Chapter 809

Mid-September, Thursday, Tokyo, Shinjuku Station.

Tokyo and Shinjuku Station and places like Shibuya Station may have the world's most complex subway network system, that whole dense web of subway traffic enough to let anyone get lost here for over half an hour, not to mention here and there are signs in Shikoku languages, staring at them a bit longer will cause text to collapse.

At 9:41 a. m., Tokyo's morning rush hour had just ended.

The Yamanote Line inner loop trains had resumed normal operation for twenty minutes.

The crowd on the platform had finally thinned from the earlier suffocating, sardine-can density to scattered office workers, young mothers pushing strollers, foreign tourists dragging suitcases, and several obviously unemployed youths—one with dyed yellow hair working part-time, an old man in activewear, a YouTuber holding up a phone to film.

Everything looked no different from any other weekday morning.

At 9:43 a. m., at the Chuo Rapid Line platform, a station attendant received a radio report from the driver's cabin: "Signal ahead shows abnormality, please confirm the status of the downline tracks on the Chuo Rapid Line."

The station attendant grabbed a flashlight and walked down onto the tracks, walking forward over a hundred meters along the rails, and in the beam of the flashlight saw something. A person.

Lying prone on the downline tracks, face down, wearing a cheap dark blue suit.

The body twisted into an unnatural angle, cervical spine clearly broken, around it a pool of dark red liquid, already half-solidified.

Time of death estimated between thirty minutes and one hour ago—that is, during the peak of the morning rush, this person jumped down, but for some reason was not immediately discovered.

Possibly blown to the outside of the tracks by wind from a passing train, or possibly the morning rush driver simply didn't notice.

The station attendant spoke into the walkie-talkie, voice steady as if reporting the weather: "Chuo Rapid Line downline, bodily accident found inside the tracks. Body confirmed. Please notify officers and ambulance."

No panic, no trembling.

This is routine for JR East.

By this day this year, Tokyo Metropolis alone has already seen forty-one railway bodily accidents, the vast majority being track-jumping suicides. One every three or four days.

Station attendants long ago developed muscle memory—find body, report, seal scene, wait for police to record, move body, inspect tracks, resume operation—the whole process standardized like a factory assembly line.

Rather than ponder why someone would suicide here and why they would do it, it's better to think about what to eat tonight.

This is Japan, as Koizumi Wai said.

"Every time someone jumps the tracks, it means someone died! I think this can't go on, so regarding track-jumping suicide, I believe those who choose this path absolutely have their reasons!"

At 9:52 a. m., two JR-uniformed workers carrying blue plastic sheeting and a folding stretcher descended onto the tracks.

They followed standard procedure: one responsible for covering the body with white cloth and checking personal effects, one responsible for contacting the station control room, reporting the scene.

"He has a bag." Worker A crouched, saw the corpse's right hand tightly gripping a black handbag. Briefcase-sized, ordinary nylon surface, zipper half-open, seemed to contain something inside.

"Move it aside first, don't worry about the bag, wait for people to come and collect together." Worker B said.

Worker A nodded, reached out to grab the bag, intending to pull it from the corpse's hand and set it aside to facilitate wrapping the body. His fingers touched the bag's zipper.

A gentle tug, the bag's interior emitted a drip sound.

"Huh?" Worker A made a puzzled expression, he tried to pull open the zipper to see what was inside, but hesitated due to occupational duty and not violating others' privacy.

"Hey, Hagi, what are you doing? Still hand things over to the police..." Worker B was shouting when.

The world seemed to freeze for a moment.

Then the world was torn open a gap.

"BOOM!!!"

The explosion's shockwave spread along the station base, like an invisible giant hand hurling track gravel and metal fragments into the air. The crowd on the platform first froze, then screamed and scattered in all directions.

The YouTuber holding a phone happened to point the camera toward the tracks, capturing the moment flames shot up from below. Two seconds later, the video began spreading wildly across Japan's major SNS.

Worker A collapsed about five meters from the body, left arm gone below the elbow, the wound a bloody mess with white bone exposed. Worker B was flung onto the tracks by the shockwave, his back and buttocks embedded with over a dozen tiny steel balls, emitting a sound not human—between a scream and a moan.

Smoke rose from the tracks, mixed with a burnt smell and metallic rust odor.

"Bomb! There's a bomb! Get back! Get back, teeth!!!"

"Oh no, the subway exploded!"

