Tokyo Wingman King

7:42, Jimbocho Apartment.

You're late.

Ryuzoji Chanwa frowned.

It was as if he wanted to trap the Asama Shizumi in the video intercom unit inside his own brow.

The man stood outside the apartment building, receiving stares from several security guards.

He couldn't see the girl's displeased expression, but the tone conveyed by the word "girl" perfectly captured her expression—a slight prickling of the cheeks, a thin face with a needle in it, an expression that could cause pain.

He drooped his eyelids, spread his hands at the camera, and said...
"But this is an act of God."

"Ha, so-called force majeure means you've degenerated from a fly into a caterpillar crawling on a map?"

"If you could spare a little time out of your busy schedule to look at the news headlines, that would be a huge help."

"What news?"

The girl didn't seem inclined to offer any immediate, significant help.

"Headline news: Tram malfunction."

Asama was not lying.

It's a long story, but at least 80% of the reason he was late could be attributed to the systemic delays of Tokyo trains.

Before 6 o'clock, he left the Miyukiin family's golf course under the pretext of "having to go to class".

After successfully shaking off her little tail, Fujiwara Ai, in just one minute, Asama boarded the Keiyo Line train, which was filled with university students.

Before long, huddled in a corner of the train car, he learned from the conversation of college students in the next car that the top trending news on social media was that a series of train derailments had occurred at three major transfer hubs before the evening rush hour this afternoon: Tamachi Station on the Yamanote Line, Otemachi Station on the Hanzomon Line, and Iihashida Station on the Oedo Line.
So many people have committed suicide. Some say it's because of the sharp drop in the yen's exchange rate and the stock market crash; others say it's because rice prices didn't drop even after the rice shortage ended; still others say it's because of the Subway Surfers game, yet it didn't cause social panic. People seem to have become accustomed to the mass suicides.

Because the train jumping caused a large part of the Tokyo subway system to be paralyzed, some people even complained that the person who jumped had no sense of public morality, deliberately choosing important transfer stations to jump, which was just causing trouble for everyone. They said it was no different from Middle Eastern suicide bombers, and that it was too good for them to only die once.

As more and more outrageous yet highly praised comments appeared, Asama, unwilling to blind himself or deafen himself, could only silently put his phone in his pocket.

He sat in the corner of the carriage, selecting test questions to be sent out later while unleashing a storm of complaints in his mind.

The polluted environment for public discussion has become the new normal of our time, resembling what Habermas called the "refeudalization of the public sphere."

Why do these people prefer to attack each other instead of reflecting on why platform screen doors cannot be widely adopted at train stations (or why the tram systems of different companies can be standardized to promote their adoption), why they don't discuss smarter and safer traffic warning systems, and why they don't condemn the policies that have triggered the economic recession?
The most likely reason is that muddying the waters makes it easier for the party truly responsible to shirk their responsibilities.
Ultimately, "rational interaction" lacks even the power to spring from the sand in a realist's sandbox. In Japan, both companies and the government are currently more focused on short-term gains, and they would absolutely not do anything that is thankless and exhausting.

The idea that "there are always more solutions than problems" doesn't apply to social governance either. It's much more effective to just bury your head in the sand and wait for those who can raise questions to disappear than to rack your brains for solutions.

The tram passes Shin-Mokuba Station.

The atmosphere in the carriage changed abruptly.

A large number of working women replaced the previous university students, squeezing Asama into a living sandwich. He missed his chance to get off at Hatchobori Station, and a few minutes later he was swept up onto the platform at Tokyo Station by this group of capable but tired women.

The cascading paralysis of Tokyo's train system had a far greater impact than Asama had anticipated.

The waiting area was like a beehive, packed with at least three times more people than usual during the evening rush hour. Asama, like a migrating penguin, was squeezed between people in front, behind, and to the sides, moving slowly, and it took him fifteen minutes to be pushed out of the subway station.

The plazas and street corners near Tokyo Station were blocked by the surging crowds from underground, turning them into dammed lakes. Every shop in the vicinity where people could take a break, grab dinner, or charge their phones became a temporary carriage for these overworked office workers.

Seeing that the several roads in front of Tokyo Station had been turned into parking lots, Asama immediately gave up the idea of ​​taking a taxi.

How do I get across Marunouchi to Otemachi for a transfer?
It's even more unrealistic than transforming into Spider-Man and swinging on a swing in a Tokyo building.

