May 6th, 2018

Tension buzzed around the gathered men, Kindaichi's chest heaving as his anger died down for the meantime, replaced with confusion—and, perhaps, some hurt, too. Kunimi stood a bit behind him, his brow lowered and his eyes alight with suspicion. Kuroo knelt and picked up the bottle, setting it aside on the small drawer by the end of the couch. As he stood, Kindaichi grimaced, clutching Yahaba's blanket even tighter.

Kuroo smiled crookedly. "Guess I really do have the worst timing, huh?"

Then he laughed.

The bastard laughed.

"Kindaichi," Kunimi warned, noticing the color on his friend's cheeks had disappeared.

"We'll talk about this later," Kindaichi said in a clipped tone, still holding the quilt.

"Kuroo-san, right?" Goshiki said, walking up to the man with surprising nonchalance. He held out his hand. Kuroo took it. "Welcome to the gang, I guess."

"Thanks." Kuroo's grin never faded. "Not the welcome I expected, but I appreciate it."

Goshiki turned back to where Kindaichi and Kunimi were still standing in a taut silence. "Guys," he said, sounding disapproving, "I'm gonna go make him some hot chocolate. You guys talk it out later."

"Fine," Kindaichi bit out before his shoulders sagged. "Sorry about that, Kuroo-san. Uh, can I get you anything?"

"Goshiki's already making him a drink," Kunimi murmured, leading Kindaichi to glare at him.

To his credit, Kuroo made no remark of the obvious hostility that had befallen them. Instead, he took the time to observe the room, a homely—but not too homely—and spacious—but not too spacious—place. There were no doors separating any of the areas except for the bathroom. "Nice place you guys got," he commented, squinting at a spider perched in one corner of the ceiling. "Hmm... Yeah, this'll do."

Kindaichi frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, no, that was probably rude of me, right?" Kuroo walked over to the couch and sat down without any prompting. "Don't worry—I didn't mean anything bad by it. I won't be here for long anyway."

"Oh?" Kunimi arched a brow as he sat on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Kindaichi half-seated on the armrest.

"Yeah." Kuroo rubbed the back of his head, seeming almost sheepish about his own situation. "To be honest, I'm not even a student like you guys. I'm working part-time as a tutor at Todai."

"A tutor?" parroted Kindaichi, Goshiki walking past him to put a tray of hot chocolates on the coffee table—one for each of them. Absently, Kindaichi picked up a cup, Kunimi following suit. "But these are student dorms."

"I'm a special situation." As if he were about to share a grave conspiracy, Kuroo leaned forward. "I dunno if you guys have heard, but... There's been a robbery at the university."

Kindaichi ogled him, while Kunimi merely blinked. The smallest crease appeared in Goshiki's brow as they absorbed the information.

"When?" asked Goshiki.

"Four days ago, in the one of the lab buildings belonging to the Department of Pharmaceutical Sciences, some chemicals were stolen," Kuroo explained, "It wasn't reported to the police, though. Todai's launching its own investigation instead. It's all a little hush-hush, but..." He shrugged. "It is what it is. Anyhow, I've been moved here so they can keep a closer eye on me. 'Cause, well," he paused, "I'm a suspect."

The ambiance clenched even tighter—so much so that Kindaichi thought he was having the air squeezed out of his lungs. From his peripheral, he could see that Kunimi was sitting with his back completely straight—it was enough to set him even more on edge.

Kuroo Tetsurou had sharp eyes. Behind his languid facade, there was something about his cat-like gaze that was untrustworthy. The only one that seemed to be somewhat at ease around him was Goshiki, who was casually sipping his hot chocolate. Their new roommate tilted his head, his chin resting on his knuckles.

"But you didn't do it, right?" Kunimi finally said. "No offence, but I'd rather not sleep in the same room as a criminal."

Again, Kuroo laughed. He was a laughing man, it seemed—a man who liked to laugh things off, no matter how serious they were. "Don't worry, don't worry. My hands are clean. I'll even let you swab them if you want." He smirked. "Not that it'll do any good, but it might give you a little peace of mind."

"I'm good, thanks."

