Tokyo: Rabbit Police and Her Evil Partner

Chapter 447 Nightmare
While Abe Rokuro waited anxiously, Tamako-senpai and Fushimi-senpai were fast asleep.

Their consciousness sank into darkness little by little with the murmurs, calmly and unconsciously walking into the depths of their hearts.

After an unknown amount of time, Fushimi Shika saw a door. He knew where he was, but not who he was. He simply pushed the door open on instinct.

squeak...

Squeak... squeak...

Fushimi Shika walked barefoot on the wooden floor, the dampness of the attic floor seeping up from between his toes. He turned around; the door he had come through was gone, and the cramped attic was now completely exposed.

There is a full-length mirror on the wooden wall near the window.

Fushimi Shika stood in front of the mirror and realized that he was not even as tall as the mirror, only about 1.2 meters tall. His face was much rounder, and his dead fish eyes were more pronounced. He was wearing common children's jeans and a blue short-sleeved shirt, and looked like a seven or eight-year-old boy.

Ah, I remember now, he used to live here.

Fushimi Shikahara thought he didn't care anymore, but a feeling of nostalgia inexplicably rose in his heart.

He rubbed his eyes, unaware that he was dreaming, and without pondering how he had returned to the past. He simply looked around at the familiar things around him... the certificates of merit pasted on the wall, the shelves crammed with books, the oversized mahogany desk, and the desk lamp covered with bubble gum stickers.

Fushimi Shika felt a little hungry. He skillfully opened the floor door, went down the retractable staircase, and looked around again after landing.

He was on the top floor corridor of a detached villa. Ahead was a hollow spiral staircase, and at the end of the corridor was the elevator door. In the middle was a large flat floor with floor-to-ceiling windows and an elegant carpet on the floor. Looking out, he could see the river view.

Fushimi Shika peeked inside and saw that the interior of the large apartment was exquisitely and simply decorated, with every seamless tile exuding an aura of wealth.

He didn't see the small refrigerator; he guessed the nanny had taken it.

Fushimi Shika had no choice but to go down the spiral staircase. He remembered he couldn't take the elevator, lest he delay his parents' commute. Even a second's delay would send them into a rage.

He walked and walked, and in his memory, the spiral staircase seemed to have no end.

But in reality, it took less than five minutes to walk down. Fushimi Shika stood in the lobby on the first floor, holding onto the stair railing. He could hear conversations coming from the reception room, and he subconsciously stopped in his tracks.

The kitchen is behind the reception room.

Fushimi Shika was about to return the way she came when a familiar voice suddenly reached her ears, whispering encouragingly, "If you want to eat, then eat... Don't be afraid... There's nothing to be afraid of..."

He hesitated for a moment, then took a step and carefully crossed the living room, trying not to disturb the people in the reception room.

The villa was designed with a very extravagant use of space; the rooms were mostly not partitioned, and instead, various pieces of furniture were used to distinguish functional areas. Therefore, the 'corridor' that Fushimi Shika walked through had no walls on either side.

To his left was a screen, and to his right was an antique display shelf.

Although Fushimi Shika had tried to walk quietly, she still managed to startle the people in the reception room. Someone asked in a low voice who the child behind the display shelf was; the middle-aged woman sitting on the sofa turned around, glanced at the child, and then looked away, whispering that it was the nanny's child.

Fushimi Shika felt his face burning and hurriedly quickened his pace.

He went into the kitchen, where the nanny was busy preparing tea and desserts for the hostess and guests.

Fushimi Shika stood at the door without saying a word. He watched as the dessert was taken away, then opened the refrigerator, rummaged around, and couldn't find any instant food, so he had to cook himself a bowl of noodles.

After finishing his meal in the kitchen, he placed the bowl on the counter and, not daring to return the way he came, went around to the study and found a book to pass the time.

About ten minutes later, the living room quieted down. The hostess saw the guests off and then returned home, shouting Fushimi Shika's former name.

"Zhou Hao! Zhou Hao, where are you?!"

Fushimi Shika suddenly felt that the name was somewhat unfamiliar; he felt as if he hadn't been called Zhou Hao in a long time.

The lady of the house called out a few times but received no response, so she had to go and look for him. She found Fushimi Shika in the study and questioned him, "How many times have I told you, you're not allowed to wander around when we're entertaining guests! How am I supposed to explain this to the guests? You haven't even registered your household yet!"

Fushimi Shika remained silent.

