*Screech!*
“Hello, pull over.
You were speeding just now.
That’s a three-point deduction.”
Miyamoto Yumi tapped on the car window, took out her pen, and began writing a ticket with her gloved hands.
Just as she was about to tear it off and hand it to the driver, a one-thousand-yen bill fluttered out of the window.
“Keep the change.”
With that, the man in the car tried to roll the window back up.
“Hold it right there!” Yumi pressed her hands against the glass, her gaze turning somewhat hostile as she glared at the man.
*You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?*
Keeping a straight face, Yumi said, “I meant a three-point deduction on your driver’s license!
Don’t think you can just bribe your way out of this!”
Hearing Yumi’s words, Sumitomo Shouichi let out a soft “Oh,” and snatched the thousand-yen bill right back out of her hand.
“A driver’s license?
I don’t have one of those,” Shouichi said matter-of-factly, attempting to roll the window up once again.
By this point, Yumi was practically prying the car door open.
“Oh, I see!
So you’re driving without a license, too!”
In all her time as a traffic cop, Yumi had never met someone so brazen.
“What do you mean, ‘driving without a license’?
Why do you have to make it sound so ugly?” Shouichi complained, clearly displeased.
“I wanted to take the test, but they said there was something wrong with my brain and wouldn’t let me.
What was I supposed to do?”
“Get out of the car!”
Yumi yanked at Shouichi’s car door, her movements rough and unforgiving.
Shouichi looked at his car with heartache and grumbled, “Can you be a little gentler?
I just scored this ride.
There probably isn’t a second one like it in all of Tokyo.”
“Scored it?”
“Well, not exactly ‘scored.’ I just found it lying around.”
“Found it?
More like stole it!” Yumi whipped out her handcuffs.
This was no longer a simple speeding violation.
Displeased once again by the Japanese female traffic cop’s crude accusations, Shouichi retorted, “You really have a nasty way with words.
What do you mean, ‘stole’?
I saw this poor car parked all by its lonesome, and I was worried it might get lonely, so I took it out for a walk.”
He was simply a good Samaritan, full of automotive compassion.
“Do you have a health insurance card?”
“What’s that?” Shouichi asked innocently.
“What about a Basic Resident Registration Card?”
“I’ve been alive for nineteen years and I’ve never heard of any of those things,” Shouichi said.
Yumi slammed Shouichi face-first against the car door and slapped the handcuffs on him.
*Great, he’s an unregistered citizen on top of everything else.*
“Wait a minute!
Why do you smell like alcohol?” Yumi suddenly sniffed at Shouichi.
“I just had some liquor chocolates,” Shouichi said, struggling against her grip.
“Really?”
“I’m an honest man,” Shouichi replied, his face the picture of innocence.
Yumi pulled out a black electronic device and held it up to him.
“Blow into this.”
Shouichi obediently leaned toward the machine and took a massive, sharp inhale.
“Alcohol content exceeds the legal limit.”
“You’re lying!”
Shouichi panicked.
Wouldn’t he know better than anyone if his own blood alcohol content was over the limit?
This cop was twisting the facts!
Now that the handcuffs were on, the next step would be torturing a confession out of him.
Shouichi absolutely refused to submit to this evil female police officer.
Yumi stared at him with an icy expression.
“Then blow into it again.”
Shouichi leaned in and took another massive inhale against the device.
“Alcohol content exceeds the legal limit.”
“You’re not even pretending anymore, are you?!” Shouichi yelled angrily.
“I was inhaling just now!”
*Bet you didn’t see that coming!
I totally played you.
Let’s see how you explain framing me now.*
“Hah!”
Yumi sneered, clipping the walkie-talkie back onto her belt.
“That was my radio!” she mocked.
“What’s the matter?
If you aren’t drunk, how come you can’t even recognize a walkie-talkie?”
*Bet you didn’t see that coming either.
I played you right back.*
Shouichi fell silent.
“I thought you were an honest man?” Yumi taunted.
“Well, actually,” Shouichi muttered quietly, “I do like to tell a little white lie every now and then.”
“Hmph!
You’re coming with me to the station.”
Yumi dragged Shouichi toward her motorcycle, determined to haul this once-in-a-decade weirdo straight to the precinct.
Shouichi squirmed and dragged his feet, as stubborn as a mule.
“Do I have to go?
My dad’s in there too.
We’ve got some beef, so if I go, we’ll definitely end up fighting,” Shouichi pleaded.
Yumi frowned.
“Your dad is a police officer?”
*How could a cop’s son end up like this?
His father is completely incompetent.*
“No, he’s locked up in the holding cells,” Shouichi stammered.
*If I go in too, father and son will become cellmates.
That’s a bit awkward.*
Yumi’s mouth twitched.
*Great, so it’s a family tradition.*
“Do you have any other guardians?”
“Yeah, I have a second aunt.
Her business card is in my pocket,” Shouichi said.
Yumi reached out to fish for the card.
“Not the jacket pocket.
It’s in my back pocket,” Shouichi corrected.
Deadpan, Yumi reached for Shouichi’s rear.
Out of nowhere, Shouichi started wriggling.
“Hey!
Why are you touching my butt?!”
“Hold still!” Yumi gave him a sharp smack.
Shouichi wore an expression of utter humiliation.
Bullied by this evil female traffic cop, he had no choice but to swallow his pride.
Yumi shoved Shouichi onto her motorcycle.
Speeding, driving without a license, drunk driving, grand theft auto, being an unregistered citizen, and having a father currently doing time in the slammer—this guy had stacked every debuff imaginable.
Miyamoto Yumi had been a traffic cop for years.
What hadn’t she seen?
But someone like this guy?
She truly hadn’t seen that before.
…
Back at the police station, an older officer felt a headache coming on as he looked at the items confiscated from Shouichi.
That Yumi only had to drop Shouichi off at the station, but he had to consider the bigger picture.
From these IDs and Shouichi’s own statements, he had pieced together a bit of the boy’s background.
Half-Chinese, half-Japanese, holding dual citizenship in the UK and the US.
He had graduated from the California Institute of Technology at just nineteen and had come to Japan to work for a massive corporation.
That massive corporation was Sumitomo Bank—the very same Sumitomo Bank known as the “Zaibatsu Bank.”
Working in the exclusive vault of a financial conglomerate, his connections and influence went without saying.
During his time in Europe, he had joined vegan clubs and environmental organizations, becoming an outstanding member in both.
While studying in the US, he had participated in numerous social activism campaigns and rubbed shoulders with many celebrities.
He had even been involved in “Black Lives Matter,” “Minority Rights Movements,” and “Feminist Movements,” getting tangled up with all sorts of people.
These affiliations were enough to give anyone a migraine, but to make matters worse, Shouichi was legally a minor in Japan.
He was only nineteen, and the age of majority in Japan was twenty!
And buried in that pile of documents was a certificate of “Mental Insanity.”
He was a certified lunatic!
*How am I supposed to punish him with all this?!*
If he even so much as held him at the station for a few days, countless people from both home and abroad would come knocking to condemn the police.
The backlash would be astronomical.
And that was just the trouble Shouichi brought on his own, not even mentioning his family background.
He had already looked into it.
Shouichi’s family was incredibly powerful in Japan—way beyond what a lowly police officer like him could afford to offend.
Actually, he didn’t even need to look into it.
The surname alone said it all.