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“WHAT?!”
Moriarty's leader looked boredly at his two stunned subordinates, who were clearly not happy about the details of the new assignment. His order sounded as absurd to them as the idea of stealing the moon.
“With him?! No way!” exclaimed the guy with disheveled black hair. Displeasure and anger were clear in his blue eyes. He frowned, practically burning a hole through Milo with his gaze.
“Agreed! Anyone but him,” the brown-haired guy sitting in a chair nearby nodded. He bit his lip, as if already imagining the disaster this mission would lead to.
Milo, however, ignored all their complaints. He didn’t care about other people's problems—more precisely, he didn't care at all. But he did enjoy watching this pair; he felt like the director of some comedy. He could freely place the ‘characters’ in all sorts of settings, and they would never fail to entertain him.
“It doesn't matter if you get along or not,” Milo snorted. “You're both masters; you'll manage somehow. Should I remind you how well your previous missions were completed? Or... do you not need rewards?”
Both guys fell silent. True, they had finished all previous joint missions perfectly, and none of them could refuse the rewards—they were definitely better than punishments. But that didn't mean they were ready for this...
“Get out. I won't change my decision,” Milo said after a few minutes of tense silence. “And I expect good results from you. Be a charming, sweet couple... we aren’t even making you kiss.”
“Shut up!” the blue-eyed guy interrupted him and quickly stood up.
Without hiding his smile, Milo watched them leave the room together. He liked teasing them, watching them get angry and wary of each other... Maybe in the future he should stage something like oversweet comedies, where the heroes fight, thinking the other has betrayed them, but it all turns out to be a misunderstanding orchestrated by a third party... just in case.
Once out of Moriarty's sight, both guys finally exhaled. They didn't like staying in his company for too long: he had too much power over them.
“Well, Toto... looks like we're partners again,” Ron chuckled—or, using his alias, Kamo—adjusting his jacket. His usual audacity had returned.
“Don't call me that,” Totomaru answered sternly, taking out his phone to make a note.
“Hmph, fine,” Ron said grumpily, throwing a curious glance at his phone screen. To his annoyance, he wasn't the only one who had thought of using glass that goes dark at a certain angle. And whether to really throw his colleague off balance, or because he was actually too lazy to say full names, he stubbornly continued, this time shortening someone else's alias. “So, Mika, see you the day after tomorrow?”
Totomaru’s—or rather, Mikazuki’s—lips twitched, but at least now he didn't have to hear his real name inside Moriarty's lair. He didn’t look up because he didn’t want to see Ron’s face.
“...Yeah, see you the day after tomorrow,” he sighed, shifting his gaze to the clean floor of the mansion.
-
A car with tinted windows sped through the streets of Tokyo. Ron glanced at the neon signs and cozy establishments on the streets, then at his partner. They didn’t talk, feeling both irritation and awkwardness from the situation. Tonight... they had to pretend to be lovers. For the sake of the mission! Otherwise, they’d simply be exposed ahead of time. And Moriarty doesn't forgive mistakes.
Toto tried hard to suppress his nervousness, staring tensely at the car floor. He absolutely didn’t want Ron's analytical mind to allow him to outsmart Toto and peek into his personal life deeper than Toto himself wanted. Both carefully hid any details about their daytime jobs and preferences. The reason wasn't so much Moriarty's rules, but rationality.
The car stopped at an almost empty parking lot. Most guests had come by taxi or chosen not to leave their cars here to avoid attracting attention. After all, if the police got suspicious and checked license plates in the system, it wouldn't end well, would it?
“We're here.” The driver turned off the engine and glanced at the time, as if starting a timer. His voice sounded dry, dismissive, but also understanding. He looked in the rearview mirror, not at the passengers, but at the quiet street. “I'll be in touch if you need me.”
“Yeah, Winter, see you,” Ron said, opening the car door and stepping out into the fresh air.
Toto glanced at him and quickly spoke to the driver, “Could you please write down all the license plate numbers here? Thanks.” With that, he also got out. Winter didn't reply, but took out a notebook.
