Chapter 51: The Dust Settles? Another Storm Looms! (Extra Chapter for Alliance Leader Little Tiger Is Very Sleepy)

A black Honda sedan with a badly damaged front raced down the empty street under the cover of night. At the wheel, Yamamoto Akira's face was ashen, his hands trembling on the steering wheel. "Quick, call Aoyama. Tell him to clean up for us."

"I'm calling now, right now," Nakayama Tani replied, his voice quivering as he dialed. When the call connected, he spoke urgently, "Aoyama, we just overturned Tanaka Norifumi's car. His condition is unknown."

"Which intersection? Are there any cameras nearby?"

"I... I don't know. We ran into him unexpectedly on the way to his house, not far from there."

"Park the car somewhere and call me again. I'll send someone to meet you."

"Understood! Please hurry!"

"I will." Aoyama Hidehiko hung up, a cold smile on his lips, and then called Fujimoto Ryoichi from the Criminal Division. "Ryoichi, there's been an accident near Kitashinjuku 5-chome. Suspected intentional homicide. Go check it out. If I hear anything about the perpetrators, I'll let you know."

"Hidehiko, what are you up to?" Fujimoto Ryoichi caught the implications in Aoyama's words.

Aoyama offered no explanation, only laughing. "A free merit, you don't want it?"

"I'm on my way," Fujimoto replied.

After ending the call, Aoyama Hidehiko turned to gaze out the window at the retreating cityscape, his voice calm and measured. "Shinichi, do you know who those three are? Want to hear the story?"

"Yes, Hidehiko, I'm all ears." Nakamura Shinichi knew his own desire was irrelevant; it was Aoyama's wish to speak, so he made sure to appear eager.

Aoyama smiled. "Those three, like you, used to be my subordinates."

Nakamura Shinichi was visibly surprised.

"But later, they betrayed me, disregarded my kindness, and helped Sato Toshitomi fabricate evidence against me, confirming the charge that my unauthorized actions caused colleagues' deaths. I was transferred out of the Metropolitan Police because of them."

"Tell me, shouldn't traitors like them die?"

Nakamura Shinichi's heart tightened; he replied without hesitation, "Ungrateful, they deserve to die!"

Cold sweat trickled down his brow. He had never considered betraying Aoyama Hidehiko, and after seeing the fate of those three tonight, he'd never dare to even think of it.

"Yes, they deserve it." Aoyama nodded in agreement. Then he sighed, "But I'm sentimental, so I spared their lives."

"You are merciful, Deputy Chief."

Honestly, it would have been kinder to give them a quick death.

This was murder and soul-crushing all at once.

The phone rang again—Nakayama Tani reporting their location.

"Good, stay by the car and don't run. My people are on their way." After hanging up, Aoyama called Fujimoto again. "Ryoichi, the perpetrators are in the wilds near the border of Shibuya and Setagaya, along with the car. Two suspects. Good luck with the arrest. By the way, I have evidence of their bribery—I'll hand it over in the morning. I suspect the murder is related."

With that, he ended the conversation, opened the window, and let the night wind rush in, disheveling his once neat hair.

"Shinichi, play a song."

"Yes, sir."

A gentle prelude filled the car.

Meanwhile, in the wilds beside the highway at the border of Shibuya and Setagaya, Nakayama Tani and Yamamoto Akira stood beside the wrecked car, smoking nervously, the frequency of their drags increasing.

One moment worrying whether Tanaka was dead, the next fearing the crash wasn't severe enough and Aoyama would be dissatisfied. Their minds were a tangled mess. Too much had happened tonight.

When the sound of sirens approached, both looked up. In the distance, flashing police lights, red and blue, drew closer.

Two patrol cars screeched to a halt. Fujimoto Ryoichi and several officers leapt out, guns drawn, charging at the pair.

"Don't move! Hands on your head, squat down!"

The cigarettes dropped from their mouths.

Their minds reeled, thoughts scattered.

Now they knew they'd been tricked by Aoyama Hidehiko.

While they gaped in shock, four officers tackled them to the ground.

"Let us go! We're innocent!"

"Aoyama Hidehiko! It was him, he set us up, made us do it!"

Regaining their senses, both struggled and screamed hysterically.

"Bang!" Fujimoto Ryoichi strode forward and delivered a brutal kick, then pressed Nakayama Tani's face to the ground, snarling, "Do you have evidence? If not, it's slander—another charge!"

