"One more, please," Ichijō Mirai raised his hand, and with his chin held up in the air, sighed, "Good dish."
The store listened to the 'hissing' sound, like a moonlit pond of chili peppers.
Matsuda Jinpei was pouring milk, and when he was done, his face, which was obviously red as if he had just finished running the 100 meters in a hurry, and his mouth, which was a bit brightly colored, automatically said, "Huh?"
"You're the one who's going too far, aren't you!"
He pressed Morofushi Hiromitsu, "Tell me! Did you guys work together in the car and plan how to screw us over with just a glance!"
"Or in the guardhouse? Or on the first day of the operation when you went out together?"
It's obvious that you're working together, so there's a plan!
Morofushi Hiromitsu, the only one who was prepared for the level of hotness, had the decency to sniff without changing his expression, "No."
"But I guessed in advance."
That's why he changed his tone and asked Ichijō Mirai's opinion with his eyes.
He actually thought that Matsuda Jinpei could have guessed it: he guessed that Ichijō Mirai had no reference at all when it came to 'spicy', and that he couldn't taste spicy because he didn't have a sense of pain.
Matsuda Jinpei was speechless, glanced at the other students who were pouring milk, coughed uncomfortably, and condemned Ichijō Mirai once again, "Don't you always eat half a portion or one portion? Why did you add another serving this time? You're a spicy guy!"
This is a very righteous condemnation, but with the hissing pauses in each half of the sentence, and the occasional release of his tongue, it breaks down into a somewhat guilty tone.
And it is: I'm not sure what Ichijō Mirai is thinking.
Did he want to tell everyone, 'Yes, I often cheat and take drugs to deprive myself of pain', or did he not want to?
If you don't want to, it's too obvious, isn't it!
If you do, it's too hateful!
"I guess the ramen restaurant's portion of ramen is only half the normal size because they don't want customers to waste it," Ichijō Mirai replied, 'and my hunger level hasn't been minimized yet,' so he ordered another one.
So he orders another, but that's only half the answer.
He answers again, adding the other half: "Thank you, it's delicious."
Watching the students sticking out their tongues and hissing is very appetizing. If you are tempted, it feels like watching a video about eating. In a small ramen restaurant, there are five chefs competing in cooking skills, which makes the players' appetite increase suddenly.
...Wait.
Ichijō Mirai carefully scanned the students, focusing on a certain blonde student who wished to remain anonymous, and captured the elements: public, flushed, struggling to hold back, unable to hold back an inhale, hissing with his tongue hanging out, and drinking a white liquid of a very specific composition.
"So, excuse me," He confirmed discreetly, "you're all getting seriously hot, and you're not taking advantage of the opportunity for some special public play, right?"
Not by name.
But it's better to just name names, and everyone subconsciously turns their heads at the sound of the voice to look at Furuya Rei, who even subconsciously reaches up and points to his chin, uttering a tone of voice that's almost identical to that of the previous victim, Matsuda Jinpei, only more puzzled, "Huh?"
There was a reaction, and then another, before Furuya Rei said, "Wait, you're not trying to say that I now resemble..."
He snapped to silence, decisively crushed the already empty milk carton, and said in a sly tone, "Before looking at the world from an adult's point of view, please look at yourself first, even though you're not as messed up as we are, you're still red in the face from the spice, and you look like what's going on!"
Repeatedly and repeatedly named and slandered, Furuya Rei was furious, "If you mention this again, I'm going to take pictures and videotape it!"
We'll all lose face together.
Ichijō Mirai's eyes changed slightly, his expression became solemn, and after counting the number of people, he couldn't help but look even more solemn, "Hiss, 'Threatening to videotape, five people in progress, forcing innocent passersby to watch and get involved in the storm'?"
"Impressive, as expected of Furuya-san."
He turned his head, looked at the waiter who came over with the new ramen, and reached out to take it, "Thank you~"
Then he turned back to the waiter as if nothing had happened, "Come and eat, I'm about to start again... Hey, Furuya-san, why is your face dark brownish-red?"
"Don't make a special face, this isn't a 'go' moment, it's a go moment."
With that, Ichijō Mirai, following a rare Japan custom, clasped his hands together and said, "Itadakimasu."
And urging his classmates, "Come on and eat, don't talk about things that spoil your appetite."
Furuya Rei: "..."
"Dear Kujō Mirai-san," He used honorifics as if he was reporting an important task to his superior, "In the wee hours of tonight, please make sure you don't go to sleep with your eyes closed, lest you be accidentally assassinated."
He smiled falsely at Ichijō Mirai, and Ichijō Mirai smiled falsely back at him.
"Ahem," Morofushi Hiromitsu tapped Furuya Rei on the shoulder and nudged him towards the table, casually grabbing a few more cartons of milk, "Let's not talk about this 'night crawling' custom that is no longer practiced in Tokyo."
