Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week-Chapter 429 - 427: Chitose’s Next Time for Sure_1

10:10 PM.

Usually, at this hour, Tsukahara Hikoshiro would have been asleep. However, his recent enormous workload had forced him to take stimulants and continue working intensely.

Tsukahara Hikoshiro was a textbook mad scientist. In his quest for knowledge, he paid no heed to his own well-being, much less that of others.

The lifespan of the flesh is fleeting, but the fruits of research can endure for eternity.

The creator of penicillin is long gone, but people still remember its discoverer, Alexander Fleming.

Tsukahara Hikoshiro yearned to be one of those names etched in history, so he was desperate to develop a true Superhuman Potion.

Once this potion was successfully developed, Tsukahara Hikoshiro’s name would be forever recorded in the annals of every nation, perhaps even appearing in textbooks.

Whenever people mentioned the Superhuman Potion, they would think of its developer.

Tsukahara Hikoshiro.

This was a legacy for eternity, far surpassing the value of a mere few decades or even a century of life. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Tsukahara Hikoshiro was hunched over his desk, writing complex formulas. The room was extremely untidy.

No one but him could discern any pattern in the room’s chaotic arrangement. Most scholars engrossed in their research shared this common trait, often dismissed as slovenliness by those who didn’t understand. Only Tsukahara Hikoshiro knew how truly organized his room was—so organized, in fact, that he could find any document he needed with his eyes closed.

A sudden KNOCK KNOCK at the door startled Tsukahara Hikoshiro from his research. He turned his head and asked, "Who is it?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the door opened. A man in a white T-shirt and black trousers stood in the doorway, his face hidden by a gas mask.

"Who are you?"

"Director Tsukahara, I had intended to dispatch you silently. I didn’t expect you to be working at this hour."

Number Nine removed his gas mask. His tone was gentle, and his deep blue eyes held no murderous intent, yet Tsukahara Hikoshiro was acutely aware of the danger he was in.

"How could you possibly have gotten out of the laboratory?"

Tsukahara Hikoshiro looked surprised. Hadn’t he been told the laboratory door could withstand a missile bombardment?

According to his research, the Cyclops monster tissue transplanted and grafted onto Number Nine’s right arm had granted him strength at the peak of human potential, though it didn’t venture into the realm of the truly supernatural. Such strength was incomparable to the force of a missile; it shouldn’t have been enough to break down the laboratory door.

"Yuza took care of the U.S. Army personnel outside and let me out."

"I never imagined that cold woman would fall for your charms. How foolish!"

A trace of annoyance flashed across Tsukahara Hikoshiro’s face.

He should never have allowed that woman to participate in this experiment. He had originally thought her brilliance and scholarly aptitude would override a woman’s base instincts. As it turned out, he was mistaken. A woman’s coldness only lasts until she meets the right person; once she does, she becomes more passionate than anyone.

"Please don’t speak ill of Yuza."

"The man who killed her has no right to say such things."

"I killed Yuza for her own good. She had become so reliant on me that she couldn’t live without me. Rather than let her suffer the pain of betrayal later, it was better to let her depart in happiness beforehand."

Number Nine calmly stated his murderous logic as he slowly advanced.

Cold sweat beaded on Tsukahara Hikoshiro’s forehead. His research wasn’t finished. If he died now, he would gain no fame.

"Number Nine, the rejection reaction in your body is worsening daily. Don’t you want to resolve it? If you let me continue my research, I guarantee I can restore you to normal!"

"Director Tsukahara, I have never feared death."

Number Nine smiled faintly. He knew the rejection reaction in his body was worsening. Painkillers only numbed the pain; they weren’t a cure. If the rejection reaction continued to intensify, he wouldn’t live much longer. Allowing Tsukahara Hikoshiro to research might extend his life somewhat. But he didn’t care about the length of his life.

As long as he could experience ultimate pleasure within his finite life, even a brief existence would possess a value others could never attain.

"I just wish to disperse like fireworks."

"Why do you want to kill me?"

Tsukahara Hikoshiro couldn’t quite understand the other’s thinking. If it were hatred, that would be understandable, but he saw not a trace of hatred in Number Nine’s eyes.

Number Nine thought for a moment, then smiled. "Because it pleases me. When people are excited, they tend to do unusual things to express their inner joy."

Tsukahara Hikoshiro tried to speak again, but Number Nine’s right hand suddenly began to swell. In an instant, it doubled in size from a normal arm. Crimson muscles bulged, engulfing the surface skin, with veins and sinews starkly exposed. The fingertips had become claws as sharp as daggers.

This was the Demon Hand—a product of Superhuman Potion X combined with surgical modification and grafting—powerful enough to crush human bones as easily as potato chips.

For Number Nine, this was immense strength. With his original capabilities, it would have been impossible to acquire such power so quickly.

