After No. 57 died, No. 59 obtained everything that No. 57 possessed, including the bodyguards, but in reality, No. 59 did not leave behind any of No. 57's substantive influence or weapons; if he didn't want them, he wouldn't take them, preferring to bury them rather than let them fall into the hands of others.
After all that trouble, 59号 ultimately only wanted one thing from 57号.
As summer drew to a close, the sweltering heat had already begun to fade, Number 59 swaggered back to Ikubunkan Academy with him.
As they entered their third year of high school, no one except him knew that someone in this campus was no longer their original self.
..
“Are you alright? Yamawashi.”
Aotsuki looked up in a daze as Scotland thoughtfully draped a coat over his shoulders and said to him with concern, "You look pale."
Chapter 32
Whenever his relationship with Yamawashi underwent a turning point, Gin's sudden appearance would drive them toward a strange extreme.
Yamawashi informed him of the time and location of his meeting with Gin without any reservation, leaving everything else aside, letting him do as he pleased, not caring whether he did nothing at all.
Hiromitsu Morofushi did not think this meant she was handing the initiative over to him.
He found that he still never knew Yamawashi well enough.
Yamawashi left on time for the appointment. He leaned against the balcony railing of the Safe House, smoking a cigarette as he watched that slender figure disappear into the night. The television in the living room, with its volume intentionally turned up, broke the final silence, in the end, he went anyway.
After all, the weather forecast was wrong again; it would rain tonight.
He stood outside the garden restaurant, not knowing exactly what Yamawashi and Gin were discussing, he did not go inside to disturb them. But since he had come, he naturally wanted to know the content of their conversation; however, when his gaze met Yamawashi's expression, he swallowed his words.
On the way back, raindrops pitter-pattered into puddles, shattering the floating neon lights on the ground, as a black umbrella tilted quietly, revealing the gentle blue eyes of the young man holding it.
Yamawashi walked forward, his pupils reflecting a mechanical silence. This was the way back to the Safe House, but upon arriving, Yamawashi merely glanced to the side for a moment before resuming his pace.
Hiromitsu Morofushi hurriedly held up an umbrella and followed.
He didn't ask why, he just continued to follow in silence.
Walking into a dead end, Yamawashi did not turn back. Looking at the wet walls, he said after a long silence, "Do you want to feel my hair?"
Hiromitsu Morofushi gripped the handle of his umbrella, his gaze falling unconsciously upon the temple of the person beside him, once again seeing those gray eyes that appeared heavy under the night sky.
Yamawashi's hair seemed to have grown longer again.
Yamawashi didn't care that he didn't answer. He had always felt that when Yamawashi asked certain questions, she didn't actually care about his answers, that the two of them actually knew the true answer all along.
Yamawashi continued speaking to himself, "One day, Scotland came back in the rain; his hair was wet, after it dried, the strands looked very soft."
Regardless of what he was talking about, Yamawashi's tone was never that of a storyteller; it was far too matter-of-fact and too dry. He neither expected an audience nor sought to please his listeners; he simply spoke a few words whenever the whim took him.
Hiromitsu Morofushi did not remember such a thing.
Returning to the Safe House in the rain was nothing unusual. He tried to use the rain occurring simultaneously with Yamawashi as an anchor for filtering, but the torrential sound of rain all around overlapped with every rainstorm from his past, making him unable to distinguish which one it actually was.
Memories of Yamawashi were like looking through a fogged glass pane; when the accumulated droplets hurried past, he could faintly glimpse narrow cracks, but the world inside the window remained unreachable to him.
That's right, he thought, it was only natural that he could no longer clearly remember a certain rainy day from three years ago.
“Do you want to touch my hair?” Hiromitsu Morofushi said. “The hairstyle is about the same, so the texture should be about the same too.”
He said as if trying to make up for it, "Because you haven't been able to see Scotland lately, so if you want.."
Yamawashi said plainly, "It's no longer that rain."
By the time they truly returned, the rain had stopped midway, though puddles still remained on the ground. The moon broke free from the scattered dark clouds, making the ground appear even brighter than the long-neglected streetlights. As they stepped through the standing water, a small distance remained between their two long, narrow shadows, which flickered and occasionally blurred together at the edges.
“You look like you have something to say to me.”
Do you want to hear it?
I don't want to," Yamawashi replied without hesitation, adding, "This isn't the first time you've said things I don't want to hear.
The umbrella in his hand was dripping, Hiromitsu Morofushi felt his shoes getting wet. He looked straight ahead and said, "What did you and Gin say tonight?"
Some things I don't want to hear.
But you went anyway?
But I went anyway.
The distance between the two men's shoulders fluctuated as they both fell into silence.
Why do you think I like you?" Hiromitsu Morofushi said. "I don't think so myself, or at least not as clearly as you do.. It's not that I'm only now coming forward to deny it, I'm just a bit surprised that you would think that. Is it just because of my eyes.. You also seemed to judge that I wasn't Scotland before, seemingly through my eyes as well.
Your methods are too gentle," Yamawashi said, suddenly stopping in his tracks. Hiromitsu Morofushi instinctively stopped as well, but Yamawashi said, "Keep walking.
After walking three or four steps, he even wondered if Yamawashi was planning to stab him in the back, but Yamawashi's voice rang out again: "Turn around."
He turned around and slowed his pace. Yamawashi gave a slight nod of his chin, signaling him to continue walking, so they maintained this strange manner—one advancing while the other retreated, stepping through the puddles on the road as they continued back toward the Safe House.
When facing each other, everything would be laid bare for both parties. For Hiromitsu Morofushi, this was one of the rare moments when he had both Yamawashi's tacit permission and his own to observe Yamawashi directly. However, the words he wanted to say had already vanished along with the subsiding rain; perhaps by tomorrow morning, those words would be completely dried up, leaving no trace behind.
