May 5th, 2018
"He called me... Kiyoko."
Frantically, Kindaichi scanned his train pass, the gates opening up for him. It was peak hour, and bodies were swarming throughout the whole station. Kindaichi craned his neck to check for the next train back to Tokyo. There was in ten minutes. Shit...! I can't afford to wait!
His nerves shot, he paced at the platform, checking the time on his watch every five or so seconds.
When Hanae had whispered those words, shame dripping from her tongue, everything had clicked.
In their whole investigation, there had always been one person in the background, manipulating things to go his way. The only person who would've had the power to delete Oikawa from the show when he ruined his chances with Hanae to cover up his crime, and someone who would've known Osamu back in 2008.
Manager Chen Jianhong.
Even the name made him sick to the stomach.
Some things still didn't add up to him—like Miwa's disappearance, but that didn't matter. Chen would confess all that later, when he was finally caught and brought to justice once and for all.
But I have to get to Shimizu first, he fretted. Before he gets her, too!
"Hey, watch it."
Kindaichi had almost walked into a woman. "Sorry."
Makoshima Naoko frowned up at him, looking rather unimpressed. "Hm. Whatever." Her handbag slung over one shoulder, Kindaichi knew that he had met her somewhere before, if only for a moment.
The train would be arriving in three minutes.
Kindaichi tapped his foot against the concrete.
"You're antsy," Naoko deadpanned. "Stop that, it's annoying."
"Sorry," Kindaichi bit out. "But I'm kinda in a rush, lady."
"Aren't we all? It's not like you can speed things up by waiting faster, though. Calm down."
"Tch." She's right... Goddammit, when's the train gonna come?! Brows creased, he glanced up at the screen. Two more minutes. This was taking forever—it was as if time had slowed down just to taunt him.
More people emerged from several places at once just to stand on the platform with them, sweat decorating their temples and relieved smiles on their faces as they realized that they hadn't missed their train. Kindaichi inhaled deeply. Naoko was right—he needed to be calmer. His heart was still racing, but he stopped his pacing. He wouldn't have been able to walk very far with all these people here now anyway.
"So," said Kindaichi to Naoko. "Why are you going to Tokyo...?"
She gave him a wary look before replying, "I'm going to visit a friend."
"Ah. Same, actually." Well, it was close enough—he just needed to make sure that Shimizu was safe before making any moves against Chen. "Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but... Have we met before?"
"Hmm..." Naoko tilted her head, her side bangs swishing along with the motion. She had her front bangs parted to the right, he noticed. "Maybe. You went to Seijoh, didn't you?"
Kindaichi's eyes widened. "Yeah, I did! Were we in the same year? I was class of 2014."
"Class of 2013 for me." She smirked slightly. "Look's like I'm your senpai."
"Hah, yeah... It seems so." Class of 2013? She was in Yahaba's year. Did they know each other? This also meant that she had attended Aobajosai when Oikawa had been murdered. It made Kindaichi want to scrutinize her a little longer, but she seemed to be quite normal. Nothing like the crazed, frothing person that Kindaichi imagined the killer to be. Imagined Chen to be, underneath his gentlemanly facade. "Um... What club were you in?"
"The drama club." Her expression soured somewhat before lightening. "And you?"
"Volleyball."
Naoko, who was carrying a box of something, clutched it tighter. "I see."
The screen flickered. One more minute.
"I—"
"So he was your senpai, then?" she interrupted. "Tooru, that is." An awkward pause. "Oikawa."
"Yeah, he was," affirmed Kindaichi, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. "I think I remember you now. You were at his funeral. You're—"
"Makoshima Naoko. And you're... Sorry, I don't know your name."
The train pulled up, and everyone jostled their way inside. Luckily, Kindaichi and Naoko were able to find a seat together. "No worries," Kindaichi grunted as a fat man shoved him against Naoko trying to get into the chair. "It's Kindaichi Yuutarou, by the way. Were you one of Oikawa's girlfriends?" He winced, realizing how that must have sounded. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"
"No, no. It's fine. You're right," she confirmed, setting down the box on her lap. "I used to be his girlfriend." Naoko chuckled lowly. "But he loved someone else more."
"Oh." Kindaichi looked away, focusing instead on the closing doors that were barely visible through the standing bodies. "I'm sorry."
Naoko sighed exasperatedly, crossing her arms as the train began to move. "Stop apologizing already. It was for the best—Hajime suited him better than I did anyway."
Kindaichi whipped around to stare at her. "Wait, what? They were together?"
She arched a brow. "Not officially, no. But wasn't it obvious that they liked each other? Then again," Naoko mused, "It's not easy to confess your feelings when you're both males... But I would've thought the team had noticed."
