Nobita's Time Heist

“Trust, child. I ask for nothing else, just trust.” Dutch waved his hand, indicating that the matter was no longer up for discussion. “One last heist, let’s go big, and after that, we’ll fly away. It’s that simple. We have plenty of manpower and weapons, we’re just waiting for you to come back.”

"I can already see Tahiti beckoning to us!"

Author's message

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Tenth update! That concludes tonight's ton of updates, and I'm temporarily burnt out... Please contribute some clicks!!

Do your best and leave the rest to fate. Charge! Charge! Charge!

Chapter 30: Micah? Micah the Hound!

“What the f…”

It's not that we can blame them for swearing; the scene before us was simply too much of a challenge to common sense.

The villa in Shedi Belle, which looked dilapidated and on the verge of collapse just yesterday, was transformed when I opened my eyes again. The floors looked like they'd been coated in wax, the windows were sparkling clean, and the mold on the ceiling and walls had vanished. Although it still appeared as a run-down old house from the outside, for the people actually living inside, it was a complete upgrade, a total transformation.

Arthur was so astonished he couldn't close his mouth. "All of this, you did it all by yourself... No, before this, when did you finish it?!"

"No, it was just last night. I saw that some places were really dirty, so I cleaned them up a bit..." Da Xiong scratched his head guiltily. "I was very quiet when I was working, maybe you didn't hear me?"

Anyone with a modicum of common sense could easily see he was talking nonsense. No matter how light-footed you are, it's impossible to accomplish so much work in one night. Nobita actually used the "Dwarf Box," just like in fairy tales. You make a wish beforehand, and once you're asleep, dwarfs will come out and help you fulfill it.

This is practically a weapon made just for him! As everyone knows, Nobita has a superhuman ability to fall asleep; he can enter a deep sleep in just 0.93 seconds. One night is enough for these dwarves to renovate the entire villa.

“It’s so clean, I don’t even dare to drink in there…” Some gang members felt very uncomfortable looking at this unfamiliar, luxurious villa, feeling out of place. “This must be the best house I’ve ever lived in.”

"It should have been done a long time ago, so that you wouldn't keep coming into the house after drinking and vomiting everywhere, and the floor would be impossible to wash off."

"At least the old man and the pastor should thank him, so they wouldn't have to sleep on the floor where someone vomited."

……

"Ha, you're quite diligent in doing useless things."

Micah's cold voice came from behind. Looking in the direction of the voice, he saw Micah standing near the door frame, half-bent over, half-squinting, staring at him with a malicious look.

"People in this line of work don't even know what tomorrow will bring. They might be moved to another camp at any time. Do you really want to stay here forever?"

"Why not?" Nobita asked calmly.

……

The already strained atmosphere suddenly turned incredibly cold.

Micah seemed surprised that this boy, who had only been at the camp for a day, would dare to respond to him. After a brief moment of astonishment, he turned his head to one side like a snake, his right hand already on the holster.

"Think carefully before you say your next word, kid..." He narrowed his eyes, staring intently at Nobita's head. "That cowboy can't take care of you."

"Why not?" Nobita asked again, his face expressionless, as he put his right hand into his pocket as well. "Can we live like this forever?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

“The kid’s right, Micah, calm down. We’ve really had enough of this lately.” Dutch’s voice came from the stairs, and as soon as he heard him speak, Micah immediately put away his gun and retreated to the base of the wall as if nothing had happened.

He nodded slightly to Da Xiong with a friendly smile, "That's great, kid. At first glance, I didn't think you were this kind of diligent person."

"Perfect timing, I also have a task here that I'd like you to handle."

“Dutch?!” Arthur’s voice was full of anxiety. “I thought we…”

"Don't rush, child, don't rush either. It's just a simple purchasing task. After we rob that big one, we definitely won't be able to stay around this city anymore. Therefore, we all need to change our clothes, and changing clothes requires new outfits, and new outfits won't fall from the sky."

Dutch explained unhurriedly, “We’ve gotten ourselves into a lot of trouble in Saint Denis lately, and to learn from what we did in Loguetown… it would be much better to have someone who has never been involved in the gang before handle this kind of thing.”

"I'm just going to buy clothes, and I'll be right back. It's perfectly safe."

"Let Hosea go with you, and be quick about it."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Saint Denis.

Thick black smoke billowed into the sky, and even from a distance, the smell of burning wafted over. Signs for the machine factory were visible everywhere. Nobita frowned; he already sensed that this monster called "Modern" was crushing this beautiful, unknown world.