As he passed Ichijō Mirai, he naturally tapped Ichijō Mirai, interrupting the full-on taunting for a moment to hand over a carton of milk, "Don't eat too fast, you,"
Glancing at the others first, he exchanged a few glances before Morofushi Hiromitsu said, "Even though you can't feel the spiciness due to the lack of pain, it's just that you can't feel it, it's not that it's not there, and eating so much spicy food will upset your stomach, and it can be a bit dangerous."
Normal people who ate too much spicy food could feel the spiciness and the pain, and could directly notice that something was wrong and seek medical attention in time, Ichijō Mirai was not quite the same, in case he had a stomach hemorrhage, he would need to waste more first aid time and time of survival than a normal person would before he could realize that something was wrong with his body.
Date Wataru, who had been silent, very discreetly pretending to be a mushroom in the corner of a fierce battlefield without any smoke, spoke up, "Is there no pain at all?"
"I thought there was more or less?"
"I thought there was some pain," Kenji Hagiwara chimed in, "There's no pain at all, it's..."
It sounds cool at first.
But being painless is a horrible thing, a disease that kills many people before they reach the age of ten, and only a handful of people live past ten, and only a handful of people live past adulthood, and you have to be careful in life, and you can be facing crises that you don't even realize are happening all the time.
Ichijō Mirai was nothing like that.
"Hey," Matsuda Jinpei sat down in the row across from him and held up his hand, "wait, you all realized?"
He wanted to say something, and then remembered, but was speechless: it didn't seem hard to notice, Ichijō Mirai had never hidden it.
Ichijō Mirai never hid the fact that no matter how hard, how muscular the exercise was, when the other students were half dead from exhaustion, when the bodies of the cadets were collectively sore after a night's work, there was nothing out of the ordinary about him.
It was so obvious that Matsuda Jinpei noticed the difference even before he took the painkillers.
"Well, I don't feel a bit of pain," Ichijō Mirai mused for a few seconds about the probability of being hospitalized for a stomach bleed, and casually unwrapped the milk, "so don't worry, I'm very healthy, and don't have any bad hobbies such as 'liking to be whipped' or anything like that."
After some thought, he added, "Furuya-san shouldn't have any either."
I guess.
On the table, Morofushi Hiromitsu's cell phone vibrated, displaying a long text message from Onidzuka Hachizo, to which Ichijō Mirai added for emphasis as he naturally, as if reading a message he had received, probed, "I guess? I haven't seen any unhealthy injuries on him, but that could be because I don't pay much attention to it."
"That's a long text message, looks like the police have a lot of grievances today, and a lot of protests that need to be relayed by the instructor."
Onidzuka Hachizo's text message is very long, so long that it fills up the entire screen, requiring Morofushi Hiromitsu to press down a few more times to read the entire text message. He skims through it and pushes the phone a bit further away, focusing on the key points in a low voice: "What's the 'bad hobby'?"
'Bad Hobbies' specifically refers to what, in fact, very clear, just: "Why is your first reaction to this?"
If you haven't been exposed to it, no matter how much you think, you can't jump from 'no pain' to 'no pleasure from pain, so no bad habits', right?
Ichijō Mirai looked at the others.
The advantages of adult-style interaction were clearly demonstrated at this point: while just now they were casually chatting about the 'no pain topic' released by Ichijō Mirai, when they realized that Morofushi Hiromitsu had lowered his voice and once again entered a state of whispering, the others naturally shifted their attention and didn't intend to prick up their ears to listen.
At least not outwardly.
Even Matsuda Jinpei and Furuya Rei were either idly picking at shredded radish, eating ramen with a sad face, or chatting sideways with their neighbors.
That's because Ichijō Mirai doesn't give off another 'I have something private to tell you' vibe.
This is different from pain sensation, and really can't be disclosed to anyone other than Morofushi Hiromitsu, because: "'Satan,'"
He muffled his voice over the chatter of his classmates and tried to make it as short as possible, "Some people think 'Satan' is an unhealthy guy who likes to play games that require the use of safe words."
Slander.
"You may hear similar rumors in the future, and you may misunderstand me."
Morofushi Hiromitsu knew 'Satan's' true identity, but still so nonchalant, the meaning is already obvious, future contact with the organization and inevitable, rather than let this guy from the dark unhealthy adult Gin to learn these unhealthy gossip, it is better to clarify in advance.
Ichijō Mirai's tone was casual, "I'm not, I'm not, I'm healthy."
Morofushi Hiromitsu: "..."
The scale was a bit large, and so was the information.
He slowed, and slowed again, and let out a dry intonation, "Ah."
And even more dryly, "I wouldn't misunderstand."
Ichijō Mirai is a little less than normal, but apparently either unhealthy adult-style less than normal or...
