AN: So as I mentioned in last AN, this chapter is basically me having a play around with the structure of the story so far. Usually we'll have 8man's notebook writings contrasted with the actual real life happenings, but from the start of the story I've been intrigued by the possibilities that the former writing format opened up. So, this chapter will be completely based around stuff that Hachiman's writing in his case file/diary; I really wanted to expand on his feelings as well as his theories on the murderer.


Broken Glass

Chapter Seven:

I'm surprised. I actually fell asleep immediately after getting back from Miura's. I've felt tired a lot recently, but this was the persistent tired that you can't just shake off by turning on the lights or getting out of bed or staring out of your window. I found that I didn't want to shake it off, either. So, after, avoiding Komachi like the bubonic plague, I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep straight away. Genuinely. Like it was my first year at Sobu High all over again.

It hasn't done much good. It was only the evening when I got back, so seven hours has just about lasted me to 1 o'clock in the morning. And lo and behold, I'm now very much awake.

The sweating from the nightmare's just about stopped. I opened my eyes drenched in it, with the sheets soaked straight through as if a tidal wave had fallen upon it, and I myself was swept away in the undercurrent as easily as rolling sediment. The waves were in the nightmare too. I opened my eyes while they were closed and suddenly there was water all around me, and the ocean was dark without any or morning or afternoon or evening stabbing in from the surface. Just a timeless, throbbing blackness, and I was drifting along, simple and stupid, blind like I am in the day, when I'm wide awake.

Somewhere along the way, in the gushing seconds just before I woke up- I swear I've heard that dreams really do only last that long- I began to make out these shapes. At first, they were just specks in the crush of the water, and thinking about it I shouldn't have been able to make out the shapes at all if it was a dark as I dreamt. But then I drifted closer to these specks, and they began to flutter into fullness, into flesh and faces, and I realised they were the corpses of the names in my head. Ebina Hina, Miura Yumiko, Yukinoshita Yukino, Kawasaki Saki and Yuigahama Yui and all the rest. Through the pressure of the ocean, I thought I head a meaningless echo, like the rumblings of a prehistoric monster beneath me. Then again, it also sounded a little like a karaoke machine.

But I drifted on, looking at the bodies and their hair, lifeless and floating like seaweed. They weren't moving, so I supposed they'd drowned, and they didn't have any cuts or redness around their skin or their fingernails, so they couldn't have been stabbed. But then there was another shape. One that I couldn't identify, as wholly black as the waves around it, and it was faceless and distorted, and it was surrounded in redness, in blood and it was bleeding from every pore, and in its hand was a shard of glass that was larger than nightmares, and I drifted closer and closer until I might've been able to turn the body around and see who it was. I did, but there was nothing there. An empty black hole where there should've been a skull.

Then, something broke, shatttered, and I woke up.

It wasn't Hayama Hayato. I think it was probably the person who killed him, and since their face is unknown to me I just shaded it in, so that it conjoined with the ocean and I could only stare and hope person and water would identify themselves.

I feel like I'm riding the crest of a tsunami. Not just in my nightmares, I mean. I feel like I'm staring down at the coastline beneath me, and then the wave falls in on itself and onto that coastline and I'm just lost in the rubble.

Which face should I really be shading onto that shape? Which face belongs to it?

On Thursday, there was a moment in another Math class (that I failed to pay attention in) where I thought about the police investigation that took place. I'm usually a cynical person, so it stands to reason that I should be cynical about that too; yet I found myself trying to occupy the shoes of one of the police men who investigated the house, or the people who performed the autopsy on Hayato's body. Trying to empathise with them. There had to have been an autopsy- the circumstances weren't nearly as open and shut as they made it seem.

Who am I kidding? I think that they probably knew. That it wasn't just open and shut. I'm just some retarded pseudo-narcissistic teenage boy, and if I can tell that there isn't a chance in fucking hell that Hayama committed suicide, they could probably tell too. They're professionals. They must've done.

I think the reason why they pretended that it wasn't is twofold. First: they succumbed to the same urge as the majority of the school. To find ease and comfort in ignorance. But again, the police aren't just stupid teenagers. The other reason is that, despite all reason suggesting otherwise, there probably wasn't any conclusive evidence. The murderer somehow managed to cover their tracks well enough to avoid being traced.

