July 17, Monday.

The morning alarm didn’t go off.

Today is the third Monday of July, and in Japan, it’s Marine Day, a holiday set aside to express gratitude for the ocean’s bounty.

When it comes to public relations, Japan is undoubtedly world-class. The reality of their actions is less important. As long as the PR is effective, foreigners perceive Japan as a grateful nation and people. Their main strategy is to deceive whomever they can.

Aozawa turned over in bed.

A slight movement woke him. His internal biological clock wouldn’t allow him to sleep in, especially after going to bed early.

He flipped onto his stomach and opened his eyes.

Superpower: Sound of Everything.

The words slowly dissolved into the air. Aozawa didn’t rush to test it; he had plenty of time today. There was no need for him to hurry and discover his new superpower’s purpose, nor how much his old ones had been diminished.

He got up and strolled out, completely at ease.

Cool air from the long corridor brushed against his limbs.

From the open living room door, rhythmic music wafted out.

That meant Morimoto Chiyoda was practicing yoga.

Aozawa didn’t rush in. He first went to the washroom to wash his face and brush his teeth before heading to the living room.

Morimoto Chiyoda was beside the sofa in a light purple yoga outfit, holding the Scorpion style. It was a difficult position. She wasn’t a beginner who needed a wall for support; she executed the pose perfectly right where she stood. Her long, slender legs bent like a scorpion’s tail over her head, her arms held firmly on the ground. This revealed at a glance her slender waist and the curves of her hips, resembling peaches hanging on a summer peach tree.

"Good morning, Chitose."

"Hmm."

Morimoto Chiyoda’s hum was alluring. Her bright eyes swept over Aozawa’s attire, which was fittingly cool for the summer. She paused, chuckled, and said, "Aren’t you afraid of feeling a bit... restricted?"

"Indeed. Perhaps I should shed this armor."

Aozawa made a move to undress but received a sharp glare.

He smiled and, keeping his boxer briefs on, walked towards the dining table.

From another angle, her front resembled freshly steamed purple sweet potato buns. Paired with a summer "honeydew," the taste would undoubtedly be even better.

His intense gaze forced Morimoto Chiyoda to end her yoga session prematurely. She found that her morning routine was starting to backfire; Aozawa, who was particularly hot-blooded in the mornings, had begun to counter her attempts at seduction. The mere thought of his gaze and the sight from moments ago ignited an indescribable hunger within her. This was an instinct a woman couldn’t escape. Especially on busy workdays, she didn’t want to think about anything else; her mind was solely focused on rewarding herself. Just get it over with.

Morimoto Chiyoda suppressed the restless beast in her heart. She returned to her bedroom, changed into her Police Director’s uniform, and tied her cascading black hair into a single ponytail.

She came back to the dining table, her delicate features bore a confident smile that suggested everything was under control, and teased, "Who’s the young girl you’re hanging out with today?"

"Chitose, I’m free today. Want to spend it with me?"

"Unfortunately, I can’t today."

Morimoto Chiyoda shook her head. Monday was arguably the most crucial day for the special task force. That was when Dio typically appeared. Based on the intelligence gathered by the task force, they surmised it was likely related to souls being sacrificed to ascend to Paradise.

"I might be busy today, so grab lunch somewhere on your own."

Morimoto Chiyoda paused, then pulled two ten-thousand Yen banknotes from her bodice, placed them on the table, and pushed them towards Aozawa.

"Oh, this is very much like a scene from a spy movie with a female agent."

Aozawa held the warm banknotes in his hand, grinning. "Chitose, you truly understand a man’s heart."

"Of course. Unlike naive youngsters like you, I’m far more experienced," Morimoto Chiyoda answered with a smile.

Words like these couldn’t breach her defenses; only truly innocent girls would blush at them.

She continued to chat with Aozawa, finished breakfast, then stood up to head out for work.

"Safe travels."

Aozawa stood at the entrance, waving, using his Catalyst sensing ability to watch Morimoto Chiyoda get into the Bugatti Veyron and drive away from the villa.

He withdrew his hand, deactivated his Catalyst sensing ability, then used Element Replacement to transform into an invisible breeze before activating Global Travel.

In his mind’s eye, his perspective rapidly zoomed out, as if he had floated into outer space to gaze upon the azure planet. He selected a country on the globe to jump to. The invisible breeze swept from Japan to the streets of New York in the United States.

Clearly, Global Travel wasn’t weakened in terms of distance.

Then, from New York, he leaped back to the Morimoto estate in Japan. Next, he wanted to jump to Wales in England to admire the seascape.

Global Travel couldn’t be activated again; it had entered its cooldown period.

It seemed the main limitation imposed on Global Travel was the number of uses; he could no longer switch between countries at will as before. The exact cooldown duration would have to be determined later. For now, the most pressing matter was, of course, to test his new ability, Sound of Everything.

The wind circled in the living room. After Aozawa deactivated Element Replacement and resumed his human form, standing on the ground, he used his new superpower, Sound of Everything.

