Kirishima eyes the white van on the security monitor carefully. Guests started filing into the hotel about half an hour ago. Although he's technically in charge of the entire security for the party, he convinced the King's advisers that he was better suited in the control room where he can have a birds eye view. It also means that he can keep track of the Heroes' positions while avoiding those who might recognize him.
"The King seems really scary," says Uchimura, his chin on the table and his orange hair falling messily over his eyes. "I only saw a glimpse."
"Well, he is the King for a reason," replies Seo, adjusting her black fedora over her platinum blonde hair and wrinkled nose.
"Are you both bored or something?" Kirishima asks, turning his chair and leaning back. "This isn't the time to gossip. Seo, call the detail downstairs and let them know there's a white van a few blocks away they need to get rid of. I don't care how."
"Sure thing, boss," she replies, pulling out her phone.
Kirishima knows the van is a diversion planted by the Heroes. He just hopes they are all ready for what's to come and can hold their own.
"Um, boss," says Seo, covering the receiver. "The King's advisers want you downstairs."
Kirishima pauses, trying to hide his confusion. "Did something happen?"
She shakes her head, still listening to the voice on the other end. "The King is specifically asking for you...yes, I'm telling him...it's urgent and they need you there right now."
Kirishima grips the armrests until his knuckles turn white. Shit. Being near the party will definitely jeopardize his cover. Even though he's changed his appearance enough, it only takes one person to blow his identity.
Seo is suddenly standing in front of him, fitting the fedora over his head. She looks at him with glittering, blue eyes. "I can tell you're nervous, Isami," she says. "But, there's nothing to worry about. You've proven yourself. They trust you. You're not in trouble."
Kirishima smiles. "You're right. I'll go down now."
Before he can stand, Seo pushes him back down on the chair and plants her lips on his. Kirishima hesitates before kissing back and tucking his hand under her chin. Before pulling away, he softly bites her bottom lip.
Her cheeks turn red and she giggles. "Love when you do that." She tugs the rim of the hat over his eyes. "Keep it. Looks good on you."
"Thanks," he says. He gets up and makes his way across the room.
"Hurry back," Seo calls out right before he closes the door.
Kirishima exhales. He looks down the long, empty hallway. Not a soul around. Kirishima opts for the stairwell since he's only on the fourth floor and it's a bit more secure. He digs his phone out of his pocket and texts Todoroki.
[9:32 p.m.] I don't have eyes anymore
He immediately deletes the message after he's sure it was sent. Fortunately, he'll be near the King to know exactly what he's up to, but how to relay that to the Heroes will be the tricky part. His phone vibrates.
[9:34 p.m.] Teams C and E are in
Kirishima holds his breath. Team C are covert agents posing as caterers for the party. They must have rolled in while cocktails were being served. And Team E are Todoroki's hand-selected special agents marking the King. If they managed to sneak in, that means the diversion worked better than they hoped.
Kirishima exits the stairwell on the first floor. The hallway is filled with people, all chattering loudly, many with champagne glasses in their hands. There's a band playing in the background and a voice over the PA system letting everyone know to join them in the dining hall soon.
Kirishima maneuvers his way through the crowd and across the dining area. He can spot the Heroes in their catering uniforms. They're watching each guest a little bit too closely, their gazes fixed on everyone's movements as opposed to serving and mingling with them. Don't be so inconspicuous, he wants to scream. He makes his way to the back of the room and through a few heavily guarded doors. He stops in front of a tall, bulky guard to the King's waiting room.
"Isami Hayama," Kirishima introduces himself to the guard. He takes the hat off and twirls it apprehensively in his hands. He's only met the King once before and it was brief. He's never spoken to him; all correspondences typically happened with his advisers. He wonders what he's done to garner a private audience with His Majesty.
The door opens to a normal lounging area filled with bright, fancy loveseats. A man in glasses and a blue-green yukata is standing in front of a large painting of the Sunrise Over the Eastern Sea. He's no taller than Kirishima, lanky and relatively young with dark, shoulder-length hair tied at the back of his neck. He turns to Kirishima and gives him a wide, infectious smile.
"Your Majesty," greets Kirishima, bowing.
The King laughs. "Isami, please, don't do that. And call me Makoto. Come on in. Can I get you a drink?"
Kirishima starts for the bar cart on the other side of the room. "Please, let me -"
"Nonsense, you're my guest." Makoto gets to the cart first and singles out a bottle of whiskey. He showboats the expensive bottle in his slender hands and raises an eyebrow. His smile curls up to his ear as he floats the bottle in front of Kirishima like a toy to a cat, mouth open in mock excitement. He pours into a couple of glasses.
"Thank you," says Kirishima, as he reaches to take his drink. They clink their glasses in a silent toast. "Sir -"
"Makoto," he corrects him. "You know, that nickname - The King - is a brand that my advisers created, including me being a recluse. I suppose I don't come off as very intimidating." He takes a seat on one of the sofas and gestures to Kirishima to join him. "Sometimes I wonder if the guild pledges their loyalty to me or some fabricated, hell raising tyrant."
