Tokyo: I'm really not a killer

Chapter 88 New Orders

A few days later, his vacation ended, and Hara Masaki changed into his uniform as usual and went to work at the office.

Inside the office, Director Nishio was drinking tea and reading the newspaper. When he saw him come in, he simply nodded and didn't say anything.

The tense atmosphere of the past few days seems to have dissipated, and the routine of handling trivial matters has returned to normal.

Yuan Zhensheng processed a few unimportant reports of surrender and went out for his routine patrol. The streets remained calm, with occasional patrol cars passing by, but the tense atmosphere of a thorough search and widespread fear had faded.

News reports on the prison break at the Hong Kong police station and the assassination attempt on a legislator are losing their luster in newspapers and on television, and are being replaced by other social news.

The Metropolitan Police Department is still maintaining arrest warrants for Hideaki Shiraishi and Rin Shinomiya, but large-scale manhunts have ceased, and the focus has shifted to routine intelligence gathering and investigation.

For the higher-ups and the public, the conclusion that "the Yamakatsu group members committed crimes to climb the ranks and then escaped" is not perfect, but it is enough to temporarily settle the matter and divert public attention from accusations of police incompetence.

At the official level, the case seems to have become yet another unresolved case, temporarily shelved, awaiting new clues that may appear at any time.

During his lunch break, Yuan Zhensheng was buying a bento at a convenience store when he overheard two office workers chatting nearby: "I heard the case of that swamp man is still unsolved?"

"Who knows? That's how the police are. It'll be a commotion for a while, then it'll be over. Anyway, it's all gangsters who die, what does it have to do with us?"

He silently finished his lunchbox and threw the food container into the trash can.

The afternoon patrol route was no different from usual, consisting of the same familiar streets and faces.

He wore a yellow safety helmet and escorted children across the street after school; he helped drunk office workers who had passed out on the roadside to sober up; he gave directions to tourists from out of town to the nearest convenience store or subway station.

The streets of the port area appeared calm and languid in the afternoon sun, as if the thrilling chase and commotion of the previous days had never happened.

In the evening, he returned to the patrol office and reported to Chief Nishio that the day's patrol was "all normal".

The director was worrying about the materials for tomorrow's residents' meeting in his jurisdiction. He gave a casual reply and continued to bury himself in the pile of documents.

After Yuan Zhensheng finished processing the remaining neighborhood dispute mediation records, he carefully hung up his patrol uniform and clocked out.

As he walked out of Jiaofan and blended into the crowd of people returning home late, his pager suddenly vibrated.

He walked to a secluded corner and took out his pager.

The screen displayed a special number, just numbers, no message. This was the emergency contact signal that Erei had previously agreed upon with him, meaning that the other party had something important and urgent.

Yuan Zhensheng looked around, walked into a nearby public phone booth, inserted coins, and dialed back.

The phone rang four times, which, according to the agreed-upon code, meant that the other end was safe.

The receiver carried the deep, calm voice of Tomo Miura, with an unusually quiet background.

"it's me."

Miura Tomo got straight to the point: "I'm back. Things have temporarily come to a standstill, and the buzz has died down a bit."

Yuan Zhensheng remained silent, waiting for what was to come.

He knew that Miura wouldn't use emergency contact just to let people know he was safe.

Sure enough, Miura paused for a moment, then continued, "There's a new job. The target is a troublesome person, with some influence in Yokohama, and close ties to the Sumiyoshi-kai. The deposit is very high, fifty million yen, and the total reward after the job is done is one hundred and fifty million yen—they specifically requested that Numa-o take the job."

He added, "The intelligence is clean; I've personally verified it. The employer's background is reliable; it's not a sting operation. Moreover, the target's security is more standard than that of Kenkichi Kuwata, so it shouldn't be too difficult for you."

Yuan Zhensheng listened in silence.

He needs money, especially after the recent series of events that have drained his funds.

Moreover, taking orders again after a period of silence is also a way to maintain the presence and deterrent effect of the "swamp man" identity in the industry.

But he remained cautious: "The location is Yokohama? And there are time constraints?"

"The sooner the better; they want it resolved within a week," Miura Tomo said. "If you're interested, as usual, Odaiba Seaside Park, tomorrow morning at 10 a.m., to discuss the details. I've brought preliminary information about the target."

"Okay," Yuan Zhensheng replied. "See you tomorrow."

He hung up the phone and walked out of the phone booth.

The afterglow of the setting sun bathed the streets in orange-red hues, and people hurried home from get off work.

Like an ordinary, weary patrolman, he walked towards the apartment, already planning tomorrow's meeting and how to arrange his route and time to Yokohama.

Instead of going directly back to Yui Komi's apartment, he went to another safe house of his own in Minato Ward first.

