Chapter Text
He could hardly remember how long it had been this way—watching Kambe’s retreating back. Certainly, since before the incident at the bank. Haru had still been able to shoot when he first met the Kambe Family’s head, because the first time he’d come face to face with Daisuke Kambe, it was as a detective, meant to bring him in on charges of drug trafficking in Tokyo. But he’d hardly spoken a word before a blow from Kambe’s favored hitman had knocked Haru to his knees and the Family leader had escaped.
Yet since leaving the police, Kambe still seemed to constantly be just out of his reach. He never deigned to attend negotiations himself, and even with Haru’s contacts who granted him access to police resources, he could never figure out where he would be or how he could force a meeting between them.
Haru supposed to be a successful leader of a Crime Family, Kambe had to be cautious with law enforcement. And even though Haru was no longer with the police, that didn’t change how he viewed criminals. He just had a new way of dealing with it. So, he had to make himself a massive pain in the Kambe Family’s back before Kambe would be willing to meet with the former detective. And that’s just what he did.
But having been constantly chasing Kambe for years, when Haru’s gang finally intercepted an important shipment of his merchandise and Kambe finally had to face him, Haru didn’t think he was ready.
Even with Mahoro Saeki by his side, gun holstered beneath her neatly-pleated, pastel sweater, he felt out-matched with Kambe approaching from across the abandoned warehouse. He looked just as Haru remembered him, but nothing like the sketch artist had been able to capture—sharp features, dark brows, eyes far too bright and calculating—wearing a suit and jacket expensive enough to distinguish him from everyone else in the country.
Walking just a pace behind him was the nameless right hand of the Family. She hadn’t even bothered to conceal her weaponry, and looked Mahoro up and down, seeming to note where her guns were hidden in her clothes. Her heels clicked as she and Kambe came to a stop, keeping several yards between the two parties.
Kambe brushed a fallen strand of hair from his eyes and stood up straight, but didn’t speak. Everyone there knew that Haru Katou was no match for Daisuke Kambe, and it seemed Kambe wanted to make him lead the conversation to demonstrate that fact.
“I didn’t expect you to show,” Haru said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
Kambe didn’t look impressed. His expression hardly changed as he noted the new scars on Haru’s face since the last time they had met. “I didn’t expect you to be so persistent. How many of my shipments have you intercepted now, Inspector Katou?”
Haru’s eyes narrowed. “You know I’m no longer a detective,” Haru stated. “And twelve, if I’ve been counting right.”
“Yes. You’re managing to be more formidable now that you aren’t being kept in check by your badge. And my partners have begun to notice the delays, Katou-san,” he emphasized with some harshness. “How much will it take?”
Haru was still focusing on the confirmation that the police had truly been paid off by the Kambe Family—he’d expected it of course, but no one had ever admitted it before. “How much will what take?”
Kambe rolled his eyes. “I know your objective. The only reason someone at your level would try to interfere with Family business is for money. So. How much to keep you away from my merchandise?”
Haru shook his head, gritting his teeth slightly. “I’m not interested in your money. I’m interested in your support.”
Kambe looked to his number two, then back to Haru. “Surely you don’t expect me to sponsor your little vigilante group.”
Haru wasn’t sure he should feel so much pride at Kambe acknowledging his gang for their actions as he did so he continued, “No, I don’t. Like I said. We don’t want your money. We just want your information. I think that would be a fair trade for us leaving your shipments alone, don’t you?”
“I think it might be easier to kill you,” Kambe said, clearly not liking the feeling of a negotiation he couldn’t solve with money.
Mahoro tensed, and Kambe’s second noticed. Both instinctively moved for their weapons, but Haru held out a hand. “Saeki, it’s alright.”
She let her hand fall again, hesitantly, and Haru let out a relieved sigh when Kambe’s second did the same.
“It might be. But killing me doesn’t get rid of the rest of my group. Though it might make future negotiations more difficult, which makes it harder for you to get your merchandise back under control.”
