After a long time, Yamawashi said nothing and turned to leave.
That mercenary cursed, using every last ounce of his strength to crawl up and scream, "I'll kill you! I'll definitely kill you! You're going to hell!"
Hiromitsu Morofushi caught a difficult-to-pronounce sound amidst the chaotic speech; his French wasn't particularly profound, but profanity is always the easiest to master in any language, sounding just like the words his parents used.
He knew Yamawashi had already discovered him; there was no real point in talking about being discreet in front of Yamawashi; Yamawashi was simply too lazy to care about him. Stepping out from the shadows, he pretended not to understand French and turned his head to ask, "What is he saying?"
Yamawashi simply remained silent amidst the cursing, wiping his dagger.
This was the second time he had seen Yamawashi show mercy; the last time was with Matsuda Jinpei.
He spared Matsuda Jinpei because of Scotland; what was the reason for sparing this mercenary?
Hiromitsu Morofushi thought that it seemed necessary to invite this young man from France for a cup of tea.
The gunfire stopped.
That area was Gin's responsibility. Logically, once he had finished things here in the cabin, he should have lent Gin a hand on his way. He passed by calmly, gave a greeting, went straight to the deck to find Yamawashi.
"It seems things have ended over at Gin's side as well," Hiromitsu Morofushi said.
Yamawashi turned toward him and swung the dagger without warning, the cold blade reflecting in his pupils. There was no time to dodge; Hiromitsu Morofushi watched as the blade drew closer and closer.
Before the pain, a sharp ringing appeared, piercing through his eardrums. As the bullet grazed the dagger, it kicked up a long, narrow spark, the dagger flew from his hand toward the sea. Yamawashi's expression changed abruptly; he ignored the sharpness and grabbed the blade, but he also lost his balance, falling headlong over the deck railing.
Move.
Move quickly!
Hiromitsu Morofushi forced his stiff limbs to move, struggling to turn around and reach out his hand. His peerless night vision allowed him to see clearly how his fingers and Yamawashi's hands missed each other by less than a centimeter.
“Yamawashi!”
Another hand reached out from the side and grabbed Yamawashi's wrist.
Amidst the roar of the propellers churning the seawater, a black hat was swallowed by the rushing current.
Hiromitsu Morofushi grabbed Yamawashi's other hand and pulled him up; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gin standing to the side without a hat.
Author's Note:
----------------------
Chapter 16
That mercenary who had fired the stray shot had completely lost consciousness.
Gin merely glanced at that person, his expression as if he already knew everything.
Yamawashi made no mention of what to do with that mercenary, as if he hadn't just narrowly escaped death. After the danger had passed, his first reaction was to check his dagger; his expression was quite unpleasant, but he still looked up and said to Gin, "Thank you."
Gin sneered, saying incoherently, "Thanks to you, someone is going to be happy again."
Yamawashi curled his lip, seeing only mockery in the remark, did not respond further.
Hiromitsu Morofushi intentionally or unintentionally stepped between the two of them and checked Yamawashi's hand; the wound was very deep, the bone was already visible.
Your hand must be treated immediately!
As he left while half-embracing Yamawashi, Gin, who was busy giving orders to his subordinates, suddenly said to them, "You haven't been back in a while, so watch your boundaries."
This sentence was meant only for Yamawashi, indeed, they were the only two in the room who could understand it. Hiromitsu Morofushi cooperated with Yamawashi by stopping in his tracks, playing the part of a taciturn lover and mission partner.
Yamawashi didn't look back and said indifferently, "Understood."
Hiromitsu Morofushi took off his coat and pressed it against the wound to stop the bleeding. As he stepped down from the deck, he glanced back and happened to lock eyes with Gin.
Yamawashi's dagger was too sharp; he had never been cut by it since inheriting it, to the point that he had almost forgotten it was a weapon once described as a specialized tool for killing.
He pressed Yamawashi down into the chair and pulled out the first-aid kit from the boat to clean and disinfect the wound. The injury caused by the piercing car window glass had not yet healed, a new wound now covered the old one; beneath it all, one could only wonder how many other scars he had that remained unknown.
While Yamawashi was being bandaged, his hands wouldn't stop trembling—an unavoidable physiological reaction after enduring such intense pressure, they would only be worse in the coming days. A dagger could never stop a bullet; at most, it could only deflect its trajectory to miss the target. The fact that his wrist wasn't severed was nothing short of a miracle.
"Thank you," Hiromitsu Morofushi said.
He was not the type of person who liked to take all the responsibility upon himself; he knew very well what his responsibilities actually were, but regardless of the reason Yamawashi saved him, the fact remained that he had to express his gratitude.
Besides saying thank you, he had more important questions he wanted to ask.
How do you plan to deal with that person?
“..”
Let go?
“..”
“You know him, don't you?”
“..”
Did you meet him back when you were a mercenary?
“..”
Hiromitsu Morofushi sighed, "Alright, I won't ask anymore."
These questions could be interrogated out of that mercenary as well; there was no need to upset Yamawashi.
He wouldn't mind being confused for a few more days about a past that he himself couldn't even clear up by traveling to France.
“How is the dagger? Is it alright?”