"Hey there, crispy sharks! Good morning! Emergency situation! Emergency situation! This is YouTuber Nanmin Nana7mi! I'm currently on the xX line XX station at Shinjuku Station, just now an explosion happened here! Situation unclear! I'll keep broadcasting for everyone here!" "This is Azusa, cute since childhood……now nobody knows what's going on, why don't I sing everyone a song 'Guest'?" "Uh-oh, cops coming! I'll dodge first, otherwise my stuff gets confiscated!"

JR East's director Minami Takeshi received this news early that morning, he shuddered violently.

TMD, could it be our Japanese subway is a suicide paradise?

Why do they all come here to kill themselves?

Now suicide isn't enough, they added bombs too?

Are you sick?!!!

I really doubt how idle some people are!!!

Can't you go kill yourself in Aokigahara Forest? At least you'd fertilize the woods!

A subordinate asked: "Director, the scene has already been handled by the nearby koban, should we request help from the Metropolitan Police Department? Like... Special Mission Division?"

"Request support from the Special Mission Division!" Director Minami Takeshi said impatiently: "Call Uesugi! Call Uesugi!!!"

"Let Uesugi get to the bottom of everything, otherwise later everyone will bring bombs to jump tracks in the subway? The country will cease to be a country!" "Yes!!!"

The Metropolitan Police Department Criminal Investigation Department Special Mission Division's vehicle arrived at Shinjuku Station at 10:11 a. m.

The black Toyota Camry made no siren, no flashing lights, directly drove out from the Metropolitan Police Department Headquarters via Sakuradamon, took the Shuto Expressway Inner Circular Route, entered via Outer Moat Road to Shinjuku Station East Exit, the whole trip eighteen minutes.

After the car stopped, Ikeda Erena got out first, then Nango Yui.

Uesugi Muneyuki slowly descended from the front passenger seat.

He wore a dark gray three-piece suit, vest buttoned meticulously, dark red tie, a corner of white handkerchief showing from the chest pocket. The station had been completely sealed off. Mobile units had erected double-layer yellow police lines, isolating the entire Chuo Rapid Line station. The explosion occurred an hour ago, but the station still gathered a large crowd of onlookers—media reporters, curious passersby, net celebrities live-streaming with phones. Outside the police line, crowds surged, flashbulbs popping here and there. On Twitter, "Shinjuku Station explosion," "hand mouth," "self-blast" etc. terms already occupied six of the top ten trends. Even overseas media began reporting "Tokyo subway suspected terrorist attack."

"It's Uesugi, Uesugi is here!" A large group of self-media and YouTubers nearby immediately swarmed him, Uesugi Muneyuki's expression grave, he nodded but said nothing, Ikeda Erena habitually pulled out her police handbook from her swollen collar and flashed it, those nearby immediately stepped back. "Master, you wait here a moment, I and Nango will go down." Uesugi Muneyuki said.

Erena nodded, her other affairs actually couldn't help anyway.

The two descended one after another.

The scene was cleaner than expected.

The explosion's range was small, concentrated within a two-to-three-meter radius around the body.

The two injured had already been carried away to hospital, the ground left with large bloodstains and scattered debris.

Uesugi Muneyuki crouched down, not rushing to look at the body, but first observed the distribution of the fragments.

He noticed a detail: the explosion's epicenter seemed to be at the right hand of the corpse—specifically, where the handbag was located. The torso remained relatively intact, but the right hand was completely blown apart, and the right side of the chest cavity had been torn open into an irregular hole.

"It's a homemade bomb, low yield, placed inside the bag. The trigger mechanism might be pressure-sensitive or tripwire-activated." Uesugi Muneyuki said, pulling tweezers and an evidence bag from the box, picking up a small steel ball embedded in a sleeper gap, holding it up to examine: "Loaded with steel balls for shrapnel—not to kill, but to injure more people—so the fragments fly farther and wound more."

Nango Yui stood behind him, hands in her pants pockets, her gaze sweeping over the corpse on the tracks and the scattered debris: "If he wanted to kill more people, why not put the bomb on the platform? Placing it on the tracks meant the platform absorbed most of the blast, greatly reducing its effect." Uesugi Muneyuki did not immediately respond.

He placed the steel ball into the evidence bag, then leaned in to examine the corpse. He opened the lining of the victim's suit jacket and found, in the pocket, a partially destroyed IC transit card and a soaked employee ID.