Kambe laughed. “I really don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.”
Haru wanted to argue that he really did, but Kambe just adjusted his posture and crossed his arms,
“What information are you interested in?”
Haru really hadn’t expected Kambe to listen to him, so he faltered for a minute before Mahoro nudged him slightly. He cleared his throat. “There are a lot of smaller crime groups that I’m sure you want rid of too. I want to find them and collect enough evidence to have them taken down.”
“Ah. You are still working with the police.”
“I’m doing what they can’t under the badge. That’s all.”
Daisuke just hummed. After a minute had passed, he nodded. “I’ll consider it,” he said, then turned on his heel to head for the exit. “I’ll be in touch. Inspector.”
It wasn’t until the heavy metal door shut behind them that they were able to relax.
Mahoro let out an exaggeratedly loud sigh as soon as the Kambe Family head and his second were out of the warehouse, and leaned against Haru. “That was awful! He really wanted to kill you.”
Haru slumped on her in return, startling her so she had to shift to support his weight. “If he’d really wanted to, he would have,” Haru said, but he didn’t really believe that. A man like Kambe had to be well practiced in suppressing each blood thirsty thought that passed his mind.
Mahoro just shoved him off. “Bring Yumoto as your second next time, I mean it. I’m not intimidating enough for this.”
“Aw, in your pant suit? You don’t think so?” he teased, but she had already smacked him once, so she didn’t bother again, and he just followed her out the back exit. The truck was idling a few yards away from the building, but once they stepped outside, Kamei backed upwards so they could step right in, and not spend any time under open sky, just in case Kambe had already had time to consider and had decided they weren’t worth the trouble.
“How did it go?” Kamei asked, shifting into drive as soon as Haru slammed the car door shut behind them.
“He’ll consider it,” Mahoro said, removing her jacket and setting it on the seat beside her, removing her holster as well.
Haru watched the way the metal glinted as she sat it down beside him, and he eyed it melancholically before focusing in on Kamei, who’d asked, “Was his second with him?”
“You can’t have a crush on a Kambe hitman,” Mahoro scolded.
“It’s not a crush,” he defended himself. “Besides, she’s Katou’s type, not mine. Well?” he continued, when no one gave him the response he wanted. “Was she?”
“Yes,” Haru said. “Saeki nearly got us killed by reaching for her gun.”
“He threatened you!” she shouted, but Haru just shook his head.
The drive back to base was quiet but still tense. Besides the joking, they all knew he and Mahoro could’ve been killed just by daring to step foot onto Kambe’s turf.
“You finally got him to meet with you.”
Haru startled. He’d just showered off the intensity from that afternoon and the debrief with his gang, yet he tensed up immediately at the voice from inside of his apartment—which should have been empty. He whipped around and saw Hoshino sitting on his sofa, a police report open in his lap.
“That’s an abuse of the spare key, Hoshino.”
“Right. You only gave it to me to hide evidence that I’ve been helping you when you inevitable get killed,” Hoshino said, rolling his eyes. He harbored some respect for what Haru was doing, but he had never thought the risk of his new line of work was worth it.
“Well, and for wine night.”
Hoshino laughed sharply, but just shook his head. “Don’t be stupid.” He held up the report, which Haru took from him when he joined him in front of the TV. Hoshino had turned on the news, but the volume was low, and neither paid any attention to it. “You’re getting reckless. Kai tried to file this. I told him I’d finish it, but people are going to get suspicious if reports keeping going missing.”
Haru opened the folder. To a picture of himself and Yumoto in masks, breaking into the video surveillance center for street camera feed while tracking Kambe’s shipments. He cringed. “Sorry about that. We’re not the most discrete pair. Kamei is better for these things. I’ll send him next time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hoshino waved him off. “What happened with Kambe?”