Quietly, Kuroo hummed, his long fingers tapping a slow beat on his cheek, his palm pressed against the underside of his chin. "It's a long story, and you're all pretty frazzled, right? We can talk tomorrow. Oh, wait," he grabbed his hot chocolate, which he had set on the table at some point, and lifted it to his lips, "I'm fully booked tomorrow. I've got three tutorial classes to go through. Hmm..."

"One more thing," said Kunimi. "What chemicals were stolen?"

"There were several. I don't know the whole list of all of them, but... I know that fentanyl was one. Probably why the professors are so adamant in keeping this under wraps and scrambling around like headless chickens..." Not giving them the opportunity to question him further, Kuroo put his cup down and stood, stretching in a way that was purely feline. "Thanks for the drink, but I think I'm gonna head out. I just wanted to check out the place before I officially move in. See ya."

"See ya." Kindaichi was the only one to return his farewell, and it was a weak one in any case. "I need a drink. Something alcoholic."

"Beers are in the fridge," Goshiki said, helpfully.

"It's one o'clock," Kunimi pointed out at the same time.

Kindaichi glared at Kunimi. "I really don't need to hear this from you right now."

"Kindaichi, I—"

"Just leave it, man," Goshiki cut in, leaning back to allow Kindaichi to pass to the kitchen. "He's been through enough."

"So I'm the bad guy here?" seethed Kunimi, narrowing his eyes at the bowl-cut man.

"I didn't say that."

"All my life, I've only ever wanted the best for him—" Kunimi stopped himself, blinking at Goshiki's grim face was if he were just realizing who he was talking to. "Never mind. I'm not talking about this with you."

Goshiki looked him in the eye. "Not even about Yahaba?"

"Why should I?" Kunimi shot back in a harsh whisper. "You're the one who's so insistent about keeping secrets. You have no business asking for Yahaba's." He stood, marching toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from here."

As the door slammed shut, Kindaichi emerged from the kitchen with a half-empty bottle of beer, eyebrow cocked. "What was that about?"

Goshiki sipped his hot chocolate. "Dunno."

"Hinata-senpai!"

Hinata Shouyou whipped around, grinning when he saw a group of students heading straight for him with equally big smiles on their faces. Kageyama, in the middle of putting up a poster advertising Cafe Pezzo's wares for the upcoming 91st May Festival, gazed curiously at the interaction. He continued to stare when Hinata gave all of them high-fives and exchanged a complicated handshake with one of the guys under the mid-afternoon sun.

"We'll definitely come over!" promised one of the girls before they left, referring to Cafe Pezzo; she was waving one of their posters in the air. "See you later, senpai!"

This was not the first time Kageyama had noticed Hinata interacting in a friendly manner with fellow students. In fact, the orange-haired man seemed to be quite popular despite his short stature and his tendency to talk a lot. Patiently, Kageyama stood aside and waited for Hinata to return.

"My juniors," Hinata said by way of explanation as they put up a poster in a different spot. "We share a media and communications class together."

"Oh," Kageyama said. "My classes don't really have first or second years. Besides," he snorted, "I don't think I wanna talk to a bunch of kids anyway. What were they—eighteen? Nineteen? Babies."

Hinata stuck his tongue out at him. "Blehh! You're no fun, Bakageyama. We're only a few years older than them anyway."

"We're adults. They don't even look twenty yet. So yeah, they're babies." Kageyama gave him a look, nodding slowly. "Maybe it's a mental age thing."

"Geh! So what if I'm good with kids? Those kids aren't even kids, they're basically our age—"

"Babies. And you are, too."

"I had a little sister, remember?" Hinata reminded. "Just 'cause kids hate you doesn't mean you have to act all jealous!"

"Dumbass! I'm not jealous."

Hinata grumbled something which made Kageyama jab his elbow into his arm. The university was thriving around them as they walked around the campus, bags filled with flyers—most of them crinkled in some way—slung over their shoulders. Kageyama would be the first to admit that he had never really seen the place so... alive before. Until he had met Hinata, his life had been monotonous and mundane. Every day had blurred into a single sequence of repeated events—classes, homework, sleep.

Miwa was gone for good. And he knew more than anyone else in the world that it would never be the same, but...

"Hey," Kageyama said abruptly, Hinata glancing up at him. "Your sister... What was she like?"

"My sister?" Hinata hummed thoughtfully, peering up at the blue sky that blanketed the earth. "Natsu was awesome. She was always looking for new ways to laugh and have fun..." He chuckled. "It got her into trouble a lot of times, and mom would scold her for it."

