When I saw you at the bank counter withdrawing money, you looked distracted — eyes darting around, furtive, like someone with something to hide."
"I did a check. You're not Hirota Masami at all. You're Miyano Akemi."
"From a professional point of view, someone using an alias and working at a bank is almost certainly preparing to rob it."
Shiraishi E's—no, Ren Kuroda's—reasoning was neat and plausible.Miyano Akemi swallowed it and believed him immediately. Not because she was naïve or gullible, but because she was brand-new to all of this. She'd only just entered this line of work; everything was still a blur. She groped at possibilities and half-guessed at solutions. When someone saw straight through her act, she didn't think it was suspicious — she thought she'd simply been found out for not hiding it well enough.
"Is that so? My…suspiciousness is that obvious?" Akemi gave a wry little laugh, genuinely thinking her disguise had been inadequate.
Ren watched her beam of trust settle and felt pleased. He composed himself and asked lightly, "So tell me — why are you going to rob a bank?"
He already had a hunch, but he asked anyway. People reveal their level of trust by the answers they give.
Akemi hesitated. Thinking about her current situation, it seemed there wasn't much choice. Could she really snatch one billion yen from a bank with her own meager strength? Better to follow this senior, this guy who looked like he might know what he was doing — maybe there was still a sliver of hope.
"All right," she said. "Here's the truth. My sister and I grew up in a criminal organization. Now we want to leave."
"The organization's demand to let us go is one billion yen each. Ten million? No — ten hundred million? — no, they said ten hundred — one billion yen total. We've got to hand over ten hundred million yen to be released." She swallowed. "So I decided to take the risk and steal one billion yen from a bank!!"
Hearing the raw honesty, Ren felt his confirmation settle into certainty. Helping Akemi was the right thing. She wasn't a bad person; she'd been forced down a wrong path. That mattered.
"You shouldn't rob a bank," Ren said slowly. "It takes so long, you risk so much, and you get so little. The police will put you under intense scrutiny. It's not worth it."
"If you're going to steal, target crime bosses, criminals — the people who actually have the money. Even if you take them out, the police will usually write it off as gang infighting. They don't bother much with that."
Akemi knew that, of course. "I've thought about that," she admitted helplessly. "But I'm scrawny — who would I dare to mess with them?"
Ren smiled faintly. "If I partner with you, that won't be a problem."
He reached and casually picked up the MP9, almost as if continuing the conversation. "MP9 submachine gun. Muzzle velocity: 370 meters per second. Rate of fire: up to 900 rounds per minute. Effective range: fifty to one hundred meters."
"Less than a second and a twenty-round magazine can be emptied." He let that hang. "People are meaningless in its presence."
"I have a lot like this."
After showing off that little display of firepower, Ren outlined his proposition. "If you find the place the criminals are using for their deals, I can take care of them in minutes. Then we split the money fifty–fifty. How's that?"
Akemi's eyes lit up at the idea. So she just had to gather intel, and the money would come to her? Far safer than storming a bank herself. Growing up in an organization meant she knew the ropes and had ears in places most people didn't. This felt far more doable.
"Okay. I'll try," she agreed.
Ren set a briefcase at her feet. "Contact info's in there. Let me know when you have news."
He didn't linger. When he stood to leave, he tucked the MP9 into her arms as he passed. "Consider this a welcome gift."
"!!!"
Akemi was stunned. She stared at the cold metal in her hands, then watched Ren walk away. A thought flitted through her mind — doesn't he worry I might turn the gun on him?
He left with the same calm composure he'd worn since they'd met, and Akemi couldn't help but admire him. So this was what a big-time gangster boss looked like? Impressive. That kind of aura couldn't be faked. Seeing that, something long frozen inside her stirred, and a faint ember of hope kindled. Maybe she could pull through this after all.
In truth, Ren's composure wasn't entirely magnanimous. Guns bought in the outlaw marketplace couldn't be stored in System space. Walking around town with a submachine gun in hand was asking for trouble. That's why he slipped it into her arms — practical disposal, not chivalry. Also, arming the safety and chambering a round made noise. If Akemi started doing that within earshot, Ren would react in an instant. He'd rather not have to pop her on the spot.
Curious, she set the MP9 aside and opened the case. Inside were surveillance devices, instruction manuals, and a dedicated contact phone. Akemi couldn't help but smile. Finally, she felt the comfort of leaning on someone powerful — a proper starter kit for a rookie.
Equipment plus a gun? This Ren Kuroda fellow was far more generous than the shadowy types she'd heard of. With the gear in front of her, the pieces for information-gathering suddenly fit together. Her goodwill toward him rose noticeably.
—
After that meeting, Ren felt his days gain a new edge of purpose. School stopped being dull. People needed something that lit a fire in them — something interesting to do — to love life again.
Robbing banks was messy: innocents got hurt and the cops came down on you. So Ren steered Akemi away from that path. From now on, they would target gangsters and other criminals. It wasn't just about hitting crime — they'd be redistributing ill-gotten gains and satisfying Ren's own strange moral itch. A win for everyone.
Three wins, he mused. A perfect score.
Wasn't this better than robbing a bank? And besides, Ren had a reputation — a handle: Mihana's little brother, some might say. He couldn't just let his talents go to waste. If the police weren't handling things, he would. If phantom thieves could act like knights-errant, why couldn't a proper outlaw strike at true criminals?