“He’s considering sharing intel. But I think we’ve put ourselves in a tricky situation. We’re done for if he decides against us. I’ve dispersed everyone for now until I hear back but uh—you should probably hide the evidence now. It’s me he’ll come for if that’s the case.”
Hoshino stared at him blankly for a few moments before opening his briefcase and laying out a dozen new reports on the gangs Haru had been tracking. “You’re not dying yet, Katou-san,” he said sharply.
Haru just smiled weakly at him, hoping he was right. “Is Takei-san still alright with covering all this.”
“He has a soft spot for you. He’ll cover until he’s directly confronted about it. So keep low for now. Send the others on missions you don’t have to handle yourself. Got it?”
Haru couldn’t help but laugh softly at being bossed around by Hoshino, who used to hang onto his every word when they worked together. “Got it,” he affirmed anyways. Then he set down the report and stood. He’d mostly been joking about wine night, but he did miss the company of Division I, so when Hoshino came by, he usually bribed him into staying later with expensive wine he’d acquired from other gang leaders.
“I don’t have time tonight,” Hoshino said, before Haru had even selected a bottle.
Haru frowned, mildly disappointed, but he understood the schedules of detectives and vigilantes didn’t quite overlap. “Right. Thanks for bringing the reports, Hoshino. And for everything else.”
Haru had made it back to the couch by the end of his statement, and Hoshino had only barely stood up before he shoved Haru. “You’re not saying goodbye to me. Kambe’s not going to be the one to do you in.”
“Alright, alright,” Haru said, holding his hands up in self defense as Hoshino shut his briefcase loudly. “Sorry.”
“Whatever. Just be safe, Katou-san.”
Hoshino slammed the door behind himself on the way out and Haru collapsed on the couch. The moment he turned his attention to the news, Haru immediately heard the reporter speaking in a cool voice about the work of other gangs and the violence taking place in the city and turned it off again. Instead he stared at the ceiling, feeling belated fear from the meeting in the warehouse—from the intensity of both Kambe and his armed second.
He was extra cautious in checking that all of his windows were locked that night.
He’d tried to check in on the base to get some work done the next morning, thinking everyone else would’ve followed his orders to stay away. But he found Kiyomizu sitting inside, working on his models. “Go home Katou-chan,” he said when the door opened, not even looking up.
“I thought I told you all it was too dangerous to be here.”
“And yet we knew you’d be here. I volunteered to make sure you followed your own advice.” He finally looked up, smiling at Haru fondly. “I’ll go if you promise to stay away as well. Otherwise you’re putting the both of us in danger.”
When he phrased it like that, Haru cringed; but he always gave up easily to Kiyomizu so he just sighed, “Alright. Let’s go home.”
Kiyomizu’s smile widened. “So considerate,” he cooed, as though Haru weren’t the head of a gang—well-intentioned or not.
Haru just rolled his eyes and waited for Kiyomizu to set his boat down before they walked out together. Haru began to head for home after they separated, but decided he’d rather not be alone. Instead, he stopped in a coffee shop a block away from his apartment. In the middle of a work day, it wasn’t terribly busy, but the chatter of the teenage baristas was a nice change from the silence of his apartment or the drone of the TV.
With just a black coffee, he sat down at a small table in the corner, and pulled out Hoshino’s reports. He tried to be discrete about it, leaving the folders that screamed POLICE in his bag, and looking only at the papers, the pictures, the tips that would help him towards his goal.
The papers in front of him rustled as the door to the café opened, but he didn’t look up from his report, he just set his hand down on the center of the mess to keep everything from flying away, and kept reading. Though when the chair across from him was pulled out, he did glance up. Daisuke Kambe sat down gracefully, crossing his legs and letting his arm rest on the table as he leaned towards Haru. Haru did his best not to respond with surprise, but he didn’t think he was successful because Kambe just smirked.
“I’ve considered it,” he said, voice deep and out of place in the brightly lit coffee shop. “What information do you want,” he looked down at Hoshino’s police reports and his smirk widened. “Inspector?”