Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week

Love is truly interesting.

Aozawa wasn't sure if Phoenix Academy Maggie's suggestion was genuinely for Tetsuji's sake, or if she was trying to look out for Tetsuji while also creating an opportunity for herself. Regardless, he found Maggie quite adorable acting this way.

Putting away his phone, Aozawa twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

"Chitose."

Just as Aozawa was about to greet the beauty busying herself in the kitchen as usual, an incredibly pleasant scent assaulted his nose. It wasn't that he inhaled it; rather, as he rapidly approached, it poured directly into his nostrils.

He was pulled inside the door and, like an innocent little rabbit, pinned against it. His mouth couldn't make a sound; they could only exchange saliva.

Aozawa gazed at the stunning beauty so close to him. Those pitch-black eyes seemed to have a flame burning within their depths.

Her breath, hot as fire, washed over his face, as if trying to melt him.

If Aozawa had one complaint, it was that his hands were pinned, and his chest felt crushed by heavy mountains. He wanted to experience more but could only offer token resistance, squirming slightly.

He tried to embody the saying, "Where there's a will, there's a way."

Morimoto Chiyoda's breathing grew noticeably heavier and hotter, but she didn't continue pressing him down. Instead, she quickly let go and stepped back, saying, "Is this way of welcoming you back exciting?"

"Please keep it up every day."

"Depends on my mood. Heh heh."

Morimoto Chiyoda let out a joyful laugh. She licked her upper lip, and her narrowed eyes, like a fox eying meat on a plate, glinted with a soul-stirring allure.

"Don't just stand there at the door looking dumb. Hurry up and wash your hands for dinner."

She turned around. Her large T-shirt covered her super-short denim shorts, her long legs swaying before his eyes.

Even though the curves outlined by tight pants were missing, the illusion that she wore nothing under the T-shirt was also quite appealing to Aozawa.

"Chitose~" He lunged forward and embraced her. Surprisingly, Morimoto Chiyoda didn't dodge, allowing him to hold her.

A beauty in his arms. Her soft hair felt silky against his cheek, and her mature, irresistible perfume filled his senses.

He couldn't help rubbing against her and said, "Chitose, why don't you use those long legs of yours to help me with my current predicament?"

Morimoto Chiyoda glanced at him sideways, flicked his head with her hand, and said, "Nope~"

Her already seductive voice seemed to be laced with honey at that moment.

"You should watch fewer of those comics, making such an outrageous request."

Morimoto Chiyoda rolled her eyes. If legs could solve the problem, they might as well go all the way. After all, if they were already using legs, what was the difference from using *that* place?

"Let go."

Her voice was calm when she spoke.

For the chance to hold Morimoto Chiyoda again, Aozawa could only release his hold, but not before giving a light squeeze.

A tingling numbness spread from her chest throughout her body, and Morimoto Chiyoda nearly lost her footing. Yet she kept her expression unchanged and raised her hand, saying, "There, good boy. Let's eat."

"I have to work overtime tonight, so don't stay out too late. Make sure to come back on time."

"Okay."

Aozawa wondered aloud, "Is it your boss making you work overtime?"

"No, I've run into a rather tough character and need to put in some extra time to deal with him."

Morimoto Chiyoda shook her head.

Two of Mohammed's men had been caught, but they hadn't revealed anything useful.

Nomura Shimba was still active in the shadows. Because his two men had been captured, he might harbor vengeful thoughts towards them. He needed to be dealt with quickly so the special task force could continue handling Dio's case.

"Who is it?"

"This is adult business, not for kids to worry about. Let's eat."

Morimoto Chiyoda didn't elaborate. She sat down, planning to rush back to Shinjuku after dinner to deal with the Mohammed situation.

"Okay."

Aozawa shrugged, deciding to use Schrödinger's Cat later to see what exactly Morimoto Chiyoda was busy with.

...

After dinner, Aozawa went for his usual night run.

Morimoto Chiyoda collected the dishes, put them in the dishwasher, then returned to her room to change her underwear.

Teasing Aozawa was a double-edged sword; it affected her too. But she still enjoyed it, relishing the thrill of walking on a knife's edge—just like that time at noon when she used an M500 to block bullets. The mere thought of it excited her even now.

Morimoto Chiyoda took the train to Shinjuku. The women-only car seemed particularly empty.

As the train neared Shinjuku, it gradually filled with more passengers.

She still got off at Okubo Station.

Outside Okubo Station at night, more bloggers were live-streaming by the road.

Some showcased their talents, playing instruments and singing. Others just writhed about, their appeal lost on any potential audience.

Morimoto Chiyoda declined several invitations to go to bars and arrived at Hisamatsu Apartment.

She swiftly walked to the second floor and knocked on a door.

The door inside opened quickly.

"Morimoto, you took too long to get here."

Emily's complaint floated from the living room. Morimoto Chiyoda shrugged and said, "This is unpaid overtime, so spare me the commentary. My workday has already been long enough."

