Tokyo Detective Chronicles

"I really didn't expect my senior to come today."

Hayakawa Chiho walked over carrying a tea tray, her fair forearm peeking out from under her rolled-up sleeves.

She knelt down, gently pushed the teacup in front of her, her eyes crinkling with a smile:

"I thought I'd have to wait until tomorrow."

"Something came up unexpectedly, and I might not be able to make it tomorrow."

Fushimi picked up his teacup, the rising steam blurring his features: "I apologize for the sudden visit."

"It's okay, it's alright."

Hayakawa quickly waved his hand, his ears turning slightly red: "I'm already very happy that you remember this, senpai."

In the corner, Fushimi also saw Karin, whom he hadn't seen for a long time, and whose expression was unusual.

Through the gaps in her bandages, her amber eyes briefly met Fushimi's.

But the other party didn't say anything more. The figure in the tattered mourning clothes swayed and ran directly into Fushimi's shadow. She obviously didn't want to say anything more here.

A hint of doubt crossed Fushimi's mind, but he didn't show it on his face.

The Hayakawa family mansion is much more spacious than it appears from the outside, and is a typical example of a Showa-era eclectic style combining Japanese and Western elements.

High ceilings, dark wooden staircases, faded ukiyo-e reproductions on the walls, a faint musty smell in the air, the scent of old tatami mats, and...

The familiar, exotic scent of Anbaichun.

This mansion is clearly very old, like a building from twenty or thirty years ago.

"Please wait a moment, senior."

Hayakawa suddenly stood up, biting her lower lip, as if she had made up her mind:

"I'm going to the bedroom... I'll be right back."

"Okay." Fushimi nodded.

As the sound of the girl's footsteps running up the stairs gradually faded into the distance, Fushimi put down his teacup and stood up.

This is a rare opportunity.

My gaze swept over every detail of the living room.

An old-fashioned radio, a low table piled with old magazines, a few potted plants with slightly wilted leaves on the windowsill... Then, his gaze settled on the fireplace mantel.

There was a simple wooden picture frame there.

In the photo, a woman in a long dress is smiling as she embraces young Hayakawa Chiho.

The woman was in her early thirties, with a gentle appearance and fine smile lines at the corners of her eyes... She looked exactly like Dr. Hoshino when he was young, whom I had seen at the hospital earlier today.

Despite having suspected it beforehand, Fushimi still felt a slight unease in his heart when he saw it with his own eyes.

Before he could think any further, his gaze unconsciously shifted from the photo to the area behind the frame.

There was a black curtain hanging there...

A gap less than a finger's width was visible between the edge of the curtain and the wall, and it was pitch black inside.

Fushimi approached, extended his finger, and gently parted the gap...

"!"

The moment his fingertips touched the curtain, a surge of malice rushed into Fushimi's brain!

In the darkness behind the crevice, a pair of empty eyes were silently watching him... They were not human eyes, nor even the structure that any living being should have.

They were two dark holes embedded in a stiff face that seemed to be neither smiling nor sad, as if they could suck in all the light and thoughts.

Below the faces, layers of robe folds twisted and coiled in a way that defied the laws of physics, vaguely forming the outlines of countless faces screaming in pain.

Is this... a Buddha statue?

It is an evil Buddha that is not enshrined in any proper temple... and exudes a strong ominous aura.

With just a fleeting glimpse, Fushimi felt his heart being gripped by an invisible hand, and his temples throbbed.

The psychic's intuition, far exceeding that of ordinary people, is issuing frantic warnings.

Danger! Do not look directly at it! Do not touch it! Do not... investigate it!

He almost instinctively let go, taking several steps back until his back hit the living room wall.

The curtains were drawn, blocking out that unsettling gaze.

His palms were already sweating. The folding knife, engraved with inscriptions, had somehow slipped into his hand, but it offered no sense of security whatsoever...

He was breathing heavily.

"What is that...?"

Just now, he felt an overwhelming sense of insurmountable power...

Fushimi finally realized why that obsessive sphere of light, resembling a black sun, was so enormous... and how terrifying the things it involved must be.

Just then, as he leaned against the wall, a cool breeze swept across his face, carrying the scent of flowers from the courtyard…

Fushimi turned his head and saw that the courtyard outside was filled with white flowers that were blooming in tiny, star-like patterns.

Before he was fully prepared, he didn't want to provoke the Buddha statue again, so he quickly went to the courtyard while he still had time.

Fushimi crouched down and examined the area carefully.

The petals are slender and curled, with a pure white color, emitting a hazy glow in the afternoon sunlight.

This flower contains no toxins, causes no adverse effects, and does indeed have a calming effect...

It was An Baichun.

He quickly scanned his surroundings, and after confirming that no one was around, he secretly picked a plant from a place where it would not be easily noticed.

Just as I finished doing all this, light footsteps came from the stairs.

Fu Wen immediately retreated to the living room.

This time, however, he didn't turn his back to the obscured Buddha statue, but instead chose a position facing the Buddha statue from the side.

Just as he was feeling uneasy, Hayakawa Chiho came down from upstairs.

Fushimi looked up and even stopped thinking.

The girl changed out of her everyday clothes and was only wrapped in a plain-colored yukata.

The belt was tied somewhat loosely, and the neckline was slightly open, revealing her collarbone and a small patch of fair skin.

Her long, wet hair cascaded over her shoulders, the ends still glistening with droplets of water, sliding slowly down her collarbone and disappearing into the crevice of her chest.

She walked barefoot on the old floor, her yukata hem swaying gently with her movements, occasionally revealing her slender ankles and a section of her calf.

The yukata was made of thin fabric and was damp with moisture from the not-yet-completely-dried water.

The slight rise and fall of her chest with her breath, the slender waist loosely outlined by the belt, the thighs faintly visible through the gaps in the hem of the yukata...

She walked up to Fumi, knelt down, and looked up.

Smile.

The neckline of the yukata opened a little more because of this movement.

Her cheeks were flushed with a healthy blush from the bath and nervousness, her eyes were glistening with tears, and she looked straight into Fushimi's eyes, yet her smile remained incredibly pure.

"Senior."

Chiho scratched her cheek a little shyly: "I've been thinking about how to repay you, senpai..."

She pushed a heavy iron box in front of Fu Jian.

"This is to thank my senior for saving me that evening."

The box was stuffed with banknotes and coins of various denominations, some new and some old, clearly accumulated over a long period of time.

"This is all the pocket money and part-time job money I've saved up for a long time."

"I was supposed to go to the bank to exchange it for whole bills... Sorry, senior."

Fushimi did not answer, but simply looked at her quietly.

Chiho lowered her head and continued:

"And what about Akiyama-kun... you did that too, right, senpai?"

Fushimi glanced at the money jar and said noncommittally:

"It's alright. Since we're friends, these things aren't a big deal. As for the money... let's forget about it."

Behind Hayakawa Chiho, the orange sphere of obsession seemed to swell for a moment because of his words.

She nodded, her long eyelashes drooping down and casting small shadows on her eyelids.

"Yes, I know... this amount of money is hardly a repayment."

Chiho's voice softened even more: "Then... the only thing I can still offer... something that truly belongs to me..."

She raised her hand and pinched the slipknot of the yukata's sash.

"All I have left is... this body."

With a gentle pull.