Chapter 184 - Molester, Junior High Girl, Hero
Rio, Chloe, and I headed toward the bus stop in a peaceful atmosphere, getting worked up over complaining about Producer Kurosawa and such. By the time we reached the station, it was around eight o'clock.
Since the train arrived almost exactly as we entered the platform, we succeeded in boarding with zero waiting time.
"...Sitting is impossible."
Since it was during spring break, there were fewer students, but it was no different from a commuting rush.
The seats were all filled, packed tightly with office workers wearing tired faces.
Everyone had dead eyes. I felt like the defeated soldiers I saw in the wars of the other world had that same look in their eyes.
Modern salarymen are being thrown into an economic war that is nothing but a continuous losing battle, after all. Perhaps that's why the atmosphere feels like that of a defeated warrior.
While feeling sympathy for the weakened passengers, I grabbed a hand strap. To my left was Rio, and to my right was Chloe, both taking the same stance.
A flower in each hand... no, since they are both minors, I suppose it's a bud in each hand.
I felt as though the gazes of the surrounding salarymen had grown sharper, but I wanted to believe I was just being self-conscious.
"It's going to get crowded anyway, so should we stick close for now? I don't want to be pressed up against some dirty old guy, so I want to evacuate into Nakamoto-san's arms or something in advance."
"Should I just stick to your back?"
...I wasn't being self-conscious anymore. From Rio and Chloe's remarks just now, I could tell the old guys nearby had become murderous.
They looked as if they wanted to ask: who is this man, accompanied by beautiful teenage girls in public transportation since morning?
"Stop sticking to me. It's fine to stay close, though."
The moment Chloe muttered, "Yay," the train started moving.
I caught Chloe with one hand as she lost her balance with a wobble.
"...Thanks."
A few minutes passed.
The train carrying us stopped at several stations, and with each stop, the number of passengers increased.
It could be called a packed train.
Since all of this is discharged at Tokyo Station, the extreme centralization is terrifying.
It seems that during the seventeen years I was in the other world, the overcrowding of the metropolitan area was never resolved.
Next is—Shin-Kiba. Shin-Kiba.
As I was nursing a headache over the administrative capabilities of my home country, a station employee began making announcements in a distinctive voice.
Shin-Kiba.
It's a reasonably large station, so the passengers will likely increase again.
As I let out a sigh of exasperation, my eyes met those of a girl sitting diagonally in front of me.
Blue eyes.
Distinctive features.
She's a foreigner.
Her slightly curled hair reached down to her waist, and combined with her boyish clothing, she gave an active impression.
...From the look of it, she's probably still a middle schooler... but something is wrong.
Tears were welling in her eyes, and her lips were trembling.
Is she feeling unwell?
I moved my mouth without making a sound, asking her.
W-h-a-t-s m-a-t-t-e-r?
The blonde, blue-eyed girl answered with a face that looked as if she were pleading.
As expected, without making a sound, she showed the movement of her lips: "I-a-n."
The pronunciation of "I-a-n." A girl with tears in her eyes on a crowded train.
This combination is...
A molester?
When I asked "Molester?" with my mouth movements without making a sound, the girl gave a small nod.
"..."
I hear that lately, false accusations of molestation have also become a problem. They say station employees mostly only listen to the woman's side of the story, so from a man's perspective, it's like a witch hunt.
I think it's a terrifying thing.
I've even seen posts on the internet where men and women clash over this issue.
What is often discussed is the pros and cons of women-only carriages.
It's a delicate issue, so even if the girl in front of me is crying, should I look the other way?
Of course, there's no way that's the answer.
Because the worst one is the person who molests. Next to that, it's the police and the railway companies that are at fault for not properly investigating and catching them.
Because of that, girls suffer, or meaningless conflicts between men and women occur.
It's strange that they gave up on correctly apprehending the culprit and instead ran in the direction of isolating the women who should be the victims.
This is similar to divide and rule. It's a method where, so that the target of anger does not turn toward the rulers, the populace is divided into two groups and a policy is adopted that favors only one side. When this is done, the populace on the poorly treated side begins to hate the populace on the side that is treated better, rather than the rulers. The ones who truly deserve to be hated are not hated.
The railway companies probably aren't aiming for that, but it's a distorted situation.
Really, it's hopeless.
