Chapter Text
The First National Bank of Miyagi had no idea what was coming. The high-rise towered over the street, screaming money, power and influence. It was the epitome of untouchable corporate smugness. The windows were polished, glittering in the sunlight.
It was the perfect stage for their performance of the day.
People rushed in and out with their phones glued to their ears, coffee in hand and stress radiating off their overpriced suits. Not one of them spared a glance at the two men standing on the sidewalk, wearing immaculate suits and carrying some expensive-looking briefcases to blend in with the crowd.
Matsukawa Issei adjusted his tie in the reflection of the bank’s glass doors, flashing a self-satisfied smirk. "Damn, I look good today."
His suit was top-of-the-line and of course -- stolen. Makki and Mattsun had stolen it together in Miland three months ago. They had sneaked into a fashion show, posed as models and later just walked off the stage in their new suits without anyone questioning them. Turns out, if you acted like a narcissistic diva and walked like you owned the place, no one asked questions. Confidence was the only thing that mattered.
Beside him, Hanamaki Takahiro ran a hand through his pink-tinted hair, sighing. "You always say that. It’s annoying how right you are."
"Right? Unfair, honestly." Matsukawa turned to his favorite partner-in-crime, lowering his sunglasses dramatically. "You ready, Makki?"
Hanamaki grinned. "Born ready, Mattsun."
And just like that, they walked through the front doors like actors entering the stage, ready to give the people a show.
The plan was dramatic, as always. Ridiculous, even. But when had that ever stopped them before? Or not worked in their favour?
Step One: Establish Dominance
The bank was as luxurious on the inside as it was on the outside. The entrance area was cladded in white marble with gold accents and a sparkling chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A chandelier that looked like it had murdered a smaller, poorer chandelier to assert dominance. Behind the reception desk stood a young woman in a sharp blazer, a practised fake-smile already in place. She looked like she'd been trained to handle entitled millionaires, but not professional-grade A bullshit artists. She was the perfect target for Makki and Mattsun.
Matsukawa strolled up to the teller and smiled charmingly. He leaned an elbow casually on the counter like it was his personal bar. "Good afternoon! We’re here about a very serious financial anomaly."
The teller blinked, momentarily taken out of her usual routine by Matsukawa’s boldness. "Uh… what?"
Hanamaki slid in smoothly from the other side, placing a sleek-looking briefcase on the counter. "We represent ‘Makki & Mattsun Financial Solutions™.’ Nationally recognized, government-adjacent, discretion-guaranteed. Ever heard of us?" His voice was even and smooth, showing no sign of the blatant lie he was telling.
"…No?"
Matsukawa gasped in mock affront, clutching his non-existent pearls. "What? That’s outrageous! We’ve saved five banks this quarter alone. One of them didn’t even know they were being hacked until we showed up with donuts.”
Saved might be the wrong word for what Makki and Mattsun had done to the banks. Maybe relieve them of their heavy burden would be the better phrasing, with the burden obviously being the entire money in their vaults. Mattsukawa had to suppress a smirk that was tugging at his lips as he recalled their previous heists. People were always so easy to manipulate. A few well-placed lies delivered with just the right amount of confidence and a polished smile and -BOOM- nothing could stop you. Add to that a crazy partner like Makki and it was even easier. Makki and Mattsun were perfect for each other, born to play people like fiddles. It was like improv theatre: they started with a pre-discussed prompt and then just rolled with it for the mission, feeding off each other’s spontaneous ideas with a ‘yes, and?’ and a devilish grin.
“And a warrant,” Hanamaki added helpfully.
“Mostly donuts.” Matsukawa picked up one of the sleek, ridiculously expensive pens, from a cup on the desk. He inspected it a bit, twirling it around his fingers.
The woman looked like she was trying to remember if her employee handbook covered situations like this.
She glanced around uncertainly as if looking for a hidden camera. "Um, are you here to open an account?"
Hanamaki shook his head and gave a patient smile like she was a small child asking if clouds taste like cotton candy. "No sweetheart, no, we’re here to save you from a devastating financial catastrophe." He clicked open the briefcase, revealing --
Absolutely nothing.
The teller blinked again, then stared at Hanamaki like he has lost his mind. "There’s… there’s nothing in there."
