Hiroshi let him sob quietly for a minute, glancing at the bartender with an apologetic smile and a subtle signal to pour a glass of water. The bartender slid one over. When Sako's wracking sobs slowed, Hiroshi pressed the water into his friend's hands. "Drink. Easy now."
Sako sipped, hiccuping. He looked utterly drained, but a hint of relief flickered across his face. Confession – even to a false friend – had lightened a fraction of the burden. He managed a weak smile. "Thanks for… for listening, man. I missed you."
"I'm here anytime," Hiroshi replied, patting his back. Inside, though, his mind was already cataloguing everything Sako had revealed. Vital links had been extracted: confirmation of the traitors' inner circle, mention of Jackal, and the emotional state of a mole who might turn witness with the right pressure.
When Sako finally stumbled off his stool to head home, Hiroshi was at his side, supporting him. "I called you a taxi," he lied as they emerged into the cool night air. In truth, Angel, one of Hiroshi's operatives, would tail the taxi at a safe distance to ensure Sako got home without incident – and didn't do anything drastic in despair. They couldn't have him harming himself or warning others. Not yet.
Sako clung to "Kenshi's" arm, blinking at him with bleary gratitude. "We'll catch up again soon, right?" he asked hopefully.
Hiroshi forced a warm grin even as guilt pricked at him for the deception. "Of course. You take care of yourself, Sako. And… hang in there. Things will get better."
As the taxi pulled up and the woozy traitor sank into the back seat, Hiroshi pressed a folded note into his hand – on it was written the number of a secure tip line managed by Makima's office. "If it gets too heavy and you need to talk or do the right thing… call this, okay?" he said.
Sako squinted at the number, then at his friend. Perhaps some part of him realized this was too organized, too prepared. But the thought floated away in his alcoholic haze. He just nodded, clutching the note. "Okay. Thank you…"
The door shut. As the taxi drove off, Hiroshi stood under the flickering neon and watched it disappear around the corner. Only then did he peel off the latex mask with a grim sigh. Mission accomplished. Sako would awaken tomorrow with only fuzzy memories of tonight's conversation – likely dismissing it as a drunken blur, perhaps even doubting he'd said so much. The subtle psychic nudge Daisy had implanted would encourage him to rationalize it away as a moment of emotional weakness with an old friend. He would not realize he had given up the conspiracy's secrets to the very fox stalking their henhouse.
Daisy dropped lightly from the fire escape and landed beside Hiroshi. Her red eyes glowed softly in the dark as she regarded him, sensing the conflict in his heart. He is in great pain, she conveyed silently of Sako.
Hiroshi exhaled, releasing the tension from his shoulders as he nodded. "I know. But he chose his path." Then his brow set in determination. "At least now his pain will help bring down those truly responsible."
The Gardevoir's delicate hand touched Hiroshi's arm in quiet solidarity. Together, they vanished into the alley shadows. It was time to return to the safehouse and add tonight's haul to their growing mountain of evidence. The noose around the traitors' necks was almost fully drawn – and they still had no idea.