May 14th, 2018

Eyes round, Atsumu spun slowly in place, taking in everything that was assaulting his senses at once. The noise of idle chatter, of students yelling for their friends across the square. The overpowering smell of coffee wafting from a small cafe to his right. The sight of colorful banners advertising the upcoming May Festival.

"This is amazing!" he cried, grinning widely. He spun one more time before stopping to say to Sakusa, "And this is your alma mater?"

Sakusa didn't seem to share his enthusiasm, but he didn't care. Sakusa was a rich prick who had been spoon-fed an education from kindergarten till graduate school. Atsumu had never even stepped foot into a university before now. "Yeah. I graduated from here two years back."

"God, I can't believe you're my age." Atsumu tugged on the strap of his cross-body fanny pack. The fabric of his white tee moved with it, and he had to pull his shirt back into place. Sakusa was so grown-up compared to him. Educated. Well-spoken. Well-dressed, even, and Atsumu wanted to take a picture of him just because of how damn good he looked in a black turtleneck and a tan overcoat. It was the middle of spring, but it was cool enough today for him to pull it off. "So lifeless. Where's the joy? Were you bullied at school?"

"Nobody bullies when they get to college," Sakusa corrected. "Rather, it's more like I faced social exclusion." He sighed, and Atsumu knew he must have let his expression fall. "Don't give me that look. I chose that path. Making friends wouldn't have mattered, anyway—I graduated early."

"Somehow, I just knew you'd be a smartass. But having no friends? That's sad, man, even for us."

Us. Us. The word that grouped them together in the same category of friendless, asocial weirdos despite their differences. Sakusa's nostrils flared briefly, as if he were rather insulted by the implication, but Atsumu pretended he was none the wiser of his vexation. "It's for the best."

"Why do I doubt that?" muttered Atsumu. Louder, he said, "So, why are we here again?"

"I told you," Sakusa strode ahead of him, hands hidden comfortably in the wide pockets of his overcoat, "There's someone I need to see. And you're here because you wouldn't stop whining about what's on the cable."

"Who doesn't have Dizney channel? Is your life some black and white photograph of misery?"

"I am not a child. Why would I waste money on a subscription for a channel I'll never watch?"

"Whatever. You're such a joykill." Atsumu noticed a hot dog stand, smacking his lips. "Hey, uh, can we—"

But Sakusa was one step ahead of him. "We ate a wholesome breakfast before coming here."

"Aw, come on."

"No. We have food at home." He wrinkled his nose. "Also, do you have any idea what they put in those things?"

Atsumu was unfazed. "A good ol' hot dog never hurt anyone." Sakusa was a lost cause, though. "Who are we gonna go see?"

"An old professor of mine," Sakusa told him, his eyes glazing over momentarily. But then he walked under a zelkova tree and the sharp glint that was usually present in his gaze was back. "He was the one who ensured my talents wouldn't go to waste by keeping me back."

So this guy is responsible for this monster of a lawyer? Atsumu's brows rose. That was interesting. He wondered what he was like—probably old and stooped with a few teeth falling out. The kind that looked like he would be blown away by a gentle breeze by still maintained an aura of authority.

Allowing Sakusa to lead the way, Atsumu trotted after him, still entranced by the beauty of the university and campus life. He'd been wrong before—Sakusa was grown-up, yes, but so was Atsumu. They'd both outgrown their peers in different ways, and seeing men and women his age have only their next assignment due date to fret about was jarring. How many of them had worried over bills? Had roughed it in the streets? Had spent their days under the hot sun and wheeling concrete and bricks through a chaotic construction site for minimum wage? They were spoiled—privileged. And they probably didn't even register it—not on a conscious level, anyway.

Yet, Atsumu could not bring himself to resent them. Not fully. Maybe they had their own troubles he wasn't aware of. And even if they didn't... He was past the age of throwing a tantrum because strangers had been able to enjoy their youth longer than him.

