Tokyo Trickster

"What's the matter?" Amamiya Ren was concentrating on writing some complicated mathematical formulas in her draft book.

"Kawakami...Teacher Kawakami asks you to go to her office." He said with some stuttering.

Amamiya Ren recognized this guy. His name was Mishima Yuki, and he was in the same volleyball club as her.

It was the end of lunch break. Why did the head teacher call him over?

The thief knocked on the door of the staff room anyway.

Kawakami Sadae, who was marking homework, looked embarrassed. "Amamiya-san, your Chinese homework..."

"Teacher Kawakami, this is what I wrote. There is no need to plagiarize," Amamiya Ren expected that his current learning progress was still too advanced for the entire first year of Shujin. It was a pity that there was no "rival" here who could keep up with his internal competition.

I should be the top student in the grade in the midterm exam next month. Amamiya Ren did not explain further because the bell had already rung.

Kawakami Sadayao fell into deep thought as she looked at the reading notes with neat handwriting and annotations of various papers and famous works.

If the name and class were covered up, she would definitely think that this was a manuscript that had leaked from the literary research club of a prestigious university.

But its author is a transfer student with a lot of bad reputation.

Of course, Shujin's teachers and school leaders knew that these were just false rumors created by Kamoshida who instigated students to spread them, but they just chose to turn a blind eye.

If a rumor spreads for a long time, people who once knew the truth will gradually find it difficult to distinguish between the truth and falsehood.

Autumn afternoons are always gloomy and there is no bright sunshine.

Kamoshida sat on the bench in the cell, leaning against the cold wall, hoping that the noisy atmosphere from the outside world would filter in through the barred window above his head.

Snap, Snap, Snap. The leather shoes made a crisp sound on the concrete floor.

A well-dressed boy came over carrying a shiny silver suitcase. He smiled gently, "Good afternoon, Mr. Kamoshida."

His brown hair and reddish-brown eyes remind people of maple trees or trees. His name is Goro Akechi. He is a second-year high school student, active in downtown Tokyo as a "genius young detective."

The boy was as tall as a tree. But Kamoshida felt that he was like a coffin, with a lifeless appearance and some unfathomable thoughts buried under the gorgeous surface decorated with jewels.

Maybe they are the only two in this space.

Kamoshida could sense the undisguised hypocrisy gradually emerging from Akechi Goro. It was so contradictory and funny. He looked at the other person and vaguely saw a certain side of himself.

What purpose does this young man want to achieve by using his identity as a "detective"? He thought, forget it, it's not something I should care about anyway.

The "young detective" put down his suitcase and put away the gentle smile that lingered in front of the media cameras. His expression was contemptuous and indifferent. "Please describe everything you experienced before and after your sudden repentance."

"What if I refuse?"

Goro Akechi took out his phone, and on the screen was playing a live replay of Kamoshida's victory at the Olympics. He seemed to want to wake up something, "Have you forgotten your identity?"

His eyes were fixed on Kamoshida's face, trying to see some special emotions in it.

But found nothing.

I didn't even feel any changes in the impression space.

This guy... he should have had a temple, but where did the twisted desire that drove him go? How could there be no trace of it at all? Akechi Goro was somewhat confused.

And why Kamoshida saw the video but had no reaction.

Becoming the Olympic champion was a turning point in his life, and he should have experienced strong emotional fluctuations because of this.

Kamoshida simply replied calmly, "Of course I remember my identity, detective boy. I am just a criminal with a lot of bad deeds."

Goro Akechi said nothing.

The reason why he is known as a "genius detective" is because he has the ability to access the space of impressions...

He came to visit the prison specifically because he actually suspected that there was a palace of desire in Kamoshida's heart.

Forget it. Since there is no way to get the information I want, I will just carry out the task assigned by the superiors. Akechi Goro left the gate and left the prison. As a recent hot public figure, he has a lot of work to do.

Kamoshida looked at his departing back, his expression gradually becoming dull.

At some point, everything around him began to move, as if flesh and blood had replaced dead matter. The shadow Kamoshida, covered in shackles, knelt on the ground.

This is the impression space.

In the deserted "prison", the executioner wearing a black mask slowly approached with a flintlock in his hand.

