Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week-Chapter 406 - 404 Monday Welcoming the Start of Summer Vacation_1
July 24th, Monday.
The third day of summer vacation.
Cold air from the air conditioner wafted through the room. The alarm set on his phone had been disabled since the first day of vacation.
In its place came a banging on the door.
"Little lazy bug, it’s time to get up for breakfast!"
Morimoto Chiyoda’s voice, like that of a voluptuous, bikini-clad beauty running freely on a sunny Hawaii Beach, always managed to make a man’s blood boil.
"Oh!"
Aozawa shouted back in response, opening his eyes to see large, brightly glowing words floating in the air.
*Superpower: Fate Weaving.*
Looking at these words, the haziness in Aozawa’s mind was instantly swept away. Fate Weaving, he thought, that sounds like an exceptionally powerful superpower.
He performed a carp-like flip to sit bolt upright, brimming with energy from head to toe, and strode forward to open the door.
Down the runway-like corridor, Morimoto Chiyoda was nowhere to be seen; only the familiar scent of her perfume lingered in the air.
Aozawa took a deep breath, then headed to the washroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. After wringing the towel dry and hanging it up, he went into the living room.
The ample time during the vacation meant he didn’t need to rush to test his new superpower.
How much has the Sound of Everything weakened? What abilities does Fate Weaving possess?
These questions didn’t need immediate answers.
After all, the enhancement he’d given himself hadn’t weakened at all; he could feel the same muscular strength as before when he clenched his fists.
This dispelled a worry he’d had the previous night: that his enhanced strength would also diminish if the Sound of Everything was reduced.
It turned out he didn’t need to worry about that.
"Good morning, Chitose."
"Even during summer vacation, don’t be too lazy. You could gain dozens of pounds over a single vacation."
As she said this, a brilliant idea flashed in Morimoto Chiyoda’s mind; it seemed she had stumbled upon a tremendous strategy.
If I can just fatten Aozawa up until he’s plump and round, she mused, then, apart from me, probably no other woman could tolerate fat that represents gluttony and laziness.
Morimoto Chiyoda could overlook Aozawa being overweight or having a bloated face.
"Actually, you shouldn’t be too diligent either," she suddenly declared. "It’s summer vacation, after all. You should eat what you want, drink what you want, and sleep when you want."
"Anyway, I’m the Police Director. Even if I retire later, I’ll still enjoy all the benefits I’m entitled to. Our family isn’t short on money."
Abruptly changing her tune, Morimoto Chiyoda actively placed several more pieces of meat onto his plate. She decided to feed Aozawa more this summer vacation, aiming to gradually transform his physique from muscular to somewhat plump.
"Chitose, what are you talking about? I’m not the kind of man who lives off a woman."
Aozawa picked up the meat with his chopsticks and stuffed it into his mouth.
After breakfast, Morimoto Chiyoda left Aozawa with the task of loading the dishes into the dishwasher.
She headed for the door, choosing to drive the Lamborghini today.
Monday meant the special task force’s workload would increase.
She had to solve a myriad of bizarre cases, searching for any possible inhabitants of the Different World or Angel Envoys.
She also needed to closely monitor the conditions for Dio to ascend to Paradise and try to decipher the fourteen cryptic phrases.
There was a pile of work to do today, but Morimoto Chiyoda could still manage it all with ease.
After all, she didn’t have the added pressure of last week, when she was responsible for the safety of the leaders with thirty thousand personnel under her command, all while juggling the special task force’s affairs.
She could still handle the special task force’s matters with composure.
As Morimoto Chiyoda inserted the key, listening to the Lamborghini’s delightful engine roar, a wistful thought crossed her mind.
How great would it be if there was a dedicated, unmanned tunnel between my home and the Metropolitan Police Department?
Every day, going to work would just mean stepping on the gas, ignoring all red lights, and speeding straight to my destination.
That would be truly exhilarating!
Morimoto Chiyoda’s Defense Barrier gradually moved away from her home.
Aozawa started the dishwasher, then returned to the living room to activate the Sound of Everything.
The walls, the sofa, the grass outside, the neighboring buildings—sounds from all these sources reached his ears. Judging by them, it was no different from when he had first awakened the Sound of Everything.
If the range hasn’t changed, then the weakening must be in its intensity, he concluded.
Aozawa used his Element Replacement Ability to transform into a gust of wind, then activated his Global Travel ability.
His viewpoint rapidly ascended, and soon a sapphire-blue planet came into view.
Gazing at the densely packed red dots on the planet’s surface, he selected one and entered it.
In an instant, Aozawa, as wind, was sweeping through the streets of New York.
In Times Square, people of all ethnicities hurried past. Police officers, fully armed with real firearms, stood guard, maintaining order.
Their sharp eyes constantly scanned their surroundings; no one doubted they would pull their triggers without hesitation if anything seemed amiss.
The New York air, at just after five in the afternoon, felt exceptionally hot.
Aozawa used Schrodinger’s Cat to jump directly to the New York Empire Building.
This structure was a modern-day marvel. In 1931, the New York Empire Building was the tallest building in the world.