Geez. I feel like an old man. He stared blankly at Sakusa's broad back. Does he feel like this, too? Like he's not even living in the same world as them, even though he should be?

"We're almost there," Sakusa announced five minutes later as they ascended the stairs to the law building. "Wait outside for me."

"Can't I come in, Omi-Omi?"

"No. This is a private conversation."

Atsumu huffed. "What am I supposed to do, then? Twiddle my thumbs?"

"If you would like. Just don't get into any trouble."

That jerk! Atsumu's lips twisted into a forced smile. "Of course not. I'm offended you would think such a thing, Omi."

Sakusa narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything. Then he stalked down the corridor, disappearing around a corner. The sound of a door opening and closing. Humming a tune under his breath, Atsumu wandered around the bottom floor of the law building. It was certainly something. A little drab, but in a minimalist sort of way. Atsumu had never really understood minimalism. He thrived in clutter. As long as he knew where everything was, that was.

Back then, he'd had Osamu to count on when it came to digging up lost homework excitements and missing highlighters.

Atsumu's lids lowered until he was looking at a Baroque painting through the film of his eyelashes. Ah, 'Samu. You have no idea... How much I miss you. He couldn't tell whether it was for better or worse that Atsumu had had almost ten years to get used to his brother's absence. Sure, it was easy to think I'll see him again one day because he'd been thinking it for the last decade, but reality had shifted to the left. There was no more next time or one day because Osamu was dead.

Being apart from Osamu had been like constructing a wall between them. A wall that Atsumu, once upon a time, could have beaten down with the knowledge that Osamu was definitely on the other side. But he hadn't—the wall was still there, but he knew that Osamu wasn't. If he broke the wall down now, there would be no one waiting for him on the other side. Just an empty space where the person he loved most had once been.

A few students passed through the lobby during Atsumu's loitering. Most of them traveled in pairs or groups—always with other people. Very rarely was someone by themselves.

It made a prickle crawl up his spine, knowing that he was one of those few. He didn't like it—it made him stand out more. Maybe it even allowed them to guess. Guess that he wasn't actually a student and was actually some high school dropout with no future to look forward to. Atsumu wiped his clammy hands down on the fabric of his jeans.

Finally, in what seemed like an age, Sakusa emerged from down the hall, talking animatedly with an older man—his former professor, undoubtedly. Legs working on autopilot, Atsumu sidled up to him, and the conversation ceased.

"Oh, good," Sakusa said. "The hall is still in one piece."

Atsumu rolled his eyes. "Didja think I'd set the place on fire or somethin'? I'm not some unhinged psychopath."

At the notion of arson and Atsumu's scathing remark, a muscle in Sakusa's cheek twitched. "No. No, of course not. Why would you be?"

The heck? Omi, you're a real weird one. Outwardly, he kept a pleasant demeanor. "Ready to go?" Atsumu didn't bother greeting the professor, not caring for politeness. He just wanted a hot dog, goddamn. Could Sakusa not afford to buy him a single hot dog? Atsumu swore he would pay him back when he could.

It was too bad, really, that the professor seemed to have taken an interest in him. "So," mused the old man, his mustache quavering. "He must be your witness. Is that correct, Sakusa-kun?"

Sakusa scoffed. "Sadly."

Atsumu frowned. "Hey!"

"I prefer witnesses who don't live in my house and make a nuisance of themselves."

"You're the one who invited me!"

"Because I want to keep you safe. I'm allowed to complain about my job and responsibility as a citizen of Japan."

The professor chuckled. "I see you two get along quite well."

Well? Him and Sakusa. Atsumu gave him a look. Was he, perhaps, going senile? He waited for Sakusa to make some kind of verbal agreement, but the man didn't so much as even grunt. Instead, he avoided the subject and said, "Thank you for your time today, Aoyagi-san."

"Don't thank me yet, my boy," Aoyagi dismissed with a shake of the head, "While it's true Karasuda and I were friends during college, we have long since lost touch."

