May 7th, 2018

Midorima rapped his knuckles on the door before opening it, his brows furrowing ever so slightly as he saw his wife by the mirror, her old Karasuno school uniform pressed against the front of her body. He sighed, leaving the door ajar and approaching her from behind. He snaked his arms around her waist, hugging her back to his chest. "This again?"

In the mirror, Hirakawa's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I can't help it."

"You've always loved that old thing."

"You're wrong," she uttered, her hand clenching and crumpling the fabric of the blouse. "It disgusts me."

Knowing he didn't need to say anything to that, Midorima's gaze shifted to the side—to Hirakawa's work desk. There was a clay pig sitting on it, one that she had made to match with his.

"I love you, Noriko." His words echoed in the room. "Why don't we have dinner at Shibuya tonight?"

Hirakawa didn't look away from the mirror. "Sure, dear."

And then he was gone, off to freshen up in the bathroom.

Hirakawa spun in front of the mirror, watching the hem of the uniform move with her twirling.

'I love you, Noriko'.

She tossed the uniform aside. "Tsk."

It flopped onto the carpet—how dirty, how perverted—and she imagined it going up in flames and burning all her sins away.

That's what they all said, too.

"I'm home," Kindaichi murmured, shutting the door gently behind him. The shoes at the entrance-way told him that both Goshiki and Kunimi were present in the dorm. Kuroo had not yet moved in with them yet, though there were boxes of his things piled up near the front. More than one of them had a 'fragile' label.

"Welcome back!" Goshiki's voice sounded from the kitchen just as Kindaichi took a deep inhale of the delicious scent wafting around the room. "I'm making mac 'n' cheese."

"You're gonna harden all my arteries before I'm thirty!" Kindaichi called back, though saliva gathered in his mouth from the thought of cheesy pasta. He made his way to the kitchen, dropping his bag off next to his bed. He sat the kitchen island, where three plates were already set up. "Hey, 'Shiki?"

Goshiki didn't turn around, staring into the depths of the oven. "Hm?"

"What... What would you do if someone you knew a long time ago..." Kindaichi trailed off, wondering how to proceed.

A timer dinged, and Goshiki opened the oven, the smell of dinner intensifying instantaneously. "This is about your senpai, isn't it? The one who went to prison."

"How did you—?"

"Doesn't take a genius." Goshiki pulled out the tray of macaroni and cheese and set it aside for the meantime. He seated himself on the kitchen island, the bar stool dragging against the tiles. "You wanna talk about it?"

Kindaichi didn't say anything. What—truly—could he even articulate at this point? "I... I don't know. Suddenly, everything feels a lot realer than before. Well, I mean—not that it didn't before, but I was starting to get used to everything, y'know?"

"Not really," Goshiki said honestly. "But I can give you a bigger slice than Kunimi."

Kindaichi sagged. "That'd be nice. About Kunimi, though—"

"He was out of line yesterday."

Huh? "Er... I did start yelling at him first..."

But Goshiki was shaking his head. "You're an adult. Look, I get that he was probably just worried, but... Kunimi needs to lay off, man. He needs to learn that it's not his right to be privy to everyone's secrets."

"It wasn't a secret," Kindaichi retorted. "But Kunimi's always been like that, okay? He's a good friend, and he always means well."

Goshiki seemed to consider this. "If you say so." The sound of the bathroom door opening. "Speak of the devil."

Kunimi lumbered into the kitchen in a sweatshirt and shorts, a towel draped over his hair, which was still damp. "Oh, dinner's ready?"

"Get it while it's hot." Goshiki cut him a slice—one that was very obviously smaller than Kindaichi's. But if Kunimi noticed—and Kindaichi had no doubt he did—he didn't say anything.

"Let's eat," they chorused.

The former warmth that had once permeated the dorm was gone.

Why did you call him that night?

Grabbing his fork, Kindaichi took the first bite.

And despite Goshiki's excellence in cooking, it felt bland on his tongue.

May 8th, 2018

This is going to be a disaster. A muscle in Sakusa's cheek twitched as the final member of their meeting finally showed up, giving the people in the room a sheepish smile. Maybe I should've been more considerate to them.

