106: Chapter 106 Prime Minister Suzuki, having secured his position, has the overall situation settled.

The rain in Tokyo had been falling for three consecutive days.

Raindrops tapped against the glass windows of the Prime Minister's Official Residence, merging into winding streams that closely resembled the turmoil this city had experienced over the past six months.

Suzuki Shiro stood by the window, watching the stone pavement below washed bright by the rain. He held a newly delivered report in his hand, which stated: "Protest activities within Tokyo have reached zero; all members of the US Army's 3rd Division have returned to Yokosuka Base."

He let out a long sigh of relief, his fingertips lightly tapping the signature line of the report.

These six months had been like a long nightmare.

From the power vacuum triggered by the sudden death of Prime Minister Miyamoto to the overt and covert struggles within the Zaibatsu Alliance;

From the large-scale protests by the public over the US military presence to the impeachment storm stirred up by the opposition parties... every step had been like walking on thin ice.

If not for Lin Long's interventions behind the scenes and those alliances built upon interests, he would likely have been swallowed by this political storm long ago.

“Prime Minister, Chief of Police Hakuba from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department is here,” the secretary's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Suzuki Shiro turned around, his face already wearing its usual composure: “Let him in.”

When Chief of Police Hakuba entered the office, he was carrying an exquisite wooden box.

He placed the wooden box on the desk and opened it—inside was a brand-new police command system model, gleaming with a metallic cold light.

“Prime Minister, this is the new command system for the Metropolitan Police Department. Per your request, it has been integrated into the Suzuki Conglomerate's security network.”

Chief of Police Hakuba smiled brightly. “From now on, Tokyo's public security can be checked via terminal at any time, and response speeds will increase by at least thirty percent.”

This was their 'exchange.'

Suzuki Shiro pushed the Diet to pass the Metropolitan Police Department's budget bill, and in return, Chief of Police Hakuba linked the police's core system to the Suzuki Family's network. This was equivalent to handing half of Tokyo's security lifeline over to the Suzuki Conglomerate.

“Well done. Then, Chief of Police Hakuba, I hope we have a pleasant cooperation in the future. Please look after me.”

“Haha, Prime Minister Suzuki, please look after me as well.” Chief of Police Hakuba also chuckled and shook hands with Suzuki Shiro.

The two then chatted casually in the reception area.

“How is the handling of the gang conflicts over in Shinjuku lately?”

“It's already under control.”

Chief of Police Hakuba reported immediately,

“Following your instructions, we arrested a few ringleaders, and the rest have fallen in line. The security company under the Mitsubishi Zaibatsu also sent personnel to assist with patrols, and the results have been excellent.”

Another 'exchange.' If the Mitsubishi Family wanted the development rights for Shinjuku, they had to help the police 'stabilize' security.

Suzuki Shiro nodded with satisfaction: “Hakuba-kun, I hope your police force keeps a close eye on things. Don't let any more trouble break out.”

“Yes!”

Just as Chief of Police Hakuba left, Sato Ken from the Ministry of Defense arrived.

Wearing a crisp Self-Defense Forces uniform, he brought a report on military exercises.

“Prime Minister, for next month's Japan-US joint military exercise, we have moved the location to Hokkaido as per your wishes.”

Sato Ken handed over the report, his tone carrying a hint of seeking credit,

“The civilian docks in Tokyo Bay have all been returned to the public. The issue of 'US military occupying civilian facilities' that you were concerned about has been completely resolved.”

Behind this was the Suzuki Conglomerate donating five of the latest patrol boats to the Ministry of Defense.

Suzuki Shiro flipped through the report, the corners of his mouth curling slightly:

“Very good. Tell the brothers in the Self-Defense Forces not to be too flashy with the exercise, lest it cause public dissatisfaction again.”

“Understood!”

Sato Ken smiled broadly. “By the way, those Suzuki Family scions you asked us to arrange for have already been assigned to the Ground Self-Defense Force's 1st Division. They are all in positions of real power.”

Suzuki Shiro gave a simple “Mhm” and said no more.

He had to plant his own people in military positions—this was something Lin Long had reminded him: 'Only when the gun is in your hand can you stand tall.'

