Little Tamako truly had no friends.
On one hand, she started school earlier, so her peers were a few years older than her. Being shy and too timid to speak, everyone thought she was a silent gourd and didn’t want to include her in their games;
On the other hand, the Kujo Family’s strict upbringing forbade little Tamako from playing outside. She could only listen to her classmates talk about what they played or watched on TV the previous night, unable to join the conversation at all.
This vicious cycle meant that while little Tamako wasn’t outright isolated, she became a transparent person in the class.
Her only hobby was reading detective novels—Kujo Yua wouldn’t let her watch TV, as early exposure to media and films was deemed unhealthy for a child’s mental and physical well-being. Nor was she allowed to read Mary Sue novels or comic books, leaving her only with detective novels to read.
In Japan, detective novels aren’t considered frivolous reads, especially social detective novels, which Kujo Yua felt could train her logical thinking and instill a sound worldview, and therefore did not object to them.
Over time, little Tamako developed a dream of becoming a famous detective and police chief like those in the books, smart and brave, fighting for justice and helping the weak, and most importantly, having an ’assistant-kun’ by her side to weather life and death together.
The bond between the great detective and the assistant-kun transcends the vulgar, hormonal love between men and women, and even surpasses the great terror of life and death; it’s a meeting of noble, like-minded souls!
They’d have gunfights back-to-back on trains, help each other escape from haunted houses, and stand united against authority, never yielding... They shared the same ideals, the same beliefs, and the same goals, no matter how fierce their arguments, they always reconciled in the end.
Every time Tamako flipped through a detective novel, she’d hear her parents arguing outside the room.
She’d hide under the covers reading, as the crime reached a critical point, the partners would examine the scene together, the great detective mocking the assistant for failing to notice such obvious clues; while Kujo Yua scolded her husband for being foolish and petty about so-called masculinity... Tamako turned a page, the assistant-kun made up with the great detective, but her parents continued to argue.
Lil’ Tamako knew her parents loved her and that her grandfather cherished her, but she still felt lonely.
She wanted to make friends but was afraid of making friends.
Fushimi Roku didn’t understand the thoughts of a little girl, but he vaguely realized that Tamako was sad not just because she was scolded, but because she had no one to confide in after being scolded.
"I can be your friend," he said, sprawled in the corner, "I can be your best friend."
Little Tamako continued to cry, not responding. In her eyes, Teacher Fushimi was an adult and could never be her friend... Adults and children couldn’t possibly play together.
Fushimi Roku was at a loss, and could only lean back in silence, staring blankly.
Meanwhile, in another dream, Minamoto Tamako was facing the same trouble.
She hid under the bed in the attic, covering her mouth and nose, peeking through the gap, her heart pounding with tension.
On the floor, a woman’s pale face appeared, then her upper body, followed by a pair of bluish-white ankles and red high heels making creaking sounds as they walked on the attic’s wooden floor.
It was the woman from the living room!
Minamoto Tamako hadn’t forgotten, it was this woman who had strangled her to death before, the suffocating feeling of impending death was extraordinarily real, and she definitely didn’t want to experience it a second time.
"...What was that sound just now?" the woman questioned.
"I don’t know." the gloomy boy said.
As soon as he finished speaking, Minamoto Tamako heard a loud slap, the gloomy boy wobbled, struggling to stand firm, not backing away, remaining silent.
"Speak up! I don’t have time to waste with you!" the woman questioned again.
"I don’t know." The gloomy boy said the same words.
There was another loud slap, heavier than the last, and the gloomy boy fell to the ground, locking eyes with Minamoto Tamako under the bed for a second, during which she noticed his face was swollen. Yet the gloomy boy seemed unconcerned, standing up once more. Content originally comes from n0velfire.net
"Who taught you to lie? Who let you talk back! You’ve learned to hide people at home, haven’t you?"
Saying this, the woman started rummaging through drawers and cabinets, her red high heels moving back and forth in front of Minamoto Tamako, as books, clothes, lamps, and other daily items clattered to the floor, resembling a small earthquake.
Having found nothing, the woman turned back and grabbed the gloomy boy’s hair, forcing him to explain the sound just now.
"I was practicing my Mandarin." said the gloomy boy.
The woman scolded and another loud slap resounded.
Minamoto Tamako could bear it no longer, she shouted ’Enough!’ wanting to crawl out from under the bed to stop the woman’s violence. But moving too hastily, her head banged on the bed board with a thud, causing her to clutch her head in pain and flatten herself to the ground, lacking any heroic flair in her entrance.
It wasn’t over. As she gathered herself, she looked up and saw a pale face hanging upside down outside the bed gap—the woman, backlit, her pupils seemed particularly venomous, as if she wanted to swallow Minamoto Tamako whole.
Minamoto Tamako’s recently mustered courage scattered, instinctively retreating a little; just as the woman reached out, trying to yank her out, catching nothing, her already fierce expression twisted even more.
"Come out! Come out!!" the woman shouted.
"Come in here if you dare!" Minamoto Tamako wasn’t to be outdone, feeling a bit ashamed of her retreat, trying to salvage her dignity in front of the little buck, showcasing the justice of a big sister.