"Well, we didn't."
"Hm. Now you know."
Somehow, talking to Naoko was doing wonders for Kindaichi's anxiety. The anticipation of possibly meeting Shimizu's stalker—who he was certain was also Oikawa's killer and Manager Chen—still swam at the forefront of his mind, but it no longer ate away at him as much. "To be honest," Kindaichi confessed. "Our team wasn't that close when it came to our personal lives. Not unless you were friends outside of volleyball. We were a team—but we weren't a family."
"I see."
They spent most of the ride in silence.
The next time Kindaichi looked out the window, the sun was almost set and he could see the city skyline in the distance, houses zooming past in his peripheral.
"Kindaichi-san," Naoko said quietly. He turned to her expectantly. "I hope you don't bear any ill will toward Hajime." She sounded pained, and Kindaichi could guess why—Aobajosai had been split back then, students constantly arguing about Iwaizumi's innocence or guilt.
"I know he didn't do it," Kindaichi told her.
"Were you close to him?"
"Ah... Not really. He was a senpai I respected, and we were on good terms, but... Nothing beyond that."
"Still," she murmured. "In all these six years... Have you ever visited him?"
Remorse lashed at him like a whip, shame burning through his bloodstream and its smoke settling within the delicate folds and creases of his lungs. He could not look her in the eye. "No. I haven't."
"I thought so." Naoko leaned back in her chair. "Coward."
The train slowed to a stop at the station.
"You're right," Kindaichi said hollowly, standing with her. "I am a coward." She started to walk away from him, but he called after her on the platform, "I've been a coward. But I swear to you," Naoko spun around with her world-weary eyes, "I'm going to be better than that now."
November 25th, 2012
Even through the multiple layers he had donned today, he could still feel the chill of the morning piercing his skin. His eyes were swollen and his nose was red. Kindaichi sniffled, pulling his hat over his ears. His headaches, which had been bothering him as of late, could not be felt today, and he hoped it would continue being that way.
Beside him, Kunimi stood slouched, waiting for the people in front of them to shuffle into the funeral hall.
Nearby, Kindaichi could hear a child crying.
"I'm gonna throw up," he muttered.
"Don't," Kunimi said. "You'll be fine. Just don't think about it."
Easy for you to say, he thought resentfully. Between them, Kunimi was the best at becoming detached to something. But he wasn't being fair—he was sure, that in his own way, Kunimi was quietly suffering.
"Oh, you guys here."
They glanced over their shoulders to see Yahaba jogging up to them. His brow was lowered, and his lips pressed in a grim line. A wintry breeze rushed past then, making one end of Yahaba's navy blue scarf whip upward. He pulled it back down against his chest.
"Hey," Kindaichi offered weakly.
"Hey," echoed Kunimi, sounding faraway.
Yahaba gathered them into a short, but tight hug. When they parted, it was their turn to step through the entrance into the hall. Their captain nudged them forward. Kindaichi noticed that he kept looking around—he was probably searching for Kyoutani. With his hair, Kindaichi was sure he would've at least glimpsed him.
So he didn't come, Kindaichi thought, feeling a pang in his heart.
They got seated. Some rows ahead were Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Kindaichi could only see the back of their heads—they weren't speaking to each other. The child was still bawling. At some point, Kindaichi craned his neck to try and check who it was. It appeared to be young Takeru—Oikawa's nephew. Kindaichi only recognized him because of the collection of photos on Oikawa's phone that he had showed off to all of them one time.
"Oh, shit, get up," Yahaba suddenly said, standing. "We didn't give his parents the funeral money." From a pocket inside his coat, he pulled out a silver packet of money. "Come on, you guys."
Numbly, Kindaichi followed suit.
Together, the three of them bowed to Oikawa's grieving mother. It was hard to watch her accept their condolence money—Kindaichi's knees almost buckled beneath his weight from the way the woman's lips turned down as she tried her best to hold back tears.
Her silent question was palpable—he could feel it even on their way back to their seats.
Why him? All of you are still alive. All of you are around his age. So why him? Why do you all get to live when my son is dead?
The Buddhist priest chanted as Oikawa's relatives offered incense to the incense urn near the altar.
For most of the ceremony, Kindaichi just stared blankly at his hands, fingertips white from the cold.
Toward the end, about half of the guests—including Yahaba, Kindaichi, and Kunimi—stood up to crowd around the casket, where Oikawa lay peacefully, free from the world and its burdens. He had been made up, obviously, and some waxy substance had been applied to his skin to stop decay from setting in too quickly. The wound in his throat that had killed him had been sewn up; Kindaichi couldn't barely see the stitches.
