One day later on, he suddenly thought of that shop. After work, he made a special detour to eat there, wanting to understand why Yamawashi was so fond of that specific place alone. But just as if Yamawashi would never return, that shop had also closed down, having become a completely different restaurant.
He prided himself on having some knowledge of culinary arts; no matter the cuisine, as long as he had tasted it once, he could replicate it. However, he had never sat at that dining table with Yamawashi, which meant he was destined to be unable to recreate that similar flavor in a bento.
Hiromitsu Morofushi chewed the rice slowly, trying to analyze Yamawashi's taste from it.
He knew too little about Yamawashi.
By then, they had confirmed their relationship after only three meetings.
The first time they met was during a mission, Yamawashi seemed extremely cold; the second time was also during a mission, when he returned the brooch Yamawashi had picked up during a previous mission; Yamawashi thanked him politely, but his attitude remained indifferent; the third time was when he received a call from Yamawashi, whose cold, clear voice came through the phone, asking to meet up.
When he arrived at the agreed location, Yamawashi was leaning against the edge of the rooftop, smoking. He hadn't known that this person smoked, because Yamawashi seemed so detached from the world's distractions that it was hard to imagine him being addicted to anything.
"What is it you wanted to see me for?" he asked.
A thin veil of smoke drifted from Yamawashi's lips. With a cigarette held between his fingertips, he glanced over sideways; for a moment, his misty gray eyes seemed to merge with the winding smoke, drifting away with the wind in the blink of an eye.
Do you want to be with me?
What do you mean by that?
It's probably love.
.. Why?
Ash fell on his hem, but Yamawashi ignored it, saying nonchalantly, "Because you look like you're in need of help."
At that time, he was convinced that those words were a threat; no matter how he looked at it, it was nothing but blatant profiteering.
But at that time, he was indeed in a desperate situation.
So he accepted Yamawashi's proposal.
They had only met three times, the words they had spoken did not exceed thirty sentences. The closest they had ever been was a moment when two cigarettes were held close together, hands raised to shield them from the rooftop wind, using the flickering light of a spark.
Hiromitsu Morofushi lowered his eyes and looked at the bento in front of him, which was less than half eaten.
They had different tastes, did not understand each other, rarely communicated; though they were a couple in name, they had never even shared a single kiss.
When he found himself driven into a corner, when he was meticulously planning to take all the blame upon himself before everything was completely exposed, was Yamawashi also thinking that way?
Because he looked like he was in need of help.
He suddenly felt a strong urge to say something to Yamawashi, anything at all.
**
Buzz.
It was the vibration of a message being received on a mobile phone.
The blonde woman rested her chin on one hand and asked with interest, "Is it him?"
Aotsuki replied to the text, put away his phone, selectively ignored that question.
Vermouth was not offended, finding it merely amusing. "How strange, Yamawashi, that you would actually be interested in disguise."
She raised her glass, her voice laced with a smile. "For someone who clearly hates disguises the most, you were completely unwilling to learn any disguise techniques back then. If it weren't for that person's blatant favoritism toward you.."
The young man sitting opposite her clinked his glass against hers politely, his reaction much more indifferent than expected, only saying, "Please, don't call me Yamawashi."
Sorry, I'm used to calling you that," Vermouth said with a light laugh, covering her mouth. "Is that all? The techniques I just mentioned are only the basics.
That's enough," Aotsuki said. "I've caused you a lot of trouble this time, thank you.
If you really want to thank me, then tell me about what happened between you and Scotland.
The bill is settled." Aotsuki stood up. "Sorry, I have to go.
**
On the way back, passing by a supermarket, Aotsuki paused at the entrance and ultimately decided to go inside and take a look.
He wandered through a certain product section when a sales clerk approached him enthusiastically. "Sir, what would you like to buy? I can introduce some items to you!"
He said, "A pillow."
He added, "No need for an introduction, thank you."
He stood there for a while, finally buying nothing, before turning and leaving.
When he returned to the safe house empty-handed, the lights were still on.
Scotland was sitting on the sofa, reading a book.
"Welcome back," Scotland said, looking up.
Aotsuki stood in the entryway, facing that greeting, he felt as lost as when standing in a supermarket's bedding section facing a bunch of pillows that looked much the same but were actually worlds apart in price.
Scotland looked much the same as before, but just like those pillows that look similar yet have different price tags, there were actually differences between them—such as the fabric, the stitching technique, the filling of the core.
He had heard all of this from the sales clerk while he was explaining things to other customers.
Hiromitsu Morofushi put down the book in his hands. He thought Yamawashi would go straight to the bedroom as he remembered, but Yamawashi did not; instead, he slowly walked over to the front of the sofa.
He was a bit surprised and spoke with a smile, "Today's mission.."
"It's been a long time since we've done this," Yamawashi interrupted.
