A Doll's Eyes

by GenericOregairuFan

Hachiman: a self-styled personal investigator, known as the 'Shark' of the Chiba Police. Precarious relationships with Kawasaki Saki, his landlady, and the manipulative journalist Isshiki Iroha will soon be put to the test. A serial killer he's been chasing for years decides to make things personal, threatening to kill the only witness to their many crimes: Yukinoshita Yukino.

2. 31 Days

AN: Apologies for how long this chapter took. Partly, it was because this essentially introduces the main arc of the story, so it had to be exactly right. Then there's also the length, a hefty 18,000 words. I also had to re-draught several sections upon realising the pacing was a bit off. Still, I think the effort paid off.

Again, I don't have much experience with mystery/case creation, so we'll have to see what people think of the one in this chapter. A bit part of the re-draughting I had to do was making sure the case reflected on Hachiman's character/motivations in a meaningful way.

Finally, I'll repeat the content warning. This story is rated M and more than deserves that label. I consider it a crime thriller with horror overtones, as the genre designation suggests, so please don't read if you're not prepared for that. Thanks for all your comments the last time out.

---

A Doll's Eyes

Chapter 2- 31 Days

---

The high school girl breathes in. She's standing just outside the door of her homeroom, hesitating, steeling herself for the inevitable. Her short dark hair falls droopily over her eyes in a way that most of her classmates have interpreted as standoffish, or rude, or 'like a delinquent'.

As such, it doesn't really matter that her hair's like that purely because she doesn't have time in the morning to change it. It doesn't really matter if she enters the room with a warm smile or a cheery call of "Good Morning!", because her classmates have already decided who she is.

It's not as if she can run away. What would be the point in that? And if she can't disprove their notions of who she is either, her only option is to carry on.

That's the conclusion she comes to every day. So, the high-school girl opens the door to her homeroom, walks in late, and her classmates stare at her like some kind of animal.

The whispering starts half way to her seat. She wonders what imaginative variant on the rumours they'll be spreading today. Maybe it will be the one about how she left her previous school because of an incident with drugs at a party. Maybe it will be the one about how she attacked a first year with hair straighteners in the school bathroom.

Or maybe it will be the Queen Bee Nakatani Maeko's favourite. The only that always boils down to her being a 'slut'.

She sits down, and the whispers show no signs of dispersing, but one detail sticks out in the corner of her eye. Her clique is all present, sitting together in the corner, but Nakatani Maeko herself hasn't arrived yet.

The thought brings a vindictive smile to the girl lips. I hope she won't be back for a long, long time.

"Did you hear-"

"-I know-"

"-from what I've heard, it's actually true-"

"wait, you really think so? I thought it was just talk-"

"-no, it happened. Nobu told me. Last night, in an alle-"

"Morning, class," echoes the voice of their homeroom teacher. He slams the door of the classroom in such a way that it grabs the attention of everyone inside.

He purveys his students with that stare, the stare that the high-school girl has thought unsettling ever since she transferred to Izumi High. His eyes move over the clique, the otaku boys in the opposite corner, and then come to settle briefly on her. He looks long and hard at her. At her hair. And other things.

She looks down.

"I'm sure you've heard the talk by now…" He sighs. "It's my responsibility as your homeroom teacher-"

"Is it true then?"

"Is Maeko-chan alright-"

"-was she really attacked-"

"Class!" He lifts his hand authoritatively. "It's polite to raise your hand if you want to speak."

A hush falls as they wait for him to confirm or deny the chatter. The high-school girl can't help but be glad the spotlight won't be on her today.

Neither can she bring herself to feel pity for Nakatani Maeko. Not in the slightest.

"… It's true, I'm afraid. Nakatani Maeko won't be coming back to school for some time. And, in light of the…" He scratches the back of his head. "… The severity of her incident, myself and the higher-ups have decided it would be appropriate to advise any students who usually walk home to seek other means of doing so. There will also be an increased police presence around the school grounds and nearby…"

The high-school girl zones out as her homeroom teacher goes through the new precautions. Nakatani Maeko was attacked, was she? Really.

The ugly smile re-appears around the edges of her lips, despite her efforts to conceal it.

Serves her right.

---

The early morning sun shines through smatterings of Chiba clouds, betraying none of the cruelties Hachiman knows took place two nights ago. The attacks, the baseball bat, the teenage victims… they're the same cruelties responsible for the bags under his eyes, and the determination coursing through his veins.

He checks the directions on his phone screen, making sure he's heading in the right direction. His feet move hurriedly, eating up the sidewalk of a road only two blocks from Izumi High. He returned to the district only an hour ago- Isshiki had called him, suggesting they meet at a bookshop in the area.

They're up bright and early, but it looks as if she's already been busy. Hachiman smirks. Say what you want about that woman, but when I need her, she delivers.

The night before was sleepless, or may as well have been. He woke up no less than the 4 times, the last one at 5 in the morning with so much sweat clinging to his T-shirt you'd think he'd just been swimming.

This is commonplace after being given a new case; his mind will be moving too quickly to stop. And this case has given him more to think about than most.

The rapist hadn't been the only thing that kept his night sleepless. Eternally, he returned to Yamanishi Koen in his nightmares, and in the small hours of the morning he had returned to it again. This time, it wasn't the face of someone he knew that he saw hanging from the tree. It was Nakatani Maeko, the poor schoolgirl who'd seen her innocence defiled.

There are many violent images he can't forget from his time as a personal investigator. Bloodied corpses, gore spattered over walls, almost anything conceivable. But it's the human ones which linger the longest. The sight of a girl, her face covered by a shock blanket, left with despair and despair alone.

When such images threaten to overpower him, the only thing Hachiman can do is put them out of his mind. And, in working to distract himself from them, he'll usually acquire several more.

Sakiyama had got back to him about the case first, calling when he was halfway through a bowl of instant ramen.

"I asked the victims' homeroom teachers to take me through the dynamics of their classes. They were mostly cooperative, but one of them mentioned-"

"Mostly?" Hachiman had said, with his mouth full.

"… What was that, Hikigaya-san? You sound like you're talking under water."

After swallowing, he continued, "Rather fitting, considering my reputation. And you said 'mostly'- what did you mean by that?"

"The recent victim, Nakatani Maeko… her home-room teacher was being a little obtrusive, but I expect it's good practice to double-check who you're talking to, especially if you work with kids. Nothing too suspicio-"

He'd snorted. "Statements like that are exactly why you haven't ended up the next Sherlock Holmes."

"I think that's more so because I'm not an Englishman living in the 19th century. Or a fictional character," Sakiyama deadpanned.

"And you never will be, with that attitude. Still, I'd like that homeroom teacher's name. Cautious people usually have something to be cautious about."

"Of course…" The sound of flicking paper as he checked his notes. "His name was Yoshida Teiko. Anyway, you asked me whether the victims were popular- the answer's yes. Or at the very least, they were sociable types."

"Brilliant. Efficient as ever, detective."

"Is there a chance you'll tell me why that question was important? Inspector Kudou's been pestering me abou-"

Hachiman had hung up at that point. He may trust Sakiyama completely, but he's found it's better to keep the Chiba Police out of the loop on certain aspects of his investigations. Some of his methods couldn't be described as 'by the book'.

The deal with Isshiki Iroha springs to mind. The police are fully aware of the journalist's articles, and her strange sixth sense for knowing confidential details. But Isshiki is deceptively good at covering her tracks, and sly at 'implying' in her articles rather than alleging concrete facts.

They're hard-pressed to find proof- in this, and most of their cases too, he thinks, with some irritation.

No doubt Isshiki will be able to offer something just as enlightening. Something that would give his theories on the rapist new solidity. At the moment, all he has is the hunch they may also be a high-school girl, perhaps another second year, perhaps with a genuine personal connection to one of the victims.

There's too much up in the air to speculate. The baseball bat. The piece of A4 paper. The sex toys. Any one of the details could be all important. Or none of them.

Hachiman arrives at the bookstore in good time. It's an independent one he's never visited before; he and Isshiki are careful to rotate their meetings spots, choosing them at random, not wanting to draw too much attention to themselves. From the police, or those with characters even more suspect.

He texts his partner: I'm outside. Isshiki responds that she's already arrived, and he heads in through the door to join her.

It's cramped in the store, the aisles of books pressed closely together. There are only two customers other than himself. An old man shorter than five foot, and lingering near the Detective Fiction shelf, Isshiki Iroha in the flesh. She's wearing a stylish red skirt and black leggings, her light brown hair tied up, recently showered.

He approaches her from behind without saying anything, a little curious as to the name of the book in her hands. It's rare for them to discuss matters outside of cases, but Hachiman knows full-well she's not a reader.

Upon seeing it's a Raymond Chandler novel, his confusion only grows. "What the heck is a philistine like you doing with a book?"

She lets out a yelp, only to scowl upon seeing it's him. "Oh. It's you, Hachiman."

"Why the disappointment? Could've been someone a lot, lot worse."

