Tokyo Detective Chronicles

Fushimi's pupils contracted.

About 17 minutes ago... that is to say, Hoshino Mayumi was already dead when I first arrived at the Hoshino house?

The timeline for planning and executing this explosion could have been even earlier.

Fushimi raised his head and looked at the curtain.

This does not change his plans.

With a flick of his right hand, the Suppressing Sword was already in his palm. Even without any special effects, it was still a good sword that could withstand his full output of spiritual energy in the present world.

At the same time, he held the painting of egrets and mountains in his left hand, ready to unfold it at any time.

He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and stood before the altar...

The right hand rose, and the sword flashed—

"laugh--"

The curtain broke in two and fell silently.

The blade was imbued with Fushimi's restored spiritual energy, carrying a brilliant blue flame that seemed to shatter everything.

Fushimi clearly felt... that he must have struck something.

He even heard the sound of the porcelain sculpture breaking.

A mournful cry came from behind the curtain, sharp and piercing, like the dying roar of some ancient creature.

It poured out in the form of tangible malice.

Fushimi immediately unfurled the landscape painting, not daring to be presumptuous at all.

Through his experiments over the past few days, he has been able to drag anything marked with his psychic powers into the mortal realm.

The scroll is unfurled in the left hand, and the sword in the right hand points forward.

But when the curtain, ignited by his psychic energy, fell...

He opened his eyes wide... and there was nothing behind the curtain...

Fushimi's pupils trembled, and he stood still, his hand gripping the sword tightening slightly.

Above the altar, behind the curtain, everything was empty.

There were only the offerings scattered about, a thin layer of dust, and a few shallow marks—traces left by the Buddha statue's base.

Fushimi stood still, his hand still gripping the sword.

The pupils gradually dilated.

impossible.

Just now, when he entered the room, he could still clearly feel that aura.

That thing was malevolent and sticky, breathing slowly there.

That sword strike just now, he really did hit something... The sound of the porcelain sculpture shattering and the mournful cry that Fushimi heard couldn't be faked.

But now there's nothing left; that aura has completely vanished.

Fushimi's spiritual vision was fully activated, and all color disappeared from his field of vision.

Walls, floors, ceilings, furniture... nothing.

There wasn't one in any corner.

That aura vanished completely, as if it had never existed.

Why would that be...?

"Buzz..."

A low tremor came from outside the mansion.

Fushimi turned around abruptly, alert to his surroundings.

That was the curtain he had set up... It's shattered.

The feeling was like a taut string suddenly snapping, with invisible pressure surging in from all directions.

Fushimi's brows furrowed.

Where are the people from the Special Affairs Section?

He turned to look at Hayakawa Chiho.

But she inadvertently caught a glimpse of the mirror hanging on the wall... The mirror reflected the sleeping figure of Hayakawa Chiho.

She was still lying on the table, the golden halo of the protective array flowing steadily, and the amulet on her wrist was also glowing faintly.

Fushimi rushed out of the courtyard and climbed over the wall of the Hoshino house.

The streets were in complete chaos.

In the courtyard next to the Hoshino family's house, several people in Special Affairs uniforms were surrounding a middle-aged man. The man was pinned to the ground, his hands tied behind his back, but he was too weak to struggle.

His face is aging at a visible rate.

The skin is yellowish and wrinkled.

Her hair started turning white from the roots, spreading to the ends; her eye sockets became sunken; and her cheekbones became prominent.

The man, who originally looked middle-aged, aged ten, twenty, thirty years in just a few seconds...

Fushimi saw it immediately.

This is mortgaging your life.

He traded almost his entire lifespan for a moment of immense power to shatter the curtain.

"Specialist..."

A staff member from the Special Affairs Division saw Fushimi and looked ashamed.

"He did it in his own home... We didn't even have time to react... By the time we realized what was happening, he was already..."

Fushimi remained silent.

I just looked at that aging man.

The man was pinned to the ground, his face pressed against the earth, but his lips were still moving.

"Long live the Lord..."

The voice was very soft and weak, but every word was clear.

"Long live the Lord..."

I read it again.

Then his body twitched... and then stopped moving.

Fushimi stood there, looking at the corpse.

Then he raised his head and looked up at the sky.

The veil that blocked ordinary people's perception is slowly dissipating.

The true sky was revealed.

Besides this, the curtain has an even more important function: it greatly enhances the absolute perception of what is happening inside the curtain...