At the end of the day, it all comes down to practicality. I'm sure all those honourable, righteous police men would rather cut a few hours off their working day than find a murderer.

Maybe they knew who did it, but wouldn't have been able to prove it. Maybe they just let someone go free, because they were just young and stupid and drunk, or because there's no point in ruining a teenager's life when they most likely had no idea what they were doing.

To be honest, I couldn't give less a fuck about that. Adults are proficient at not taking young people seriously- they'll let them fight wars, and do all the work, but treat them as real people? Nah. But what does it matter how old a murderer is if they're a murderer?

When I find them, that's what I'll do. I think that they deserve justice. Even if I'm not a police officer, and I have no intention of ever being one, I'll make sure of it.

They're a murderer.

It doesn't matter if it turns out to be someone that I care about.

I

I want it to be somebody I don't care about. I want to be this objective, unflinching and unfeeling judge with eyes that are omniscient and a conscious that's ineffably clear. Someone who'll sentence a person to the gallows without losing sleep.

So basically, I want to be a psychopath. Interesting aspiration, Hachiman.

I'm not a psychopath.

For one, I'm losing sleep. Source: it's 1 o'clock and I'm writing and sweating and shaking.

And I'm feeling.

A lot.

And it's so fucking pathetic. Feeling is the worst sensation you can ever experience, because it's out of control and it leaves you utterly helpless. I hate feeling. It's shit. Feelings just get under your skin and stay there, like a parasite, like a fucking leech on your skin, drinking you till you're empty and i just fucking hate it, i hate sitting there in the fucking service club and feeling all these things that icant control and sitting there and looking at her cause she's the service club presidetnt and shes so amazing and beautiful and perfect and sexy and i keep on thinking about how i want just bring her closer to me and kiss her and make out with her until all of these nightmares and feelings finally implode and she doesnt have to be the person whoi think killed hayamahaya


Hachiman waits around fifteen minutes before he starts writing again.


I think I've quite the Service Club. I haven't turned up for a session since I spoke to Yuigahama. The way that ended is probably as good a resignation as I could hope to give, all angry and defiant, and definitely not friendly. I swear that I could hear the snap of a chord between us- a connection that had been pulled too rigid, stressed to the brink by clammed up hands and words that no one could take back or redraught. Looking at the break now, at the two separated and frayed strands, at the hopelessness of a reunion that would reverse and reverse and reverse until they were thoroughly intertwined again

It looks like they couldn't be an "again". Like there was no "before". Like it just wasn't.

And I'm not missing anything. I'm really not. What is the Service Club, in the end? Some idealistic, unrealistic, not-even-really-a-thing dreamed up by a possible murderer, with an airhead of a friend who prioritises shitty fluorescent hair dye over coherent vocabulary.

I don't have time to worry about shit like the Service Club. I can ony worry about the girl who leads it.

Although if the Service Club is anything, then it's Yukinoshita Yukino. Just her, all on her own.

I don't want to write about Yukinoshita Yukino. I want to write about the party. But Yukinoshita is the party too.

Everything seems to revolve around Yukinoshita Yukino, doesn't it?

Yukinoshita. Yukinoshita Yukino.


Another fifteen minutes.


You know what? Maybe I'm approaching this from the wrong angle. Lets forget about how Yukinoshita Yukino might've killed Hayama Hayato.

In fact, let's just forget about Yukinoshita Yukino permanostopconcentrate YOU FUCKING MORON

What I need to think about is why Yukinoshita Yukino might've killed Hayama Hayato. I already know that she had opportunity- when she want upstairs, just after Ooka had thrown up. The biggest thing I'm missing, for everyone except perhaps Miura, is a reasonable motive.

I originally placed Yukinoshita on a pedestal because I thought her motive was far stronger than the rest. Now, I think that her actions on the night of the party, somehow, outweigh that motive. Yes, Yukinoshita hated Hayama. Yes, I'm aware of some cataclysm in their youth, some explosion that sent them spiralling apart and I'm certainly not underestimating Yukinoshita's ability to hold a grudge. That comes from personal experience.

