[April 1, 2022.]
[PM. 2:05]
[Four days until the entrance assessment.]
Kurusu Akira walked briskly down the streets of Shibuya, holding his phone. The advertisement screen on the building displayed a concert preview of a female idol group at the Budokan.
He felt that those girls looked familiar, so he looked down at his phone wallpaper.
Oh, he had indeed seen them before.
Kurusu Akira heard someone talking beside him.
"It's a group called 'Morfonica'…"
"Such prominent bass," a pedestrian also standing beneath the advertisement screen remarked.
"Is that bassist named Hiromachi Nanami? What a beautiful bass solo."
"Shouldn't it be expected of a band from Tsukinomori Academy?"
What was Tsukinomori? Kurusu Akira only remembered his alma mater was Gekkoukan Academy.
He had intended to turn around and leave, and also change his phone wallpaper.
But that intense bass solo clung to him like a phantom, impossible to shake off.
Kurusu Akira's finger, pressing on the settings page, just couldn't go down, and he finally stopped walking.
This was the first time he had heard such an astonishing bass solo.
After the prominent bass sound, orderly drum beats and guitar melodies gradually became the theme of the performance.
Gradually, the girls' singing became unclear, but his naturally drooping right hand suddenly trembled, his fingers unconsciously curling, as if pinching a pick, gliding over an invisible string.
Kurusu Akira raised his right hand; the sensation of tightly gripping a pick was so clear, yet there was nothing between his fingers.
He looked up, gazing at the stage on the building's screen. The glow sticks in the darkness became a brilliant galaxy surrounding an infinite, profound universe, and the girls at the center of the stage were infinitely dazzling stars within this infinite profundity.
The stars were too far from Earth; their emitted light always arrived late, but even so, it was enough to warm those who inadvertently basked in this light and heat.
Even across time and space, one was still infected by that fervent atmosphere.
The crowd's clamor passed by Kurusu Akira, leaving no impression in his heart. In fact, the singing from the broadcast was also blurry; he couldn't hear anything—his mind was now filled with fragments of guitar playing that flowed out inexplicably, like intricate lines extending wantonly into the blank spaces of memory. They formed imaginative hypothetical melodies, and also seemed to pave a road leading to the universe.
Kurusu Akira vaguely felt a pair of hands pushing him forward from behind, leading him step by step up to a lofty temple.
But when he came to his senses, he was just standing there in a daze, looking up at the building's advertisement screen, watching the concert preview replay again and again.
He clearly felt that the "heart" remaining in this body yearned immensely to reach that place.
Budokan, one of the venues recognized as a temple by Japanese musicians…
Almost every new band takes pride in being able to hold a concert at the Budokan.
That represents the ability to mobilize tens of thousands of people. For many moderately famous bands and singers, the highest level they can reach in their lifetime is this level.
To enter the Budokan is to enter the highest level of the pyramid; though one cannot touch the sun-bathed tip, one has already reached a status that requires countless people to look up to and worship.
He took a deep breath, trying to alleviate the throbbing in his heart in this way.
He wanted to play in a band.
But before that, he had to stabilize his studies first…
Unless playing in a band was very profitable.
Kurusu Akira turned his gaze to the streets of Shibuya.
He had an afternoon to choose auxiliary textbooks and exercise books for two people at the bookstore here, to cope with the courses for the entire upcoming semester.
Nina had been sent by him to find suitable tutoring institutions.
This girl was unexpectedly obedient; Kurusu Akira found that no matter what he said, she would nod and then meekly follow through.
After leaving the school gate, the two went their separate ways, determined to finalize their new semester plan before dinner.
After searching along the street for a while, Kurusu Akira stopped in front of a seemingly spacious bookstore.
He mentally reviewed all the subject names, then pushed the door open and entered.
----------------
"Hello, I need these exercise books."
Kurusu Akira placed a thick stack of books on the counter.
The bookstore employee took out a barcode scanner and read the QR codes on the back of each book, then occasionally operated the computer next to him.
"That will be 30,000 yen."
"Okay…" Kurusu Akira reluctantly counted out 30,000 yen from his wallet and handed it to him.
"Thank you for your patronage."
The employee bowed deeply, as if suddenly remembering something important, and immediately pointed to the bookshelf next to him, speaking to Kurusu Akira.
"Oh, by the way, you look like the type who would enjoy hot-blooded manga. The store is currently holding a limited-time offer for 'Jojo's bizarre adventure: Stone Ocean Anime & Manga.' If you're willing to buy the complete manga set for 40,000 yen, you'll also receive a commemorative anime DVD and an autograph poster from Mr. Araki."
Kurusu Akira looked at Jotaro Kujo on the manga cover, and his fingers uncontrollably reached into his wallet again.
Oh no, the Fukuzawa Yukichi are escaping!
