Author's note: New chapters 44 & 45 as of 21/9/2023. I am sorry it took so long. I've planned this arc for years since even before the rewrite. As a result, there were too many things jumbled together. It took me a while to whittle the scenes down into a coherent storyline. Hope you enjoy the update.
Visit me on Tumblr for artworks and interesting tidbits: wormwoodwine
Chapter 44 The Unexpected
Warning: Depictions of hunting live animals.
Saying that Akai was confused was an understatement. First thing in the morning, he was at his door, staring at Vermouth and Kate standing before him. He looked up and down, taking in the literal mountain of belonging on his porch, not to mention Kate's bulging backpack. Then, Akai scanned Gin on the other side of the street who was loading up the car in the driveway. "Come again? Why am I babysitting?"
"Thanks to you, I am compelled to participate in a hunting trip. In Scotland. In January. In the middle of nowhere." Vermouth pressed her lips into a razor-thin line, ready to slice her opponent into pieces. "To sharpen my senses."
"I'm sorry. You've lost me." Akai forced an innocent smile, hoping to abate her anger.
Vermouth crossed his arms, her gaze turning Akai's face into a pincushion. "Oh, I don't know. Something about my expensive taste rubbing off on people. Then, there is this nonsense about losing my edge."
"I'm … so sorry." Akai had an overwhelming urge to curse. Gin you …. Narc! All he did was state an observation in a private conversation. Between men. Where was the honor?
Vermouth admired her beautifully manicured nails, which would soon be covered in muck. "So while I will be rolling on the cold, hard, damp ground, you will be babysitting. How does that sound?"
Akai sighed but still maintained a polite composure. "Perfect."
"I'm glad we agree." The corners of Vermouth's lips curled up into a smile. She crouched down and showered a very displeased Kate with kisses. "Bye, sweetie. Be good for Akai, okay?"
"I want to hunt too." Kate pouted.
"When you're a bit older, baby." Vermouth gently pinched her cheek in delight.
"Not fair. I want to go." Kate crossed her little arms, stomping her little feet.
"How about we bring back a deer and you decide what we cook?"
"A really big deer?" Kate's pout softened.
"A really big deer."
"Very well." Kate nodded, brightening up. "I forgive you."
"Alright, bye sweetie." Vermouth, again, peppered the girl's golden locks with kisses. By then, Gin was already in the car, honking. His hands were itching to pull the trigger and kill something. Vermouth rolled her eyes and prolonged the goodbye out of spite until the excessive honking drew dirty looks from passersby. "I'm coming!" She snapped and earned a moment of peace.
"Bye, mommy. Bye, rude daddy!" Kate waved her parents off until she couldn't see their car anymore.
"We're about to go for a walk. Fancy joining us?" Akai held the door and waited for Kate.
"I want to feed duckies!"
"Sure. Let's get you settled first." Akai watched Kate running to Akemi, giving her a hug, even giving his mother a hug, which Mary reciprocated—a small miracle in and of itself. Because his mother didn't do hugs, her children included. Then, his gaze landed on the mountain of luggage. A little prayer for his back and off he went. He could have sworn Vermouth double-packed everything just to mess with him.
-o0o-
Cairngorm mountains located in the eastern Highlands of Scotland, were famous for the rugged scenery, hunting tradition, and majestic red deer population. Dropping off their belongings in the sublime Dalmunzie Castle Hotel, Vermouth fought the urge to sink into the comfy bed, sample the local whisky, and shut down for the day. But no, she had to put on layers of clothes and plunge herself into the wilderness, trying not to freeze into a popsicle in the frigid weather. Because relaxing on vacations was a crime. Rubbing salt into her wounds, the muted colors of her hunting gears were unbelievably dull.
While waiting for their guide in the hotel lounge, Gin was lounging in an armchair by Vermouth's side, eyeing the distilleries in the pamphlet, he was looking too comfortable for her taste.
"Ah-ah." Vermouth reached over and confiscated the papers. "I'm not having fun. Neither are you."
"We're in Scotland. And I can't have a sip of scotch? Do you know how absurd you're being?"
"Is it something like tossing your spa-loving wife on a snowy hunting trip?" The universe had communicated with her, it was supposed to be miserable.
"You agree." He smirked.