Expecting a dagger to stop a bullet is nothing short of a fantasy. To prioritize sharpness, daggers are often forged thin, which inherently makes the blade more brittle. Yet, Yamawashi risked his own life to save it, he carries it with him constantly, polishing it religiously; that dagger must hold a profound significance for him.
Yamawashi had been using that black dagger since his days as a mercenary. Some criticized Yamawashi for striking down his own people, but others would suddenly turn around and offer praise when he inquired. That Asian man who loved using a dagger had a presence during missions that was truly stunning; he himself was as beautiful yet chilling as the weapon he wielded. Simply standing there made people feel as though there was nothing he couldn't accomplish, so employers were eager to choose him regardless of the nature of the mission. There were even rumors of employers willing to pay exorbitant sums to invite his squad just to see him a second time.
Even setting Yamawashi aside, Hiromitsu Morofushi couldn't help but feel a certain level of anxiety regarding the dagger's condition, especially since he was the one who would eventually take possession of it.
"I know a bit about weapon maintenance, let me take a look." This was, of course, something he had learned after returning to Public Security.
Yamawashi finally showed a bit of a reaction.
Hiromitsu Morofushi took the dagger, as it overlapped with distant memories, he remembered the way he had received a dagger from Yamawashi for the first time.
His curiosity regarding the dagger was more an inquiry into Yamawashi herself; there was so little that could integrate into Yamawashi's life, making that special dagger an unavoidable point of entry. When he asked tentatively, showing only a hint of curiosity toward cold weapons, Yamawashi actually generously handed the dagger to him to examine.
As it happened more frequently, Yamawashi didn't even mind him taking the liberty of handling that dagger, yet he remained consistently evasive regarding its past, much like how Yamawashi wholeheartedly supported and protected Scotland, yet never revealed his own name or past.
Hiromitsu Morofushi carefully checked the blade for any subtle cracks. A thin scratch left by a passing bullet stood out clearly against the pitch-black blade; fortunately, it didn't seem to be at risk of breaking.
It's fine, it's not.." Hiromitsu Morofushi looked up, finding that Yamawashi was actually looking at him, he paused, "What's wrong?
Aotsuki said nothing.
No matter how one looked at it, this person looked exactly like Scotland.
To monitor this impostor, he extended his stay at the Safe House time and time again. Although this was meant to increase the time spent observing and identifying him, instead of helping him discover more differences, he would occasionally daze off, mistakenly believing that the person before him truly was Scotland.
.. Too similar, he thought.
It was so similar that it was sickening, yet it also triggered an instinctive urge to protect; this sense of trance might just be a form of betrayal toward Scotland.
[".. How could you betray.."]
The questioning voice rang in his ears, piercing through time and the deck.
Aotsuki let out a silent breath; the pain that almost severed the sensation in his palm instead provided him with a rare moment of relief.
He hadn't expected to see Arnaud's brother again, nor had he expected that the bespectacled youth had also become a mercenary.
It was he who killed Arnaud with his own hands; that was an indisputable fact.
The ship was about to dock again, signaling the end of this mission.
Aotsuki was forced to recall another mission: a similarly harmonious-looking transaction, a similarly contract-breaking employer, a similarly escalating skirmish that had been forced from a routine escort..
Was it really a coincidence?
If this was a coincidence, then how could one explain the fact that it was identical to the way he handled the mission for the Japanese Black Organization when he first met Scotland?
There are no Coast Guard officers here that he can call upon to disrupt the situation.
In the end, Aotsuki thought of another indelible mission from his life.
Two people who look exactly alike, in the end..
Gin's voice came through the earpiece, concise and to the point: "Get off the ship."
The two people in the cabin stood up at the same time and walked toward the cabin door, but one of them suddenly stopped.
"What's wrong?" Hiromitsu Morofushi became inexplicably nervous, thinking that Yamawashi might have been injured somewhere else.
Yamawashi remained silent for a while before saying slowly, "Since you keep thanking me, can I meet Scotland?"
Hiromitsu Morofushi paused just as he was about to step forward to inspect it.
Let me see Scotland once." Yamawashi turned around completely to face him. "I want to confirm that you haven't lied to me; I want to personally confirm Scotland's safety.
Hiromitsu Morofushi said nothing; this time, it was his turn to fall into silence. The difference was that Yamawashi simply did not want to speak, whereas he did not know how to begin.
“Let me meet him, I want to see him.”
In his memory, Yamawashi had never said such words to him: "I want to see you."
Hiromitsu Morofushi's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, he agreed.
He never did anything he wasn't sure of, but facing that kind of expression, he couldn't bring himself to say no.
Yamawashi let out a sigh of relief and, in an unprecedented move, smiled at him and said, "Thank you."
Hiromitsu Morofushi gazed at those gray eyes, which rarely showed any sign of relaxation, for a moment, he forgot to respond.
Failing to hold onto one's principles and allowing an opponent to seize the initiative for even a moment—this kind of concession is nothing less than a betrayal of oneself.
The moment he stepped back onto the land, looking at the figure ahead, he wondered: did Yamawashi feel the same way he did now during every instance of yielding and compromise?
**
After that chaotic island trade mission drew to a close, in addition to arranging an investigation into the matter concerning that French mercenary, Hiromitsu Morofushi also faced the greatest challenge since his rebirth.
How to let Yamawashi see the "real Scotland."
Author's Note: