Chapter Text
"Excuse me."
"Sorry."
"Pardon me."
Nanami Kento filtered through the expressions as he made his way past the crowds of people darting in his way. He had no time to spare. Zenin Toji was in his sights, weaving through the herd of people in front of him. The busy shopping district was bustling, distracting, easy to get lost in the crowd. Zenin Toji did not hide his presence, for he was unlike others whom Nanami Kento had brought down. Head high and a skip in his step, Zenin Toji took his time taking in the sights.
Nanami cursed him. Against the clock, his time was running out. Zenin Toji was going down today. As much as he would like to cause a scene right there in the street, there were too many watching. Security cameras would catch his face, unsuspecting pedestrians with their mobile phones and cameras would capture the take down and have his face plastered over the evening news. He had to bid his ever-dwindling time.
Despite Zenin Toji’s large build, he moulded with the crowd. He blended in without even trying. Nanami could not risk losing him. In a brisk pace, he shoved past the people swarming around him, eyes set on the messy black hair slipping in and out of sight.
"Hey, you!" A father cried, clipping the back of Nanami's shaggy coat after his son was knocked out of the way.
Nanami sighed and hauled his badge from his pocket, "I'm a detective," he said, not stopping the pace and clearing through. Whether or not the father believed a shaggily dressed bum to be a thief or a real detective, it did not matter. All he cared for was Zenin Toji.
As he regained his groove, Zenin Toji was out of sight.
“Fuck.”
He searched the crowd, eyes scanning over the backs of heads and shoulders, picking out nothing.
Not today. He was not going to let Zenin Toji escape again, not today. Too long had Nanami been on the man's back, bringing him into the station and having the useless braindead Pigs let the criminal out on the base of 'not enough evidence'.
The phrase had been uttered to Nanami far too many times for him to remain sane. Zenin Toji was an assassin for God's sake! The infamous Zenin Clan- a mob family packed full of ruthless gangsters and criminals, with countless killed and the blood on their hands to prove it- always escaped the law. Even with irrefutable evidence, the stinking cops down at the station refuse to hold them accountable.
He had been on Zenin Toji's goddamn ass for years, finding him in the middle of a crime scene and with even witnesses to testify to the man’s crimes, but as soon as a court date was set and Zenin Toji’s ‘lawyers’ had their talks with him, each witness had either backed down or ‘left town’- Nanami knew well what the implications were for the witnesses.
The street came to a crossroad. Swimming bodies passed between the streets. Nanami had a choice to make. Almost like a gift from the gods, his problem of the lost assassin came to light, the man’s black hair poked from the heads of the crowd.
Back on his stride, Nanami followed.
More turns and roads, not once did he lose sight again. The crowd whittled to a few passing bodies. In his state, Nanami would stick out like a sore thumb, obvious and out of place. All it would take was a turn and Zenin Toji would find him standing, waiting.
Reluctantly, to win this cold war between worlds, Nanami dropped back, the distance between them growing. He groaned and slipped off his glasses, leaning against a streetlamp and composing himself. Sweat trickled down his forehead. It was too warm a day to be wearing his shaggy coat and beanie.
Undercover for the past three weeks, Nanami had been watching Zenin Toji make his rounds about the streets. Posing as a homeless man, it was not hard to become invisible to the passers-by, ignoring him, looking the other way with a guilty frown. The beard he had grown was annoying, too itchy on his chin. He could not wait to come off the mission and have a decent shave for once.
He slipped the glasses back onto his face, scanning the crowd, catching the man slip down an alleyway before he set off once again.
As he walked, a short robust man with wide eyes full of terror bumped into him. He wore a gown, hair caked with gel and mousse spiking into what appeared to resemble an onion stem.
"S-sorry," the gruff voice came. He met Nanami's eyes, shifting side to side and scuttled away.
Easy.
Nanami let the man filter into the crowd before he followed. There was no need to worry about losing Zenin Toji. He had his own tour guide leading him straight to his prey. He stalked the man through the people. A sudden left turn and the man shuffled through a side alley littered with overturned bins and upside-down trolleys. Nanami hung back. He plastered himself to the wall, prowling closer and closer.
The short man jolted to a halt beside a stack of cardboard boxes.
"Were you followed?" A raspy voice came from the shadows.
Nanami knew that voice. His plan worked.
The short man turned to the mouth of the alley. Nanami dropped behind a bin, holding his breath, and slowing his heart.
"N-no, I'm sure of it," the short man came.
"Where is my son?" Zenin Toji asked.
The short man cleared his throat, a sudden confidence washed over him. "Ah ah, Toji," he stood straight, "y'see, I'm not busting my ass out here for dirt pay, y'hear?"
Zenin Toji did not answer.
"See here, if you're asking for my information, I'm asking for my pay."
