Chapter 43: Where Was He Captured? The Death of Sato (Please vote! Please follow!)

What should he do?

Toshitomi Sato’s mind was in utter chaos.

He had no idea what to do next. In fact, from this moment onward, there was nothing he could do but wait, responding to all changes with unwavering stillness.

Even if Ichiro Takeda were caught alive and implicated him, no one would believe such nonsense.

And taking it one step further, even if the Metropolitan Police finally determined that someone on the inside had aided the bank heist and tipped off Ichiro Takeda, it would require a thorough investigation.

So, he still had time to devise a countermeasure.

As these thoughts swirled, the anxious and fearful Toshitomi Sato found himself unexpectedly calm. He snorted at Takehiko Asai, then stepped aside to watch coldly.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunshots rang out continuously inside the restaurant, splinters flying everywhere.

Ichiro Takeda’s determination to resist was fierce.

He fired from the stairway on the second floor, suppressing the advancing officers below, who dared not expose themselves thanks to his advantageous position.

“Takeda Ichiro, surrender now! You cannot escape tonight!” Ayaka Asai shouted loudly.

“Then I’ll take someone down with me!” Takeda roared furiously, firing two more shots. The bullets shattered the wooden staircase, sending debris flying and startling Yoshikazu Fujimoto, who had just been about to charge forward, causing him to shrink back.

Takeda seized the moment to change magazines.

Hideyoshi Aoyama crouched behind a dining table, fearless and resolute, shouting heroically, “Go! Rush him and pin him down!”

He exuded the commanding presence of a military officer.

Aoyama was not afraid of death—he simply valued his own life more. His subordinates were expendable; if they died in the assault, so be it. But he was high-value talent, and his death would be a loss for the Empire of Japan. He must preserve himself for promotion and fortune—or rather, to serve his country.

“I’ll go! Cover me, and I’ll lead the charge!” Fujimoto gritted his teeth.

This time, Aoyama truly saw him in a new light. This young man could be trusted; when trouble came, he stepped up.

Ayaka Asai immediately called out, “Cover!”

At her command, she peeked out and fired two shots.

Bang! Bang!

The others followed suit, shooting toward the upstairs.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Suddenly, gunfire roared. Takeda, who had just changed magazines, didn’t dare show his head and blindly fired his gun from around the corner to prevent the police from rushing up.

In a real gunfight, there were few chances to aim—everything depended on instinct and luck. When you aimed at someone, you might be shot yourself.

Bang! Bang! Bang!... Click!

Hideyoshi Aoyama, with physical abilities far exceeding ordinary people, keenly heard a crisp sound above, paired with a sudden pause in Takeda’s firing. He instantly realized that Takeda had run out of bullets. Without hesitation, he sprang forward.

He was the very picture of courage—leading by example.

“Aoyama! Don’t!” Ayaka Asai was startled, her face paling as she cried out.

The others were in shock as well. Was Aoyama always this bold? Was he always so brave?

Battle-hardened Fujimoto was the first to react, rushing up right behind him.

Aoyama moved quickly, bounding up the stairs in three strides to the second-floor landing. He saw Takeda just finishing loading a new magazine.

Takeda saw Aoyama suddenly appear before him. His expression changed dramatically; his mind had no time to process, but his body reacted, raising his gun instinctively.

Clang!

In the instant Takeda raised his weapon, Aoyama delivered a swift kick. Takeda felt as if struck by a car, sent flying several meters before crashing to the floor, blood gushing from his mouth, his organs seeming to shift painfully as his features twisted in agony.

Driven by a desperate will to survive, Takeda tried to crawl up and grab his gun, but Aoyama strode over and stomped his head to the ground, pinning him immobile.

“Damn you! Let me go!” Takeda, humiliated beneath another’s foot, shouted with bloodshot eyes and a contorted face.

When the others rushed up, they saw Aoyama standing over Takeda, gun in hand, one foot pressing him to the floor, like a statue of a war god.

He was truly worthy of his reputation—the man who, even when captured, disarmed criminals barehanded and slew four drug dealers in a desperate reversal.

Aoyama ignored the awestruck looks behind him, took out his communicator, and reported to Asai Takehiko outside, “Reporting, Chief Inspector: Main culprit in the Nagashin Bank heist, Takeda Ichiro, has been apprehended!”

“Where was he caught?” Asai, outside and unable to see inside, had only heard the intense gunfire. Now, hearing Takeda was caught, he wanted to see for himself.

Aoyama glanced down at the battered Takeda before replying, “Under my foot.”

...

Asai had to admit he was impressed, pausing in silence before asking, “I meant, where in the restaurant?”

“The second-floor corridor.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Cuff him,” Aoyama said, releasing Takeda and picking up his fallen gun.

“Understood!”

Two officers immediately stepped forward, pinning Takeda and handcuffing him, then hauling him up.

Footsteps thundered as Asai led a group upstairs, Sato among them. Sato briefly locked eyes with Takeda, then instinctively looked away.

“Hah! Haha! Hahahaha!” Takeda was stunned, but as he realized Sato was standing behind Asai, something dawned on him, and he burst out laughing, tears streaming, his expression twisted with malice as he raised his cuffed hands and pointed at Sato, shouting, “I want to make a statement! He is my accomplice in the Nagashin Bank robbery! He gave me the bank’s detailed information and tipped me off when the police came to arrest me, letting me ambush the officers and escape Tokyo!”