He stepped aside when Hanamaki came forward to lay flowers in the casket. They shared a weary look before Hanamaki backed off, disappearing into the crowd. There was no outburst today, from the one who had been most vocal about Oikawa's death. Somehow, Hanamaki's silence made Kindaichi feel like the rug had been pulled from underneath him all over again.
"Come on," Kindaichi felt Kunimi yank at his sleeve some time later, "Let's go. They're going to close the casket soon."
"Wait." Kindaichi stared helplessly into the casket, taking in every detail of Oikawa's tranquil expression. "Okay. I'm done."
He would never forget this, for as long as he lived.
The cold hit them with full force as soon as they stalked outside, Kunimi shivering and attempting to shirk his head into his fluffy parka.
Kindaichi bit down on his teeth. "Useless..."
Yahaba stopped, his boot crunching the light dusting of frost on the ground as he turned on his heel. "What?"
Kunimi grimaced. "Kindaichi—"
"I said," Kindaichi repeated loudly, "I'm useless."
At his declaration, a few departing funeral guests glanced at him.
"No, you're not," Yahaba immediately refuted. "You're one of our best hitters on the team—"
"Not that!" Kindaichi snapped, gritting his teeth. "Why... Why couldn't I have helped him? Why couldn't any of us have helped him?! Fuck! We're useless! We all are!"
"Kindaichi, that's not true and you know it!" retorted Yahaba, frowning. "None of us could've known."
"But why didn't we know?" Desperation seeped into his tone like poison. "Because we were too busy with our own lives to even hear him scream?" A headache struck him then, and he let out an agonized hiss, holding his head. "Dammit...! I hate this! I hate this so much! We... We should've done something!" His voice cracked. "Anything!"
Kunimi's gaze dropped. "I know how it feels. But... We can't rile up ourselves thinking about what-ifs. I'm sorry, Kindaichi, but... It's over."
"You're sure fond of that phrase, aren't you?" Kindaichi laughed cruelly. "Is that the only thing you can say?"
"It's the truth," Kunimi stated, hurt seeping through his tone. "Kindaichi..."
"No more fighting," Yahaba ordered. "Come on, you guys. We've... We've fought a lot already. No more fighting. Please."
Watari came out with his parents then. He exchanged a short greeting with them before following his mother and father to the car park.
Kindaichi hunched his shoulders. "Sorry, captain." Yahaba's so strong... It's admirable. "Sorry, Kunimi."
Kunimi waved it off. "It's fine."
"Excuse me." They turned their heads to see a man with a sallow face and black hair approaching them. "Is everything alright here?"
Huh? Who's he? Kindaichi cocked an eyebrow at the man's appearance.
"Everything's fine, sir," Yahaba answered politely.
"Ah, good. You three are Iwaizumi-san's friends, correct?"
"Yeah." There was no hiding the suspicion in Kunimi's tone. "Who are you?"
The man smiled tiredly, lifting a hand. "Relax, boys. My name is Sakusa Junji. I'm representing Iwaizumi-san in his trial next week."
The name meant nothing to him. Kindaichi was sure he would forget it by the time this evening rolled around. "Oh," he said woodenly. "Okay. And you're here because...?"
Junji shifted. "I suppose I just wanted to see how everyone was holding up. What happened... It's truly tragic." He sighed. "But you don't need to me to tell you that." The lawyer peered up at the funeral hall. "I've overstayed my welcome. My son, Kiyoomi, is waiting for me in the car as well. Good day."
"Good day," Yahaba parroted halfheartedly. When Junji was gone, he announced, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."
"Same." Kunimi followed him, leaving Kindaichi by himself.
As he stood, waiting for his friends to return, a black-haired girl—flanked by a blond boy and a shorter girl who could have passed as her carbon copy—exited the funeral hall, her face set in neutrality.
Makoshima Naoko walked with her head held high, even when her siblings slouched, crushed by the weight of grief.
Her younger sister, Sumire, sniffed. "This can't be right," Kindaichi heard her say. "No way... Tooru-nii can't be dead..."
"He is," Naoko replied coldly. "You saw him there."
"We could've helped him!" cried Sumire. "What if we were there or something—"
"What-ifs are for cowards. You can't take back your past actions. If you couldn't do something then... Then start doing something now."
The Makoshima siblings moved past him, disappearing around the corner.
They must have taken the bus here, he thought absently.
Kindaichi exhaled slowly, a white cloud forming from his breath.
It was so damn cold.
May 5th, 2018
It was a warm evening in Tokyo when Kindaichi emerged from the Uchisaiwaicho Station. If he remembered correctly, Hibiya Park, which was opposite the Public Prosecutors Office, was where Shimizu walked through every time after a shift.
