[~1900 Words]
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The bustling commercial street that day was alive with energy.
Kudo Yukiko personally brought Kisaki Eri and the others here—it was a rare chance to travel abroad, and of course, souvenirs were a must.
Everyone in the group was well-off. They weren't billionaires, but they had more than enough to shop freely.
Fujiwara Takuya trailed behind Kisaki Eri, casually pulling out his Centurion Black Gold Card, ready to cover the expenses.
For him, both Kudo Yukiko and Kisaki Eri were women in his life now, and even if Mouri Ran was "just" Eri's daughter, he couldn't bring himself to be stingy with her either.
"Go on, buy a few more things. Send them to my house, and I'll take them back when I leave," Yukiko said cheerfully, ushering Eri and Ran into a boutique.
Fujiwara, however, was quietly ignored.
Though Yukiko's heart harbored complicated feelings for Takuya, she was careful never to show it.
"This dress is beautiful… but it's too expensive. Fourteen hundred dollars." Eri sighed, running her fingers over a gown she clearly loved but hesitated to buy.
Unlike Kudo Yusaku, she wasn't especially wealthy, and Mouri Kogoro wasn't exactly rolling in money either.
Between supporting Ran and relying on the supplementary card from Fujiwara, she didn't have much cash on hand.
"Cashier, we'll take it. Put it on this card." Without hesitation, Fujiwara handed over his black card.
Eri flustered, quickly shook her head. "No! I can't let you pay for me, absolutely not."
In truth, her heart leapt with joy. She wanted him to buy it for her—after all, isn't that what boyfriends did for their girlfriends? But with Yukiko and Ran standing beside her, she couldn't risk anyone noticing.
Yukiko, however, noticed plenty.
Why was Fujiwara being so generous? Was he trying to pursue Eri? Or… had something already happened between them?
"Eri-sensei," Fujiwara smiled softly, finding an excuse, "I grew up as an orphan. You supported me, gave me the chance to study and become a police officer. This is just my way of thanking you—as a younger brother would for an older sister."
Eri's eyes softened. She understood it for what it was—a cover. But it was a good one.
She had helped him before, so letting him buy her something wasn't out of place.
Yukiko, however, remained skeptical.
She didn't want to pry—after all, it had nothing to do with her as long as she wasn't entangled.
Still, she couldn't shake the suspicion that Takuya and Eri's relationship was more than it seemed.
"Let's go to the bank first. I don't have any cash on me," Yukiko said, realizing she had maxed out her credit card from her shopping spree. She had tried to keep up with Eri and Takuya's purchases, not wanting to be outdone.
"Mom, you should buy less. It's not easy for Dad to make money, and you've spent a lot today," Shinichi complained.
Yukiko glared at him. "Stop talking nonsense. Let's go to the bank."
Meanwhile, Eri stood nearby, wearing a smug expression.
She felt like she had surpassed Yukiko, especially since her current husband *Lover* was younger and more attractive than Yusaku.
Little did Eri know that her current husband had once been involved with Yukiko.
The group eventually made their way to a nearby bank.
Reluctantly, she decided to withdraw some cash before continuing.
Takuya and the others waited near the lobby seating while Yukiko headed to the counter.
That was when chaos burst through the doors.
Several masked men stormed in, each clad in dark coats and heavy boots. They carried large backpacks slung over their shoulders and, more alarmingly, submachine guns gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
The moment Fujiwara saw them, his knew . Robbers. It had to be.
"In broad daylight?" he thought bitterly. Of course. This is America—the land where shootings are routine and bank robberies just another headline.
Ran stiffened beside him, her eyes wide with fear. Eri tensed as well, but before panic could set in, Fujiwara's hand closed around theirs, steady and firm.
"Don't worry," he murmured, voice low and calm. "Just stay close."
The warmth of his grip worked like a shield.
Eri's racing heart slowed, comforted by his presence.
Ran clung to him tightly, her palms slick with nervous sweat, but she didn't let go.
Fujiwara gave her hand a small reassuring squeeze, as though to say, I've got you.
Meanwhile, Yukiko ducked behind a marble column as the robbers fired warning shots into the ceiling.
Shards of plaster rained down, and terrified customers screamed before scrambling for cover.
"On the ground! Nobody moves!" one of the masked men barked.
"Hurry up and fill the bags with money!" a robber demanded.
The bank staff knew better than to resist. Trembling, they began stuffing stacks of bills into the sacks the robbers hurled across the counter. Bag after bag filled, the sound of money rustling louder than the shallow, panicked breaths of those watching.
Kudo Shinichi crouched nearby, eyes narrowing. He counted their number quickly. Four robbers… armed, but their backs are turned. If I can take one down, maybe the others—
But before he could act, Eri shot him a sharp glare, reading his intentions. Her thoughts turned cold: Idiot boy. If you die here, what happens to Ran? Do you want to leave her a widow before she's even married?