"Exactly!" Matsukawa said gravely, staring right into the teller’s eyes. "Because that’s what your bank’s vault will look like if you don’t listen to us."
The teller paled. If they didn’t have her full attention before, now they got it. "Excuse me?"
Hanamaki leaned in over the desk, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ma’am, there is a security breach happening right now. We are professionals sent in to investigate before it gets worse."
The teller’s eyes widened in alarm, fingers twitching towards the telephone sitting on her desk. "Security breach?"
Matsukawa nodded solemnly. He tapped the desk with the pen he was still fiddling around with to emphasize the urgency of their arguments.
"Big one. Huge. Now, we need full access to the security room so we can assess the - uh - compromised assets."
Hanamaki crossed his arms. "Unless, of course, you don’t care about the millions of yen that could be at risk?"
The receptionist looked thoroughly panicked now, finally reaching for the phone on her desk. “I’ll…I’ll get security.”
“Please do,” Matsukawa said, checking his non-existent watch. “We’re on a tight schedule.”
Step Two: Outsmart Security
Security arrived in the form of a broad-chested, permanently frowning man who looked like he’d rather be a bouncer at a dive bar.
He eyed them with a sceptical frown on his face, addressing the receptionist. “What’s going on?”
Before the receptionist could respond, Matsukawa sighed like this was the most exhausting part of his job. "Sir, we’re from the ‘National Financial Investigation Bureau’ -"
Hanamaki cleared his throat. "N.F.I.B."
"Yes, that," Matsukawa continued. He pulled out his wallet flipping it open and closed to reveal his ID. The guard tried to follow the movement, but it was too quick to be able to decipher anything. Which is good because the wallet didn’t even contain a fake ID, just a punch card from his favorite coffee shop. Only one more coffee and he gets a muffin for free.
"And we’re here on a priority-one assessment mission. Are you seriously going to obstruct a government operation?"
The guard squinted. "Never heard of the N.F.I.B."
“Of course you haven’t. It’s classified. Level Seven,” Hanamaki cut in smoothly.
The guard frowned. “What the hell is a Level Seven?”
Matsukawa sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Wow. Okay. Sir, I get that you’re just doing your job, but if you continue to obstruct us, I’ll have to assume you’re complicit in the breach.”
The guard narrowed his eyes. "…You two are full of shit."
Hanamaki immediately straightened up, fixing his suit. "Okay, wow. Rude."
Matsukawa scoffed. "We try to do our jobs, protect hardworking people like yourself, and this is the treatment we get?"
Hanamaki reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. “Should I call headquarters? I can let Director Iwaizumi know there’s been a delay.”
The name-drop worked like magic. The guard flinched. Iwaizumi did sound like someone you wouldn’t want to disappoint. The guard hesitated, clearly unsure of what to do. He didn’t believe a single thing coming out of Hanamki's and Matsukawa's mouths but he also didn’t want to lose his job. That moment of hesitation was all Makki and Mattsun needed.
Hanamaki pressed on, shaking his head in disappointment. "Listen, sir, we could arrest you right now for obstructing an ongoing financial investigation."
The guard’s eyebrows shot up. "Arrest me?"
Matsukawa nodded sagely. "And we’d hate to do that. I mean, come on, you look like a great guy."
Hanamaki clapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah, really responsible. Probably good at your job. Would be a shame if your boss found out you ignored a federal investigation…"
The guard wavered.
“You really need access to the vault area?”
“Security feeds, logs, and internal access codes,” Matsukawa confirmed, holding up his new pen and waving it around. “We won’t touch a single yen.”
Hanamaki smiled, knowing full well they were about to touch millions.
“...Fine,” the guard grumbled. “Follow me.”
Hanamaki shot Matsukawa a barely concealed grin as they were led straight past the front desk and toward the restricted security area. Matsukawa pocketed the pen, his own smirk playing around his lips.
Step Three: Walk Right into the Vault
The security room was located right next to the impressive vault of the bank. It was a cramped little office with a bank of monitors, an old coffee machine, and one very bored guy slouched in a chair. Matsukawa and Hanamaki exchanged a glance. Easy. They were practically begging to get robbed.
The guy turned to look at them as they entered the small room.
Hanamaki cracked his knuckles. "Mattsun, you know what time it is?"
