At dawn, Sushi slipped out of the shack, leaving the old man snoring loudly behind him. His mind was racing: *?Two days until those bastards return... Time is running out, and I can't afford a single mistake.?*
His destination was the office of "Brown," the lawyer, but first, he made a stop at the library. Information in this world was the ultimate weapon. He entered with steps as silent as a cat, so much so that Lemila, the librarian, didn't notice him until his shadow fell over her book.
"Oh!" She looked up startled. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. I was completely absorbed in this book." She bowed her head in apology, but Sushi, with a flash of "devious chivalry," gently placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Don't worry, beautiful. Beauty never needs to apologize."
Her cheeks flushed crimson. "Ah... thank you. How can I help you today?"
Sushi took a step back, instantly donning the mask of a broken stranger. "Actually... I'm in great trouble, and being a stranger in this city, I have nowhere else to turn." He looked at her with eyes full of plea. "But I know that a librarian as kind, composed, and virtuous as you wouldn't turn away a poor soul in need, right?"
Faced with such an onslaught of flattery, Lemila had no choice. "What kind of help do you need?"
"I just want to get these people away from my home," Sushi said, pulling out a crudely drawn, ugly sketch of the two men in black suits. As soon as Lemila saw the drawing, her face turned pale. "I... I'm sorry, I can't help you with this!" She pushed the picture back with trembling hands, trying to end the conversation immediately.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Sushi knew she was hiding something; his years of "scamming" on Earth had taught him how to read the fear behind a smile. He suddenly dropped to one knee, clasping his hands as if in prayer. "Please! My grandfather and I are the last of our line. If we lose the house, we lose everything!"
Despite his begging, she remained hesitant. Sushi decided it was time for the "dramatic bomb." He flopped onto the floor in a pose of total despair. "Fine... never mind. I have one last request... when my grandfather and I are buried tomorrow, please remember to pray for us."
"Is... is it really that bad?" she asked, genuine fear in her voice. Sushi didn't answer; instead, he stood up slowly and trudged toward the door as if the world were ending. Just before he stepped out, she called out, "Stop! Fine... I'll help you."
In a split second, Sushi was standing right in front of her, full of life as if he hadn't been on the brink of death a moment ago! She signaled him to lean in and whispered words that made his expression harden.
"Thank you... Miss?" He scratched his head, pretending to forget her name. She giggled, covering her mouth. "You can call me Lemila."
Sushi bowed with the grace of a knight. "And I am... Urahara Sushi."
---
Later, Sushi stood before a massive building with a simple yet imposing facade. In bold brown letters, it read: **"Defender of Justice: Mr. Brown"**. He walked in, taking advantage of the "Free First Consultation" policy—his wallet was a sacred territory he refused to violate.
A clerk led him to a dim office smelling of old paper and tobacco. The room was chaotic, with newspaper clippings and files covering the walls. In the center, a bulky man sat in a wheelchair, his back turned to the door as he stared out the window.
"Sit," the man said in a deep, gravelly voice without turning. "What is your business?"
Sushi spoke slowly and firmly. "I have a property case. People are trying to seize the land."
Brown replied disinterestedly, "Then go to the City Affairs Hall. Don't waste my time with petty real estate squabbles."
Sushi took a deep breath, then dropped the two words that shattered the room's silence: **"The Black House."**
The man spun his chair around violently, glaring at Sushi with a gaze so fierce it could draw blood. "What did you just say?! Repeat that right now!"