When he was a child, he didn't understand what DY meant, nor did he understand why his mother wanted him to move out, but his father always insisted on keeping him... When the family members met, there were always endless arguments. He didn't want to argue, so he didn't speak. After his mother vented, things would naturally quiet down.

But he didn't expect his mother to be so emotional today. She kept scolding and questioning him, forcing Fushimi Shika to speak. Fushimi Shika had no choice but to explain, but she then asked him why he was talking back.

Fushimi Shika felt a little out of breath.

His mother seemed to hate him, yet also felt sorry for him. When she was angry, she would insult him with the most cutting words, calling him a bastard, a parasite, and wishing he would get hit by a car and die. But after calming down, she would sincerely apologize, saying that those were just words spoken in anger, and give him a lot of money... If he accepted the money, his mother would be unhappy.

Right now, Fushimi Shika doesn't know how long he's been being scolded—maybe ten minutes, maybe a few hours, he can't remember. His mind is occupied with other things—he can only think about other things to keep those words from getting into his head.

Then, the father returned. He heard the cursing and told Fushimi Shika to go back to her room, and started arguing with the mother.

As Fushimi Shika walked away, the sound of arguing followed behind. The mother kept repeating how embarrassing she was, the father kept pressuring her to quit her job, and even the nanny avoided her. The huge mansion was like a melting pot.

But at least he had eaten and drunk his fill.

Fushimi Shika climbed the retractable staircase to the attic, returned to his room, and lay down on his bed.

Logically speaking, he shouldn't be sad. His parents are right; at his age, he has no worries about food or clothing, can have whatever he wants, lives in a luxury house in an upscale neighborhood, and attends an international school. Ordinary people would envy him. What right does he have to be sad?

But he was just unhappy, always feeling that these things had nothing to do with him.

Fushimi Shika lay on the bed, lost in thought for a long time.

While most people only begin to truly consider what they want after graduating from university at twenty-two, and many remain confused even after three to five years of work, he was different. He awakened early; at fourteen, he understood that he didn't need to struggle for money or toil for survival. Because he carried his father's blood, he always had a place in society.

Then what is the purpose of my life?
Fushimi Shika has been pondering this one question for ten years.

Fushimi Shika began thinking at the age of seven and continued until he was seventeen. He experienced things like registering his household registration, his parents' divorce, and preparing for the college entrance examination. The first half of his life was somewhat unremarkable. Those scars might become popular on Douyin if written as short stories, but he found them boring and tasteless.

These ten years were his nightmare.

Fushimi Shika was unaware of the passage of time. He lay in bed, opened his eyes, stood in front of the mirror, and watched himself grow up little by little, repeating the same routine day after day. The scenery around him kept changing. He moved several times, but the mirror by his bedside never changed.

Until one morning when he was seventeen, Fushimi Shika opened his eyes and had a premonition that today was an unusual day, as if something big was going to happen that would completely change the trajectory of his life, and for the better.

He got up early, washed up, and stood in front of the mirror as usual, feeling a strange sense of relief, like Sisyphus finally pushing the boulder to the top of the mountain. But his premonition didn't come true. Fushimi Shikaku stood there for a few minutes, watching himself in the mirror gradually shrink, the surrounding scenery rapidly reversed, and his clothes constantly changing, finally settling on children's jeans and a blue short-sleeved shirt.

He was back to when he was seven years old, his stomach rumbling, and the wooden planks beneath his feet smelling damp.

This is a nightmare.

A recurring nightmare.

Fushimi Shika blinked. This time, without hesitation, he went straight downstairs. The living room was still filled with chatter; the guests, just like last time, were asking the hostess who the child was. Fushimi Shika ignored them. He went into the kitchen and asked the housekeeper to prepare some food for him.

"Miss Ke Ye would like some tea and refreshments to serve the guests..."

The nanny hesitated, unsure whether to agree, as she was currently unable to free herself from the situation.

“I’ll do mine first,” Fushimi Shika said.

After thinking for a moment, the nanny decided that since the lady of the house was the one who paid the wages, she should prioritize the lady of the house and let Shikako wait.

Unexpectedly, Fushimi Shika grabbed a knife and held it over the freshly baked pastry, threatening, "If you don't make it for me, I'll have to eat hers."

"Okay, okay..."

The nanny had no choice but to make Fushimi Shika a bowl of noodles, which took a while and earned her a glare from the mistress. Back in the kitchen, Fushimi Shika had already eaten and drunk her fill, and after wiping her mouth, she prepared to go out and play.

