Yoshiku Takada is a Social Department reporter who works for Morning Shit Newspapers.
Age is 27. A big man over 190 tall, he worked out as a lagerman in college, and even from the top of his suit, he is a very successful body type holder of the reverse triangle shape, with a clear idea of the thickness of his arms, the width of his shoulders and the thickness of his chest plate. Just being there, being a man of presence.
It has short hair and a deep carved face that looks slightly old at my age, but my eyes are large and my expression is always soothing, so I give the impression that it seems good per person.
This man, with a strong sense of justice, pure and positive, had been made a target of ridicule by some of his predecessors, but there were also a few who watched him smile. He was particularly adorable, especially from his deputy director, who was a senior in the rugby department at the same university.
However, towards the deputy director, Yoshiku filed his retirement report early in the office.
"This is it all of a sudden, without even consulting me. He's not even you anymore..."
The deputy director takes a heavy sigh.
"I can't write backstreet articles here at all. You can't stay here forever. You don't have to talk to him. You'll see."
With a voice that often passes, in a grand tone, Yoshiku speaks out.
In the first place, Yoshiku's motive for joining the newspaper was because he wanted to use the power of the press to fight the existence of a back street. Because he wanted to let the world know about the evil deeds on the back street, which is a half-approved evil, and to sharpen the forces on the back street at all.
If you can't do that, there's no point in working for a newspaper.
Among them, the only organization that killed my sister-in-law - the formalin-pickled president - really wanted to make it public and erase its existence. Worst organization where people feed on people for distorted pleasures. It is unforgivable that such things continue to exist and that many victims are still being sacrificed.
And recently rumored in gossip magazines and gossip sites, Yoshiku laid eyes on the clone sale of entertainers. There are also many leaked videos and images on anonymous bulletin boards and illegal video sites. It is a story bought by the rich and powerful via the back streets and raised as loving slaves.
As a result of compiling various pieces of information, Yoshiku was winning that the organization making the sale was the president pickled in formalin.
Though I remembered for a long time that I could not expose that, as expected, my permission to interview did not go down.
"Clearly, we're inferior to third-rate gossip magazines for aunts, aren't we? No, is it weird to say us anymore? I'm leaving here."
With a voice that echoes the whole room, Yoshiku provokes to say it off. Some sinister gaze pours down on her for a long time, but she even feels comfortable with it the other way around.
The press has been considerably forced into disabling itself, although it has not been able to report any backstreet-related incidents. Especially when it comes to specific organization names, and when organizations with strong influence were involved in the street, they can't be in the article first.
"We don't need our lives either. Above all, we're in business."
Says the deputy director, who sees through all his long-standing grievances.
"Only when it's convenient, I exalt it's journalism about press justice and press freedom, and I don't try to touch any really dangerous areas, and I don't imitate losing readers by doing stories that don't fit the colour."
Ironic forever to the fullest. Freedom of the press is said to be the freedom not to press, but Yoshiku actually worked for the newspaper to create the idea that it was true.
Yoshiku believes that there is indeed justice and evil in this world, and he wants to be on the side of justice. I tell myself every day that I want to be able to declare that before anyone else.
You can be crummy. You can say it's blue. A good citizen without power continues to cry out in his heart to those who denounce themselves, saying that the schema of being unfairly ravaged and fed is nothing but evil, and that the act of trying to overthrow it is anything but justice.
"The pen says it's stronger than the sword, but it's a stupid big lie."
The deputy director tells in an annoying tone.
"If you snap the neck of someone with a pen from one end, no one will have a pen. No, two or three is enough."
I know the logic for a long time. That's exactly what the Japanese press is like today. Close to extinction, such as those who take risks and imitate the pursuit of truth, etc.
However, it should be noted that there was no letter in the Mandatory Dictionary stating that it would pull in or give up.
"I know. So I don't just have a pen, I have a sword. If you had both a pen and a sword, you could handle it, right?
"You... no way"
The deputy director peels off his eyes. You can't possibly not know what that word means.
"I fall in the back street. I'm talking about having a press site on the back street that specializes in back streets, and I'm going to hit you from there. I'm going to change the way we fight a little bit."