"We agreed seventy-five thousand."
"Seventy-five is an ugly, clunky number, don’t you agree?" Nanami tested his boundaries, peering over the top of the bin to watch the short man throw his arms about, taunting the man in the shadows. “How ‘bout you make it a hundred and fifty? Nice, round number. Surely worthy of my efforts.”
Silence. Nanami wondered if Toji had walked off before the man’s voice came. “I’ll have Getou sort it when he gets out.”
Getou. Nanami was the one to make the arrest two years ago under domestic terrorism. He remembered the day he broke down the door and found the man waiting in his garments, a detonator in one hand and his phone ringing in the other. The pride Nanami felt when the judge called for a minimum of fifteen years was deserving.
“He’s out already,” the short man’s smile slipped from his words. Nanami felt his eye twitch. “Good behaviour. Not to mention the whack of cash your lot paid for his bail.”
No, Nanami’s throat tightened. That could not be possible. There was hard evidence for wrongdoing. The whole department saw Suguru Getou’s setup, complete with hand written notes for the perfect bomb.
“Hm? Is that so?” Toji teased. “Good for him.” He stepped from behind the boxes into the shrinking light. “Tell me about my son.” He grabbed the shorter man by the collar, “where is he? How is he?” Nanami dropped out of sight.
The shorter man threw Toji’s hand from his shirt, “he’s fine. He’s studying in Tokyo. Heard he’s one of a kind. Smart kid. Wish his old man was more like him.”
Toji ignored the insult. “Tokyo,” he echoed the city as if it was the answer to all his problems. “Thank you, Jogo. I won’t need anything else from you.”
Nanami’s eyes shut on impact of the gunshot. Ears ringing, he leapt from his hiding spot and watched Togo hit the ground. Blood pooling between his eyes. Toji caught sight of Nanami. He offered the detective a smirk, his scarred lip curling into something ugly.
Nanami reached for his holster.
Toji tossed the gun and bolted past Nanami.
Into the crowded street the man ran. Nanami gave up trying for his gun and followed suit. He broke into the swarm of people, shouts and hollers rising from the people as they watched the man run.
“Stop him!” Nanami yelled into the crowd. His voice drowned in the panic. Toji turned a sharp corner.
Nanami followed. He knew the street well. In the centre lay an operations room where the Zenin clan would gather and cheer to another successful escape. It was an old café, Nanami had passed it a dozen times, eying the men inside, profiling them to the criminals they were.
He slammed his shoulder into the door and opened it with one hand, the other latched to his gun.
Of course, the café ran like a usual café, serving hot drinks and baked goods to the public. It was a favourite spot for the criminals, blending into the crowd. A few nobodies let out a loose scream at the sight of Nanami and his gun.
Sitting with his hands in the air, Toji gave him a smile. “Kento-”
“You are under arrest for murder, accounts of domestic terrorism and the intent to assassinate.” Nanami cocked the gun at Toji’s face.
Beside Toji sat Getou, the man smiled at him. “Oh, Nanami! Good afternoon, nice to see you again. It’s been a while.” He let out a laugh and pushed himself to his feet. “You know, swinging your gun about like that isn’t too polite. Look, you’re scaring the customers.”
Nanami flipped his badge to the public without tearing his gaze from the man. “You should be in jail.”
“I should be a lot of places, I’m a busy man.” He shrugged his shoulders, “alas, we cannot have it all. Nanami, you should know this by now.” He walked around his table, testing the waters, seeing how far he could push Nanami before he found a bullet in his chest. Nanami gave the gun a nod, as if Getou forgot it was there. Calm, composed, Getou sighed and spread his arms out to the detective. “Aren’t you lonely? Don’t you get tired of running about with that gun? You know you won’t bring down the family.”
The door’s bells jingled. Getou gave a wave to the onslaught off police officers entering the café. Totally unfazed- the man made Nanami want to tear out his hair.
Slowly, a policeman took out his handcuffs and placed Zenin Toji under arrest, slipping past Getou and his stupid, pierced ears Nanami wanted to rip from his head.
“See ya later, Getou,” Toji smiled as he was shoved out the door.
“Enjoy your time,” Getou waved him off.
Police officers buzzed around the café, they sat beside customers and took accounts of the arrest. Nanami knew when it was time to leave.
As he approached the door, Getou called to him. “I think you best hand that badge of yours over before someone mistakes your games for our business. I know Mahito is trigger happy. You’d give up if you knew any better, Nanami. You wouldn’t like to see the wrath of the Zenin clan.”
“I’ll arrest you all.” Nanami replaced his gun back in the holster.
“Is that so? Ah, well, who am I to stop you.” Nanami had enough. He left the café and ignored Getou through the window, smiling wide and bidding him a cheerful: “good luck!”