He should stop calling this the future. Sanzu realized, because technically it's the present. A shitty one, but nonetheless the present. A sigh escaped his lips, deciding to forget the past few minutes and instead concentrate on the road and the limousine.
The silence felt a bit too loud, the feeling of boredom all too familiar. It was instances like these where memories of the decrepit old house made its way through his head.
He must have been sober.
He tried to alleviate some stress by cracking his neck, and in that moment remembered the modern luxury of being able to pick and choose whatever music to listen to directly from his phone instead of having to carry an iPod or worse, a straight up CD-player.
There was no clue on how long the ride would be, and he wanted his mind to stay away from stray memories for as long as possible.
Back in Bonten, he had gotten used to listening to the playlists the Haitani brothers liked to listen to on long rides, however he was a bit too preoccupied driving to pick up his phone again. He did not even know where it went flying off before, so he resigned himself to the radio. Once some mainstream song started playing he gritted his teeth in pure unfiltered rage.
God help the next driver that makes a single innocent mistake around him because he will not hold back a scream able to send the sinless to hell.
Thankfully, the limousine started to slow down.
The real mission was about to start, Sanzu realized, with his attire and hairstyle he stuck like an anime protagonist. Which meant that with just one slip up it would take no time for him to be spotted by either Kisaki or Hanma. Furthermore there was just not enough information about this present to make up a believable explanation for him to be following them.
In conclusion, shit was rigged.
The street they finally stopped by felt overwhelming for his senses. The call must have kept him occupied enough for him to not notice the steady influx of people and his arrival at what seemed to be a lively district.
His eyes flocked to the neon signs.
A passerby's curiosity might have been caught by the grand establishments, fascinated by services they offered, but Sanzu knew better. The dark alleyways is where the real business took place.
It took no brainer that these expensive and luxurious facilities were nothing more than money-laundering schemes for the real runners of the city.
Sanzu sighed, Bonten once ruled over Tokyo, and yet it remains as nothing but a memory in his mind.
Kisaki's limousine entered what seemed to be a private parking lot behind a hostess club of extravagant architecture. This must have been the final destination.
If Kisaki's words were to be trusted, he was going to meet with an acquaintance. Sanzu waited until the limousine entered the parking lot and watched as the mechanical doors closed behind them, leaving him somewhat alone in the busy street. To trust Kisaki's words one must have been a fool, but a liar cannot simply lie and get away with it. Kisaki must have told him the truth in some way, no matter how obscure.
An acquaintance, Sanzu, had a vague idea on who it could be. Vague indeed, based simply on wild assumptions but the hope in his chest was enough for him to follow the once dead man into the unknown. Let's just hope his guess was not wrong
For the start of his grandiose spy-mission, he simply walked out the car. In the middle of the street. The car was not his, thus not his responsibility. He could care less what happened to it.
The second step was to, instead of going into the hostess club, enter the off-brand party city on the other side of the street. His plan was majorly based in not getting seen, so he needed some sort of attire that would hide his most recognizable traits.