She perched upon the arm of the sofa, bright as the morning sun, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "But I reserve my right to be a pain. Isn't it the cornerstone of our marriage? I do something I enjoy while you're being a pain about it?" Finally, she sealed her victory with a whisper in his ear. "Only in reverse."
Gin let out a groan of bottomless despair just in time for a gentleman in tweed hunting gear to approach.
"Mr. and Mrs. Vineyard?" the man asked and brushed aside a stray pepper lock of hair hanging over his forehead.
"For now." Gin scoffed.
"He means yes." With a smug smile, Vermouth translated the official language of Grumpyland into the common tongue and reached out to shake his hand.
A handshake later, the man introduced himself. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Callum Ross. Welcome to Scotland."
-o0o-
Callum—a professional hunter who was born and raised in the highlands just like his father and forefathers. On the short drive to his estate, he went over the essentials. "I've heard that you've had some experience?"
"Yes, mostly in the States and Japan, but it has been a while," Vermouth said.
Meanwhile, Gin sat back, admired the scenery, and let Vermouth lie to her heart's content. Oh, they had been hunting plenty, only it wasn't for venison. The thought put a smile on his face.
"I've set up a few targets. Why don't you put a few rounds down range? See how you fare and get started from there." Callum had learnt to judge his clients not by their pretty words, but by putting a rifle in their hands.
"Sounds perfect."
To be frank, Callum was expecting a good showing, but what happened later was absolutely ridiculous.
-o0o-
Callum brought the gentleman and lady to his private range after giving a short tour of his estate. He brought out his trusted Blaser R8 rifles outfitted with suppressors and pointed at the paper targets 100 meters away.
Callum nodded as the gentleman assumed the prone position with ease and showed sufficient knowledge about firearms. He could discern the wannabes from the experienced simply by watching them handling a gun. And the gentleman was no amateur. However, his prowess as a hunter was to be evaluated later. Simply being a good shot didn't make someone a good stalker. But by the third shot, even the stoic Callum had to give a round of applause. "Excellent grouping!"
All three bullet holes were touching. Callum had been hunting all of his adult life and he was closer to heaven than mortal plane. But he knew only a handful of hunters who could make those shots on a good day.
However, something was amiss about his clients. The result that would have earned any hunters' bragging right and a round at the pub seemingly went unsung. His clients were strangely reserved as if it was nothing special. As if it was business as usual.
The lady smiled ever warmly at her man. "Do you need a few more rounds?"
"No, I'm done." Paper targets weren't enough to scratch the itch, only further aggravating him.
The gentleman left the spot to his wife who also showed an ease around firearms. Her first shot was a little high but decent enough. Then, Callum's jaw dropped to the ground when she switched her dominant hands. The rifle was ambidextrous but only to make it more accessible to left-handed shooters.
Much to Callum's relief, the second shot was still a little high. This time to the opposite side. If she was a much better shot now, Callum didn't think his heart could handle the excitement. But to the lady's credit, she was shooting with a hot barrel. There was bound to be some inaccuracy.
Her third shot was an inch under the first two. Not bad at all. The fourth shot was even better, right next to the third, creating a curve line. The final shot widened the line into … Wait! The bullet holes look like … a smiley face?
The gentleman's scoff snapped Callum out of his trance of thought. "Show off."
"Just admit I'm a better shot." The lady smirked, getting up.
No. It's not … possible … is it? Callum stood still.
"Are we done here?" The gentleman crossed his arms, getting impatient.
The lady pressed her lips against the man's cheek for a kiss, only to find him turning away. She chuckled at his defiance, gently poking his cheek with her forefinger. "Touchy."
It might or might not have been a wounded pride acting out.
Then, she turned to Callum while tenderly stroking the gentleman's arm. "I'm sorry in advance. My dear husband sprung this trip on me so I'm going to be antagonizing the whole way."
Callum was at a loss for words.
-o0o-
Callum led the way as the head stalker while the couple formed a single file behind him. Gin, in the middle, trailed closely behind Callum. His fingers itched for some action. Vermouth's hiking staff pierced through the thin layer of snow covering the tall grass, making a strong foothold to battle the steep incline. On one side, a gentle glen was simmering under the sun, flowing and winding between patches of white covering the moorland. On the other side, the rising slope and icy mud streak tested her endurance and awareness. A soul-stirring scenery if only drizzling rain and howling winds stopped smacking her face. "You do know how to make a girl feel special."
