Prologue
April 1st, 2018
It was late afternoon when they arrived in Sendai, Kunimi Akira flipping the sun visor down as the golden sunlight struck his eyes. Grumbling, he took a left, glancing at the rear-view mirror to see his two roommates—Yahaba Shigeru and Goshiki Tsutomu—snoring away. Goshiki, wearing a grey tracksuit, slept almost completely upright, strangely enough, mumbling something utterly incoherent every so often. His bowl cut—which he had kept since high school—fluffed upward in random directions, testimony to the four-and-a-half hours they'd been driving. Unlike his black-haired seatmate, Yahaba snoozed slumped against the window with his jacket over him, his cheek pressing against the warmed glass. His mousy brown hair was flat against his head, not at all the voluptuous form it usually was. The girls back at Todai's campus would have been disappointed to see their campus prince in such a state.
Kindaichi Yuutarou—Kunimi's best friend since grade school—was wide awake, his head turned to the side to watch the scenery go by.
"Hey," Kunimi spoke, keeping his eyes on the road. Out of the four of them, he was the most careful driver. "Don't tell me you're thinking about them."
"Them?" Kindaichi echoed, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Drink some water."
"Yeah, yeah. But who's 'them'?"
Kunimi scoffed. "Don't play dumb." They slowed down to a halt in front of a red light, starting to exit the inner city. Their destination was, after all, toward the outer suburbs. "I knew we shouldn't have come here. You get that look in your eyes whenever we do."
"I do not."
"You can't lie to me, Kindaichi. I've known you since diapers." Kunimi tapped his fingers against the wheel. "This is our homecoming. No need to dwell on bad memories."
Kindaichi stared at him before chuckling, a shadow of a smile on his face. "Yeah, you're right. Oi, take a right here. It's a shortcut."
The GPS protested, but Kunimi ignored it, swerving to the right.
Finally, twenty minutes later, they were home. Or, rather, at the small villa they had rented for the next four days. They'd opted to stay together, and there was no way any of their parents could've accommodated four extra bodies.
"Alright," Kindaichi yawned as he stepped out of the car, stretching. "Oi, you two," he ducked his head back inside, "Wake up, we're here."
Goshiki awoke with a hilarious snort, jumping up and smashing the crown of his head against the roof. "Ah, shit! Kindaichi! We talked about this."
"I didn't even yell this time, 'Shiki." Just because he felt slightly bad about the situation, he opened the door for the black-haired man. "Hey, wake Yahaba up, too."
"Fine. Oi, senpai, wake up." Goshiki nudged Yahaba's jeans-covered leg with one foot.
"Mrrrgh... Five more minutes..."
Kunimi pressed the horn, and Yahaba hollered. "Yeah, no," he deadpanned. "Get up already, senpai, we're here."
"Kunimi!" growled Yahaba, taking off his seat belt rather aggressively. "I'll strangle you, you brat."
"That guy sure gets grouchy when his sleep's interrupted," Goshiki remarked to Kindaichi as they opened up the boot to collect their luggage.
"Hah!" Kindaichi laughed. "As if you're any different."
"I am!" Goshiki argued, defensive. "I'm not the one threatening murder here."
Their villa had four rooms—a bedroom for all of them to sleep in, a cozy bathroom for one, a kitchen, and a small living room with a television. Yahaba claimed the bath first, muttering something about his hair, and Goshiki busied himself in the kitchen, taking out the snacks and cooking supplies they had brought along. He and Kunimi were the only ones who knew how to cook proper meals, and the latter was far too sleepy to do anything at the moment except lie sprawled like a starfish on top of his futon.
"I can't believe I managed to stay awake for that long. We woke up at dawn, too," he grouched as Kindaichi blew dust off the top of the only medium-sized cabinet in the room and put his backpack on it.
"Me neither," Kindaichi admitted. "But there was no way I was gonna trust Yahaba behind the wheel."
Kunimi snorted. "That's as good as letting a monkey steer." He groaned. "I'm gonna take a nap now. See you in maybe six hours from now." Then he fell silent, and Kindaichi had little trouble believing that his friend was already asleep. It was a superpower of Kunimi's, that he could fall asleep at the drop of a hat anytime he wished to.
Kindaichi could only wish that he had even a smidgen of that power. Sighing, he took out his toiletries and headed to the bathroom. "I'm coming in, senpai," he announced as he opened the door. There was a tiled partition separating the bathing area from the toilet and the sink.
"Close the door!" Yahaba yelled. "It's cold!"
He did, and proceeded to wash his face and put his toothbrush—it was blue; Kunimi's was green, Goshiki's was red, and Yahaba's was yellow—in the metal cup by the sink. By tonight, the three other toothbrushes would be sitting inside too.
"Hey, Kindaichi," Yahaba said loudly. Over the running water, he probably had no idea how loud he needed to be in order for Kindaichi to hear him. "Did Kunimi fall asleep already?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Huh? What did you say?"
"Yeah, why?" Kindaichi repeated, this time making sure to be very loud.
"And Goshiki?"
"In the kitchen. He's starting tonight's soup."
"Then it's just you and me." The squeak of a tap as Yahaba turned off the water. "Gimme half an hour, and then we'll head down to the memorial park."
"GAHHHH!" Goshiki's scream could be heard all the way from the kitchen. "Spider! Fuck! Get away from my carrots, you little bastard!"
"Half an hour?" Kindaichi echoed, putting his face towel aside. "What're you gonna do, give yourself a manicure?"
"Aw, shuddup." Yahaba stepped out from behind the partition with a towel around his waist just as Kindaichi opened the door, letting a chill into the bathroom. "Gah! You totally did that on purpose!"