Even Yukiko, watching from her cover, cursed under her breath.
Foolishchild! Charging at armed men with submachine guns? Where did he learn such recklessness?
Shinichi edged forward, but one of the robbers spotted the movement. A pistol snapped up, aimed directly at him.
"Shinichi, get back!" Yukiko and Ran cried in unison.
Yukiko bolted forward, shoving her son aside—just as Fujiwara moved.
In that instant, his mind sharpened to a razor's edge.
His heightened senses, honed through both training and something beyond ordinary, locked onto the robber's movements. He could feel the aim of the gun, see the twitch of a finger about to pull the trigger.
Too slow, Fujiwara thought.
The gun went off.
Peng!
The shot cracked through the bank like thunder. Everyone flinched. Yukiko's pupils contracted in horror as she saw Fujiwara step in front of her, taking the bullet straight to the chest.
"Fujiwara—!" she gasped.
But he didn't fall.
He straightened, pain flashing briefly in his eyes, then reached into Yukiko's coat pocket.
In one smooth motion, he drew her hidden pistol, turned, and fired.
Bang!
The bullet struck clean between the robber's eyes. The man dropped instantly, his bag bursting open as stolen money scattered across the marble floor.
The other robbers froze, shocked that their comrade had been gunned down so swiftly. But Fujiwara gave them no chance to recover.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Each shot was precise, merciless. His movements were a blur, his aim unerring. Within three heartbeats, three more robbers lay sprawled lifelessly across the lobby floor.
Silence fell.
The hostages stared, wide-eyed and trembling. A single man had just taken down an entire crew of armed robbers.
It didn't feel real.
"Yukiko-san," Fujiwara said evenly, handing the pistol back to her, "your gun."
She blinked at him, stunned. Only a moment ago, she had been certain he would die. Yet here he stood, calm as if nothing had happened.
Her heart ached, a mixture of relief and something dangerously close to longing. This man… he makes me feel safe. He makes me feel alive.
The stench of gunpowder still hung heavy in the air. Customers peeked from behind counters and columns, whispering in awe.
Some clutched their phones, others simply froze, unable to process what they had just witnessed.
Fujiwara stood among the fallen robbers, lowering the pistol with steady hands.
His chest, where the bullet had struck moments before, showed no blood—only the faint bulge of a bulletproof vest beneath his shirt.
"Take the money back," he ordered the shaken bank staff, his tone calm but firm. "And call the police immediately. Yukiko-san, I assume you have contacts in this country—make the arrangements."
Yukiko snapped back to reality, quickly nodding.
She dialed Yusaku without hesitation, her voice brisk as she explained the situation. All the while, her gaze kept flicking toward Fujiwara, unable to hide the admiration in her eyes.
Ran hurried to his side, her face pale but relieved. "Officer Fujiwara… are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," he assured her with a faint smile, slipping the pistol into Yukiko's hand. "It'll take more than a stray bullet to bring me down."
Eri stepped forward, her composure wavering for the first time. "Are you sure? That bullet—it hit you directly…" She caught herself, biting back the word that had almost escaped: husband.
Her heart raced at the near slip. If Ran had heard it, the fallout would have been worse than the robbery itself.
Kudo Shinichi, however, wasn't convinced. His eyes narrowed, sharp as blades, as they flicked to the outline of the vest beneath Fujiwara's clothes.
"Officer Fujiwara," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the hush, "how did you know there would be a robbery today? And why were you already wearing a bulletproof vest?"
The question struck like ice water poured over the room.
Everyone turned to him in disbelief. Yukiko froze, phone still pressed to her ear. Ran stared at her childhood friend, aghast. Eri's expression hardened, her temper flaring.
Is he serious?
"Shinichi," Ran whispered, her voice trembling with anger, "how can you say that? Officer Fujiwara just saved Aunt Yukiko's life!"
Even Ran, the gentle soul who almost never raised her voice, couldn't hold back her condemnation.
Fujiwara's jaw tightened.
For all his control, the insult burned.
He had risked himself—stood in the line of fire—and instead of gratitude, the boy questioned his integrity.
Before he could speak, a sharp crack echoed through the lobby.
Yukiko's palm met Shinichi's cheek.
Her son staggered, stunned more by her reaction than the sting.
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Yukiko's eyes blazed, her voice low but fierce. "Would Officer Fujiwara, of all people, need to rob a bank? He carries a black card—he's richer than your father ever was! How dare you slander him after he just saved me… and you!"
Shinichi's lips parted, but no words came. The silence was deafening.
Eri folded her arms, her sharp gaze pinning him in place. In her heart, a decision solidified: I will never let Ran marry this boy. Not someone who would spit suspicion at the very man who protected him.
Takuya exhaled slowly, his anger cooling but not forgotten.
He turned his head slightly, a glint in his eyes. Tonight, Yukiko would pay dearly for the worry she had caused him—for making his heart pound harder than any gunfight ever had.
And she would beg.
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