Kirishima takes a seat beside him. He notices the King's smooth fingers caressing the glass. "Makoto," he starts, the name feeling foreign on his tongue. "My loyalty is to you. I don't care what your disposition is."
"So intense!" Makoto laughs, nudging him and scooting closer. "But, thank you, Isami. That means a lot. Still, I sometimes wish I could live up to their image." He drains his glass and there is a downcast look on his face. "You ever feel like you're just playing pretend?"
Kirishima freezes, clenching his sweaty hands into fists as they lay on his thighs. Is he still talking about himself? He quickly runs through all the scenarios in his head where he could have possibly made a mistake. He can't know. I've been really careful. A soft hand wraps around his own and takes the glass from him. He looks up and sees Makoto studying him with warm, brown eyes.
"The announcement tonight is a decoy," Makoto says abruptly.
Oh no. Kirishima's heart is pumping fast.
Makoto continues, his tone matter-of-fact and calm. "We know there's a mole. They've been feeding intel to the Heroes for who knows how long."
It takes every fiber in Kirishima's being not to react. Fear stirs in his belly. "The party's been compromised," he finally says. He leans back on the seat, trying to stay composed.
Makoto nods. "We surmise the caterers are Heroes in disguise."
"That's my fault." Kirishima takes the blame, wanting to see his reaction. It's a risk, but I have to be sure he doesn't suspect me. "I...I'm the one who hired the catering company."
"Isami." Makoto takes both of Kirishima's hands and strokes his knuckles with the back of his thumbs. "It's not your fault. They must have intercepted the help right before the party."
Kirishima searches Makoto's eyes, which are round, beautiful, and trusting. The way he brushes his hands are tender, kind. Kirishima resists pulling his hand away. There's something off about this guy, he thinks. But, I can't help but admire him for some reason.
"What would you have me do?" Kirishima asks.
"Well," Makoto squeezes his hands softly, "We went through a process of elimination and have identified about 40 guests who we think could potentially be the mole. I want you to find them and escort them to the ballroom on the second floor."
Kirishima nods. "Okay. What are you planning to do with them?"
"Eliminate them." Makoto's tone is light, almost as if he's talking about the weather. "The bloodbath will be broadcast on a projector screen in the dining hall as a warning to anyone who even thinks about betraying the guild."
Kirishima manages to keep his hands from shaking and maintain eye contact with Makoto as if he agrees with him whole-heartedly. In fact, it's the most reserved he's felt this whole time. It almost shocks him. We have contingency plans, he reassures himself. Trust the Heroes.
Makoto stands suddenly and walks over to the door he entered from. He taps on it lightly and the door opens. Kirishima watches as the leader exchanges a few words with the guard outside. A note is passed on to King and the door closes.
"Here is the list of people you need to send to the 2nd floor," Makoto says, walking back over to where Kirishima is sitting. He hands him the note. "I expect you've memorized the invitation list."
"Yes, of course," Kirishima answers, taking the piece of paper.
Makoto hoists the bottom of his yukata a bit and crouches in front of him. He places his hands on Kirishima's knees and looks up at him, eyes twinkling.
A feeling of relief washes over Kirishima and he smiles in spite of himself.
"Isami," Makoto says gently. "I'm going to need your phone."
"My phone?" Kirishima slips the note into his jacket pocket and clutches his cell tightly. "Do you doubt me?"
Makoto chuckles. "You wouldn't be here if I did." He uses Kirishima's legs to prop himself up and he's now towering over him. He extends his hand. "This is just for my own peace of mind. There's no one I trust absolutely. Only people I trust more than others."
Kirishima pulls out his phone and hands it over to the King, who takes his arm and yanks him up. He leans and whispers in Kirishima's ear, "You have a good heart, Isami. It's the reason why you caught my attention so early. If that good heart of yours compels you to save even one person on that list, I'll ruin the one person you care most about."
Kirishima goes numb. "Don't touch Seo...please."
Makoto pulls away, beaming. "She'll be fine. I know it because you're going to do as you're told. Time is of the essence, so I'd like everyone on the second floor in 20 minutes." He turns around and walks to the door, Kirishima following closely.
The King opens the door, without knocking this time, wide enough for Kirishima to get through. "Commence with preparations," Makoto tells the guard. "Isami will take care of the rest."
"What about the Heroes?" the guard asks.
"Let them be for now," says Makoto, flashing a wink at Kirishima. "I'd like them to see the show."
"And Shoto Todoroki?"
Kirishima's chest tightens. He gives Makoto a concerned look. "The No. 2 Hero?" Kirishima inquires.
"Yes, they found him a couple of minutes ago," says Makoto. "Bring him to me. Isami, you better get to work."