Let's go back to Jimbocho then.

The late tutor looked down at the tips of his shoes and thought to himself.

"Monitor-san?"

The video intercom was one-way. Asama stared at the camera, asking Ryuzoji, who was online but silent.

A few seconds later, Ryuzoji's displeased voice came through the round intercom speaker.
Why didn't you answer my call?

"Sorry, I'm not used to answering video calls when I'm busy. It's one thing that you didn't answer my return call, but didn't I text you to say I'd be late?"

Ryuzoji Chanyu glanced at the trending news on her phone, then checked the time, her tone still icy.

"Being 45 minutes late is considered late? Even if there was a problem with the train, it wouldn't take you that long to ride your bike from Akasaka, would it?"

She figured that Asama's attitude was probably the problem, since he dared to be so late on the second day of tutoring.

"But I was in Chiba this afternoon."

"Chiba? What are you doing there?"

"Play with the kids."

"."

Upon hearing Asama's words, Ryuzoji Seiwa's expression softened slightly.

My ex-boyfriend is as kind and reassuring as ever.

Chiba, Little Friend
Just from these two keywords, she could guess that Asama had gone to the orphanage in Chiba that was being taken care of by a certain new generation idol.

But when I think about how this kindness was for Rise Shinazugawa, I realize it's all for her.

Ryuzoji couldn't laugh.

"You really have a kind heart."

"There is also a utilitarian purpose. Not only can it relieve a worry, but it can also help children learn things they were not good at before."

"Oh--"

"So, may I come in, Class Monitor?"

Ryuzoji Seiwa sighed.

She stared at the dim face on the video intercom screen, as if the battery was low, and most of her dissatisfaction dissipated.

"Come in."

Shizumi Asama is not a superman.

He wasn't, after all, someone like [Ryuzoji Seiha] who always stood by coldly, full of complaints, but unwilling to take direct action.

He has far more things to care about and worry about than [Ryuzoji Seiwa].

More importantly, she can weigh the importance of things.

The righteousness of [tutoring students in Class 9 of Grade 1 in exchange for a senior position in the fraternity] is hardly any more noble than [spending a pleasant afternoon with the children at the orphanage].

If he's late again, she can just substitute as the teacher.

She looked down at the text message that [Shinichiro Kondo] had sent her, and felt a little annoyed again.

"I'll be late."

He absolutely cannot be allowed to send such a vague and perfunctory leave request a second time!
Ryuzoji and Asama's conversation caught the attention of the other three girls in the apartment.

"Ah!!! The Yamanote Line really hasn't resumed service yet."

Sitting at the small table, Rina Sakai instantly saw the related news that had already gone viral.

Today, after finishing her early shift, she came to Jimbocho for tutoring with her schoolbag on her back.

Kohinata and Serizawa arrived two hours earlier than her.

Under the imposing gaze of Ryuzoji Temple, the three of them successfully spent more than three hours in a state of flow. Therefore, they were somewhat unaware of today's breaking news.

Sakai came across another related news article and exclaimed in surprise, "TBS said on Twitter that all the people who jumped the train were high school girls."

“They are two high school girls (JKs), and the other is an office worker wearing a JK uniform,” Kohinata Sakura corrected.

"How terrifying! Could it be another cult?"

Serizawa Miya gripped her pen tightly, worried, saying that a relative of hers had been ruined and killed by a cult.

"These days, cults don't kill people easily, do they? I heard they'll control you and make money for them until you die of old age."

Sakai, who was continuing to scroll through Twitter, suddenly stopped scrolling.

For some reason, she thought of the slave contract she had signed with Kondo.

Until old age and death?
Kohinata suddenly stopped breathing, and after a moment, she laid her phone out on the table and asked,
"Is this girl wearing our school uniform?"

The phone was snatched away by Ryuzoji, who looked quite serious.
"Let me see."

There was a knock on the apartment door.

Rina Sakai's feet, encased in black mid-calf stockings, hurriedly ran towards the entrance.

"I'll go open the door."

As Asama changed her shoes and entered the living room, she sensed something was off. The three of them, led by Ryuzoji Senba, all had their brows furrowed.

Asama turned to look at Rina Sakai, who had opened the door for him.

"Has your stupidity finally driven everyone to despair?"

Sakai immediately bristled.
"You're the big idiot! It's all your fault for saying something about jumping on the tracks to commit suicide. Now everyone's lost the will to study."