The shadow Kamo Shida suddenly raised his head, his cracked amber pupils were filled with fear and struggle, and finally, all these emotions disappeared.

A psychological suggestion that was destroyed by belief and rooted deep in his consciousness was released, and was rapidly expanded under the power of the glasses ghost story, tampering with his consciousness.

"Please execute my sins," he looked at the executioner and pleaded, his voice gradually becoming unfamiliar, "Finally... Joker is watching you."

"Kazoo Shida" opened his mouth and spit out a black clown card. His smile was hideous and terrifying.

The executioner broke out in a cold sweat and pulled the trigger without hesitation. A dark blue flame bloomed in the dark cell.

Bang. After the gunshot.

A hole appeared on his forehead, and with a satisfied expression on his face, he turned into black smoke and dissipated.

In reality, Kamoshida burst into laughter without any warning. He reached out and grabbed his throat, then twisted it violently.

Snap. The former Olympic champion died in prison in a miserable manner.

The wicked do not live long. Perhaps this ending can bring some inner comfort to the countless students who were persecuted by him.

......

Shujin High School. After school.

The once ace club was on the verge of collapse after the sports consultant Kamoshida was imprisoned and the small group including the organizers were criticized and educated by the Metropolitan Police Department and handed over to the court.

The volleyball club still did not hold any club activities today.

Amamiya Ren rented a volleyball court by herself and practiced dribbling and passing the ball against the empty wall.

The volleyball skills that reached the limit of human ability had faded away with the loss of Kamoshida's lust, and what finally remained in his body was the result of his understanding and practice.

He served the ball with delicate and brisk movements, and the volleyball hit the spot he expected with the ease of his arm.

Just in terms of understanding of volleyball, Amamiya Ren has surpassed Kamoshida who stood on the Olympic arena.

If he wants to win an Olympic gold medal, he still lacks a group of excellent teammates with good cooperation, as well as sufficient "qualifications".

That would be too much trouble.

The thief suddenly covered his forehead. He felt as if something was forced into his brain... fragments of memory.

Kamoshida, the executioner, Akechi Goro, artificial means to make the impression space cover the reality...

Amamiya Ren dropped the volleyball and felt a sudden urgency.

The weather is dry: 049. This is Miaomiao House

Sakura Futaba looked at the small window that popped up on the computer screen.

She closed the code pages that kept streaming characters.

[Alice: I have a good commission for you. (Cat poking its head out.jpg)]

[Alibaba: I am more afraid of death. (Cat shrinks its head.jpg)]

[Alice: I just help people build a website. Well, maybe I can write some apps?]

【Alibaba: How much is the reward? (Maomao curious.jpg)】

【Alice: The employer is not short of money. (Starry Eyes.jpg)】

【Alibaba: (???). 】

[Alibaba: Is it just online connection?!]

【Alice: Of course.】

The young hacker genius waved his fist excitedly. It had been a long time since he had received such a simple and easy commission, and the profit was estimated to be very high.

[Alibaba: Um... Does the employer need help with web page or software backend maintenance? (Expecting.jpg)]

Sakura Futaba felt that she was about to find a long-term meal ticket.

The silent fan in the computer case whirred non-stop, as if trying to blow away one's chaotic thoughts.

The Yokenjaya at dusk is like an old cheetah sleeping in the Setagaya district. It is old but still smart, and every breath it takes is to protect the cubs in its nest.

Residents of old communities all have stories that no one wants to hear, waiting to be taken to the grave by their owners.

Amamiya Ren did not disturb his guardian and strolled through the rows of shops. He lowered his head and fiddled with the "Other World Navigation App" on his phone.

Ever since Kamoshida was dealt with, the software that appeared along with the Velvet Room has been silent.

The electronic map is completely empty. There is no direction or guidance.

As the creator of the Velvet Room, Philemon has no intention of assigning tasks to his employees, suggesting that the company's ethos lies in self-discipline and self-awareness.

The electric poles stood quietly, their shadows lengthening as the dusk fell, slashing at the visiting boy like swords.

Amamiya Ren turned on the rear light of her mobile phone and entered the dark area.

