Chapter 40
After that one word, Fyodor, Oda Sakunosuke's attitude towards Dostoevsky became exceptionally businesslike.
On the other hand, Oda Sakunosuke would not abandon Dostoevsky and leave Leibo Street alone because of this—after all, this was a personality switch he had witnessed once before, and he knew that Ye Yihe was still sleeping in this slender and thin body.
I don't know when I will wake up again.
The main character in front of him, Fyodor, was someone he was extremely wary of.
But at the same time, he had to ensure the other person's life was absolutely safe. At the very least, they couldn't die in the dog-eat-dog world of Leibo Street.
"Keep quiet,"
As Oda Sakunosuke led Nakahara Chuuya away from Raihachi, he emphasized to Dostoevsky, "Don't say a word until we get back."
—This was Ye Yihe's advice to Oda Sakunosuke, which he then used to warn the other party.
Oda Sakunosuke had already witnessed the other party's ability to persuade Nakahara Chuuya, and had no intention of experiencing it himself again.
Since we can't listen to Fyodor, we'll use force to stop him from speaking.
This approach is simple and effective, and Oda Sakunosuke doesn't care what Fyodor thinks about it, let alone object.
However, Dostoevsky certainly didn't seem to be alive.
He only showed a rather subtle smile in his eyes, and his nodding in agreement to the request looked docile and obedient, without the slightest threat.
Even so, Oda Sakunosuke would not let his guard down—he always remembered the [V] organization that dreamed of a noble cause, and the other party had once been a member of them.
Wearing a short leather jacket, Chuuya Nakahara walked beside Sakunosuke Oda with his hands in his pockets, showing a bit of curiosity.
"Why won't he speak? Is it some kind of superpower?"
“No,” Oda Sakunosuke denied succinctly, “because I don’t want to hear it.”
Chuuya Nakahara grunted in surprise, "I didn't expect you to be so assertive. I thought you were more like a snail."
"snails?"
"Very stable, the kind that's lukewarm." Nakahara Chuuya scoffed lightly, tilting his head to look at him—because Oda Sakunosuke was much taller, he had to tilt his head up to meet his gaze.
"But you do seem to be quite capable in combat, though you're not really of much use to me. Overall, though, I neither dislike you nor reject what you said... Who entrusted you to take care of me?"
"I can't tell you for now," Oda Sakunosuke replied.
Tuosi followed quietly behind the two of them the whole time, but a smile of affection and joy was about to spread across his lips.
All of this felt like an extremely difficult test, and each step brought its own joy and surprise.
“Alright,” he continued, listening to Chuuya Nakahara speak, “That person even knows what I’m looking for, so he’s practically an insider. For that reason alone, I’ll go with you—hey, what do you do? Those people seem pretty afraid of you too.”
The "those people" that Chuuya Nakahara was referring to were the thugs and thugs who occupied the Raiba Street area. Although he considered their strength no different from a few cockroaches, they were still quite intimidating to lone ordinary people, especially underage children.
That being said, faced with the accusations from those in the [Sheep] group, he really didn't intend to go back.
Just as if there is only one road ahead, he will continue to walk forward even if he has no other choice; but if someone points out another more exciting road to him, he will also resolutely step into that direction and never look back.
That guy named Fedor something-something-ski was absolutely right.
He even felt that he had been completely seen through, and that he had almost no secrets left.
Three years ago, he awoke in ruins with no memory of what had happened. He wandered aimlessly, with nowhere to go and no idea who he was—the only thing he remembered was the name [Nakahara Chuuya].
But life needs water and food to sustain it.
Only through instinct did he attack nearby fully armed soldiers, stealing their rations and clothing, thus preventing himself from starving to death within a week of waking up.
Even so, he was often hungry at the time. The reason was that along with losing his memory, he also lost his basic common sense about the world, which made it impossible for him to distinguish which foods were right, and he had also experienced vomiting after eating bad food.
In that memory of hunger that I can barely recall now, the last clear image is of Shirase Fuichiro, the leader of the [Sheep] organization, saving him with bread and water.
After that, [Sheep], a shelter for orphans to band together against threats to their survival such as trafficking, violence, and illegal labor, allowed him to join.
He also repaid the debt with the powerful and invincible ability of gravity manipulation.
Because of this power, the originally weak [Sheep] organization rose to prominence, and no one dared to provoke them anymore.
Up to this point, everything was fine. He had found shelter, and the [sheep] had gained enough strength to protect itself.
If it ended there, he thought he would be willing to stay, and try to find out about his origins.
However, over the course of those three years, things gradually deviated from the expected trajectory.
Shirase Fuichiro is an ambitious guy, but he doesn't have the corresponding brains. He's not content with just holding onto his original territory.
He began to provoke other gangs, then used Chuuya's counter-terrorism tactics to defeat his enemies, expand his territory, and plunder resources—the watch he wore on his wrist became increasingly valuable.
He disagreed with this approach, which was tantamount to hanging the lives of the [Sheep] members on a precarious spider web; after all, only he could truly end the battle, and the others, even with guns as weapons, would inevitably suffer casualties in the fight.
Therefore, he was the one who did most of the fighting.