"That's debatable." The scowl turns to a smirk. "That dreary voice of your's makes it hard to tell whose a criminal and who isn't."

"Hey. You're the biggest criminal I know. 'Would't surprise if you'd been planning to steal that book you've got."

"Says the one smuggling private police information."

"Under duress. Duress."

Isshiki gave a sly wink. "I wonder what else I could get you to do under duress."

"Let's not get any ideas." Hachiman gestured again to the Raymond Chandler novel. "Seriously though, what's with the book? I thought the most you read was other journalist's articles."

"Nope! My articles are the only ones worth reading." She turns it over in her hands, suddenly turning uncharacteristically bashful. "… But I guess I must've seen you with it at some point. Had a look while I was waiting, just to see what the fuss was about."

The long explanation catches him by surprise. It's true that he's read Raymond Chandler, including the one in her hands, The Big Sleep, but that she would take an interest in something so trivial surprised him.

"Huh. Can't remember ever telling you about it."

"You didn't. I just saw it on the table in your apartment."

He blinks. "When were you last in my apartment?"

"The other wee- uh, I mean, months ago, ha ha."

How worrying. Isshiki Iroha, as ever, is terrifying. Still, to be so quick at getting him answers, he supposes it's inevitable.

"Well, letting that disturbing thought slide, I think I did read this one." He takes the book from her hands. "Was a bit obvious who did it from Chapter Two, but not bad overall."

She rolls her eyes. "Showoff."

"Yeah, well, I've got something else to concentrate on at the moment." He lowers his voice, to make doubly sure. "What did you find out about the schools?"

"Mostly gossip, but gossip always has half a foot in truth, doesn't it?" Her eyes sparkle, and she stands on tip toes to whisper in his ear. "I had to dig out the old policewoman routine to get into the schools, y'know. The caretaker of one of them was quite helpful-"

"Let's get to the point," he says hastily.

"No fun, are you Hachiman? Well… you'd probably find Izumi the most interesting. The other victims didn't have much special going on, other than being high up on the social ladder, but the recent victim, Nakatani Maeko… She was the Queen Bee, and I heard some pretty gnarly stuff about her."

"Such as?"

"Lots of talk about picking on other girls. Things like body image, and stuff like that. And a lot of talk from boys as well." She bites her lip. "If what happened to her wasn't so awful, I'd say she was a nasty piece of work."

"Say it anyway. If Nakatani Maeko was the real target, and the others were just distractions…" Hachiman runs the idea through his brain, thinking aloud. "… If the attacker was motivated by personal hatred, why go to such lengths? Why include the other victims at all?"

"It's not just that. You mentioned that the weapon they used to knock the victims out was a baseball bat?"

"Yes?"

"Well, guess what school sports team the Maeko girl happened to be on?"

His eyes widen. "You serious?" A nod makes him desperate to pace around, one of the habits which gives clarity to his thoughts. "This shop's too cramped for pacing."

They offer a short bow of thanks to the shopkeeper, and are soon standing outside on the sidewalk. Hachiman begins his circling, unable to stop himself, and draws a couple of glances from confused onlookers for the trouble. Isshiki, used to the display, waits patiently for him to stop.

He does so abruptly, and his speculations begin to spill out. He struggles to keep his voice lowered.

"Her being on the baseball team… that's far too blatant a coincidence to overlook. With that detail, everything points towards it being a crime aimed specifically at Nakatani Maeko. The baseball bat, the sexual acts performed to control, or maybe to avenge… and the word on the A4 paper, 'slut'. That could be a reference to her bullying."

"That makes sens-"

"Yes. It makes too much sense." His dead fish eyes are cold. "The person responsible for this crime was clever enough not to leave a single trace. Kudou's profilers think they must be a classic sociopath, and I'm inclined to agree with him. Before, I thought it was possible they really were just lashing out. That they might just be another high school girl. But considering how the attacker is intentionally planting clues… seems to me like they're trying to toy with us. That would suit the profile."

Isshiki frowns. "But then why Nakatani Maeko? Considering how much they know about her life, and the personal details they're using, like the baseball bat… Doesn't that mean they have to know her, at least in some way?"

"Possibly. It's also possible they just want us to think that. In which case, our job becomes an awful lot harder." He straightens his coat. "Well… I dunno about the police, but I hate being toyed with. We'd better get to work."

She gives a mock solute. "Now there's the Hachiman I know!"

"Don't start." He gets out his phone. "Detective Sakiyama mentioned to me that Nakatani's homeroom teacher seemed a little tight-lipped. Guy called Yoshida Teiko. Think you can loosen him up?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Good. And it's probably time I started poking around as well. I'm sure the police have already interviewed the parents, but I don't trust them to have asked the right questions. If the attacker does know Nakatani personally, I wanna be the first to know about it."

"Okay… so I've gotta get the homeroom teacher talking, and… oh, and finish that article on the Kansai region serial killer from a couple of years back! I keep forgetting."

"You said that far too cheerfully."

"It's a job. You get used to it." She serves up a dazzling smile. "Don't suppose you remember any juicy details about it?"

He can't help but smirk. It's become something of an inside joke between them. Once, Isshiki had passingly told him the details of a Sapporo hospital murder she was writing a piece on, only for him to say he'd guessed who was responsible from the news reports alone.

She hadn't believed him, but had to bite her words when, no more than a week later, the Hokkaido police announced the arrest of the very same person. Since then, Isshiki always makes sure to ask, less she miss out on a career making scoop.

Hachiman racks his brain. "Kansai region, couple of years back… wait, was that the case with six victims, all middle aged women?"

Isshiki's eyes widen. "Yes?"

He grins. "Sorry. Only remember the vague details. I don't watch the news that much."

"You just said that to get my hopes up, didn't you?"

"Wouldn't dare."

Sticking her tongue childishly, she turns to leave. "Happy investigating, Hachiman! And don't work that big brain of yours too hard! Some part of it's gotta be thinking of me."

"Yeah yeah, Isshiki-san. Stay safe."

At Isshiki's retreating form, with her light brown hair bobbing in the wind, Hachiman feels a familiar twinge of worry. Undeniably, the so-called 'partnership' between them is a mutual benefit. He may call it blackmail to tease her, but they both know full well they can't do without each other.

Professionally. He qualifies the unsettling thought in his brain. But with that partnership came a further emotional baggage. A responsibility. The kind a commanding officer might feel when sending those under him out into action.

Huh. Must be one of the few ways I relate to that bastard Kudou.

The day it's Isshiki's death he has to investigate, Hachiman will never forgive himself. It's not a certainty. It's not even likely. But he's grown used to gambling on long odds.

He's just about to contact Sakiyama again, in the hope of getting Nakatani Maeko's family address, when his phone buzzes with a text. A text from an unknown number. He snorts, expecting it to be someone trying to sell him a new Wifi router, or something along those lines.

At first, he ignores the text, bringing back up the directions to the subway. Only when he's half way there, cutting through other passerbys in the street, does he decide to double check.

Hachiman stares at it, confused.

All that's in the text is a number. A single number: 31

It's probably just a mistake, the personal investigator thinks. Anyone could have sent me this by accident.

There's few words he hates more than 'probably'.

---

The Chiba Prefectural Police HQ, an ungainly square building with an endless array of windows, is based in the Nagazu district. Detective Sakiyama has never liked the place despite it being completely serviceable, though he supposes that's half the point.

The criminal investigation department, which the detective belongs to, is located on the fifth floor of the building. The very same desk is to be found in every cubicle, but Sakiyama's is the neatest of them all, arranged precisely down to the layout of his stationery.

He pushes through the paperwork he's been assigned with due diligence. He may hate such jobs, but at least it's something to do, and it seems to him the best detectives are hard workers.

I can't imagine Hikigaya-san doing desk work though, he thinks. Maybe I should have been more imaginative and chosen the 'personal investigator' route. Whatever that actually means.

The field officers, of which he's usually a part, will spend most of their time on crime scenes instead of manning desks. But accommodating Hikigaya-san on the Izumi schoolgirl's attack hadn't pleased Chief Inspector Kudou. The memory of the verbal grilling he'd received was still a little sore.

Sakiyama thought the inspector would eventually have resorted to calling in the 'Shark' anyway, but to involve him without permission was, apparently, 'tantamount to insubordination'.

Kudou and he get on fine the majority of the time, or as fine as Kudou can feasibly get on with another human being. On the subject of the police's resident maverick, however, they are often at odds. As such, his most recent 'disciplining' was to be removed from fieldwork for rest of the case.

The detective sighs. The feud between the Chief Inspector and his most useful operative is difficult for him to comprehend. He's better friends with Hikigaya-san than Kudou, but neither of them have ever told him the details in full.

One thing is obvious to him: the force needs both of them. Kudou's rigorousness and Hikigaya-san's ingenuity alike.