Because Naoko's face was as flat as a tabletop, Daichi seemed rather at a loss, and Okazaki was puckering her lips in her pocket mirror and frowning at her reflection every five seconds. And Kindaichi—bless his soul—was standing by the water cooler rather than sitting down at the table with the rest of them. It was only when Naoko used her foot to pull out a chair for him did Kindaichi take the hint.

"Sorry," he apologized, unable to look anywhere else except at Daichi's lukewarm cup of coffee.

Komori, give me strength. "Thank you all for coming," Sakusa began, speaking through his mask. Currently, they were seated in one of the hospital's many break rooms—Naoko had scored them an empty place to consolidate.

"My break's over in fifteen minutes," Naoko reminded them, her face never changing. Nevertheless, Sakusa sensed her simmering impatience anyway.

"That's fine," replied Sakusa. "This won't take long."

"Alright, but," Naoko let out a deep sigh before turning to glare at Kindaichi, "Will you please stop staring at me?"

"Wha—I was not!"

"You were," said Daichi, sounding mildly amused. "I mean—it wasn't outright staring, but... Glances?"

"You're the woman on the train." Kindaichi seemed awed. "You're a doctor?"

"You're a prosecutor?" Naoko threw back.

"No, he isn't yet," Sakusa interrupted, irritation coloring his tone. "Now can we please get back to the subject at hand here?" He heard Okazaki's makeup mirror snapping shut, and it was then he knew that she was probably having the time of her life. For whatever reason, Kindaichi preened under his words, perking up immediately. Then his face became serious, mirroring Naoko's. "Doctor," he addressed the black-haired woman, "How many more days can you keep Chinen-san and her investigation team away?"

Naoko hummed. "Two, and even that's a push. You're protecting a murder suspect, Sakusa-san."

"I am aware," he said, dryly. "I'll be questioning him later today, if you'll allow me."

"Fine. But if you stress him out, I'm going to boot you."

It was as much as he expected from her. "Sawamura," the inspector was next, and he sat up slightly at the sound of his name, "Has anything changed in Chinen-san's investigation since the last time we met?"

"It has," Daichi answered, gravely. "We've basically abandoned the other two suspects and are focusing on Atsumu-san. Chinen-san expects to squeeze a confession out of him." He paused. "I won't lie... It doesn't look good for him. All the evidence is against him. Not to mention he has no alibi."

Of course. And that was just one of the bigger problems in his side, wasn't it? Looking at the evidence, Atsumu had all the reason to kill his brother, and all the time and preparation, too. It was only logical to conclude that Atsumu was the one who murdered Osamu, and that this incident was separate to Oikawa's murder. But that can't be the case. The timing was too convenient. Everything was too convenient.

He would not send an innocent man to jail.

One was already enough.

"But there's still a chance, right?"

They all turned to Kindaichi, who had spoken. He flushed at the sudden attention.

"I—um," the man stuttered. "We have two days to figure out everything. I... I managed to get some stuff out of Iwaizumi when I went to see him yesterday. Maybe we can finally fit all the pieces together."

Sakusa relaxed somewhat. "He's right. There are still forty-eight hours before Chinen's brutes barge their way in."

Naoko harrumphed. "They can try. Murder suspect or not, he's still my patient. They'll be walking quietly inside or else they'll be leaving with their own hospital bill." She glanced at Daichi. "You can look the other way, right?"

"Sorry?" Daichi blinked, feigning ignorance. "I zoned out for the past ten seconds."

"How convenient," Sakusa said, unruffled. "I did the same."

Naoko smirked.

"So, Kindaichi-san," Okazaki said brightly, her laptop opened in front of her. "What exactly did you find?"

Kindaichi ran them through the details, which Okazaki jotted down on behalf of Sakusa. He spoke of the mysterious man that Oikawa had been texting religiously before he passed and the strange confession Iwaizumi had received from a girl who was supposedly Hirakawa.

"Wait," Sakusa broke in when he got to that point. "Are you certain it was her?" That can't be.

"I showed Iwaizumi her picture," explained Kindaichi, looking worrisome at the sudden question. "And he said she was. Then again... He didn't remember exactly. But he confirmed it anyway!"