In his prolonged proclamation, the deputy sighed heavily, as he had given up.
"You could have been at home, like one of those blue stinking idiots drunk on justice like you. The guy who likes you, he's been here pretty good, huh?
I have the feeling that the Deputy Director's words will pull my hair back.
"Bye...... thanks for your help so far! Yoshiku Takada! I will fall into the back street more than this and do my best as a freelance journalist pursuing the truth!
As if to shake it off, he shouted loudly and drowned his head deeply throughout the room.
"Wait."
The deputy director calls for a long time to try to walk away. Stand still.
"The power of the pen is the power of the heart. Don't forget. The sword will snap the neck of the man with the pen, but the man with the sword will have another heart."
The prolonged expression broke into the words of the deputy director, who said away in a long time I looked back.
Mika Tsukinawa is a well-known presence on both the back and front streets. Behind you stands an arms-up freelance starter. In the table, musicians.
Based on such Mika, a client visited Mika's office in the back street, hoping to use her powers as a doorman.
Mika's office is properly divided between the back and the table. I'm usually in a back street office that also has a residence. If you are in a front street office, try not to take your feet as far as possible as a risk, and when you visit, you try to get in through the back door disguised.
This time the client was a street resident. When it comes to residents on the main street, there is no doubt that they will be involved behind the fact that they come to ask for Mika.
"I didn't know you were coming!
Mika had several face-to-face experiences with the person. We had a little conversation.
"I was wondering if I could trust you the most, and I talked to your mother and manager, and they came"
A girl dressed as a plain bump jumper on her big sunglasses and hat, sitting on the couch in front of Mika, says lightly. Next to it sits a magnificent man in his back.
Being a client, she was an idol singer recently on sale. His name is Daiichi. In the back street, she is considered one of the living legends, a woman policeman of the Juvenile Division who serves in the euthanasia police station, and a daughter of Daiichi Nanase.
"Mr. Ohiko - you mean you told your mother too!?
"Yes. Mika told me that you can count on her. The police say it's hard to move, and no."
"The opponent is that formalin-pickled president! Honestly, he's a tough guy for me, too! But take it!"
Mika smiles and slaps herself in the chest more and more.
"Honestly, I'm anxious too! I wonder if I'm among the celebrity clone manufacturers and sellers they've been doing lately!
A request from someone was a substitute for what has recently been rumored, even on the face of the street, to establish the veracity of the story of making and tutoring entertainer clones and selling them as slaves to rich opponents. In addition, he wants us to make sure that there are no clones.
"Rumors are true when I say blah blah blah. Don't be sure your clones are there or not! I wish I wasn't here!
"Mika's clone seems to have a good chance, too, huh?
"I'm not kidding! But... what do you want me to do to make sure!? No! What do you want me to do if I can confirm it!?
"If... my clone was made and made a slave to the heartless, if possible... I need your help."
Mika will have a difficult face, even though she will say it in a nagging way.
"To do so, we must first ascertain all that was sold to him, and then raid all that was sold to him, blackmail him, and help him! It's just hard to find all that. Ultimately! What are you gonna do with those clones after you save them? Hand it over to the police!? The police can't rely on this right now! The political power of the president pickled in formalin is extremely strong, but hence it is defiant in the police with the aspect of puppet of state power! But......"
So Mika lurks her voice and smiles small.
"I feel the same way about you. I still want to help if something like my clone was made and I was in terrible sight. No, not even myself, though! I don't want to overlook such a different place of work! I'll see what I can do!
Let her squeeze her fist tight in front of her face, and Mika speaks Australian.
"I knew Mika, she was a nice guy just like your mother said. I'm glad you came to ask."
I saw Mika's heat and strength, and I was moved to tears.
(I've dressed up and spoken of things in good shape, but this is a nasty job I've never had... No, it's an unlimited challenge. opponent is an extra large organization in my hands, and my life is in danger if I don't stand around too well)
On the other hand, in my mind, I calmly accepted the difficulty of the request, and it was Mika twisting her head about what was wrong.