-
[The Fukuzawa Yukichi have escaped!!]
[Phantom Thief obtained "English Dictionary," "Japanese Dictionary," and several "Workbooks"...]
[Phantom Thief obtained the complete Jojo's bizarre adventure: Stone Ocean manga set and commemorative DVD.]
[Phantom Thief's mental state, +10]
[Assets -70,000?]
[Current assets remaining: 75,450 yen]
-
"Thank you for your patronage!"
The bookstore employee showed a refreshing smile, and his voice became louder.
He stomped his foot, bowed ninety degrees, and then extended both hands to receive the trembling banknotes Kurusu Akira handed over.
'Haha, I bought a lot of books today.'
'But why am I not happy at all?'
Kurusu Akira walked out of the bookstore with two heavy plastic bags full of books, his steps faltering.
The sun shone on his back, his shoulders slumped, making his shadow appear somewhat hunched.
----------------
"So many books."
Nina exclaimed sincerely.
She had never seen such a wide variety of exercise books in Kumamoto. The colorful covers, blurred and overlapping through the plastic bags, looked like a palette of mixed paints, making one feel a bit nauseous.
The two met in the waiting area of Shibuya Station.
"Can you help me carry the exercise books?" As he spoke, Kurusu Akira, whose shoulders and arms were aching unbearably, had already shifted the plastic bag to her hand.
High-intensity exercise, lack of sleep, high-intensity part-time work, and carrying two large stacks of books for an entire street's distance…
Kurusu Akira felt like his shoulder and elbow joints were about to dislocate.
"Mm!" Nina quickly took the plastic bag from his hand, then let out a surprised gasp.
"It's so heavy!"
"Do you get it now? This is the weight of knowledge."
"No wonder teachers always say, 'filling your backpack with books is more powerful than filling it with cash.'"
"I'm not sure if it's bulletproof, but it can definitely stop a mugger's knife."
As they were talking, the train arrived at the station.
The train car's sliding doors slowly opened, and office workers rushing for the evening rush hour swarmed in; the night was their working time.
Kurusu Akira squeezed into the train, hugging about a kilogram of "Jojo's bizarre adventure," and Iseri Nina followed suit, hugging her exercise books.
The stacked corners of the books were particularly sharp, yet they felt solid and heavy.
With the help of the books, they were able to push through the crowded flow of people like bulldozers.
Iseri Nina, being sensible, moved past Kurusu Akira and led the way, which saved Kurusu Akira a lot of energy.
After a difficult squeeze through the crowd, Iseri Nina and Kurusu Akira found empty seats at the back of the car.
"What is this now?" Iseri Nina panted, exhausted.
"The power of knowledge." Kurusu Akira wasn't much better off; his already pale complexion now showed a look of utter exhaustion, as if his lamp was running out of oil.
But he was very satisfied with his little follower. "I'll treat you to coffee tonight."
"With extra milk!"
A somewhat sleepy Iseri Nina seemed to perk up instantly.
It seemed she really liked lattes.
Kurusu Akira noted this important piece of information in his mind.
At this time, the sky was darkening, and the setting sun lazily shone into the train car.
It was as if they were inside a giant stemmed glass, with someone pouring wine downwards, the sticky liquid quickly coating the glass walls, everything seen was as red as blood.
They were almost home.
Kurusu Akira gently nudged Iseri Nina, who had started swaying beside him and looked like she was about to fall asleep at any moment.
The sudden feeling of weightlessness instantly startled the girl awake.
She shivered, then saw Kurusu Akira's face, which was devastatingly handsome in the twilight glow, and all her little temper tantrums vanished.
"Let's go," Kurusu Akira said, getting up with the manga and discs in his arms.
Iseri Nina quickly followed.
The train car was still crowded, with a group of urban white-collar workers standing rigidly, their arms outstretched upwards, connected to the hanging straps above the car.
They seemed to have stumbled into a tired forest.
Every tree was panting with exhaustion, as if forever standing straight.
Thinking about it this way, one might also feel they were like giraffes. Besides illness and death, nothing could make them fall; they would just stand there forever, stretching their necks as much as possible towards the sun, hoping for a little bit of promotion and opportunity.
But trees are felled by lumberjacks, and giraffes are shot in the heart by hunting rifles, then sway and fall to the ground.
Whether as a tree or as a giraffe, it seems the sovereignty of their lives is not in their own hands.
Iseri Nina carefully observed her surroundings.
This was a sight she had never seen in Kumamoto City.
This was the unique urban color of Tokyo, even if it looked excessively gloomy, making one think of many melancholic things.
The white-collar workers stood rigidly, their other free hand either fiddling with their phones or tidying their briefcases, then emitting faint breaths.
