There Was No Secret Organization to Fight with the World’s Darkness so I Made One (In Exasperation)

Uncle Hero, who ran through the city at night in charge of me, ran a little after he went out onto the front street and finally let me down in front of an altercation lit with brilliance. It is the magic of Tokyo today that there is no guarantee that we can shake off the pursuit of the bad guys just by appearing on the street.

Chris and Baba, who have been following me, are taking a gentle breath before thanking Uncle Hero, but I just push my mouth so hard that I don't throw up the contents of my stomach that has been shaken and transported and shaken.

"You look pale. It's okay, those guys shook it off."

Uncle Hero notices and calls out to me, but it's not like the bad guys are fading in horror. But opening his mouth was also a hundred million robberies, so he nodded silently. I can't guard motion sickness with my mind. No, maybe I can, but I can't because I haven't trained.

"You haven't introduced yourself yet. I'm Tsukimori. Stranger Mutual Aid is working on it. Feel free to call me Parenthood."

"Parenthood!"

"Whoa. Let's talk about it on foot. I'll show you where to calm down."

Moon's guardian instantly strokes Chris' head and leads him out, calling him nostalgic and casual. Me and Baba looked at each other silently as we continued later. There is a lot of penetration.

The Gentiles (Strangers) are the words used to refer to the bad ones among foreigners overflowing Tokyo.

One day in a naturally spread word, the definition is vague, but all the guys who are foreigners and work or are likely to work or are somewhat suspicious or creepy are collectively called Strangers.

There is occasional news on TV and the internet that the Strangers tented themselves to the park, stayed up and started a fire, or got stupidly noisy when they gathered in a liquor store. Less than a year after the super water polo incident, I also kind of knew by hearsay that order, class, and group were being formed in Stranger, who was a U.S.-based crowd. But in fact, this is the first time I've ever met a member of a group.

In creating a secret society of darkness, the Stranger Group is one of the candidates who was blurred out as a constituent. He came from the other side with good luck inside. I'm talking about Stranger Mutual Aid formerly tightening up, and there's some kind of inevitability that Stranger-like Chris (and Baba) would have come to help because he was being attacked.

But the name Parenthood... isn't that a Yakuza, not a mutual aid organization? You can't call me that easily. Scary. Yakuza Scary.

"Thank you for your help, Moon Guardian. This is less, but I feel it. Hehe."

I caught up with the leading parent and gave them three bills out of my purse, snarling and handing them over to my parent.

He has a deeply carved tough face, and is the owner of toughness that can be dashed violently with an adult male weight of 65 kg. The chest plate is thick enough to tell even from the top of the t-shirt. It's a good fight with Mr. Bear. It feels so intimidating.

My parents pushed the bills back at me depressingly.

"I'm not a yakuza. I didn't push you. Parenthood is just what our young mon calls it on his own. That's why they call me. I'm used to it."

Really. The rhetoric sounds like a yakuza.

"No. Please take it. The only way a man can pull in the money he gave you is if it's obsolete."

"Make it obsolete. That's it. Thirty thousand, thirty thousand! Although it would be a lot of money. How many days' worth of food do you think it's going to cost? More, more."

"Uh, I was wondering if it would be a little better. I won't even let my benefactor name me because I don't appreciate it. My name is Baba, my daughter is Chris, and he has amnesia and forgotten his name. Later, things are discussed, but I don't have any inn athletes, so I want you to let the morality of your parents take care of you. I'll thank you as much as I can."

They saw that the interaction was going to be prolonged. Baba broke in and it took me to move on to the crisp story.

Well, it would be the former tightening up of the Mutual Aid Society, but it would be Yakuza's parent, but it is very interesting to be a candidate for membership of the Dark Secret Society. I have no hand in not making a connection to this on my footing.

My parents looked down and bewildered at Baba, who manipulated a grand and fluent tone of Baba with a tiny back length.

"Am I hearing this wrong? Baba? You're not in elementary school?

"I am an adult in my home country. Baba is not his real name. It seems strange in this country."

"Oh, oh. Sorry. So, uh, that's right. If you're staying, come with us. Right there."

"Atashi, I don't have any money."

"I'll stay for free for about a night. Stranger, you had a mutual aid meeting, I'm gonna help you. Here it is."

After pinching the routine Baba Tsukomi, the parent stopped. In front of it was a wooden door with a tile roof, both open and large enough for a limo to pass through.

All three of them watch as their parents open the door unconstitutionally. Pine trees that look over white, high walls, splendid Japanese houses with a sense of history illuminated by city lights, and the inscription "Moon Guard" on a wooden plaque that holds as much as a handful with masterful brushes.

Whatever you think, it's Yakuza's big family home. This is it. What, we can peel off raw skin from now on?

How bad can you do to build this many mansions in Tokyo's residential neighborhoods... No, Tsuki Mansion was just as splendid with different tastes. Money is everywhere.