Chuuya Nakahara, who initially had no complaints, gradually changed to frowning and opposing.
"I can let bygones be bygones, but you actually went to steal from the port mafia's territory? Wasn't it said that their leader was a bloodthirsty and brutal old man who wouldn't show you any mercy?!"
The Port Mafia is considered the leading organization in Yokohama, but its policies for ruling the underworld are no different from tyranny. It is a purely evil group that uses violence to make huge profits.
"Don't put it so harshly. We didn't attack them; we just grabbed some drinks." Shirase Fuichiro waved his hand dismissively. "Besides, we still have you. Even if we get tied up, it's okay. You'll come back and make them pay a hundredfold."
“I can’t always make it in time,” Chuuya Nakahara frowned, his whole demeanor exuding an extremely disapproving and resistant attitude. “Didn’t you ever think about what would happen if I didn’t make it in time? Besides, why do we have to go to that territory to steal drinks?”
"Hey Chuuya, you're making it sound like we've done something terribly wrong! Or what do you want to do, use your violence to judge us?!" Shirase Fuichiro couldn't tolerate his authority as the leader being criticized in front of all his comrades. "Don't forget who saved you in the first place!"
"Want to count how many times I've saved you?" Chuuya Nakahara retorted, not backing down an inch. "It's always the same. You cause trouble, and I'm there. I don't care how many times I save you if it's just fighting back against invaders, but your actions now are too provocative! What if the Port Mafia decides to wipe you out? Can I protect everyone 24/7?"
"You clearly possess such immense power, yet you're such a coward at heart!"
Shirase Fuichiro waved his hand and pointed to his companions standing beside him, "Let's ask everyone's opinion, and see if they support expanding our territory and taking back what belongs to us, or if they'll cower in a dark hole like rats!"
"What belongs to you?" Chuuya asked him in a hoarse voice. "In your eyes, is my power also something that belongs to you?"
At that moment, what he really wanted to ask was something else entirely.
Am I the only one whose power is truly accepted by the [sheep]?
“Ah-ah, you’re hopeless,” said Shirase Fuichiro, who was older and taller, glancing down at him. “No wonder I thought you were a disgusting guy when I first saw you. If it weren’t for the fact that you were about to die, who would have brought you back, who would have taken you in?”
"…………"
Chuuya Nakahara looked at everyone who was opposing him and remained silent—in their eyes, this was a sign of admitting defeat.
"Let's go, everyone, let Chuuya have some time to calm down on his own."
Shirase Fuichiro called everyone to leave, and before leaving, he said to Nakahara Chuuya, "Even if it's true that you are very powerful, you should think carefully before you speak—after all, it was you who proposed the retaliatory policy of [returning a hundredfold if provoked], right? Then you should take responsibility for it, Chuuya."
Watching their retreating figures, Chuuya Nakahara walked down another path.
—On that road, he noticed unfamiliar eyes looking his way, as if they were watching his every move.
But what Chuuya Nakahara didn't expect was that the other party offered him a future. A future where someone was waiting for him at the finish line.
He was even understood, coming from the mouth of a guy he had never met before.
Perhaps his departure will indeed allow Shirase to see himself more clearly and stop recklessly risking his life.
As Chuuya Nakahara walked slower and slower, he raised his wrist, where a blue ring was tied, serving as proof of his membership in the [Sheep] organization.
He looked down for a moment, then used his other hand to unlock the inner clasp. A one-finger-wide strap slipped off his wrist and fell to the ground.
He quickened his pace and caught up with the other two who had stopped to wait for him.
That's it. That's all.
"My job is assassination."
He heard Oda Sakunosuke reply in a calm and composed voice, without any hint of arrogance or pride, "When I came to find you, I released a lot of killing intent along the way to intimidate them."
"An assassin... that's quite a special profession. None of the ones I've met before have been as skilled as you."
Chuuya Nakahara raised an eyebrow and then turned to Fyodor, "What about him? Is he your assistant or your manager? He doesn't look like an assistant. He's pale and looks weak."
Dostoevsky, who was quietly listening in: "…………"
If he were to say that the body he felt upon waking this time was much healthier than before, that would be a good thing.
“No,” Oda Sakunosuke denied. But after thinking about it carefully, he answered Nakahara Chuuya’s question.
"He is an idealist."
After a very slight surprise, Dostoevsky's lips curved into a fleeting, more positive smile—he seemed to have not expected that Oda Sakunosuke, who had been so cold to him and always resisted communication, would give this answer.
"I don't quite understand."
Nakahara Chuuya, whose body is only a little over ten years old and whose mind is still three years old, bluntly stated.
"Really? Actually, I don't really understand either."
Oda Sakunosuke replied to him in the same way.
The journey back from Leibo Street is long, but not slow.
Even though none of the three people present were actually of legal age, it didn't stop Oda Sakunosuke from getting a motorcycle with a back seat added.
The instant he turned the key, stepped on the starter, and the engine roared to life, Chuuya Nakahara's eyes lit up for a moment as he stared at the motorcycle.
It is utterly irresistible to this powerful and primal roar, like the claws of a wild beast gripping the earth, every muscle stretching out as it runs through the wilderness, so exciting that even the blood boils and stirs.
