Since the moment this blind man stepped through the door, he had given him a feeling of extreme danger.
He was not like Dr. Banner, who harbored an uncontrollable Beast within, nor was he like Thor, who radiated divine pressure from his very being.
He was like a bottomless, ancient well—calm and dark. You never knew if tossing a stone inside would merely cause a splash, or awaken a sleeping dragon.
Happy Hogan pulled out chairs, signaling for Orihime Inoue and Fujitora to sit, while he stood behind them like a loyal guard.
Fujitora leaned his cane sword against the side of the chair and sat down slowly, his posture relaxed, as if he were at his usual street-side gambling den rather than a heavily guarded secret Base.
Orihime Inoue sat upright, her hands resting on her knees, curiously observing Fury.
"Director Fury," she began, very politely.
"Does S.H.I.E.L.D. mean'Shield of the Gods'? Is it an organization that protects everyone from bad guys, right?"
Fury's single eye narrowed slightly. "You could understand it that way."
"Oh, that's wonderful!"
Orihime Inoue pressed her hands together, her eyes sparkling.
"Then you must be very, very good people, just like Ichigo! Otherwise, why would you be so diligent in protecting everyone? o(*￣▽￣*)ブ"
"..."
The room fell into an eerie silence.
Watching Orihime Inoue's adorably naive expression, Coulson turned his head away, his shoulders shaking slightly.
Happy Hogan covered his face with his hand, wearing an expression that said, "I don't know her."
Nick Fury had spent decades in the World of espionage, interrogating countless spies of all kinds, but this was the first time he felt his brain struggling to keep up with someone's line of thinking.
He decided to ignore that topic and turned his gaze back to the true threat.
"Mr. Fujitora."
Fury's tone became serious.
"Our preliminary assessment of your ability is 'Gravity Manipulation.' In Hollywood, you transported an entity about to undergo a high-energy explosion into the high altitude and collected all the glass shards produced by the explosion."
"According to our video calculations, the total weight of those shards exceeded eighty tons."
He paused, leaning forward slightly, his single eye revealing a sharp, scrutinizing gaze.
"This kind of power is enough to be classified as a top-level threat. Yet, you didn't cause any collateral damage; instead, you saved hundreds of people. Your behavioral patterns are full of contradictions with your power level."
Fujitora kept his eyes closed, his scarred face turning in Fury's direction.
"I am merely a blind man who loves to gamble," his voice remained steady. "On a gambling table, there are wins and losses. But the onlookers outside the game shouldn't be injured by an overturned table. That is the most basic rule."
"Rules?" Fury frowned. "Whose rules? Yours?"
"The rules of 'Benevolence and Righteousness'," Fujitora replied.
Fury was silent for a moment. He couldn't understand the deeper meaning behind the term, but he could hear the weight in the man's words.
"You call yourself a 'Marine'," Fury changed the subject.
"We have checked the lists of naval commanders of all countries in the World, and there is no one named 'Fujitora Issho.' Your uniform does not belong to any known organization either."
His fingers tapped lightly on the tabletop, making a dull sound.
"So, I want to know where you and Miss Orihime Inoue really come from."
As soon as this question was asked, the air in the room seemed to freeze.
Happy Hogan's heart jumped into his throat; he knew this was the core of the night.
Orihime Inoue also looked at Fujitora nervously; she didn't know how to answer.
Should she say she came from a place called "Soul Society" and got lost while trying to save a companion named "Mr. Kurosaki"?
Fujitora did not answer immediately.
He reached out, groping to pick up his cane sword, and placed it horizontally across his knees.
With his rough fingertips, he gently stroked the plain, unadorned patterns on the scabbard.
After a long while, he spoke slowly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Director Fury, do you believe in fate?"
Fury's single eye flashed with a sharp light. "I don't believe in fate; I only believe in controllable variables and absolute strength."
"Heh heh…" Fujitora let out a low chuckle and shook his head.
"I am a gambler. What a gambler does most often is entrust their chips to fate."
He raised his head, his pupil-less eyes "looking" towards Fury.
