"How can you be sure they were Fusang People?"
Ito Mitsuhide got up from the ground, raised his leg to dust off the dirt on his knees, and turned his head to look at the white policeman who had already bandaged his wound.
"To me, there seems to be no difference between the People of Ming and the Fusang People, at least not discernible to the naked eye."
The white policeman spread his hands and said, "But these people were short, had weapons in their hands, and it looked like they were congregating to cause trouble. Plus, someone spoke a bit of Japanese. Aren't these clues enough to conclude?"