But there's this thing about the past: it's in the past. I'm right, aren't I? Sure, they have a disagreement in middle school, or about that time. Maybe it involves some dumb crush, or a shared dumb crush, and a whole lot of bitterness that became frozen and was left to be unexpressed, to always stand still. But aren't both of them clever people? Even if the wounds never left, wouldn't they have healed by the night of the part, at least a little? Wounds are supposed to heal. Well not for Hayama, I guess, ha ha ha.

Suppose that the bitterness she thought she'd buried away was, in some way, exhumed during the party, and not just by alcohol and the game of spin the bottle.

The way that the bottle smashed. It was so loud.

I'm not convinced it was loud enough for Yukinoshita to kill him, though. Not just with the circumstance. Yukinoshita Yukino can be one of the most impenetrable people I've ever met, but she can also be unsure, and indecisive, and impressions can be strong on her. I think.

My hunch is that there was one more thing that happened that evening, or several more things, that I didn't see but that Yukinoshita Yukino did. This is also where my theory comes in. Going to Miura's house didn't even come close to providing me with answers, but it solidified this idea like wallpaper to the sides of my skull.

Yukinoshita Yukino, between 9:45 and 10:00 PM, was upstairs. Miura Yumiko didn't seem to think that she was, but she gave no proper reason why she could be outside either, and considering Tobe, Ooka and Yamato's stance, who I'd say were much more trustworthy, that's my conclusion. Unless Ebina or Yui can tell me differently, then Hayama Hayato was in the backgarden (it wouldn't make much sense if they were both outside, considering that his declaration of "I need to be alone" essentially meant he needed to avoid her), and Yukinoshita was upstairs with Kawasaki.

It was even darker outside on that night than inside, as you'd expect. But I'm beginning to see thing's from the perspective of Hayama: this is my theory. It's so dark in the garden, but all of the inside rooms are lit up like interrogation rooms. A person standing in the back garden can see into the kitchen- he can see Miura and Ebina and Yui and his friends, all sat in there.

But, if the lights in the upstairs rooms are on, then he can also see into those. They might not necessarily be able to see him, but he can see them. He can see exactly what's happening when Yukinoshita Yukino and Kawasaki are upstairs. If they're interacting, they would turn the lights on. That makes perfect sense.

And what if he sees something that he can't see. That nobody can see.

Something disgusting and twisted enough to necessitate his death.

But what would that be? Kawasaki and Yukinoshita are hardly friends. And Kawasaki might've taken the spiked drink- she could hardly think, let alone interact with someone.

Unless the fact she could barely think

It would probably be quite easy to take advantage of someone in that position.

Then again, being blind drunk doesn't always incapacitate someone. There's a chance it only makes someone more violent, or unpredictable. Is that likely, considering the state she was in when I took her upstairs?

She wasn't completely asleep when I took her upstairs though. I can't make assumptions. It may not be likely, but she was still talking and moving when I dragged her upstairs.

I can't

Yukinoshita Yukino. Once again, it's her that's the missing puzzle piece. I don't believe for a second that she'd take advantage of Kawasaki. If anything, it would be the other way round.

Perhaps it's just an interaction, not a fight or anything dramatic, that Hayama sees. Just the two of them talking.

Either way, it would explain why she goes upstairs later in the evening. First of all, she goes to the left, as Miura said, and she cuts Hayama's wrists and stabs him in the heart, and she leaves him in the spare bedroom as if he'd killed himself, and then she goes to the left, to Kawasaki, and she confronts her over whatever it is that requires a confrontation. But just a confrontation. What Hayama sees isn't enough for her to have to kill Kawasaki too.

But even in this, my most likely theory so far, which isn't really saying much- there are holes.

1. Why does Kawasaki keep what happened a secret? If Yukinoshita has taken advantage of her in some way, then she has no reason to stay silent.

Unless it hurts her in some way. If she was directly involved- that would give her a reason to stay silent. She's ashamed, and she hates herself for it. Enough to hurt herself.

But I don't believe she could do it.

Maybe I should be more open minded.