Seeing his cold eyes, they realized instantly: he was Aoyama's man, too. Their hearts sank. There was no hope.

They had no evidence.

"Aoyama Hidehiko! You won't die a good death!"

"Ahh! May you suffer!"

Red-eyed, powerless and furious, they could only curse Aoyama Hidehiko. Nothing else remained.

At this point, their regret was boundless.

If only they hadn't betrayed Aoyama Hidehiko...

If only they hadn't betrayed Tanaka Norifumi tonight...

If only... but there are no ifs in this world.

Now, whatever they said was already too late.

...

The next morning, Aoyama Hidehiko woke on schedule.

He went to the police station, evidence in hand against Nakayama Tani and Yamamoto Akira, seeking out Fujimoto Ryoichi, only to hear unsettling news.

"Tanaka Norifumi was already too late when he reached the hospital. He may never wake again."

Fujimoto Ryoichi stared into Aoyama's eyes.

"Is that so? What a pity." Aoyama Hidehiko sighed, wiping away imaginary tears at his eye. "I'll go visit him."

Watching Aoyama feign sympathy, Fujimoto Ryoichi, who had learned the truth from Nakayama Tani last night, was speechless. "Drop the act. All three ended up like this—anyone familiar with the facts knows you're involved."

The marvel of the situation was that everyone knew Aoyama Hidehiko was responsible, but there was no proof.

This only made people fear and respect him more. Before offending him, everyone would weigh the risks.

After all, the bloody example was right before their eyes.

"Careful what you say, or I'll sue for slander," Aoyama Hidehiko warned, tossing the envelope on the table. "He's still my former subordinate lying in the hospital; I'll bring a fruit basket to see him."

While Aoyama, fruit basket in hand, went to the hospital to show a humane side to his old subordinate, Noda was leading four comrades toward their planned bank heist.

According to the plan coordinated with Kobayashi, they would reach the target bank at nine-thirty to begin the robbery.

At that time, a senior bank official would induce regular employees to cooperate, completing the entire heist.

But plans rarely survive reality. The route to the bank for Noda and his crew happened to be the same road where Yamamoto Akira and Nakayama Tani had crashed into Tanaka Norifumi the previous night. Because of the suspected homicide, police had been gathering evidence at the scene all night, so traffic authorities only started clearing it that morning.

And it was rush hour.

Naturally, this led to a massive traffic jam.

"Damn it! Only twenty minutes left, we won't make it on time." In the van, the bespectacled youth in the passenger seat glanced at his watch and cursed.

It was already ten past nine.

Noda was irritated but remained unhurried. With the bank manager waiting for them to rob the place, there was no need to rush. "Stay calm, late is late. A good meal isn't spoiled by delay. The main act starts when we arrive."

Hearing this, the others couldn't help but laugh. None had imagined robbing a bank would ever feel so relaxed.

Those finance elites were truly rotten.

Yet when things start off poorly, worse is usually yet to come. While Noda and his men were stuck in traffic, an unexpected situation was unfolding.

Because of the jam, the street outside North Expansion Bank's Tokyo Shinjuku branch was unusually quiet for a weekday morning, almost deserted.

Across from the bank, in a traditional restaurant, three men were having breakfast, each with a large bag by their feet, occasionally glancing at the bank.

A middle-aged man jogged in, sat next to them, gulped water to catch his breath, and said, "I found out—the crash up ahead jammed the whole road, that's why it's so quiet."

Hearing this, the other three relaxed.

They were Noda's rivals, who had been scouting North Expansion Bank for days and rented a nearby place for convenience.

Today was their day to act.

They had planned to strike at nine sharp.

But the unusually empty street made them fear the police were lying in wait, so they hesitated.

Now, knowing the real reason, not only did they relax, they were elated.

With the intersection blocked, police reinforcements would arrive late, increasing their odds of a successful getaway after the robbery.

It was as if heaven itself was helping them.

"Alright! Leave the food, time to start work."

The leader, a man in his forties with a knife scar at his brow, threw a few large bills on the table, settled the bill, then drew a mask from his coat, donned it, grabbed a gun and a bag, and strode toward the bank.

The other three followed suit, dropping their chopsticks and bowls.

Clearly, even in the nineties, workers were hustling hard: no time to finish breakfast before starting their shift.

Inside the bank lobby, the section chief resting in the corner kept glancing outside and at his watch. When he finally saw the four robbers rush in, he breathed a sigh of relief.

At last, they were right on time.