"Where we come from is not important. What is important is that the Dice have already been cast. And we are the two strange Dice that have landed on your gambling table."
"Now, it is your turn to place your bet, Mr. Director."
The air in the room seemed to have been sucked dry by Fujitora's words, leaving only a stagnant silence.
Nick Fury's single eye locked onto Fujitora's expressionless face like a hawk.
Gambling table? Dice? He had spent his whole life dealing with various variables, erasing or co-opting uncontrollable factors one by one.
He didn't like gambling; he only believed in absolute truth and evidence.
"On my gambling table, strange Dice usually only have two outcomes."
Fury's voice was low, as if coming from underground.
"Either I figure out what number each face represents, or they get crushed into powder directly."
Before he finished speaking, the lights on the wall behind him dimmed, leaving only a beam of light in the center of the table, illuminating everyone's faces with sharp contours.
An invisible pressure surged from all directions; this was a carefully designed psychological tactic in the interrogation room.
Happy Hogan subconsciously straightened his back; he felt as if he were back to before, the air full of the scent of danger.
Fujitora, however, seemed completely unaware. He didn't even need to "listen" to the changes in the room; his Observation Haki had long since crossed through the layers of alloy, covering the entire underground Base.
He heard hundreds of hearts beating on different floors—some nervous, some steady, some accelerating because of a cup of overly strong coffee.
He heard a female technician complaining in a low voice about spilling her cola, and he also heard, deeper within, the humming from that massive energy core, like the breathing of a deep-sea behemoth.
"I cannot see; I can only listen with my ears."
Fujitora spoke slowly, breaking the oppressive atmosphere Fury had created.
"On this'ship' hidden in the mountain belly, there are nine hundred and seventy-four people. Among them, one hundred and twenty-three have accelerated heartbeats, and sixty-seven have high blood pressure. You all seem very nervous?"
He paused, his calm, ancient-well-like face turning in Fury's direction.
"Mr. Director, with such heavy security, are you guarding against external enemies, or are you keeping watch over something you yourselves are afraid of?"
Coulson's pupils constricted slightly.
Deep within Fury's single eye, a flash of genuine astonishment appeared for the first time.
This blind man—his range and precision of perception had already exceeded the category of "keen."
"An organization that only serves a few people always needs high walls to isolate the public's view."
Fujitora's voice was calm, yet it struck Fury's heart like a heavy hammer.
"I have seen many similar organizations. They also like to boast of 'Justice,' treating the World as their chessboard, manipulating pieces at will, yet never caring whether the chessboard itself will collapse because of it."
Fujitora thought of the World Government, those high-and-mighty Celestial Dragons who viewed human life as worthless, and their sharpest blade—the CP organization.
To him, this S.H.I.E.L.D. before him was no different in essence from those disgusting institutions. They were all minions hiding in the shadows, serving the powerful and elite.
Fujitora mistakenly took S.H.I.E.L.D. for a CP secret agent organization under the World Government.
Fury heard the sarcasm and disdain in the other's words. Just as he was about to retort and escalate the intensity of this psychological warfare, a timid voice suddenly interrupted.
"Um… excuse me…"
Orihime Inoue stood halfway up from her chair, her hands nervously waving in front of her. She looked at Fury, then at Fujitora, her face full of bewilderment.
"Mr. Fury, Mr. Fujitora, are you… are you going to argue?"
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was like a small pebble thrown into a stagnant pool, instantly breaking the tense, sword-drawn atmosphere in the room.
"Arguing is not good! It, it will affect your health, and it will make the people around you worry!"
Orihime Inoue explained eagerly, seemingly trying to use her limited vocabulary to mediate this dispute she didn't quite understand.
"Look, Mr. Happy's face has gone pale! Mr. Coulson has also been secretly checking his watch!"
Happy and Coulson, who had been named, were both stunned.
"Everyone is a good person, why do you have to be like this? ヾ(≧へ≦)〃"
The girl's eyes were clear and sincere. She looked around, and finally mustered up the courage to propose a suggestion she felt was brilliant.
"How about we play a game? Or have some snacks together? I love bread with honey the most! Sweet things can make people feel better!"