Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week
Chapter 48: Starting from today, we will resume two updates per day_1

Chapter 48: Chapter 48: Starting from today, we will resume two updates per day_1

Phoenix Academy, within the dining room.

The crystal chandelier in the center cast a warm glow, making the blond hair beneath it shine resplendently.

Phoenix Academy Maggie sat upright in her chair, staring at the message Aozawa had sent, slightly hesitant about whether to elaborate on the details.

Her mother had instructed her not to tell outsiders, lest someone cause trouble by posting it online, angering the U.S. Army and exacerbating the already tense situation.

Yet, if she didn’t make things clear, she worried Aozawa wouldn’t grasp the severity of the situation and would continue to wander outside.

What the U.S. Army was doing this time is terrifying, she thought. This is Tokyo. Although Japan doesn’t have a capital in the legal sense, everyone treats Tokyo as the capital because the Emperor resides here. For the U.S. Army to dare to brazenly experiment with new weapons in such a place, even detaining those in the know at a U.S. military base—they were likely as good as dead. Such arrogant and domineering behavior has angered many of the financial groups. They could understand being reprimanded for any perceived defiance, but they were already so compliant. To still be subjected to such pressure is truly going too far.

Diplomatic protests were the government’s responsibility; the business world was what the major financial groups needed to handle.

As one of Japan’s top financial groups, Phoenix Academy naturally had to use its American connections to put pressure on the U.S. Forces Japan, demanding the release of Oda Nobuteru and Fujii Mitsuki.

After receiving the message, Phoenix Academy Maggie grew concerned that Aozawa, being out and about during the holiday, might encounter the U.S. Army’s weapon experiments. If he accidentally died, I’d regret not advising him to stay safe at home today, she mused.

Thinking of the potential regret, Phoenix Academy Maggie bit her lip and decided to tell Aozawa.

Her left hand swiftly typed under the table while her right casually lifted a piece of cake with a fork and put it into her mouth.

"According to information I’ve received, the U.S. Army is testing its latest weapons in Tokyo. Don’t tell anyone. Stay at home during the holiday; don’t go anywhere. That weapon is extremely powerful. It can inflict internal injuries by passing through the human body. Everyone who died at the Okubo nursing home was killed by that weapon."

Seeing her message, Aozawa’s face showed a trace of shock.

Last time it was the CIA, this time a U.S. military base, he thought. Could it be that any unusual and violent incidents occurring in Japan are always connected to the United States? On reflection, that line of thought seems pretty sound. If something bad happens in the world, nine out of ten times the United States can be blamed. The remaining one or two instances are evenly split among Russia and other Western countries.

Aozawa, still thinking, typed his reply, "I see. Thank you for telling me. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret."

"It’s okay, we are friends after all."

Phoenix Academy Maggie typed this, paused, then silently deleted it and wrote instead, "It’s okay. For me, this is just a minor issue."

She tried to use calm words to respond to Aozawa, lest he misunderstand and think she had feelings for him. Friendships turning into something more can be very troublesome, she considered.

Aozawa saw the message and smiled, his steps not faltering as his thumbs continued to type idly on the screen.

They didn’t discuss anything specific, just chatted about the weather, homework, what they had done during the day, and so on.

As they chatted, Aozawa reached his front door and sent a message: "Let’s chat another time when we’re both free. I’m home now and need to take a bath, then read."

"Okay."

Phoenix Academy Maggie sent a panda nodding emoji.

Aozawa pocketed his phone, turned the key in the door, and called out, "I’m back, Chiyoda."

Morimoto Chiyoda, her cheeks covered with a face mask, lay on the large sofa. Her phone was propped up on a stand, playing a short video by a fashion blogger.

"To become a qualified Hot Girl, you must understand how to lead in fashion. Next, I’ll demonstrate how to mix and match clothes..."

The fashion blogger wore a peacock mask that covered most of the upper half of her face, revealing only her nose and lips. Her crisp voice reminded Aozawa of someone he knew.

Looking closer at the figure on screen—the gradient-colored hair falling over her shoulders, the contour of her chest—Isn’t that Ayatsuki Ayaka?

Aozawa couldn’t help but ask, "Chiyoda, is this a popular blogger?"

Morimoto Chiyoda lightly massaged her temples and said casually, "Of course not. I enjoy interacting with these lesser-known bloggers. Tip them a little money, and you get their thanks. They’re happy, I’m happy. It’s not like those big-time bloggers; unless you seriously splash the cash, you won’t get a single ’thank you’ from them. I’m already supporting one high-maintenance person at home; I don’t have the capacity for a second. So, I can only tip these small bloggers and enjoy their gratitude."

"I see."

Could it be that Ayatsuki Ayaka wants to date me, so she debuted as a blogger to earn money? Aozawa wondered. Hmm... unlikely. He shook his head, dismissing the thought as overthinking. One shouldn’t be overly narcissistic.

Aozawa turned towards the bathroom, opened the door, and found the bathtub empty. His expression turned to shock. "Chiyoda, where’s your bathwater?"

Morimoto Chiyoda found his question rather ambiguous. She suppressed the urge to retort and said, "I haven’t drawn it yet. You didn’t run for a full hour today."

Aozawa slapped his forehead, remembering he had used time stop for half an hour. He thought he had run for an hour, but it was actually only thirty minutes. No wonder the bathwater wasn’t ready.

A mischievous smile appeared on his face. "Well, then today you’ll have to use my leftover bathwater."

"While that may be a fact, hearing it from your lips makes me want to punch you for some reason."

"Heh, just don’t do anything weird with my bathwater," Aozawa advised with a serious face.

Morimoto Chiyoda sat up, no longer lounging, and raised her right arm as if to strike him.

He quickly slipped into the bathroom, started the water, then scurried to the bedroom to gather his clothes.

BANG. He shut the door.

"Brat, who cares about your used bathwater," Morimoto Chiyoda mumbled. Her thoughts drifted to Aozawa inside, undressing, slowly stepping into the tub. His eight-pack abs slowly submerging in the water, followed by his chest muscles...

Beneath her face mask, her cheeks flushed slightly, and her legs instinctively pressed together. She cursed him again in her heart. Damn brat. Always testing the moral boundaries an adult like me should uphold.

She also sighed inwardly. Time passes so slowly. How nice it would be if he were of age.

Morimoto Chiyoda imagined Aozawa in college. By then, she mused, I probably wouldn’t need to use my hand anymore.

She stretched her slender waist on the sofa. The blogger in the short video was still earnestly explaining how a woman could become a Hot Girl.

She made good points, Chiyoda thought, but it has to be said, her popularity is truly pitiful. The view count hasn’t even broken ten yet. It’s just too sad.

After finishing the video, Morimoto Chiyoda left a comment: "Keep it up, you’re doing great."

"Hey! I will keep trying my best!"

Seeing the almost instant reply, Morimoto Chiyoda could imagine the Hot Girl blogger behind the screen, relentlessly refreshing her admin page.

So cute, she mused. It’s so wonderful for young people to have dreams, unlike adults, who have long since lost the right to dream.

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