"I trust you," Sakusa said, honestly. "I'm sure you'll be able to pull a few strings."

"I suppose we'll have to see..."

They said goodbye to the professor, and Sakusa and Atsumu were off.

"Hey," Atsumu began. "What did you guys talk about? And who's Karasuda?"

"We caught up a little," recounted Sakusa. "Despite her oddities, Chinen is a stickler for the rules and does everything by the book. She won't allow outside help from a suspended prosecutor. And I don't have any way myself to set up an in-person meeting with Karasuda—he's the other prosecutor working on the case. I would like to at least consolidate with him if possible."

"Can'tcha email him? Or phone?"

"All emails and calls go through his secretary." Sakusa appeared quite unhappy about that. "She's a spiteful hag. Her specialty is malicious compliance. She'll delete anything from me."

"Just walk into his office, then."

"I'm banned from the building."

Atsumu blinked, incredulous. "What did you do?"

Sakusa gave him a wry look. "Light the place on fire? Long story short, though—I upset a powerful person with personal stakes in, well, everything."

The blond bit his lip, guilty. "It's to do with me? Well, fuck."

"Not just you," Sakusa corrected. "But Oikawa and Iwaizumi as well." He hummed, contemplating. "Although... It wouldn't be a far stretch to say that you're the centre of everything."

The centre of everything. Nothing about that sentence sat right with Atsumu. Maybe he would have loved the attention once upon a time, but he was no longer than wide-eyed, naive little boy with dreams bigger than reality could offer him. Now, Atsumu just wanted to get on with his life in peace. Find love and settle down, perhaps. Grow old. Be content with being... average. Who cared about being average, anyway? As long as it made him happy. Will it? "I never asked for this."

"Me neither," Sakusa replied, more contrite than earlier, and the words held something heavy—something that Atsumu would likely never be privy to considering how guarded the prosecutor was. He stopped, glancing at the hot dog stand they had passed earlier. "You wanted one, right?"

"Eh?"

"A hot dog."

"Oh—yeah."

Sakusa took out his wallet from his back pocket, heading for the stand. "Let's go get some, then."

"Wait, for real?" Atsumu grinned, padding alongside him. "That means you like me, right? More than before, at any rate."

A noncommittal grunt. Good enough.

Sakusa ate his hot dog extremely cautiously, careful not to get any sauce on his mouth. Atsumu, on the other hand, had no such qualms, and ate like a starved man. By the time he was done, he had mustard and tomato sauce smeared on his upper lip.

Sakusa grimaced, passing him a packet of tissues from his pocket.

Atsumu took it, cringing when the tips of their fingers brushed. Oh, crap. Is it gonna blow his top or somethin'? But he didn't. Sakusa acted like he hadn't noticed at all, which was more than fine in Atsumu's book.

"Keep it," Sakusa said, shortly. "I have more."

"If ya say so, Omi. Thanks for the meal, by the way."

"You're welcome—it's never happening again."

Atsumu shrugged. "Fine by me." To be honest, he was just happy that he had somehow gotten Sakusa to agree once. Just once was enough. "Hey, Omi..."

"Hm?"

He folded up the tissue. "Since ya wanna get into contact with Karasuda and all... Does that mean you're gonna be moseyin' yer way into the case?"

"Not officially," Sakusa answered. "Karasuda's not known to be nice, anyway. He's prideful and sticks to conservative beliefs on process of justice. I'm not sure if he'll even allow me to meet with him to begin with, but I'm hoping Aoyagi-san can talk him into it. If he can, I'll simply be sharing information and assisting on building up the case against Shō and Hirakawa. Ideally, I want to at least be involved with the questioning, even if it's only to watch."

"What's there to watch?" Atsumu asked, a moue on his face. "The bastard confessed, didn't he? Seems pretty open-and-shut to me." All that was left was to throw Shō into prison where he would, hopefully, rot for the rest of his life.

