Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week

After lunch, bright sunlight bathed the leisurely campus. Aozawa turned on the faucet and began to wash Ayatsuki Ayaka's thermos. He needed to clean it now so he could have free vegetable juice tomorrow. The gushing tap water felt cold against his fingertips. As he wiped the rim of the thermos, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.

What scene could he see if he used the tap water?

Thinking this, he filled the thermos with tap water and turned off the faucet. Aozawa turned, walked to the lawn, and sat down against a tree. He then dipped his index finger into the water in the thermos, using his Catalyst sensing ability.

Instantly, Aozawa found his view higher than ever before, as if he had soared to the clouds in a single breath. Scenes far beyond his previous experiences with Catalyst Induction flooded his mind.

Many voices converged, buzzing around his ears like a swarm of flies. However, there wasn't a trace of annoyance in Aozawa's heart; in this godlike mental state, he could see every image and hear every voice clearly.

Most of the scenes involved something being washed, such as assorted clothes and socks in washing machines. He could also hear housewives complaining as they washed dishes and cutlery. One was talking about her child's education. A lady in another scene complained about her husband's lack of stamina in bed. Another lady was talking to someone about wanting a part-time job or shooting short videos.

These domestic affairs, full of trivial gossip, didn't hold any real interest; calling them boring wouldn't be far off. Yet, the mere act of eavesdropping lent these mundane chats a layer of allure, capturing Aozawa's rapt attention.

Setting aside those trivial domestic scenes, there were others that Aozawa found quite pleasing to the eye. Surprisingly, many people in Tokyo took baths at noon. He ignored the men, focusing on the women. He also glossed over the middle-aged ones; Those sagging, dark ones aren't of much visual value. The white-collar women, evidently showering in high-end hotel bathrooms, are the best. Some were even singing and dancing while showering, performing for an audience on the other end of a video call.

He could also see someone in a restaurant kitchen washing vegetables while gossiping about kitchen drama—the chef's relationship with someone, or the manager's interactions with a waiter. Such scenes were far more interesting than watching movies or TV shows; Aozawa was completely immersed.

Soon, he discovered another interesting new scene.

THUD. A thick, square glass full of tap water landed on the low table.

This was a very narrow room. An office desk, a sofa, and the low table seemed to fill up all the available space.

A blond man sat on the sofa. He looked to be in his forties, with a full face of stubble—the very picture of a disheveled middle-aged man. His hands were crossed, and his right foot jiggled constantly. His gaze occasionally drifted to the phone on the low table, his face etched with anxiety. Jack was very nervous.

The next phone call would change his career and his future. As a CIA agent, he once had a bright future. That was until he came home one day to find his boss "carefully grooming" his beautiful wife.

In a fit of rage, he beat up his boss and, as a matter of course, received a work transfer. He was reassigned directly from the United States to Japan, to serve as the CIA's Special Intelligence Investigator there.

This was a position on the brink of abolition, carrying some of the least authority within the CIA. Its heyday had been during the Cold War era.

Back then, to eliminate their most threatening opponents, the United States and the Soviet Union had embarked on a frantic arms race. Both nations also developed a keen interest in Superpowers and magic. They fantasized about Superpower soldiers capable of killing enemy leaders merely by writing their names on paper, Superpower observers who could witness high-level enemy meetings from thousands of miles away, and Superpower healers who could mend all wounds with a simple touch.

In hindsight, those ideas were pure fantasy, utterly lacking any scientific basis. But at the time, everyone, from presidents down to legislators, was caught up in the fervor of exploring the supernatural.

They poured vast sums of money into it, searching the world over for various mediums, Qigong masters, self-proclaimed Superpower Users, aliens, and the like.

Ultimately, they found that, without exception, all were frauds. Coupled with the self-dissolution of their most dangerous opponent (the Soviet Union), American leaders finally awoke from those wild, impractical fantasies. Then, much like adults hiding embarrassing childhood memories, the government officially ceased releasing information about Superpowers.

The occasional mentions of aliens were merely a tactic to coax certain countries into investing funds into space projects.

However, on the off chance that such a "one in ten thousand" possibility might arise, the CIA didn't abolish the position of Special Investigator. Staffing was repeatedly cut, yet one person was always retained. Just in case.

Of course, this one person had very little funding and authority. They were essentially benched within the CIA, with no prospects for advancement. Jack had been drifting aimlessly in this position for three years. Three years! he thought. Long enough to turn sugarcane into limp bananas. Jack even began to delude himself into thinking he might have to live out his life in mediocrity.

But just then, a glimmer of hope appeared. Dio!

