His driving skills were taught by Hara Kenji; he studied under him for a year in text, although he still couldn't reach Hara Kenji's level, he was quite fast.
Driving at lightning speed, he ran through countless red lights, constantly urging himself to go faster and faster, his heart thumping loudly in his ears.
The building was very tall, the elevator was already broken, there were even bullet holes on the upper floors.
The building was very tall, so Sawada Tsunayoshi chose to climb the stairs directly. He ran and ran, until he saw a bit of light above, then he suddenly heard the sound of a gunshot.
It felt as if his heart were being squeezed by something; he stumbled and ran to the very top, only to see Hiromitsu lying on the ground, blood seeping through his chest.
Then there was the tall, silent man standing there with a gun in his hand, finally, the blond man standing not far away, Furuya Rei.
Hiromitsu's childhood friend, his best friend.
At this moment, the fury in Furuya Rei's heart had likely long since washed away his reason, but he still had to pretend, because he could not expose himself.
Hearing the footsteps behind them, the two looked over together; Rye Whisky's eyes were filled with confusion, while Furuya Rei's pupils contracted slightly in disbelief.
Moroboshi Dai also raised his gun at Sawada Tsunayoshi: "Who are you?"
Akai Shuichi frowned secretly. Oh no, this couldn't be an ordinary person who heard the commotion and ran over to see what happened, could it?
Bourbon is here; how should he handle this?
And Furuya Rei, with his back to Akai Shuichi, could hardly hide his expression at this moment. He slightly opened his mouth in confusion, wanting to ask Sawada Tsunayoshi why he had appeared here, but he couldn't utter a single word, his chest feeling as if it were being choked by something.
Sawada Tsunayoshi walked forward step by step, his eyes fixed only on the young man lying on the ground; the young man had his eyes closed, so those gentle pupils could no longer be seen.
Akai Shuichi threatened, "Don't act rashly, don't come any closer, or my gun will be merciless."
Things have become a bit troublesome.
Sawada Tsunayoshi walked over to Hiromitsu, crouched down, looked at the young man's stubbled chin.
Once such a clean person, he now lay on the ground covered in dust, without even having time to trim his beard.
“You killed him.”
Sawada Tsunayoshi gazed slowly at Akai Shuichi, his fists clenched tight.
His originally brown pupils seemed to be turning a faint gilded gold due to the light, as if a thick layer of honey had been spread over them.
How could Akai Shuichi explain this problem? He was not a member of the Black Organization; he was an FBI agent who had gone undercover in the organization under a false identity.
He came here to save Scotch, who was also an undercover agent; both of them had made things clear when they suddenly heard footsteps approaching from behind, Scotch committed suicide instantly.
This is hard to explain.
He could only say in a low voice, "I don't know who you are, but this is an internal matter, you have no right to know."
Akai Shuichi was still thinking about sending this ordinary person, Sawada Tsunayoshi, away.
But the furious Sawada Tsunayoshi had already struck; his fist was shrouded in a layer of flames, his anger left him expressionless, his brow furrowed.
Akai Shuichi and Furuya Rei were both startled. What was this, a magic trick?
His intuition told him that this ring had immense destructive power and was not something he could withstand. Akai Shuichi wanted to dodge, but the fist was so fast that in the blink of an eye, Sawada Tsunayoshi was right in front of him, his fist striking his chest with fury, sending him flying backward to collapse on the ground.
Sawada Tsunayoshi wanted to strike again, but suddenly, an unknown force restricted his movements.
That force was gentle, yet firm, preventing him from making any movement.
What's going on?
Akai Shuichi felt the surging scent of blood in his chest; he wiped the corner of his mouth and stood up, staring intently at Sawada Tsunayoshi. "Which organization are you from?"
Furuya Rei's fingers twitched slightly, in the next second, he stood beside Akai Shuichi, as if he were helping him: "Does your organization have no rules? You shouldn't interfere in the affairs of other organizations."
I advise you to leave early, otherwise we could take this as a signal of war between our two organizations. You should weigh your organization's strength and consider whether you are truly our match.
What he meant by those words was to tell Sawada Tsunayoshi to leave quickly and stop getting involved, even though many questions remained unanswered, but every person who could leave was one less to worry about.
Sawada Tsunayoshi was unable to move; he still had words to say.
Suddenly, he saw the expressions on Moroboshi Dai and Furuya Rei's faces change, at the same time, he felt an inexplicable sense of pressure coming from behind him.
Moroboshi Dai spoke, "Gin, Scotch's body is right here; you can come and confirm it."
Gin!
He is behind me!
Sawada Tsunayoshi didn't know why, but his head suddenly felt dizzy, the scenery before his eyes became distorted.
He felt a cold sensation against the back of his head, accompanied by the scent of gunpowder, blood, murderous intent.
Click.
Tsunayoshi also saw Furuya Rei's expression change.
A sudden surge of power erupted within Sawada Tsunayoshi's body, allowing him to move, he slowly turned his head to meet Gin's fierce eyes.
Gin's long hair had a luster in the dark night, appearing as if it were glowing, his green eyes held deep emotions.