Sakusa didn't answer straight away, as if mulling over something. They walked languidly under the zelkova trees, enjoying the spring breeze. At last, he said, "Chinen told me that we're still waiting for a response from the court about the legitimacy of his confession. Under Article 38 of the Constitution of Japan, a forced confession isn't allowed to be used as evidence."

Outraged, Atsumu cried, "It wasn't forced! It's not like anybody held a gun to his... head... Ah." He exhaled sharply. "Shit. That's the loophole, isn't it?"

"The confession was retrieved under duress," Sakusa explained. "Or so he says, according to Chinen. I have no doubt his lawyer team have pushed as much as possible to get the evidence rejected."

"That's bullshit."

"I know. But it's the way the law works in this country." His eyes softened. "I know it's not fair, and it never will be. But it's all we've got, and we need to work according to it."

"Can'tcha do somethin' about it?" Atsumu implored. "You're a prosecutor, right? Go write a letter demanding change in the system."

"It's not that simple."

"You're just giving up, then? No fight, no nothin'?"

"For this case?" Sakusa clicked his tongue. "It'll be over before any major changes in the system can possibly be put into place. But I..." He looked Atsumu in the eye. "I'll see what I can do."

It would have to do, Atsumu supposed. "Good." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Now—where to, next?"

The answer turned out to be grocery shopping, much to Atsumu's dismay.


May 16th, 2018

His parents came the day before he was going to be discharged. Kindaichi wished they would have picked a better time to finally see their only son, for it was the same day where everyone—and he meant everyone—had also decided to visit him.

His regular visitors all filed in two-by-two from eleven o'clock onward. The first pair to arrive were Kuroo and Kunimi, the former with a bulky, expensive watch strapped around his wrist.

"You like?" was the first thing Kuroo asked him, showing him his flashy new watch. No 'hello' or 'how are you' or 'how are you feeling'. Kindaichi was glad for that. Kuroo didn't seem to be like the type for textbook bullshit like that, anyway. "Bought it for myself to celebrate."

"Really?" Kindaichi grinned. "What's the occasion, Kuroo-san?" The last time they had met, tension had permeated the air between the three of them, but now all of that was gone.

"What else?" crowed Kuroo. "I got the job. You're looking at the new junior executive of the JVA's Sports Promotion Division."

"He wouldn't shut up the whole morning," Kunimi added, shooting Kuroo a dirty look.

"Hey! This is my dream job, my guy. I'm allowed to gloat a little." Kuroo turned back to Kindaichi. "Hey, man, in all seriousness... I'm glad you're okay."

Kindaichi smiled. "Thanks."

For a while, Kunimi and Kindaichi spoke of the former's new shared dorm with Kuroo, the latter isolating himself in a corner and texting someone on his phone. He understood it was time for Kunimi and Kindaichi to catch up and was content with having a digital conversation with someone else.

"You what?" Kindaichi almost choked when he heard of Kunimi's mini vandalism job.

"It only felt right," retorted Kunimi, crossing his arms.

"What if you get fined?"

"Like they'll ever see it. Besides—what student would want to go through the trouble of reporting it to the school? We're all trying to keep our heads above the water here—we need the energy to continue to not drown."

The next pair to drop by were Kageyama and Shino—a duo Kindaichi had not expected.

"You guys!" Kindaichi exclaimed in delight, Kunimi making way for them to stand by his bedside.

"Hello, Kindaichi-san," Shino greeted, warmly, clutching her purse by her side. "I hope you've been doing well."

"I have, thank you..." Kindaichi trailed off when he noticed that Kunimi and Kageyama were looking warily at one another. Oh, right. Yeah, shit, I completely forgot. This must have been the first time in years that Kunimi and Kageyama shared the same space together. "Hey, guys? Everything's cool, y'know." He really needed to live up to his word and lend Kunimi that interrogation CD soon.

