Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner Chapter 686 - 435: The Kujo Family Is in Your Hands! (Part 3

"That’s right, the detective team needs fresh blood," Minamoto Tamako said happily, giving Taira Sakurako a pat on the shoulder. "From today on, you’re the fourth mber of the detective team!"

"Mm." Taira Sakurako nodded.

Great, General Tamako now has another fierce fighter under her command!

Minamoto Tamako quickly changed her clothes. Her main purpose for coming here was to et the family head, so she hadn’t prepared a proper suit. The most appropriate attire for heading out to the police station to solve a case was her sportswear.

Taira Sakurako didn’t have formal attire to wear either. As usual, she donned her overalls and a small short-sleeve shirt. She was very fond of overalls because they could hold many things, and there was a pocket in front of the belly, just like Doraemon’s, where she could pull things out.

Once everything was ready, Minamoto Tamako led Taira Sakurako out the door, striding boldly.

"Since you’ve joined the detective team, you should call captain. Investigating cases is no child’s play. You need to be prepared!"

On the way to the police station, Minamoto Tamako seized the opportunity to educate the team mber, reinforcing her leadership within the detective team.

"No, or I’ll quit." Taira Sakurako remained stubborn, not wanting to be just a team mber.

Minamoto Tamako was taken aback and slightly displeased. She said, "The detective team isn’t a marketplace where you can co and go as you please. If you want to quit, you have to write a ten-thousand-word resignation letter. You can only quit if I approve it."

"What if I don’t write it? What will happen?" Taira Sakurako asked.

Minamoto Tamako was too embarrassed to say ’nothing will happen,’ so she exaggerated the seriousness: "Then you’ll lose the right to investigate cases. There are countless people vying to work on cases now. You might not even get the chance if you want to investigate!"

"Is that so?" Taira Sakurako was half-convinced.

"Of course, why else would I be the captain? Didn’t you see my grandfather personally entrusted with handling the case? There are so many people at the Otaru Police Station wanting to take this case but haven’t gotten the chance!" Minamoto Tamako held her head high, and her steps beca much more lively as she walked.

"But I don’t want to be a team mber." Taira Sakurako persisted with her principle.

Minamoto Tamako didn’t press further and offered a compromise: "Then you can be the deputy captain, my assistant, standing on equal footing with in the future."

Taira Sakurako reluctantly accepted: "Alright then, I’ll be the deputy captain."

She planned to have Fushimi Roku call her deputy captain when she got back that evening. A little rank is still better than being just a team mber.

...

anwhile, team mber Fushimi Roku was on a tram heading to the seafood market in Otaru City.

The seaside pier was a mid-point stop, so when he got on, there were still seats available. After ten or so stops, the tram beca crowded.

It was filled with suit-wearing office workers—n and won, old and young—all kinds. Fushimi Roku blended in and felt like being in a ’canned office worker’ scene.

Looks like the work pressure in Hokkaido isn’t small either...

When Fushimi Roku squeezed out of the tram, the sea breeze brought with it a strong sll of sea salt and fishiness.

Along the dock, low gray-blue corrugated iron warehouses were lined up, and silver ventilation ducts on the roofs constantly expelled white mist. Cranes hovered over rusty trawlers, with the nas of the fishery companies inscribed on the ships’ hulls.

Everywhere on the road were stacks of foam boxes, lting ice water mixed with fish scales pooled in potholes, and workers in rubber aprons were shoveling silvery mackerel into refrigerated trucks.

Several seagulls pecked at bits of fish guts on the ground, flapping their wings and flying up as Fushimi Roku walked by.

It completely lacked the fresh aura depicted in TV dramas about Otaru City. His first impression was one of filth and chaos. The fishmongers bore tattoos on their arms, certainly not making it seem like a tourist attraction.

"Uh, Shuitan Fish Shop... Shuitan Fish Shop..."

Fushimi Roku murmured to himself, passing by nurous fish shops until he finally stopped in front of a shop with a "Shuitan Fish Shop" standing sign.

The cedar counter was covered with knife marks and water stains, and leftover fish scales glimred silver in the sunlight. In the foam boxes stacked by the wall, crushed ice covered the half-exposed mackerel tail fins.

The store’s entrance was draped with hanging cloth, inside which a patchy ledger board could be seen, with scribbled chalk writings recording nas like "Chishima" and "Ishikari" from fishing grounds.

In the corner, an iron sink dripped dark red liquid, collecting sticky fish guts at the bottom.

