They crossed over the bridge, where artificial lights glowed in evenly spaced intervals, and Sora thought he caught a glimpse of a train running over the sea. The tall, narrow skyscrapers stretched out along the bay, the lights from their windows reflecting on the water here and there. It was hard to believe that this place, here and now, was connected to the past they had been born in. For a moment, Sora felt as though he’d been drifting in a long dream.
“Surreal, isn’t it? The Yurikamome train runs over the sea, and there are people living over there. It’s like a fantasy,” Natsuki murmured, though the place would have already existed around the time she was born.
“Do you think so, too, Ms. Natsuki?” Sora asked in surprise.
“It’s a pretty view, but I grew up in Shizukuishi, you know. It feels like a different world to me. I bet Mr. Odajima feels the same way, too! He was born in Nerima, after all. They better not drown Mr. Odajima all the way out here!!”
“We won’t let them!”
Prompted by Natsuki, Sora pressed down on the gas pedal, and the car sped into the Aomi Container Terminal. Aomi was a candidate for the IR resort location, but the container terminal was a wharf where shipping containers did their loading and unloading. No one would go there just for fun.
“Sora, turn off the headlights and slow down. We don’t want them to hear our engine,” Tamuramaro said as he reached over to switch off the interior lights completely. Sora followed his orders, letting the car move forward in gear. Only then did he realize that Tamuramaro had told him to rent a hybrid car because of the quieter engine. As usual, he was slightly annoyed at Tamuramaro’s competence.
He could make out a tiny light at the tip of the terminal. There were shadowy figures, at least two men.
“Stop here. Leave the engine running,” Tamuramaro said quietly, carefully pushing open the door on his side.
“Ms. Natsuki, please wait in the car with Fuuka,” Sora whispered as he followed suit. He knew it was too late, but he was regretting bringing them here. After all, these people were trying to get rid of a man. It was dangerous.
“It’ll be all right,” Tamuramaro said quietly into the dark, as if he could sense Sora’s anxiety. “But there’s bound to be more of them waiting in cars. If it’s just one car, we can expect two or three people at most, but don’t let your guard down.”
Now that he could see the enemy in front of him, Tamuramaro could probably make a rough estimate of the situation. Neither of them could shut the doors completely because of the loud sound, and this worried Sora. They edged toward the shadows along the containers.
“You know, they’re going to find my body pretty soon if you drown me in a place like this.”
Sora let out a sigh of relief at Odajima’s leisurely voice.
“What do we care? Let them find a drowned corpse.”
Apparently, there were arrangements in place for the politician to use Odajima’s death as a warning to suppress the article due to be published in two days and make the press lay the full blame on Odajima’s embezzlement of IR’s funds.
“See, we’ve drawn up a will for you. Sign here.”
“All right, all right. Let’s see—‘I pocketed the money from the IR project and spent it all,’ eh? I must’ve had a grand old time using up seven hundred million all by myself.”
“Shut your trap and sign!”
The whole job must have been a familiar drill for the man, but even he seemed ruffled by Odajima’s blithe manner as he pulled out a fountain pen from his breast pocket.
“I’ll get him in one hit,” whispered Tamuramaro. “Keep Mr. Odajima safe. Don’t forget, they definitely have backup waiting nearby.”
“Got it.”
No sooner had he spoken than he darted out. He kicked the man on the side of his head with his hard, leather shoes to get him off-balance, and it was perfectly aimed to give him a concussion.
“…!”
The bulky man toppled to the ground, and Sora pulled Odajima’s arm while he was dutifully signing the will.
“Whoo. This is like a movie.”
“Do you realize what danger you’re in?!”
“Well, it’s nothing I didn’t expect. I did call Mr. Yamagata up and ask—we’ve already done some creative accounting, collusive bidding, bid rigging, arranging public construction works, you name it, so how about we do some time in prison together? But he didn’t like that.”
“If he’d said, ‘sure,’ he would’ve been a true friend…!”
Two men who had been hiding in a station wagon on the other side of the containers sprinted over, but Tamuramaro kicked one down in no time.
The enormous second man lunged at the escaping pair. Sora dug his elbow into the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he swung a billy club at Odajima, and Sora flung himself between them. The weapon hit him square in the shoulder, knocking him down onto the concrete.
“Sora! Dodge!!” Tamuramaro shouted, twisting around to look at Sora as he wrestled with his opponent.
The man who’d struck Sora raised his weapon again to land the final blow on his head. Sora writhed on the ground, knowing he wouldn’t die but steeling himself for the hit—and then he felt a gust of wind.
Fuuka had leaped out of the half-open car and effortlessly thrown the man onto the ground.
“A w-wolf?!” he yelped under Fuuka.
“Fuuka!”
Sora’s shout didn’t reach the snarling wolf. Tamuramaro struck down his assailant, but he wouldn’t get to Fuuka in time to stop him.
“Fuuka…!”
Right before his teeth sank into the man’s throat, Fuuka froze.
Time seemed to stop in Sora’s eyes.
He felt like everything had stopped altogether. Never before had Fuuka held back from killing someone from Sora’s voice alone—not once. But the police sirens were rapidly drawing closer, indicating the passage of time.