"I know," Kunimi said, letting out a little sigh. "It's just... weird. No offence, Kageyama."

Kageyama shrugged. "None taken. I didn't expect to see you either..."

Unhelpfully and loudly, Kuroo asked, "Do I smell drama? Yes, yes it is. Gonna stay out of this one."

"Would you shut up?" Kunimi snapped from across the room. "You are such a troll."

Shino did an excellent job in pretending everything else around her and Kindaichi didn't exist. With a soft smile on her face, her hand curled around the railing of the hospital bed. "Kindaichi-san, we finally got word from Sunano's family."

Kindaichi's eyes grew round. "Really? That's great! How is she?" Thank goodness Sunano Rie was alive. The last thing Kindaichi needed was knowing that another person had died, possibly because of his inaction.

"Oh, yes, yes, she's fine. She was actually discharged a few days ago, but we didn't hear from her and her family until this morning. She's very grateful to you for your bravery. Her little sister as well—Mina-chan wants to know your postal address so she can send you a gift. She's quite gifted with sculpting."

"There's really no need—"

Shino chuckled. "She insists. Mina-chan is very grateful—her parents are divorced and her big sister is everything to her."

Kindaichi caved. "Tell her that I'm excited to find out what it is, then."

"Will do. Do you want to exchange numbers? You can text me the address when you're well enough."

"Sure. My number is..."

Not long after Kageyama had gotten settled with Kunimi and Kindaichi, Sakusa and Atsumu came in with Atsumu leading the way. "Hey, Kindaichi! Hm? It's pretty busy in here today."

"Move, Miya," Sakusa's muffled voice could be heard from behind him.

Atsumu did, and Sakusa came into sight. He looked the same as usual—mask strapped around his face and stylish designer clothes. Kindaichi could feel himself going green with envy, but his lips quirked into a sincere smile. "Hey, Sakusa."

"Kindaichi." Sakusa gave him a curt nod. The action had been brisk, but his eyes were gentle. "It's good to see you."

"I'll be right back," Atsumu said, backing away. "It's a little packed in here, and I saw a vending machine on the way here."

"Oh, wait!" Kuroo suddenly scrambled to his feet. "Did they have canned coffee?"

"Um, yeah? I think so."

"I'm coming with you."

Atsumu grinned. "Sure. What's yer name?"

As Kuroo and Atsumu disappeared out the door, exchanging introductions on the way out, Kindaichi's doctor entered with a clipboard in hand. The man stopped at the doorway, perhaps surprised to see that so many people had come to see Kindaichi today, before marching up to Kindaichi's bedside. "Kindaichi-san," he said, kindly. "Your parents are here to see you."

My parents? Kindaichi was ashamed to say that his heart dropped. This wasn't something he wanted everyone around for. So, a resigned sigh escaping from his lips, he hung his head. "Alright. Hey, everyone? Is it okay if you all come back another time?"

"Of course," Kunimi immediately agreed, Kageyama also nodding.

"I should probably make sure that Miya doesn't make a nuisance of himself, anyway," said Sakusa, which was his way of compliance.

So, slowly, the visitors—and the doctor—shuffled out until the only thing that brought color into Kindaichi's hospital room were the carnations that Shino had placed in the vase two days ago. They had yet to start drooping and losing their petals.

The door creaked open.

Kindaichi's breath caught in his throat. "Mom. Dad." No one else came after them. I guess Yuuki wasn't able to get a flight back. His little sister was completing her tertiary education in Harvard. It would've been difficult and time-consuming to return to Japan on such short notice.

His parents had a hassled look about them, as if coming down to the hospital had been a rushed affair. In a way, it made Kindaichi feel a little better. They hadn't forgotten about him—they'd simply had other things to take care of before they were able to come down.

They were a standard-looking couple by anyone's definition. Kindaichi's father was bespectacled with a bushy mustache, gray streaking his otherwise black hair—kept short out of a habit that had been drilled into him during his time in the military. He was tall. Not fat but not slender either. Kindaichi Tadayuki—a paralegal who usually worked six out of seven days a week.