Ryuzoji Chanba placed the phone directly in front of Asama's face.
"Kondo, do you still recognize who this person is?"

Asama met Ryuzoji Seiha's complicated gaze, then glanced at the photo on his phone.

She is a high school girl standing on the platform.

He looks very familiar.

Asama immediately found the answer in his mind—

One of the third-year girls [FAB] sent to harass Ryuzoji Seiha that day. Kohinata explained from the side,

"Among the three people who jumped off the tracks today, there were people from our school."

Asama's heart sank.

The current situation of the [FAB] leader being "beheaded", the core cadres being repatriated, and the entire Brotherhood falling apart has not liberated these bullied, coerced, or turned accomplices.

Perhaps this is the consequence of his irresponsible rush to complete KKIS.

"This is Midori Kamiya from Class 15, Grade 3."

"Kondo-sensei, do you know any third-year students?" Serizawa asked in surprise.

"Knowing a student's name and appearance is a basic skill for every teacher. This student had bullied Ryuzoji before, so he left a deeper impression on me."

"There's someone in our school who dares to bully the class monitor? Hasn't this Midori Kamiya ever heard of the Ryuzoji family? Huh??"

Rina Sakai glanced at Ryuzoji with a look of fear in her eyes.

In her mind, bullying a young lady from a prestigious family like Ryuzoji was tantamount to suicide.
Asama delivered a downward punch to Rina Sakai's head.

"What are you thinking? The class monitor isn't such a petty person. If you don't believe me, try calling her a big idiot."

Ryuzoji glanced helplessly at Asama and said...

"This Kamiya-senpai is from [FAB], so if we want to investigate the reasons for her suicide, we can start with Francis Aosaki and her two other friends. Kondo-sensei, do you remember the names of the other two?"

Asama waved his hand.

"Although one of the deceased was a soon-to-be graduate of KKIS, this has nothing to do with you, right? Don't compete with the police for their work, class monitor. You should focus on your own affairs."

Ryuzoji frowned again.

"Is it a basic skill for every teacher to be indifferent to the death of a student?"

"The most important basic skill for a teacher is to teach a good lesson. Are you planning to discuss this until dawn? Every year, one or two people die in KKIS, but which teacher has ever investigated all of these cases thoroughly?"

"Are you saying that you [Shinichiro Kondo] are going to play the ostrich with those people?"

“Class monitor, what I just said is [it has nothing to do with you]. Isn’t that clear enough? If you can’t accept death, you can help all of humanity research digital immortality technology.”

Upon hearing the first half of the sentence, Ryuzoji's expression began to improve, and he automatically ignored the second half of Asama's sentence.

"Then I would like to trouble Professor Kondo, who has a clear stance, to tell me, from your perspective, how you plan to conduct the investigation?"

Asama gave Ryuzoji a somewhat strange look.
"It's none of your business, no comment."

A cold smile reappeared on Ryuzoji Chanwa's face.

The air pressure in the living room dropped sharply.

It was obvious that [Kondo-sensei] was more reasonable, but the other three girls didn't dare to say anything.

"Squad leader Sang, have you heard this joke before?"

[Sato found feces in Tanaka's beef bowl and took the bowl to the Consumer Association to report them. The association said, "Since you ate feces, you're a decomposer, not a consumer, and therefore not protected by us. Your report is invalid."]
Do you think Sato would accept this alienation of his identity?

Ryuzoji shook her head; she wasn't an unreasonable person.

The girl composed herself, lowered her eyes for a long while, and sighed.
"Kondo, what if Sato wasn't just one person, but ten thousand?"

"That's true. There are about 200 million Satos nationwide, but unfortunately, the Satos themselves are not close."

"Now that we've identified the problem, there's no need for me to elaborate further. But I must also clarify that I won't become Tanaka, but I might very well become Sato."

Ryuzoji explained his position from another perspective.

Asama shook his head, looking troubled.

The air that had just seemed to be compressed into a corner was released again.

The three girls watching from the sidelines all breathed a sigh of relief.

Although Sakai couldn't understand the conversation between the class president and the homeroom teacher at all, nor did she understand why the class president wanted Kondo to investigate the cause of death of the third-year senior, it was better for the two to make up than to continue arguing and giving each other the cold shoulder.

"Alright, Kondo, stop standing there! Let's start class. Today we're having extra physics lessons, right?"