"I haven't heard you complain once before." Gin let out a soft laugh. Certainly not about shooting living things. This kind of hiking was a cakewalk compared to their active days. No chance of getting a bullet through the skull or a knife to the throat. He knew for a fact she had trekked through the woods with three broken ribs and a bullet in her thigh.
"Because it was a job and I got paid."
"So there is a price?" Gin turned around and flashed her a smug grin.
"Please, you can't afford my rates." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and threw a mocking grin right back at him.
Then, Callum signaled as they approached a group of deers. Callum brought out the binoculars and examined the herd of about ten hinds and a stag over the ridge. The majestic animals were too busy grazing to notice the light disturbance. Suddenly, Callum dropped to his knees and they quickly followed suit. After belly-crawling through the frigid and wet terrain, they reached a grassy mound. They froze for half an hour in one spot while Callum picked the prey. Finally, Callum pointed at an old hind suitable for culling, which was straddling behind the main group.
Gin carefully readied his rifle, setting up the shot while making as little noise as possible. His blood roared, adrenaline coursing his veins, yet his hands were steady. He aimed for a heart or double lung shot at 200 meters away and waited for her to broadside or when the deer side was completely unobstructed and perpendicular to the hunter.
The hind was licking her hoof, oblivious to the danger. Little did she know that her rear facing at a certain angle was the only reason she was still alive. Slowly, she turned and turned until a bullet pierced her heart, clipping off the top of her vital organ. The animal staggered then fell and dyed the snow red while the rest of her herd remained clueless. With the strong wind and the suppressor, the deers had no idea that a fellow member had fallen.
"Perfect shot." Callum nodded.
-o0o-
Once the herd left, Gin took it upon himself to bleed and gut the deer. Vermouth couldn't help but chuckle at a revitalized Gin crouching and grinning over bloody entrails. What a sight! He was like a little kid … no, he was as pumped as Kate's opening Christmas presents, albeit tinted in macabre.
"A healthy animal." Callum examined the stomach and deemed it to be fit for human consumption. "We can have lunch and find another hind for you later, Chris."
"I'm good. Let him shoot all he wants so I don't have to hear about hunting over Christmas. Again." Vermouth stood behind Gin and tapped his shoulder. "Get it out of your system."
The man's smugness was overflowing everywhere.
Vermouth continued. "Oh, I almost forgot. Katie said to bring back and I quote 'a really big deer'."
Gin's grin spread from ear to ear, his bloody knife leaving a crimson trail on the grassy snow. "Does she even know how big a deer is?"
"No, but she is excited about eating one." Vermouth turned to a confused Callum and explained. "Our daughter. She's four."
"How blessed!" Callum beamed and picked up his rucksack. "We can't disappoint the little lady now, can we? But I do have some larded venison ready to go."
"Excellent." Vermouth's lips curved slightly into a faint smile.
-o0o-
After dropping the deers at the butcher, Vermouth relished the modern amenities that a luxury hotel provided. In the bathroom, she checked herself in the mirror and applied an extra thick layer of lotion on her skin, ready to rest her weary bones. "Two hinds in a day. Are you happy now, Gin?" But no answer came. "Gin?" She stepped into the bedroom and little made sense.
Gin was humming, rolling out two sleeping bags in a fully furnished luxury hotel room.
"What on earth are you doing?" Vermouth crossed her arms, her head motioning at the king-size bed a few steps away. "I assume you know what a bed is?"
"You vetoed my camping trip, I vetoed your bed." Gin grinned, fluffing the sleeping bags. Originally, he wanted a winter hunting trip in the wilderness—the chopping-your-own-firewood kind of trip, but Vermouth's incredulous glares foiled his plan in its infancy. Here was the workaround. He looked around and taunted her with the surroundings. "At least you have your extravagant amenity."
She inhaled the longest breath of her life before she could manage a single word. "You want me to sleep on the floor?"
He smirked. "There are sleeping bags."
She hollered, "On the floor!"What is the point of booking a hotel?"
"A roof over your head?"
"Because I would have said no otherwise." She pointed out his trickery with a pinched smile.
"You said anything." He slowly and smugly reminded her, relishing his victorious moment. "Welcome to anything."
"You're a brave man, Gin." She sauntered to him and tapped her sharp nails on his face. "Very brave."
Unfazed, he smirked. "Good night."