Ron and Toto carefully examined each other's clothes. Everything was in order: standard black suits, with small silver patterns of roses and leaves on the sleeves and collars, showing they were tailor-made. Hidden in the collars were listening devices for recording conversations, and in their pockets were lockpicks.
Without a word, the partners headed towards the Japanese restaurant ‘Kitsune’ across the street. It looked completely ordinary: an attractive glowing sign, a promotional poster by the entrance, and lanterns swaying in the wind. Toto mentally noted the irony of the name: like kitsune, they were pretending to be someone else—and not just today.
They walked down a dimly lit corridor. Ron put his arm around his partner's waist, and they entered the main hall. The security guards at the entrance glanced at the pair but didn’t stop them, seeing the relaxed confidence on their faces. One of them looked down at his guest list and thoughtfully crossed out two names.
On the red carpet covering the entire hall stood about twenty tables, where men in pressed suits and women in attractive dresses sat. Light snacks were in front of them. The main dishes hadn't been served yet, apparently, but the guests were already talking amongst themselves. Waiters walked around offering wine. Jazz played in the background.
Ron and Toto sat at a free table—and were immediately brought snacks and offered various drinks. Without bothering to ask Toto’s opinion, Ron ordered white wine for both of them and casually asked how many guests there were today. The waiter looked at him with an unreadable expression.
“Enough, sir. At least half the tables are already taken, and at least two-thirds of the guests are registered.”
When the waiter left, Ron moved away from Toto unhurriedly.
“Hmm. If we're exposed, we'll have to act fast,” he commented, scanning the hall. Without letting his gaze rest anywhere too long, he noted, “Yamamoto and his wife at table 12. Yoshida came with his lover. How reckless... eliminating him will be very easy.”
Toto tensed up. “I don't recall being told about that kind of elimination.”
“Milo hinted at it to me,” Ron replied carelessly. Toto snorted. “If you're worried about me, Mika, don't be, I'll use someone else's hands~”
Involuntarily gripping his wine glass, Toto muttered, “Why would I worry about you?! I'd be happy if you ended up in jail…”
“Oh, how cruel!” Ron clutched his heart theatrically, but the mischievous spark in his eyes only irritated Toto more.
“God, shut up…” Toto took a deep breath to calm down. LThere are almost no cameras here. I noticed one by the kitchen entrance, another near the main entrance. I assume there's one by the back door too, following the same pattern.”
Ron nodded, thinking for a moment. The waiter brought them sushi, and then two men appeared from somewhere. Ron spoke faster than they could, “Oh, Mr. Tanaka, Mr. Takahashi! What an unexpected encounter. Haven't seen you here in a while.”
“Please, have a seat,” Toto chimed in with a cheerful and open smile. “Shall I call the waiter?”
The men were taken aback for a second but quickly accepted their ‘recognition’ (they were actually nobodies, but Ron, with his good memory, had thoroughly studied the list of expected guests for the evening). They accepted the invitation without hesitation and got down to business five minutes later,
“Would you like to play some mahjong?”
Toto barely held back a smile: right, Ron doesn't know how to play mahjong! He’d found this out by accident. Once, between missions, when they were both resting at Moriarty's mansion, Milo suggested they pass the time with a game. Ron stared at the boss for a moment, then said something like, ‘I don't play with cops.’ And when Milo suggested Toto teach Ron to play mahjong, Ron just left silently.
However, Toto didn't get to enjoy it for long.
“We would,” Ron agreed. He glanced at the frowning Toto and, leaning close to his ear, whispered, “Did you really think I wouldn't learn after that? But anyway, you're sitting at the gambling table, Toto. I need to chat with Yoshida's lover.”
Toto's eye twitched, and he suddenly shoved a piece of sushi he was about to eat into Ron's mouth. Ron choked back a cough. Instead, he smiled charmingly.
“Oh, you decided to feed me? Sweet. Let me repay the favor.”
He picked up another piece with his chopsticks and fully dunked it in soy sauce. And before Toto could turn away, the piece ended up in his mouth. He had to swallow, of course.
“Thanks, dear, but you only need to dip sushi in the sauce lightly. Otherwise, you ruin the taste.” To an outsider this might have seemed like a harmless remark, but they were giving each other genuinely cold stares. And as soon as their conversation partners got up from the table, Toto elbowed Ron, and Ron flicked him on the forehead.