His words detonated like a thunderclap.

The corridor erupted in chaos. Eyes darted between Sato and Takeda, suspicion and shock swirling.

“Idiot!” Sato’s face twitched with rage. He strode up to Takeda, sneering, “Takeda! At death’s door, you spout nonsense trying to drag others down and mislead the investigation! Laughable! What am I? Chief of the First Investigative Division of the Metropolitan Police! What are you? A fugitive, a criminal! Who would believe I conspired with you to rob a bank? Ha! Who would believe it?”

“Takeda, Takeda, at this point, confess and accept your fate—it’s better for you. If you continue to resist interrogation, you’ll suffer even more!”

Sato’s eyes brimmed with threat.

“I believe him.”

Suddenly, a calm voice sounded.

Everyone turned to Hideyoshi Aoyama.

“I believe what Takeda Ichiro says,” Aoyama repeated, his face serene.

Takeda finally looked at him seriously, frowning, uncertain. “Is it you?”

Was this the man who led the squad to capture him four months ago?

But it didn’t seem so.

If he’d had this skill back then, how could Takeda have escaped?

“Idiot!” Sato’s heart raced as he glared at Aoyama. “What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Chief Inspector Sato, you know best whether I’m speaking nonsense.” Aoyama’s smile was cold, his eyes unamused.

Sato sensed something amiss, though he couldn’t pinpoint it. Still, he could not possibly admit anything under these circumstances, stubbornly denying, “You dare question my integrity? Damn you! Fine! You say you believe him—what’s your evidence? If you have none, it’s slander against a superior; I demand you be disciplined!”

Asai Takehiko, the highest-ranking officer present, remained silent, leaving the stage to them.

“Nakamura,” Aoyama called.

Shinichi Nakamura immediately stepped forward. “Yes, sir!”

“Go fetch the recorder from private room 202,” Aoyama said, unruffled.

“Yes, sir!” Nakamura bowed, glanced at Sato, then headed toward the room.

At that moment, everyone in the corridor eyed Sato with renewed suspicion. Aoyama sounded so certain, he surely wasn’t bluffing.

The word “recorder” sent Sato into a panic, for he remembered that just earlier in the private room, during his conversation with Takeda, he had tacitly admitted involvement in the Nagashin Bank robbery and tipping off the criminals to help them escape.

“Hahaha! Retribution!” Takeda was nearly doubled over with laughter, gasping for breath. “Sato, you set this trap to kill me, but didn’t expect someone to turn the tables and catch you instead! Ha! Having you buried with me—I don’t lose, not at all!”

“Idiot, shut up!” Sato roared, his gaze locked on Aoyama, grinding his teeth so hard his molars nearly cracked. He now bitterly regretted not eliminating Aoyama when he had the chance.

Nakamura soon returned with two recorders, causing a stir among the assembled officers.

There really was a recorder!

Aoyama said, “Play it for everyone.”

“Understood.” Nakamura pressed play.

“First time meeting, Takeda Ichiro...”

“I didn’t expect you to come back.”

“So you dared to swallow my share?”

“What’s the point of saying this now? At least I helped you escape back then...”

As they listened to the conversation, the crowd in the corridor was stunned, murmuring quietly among themselves.

“So Sato really was involved.”

“Idiot! How could he do such a thing?”

“He’s a disgrace to the Metropolitan Police…”

Sato’s face was deathly pale, his mind in turmoil. He knew he was finished—utterly finished.

“Sato!” Aoyama shouted angrily, his voice ringing out: “For your own gain, you colluded with criminals for profit and murder, then tried to frame me. Now, with irrefutable evidence, what do you have to say?”

“Victory belongs to the strong, defeat to the weak. I have nothing to say.” Sato seemed to age ten years in an instant. Looking at Aoyama, his voice was hoarse, each word squeezed out, “My only regret is not getting rid of you sooner, which led to today’s disaster.”

“Idiot!” Tomoharu Takahashi suddenly cursed, rushing forward to grab Sato’s collar, spinning him hard into the wall with a howl, “You bastard, how can you show no remorse? Do you have any regard for those who followed you? Damn you!”

The others watched, feeling that Takahashi was distancing himself from Sato to avoid being implicated.

Sato thought so as well.

A mocking smile appeared on his face.

“Inspector, grab my gun and take me hostage,” Takahashi said quietly, his face full of anger.

Sato’s eyes flickered, incredulous.

“Hurry! Take me hostage and escape—this is your last chance,” Takahashi urged.

“Takahashi…” A wave of warmth surged in Sato’s heart, his eyes reddening with emotion. He hadn’t expected he’d misunderstood Takahashi; the man had loyally supported him all along, and now was his only ally.

“Hurry!”

Sato gritted his teeth, snatched Takahashi’s gun from his waistband, and took him hostage, shouting, “Everyone, get back or I’ll kill him now!”

The sudden turn of events caught everyone off guard.

“Sato! You’re insane!” Even Asai Takehiko was shocked and furious. “You can still turn back—don’t make it worse!”

“It’s too late, too late—I don’t want to spend my life in prison!” Sato shook his head wildly, his eyes red as he yelled, “I don’t want to hurt anyone! Step back, all of you!”

Bang!

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out.

Sato’s throat was pierced. His hand loosened from Takahashi’s neck, his body collapsing backward to the floor, the gun falling from his grasp.