Chapter 262: Before the School Festival—Normies Can Go Explode!
"Damn it!"
Mouri Kogoro slammed his fishing rod down in a fit of rage. "Not even a single boot? This is ridiculous!"
Fujino quietly chimed in from the side, "That rod's damaged now. I think you'll have to pay 30,000 yen for it."
"Huh?"
Mouri froze mid-tantrum. "Fujino, my man, did you just say 30,000 yen?"
"Yup." Fujino nodded. "I saw it on the price list earlier."
Mouri glanced down at the rod he'd just snapped underfoot in his outburst. "…"
In the end, Uncle Mouri shelled out 30,000 yen to cover the damage.
Not only did he catch nothing, but he also lost money. A fishing trip for the ages—absolutely nothing to show for it! On the drive back to Tokyo, he kept grumbling that it had to be the rod's fault and swore he'd bring his own next time.
---
Afternoon
After getting out of the car, Fujino didn't head straight home.
He took his little turtle to a few pet stores, where he picked up a sickly bamboo rat. Then he swung by a nearby pharmacy to grab a scalpel and some medical supplies to restock his kit before finally heading back.
"I'm home," Fujino called as he pushed open the door to his third-floor bedroom.
"You're back," Haihara Ai replied lazily, sprawled out on the couch watching TV. She glanced over at him as he walked in.
"You're home alone, huh? Where's Akemi-nee?" Fujino asked, scanning the room. "I didn't see the shop open downstairs when I came up."
"She went to restock supplies," Haihara explained. Her eyes drifted to the tiny turtle, barely bigger than a palm, dangling from Fujino's hand. "Where'd you get such a small turtle?"
"Caught it today while I was in Shizuoka…" Fujino trailed off, deciding not to mention the embarrassing haul of boots, tires, and random yen he'd reeled in. He switched gears. "Hey, Ai, wanna keep it?"
"A pet…" Haihara considered it for a moment before nodding. "A little turtle's pretty cute, I guess."
---
Meanwhile, at a bar somewhere in Tokyo
Gin, clad in his signature black outfit, leaned in toward Vodka, his voice low. "Those punks who hit our bases, planted bombs on our cars, and threatened us—did you dig anything up?"
"They're good at covering their tracks, but I managed to find something," Vodka said, resting his hands on the bar counter. "It's an organization that uses animal codenames. The ones behind this mess are part of it. And it seems all the moves were orchestrated by someone called 'SNAKE.'"
"Snake, huh?"
Gin's hand paused mid-reach for his drink.
His mind flashed back to that infuriating woman with the fox mask who kept toying with him. *Damn her.*
The painful memory hit hard. He vaguely recalled Belmod mentioning this group once. She probably had some leads, but since arriving in Japan, she'd gone radio silent. Tracking her down now didn't sit right with him.
Gin steeled himself. *I'd rather starve, jump off a cliff, or get blown up than go begging to that woman!*
With unwavering resolve, he turned to Vodka. "Have you found their base yet?"
"Not yet," Vodka said with a regretful shake of his head. "They're tough to pin down—pretty capable bunch. But we can track some of their outer members."
"Then squeeze those grunts for info," Gin said, his expression darkening. "Once we find them, we'll settle the score. Kill every last one we see."
They stole *her*, killed his target, dared to bomb him, and might even be working with *that man*. Did they think Gin was some pushover?
---
That Evening, Fujino's Fourth-Floor Bedroom Bathroom
Fujino laid out a piece of gauze on a folding table and slipped into a white lab coat. Then he pulled out a Poké Ball and released the bamboo rat he'd bought earlier onto the gauze.
"Squeak, squeak, squeak!"
The bamboo rat let out pitiful cries, dragging itself forward with its hind legs dangling limply behind.
Fujino grabbed an anesthetic dart and jabbed it into the rat's rear. As the sedative kicked in, it went still.
To be clear, Fujino hadn't roughed it up—this was how it came. The pet store owner had explained it was imported from Vietnam and had severe enteritis from failing to adapt. Meds hadn't helped, and the only fix was a "necrotic bowel resection." But hiring a vet for a bamboo rat? Hardly worth it. So it'd been left to die in the shop, which is why Fujino snagged it for just 1,000 yen.