The sounds in the living room suddenly ceased, the sound of water droplets hanging precariously from the kitchen faucet breaking the deathly silence as they fell.
Yamawashi's movements carried an uncompromising strength, Hiromitsu Morofushi did not refuse, allowing himself to be pushed down by his shoulders.
As the shadow descended, he clearly felt the sofa beneath him sink slightly under the added weight, swaying gently before returning to its original position.
Everything in this safe house was clearly expensive and high-end, which once led him to believe that Yamawashi was someone with extremely high standards for quality of life, yet Yamawashi also ate discounted bento boxes for dinner day after day.
A hand rested on his cheek, steadying his head and steadying his wandering thoughts.
Fingers with thin calluses and scars lingered on the side of his neck, as if they wouldn't rest until every inch of skin had been personally caressed.
This is a bit too..
It's too strange.
As if to confirm his doubts, a chill erupted from the nape of his neck the next second. His instinct for danger instantly spread through his entire body. Hiromitsu Morofushi blocked with one hand and blurted out:
“Yamawashi?!”
The person pressing down on him remained silent, skillfully pinning his joints, forcing his body back into the sofa. From this angle, those half-lidded eyes looked as if a thin layer of frost had frozen within their hazy gray depths.
The sharp tip of the blade pressed against his Adam's apple, making his skin indent. As he swallowed due to tension, the blade momentarily pierced his skin, causing a thin line of blood to seep out. Hiromitsu Morofushi adjusted his breathing, forcing his mind to calm down.
He had used the pretext of maintenance many times to carefully inspect that dagger, knowing exactly how sharp the pitch-black blade truly was. He had also witnessed firsthand more than once how Yamawashi manipulated that dagger; without a sheath, the strikes were so fast they left no visible afterimage, the process of the prey collapsing felt like a dreamlike illusion.
.. What happened?" Hiromitsu Morofushi lowered his voice. "Yamawashi, we can sit down and talk slowly.
Aotsuki lowered his gaze to look at that face. No matter how he looked at it, it was Scotland's face. Even after meticulously inspecting every inch of skin from the perspective of disguise, he could find not a single trace of mask adhesion.
He leaned down and asked in a low voice, "Where is Scotland?"
Scotland's face rarely showed clear traces of emotion, but at this moment, his pupils reflected obvious confusion as he said blankly, "I'm?? Am I not right here?"
Aotsuki summoned all his patience; when it came to matters concerning Scotland, he was always very patient.
He gripped the hilt of his knife and repeated, gritting his teeth, one word at a time, "Where is Scotland?!"
After ruling out all impossibilities, whatever remains, no matter how unbelievable, must be the truth.
There was no infidelity, no desire to break up, no sudden upheaval, no other reason, yet a sudden change occurred.
Then only one answer remains.
This person is not Scotland at all.
Author's Note:
----------------------
Chapter 4
In Hiromitsu Morofushi's memory, Yamawashi was an indifferent person, remaining exceptionally silent even during intimate acts. Had the other party not proactively suggested trying it with him, he would never have imagined that a romantic relationship could be used to advance an undercover mission.
In fact, he had also vaguely sensed back then that Yamawashi might not be as indifferent as he appeared on the surface; however, after being reborn, he found that his thinking had still been far too superficial.
Listening to a series of murder methods being spat out by that expressionless person, Hiromitsu Morofushi gave an awkward laugh, feeling a subtle sensation as if he had already been dismembered and executed.
He tried to explain, "Listen to me—"
Yamawashi cut him off abruptly: "No need to act anymore."
Hiromitsu Morofushi paused.
The sharp blade pressed against his artery, already cutting through the skin and causing beads of blood to seep out.
Yamawashi was one of the few members in the Organization who was enthusiastic about close-quarters combat. To escape his current predicament, a mutual destruction would be the best possible outcome.
Even though he was the passive party, upon meeting those gray eyes partially obscured by strands of hair, he suddenly felt that Yamawashi was the one being coerced.
Because..
Because of Scotland.
The person pinning him down whispered, "I'll cooperate with you."
I am Scotland.
Looking into those eyes, Hiromitsu Morofushi was so stunned that he couldn't immediately bring himself to say those words.
Yamawashi sheathed his sword and stood up, making no attempt to linger, strode away.
Yamawashi!
Hiromitsu Morofushi sat up, clutching his neck. "Wait—"
The only answer he received was the heavy sound of a door slamming shut.
By the time he chased after him, there was no trace of Yamawashi left in the surroundings.
Hiromitsu Morofushi pressed his temples, feeling a bit of a headache.
Once they left the confines of this safe house, it would be difficult to track Yamawashi's whereabouts unless they encountered each other during a mission.
The night was deep, a notification sounded from the mobile phone; the call made to Yamawashi was rejected for the first time.