"Really?" Kogoro Mouri clearly didn't buy it.
Officer Matsumoto had a broad jaw and a face so fierce it could make children cry.
How could his daughter possibly be pretty?
"Hey, what's with that look?"
Officer Matsumoto's brows instantly knotted into a deep "川," his eyes practically spitting fire.
"Are you doubting that my little Sayuri isn't cute?"
"No, I didn't—" Kogoro Mouri flinched, instinctively stepping back, completely missing the Vodka behind him.
Gin's underling had just raised his beer glass for a sip.
The sudden collision sent Vodka staggering; beer sloshed out, soaking his black suit.
"What the hell, man?" Vodka snarled.
"Sorry, really sorry!" Kogoro hurriedly apologized, grabbing tissues to dab at the spill.
Vodka's hand was inches from the gun at his waist—cops sitting right there—if they saw…
In a panic, Vodka roughly shoved Kogoro away: "Don't touch me, I'll do it myself!"
Kogoro hadn't expected such a violent reaction. Caught off guard, he stumbled backward and crashed right into Officer Matsumoto.
"Watch it."
Matsumoto steadied the tottering Kogoro, then turned to Vodka.
After sizing them up, his brows furrowed. "You two look pretty young. Drinking here? Silver hair, dressed like yakuza—IDs? We're checking."
His shout drew Inspector Samezaki and the others; every eye locked on Vodka and Gin.
"Definitely don't look adult," Inspector Samezaki muttered, frowning.
"Hayashi Shuichi, did you card them before serving?" Officer Megure asked.
Hayashi Shuichi felt his head swell. He never imagined Gin and Vodka would draw police heat over underage drinking!
Seeing who they were, it hadn't even crossed his mind—these two never acted like kids.
In Japan, serving alcohol to minors was a serious offense; drinkers, servers, and owners all faced harsh penalties.
"Maybe they just have baby faces," Hayashi Shuichi forced out. "They drove here—must be legal age."
"Hayashi-kun, driving age is eighteen, drinking age twenty—still two years short." Megure shot him a puzzled glance. The usually sharp guy was off his game today.
"We turned twenty last month!" Vodka jumped in. "Just look young, that's all."
"Not everyone ages into a thirty-something face at thirteen like you, officer," Gin drawled coldly.
Was this guy always such a prick even when young?
Hayashi Shuichi silently facepalmed. Matsumoto had a short fuse—this was begging for trouble.
Sure enough, Matsumoto exploded: "What did you just say, kid?"
"Officer Matsumoto, calm down—he might be tipsy," Hayashi Shuichi cut in quickly.
While scrambling for a way out, he caught Sharon standing and slipping outside.
No matter their history, Belmod wouldn't abandon Gin and Vodka now, right?
So if she was leaving…
Realization hit. Hayashi Shuichi snatched a kitchen knife, slid it up his sleeve, and hurried out from behind the counter.
"Didn't you hear me?" Matsumoto glared at Gin and Vodka. "I suspect underage drinking and gang activity. You drove here—licenses. Show them."
"Big bro…" Vodka glanced desperately at Gin.
When Pisco gifted Gin the black Porsche 356A, he'd forged licenses for both—ages only two years older than real. Eighteen.
Even if produced, they were still underage for alcohol. Busted either way.
Gin's face stayed ice-cold, eyes flashing ruthless resolve as his hand crept toward his waist.
Vodka mirrored him, fingers brushing his own gun beneath the jacket, scanning the circling officers.
Matsumoto noticed their guarded stances but dismissed the bulges as knives—two punks couldn't possibly have guns.
Inspector Samezaki, Officer Megure, and four nearby uniforms rose as Gin and Vodka resisted, closing in.
"Kogoro, take Reiko and Eri to the back," Hayashi Shuichi yanked the stunned Kogoro, whispered instructions, then planted himself in front of the police.
"Inspector Samezaki, let me handle this. It's an izakaya—you'll scare the customers."
He glanced outside—Sharon had been gone a while. If rescue was coming, it was now.
After stalling the cops, he turned to Gin and Vodka: "No licenses on you? Left them in the car? Let the officers escort you to get them."
Gin swept the cramped room—tables everywhere, customers packed in. Fighting inside would be suicide.
Out on the open street? Easy escape.
"Licenses are in the car," Gin nodded slightly. "Want to check? Follow me."
He stood, Vodka at his heels, heading for the door.
Hayashi Shuichi tightened his grip on the hidden knife and followed close.
Eyes locked on their backs—if they twitched wrong, he'd close the distance fast, keep those guns useless…
(End of chapter)
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