Metro Labyrinth Chapter 117.1: New Tokyo Governor Nemurogawa Chuuta

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 The cheers of the assembled crowd only increased. Yet, to my ears, I could hear the sound of the soles of my leather shoes landing on the streets of Sugamo.


 When I caught sight of them, something inside of me jumped up and down.



(……that’s–) (Shuu)



 The government of New Tokyo Metropolitan Government, Gov. Nemurogawa Chuuta.


 I am a “Master Threadweaver” just like Nemurogawa Chuuta, and a living witness of the ancient era that has lived more than a hundred years since the “Tokyo Judgment”.



 At last, I was able to see him with my own eyes.


 Blood rushes to my body as my heart beats fast and loud, and my body heats up.


 At the same time–my brain is slightly chaotic with shock and confusion. If I had not had any prior information, I would have been surprised to the point that my eyeballs would have popped out of my head.



 He is wearing a tie, or rather a red bow tie, which is unusual for a person from this country. He was wearing a white shirt, a checkered vest, and mouse-colored short pants. He was dressed as if he were at a child’s 5th or 7th birthday party or entrance ceremony.



(…a child.) (Shuu)



 He looks to be in the upper grades of elementary school, ten years old or so. He has neatly cropped hair, plump cheeks, and dull eyes. He is a cute boy with charm rather than a beautiful boy.



(It’s possible to be like that, isn’t it?) (Shuu)



 [Immortality] is semi-immortality. I have hardly aged a hundred years, just as I was when I was a newly graduated working man a hundred years ago.



 Nemurogawa was probably just an ordinary elementary school student before Tokyo was destroyed. But he gained the ability to become a “Master Threadweaver” and lived 100 years in the new world as an eternal child. In terms of the number of years he has lived, and in terms of his magnificent life experience, he is far superior to me.



“I’ve never seen him before,” said Noa, standing next to me. I was a little surprised when I saw him in person. He’s almost 120 years old.”


“I saw him in Senju once,” Kure said. “When I was about the same height as His Excellency, and the big man in charge of our village was so smiling respectfully at him that it was kind of strange.”


“I see.” (Shuu)



 There are certainly incredible things.


 Although he had the potential of being a “Master Threadweaver,” he was not the standard-bearer.



 He survived the Tokyo Judgement and lived in the metro for ten years, became a tribe chief on the surface, united the people, established a government, ended the war, and created a country—is it really possible for an ordinary elementary school student to accomplish such a feat?


 In my mind, I don’t think I can imitate him. I wish they would not ask such a reckless act from a newbie.



 The governor turned around at the sound of cheers calling out to him, and, holding back the black-clad men around him with his hand, took a step or two toward the group.



“–Good day to you, people of Sugamo City. My dear citizens.” (Chuuta)



 As he waves his hand and says these words, the cheering around stops. His voice is dignified, strong, and clear, while still retaining the childlike quality that he had before a change in his voice.



“The 30th anniversary of the birth of Sugamo City… The reason why we are able to celebrate this day like this is because everyone’s wish for eternal peace has been woven one step at a time. Congratulations, Sugamo City! Congratulations, everyone!” (Chuuta)



 A beat later, the cheering explodes. “Your Excellency, the Governor of Sugamo! Hooray! Hooray!” and as well as “Kyaaa! Cute!” No one was heard yelling curses, and it seemed that the support of people of all ages and both sexes was solid.



 There, a skinny man with a familiar face, Susuyama, Mayor Sugamo’s secretary–a petite, slightly chubby man with runs at a trot towards the Governor. Finally, I saw the real person for the first time, the Mayor of Sugamo.



 The mayor shakes hands with the governor and is photographed by a group of reporters holding up a large camera and a shiny umbrella-like object. As the Mayor leads the Governor’s delegation into the Capitol building, the frenzy around them slowly dies down, and the crowd slowly begins to thin out. The crowd slowly begins to thin out.



“…Abeshuu?” (Tamiko)


“…Mr. Shuu?” (Noa)


“…Ah, well.” (Shuu)



 I’m still a little nervous. I’m not saying that I’ve woken up to being a Shotacon or anything like that.



(That kid…) (Shuu)



 He may be ten or so years old on the outside, but mentally he’s more an adult than me.


 I know that, but – even with that.



 That appearance, atmosphere, expression, and tone of voice. I felt like I was being sucked in. I wonder if that kind of attractiveness called “charisma,” or is it some kind of Fungal Skill that makes him be that way?



 Of course, it must be something that has been cultivated over a hundred years. But I am sure it was also due to his own extraordinary ability. The man he is now, having been perfected in this way, looks as much of a monster as Satou or Demons.



(……eh?) (Shuu)



 Suddenly, there is something caught in the corner of my head.



(Have I seen him somewhere before?) (Shuu)



 Not in this world, of course. It was around the time of the Heisei Era, when Tokyo has not collapsed–a memory of five years or a little more ago, excluding the period when I was asleep.



 Did I see him anywhere? No, I don’t have elementary school acquaintances back then.


 TV or internet? Yes, I think so. Was he a child actor in a TV drama or something?



“Shuu, did you get scared, by any chance?” (Kure)


“No, not really…” (Shuu)


“He certainly had a great aura about him. I tried to think it may be a few tricks in my head, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t get the image of one. I would love to fight him once.” (Kure)



 Kure licks his tongue. I don’t know if you can really measure a fighter’s strength with such an underground fighting style, but I’m not so sure.



“Oh, Tamiko, have you seen the level of the governor of Tokyo?” (Shuu)


“Wait squeak…” said Tamiko. “Impossible, he’s over 130, squeak…” (Tamiko)


“What?! 130? Seriously!?” (Shuu)


“Seriously… I don’t even want to know how squeak.” (Tamiko)


“I was so surprised that I didn’t even think of his level.” (Shuu)



 Of course, it’s only natural, but it’s the highest record, excluding Satou and the Demon Arato who I couldn’t see the level.



“The last time I heard from Noa it was level 98 and 28 Fungal Skills, right? That’s a few more than that, and he’s the strongest fighter in the country.” (Shuu)


“…he was,” said Noah. “That’s what my great-grandfather wrote in his notebook… Even though they are the same ‘Master Threadweavers”, there is such a big difference between them.”



 Five years since my awakening and one hundred years since he became the governor of Tokyo. A simple comparison would suggest that the difference in level and time is out of proportion. However, this is only because I was thrown into the blessed environment of Outsuka Metro (mostly for raising the level).



 The difference of 60 levels from here on. Is it just my imagination or does it seem endlessly far away?


 Will the gap ever be filled? Is it possible to fill the gap? I can’t even imagine it now.



(…I mean, how?) (Shuu)


(I want to be stronger, but…) (Shuu)


(Should I even aim to be the strongest or something?) (Shuu)



“—you were in a place like this? Welcome back, Mr. Abe and everyone.” (Voice)



 I was startled when someone called out to me from behind.



“……eh?” (Shuu)



 Ahead of me, I turn around and see a beautiful woman with long black hair standing there. A chihuahua clinging to the top of her head.


 It’s Aomoto.





 The eating and drinking space of the guild branch is wrapped in a festive atmosphere. Of course, the festival is near, but it seems that many people were watching the moment when the governor appeared earlier.



“I was surprised to see you back. I thought you were the actual person, and you are.” (Aomoto)




 The way she rests her elbows on the standing table and sips her coffee so elegantly, he is truly a beautiful boss. If it weren’t for the fluffy white thing on her head.



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