Pausing for a moment on the desk work, he glances towards the Inspector's office. The blinds are perpetually shut, but inside he can make out two shapes. Kudou seems in the middle of a meeting, his lithe and thin shape silhouetted behind it, along with someone else he doesn't recognise.

Sakiyama thought he'd never met anyone as stubborn as the Chief Inspector. Before he met Hikigaya-san, that is.

As if on cue, his phone vibrates on the desk, an action which sends one of his pens rolling to the side. He quickly moves it back in place, eyes narrowed as if it were sentient and personally insulting him, before checking the text.

Hikigaya-san: I need Nakatani Maeko's address

Sakiyama: We've already interviewed them? I can send you the transcript

Hikigaya-san: Don't bother, would rather do it myself

He sends him the address, only to find the investigator has more to ask of him.

Hikigaya-san: also see if u can trace this number for me, 0432805962

Sakiyama: Well it's local to Chiba for a start

Sakiyama: Kudou-san will be checking what I'm doing, I'll need to tell him

Sakiyama: Hikigaya-san?

No response. Clearly, he isn't happy about it, but the detective knows he doesn't have much choice. Offending one's boss is a bad idea normally, let alone when said boss is Chief Inspector Kudou.

Resolving to go for transparency, Sakiyama makes his way over to his boss' office. As he does, he feels the eyes of his work colleagues following him. It's common knowledge that 'Same-san' uses him as a personal contact in the police.

This only serves to alienate him all the more. Sakiyama re-adjusts his glasses with a hint of nervousness, not liking the attention. If this is what it's like for Hikigaya-san's associates, who knows what it's like for him?

Outside the door of Kudou's office, the silhouettes of the two men inside come across a touch menacing. He's just about to knock when a fragment of the conversation reaches his eardrums, catching him off-guard.

"… don't suppose you've had any new leads?"

"None at all. Like I say every time, these consultations are pointless. The only real lead we ever had was from your client."

The person Kudou has an 'consultation' with sighs. His voice is silky smooth, even when overheard at no more than a whisper. A young and charismatic voice, far removed from Kudou's middle aged, baritone growls.

"A pity, as always. Looks like I'll have to disappoint them again."

"Take my advice, and tell them to give up. Yamanishi Koen's a dead end. Probably always will be."

Sakiyama freezes. Yamanishi Koen. He knows that name all too well. Everyone in the criminal investigation department knows it.

They've been trying to find the root cause of the park's suicides for years. At first, it was considered a freak occurrence, but since the early 2000s the deaths recorded there yearly spiked, without any plausible explanation.

That led to some… morbid speculations. Before Sakiyama joined the force, Chief Inspector Kudou himself had opened up a brief and fruitless investigation, and found nothing. Thus, it had became the equivalent of a campfire horror story. Something no one could reasonably explain, and so tried to bury under the rug.

But then the 'Shark' had turned up. He never shuts up about it. Apparently, he himself was involved in an incident at the park during his teenage years. Sakiyama had asked him about it once, and remembers the cold reply all too well: 'I've never forgotten. I won't forget until that monster's caught.'

Kudou and him are to be found arguing about it at the end of almost every case. The same argument. It's one of many things that comes between them.

Sakiyama, trying desperately to suppress his curiosity, goes to knock on the door. It's opened before he can, and suddenly the detective finds himself face to face with Kudou's visitor.

It's one of the most naturally handsome faces he's ever seen. If Sakiyama had any skill at drawing, and was asked to sketch such a thing, this would be exactly what he came up with. Smooth facial features and a sharp jawline, topped off with short, well tended blonde hair.

The man smiles warmly, his blue eyes suggesting a calm disposition. "My apologies. Were you looking to speak with Kudou-san here?"

"Yes," Sakiyama responds politely, with a slight bow. Something about this person's aura made him seem deserving of one. "Sorry for being in your way."

"Alright Sakiyama-kun, let the man through," Kudou said gruffly. "He's a busy man."

"Unfortunately, that's true. Next time I'm here, Sakiyama-kun, we should have a chat." The man's effortless smile remains in place as he walks passed him and towards the office elevator. "Bye now."

"'Right, come in Sakiyama-kun, I haven't got all da-"

"If you don't mind me asking, Chief, who was that?"

"Him? Guy called Hayama Hayato. He's a lawyer." Kudou and the two of them head inside.

Sakiyama closes the door behind him, and get's straight to the point. "I just received a text from Hikigaya-san. Would you permit me to trace a phone number on his behalf?"

Kudou's eyes narrow. "Is it relevant to the case?"

"This is Hikigaya-san we're talking about. It's hardly going to be a girl."

He snorts. "That's for sure… You can trace it, but don't give him the answer immediately. That bastard needs to learn he can't have us running around on a whim."

"But what if it's important for the investigatio-"

"Did he say it was important?"

"I- I felt it was implied."

"Then we can say he didn't specify. That will be all, Detective Sakiyama."

He feels frustration tug at his side. "… Yes, Chief Inspector." But just as he reaches towards the door handle, he finds himself turning back. "… Might I say something else?"

"Depends what it is."

"This… this may be impertinent of me, but I can't help but feel the dispute between you too is-"

"Is what, detective? Foolish? Unhelpful?" Kudou's voice could cut through glass. "Enlighten me."

"… Disruptive. Surely if there were more cooperation from both sides, we would be able to-"

"Hikigaya-san doesn't do cooperation. People like him can't cooperate."

Sakiyama opens his mouth to respond, but can't find a polite way to articulate it.

"You think I'm deluded, don't you?" Kudou shakes his head, and stands to his full height. "Listen carefully detective, cause I'm gonna tell you something important. I know everyone in the whole damn police force is in awe of that man. I know he's a 'genius' or a 'maverick' or a 'shark' or whatever crap it is you call him. That's exactly why I have to keep him at arms length."

The confusion in Sakiyama's eyes spurs him on. "It's exactly because he's a genius that he's dangerous. I've been in this force for a long time, detective. I've met people like him before. They solve cases, they charm you, they get under your skin, and soon enough, they get people killed. People like Hikigaya-kun are good at what they do because they're one step away from being a murderer themselves."

"… I can't believe that, Chief-"

"You don't have to. Just know that I'm cautious of him for a very, very good reason. Like I said, I've met people like him before. "

His eyes flash with something that might have been pain, and the vein in his temple throbs. "… And I know how people like that end up. They lose themselves, and they take innocent people down with them."

The detective searches a way for he can express his doubts, a way the inspector will understand. "… But surely Chief, no matter your misgivings about his character, it's important that we listen to him when he's right?"

"I do. I let him onto our crime scenes when it's necessary, and I let him solve our cases. But the one thing I won't do is have him stepping all over us."

"You don't let him solve all of the cas…" He trails off, realising immediately he's overstepped the line.

"… You were listening at the door, weren't you?"

Sakiyama fiddles with his hands uncomfortably, expecting Kudou to fly into a rage, but instead his response is eerily calm.

"If you heard what we were saying, then you'll know I'm being very reasonable. Yamanishi Koen is a cold case. It's probably never been a case from the start."

"H- Hikigaya-san doesn't seem to think so-"

"Oh, I know what he thinks. He thinks it's all the work of one man, one genius serial killer whose been evading us for years at a time." He laughs. "Are you really going to tell me that's more likely than the alternative?"

"… But… but perhaps if we allowed him to look through the case files… This Hayama Hayato was hired by someone who seems to think there's something wrong as well-"

"Let me make one thing very, very clear." Kudou steps closer, and all at once Sakiyama realises how tall and thin he is. "You are not to mention to Hikigaya-kun, under any circumstances, that these consultations take place. This time, for his own good. Hayama Hayato represents a very eminent family in these parts, one that I understand Hikigaya-kun has a history with."

"A history with…?"

"Yes. A history. As far as I know, they're on very bad terms. I've kept our involvement with both parties a secret thus far, and I intend for it to stay that way."

"Bad terms…" The knowledge stuns him. Sakiyama wasn't naive enough to think his friend had stayed out of trouble all his life- he investigates murders out of choice- but it's always a sobering moment to find out how little you know someone.

The inspector shakes his head. "Sakiyama-kun, please don't take this the wrong way. I think you're an excellent detective. One of the best I've got. But I won't tolerate you questioning my judgement on this. Especially not on Hikigaya-kun. Is that clear?"

"… Yes, Chief Inspector."

"Good. Dismissed."

Sakiyama turns to go. His hand is on the door when Kudou's voice rises again. "And detective? Not a word to him about Yamanishi Koen or Hayama Hayato. If you do, I'll have your badge put through a shredder."

---

The weather worsens. By the time Hachiman arrives outside the Nakatani family's address, the sky is overcast and a light drizzle of rain paints the city in cold shades. He stares at the house, pulling the collar of his coat tightly around his neck.

Surely the rain is the only reason the house seems so foreboding? It looks a perfectly normal family house, with a drive and a Toyota car, four windows and two floors. It's detached and a couple of metres smaller than the other houses around it, but by all accounts, nothing to get excited about.

