Chapter 64
Translator: penny
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: The Wavering Great Detective Line (8)
There is no one in the world who can predict everything.
Those who confidently believe they can control everything usually find their plans derailed by variables they never even imagined. When Shiratori Makoto and Kitano Sanma locked eyes, Makoto failed to realize that this one encounter had thrown his infiltration plan into chaos.
Of course, Iwamoto Serika—who knew the original story—was equally unaware of the butterfly effect this meeting between Makoto and Sanma would unleash.
It was a simple story, once you knew the inside details.
Bangya Bangya Man Kitano Sanma froze for a moment as he made eye contact with Makoto. If he wasn't seeing things, the boy in front of him looked just like someone he'd seen before. Back before Kitano Sanma blew up as Bangya Bangya Man—back when he was still scraping by with drama supporting roles—he'd parlayed his natural variety show flair into side gigs like nightclub emceeing or event hosting.
Sometimes it was weddings, other times birthday parties for the elderly; he'd cut loose with tricks and jokes to loosen up the crowd. Once, he'd emceed at the wedding of a police executive's son.
"Connections are what matter. You never know what mess we'll run into in showbiz, right? Times like that, MC a gig or show off a talent, and it's all profit."
Sanma himself hadn't been thrilled, but it was a job pushed by his agency manager. The manager figured Sanma was destined for stardom someday and wanted him building networks far and wide for whatever might come.
"Plus, the groom tying the knot this time? He's a fan of yours. Gotta make a play for the fans now and then."
"Oh yeah? Should've led with that."
That perked up Sanma, who'd been in a foul mood for a while. As he grinned like a kid, the manager pointed out the wedding guests one by one in a hushed voice.
"Look over there—all the heavy hitters from MPD are gathered. That guy's the Public Relations Chief, that one's Investigation Division 1 Chief. And over there..."
The manager was a guy with a near-religious reverence for connections. Then like now, he rattled off the names of celebs and bigwigs with ecstatic glee.
"And that guy with his son? MPD Special Affairs Superintendent. Shiratori family—pretty prominent name."
Sanma squinted and peered closely. Without meaning to, he got a good, long look at Shiratori Makoto's face. Brown hair, golden eyes. That smug, self-assured smile and sharp fashion sense.
"Must be elementary school age now. Kid looks sharp as a tack."
"Yeah, they say he's wicked smart. Name's Shiratori Makoto, I think?"
Sanma had to admire the manager's memory.
"You gunning for politics or what? Memorizing the Special Affairs Superintendent's kid's name?"
The manager laughed it off and shook his head, then patted his own head like he was stroking a vase.
"Nah, you don't memorize this stuff—you store it. Tuck it away in your brain, and boom, it pops up right when you need it. Local gigs? You gotta schmooze everywhere for favors."
The manager's cocksure grin flashed through Kitano Sanma's mind.
Brown hair, golden eyes. That dazed expression, those stylish clothes. No doubt about it—a face he'd seen before, right there in front of him. The boy's face was flushed as he scanned the surroundings, nervously wiping his hands on his pants. Those trembling eyes didn't match the cocky young master from back then, but that face... those eyes... they were whispering to Sanma.
That kid's the MPD Special Affairs Superintendent's son.
Not exactly earth-shattering, really.
Kitano Sanma had been a popular entertainer long before joining the Prophets. Riding high in his prime these days, he bumped into MPD types all the time and dealt with situations like this often. He'd personally signed autographs for execs whose sons were fans; during drama shoots, street cops had begged for signatures too.
But this felt... off. Way off.
Shiratori Makoto, son of the MPD Special Affairs Superintendent, was a Tokyo native.
No reason for him to pop up out of nowhere in a place like Minato Ward. Even if it was some event coincidence, those MPD privilege hounds would've demanded a stage autograph or a quick snap from afar.
Sanma shoved the nagging doubts aside and slipped back into his casual act with an even voice.
Overthinking it and getting paranoid wouldn't help. He was here as blameless celeb Kitano Sanma—no red flags anywhere.
No need to look scared or suspicious.
Maybe the kid had more sense than his old man—bought his own ticket? Grandma could live nearby, or he was just here on vacation.
The world was full of wild cards.
Acting rashly on unconfirmed hunches was a recipe for disaster.
So Kitano Sanma played dumb.
"Hey, kid. What's your name?"
The boy blinked, hesitated, then took the mic from the host. In a small, halting voice that didn't match his clever-looking eyes, he stammered.
"I-Iguchi Makoto."
Iguchi Makoto?
Sanma squinted again.
Why a fake name? Scared of drawing eyes with his real one? Or was he seeing things? No time to mull it over. After a beat, Sanma flashed a grin.
"Got it, Makoto kid. Great name. Here's a special gift for you: Bangya Bangya Man's custom finger gloves!"
"Whoa!"
At the word "gloves," a gorilla-esque boy nearby started flailing his arms in envy. The way he rattled his chair screamed physical-type esper. Bangya Bangya Man pulled out the prepared glove gift for Makoto... then slyly yanked his hand back.
Makoto's beaming smile soured into a pout.
Teasing the Superintendent's son like this? When else would he get such a kick? Sanma savored it with a smug grin, shaking the gloves.
"But to claim these gloves, you've gotta make me one promise, kid."
"W-what is it?"
He was stomping his feet like he couldn't wait. Sanma dangled the gloves and asked.
"Do you swear to always stand for justice alongside Bangya Bangya Man, with a pure heart?"
"Yes!"
Makoto's voice boomed out. Flushed cheeks, radiant smile. Looked every bit the genuine fan—and it muddled Sanma's suspicions.
What the...?
Why's the Superintendent's kid all the way out in Minato Ward?
Just a fan for real?
Should I have signed an autograph? Snapped a pic?
Came from afar—total diehard, right?
As Sanma pondered, he glanced aside. In the unlit seats next to Shiratori Makoto sat Iwamoto Serika. She was eyeing him with a wickedly malicious grin.
Like she was praying for his utter downfall, smirking all the while.
Kitano Sanma's face hardened.
Something was up. Something he didn't know about.
The moment the event wrapped, Kitano Sanma headed straight back to the facility.
"Hey, Dennis!"
"Oh my, Kitano-san. What brings you back? I really didn't expect you again."
She'd heard he'd leave right after the event, so Dennis looked utterly flustered by the sudden VIP return. She set water on for coffee and fumbled to take his coat. Sanma chucked his outerwear at her and flopped onto the sofa, griping.
"If there's an operation underway, shouldn't you give me a heads-up? Huh? I nearly blew the whole thing."
Dennis tilted her head, face blank with confusion as she stared at him.
"What operation? Nothing active right now. If it's research-related, that's classified—come back at the regular meeting..."
Sanma shook his head at her poker face.
"No, no—not that. Come on, the op with that newbie Iwamoto Serika!"
"...What op?"
Sanma scowled at the question. He rolled his eyes, then whispered.
"...You didn't know the MPD Special Affairs Superintendent's son is glued to Serika's side?"
Dennis frowned at that.