The sound of horses' hooves clattering on the cement road seemed particularly crisp and out of place.

“We’ve arrived, the big city.” Hosea stopped his horse. “We’d better walk the rest of the way. There are a lot of police in this city. If we’re on horseback, even a small bump into someone will attract their attention.”

"Child, do you know how to shoot?"

"I..." Da Xiong was stunned by the question, unable to find the right and humble words to describe himself.

His silence was naturally taken as a denial by Hosea. He smiled, casually pulled a cold object from his saddlebag, and handed it to Da Xiong.

"An ordinary revolver, six bullets. Hopefully, you'll never have the chance to use it. But even if you do, remember to point the muzzle at people."

Nobita observed the old man from the side. Although they had only spent less than a day together, the uniquely Japanese ability to "read the air," combined with Nobita's extraordinary empathy, allowed him to quickly understand the gang's members. He could largely ignore the others; the true core of the gang consisted of Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur.

Dutch, as the leader, set the overall direction and strategy; Hosea, as the strategist, devised specific tactics and steps, assigning tasks to everyone; and Arthur, as the gang's top enforcer, was responsible for tackling the most difficult missions. Because of this, the gang was exceptionally lenient with him; for example, they wouldn't dare act alone on a major bank robbery before Arthur returned from the snowy mountains.

Overall, this gang was more dedicated to building a large family for those who roamed the underworld than a "bandit gang." It must be said that in such an era, it was a fleeting miracle.

"Child, actually... you do have a home you can go back to, right?"

Taken aback by his sudden question, Da Xiong paused for a few seconds. Rather than wasting more time making up more lies, he chose to nod.

“Hahaha, I knew it.” Hosea laughed twice, a hint of smugness on his aged face. “Your ending up in the Odrisco gang’s camp was not your intention. It was probably just an accident. You weren’t kidnapped by them at all, and your home wasn’t looted.”

"How were you able to tell?"

“I, we… are all homeless. Arthur and John were taken in by Dutch and me when they were just kids, and I watched them grow up,” Hosea said slowly. “When you go home, you have warm meals, caring parents, and a safe bed. But for people like us, all we have is each other.”

“You can have a home too,” Da Xiong couldn’t help but comfort him. “As long as you stop this kind of life and find a stable city, you can…”

"..."

Hosea laughed, a laugh full of meaning, as if he had a lot to say but couldn't quite put it into words.

"child."

"After you've bought your clothes, leave us and go home with your friends."

Author's message

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

All stock has been sold out, please give the author a break... The second update might be later tonight.

Chapter Thirty-One: The Value of the Western Designated Gun God

"How's it going at the camp?" Entering the shop, through the seemingly mythical [wireless paper cup phone], Nobita asked, "They haven't given you any trouble, have they?"

"Trouble? No, I'm just keeping that kid in the camp company. He seems to really enjoy reading comic books." Asur's tone was a little impatient. "The camp is bustling with activity, everyone's preparing for this bank robbery, so basically no one's here to keep him company."

"You're not serious, are you? You really want to rob a bank with them?"

"..." Da Xiong was stunned for a moment. He suddenly realized that the act of "robbing a bank" seemed to contradict his long-held concept of good and evil. This was certainly not a good thing, but the people in the camp could discuss it as seriously as if it were a work matter, which gave a sense of absurdity, as if black and white were reversed.

"In any case, Arthur saved our lives, so at least... I want to give him a better ending than 'dying in the street'."

"How do you know he'll definitely die a violent death in the street?" Asur yawned and said lazily, "Didn't you hear the way he coughed? He probably has a lung problem. I once saw someone with dust disease who coughed like that. His lungs were infected by samples of dust from outer space, and he couldn't get better... He probably smoked too much, or he contracted some kind of lung disease. He might die from the illness first."

“Maybe so. Whether he dies of illness or is shot, it makes no difference to him,” Da Xiong argued. “He was a good man.”

“He has killed many people,” Asur reminded him.

“This doesn’t contradict the fact that he’s a good person. He saved us, so to me, he’s an absolute good person.” Da Xiong’s mind works incredibly fast on these kinds of issues, and he quickly analyzed the situation. “Regardless of the outcome of this vote, I hope he can stop now, go to a peaceful place, and live out the rest of his life quietly—when we were arguing this morning, I could sense that the vast majority of people in the gang thought the same thing!”