For some reason, this time his mother ended her visit early and stopped Fushimi Shika in the middle of the corridor, questioning him again about why he was running around.

“Nezha could cut off his flesh to repay his father and remove his bones to repay his mother. I’m already dead, so I really don’t owe you anything,” Fushimi Shika said, making no sense.

The mother didn't understand what he meant, but she could tell that the tone was disrespectful, and her anger burned even brighter.

"Are you trying to drive me crazy? You, you..."

Before she could finish speaking, Fushimi Shika's patience had already run out.

He closed his eyes, and the fog that had been obscuring his mind gradually dissipated. His consciousness rose higher and higher, until finally he felt his real body.

A familiar touch came, and Fushimi Shika opened his eyes.

He raised his head, his face ashen, and looked at Miyazaki Yuuko. The latter's face betrayed her astonishment; she looked at Fushimi Shika as if she were looking at a giant panda treasure.

"How did you wake up?" Miyazaki Gardenia asked.

Fushimi Shika did not answer. He turned to look at Minamoto no Tamako, who was lying on the chair with her eyes closed and her brows furrowed, as if she was having a nightmare.

"What are you doing?" Fushimi Shika demanded.

He slowly stood up, moved his arms, and made sure there was nothing wrong with his body.

Miyazaki Yuko took a step back, pressed her hands together lightly, and said softly, "Fushimi-kun, please don't get agitated. Don't misunderstand, this is just part of the treatment..."

“I’m not sick.” Fushimi Shika observed Miyazaki Yuuko warily.

“Maybe not, but you know it in your heart… For example, right now, do you feel like I want to harm you? Would an ordinary person think like that? Do you think this kind of mentality is healthy?” Miyazaki Yuko asked in succession, “Please calm down a little and think rationally, what motive would I have to harm you?”

Fushimi Shika did not speak; his face was tense and expressionless.

Miyazaki Yuko continued to persuade, "There should be irrational feelings between people, and there should be the most basic 'trust among kindred spirits,' just like a patient wouldn't suspect the doctor of poisoning because the medicine is too bitter... Do you understand?"

Fushimi Shika was well aware that he had a minor psychological issue; otherwise, he wouldn't have resisted seeing a psychiatrist, much less lied to Chief Physician Nitta.

Seeing Miyazaki Yuko's sincere gaze, and knowing that he wasn't seriously injured, he slowly relaxed and eased his tense nerves.

"Sorry, I had a nightmare..." Fushimi Shika rubbed his forehead and sat down.

Miyazaki Yuko secretly breathed a sigh of relief, her face still showing concern. She sat down next to Fushimi Shika, placed her hand on his lap, and softly comforted him, "I know, no one wants to face painful memories..."

"Don't worry, there won't be a next time," Fushimi Shika said.

Miyazaki Yuko smiled and said, "Seeing you so strong makes me very happy..."

“Don’t misunderstand me. What I mean is, I don’t like being spied on,” Fushimi Shika interrupted. “Considering this is your first time and I didn’t make myself clear, I won’t hold it against you this time, but there will absolutely not be a next time.”

Miyazaki Yuko said with difficulty, "This is part of the treatment. Fushimi-kun should have some knowledge of psychology. To correct the patient's mental state, the patient must face the cause of the illness..."

“I know, so I didn’t make a fuss about it this time.”

Fushimi Shika glanced at her sideways and repeated, "There won't be a next time."

With the professionalism of a doctor, Miyazaki Yuko sensed danger from her patient. She slowly withdrew her hand, gave an apologetic smile, and instead of trying to persuade or explain further, sincerely said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... How about you have a drink? Desserts can make people feel better."

"No."

Fushimi Shika refused decisively. He turned his head and saw that Minamoto no Tamako was still asleep, and had even curled up on her side, seemingly trapped in a nightmare as well.

"What's wrong with her?" Fushimi Shika couldn't help but ask.

Miyazaki Yuuko stood up and sat down next to Minamoto Tamako, explaining, "Miss Tamako also has some psychological issues. Like you, she's facing the 'cause of her illness.' However, Miss Tamako isn't as... uh..."

She considered her words for a moment before continuing, "I'm not as special as you, so I'm still receiving treatment."

"What is the cause of her illness?" Fushimi Shika leaned forward, examining Minamoto no Tamako's profile.

"It's a murderer called 'Divine Punishment'..."

Miyazaki Yuko paused, noticing Fushimi Shika's subtle expression, and then asked, "Does Fushimi-kun know about this?"

(End of this chapter)