But I don't know when her shift ends. Or if she even has one today. Hibiya Park was a behemoth of a garden—it would be the wisest choice to check the Public Prosecutors Office first. He burst through the doors trying to catch his breath, having run all the way from the station to the building like a bat out of hell.
He wasn't sure if it was relief or fear that gripped him when the light brown eyes of Miyuki greeted him at the receptionist's desk. "Oh, you're Kindaichi-san, right? What are you doing here at this hour?" She frowned. "Sakusa-san terminated your internship before his suspension."
"I know that," Kindaichi said hurriedly. "It's got nothing to do with him. I just need to know something. Is Shimizu-san working today?"
"Well," Miyuki clicked her mouse, not quite looking at him, "She was here earlier today, but her shift ended ten minutes ago."
"And her fiancé?" he pressed. "Tanaka-san? He walked her home, right?"
"Oh, yes, about that. Unfortunately, Tanaka-san broke his leg a few weeks ago and he's not quite fit enough yet to walk her home. But Ono-san," she pointed her pen at the middle-aged security guard by the door, "saw her off. Hey, Ono-san!"
Ono lumbered over. "You called, Miyuki-san?"
"You walked Kiyoko-san halfway through the park, right?"
He nodded. "That's right. Walked her to the fountain, I did. On the way back, her boyfriend thanked me for looking after her."
Miyuki's mouth fell. It was a gradual process. "Her... boyfriend...?"
"Yes. That nice Tanaka-san." Ono smiled, crows' feet appearing at the corners of his eyes. "I heard they're going to get married soon—"
"Ono-san, you idiot!" Miyuki screeched, standing up and reaching across the tall desk to grab the security guard's shirt collar and shake him. "Tanaka-san's not getting his cast off until two weeks from now! Keep up with the gossip, why don'tcha?!"
Ono's eyes popped open. "Ah. Then that guy was—?"
"Probably her stalker," Kindaichi finished. "Oh, shit," he began to backpedal, "I'm gonna go find her!"
"If you don't come back in forty minutes, I'm calling the police!" Miyuki called after him. "Keep her safe, Kindaichi-saaaan!" As he disappeared out the doors, she glared at Ono, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "What am I gonna do with you, Ono-san?"
Kindaichi could hear his heart beating between his ears—however strange that sounded—as he dashed out of the building and sprinted toward the park. The balls of his feet began to ache when he passed the fountain—the one that Ono must have saw her off at—and he resolved to throw out his old sneakers and buy a new pair with Goshiki (who had a keen eye for good quality shoes) once this was all over.
Panting, he slowed to a stop in a clearing, brows furrowed in worry as he glanced around his surroundings. There weren't many people out this late—the only people he saw were a young couple buying potato twirls from an old chip vendor. His eyes crinkled in gratitude when he received his money.
Ugh, dammit! Okay, Yuutarou, think... Kindaichi wracked his brain. If I were Shimizu-san, I would probably walk to a busy street to catch a bus or train back to wherever I live... He shifted uncertainly. Maybe due west from here, to Harumi Dori Avenue? There was no time for second-guessing himself, even if his first guess was just a stab in the dark. Breathing oxygen back into his lungs, Kindaichi set off.
It had been a hectic shift at work today. For whatever reason, one of the senior prosecutors had seen it fit to bring his extremely large and extremely loud dog into the work building. Shimizu had spent almost an hour trying to talk him from bringing his pet further inside, her customer service demeanor almost giving up on her when he threatened to speak to the Chief Prosecutor about her 'inappropriate conduct'. Luckily, Prosecutor Chinen had rescued her from being fired, and the other prosecutor had begrudgingly tied his dog to a pole outside.
(He came back out twenty minutes later to shoo Ono away from petting it and to walk it to his son's house).
Her shift had ended at six-thirty, as it normally did, and Ono had been kind enough to walk her up to the fountain. From here, she would continue down to Harumi Dori Avenue, then to Hibiya Station.
Shimizu let out a deep sigh. Right now, there was nothing more she wanted than a night of rest and relaxation. Any bedroom activities had been thrown out the window, anyway, since Tanaka was still recovering from his leg. I don't feel like cooking tonight. Maybe I'll pick up some takeaway and some snacks from Natural Lawson...
Footsteps sounded.
A shiver crept down Shimizu's spine and under her skin, and she halted abruptly. What was that? With wary eyes, she turned, relief washing over her when she saw that there was nothing there. Surely, she was just being paranoid.
But they never caught him. She clutched her handbag tighter. And then there was that man I met the other night...
Shimizu turned back around—
"Hello."
