Akasaka is already waiting when he pulls up to the park; lines of care threading the younger man's face cause Oishi to start for a moment. In his mind's eye, Akasaka remains the fresh-faced city officer still new to the countryside's ways. But that image is long since outdated. The man is now more than acquainted with the rural nuances of Okinomiya and Hinamizawa, and could almost pass for a native of the region were it not for the nagging accent he carries. Ruefully, Oishi thinks that if Akasaka has not remained immune to time's ravages, what image must he present?

"Ochibana passed this to me in the meeting room yesterday. He says it's fresh." A manila folder rustling with paper (and photographs, no doubt) is brought out with a flourish, Akasaka giving the older officer a lighthearted grin. Oishi grasps the meaning quickly.

"She'll be pleased. Lately she's been after me for not bringing in anything recent. I've had to apologize more than once." He takes the folder from Akasaka's hands and feels the reassuring weight of documents within. Good. A thin file likely meant little evidence, and little evidence meant analysis was harder to make. He'd told her he'd make it up if she resolved all the other trifles for him, and it looks he'd deliver. Excellent.

"It's been a while since I've gone down with you to see her." Akasaka leans back against the seat, the tension of his body slowly leaving. "Usually it's just you who goes, and then it's me who brings the miracle back to the department. You should have seen Iwakura's face when I told him how to resolve the letter carrier incident. He looked like he could have kissed me."

"What an enjoyable prospect," Oishi laughed. "Regardless, I'm glad cases are being made. It frees up time that can be spent on ongoing investigations."

"How large is it, the case file she's made?"

Oishi glanced at the rear-view mirror. "She rarely lets me see it, but from the glimpses I caught last year at any rate, it's enormous."

"Is there some reason she hasn't used it?"

"Maybe she still needs a certain piece. Quantity, after all, is no assurance of prosecution. If all she's gathered is flimsy or circumstantial evidence, then it might as well be nothing. However, I don't think that's the case."

"What then?" Akasaka shifted anxiously in his seat.

"You ask me that considering who it is that does this?" Oishi gave the other man a wry grin. "Surely I don't need to elaborate on possible motives."

"But then it doesn't make sense. If she had no intent of using it, she wouldn't have gathered it. Otherwise what was the point of— "

"I don't claim to understand her motivations. I'm partly to blame, after all, for having induced her to come out here and work for us. But as for why she pursued this the way she did, I have no answers. At first I was just glad someone was following in my footsteps, but now I'm not so sure. In any case, if and when she decides to use it, I'm sure we'll be the first to know. Until then, all we can do is wait." They pulled up to the building.

"I can see why she trusts you." Akasaka climbed out of the seat. "You don't pry."

"I make it a point never to pry into the affairs of beautiful women."

"I can think of a certain family who would disagree with you."

"They don't count."

"Of course."

The office is small, with a cozy feel to it despite the relative bareness. A dark oaken desk lies stable at the center, three lined bookshelves pressed against the walls. The presence of a bright, lovingly dressed doll on one of the shelves adds a bit of color to an otherwise lightless room, the sole window reflecting the late afternoon's rays. They enter quietly (no one can accuse of them being tactless) and wait for the occupant's finishing strokes on an unfolded page.

A dark business suit clings tightly to her form; the sunset hair that draws so many eyes shades the angles of her face, a mix of delicate features. The impression is given of dark eyes behind a rosebush. Akasaka, who sees only his wife, thinks her lovely. Oishi, who has sampled heartily, knows her to be beautiful. The single thought they share: lucky is the man she loves.

She looked up, smiling. "You don't have to stand like that. Please sit."

"Sorry for all the bother." Oishi laughed sheepishly, as Akasaka gave a cheerful wave to the woman's quiet smile. "No one likes being interrupted."

"I was just replying to a letter my father sent me. How to reassure without revealing is making it a bit hard." She folded it, sealing it in the drawer to her left. The gesture prompted Oishi to pull out the file.

