It was there when I staggered down the staircase two days before the final day of trial. The envelope was a stark white against the dark wooden flooring, and I knew who it was from before I could even read the elegant handwriting. Kaito had sent an invitation to another game of chess at his abode.
I stared out the window for a long time, debating what I should do. I hadn't talk to Len or the others since Meiko revealed I had paid his bail without telling anyone and Mothy was more or less accused of killing her only daughter. The feeling of loneliness mingled itself with the feeling of my back to the precipice, to the feeling of the almost-fall, and I had to sit down for a moment. It was all coming to an end, and I felt like I hadn't accomplished anything.
On my way to the office, the radio informed me that Gumi's army was going to pass Ava in about six days, but the mayor and political officials were confident they would not breach city lines, that they would pass us for a more advantageous city to begin a political uprising. That is, if they weren't defeated by the loyalists before then. Crazy, crazy, and so far away from me. The implications of Gumi Megpoid's name on Miki's list had yet to fit together for me. I decided as I turned into the parking garage that the chess match with Kaito could provide that important information. I had to go. My stomach churned. I had to go.
Ignition off. Before I could open the door to get out of my car, a shadow flitted across the right windows. The passenger's side door opened and a woman slipped inside without a word. I froze, not quite processing that it was Meiko and she was here and she was in my car less than a foot away from me.
"Uh," I said unintelligibly.
"We need to talk," she said, eyes fixed on the windshield.
I uncomfortably placed my hands on the steering wheel just so I could have somewhere to put them. "About what?"
"The theater," she replied sarcastically.
"Just tell me what you want."
"I want you to fess up. Admit that you've manipulated the system."
"Even if I did, why does it matter if I admit it or not?"
"That is what justice is, Ms. Hidari."
"Ah, so now you're the ultimate arbiter of justice, huh? The master of right and wrong, of the truth and deception," I said.
"You mock me for wanting justice? You're a lawyer! You're supposed to be seeking justice like me."
"I'm mocking you because you don't know anything about me or Len. You convince yourself of things with no evidence to support them and then go around reciting platitudes about justice to everyone you disapprove of. I didn't pay Kaito any money, and he didn't lay a finger on that woman."
"Explain these then." She dropped a stack of photos in my lap. They were still frames of me outside the Taro Mansion, examining the front entrance and eventually being let inside.
"Where'd you get these?" I questioned.
"They were left on my doorstep. There wasn't any note or anything to go with them."
I examined them carefully, searching for an explanation of who could have taken these. One of Kaito's servants? No, he wouldn't want these made public. "Kaito Taro sent me an invitation for a game of chess," I admitted. "Don't ask me why. We played a game. He won quite easily and kept rambling about things that didn't make any sense. That's all that happened."
"Conversing with the judge during a trial—!"
"Unethical, illegal, I know!" I shot. "But if I refused his invitation, he would have ensured that Len get a guilty verdict. If this were any other case, I wouldn't have done it, but this was Len. Maybe you were right about my bias during the trial, but you left off the fact that he's innocent as well."
"What if he isn't?" Meiko asked, her voice low and seething.
I laughed shortly. "That would be the worst plot twist ever." Before she could reply, I said, "Get out of my car now."
After a moment, she ducked out, leaving the photographs with me. Whether she was satisfied with my answers or if she merely had copies, I would never know. After a moment, I grabbed a box of matches from my glovebox, pulled myself into the hot spring air, and found a dark corner of the parking garage to crouch down in. Laying the pictures on top of each other on the concrete, I struck a match and watched as the fire consumed the dark images. No one ever had to know about that night, or the night that laid ahead of me.
The office air conditioner was on full-blast, and its humming filled the room like a swarm of flies. Yuka was reading a book on the couch, face obscured by the cover. "Fire Emergencies," it read. The feeling of something needing to be said and yet the fear of what that may be caused me to remain in the threshold of the front door, expecting and dreading her to make the first move.
"Megpoid's forces are cutting it close to the city," Yuka observed.
I closed the door behind me. Drifting off to my desk and sitting down, I replied just as casually, "Crazy stuff." The air conditioner made a horrible noise, and I wondered if that was the sound an electric chair made when you pulled the lever. "You know," I went on cautiously, "I keep thinking about those forces. What if they did come and sack the city? What if Len gets off free and the next day we're all dead. What would be the point of everything?"
She replied with another question. "Have you been taking your medication?" I gave a sharp sigh, giving up on reconciliation at this juncture in time, but then she said after a moment, "Justice."
"Excuse me?"
"Justice would be the point."
"Justice," I repeated. There was that word again. Lawyers seemed to be fascinated with it—I know I used to be—and yet were utterly incapable of achieving it. "That's funny."
"I'm serious." Yuka laid her book across her stomach. "It wouldn't be for nothing, would it? Does it feel nothing right now?"
"No."
"Then whatever happens afterward won't change that. Anyway, stop talking about dying. It's depressing."
I pondered her words against my more stubborn judgement. "What is justice, then?"
"I would say… it's the universe balancing itself out. It's not really 'getting what you deserve,' either. You can't have justice without…" she trailed off.
"What?"
"You know…"
"What is it?"
She shifted around uncomfortably. "Love."