"Cradle snatcher," Ito Otome said coldly, actually going back specifically to cook for a high school boy.

Morimoto Chiyoda retorted with annoyance, "Necrophiliac." It was one thing for Emily, out of common sense, to criticize her feelings towards Aozawa. But what right did this woman, who enjoyed doing *those* things to corpses, have to speak here?

"I simply have a passion for medical science. Don't view my dissections with your filthy gaze."

"Love knows no age. You can't even grasp that, yet you pretend to be so rigorous. You're just a weirdo who likes corpses."

"Alright, you two, don't start bickering every time you meet."

Emily interrupted them.

Initially, the two of them quarreled simply because one couldn't stand the smell of perfume and the other the smell of disinfectant. Now, it had gradually escalated into arguments about everything.

"Your relationship can't actually be good, can it?"

Hearing Emily's words, Morimoto Chiyoda said expressionlessly, "What kind of joke is that? You mean like those people who bicker constantly but are secretly close? That only happens in TV dramas. In reality, if you hate someone, you genuinely hate them."

"Well, wonders never cease. Even your dog's mouth can occasionally spit out ivory."

On this matter, Ito Otome surprisingly agreed with Morimoto Chiyoda's opinion; her disgust was certainly no fabrication.

Katerina offered tea at the right moment, saying, "Let's not talk about that. Sit down and have some tea first."

"Okay."

Morimoto Chiyoda sat on the single sofa and asked, "Still no leads on Mohammed?"

Emily replied honestly, "Those two underlings are tough nuts to crack, though they're not very bright. From their oblique remarks, I can roughly guess what kind of person Mohammed is. If I'm not mistaken, he's likely inside one of the Yakuza organizations in Tokyo."

"Why do you say that?"

"He's a cautious yet audacious fellow who likes to set traps to lure people in. The Yakuza have the manpower he needs," Emily replied. "I've already had Iwaki and Jack increase surveillance on Yakuza activities."

Morimoto Chiyoda frowned slightly and asked, "If he and Dio appear at the same time, who should we prioritize?"

"Dio."

Emily answered decisively. Compared to Dio, Mohammed would definitely be a lower priority.

Morimoto Chiyoda then asked, "Has there been any news of a cure from the hospital today?"

Emily shook her head. "No news of a cure, nor have any strange new patients appeared. Dio probably hasn't made a move. Alternatively, he might have already targeted people who are hard to find, so any news would be delayed. Ah, thinking about it this way, the scope seems to have widened again."

Emily scratched her head. Deciding not to dwell on it, she picked up her tea, took a sip, and added some sugar to soothe her nerves.

Inside the room, Iwaki Kususuke suddenly shouted, "There's movement!"

"Dio or Mohammed?"

Emily quickly set down her tea.

Iwaki Kususuke answered, "Not sure. I just saw an obviously foreign individual loitering around the Matsumoto Group leader's house in Setagaya. By appearance, he doesn't look like Dio as you described him. He has very dark skin, a shaven head, and a thick neck, like a bundle of steel rebar. He's tall and powerfully built, wearing a floral T-shirt and baggy pants. On his feet are oversized slippers. Ah, that guy spotted my drone!"

As Iwaki Kususuke spoke, the screen went black. He exclaimed angrily, "Damn it! The bastard threw a rock and smashed my drone!"

...

"Bullseye!" Stein Singleton chirped, delighted as a boy who'd just sunk a crumpled paper ball into a trash can.

The earpiece he was wearing carried his companion's voice again.

"Stein, take this seriously. If we let Mohammad escape again, it will be hard to explain to our superiors."

"Don't worry. Now that no one is helping him, Nomura Shimba is just a fish in a net."

Stein looked indifferent; this wasn't his first encounter with Mohammed.

That guy had attempted to assassinate the president several times and had gotten away with it each time.

Not only did he embarrass the CIA and the FBI, but even the Secret Service, responsible for protecting the president, lost face, making them look inept.

Previously, the Swastika Society had helped Mohammed cover his tracks in the United States, allowing him to escape whenever his assassination attempts failed.

Okamura Togihiko, identified as part of the Swastika Society, was dead. His confidants had also been wiped out by CIA agents. Consequently, the once-mighty Nomura Shimba had fallen to using Yakuza members for his errands and to gather information.

He won't escape this time. Stein circled the compound, selecting a suitable point of infiltration.

With a light leap, his massive body—built of muscles as strong as steel rebar—seemed as light as a feather. He silently flipped over the wall like a cat and landed in the courtyard.

"Stein, don't underestimate him. Even now, Mohammed is still a formidable opponent."

"Quit your chattering. I know better than anyone how tricky that guy is. In this world, apart from me, I doubt anyone can beat him."

Stein retorted. His flippant words were characteristic of his personality, but they didn't mean he underestimated Mohammed in his heart.

He approached the room where he suspected the target might be.