It was something to be taken with a grain of salt. "Kindaichi," Sakusa said, his voice lowering. "Do you realize what you're implying?"

"Ah..." From his facial expression, Sakusa could gather he truly did have no idea. "Is it that bad? I mean, she was just another student back then—"

"Owl-face is many things," Sakusa talked over him. "If this is true..."

"He's saying that you're making her out to be a pedophile," Naoko said bluntly. "Am I right?"

"Yes." There really was no beating around the bush about this, but it was also a difficult topic to be straightforward about, even for him. "She would've been an adult when this happened, and Iwaizumi a minor by technicalities." From Midorima and Kageyama, he knew she had done some sort of stint posing as a student during Kageyama's third year to watch over him, but to actually make advances on a student was...

Kindaichi balked. "Oh. Oh, shit."

"This isn't something that we can take at face value and throw around," Daichi warned. "She's the Prosecutor-General of Japan."

"Hang on," Kindaichi said desperately. "There was evidence of her confession that disappeared. A clay pig that she gave to Iwaizumi. If we find it, it might have her prints on it."

Prints...? Sakusa stilled in his seat, almost eerily so. The voices of the other men and women in the room faded into white noise. A clay pig... One that Iwaizumi had at one point. One he no longer has? It was too early to jump to conclusions just yet, but he stored that bit of information away for later. "Hold on. Let's not put too much faith into that. Especially if it's gone."

Kindaichi pressed his lips into a thin line. "Alright. But... Did it help? Did Iwaizumi's testimony help?"

Barely. The word was prepared to roll off his tongue, but he held back. The last thing Kindaichi needed was to have his hope destroyed. But I can't deny that this raises more questions. Owl-face already took me off the case—she's hiding something. But what? "Somewhat. We might be able to piece something together."

"What are we missing?"

At that, silence fell. Naoko was frowning deeply at the table, and Daichi seemed distinctly uncomfortable. It had hit them then—that this was an uphill battle they had little chance of winning.

But it's not over yet.

"There's still one more person who hasn't given their side of the story yet," Sakusa stated. "Until I talk to Atsumu-san, we're not giving up." The man was shrouded in mystery—there were things about him that seemed obvious, but they were only symptoms of a deeper issue. One, perhaps, that had never been resolved.

"Of course not!" agreed Kindaichi, vehemently.

Daichi let out a small chuckle. "Can't argue with that. The reason I joined the force in the first place... Was to fight injustice in this world. I'll do whatever I can to help, Sakusa-san."

"... I may be able to make it three days, if you need it," added Naoko, contemplatively. "The hospital director might start asking questions, but it's worth the risk. As long as Hajime is out. He's been in there for too long."

There was a collective murmur of affirmation.

Ah, what the hell. Sakusa deadpanned. What am I supposed to say—'you're all dismissed'? It's not like they work for me. "We're done. You can all go. I'll be in touch."

Okazaki giggled. "You've never really been one for words, Sakusa-san..."

"Tch. I was getting to it. Everyone," half-standing, they gazed at him, puzzled, "Thank you. Justice in this world isn't something we often come across. But when we see the opportunity for it to prevail, we must seize it." He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "That is all."

They dispersed subsequently, each needing to get back to their own business. Kindaichi had a class to get to, and Daichi needed to be back at the station. Naoko's break was over, too, but she gave Sakusa her permission to see Atsumu before she exited the room.

"You can leave, too," Sakusa told Okazaki when she followed him down the hall a respectable distance behind.

"Oh?" Okazaki cocked a brow. "Are you sure, Sakusa-san?"

"He's never met you before," explained Sakusa, referring to Atsumu. "And," he smirked, "knowing the kind of person you are, he might not take to you kindly."

"Ridiculous. Everyone who's ever met me loves me. But," she let out an affected sigh, "If my boss so wishes, then I suppose I can leave you alone for a few hours... Just don't have too much fun, sir."

Sakusa halted, scowling at her. His face was half-hidden by his mask, but his eyes conveyed the message well enough. "What's that supposed to mean?"

