Chapter 328: Chapter 326 This is American Kung Fu_1
Under the dusk-laden sky, Aozawa stopped at the entrance to his new home.
It was a detached two-story villa with a surrounding yard.
The Western-style, hollow wrought-iron gate allowed a clear view into the courtyard.
A pale blue Lamborghini was parked on the circular driveway, sheltered by a carport. Lush green lawns spread throughout the yard, except for the paths.
The entire villa looked exceptionally solid, instilling a sense of security.
He raised his hand and pressed the doorbell.
DING-DONG. The pleasant sound chimed, and a familiar Hawaiian-accented voice came from the video intercom, "Come in. The main entrance is on your right."
Aozawa pushed open the hollow iron gate and closed it behind him. It locked with a CLICK.
He headed to the right, where a passage about two meters wide separated the wall from the villa.
At the main entrance stood two potted plants of unidentifiable species.
He eyed the solid-looking front door; the handle beeped, a green light came on, and it opened automatically.
Inside was a spacious foyer, comparable in size to an entire house for blue-collar workers in the Adachi District.
The adjacent shoe cabinet looked like it could hold many pairs of shoes.
Aozawa took off his shoes and opened the cabinet. It was quite empty, so he casually placed his shoes on a high shelf, so he wouldn’t need to bend down to get them later.
Walking forward, he was greeted by a long corridor reminiscent of an airplane runway.
There were a total of six doors on the ground floor.
Curious, Aozawa opened the sliding door in front of him. Inside was a tea room with a distinct Japanese atmosphere, complete with low chairs and small tables, a full tea set, and waterproof tatami mats on the floor.
A large 120-inch LCD television was set against the wall.
He placed his backpack on a small table and opened the Japanese-style sliding door opposite him. This led to a corridor, about one and a half meters wide, which in turn led to floor-to-ceiling glass windows with sliding doors opening out to the courtyard.
In the summer, they could set up a small swimming pool in the yard or eat watermelon on the veranda. It would feel just like being in a manga, he thought.
"I’m over here." Morimoto Chiyoda’s call drifted over.
Aozawa walked along the corridor to the living room. He opened the sliding door and saw the interior decor wasn’t luxurious but rather emphasized a solid, sturdy appearance.
The overall impression was that of a fortress, strong and secure.
The original owner must have really lacked a sense of security, Aozawa mused.
Here too, there was a 120-inch LCD TV. Beneath it was an atomizing fireplace, creating the illusion of burning flames.
In the middle was a curtain that could divide the large living room in two.
Aozawa walked over to the dining table. A small, square serving hatch in the wall opened, and Morimoto Chiyoda leaned through it, saying, "Bring the food to the table."
"Don’t rush," Aozawa cheekily responded.
He found this serving hatch quite interesting. At least when Morimoto Chiyoda passed dishes through, she had to bend over. The buttons on her pale blue Police Director uniform seemed to take on an American vibe, as if yearning to cry out for democracy and freedom, to escape the uniform’s restraint.
"What are you looking at?" Morimoto Chiyoda gave him a glare, placed the dishes on the table, and went back to bustling in the kitchen.
Aozawa quickened his pace and quipped, "This is quite troublesome."
"That’s the luxury of a wealthy person’s mansion," retorted Morimoto Chiyoda. "Although, asking the esteemed Mr. Aozawa to carry a dish doesn’t seem quite right."
"Of course not. For a once-in-a-millennium beauty of a Police Director to cook me dinner... I’d gladly fetch water to wash your feet or give you a backrub. Those are things I *should* be doing."
Aozawa answered with a serious face, placing the dishes on the square dining table.
Morimoto Chiyoda chuckled at the "once-in-a-millennium beauty" remark—she neither found it exaggerated nor surprising, just calmly accepted it. "At least you’re sensible."
Tonight’s dinner was exceptionally lavish: lobster, crab, eel, vegetables, and more. In total, there were twelve dishes—six meat and six vegetable.
Morimoto Chiyoda had also bought an expensive bottle of wine and two new stemmed wine glasses.
Aozawa exclaimed, "What a sumptuous dinner."
Morimoto Chiyoda, with a smile, said, "A housewarming is always worth celebrating."
Aozawa curiously inquired, "What are we going to do with the house we used to live in?"
"We’ll find a time to rent out that house. After all, the more money, the better," Morimoto Chiyoda said with a shrug. She poured herself another glass of wine, smiling. "There’s also a basement level. It has a storage room, a room specifically for parties, and even a bar."
"Once my Police Director’s salary comes in, I’ll stock the bar with all sorts of liquor. When we have free time, we can sing and have a couple of drinks in the basement. We won’t need to spend money going out."
"Heh, that really is something to look forward to," Aozawa replied with a smile. The life of the wealthy is truly best suited for solitary living,
he thought. You can have everything in your own home and never need to interact with outsiders.Morimoto Chiyoda gave him a sideways glance and hummed, "You wouldn’t be thinking of something naughty, would you?"
"Chitose, I think you’re the one who needs to watch out. You’re always having those unhealthy thoughts," Aozawa scoffed. "My heart is like an unpolluted lake, full of light."
