Chapter 22: Xiao Kaitian Finally Begins to Stir

Compared to Haruka Sakura, who sat in the driver’s seat feeling restless and irritable, her “partner in misery,” Yamamoto, appeared far more at ease. He sprawled out on the front passenger seat to the left, the chair fully reclined, loudly snoring away as he napped.

“What a carefree guy,” Haruka Sakura couldn’t help but mutter. She glanced at her phone; it was still early. At this hour, according to Kaita Sho’s daily routine, he’d usually be out for an early run, stop by the nearby 7-Eleven for breakfast, and then head home to laze around for the rest of the day.

She’d thought there would be a major development, which had left her almost completely sleepless these past two days, dark circles under her eyes, her life a blur. She could even catch a faint whiff of sweat on herself, trapped within the collar above her chest, and her scalp tingled slightly from fatigue.

As expected, before long, the door to Kaita Sho’s apartment swung open. He emerged dressed in a suit. Haruka stared intently, reached out her left hand to pat Yamamoto, and dutifully announced, “Wake up, Kaita Sho’s out!”

“Hm?” Yamamoto blinked open his bleary eyes, glanced over, wiped a bit of drool from his mouth, and collapsed back into his seat. “At this hour? He’s just out for his morning exercise. Go back to sleep.”

“No, something’s off.” Haruka wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep or her imagination, but she saw Kaita Sho carrying a small shoulder bag over his right shoulder. She squinted hard. “There’s something going on.”

“Yamamoto, I think Kaita Sho is finally up to something,” she said, a trace of excitement in her voice. After all, she was a detective now, not just a traffic cop. This was her original field of study, and if it hadn’t been for her elders’ nagging about “safety,” she’d never have become a traffic officer in the first place.

“There’s only ever one truth!” She pictured herself donning glasses, pointing out the suspect—she could hardly contain herself.

Of course, in her heart, traffic police were police too, one of the noblest and most sacred professions.

“What’s he up to?” Yamamoto turned his head, barely acknowledging her. This guy had found her a few days ago, all mysterious, talking about some big mission, and in the end, they were just surveilling someone—a veteran shut-in, at that. He wanted to keep sleeping; just keeping her company in the car was favor enough.

“Useless!” Haruka gritted her teeth. But as Kaita Sho got in his car and drove off, she had no time to chide Yamamoto further. She immediately pressed the gas and followed.

Kaita Sho was driving a borrowed Toyota Corolla, glancing occasionally at his rearview mirror, a wave of dismay washing over him. Who was this behind him, tailing him so obviously? An assassin, or a martial artist? Who stalks someone this brazenly? Shameless!

Still, he was curious to see who it was. Unfortunately, the person was so clumsy that if he didn’t slow down for them, they’d have lost him several times already.

Such meticulous adherence to traffic laws in a tail—what an eye-opening experience.

He checked again on the car waiting at the distant intersection behind him for the green light, sighed, and slowed down.

To Haruka, this move was downright silly—no, wait, considerate! Or maybe, a not-so-cold killer!

In any case, she was starting to like Kaita Sho. After all, this was her first step transitioning from traffic police to detective. Kaita Sho’s stop-and-go driving was perfect for her, practically a godsend. Were all spies, assassins, and criminals this considerate these days?

A journey of seven or eight kilometers ended up taking over an hour. When Kaita Sho finally parked in front of a café, he couldn’t help but wipe the cold sweat from his brow.

The sign was impossible to miss—large letters spelling out “Cat’s Eye,” exuding a unique charm.

Kaita Sho smiled faintly, pushed open the dark glass door, and was greeted by a chorus of “Welcome!” Once his eyes adjusted to the contrast between inside and out, he took in the scene.

Behind the bar stood a burly, bald elder, his hair and beard both white, wearing black sunglasses, meticulously polishing cups and saucers. Beside him stood a middle-aged woman with long, wavy hair, her figure well-maintained. She glanced up as Kaita Sho entered, then returned to her work.

The café was nearly empty, save for a woman in a suit seated by the window in the corner. Her shoulder-length hair was neat and crisp, and for once she wore a touch of makeup, adding to her allure. She sipped her coffee, eyes closed, savoring the moment.

As her cup gently clinked against its saucer, Kaita Sho took the seat across from her. Rinko Hagiwara opened her eyes. “Three days are up.”

“So I’m here.” Kaita Sho gestured toward the opposite coffee cup. The middle-aged woman with wavy hair smiled in understanding and, soon after, a steaming cup of coffee was set before him.

“I hope you won’t disappoint me.” Rinko laced her fingers beneath her chin, gazing intently at Kaita Sho. She had made promises to her family about this man, but she expected results.

“Of course not.” Dressed in his athletic gear, Kaita Sho grinned and opened his shoulder bag, extracting something and sliding it across the table.

It was a woman’s right-hand glove. The twin interlocking GG-like logos embroidered at the edge were instantly familiar to Rinko. Her eyes turned cold. “What is this supposed to mean? You’re fobbing me off with a single glove?”

“Try it on, and you’ll see.” Kaita Sho sipped his coffee. The taste wasn’t bad, but if he had the choice, he’d rather drink tea.

Coffee offers a short-term jolt, but tea has a deeper, more lingering charm. It was a shame that, after adopting the ancient tradition of tea, the people of this island nation lost their edge in the face of the coffee culture’s rise.

Expression frosty, Rinko slipped on the glove and immediately sensed something unusual—there was something embedded within. She looked at Kaita Sho in confusion. “What is this?”

“GG’s glove. I just made some modifications,” Kaita Sho said, deftly lighting a cigarette. Plumes of smoke drifted toward Rinko’s cold face, making her frown. He continued, “You could call it custom-made for you. The power source is an ordinary hydrogen cell, compatible with hydrogen crystals. This is a custom model—one of a kind.”

“At present, you can only use it three times. It’s powered by hydrogen cells. As for strength—it’s about one and a half times your full capacity.” Kaita Sho exhaled another cloud of smoke.

“One and a half times?” Rinko’s pupils contracted sharply. Unlike the nonchalant Kaita Sho, she knew exactly what that meant. “You’re saying, with this glove, I can unleash attacks only martial artists at the peak of the Yellow Rank can manage?”

Her heart turned cold. She herself was only at the mid-Yellow Rank, her skills barely allowing her to mimic a peak-level attack. Now Kaita Sho had casually tossed her a glove and told her she could break through at will—how was she supposed to accept that?