Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner Chapter 297 - 218: Human Hearts are More Poisonous than Ghos

"Tricking her into mixed bathing, acting like a pervert."

Minus ten points!

Minamoto Tamako fud, holding a grudge, and the White Notebook had beco her personal grievance register, with scores only being deducted, never added.

After all, she was a proper lady. How could Mr. Fushimi make such a joke?

In the 1990s, Japan’s sexual attitudes were in a state of extre licentiousness and extre conservatism. During this period, Japan’s sex industry reached unprecedented prosperity, which simultaneously t with moral opposition, though small in volu, but indeed present.

In the family education of won from the elite class, abstaining from promiscuity, avoiding dirty jokes, and not making vulgar jokes were the most common teachings. Even the daughter’s marriage partner was appointed by the parents.

As for n, there was no sex education whatsoever.

This was also one of the reasons for the severe gender conflict in Japan.

Under Kujo Yua’s upbringing, Minamoto Tamako was particularly obtuse in this aspect and couldn’t understand the special hints from the opposite sex at all — for example, Yoshimura Yu’s subtle hints, or even Fujiwara Homare’s workplace harassnt, which were all too obscure for her.

Fushimi Roku hadn’t harassed other won yet, so Minamoto Tamako didn’t have any template to learn from.

Of course, massaging feet didn’t count as perverted, did it? Professional athletes often get massages to relax, and since she and Mr. Fushimi were both working as criminal police, occasionally massaging each other to relax was just part of adjusting their work state, with absolutely no improper inclinations!

After jotting down her grievance, Minamoto Tamako’s anger slightly subsided. She thought to let bygones be bygones and not waste her ti with the idiot Mr. Fushimi. She pouted and said, "Well then, you just enjoy soaking in the hot springs here leisurely! Anyway, I’m the only one concerned about Sakurako... Humph, I can find her even if I’m on my own!"

After speaking, Minamoto Tamako turned around to leave, secretly criticizing in her heart, what fragile sibling affection, showing that blood relations are not the only tric to asure emotions.

Mizutani Hiroshi and Mori Haji exchanged glances, thinking, do we not count as people?

After hesitating for a mont, they decided to lay their cards on the table, claiming that they couldn’t continue any longer and needed rest, especially Mori Haji, who had worn out the soles of his feet running back and forth with his cara. He was a journalist photographer, not a docuntary filmmaker, so his stamina wasn’t that terrifying.

"The police station will send officers to investigate tomorrow, then organize a village search party..."

"We can’t help anymore now, so we might as well rest well and talk again tomorrow..."

After finishing their routine, the two openly retreated.

Minamoto Tamako thought they had a bit of conscience, but not much. She wasn’t the type to be unreasonable, and she had no reason to stop them, so she had to let the journalist duo leave.

Now truly, she was left alone.

Minamoto Tamako turned her head, taking a look around the town district. It was pitch black everywhere, as there were no streetlights in the countryside. At night, there was silence all around, with only the sound of crickets.

Damn it, I can do this myself!

To avoid disturbing the travelers’ sleep, Minamoto Tamako sang softly, cheering herself up.

She knocked gently on the doors, looking for travelers who hadn’t arrived yet, to check for any missed eyewitnesses, only to be t with closed doors — this ti the innkeeper didn’t even bother to open the door, shouting through the window that it was too late and asking her to co back tomorrow.

After wandering for a long while, Minamoto Tamako still found nothing.

She stood under the Sakasaka Wall, gazing at the pebble-paved mountain path, unable to help but daze. Thinking back on the bits and pieces of her ti with Sakurako, she couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh.

Sakurako-chan, please, don’t let anything happen to you...

Just as she was lost in thought, a faint sound of sobbing drifted from afar, carried to her ears by the evening breeze.

Minamoto Tamako was montarily stunned but followed the sound over the pebbles, curiously walking into the forest along the Sakasaka Wall.

Callias were swept up by the night wind, brushing against her skirt. She slipped into the shrubbery, parted the wisteria vines that hung like willows, and moonlight poured over a patch of grass, where a young girl sat, weeping softly.

She was dressed in a dancing girl’s costu, her long black hair cascading onto the ground, looking particularly familiar.

Looking around, Minamoto Tamako did not see anyone else, reminding her imdiately of the mountain’s folktales: the roadside Yubaba, the man-eating monster disguised as an injured girl, and the terrifying ghost wandering the forest, sobbing...

It might just be this creature that took Taira Sakurako away!

She plucked up her courage, keeping her composure, and squeezed through the bushes, cautiously asking, "Um... do you need any help?"

The dancing girl shivered upon hearing the inquiry and raised her head, like a startled fawn.

Minamoto Tamako instantly recognized her; the girl in front was the dancing girl previously selling them the Fate Bell, appearing to be a normal living person. She imdiately breathed a sigh of relief.

As a police officer, encountering soone in trouble, she naturally wouldn’t ignore it.

Minamoto Tamako was very kind-hearted. She had encountered similar situations while serving as patrol police at the kōban, like runaway children, elderly who lost their wallets, girls who had just broken up with their boyfriends... People in distress always found a corner to cry silently, and it was at such tis one needed to reach out and give them help.

Nowadays, society is becoming increasingly atomized, with everyone only caring about their own affairs. However, she wasn’t that cold-hearted person. Even if she was considered ’nagging’, ’annoying’, ’nosy’, she would still ask more, to avoid missing those who truly needed help.

"What’s wrong? Did sothing happen? If you’re feeling upset, you can talk to !"

Minamoto Tamako smoothed her skirt, squatting in front of the dancing girl, trying to make her tone sound more gentle. The latter lifted her head, glancing at Minamoto Tamako, her gaze falling on the Fate Bell on Tamako’s wrist, and replied softly, "I... I accidentally sprained my ankle... If I go back now, I’ll definitely get scolded..."

Minamoto Tamako expressed understanding. Once she also missed a curfew as a child, fearing going ho, but in truth, her family’s scolding was out of care and not as frightening as it seed.

"If they know you were delayed because of an injury, they will surely feel for you! Don’t worry, I’ll explain for you then!"

Saying so, Minamoto Tamako squatted down, motioning for the girl to climb up, "You can’t walk like this, right? I’ll carry you back..."

The dancing girl hesitated, instinctively refusing, "This... wouldn’t it trouble you too much?"

"It’s okay! Even though I look like this, I’m a criminal police officer you know!" Minamoto Tamako clapped her left hand on her right arm, rolling up her sleeve to reveal her fair and untrained upper arm, "Look! Do you see the muscle? Wait... I haven’t even flexed yet..."

She blushed, earnestly trying to make her biceps appear larger.

"Uh, yes, I see..."

The dancing girl complinted her insincerely. Frankly speaking, the granny harvesting wheat in the mountains had bigger muscles than she did.

"Alright then, hop on!" Minamoto Tamako gave a thumbs up, looking all ’like a real man’.

Hearing this, the dancing girl no longer resisted. She staggered to her feet and leaned onto Minamoto Tamako’s back. The latter exhaled white vapor from her nostrils, planted her feet firmly, and barely managed her balance as she took step-by-step back towards the pebble path.

On the way back, Minamoto Tamako didn’t forget to gather information, "By the way... the bonfire party... you attended, right? May I ask... did you see a seven or eight-year-old... girl wearing a mask..."

She was speaking with pauses, looking as if she might faint at any mont.

"Didn’t notice her..."

Saying this, the dancing girl reached out gently, wrapped her arm around Minamoto Tamako’s neck, and with her other hand, drew a gleaming dagger from her waist.

Minamoto Tamako never had imagined that human minds could be darker than ghosts.