Sakai took Asama's handbag and pulled out the lecture notes.

"Huh? Social contract theory, communicative justice, communicative rationality, organic solidarity, differential order pattern—wasn't this physics class today? Why are the questions on this test so strange?"

Asama snatched the handwritten exam paper away.

"This wasn't made for you."

Ryuzoji Seiwa snatched the exam paper from Asama's hand, glanced at it, and finished most of it.

It's a bit simple, but given that not many people know how to learn KKIS right now, Asama's approach is quite reasonable.

"The exam questions for elective courses? Should we start preparing now?"

"That's right"

of course not.

It was an exam paper that Asama gave to Konoe Yuori and Konoe Saya, two little bald boys.

If it weren't for Takatsukasa Rei's reminder, Asama probably wouldn't have remembered until after finishing his tutoring session.

While Asama was dressing up as [Shinichiro Kondo] in the toilet, he also managed to produce this test paper with 10 fill-in-the-blank questions, 10 multiple-choice questions, and 5 short-answer questions.

Not wanting to put the twins in a truly difficult position, Asama lowered the difficulty of the test by four levels. If they could carefully review the materials he provided several times and memorize 60% of the key points, they could get a perfect score.

Ryuzoji Chanwa handed back the exam paper, coughed lightly, and like a teaching assistant, handed the pre-printed handouts to the three girls.

Asama asked.

"By the way, did you watch the video I showed you before?"

"You mean that video that explains why baseballs change speed and turn?" After watching the video, Sakai felt for the first time that knowledge doesn't always have to be boring; at least it was more interesting than a novel.

“Magnus effect, Bernoulli principle,” Kohinata nodded.

"I read it carefully and took notes." Serizawa held up her open notebook.

"Since everyone has previewed the material, let's begin the lesson."

After thanking the teacher repeatedly, Majima packed his things and walked out of the building.

I finally received some praise today.

A sense of camera presence is as elusive as inspiration.

Sometimes she wonders why the films made for the cultural festival manage to make her look so beautiful.
Enya, Akina Nakamori, Faye Wong—their stage presence can't be imitated by just attending a few dissection and analysis classes.

Rize also suggested that you just sing with your eyes closed.

However, if you want to go further with the Death Knights, you can't do without learning more.

That said, Rise's efforts were no less than hers. She had already sent the optimized demo of her new album to the work group. Even a genius like her was striving for perfection, but Mai Majima wasn't that shameless to just sit back and reap the rewards without lifting a finger.

Overall, progress is always a good thing.

Although she herself didn't feel any sense of growth.
Such a professional teacher couldn't possibly force her to praise her, could she?

Thinking of this, Mai Majima's nerves, which had been tense all day, finally relaxed a little.

The night breeze in Tokyo makes one want to sing, but she can only hum a couple of lines in her mind at most.

Long queues formed at the roadside izakayas.

Every single one of them is.

There are many more people than at this time last week, reportedly due to a subway accident. Most lines in Tokyo are delayed, and many people who don't want to squeeze onto the subway plan to drink until dawn.

This made her want to drink too.

I can understand why so many working women become addicted to alcohol.

If you want to lower the temperature of a brain that's working under heavy load and numb negative emotions, these alcoholic beverages are indeed very cost-effective.

But compared to the number one prize, the relaxation and pleasure that alcohol brings are negligible.

Her number one healing method is being with still water, doing anything, or even doing nothing at all, is perfect.

"Excuse me, are you Mai, the Death Warrior?"

A girl who looked about six or seven parts like Tsukimi blocked her way.

She vaguely remembered this girl.

During one performance, this girl stood in the front row, holding up signs for Rise and Shizumi and singing along from beginning to end.

When she tried to make eye contact with the fans on stage, she momentarily mistook Yuehai for someone else, thinking that Yuehai had skipped class to come and watch their performance.

Being adored by cute girls can indeed feel like an honor.

Unfortunately, her name is not on the sign held up by this fan.

I can somewhat understand how it must feel for the boys in Yuzuru's class to receive love letters from girls, only to be told they have to pass them on to Shizumi.

I'm such a jealous person.

Majima reprimanded himself in his heart.

"Yes, that's me. How can I help you?"

"Excuse me, Ms. Mai, my name is Tsukikawa Mika, and I'm a fan of the Dead Samurai. Would you mind signing an autograph for me now?" (End of Chapter)