"Uhm-hm." Her lips stretched thinner. Her eyes narrowed, hiding the merciless wheels turning in her head.
-o0o-
Gin had one of best nights ever, lured to sleep by the sweet taste of victory.
"How are you doing, sweetie?" Vermouth's voice seeped into his ears. When he came about, Vermouth had already settled in on the couch, video-calling Katie. The chitchat must have awakened him.
Kate's usual energetic self echoed from the phone as she temporarily paused her pancakes-gorging quest. "Great! We fed duckies yesterday. Lots of duckies."
Smug Gin entered the conversation and towered over Vermouth. If this was a cartoon, he would be a villainous parading peacock wearing a monocle and a top hat, smoking a pipe with his chest puffed out. "Sleep well?"
"Strangely enough, no." Vermouth scanned her man from top to bottom. The corner of her lips curled into a hook. "On the account that you're still breathing. I've got a lot of time to think. Poisons are too easy. Knives are too messy. Guns are too traceable. All tough choices, Gin."
And he bellowed out a sweeping laugh all the way to the bathroom.
"What's wrong with daddy?"
"Relishing his last moments on earth." Vermouth pressed her lips into an acid smile. "You might not have a father when I'm done with him."
"Sowy?" Kate abandoned her manners and talked with her mouth full of pancakes and her lips coated in maple syrup.
"We hunt in the middle of nowhere. The hills are steep, sweetie. He might slip up somewhere. Never to be seen again." A sugariest smile flashed across Vermouth's face as she calmly and sweetly detailed the possible future disappearance of her husband.
Akai's internal alarm instantly wailed off. He interrupted the video call while trying his best not to burn the eggs. "Is everything alright, Vermouth?"
Vermouth slightly tilted her head. "How about you make your mother sleep on the floor and see how that goes?"
Mary let out a minuscule chuckle into her cup of tea.
"In sleeping bags!" Gin called out mid-shave with a razor in his hand.
"On the floor. End of story."
Akai closed his eyes and winced. "Sorry, I ask."
"Oh, not nearly as much as your nemesis is going to be."
-o0o-
The gentle sun glistened off the last melting snow. Peaks and hills weaved endlessly into a breathtaking landscape with the sound of streams rushing down rocky slopes echoing in the background. Callum inhaled deeply and let the crisp air refresh his lungs, taking in the majestic scenery before he fetched the packed lunch from his Argo Conquest, which was heavy with a fresh deer in the back, and enjoyed a quick bite among giants. He left the bickering lovebirds some space and stayed close to his beloved ATV. They reminded him of himself and his late wife. Ah, Bless her heart!
If only Callum knew what the lovebirds were whispering.
Vermouth leaned down and wrapped her arms around Gin's neck as he was sitting on a relatively dry rock, nursing a sandwich, and minding his own business. "Not a bad place to die, don't you think?"
A chuckle bubbled in Gin's throat. He grabbed her wrist and tossed a smirk back at her. "I'd like to see you try."
"How brave!" Vermouth whispered, her lips grazing his ears.
Meanwhile, Akai was having a crisis of his own. Yesterday, he opened the door to an angry Vermouth, which was bad enough. Today, he opened the door to someone much worse. Akai stared at the blond man in front of him for a second and smiled. "Bourbon? Maybe, you prefer Rei Furuya?"
Bourbon scoffed and placed the heavy bag in his hand down on the porch. "The Detective Boys sent their regards. Goodbye then."
Akai arched an eyebrow, his amusement deepening by the second. "You come all the way from Japan just to deliver some souvenirs."
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm on official business." Bourbon enjoyed his time at Cafe Poirot and later became a regular. He often ran into Shinichi, Ran, Shiho, and the kids—the usual suspects. Then, Shinichi just happened to deduce his upcoming trip to London through a few signs he let slip and the kids happened to overhear. Things got a little out of hand. They still very much loved their Subaru Okiya. So much that his "no" got lost in the wave of their enthusiasm. Literally. He could not get a word in edgeways.
"Rei! Come in. Join us for dinner." Akemi beamed and rushed to the door.
"No, Akemi. I—"
"Don't be a stranger. Come. Come." Akemi grabbed his wrist. And before Bourbon realized, he was already sitting at the dining table next to Mary.
Bourbon, in his bewilderment, nodded at the elder Mrs. Akai, who returned with a curt nod of acknowledgment.