She squealed, slapping a hand over her mouth in embarrassment when she spotted the man in front of her. It's him! Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but her legs were rooted to the ground. The man from the other night!
He looked mostly the same, a genteel smile curving his lips up. His eyes were sharp, giving her the impression of a hawk eyeing its prey, and he wore a worn baseball cap that didn't go with the rest of his outfit—an ensemble mostly made up of brand names that Miyuki enjoyed gushing over.
The man laughed. "Ah, I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"
Get away...! "N-no," stammered Shimizu. "I-I apologize, I didn't mean to scream... I'll get going now." Hastily, she made to stalk past him, but his arm snapped outward and long fingers wrapped around her slender wrist. No! "What are you doing?"
"Now, now," he laughed again, "Don't go yet. I've been wanting to meet with you for some time now." To her absolute disgust and horror, a blush—one that could be called shy—bloomed over his otherwise pallid cheeks.
"Let me go."
"I will, if you promise not to run away," he said, mildly. "If you do, I will catch you, you know."
Shimizu said nothing.
So he did not release her. "I don't know if you remember me, but..." He took off his cap. "We met a long, long time ago."
Heart racing, her gaze darted from side to side, trying to find an escape path. "No," she said coolly, hoping he didn't hear her voice tremble. "I don't remember you."
"My name is Chen Jianhong."
She blinked.
"I remember... Falling in love with you all those years ago."
"What?!" Shimizu blurted, unable to contain her reaction this time. Even in her youth, Shimizu had attracted many suitors. And she knew this. But those suitors had all been high school boys who had worn their hearts on their sleeves, or young college students awestruck by her mature, feminine beauty. This man... He had to be at least ten years older than her. 'All those years ago'... I would've been a teenager...! She felt her stomach lurch.
"Honestly," Chen smirked, "I'm a bit hurt you don't remember me. Why don't I refresh your memory? It was spring of 2008—"
2008?! I was thirteen!
"—a warm day in Sendai." Chen adjusted his grip on her so that their hands were entwined.
No... No, let go of me! Weakly, Shimizu tried to pull away, but he was too strong. I... I'll let him talk...! And then I'll run!
"My boss, Shinya, was rounding up some brats from some old lady's cooking school. And then I saw you. You came out of the ice-cream shop with your mom, and she went to go talk with a friend. You stood next to her, but you weren't listening. Then her friend started walking away, and your mom followed. But you didn't."
"Wait," Shimizu breathed, "That man... That day... That was you?"
It was a bit of a blur, but she remembered it clearly enough. A man—Chen—had crossed the road after a lorry passed, and had struck up conversation with her. He had made idle talk, and then asked for directions. It was such an insignificant interaction, and yet...
"I was a child," Shimizu whispered harshly. "I was thirteen!"
"I know." His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "I wanted you so bad... To the point where I tried to replace you... But no, that didn't work. There was no way we could've been together. Now... Why do you think I've waited so many years?" Womanhood suits you well, Kiyoko-chan." Chen leaned in close, his breath tickling her ear. "It's been so damn difficult, getting away from that bitch, Oishi... You have no idea how hard it's been, spending all these years without you... Every night, I dream of you, I dream of you underneath me—"
Without warning, Shimizu stamped down on his foot as hard as she could. His jaws stretched almost monstrously as he screamed into the night, his grip on her hands loosening just enough for her to untangle their fingers and stumble backward.
Shimizu cursed her heels as she ran at half her usual speed, sheer helplessness threatening to devour her whole. Her handbag bouncing up and down, she reached into it and searched wildly for her phone. The police... I need to call the police!
"COME BACK HERE, YOU BITCH!"
Her phone fell out of her hands when Chen grabbed the back of her hair and pulled. Shimizu's shriek was cut off, his wide hand clapping over her mouth. Frantically, she tried to bite him, but to no avail.
"How dare you!" hissed Chen, jerking on her hair. "How dare you hurt your husband!"
"Mmph!" Shimizu elbowed him in the gut, but he barely flinched. Tears bloomed at the corners of her eyes as she thrashed against him. But for such a lean man, he was utterly immovable.
Help! she silently shrieked, her breaths shortening. Someone help me!
"Now," Chen's tongue pressed against her jawline, "You're coming with me—"
"SHIMIZU-SAN!"
"What the—?!"
Shimizu fell to her knees and took a gasping breath, the hand that had nearly obstructed her breathing gone. She whipped around to see Kindaichi wrestling against Chen on the ground. Kindaichi-san?!
"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Kindaichi howled, punching Chen square in the nose with such wrath that Shimizu stiffened in terror. "Don't you dare... hurt anyone else!"
A low growl emanated from his throat. "Mrrrgh, get off me!"