If Yuka and I were ten years old, I would have laughed in her face. If Yuka and I were twenty years old, I would have laughed in her face. In fact, if she had told me that two months previous, I would have laughed until I would get appendicitis. But, right here, right now, I just listened to the sound of the air conditioner and said, "I really got to talk to Len."
"Yeah."
"I've waited too long—"
"No, it's never too late. He'll want an explanation for the bail thing, though."
"Who cares about money, anyway? What would I have used it for?"
"I don't know. Retirement?"
"If I live that long."
"See? You're talking like that again. Want to get something to eat?"
"I can't," I said automatically. "I have an appointment with my psychiatrist." The lie slipped through easily, far too easily, but it was necessary.
"Alright. Tomorrow afternoon, then," Yuka said, and I never could tell what she was thinking.
As the days had been edging slowly toward summer, the sun took more and more time to snail across the sky. The Taro Mansion in the dusk was like an emerging ghost as I went down the drive, a block of gray and vinery against the forest backdrop. I bought a gun today. It was in my handbag. I was optimistic that it would remain untouched by evening's end.
Kaito answered the door himself once again, causing me to wonder if he really was the only person in this house. His daughter was dead, after all. For the first time, I almost looked upon him as human. "Good evening, Mayu. I'm so glad you could make it," he said with a ragged smile.
"How could I refuse a game of chess against a worthy adversary?" I replied, stepping into the dim foyer and taking a brief look around. The only difference in the room was a painting that mounted the wall next to a grandfather clock. It was hard to make out, but there was definitely some kind of grand fiery mass.
"You like it?" His Dishonor asked.
"I don't know," I said.
"It started with a burning castle, and it will end with a burning castle. Poetic, don't you think?"
I shook my head, already tired of the stupid riddles. "Shall we play?"
"Yes, of course. Follow me." As we snaked from room to room, I tried to take in as much information as possible. Pictures of who I assumed was Miku littered every wall and surface, but no image reached past the age of sixteen. If she were alive, how old would she be? 23?
The board was set up like last time, save for the inversion of white and black pieces. "How about you play as black today? Mix things up a little," he said.
"Fine." I sat down, back rigid. There were so many brimming questions to be asked, but this was what to say to this man was a game of chess in and of itself. I bided my time, watching him move his first pawn forward. Move after move, we maneuvered in silence. Really? No ominous expressions? No forewarnings of danger? When I finally couldn't take the quiet, I blurted out, "Your daughter is dead."
He moved his rook a bit forcefully. "Is anyone ever really dead?"
My automatic impulse was to apologize for my outburst, but that reaction made me come to my senses. "Y-You didn't strike me as a religious person."
"Religious in the traditional sense, I am not. However—forces—I know for a fact that forces are at work in our lives. Especially our lives. I've seen them with my own two eyes."
"Forces, such as…?"
"You lawyers always ask so many questions. You need to just let destiny whisk you into the current, Mayu. It will take away a lot of stress."
"You were a lawyer once," I retorted.
"Once."
"Why did you become one, then?"
"We all believe in our own mode of justice, Mayu. Mine came from becoming a lawyer but not as acting as one. My final act of justice is about to begin." He moved his bishop hastily, and I worked up the courage to take it. He seemed surprised at my actions.
"What is justice for you, then?" I asked.
"Atonement," he replied immediately. "So many people have wronged me, Mayu. So many. No matter what I do, I always seem to be left heartbroken or dead. Atonement is all I live for now."
"Len never did anything to you."
"My grudges go back a long time. A very long time. But, don't worry. Len's verdict has nothing to do with my plan. In fact, the trial is a lovely way to distract myself and to bring the whole cast together for the final curtain call."
"Gumi, Rin, Len, Miku. They're all connected to you in one way or another. What does it have to do with the murder?"
"Everything, Mayu. Absolutely everything."
"Mothy did it," I said.
"I think we both know that."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
"A parent killing their child is sympathetic to you, is it?"
He stood up and slammed his fist on the table, causing the chess pieces to teeter but not lose their place. "I would never hurt my daughter." And then he sat down and made his move like it didn't happen.
I had instinctively placed my hand on my bag, but when it seemed that the outburst had ended, I retracted back to the game and our conversation. "You're aware that Miku and Miki were friends."
"Yes."
"And that Miki thought she was murdered. That she was investigating."
"Yes."
"That she had received a list from someone with seven names on it, four of which I have already listed, the rest blotted out."
"No."
"I can only assume that your name was on there. Only two more names to go."
"I wouldn't stretch your intellect too hard thinking about the names," Kaito said, still a bit grumbly. "You're asking the wrong questions about that list. The names have nothing to do with the murder."
"What do you—"
"Is Mothy's name on that list?"
"I… don't think so."
"Why?"
"Because… Because she must have written it!" Realization ignited within me, a moment of clarity in this foggy mess of a case. "And the notecard. The 7." My mind was racing. The case—Maybe I could do it—
"The game is not over yet," Kaito said, uncaring to my elation. He nodded to the board.
"I'm not so sure about that," I said, moving my knight in place. "Checkmate."
Kaito examined the pieces with astonishment. All of a sudden, a smile spread across his gaunt face. "You might just make it again, Mayu. But I wouldn't underestimate who you're up against."
I stood up, ready to excuse myself. "I never do," I said, and I walked out of the room and out of the house with hope still burning hot in my chest.