Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner
Chapter 364 - 268

Chapter 364: Chapter 268

Watanabe Shun lay on the ground, everything around him gradually slowing, sounds stretching out, and he felt his consciousness drifting away, the carousel of his life flashing before his eyes.

Memories once forgotten came flooding back, from his first day at kindergarten, to his father’s death from tuberculosis, followed by six years of an insecure primary school life, three years of naive and reckless junior high, three years of rebellious high school. After graduation, he joined a violent gang on the streets, hanging out with a bunch of troublemaker friends every day...

His mother, Aiko, often advised him to tone down and find a proper job. But he always made excuses to postpone, always saying he’d look for a job eventually, but never truly taking it to heart.

"The economy’s been bad these past two years, it’s not that easy to find a job..."

"I know, I know, stop nagging already! It’s driving me crazy! I’ll go to an interview tomorrow, will that satisfy you?"

"...Ah, something came up yesterday, it was really important, my brother got beaten up, how could I not help..."

...

Aiko would urge him day after day, and he would dodge her words day after day.

To be honest, he didn’t have much in the way of daily expenses; he ate at home, lived at home, and never asked his mother for money for anything else.

When he ran out of cigarettes, he’d bum one off a friend, when he ran out of alcohol, he’d mooch off his brothers. Occasionally, he’d stand up for his brothers in a fight, and he thought this carefree life wasn’t all that bad.

Back then, he felt like he had seen through life. Life was just like this, contentment brings happiness, so why bother working so hard? In the end, you’d never save much money, might as well enjoy it while you can...

Until one day, Aiko fell ill as well.

The owner of the grocery store came to inform him while he was squatting by the roadside with friends, picking cigarette butts.

The doctor said it was lung cancer, late stage, without treatment, she had only three to six months, with treatment, she might live two years.

Such diseases were quite common back then, enterprise regulations were incomplete, and the environments of handicraft workshops were extremely harsh, especially for textile workers. Even without masks, without ventilation or dust removal equipment, prolonged asbestos exposure led to a lung cancer SMR of 4.17, with female textile workers having a notably high mortality rate from lung cancer.

Aiko was a textile worker, often coughing, an old problem. He had never paid it any mind, never expected his mother would end up with cancer, coughing up blood and passing out unconscious.

It was a hopeless death, Aiko didn’t want to waste the money. By the time he rushed to the hospital, Aiko was already handling the discharge paperwork.

He wasn’t willing to accept it, furious and saddened, constantly urging his mother to accept treatment.

Aiko didn’t argue back, she silently walked home, occasionally covering her mouth to cough, until she sat down on the mat and calmly asked:

"Who’s going to pay for the medical expenses?"

His first reaction was that his mother had savings, which should be used for her treatment at a time like this. But Aiko insisted she had none, her wages barely covered daily expenses, there wasn’t a dime extra.

"After I die, you’ll have to figure out a way to live on your own." Aiko said.

He refused to accept fate, he told Aiko not to speak like that. The shadow of his father’s death had always loomed over him, casting a pall over his childhood and youth, and now his mother was going to leave him too, how could he easily compromise?

"Just wait! I’ll gather the money for the medical bills! By then, you can go to the hospital for treatment at ease, don’t worry about the money!"

He left behind this bold proclamation, fleeing the house in distress.

But how could a small-time punk with no proper job possibly acquire a large sum of money through legitimate means?

He first tried borrowing money from his old troublemaker friends; his brothers sympathized with his plight, no one displayed disloyalty at a critical moment. They all emptied their pockets, shoving a pile of small bills and coins over.

He counted, totaling only 2100 yen.

However, a single round of chemotherapy could cost anywhere from 100,000 to 500,000 yen. At a public hospital, using standard chemotherapy drugs, with health insurance deductions, it would still cost at least 40,000 yen.

No way around it, his troublemaker friends were all broke, wealthy people wouldn’t hang out with them.

He had no choice but to approach the gang leader, asking if he could borrow some money. The leader said it was possible, but the condition was that he’d need to work, plenty of quick money jobs available, it just depended if he was willing to do them.

For instance, distributing white powder in the city. He could earn a 3,000 yen commission per deal, carrying a kilo of powder, he could do about two hundred deals, if he wasn’t caught, earning six hundred thousand yen a week.

He thought about it but didn’t agree.

The leader thought he wasn’t cut out for selling either, then introduced him to other jobs, like being a hired thug, breaking people’s limbs, potentially even having to kill; or being a debt collector, splashing paint on debtors’ doorsteps, throwing animal carcasses, harassing debtors...

In sum, as long as he was willing to work, there were plenty of opportunities to make money.

He hesitated but finally chose to become a debt collector. After all, repaying debts is a matter of course, he didn’t consider it doing anything bad, he wasn’t afraid of what neighbors might say.

That same night, he started working. The leader gave him a first job, sending him to the countryside to collect a debt, regardless of how much interest, it was all his, the leader only wanted the principal, as a sort of favor to a newcomer.

He set off overnight with a good brother, journeying by foot to the debtor’s home. The latter lived in a small cabin in the suburbs, fields lay fallow, uncultivated, and before he even knocked, he heard a continuous, heart-wrenching cough from inside.

"Debt collection! Debt collection!"