"...So...what can you do?" Asur asked quietly. Sometimes, Da Xiong almost suspected that she didn't say anything at all, but had become his inner demon, torturing his conscience when needed.

"I'm still thinking about it." Nobita sighed. "I'm still thinking about it."

……

"Young man, don't even think about it. You've come here to buy inventory, haven't you?" The shop owner, checking the list, couldn't help but ask, "Twenty suits in total, fourteen of which are the 'Heart of the Earth' style, and the rest are other high-end styles, especially these armadillo hats. Are you sure you can afford the price? Forgive my bluntness, but young man, you look a bit like..."

Da Xiong sighed and didn't say anything more. When he took back the list, he was somewhat absent-minded.

Asur is right.

Whatever difficulties Arthur faces—be it illness or circumstances—he can easily overcome them with the power he wields. What's so difficult about that? With 22nd-century props at his disposal, can't he find a way out for a cowboy from 1899?

The real question is, what does Arthur himself think? With his abilities, if he really wanted to leave the gang, probably no one could stop him, but he hasn't. Even with a persistent cough, he still wants to pull off one more big heist with the gang.

Think again.

During his time with Doraemon, countless experiences taught him that a small mistake can lead to a huge disaster; no matter how ingenious the gadget, he would inevitably mess it up in his own hands.

Similarly, when you possess the power to determine someone's life, even a slight deviation can lead to a world of difference from your initial aspirations.

I need to...think about it again...

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

When Nobita looked out the shop window, his pupils suddenly contracted.

To ensure that the gang members were completely removed, Hosea didn't accompany Da Xiong into the store. Instead, he leaned against a lamppost by the entrance and waited for him. At the street corner, two burly men with fierce expressions were pulling guns from their jacket pockets and aiming them.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still.

Whether they were after Hosea or not may remain a permanent mystery. In a fraction of a second, Nobita could neither prove nor disprove it; he only knew one thing—a person dies when shot, and once someone is dead, it's too late to regret it.

The motion of drawing the revolver was effortless and graceful. Compared to the one from his childhood, this one was much lighter, and he could easily control it with one hand. The cold grip gave him a familiar feeling, as if it were his beloved gun that had been with him for many years, and it felt incredibly natural to wield it.

Draw your gun.

aim.

Pull the trigger.

"boom--!!"

A preemptive bullet shattered the glass with a "clang," striking one of the men and knocking the gun from his hand. A ricocheting bullet from the first shot flew to the side, disarming the second man. Both men were completely bewildered. In fact, Da Xiong's shot had come from inside the store. The clothing store was packed with customers; the bullet had weaved through the crowd, so when they looked towards the source of the sound, they only saw a panicked mass and had no idea who had fired the shot.

People instinctively look towards the source of a sound.

But... Da Xiong drew and sheathed his gun so quickly that by the time people looked in his direction, his gun was already back in his belt. Except for a few people who were close by, most people only heard the sound and scattered like birds.

“Bang!!”

As they pushed open the gate with the crowd, the quick-witted Hosea had already brought his horse, mounted it, and grabbed Da Xiong.

"Was that shot...did you do it?"

“Someone’s following us.” Da Xiong took a deep breath, strained his waist, and finally managed to pull himself onto the horse in one go. “They’re all carrying guns, and it looks like they’re after you, but I’m not sure…”

“There’s nothing uncertain, kid. You saved my life.” Hosea’s mind was exceptionally sharp, and he quickly analyzed the situation. “We’ve gone too far in Saint Denis these past few days. Clearly, Dutch underestimated the Pinkerton detectives’ determination to deal with us, and overestimated himself.”

"Damn it! This job should never have been done in the first place. If we were to do it, there would only be a tiny chance of success on the very first day we arrived in this city. We've already left too many traces in this city; even a fool could guess what we're going to do next."

Hosea tightened the reins, struggling to weave the horse through the crowd, and said, "I'm sorry, child, I didn't expect it to turn out like this. They probably don't even recognize you..."

……

"He's here! Dutch van der Linde's strategist!" A thunderous roar came from the street corner, and in an instant, two or three tall horses were in position, blocking the way. "Don't let him get away!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Hosea probably didn't expect people to arrive so quickly, and froze on the spot. Clearly, at this moment, his best tricks of deception were useless.

You can't exactly tell them, "You've mistaken me for someone else," can you?

Expecting a man over fifty to fight back is asking too much.

……

"boom!"

"boom!"

"boom!"