In fact, Number Nine was the sole success story of this transplantation experiment. The others who underwent the Demon Hand experiment either went mad and died, or perished in convulsions. This success, it seemed, was thanks to the genetic makeup of his original body. Even another clone—one that had failed to awaken Superpowers—could not withstand the procedure and had died shortly after transplantation. Yet, even with the superior genes of his original body, he couldn’t sustain such power for long.

Number Nine grasped Tsukahara Hikoshiro’s head.

With a gentle squeeze, as if popping a balloon, a sickening POP resounded as he crushed the man’s head.

The headless corpse gushed blood as it toppled.

With that, everyone in the research institute had been killed.

Number Nine’s right arm rapidly shrank. The grotesque flesh seemed to recede, devoured by the surface skin, until it reverted to a normal human arm.

He felt no pain. He put his gas mask back on and turned to leave.

The moonlight outside was dim.

The air filtered through his gas mask was fresher than the air inside. He gazed at the distant scenery—the mountains, trees, sky, and moon—just as they were described in books.

To Number Nine, everything in this world was novel. He looked around like a panda cub fresh from the deep mountains, staring blankly at the human society unfolding before him.

After a long moment, Number Nine roused himself and decided to leave by car.

After wrecking several cars, he finally figured out the specific functions of the accelerator, brake, and steering wheel.

In high spirits, Number Nine drove off in another, undamaged car.

...

DING-A-LING.

The ringing of the cell phone shattered the bedroom’s silence.

It also woke the two people in bed. Aozawa reached out to answer it but Morimoto Chiyoda slapped his hand away.

"Don’t just answer my calls. Go get me a glass of water from the living room."

Her voice, already alluring, now carried an added touch of languor, like a Persian cat stretching as it awakens in the afternoon sun.

"Hello."

"Morimoto, we have a huge problem!" Jack’s frantic voice came from the other end of the phone. "Is there anyone else with you?" he quickly added.

"Don’t worry, I’ve already sent him to get water."

In the darkness, a flicker of embarrassment crossed Morimoto Chiyoda’s face. She knew Jack wasn’t intentionally mocking her. Regarding her recent... indulgences, she had only murmured to herself, revealing nothing to anyone, not even Aozawa.

Damn that boy, why is he so capable? she fumed silently. She was finding it increasingly difficult to resist him.

Morimoto Chiyoda cast an annoyed glance at Aozawa as he headed out of the room.

He yawned, rubbing the corners of his eyes. Once again, a murderous urge towards the caller welled up in his heart.

What’s with these late-night calls? Doesn’t this idiot know the difference between work hours and personal time? Forcing me out of Chitose’s warm bed and into the cold... Now I can’t even sleep unless I’m holding Chitose. I just want to hold her forever...

Morimoto Chiyoda spoke into the phone, "What happened?"

"I just got news!" Jack’s voice trembled with panic. "Number Nine has escaped from the Tsukahara Research Institute! He killed everyone inside, including Jelle and seven other CIA agents!"

Morimoto Chiyoda pressed a hand to her forehead. "Don’t tell me you let Number Nine escape?"

"Of course not! My plan hadn’t even begun! But... could some of my... minor activities at the institute make them think I deliberately let Number Nine get away?"

How unfair! Jack fumed internally. My plan had barely started—just a discreet transfer of funds to the platoon leader stationed there. The original idea was to let Number Nine escape to highlight Jelle’s incompetence, sure, but I never intended for him to slaughter everyone at the institute! The higher-ups are still waiting for results on Superhuman Potion X! How could I possibly want Tsukahara Hikoshiro dead? But Number Nine’s abilities were beyond anything I imagined. He even collaborated with researchers inside to escape! Now I’m worried the top brass will launch a full investigation. If they do, that transfer to the platoon leader’s account will definitely come to light.

"If they find out, my career is over!"

"Calm down," Morimoto Chiyoda advised. "As long as you weren’t directly involved in the escape itself, it shouldn’t be a disaster. Call John immediately. Tell him the truth and ask him to cover for you."

Her words made Jack pause. He then shook his head. "No, I’ll be fired for sure."

"Trust me," Morimoto Chiyoda continued. "The worst he’ll do is chew you out. He won’t fire you. In fact, he might even trust you more for coming clean."

"Huh?!"

Jack was surprised by her reasoning. But after a moment’s thought, he realized she was right: it would be far worse if an investigation uncovered the truth independently.

"You make sense. I’ll call him right away."

"Mm."

Morimoto Chiyoda ended the call, her eyes betraying a moment of contemplation.

Things have gotten complicated. With Hikoshiro dead, research on Superhuman Potion X has stalled. And what about Sunaga Takashi, who took the potion? What will happen to him now? She hadn’t worked that out yet.

The door opened, and Aozawa entered, cheerfully holding up a glass of milk. "Chitose," he said with a grin, "no water, but I found milk in the fridge! I’ve heated up a glass for you. Want some?"

Seeing no steam rising from the glass, Morimoto Chiyoda knew perfectly well what kind of ’heating’ he meant. Alright, this is the last time this week, she thought. The next time will be Sunday of next week.