Dio was a recently notorious and vicious criminal in Tokyo. His original targets, Yakuza members, weren't considered a major concern. When Yasuda Masao had set out to deal with Dio, almost everyone had predicted Dio's demise. Nobody expected Dio to actually kill Yasuda Masao.

This act significantly escalated the CIA's intelligence gathering on Dio, making it second in priority only to the ongoing Okubo case. Driven by curiosity, Jack looked into Dio's case and realized he might not have to waste his years any longer.

He wrote a very long report overnight and submitted it to his superiors, hoping it would be taken seriously. At least then, my situation might improve beyond drinking tap water from a glass, he mused. They might even give me some brandy.

"FARK!" Thinking back on the past years, Jack cursed his damned former boss. He then recalled the news—received after being away from home for three years—that his wife was eight months pregnant. His mood grew even gloomier. I should have just dealt with that cheating pair back then, he fumed internally.

He picked up his glass, intending to take a sip of water, when the phone on the low table suddenly rang. Jack hurriedly set down the glass and answered, "Good afternoon, Officer John!"

"Yes, I've read your report," Officer John's voice came through, authoritative yet icy cold. Jack swallowed hard, his expression extremely tense, waiting for his superior to continue.

"You did well. If Dio is a Superpower User, that would explain why he could appear in the Yasuda residence at will, why he leaves no fingerprints, and how he could kill so many people simultaneously. I've already passed your report up the chain."

John's words brought Jack a glimmer of joy, which quickly turned into panic. He feared that Officer John might choose a more competent, sober elite to take over the case, relegating Jack to merely following that elite's instructions during the investigation.

"The higher-ups are planning to allocate one million US dollars for your budget. I'll also assign three more agents under your command and provide you with the necessary credentials to ensure no Japanese institutions can obstruct your investigation."

"Yes, sir! I guarantee I will carry out the task assigned by my superiors!" Jack responded with conviction. "I will definitely catch Dio and study his Superpowers!"

"Good. I will send someone to you later. The budget has already been transferred to your bank account. From now on, report anything to me first."

"Yes, sir!" Jack replied. John then hung up the phone.

"HA HA!" Jack laughed heartily. I finally tricked them into giving me the funding!

It didn't matter whether Dio was a Superpower User or not. What mattered was that no one could prove he wasn't. In his line of work, when faced with inexplicable events, it was always more beneficial to attribute them to Superpowers.

If he didn't push the Superpower angle and conducted a normal investigation, what value would he, as a Special Investigator, even have? Only if Dio was a Superpower User would it align with Jack's interests.

As long as Dio remained at large, his claim that Dio was a Superpower User would receive tacit approval from his superiors.

Of course, Jack knew very well that John didn't actually believe Dio was a Superpower User. However, this matter could increase the CIA's funding in Japan, so John had no reason to argue against an increase in operational funds.

As for the higher-ups, they considered the issue more comprehensively. The CIA, with ample money and personnel, didn't mind allocating extra funds to investigate Dio from the perspective of Superpowers.

The U.S. higher-ups' craving for Superpower soldiers had never ceased, and various human experiments were still ongoing. It was just that the budget allocated for Superpowers wasn't as extravagant as before, yet they were still willing to wager some money on that slim chance.

"Praise Dio!" Jack grabbed his glass and raised it in a toast to the criminal. He resolved to catch the man; the funding from above couldn't be for nothing. He wanted to use this opportunity to turn his life around. He took a big gulp of water, which at this moment tasted extraordinarily sweet, almost like brandy, intoxicating him.

The tap water flowed down Jack's throat and into his stomach. Vivid, almost bloody, images flashed in Aozawa's mind. The tiny room he was observing split into two perspectives: one inside Jack's stomach, and the other in the room itself. Through the remaining tap water in the glass, Aozawa watched the blond man on the sofa.

This is like a blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse, Aozawa thought.

Aozawa was already prepared for the possibility that some might suspect Dio was a Superpower User. Attributing the unexplained to the supernatural was a common psychological reaction, but those who truly believed were few and far between.

That Officer John on the phone wouldn't have allocated a budget of only one million US dollars if he truly believed Dio was a Superpower User, Aozawa mused. He would have allocated hundreds of millions and certainly wouldn't have allowed this disheveled man to lead the investigation.

Aozawa considered this for a moment and decided not to continue watching this particular scene. He shifted his focus elsewhere. His Catalyst sensing ability, in some ways, did indeed give him a godlike feeling.

In one of the scenes he focused on, a familiar figure appeared: Morimoto Chiyoda.