The shop owner was gutting fish with a sharp knife, wearing a black plastic apron, with a full beard and muscular arms. He glanced at Fushimi Roku and asked, "What do you want?"

Fushimi Roku held his briefcase and took a step back to avoid getting splattered with fish blood.

"Kujo Mutsumi sent ." He leaned forward to see inside, "Who’s in charge here?"

Imdiately, fish shop owners from around stood up, with fish knives in hand, closing in. The Shuitan Fish Shop owner chopped the sharp knife in his hand onto the chopping board, rolled up his sleeves revealing arm tattoos and said, "It’s , so what? Who are you?"

Fushimi Roku didn’t bring a business card, lest he truly beco a worker ant.

He intended to take out his police badge from inside his coat but thought better of it, given these people were from the underworld of sorts, and they might react dangerously.

To avoid accidentally hurting allies, Fushimi Roku resorted to na-dropping, ntioning people in the Freljord’s fashion:

"Do you know Ishii Takamasa? No? How about Sazaki Gen? Not him either? Surely you know the Yamaguchi Group... No knowledge there? What about Zhao Chunshu?"

"Oh! You know old Zhao! Well, that’s good, we’re on the sa side. I heard Mr. Chunshu ran a restaurant in Hokkaido back in the day and did business with you, right?"

"How about I give him a call... Moshi moshi? It’s ... No big deal, just back in Hokkaido... No need for a al, but have you heard of the Shuitan Fish Shop?"

"Northern Association? Never heard of them... Oh, a similar union for unemployed fishern and seafood workers? Also a violent syndicate, got it..."

"Want to have a chat with them? Just exchange a few pleasantries. They’re standing right next to , and they have knives... Okay, I’ll hand the phone over."

The Shuitan Fish Shop owner took the phone, turned around, and walked inside the shop to converse with Zhao Chunshu for over ten minutes.

After returning his deanor was much cooler, and he handed back the phone to Fushimi Roku, asking, "Do they all dress like office workers in Tokyo?"

Fushimi Roku went along with it, "Tis have changed, haven’t you heard of the ’Anti-Organized Cri Law’? Now syndicates are trying to go legit."

The Shuitan Fish Shop owner wasn’t much bothered by it, pulled aside the curtain, and led Fushimi Roku into the shop to sit down. Other seafood shop owners didn’t disperse; instead, they circled around, coldly eyeing Fushimi Roku.

Next ca the typical round of self-introductions. The Shuitan Fish Shop owner had the surna Mizutani and full na Mizutani Junichiro, currently the leader of the Northern Association, with more than eighty people under him.

Listening just to the number might not give much of a concept; one might think that with just eighty people, what waves could be made.

However, in truth, taking East University criminals as an example, the average ranges from a few to dozens of people. Family-style gangs usually have five to thirty people, enough to dominate a village, and cross-village industrial gangs typically have twenty to fifty people, enough to monopolize over ninety percent of local construction projects.

Japan’s land is already small, so a syndicate with over eighty mbers, with core mbers being bureaucrats and tycoons, is already enough to wrestle for control in Hokkaido.

With no comparison to the Yamaguchi Group, which has thousands to tens of thousands, they are after all the big boss of Japan. There’s no need to compare with the leader in everything.

While out, one’s identity is self-given. Fushimi Roku falsely claid to be a cadre of the Inakawa Association, and he is the future son-in-law of the Kujo Family, being invited by his fiancée’s grandfather to investigate the murder case.

The use of vague terms like "that murder case" was because Fushimi Roku currently didn’t even know the victim’s na or the details of the incident; he only knew soone died, hence the broad description.

Mizutani Junichiro scratched his head upon hearing it, feeling that this guy had quite the background, whether it was Inakawa Association or Kujo Family, he couldn’t afford to provoke either.

"Actually, we’ve already got so leads..."

Mizutani Junichiro intended to bluff a little, not wanting the Northern Association to appear ineffective, after all, they do earn a lot of money for the Kujo Family every year.

When he originally picked up this murder case, he boasted that he’d catch the murderer within three days, and now it’s already been over a week, with soone from the Kujo Family coming to take over, he needed to at least produce so progress to account for it.

"Then go on and say it," Fushimi Roku patiently urged, taking a black notebook from his pocket. "Start from the beginning—how did this murder case happen?"

anwhile, Minamoto Tamako was sitting in the Otaru City Police Station office, a dossier spread out in front of her.

She said the sa thing to the investigating criminal police: "Please detail the course of the incident."