"This is…?"

"A gift from my department," Akasaka said. "In return for all the generous service you've rendered us."

She started beaming as soon as she felt the weight.

"Should we leave you to your work?" Oishi asked.

"No," she replied, "that's not necessary. Both of you have been so kind and I've been so demanding. It's not much, but would you care for pastries?"

Having sampled her food in the past, the two of them readily agreed. Rising, she stepped out to retrieve it, closing the door with a soft thud.

Akasaka sighed. "How did you ever manage to land her this place?"

"You know Ibuki from Narcotics? His brother-in-law owns this building. I managed to get him to lease two rooms at a reduced rate, so she would have a place to work from."

"Even so, two rooms is a bit…"

"She takes other clients besides the police department. Mostly private individuals, who I can assure you pay quite handsomely."

"But she still lives here."

"She probably saves it." Oishi suppressed the urge to light up in the small, shadowed room. "It's what I would do."

The door opened. A sweet, buttery smell drifted in. She carried a small white plate loaded with them.

"Please help yourselves."

While complimenting the chef on her skills (a little too excessively, Oishi thought), Akasaka simultaneously pleaded his excuse to leave early, as he had a meeting with one of his daughter's teachers. Reassuring him there was nothing to apologize for, she saw him to the door, making him take a few to give to his family. Thanking her graciously, he left at the speed of one who has the clock to beat. She laughed a little as she closed the door.

"He hasn't changed much, has he?"

"No," Oishi replied, "Not at all. And I'm glad, because he's a good man, a good investigator, and I sometimes like to think the two aren't mutually exclusive."

She sat down and watched him in fond appraisal. "Have you been down there recently?"

"I actually just got back this morning." Oishi shifted his weight to ease his legs. "Akasaska paged me yesterday about having received something relevant, so I had to leave a bit early. I should be back in a few days time, though."

The folder's contents were already spread across the table. "Any news?"

"The clinic's expansion is going well. They added another wing last summer."

"The director must be glad."

"Irie? Yes, he was rather cheerful last time I saw him, though that may have been because Hojo-san was in the vicinity."

"Anything else?"

"No one asked me the perennial question." Oishi glanced at her slyly. "Where is Ryuugu Rena?"

She avoided his gaze, preferring to focus on a close up of the victim's nails. "After so much time, it's not surprising for them to have stopped."

"I think they just forgot in all the excitement."

"Over what?"

"The marriage. Sonozaki's head is marrying at summer's end."

Rena stared at him, glassy eyes overtaking startled soft ones. She set the photo down.

"You should make him pastries," Oishi said quietly. "He told me once he loved your food."

"Mion can handle it; she's always wanted to bake for him. " A painful smile. "Going over there would unnecessarily complicate things. It's better if I stay where I am." She rose and stood by the window, surveying the remains of the day. What little light there was had fled.

"If I stay here, things will go well. Nothing will get in their way, nothing will get in my way; we can comfortably forget each other." She watched the streetlights flicker. "If I see his face, I won't be able to stop."

Oishi had risen and was heading towards the door. He paused before leaving a parting gift.

"I'll be going back on Thursday. If you should change your mind, wait at the park around noon. I'll definitely come." The door opened onto a silent hallway.

"Oishi-san." He turned back.

She had become soft again, eyes as moist as the cream of her sweets. The room had blended into her. "When Thursday comes, take me with you. Even if I refuse, take me with you. It's stupid to say, but that man is my sunlight; his absence deprives me. I have to see them all and wish them well; I have to properly say goodbye."

Oishi gave her the smile one reserves for a favorite daughter, the ease of an old man's age. "I'll come."

She fell asleep at the desk soon after, forgetting the night's early tides and dwelling instead in an old summer day, clad in white again and kissing the face she so loved. He held her at a distance, then smashed her face to bits. She woke up and called it all lies, then cradled the doll till morning, when she finally wept.