He couldn't sense the statue's whereabouts before, so now that the curtain has shattered, it's even less likely he could sense it.

Things have now gotten close to getting out of control.

Fushimi immediately took out his phone and dialed the number of the information broker.

"Feed?" came the voice from the other end of the phone.

Are you sure it's her?

"Sure."

The information broker's voice was very confident:

"The body has been found and is being transported back to Tokyo. The face is still quite intact, indicating no possibility of it being replaced. The identity has been verified; it is Hoshino Mayumi."

Fushimi remained silent for two seconds.

"How did he die?"

"Explosion. The entire Shinkansen car was blown up. It's said that someone detonated explosives inside the car. The investigation is still ongoing, but the initial assessment is that it was a suicide attack."

Fushimi remained silent.

"Feed? Are you still there?"

"Um."

"What's the situation on your end?"

Fushimi did not answer and hung up the phone.

He stood there on the wall, extremely conspicuous, watching the dissipating curtain and the passersby on the street who began to look in his direction.

More than anything else, he was concerned about Hoshino Mayumi's sudden death.

Was her death... caused by her own actions today?

No… Hoshino Mayumi’s death was already inevitable before she even decided to take action.

Who did it?

Other followers of the Creation Cult?

And where did that Buddha statue go...?

Fushimi simply said, "Clean up the scene."

"Yes……"

Then he turned around and went back inside; he had neither the mood nor the energy to criticize the commissioners.

By this moment, he could no longer sense any trace of the Buddha statue's presence; only the pungent scent of white toon... constantly disturbed his senses.

The living room was quiet.

Hayakawa Chiho was still lying on the table, breathing evenly.

The protective array was still in operation, and a golden halo enveloped her.

Fushimi walked up to her and looked down at her.

The face was serene, with a slight smile on the corner of the mouth; it was unclear what dream the person was having.

Then Fushimi's gaze fell on her hands.

Right wrist.

A wound appeared out of nowhere, as if it had been cut by something sharp, and blood splattered out... flowing onto the table.

Just as Karin had described to him earlier, it appeared out of nowhere...

Fushimi's pupils widened little by little.

What he cared more about was the location of the wound...

It's exactly the same as the wound left by the rules on Hoshino's wrist.

He slowly squatted down.

Reach out and gently touch the wound with your fingertips.

A guess popped into his mind.

……

A long time passed.

"Well……"

With a soft moan, Hayakawa Chiho stirred.

She slowly raised her head, rubbed her eyes, her eyelashes fluttered, and then she opened them.

In a daze, she saw Fushimi sitting opposite her, as if nothing had happened. She was stunned for a moment.

Then she laughed.

The smile was as gentle and bright as ever, without a trace of gloom.

"Senior..."

Her voice was still a little hoarse from just waking up.

"I... how did I fall asleep..."

She looked around and scratched her face a little embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry... I actually fell asleep while entertaining the guests..."

Fushimi looked at her.

He didn't speak.

Hayakawa Chiho stretched and sat up straight.

Then she looked at her phone, which had several missed calls. As if suddenly remembering something, her eyes lit up.

"Oh, right!"

She tilted her head to look at Fushimi, her face flushed with excitement, and clasped her hands together beside her cheeks: "My mom will be back from her business trip soon! Senior, would you like to meet her?"

Fushimi's fingers tightened slightly.

"My mom is always worried that I won't make any friends at school..."

Hayakawa Chiho said, her tone carrying a hint of coquettishness.

"She would be so happy if she knew I'd made such a good friend as this senior!"

Fushimi looked at her, at her bright, hopeful eyes, and unconsciously opened his mouth.

But he didn't say anything.

What should he say?

They're telling you your mother is dead, and you'll never see her again?

Or should we ask her to accept the loss and move on?

Fushimi remained silent. She knew that even though that woman deserved to die a thousand deaths, why did it have to be in this way...?

Hayakawa Chiho tilted her head to look at him.

"Senior? What's wrong?"

Outside the window, dark clouds filled the sky, and for some reason, a light rain suddenly began to fall, making the sky gloomy.

The drizzling rain streamed down the window, blurring the outside world.

On the street, sirens blared, and red and blue lights shone through the blinds into the room. Hayakawa Chiho was still wondering what was happening outside...

Just as I stood up, my phone rang.

"Ring ring..."