Suddenly, Gin curled his lips into a sneer and mocked, "Still as foolish as ever."
Hmm?
Why did he say that?
Sawada Tsunayoshi didn't understand, but he didn't know what about his behavior had pleased this person. He suddenly lowered his gun and walked straight past him, his black trench coat brushing against Sawada Tsunayoshi's calves, carrying a hint of the night's chill and distant gunpowder smoke.
He walked up to Hiromitsu's side, looking at this undercover agent of the organization, let out a cold laugh.
Furuya Rei's pupils trembled imperceptibly, he forced a smile, saying, "Hey, hey, hey, Gin, this doesn't seem like you. Do you know this gentleman who just barged in? If not, I'll have to deal with him."
He was testing him.
Gin ignored his words, looked at Hiromitsu, then turned his gaze back to Sawada Tsunayoshi.
“Sawada Tsunayoshi.”
Tsunayoshi looked up and glanced over.
Something familiar suddenly appeared in Gin's hand, he threw it directly toward Sawada Tsunayoshi.
Sawada Tsunayoshi wanted to dodge, but why couldn't his body move!
He could only watch helplessly as that thing fell down and exploded, pink smoke enveloping him.
Sawada Tsunayoshi recognized it.
Why does Gin have a rocket launcher shell from ten years in the future!!
Chapter 73: Conan Live Day 32
Not again!
Irie Shoichi, was it you who taught Gin!
How did he fall for the ten-year-later rocket launcher again? Why does Gin have a ten-year-later rocket launcher? No, no, no, once he's been hit, he's not going to go off and try to fight another twisted ten-year-later war, is he?
Byakuran, I hate you.
Otherwise, I'll summon Byakuran to fight Byakran.
Sawada Tsunayoshi's mind was in a complete whirl; he didn't even know what he was saying or what he was thinking. After being hit by a rocket from ten years in the future, his mind had gone blank, making it almost impossible for him to form a coherent thought, leaving him only able to let his thoughts wander aimlessly from one thing to another.
A flash of blinding white light flashed by, a mysterious ringing sound echoed in Sawada Tsunayoshi's head, he fell into darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, he could not remember who he was, nor did he know where he came from or what abilities he possessed.
He only had the code name 27.
27 was in a place that was like a training camp within a dark organization. The people here were all children only a few years old, training day after day, year after year, completing all sorts of difficult missions in the darkness.
Only *** years old, the seven or eight-year-old children were all extraordinarily indifferent. After 27 woke up, a cold female instructor gave him some food, then tossed him a few rolls of bandages and some medicine, telling him to figure it out himself and that it would be best if he didn't die and cause her any trouble.
Several corpses were sent out every day, so she was quite exhausted, alright? Try not to die if you can.
27 listened in a daze; the only reason he knew his name was 27 was because that woman called him Number 27.
27 silently put the things away. Although he didn't remember anything, seeing familiar objects would make him remember how to use them again.
Bandages, such a familiar thing; it seemed as though he was always using them in an unusual way, yet even with his clumsy hands, he could use them skillfully on his own.
Eh? Isn't he from the assassin training camp? How could he be so clumsy?
How strange, I feel like I'm finally starting to use my brain.
In short, Number 27 fainted yesterday and only woke up today. He fainted because there was a PK match in the training camp, he lost—it was as simple as that.
27 was also a nonentity in the training camp; hardly anyone knew him, he had no friends. Therefore, after he woke up, he didn't have to do much to hide his amnesia, because no one was worried about him at all.
That seemed like a pretty good idea, until he saw his own lunch.
27 looked miserably at the tiny bit of broth in his bowl, then looked at the nutritious meat, vegetables, soup in others' bowls, swallowed hard.
It is said that the meals here are also chosen based on everyone's strength; if you are weak, it means you won't have enough to eat, if you are weak, it means you are easy to bully.
If you are strong, you can fill your stomach; if you are strong, you can do whatever you want. This is the law of the jungle.
So, without friends, you can't even get a piece of meat from anyone; you can only drink thin soup paired with choking rice.
He moved his gaze away from the soup filled with ingredients, found a corner seat, sat down, took a sip of the soup.
Silence fell.
This is the taste of dishwater. I seriously suspect this was made by pouring out someone else's soup, adding water, boiling it together with the rotten vegetable scraps from the edge of the pot.
What an indescribable taste.
At this moment, he noticed the cafeteria suddenly fall silent, a figure appeared at the entrance.
It was a tall, upright youth, with a trace of blood still on his face. He exuded a gloomy aura, his animalistic, fierce eyes stared straight ahead, bringing with them a sense of bloodthirsty slaughter.
He didn't go to the windows serving the luxury sets, but went straight to the second floor.
Wait, is there a second floor in the cafeteria?
Fortunately, there was more than one person who was as clueless as he was. The children who joined midway couldn't help but ask the seniors they were familiar with why he was allowed to go to the second floor.
That's Number One, the most powerful person here, so he doesn't have to follow the general rules, meaning he doesn't have to sit in the first-floor seats with us. Do you know what's on the second floor?
“I don't know.”