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Summary
The cold kiss of the gun against Ogata's lips, between his teeth, the metallic tang of steel, of gun oil. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t leave it to fate.” The familiar click of a cocked gun, the sound reverberating in his teeth, his gums. Tsurumi's voice is almost reverent. “But this. Now, what do you think your chances would be, Hyakonosuke?”
Some transgressions can't be dealt without a proper disciplinary action.
