Chapter 67: People Who Look Alike
The wail of police sirens finally pierced the tense atmosphere lingering over the hijacked bus. Inspector Megure stepped out of the lead cruiser, his trademark hat pulled low against the afternoon sun, followed closely by a fully equipped bomb disposal unit.
Standing by the police tape, Natsume scanned the arriving professionals. Her gaze caught on a distinctly out-of-place figure among the tactical gear: a man with wild, unruly black curls and dark sunglasses, exuding an air of lazy confidence.
Matsuda Jinpei.
Natsume blinked, a sudden jolt of realization hitting her. With the relentless, daily chaos of her new life—juggling the Black Organization, building the Teyvat faction, and surviving Beika's absurd murder rate—she had completely forgotten about this particular variable in the original plotline.
Matsuda had just returned to Beika today, having finished a three-month exchange program in Yokohama. The coastal city had been shockingly peaceful, leaving the bomb squad ace bored out of his mind and constantly complaining about the lack of action. He certainly had not expected to encounter a live explosive on his very first day back in town.
Even more surprising was running into the exact girl he had been trying to track down.
Matsuda lowered his sunglasses slightly, giving Natsume a long, calculating look. This was the third time their paths had crossed, and every single instance had involved high-yield explosives. He was seriously beginning to suspect this girl had some sort of magnetic destiny with bombs.
He watched as she calmly walked up to a uniformed officer, handed over the remote detonator she had confiscated from the hijackers, and turned to leave.
"Miss Natsume," Matsuda called out, his voice cutting through the chatter of the crime scene. "Could you wait for me for a moment? I have something I need to discuss with you."
He did not want to put this off any longer. Since fate had conveniently dropped her in front of him today, he was going to get his answers. In a city like Beika, if he delayed, another disaster would inevitably crop up, and who knew when he would get another chance.
"Oh, okay," Natsume replied, stopping in her tracks.
She actually had a faint premonition the moment Matsuda called her name, but she could not pinpoint exactly what he wanted. She had no choice but to wait by the perimeter while he went to work on the remaining explosives.
Taking advantage of the downtime, Natsume walked over to a quiet corner to give her official statement to a patrol officer. As she spoke, her eyes naturally swept the surrounding crowd.
Shuichi Akai was gone. The man had vanished like a ghost the moment the doors opened.
However, Dr. Araide was still lingering near the medical tents. Even from a distance, Natsume could feel the doctor's gaze secretly fixed on her.
Natsume suppressed a sigh. She really did not understand why Vermouth was so fixated on her. Aside from hitting a little harder than the average civilian, she was just a normal person trying to survive. Surely the Thousand Faces Witch had better things to do, like obsessing over her precious 'Angel'and'Cool Guy'. Why waste time staring at her?
Seeing that Matsuda would still be occupied with the bus for a while, Natsume pulled out her phone and dialed Kaeya's number.
The Cavalry Captain picked up quickly, his smooth voice filtering through the speaker. He explained the reason he had been trying to reach her earlier: next weekend, he was planning to take Klee to see a highly anticipated magic show.
Normally, that would be perfectly fine. The problem was the venue. Kaeya had just received a directive from the Black Organization. Next weekend, at that exact same magic show, Alhaitham and Bourbon would be present. Their mission was to discreetly hand over a USB flash drive containing sensitive transaction data to Kaeya. In return, Kaeya was scheduled to deliver this month's batch of Teyvat potions to Bourbon.
Originally, the handover was supposed to be handled by Irish and Bourbon. However, the roster had been abruptly changed. The official excuse was that Alhaitham had explicitly requested to meet the mysterious supplier behind the potions, and Cointreau had approved it. Since a face-to-face meeting with Kaeya was required, Alhaitham was sent in Irish's place.
Natsume knew the real reason, of course. Cointreau deeply distrusted Toru Amuro. The executive was paranoid that Bourbon would secretly copy the transaction data and funnel it straight to the Public Security Bureau. Cointreau also knew Irish lacked the sheer cunning required to keep Bourbon on a tight leash. Alhaitham, on the other hand, was cold, analytical, and ruthlessly efficient. Cointreau firmly believed Alhaitham would never give Bourbon a single opening to compromise the USB. As for future data drops, they were far less critical than this initial transaction, and Cointreau planned to find a way to sideline Bourbon entirely by then.
