Smack! Smack!
Smack!
The sound of strikes rang heavy and solid.
"Keep going!"
On the training ring, the coach held up two hand pads, catching Hayato Masaki's punches in succession.
Hayato adjusted his breathing, throwing more fists at the pads.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
His right jab hit the pad's center with a thud, followed by an equally forceful left that made the coach's shoulders sway. As the coach stepped back slightly, Hayato was already angling for another strike—
"Good rhythm! Again!"
The coach steadied himself, clapping the pads and resetting his stance.
Hayato threw another punch.
His pace was fast and steady, and despite his refined, handsome appearance, each hit carried surprising weight.
Even through the thick, cushioned pads, the coach had to brace himself repeatedly to absorb the blows.
The session continued for another half hour.
When the coach's arms grew sore from holding the pads, Hayato unwrapped his hands, exhaling lightly.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
But his breathing stayed even. He brushed his damp bangs back and stepped off the ring, grabbing a water bottle.
It held a grapefruit-flavored energy drink—pretty tasty.
"Five-minute break before we keep going, Coach?"
"…That's enough for today."
"Got it. Thanks as always."
Hamada Daisei—
That was the name the coach had given Hayato earlier.
Hamada stayed on the ring, catching his breath as he removed the pads, his gaze complex as he watched Hayato sip his drink and check his phone.
This guy…
He looked scholarly, but his physical prowess and stamina were almost inhuman. And he picked up skills frighteningly fast.
Ring-ring! Ring-ring!
Hayato's phone chimed.
He answered, and Gin's voice came through immediately: "Tonight, 10:30. Same bar as last time."
"OK."
Click.
Gin, true to form, hung up without a goodbye.
Hayato headed to the showers.
The Organization's training facility was top-notch—shooting range, boxing ring, even a pool for endurance. Notably, Hayato could take a gun from the range, but that felt too conspicuous for now, so he passed.
---
10:30 p.m.
The familiar looming black building, the familiar Cocktail bar.
When Hayato arrived right on time, Vodka and Gin were already there, seated at their usual spot by the counter. The bartender tonight, though, was a new face.
"Yo," Vodka said, turning and raising a hand.
"Good evening," Hayato replied, taking a seat at the bar. "Gin, Vodka-san."
Gin smoked silently, ignoring him.
Vodka hesitated, a bit irked—why just "Gin" for him, but "Vodka-san" for me?
He swallowed his complaint.
Hayato scanned the drink menu with a smile, but before he could choose, the busy bartender slid a glass his way.
It was a classic glass with a splash of clear liquor over a few ice cubes, sparkling faintly.
"Cointreau," the bartender said.
"A distilled sweet liqueur from early 18th-century France. Known for its rich aroma, blending fresh fruit with sweet orange notes. As a liqueur, it's great for mixing but can be enjoyed neat."
Gin stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray, his green eyes locking onto Hayato with a grin. "That's your codename."
"Cointreau, huh…"
Hayato lifted the glass, taking a sip.
The chilled liquor hit with an initial sweetness.
Then came a robust alcohol kick, laced with faint floral and fruity notes. As it slid down his throat, it left a bittersweet aftertaste unique to sweet liqueurs, tinged with orange zest.
Gin chuckled.
The Organization's codenames followed a logic: men got distilled spirits, women got wines or fruit liqueurs.
Cointreau fit Hayato, in Gin's view.
Its prominent sweetness and fruity charm mirrored his polished looks and courteous demeanor. Yet, no matter how it seemed, Cointreau was a strong spirit—and Hayato, a skilled killer.
"Congrats," Vodka said, finishing his own drink. "From now on, you're Cointreau."
"Hm… getting a codename feels kind of surreal," Hayato mused.
"…"
"Does this change anything for me?" Hayato set the glass down, surprised at how quickly he'd earned a codename.
"You'll get more access to the Organization's internal network. No one will shadow your every move anymore. Plus, you can request special funds or assign grunt work to lower members when needed," Gin explained.
"Sounds pretty good."
"That Man has high hopes for your skills and approves of your public persona. Don't let him down…"
Truth be told, if Gin hadn't witnessed Hayato's "accidental killing" on the highway that night, he wouldn't have recommended him to the Boss so soon.
The Wakamatsu Toshihide situation had been cleared up too.
On the very night of their conflict, Hayato had set him up for an excessive-defense homicide…
Could even people themselves be part of his "accidents"?
This confirmed to Gin that Hayato's moral compass was low—unlike those undercover rats who'd only kill or harm when forced. With a clean background and useful skills, Gin saw no reason not to promote him.
"Just do my job well, right?" Hayato said, sipping his drink. "By the way, the Organization's not still boosting my public profile, is it?"
"No."
"Good."
The Organization was crawling with moles.
Hayato had no plans to ride the Organization's train to the end, but unsuspecting moles wouldn't see it that way. If the Organization pushed his fame too hard, some intelligence agency might take notice.
If only I had the Shinigami Eyes…
For now, he'd stay low, gathering the faces and names of the Organization's key players.
***
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