This is his dedicated training and secluded retreat, equipped with soundproofing and necessary training equipment.

After entering the house and locking the door, Yuan Zhensheng changed into sportswear that was easy to move in. He didn't turn on the main lights, but only lit a table lamp.

He walked to the center of the room, facing the hanging sandbags and several mannequins filled with old clothes to simulate vital organs, and began his daily, unwavering training.

First, there's basic physical fitness: push-ups, squats, and core strength exercises. The movements are precise and swift, and the breathing is steady.

Next came weight training. He picked up dumbbells and worked on maintaining the strength in his arms and back, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion in each set.

After physical training, the more important skill practice begins.

He took out several daggers and short knives of different models and, in the dim light, repeatedly practiced stabbing and slashing the dummy's throat, heart, kidneys, and other vital areas.

His movements are clean and crisp, with tricky angles. Every strike is aimed at a fatal blow, without any unnecessary frills. He needs to maintain this precise feel and instantaneous judgment at all times.

He practiced for nearly two hours until his arm muscles started to ache slightly and his breathing became heavy, at which point he stopped.

After wiping away his sweat with a towel and resting for a while, he began to organize his equipment, check the tools he might need for tomorrow, and review the details of his meeting with Miura Tomohisa and the initial plans for his trip to Yokohama in his mind.

By the time I finished doing all that, it was nearly 9 p.m.

He felt hungry, but instead of cooking anything complicated, he went to the makeshift kitchen area, took out a juicer—a staple in his various safe houses—and took out pre-prepared chicken breast, boiled eggs, broccoli, carrots, and a small amount of oatmeal from the refrigerator. He put them all into the juicer and added water.

The machine emitted a dull hum, grinding all the ingredients into a thick, indescribably colored paste.

This is his dinner, prioritizing pure nutritional intake over gustatory enjoyment.

With a blank expression, Yuan Zhensheng poured the paste into a large bowl, picked up a spoon, and quickly and mechanically ate it, as if completing a necessary task. The taste wasn't great, but it efficiently replenished protein, vitamins, and carbohydrates, was easy to digest, and wouldn't affect his physical condition.

After finishing dinner, he washed the dishes, spoons, and juicer, restoring everything to its original state, leaving no trace of his personal life.

He then took a cold shower to relax his tense muscles.

Lying on the hard bed, Yuan Zhensheng closed his eyes, went through tomorrow's schedule in his mind one last time, and then forced himself to clear his mind.

Sufficient sleep is essential for maintaining alertness and energy.

The next morning, Yuan Zhensheng woke up on time. He opened his eyes, lay on the hard bed, and did not get up immediately, but let his consciousness fully awaken in the darkness.

He recalled his meeting with Miura Tomo at 10 a.m. that morning, and went over every step of the plan: the exit route, the disguised identity, the backup plan, and the evacuation route after the meeting.

He got up, took a cold shower, and washed away the last trace of sleepiness.

Breakfast was still a nutritious porridge.

With everything ready, he took one last look around the safe house to make sure he hadn't left any traces that might reveal his identity, locked the door, and blended into the morning rush hour crowd.

Hara Masashi first took the subway in the opposite direction, changing trains twice along the way, navigating through several large stations, using the complex crowds and environment to observe whether he was being followed. Only after confirming it was safe did he transfer to a tram heading to Odaiba.

He arrived near the park more than an hour early, but instead of going directly to the agreed-upon bench, he mingled with the joggers and walkers, observing from a distance.

The sea breeze carries the distinctive slightly fishy smell of Tokyo Bay. The view is unobstructed, with sparse trees behind, making it easy to observe the surroundings without being easily eavesdropped on at close range.

Miura Tomo appeared right on time, still looking as slovenly as if he hadn't slept, wearing a wrinkled brown trench coat, carrying a seemingly ordinary black suitcase in his left hand, and a slightly bulging brown paper document bag in his right.

He sat down on the agreed-upon bench, placed the document bag beside him, and his suitcase in the empty space between them, quietly gazing at the sea.

Hara Masaki did not immediately approach. He continued to observe from a distance for about two thousand minutes, confirming that there were no suspicious loitering around Miura Tomohisa, nor did he detect any signs of remote surveillance.

He then changed direction, approaching from the side and rear, and sat down on the bench next to Miura Tomo, with a person's distance between them.

"Things." Yuan Zhensheng cut straight to the point without any pleasantries.

Miura Tomo seemed to be used to this directness. He pushed the brown paper document bag next to him into the empty space between the two of them, but did not hand it directly to Hara Masaki. The suitcase remained in its original place.

"They're all in here."

Yuan Zhensheng didn't immediately go to get it, but instead asked, "What are the specific details of the target?"