Unless someone removes the root of all evil, things will only continue to get complicated.
I closed my eyes and activated my skill.
[Hero Keisuke consumes 2000 MP. Activating Double Action Skill]
[For 180 seconds, two actions per turn become possible]
I pushed through the crowd and moved behind the girl.
I took my smartphone out of my pocket and took a photo.
Since I am performing two actions at the exact same time, there is no way the culprit can escape. It's impossible unless I fight with causality rather than speed.
A clicking sound of a photo being taken rang out, and the surrounding gazes gathered on me.
"Oh, it's being caught, it's being caught."
On the screen, the moment a hairy arm extending from a gray suit grabbed the girl's buttocks was perfectly captured in the photo.
I searched for a person wearing a suit of the same color.
...Is it that one?
I grabbed the back of a man who was desperately trying to escape toward the window.
As I pulled him toward me using raw strength, I noticed he was slightly taller than me.
He was a portly salaryman.
His age was from late fifties to early sixties. His skin was greasy and shiny, and his jet-black hair had a receding hairline.
Under his large eyes were bulging tear bags, and describing him as a tanuki-oyaji (old man like a raccoon dog) felt appropriate.
"What are you doing, you?!"
What do you intend to do to me? This is violence, the man shouted.
"Look at the screen. You can tell, right? You were just touching this girl's butt, weren't you? ...Don't tell me you two are lovers or something?"
When I turned my gaze toward the blonde girl, she shook her head vigorously.
"I see."
I turned back to the man. ...I wondered if this was a plant prepared by Producer Kurosawa or Sugitani-san, but judging by the amount of sweat, it probably wasn't acting. He seemed truly agitated.
"There's no way it's a false accusation with this, right? You're caught red-handed. Get off with me at the next station."
"Can you take responsibility?! I have a family!"
The inside of the carriage was enveloped in a tense atmosphere.
No one tried to speak up. They looked as if they were praying for this awkward time to end.
"Besides, you... you... you're that Nakamoto, the magician. Even though you're engaged to a high school girl yourself, how can you say anything about me?"
"...That has nothing to do with me right now, and in the case of me and Rio, we got engaged after mutual agreement."
"Shut up!" the man shouted, spraying saliva.
"It's because people like you exist that things are bad. Do you intend to crush someone in a position of power through a misunderstanding? I'll sue you. If you do, you'll never be able to appear on TV again!"
"Ho?"
"This is why the Yutori generation is no good. Who do you think made the prosperous Japan of today? You lot too! If you're watching, help! Restrain this violent celebrity!"
"You've got a lot of misunderstandings."
I grabbed the man's collar and slowly raised my arm.
With a grunt, the man's body was lifted, and his feet left the floor.
I heard a small, "Hie!" of a groan.
Now, the man's head was at a much higher position than the other passengers.
"I was born in 1985, so I'm barely not part of the Yutori generation. Well, forget Yutori education, I haven't even finished compulsory education, so I know less than that generation. But I do know how to deal with people like you. I just need to hurt you enough so you don't die."
"...Are you going to hit me?"
"Let me tell you, I have no lingering attachment to being a celebrity. If I can't appear on TV, I'll just live by doing manual labor."
"This is intimidation! This is an unjust arrest! Don't think the police will deal with you!"
"Get off at the next station."
"Let go!"
"Get off at the next station."
"...Let go..."
"Get off at the next station."
It seems I applied a bit too much strength.
The man's collar was tight against his neck, and his face was turning reddish-black.
He probably won't die, but it wasn't a pleasant sight to watch.
The carriage stopped.
The moment the doors opened, I stepped onto the platform while still holding the man up.
I called out to Rio, "Go on ahead."
"You're going to be with me for a while, old man."
While holding the man up with one hand, I called for a station employee.
When I glanced to the side, it seemed that blonde girl had also disembarked, and she was standing next to me with a pale face.
＊ ＊ ＊
"...The detention time is always so long, every single time."
"Did you help a girl at a station again?" the railway police teased me as I finished the interrogation.
Since this was the third time—after Ayako-chan, Rio, and the blonde girl—I was used to it.
The molester from earlier seemed to have sustained minor injuries, but it appeared I wouldn't be charged with a crime.
To be honest, I was worried that I might have gone a bit too far, but when I called Sugitani-san, she told me, "Oh, I'll crush him on my end," and it ended without any issues.
