My Girlfriend is an Evil Woman

While Kitahara Hideji was caught in the midst of Fuyumi’s indignant two-finger gesture, Ono Yoko stood on the fourth-floor corridor of the North Harada Apartments, observing the street below for a moment. Seeing only a few pedestrians, she secured the spare key to the apartment, ensuring the door was locked. With Hyakujirou in tow, she headed downstairs.

Her mission: to buy disinfectant.

Unlike the fake Kitahara Hideji, Ono Yoko was a true native of Nagoya City, Aichi Prefecture. She had grown up knowing how to deal with mold—unlike Kitahara Hideji’s approach of brushing here and there, which was ineffective, the key was to tackle the root cause!

And the root cause was the ceiling. While it might not seem like there was much mold on the ceiling, it was the real source of the problem. If the mold on the ceiling wasn’t thoroughly cleaned, all the effort put into scrubbing the floor would be in vain. Within a few days, the mold from the ceiling would float down and start growing on the floor again.

The best solution was to use disinfectant to wipe down all the nooks and corners of the ceiling. The floor could be cleaned gradually, one spot at a time. Eventually, everything would be spotless.

After careful observation at home, Ono Yoko was relieved to discover that Kitahara Hideji hadn’t touched the ceiling at all. This surprising revelation filled her with a sense of delight, confident that she could truly make a significant contribution this time. She counted her saved coins and eagerly set off, her heart filled with anticipation of the satisfied smile Kitahara Hideji would wear when he returned from work to see the major threat eradicated.

He would surely praise her efforts. The thought alone brought her joy!

She hurried to the convenience store, bought a bottle of toilet disinfectant, and joyously made her way back home. One bottle was all she needed—her extensive experience in independent living meant that with a stick and a piece of cloth, she could clean the entire ceiling.

Clutching the plastic bottle, she jogged along the edge of the roadside ditch, occasionally glancing around with caution. Hyakujirou was faithfully at her side, guarding her every step. However, when she turned into a small alley, she encountered a group of boys around ten or twelve years old. They were carrying baseball bats and gloves, playfully roughhousing as they walked toward her. It seemed the wind was picking up, forcing them to abandon their baseball game at the small park and seek amusement elsewhere.

Ono Yoko hesitated briefly, pretending not to notice. She lowered her head, holding the bottle against the wall as she picked up the pace. She was about to pass by the group when suddenly, she heard someone call out, “Hey, isn’t that Yoko, that wild child?”

Hyakujirou paused in its steps upon hearing the commotion, curiously turning its head to observe. However, it only heard Ono Yoko whisper, “Hyakujirou, keep going, run!”

At her command, the little dog turned its head to find its primary owner jogging even faster. Without hesitation, it scampered along, continuing to faithfully follow her. Catching up and glancing up at her, it noticed her tense expression and nervous demeanor. This made Hyakujirou uneasy as well, and it tucked its tail between its legs.

“Hey, wild child, why are you running when you see us?” Her run seemed to pique the interest of the group of boys, who started to trail behind her. They blocked her path, and one of them laughed, “Wild child, not going trash picking today?”

Cornered against the wall and surrounded, Ono Yoko surveyed her surroundings, careful not to move her eyes too much. She lowered her voice and said, “I’m not picking trash today. Um… I’m sorry, Senpai, please let me pass. I need to go home.”

Trying to slip away by hugging the wall, she found herself blocked by these young boys who seemed to be looking for trouble. One of them, with green-dyed hair, curiously asked, “What are you holding in your arms?”

Ono Yoko suppressed her irritation. She didn’t want to provoke these streetwise kids—these were the type of delinquents or wannabe gang members. She replied with her head down, “It’s disinfectant that I bought for my family. We need it urgently… um, I’m sorry, can I go now?”

“Disinfectant?” The boys were instantly disappointed upon hearing that. They had assumed she was carrying something valuable given how tightly she held it, only to find out it was just a bathroom cleaning product. The green-haired boy was skeptical and reached out to take a closer look, asking, “Disinfectant? Is it for your mom?”

As soon as he said this, his friends burst into laughter, with one of them even shouting, “Let her go quickly, Ota! Don’t make your dad wait!”

The green-haired boy retorted, “Nonsense, it’s your dad who’s gonna be late! Last time I saw your old man hugging her mom in front of the station!”

As he tried to take the bottle from her, he pulled on it but it didn’t budge. He noticed that Ono Yoko held onto it tightly—she was clenching her lip, her face pale, and trembling slightly. She hesitated to let go because she couldn’t afford another bottle. Moreover, these boys mocking her mother embarrassed her greatly, even though she had nothing to retort with.

“Give it to me!” The green-haired boy, initially just curious, now grew annoyed as Ono Yoko refused to hand over the disinfectant. He pushed her and tried to forcefully take it from her. The surrounding boys didn’t take it too seriously; they saw it as teasing a young girl and joined in with playful remarks:

“Trash girl, planning to follow in your mother’s footsteps when you grow up?”

“How much for a night with you?”

“Do we get a discount if we go?”

Ono Yoko dared not speak back, huddling against the wall and refusing to give the disinfectant to the green-haired boy. She thought he might take it from her forcefully or even throw it on the ground—such things had happened before. These boys from the impoverished neighborhood found pleasure in bullying the weak. She had even witnessed them pouring oil and setting stray cats on fire in the park, all because they were bored.

She pleaded softly, “Senpai, it really is just disinfectant. You won’t gain anything from taking it.”

The green-haired boy grew angrier, pushed her hard against the wall, raised his baseball bat menacingly, and threatened, “Give it to me, or do you want a beating?” He was starting to doubt whether it was really disinfectant and not something valuable.