Hayakawa Chiho paused for a moment, then looked down at her phone.

The screen displayed an unfamiliar number that had called many times already.

She glanced at Fushimi and gave him an apologetic look.

"Senior, I need to take this call."

She smiled and pressed the answer button.

"Hello, who is this?"

Fushimi looked at her face.

Watching the smile on her face gradually disappear, her expression changed from confusion to bewilderment, and from bewilderment to blankness.

Her lips trembled slightly, opening and closing, but no sound came out.

The light in those eyes gradually faded, like a porcelain doll whose soul had been suddenly emptied.

Hayakawa Chiho's hand fell to her sides, and her phone slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground.

"Click".

The screen is broken.

The sound of rain outside the window quickly grew louder, filling the entire room with a pattering sound.

Hayakawa Chiho stood there motionless.

Rainwater streamed down the glass and reflected on her cheeks.

……

Modern Tokyo, a hospital morgue.

The corridor is very long.

The light was a stark white, casting short, deep shadows that receded as the lights shifted.

The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant, and the atmosphere was undeniably oppressive.

Fushimi followed behind Hayakawa Chiho.

She walked very slowly.

Until a staff member pushed open a metal door.

A wave of cold air hit me.

Inside were rows of neatly arranged metal beds covered with white cloth.

The staff member wearing a mask walked silently to one of the beds and lifted a corner of the white sheet.

Hayakawa Chiho's mother, the woman named Hoshino Mayumi, was lying there at that moment.

Her face had some bruises and large burn marks, but it was still intact... just like the information brokers, it was undoubtedly her.

His body was covered by a white sheet, and only his face could be seen.

Her eyes were closed, and instead of a gruesome death, she looked peaceful, as if she were asleep.

Hayakawa Chiho was standing there.

Looking at that face.

I watched it for a very long time... a very long time.

So long that even Fushimi was about to say something.

When faced with the corpse of the woman she should have called her mother, the girl displayed an inappropriate rationality.

She just watched quietly, silently.

Like a qualified forensic pathologist facing a corpse about to be dissected, his gaze is devoid of any personal emotion.

Even the doctor who led them in felt that the girl was a bit too aloof.

Fushimi could sense the endless sorrow that Hayakawa Chiho was holding in her heart... but it was as if someone had taken away an important part of her emotional module, and she couldn't squeeze out a single tear.

Her brain seemed to be hallucinating, or perhaps it was some kind of self-protective mechanism that prevented her from fainting.

No expression was the limit of her grief at that moment.

She could only stand there.

Let those memories and sorrows ferment in my heart.

She let those beautiful memories of the past corrode every inch of her flesh and blood, pressing down on her heart until it almost stopped beating.

The girl unconsciously reached out a finger and gently touched her mother's cheek. The skin was still so soft, yet so cold.

Fushimi turned his head to look at Hayakawa Chiho. Faced with this sudden turn of events, he didn't know how to comfort the girl.

But the reason isn't a lack of experience in this area...

On the contrary, Fushimi was able to understand the girl's feelings at that moment.

When memories of a past life first surface, it's difficult to separate the primal sadness that arises from within the body.

Therefore, he realized that whatever he said at that moment would be meaningless.

Fushimi stared blankly at her retreating figure, lost in thought.

It wasn't until the doctor spoke up, saying, "Miss, please accept my condolences and take care of yourself," that things calmed down.

This brought Fushimi back to his senses. He watched as the doctor opened the door, backed away from the morgue, and left the space for the mother and daughter.

Fushimi withdrew his gaze and landed on Hoshino Mayumi's corpse.

He then remembered what he should really be doing, took a deep breath, and quietly activated his spiritual vision.

He scanned the entire room...nothing.

There are countless souls here... but none of Hoshino Mayumi's...

There was nothing there.

Fushimi frowned slightly; until this moment, the tiny possibility that this was just an accident had been completely ruled out.

Her soul was taken away, most likely by the Creation Cult taking advantage of the chaos...

Fushimi could completely understand the Creation Cult's reasons for doing so, but what was puzzling was that after betraying the Creation Cult for so many years, she lived for a full seventeen years without any problems after the Special Affairs Division's operation to wipe out the Creation Cult.

But on this very day, just as Fushimi was preparing to take action, she died.

Just then, Fushimi's phone, which had been silenced, vibrated and the screen lit up. It was a call from Kuroda Sousuke.