However, annoyingly enough, Okazaki didn't give him an answer—simply giving him a smile he classed as knowing. "I'll be on my way."

Once he was rid of her, he picked up his pace. Knocking once on the door, Sakusa let himself in, pausing when he saw a female nurse talking with Atsumu at his bedside. She was holding a pitcher of water—both of them looked at him as soon as he entered.

"Pardon the intrusion."

The nurse frowned. "Sir, do you have permission to be here—?"

"The head doctor cleared me," Sakusa cut in, and from the way she paled, the woman knew exactly who he was talking about. "You can ask her, if you want."

The nurse gulped. "Uh—that won't be necessary. I'll leave you two to speak. Just buzz if you need anything."

Truly, Sakusa had to wonder just how much of a terror Dr. Makoshima Naoko was. But today, he was grateful for her.

"Yo," Atsumu lifted an arm, grinning, "Didn't think I'd see ya back here so soon."

Sakusa pulled up a chair next to his bedside. "I did say I was coming, didn't I?"

Atsumu turned on his side so that he was facing him. "Guess ya did. So—ya wanted answers, right?"

His first instinct was to immediately agree and move on with the conversation, but something stopped him. Sakusa held his tongue, mulling over his response. "That depends. Are you ready to answer?"

"No," Atsumu said honestly. "But I doubt I'll ever be ready, so now's a good time as any."

Sakusa Kiyoomi was not well-versed in the art of small talk. He preferred to get straight to the point, especially when interrogating witnesses and suspects. There was little he could pull out from himself to fill the gap between them—even if he wanted to. So, resigning himself, he got comfortable. "I need you to tell me the truth and nothing but the truth."

"Sure, but yer gonna need ta give me a place to start."

"Did you kill your brother?"

Atsumu blinked. Once, then twice. Immediately, with those words, the light atmosphere had dissipated, and his smile had faded away. Undoubtedly, he already knew his brother had passed, but—

"Of course not. The minute I heard he was dead, I..." He let out a shuddering breath. "You know what I did."

"I know," Sakusa affirmed solemnly. "I just needed to ask anyway."

"You believe me?"

"I do." There was no hesitation on his behalf—he was certain of Atsumu's innocence. "I'm afraid I can't say the same for many others, though."

Atsumu laughed—the sound was weak and watery. "So I'm fucked, huh? More than I already am."

Sakusa's jaw clenched. "Not if I can help it. You're not the only guy that's been fucked over because of all this." He's gotten away with too much already. I won't let him take my last witness. "I need you to think back to a long time ago. Ten years ago, on the KidProdigy show. I need you to tell me everything you went through on their set, and answer every question I ask you in-between."

"I'm warnin' ya now," Atsumu disclaimed wearily, "We're gonna be here fer a while." When Sakusa didn't opt to back out, he exhaled sharply. "'Kay, then. Shit, where do I even start...?"

"Take your time."

The clock ticked.

For a while, they just sat in silence.

Then, Atsumu began to speak.

June 28th, 2008

Miya Atsumu scowled up at the obnoxiously colorful sign, a volleyball placed between his hand and his hip. His twin brother, Osamu, was chewing on a watermelon rind next to him, not looking too happy about the Summer Castle Academy sign on display either.

"So this is it?" Atsumu demanded. "Whaddya think, 'Samu?"

"Ma's crazy."

"Right?"

"Don't let her hear ya complainin', though," warned Osamu, looking back over his shoulder. Their mother, Miya Akari, was getting out of the car and marching toward her. The clicking of her high heels on the path grew louder as she approached.

"Atsumu!" Akari said sharply, stopping in front of them and giving Atsumu an appraising look. "Why did you take your ball out of the car, too?"

"Uh." Atsumu made a face. "Just 'cause..."

"Put it back," she ordered before rounding on Osamu. "And you, young man, better not have watermelon juice on your shirt."

"Relax, ma," Osamu tried to placate, holding his arms out to show her his white t-shirt, which was unstained. "I'm not a messy jerk like 'Tsumu. That's why he's wearin' black and I'm not."

"What was that, ya big—"

"Boys!"

They sighed in unison before chorusing, "Sorry, ma."