The photo on the employee ID was still fairly clear—an ordinary male face, thirties, heavy dark circles, downturned mouth corners, eyes showing an indescribable fatigue.

"Tanaka Seiichi, thirty-four, unmarried." Nango Yui took the employee ID and glanced at it, simultaneously pulling out her phone from her pocket, which already displayed the preliminary investigation report sent from the station police office: "Systems engineer at a certain company, dispatched employee, take-home annual income about four million yen. Resides in a 1LDK apartment in Saitama Prefecture. At 6:43 this morning, he tapped his IC card to enter Shinjuku Station, with no exit record afterward." "He entered the subway at six, so why did the bomb not detonate until after nine?" Uesugi Muneyuki raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Death Soul Contract, activate!

"It's actually Uesugi? It's actually Uesugi! I never imagined you'd come to examine my corpse! This is, this is absolutely explosive!"

"Can I make the front page? Can I be the main figure in big news? Can I let all of Japan hear my name? Can I be the source material for your adaptation of 'God's Hand'?"

"I've wanted to die for a long time! I've had enough!"

"Ninety-two overtime hours, and the section chief said, 'You're not trying hard enough.'"

"One hundred ten hours, and the department manager said, 'You need to have a sense of ownership.'"

"One hundred five hours, and HR said, 'Your performance is D.' I gave my life to the company, and the company gave me a D!" "I'll blow up the building!!"

"Take-home pay of four million yen, hourly wage lower than a convenience store part-timer. Studied sixteen years, earned six certifications, ended up only as a dispatched employee, turned into a joke."

"Today on the tram, I saw a foreign tourist holding a selfie stick, swinging it around in the carriage, blocking three people's path. He doesn't have to go to work, doesn't have to work overtime, doesn't have to watch anyone's face. Why should I have to live like this?"

"Those idlers. Those who don't have to go to work. Those who loiter on the platform at ten a. m. on Tuesdays. What right do they have?!" "Eight million gods above! I want a girlfriend! I want to get married—I'm already in my thirties! And still no girlfriend!" That substantive resentment surged from Tanaka Seiichi's body, leaving Uesugi Muneyuki utterly overwhelmed.

How is it sexual repression again?

He fell silent for a moment, then suddenly turned to Nango Yui behind him and said: "Nango, though it's presumptuous, I want to ask—do you… currently have a girlfriend?"

"Huh? Why suddenly ask this?" Nango Yui completely didn't understand what Uesugi Muneyuki meant.

"Nothing, just asking—if you don't want to say, forget it." Uesugi Muneyuki shook his head.

I'm worried you were also repressed that day and chose to self-destruct!

"Well, if Uesugi-san really wants to know… remember to keep it confidential for me… actually, I do have a girlfriend." Nango Yui thought for a moment, then spoke softly: "Do you still remember the female police officer counselor from the Police Agency Welfare Section's Staff Psychological Counseling Room? The one named Nakamoto Himeta?" "Is that your girlfriend?" Uesugi Muneyuki blinked: "Wait, is that the one nicknamed Himetan? I recall her fame isn't from her sister being the vocalist and dancer of the metal idol group BABYMETAL, Nakamoto Suzuka?"

"Yes, Himeta is my girlfriend, and then her sister… Nakamoto Suzuka… is actually also my girlfriend." Nango Yui said, embarrassed and awkward: "It's only because it's you I'm telling you, Uesugi-san—you must keep this confidential for me!"

Uesugi Muneyuki: "?"

￥？？？」

p？？？？？」

"Wait, you mean you're dating both sisters at the same time?" Uesugi Muneyuki lifted his head.

"Yes, mainly because I met Suzuka earlier during her activities at the Kyoto concert, but after coming to Tokyo I started dating Himeta… and then once I got drunk by them, well… in short, I'm currently dating both of them." Nango Yui glanced around, confirmed no one was nearby, then lowered her voice: "I feel it's necessary for you to know this, so that if trouble arises later, you'll still help me smooth things over." "Me? I'm just a forensic pathologist—you want me to intercede?" Uesugi Muneyuki was amused by Nango Yui.

At the same time, he was filled with disdain.

How could there be such a scumbag who simultaneously has relations with both sisters?

Nango Yui, you've spent over ten years in university and Kyoto University's law bachelor's—did you just swallow it all into your dog's stomach?

I despise this kind of person the most!

Despise!!!