Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner
Chapter 171 - 93: The Big Shot

Chapter 171: Chapter 93: The Big Shot

The train stopped at the signal station, and the old platform at Mejiro Station was swept up in wind and snow.

Fushimi Roku did not take the Shinkansen; instead, he chose the green train.

His stated reason was that the train’s routes were more extensive, reaching some remote areas that the Shinkansen couldn’t. He could leisurely enjoy the snowy scenery along the way without having to transfer trains. It was slower, yes, but more comfortable;

His unstated reason was much simpler: the security at green train stations was quite rudimentary. The remote sections were operated by local and private railway companies, which, like the rural buses from his previous life, were set up to handle honest folks but not petty thieves, serving as mere decoration.

Minamoto Tamako wasn’t wearing her police uniform today. A thick plaid scarf in a Y-shape wrapped around her neck, and she wore a black duffle coat, its hem covering her thighs. Her pleated skirt was pretty conservative, just reaching below her knees. If it were any longer, her legs would seem short.

Her calves needed to be warmly dressed, too. She wore fleece-lined pure white tights, accentuating her slender and graceful leg shape, and her round-toed little leather shoes clicked as she walked.

Minamoto Tamako dragged her suitcase, a hint of nostalgia on her face. She used to take these green trains often when she lived in the countryside, with smoke billowing from the chimneys and the axles clunking. Her grandfather would carry two steaming hot sweet potatoes in his arms and share them with her on the train.

Taira Sakurako followed behind her, wearing a hat, mask, and children’s glasses to cover her face so thoroughly that no crack was visible. Anyone unfamiliar might think a child star was out. After all, walking around during the daytime with a box over your head would definitely attract attention, so she folded the box and put it in her backpack.

Fushimi Roku clutched his ticket, carrying a half-person-high travel bag as he searched for the train car along the platform.

Meanwhile, someone ahead opened a train window. A young girl leaned out with effort, calling and waving, "Stationmaster! Stationmaster!"

Fushimi Roku raised his head and only saw her profile, her long hair blown up by the wind sweeping across the platform.

The train conductor, with a whistle in his mouth, put down the baton and called back, "Ah, isn’t that Miss Yoko? Ichiro is working diligently!"

Saying this, the conductor pulled the young man beside him, "Hurry and greet your sister."

The young man wore a uniform, seeming like station staff, his demeanor youthful. Caught on the platform by his sister, he seemed a bit embarrassed, turning his face aside and muttering, "Enough already, I’m not a kid anymore!"

The girl didn’t mind and continued to ask loudly, "Have there been avalanches in the mountains lately?"

"Yes, trains often break down, and we have to find ways to deliver food. It’s quite busy!" The conductor said, "Tourist season is about to start, right? Tickets for this train are all sold out!"

As they shouted, a group of passengers followed the whistle sound and crowded into the station. The platform became lively, and the conductor stopped chatting, leading the staff to start checking tickets.

Today’s situation was peculiar; one-third of the passengers wore trench coats, either black or white, many of them wearing gold watches, looking like respectable people. They ought to be taking the Shinkansen, so why are they here vying for seats with country folks?

That would have been something, but another third of the passengers were peculiar as well, some in casual suits, others in mink coats, followed by a few henchmen in leather jackets, all looking disreputable, likely Yakuza.

Is this a gang bonding trip?

Odd, really odd.

Fortunately, the last third of the passengers were normal people: migrant workers returning home, tourists with maps, groups of college students, middle-aged men with worried faces... just a mix of various individuals, everyone seemed to be there.

Mejiro Station was both the terminal and the starting station, and after the passengers boarded, the platform became quiet again.

Fushimi Roku led the two of them through the aisle to their seats. Standard seats on a slow train typically have a ’2+2’ face-to-face layout, and if you’re lucky, there might be a folding table in the middle.

Among the four seats, the girl from earlier who called out occupied one.

Taira Sakurako, being self-enclosed, naturally sat next to Minamoto Tamako, avoiding facing the unfamiliar girl. Minamoto Tamako was a bit socially anxious too; she had a hidden agenda for talking to Fushimi Roku initially, and she didn’t want to sit next to strangers either... The two whispered, nudging for a bit until, eventually, Fushimi Roku was the one who had to compromise.

Fushimi Roku didn’t feel wronged. Meeting a beautiful girl by chance was as rare as winning the lottery, and enjoying both the scenery and the company during the journey was utterly delightful. He believed he’d gotten quite lucky and had nothing to complain about.

The girl was very polite and stood up quickly when someone arrived, letting Fushimi Roku go in first, nodding in greeting as well.

"Thank you."

Fushimi Roku stuffed his travel bag into the rack and had just settled himself onto the seat when he heard a reprimanding voice from behind, "Hey, hey, hey! You punk, looking for trouble?! Why are you stepping on my foot?"

Minamoto Tamako was on tiptoe, trying to put her suitcase on the rack. She turned her head instinctively upon hearing this, only to see that the girl who had been sitting opposite her was tangled up with a shifty-looking young man.

"I’m sorry... I didn’t notice, I’m really sorry!" The girl hastily bowed and apologized.

"If sorry was good enough, we wouldn’t need police, would we? These are crocodile leather shoes! You couldn’t pay for them even if you worked as a hostess in Ginza for a month!"

These words were full of thuggishness. The young man, with his hair styled like a chicken crown and dyed blond in the middle, was clearly trouble. Seeing his behavior escalate, grabbing the girl’s collar and demanding compensation, Minamoto Tamako immediately stepped forward and loudly reprimanded, "This is extortion and blackmail!"

"Ah? Where did this little runt come from?" Chicken Crown Head exposed his seagull-like teeth, his tone particularly provoking.

Minamoto Tamako reached into her pocket, pulled out her badge, and shoved it in his face. She warned him with the official phrasing dictated by patrol police regulations, loudly stopping Chicken Crown Head’s illegal extortion behavior. Chicken Crown Head lowered his head, glanced at the name on the badge, froze for three seconds, and said instinctively, "Ah, so it’s you..."

Before he could finish, his mouth was covered by a man next to him. The latter had a sorrowful expression, resembling someone who had been burdened by a fifty-year mortgage for a failed housing project, forced into endless unpaid overtime by a ruthless boss, discovering his wife was cheating, and his daughter running around with troublemakers. He seemed like a beleaguered man on the verge of jumping off a building.

"I deeply apologize, I’m truly sorry. My friend wasn’t doing it on purpose; he just has a bit of a nasty personality..."

The man bowed ninety degrees to Minamoto Tamako, showing only the back of his head, with full sincerity.

Chicken Crown Head also followed suit, bowing in apology. Though his bow wasn’t as standard or practiced as the man’s, his attitude in admitting fault was surprisingly good, even overly so, leaving the innocent girl with a bewildered expression, as if she thought she had encountered someone important.

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