The grounds of the moon guard mansion were chaotic. There were tents everywhere, people everywhere. The gravel-layed garden, as well as the roots of the pine trees, even inside the pond where the water is drained, has a tent twisted, making sure to sew between them to create a winding path. Extension cords stretched out of the mansion's windows propagated through the tent's roof while octopus feet were wired, stretching all over the place, lighting countless fluorescent lights. It smells like the rest of the couplamen's juice or something burnt, and people's body odors mix and mix their noses.

People walking around cramped narrow paths can vary from young and old races, from black to natural colors like red, tea, white and gold to openly dyed purple and fluorescent pink. Clothes are also painful in the eyes, such as Indian-like ethnic costumes, women hiding their faces with veils, Gingilagine laminated special attack clothes, etc.

Well, I guess it's true that Stranger Mutual Aid Club. It seems more like a refugee camp or something than a mutual aid club.

To the Strangers, who say hello to their parents, Oyabun, Oyabun, and their parents say hello to Eagle Deep in a variety of languages, but they also smile and pull us to the front door. And he put out a table just outside the front door, waking him up with a cheekstick on his cheeks and tapping the bald scattered head of a fat man who was napping.

"Miyama, three more. They all speak Japanese. Keep the books."

"Huh? Uh, seriously, I didn't think there would be a rare increase today..."

"Well, I'm looking around again."

"Eye, eye, come on"

"The three of you follow his instructions."

As soon as the parents took over easily, they turned back the way they came and left.

Uncle Fat Bald Head, who seemed to have dropped it off with a flick of his hand, said wearily as he rolled the books and poked them out at us with the pen.

"Welcome to the Stranger Mutual Aid Society, the Moon Guard. We are an organization that strives to be independent while working with each other by offering residences and good offices to strangers who cannot or do not want to return to their home countries. It is a free yule organization that goes in and out, so I hope you use it as a good idea, but the members want to know. So write your name in the field here, you're from here, and you're your age here. If you can't write Japanese, please do it in your native language. Call me back when you get out of the mutual aid club."

"I know Atashi. Nantka is a mafia in Japan."

"It's not Yakuza. It's a mutual aid club."

Chris names it as a hassle without getting lost whilst tapping lightly.

Christina Najin, New York, Age 16. Was it a New Yorker?

I received a pen from Chris after I finished writing, and Baba also writes.

Ronalia Linaria Bavagnan, from the Kingdom of Alves, 906 years old.

I thought I was definitely going to get stuck, but unexpectedly, Mr. Miyama went through with a half laugh. If you look closely at the books and wonder if this is okay even though it smells like a terrible lie, your name is Jesus Christ, you are from Mars, you are 123456789 years old, and there were rows of unscrupulous profiles. Baba's crazy profile looks like Matomo in contrast. Terrible. Tokyo, you're getting too funny.

Strangers are occult lovers who have come to Japan because of many of these super water polo incidents. Inevitably, there are many weird guys. I meant to know, but there seem to be a lot more weird guys than I thought.

I received a pen from Baba and I tried to write it too, but my hand stopped.

"I have amnesia and I don't know if I'm a Stranger."

"Oh? If you call yourself amnesia, there are twenty or thirty more. Don't worry about it. The thing I forgot is, 'None' is fine."

Isn't there a lot of guys using the same M.O. as me? Well, that's an easy and famous excuse to dive in pretending to know nothing about some organization, but come on.

I'm sorry I called myself amnesia.

I wrote no name, I'm from Japan (presumed), I'm in my 20s (presumed).

Mr. Miyama received his books and pen, pointing at the large shelf next to the table with his fat fingers.

"The blanket is there. Take it appropriately, find an empty tent and go to sleep. You see the red brick buried on the ground and the line is made, from the line, this is the women's tent, that's the men's tent. Don't get me wrong. Meshi cooks it out at 6: 00, 12: 00, 18: 00. The bathroom is that way. The bath is over, but it's between 19: 00 and 24: 00, so it's not open now. Well, do something about the movement around you. It's okay. I'll remember right away. So, it's our rule to do it, but there are three. Just remember this. Don't steal, work, enjoy. These three. Whatever else you want, but don't steal, work, enjoy, just protect these three. Everything I just said is stuck in my tent. If you forget, read it. If you can't read the letters, you can ask the indigenous people who seem to make sense of the words. That's it, any questions?

"It's not a good idea to follow or complain, but are the rules too cluttered? Only three."

"You, Konko, race, nationality, language. You think intrusive and complicated rules work?

"Oh, yes, I don't think so."

It doesn't even make any noise. Convinced!

"No more questions, huh? Well, just go and get some sleep. Come back here when you wake up."