A DRONE, like a swarm of bees flying past his ear; then various sounds, loud and soft, suddenly registered in Aozawa’s hearing. There were sounds from the sofa, the building, the tables, chairs, and cups. Even the grass and trees outside emitted a low HUM.

He raised his hands, understanding inwardly what the Sound of Everything ability could do. Not only could he hear the ’sound’ of all things, but he could also strip them of their inherent sounds.

Aozawa walked to the sofa and touched it with his right hand, stripping the ’sound’ from it. A distinct white mist was drawn out and absorbed into his palm.

His right hand stripped, his left hand bestowed.

He walked to a chair, placed his left hand on it, and a milky-white mist quickly surged from his palm into the chair.

Then, with no visible change to the chair, Aozawa sat on it. The wooden chair, which should have been hard, became very soft and elastic. The wooden chair’s shape and appearance remained the same; it only felt as if it had turned into a sofa.

Aozawa stood on it and jumped a few times; it felt no different from bouncing on a sofa.

And what of the sofa whose ’sound’ had been stripped? A flicker of curiosity sparked within Aozawa. He leaped from the chair onto the sofa and found it incredibly hard, like a rock weathered by ages of wind and rain. Knocking on it with his hand produced a dull THUMP-THUMP.

It wasn’t a simple swap with the chair, he thought. He hopped back onto the floor, walked over to the chair, stripped its ’sound’ with his right hand, and bestowed it upon the sofa with his left.

Aozawa squeezed the sofa. Its texture was very soft, now possessing the nature of the chair’s ’sound’ that had been infused into it.

It seemed that if a ’stronger sound’ was injected into an object with a ’weaker sound,’ the stronger would alter the weaker. ’Devoured’ felt like a more fitting description.

Aozawa touched the chair. The once-hard chair became as pliable as noodles, quickly collapsing. Or rather, it slumped to the floor like a puddle of water.

Aozawa pinched a corner and lifted the ’chair.’ Looked at this way, it somewhat resembled a sheet of dough.

He frowned slightly. When Chitose returned and found a chair missing, she would definitely scold him. He’d been careless; he shouldn’t have used the chair for his test.

But why had the chair become so soft, instead of hard like the sound-stripped sofa? Could it be that stripping a ’sound’ caused an object to manifest its opposite characteristic? The soft sofa had become hard, and the hard chair soft—a jump from one extreme to the other.

Aozawa pondered this, then casually used his Marked Detonation ability to obliterate the chair, leaving not even a trace on the floor.

He stood up and walked through the corridor, opening the sliding door.

Bright sunlight fell on the courtyard grass. Next, he would experiment with these blades of grass.

Aozawa turned, walked to the kitchen, picked up a kitchen knife with his left hand, and brought it down hard on the cutting board.

A THUD resounded.

In that instant, he reached out with his right hand and captured the sound of the knife striking the cutting board. He wanted to see what effect bestowing this sound onto an object would produce.

Aozawa walked into the courtyard and, with his left hand, bestowed the sound onto a blade of grass.

CRACK!

The blade of grass snapped cleanly.

"Oh?" An interested expression appeared on Aozawa’s face. He picked up the broken blade of grass, examined the clean cut, then pulled the entire plant out and obliterated it with Marked Detonation.

He then captured the sound of the Marked Detonation with his right hand.

Aozawa then bestowed that sound onto another blade of grass with his left hand.

A soft POP, and the blade of grass shattered into tiny pieces.

The sound of the knife on the cutting board, the sound of Marked Detonation... His right hand could capture such emitted sounds. Then, using his left hand to bestow them onto objects would cause those sounds to exert their original effects.

If he captured the sound of a nuclear bomb, couldn’t he recreate the cataclysmic spectacle of a nuclear explosion merely by releasing it with his left hand?

At this thought, another idea flashed through Aozawa’s mind. If I were to bestow a person’s ’strong sound’ into someone with a ’weaker sound,’ what kind of change would occur? Would it be an exchange of souls, or an exchange of strength? This is something worth researching. If it were merely an exchange of strength, I could enhance my own physical abilities.

Although he possessed superpowers, his physical fitness was still that of an ordinary person. He couldn’t, for example, punch a hole through a wall like Tetsuji. If he jumped from the second floor without using superpowers, he’d likely break a leg. Perhaps this superpower could be used to improve his physical conditioning.

Aozawa wasn’t opposed to using superpowers to enhance his body. However, he was against pinning his hopes on future, unobtained superpowers, thereby abandoning present efforts. That, to him, was a form of weak dependence. But for the superpowers he already possessed, he had no psychological barrier to using them. This was simply making himself stronger through the rational use of his abilities. Not using them would be foolish.

Aozawa stood up, preparing to go out and find a martial artist.

He planned to bestow the ’sound’ of a martial artist onto a Yakuza member, just to see what kind of reaction it would trigger.

Aozawa quickly changed into casual clothes: a white short-sleeved shirt, black athletic pants, and slippers.

In this sweltering weather, wearing slippers when going out was only natural.

He opened the door and stepped out of the mansion. Where to find a martial artist? he pondered. A series of place names flashed through my mind. I’ll head to the usual spot: Shinjuku.