Nevertheless, approaching the group of mahjong players, Toto turned back. “How long?” he asked simply.
“Twenty minutes,” Ron replied. Both understood each other.
-
“You have an attractive partner, sir,” someone remarked as Toto sat down at the table. “Very... eccentric looks. Have you been together long?”
Toto looked up at the speaker. His first impulse was to object, but remembering his role, he nodded patiently. After all, Ron wouldn't hear him anyway.
“Yeah, a long time,” Toto replied carelessly. He was naturally friendly, and Milo used this to fool overly cautious people. “I agree, he's very handsome. I especially love his blue eyes.”
“And don't you think... those blue eyes are a little frightening?”
“Frightening?..” Toto was genuinely surprised. Yes, sometimes it did seem that Ron could see right through him, but that impression had faded over time. The effect was created only by Ron's attentive gaze and the eye color itself: blue, shimmering in different shades depending on the light. “I think they're attractive, actually. Like the sky or the sea.”
“Hmm... interesting comparison.”
“Does he know about it? The comparison,” the woman next to him asked. She seemed more sincere than the others at the table. “My wife has blue eyes too, but she really dislikes it when I focus on them.”
Toto thought; how would Ron react to hearing such a poetic description of his eyes? And he was surprised to realize he knew the answer.
“He... teases me about it,” Toto said slowly. “Let's begin.”
He understood their curiosity. After all, Ron and Toto hadn't been seen here before. But discussing his partner's charm with someone? No, thanks.
Fifteen minutes later, pretending disappointment at losing, Toto stood up from the table and slipped quietly into the hallway. Ron was already waiting for him there.
“Do you really think that highly of my eyes?” Ron teased. Toto blushed.
“I was just playing along!”
“Quiet. Don't attract attention.”
Toto fell silent, frowning. The hallway door opened again, but the passing waiter saw nothing except a couple of lovers hiding from prying eyes. Ron was almost pressing Toto against the wall and kissing him—but that's only how it looked to an outsider. When the waiter passed, Ron pulled back slightly. Waiting a bit longer, they continued down the hallway.
“How did it go?” Toto asked.
“Great. His lover turned out to be quite a flirt, she was with Yoshida only for his money.” Ron shrugged. They stopped at the owner's office door. “I gave her some advice on how to ‘profitably’ kill him right now, getting half the assets and money.”
“And will she really get it?”
“I doubt it.” Ron knelt in front of the door, pulling a lockpick from his pocket. “She'll waste all his influence. Personally, I'm sure Yoshida's wife will kill her in return. And Moriarty will easily reach her."
There was a click. Ron pushed the office door open with a smug smile.
“After you, Mika. Where do you think the most valuable documents are hidden?~”
Toto silently looked around. “You didn't look into this beforehand?” he asked with doubt.
“Did you?”
“...Behind the painting.”
While Ron cracked the safe, Toto leaned over the laptop. He plugged in a USB drive, and the rest was simple. In the silence of the office, in the darkness, Ron found all the necessary documents and glanced at his focused partner. Toto always buried himself in work; dark circles from sleepless nights were already visible under his eyes... It was a shame about his nice face.
“Done.” Toto took out the USB drive and hid it in his sleeve, and they both left the office. They had nothing to lock the door with, so they just closed it and returned to the hall. Their absence hadn't been noticed; the mahjong game wasn't even over yet.
-
A silhouette with a notebook glided across the parking lot. Winter was used to working alone, and Milo never insisted otherwise. Most of the time she was left to her own devices, yet somehow all her activities ended up being work-related. She pretended to be a driver, a salesperson, a writer, an artist, and even a bartender. No one doubted her competence.
Winter had never liked Ron Kamonohashi. “A half-breed just waiting for a chance to betray Moriarty”—that was her opinion. Even working for Milo, his daytime job remained detective work. This annoyed Winter; was it wise to leave him with hope? Things didn't improve with Totomaru Isshiki either. In her opinion, putting them together was the height of foolishness. But Milo insisted it was necessary. Winter had to bite her tongue.