Collars tightened by ties clung perfectly to their skin; sometimes life was like this tie, only by pulling it tight until even breathing was difficult could one live respectably. When facing their wives and children at home, the fatigue of supporting the family seemed to be easily dismissed, "It's not that I'm tired, it's just that the tie is tied too tightly."
...
"Why don't they try loosening their ties? It looks very hard."
As they neared the station, Iseri Nina finally couldn't help but ask Kurusu Akira beside her.
Being close, she could smell his laundry detergent.
A slight flush appeared on the girl's face when she realized her lack of personal space.
"You should say that to the court ladies of 17th-century Victorian England… To gain a foothold in a competitive palace, it was all about who could lace their corsets tighter."
Kurusu Akira heard her comment and responded with an example from a history book.
Iseri Nina immediately shrank her head, not daring to speak again.
The train arrived at the station.
Kurusu Akira and Iseri Nina left the car.
The tired forest still stood behind them.
The train doors moved along their fixed grooves until they closed.
At least for now, the lives of the boy and girl and those in that train car were still parallel.
----------------
When they returned to LeBlanc, it was already dark.
Kurusu Akira went behind the counter and skillfully began making coffee.
Iseri Nina sat by the dining table, sorting through two sets of study guides.
Only after she finished her coffee and returned to the Sakura Residence to rest did Kurusu Akira begin tidying the counter and kitchen, then took a shower in the bathroom, changed his clothes, and wearily carried the books from the table up to the attic.
He was not in a hurry to flip through those exercise books.
"Jojo's bizarre adventure."
On the cover of the manga, powerful artistic lettering caught his eye.
Kurusu Akira almost impatiently opened the pages of the manga.
"Pucci…?!",
Kurusu Akira looked at the familiar face in the manga, his mouth agape, an unparalleled shock surging in his heart.
Before he transmigrated to this world, the last target he stole sin from was precisely this elusive priest!
The difficulty of that operation could rank among the top five in his life experience.
If it weren't for the strong support provided by a few friends he met in prison during this operation, he might have died under the lighthouse in America.
Opening the manga, familiar people and objects began to appear.
Manga was manga, after all, completely different from his past experiences.
For example, Jotaro Kujo actually visited America for "prison visits," and even had a time-stopping… [Persona]?
Another example was how they could freely use this power, similar to a [Persona], in reality.
...
Recalling the details from back then, many of the doubts at the time were now being answered.
Kurusu Akira flipped through the manga faster and faster.
Even though this story didn't have a "Phantom Thief" who had once saved the world, seeing his friends, with whom he had faced life and death, struggling in despair, inevitably stirred up a longing for "home" in his heart.
One manga volume reached its end.
Kurusu Akira looked at "Hirohiko Araki"'s autograph on the blank page, feeling as if he had been struck by lightning, his body numb and stiff.
Those familiar scenes suddenly connected into a continuous film reel. They were immersed in water, blurry and indistinct, close at hand yet separated by a layer of photographic emulsion that seemed to burst at a touch, leaving one to watch helplessly as the black and white colors gradually became the passage of time, becoming cherished but no longer reachable memories.
He had to meet this author if he had the chance.
Slam. Kurusu Akira closed the manga book in his hand.
It was then that he noticed an old man with a helpless expression standing in the attic, he didn't know when he had arrived.
Immediately after, a thick stack of "Fukuzawa Yukichi" was handed to Kurusu Akira.
"This is…"
Kurusu Akira, sitting on the bed with "Jojo's bizarre adventure" in his hands, was somewhat surprised.
Sakura Sojiro: "You worked hard today. This is extra pay."
"Isn't this too much?" Kurusu Akira felt the weight of the banknotes in his hand, feeling a surge of unease.
Sakura Sojiro: "I promised you this, so just take it."
Kurusu Akira searched for his wallet, but found that the money simply wouldn't fit.
Sakura Sojiro, seeing this, reminded him: "There's an ATM near LeBlanc. You can deposit the money into your bank card there; it'll be more convenient to use."
The reliable middle-aged man asked Kurusu Akira, "You have a bank card, right?"
"Yes, I do." Kurusu Akira pulled out a bank card from a crevice in his wallet.
"You have quite a bit of money on you now. It's safer to keep a little cash for emergencies and deposit the rest into your card."
Kurusu Akira went downstairs obediently.
Strangely, he felt that the dim staircase was like a gateway to hell.
He felt as if he had forgotten something very important.
But it was just a "feeling," so Kurusu Akira didn't dwell on it.
Until fifteen minutes later.
A desperate shout came from the ATM in Yongen-Jaya.
"Where the hell is my money?!"
A full 190,000 yen was deposited into the bank card, but after a few seconds of delay, the balance shockingly jumped to "0.000."
Immediately after, a text message popped up on his phone: "Debt repayment successful."
At this moment, Kurusu Akira's entire fortune consisted of only 10,000 yen in cash.
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