"Wow, I don’t even know where to begin with that one," Morimoto Chiyoda said, propping her chin on her hand. She quietly watched the young man before her, swirling the red wine in her glass. "You really are thick-skinned."
"I just like to speak the truth," Aozawa replied earnestly, his foot stealthily coming to rest on Morimoto Chiyoda’s knee. Her deep blue Police Director’s skirt barely reached her knees; below were her bare calves, unadorned with stockings.
Incredibly, her skin felt as smooth as if she were wearing silk stockings.
Morimoto Chiyoda scooped up a spoonful of the piping hot fish soup and said seductively, "Do you want to experience my heat?"
Aozawa withdrew his foot, and with a serious expression, said, "Chitose, let me serve you a slice of the fish belly to celebrate your appointment as Police Director."
"That’s more like it." A smile touched Morimoto Chiyoda’s lips. As Police Director, I can’t knowingly break the law, she thought. If possible, I’d prefer to pick this green apple only after it has ripened. But I’m afraid if I wait too long, Ayatsuki Ayaka and the others might ripen the apple first.
This left her somewhat conflicted internally, but she didn’t let it show, nonchalantly taking a sip of her wine.
「At night, in Adachi District, Takezuka.」
Outside a deserted factory.
Emily was on the rooftop of a residential building, from where she could observe the factory grounds through binoculars.
She slept during the day and came out at night to monitor the Murai Group’s movements.
Tokyo was home to a vast number of Yakuza organizations. Among them, Emily had chosen the Murai Group because they were purportedly involved in ’flour’ trafficking.
In reality, Emily had no concrete evidence. Back when she led a special task force, she only monitored these Yakuza organizations, never specifically investigating their crimes.
This ’rumor’ was something Emily had paid Informant Mickey to find out.
To get close to Dio, Emily had really gone all out, even funding this mission out of her own pocket.
"They’re not here yet?" Emily muttered as she took a lollipop out of her pocket, unwrapped it, and put it in her mouth. The sweetness helped her think and eased her anxiety.
Katerina’s voice came through the Bluetooth headset, "They’re here."
Hearing this, Emily quickly raised her binoculars. On the empty street outside the abandoned factory, three cars drove up to the entrance and stopped.
The first man to get out of the lead car was tall and burly, dressed in a suit. His attire clearly marked him as a subordinate.
High-ranking members often dress more casually; only the underlings are required to wear uniform attire, Emily observed.
The man walked to the warehouse entrance and used a key to try and open the door.
"Hey, Daniel, what are you dawdling for? Open the door quickly." The others also gradually got out of their cars.
Daniel looked puzzled. "Strange, why won’t the key go in?"
Someone nearby glanced at it and said, "You didn’t get the keys mixed up, did you?"
"Impossible." Daniel tried several more keys, all useless. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. "All my keys are here. Could it... could it really be an Evil Spirit?"
"Idiot! Those are just rumors *we* spread! How could there be an Evil Spirit?" the Murai Group’s leader couldn’t help but snap. He stepped forward to look. Furious, he slapped Daniel on the head and roared, "You fool! Can’t you even recognize a lock? This clearly isn’t our lock!"
Daniel was stunned for a moment before bellowing, "Who the hell did this?"
"Boss, could it be that another group is using this place as a trading spot?"
"Probably. To dare change our lock!" His face contorted with anger. This was a clear provocation.
If I find out which group did this, I’ll wipe them out! he fumed internally.
"So, what do we do now?"
"Smash it open," Murai Rise said, rolling his eyes, utterly exasperated with his foolish underlings.
The underlings exchanged glances.
Daniel silently pulled out a gun. In their line of work, being armed was standard.
Murai Rise punched him. "You idiot! Using a gun to break a lock? Do you think bullets are free?"
"Alright, Mr. Murai, don’t be angry. Leave it to me," a relaxed voice called from one of the cars. A man about 1.8 meters tall climbed out. He was very thin, almost skin and bones, and wore a shirt and long pants adorned with the Stars and Stripes.
"Mr. Sunny, then I’ll have to trouble you." Murai Rise’s face showed a trace of respect.
The situation in Tokyo had become very chaotic recently. Various powerful individuals from other countries were flooding in, and with the Yakuza Hunters also active, Murai Rise had been forced to spend heavily to hire experts for his protection.
Sunny was one such expert. He had Asian features and skin tone but held United States citizenship and used an American name.
"A small matter." Sunny smiled. His hand looked frail, but he simply extended his index finger, hooked it into the lock, and pressed down.
CLICK. The lock sprang open.
This display of skill made Daniel exclaim, "Amazing, Chinese kung fu!"
Sunny’s eyes turned cold. He grabbed Daniel’s front tooth with his right hand, yanked hard, and tore it out. "I’m American, you bastard!" he snarled. "This is American kung fu!"
"AH!" Daniel clutched his mouth and screamed as blood trickled from his fingertips.
Murai Rise ignored Daniel, instead glaring at him reproachfully. "Mr. Sunny, please don’t concern yourself with such an idiot. Let’s go inside."