Simply put, Chuuya Nakahara is captivated by motorcycles.
It was only after Oda Sakunosuke urged him that he turned over and straddled Oda Sakunosuke, his back pressed against Oda Sakunosuke's chest.
"Don't try anything funny."
—When Dostoevsky also sat down, Oda Sakunosuke casually reminded him, "I can detect it in advance."
“I am not carrying any weapons,” Dostoevsky blinked slowly, his deep, purplish-red eyes appearing exceptionally innocent. “Please believe me, I will not do anything.”
With his handsome, youthful face, anyone else would be completely fooled by his innocent and well-behaved appearance, gradually letting their guard down.
Unfortunately, Dostoevsky was facing Oda Sakunosuke, and the qualities that top assassins would never possess were gullibility and rashness.
Moreover, there were repeated instructions from Ye Yihe.
"Is that so? That's for the best."
Oda Sakunosuke, who could use [Seamless] to foresee the future within six seconds, was not worried about what the other party was really planning to do. So, after the other person was settled, he turned around and twisted the accelerator.
The journey back to Yokohama city was quick. Although it was already dark, most of the residential buildings had their lights on, indicating that it was still early.
When the unlicensed motorcycle was parked in front of the brightly lit hotel, Oda Sakunosuke gestured for Fyodor to get off. "You're staying here. Ask the front desk for your room number."
N was dead, but Ye Yihe's exchange and learning time was not yet over. The military and police acted quickly, and after checking everyone present for suspicion, they arranged for this distinguished guest from Britain to go to another research institute.
However, the police are destined to find no evidence in this murder case—Oda Sakunosuke is a top expert in the field of assassination.
The hotel, which had previously only housed Pushkin, now finally welcomed another person.
Oda Sakunosuke would never take Dostoevsky to his apartment and expose his address.
"A sufficiently keen sense of vigilance and an extremely tenacious will."
Even though his memories were still incomplete, and the answers could clearly be found in the dark red-haired boy in front of him, Dostoevsky did not raise any objections to the arrangement that separated them.
After all, his physical skills were practically nonexistent, and he was no match for a top-tier assassin who relied on brute force.
Once even his back was out of sight, Dostoevsky took out the access card printed by the research institute from his pocket.
Below the elegant logo of the National Research Institute is his name and his photograph. When you touch it with your thumb, you can feel a very obvious embossed ring and a few very subtle dark lines.
This is not a fake ID, but a genuine pass.
Even judging from the word "VIP" at the bottom, he still enjoys special treatment as a VIP.
"Is this also a surprise you left for me?"
Unlike his usual indifferent expression, Tuosi's eyes narrowed dangerously at this moment, revealing a hint of keen interest.
"O O, He reveals the deep from darkness, and makes the shadow of death light."
—A soft, gentle Greek voice rang out, and when Dostoevsky recited this proverb from the Bible, even the few lights that fell from behind seemed to carry a religious connotation, like a prayer of the Son of God, solemn and holy.
He put away the clue and was about to enter the hotel when a familiar voice suddenly called out from behind him.
"BO, BOSSSS...!"
I was a little out of breath, like I had run quite a distance.
Dostoevsky's memory was astonishing; even after a long time, he could easily recognize that the "BOSS" was Pushkin—even though in his mind, the other party shouldn't be in Japan at this moment.
Logically speaking, Pushkin should still be imprisoned in Agatha Christie's dungeon at this time.
Is this something "he" did during this period? Well, it's good to have a subordinate to ask; it will be much more convenient.
"Pushkin..."
Dostoevsky turned his gaze toward the source of the sound—he paused, which was unusual for him, as he was about to continue speaking. This was something that would never normally happen.
He even became a little silent.
"Even if you come to inspect in person, I'm not afraid,"
Under the grueling weight loss program tailored for him by Ye Yihe, Pushkin, who had lost a significant amount of weight in less than a month, panted and patted his sweaty chest to pledge his loyalty, "I didn't slack off, BOSS, not at all!"
"…………"
Doss looked at his forehead, which had been shaved and was now covered with a layer of dark blond stubble, and then looked down at the muscles outlined by his tank top—they were much firmer than he remembered, and even his belly, which had been puffed up by fat, was almost completely flat.
He lost at least half the weight of Pushkin.
Facing this transformed and energetic young man, Tuosi pressed his left index finger to his lips, gently rubbing the knuckle with the tip of his teeth, but did not bite down.
"You look happy?"
Pushkin asked tentatively, hoping that his boss, seeing that he was in a good mood, would allow him to have a satisfying meal of bread, roast meat, and hamburgers, instead of boiled eggs, boiled broccoli, boiled chicken breast, boiled corn, and various boiled beans and vegetables he couldn't name...
Waaah, this devil won't even let him put pepper sauce on!
"Yes, it's a wonderful and very pleasant feeling."
The bite mark, which wasn't from him, had faded considerably, but Tuosi, with his eyelashes drooping, pressed his teeth against it again, slowly biting down with a smile.
It's as if I want to experience that same pain again, just like when I woke up.
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