"Miwa was the opposite," Kageyama shared in return. "She never liked trying new things." A beat. "Except boyfriends. Grandpa always hated her boyfriends."

Hinata guffawed. "Was she pretty?"

Kageyama gave it some thought. "She looked like a girl me," he concluded neutrally.

"So that's a yes," Hinata decided, continuing before Kageyama could even properly register his statement, "The last time I saw Natsu... She didn't look like herself. She wore too much makeup and she dyed her hair yellow."

"Oh."

"She had a boyfriend, too. I hated him. I wanted to beat him up, even if he was a head taller than me."

"You probably would've been the one beaten up," Kageyama speculated.

"Even better!" Hinata retorted. "Then I could've called the cops on him! Or—or his parents! Maybe they would've spanked him. Although," he sighed, "I probably wouldn't have thought of that back then. I... I was too naive."

Kageyama shrugged. "It's fine. I was, too."

Briefly, he wondered how different his life could've been if he hadn't persisted in solving the mystery of Miwa's disappearance. Prosecutor Chinen had informed him that Miwa had been alive for at least a year before her death, but he had never found her anyway. Maybe he would've had a peaceful school life—at that point, Tsukishima had begun to leave him alone, and he had been on shakily friendly terms with Yamaguchi.

If I could change my own actions back then... If I hadn't chased after her—

No.

I wouldn't have done anything different.

If this was the result of him ruining his own life, then...

Kageyama peeked a glance at Hinata's side profile, the other man's expression pensive.

He could learn to live with it.

"Ooft!" Hinata bumped into someone. "Ah, sorry."

A man around their age wearing a uniform shirt that denoted him as a member of the university's massive Undoukai Circle lifted his hand up in apology. "Ah! Sorry, my bad!"

The interaction barely lasted five seconds.

Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shouyou went on their way, and so did Goshiki Tsutomu.

Kindaichi panted, trying to slow his breathing as he came to a stop under a flickering street lamp, placing one hand against its metal body to steady himself. He wore a terrible scowl on his face, one that spooked passing students—they gave him a wide berth as they walked past, hurrying their stride. His back arched as he stretched, wincing slightly when he felt just how taut and stiff his shoulders were from years of relative stagnancy. In his second last year of university—just two years before he would take the National Bar Exam—he had little time to exercise.

Deciding to rest, he couldn't help but think back to his afternoon—to recall the moment Yahaba's mother had clutched the collars her fur coat—who wears a fur coat in the middle of spring?—tighter to her chest when the three of them marched down in silence, carrying Yahaba's things—hastily packed into cardboard boxes—down the stairs that led to the lobby. Yahaba's father hadn't left the car to help his wife move their son's things into the back.

She had thanked them for helping her, then the couple had driven off.

Kindaichi didn't know where to. Perhaps back home, back to Sendai.

"Will they be okay?" Kindaichi had asked.

"Who knows?" Kunimi had simply said in return.

Kunimi... Kindaichi took a deep breath, his lungs stinging. He could feel each thud of his heart, pounding rapidly in his chest. Why did you hide this from me? Because you wanted to protect me? What kinda bullshit reason is that? He eased into a slow jog, kicking a stone on the path. His foot missed it once, and he glanced back regretfully at the pebble had had left behind before continuing to move forward. I'm a grown man. There was another pebble; he sent it flying with the toe of his sneaker. I don't need to be 'protected'. Kindaichi's stomach flipped. Kunimi... wasn't a liar. Sure, he could be annoyingly devious and he was a huge smartass, but he wasn't a liar if he could help it. Especially not to him, his best friend. Is that really true, though? His thighs ached but he kept going. Kunimi had hid Yahaba's decline right under his nose. Wouldn't have said a word of it if the outcome had not been Yahaba being sent to some mental asylum.

If Kunimi had kept this from him—

What else hasn't he told me?

His head was starting to hurt again, but it was probably from running on this cold evening.

In his pocket, Kindaichi's phone buzzed, and he nearly tripped over his own feet before halting again to fish it out of the front pocket of his hoodie. "Yeah," he said breathlessly, putting the caller on speaker without checking the name, "Who is it?"