2. Hayama Hayato wasn't captain of the soccer team for nothing. He's bigger and stronger than anybody at that party. I'd prreviously disregarded this, under the presumption that the murderer simply took him by surprise.

This still isn't impossible. Sneaking up on someone isn't hard, if you really need to do it. But it's a risk. If he realises, and there's a struggle of any kind, then I'd be willing to bet who would come out on top.

But if there's two people. If more than one person are involved in this. Then, if they take him by surprise, I wouldn't be so sure.

Well there it is. My brilliant, fantastic, Sherlock worthy theory.

And guess what? It's got me absolutely nowhere.


Hachiman pauses, hand still wrapped around the pen. It's not just his fingers that are tired.

He grunts, shoves the pen away from him. A sudden burst of wind from the open window ruffles his hair, and the autumn moonlight follows it, gently combing through the matted, unwashed knots, and then coming to rest on the colourlessness of the ceiling.

"What the fuck is even the point..."

His phone vibrates on the table.

He lifts his head tiredly and stares at the flashing screen, bemused. It was past one o'clock, nearly two, and someone else in the very small group that he'd deem acquaintances was also awake, and feeling the urge to text him?

His staring continues even after the vibrating dies away. The memory chips away at him, of the last time he was interrupted while writing, the memory of Yukinoshita and their strained phone call over the notebook page, which remains folded and pinned to the wall above his desk. This time, however, Hachiman knows there's a far more likely culprit for whose texting him. As if the Ice Queen would waste any of her beautiful slumber.

Finally, he reaches over and grabs his phone.

Unknown Number: U awake? This is Miura

Hachiman: How the fuck are you texting me? I didn't give you my number.

Miura: I got it from Yui on Wednesday

Hachiman: How?

Miura: checked on her phone while she wasn't looking, I like know her lock code

Hachiman: You either know her lock code or you don't know it. There's no inbetween.

She doesn't reply immediately, and Hachiman can't quite decide whether it's suspicious that she felt the need to go to such lengths, or just plain disturbing, or maybe even both.

Hachiman: You didn't need to do that. We could just talk at school.

Miura: it would be weirder if we talked school, I'd rather just text u

Hachiman: Well it's definitely not weird to see you on your phone, so I can't disagree with you.

Miura: did u seriously just crack a joke Hikio

It felt odd to even type.

Hachiman: I suppose I did.

Miura: aren't u a funny guy

Hachiman: No one else seems like they want to.

Miura: ur not a fuckin martyr Hikio

Hachiman: It's "you're", not "ur". It should also be capitalised, and I'm sorry if I don't like being woken up at 2 in the morning.

Another pause between their texts.

Miura: did you actually get to sleep tonight then, thats good

"No," he mutters, even while typing the opposite.

Miura: i didn't, obviously

Hachiman: Texting me isn't going to help.

Miura: well I tried going to sleep, and that didn't help either

Hachiman: Now you're the one cracking jokes.

An even longer pause between texts, with both of their fingers advancing on the keys, before retreating again.

Hachiman: Goodnight, Miura Yumiko.

Miura: nite Hikio

He puts his phone down, wondering if it will be the last exchange of that kind between him and Miura.


Yukinoshita Yukino's motive.

I need to know it, if there is one. Hopefully, one that will explain her movements upstairs after 10 PM. There's a very large and portruding wall in the way of getting that explanation, however, and I shouldn't even have to write it out. As if she'll consider talking to me in any respect, let alone in regards to the party.

She probably knows that I think she killed Hayama at this point.

She probably knew from the moment we had that phone call.

She's a secretive person. She has very few friends, or people she'd willingly spend time, and the circle of people she'd confide in is even smaller. Yuigahama: that's our one mutual connection, but thanks to Yours fucking Truly, that bridge has been thoroughly burned. They're much closer friends than me, and I know full well how much they value that friendship.

Her family is off limits too.

I mean

Her parents ar

There's no way I can do that. Knowing that bitch, she'd probably spout it out to everybody within a mile radius

Fuck it. It's not like I have any options.

Get this. For the first time in my fucking life, I'm going to have to actively seek out Yukinoshita Haruno.

can't wait