Tick-tick. Water drops dripped along the edge of the air conditioner outdoor unit and broke into small puddles on the ground, making a crisp sound.

"Hello, I'm Amamiya and I'm here to rent a room."

Going up the stairs, the young man stood in front of a burglar-proof door with a peeling plastic layer and knocked politely. This must be a very cheap rental house.

After a long time, the door opened with a sharp friction sound. An old woman with wrinkles on her face leaned on the steps and looked at him breathlessly. Her cloudy eyes immediately overflowed with loving emotions.

"It's you. Hey, do you want to come in and sit for a while? It must be hard for you to come all the way to this remote corner."

"Ms. Ishii is the one who has worked hard," Amamiya Ren declined. "Please lead the way quickly. It's getting late. It's not safe for an old lady to be out alone at night."

Ms. Ishii leaned on her cane, trembling. She has watched Tokyo for nearly a century, and her skin and bones are full of historical poems. She said with emotion, "It's really a big help to be willing to rent that house."

“Maybe I’ll consider buying it in full in the future.”

"That's great," the old lady said without asking how a student of Amamiya Ren's age could come up with such a large sum of money. She really needed the money to supplement her life.

Prices in Tokyo are rising faster and faster. Old people like her can no longer return to their hometown to live. The welfare money they receive from the government every month is barely enough to support their three meals a day.

Moreover, burial after death will also cost a lot of money. Ms. Ishii doesn't know when she will close her eyes and never open them again. Maybe it will be today or tomorrow, maybe next month, or even in a few years.

The key was inserted into the greasy and rusty copper lock. After an obscure friction sound, a standard two-story residence with three bedrooms and two living rooms appeared in front of Amamiya Lian.

Empty picture frames hang on the walls of the living room.

The sofa and bed in the room are covered with dust sheets, and the whole space is kept as clean as possible. This should be the result of Ms. Ishii's careful cleaning every day.

The previous owner of this house was probably a man in his twenties or thirties and his wife.

Amemiya Ren saw an apron with some mold growing on it in the cupboard, and the filter of the range hood on the gas stove in the kitchen was covered with a layer of dark oil stains.

It is easy to infer that Ms. Ishii, who has no one to support her, must have lost her family in a disaster.

Was it because of the Fukushima earthquake a few years ago? Amamiya Ren came to the second floor, and in the middle of the study, he looked at the severely yellowed sticky note nailed to the wall, on which was written "Travel to Fukushima".

He walked onto the balcony, where all kinds of flowers and plants used to be planted. After a busy day at work in the study, a man could hug his wife and come to this quiet and beautiful place to feel each other's body temperature and relax while relying on each other.

Now, on the wooden rack of the balcony, there is only lumps of brown soil in the large and small flower pots, and short weeds or mosses grow in the cracks between the lumps of soil.

An abandoned, shabby chair was leaning against the edge of the balcony, silently looking at the setting sun in the distance, and also looking at Amamiya Ren who was approaching.

It seems to say very calmly, you are here.

Then, it entrusted "tomorrow" to the new tenant, turned and walked into the afterglow of the sunset, and died together with "today" before the night came.

"Ms. Ishii," Amamiya Ren signed the contract, "I will buy this place in a few weeks."

"Are you satisfied?"

"It's a place full of life, with good lighting, water, electricity and internet access." He turned off the memo on his phone, took out the banknotes and handed them to Ishii. "I wish you good health and safety."

After Amamiya Ren saw the old man off, he looked at the house that needed major renovations and lamented his increasingly dwindling wallet.

Hmm? That is... Amamiya Ren was standing on the balcony when she suddenly noticed a slender figure looming on the windowsill of the building in front of her.

She was a female doctor with a delicate face. She was wearing a white coat and standing on a small stool. Her long, round and straight legs stuck out of her shorts, shining brightly in Amamiya Ren's eyes.

World-weary

Miss Takemi Mia?

Amamiya Ren watched her hang the thin pieces of cloth one by one on the clothesline. The clothes under her white coat clearly outlined her suggestive figure as she moved.

The house I rented was the right one. This was his first reaction as a teenage boy.

The postscript of the eagle's successor written by the world-weary Xinzhong is completed