After seeing off Sato Ken, the office door was pushed open again. This time, it was the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry, the eldest son of the Ooka Family.

He brought a subsidy list for the automotive industry, densely packed with the names of major car companies. The car companies under the Suzuki Conglomerate were prominently at the top.

“Prime Minister, this is the subsidy plan you requested; the Diet has already passed it.”

The Ooka scion bowed low, his posture more than three times humbler than it had been at the Zaibatsu meetings. “As per your requirements, we've allocated an extra five hundred million to our new energy vehicle project.”

Suzuki Shiro scanned the list and signed it casually:

“Tell Chairman Ooka to do a good job. For next year's Tokyo Motor Show, save the best spots for the Suzuki Family's new cars.”

“Yes! Thank you for your care, Prime Minister!”

Throughout the morning, the office door opened and closed as an endless stream of officials came to report.

Every one of them wore a smile, held documents, and spoke respectful words.

Among them were pawns planted by the Zaibatsu, bureaucrats bought off by interests, and opportunists following the wind.

But regardless of their identity, at this moment, they all showed absolute obedience to Suzuki Shiro.

Suzuki Shiro leaned back in his chair, looking at the mountain of documents on his desk, suddenly feeling a sense of daze.

Six months ago, he was just a cautious helmsman within the Zaibatsu Alliance; six months later, he had become the Prime Minister controlling the lifeline of Tokyo and the entire island nation.

This feeling was more exhilarating than signing any multi-billion dollar contract.

“Shiro-kun, it's time for lunch.”

Suzuki Tomoko pushed the door open and entered, carrying a food box. “Look at those dark circles; didn't you sleep well again last night?”

Suzuki Shiro took the eel rice his wife handed him and smiled: “I couldn't sleep. I always feel like all of this is a dream.”

“It's not a dream.”

Suzuki Tomoko sat beside him, helping him organize the documents. “It's what you deserve.” She paused, her voice lowering,

“When do you plan to thank Lin Long? We owe it to that phone call he made to The Pentagon that we were able to stabilize the military this time.”

At the mention of Lin Long, Suzuki Shiro's smile faded slightly, but his previous resistance was gone:

“Once this busy period is over. I've had Sonoko prepare a generous gift, and I'll deliver it in person.”

He sighed, “I used to be too impetuous, always thinking about controlling everything. Now I finally understand that some people and things cannot be managed just by calculation.”

Suzuki Tomoko smiled with relief: “It's good that you've come to terms with it. By the way, Sonoko said Lin Long has been busy with the wedding date lately and asked if you have time...”

“I have time, of course I have time!”

Suzuki Shiro said immediately, “The wedding date is the most important thing. Have her set a date, and I'll cancel all my appointments!”

At the mention of his daughter's wedding, the fatigue on his face vanished, replaced only by the anticipation of a father.

On the other side of Tokyo, in a secret stronghold of the Black Organization, the atmosphere was as oppressive as if it were about to rain.

Gin sat in the shadows, the cigarette between his fingers burning to the end. He only snapped back to reality when it burned his finger.

He crushed the cigarette butt in an ashtray full of ash, watching the news scrolling on the screen—'Prime Minister Suzuki Inspects Metropolitan Police Department, Praises Improved Security,' 'US Military Completely Withdraws from Tokyo, Public Celebrates with Flags.'

“Heh.” He let out a cold laugh, filled with heavy irony.

It was like this every time.

Whenever something happened, the Black Organization was the one to take the blame. Prime Minister Miyamoto's death was pinned on them, the bombing of the US military base was pinned on them, and even last week's gang fight in Shinjuku was reported by the police as 'suspected incitement by the Black Organization.'

In fact, the police didn't want to offend the Black Organization too much, but unfortunately, Lin Long felt that Gin shouldn't be allowed to live too comfortably and repeatedly signaled the police through Suzuki Shiro to suppress the Black Organization.

Furthermore, all sorts of evidence regarding the previous Prime Minister's death pointed to the Black Organization, a case Lin Long had made airtight.

Therefore, government officials across the island nation believed the former Prime Minister's death was caused by the Black Organization. Since someone had stepped forward wanting to suppress the organization, police officials at all levels naturally followed through as a favor.