Hachiman shrugs and knocks on the door. Perhaps it's just because he knows who will be inside it. A teenage girl who, if he doesn't catch her attacker, might be attacked again. If the culprit's apparent obsession with her can be assumed genuine.

No one answers him for a moment. He has to knock a second time to prompt a woman in her mid thirties to answer. She has the same colour hair as her daughter, dark brown. The same big green eyes.

They look similar, and just as disturbed. Hachiman has to suppress the memory of his nightmare the previous night, of seeing Nakatani Maeko hanging from a tree in Yamanishi Koen. Her mother's the spitting image.

"What do you want?" She says, her voice hoarse and her hair unwashed.

"Nakatani-san, I presume?"

"Yes, what do you want?"

Sensing her paranoia, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out of his trusty fake police badge. Masahiko Shuji, Detective, Chiba Prefectural Police. "No need to worry, Nakatani-san. I'm here on official business."

Her eyes flicker over the badge, hardly taken in, and he can't blame her. "How do I know that's real?"

Pity washes over him, but he pushes it away. Pity isn't objective. Still, it makes his sincerity more convincing.

"I could call one of my colleagues, if you need? But don't worry Maeko-san, you have my word I am who I say I am. The name's Masahiko Shuji. You can call me Shuji-kun, if you like?"

"… What are you here for?"

"I have some questions about your daughter. I understand my colleagues have been here already, but we just need to iron out a couple of details." He tries to smile, but his dead fish eyes tend to lessen the effect. "May I ask your name too? Just for clarity."

"… Nakatani Mizuki."

"Nakatani Mizuki. The moon in the valley. That's a beautiful name." He glances over her shoulder. "Can I come in?"

She remains silent for a moment longer, before sighing and heading back into the house. "If you must."

He follows her lead. Inside, the house's excessive normality strikes him all the more. There's a normal front room, normal photos of the family (mother, father and daughter) in the hall way, and everything you'd expect in a family house of this kind.

By the door is a map of Osaka, and a picture of the family standing outside another semi-detached house. He asks her if they used to live there.

"Yes. Until two years ago. Yasuo had to leave his job, and we moved here."

"And that's your husband, yes?"

She nods, and then shouts upstairs, "Yasuo! It's another police officer."

"I'll be down in a moment!" A smooth voice, tenor and reasonable.

"Why did he have to leave?"

"Disagreement with the boss."

Nakatani Mizuki leads him into the kitchen, and they sit down at the table. The kitchen is connected to the front room- on a cabinet nearby he can see a collection of trophies. Baseball trophies. Nakatani Maeko, First Team, Pitcher. The irony.

The light above it is a little garish, and on top of the table is a chopping board with several old, half-cut tomatoes. Their juices, spilled and dry, are the colour of stained blood.

"Do you prefer Chiba to Osaka?" He asks, hoping to put her at ease.

She shrugs. "Not bothered either way. It was my husband's choice- Maeko and I just went along with it. But his job here pays a little better, so."

"What would that job be?"

"Gynecology."

At this, the sound of footsteps on the stairs echo out, and Nakatani Yasuo enters a moment later. He's short, shorter than this wife, and unpronounced facial features imbue him with an utter lack of conspicuousness. His hair is just as messy as his wife's. His eyes just as dull and, seeing as what happened, empty.

The husband bows. "Good afternoon… um-"

"Masahiko Shuji. You can both call me Shuji-kun."

"Alright, Shuji-kun." Yasuo takes a seat beside his wife, his gaze meeting Hachiman's. "You… if you don't mind me saying, you have very striking eyes."

"A lot of people say that." He tries a laugh. "Like a dead fish, so I'm told."

"I suppose so. Ac- actually, the first thing that sprung to mind was a shark."

"Well, I've heard that before too."

"Indeed." He laughs a little nervously. "I, ah… I'm something of a food fan myself, cuisine and the like. When we visited Thailand a couple of years ago, I was lucky enough to try some authentic shark fin soup-"

"What questions do you have, officer?" His wife interrupts. "I'd rather get this over with."

"Oh, Shuji-kun, please."

Hachiman, glad to be rid of the generalities, brings out a notebook and pen. He doesn't actually need them, but it helps to convince people of his integrity. "For starters, can I ask what you two were doing on the night of the attack?"

Nakatani Mizuki's eyes contract. "The last officer we spoke to already-"

"Mizuki, don't worry," her husband mutters. "It's quite alright, Shuji-kun. My wife here would have been at home- she's inbetween jobs, you see- and I would have been on my way back from work."

"From what, a clinic?"

"Oh yes. I have my own private clinic, not too far from Maeko… from M- Maeko's school."

The mere mention of their daughter sends a ripple of raw, unrestrained emotion across the mother's face. The father taps his fingers on the table, just as uncomfortably.

"Don't feel the need to restrain yourselves in front of me. Whatever I say will come across inadequate, but you have my deepest, deepest sympathies for what happened." Hachiman allows a hint of determination, all too real, to seep in to his voice. "The person responsible will get what's coming to them. You have my word, for all it's worth."

From the lack of response, he could tell they thought him well-meaning but just as helpless as they were. But 'Masahiko Shuji's' word on the matter was more valuable than that.

"Will you be wanting to speak to my daughter as well?" Yasuo says quietly. "I could go and get her-"

The mother turns to him, outraged at the prospect, but Hachiman knows it would be pointless anyway. "No need. Asking her to relive it would be cruel. My colleagues and I are more interested in what you can tell us."

"Ask away, offic- Shuji-kun, I mean. Ask away."

"And be quick about it." She snaps. "I'd like to get back to my daughter, if you don't mind."

"Of course." He pretends to turn a page in his notebook. "Can I ask about your family situation? How were things at home before the… before what happened?"

"Perfectly fine. The same as it's ever been," Yasuo insists. "We don't have any, ah, complications. So to speak."

"That's good to hear. What about relatives? Any frequent visitors?"

His questioning zones in on contacts of the family. Hachiman's first hunch had told him the culprit would be someone the victim knew. Someone close enough, who cared enough to base their crime entirely around Nakatani Maeko.

He draws a blank. No family friends. No neighbours they're particularly close to. Extended family is limited, and they're all too far apart for any frequent meetings.

"What about your daughter's social life?"

"Oh, she was popular! Popular, and very well liked. There were always people coming over. She's on the baseball team, you see, and always knew how to hold a conversation…"

As the father spoke, Hachiman's mind begins to turn. So they don't know what their daughter got up to behind their back. Nothing about the bullying. Nothing of the sort. To them, Nakatani Maeko was the perfect daughter.

But as Nakatani Yasuo continues, the investigator notices the tapping of his finger on the table. The way that his eyes settle on his wife, as if he's trying to censor his words. Hachiman notices, and sees they might have more success alone.

"Nakatani Mizuki-san? Sorry, I can see you're not very at ease here."

"Do you blame me?" She said, her tone even harsher than before.

"Certainly not. But if you feel uncomfortable, or want to check up on your daughter, go ahead." He lifts his hands up in a way he hopes is reassuring. "I won't stop you."

She looks between her and her husband, who leans over to whisper something in her ear. Hachiman catches something along the lines of, "… be good to see how she's coping", and soon she's making her way over to the kitchen door.

"Alright. I'm sure Yasuo will answer all of your questions. Not that we haven't answered them already."

The door closes behind her, and when footsteps resonate down from the staircase Yasuo lets out a sigh. "… I see you noticed my, ah… my hesitation."

"I'm an investigator, Nakatani-san. That's my job."

"Please don't think anything wrong by it. I'm n- not in the habit of keeping secrets from my wife." He interlocks his fingers on the table. "I consider myself blessed to have met her. But… well, we've always had a rather starry view of Maeko, and in the light of what happened it seemed-"

"No need to explain yourself. I fully understand. But, for the sake of our investigation, it's important we have all the facts."

"Of course." He stops, and begins again, "I only started receiving calls from Izumi High a couple of months ago. It was small things at first. Disrupting classes a little, that sort've thing. There was nothing malicious about it. There still isn't-"

"But then things started getting worse?"

"I… you could say that-"

"Did the school end up contacting you about… something more serious? Bullying, perhaps?" Hachiman tries to keep the anticipation out of his voice.

Yasuo hangs his head a little. "Well, they didn't use that word at the time, but I don't see how else you could describe it. Some of the things they told me… I must admit, I couldn't believe it was the same daughter I knew. I never told Mizuki even then, because I thought if I spoke to Maeko privately it might resolve itself…"

Hachiman resists the urge to say something scornful. Pity only extends so far. Memories of middle school flood back to him, of the treatment he himself was on the receiving end of. Things like that don't just resolve themselves. They don't just go away.

"But she's never listened to me as much as Mizuki. The calls stopped for awhile, but then I was invited in to speak to the school authorities. They told they'd been having issues with her behaviour, and if they continued to have issues things would start escalating-"

"They threatened expulsion?"