Perfect timing—he'd just picked up surgical know-how, including bowel resection.
The dart worked fast; the rat was out cold, nerves numbed, bleeding minimized. A great chance to practice.
Fujino opened his med kit, soaked the gauze with saline, and grabbed a scalpel and tweezers. With a steady hand, he sliced open the bamboo rat's belly. Eagle Eye vision guided him straight to the necrotic section of intestine.
He clamped the ends with hemostats, slid a small gauze pad underneath, and snipped the dead tissue away. Some gooey fluid oozed onto the pad. Then he aligned the healthy ends, pulled out a fine needle and thread, and stitched them up.
Done.
Fujino packed up his tools, popped the rat back into the Poké Ball, and called it a day.
Doing surgery solo was tough—especially on a bamboo rat. Honestly, he wasn't too confident it'd pull through. Its survival was up to fate now.
---
The Next Day, Monday—A Normal School Day
Time finally felt like it was back on track.
Fujino woke up early, washed up, and drove Haihara Ai to school.
"Yawn…" Haihara let out a delicate, sleepy sound, sporting dark circles like a little panda. She'd been up until 3 or 4 a.m. working on APTX-4869 research, only to drag herself out of bed for school.
"Didn't sleep well?" Fujino asked, catching the obvious signs as he drove, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Uh…" Haihara blushed faintly, her expression shifting. "Yeah, I didn't sleep great. I'm pretty tired."
"Want me to grab you something to help? I've got a drink that knocks you out fast—works like a charm," Fujino offered, thinking of his "sleepy red tea."
"Nah, I'm good…" Haihara declined after a moment's thought.
Her APTX-4869 antidote research was nearing completion. Just a bit more effort, and she'd have a temporary fix. If she could pull that off…
After dropping Haihara off at Teitan Elementary, Fujino headed to Teitan High in his school uniform.
"Hey, senpai! Is it true you emergency-landed a plane?"
"That's so cool!"
"It was on the news—how could it be fake? I heard the local police even sent a thank-you letter!"
Fujino had barely sat down in class when his classmates swarmed him, bombarding him with questions about the plane incident from a few days back.
He sighed inwardly. Being the center of attention wasn't his thing—it always felt overwhelming.
"Ahem! Everyone, back to your seats, now!"
No need to look up; Fujino knew that voice. It was Shizuka Hiratsuka, the nearing-30 literature teacher, perpetually single, and wielder of the iron fist.
A chill swept through the room, and the students scurried back to their spots without a second thought.
*This kid's getting more ridiculous by the day…* Hiratsuka sighed to herself, then addressed the class. "Next month's the school festival. Today's homeroom is for picking our class theme. Think it over, share your ideas, and we'll vote before the bell."
"Maid café!"
A diehard otaku shot up from his seat, boldly throwing out his suggestion and instantly drawing every eye in the room.
"Maid café, huh?" Fujino mused. Not a bad idea.
Not because of the maids, mind you—he just liked coffee. Yup, that was it.
*Maid café! Maid café!* he chanted silently to himself.
School festivals in Japan were like campus open houses. In reality, they could be kinda rare or even underwhelming, but in manga and novels, they were always bustling. Each class or club set up stalls, activities, shops, or performances. A maid café totally fit the vibe.
"How about a play instead?" Sonoko suddenly stood up. "Nothing beats romantic love for our youthful vibes!"
She paused, then added, "If we do a play, Ran's gotta be the lead! Picture her in a flowing white dress as a princess—perfect, right?"
Sonoko's charm worked like magic. The vote came quick: Class 2-B was doing a play.
Ran, Teitan High's rare beauty, had serious popularity. Sure, no one dared make a move out of respect for a certain missing detective, but her fanbase was top-tier. The girls were all in, and the boys… well, there were a fair share of traitors.
The otaku collapsed in tears. "Normies can go explode!"
Fujino didn't even bother voting.
Whatever. He'd just check if another class did a maid café. Performing wasn't his thing—he was past that phase.
Age had mellowed him out; the fiery passion of youth had faded. He'd rather be a capitalist shelling out cash for results than a performer giving his all.
Free stuff would be nice, though.
(Chapter End)