Ono Yoko was frail, and the forceful push made her collide heavily with the wall, nearly causing tears to well up in her eyes. Hyakujirou, who had been hiding behind her, suddenly jumped out, arching its body, baring its teeth, and growling in defense of its owner.

However, the puppy was only four or five months old and far from a fierce fighting breed. It lacked both combat and intimidation abilities. The green-haired boy glanced down at it and nonchalantly kicked it, causing Hyakujirou to tumble over. Laughing, the boy swung his baseball bat and taunted, “Is this your dog? So rude. Let me teach it some manners!”

Finally unable to bear it any longer, Ono Yoko yelled and charged at the green-haired boy, knocking him off-balance and saving Hyakujirou’s life. She yelled at Hyakujirou, “Run, Hyakujirou!”

The green-haired boy didn’t expect Ono Yoko, who usually avoided them and never talked back, to resist. Caught off guard, he stumbled, and hearing the mocking laughter of his companions only added to his embarrassment. He cursed and kicked Ono Yoko hard in the stomach, sending her crashing back into the wall. Raising his baseball bat, he intended to deliver a punishing blow.

This wild child had no father to protect her; hitting her was no big deal.

Hyakujirou, usually obedient, refused to back down this time. Its eyes turned bloodshot, and it lunged at the green-haired boy’s pants leg, fiercely tugging and tearing. The green-haired boy found himself struggling to deal with the unexpected attack.

The other boys behind the green-haired one laughed even harder, showing no intention of intervening. They simply stood there clapping and enjoying the spectacle, some even mocking the green-haired boy. Furious, the green-haired boy shook his leg and managed to shake off Hyakujirou. He then chased after it and delivered a forceful kick that grazed Hyakujirou. The puppy whimpered and rolled several times in pain.

The green-haired boy’s failed attempt only fueled his anger. He chased after Hyakujirou again and lifted his foot, intending to stomp on it. But suddenly, a splash of blue liquid flew towards him, hitting him directly in the face. He clutched his eyes, doubled over in pain, and cried out even more miserably than Hyakujirou.

“Hyakujirou, are you okay?” With tears in her eyes, Ono Yoko rushed to Hyakujirou’s side. She grabbed the green-haired boy’s baseball bat and swung it menacingly to keep others away, while shouting at the boys, “Back off! Get away!”

The green-haired boy’s vision was obstructed by the blue substance, leaving him disoriented. In his panic, he reached out and accidentally grabbed Ono Yoko. Startled, Ono Yoko turned around, raised the baseball bat, and swung it fiercely at his head, cracking his skull open.

The group of street boys was shocked. Bullying and harassing kids on the street was part of their routine, but they never expected it to escalate like this. Seeing Ono Yoko seemingly gone mad, swinging a bloodied bat as if ready to fight to the death, no one dared to approach. While they enjoyed bullying the weak, they had no intention of taking it further. The green-haired boy wasn’t even part of their clique; at most, they considered him just another playmate. It wasn’t worth getting hit for him.

Ono Yoko, trembling, held her ground against the others for a moment. Seeing some of them gradually realizing the severity of the situation and getting aggressive, she screamed once more, threw the baseball bat toward them, and then scooped up Hyakujirou and the disinfectant before fleeing.

The street boys looked at the injured green-haired boy on the ground, bleeding from a wound on his head, and hesitated for a moment before deciding not to chase. They lifted the injured boy and rushed toward a clinic.

Ono Yoko sprinted all the way back to the apartment, trembling hands fumbling with the key. After several attempts, she finally managed to unlock Kitahara Hideji’s apartment door. Once inside, she locked the door and collapsed on the floor, holding Hyakujirou and sobbing uncontrollably.

Hyakujirou extended its tongue to lick away Ono Yoko’s tears and let out a gentle “woof.” Despite her tears, Ono Yoko composed herself and began examining Hyakujirou’s body. She sniffled and asked, “Are you going to be okay, Hyakujirou? I’m sorry, I couldn’t protect you. I’m really sorry!”

Hyakujirou, showing a hint of human-like behavior again, struggled out of Ono Yoko’s embrace. It limped a couple of steps and then turned around, revealing a fawning expression—its natural look seemed to be aimed at pleasing others.

Ono Yoko quickly rushed to embrace it again, running her hands over its four stubby legs. She didn’t sense any obvious fractures and checked its mouth, seeing no signs of blood. She gently placed Hyakujirou in the cardboard box that served as its bed in the bathroom and cooed, “You must be in pain. Rest for a bit.”

Hyakujirou licked her hand, obediently settling in the cardboard box. However, it didn’t seem interested in sleeping at all; its damp eyes remained fixed on Ono Yoko, showing genuine concern.

Standing up, Ono Yoko lifted her shirt slightly and examined her abdomen. She noticed a small bruise forming, which hurt, but it didn’t seem like a serious injury. She also noticed a large footprint on her clothes. She fetched a basin of water and worked to scrub the stained area, using a dry towel to pat it dry. Afterward, she gently massaged the corners of her eyes in front of the mirror to prevent them from becoming red and swollen.

After tending to herself, Ono Yoko cast another glance at Hyakujirou. It appeared to show no signs of weakness, indicating that it was probably okay. Relieved, she retrieved the disinfectant bottle from the doorway, though there was only about one-fifth of the liquid left.

After a brief moment of sorrow, Ono Yoko mixed the remaining disinfectant with water, then fetched a clothesline, a scrub brush, and a cloth. She started to wipe the ceiling, her sniffles occasionally punctuating the sound of her hands scrubbing away at the old stains and marks on the ceiling.

Outside, the wind grew stronger, causing eerie howls to resonate through the corridor. Despite occasional fright, Ono Yoko’s hands didn’t stop moving. She diligently coated every groove and seam on the aged ceiling with the disinfectant mixture.