Tokyo: Officer Rabbit and Her Evil Partner

Chapter 8

"Criminals themselves are fundamentally illogical."

Tamako summarized the other party's core argument, but she didn't know how to refute it.

She had never dealt with real offenders; truth be told, she hadn't even handled real cases. With only five months left until graduation, she was, strictly speaking, just a fresh college graduate.

The bell rang. The class leader began collecting the portrait assignments, and Tamako finally snapped out of her daze, adding a few hasty strokes to her sketchpad.

"Who is this supposed to be?"

The class leader held up the paper. A finely outlined face sported doodled features—triangular eyes, a tall nose, and a wide, wicked grin lined with jagged teeth.

Tamako glanced guiltily over her shoulder and whispered, "It's supposed to be Classmate Fushimi."

The class leader gave a knowing nod. When he'd picked up Shika's drawing moments earlier, he'd noticed it was a delicate, highly detailed portrait of Tamako herself, her aggrieved expression captured perfectly.

Tamako couldn't read his thoughts, but his gaze felt odd. She scooped up her folding stool and bolted from the classroom, chasing after Shika.

"Fushimi! Wait up!"

"What now?" Shika turned, irritation plain on his face.

Sketching class was fine as long as it didn't eat into his personal time.

"I've thought it over," she said. "You're right—you're capable of being my partner, so..."

"One hundred fifty thousand yen," Shika cut in. "Non-negotiable."

Tamako gaped. "Why did the price go up again?"

"Emotional damages."

"But I don't have that much..."

"How much do you have?"

Tamako set the stool down, pulled out her pig-shaped wallet, and began extracting large bills. She counted them under her breath.

"A little over one hundred twenty thousand... This is my entire month's allowance. If I give it all to you, I'll be broke."

Shika felt an absurd flicker of guilt, like he was extorting an elementary-schooler. Then again, what elementary-schooler gets more than a hundred grand a month? And it was already the end of the month—she still had money left over.

"Would one hundred thousand be okay?" Tamako offered the stack gingerly. "I promised Kawai we'd hit a dessert shop on the break, and I'd like to keep twenty thousand for Charlotte cake."

It looked like a naïve girl being fleeced by a con artist.

Shika stayed silent, angels and devils waging war in his head. The devil, pitchfork in hand, crowed, The gods have delivered her! I could milk this clueless lamb forever. Before the angel could object, the devil skewered it through the heart.

Standing on the angel's corpse, the devil whispered, "Play the long game. Ten million yen is pocket change once you marry in and live off the rich loli for life..."

Shika, you degenerate.

He sighed, plucked fifty thousand yen from her hand—the original amount he'd named—and pocketed it.

"I accept your commission. From this moment, we're partners."

Tamako's eyes lit up. She gave a solemn nod.

"I knew it—you're a decent person at heart, Fushimi."

"Obviously," he muttered, tucking the cash away. "One condition: once we solve the case, the partnership ends."

No way he'd stay tied to her for a measly fifty thousand. He'd done the math.

"Huh? You mean you've already got a lead? How do we investigate?"

Tamako had already braced herself for failure; they couldn't just ask Instructor Sakurai, and they couldn't take the letter for testing...

Though she'd argued against Shika's theory, deep down she agreed the statute of limitations had probably expired.

Shika carried his folding chair back into the classroom. "Obsessing over the truth makes you lose your bearings. We don't need to figure out what Sakurai did—just find the 'victim' who sent that anonymous letter."

Tamako's eyes widened. The letter began with "I know what you did." Rather than chase shadows, they could simply ask the sender.

"But won't that give us only one side of the story?"

"One side beats no side," Shika said. "Time for you to shine. Use that clever little brain of yours and deduce who sent it."

High-minded words, but he had an ulterior motive.

A system prompt flickered across his vision:

Contract Killing: Accept a commission and exact revenge on Sakurai Chizuru for the victim.

Reward: 2 Skill Points.

Take a fee and avenge a client—that was basically a lawyer's job. If Tamako could identify the sender, he might land his first case. Every country had its underdogs who needed legal help.

Even if the case was ultimately dismissed, filing an appeal alone could cost Sakurai her job. Close enough to vengeance... right?

With their direction set, they returned their chairs and headed to the cafeteria.

Shika never ate there; he'd buy a bento to go. Tamako's invitation to lunch was politely declined.

Tamako went looking for Kawai instead. As a B-class cadet, Kawai's schedule didn't align with hers.

Tray in hand, Tamako scanned the room. Male cadets tracked her every step, praying she'd sit beside them.

"Tamako-chan!" Kawai waved. "Over here!"

Tamako hurried over and plopped down, bursting with news. "I've got a lead!"

"Still obsessing over that letter? You've got dark circles, you know." Kawai smacked her lips.

"That's not important—listen! I just—"

Tamako had planned to claim the breakthrough was her own flash of genius, a chance to show off.

But after a moment she couldn't bring herself to lie. "I talked to Fushimi just now. He made me realize that instead of chasing what Sakurai did, we should find out who sent the letter!"

Kawai shoveled in her last bite, rice clinging to her lip. "But the academy has over six hundred people. We're just two—how?"

"Three," Tamako corrected. "Fushimi's part of the squad now!"

She paused, then added, "Besides, I've already figured out who the sender is."