Kindaichi didn't have time to react when Chen tucked his legs to his chest and then kicked, sending the younger man flying. He landed with a thud on the pathway, rolling twice before stilling. What the hell...! He's so strong?! He coughed and hacked as he pushed himself up, already feeling sapped of his strength. Kindaichi lifted his head, only for Chen to punch him across the face, the blow nearly knocking him out.
"Who the fuck are you, punk?" Chen sneered, grabbing Kindaichi's hair and lifting him up with ease. "You think you're tough or somethin'? You should've just walked away."
Stars exploded in the back of his eyelids as Chen smashed his knee against his cheek before letting him drop.
Chen Jianhong... Kindaichi thought, woozily. That's right... He wasn't just the manager... His eyes shifted upward blearily so that he was looking at what he thought was a billboard depicting idol and model Oishi Ryoka. He was also the bodyguard...!
Chen turned his back to Kindaichi's fallen form, striding toward Shimizu, whose skirt was torn. She was trying to work her phone, but the fall had broken it. "Now, where were we?"
Kindaichi's eyes fluttered. It hurts so much... All he wanted now was to fall asleep—
"Coward."
"I've been a coward. But I swear to you, I'm going to be better than that now."
Grunting and doing his best to ignore the pain and the taste of blood in his mouth, Kindaichi shakily got up. Dammit... I'm already on my last legs...! But like hell I'm gonna let him have his way with her! With the last of his strength, he shot forward and tackled Chen to the ground, trying to pin him down.
"What the?! You're still trying to pick a fight?!"
"Kindaichi-san!" Shimizu gasped. She got to her feet crawled over to where Kindaichi was holding him down, putting her weight against Chen, too. "D-do you have a phone?!"
"It's in my bag." Kindaichi winced when his cheek suddenly throbbed from Chen's previous attack. "Argh... I threw it down over there! I'll hold him off, go call the police!"
"R-right!" Her legs still feeling weak, she had to crawl on all fours over to where Kindaichi's brown messenger bag was laying. She opened the flap up and undid the zip, fingers desperately grabbing for the phone.
A scream sounded behind her, and she turned her head to see Chen kicking Kindaichi, who was curled up into a ball on the ground. No... Please, Kindaichi-san, hold on!
"I'll kill you!" declared Chen, spittle spraying from his mouth as he continued to stamp on Kindaichi. "I'll kill you, you cockblocking asshole! And you!" Shimizu nearly jumped out of her skin when he pointed at her. "You'd better not fucking move!"
Shimizu's eyes were round with horror as he approached her, his eyes fierce and promising vengeance like a war god.
"Hey."
Chen whipped around.
And a fist sent him to the ground.
Connected to that fist was an arm, and to that arm was—
"Kageyama?" Shimizu blinked.
Kageyama Tobio stood under the moonlight, his gaze flat as he regarded Chen, who was moaning lowly, clutching his nose. The former was dressed in sportswear—if Shimizu had to guess, Kageyama had been jogging in the park before coming across them.
"Kageyama?" Kindaichi repeated, slurring the name. He removed his arms from his head, struggling to sit up. Chen hadn't drawn any blood from him, but there were already dark bruises forming on his face.
Kageyama didn't answer. Instead, he stepped on the back of Chen's head and stamped it into the ground. He repeated the action, over and over and over again, his expression never changing. Kindaichi and Shimizu could only watch on, stunned.
Eventually, Chen stopped moving.
"What?" Kindaichi was at a loss for words. "You...?"
"The trick is the kick them while they're down," Kageyama explained, raising a brow. He said it so naturally, as if there was nothing wrong with the statement. "Are you two hurt?"
"I'm fine," Shimizu found her voice, "Go help Kindaichi-san."
"'Kay." With that, Kageyama hunched forward beside Kindaichi, holding out a hand.
Wordlessly, Kindaichi took it.
"Where does it hurt?" inquired Kageyama, reaching out to touch his face.
Kindaichi stopped him. "Where did you learn how to fight like that...?" How to fight dirty? Kicking them while they're down... That's fucking twisted... And yet... He saved us both.
"Juvie," answered Kageyama, again with that infuriating candidness in his tone.
"Juvie?!" Kindaichi spluttered before flinching, having aggravated his wounds. "You... You went to juvie?!"
"Yeah."
What else don't I know about him? Feeling more helpless than when Chen had been beating him to a pulp, Kindaichi stared into Kageyama's calm, blue gaze. Kageyama... Do I really know you at all? He shook his head. He could think about that later—right now, he needed to help Shimizu and inform the police—
Shimizu whimpered.
"Both of you, get the fuck down. And don't say a fucking word."
