Tokyo Detective Chronicles

special reminder:

I apologize for disturbing everyone. Early this morning, the author received feedback from some readers and made some optimizations, adjustments, and explanations regarding Fushimi's combat performance in Chapter 44. Those who read it before midnight last night, please reread it if you mind. My deepest apologies.

I have seen all the issues you have raised, and the author will make timely adjustments after careful consideration. Thank you again.

— Respectfully submitted by the author.

(This reminder will be deleted at midnight the following day.)

……

In the only lit carriage, the sixth, the couple slowly raised their heads, their faces covered in tears and dust, showing no joy at surviving the ordeal.

They stared blankly in the direction of the seventh carriage.

Thick smoke billowed from there.

I can't see anything.

After an unknown amount of time, the thick smoke gradually dissipated.

The seventh carriage... was completely destroyed by the bomb.

The carriage walls were riddled with holes, a large crater had been blown into the floor, and exposed wires crackled and sparked. All the seats were gone, leaving only twisted metal frames. The windows of the last three carriages were completely gone, letting in a howling wind.

At the end of the sixth carriage, a hand suddenly reached out from under the collapsed iron door...

"Bang!"

Fushimi used both hands and feet to kick open the iron door that was pressing down on him, and coughed violently while bracing himself with the badly deformed fire axe in his right hand.

His suit jacket was practically a rag, and his face and hands were covered in grime and tiny cuts.

Fushimi raised his hand and slapped his right ear hard with his palm...

My ears are ringing, and I can't hear anything for the time being.

But he is still alive.

As he looked into the seventh carriage, he saw scattered pieces of the monster's corpse, large patches of black blood... blasted to pieces, the flesh charred and emitting a foul stench of burnt protein.

On one of the remains, half of a relatively intact mouthpart was still opening and closing unconsciously, but it soon stopped moving.

Fushimi coughed a few more times, spitting out a mouthful of bloody saliva.

Leaning on his deformed axe, he struggled to his feet and staggered towards the middle of the sixth carriage, supporting himself against the wall.

My legs felt so weak that every step felt like walking on cotton.

The couple were still sprawled on the ground, staring blankly at him, their eyes wide as if they were looking at some monster.

The office worker with the missing arm... was already unconscious and motionless. Blood was everywhere, his face was deathly pale, his eyes were half-open, and his pupils were dilated.

Fushimi crouched down and checked his carotid artery.

There was also a faint pulse.

But because of excessive blood loss, he was about to lose body temperature and wouldn't last much longer.

Fushimi gritted his teeth, tore off the still-intact hem of his suit jacket, and forcefully stabbed it into the base of the man's severed arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. But the wound was too large, and the fabric was quickly soaked with blood.

"Hold on..." Fushimi whispered, even though he still couldn't hear anything.

The man clearly couldn't respond to him either.

Just then...

"Clang!"

The tram finally entered the downtown area.

Outside the window, the city's night view reappeared. The lights of distant buildings, the streetlights nearby, the GG brand neon lights... everything returned to normal.

One by one, the remaining lights inside the carriage were turned back on.

The lights in the fifth, fourth, and third carriages were restored in sequence.

The light dispelled the darkness and illuminated the horrific scene inside the carriage.

In the other carriages, passengers slowly peeked out from where they had been hiding. When they saw the blood all over the floor and the boy standing in the pool of blood, they all gasped in horror.

Fushimi ignored them, picked up the middle-aged man's severed limb. The cut was relatively clean, so it should be able to be reattached.

He looked down at his blood-stained hands.

Then, his gaze fell on the man's back...

A crooked "7" smeared on the floor with a man's blood...

Fushimi stared at that number for a long time.

Until the tram slowly slowed down and entered the platform of the next station.

The train doors opened, and panicked passengers rushed off the train, crying and shouting, causing a commotion on the platform.

……

8:43 PM

The train, one of its sections destroyed by Fushimi Iori, was traveling through the Tokyo night, heading towards Kaneshu Station.