'Satan' is...?
Morofushi Hiromitsu coughed tactically, as if choking on something spicy.
Since 'Messiah' doesn't have an unhealthy fetish, but 'Satan' does, there's a 70-80% chance that the latter has a sense of pain.
It could be just a hint, it could be normal, or it could be the opposite of Ichijō Mirai, where their pain sensations are at the lowest end of the scale and at the highest end of the scale, and it's precisely because of this ability to feel every ounce of pain that 'Satan' has...
Uh...
"That," Morofushi Hiromitsu hesitated, "'Satan',"
Ichijō Mirai takes his eyes off the cell phone screen for a moment, glances over, waits a few seconds without waiting, and urges, "Speak."
From Ichijō Mirai's reaction, Morofushi Hiromitsu could deduce that he was obviously concerned about people mistaking him for a bad fetish, suggesting that in this regard, he was like most people, with a moral scale and shame level in the passing line.
But from Ichijō Mirai's current reaction, Morofushi Hiromitsu could also surmise that he didn't really care that 'Satan' had such a fetish, but rather took it for granted, as if such a bad habit was the normal habit of eating fruit with lunch in his bloodline.
It's a bit of a double standard.
Not for the first time.
Ichijō Mirai would get a little upset when confronted with incompetent police and criminals, but when it came to 'Satan', he was clearly referring to a being who was more repulsive and revolting than most criminals, but he had plenty of positive emotions, not only smiling when he received a message from the other side, but also saying things like 'I have a friend who I personally consider to be kind'.
He had two different standards of treatment and judgment for others and for 'Satan', an unabashed double standard, and in his eyes, there were probably three types of people in the world: enemies, other people, and 'Satan'.
So, they're classmates...
Morofushi Hiromitsu looked down at the screen, "Some of the police seem to think you're hostile to the police."
His face was calm, as if he had been about to say such a thing from the start, instead of changing his words on the spur of the moment when he sensed the position of 'Satan' in 'Messiah's' mind, when he sensed that out of the two ends of the scale between 'friend' and 'Satan', the other side would easily beat them, and tip the scales into a firmly skewed state, "This operation is live, and we're a little out of the way of the police."
"What are you going to do?"
'We'?
Ichijō Mirai looked over and said what was on his mind, "Even when the police officers were picking at me, they only said that I seemed to have a problem with the police because of my parents, and by not talking about you guys, it means that they know that you guys don't really have much of a chance to make a stand, and that you're just following my orders without having to use the word 'we'."
And then thought, once again said the heart of the idea, "Let them endure a little?"
We'll get used to it.
Everyone is tolerating it, the organization is tolerating it, the FBI is tolerating it, so the Tokyo police are tolerating it.
He pressed the button on his cell phone, scrolled down through the messages, and realized that the police were holding back without having to say it themselves, "They're rounding up again, complimenting us on our excellent performance, and giving the public a boost of confidence in the cadets, looking forward to the day when we'll officially become police officers."
Example: just one hour into the broadcast, the children were already asking the young police officers if they were from the red side of the camp, with bright eyes and a bright flowery look when they saw the police officers.
"You don't have to use 'we' for the bad and 'us' for the good, do you?" Morofushi Hiromitsu scanned over that example, not too surprised that a child had grabbed Ichijō Mirai, "You're not the only one who did that."
"You didn't do it alone," There's no such thing as taking the good without the bad.
When Ichijō Mirai pressed the button to scroll down again, he looked at the newly appeared content, frowned, translating the meaning of the second half of the text message, "They are not quite sure whether you will become a police officer immediately after the start of the sweep, pulling down those who do not have real talent and lost the original purpose of the police, and would like to make you into a 'outside the mission to solve the case with absolute leadership, and inside the factional interaction fight, independent camp honorary type police officer'. I want to make you an 'honorable police officer who has absolute leadership in solving cases on the outside, but is independent on the inside when fighting with factions'."
"Huh, I didn't think you'd understand the meaning after a layer of greasy, hypocritical bureaucracy and a warm-water euphemism by Instructor Onidzuka, and you're quite good at translating," Ichijō Mirai said with a bit of surprise, and then blandly read out the whitewashed words that Morofushi Hiromitsu had used before translating them, "wanting to conduct a real offense, and have the cadet participate in an official operation,"
"Not the 'offense' type, but the 'rescue' type, at the next occurrence of some..."
A system alert popped up.
[Mission 'Time-limited Rescue' has been triggered.]
[Mission Name: Time Limit Rescue.]
[Mission details: %&*#$...]
[Tick, tick, mission details error, fixing...]
[Repair successful...]
Blue letters appeared in the air, parsing out of the garbled code one by one as if they were typed on a keyboard.
[Beautiful, sinful, morbid, dreamed of, unattainable...
Red Moon]