And his mother... Kindaichi regarded her with weary eyes. From her willowy limbs and wiry form to her short and sensible haircut, Kindaichi Hisa was an intimidating woman. She crossed her arms over her flowery blouse, lips pursed, as Tadayuki rushed to his side.

"Son!" he breathed. "You're okay... Thank god. I'm sorry we couldn't be here sooner. Jeju Island was incredibly fickle with its flights."

His parents had been in Korea? Kindaichi would've been floored by that fact had he not been in bed. "Uhh, it's okay, dad. I get it. I'm just glad you're here now." His father gave him a tentative hug, taking great care not to jostle his injury.

Tadayuki stepped back, evidently relieved with the way his body sagged. "Thank god," he kept repeating in a mutter, "Thank god..."

"Dear," Hisa abruptly said, not taking her eyes off their son. "Could you go and get me a bottle of water from the vending machine? I'm feeling parched."

Tadayuki glanced between Hisa and Kindaichi.

"It's okay, dad," Kindaichi piped. "Just go. Me and mom will catch up."

"If you're sure..."

Tadayuki vanished out the door, and Hisa approached Kindaichi's bedside with pause that Kindaichi didn't usually associate with his mother. She had always been a symbol of authoritarian power to him—Kindaichi Hisa didn't have weaknesses. A ridiculous notion, he thought, but one that wasn't derived from rationality. He had feared her as a child, resented her as a teenager, and now...

Hisa didn't touch him. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," Kindaichi confessed, gulping. "But the doctor says I'll be fine. I can probably get the sling off in two weeks."

"Yuutarou. Why would you put yourself in such a situation?"

He winced at her sharp tone. There she is. "Because I had to. Goshiki was my friend. I couldn't let him do what he did."

"Look where that got you." Hisa eyed his left shoulder, where, beneath the fabric of his hospital gown, a bullet had been embedded in the flesh mere days ago. "You're hurt and the other boy didn't even make it."

Kindaichi flinched, then growled, "I would have killed myself before I ran away again. Yeah, he didn't make it," his voice cracked, "But at least I tried. At least there's that. If I hadn't gone that day, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Mom, please." Please, for the first time in your life, don't scold me or berate me or...

Maybe someone up there heard his silent prayer because Hisa said not a word. The silence dragged for so long that Kindaichi was starting to think that Hisa had gone mute from shock when she finally spoke again. "Yuutarou... I'm proud of you."

His heart leaped to his throat. "You... You are?"

"Yes." Hisa closed her eyes. "I've never been prouder." Leaning over the bedside, she planted a kiss on his forehead. "I'm sorry we couldn't come sooner. But we'll stay with you now, for as long as you need us to."

Oh. Oh, no. I think I'm gonna cry. Kindaichi held back the tears. He'd been crying too much over the past few days. For once, he wanted to keep his face dry. "Mom. I wanna go home. I wanna go back to Sendai. Just... Just for a little while."

"Of course," whispered Hisa. "We can do that. We'll video call Yuuki as well. I'm not sure if she's heard about everything yet."

And, softly, Kindaichi cried as he smiled.


May 17th, 2018

Aoyagi came through.

On the day Kindaichi was to be discharged, Sakusa and Karasuda met up in a cafe nearby the Public Prosecutors Office. It was nearly deserted, the only other people in the cafe the barista, the manager, and the chef.

"Please," Karasuda invited when he saw Sakusa approaching him, the latter wearing his usual suit and tie. "Take a seat, Sakusa-san."

"Thank you." Sakusa swiftly wiped down the chair and table before doing so. It would have been better if he had gotten here first, but it seemed Karasuda didn't want him to have the upper hand in anything. He himself was twenty minutes early—he couldn't imagine how long Karasuda had already been sitting here with his coffee.