Two people were clinging to the broken door frame of the seventh carriage, one on each side.

The night wind rushed in wildly, making the hem of people's clothes flutter loudly.

Each of them had a stick-like object in their mouth...

The man was holding a half-burnt cigarette, the embers flickering in the wind.

The girl next to him, with a peach-flavored lollipop in her mouth and her cheeks puffed out, was squatting down, intently prying at a charred fang from a monster's remains with a multi-purpose military knife.

She is Miyazawa Rin, a Level 2 Specialist in the Field Affairs Department of the Special Incidents Investigation Division of Yingzhou.

The man next to her is her temporary partner and guardian, a first-level commissioner named Kuroda Sousuke, an old man who is nearly forty years old, unmarried, has little manners, extremely low emotional intelligence, and a temper worse than a rock in a latrine.

She tilted her head, trying hard to pry one off and take it home as a souvenir.

This was the only enjoyment she found in this shady and unpromising part-time job.

The phrase "unpresentable" refers to the fact that the confidentiality agreement for this job is half a meter thick, making it a boring job that even a high-ranking civil servant cannot boast about.

When relatives and friends ask, Miyazawa Rin can only give vague answers. It's like a shut-in who has never worked, trying to make excuses for herself.

"No future" means that you're constantly fighting for your life, and you never know when you might die at the hands of these strange things for some inexplicable reason.

Or perhaps it was chewed up as a snack by some passing evil god or a mad monster.

Just a few days ago, an older sister who had always taken good care of her had an accident and was trapped in the mortal world. Now, her chances of survival are slim.

Since the first half of this year, she has attended the funerals of seven or eight of her field specialist colleagues.

Although we only see each other a few times a year, the monetary gift I have to give will not be less than what is due.

After all, they are colleagues who have gone through thick and thin together. Even if it's just for show, they have to put on a show for the other colleagues, since they might need the other person's help next time.

Miyazawa Rin sighed.

She couldn't help but reminisce about the good old days when she was still working in an office job...

Back then, although there were no super high subsidies for fieldwork, it was a good time to earn enough for university living expenses and tuition by simply sitting in the tea room of the Special Affairs Section office on weekends, taking a break, answering phones, and writing reports.

It's all my fault for insisting on awakening some special spiritual ability; it's so annoying...

Just as she was thinking this, she exerted force with her hands while fiddling with the monster's corpse, and with a "click," she finally pried off the fang. She casually wiped it on her combat suit, which was covered in an unknown liquid, and happily stuffed it into her pocket.

"Thump."

A merciless flick landed precisely on her head.

"Ouch! That hurts!"

Miyazawa Rin jumped up, clutching her head, almost dropping her lollipop. She gritted her teeth and glared angrily at Kuroda Sousuke beside her.

"Uncle! What are you doing now?!"

Kuroda Sousuke didn't even bother to lift his eyelids, exhaling a smoke ring: "Get to work."

"Don't you know how to cherish women? No wonder you're still single after all these years..." Miyazawa Rin glared at him resentfully.

But upon seeing the other party's deadpan expression that seemed to say, "If you utter another word, I'll make you go back and write a two-hundred-page task report," he instantly wilted.

She pursed her lips, reluctantly straightened up, and patted the black blood off her gloves.

He muttered to himself quietly.

"That wicked capitalist foreman..."

She raised her hands, palms facing the messy seventh carriage, and focused her mind.

The next moment, the color of his pupils changed completely from black to deep blue.

Heterochromatic pupils are one of the outward manifestations of a psychic's spiritual abilities.

Miyazawa Rin possesses a rare and precious spiritual ability called "Reproduction," which has no combat function.

As a result, she always needs to be accompanied by other combat specialists of level one or above whenever she goes on a mission, with the sole purpose of ensuring her safety.

The next moment, the psychic ability [Reappearance] was activated.