The conversation was over. They chased us away, and we broke up with a blanket. Baba gently pulls Chris' sleepy hand and disappears between the women's tents, and I look around to see if there's any room in the men's tent with one blanket. I finally realized I was separated, but my body and spirit were exhausted by a night of fury. My body is heavy and my head is dull. I can't believe it hasn't been twelve hours since Baba and I left the body alone. I think it's been about another week.

Anyway, I'm tired. Let's think about the hard stuff tomorrow.

Eventually I finally dived into the corner of the three-man tent I found and put on a blanket and went to bed, but the teething and sleeping remarks of the two Uncle Stranger sleeping next door were loud and it was only two hours later that I finally fell asleep.

I just want to say at dawn of the night, the next day...... but it was dark outside even when I woke up. I thought it was weird because I think I slept quite a bit and I looked at the watch and apparently slept all day. There's more to sleeping with.

I was just doing a cookout, so I got a curry in line, and after I finished eating, I looked for the two girls.

Fluorescent lights still lit the tent group today. Even at night it was bright enough, but there were many people in and out of the tent at all costs. Apparently, he's having a rough time with someone coming home for a cookout at night and someone who's out to work after eating. They thought it would take a while to find the two of them, but Chris was quickly found.

Because he was eating curry while sitting on the roof on a brick.

What are you doing? You're an absolute ninja. Blonde, though.

I waved from the bottom and called out.

"Chris."

"Ah! Hey, brother!

"Morning. Why are you here?"

"Because it's narrow down there. You slept in the attic because you were burying all the women's tents, right? Baba slept on a tree."

I see.

…… I see?

Chris continues to disappoint Curry.

"Hey, brother, listen, listen! I decided to explore the mansion today. So, find out if it's broken and fix it! Rain leaks and broken skylights."

"Can you do that?

"Mr. Miyama said he would provide the tools. Atashi You're good at that, aren't you? Because I'm a ninja apprentice."

"I knew you were a ninja."

"You're an apprentice, apprentice. Because I still can't separate and I can't be transparent. Daily Refinement, Daily Ninja Road!

Chris stamped himself with his hands to make a kimeface, but he was about to drop a curry dish on that clap and was awash. I see, it looks like an apprenticeship.

But blonde ninja apprentice daughter. Ah.

Damn, why wasn't a guy like Chris in my classmate when I was a student? Even though it was absolutely hilarious. I wanted to combine at Psychicker & Knoich to run through the city at night.

I once dreamed how much fun it would be to create a freak grade that brought together the best freaks in school from all over Japan. Comics and light novels are interesting because that's exactly the situation. Freaks are just freaks on their own. It is when multiple freaks come together that the collision creates an exciting romance and drama.

When I was a student, there was no freak around me. I was alone. There was no romance, no drama, nothing. It was even flat.

Now, on the occasion of the super water polo incident I started, freaks from all over the world are gathered in Tokyo (technically, they are also gathered in Ireland, so they are in a state of bipolarity), and they are in a state of freaky city without freaky grades. Tokyo's freak index is big enough to outperform the event blocking function due to the earliest fucking reality. Until yesterday, when I lived normally in tabular society, I didn't get caught up in automated events, so I still had to voluntarily fly into the back society to experience extraordinary events.

Still, Tokyo now deserves the stage of psychic youth, where the extraordinary events I sought until I toured the world travel powerspot in college can be experienced just by entering the alley for a bit.

Even though it is a natural event, it needs to be fixed because many kidnappings on boulders are too insecure. Kidnapped and not stylish about organ/human trafficking or anything.

Well.

Baba, who was crowded with multinational children in the shade of a tree and taught origami, apparently gave Mr. Miyama the status of head interpreter for the Moon Guard. Baba is going to stay in the Moon Watch Mansion and learn from one end the multilingualism of the Moon Watch group by taking advantage of his ability to learn the extraordinary language in advance. Interpret, solve problems, and consult between strangers who don't speak the language. Until now, it seems that Miyama was unable to do something or manage to do something with the use of glue translation.

I thought this organization would be okay because it immediately accepted us, but it is a brilliant and suitable place not to be imprisoned by Baba's appearance. The high-altitude Sunday carpenter nomination also took advantage of Chris' lightness. The Moon Guard seems to be doing well. If we look at it in the way it was worn, we should think that the mutual aid club, which was not able to do well, will crumble early and that the successful Lunar Guard will remain until today?

For a while, I decided to patrol the city every night to see what was going on in the moon guard's umbrella store and let my parents accompany me to pick up the stranger.

When I told her that, Miyama showed difficulty by stroking her ample bunk chin, but she withdrew the foreword and gave me permission when I lifted the garden stone to show it with mental strengthening. He had always thought it was dangerous for the head of the Moon Guard to be single and wander around Tokyo at night, no matter how hard he was. If there is a "usable" escort, I have never crossed it.

Parents of the Moon Guard, Moon Guard.

Does he deserve to be a member of a secret society of darkness? How do you lead the Moon Guard over a hundred people just by looking at it?

Let me identify you up close and let you study.