Grumbling, Atsumu took the keys from his mother to return the ball to the car, ignoring Osamu's request to throw away his watermelon rind, too. Once they had converged once more, Akari's keys safely in her handbag again, they entered the centre together, holding either of their hands.

His mother's hands were calloused, Atsumu noticed. Had noticed more than once in his life. Their mother did everything around the house—it was no surprise, really. A small part of him pitied her. It was a fleeting feeling. Not even pity would get him to help around the house more. Maybe it worked a bit on Osamu, but not on him.

He was a selfish son.

So what? Atsumu glanced around the interior of the building. S'not like it matters. I'll be outta her hair in a few years.

"Ah, you must be Miya Akari-san!"

The twins both raised their brow at the appearance of a middle-aged man with his hair slicked back. He was wearing round glasses—behind the spectacles, Atsumu could see he had that droopy fold to his eyes that made him look sad, even when he smiled like he was now.

Akari bowed her head politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Director Shō. These are my boys—Osamu," she pushed Atsumu's twin forward a little, "and Atsumu." Atsumu grimaced when she nudged him forward with a hand, too.

"Twins!" exclaimed Shō, eyes lighting up with curiosity. "How interesting."

Akari beamed. "They're my pride and joy. And I believe they'll be excellent picks for your next show."

"Yes, I..." In the breast pocket of his shirt, his phone buzzed, and he gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry—I'll be with you in a moment. My assistant, Takagi-san, will show you to the audition waiting room..."

As the director disappeared ("Hello? Chen?"), Atsumu's gaze following him out of sheer boredom, they were greeted by a young woman with long brown hair tied up in a low bun. She wore a pair of spectacles on her nose and a headset. Atsumu blinked up at her, tuning out his mother's repeated introduction.

Takagi was quite a tall woman, actually, and she leaned down to smile at the boys. "Osamu and Atsumu, right? My name is Takagi Chiasa, and I'll be looking after you for the meantime."

Atsumu felt a twinge of annoyance, and knew that Osamu was feeling the same. We're not babies. They didn't even want to be here, but their mother had dragged them down anyway... Geez. I could be playing volleyball right now... I wonder how's Aran doing? His thoughts strayed as they followed Takagi down the hall. We just up and left without even tellin'...

Eventually, they reached a point where they had to separate from their mother, which wasn't a huge deal. Akari made a fuss, though, fishing a brush out of her pocket and combing out the knots and kinks in their hair. "Be good," she said to them—Atsumu had a feeling it was more directed at him than his brother—an underlying warning in her tone.

"Yes, ma," said Osamu.

Atsumu didn't say anything, merely turning his back on the woman. Osamu joined him a few seconds later, and they padded after Takagi together.

"Here you are." Takagi led them to a room. It was pretty empty besides some shelves and a basket full of clothes in the corner.

"I don't understand," Osamu voiced what they were both thinking. "Ain't this a cookin' show?"

"That's correct," replied Takagi, patiently. "But there are a few requirements contestants must meet before moving onto the next stage."

Atsumu snorted a laugh. "So we're supposed ta play dress-up?" The only good thing that could possibly come from this was seeing his brother in an embarrassing paisley dress. "You go first, 'Samu."

"Like hell, 'Tsumu."

Before Takagi could intervene, however, the sound of someone running toward them in high heels made them turn around. When they did, there was a woman with short black hair at the door, keeled over and panting hard. Atsumu could see her knees trembling—either she was super unfit, or she had been running for a long time.

"Sorry," she wheezed, "I'm late."

"Oh, that's fine," Takagi helped her stand, "You must be the junior stylist applicant! From Sendai, correct? It's a long way to Kobe, so I don't blame you. You got here just in time anyway—these are the boys you'll be helping out today. Think of it as your interview."

Eh? Atsumu tilted his head curiously. She came all the way from Miyagi...? Just to work here? Maybe this show's legit after all...

"Thank you." She stood up straight, brushing a few stray hairs back from her face and smiling through her exhaustion. "My name's Kageyama Miwa. I look forward to working with everyone."

A/N: Thank you for the reviews!

Uncle Sam's Boot: Yes, his sentence was life :)