"N- no, nothing like that. Perhaps it would have got to that eventually, but no, not-"

"And what kind of behaviour specifically?"

He hesitates again. "… They told me that she'd been involved in a series of chain mai-"

Hachiman's phone rings, and he curses silently at the interruption. He's desperate to hear the rest, but seeing Isshiki's name on the screen holds him back.

"S- sorry, am I keeping you-"

"Excuse me, Nakatani-san, but I just have to take this call. I'll be back in just a moment."

He shifts out into the hallway, checking up stairs to ensure the mother can't hear, before answering.

"This better be something important, Isshiki-san."

"Come on Hachiman, would I really be calling if not-"

"Hurry it up then. I'm in the middle of something here."

"Okay, okay. It's about the teacher you asked me to speak to. The homeroom teacher, Yoshida Teiko. I managed to get an interview with him at Izumi after school times-"

"And?"

"You're not gonna believe this. At first, I thought he was pretty normal. A bit tight-lipped, yes, and he looked me up and down a couple of times, but I've come to expect that with guys. Then I got into his computer-"

"Wait a minute. You hacked his computer?"

"What? He went to the toilet and there was a post-it-note in his desk with all his passwords." She snorts. "Don't make out like you wouldn't have done it."

He opens his mouth to retort, then realises she's absolutely right. "What'd you find?"

"You're not gonna believe this. The guy had folders and folders of videos. Not just only any old stuff, either. Stuff with kids." She winces audibly. "Some of it looked like footage from inside the school toilets."

Hachiman twitches, trying to process the information, and what it could mean, on the spot. "… Did you get out of there okay? He didn't suspect anything?"

"Nope. He didn't suspect a thin-"

"Good. Whatever you do, don't call the police. Not yet."

"I'm sorry, don't call the police? This could be the person you're looking for!"

"Isshiki-san. The last thing I want is Kudou's men stumbling in there and arresting the first suspect we've come across. He's guilty of one crime already, but the stuff on his computer alone won't be enough to convict him of the attacks-"

"But there might more on there. It's not like it was carefully hidden-"

"And one thing we know for certain is that the attacker is careful. This could well be connected to what's going on- maybe he is the attacker- but if we go barging in there, who knows what evidence he'll end up deleting?"

"Hachiman, this seems like an oversight-"

"Isshiki-san, I've got to finish talking to Nakatani Maeko's parents. Thank you for this, but I need to go."

"Wait, Hachiman-"

He hangs up, and clicks the bones in his fingers. Isshiki's work has given him his first, real, concrete lead. But the discrepancy between their profile of the attacker- a classic sociopath- and this Yoshida Teiko, or what she told him of his conduct, leaves him uneasy.

But what are the chances there's someone else like him involved?

Hachiman knows he can't question his judgement. It rarely fails him, after all. Suppressing the notion that not arresting the homeroom teacher could prove a fatal mistake, he steps back into the kitchen.

Nakatani Yasuo looks up. "W- was that something to do with the case, Shuji-kun?"

"Could well be." Hachiman re-takes his suit, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. "Sorry for keeping you. Please, you were talking about an incident with chain mail?"

"… Yes. That was the excuse they used to invite me in. I… I got the impression they'd been looking for a chance to speak to me for some time."

"And, uh, what were the messages about?" He massages his temples. Concentrate, Hachiman. Concentrate. "Anyone in particular?"

"Ah, I think so. As far as I could tell, there were numerous kids involved, but it seemed to be directed at one girl in particular. They'd invited her parents in too, after all, and we were asked to talk things over-"

"Were your daughters there too?"

"Their daughter was. Maeko, ah, she never showed up-"

"What was the girl's name?"

He racks his brain. "I'm not sure… I think they were in homeroom together last year, as well? If I bring down their class photo, it might say."

"Please do."

Yasuo exits and returns a couple of minutes later with the photo. In the meantime, Hachiman replays everything Isshiki had told him like a film major studying the same scene on a loop. He compares it to his first hunches concerning the attacker.

As her homeroom teacher, it's likely he would have known about Nakatani Maeko's status on the baseball team. And it's possible that…

As Yasuo lays the photo down on the table, the investigator directs him another question. "About this meeting between you and the girl's parents. Who else was there? The headmaster?"

"Not the headmaster, no. Just us and Maeko's homeroom teacher-"

"Yoshida Teiko?"

"That… yes, I think that was his name." He tilts his head to the side. "Have you been speaking to him too?"

"… We've spoken to him."

Hachiman picks up the class photo. He identifies Nakatani Maeko immediately, with the long brown hair and the slight but noticeable smugness in her eyes. She's positioned front and centre, with an array of girls around that must have comprised her clique. Queen Bee indeed.

"Which is the girl in the chain mail?"

"Uh… here." He points her out, standing in the very furthest corner. "That's her. And her name… it says there, underneath. Kawamoto Kaori."

For the second time since he arrived at the Nakatani's house, a memory of Sobu High tackles him head on. The girl in the photo, Kawamoto Kaori, is dressed in shabbily assorted uniform, her black hair scruffy and falling over face. Her eyes, obscured as they are by her hair, stare aimlessly away from the camera.

Didn't he look like this in many of his own school photos? From this, the first thing that pops into his head is Class 2F. Then the Service Club. Then-

Shit. Not right now. This is not the time.

"… Sorry, uh… Nakatani-san. Could you tell me about the chain mail itself? What sort of thing was in it?"

He averts his eyes. "… Well, it wasn't very pleasant."

"Nakatani-san, I don't want to pressure you, but I really need specifics. What was in the chain mail?"

"… I think a big part of it was name calling. Unpleasant names like 'slut' and the like." He shakes his head. "Like I said, I could hardly believe they were talking about my Maeko. I've never heard anything of the sort from her before."

'Slut'. Hachiman can scarcely hold his reaction back. The sudden onslaught of information, all of it seemingly important, should be a positive thing. But he's too suspicious for that. This is too good. All the pieces are coming together too quickly.

He conducts the rest of the interview calmly, as if he didn't already have everything he needed. Yasuo talks and talks, makes excuses for his daughter's behaviour again and again. Hachiman apologises for what happened to them every other sentence, and each time it means less and less.

He wishes the pity he felt earlier were still prominent, instead of the mechanical, heartless urge to solve the puzzle before him.

Eventually, he puts away the notebook and gets to his feet. "I'm sorry we had to put you through that. It's not our intention to pester you, but it really is vital we get a full picture of things."

"No no, it's alright," Yasuo asserts, standing up as well. "We want to help the police in every way we can. If it helps you catch that…" He breathes out slowly. "… If it helps you catch that… that thing, then you can interview us a hundred times over."

The father leads him back through the house and towards the door, passing once more the map of Osaka. The family photo in the hallway catches his eye again. The three of them stand there, smiling, inhabiting an image of uncomplicated familial bliss. For all that represents now, the picture may as well be cracked from side to side.

Hachiman steps back out into the rain. It's a little heavier than before. Not wanting to hang around much longer, he offers Yasuo another bow.

"Thanks again for your time. It can't have been easy."

"That's fine. Good luck with your investigatio-"

He's cut off by the loud, dissonant sound of crying from upstairs. It breaks out all at once, louder than the rain, reaching down into their eardrums. Hachiman winces. Yasuo covers his mouth with his hand and looks away.

"… You should probably get back to your daughter."

"Yes. Although there's every chance it could be Mizuki…"

The father closes the door, leaving the investigator to stare, unfocused, at the wreaths of artificial light breaking out from underneath. It's gotten darker outside, adopting the grim colours of sunset, and they stand out all the more through the upstairs windows.

Not wanting to stay a moment longer, Hachiman turns around and walks back out onto the street. A walk is just what he needs; before he goes any further, he needs to decide what to do next. The turn he takes at this crossroad, or so it seems to him, could be decisive.

After all, he's gone from having no suspects to two very plausible ones, all within the space of a couple of hours. The first of them is in-keeping with his instinct; with the hunch that had first come to him on the crime scene. Kawamoto Kaori is a high school girl in her second year, with a very good reason to hate Nakatani Maeko and an even better reason to leave that word printed on her back.

If this were true, the crime would be a simple crime of vengeance, borne of nothing but hate. Furthermore, the lightness of the blows and the use of sex toys could be explained away very easily, in the way he'd first surmised.

Only there's a more logical answer to the puzzle. And boring though it may be, Hachiman knows that a great many crimes are both boring and logical. Thanks to Isshiki, he already has tangible evidence incriminating Yoshida Teiko whenever he wishes to acquire it. It could be circumstantial, but it's incriminating nonetheless.

Yet neither of these answers satisfy him. Despite the revealing of so many layers to the case, Hachiman is resolute there's something he's overlooked. Something he's heard or seen that would bring everything together.

Frustration writhes in his stomach like an overgrown tapeworm. Who do I speak to next? Kawamoto Kaori or Yoshida Teiko? Or do I wait for more evidence?