He guessed that Yamawashi had a little alcohol tonight, not much, perhaps only a sip, the rain had washed away the scent of alcohol, but Yamawashi usually didn't say this much to him.. Yamawashi was this silent with everyone.
I've seen undercover police officers who are deeply entangled with members of the Organization.
What kind of person is he?
I'm not sure.
And then?
Dead.
How did he die?
Maybe he was killed, maybe he committed suicide; I wasn't at the scene.
What happened to that Organization member later?
“He's dead.”
“Was it suicide or homicide?”
Yamawashi fell silent, with only the sound of footsteps proving that time had not stood still. After a long while, he looked up and said, "Both are essentially the same."
..
Hiromitsu Morofushi opened the umbrella and hung it to dry on the balcony, while Yamawashi stood half a meter away smoking.
Hiromitsu Morofushi straightened up and followed Yamawashi's gaze into the distance. The entire city was soaked by the rain, which briefly washed away the industrial scent. He withdrew his gaze and looked at Yamawashi. "You don't usually smoke much."
The thin smoke meandered and dissipated, flickering in the night like pale neon lights; Yamawashi ignored him.
Only when that cigarette had burned down completely did Yamawashi, as if finally remembering there was someone beside him, say, "What are you looking at?"
Before he could answer, Yamawashi glanced sideways, her gaze meeting his: "Do you think my face is handsome?"
He hadn't originally thought about those things, but since this had been brought up suddenly, continuing to stare felt somewhat impolite, yet looking away immediately felt like trying to cover something up. Ultimately, he said, ".. Your hair seems to have grown a little."
In that moment, Yamawashi's gaze seemed to hold something different, but by the time he reacted and looked closely again, Yamawashi had already withdrawn his gaze.
I've said the wrong thing again, Hiromitsu Morofushi thought.
Raindrops hung precariously from the eaves, as one of them spoke, tiny splashes burst in the corner of the balcony.
If you like, you can touch my hair right now.
Hiromitsu Morofushi's fingers resting on the railing rubbed against each other unconsciously as he replied slowly, "No, that wouldn't be good."
The next morning, when he woke up, Yamawashi was no longer in the bedroom, there was no one in the living room. The bathroom door was slightly ajar. Hiromitsu Morofushi pinched the bridge of his nose, in that fleeting moment, the drowsiness and exhaustion brought on by the same recurring dreams over several consecutive days suddenly vanished. His body reacted before his mind could, by the time he regained his senses, he was already tightly gripping Yamawashi's wrist.
His breathing nearly stopped, his hand spasmed slightly, the sound of his knuckles rubbing together almost audible. Even the dagger in the hand he was gripping shook along with him. A voice squeezed through his trembling teeth, his volume rising uncontrollably: "What are you trying to do?!"
Yamawashi looked at him in surprise. As he turned his head, the hair exposed on the other side was noticeably shorter, unstyled, as if it had been hacked off with a single stroke.
Yamawashi did not answer. She glanced down; Hiromitsu Morofushi's chest was still heaving unnaturally, his eyes instinctively drifted downward.
A strand of gray hair lay scattered on the edge of the sink.
It seems you really do like long hair," Yamawashi suggested. "It's not too late to touch it now.
Chapter 33
Although he realized that Yamawashi was only cutting hair, once he calmed down, Hiromitsu Morofushi still asked to borrow that dagger for a moment.
Not even refusing such an unreasonable request, Yamawashi also quickly nodded in agreement to his request for help with cutting hair.
After breakfast, Yamawashi moved a chair to the center of the living room. He stood behind Yamawashi, hooked a strand of hair with his fingers, leaned down to ask, "About this length?"
Yamawashi nodded slightly, that strand of hair slipped from his fingertips. His heart suddenly felt a momentary void, he felt strange, so he said quickly, "Okay, I understand."
However, when the time actually came to start, Hiromitsu Morofushi belatedly realized that he had never cut anyone's hair before.
He stood there blankly with the scissors for a few seconds before saying awkwardly, ".. How about we just go to a barbershop instead."
It's okay." A calm voice sounded in front of him, Yamawashi said, "Your hands are very steady. I believe in you.
Hiromitsu Morofushi was stunned. Aside from the first two days after his rebirth, Yamawashi had never stopped being suspicious of him, yet now she actually said the word "believe" with her own mouth. Although it had nothing to do with believing in his identity, it still gave him immense encouragement.
Yamawashi's next sentence followed immediately: "Were you a sniper back when you were with Public Security?"
.. So, he just wanted to pry for information.
He wanted to know Yamawashi's true identity, Yamawashi naturally wanted to know his identity to use as blackmail.
Hiromitsu Morofushi separated a strand of Yamawashi's hair and used the scissors to gauge the length, asking back in the same manner, "Have you always used a dagger? Or did you only start using it after you got that dagger?"
Yamawashi remained silent, his expression could not be seen from this angle, though even if it could, it would most likely be its usual calm, emotionless self. He thought that just as he had not answered, Yamawashi would not answer either, but when he made the first snip, Yamawashi suddenly let out a soft "mm." Accompanied by a faint "click," the gray strands spiraled down, making one almost think they had misheard.
.. No wonder." Yamawashi's hair was even softer than it looked. Hiromitsu Morofushi picked out another strand, which actually created the illusion that they were having a conversation. "I've never seen anyone more skilled with a dagger than you.
“I have,” Yamawashi said.
Hiromitsu Morofushi was slightly surprised: "??"
I learned how to use a dagger from that person.
People from the Organization? Or something from before you joined the Organization?
Hiromitsu Morofushi asked cautiously, "What kind of person was he?"