Now, her notebook contained car license plate numbers, and on other pages were neat sketches of quiet streets. She never showed them to anyone, nor did she consider them anything special. Just another skill for believable disguise in the future. Besides, these sketches reminded her of her sister... Maybe that's why she tried different professions? To find her sister?
Winter looked up at the stars, snorted, and got back into the car. The detective and the officer would manage on their own and would probably take a walk around Tokyo after the mission; she'd seen that scene many times. As if they really were on a date. Winter frowned slightly, glancing at the ‘Kitsune’ sign. Then she hid the notebook under her jacket and started the car. Leaving the deserted parking lot, she slipped back into her role as driver.
-
A waiter brought them desserts without suspecting anything; many couples had stepped away for a while. Ron took a small packet of his favorite brown syrup from somewhere and poured it over the treat.
“How did he even manage to bring syrup?..” Toto thought absently, trying the ice cream. It was tasty, but the partners’ gazes continued to scan the hall. Toto could clearly feel that Ron was tense.
“Something wrong?” Toto asked quietly, casually resting his head on Ron's shoulder.
“They've discovered the office was broken into. Are you done eating? Then let's head to the back exit.”
“Why not the main one?”
Ron nodded towards the security guards, who were arguing with a couple of guests. Apparently, they were forbidding guests from leaving until the owner resolved the office issue.
As they stepped into the hallway, someone in the hall screamed. Toto flinched, and Ron sped up.
“I guess Yoshida is dead,” he explained, catching Toto's questioning look. They hurried towards the back exit. At the turn, Toto deftly pulled out his hidden gun. Ron narrowed his eyes and took a step back. “I hope it has a silencer?”
“Obviously it has a silencer.”
Toto aimed and fired. Ron heard the camera fragments hit the floor; now they could leave the restaurant calmly, and by the time they were discovered, they'd be long gone. Ron himself couldn't shoot, so in their duo Toto was responsible for long-range combat. Although Ron didn't know much about guns, he'd seen Toto's talent firsthand. No wonder he was a police officer—though from time to time, Ron wondered how such an innocent and kind-hearted guy got the job.
They stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air instead of the scent of expensive perfume.
“When did you learn to shoot so well, Mika?”
“And when did you decide, Kamo, that my name and alias could be shortened?” Toto answered a question with a question.
Ron grinned. “You're always thinking before you answer, as usual. But since you want to hear the explanation again, I don't mind. Your names are too long. Totomaru, Mikazuki... saying them fully is tiresome. Toto and Mika sound much better, don't you think?”
Toto didn't answer, looking away. Without looking back at the restaurant, they walked down the street and soon reached more crowded areas.
“Oh, Toto, look! Candies with my favorite syrup!”
“...So? Buy them quickly, then.”
Ron stared at him for a moment. Toto frowned. “What?..”
“I forgot my wallet.”
“Pay with the app.”
“My phone is dead,” Ron repeated stubbornly.
To shut the detective up, Toto ended up buying the candies with his own money. After that, Ron looked surprisingly happy. Despite himself, a warm smile appeared on Toto's face. After all, there was nothing wrong with getting closer to a partner who’d had his back on so many missions?..
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ron tilted his head. “What was it you said?.. My eyes are like the sky or the sea?”
Toto pouted, turning away. “I should throw away these stupid candies…”
“Don't! That's unnecessary!” Ron gasped in mock fright.
-
The beautiful melody spreading from the piano throughout the mansion finally stopped. Milo turned on his chair to face his listeners, who had been playing chess. Toto was hopelessly losing.
“You seem friendlier than usual,” Milo remarked. He watched his subordinates with amusement. “Maybe you've even started communicating outside of work?”
“No, never!” they replied with excessive sharpness. A faint blush appeared on Ron's cheeks, which he tried to hide in his sweater collar, while Toto nervously sipped his tea.
“I see... glad to hear it. Then listen to this melody…” Milo turned back to the instrument. “Oh, and by the way, I have a new mission. Would you like to accept it?”
Moriarty didn't wait for an answer. His fingers were already pressing the keys.