Hachiman opens his dead fish eyes. No. He needs to keep moving forward. If he stops, he doesn't know if he'll be able to keep going. That's his policy. If there's something he doesn't want to see, he doesn't look back.

The photo of the Nakatani's re-appears in his head. Beside them, the name of another family, from another time.

Hachiman sighs. He doesn't want another ruined family on his hands.

---

It's 3:30 PM, and the school bell of Izumi High lets out its shrill wail, announcing the end of the school day.

Had these been regular times, the bell might have been met with a sense of general excitement, or relief at the very least. The students would've headed to clubs or cafes or straight home and been glad about it.

But it's three days after the attack. Three days after Nakatani Maeko stopped coming to school. And everyone is distinctly aware that walking home isn't quite so safe anymore.

The high school girl, her scruffy black hair hanging over her face, steps out amidst a throng of students into the school courtyard. Friendships groups chatter to themselves, but the sight of blue uniformed officers, all stood by the school gates, drives the atmosphere even further into the concrete.

This is the 'additional police presence' her homeroom teacher warned off the morning after the incident. She recalls the feelings that spread through her as she heard. The lack of anything inside her even vaguely resembling empathy. Far from it.

She's kept her mouth shut about it amongst her peers. That's her approach to a school day at the best of times. The girl knows what they'd say if they knew a tiny, inhumane part of her insists that everything is better off without Nakatani Maeko.

And who could blame her? That girl has made Kaori's life miserable since the moment she arrived at Izumi High. The worst of her experiences with the once Queen Bee are enough to send her blood to boiling point.

The chain mail springs to mind. Days afterwards, the humiliation of having her parents called into school, told directly she was being harassed, had left the high schooler cursing Maeko's name. She lay awake in her bed until the small hours of the morning, envisioning the cruelest pain she could inflict on that girl. That girl. That fucking girl.

But Kaori knows there's another reason she recalls the chain mail incident so clearly.

She knows, with painful clarity, what started to happen afterwards.

The girl manages to empty her mind of such things when she reaches the gates. Outside is a procession of cars, and elder siblings on bikes- the school had advised the students who walked back to find another way home. Anything to avoid the situation that brought about Nakatani Maeko's attack.

But Kaori's parents, chained to their jobs until late at night, don't have anywhere near enough time to pick her up. Her home is no more than a ten minute walk away, but still, the last few days the police have insisted on giving her an escort back.

Today, it seems they have less officers on duty. The police had arranged an escort with the school for all the students possible; a few teachers had volunteered as well. The high school girl waits amongst the rest for them to get to her.

"Afternoon," the officer says, when it's her turn. "Name?"

"Kawamoto Kaori."

He moves his finger down the clipboard in his hands. "Kawamoto… yeah, your name's here. We're a little shortchanged here at the moment, so I think we might have to ask-"

"Don't worry, officer. I can take her."

The familiar voice, with the consistency of gravel, resonates from behind. It sends a naked chill across her neck, reaching down her spine.

She turns around and sees him, Yoshida-sensei, but doesn't meet his eyes. He's wearing his usual clothes, a tweed-esque jacket two sizes two small, a shirt that needs ironing, and an expression that hides a hundred things.

"Oh, and you are-"

"Yoshida Teiko. I'm Kaori-san here's homeroom teacher." He steps closer to her, smiling at the officer. "I didn't volunteer for the escorts, but I can see you need a hand."

"Well, that's very helpful of you, Yoshida-san. If you could take her back that would be helpfu-"

"W- wait, it's… it's no issue." She interrupts, her voice quiet. "I can walk home by myself. It's not that far-"

"Nonsense," Yoshida says, his breath not far from her skin. "We can't have any students walking back on their own in light of what happened. Absolutely not."

He nudges her back from behind, in such a way that the officer won't see. "Please, I really don't need an escor-"

"Thank you again, Yoshida-san. That's very considerate of you."

They're past the school gates before she can say anything else. Kaori's limbs feel stiff. She grabs the lapel of her school blazer and pulls it closer to her chest, not wanting to look behind her.

Yoshida stands there for just a moment, looking, before saying softly, "Shall we go?"

"…"

"Lead the way."

She bites her lip and starts to walk down the street, away from Izumi, passing the lines of parked cars. Yoshida follows. It isn't far back to my house. It's just a ten minute walk. Just ten minutes.

He isn't following behind for much longer. Within minutes, he quickens his pace so they're walking side by side. He's on her right, his arm no more than a couple of inches from brushing her own. She brings it closer, shrinking further into herself. Her body is coiled like a spring, about to be set loose.

"How far away is your house, Kaori?"

"… Ten minutes."

"I see. And you live near the ramen bar, don't you, the one run by old Takahama-san?"

"How do you-"

"If we're going that way, it'll be quicker if we go round the back of the houses. There's a shortcut through there."

Kaori knows the one he's talking about. A small pathway, no more than a metre wide, separated from the gardens by a tall wooden fence on either side. There's barely enough space down that alley for one.

"This is fine," she whispers hoarsely. "I'd rather go the way I know."

"It'll cut five minutes off-"

"I'd rather go this way."

"Alright… alright, Kaori."

"… I… I'd rather-"

"What was that, Kaori?"

His hand seems a little closer now. Less than two inches. Yoshida-sensei is taller than her, a good head taller, and his shoulders are broad, his fingers long and skeletal. She sees all these things everyday at school, and not wanting a reminder, she keeps her eyes fixed on the sidewalk.

"I'd rather you didn't call me Kaori. I've told you that before, Yoshida-sensei-"

"And I've told you I don't like being called Yoshida-sensei, Kaori. My name's Teiko. You should use my given name."

"… I-"

"I've always thought Kaori was a lovely name. Nice and simple. It rolls off the tongue. Kaori." He says it as if tasting the sound.

"…" Ten minutes. Eight minutes or so now.

"I've been asking you to call me Teiko since we sorted out that incident with the chain mail," he continues. "You've never once done it. I've kept a close eye on you ever since then. I must admit, I wanted to help you. And I have helped you since then, right Kaori?"

Her footsteps crunch into the ground. What, exactly, did her homeroom teacher consider help? Asking her to stay behind after lessons to discuss her homework, far longer than could ever be necessary? Asking about her home life, her hobbies, her feelings?

"Well? I've helped you, haven't I?"

"… It's just a couple of streets away now. You don't have to escort me the whole way."

"I'm escorting you because I care. I care about you, Kaori. You know that."

"…"

"That's why I have to do this."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's all because of that Maeko girl. That little brown haired bitch."

Her eyes widen. He's never said anything like that before. He said it as if it were any other word, with composure, like he was just saying good morning.

"You must hate her, Kaori. In fact, I know you hate her. I've seen the way you look at her in class. She treated you awfully. Well, she treated everyone awfully, but for some reason she really took to hating you. But you hated her back. That's fair enough. Totally fair enoug-"

"I- I didn't hate her-"

"Don't lie to me. There's no reason to lie to me Kaori. She was a filthy little bitch, and we both agree on that. Both of us know that. She deserved every single thing that happened to her. She was knocked down in an alley and raped and she fucking deserved it."

Hearing her own thoughts spoken aloud, articulated with such indifference… suddenly, Keiko is made callously aware of the inhumanity of what she's been thinking. Of the things she used to wish would happen to Nakatani Maeko.

No matter how that girl treated her, she didn't deserve that. She didn't. Kawatomo Keiko realises it all at once, but can't bring herself to defend her classmate. Not when fear is spreading over her like waves spread over an ocean. Not when his arm is within an inch of hers.

"S- sensei-"

"That's why I have to do this, Kaori. I don't have any other choice."

"Wha-"

She's cut off. Her homeroom teacher, from nowhere, reaches his arm rounds her waist and flings to his right hand side. She tries to yell, but his hand covers her mouth in an instant. He grasps her like a doll, pushes her forward. She realises where they are, where he's taking her.

Down the short-cut with the wooden fence, behind the houses. Away from the sidewalk. Out of anyone's sight.

White hot terror courses through her veins when, after thirty seconds, once out of view, he pins her up against the fence. Unable to move, unable to scream, and left with no option but to stare into her teacher's inflamed eyes, Kawatomo Kaori whimpers.

His face is right in hers. His eyes are full of a sickening desire. She's terrified. More terrified than she's ever been.

"Kaori…" He whispers, his voice like a carnal prayer. "Kawatomo Kaori. I love that name."

"…"

"I have to do this. They know what I've been doing, you see. The police. Yesterday, some dumb fucking whore came into the school. She asked to interview me. I thought it was fine, just a routine check, but when I left the room she got into my computer. I only found out after she was gone. My computer was unlocked. I never leave it unlocked. She must have seen it."

She tries to scream again. His hand smothers the sound.

"They're gonna arrest me soon. I know they are. They're gonna take me away and I'll spend half of my life locked up like a fucking rat. There's nothing more I can do about it. So y'know what I thought to myself? If it's all over, why not make the best of the time I've got left? Why not spend some time with my favourite student before I go?"