Thus, the Black Organization's miserable life began. Any terrorist attack or major case where the culprit couldn't be found was basically blamed on the Black Organization.

“Big brother, a new order from the BOSS.”

Vodka handed over an encrypted file, his expression grim,

“We are ordered to keep all Tokyo strongholds inactive without further orders; everyone is to stand by.”

Gin took the file and scanned it quickly, his eyes growing colder: “Stand by? Just because that Suzuki Shiro has stood firm?”

“It seems so...”

Vodka said cautiously,

“Vermouth sent word that the Public Security Bureau has been watching very closely lately. Several brothers lurking in the government have been rooted out. The BOSS is afraid that if we strike again, it will bring trouble.”

“Trouble?”

Gin stood up abruptly, his black trench coat sweeping across the desk and knocking the empty wine bottles to the floor. “When has our Black Organization ever been afraid of trouble?!”

But anger aside, he could not defy the BOSS's orders.

He walked to the window, looking at the sky clearing after the rain, a flash of resentment in his eyes.

Their Tokyo branch had been lurking in the city for years, and the network they had painstakingly built had somehow vanished completely over the past year. Gin sometimes found it unbelievable when he thought about it.

He always felt there was an invisible hand behind the scenes controlling everything.

“Tell the people below to stay quiet for a while.”

Gin's voice was as cold as ice. “I want to see how long this Suzuki Shiro can stay so smug.”

Vodka nodded and turned to relay the order.

Gin was left alone in the stronghold.

He pulled a silver pocket watch from his coat and opened it—there was no photo inside, only a tiny chip.

This was the last thing left by the mole the organization had planted in the Prime Minister's residence. Before it could be decrypted, the person had already died in an 'accident.'

“Just you wait...”

Gin gripped the pocket watch, his knuckles turning white. “There will be a day when a flaw is exposed.”

Gin felt that the mastermind behind framing the organization for the Prime Minister's assassination was Suzuki Shiro. After all, Suzuki Shiro took office immediately after the former Prime Minister died; as the primary beneficiary, Gin's suspicion of him was very logical.

A week later, the streets of Tokyo returned to their usual bustle.

The posters at the convenience store entrances were replaced with Prime Minister Suzuki's smiling face, with the words 'Economic Recovery Plan Launched' written on them;

The neon lights of Shinjuku's Kabukicho were lit once again, and there were twice as many patrolling police officers as before;

At the docks of Tokyo Bay, fishermen began to head out to sea again, with no US warships in sight.

The public gradually forgot the turmoil of the past six months and began to busy themselves with the trifles of daily life.

Only a few people still remembered that behind this 'peace' were the deals of the Zaibatsu, the change of power, and the unseen glint of blades.

Conan stood by the window of the Mouri Detective Agency, looking at the bustling crowds below, his brow slightly furrowed.

He held a newspaper in his hand. The front page featured a photo of Suzuki Shiro and Lin Long—the two of them standing on the lawn of the Prime Minister's residence, smiling broadly, with the national flag fluttering in the background.

The report said that Lin Long would represent a certain Zaibatsu from Eagle Nation to cooperate with the Suzuki government on developing new energy projects.

“I always feel... it's too quiet,” Conan murmured to himself.

This calm was like the silence before a storm, carrying an unspeakable eeriness.

The Black Organization had vanished, the Suzuki Family firmly controlled the government, and Lin Long's presence was everywhere yet deeply hidden... all of this made him feel uneasy.

“Conan, what are you dazing off for? It's time for dinner!” Mouri Ran's voice came from downstairs.

“Coming!” Conan responded, folding the newspaper and stuffing it into a drawer.

Perhaps this kind of peace wasn't so bad.

At least Sonoko seemed very happy, and Ran didn't have to worry about him encountering danger anymore.

Only, when he lay in bed looking at the ceiling, he would always think of Lin Long's bottomless eyes. What exactly did that man want?

The night wind blew, lifting a corner of the curtain to reveal the deep darkness outside.

This great Tokyo riot, which had lasted nearly a year, ended with the successful rise to power of the members of the Zaibatsu Alliance led by Suzuki Shiro.