manages this place doesn't pay me nearly enough for that. So, what about we make a deal, huh?"

"We're listening," said Ryuji.

"You forget you saw me, I forget I saw you, and you guys get to look at our files."

"Just like that?" asked Akira.

"This is some real yakuza shit, man. I'm just trying to make a living here. Besides, payday was yesterday, if shit hits the fan. I got no I got no love for this place, and especially not its manager. Been trying to get out of Kamurocho anyway, and this sounds like a good time to do so."

Akira and Ryuji looked to each other hesitantly, confusedly. Ryuji shrugged, smacking his lips. "Lucky we ran into a guy as reasonable as you, bud," he nodded to the worker, smiling.

"No shit," Akira muttered.

"Thanks, but remember: we were never here."

"No problem," Ryuji held up an "okay" hand sign. "Have a good night, man!"

"Yeah, you too, both of you!" The worker walked off, waving to the younger men and exited the building.

Akira shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe that actually worked."

"Don't look a gift zebra in the mouth, man! Or however that saying goes. Let's just look at those files."

Together, they entered the office the worker had stepped out of. The room was clean, tidy, and conservatively furnished, with a desk, a chair, a filing cabinet, and a bookcase taking up most of the space. The young men immediately began rummaging through the desk, flinging aside any irrelevant papers haphazardly.

Ryuji soon halted after a moment. "Whoa," he muttered.

"What? Did you find something?"

"Hell yeah!" Ryuji's voice pitched up excitedly. He turned to Akira with a wide, mischievous grin. His friend expected a resolution to their predicament, but instead saw Ryuji holding up a strikingly evocative erotic magazine. "This was stuffed in the bottom of the cabinet, bro. This shit is priceless!" Akira looked entirely unamused, and equally judgmental. Ryuji's demeanor changed for boyishly excited to indignant. "Do you even have a sense of humor, man?"

"Sometimes," Akira deadpanned. "Focus on the mission."

"Yeesh, fine," Ryuji shrugged, rolling up the magazine and stuffing it in his coat. "Tough crowd," he muttered.

They searched the desk and file cabinet for another minute before finding a particular drawer that was locked tightly. Not wanting to waste any more time, Akira fully chambered a powerful kick and drove it directly into the lock. There was a loud smashing noise as the lock's internal mechanism was crushed, and the drawer slid open.

"That was loud," Ryuji remarked.

"Now hopefully we can find what we need and get out of this place." Akira rummaged through the drawer, but only for a moment before coming upon a stack of immaculate papers. Akira picked it up, holding it so Ryuji could inspect it as well. "Looks like manifests," he said. "Schedules, that kind of thing." He flipped through a few pages before coming upon an entire paper of receipts. "Damn," Akira remarked, "looks like Kitagawa was onto something. At least a third of these shipments contained some amount of cocaine."

"Methamphetamine too. That's some nasty shit."

"But wait," Akira paused, inspecting the receipts further, "what's this?" He pointed to a box of writings at the bottom of the page. "It says this went through only a couple days ago. A large order of… 'RZ-412'. What do you think that is?"

"No clue. Never heard of anything like it."

Akira flipped to the next page, finding a similar order. "This one says it's being processed. There might be some of that stuff still around here. I but Sojiro and Kitagawa will be curious about it."

"Talk about a big payday," Ryuji pumped his fist enthusiastically. "Let's split up and take a look around. We find what we need and get the hell out of here."

"Just don't inhale anything, alright?"

"Hey, I may be a yakuza, but I've never been into that shit. I'm as sober as they come."

"Don't sweat it, I believe you." Akira inspected the manifest once again. "This says there may be some RZ-412 in shipments twenty-two and sixty-seven. Let's check them out."

"Sweet. I'll get sixty-seven then." With that, Ryuji ran off to inspect the shipments, leaving Akira to trail behind.

Still holding the manifest, Akira descended the stairs and followed the numbering for each shipment until coming across the twenties row. "Bingo," he said, moving his way down the row. "Twenty-eight, twenty-seven…" and after a moment, "gotcha. Twenty-two."

Before him was a sealed wooden crate with little marking or distinction on it. Akira tried to pry the top open, but aside from making the lid creak, he was unable to elicit any results. "Damn, and just when I thought I was out of this." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of any other options.

And then something small and metal poked him in the back.

Akira's eyes shot open as he realized there was now a gun embedded in his back, between his shoulders. His breath caught, his mind went blank, but he was then left increasingly confused as a woman's voice then spoke.

"Hands up, slowly," said the woman. Her pitch was high, youthful, though determined and strong.

Akira sighed. "Well, shit," he muttered, putting his hands in the air. The clipboard was snatched out of his hand, the gun remaining firmly pressed into his back.

"You must be pretty important here to have something like this," said the woman as she glanced at the manifests.

"That actually couldn't be further from the truth."

"Trying to weasel out of this, huh?" she taunted.

"No, actually. That's literally just how it is."

The woman pushed him with the barrel of her revolver. "Cut the bullshit if you don't want a hole in your chest! I know Kaneshiro is in charge here, and I want answers."

"Kaneshiro?" Akira asked, perplexed. "Who the hell is that? Listen, lady, I'm telling you, I don't work here!"

"Then how did you get your hands on this manifest!?"

Akira smacked his lips annoyedly. "Good point, but I promise, this isn't what it looks like. I stole it."

"What interest do you have in it?"

Akira realized a truthful answer would likely be just as dangerous as saying he was working for this 'Kaneshiro' character. "Would you believe I was looking for the bathroom?"

"What?"

Akira turned around slowly, despite the girl's protests. He came to see a young woman about his age with shoulder length dark hair, large deep maroon eyes, and an impressively athletic build pointing a gun directly between his eyes. He softened his expression, showing he meant no harm toward her.

"Look, lady, I don't know who this Kaneshiro guy is, or even who you are, but whatever you're looking for here, I don't have anything to do with it. But I can tell you that there are some dangerous men that work here, doing dangerous shit. I don't think this is the place for you."

"I'm not afraid of their kind," the girl gritted her teeth, tightening her grip on her gun.

"I can tell, that's what I'm worried about." Akira looked her in the eyes, trying to gauge whether or not he was putting himself in more danger, whether she was unhinged. She had the sharp look of an intelligent, capable individual who was fully sure of themselves, but no scars or beady eyes like that of a yakuza. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Who are you?"

"Fine, if that's how it's gotta be. I'm Akira Kurusu, a friend," he nodded.

"How can I trust that you really are a friend?"

"Because I have no idea who you are, what you want, or any clue about what you've been talking about this whole time. But if you tell me, and I can help, I'll do so. I think our goals might be not far off of each other."

The young woman kept her gun at the ready, but she made no move to attack. "I'm Makoto Niijima," she stated. "I'm here for the owner of this drug operation, Jinya Kaneshiro."

To be continued…