He removes his hand, but cuts her off her scream another way. Tears swell in her eyes as his tongue forces its way down her throat. Skeletal fingers move over her thigh, and then upwards, towards the top of her skirt.

He breaks away from her lips, gasping. "Fuck. You taste so good, Kaori. I bet you're tight down there, aren't you, you fuckin-"

"That's just about enough."

Yoshida Teiko is tackled from behind. Kaori guzzles in air, breathing in desperately as his hand is ripped away from her mouth. She collapses against the fence, tears streaming down her face.

Her homeroom teacher snarls and spits as two figures, dressed in blue, hold him down on the ground. One of them removes a pair of handcuffs and fastens them over his wrists. The words 'Chiba Prefectural Police', emblazoned on their vests, give her no relief. She's too frightened for that.

Covering her face with her hands isn't enough to hide herself. She feels naked, exposed, defenceless. The afterburn of his lips on her's is enough to bring vomit to her throat.

This didn't happen. It didn't happen. I got home and everything was fine-

"Here."

Someone places a jacket over her shoulders. She opens her eyes a crack, sniffs, and sees a man of average height standing before her. His shadow falls over her. Her vision is too blurred to make out his face, but his voice… indistinct, but strangely comforting.

"You're lucky, Kawamoto-san. Very lucky. I'd planned to speak to you after school; once I found out these guys had asked that bastard to escort you…" He rubs his eyes with his fingers. "Thank fuck we got here in time."

"S- speak to me-?"

"Don't worry about that now. Get yourself warm."

The man kneels down to her height, allowing her to see him fully. For a moment, panic rises within her again. His eyes, small and lifeless, are just as menacing as Yoshida's. But she focuses on his voice. On the sympathy, the relief, within it.

"My name's…" He hesitates. "… Masahiko Shuji."

"… Is he gone?"

"Of course. You'll never see him again, Kawamoto-san. You're safe now."

She notices his lack of uniform. "You're not police…?"

"I'm with the police. Just concentrate on your breathing."

"…"

"Is there anything I can get you?"

"…"

"We'll call your parents in a minute, of course. And when you're ready, we'll go back to your house. My colleagues here have to take this bastard to the station, bu-"

"Don't take me home," she mumbles.

"What was that?"

"… Ramen. I want ramen." For some reason, it's the only thing she can think about. "There's a place near my house. Old Man Takahama's. I wanna go there."

He stares at her for a moment, and then smiles. "Alright. Ramen it is."

One of the officers gets to his feet behind the man. He offers her one more smile before standing up to address the officer. Kaori zones out, lost in her thoughts, only hearing scrapes of the conversation.

"-we're lucky to have you helping us, Same-san. You're okay with me calling you that, right?"

"If you must."

"Looks like we've got our man. The attacker."

"Yeah…" She senses the man's eyes on her. "You'd think so."

"What was tha-"

"Nothing, officer. Take this bastard to the station and have him interrogated. And tell Kudou: ask him about Nakatani Maeko. That's very important."

"Of course. What are you gonna do now?"

"Look after Kawamoto-san here. I still need to talk to her, and I imagine you'll want a witness statement too. Sort that out once I'm done. She's in no position for something like that right now."

"Alright. Thanks again Same-san-"

"Shut up and get going already. I get enough of that thank you crap from Sakiyama."

His voice gets louder, indicating him standing over her once more.

"Okay. What did you call that place… Old Man Takahama's?"

---

Hachiman watches quietly as Kawamoto Kaori shovels noodles down her throat. Her chopsticks flash up and down ravenously; half of her tonkotsu is already gone, and some of the broth splashes on her school shirt.

He'd ordered the same, but hasn't started yet. He doesn't have much of an appetite, and it's prone to disappearing completely when he's investigating. The thought of what might have happened had he and the officers not tailed Kawamoto would be enough to put anyone off their meal.

Apart from Kawamoto herself, apparently. She's eating like her life is at stake. Right now, instead of twenty minutes prior.

The ramen bar, Old Man Takahama's, is typical of its type. They're sat at the elevated seats, just before the cooking area. Hachiman had asked the proprietor, Takahama himself, for some privacy and had been duly obliged. They're the only customers save for a college student in the back.

It's hot, smothered by steam from the kitchen, but Hachiman only has eyes for the school girl. In spite of what happened, he doesn't have all of the answers. To him, that much is clear.

"Take it easy," he says. "We're not competing here."

She doesn't answer. Only a third of the bowl is left. "When will my parents get here?"

He checks his watch. "Well, we called them about twenty minutes ago. Fairly soon."

"Okay."

"… What made you wanna come here, Kawamoto-san?"

"I felt hungry."

"That's it?"

At least, she speaks, her mouth still full. "My parents take me here a lot. Whenever we wanna eat out. They love ramen. Met in a place just like this in Yokohama, apparently. Guess I… guess I just wanted a distraction."

Her voice is eerily calm. Hachiman has had to comfort many people in the aftermath of an attack. On his first case with the Chiba police- the Otaku Kidnapper- he'd spent time in a car with a distraught mother whose son had just been abducted.

None of them, not one, were as relaxed as this girl is now.

"Most people would be…"

"Huh?"

"Well… I've seen a lot of things, but if I'd been unlucky enough to go through something like that… I think I'd end up locking myself in a room somewhere. I definitely wouldn't go and buy ramen."

"… My heart's still racing. Despite this," she gestures to the bowl, "I swear I can still taste him on my lips. I keep seeing his eyes when I blink. And I doubt I'll ever sleep well ever again. So I'm not really calm. Not inside."

He nods. "Okay. I'm… sorry if that sounded insensitive-"

"Why did you say your name was Masahiko Shuji?"

He blinks. "That's my nam-"

"Bullshit. And you said you're with the police, not a part of them. What was that about? And why was that police officer calling you a shark?"

Hachiman opens his mouth to deny her accusations. Then he sees what kind of person she is. He thinks back to the day before, when he'd her class photo. How she lingered in the back, her eyes anywhere but the camera.

A loner through and through. And when he was a teenager, there was nothing he appreciated more than honesty.

"Will you answer my questions if I answer your's?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

Kawamoto picks up the bowl and finishes off the broth in one long gulp. She puts it back on the table, breathing in deeply, and then looks him at him dead on.

"Your eyes are disgusting."

"Yes, they are. That's why the officer called me 'Same-san'. To them, they look like a shark's eyes. It's a very funny and original joke."

She snorts. "… My classmates all call me 'Kaori-kun', cause my hair's so short. Like a boy's."

"That's also very funny." He takes his first sip of ramen, and then asks, without hiding his curiosity, "Did Nakatani Maeko come up with that?"

"No. She just calls me a slut."

"How did you feel when sh-"

"Hey. You only answered one of my questions. I wanna know more."

Hachiman smiles. "Why are you so interested?"

"You were kind to me. You saved me from… from what would have happened." She blinks. "I guess you're my saviour. That's weird. I've never had a saviour before."

"Everyone has saviours. You just don't realise it at the time."

"Whose your saviour, then?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. My sister, probably. I'm sure there are people who save me everyday without ever getting thanked. Like I said, you don't realise these things at the time."

"… What's your name? Your real one."

In the habit of secrecy, he leans in and whispers it in her ear. "Hikigaya Hachiman."

"Why do you hide your name?"

"In my line of work, it's practically mandatory."

"What's your line of work-"

"Hey. Wait your turn."

She smiles. "This is kinda fun."

"Well, you said you wanted a distraction."

"I did." Unexpectedly, Kawamoto looks towards her hand, held up on the table. "… Look. My hand's still trembling."

"It should be. It's only natural." He thinks about offering her some form of solace, but sees how everything would come across patronising. It would to him. "How do you feel towards Nakatani Maeko?"

"… I hate her, I guess."

"How did you feel when you found out she'd been attacked?"

"I didn't feel anything. If anything, I thought that she…" Her eyes snap shut, in distress. "… That makes me a bad person, doesn't it? Thinking that… that she…"

"If it's any consolation, I've never once met a good person. There may be people who are 'less' bad, so to speak, but whole-heartedly good people? Nah. They don't exist."

"That's pretty cynical."

"So is thinking a person deserved to get raped."

"I… I hate that I thought that. At first, I didn't care, but then I… then I heard him saying the same thing, and I just… I thought it was one of the most disgusting things I'd ever heard."

"Don't beat yourself about it. Other people will do that for you. It's better to have a low expectation of yourself. Then, the moment you realise you're just as bad as everyone else, it doesn't hurt as much."

"What are you, some kind of second rate philosopher?"

"Nope. But I am a personal investigator. That was your other question, wasn't it? How I was with the police but not a part of them."

"… A personal investigator? What the hell is that?"

"It means I investigate crimes, but only if I'm interested in them myself."

"So you're a private investigator, but without the money."