This honor lasted a full forty-one years, a testament to the United States’ former, well-deserved title as the world’s number one "infrastructure fiend."
Aozawa activated the Sound of Everything. He heard the Empire Building emit a powerful resonance, stronger than Amat’s muscles, stronger even than the sound of a missile exploding.
The invisible wind swirled against the building’s facade. He reached out, attempting to touch the structure and extract its potent resonance.
Just as he’d suspected, the resonance could not be drawn out from the building.
The weakening of the Sound of Everything manifested in its intensity; it was no longer as exceptionally potent as before, when he could extract any sound at will.
Now, if a sound was too powerful, he couldn’t extract it.
Having confirmed this, Aozawa deactivated the Sound of Everything. Next, I should explore what Fate Weaving can do, he thought.
He used Schrodinger’s Cat to vanish from the vicinity of the New York Empire Building. In the next second, he appeared in an empty living room.
Aozawa activated his Fate Weaving ability.
The world before him trembled. He saw countless lines, originating from an incomprehensible distance, pierce through the tightly closed window and converge in front of him.
Swiftly, these lines entwined to form a book. A blank book floated in the air, and then more lines wove together to create a pen, which hovered above it.
Aozawa looked at the blank book and pen. His body, still a scattered breeze, examined them from below.
The book’s cover was a vivid red, adorned with etched golden patterns. On the front, the word "DESTINY" was inscribed in large letters.
He quickly coalesced the breeze into a rough human shape and reached out to grasp the pen.
Is Fate Weaving simply about writing someone else’s destiny in this book?
Aozawa pondered for a moment. I definitely can’t write about anyone I know. I don’t want to use my superpower to control the destinies of Chitose and the others, nor would I ever use such means to violate their will. It’ll have to be strangers. As for the will of strangers... what do I care?
"Whom should I write about?" he murmured.
The only strangers whose names he knew were a few public figures he’d seen on TV.
Since I’m in the United States, he decided, I’ll try writing an unlucky day for the President.
With The White House undergoing reconstruction, Nett had been handling the affairs of the sprawling Empire from aboard Air Force One every day.
It was now dinnertime.
He sat in the dining area, cutting into an overcooked steak. It was mushy, like paste, yielding easily to his knife, and required little effort to chew before swallowing.
He was the only one in this dining room enjoying his meal.
Considering the recent increase in risks from the Different World, Nett didn’t dare gather his entire family, fearing an encounter with monsters from that realm could get them all wiped out in one fell swoop.
Dining alone sometimes made him feel lonely, but most of the time, he somewhat enjoyed the solitude that came with supreme power.
He was well aware that, in the eyes of most, he was old enough to have one foot in the grave.
Yet, within his aging body, an unyielding heart still beat.
It had always been this way; he consistently achieved what others deemed impossible.
During high school, even his closest friends hadn’t believed he could one day become President.
But the reality was that he had fought his way from the bottom to his current position.
I have to win next year’s election, he resolved. And I have to win against Dio, too.
Nett looked at the unfinished steak on his plate. He felt an urge, inexplicable even to himself, akin to youthful impulsiveness—a keen desire to hold a press conference.
"Call Karin to see me."
"Yes, sir."
The Secret Service agent attending him promptly left.
Soon, Karin, the White House Press Secretary and Assistant to the President, arrived at the dining area. Her expression was respectful as she asked, "Mr. President, you wished to see me. What can I do for you?"
Nett put down his cutlery, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and replied, "I want to hold a press conference. Arrange it for me."
A flicker of confusion crossed Karin’s face. She glanced at the elderly man and replied respectfully, "May I ask what you wish to discuss, sir?"
"Do I need to report my intentions to you in detail?" Nett said softly.
Startled, Karin quickly responded, "Of course not, Mr. President. I’ll arrange everything immediately."
Such a request doesn’t align with White House protocol, Karin thought, but if the President wants it, then it shall be done.
Nett rubbed his temples. What should I announce at the press conference? Ah, yes, I can say things that will boost my approval ratings and promote my policies. What kind of statements would achieve that?
His brow furrowed slightly. Something felt off, yet he couldn’t pinpoint the source of this unease.
As he pondered, his brain suddenly seemed to enter standby mode.
He found himself standing alone in a blank, white world, staring into the void as all his thoughts and ambitions were absorbed by the featureless expanse.
"Mr. President? Mr. President?"
Two successive calls pulled Nett back from the blank world. Or rather, the blankness gradually filled with color and outlines, allowing him to once again see the dining room aboard Air Force One.
Warm lighting illuminated the area. The steak on his plate had grown somewhat cold.
Nett looked at Karin, who stood before him, cautiously calling his name. He struggled to maintain his dignity and asked in a measured, unhurried tone, "Is everyone here?"
"Yes, Mr. President," Karin replied, her face a mask of deference, any mockery or disdain concealed beneath her dark complexion. "Reporters from major global media outlets have all gathered in Air Force One’s press briefing room."
When this old man is lucid, he is undoubtedly the President, Karin acknowledged internally. No one dares to underestimate him.
Nett nodded, then rose and walked out.