There was a pause on the other end before a reply came. "He's awake."

"Huh? Sakusa?" Hastily, Kindaichi switched off from speakerphone, pressing his device against his ear. Sakusa never called. Never. "Who's awake? Is it Miya—?"

"Miya Atsumu, yes." For some reason, it sounded like Sakusa was in some sort of hurry. Kindaichi didn't reply, listening for whatever he would say next. "His recovery was quick enough that the doctors decided to take him out of his coma early. I've been told he's fading in and out a lot, and the doctors haven't approved the police to question him yet, but... I've emailed you a list of suspects from the show. I'm investigating it right now, but it would be good if you had a look at it, too."

"Of course," Kindaichi immediately agreed. "I'm outside right now, but I'll head home—"

"Wait. One more thing."

Even though Sakusa couldn't see him, Kindaichi pursed his lips in anticipation. "What is it?"

"... Iwaizumi..."

Iwaizumi? Kindaichi's gut clenched. "I-I see. What about him?"

"I can't be sure what he can tell us, but it's worth speaking to him," Sakusa stated. "Thanks to the Owl-face, it's unlikely I'll be able to see him without facing any consequences. Kindaichi, I need you to visit him. Whatever you choose to ask him... I'll leave to your discretion."

"W-wait! I don't even know what sort of stuff to ask. Maybe I'll check out the library before that—"

"Tch. So by-the-book. That's the problem with you youngsters nowadays."

Kindaichi deadpanned into the night. "You say that like you're not my age."

He dodged the jab. "It's not bad to have some sort of reference, but you need to learn how to trust yourself. So, will you do it or not?"

His throat felt dry. "I..."

Their faces flashed in his mind.

Iwaizumi always had some sort of encouragement ready for his juniors, and it had always showed through his smile.

Naoko wasn't a friendly person, but she was not—by any means—a mean person.

"In all these six years... Have you ever visited him?"

"No. I haven't."

"I thought so. Coward."

And Oikawa...

"Of course I'll do it," Kindaichi answered, a steely edge to his tone. "Don't worry about me, Sakusa. I can do it."

Sakusa ended the call, his hand falling slowly to his side. He turned to the woman standing beside him with her arms crossed—the doctor in charge of Atsumu. The lab coat he usually saw her in had disappeared, replaced by a simple navy jacket. Her hair was down, too, but from the way it puffed outward slightly, she had probably taken her hair tie out not very long ago. Her shift was over—she would be leaving the hospital soon. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Dr. Makoshima Naoko said, rolling her shoulder so that the strap of her handbag wouldn't slide any further down her arm. "He was asking for you. And... I trust you. You have a good head on your shoulders, Sakusa-san." She was holding a cube box of something in her hands. Noticing his eyes flick to the box more than once, she told him, "It's from a small cake store in Sendai. It's not sold anywhere else."

"I see. And you commute all the way there just to buy it?"

"Whenever I'm free." She looked away. "I have a friend who loves it. You have five minutes before a nurse comes in and screams at you. Goodnight, Sakusa-san."

When she was gone, Sakusa moved so that he stood in front of the door, hesitant for whatever reason. Then he pushed down on the handle, and the door clicked open, swinging inside with a barely audible creak.

Any words he may have had never made it out of his mouth as he stilled.

Miya Atsumu was sitting up in his bed, facing away from the entrance. The curtains had been drawn back, giving them both a view of the city. Everything had been lit up, and Sakusa could vaguely make out the silhouettes of office workers moving about in the adjacent building.

Then Atsumu turned to him, blinking. "... It's you."

A chilly breeze blew through the room—the window was open. Sakusa made to close it.

"Why didja save me?"

Sakusa paused. "There are," he said in the end, "A lot of reasons why."

"Hah..." Atsumu chuckled weakly, leaning back against his pillow. "I can't imagine."

The window slid closed. "Then why did you ask for me?"

"Ya came here every day, right? I could hear ya talkin' sometimes. You and some other guys. Sometimes they weren't there, though. But you always were. Guess I just wanted ta match a face to the person." Atsumu grinned. "I'm not disappointed."

Sakusa lowered his brow. "I'll cut to the chase, Miya-san—"

"Just Atsumu."

"Atsumu-san. There are a lot of things I need to ask you. It's late now, though. I'll probably come back tomorrow with questions."