Matsukawa smirked. "Showtime."
The guard blinked. “What—”
Hanamaki swung. “Sorry, bud.”
One quick knockout punch later, they had full access to the cameras. Hanamaki disabled the alarms while Matsukawa checked the guard for a keycard. While patting his pockets he found the guy’s wallet with some cash in it. Shrugging, Matsukawa pocketed the money and grabbed the keycard off the unconscious man.
He tossed it to Hanamaki whose hand was already stretched out in waiting. “Vault access, here we come.”
"Too easy," Hanamaki muttered, swiping the card at the vault door's access panel.
Nothing happened.
He frowned, turning to look back at Matsukawa. “Uh… Mattsun?”
Matsukawa leaned over, squinting at the screen. “Two factor authentication with a secondary lock. We need a code.”
Hanamaki clicked his tongue. “Of course we do. Because life isn’t already hard enough.” He was getting impatient, eager to feel the weight of the bills in his hands and breathe in the smell of good old money.
Hanamaki started typing random combinations, muttering nonsense like “6969” and “1234,” until Matsukawa smacked his arm.
“Dude.”
“What? It works more often than you’d think.”
Matsukawa sighed, reaching again into the unconscious guard’s jacket and pulling out a crumpled sticky note. Written in bold Sharpie it read ‘VAULT CODE: 0221’.
He raised an eyebrow. “Security guy really living on the edge.”
Hanamaki grinned. “Bless the lazy ones.”
He typed it in. A mechanical click echoed as the second lock disengaged. The heavy steel door creaked open, revealing rows and rows of neatly stacked cash greeting them, almost too perfect to be real.
Matsukawa let out a low whistle. “We’re in the wrong profession.”
Hanamaki smirked. “We’re in exactly the right one.”
Matsukawa rolled his eyes but grinned. "Alright, grab what you can. We got maybe five minutes before someone starts asking questions." They moved with practiced efficiency, stuffing bills into the briefcases and hidden duffel bags under their suits. No time to count. Just grab and go.
Hanamaki snagged a silver pen off the security desk on their way out.
Matsukawa raised a brow. “Really?”
“It's a nice pen.” Hanamki shrugged. Mattsun just grinned to himself thinking about his own matching pen sitting in his pocket.
Step Four: The Escape
Bags full of cash in hand, they strolled out of the security room and through the lobby like men who had just closed a multi-billion-yen merger. Bags in hand. No one batted an eye.
The receptionist blinked when she saw them. "Wait… where’s the guard?"
Hanamaki thought fast. "Oh, he had to, uh… use the bathroom. Bad sushi situation."
She made a face. "Ew."
Matsukawa nodded solemnly. "I know. Tragic. Anyway, situation contained. You’re welcome.”
And just like that, they casually walked out the front doors, bags of stolen money in hand, and disappeared into the crowded streets of Sendai.
Later that night, at their not-so-secret hideout, they dumped the cash on the table in front of their boss.
Oikawa Tooru, crime lord and general pain in their asses, looked between the money and them.
"You WHAT?!"
Hanamaki grinned. "We robbed a bank, obviously."
Matsukawa tossed him a stack of cash like a party favor. “No. We rescued assets.”
Hanamki helpfully added, “From negligence.”
"You two absolute morons," Oikawa groaned, rubbing his temples. "You didn’t leave a trail, did you?"
Matsukawa shrugged. "I mean… probably?"
Oikawa screamed.
The rest of Aoba Johsai’s crime division watched with various expressions of amusement and horror, enjoying the show.
Iwaizumi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Yahaba, the team’s tech genius, was already sorting the bills into stacks, counting their winnings. Kyoutani popped bubble gum, unimpressed. Kunimi took a nap on a stolen couch nearby.
"You two are going to be the death of me," Oikawa muttered.
Hanamaki patted his shoulder. "Relax, boss. We got you a cut."
Oikawa blinked. "Wait. How much?"
Matsukawa unzipped a bag. “Enough to fund your overpriced skin routine for the next three years.”
Oikawa snatched it like a raccoon. “You’re still idiots.”
But he smiled.
And that’s how Makki and Mattsun pulled off one of the dumbest, smoothest, and most successful bank heists in Miyagi Prefecture history.
For now.