Miura Tomo pulled a cigarette case from his trench coat pocket, lit one, took a drag, and the smoke quickly dissipated in the sea breeze.

"The target's name is Masashi Horiuchi, 56 years old. His public identity is the president of Horiuchi Construction, a medium-sized construction company in Yokohama. The company mainly undertakes municipal engineering and real estate development projects in Kanagawa Prefecture, especially in the Yokohama area."

He paused, flicking his cigarette ash: "Secretly, he's a core member of the Sumiyoshi-kai's 'Waka Sakura-kai,' mainly responsible for handling gray-area business for the organization, such as forced demolitions, threatening competitors, and laundering money for the organization through his company."

"Recently, he has been vying with another emerging force in the Kanto region—East Japan Alliance—for a subcontracting deal for a dock renovation project near Yokohama Port."

"This land is highly lucrative, and both sides are determined to get it. Masashi Horiuchi's methods are rather old-fashioned, but efficient, and he's blocking the path of the 'East Japan Union.' Therefore, I speculate that this employer is likely someone from the 'East Japan Union,' or a third party with vested interests in them."

Yuan Zhensheng listened quietly; this background information helped him understand the target's behavior patterns and social circle.

"What about security?" he asked.

"His main security forces come from two sources: one is the several bodyguards hired by his company, who are responsible for his daily travel and safety at the company. These people have received some training, but their levels vary and their vigilance is generally low. The other is that Ruoying will occasionally send some team members to provide support when he is handling certain special matters."

"However," Miura Tomo changed the subject, taking a drag of his cigarette, "he has a habit, or rather a weakness."

"He would go to a high-end Chinese restaurant called Hua Yue Lou near Yokohama Chinatown at least two nights a week; it was his regular place for business meetings and relaxation. He would usually stay there until very late, and sometimes he would even go to a private room upstairs to discuss business."

"That restaurant is owned by the younger brother of one of his mistresses, so it's practically his own territory, which is why he'll be least wary there. According to intelligence, he'll be there tomorrow night to host a dinner for several section chiefs from the Yokohama Port Authority."

"What's the security situation at the restaurant?"

"Mainly his own bodyguards, plus the restaurant's own security guards. Chinatown is crowded and noisy at night, but the interior of Hua Yue Lou, especially the upstairs private rooms, is relatively enclosed."

"However, precisely because there are so many people, there are also more opportunities to sneak in or get close. Kitchen aisles, ventilation ducts, and even delivery personnel—these are all possible entry points."

Miura Tomoaki stubbed out his cigarette on the trash can next to the bench. "The file folder contains a draft floor plan of Huayuelou, his usual private room location, the approximate positions of his bodyguards, and their shift schedule. In addition, it also lists his known public schedule for the next week."

Yuan Zhensheng then reached for the brown paper document bag, but didn't open it immediately. He weighed it in his hand; it was quite heavy.

Miura continued, "The reward is 150 million yen, and the deposit of 50 million yen has already arrived. If you take the job, according to the old rules, I will take 10% as a referral fee after the job is done, and the rest will be yours. I can give you a portion of the deposit as preliminary activity expenses."

"That's all for now. Don't give me the deposit yet; we'll talk about it before we take action." Yuan Zhensheng stuffed the document bag into his backpack. "If I decide to take the job, I'll contact you again to confirm. Same old way."

"Understood." Miura Tomohisa nodded without asking any further questions.

He understood the habits of the Swamp Man; caution was the first rule of survival.

"May you have good luck in your martial arts." After saying that, Miura Tomo got up and left. Hara Masaki sat on the bench for a while, watching the seagulls skim across the water, making sure that no one else had made any unusual moves after Miura Tomo left.

Then, he got up and left the park in the opposite direction from Miura Tomo.

Instead of going directly back to the safe house, he went to another backup short-term rental apartment that was not registered under anyone's name.

There, he locked the door, drew the curtains, and then opened the brown paper document bag.

As Miura Tomo said, the contents are very detailed. There are multiple candid photos of Horiuchi Masashi, showing his physique, appearance, and usual style of dress from different angles.

There were several blurry but recognizable photos of bodyguards and drivers, with brief handwritten descriptions on the back. A hand-drawn floor plan of Huayuelou, though rough, marked the location of the kitchen back door, freight elevator, main ventilation openings, and the two private rooms, "Pine" and "Bamboo," which were most frequently used by Masashi Horiuchi.

There were also several printed itineraries and several notes with addresses and license plate numbers recorded.

He memorized the useful information, then gathered all the papers, lit them with a lighter, watched them turn to ashes in the ashtray, and flushed the ashes down the toilet. He also tore the document folder itself to pieces.

After doing all that, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

A new job was laid out before him, and he was about to begin the next round of hunting.