Chen had a blade pressed against her neck. His face was a black and blue mess, his nose broken.
Slowly, Kindaichi and Kageyama raised their arms in surrender, kneeling down.
"Sorry," Kageyama murmured under his breath. "I should've been more thorough."
Kindaichi swallowed. "Don't be," he whispered back.
Chen laughed—it was higher than his usual pitch. "I'm gonna take my leave now." He gave their lowered bodies a wide berth, clinging to Shimizu's smaller body, the knife still held at her neck. "Call the police when I'm gone, if you want. But I'll be done by then. I might even be outta the fucking country—"
"POLICE! HANDS IN THE AIR!"
"What?!" Chen barked, eyes widening when officers swarmed into the area, coming from the direction of the Public Prosecutors Office. "How...?! Who...?!"
Did Miyuki-san already call the police? Relief had Kindaichi exhaling sharply. It hasn't been forty minutes yet, though... So who—?
"Yeah," a voice drawled. "That would be me. I called them as soon as you grabbed her."
Tsukishima Kei stood behind Inspector Sawamura Daichi with his arms crossed, his lip curled in the slightest sneer. The latter had his gun drawn, several officers similarly poised. Two officers were tending to Kindaichi and Kageyama, helping them stand and checking whatever injuries they sported.
"TSUKISHIMA?!" Chen roared. "You traitorous bastard!"
"Yawn."
"You—!"
"I SAID HANDS IN THE AIR!" bellowed Daichi, lifting his gun up higher. "It's over, Chen. Let her go."
"Hah... Hahaha... HAHAHAHA! ARE YOU FREAKIN' SHITTIN' ME RIGHT NOW?!" Chen buckled over in laughter, the knife still hugging Shimizu's throat. "You're not gonna shoot me... None of you are gonna shoot me, 'cause it means hitting her, too! Am I right?!"
Daichi didn't answer, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple.
"Now," Chen grinned widely, "Why don't you listen to me, officer—"
Whatever he had been about to say, none of them ever heard. A crutch descended upon the crown of Chen's head, and he went cross-eyed. Then he dropped, Shimizu running towards Daichi's arms.
Breathing hard, Tanaka Ryuunosuke steadied himself, readjusting his crutches. "Don't you dare..." A deep breath. "Touch my..." He wheezed then. "Kiyoko dearest...!"
"Ryuu!" cried Shimizu, beaming.
The officers streamed around her to arrest Chen.
Daichi put his gun away, urgently asking Shimizu, "Are you okay?"
Shimizu nodded. "I'll be fine, Daichi. Ryuu!" She ran up to Tanaka. "What are you doing here?"
"You didn't come home," Tanaka explained, his expression one of pure and utter relief. "I knew somethin' was wrong, I just knew it, so I had to come! I hobbled as fast as I could. Ooft!" Shimizu had drawn him into a tight embrace, sobbing into his shoulder. "Don't cry, Kiyoko dearest, I'm here now..."
Tanaka and Shimizu were led to the side by a few officers. Daichi consolidated with one before warily making eye contact with Tsukishima, who was frowning at Kageyama's direction.
"I don't need an ambulance," Kindaichi was irritably reassuring a police officer. "It's just bruising. Nothing's bleeding or broken, seriously."
"You know," Kageyama said. "Internal bleeding is a thing. You should go get checked anyway."
"He's right, sir," added the officer. "It could be deadly."
"I—ugh, fine. But," Kindaichi glanced at where Chen was being hoisted up, "Can you gimme a moment?"
As Kindaichi limped over to Chen, Kageyama and the officer exchanged a look. "Don't leave," the officer told him, a little awkwardly. "We still need to take your statement."
Kageyama nodded. "Okay."
The officer stayed by his side, only getting up and leaving when Daichi came over to dismiss him. Kageyama blinked at the appearance of his old volleyball captain. "Daichi-san."
"Hey," Daichi grinned lopsidedly, "Ah... How're you holding up?"
He shrugged. "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me."
"Right, well... That's good. So," Daichi fidgeted, clearing his throat, "How have you been? It's been six years since we last... crossed paths."
"I'm doing alright," Kageyama replied truthfully.
Silence.
Perhaps, thought Kageyama, he had been expecting more. I guess he doesn't know me at all, then.
"Wow, this is hard to watch."
Daichi frowned as Tsukishima sauntered up to them, his hands hidden in his designer coat's pockets, the garment a tan that complemented his blond hair.
"'Sup, King."
Kageyama took a long sniff. "Are you drunk?"
The blond scoffed. "No. But..." He dropped his gaze. "I think we have some things to talk about."
"Yes," Daichi agreed with a sigh. "We do. All of us do."
