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Kobeni, dark circles under her eyes, pushed forward a final binder for Tachibana's review. Her hands trembled slightly from fatigue and nerves. Yoshimura remembered that she had spent hours earlier meticulously printing and collating these forms – arrest warrants, search warrants, asset freeze orders – covering every target individual and entity on their list. She had even prepared duplicates, color-coded by jurisdiction, so that nothing would be left to chance. Kobeni managed a wan smile at Yoshimura. "All evidence summaries are attached to their respective warrants, sir. We triple-checked the cross-references," she said softly, voice betraying her tiredness.
Yoshimura gave the young agent an approving nod, then looked back to Tachibana. "We just received word from Hiroshi," he reported, keeping his voice level though he felt a thrill of triumph in his chest. "The recording is secured."
That made Tachibana finally glance up from the papers. His hawkish eyes met Yoshimura's, and for a moment the tension in the room eased. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of the lawyer's mouth. "So the kid pulled it off," he murmured. Relief and respect mingled in his tone. Then, business-like once more, he reached for an evidence bag lying open on the table. Inside was a USB drive – the very one containing Hiroshi's freshly obtained incriminating audio. Tachibana held it up carefully. "We'll label and log this as Exhibit A1. It will go with the affidavit to the judge." He nodded to Madoka, the bespectacled agent beside him, who immediately jotted down the time and details on an evidence ledger.
Yoshimura let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. That audio was the linchpin, the nail in the coffin for the traitors. "Any word on when we get the court signature?" he asked.
Tachibana was already a step ahead. "Makima's arranged for an overnight judge to be on standby." He tapped his watch. "At 0200 hours, I'll submit all of these electronically through the secure channel to the Special Prosecutor's Office. Judge Wakabayashi has agreed to review them on the spot." A hint of dry humor flashed in Tachibana's eyes. "The poor fellow doesn't know every detail – only that it's a matter of urgent national security at the Prime Minister's request. I suspect he'll have quite a wake-up call with his coffee, hmm."
Despite the tension, Yoshimura allowed himself a brief chuckle. Waking a judge at 2 A.M. was no small favor, but the gravity of their evidence would shock even a seasoned jurist. "And he'll sign off on everything?"
"If we've done our job right, yes," Tachibana replied confidently. He thumped the stack of warrant forms with a finger. "I've made damn sure these requests are airtight. Probable cause statements, corroborating evidence, chain-of-custody – every 'i' dotted and every 't' crossed. By the book, no loopholes." His expression hardened, the battle-hardened prosecutor surfacing. "We are not giving some slick defense attorney even a sliver of daylight to slip their client through. Not this time." He looked around the table at the others – at Kobeni, Madoka, and now Aki who stood leaning in the doorway with arms crossed. "We will hit them with everything at once: arrest warrants, search warrants for their homes and offices, freezing orders on their bank accounts – the works. By the time they blink, we'll have them hogtied legally six ways from Sunday." Tachibana's quiet, wolfish grin spoke volumes about his confidence in what they were about to unleash.
Aki uncrossed his arms and stepped forward. The tall agent's face was drawn with fatigue, but resolved. He'd been out earlier coordinating a few last surveillance errands and had returned just in time to hear Hiroshi's success. "We're all set on the ops end, Yoshimura," Aki said, updating his senior. "Kishibe and Himeno checked in – targets are where we expected. No one's tipped off." He ran a hand through his black hair, trying to shrug off the weariness. "Denji and Power are gearing up and resting in the back room. They'll ride with the tactical units for the more…volatile targets." Aki's lips quirked, knowing those two were likely chomping at the bit despite the late hour. "All our strike teams are essentially in position or five minutes out, under cover of normal patrols or duties."
"Copy that," Yoshimura replied, relief evident in his voice. It was remarkable – everything was aligning precisely as planned. Intelligence, legal, tactical, political – each part moving in lockstep now. He caught Aki's eye and gave a firm nod. "Make sure Denji and Power know – no improvisations. We need clean arrests, minimal drama. This isn't a brawl, it's a sweep."
Aki managed a tired smile. "I've told them. They understand… well, as much as those two can. They know what's at stake." In the corner of the living room, through the doorway, Yoshimura could just see Denji's spiky blond hair as the young man lay sprawled on a couch, arms folded and eyes closed – catching a light nap while he could. Power sat on the floor by the couch, methodically checking the restraint cuffs and tranquilizer darts issued to them, an almost predatory grin on her face even in quiet. For once, neither was making a sound; even that rambunctious pair felt the solemnity of the moment. They were exhausted, all of them were, but ready.
Yoshimura turned back to Tachibana, who was now gently closing each dossier and slipping them into a large reinforced briefcase. The lawyer clicked the case shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. Yoshimura noted the tremor in the old man's hand – not of fear, but sheer tiredness. How many hours had Tachibana slept this week? Two? Three? Yet he was soldiering on with the vitality of a man half his age, driven by purpose.
"No room for error," Tachibana murmured, almost to himself, as if reciting a mantra. He looked up at Yoshimura, Aki, and the others assembled. His gaze lingered for a moment on each of them – on Yoshimura's weathered face, Aki's determined eyes, Kobeni's nervous resolve. Finally he spoke, voice firm. "This is it. All those long days and longer nights… it all comes down to the next few hours. If we've missed anything – a single form, a single signature – the prosecutions could stumble. We are not going to let these traitors slip through our fingers on a technicality. Understood?"
"Understood," Yoshimura said, and the others echoed quietly. The room fell into a brief hush as that sank in. We won't let you down, Hiroshi had told Tachibana earlier, and everyone here meant it with every fiber of their being. Failure was not an option – not after the betrayals they'd endured and the chaos that nearly consumed the country.