It pays to have a superior with power.
And then.
By the time I was finally told I could leave the police box, it was nearly noon.
I was definitely late.
I sent an email to Producer Kurosawa from my smartphone, explaining the circumstances.
It looks like it'll lead to an image boost, so nice job. Can we also feature that on the program? It might recover popularity among housewives.
The reply was exactly as expected.
I replied, "Do as you please," and put my smartphone in my pocket.
"Thank you very much."
The blonde girl, who was released from the police box at the same time as me, bowed deeply. It was a ninety-degree bow, which is rare even for Japanese people these days.
"It's fine, it's fine. There was a part of me that just lost my temper."
I'm not exactly the type suited for fighting, but because of that, I sometimes act on commoner-like anger.
My fighting spirit doesn't burn when it's due to a grudge with an enemy nation, but seeing women and children cry makes me irrationally angry.
"I can't forgive an old man of a certain age for forcibly touching a girl."
"Is it not a problem to touch with consent? Nakamoto-san, you have a sixteen-year-old fiancee, don't you?"
"Well, that... well... I wonder... what...?"
I reflected on my own daily life.
Mornings on my days off start with Angelica sucking my tongue. At noon, Ayako-chan makes me drink tea via mouth-to-mouth, and at night, Rio washes my back.
No matter how much they approach me first, if one were a proper adult, the morally correct path would be to shake them off.
And yet, as for me, the instances of me just letting it happen are increasing.
Even if we hold affection for each other, isn't this more immoral than molestation?
Am I perhaps ranking quite high on the list of sexual misconduct? Am I in the Yokozuna position? Am I a candidate for a future stablemaster? Am I a talent capable of aiming for a position on the board of the Sexual Misconduct Association?
"...What is this, this long-awaited Japanese Yokozuna..."
I was stunned as I realized my own precariousness.
To be blunt, I live a life where if I were to get into a fight with any of them and get reported to 110, everything would end.
"...I'm in trouble..."
"Nakamoto-san?"
The blonde girl was looking at me worriedly as I suddenly slumped.
"No, it's nothing. My sense of guilt just erupted."
"An eruption? That sounds like an extremely intense metaphor."
"...You're good at Japanese, aren't you?"
The girl replied that she was born and raised in Japan.
"Is that so? Come to think of it, I haven't introduced myself yet. You probably know, but I'm Keisuke Nakamoto."
"Ah, yes. ...It's... Shibata... Mi..."
"Sorry, I didn't catch your first name. Could you say it again?"
"...It's Mitsuko Shibata. Mitsuko, written with the characters for light and child."
"That's very Japanese."
Even though her appearance was clearly that of a foreigner.
Is she a white person who was adopted by Japanese parents?
"My father is American. My mother is Japanese. I'm mixed."
"...I see. These days, people say 'mixed' instead of 'half'."
Feeling a generation gap, I looked at the girl.
Slender, long limbs. Large breasts for her build. Blonde curly hair. Blue eyes, a high nose, and snow-white skin.
"Is your mother really Japanese?"
"I'm often told that. My natural hair is black. I also wear colored contacts; they're actually close to gray."
"So you're not actually blonde with blue eyes."
"It's impossible to be half-Japanese and have blonde hair and blue eyes. ...But for a mixed-race celebrity, there's more demand to look more foreign. Not just in appearance, but in personality too. When I work, I speak in broken Japanese."
The moment she said "mixed-race celebrity," I didn't miss the way a sorrowful color surfaced in her eyes.
One cannot choose their race.
She must have struggled with many things.
"I see. Are you a celebrity too?"
Mitsuko nodded.
"...Um."
"Hm?"
"I think I'll be in your care starting from today."
"Which means..."
Are you also appearing in a segment where foreigners praise Japan? I asked.
Her answer was a silent nod.
...When I asked her age, she was indeed fifteen. She's in her third year of junior high.
That said, spring break ends in a few days, and she'll be a high schooler.
"Hm? Even though the content is about making foreigners praise Japan, you, who are mixed and raised in Japan, are appearing? Honestly, except for your looks, you seem entirely Japanese..."
"Waa! Sugoi! Watashi kouiu no hajimeta mita!"
"Whoa! Your broken Japanese is amazing!?"
I wondered what it meant to be "good at broken Japanese."