Half an hour passed by, and Kindaichi was lounging in front of the television, flicking through the different channels with eyes glazed over. Yahaba-senpai always takes an eon to get ready. Guess he had that in common with Oikawa-san. He knew for a fact that Goshiki had already finished preparing his soup, and had moved on to washing and cutting the vegetables for tonight's curry.
By the time Yahaba came out of the bedroom, dressed in green khaki shorts and a navy plaid shirt, Kindaichi—still in the same shirt and shorts as this morning—was on the verge of nodding off.
"About time," grunted Kindaichi, getting up and wincing at how stiff his back felt. "I feel like I'm a hundred years old."
"I didn't take that long, Kindaichi."
"My little sister takes half the time it takes you get ready and she wears an entire pound of makeup every time she goes out."
Things grew quiet between them as they went outside, Kindaichi passing a hand through his undercut as the spring breeze blew past. Maybe, Kindaichi thought, that it had hit them then. Where they were going, and what had torn Aobajosai apart all those years ago.
"Senpai," Kindaichi said suddenly. "Do you still keep in contact with Hanamaki-san and Matsukawa-san?"
Yahaba gave him a look. "No. I haven't spoken to either of them since high school. Don't you remember? They blocked all of our numbers. Removed themselves from every group chat. Avoided the hell out of us up until graduation." He sighed. "I don't blame 'em. Out of all of us on the team... they were the ones who were closest to Oikawa and Iwaizumi."
"Yeah, I remember. Maybe I just had some hope."
"If hope exists," said Yahaba, "Then Oikawa would've had justice." Silence stretched once more before Yahaba added, "Maybe, if he had lived... Maybe I'd still be playing volleyball."
Kindaichi looked down briefly at his hand, which hadn't palmed a volleyball in years. "Heh. Maybe. And Kyoutani?"
"Pretends like I don't exist. It's better that way."
"Is it?"
"For him it is. I don't think he knows any other way to deal with all this shit. Activated his fight or flight response, like some wild animal."
When they arrived at Oikawa's memorial, they found that it was as empty and bare as it had always been. Just a single headstone, with an epitaph inscribed. His family had moved away years ago. Unable to cope the grief, Kindaichi assumed.
"Shit," Yahaba murmured, "We should've brought flowers. Milk bread. Something. Iwaizumi would have. It looks so... hollow."
It did—just a singular headstone, far away from the others. His family had wanted to give him some privacy, Kindaichi guessed. A stone weighed down his heart as he crouched in front of the grave, clutching the top of the stone. It was cold. "He was a great captain. A great senpai. And the best setter I ever knew."
"Yeah," Yahaba choked out, "He was."
They left him with prayers, their legs feeling numb as they exited the memorial park. For the next ten minutes, they walked idly around the neighborhood, not wanting quite yet to return back to the villa, where Kunimi was sleeping soundly and Goshiki was preparing dinner in peace.
"Kitagawa is just around the corner," Kindaichi said at one point, giving the bakery they had just passed a backwards glance. "Wanna go?"
Yahaba shrugged. "Not like we have anything better to do."
So they went. The school grounds were hauntingly devoid of people. Most students had gone home by now, with only a few staying behind for their club. Kindaichi signed them in as visitors at the front office, shamelessly using his status as an alumnus to convince the front desk lady to let him explore for nostalgia's sake. Then they were off, circling the perimeters at a languid pace and watching the sun set slowly over the horizon.
"So this is where Oikawa went to school, huh?" Yahaba mused, looking up at one of the three gymnasiums the school boasted. Perhaps it was fate—or just coincidence—but it also happened to be the one where the current boy's volleyball team were practicing.
"And us," Kindaichi added, referring to Kunimi as well. "And..." He shook his head, his heart hardening. "Never mind."
Eventually, they arrived at the old shoe lockers in a side building. There wasn't much to see here, but Kindaichi was searching for a particular locker. After 2010—his second year in middle school—he knew the school had replaced some of the old shoe lockers with newer ones. Which meant—
"Here it is," Kindaichi declared, stopping in front of Oikawa's old shoe locker. It had multiple stickers on it—personalized by the most recent owner and some fan girls.
"Whoa." Yahaba stared at it in mild disbelief. "That thing practically screams 'Oikawa'."
Kindaichi tried toggling with the combination halfheartedly, only to falter when the door creaked open slowly. What the...? It's unlocked? Curious, he peered inside. It was empty except for a single folded piece of paper.
"What is it?" Yahaba's voice sounded next to his ear, making him startle.
"Er, I don't know, actually." Cautiously, he reached into the locker and pulled out the dusty paper. Hands trembling slightly, he unfolded it. "What..." His face paled as he read the contents—read the disturbingly hurried handwriting.
Yahaba had fallen silent, too, his face just as white.
Licking his lips, Kindaichi read out loud:
"I will hide
"I will run
"I am the one
"Who killed
"Oikawa-san
"Don't look at me with horror
"I see it in your gaze
"They are like knives
"That rip my soul apart
"Please
"Please
"Don't let me drown
"Sanzu River that reflects in your eyes
"Like afternoon sun."
Behind him, Kindaichi could hear Yahaba start to breathe quickly as they both realized the same thing.
"This was written by Oikawa's killer," Kindaichi said, his stomach flipping. Fear. Disgust. Hope. "And his handwriting is nothing like Iwaizumi's."
A/N: Welcome to my new quarantine long-fic. This is the prologue, so it's short. Normal chapters will be longer, at least I hope so, lol.