Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner
Chapter 85 - 7 Evil Chant 2.0

Chapter 85: Chapter 7 Evil Chant 2.0

Fushimi Roku turned on the faucet, wet a towel, wiped the kitchen counter, and said nonchalantly, "Weren’t you the one who said not to bring personal emotions into work? I’ve already forgiven you, what more do you want?"

Kazama Tatsuya was momentarily speechless; he truly did not expect Fushimi Roku to retort from such a tricky angle. This punch traversed thirty-four years through time, leaving him unsure of how to rebut.

"I’m just sticking to the facts, last night..."

Before Kazama Tatsuya could finish, Fushimi Roku twisted the towel, glanced sideways interrupting him, "Last night, around one in the morning, you knocked on my room door, right? I heard it, just didn’t want to answer."

"Uh..."

Now Kazama Tatsuya had nothing to say.

After he finished working last night, he wanted to talk to Fushimi Roku about his suspension, knocked on the room door for a long time, but no one answered. He didn’t think much of it at the time; it’s common for young people to deal with work setbacks by going out to drown their sorrows in alcohol.

Until today, he learned of the details of the Sugamo Apartment massacre case, and doubts boiled in his mind like oil on fire. Once could be a coincidence, twice might still be a fluke, but three times was truly odd.

But he had no evidence or reason to suspect Fushimi Roku, what if his intuition was wrong again? The only doubt was that Fushimi Roku wasn’t in the dorm last night, but now Fushimi Roku casually closed the gap — he indeed knocked on the door around one, and Fushimi Roku not wanting to answer was reasonable and aligned with his stereotypical impression of Fushimi Roku.

"Sorry, I’m not targeting you, it’s just, uh..."

"You’re suspecting me?" Fushimi Roku slapped the towel on the stove.

Before Kazama Tatsuya could defend himself, with an expression of ’how dare you,’ Fushimi Roku put his hands on his hips and said, "What did you say on the first day of work? Apologize to me formally, and then continue to suspect me? Is this the elite criminal police’s way of doing things?"

Kazama Tatsuya opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say, deepening the lines on his face, his right eye’s gaze wandering. He vaguely felt Fushimi Roku was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t refute it.

"Do I really look like a murderer?" Fushimi Roku pointed at his own nose and questioned back, "Do I have ’murderer’ written on my face?"

"Uh, sorry..."

"Sorry? That perfunctory?" Fushimi Roku was relentless.

Kazama Tatsuya took a deep breath, "I’m sorry..."

"If an apology was useful, why would we need the police? Hearing these words makes me so angry that I’m trembling all over, sweating cold on this hot day. Can this society get any better? How can junior patrol police like us even survive to satisfy you guys?"

Fushimi Roku executed the Evil Chant 2.0 version, originally intended to break down Minamoto Tamako’s magic resistance, but didn’t expect Kazama Tatsuya to run into it, so he might as well use him as a test subject.

Sure enough, Kazama Tatsuya’s face grew increasingly awkward, the effect was even better than he imagined.

He contemplated whether to squeeze out a few tears, matching it with the next line ’the tears flowed uncontrollably, this country is filled with oppression towards patrol police’... But then, he noticed Kazama Tatsuya’s expression quickly changed from guilt to impatience and then to suspicion, the speed of this face change could rival a Sichuan opera mask change.

As the saying goes, overdoing it is worse than not doing it enough. Fushimi Roku quickly stopped himself, changed his tone, and said, "But I’m broad-minded, I won’t hold this against you this time, just hope there’s no next time."

Kazama Tatsuya made a sound and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Fushimi Roku called after him.

Kazama Tatsuya turned his head back, not saying a word, but his expression seemed to ask ’what else do you have to say’. Fushimi Roku didn’t mind, he picked up the towel again and said casually, "Don’t sleep too soundly; let’s have dinner together later."

Kazama Tatsuya intended to refuse, but Fushimi Roku said it’s a dinner gathering for the whole police station, a belated welcome party, and to celebrate his and Watanabe Shun’s reinstatement. After a moment of silence, Kazama Tatsuya nodded in agreement.

When he returned to his dormitory and closed the door, Fushimi Roku finally exhaled a little.

Fortunately, he had prepared in advance last night by leaving a recorder in the dorm before going out. After returning to the dorm, he rewound and fast-forward listened to all the recordings at the first opportunity. He originally set it up to prevent Minamoto Tamako from bothering him at night and arousing suspicion, unexpectedly he recorded Kazama Tatsuya’s knocking and shouting.

Fushimi Roku knew clearly that from the outsiders’ perspective, he had no motive for murder. Although Kazama Tatsuya still had some suspicions, they were merely coincidences.

All in all, he successfully muddled through this time as well.

He hummed a tune, cleaned the stove, and began preparing ingredients.

Fushimi Roku chopped with a kitchen knife, removing the head, skin, and claws from the old hen, and hollowed out the innards. In his previous life, making chicken was not so troublesome; a whole chicken could be used for soup. But Japanese people are quite particular; they don’t eat chicken claws, innards can be fried but shouldn’t be used in soup.

After cutting the chicken into pieces and washing it, he added pre-soaked and sliced mushrooms, sliced ginger, a moderate amount of Astragalus, and finally a bit of red dates, goji berries, and Cordyceps flowers, two tablespoons of cooking wine, a spoon of salt, and simmered with water over a low flame.

He originally wanted to make a Cantonese-style premium old hen soup, but the grocery store didn’t have Yu Zhu or Dang Gui, and longan meat was only available in fruit specialty stores, so he had to settle for a simplified version.

Next, he started preparing the salmon. First, he sliced the salmon meat, added some Japan-produced ’pure rice wine’ before seasoning, sprinkled both sides with salt, left it for about five minutes, and once the moisture was drawn out, wiped it dry with kitchen paper, seasoned the salmon with salt and pepper, then fried it on low heat...

With a sizzle, the fragrance spread.

Fushimi Roku turned on the ventilation fan switch, and with the buzzing sound, meat-scented steam wafted out.

Minamoto Tamako was sitting in the first-floor office, admiring herself in the mirror. Suddenly, her petite nose twitched slightly, catching an unusual aroma. Minamoto Tamako raised her head, listened intently for a while, and asked in confusion, "Is someone cooking upstairs?"

"Maybe the boss is heating up lunch." Watanabe Shun answered carelessly, busy writing a self-reflective report.

After the boss bailed him out, he was made to copy thirty pages of self-reflection. He hadn’t even finished the three pages he owed last time. Biting the pen tip, he strained his brain for a long time before forcing out a single line. If the boss didn’t prohibit him from skimming through, he would’ve long filled thirty-three pages with ’I was wrong’.

"No." Minamoto Tamako stood up, inhaling continuously, sniffing around, and subconsciously walked towards the stairs, "This aroma... has salmon... onions... and that damn carrot... seems like there’s some chicken soup too?"

"What?" Watanabe Shun put down his ballpoint pen, shocked, "The boss is eating so lavishly? And hiding it, not calling me? No way, I need to grab some."

He dashed up to the third floor, Minamoto Tamako trailing behind with her quiff. They followed the aroma into the kitchen, and Fushimi Roku, hearing footsteps, turned around and glanced, "Hungry? Haven’t had dinner yet, right? Go tidying up the table, let’s get ready to eat."