Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner

May 9th is "Confession Day," a holiday that originates from the pun on the pronunciation of "go (5) ku (9) haku (confession)."

In other words, this jar of stars is equivalent to a confession.

Fushimi Roku felt slightly pleased, thinking that once the timing was right, he could poke at Minamoto Tamako's little scheme, pretending nonchalantly to say "Oh, your birthday gift just so happens to be 590 stars, are you secretly in love with me?"…

At that time, Minamoto Tamako would surely panic, lose her composure, and if she couldn't provide a reasonable explanation, he could further press on Minamoto Tamako until she would collapse and shout: "I do like you, so what!"

And with that, it would be mission accomplished.

He even already had his response line thought out: "Well... since you said so, I'll reluctantly agree to it."

Not bad, not bad.

Fushimi Roku twisted open the glass jar, spreading the stars on the bed sheet, and started counting them one by one with his backside sticking out.

Don't ask him why he wasn't counting on the table, the answer is he didn't have a desk. However, he did have a ton of manga books, all collected in a bookcase, and usually, he reads them on the living room sofa... Back when he had just transmigrated, he still insisted on self-discipline by studying case files, but now, he had become a lazy person.

The system had been quite detrimental.

It took him seven to eight minutes to count all the stars, and there were only 453 in total.

That's odd, could it be that I miscounted a few?

Fushimi Roku looked around, crawled to the floor, checked under the bed, and confirmed that he hadn't missed a single star, scratching his head.

Could Minamoto Tamako have been lazy?

Fushimi Roku pondered for a while, feeling that Minamoto Tamako didn't seem like the lazy type, having already folded over 400 paper stars, so it wouldn't be a big deal to do the last hundred.

Then he thought, maybe he didn't understand Japanese culture well enough, and maybe 453 had some special pronunciation pun… Thе mоst up-tо-dаtе vеrsiоn is оn М(VLЕМРY)R.

There wasn't any Wikipedia to consult back then, and he had nowhere to ask even if he wanted to.

If he directly asked Minamoto Tamako, surely she would flash a sly smile and laugh, saying: "Oh my, so you carefully counted the stars? Are you really so concerned about the number of stars? Does this mean you have always been secretly in love with me?"

Fushimi Roku placed the paper stars back into the glass jar, pondering about whom he could ask about this matter.

Taira Sakurako was the first to be ruled out; that little girl lacked common sense, asking her was like asking in vain, plus there was the risk of her leaking it;

Next was Moriyama Yasurou, though the police station chief was a bit older, she was still a woman and didn't look old, maybe she could understand what Minamoto Tamako was thinking... Unfortunately, she seemed to be on the same side as Minamoto Tamako, and he didn't know her well, not appropriate, so ruled out too;

Then there's Kazama Tatsuya, that guy owed him quite a few favors, making Kazama Tatsuya keep a secret shouldn't be hard, but the problem was Kazama Tatsuya seemed opposed to him being with Minamoto Tamako, no idea what he was thinking or where the problem lay… ruled out as well;

Finally, there was Watanabe Shun, but unfortunately, he was a big mouth, tell him about this and the entire police station would know by the next day.

But the good thing about Watanabe Shun was his mind didn't work very well, with a bit of skilled talking, he might be able to get something out.

Fushimi Roku sent a page to Watanabe Shun, under the guise of "I have a friend" and the pretense of "writing a novel and gathering material," inquiring if Watanabe Shun knew of any special meaning to the number 453.

Watanabe Shun might have been drunk, not responding all night.

Not until the next morning, Fushimi Roku was still sleeping when the pager beeped twice, waking him up. He groggily picked it up, only to see Watanabe Shun's reply was a single word:

"None."

This guy was likely penny-pinching on operation costs, always saving on words when using the pager.

"Could you think a bit more?" Fushimi Roku yawned.

"Can't think of any," Watanabe Shun replied.

Fushimi Roku, not getting the answer he wanted, frowned discontentedly. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, he pondered what was really going on.

Could it be that Minamoto Tamako didn't even notice the number?

Come to think of it, counting while folding stars is actually quite troublesome, even purposely gifting 590 stars wouldn't mean much... if he didn't count, then it would be for nothing, wouldn't it?

Minamoto Tamako probably wouldn't do something so foolish.

Fushimi Roku turned away, looking at the glass jar on his bedside table, wondering if this was just an ordinary birthday gift?

That would be too ordinary, wouldn't it?

Of course, if these stars were folded by Minamoto Tamako herself, then maybe he could feel a little bit of sincerity in it… even though that sincerity didn't seem very useful, but still, it was a piece of heart.

The problem was he felt these stars seemed like the ones bought from a convenience store, 100 yen a jar type.

Something was off, something was really off.

Minamoto Tamako had too many little schemes; it was impossible for her not to put some thought into a birthday gift.

Like that time on Great Snow Mountain, when he just brought back the flu-sick Minamoto Tamako, and she was already thinking hard about how to repay him—something meaningful, expressing gratitude, those were the high standards and high expectations that matched Minamoto Tamako's gifting habits.

Little Demon Kawai sprang up: "You are overthinking, maybe she just doesn't care about you at all, and bought a jar from a convenience store after work…"

This time without the need for Angel to intervene, Fushimi Roku slapped her into a meat patty.

Suddenly, there was a loud knocking at the door, accompanied by Minamoto Tamako's voice shouting outside:

"Wake up! It's time to get up, Mr. Fushimi! If you keep lying in bed, you'll be late for work!"

Fushimi Roku was annoyed, casually responded: "Not going! Make an excuse that I'm sick!"

"What's wrong? Where does it hurt?" Minamoto Tamako asked.

"I feel too comfortable, need a rest day at home." Fushimi Roku closed his eyes.

"How can that be? Isn't that skipping work? Get up!" Minamoto Tamako insisted, pounding on the door.

"Just got back from Cat Island yesterday, my spirit took a hit, surely I need some rest, right?" Fushimi Roku turned over.

Hearing this, Minamoto Tamako propped her chin, having thought earlier that Mr. Fushimi seemed odd after coming back, turns out he was affected mentally, she wasn't aware of what Mr. Fushimi had gone through before his gamble with the chief designer… it must have been painful, right?

Sigh…

Thinking of this, Minamoto Tamako suddenly didn't have the heart to push him, letting him rest well at home, and advised seeing a psychologist if there were any problems, spare himself from getting PTSD.

Fushimi Roku half-heartedly agreed with a few "uh-huhs," waiting for Minamoto Tamako to leave for work and hearing the front door close, he then lifted the blanket, scratching his belly lazily got up to brush his teeth.

Standing in front of the mirror, the edge of a sinister ghost claw peeked out from under the lifted hem of his shirt by his right hand.

Fushimi Roku's heart sank, as he slowly took off his shirt, revealing his body covered in horrifying ghost claws, swirling and winding towards his back and arms.

Reaching to touch them, they were neither painful nor itchy, but felt like normal skin, as if those ghost claws were dark tattoos.

Sigh…

If only I had spared Fukuyama Toshin's life.