"So sleepy——"
Kazawa yawned into the mirror.
His whole body felt weak, but he still had to walk back to the café, secretly cut up newspapers for hours to make calling cards, plan how to deliver them, all while making sure Amuro Tooru didn't find out. Otherwise, once the news got out, his cover would be blown, and his "business venture" would collapse before it even began.
So when the café finally closed and he saw Amuro Tooru off, Kazawa looked at him with heartfelt satisfaction.
Just knowing someone else was more exhausted than him made everything feel better.
In the mirror, the boy wore a short, double-breasted tailcoat on top, a pair of above-knee shorts on the bottom, and a scarf that floated weightlessly behind him—like the seasons themselves were out of sync, creating a strange kind of beauty.
But the most ridiculous part had to be the mask.
"Is this even a mask?" Kazawa leaned in closer, poking at it. "This is just a blindfold, come on!"
The upper half of his face was covered by a flat, semi-circular blindfold. There were no eyeholes at all.
What kind of bootleg 9S cosplay was this?
He didn't know how it worked exactly, but somehow this mask—let's call it a mask for now—didn't block his vision at all. From the outside, though, it looked like a smooth leather blindfold, as if someone had wrapped cloth over his eyes.
After playing with the mask for a while and examining the gently fluttering scarf, Kazawa finally turned off his phantom thief mode.
At least now he had a new skin that let him transform in one click.
Being able to appear in the real world in phantom thief attire, with his highly recognizable eyes covered—that practically made it a brand-new identity.
Good. All of it was good.
Kazawa folded his arms over his chest and fell asleep in a posture that looked unusually peaceful.
Now there was just one thing left to do—wasn't it time to interrogate Lyon in his dream?
————
While Kazawa played around in his dreams, many others were having a sleepless night.
Outside the Maru family residence, the streets buzzed with hushed whispers from the locals.
Because of the head of the Maru family's awful temper, none of the neighbors dared to get too close, but the house walls were plastered with papers, and the streets were littered with small cards—hard not to notice.
All around, people murmured softly.
"'Greedy' and despicable man, Mr. Maru Densaburou." A woman passing the alleyway leaned in to read one of the papers on the wall.
"You've used your wealth to torment the suffering, trample on their dignity, and grind their treasured efforts into the dirt. Every shameless act—we now know it all." A salaryman picked up one of the cards, reading aloud the text on it.
"Tomorrow, we will make you pay for all your crimes." A trembling servant held a card in both hands, reading word for word, "We accept your twisted desires.
—Phantom Thieves of Hearts."
"Bang!" Maru Densaburou slammed the table, tea splashing out of his cup.
"Who did this?!" Though well past his fifties, Maru Densaburou's roar was full of energy. "Tear this trash down! Rip it all to shreds and throw it out!"
"We don't know, sir," the male servant bowed his head, not daring to look at his boss's reddening face. "The walls are covered, and they're scattered across the streets, the whole district is full of them…"
"What about the security cameras?! The guards?!"
"The cameras only captured a few kids pasting stuff on the gate. They said they picked them up from the street…"
Maru Densaburou's face turned ashen. He snatched a handful of papers from the servant and crumpled them into a ball, hurling them at him: "Useless trash! Hurry and clean up every last piece!"
"Yes, sir!" The servant didn't dare delay and rushed out like he was fleeing.
Maru Densaburou gasped for breath, slumping down at the table, glaring furiously at the crumpled papers on the ground.
Across from him, his wife, Maru Inako, lifted her teacup to cover the amused smile on her lips, coldly watching his tantrum.
She'd long had a sense of what shady things her husband had been up to.
Was there anything on that paper that wasn't true?
Maru Corporation's business was booming. Maru Densaburou wasn't short of a few million yen, yet he always had to resort to underhanded tricks, as if earning dirty money gave him more satisfaction.
"Come now, dear. Maybe someone's just jealous of our recent success and is spreading rumors to ruin your reputation?" Lady Maru smiled insincerely. "It's all just arrogant nonsense. No need to get so worked up."
Maru Densaburou shot her a vicious glare. "What do you know? If this kind of gossip spreads, it'll ruin our store's reputation! Never mind, no point explaining it to you."
This woman had been acting more and more suspicious lately—distracted at home, sneaking around. Maru Densaburou suspected she was having an affair and had already hired a private investigator to look into it. Just seeing her smiling face annoyed him.
Everyone around him was useless. Furious, he stood and headed to the storage room where his collection was kept.
Rather than believe this "punishment for all your crimes" nonsense, he figured it was more likely someone using the name of the "Phantom Thieves" to target his valuables.
Even if his methods weren't the cleanest, Maru Densaburou never shied away from showing off his vast collection. Besides being a successful businessman, he was also a well-known collector.
Probably some lowlife who couldn't pay their debts, trying to steal his stuff.
Maru Densaburou thought darkly.
On the other side of the world he wasn't even aware of, a shadowy version of himself—clad in ceremonial garb—stood in the Palace with a terrifying expression, lifting a samurai sword from the wall and drawing the gleaming blade.
"Damn little thieves… Dare to covet my treasures? I'll make sure none of you ever return alive!"
————
"The target has no formal training background."
"You're sure about that?"
"We've collected over a decade's worth of life records on the target. There are no gaps in his school attendance during junior high and high school—his track record matches that of a completely ordinary student."
On the top floor of an apartment building across from the café, Akai Shuichi, who had recently moved in, listened to his colleagues on the other end of the call and frowned.
"He was able to shake off all the tails in such a short time. No way he's just a regular kid."
Spread out before him were several photos—snapshots taken when Kazawa was bumped into at the shopping street that afternoon.
One showed Kazawa turning his head in surprise, another had him instinctively raising his fists to block, and the last showed him reaching out to steady the person who bumped into him.
"You've seen the photos too. His defensive response was instinctive. His arm and leg coordination was fast and fluid—he's clearly got solid fundamentals in boxing or close combat."
If Amuro Tooru saw these photos, he'd immediately feel an odd sense of déjà vu.
Wasn't that exactly Amuro Tooru's own combat habit?
"No blanks after junior high, then what about before?" Akai Shuichi asked thoughtfully.
"Shuuichi, he was just eleven or twelve years old then..."
"Don't forget who his parents are." Akai Shuichi switched the phone to his other hand, lit a cigarette with his lighter, and set the photos in the ashtray aflame, "Back then, Kazawa was still under their care."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before someone hesitantly asked, "Would the Kazawa couple really experiment on their own kid?"
"It wasn't an experiment," Akai Shuichi exhaled a stream of smoke as he leaned against the window, looking down at the dark street below.
"The whole reason the Kazawa couple started their research… was Kazawa Akira himself.
"If there's anything in this world that best reflects their research results—then that result… can only be Kazawa Akira."