"You could have gone through the woman," commented Karasuda, leaning forward with his elbows on his briefcase and steepling his fingers. "I wonder what made you come to me, instead."

"Chinen would've never given me a chance."

"Hah! Very true. She has too much to prove. Shame she's letting her female hysteria get in the way."

Sakusa narrowed his eyes. "I don't blame her. You're right—she does have much to prove, especially as a woman working a 'man's job'. But you should not fault her for that." Do not fault her for living the only way she can live in a world created to benefit you, he didn't say.

Karasuda harrumphed. "What do you want, Sakusa-san?"

"Not much." Sakusa unzipped his bag to pull out the Osamu case files that he had gotten from Daichi those two weeks ago. "Only... We can benefit if we work together."

"You're suspended."

"I'm aware. This isn't going to be on record. In fact, should the case have a positive outcome, all credit will go to you and Chinen—especially you." It was a sad reality that Sakusa wielded against Karasuda's ego—the fact that Chinen's contributions would always be overlooked for Karasuda's. Taking Karasuda's musing silence as a positive sign, he went on, "If I know Daizen, he's going to throw Shō under the bus to save his own skin. However... Considering how Shō has lawyered up considerably—like thanks to him—there's something Shō has over him."

"How do you know this?"

"I spent the better part of my childhood acquainted with that man." Sakusa snorted. "He's a smiling devil." Then he grew solemn again. "You worked the last case. You got Iwaizumi convicted for Oikawa's murder. Now that you have a chance to make things right, you're going to have to make sure you get everything in order."

"Tch! I am your elder. Do not talk down to me as if I am some rookie. You may have your noteworthy one-hundred percent success rate, but do not forget that I have taken hundreds more cases than you have over the course of my career."

Sakusa relaxed his shoulders, eyes drooping to half-mast. "Of course. I didn't mean to offend. I cannot deny emotional investment into the case, but rest assured that my judgement is not clouded. You've seen my work."

A grunt. "Yes, I have. You are more than impressive, given your age. Tell me, Sakusa-san, what exactly does Shō have against Hirakawa Daizen?"

"I have a strong suspicion. Currently, there is nothing implicating Shō as the killer of Kageyama Miwa and Miya Osamu." He slid the file forward, Karasuda's piercing gaze following the movement. "On it's own, it doesn't seem particularly telling, but..." Here, Sakusa grew grave. "I am ninety-nine percent certain that Daizen has a history of both physical and sexual violence toward women. The death of Kageyama Miwa doesn't match Shō's M.O, and I suspect that Daizen was more than involved in her death and dismemberment. But I can't prove that. No foreign human material was detected during the analysis of Kageyama Miwa's bones."

"Assuming that this is still relevant to the current case, what do you suggest we do?" 'We'. Karasuda had said 'we'. Sakusa's eyes gleamed. He had gained his interest. "Further interrogate Shō and the former Prosecutor-General?"

"I have an idea. But we have to be careful. I want Shō sentenced to the fullest extent of the law, but it wouldn't be right for the Hirakawa family to escape judgement." Karasuda started to flip through the Osamu file, stopping occasionally to sip his coffee. "From what I managed to get out of Chinen these past few days, there was a large fridge found in the basement of Dreaming Poker Heights, where Shō had taken up temporary residence in. Not his usual luxurious style. The landlady confirmed that it belonged to Shō. Am I correct?"

Karasuda nodded, grimly. "Yes. I thought it was strange, why someone like Shō would be living in such a poverty-ridden gathering hole. And the fridge... It was purchased four years ago, along with the apartment."

"It's big enough to keep human remains in," Sakusa said, leaning back in his chair.

"Surely... You're not suggesting...?"

"Shō had the body and the bones. He didn't kill her, but he knows who did. If Shō fesses up, Daizen is going down with him."

"Hence why Daizen is doing his best to protect Shō with his team of lawyers."

"Yes. It's not far-fetched. They have a mutual, a common point of contact—Hirakawa Noriko."