Listening to Kaeya's report, Natsume felt a massive headache building behind her eyes.
The magic show next weekend was being put on by Lyney and Lynette. Inviting Conan to watch the Fontaine twins perform was already a massive gamble with fate. A standard locked-room murder case she could handle. But throwing the Black Organization, Bourbon, Alhaitham, Klee, and the explosive-prone Detective Boys into the same theater?
She closed her eyes, silently praying the venue would still have a roof by the end of the night.
"Miss Natsume. Miss Natsume."
Natsume snapped out of her grim calculations. Matsuda was standing right in front of her, having stripped off his heavy blast gloves.
"Sorry," she said, offering a sheepish smile. "I spaced out."
Matsuda waved a hand dismissively, clearly unbothered. He looked around to ensure no one was listening too closely before getting straight to the point. "It's fine. Actually, I wanted to ask you..."
Later that night, the city lights of Tokyo cast long shadows through the blinds of Jodie Starling's apartment.
After conducting a careful sweep of the room to ensure no eavesdropping devices had been planted in her absence, the FBI agent sat on the edge of her bed and dialed a secure number.
"Shuichi," Jodie said the moment the line connected. "What is your read on the bus hijacking today?"
The line was quiet for a moment, save for the faint sound of breathing.
"Yeah," Jodie continued, her brow furrowing. "Compared to the actual hijackers, she seemed entirely focused on that blonde girl who can fight. When I was sitting next to her, I could feel him observing the girl in secret the entire ride."
Jodie paused, listening to the deep voice on the other end.
"Are you saying she is likely the person with no photograph?" Jodie asked, her grip tightening on the phone. "The one referred to only as 'hard-won princess' on that woman's hidden notes?"
Another pause.
"Right," Jodie nodded firmly. "I will find a way to get close to her. I need to investigate exactly what connection she has with the Organization."
She listened to a brief warning from her colleague.
"Okay, I will be careful."
Just as she was about to hang up, an image flashed in Jodie's mind—the sheer, devastating kinetic force of the blonde girl launching a hijacker down the aisle. Curiosity got the better of her.
"By the way, Shuichi. That blonde girl kicked a grown man flying through the air today. Could you do that?"
On the other end of the line, Shuichi Akai sat in a dimly lit room. He slowly swirled the ice cubes in his glass of bourbon, the glass clinking softly in the quiet. He replayed the chaotic seconds of the hijacking in his mind.
"I could," Akai replied, his tone measured and serious. "But I watched her move. When she delivered that kick, there was no strain. She executed it with absolute ease, which means she was actively holding back. If we are talking about raw, explosive power... I might not be able to match her."
Jodie's eyes widened. She sat in stunned silence. She had not expected that answer. That delicate-looking young woman, who seemed like a normal high schooler, possessed a physical ceiling higher than the FBI's silver bullet?
Was that why Vermouth was so interested in her? And why use such a specific, possessive title?
Across town, the moonlight spilled across Natsume's bedroom floor.
She lay flat on her back, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, completely unable to sleep. The sheets rustled as she tossed and turned, her mind refusing to shut down. The conversation she had with Matsuda Jinpei earlier that afternoon kept looping in her head.
During the day, after the bomb was secured.
Matsuda had looked at her with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "Actually, I wanted to ask Miss Natsume... do you have any male relatives? An older brother, perhaps?"
"Officer Matsuda, why would you suddenly ask me that?" Natsume had asked, her guard instantly going up.
She did not understand where this was coming from. The only people in this world she had ever mentioned a brother to were the Detective Boys. Did those kids run their mouths to the police? No, that made no sense. She had not seen the children recently, and Ayumi, Genta, and Mitsuhiko would not just casually share her personal family details with a stranger.
Seeing her immediate hesitation and the defensive shift in her posture, Matsuda had run a hand through his messy hair, looking a bit frustrated with himself.
Realizing she was misunderstanding his intentions, he quickly backed down and explained. He told her about the Ferris wheel incident three years ago. He described the ticking timer, the absolute certainty of his own death, and the sudden, impossible intervention that saved his life.
Then, Matsuda described the person who had pulled him from the brink. A young man with golden hair, wearing strange, otherworldly clothes, moving with an agility that defied human limits.
A boy who looked exactly like her.
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