Atsumu hummed. "Pretty uptight, aren'tcha? Well," he pulled his blanket over his head, "I'll see ya tomorrow, then."

Letting out a noncommittal grunt, Sakusa whipped around on his heel and and headed for the door. For a man who—he had little doubt—had just woken up from a ten-day medically induced coma, he smiled too much for it to be real. The false lightness he had surrounded himself in was thin at best, and Sakusa continued to stand outside of the room, ignoring the looks he got from a passing nurse.

Then he heard it.

A stifled sob.

In his weariness, Sakusa faltered, and he slumped against the cold material of the door.

"Hello," Naoko greeted softly, setting down the slice of cake in front of him. It had been moved from the box to a small plastic plate for precautions. Iwaizumi, having buried his head in his arms, looked up. "How are you, Hajime?"

"Naoko," Iwaizumi's lips twitched as he tried to smile, "Sendai's an hour away, you know. You don't have to get me this every time. You already visited yesterday."

Two days a week. Prisoners were allowed to have face-to-face visits two days a week.

"Of course I do," she refuted, using the small spoon she had been given by a guard at the front to dig into the cake. "All you get to eat here is rice, beans, and miso soup."

"We get boiled meat once a month," he offered, wincing slightly under her glare. "Sorry. Thanks for the food, Nacchan." At the nickname, she shifted uncomfortably, and it was only then he realized his mistake. "Shit. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. It's just... It's been a long time since anyone called me that."

Since he had called her that.

Neither of them speaking a word, Naoko lifted the spoon to his mouth. His hands were bound in front of him—they always were. It was up to her to feed him the treat that she always brought with her. Not a single sound was uttered even when she brushed frosting away from his upper lip. Until she leaned back and—

"Even after all these years, you still can't grow facial hair."

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. "Really?"

"Sorry." Naoko laughed. "I just couldn't help but notice."

The cold was truly stifling, but she wanted to enjoy her time with him. She fed him slowly, knowing that he would rather savor the delectable cake than eat it all at once. He was different from her that way—he wasn't like her, who needed to eat everything at once and experience multiple flavors dancing on her tongue. Naoko drew out her thermos, turning in her seat to one of the prison guards watching over them. "Excuse me. Can I get a cup please?"

The guard stared at her—perhaps surprised at her boldness—before nodding curtly. He came back soon with a plastic cup—one with a rounded rim.

Naoko began to pour the warm water in the cup, carefully.

And Iwaizumi asked, "Are you happy, Naoko?"

"No," she replied honestly, not looking up from the stream of steaming liquid rushing into the cup. "But I'm... content."

"It's not the same."

"I know, Hajime." Once she was done, she held the cup to his lips. He drank. "I don't know how you can expect me to be happy, though. But don't worry about me. Worry about yourself first."

"I'm done with that," Iwaizumi told her. "I'll be old before I get out. And I've come to terms with that already. But you have a life to live, Naoko. You can still be happy."

Her grip around her thermos tightened. "Don't. Come to terms with it... How can you do that? You're innocent, Hajime. You—you shouldn't even be here. You don't have to be here."

Iwaizumi's gaze dropped. "But I am. And," he glanced up at her with tired eyes, "nothing you can say is gonna change that."

It took all of her restraint to not launch her water bottle at the brick wall with all her strength and simply scream. "Has he come yet?"

"Who?"

Her heart sunk. "Never mind." It'd only been a day since she had crossed paths with him, but... "Maybe I was hoping for too much."

The rest of the visit passed peacefully. Soon, it was time for Naoko to leave. The guards escorted her out, and a female guard did a mandatory full-body frisk on her before letting her leave.

"He doesn't deserve you, you know."

Naoko whipped around to see a young guard—one she had never seen before. He had probably just started working here. "Excuse me?"

"You know he killed someone, right? You don't need to be kind to him—"

"Don't you ever dare," she cut him off, her voice dangerously icy, "insinuate that he deserves to be treated with anything other than kindness and compassion, you filthy pig."

Affronted, it showed on his face. But she didn't deign to give him any more of her time, instead stalking off into the night.

Iwaizumi Hajime was an innocent man. This, she believed with every fiber of her being, not a single doubt in her mind.

And soon, she prayed, the world would finally realize this.