Karasuda considered this. Then, he inquired, "Out of curiosity, Sakusa-san, do you know if Hirakawa Noriko was ever a victim of Hirakawa Daizen's alleged... tendencies?"

Sakusa hesitated. "I don't know," he said, eventually. "I can't be certain, but I'm compelled to lean toward the possibility."

"I see. How awful."

Did Midorima know, too? Sakusa wondered briefly. Is that why he always defended her so much? And on that train of thought, Sakusa asked, "Do you know what's happening with the Chief Prosecutor?"

But Karasuda did not have any clear answers. "No, I can't say I do. Since the investigation began, he's been consulting with Hirakawa Noriko—" Consultation with lawyers without the presence of government officials was legal "—and coming in and out of the detention centre. Other than that, I am not sure. Aside from that, he seems to be continuing with his job as per usual."

"Hmm..." Sakusa's brow creased. "Has her behavior changed throughout the course of her detainment?"

"She was understandably upset on the first day. She became quieter as the days rolled by... She knows her rights, and hasn't said anything incriminating thus far. Pah," Karasuda spat, "women. We should've never put her into power in the first place. Every time the Chief Prosecutor comes in, however, her demeanor does a one-eighty. It's ridiculous, how dependent she is on a man." At this point, Sakusa couldn't quite tell how far Karasuda's biases stretched—they seemed to be all over the place. Did he or did he not believe that a woman should be able to stand independent?

But never mind. I can use this. Sakusa tuned out Karasuda's rant about how women should know their place, knowing it was best to just let him talk himself into exhaustion if they wanted to make any progress. He didn't know the nuances of the marriage between Midorima and Noriko, but... If her reactions are so obvious, then... Midorima could be the key to everything. He hadn't shared this with Karasuda yet, but there was another thing he was certain of—Hirakawa Daizen had some sort of hold over Noriko. One that went beyond an abuser and his victim. He had powerful leverage over her, one that he continued to use even after she had gotten married and thus had the possibility to cut off her father forever—he just wasn't sure what it was. But Hirakawa must know. She's the one being subjected to his violence. And if I can convince Midorima to convince her...

"Who do you think killed Miya Osamu, then?" Karasuda suddenly asked, breaking Sakusa out of his self-absorption. "Hirakawa Daizen or Shō Shinya?"

"Not Daizen, no," Sakusa replied, recovering quickly. "Highly unlikely. I'm sure we would find an alibi from a simple internet search—Daizen is frequently occupied with expanding his business. Most of the time, he's not even in Japan. But with Shō..." If his confession were to be taken at face value, then Shō had loved Miya Osamu like his own son. But people like him often exaggerate the extent of their abilitiesincluding the ability to love. A part of him didn't want it to be true. It would only make Shō even more despicable. Not that he cared for Shō, but the fact that he would kill his own 'son'... A morbid thought wafted to the forefront of his mind. Junji slitting his throat in his sleep. The breaking of an ancient and natural law that ran deep in their human bones. Filicide. How could a parent ever think to do that to their child? "Leave it to me. I'll find out the truth."

Karasuda raised one skeptical brow. "Very well, then." He stood up. "I should get going. I'll talk to the woman. We'll be in touch."

"Thank you for your time, Karasuda-san." Sakusa stood as well, bowing his head slightly. "I won't let you down."

"See that you won't."

Sakusa watched Karasuda leave, the old man's shoes squeaking against the glossy, polished floor. Then he took out his phone and punched in a familiar number. "Okazaki. It's me."


A/N: Plans to defeat the Sho and the Hirakawas are set into motion... But what is the missing piece in the puzzle?

Article 38 of the Constitution of Japan stipulates, "No person shall be compelled to testify against himself, and confession made under compulsion or after prolonged arrest or detention shall not be admitted in evidence." The Constitution further stipulates, "No person shall be convicted or punished in cases where the only proof against him is his own confession."