To their surprise, Kageyama shook his head. "No," he said, almost gently. "If this is about what happened in high school... There's no need. Those years are behind us."
They're behind me, were the words unspoken.
"Maybe so," said Daichi. "But that's no excuse for what we did in the past. We let you down when you needed us most. And for that..." His voice cracked, an he had to clear his throat again. "I'm so sorry."
Tsukishima folded his arms across his chest, not quite meeting Kageyama's eyes. "Ugh... I can't believe that you're the one being mature about this. Honestly, that kinda pisses me off."
Kageyama deadpanned, tilting his head. "It does?"
"Yeah, it does." Tsukishima finally looked up at him, pained. "Because it just tells me that I'm the one who still needs to grow up."
"I see."
"Tch. For what it's worth..." He swallowed. "I'm sorry I treated you like shit back then. Even if you did try to choke me, I may have... said some provocative things."
A snort. "That's one thing I haven't forgotten—you insulted my grandfather."
"Yes. Yes I did. God, do I have to apologize again? Because I'm sor—"
Kageyama chuckled, stunning both of them into silence. "Hey, Tsukishima."
"... What?"
"I hope you have a nice life," Kageyama told him, honestly. "You too, Daichi-san. And I hope... That they're nothing like mine used to be. Ah," he turned to the side, "I think I should get my statement taken. Goodnight, you two."
"Goodnight," Daichi called after him lamely.
"... Hey," Tsukishima muttered, watching Kageyama leave. "Daichi-san."
"Hm?"
"I have one month of my contract left. I think," he inhaled, "I'm not gonna renew it."
Daichi's eyes widened at the implication. "I see. Well," he clasped Tsukishima's shoulder as he stepped away, "Good for you. I'll see you around—I got my job to do."
"Mm." Tsukishima took his phone out of his pocket, frowning.
1 new text from Yamaguchi Tadashi.
He breathed out, a weight lifting from his chest.
As Tsukishima typed his response, Kindaichi stood adamantly in front of a freckle-faced rookie officer who was preventing him from speaking with Chen.
"I'm telling you," Kindaichi argued. "I just need to say some things to him, that's all."
"Sir, you're clearly injured, and that man is dangerous—"
"Just give me a minute!"
"I can't—"
"Do it," Daichi authorized, sidling next to Kindaichi. "One minute is fine."
The freckle-faced officer reluctantly moved aside, allowing Kindaichi and Daichi to pass to where Chen was being steadied by three men. The hawk-eyed man spat at them as they approached, Kindaichi making a face at the wad of spit that had landed before his feet.
Kindaichi glared down at him. There was so much he wanted to say—so much hurt and anger to unload upon Chen's wretched figure—but not enough time. So he got straight to the point. "Rot in hell, motherfucker."
Chen grinned, but it was more like a carnal baring of the teeth. "At least I waited."
His fists clenched. "Did you say that, too, when you killed them?"
"Huh? What the hell are you talking about?"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" Kindaichi felt Daichi's hand on his shoulder, the older man trying to keep him calm. "I'm talking about Oikawa, about Miya Osamu—!"
"Slow down. You think I killed them? I'm a lot of things, punk, but a murderer's not one of 'em."
What? Kindaichi stiffened. The hateful fire in Chen's eyes had simmered down slightly—his fury replaced by something between confusion and cruel amusement at Kindaichi's expense. No... It can't be... If it wasn't him, then...
"Time's up," rumbled Daichi. "Let's take him to the station. Sorry," he tacked on for Kindaichi.
"It's fine..."
"I can get a car for you," the inspector offered. "To the hospital."
"Y-yeah, that'd be good, thanks..."
A uniformed officer helped him into the back of a police car, making sure to handle him with care. The pain, which Kindaichi had pushed aside, began to torment him again, and he felt the wounds Chen had inflicted on him flare up again, aching with a vengeance. His features half-covered by shadow, he stared out the window of the car, observing Kageyama agree to following the officers to the station. They herded him away, where he converged with Tanaka and Shimizu—they exchanged distantly polite greetings.
Worn to the bone, Kindaichi sunk into the car seat, a stone forming in the pit of his stomach.
Naoko took a long sip from her thermos, warm water sliding down her throat and spreading the heat through her body. It was cold in here.
"Ma'am," a prison warden's voice sounded from behind her, "Visiting hours are up. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You'll undergo a security check before you leave."
"I understand," Naoko said without turning around. She made no move to get up.
"You should go," the man sitting across from her said gruffly, looking away.
A small smile crept up to her lips, remorseful and fading. "Then I'll see you next time... Hajime."
Albeit tiredly, Iwaizumi Hajime—dressed in his dull green prison clothes—returned the smile.