Mitsuko switched her atmosphere in an instant, perfectly performing the role of a "foreigner who isn't good at Japanese and uses casual speech."
"Watashi no kuni ni, kouiu no nai! Sugoi desu! Nihonjin no chie!"
"That really sounds like it. Middle-aged people with Western complexes would love that."
"I'm an aspiring actress, after all."
Saying that, Mitsuko stuck her tongue out playfully.
It's strange how her impression suddenly changes to something American when she smiles mischievously. Even though the atmosphere when she is silent is close to that of a quiet Japanese woman.
"...During recording, please call me Emily."
"Is that your stage name? Got it."
We shared the smiles of accomplices and high-fived.
I want to believe she's not a bad kid.
But as long as this girl's appearance is foreign-style, the possibility that she came from the other world cannot be ruled out.
"...Dispel."
I muttered in a low voice while keeping my palms pressed together.
"Kaiju?"
There was no change from this.
Mitsuko... rather, Emily, had not cast any kind of magic on herself either.
"It's like a charm, don't mind it."
"?"
Perhaps this time's Assassin is not human-shaped.
There is a possibility that suspecting a foreigner is meaningless.
"Hmm..."
As I was groaning to myself, Mitsu... Emily whispered, "Then, I'll do a charm too."
"Eh?"
Reflexively turning my face, the girl's white skin came before my eyes.
A small chu sound.
By the time I realized I had been kissed on the cheek, Emily was already running down the stairs.
...Does she not need to wait for the train?
Well, I don't feel like boarding again on the same day I was molested.
While thinking idle thoughts like whether she'll head to the bureau by bus or taxi, I stroked the spot where her lips had touched.
...It's a little wet.
It would be strange to wipe it off, and rather, I wouldn't mind if it stayed like this forever, but since a kiss on the cheek is Angelica's specialty, I feel somehow like I've done the worst thing possible.
I'll have to buy Angelica some kind of souvenir today... or rather, I'll ask her now what she wants me to buy as an atonement.
I took out my smartphone again.
Then, peering at the screen, I froze.
115092:50109
"...Huh?"
The displayed time was even more violently distorted.
The numbers were lined up to the point where they seemed to be overflowing from the screen, and even if I messed with the smartphone's functions, it seemed fundamentally impossible.
No matter how you look at it, it shouldn't have been this strange.
...I recalled my recent actions.
I high-fived Emily, and she kissed my cheek.
Did this happen because of the contact with that mixed-race girl?
Could it be that she is the mastermind of this incident?
"...I don't want to think about it, but..."
I decided to consult with Angelica.
But my fingers stopped halfway. The enemy is a possessor of the ability to interfere with precision instruments.
The suspicion crossed my mind that they might even be able to peek at my emails.
If so, I should use a code.
A code that only works between me and Angelica—I typed the sentences in baby talk.
What is required for decryption is not Language Comprehension, but maternal love at a level that interferes with daily life.
"Babuu. Babubabubabubabu, babuu-babu. Mama oppai, chukichuki. Babu."
After about several dozen seconds, the sent message switched from unread to read.
"Eh? Are you perhaps near Father?"
"Ta-i. Mama babbu. Babu, babububabubabu."
"That certainly is suspicious... As the distance to the caster decreases, the distortion in the display might get stronger. Is the activation condition contact? I think it would be better to investigate various things the next time you meet her."
"Babu."
"Yes. She is a troublesome opponent. I will also remain on guard."
"Ogyaa... ogya."
"It's okay. Ayako and I are in this room, you know? I think it's much safer than a place with only ordinary Japanese people."
"Mamaaaaaaaa!! The diaper is wettttttt!! Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaa!! You didn't wipe my butt-ttttt!!"
"I know, I know. I'll be careful with the doors. I'm looking forward to the souvenir."
"Fueee, fueee, fueee."
"Yes, see you later. Good luck with your work, my baby."
I typed too many characters, and my fingers got tired.
I switched the smartphone to my left hand and looked up.
Emily is suspicious. That is the common view between me and Angelica.
While feeling both the sense of making progress and the aversion of having to probe a girl I don't dislike, I started walking toward the platform.
[Author's Note]
It seems there are already regions where the books are being sold early.
If you have purchased one, I would be happy if you could share your impressions of the book version somewhere.
The location can be the comments section or the activity report!