"So tell me. What do you know about this Higo person? Shiho wouldn't tell me anything." Akemi, while radiating joy, menacingly scooped a mountain of rice into his bowl.
Bourbon stared at the oversized portion in front of him and realized with a cold sweat. Ah, this is an interrogation.
Akemi had heard of Bourbon's excellent observation and keen insight. She was on a quest to find out everything about the man her beloved sister was dating. Shinichi, while a great detective, was one of Higo's acquaintances; his opinion might have been biased. However, there was one critical aspect Akemi didn't consider.
Sitting across from Bourbon, an innocently sweet girl chimed in, her bright blue eyes positively twinkling. "Your name is Bobo?"
Oh … right … Katie is here …
-o0o-
Katie hugging Mary.
Kate held out her arms: Mary, hug!
Mary: No.
Kate pouted: Why not?
Mary: I don't want to.
Kate: Don't you like me?
Mary: I did not say that.
Kate: So you like me?
Mary: I have no opinion of you.
Kate: That's an opinion.
Mary: You just won't stop, will you?
Kate held out her arms and smiled sweetly.
Mary: You are your mother's daughter.
Kate: Thank you!
Mary: It's not a compliment.
Kate: Are you sure? It sounds like one.
Mary sighed: Three seconds.
With Katie in her arms, Mary resigned to her fate.
-o0o-
Vermouth's ambidextrous theory.
The scene where Vermouth shoots the gasoline tank with her left hand has been bothering me for years and it might very well be a plot hole with no significant hidden meaning. But on the off chance it is not, let's entertain some theories. (Also, shooting a gasoline tank with normal bullets doesn't make it explode - tested by MythBusters episode 15 & 38). I will mainly use the Head to Head with the Black Organization Arc (chapters 429-434 or episode 345) as references.
First and most popular theory: Vermouth is ambidextrous.
Ambidextrous people are those who use both their left and right hand equally well. The keyword here is equally. In chapters 433 and 434 (and basically, every other chapter), Vermouth can be seen mainly using her right hand. A true ambidextrous person often switches between two hands spontaneously because it makes no difference which hand they use.
So Vermouth isn't ambidextrous? Maybe. Only 1% of the world population is naturally born ambidextrous. However, most people who are considered to be ambidextrous were originally left-handed. They learn to use their right hand later in life. It was common in the past for schools to force left-handed kids to change their dominant hands (I've personally witnessed this phenomenon in elementary school).
Perhaps Vermouth was originally left-handed, then she learned to use her right hand either because of external force or personal reasons. Vermouth is a master of disguise and most of the world's population is right-handed. To perfect her disguise, she needs to use both hands equally well.
Which brings me to the next theory: Mixed handedness or cross-domination.
While often confused with ambidextrous, mixed-handed people are those who favor one hand for certain tasks and the opposite hand for other things. For example, baseball players Rickey Henderson and Cleon Jones bat right and throw left. Perhaps, Vermouth favors her left hand for shooting seeing that she shoots better with her left hand. In chapter 433, Jodie outshoots Vermouth when Vermouth draws her gun with her right hand. However, in chapter 434, Vermouth can shoot a gasoline tank backward while aiming with a mirror. If it is not some convenient plot hole, Vermouth clearly shoots better using her left hand.
And the last theory: Vermouth is left-handed.
Vermouth was born left-handed, but due to the nature of her work, she often has to disguise as a right-handed person. As time passes, people who know she is left-handed dwindle to none. Then, she keeps up a charade that she is right-handed to hide the fact she shoots better with her left hand. Imagine that she is in a perilous situation, she could catch her enemy by surprise using her left hand.
This is my personal headcanon which I will be applying to my fanfics. A little spoiler for those who read Vineyard and Gin–A cat's life.
Of course, it is possible for Vermouth to be right-handed and learn to use her left hand. But why would she shoot better with her left hand? Possible, but unlikely. Aiming with a mirror and shooting backward isn't something you can train for. It requires a degree of intuition and inane talent.
PS: Vermouth could have acted inept earlier in chapter 433 to make Jodie let down her guard, since she had Calvados backing her. Which makes it seem like she doesn't shoot well with her right hand. When the situation went to worst, she utilized all her skills and hit the gas tank. She could very well be truly ambidextrous.
-o0o-