"Yep." He shovels down a chunk of pork. "I get all of the nightmares, and none of the stability. A great career choice, as you can see."

"Why?"

"Why did I become a personal investigator?"

"Yep."

"… Well… Like you, I… I ended up brushing shoulders with something you should never brush shoulders with. Not as a teenager. Not ever. But once you have an experience like that, it's not something you can shake off easily, I'm afraid. So here I am."

"… That's reassuring, telling me I'm never gonna shake this off."

"Sorry. Wish I could sugarcoat it, but sugarcoating it would be lying."

"…" Kawamoto inhales and exhales, her breath hotter than the steam of the ramen bar. "Maybe I'll become a personal investigator too. Maybe that's my fate."

"Kawamoto-san. Promise me something."

"Sure."

"Don't ever become a personal investigator."

"Why not?"

"Because there are days when I find myself wishing my life had turned out very differently. Not every day, but enough days for it mean something."

"You regret it?"

"Not as much as I regret other things I've done."

"Like what?"

Hachiman smiles at the high school girl, without much conviction. "Sorry. My turn."

She scowls. "No fair. It was just getting interesting."

"Then I'll have to ask something interesting too." He lowers his voice, and his dead fish eyes narrow. "Kawamoto-san. Did you attack Nakatani Maeko, and the other high school girls?"

She stares back at him, transfixed. "… What?"

"Did you attack her?"

"Why would you even ask that?"

"Because until about an hour ago, I thought there was a very good chance you had."

"…"

"Well? Did you attack them?"

"O- of course not. And even if I did, why would I tell you?"

"That wasn't a very convincing answer."

"No, I… I just wasn't expecting it…" She re-adjusts her school uniform and then meets his gaze once more. Her voice is stronger this time. "I promise I didn't do it. I… I thought it must have been him who did it."

"Yoshida-san?" Hachiman laughs. "Someone as careless as him? Someone who leaves their passwords on post-it-notes and panics at the first sign of trouble? Of course it wasn't him."

"… Then who did it?"

"Well you see, Kawamoto-san, I don't know. And for someone who takes pride in always having the answers, that is extremely fucking irritating." He returns to his bowl of ramen with a glint in his dead fish eyes. "Extremely fucking irritating."

A long silence pervades between them. The revelations of the past two days shift teasingly through Hachiman's brain, dangling the prospect of a crucial, overlooked detail before him. What is it? What am I not seeing?

From outside in the street, the two of them hear the sound of a car pulling up. Kawamoto Kaori looks over her shoulder, through the open windows of the ramen bar, and a choke rises in her throat. She jumps off her seat. Hachiman turns as well and sees two people he presumes are her parents emerging from the car.

"Kaori!" The mother all but shrieks.

"Kaa-san…"

Without looking at him, the high schooler dashes out of the bar, her pace matched only by that of her parents. They draw her into a long, long hug. Hachiman nearly smiles. Through the door, he can hear tears, impassioned declarations and hurried promises never to leave each other's sight ever again.

He finishes his ramen and, leaving the yen for the meal on the counter, heads out to bid Kawamoto Kaori goodbye.

They don't notice him at first, but once they do, Kawamoto introduces him to her parents. "Oto-san, Kaa-san, this is Hi… Masahiko. Masahiko Shuji."

Again, he nearly smiles. Sharp, aren't you?

Her father bows deeply. "Thank you. Thank you so much. You can't imagine how grateful we are-"

"Again, enough with the thank you's. I've been getting way too many recently."

Soon enough, the whole family is getting back into the car, ready to leave. Just before she follows suit, Kawamoto hesitates, and then walks back over to him. Hachiman looks at her curiously.

"… Goodbye, Hikigaya-kun. I don't suppose we'll ever see each other again."

"Be happy that we won't. I'm not someone you want to associate with."

"No. I don't suppose you are." She shivers. "… This has been the worst day of my life. But if… if I never manage to shake it off… I'll try to remember the part where I had ramen with a personal investigator. At least that part's kinda fun."

"Do that. And remember, don't ever follow in my footsteps. This job's a deathtrap."

"I believe you." The last thing he heard from her before getting into the car was, "I hope you find the answers you're looking for. I hope you always do."

The car drives off with a roar like a thousand cicadas, leaving behind it a benign hush. Hachiman shoves his hands into his pockets, wondering what to do next.

I should probably call up the station. See if they've managed to squeeze anything useful out of the homeroom teacher. And I suppose Isshiki might have been busy. Other than writing that stupid articl-

…

And just like that, the pin drops. Hachiman freezes as the full, grotesque reality of the case comes to the fore.

No. Not case. Both cases.

Breaking into a run, he pulls out his phone and calls the one number he needs. He doesn't have to wait for long.

"Hikigaya-san? I'm glad you called, we've been talking to Yoshid-"

"Sakiyama. Forget about the teacher. Go to Chief Inspector Kudou and tell him two things. One, he's a bastard. Two, he's got an arrest to make."

---

There's few places Hachiman would want to be in less than an interrogation room. The one located in the Chiba Police Station is like many others; empty save for a single table, a recording device and two metallic chairs. The glass side wall permits you to look in, but those inside the room cannot look out.

For those arrested in Japanese jurisdiction, the experience is even more harrowing. The police here, as Hachiman well knows, have fewer limits in their interrogation techniques as well as being allowed to detain suspects for longer.

Hachiman, being a personal investigator and not an official member of the Chiba force, has never been allowed to observe an interrogation personally. But he's aware of the emphasis they place on obtaining a confession above else. And the means they'll use to obtain it.

Luckily, the people he catches for Chief Inspector Kudou are always guilty. Luckily, it doesn't take long for them to start singing. And, Hachiman thinks, for all the rough treatment, it's hard to feel sorry for them. It's not like they felt sorry for their victims.

For the man the police arrested just three hours ago, this is certainly true.

Hachiman doesn't make a habit of hanging around once an arrest has been made. Typically, he and the force have an understanding that, if investigating is his territory, interrogation is their's.

But the case isn't over yet. They may have the perpetrator- of that, Hachiman is sure- but there are things that need to be explained. Things he won't be satisfied with until they're explained.

He sighs, takes another gulp of the MAXX Coffee in his hands, and checks the clock. He's sat in the office section of the police station- the interrogation room is next door. Checking the clock on the wall only reminds him how long the day has been: 1:30 am.

He caught a taxi straight over after calling Sakiyama. They'd been quick to react; the suspect was already inside when he arrived. After taking the detective through the basics, Sakiyama had passed things on to the interrogators.

They're still waiting for a confession.

At that thought, the door to the observation room opens and Sakiyama himself steps out. In his hand is a plastic beaker of water, and the bags under his spectacles are patently obvious.

"Yo," Hachiman grunts. "Any progress?"

"None," comes his reply.

"He's still keeping his mouth shut?"

"Uh huh."

Sakiyama walks over and sits down beside him. They sit in uneasy silence for a moment, before the personal investigator continues.

"Any chance you managed to trace that phone number?"

"Regrettably, no. The number was only just registered, and they only used it once- to make that text. Whoever sent it probably destroyed the phone immediately after."

"Which means it wasn't a mistake." His eyes are grave. "They wanted me to receive it."

"What does it say?" Sakiyama asks curiously.

Hachiman takes out the phone and shows him, puzzling over the number one more time: 31

"It is relevant to the case, somehow?"

"Haven't got a clue. Presumably, it's a reference to the days in a month, but unless I get a second text, it doesn't mean anything."

"Bizarre." Sakiyama shakes his head. "… Is there a chance our suspect here sent it?"

"That's what I'm worried about." Hachiman's voice grows more insistent. "That's the thing, Sakiyama. This isn't just a case. I've known that for awhile now. Somehow, it's a game as well. A game that they seem to be playing with me."

His words leave Sakiyama speechless. There's little he can say to such a thing- he's saved the indignity of an insufficient response by the sound of the door to the interrogation room.

This time, it's Chief Inspector Kudou himself who steps out. He takes one look at Hachiman and Sakiyama sat together and rolls his eyes.

"You two really are thick as thieves, aren't you?"

The investigator stares straight back. "Good evening to you too."

Kudou crosses his arms. "I hope we haven't been talking too much, Detective?"

Sakiyama dips his head. "No, Chief."

"Something here I should know about?"

"None of your concern, Hikigaya-kun. Although that's never bothered you before, has it?"

"What do you want, Kudou? Wait… no need to tell me." Hachiman's dead fish eyes flash. "You only ever talk to me when it's absolutely necessary. Which means that, right now, I'm needed for something. Unless you're just here to send me home?"

The inspector stays silent for a moment, before saying, very slowly, "As appealing a prospect as that is, I can't send you home just yet."

"Why's that?"

"Our man said he'd start talking."

Hachiman's ears prick. "Really?"

"Yes. He said he'd start talking on one condition." Kudou stares at him hard. "If it was you in the room with him."

"… He asked for me?"

"By name."

"He knew my real name?"

"Apparently so."

Sakiyama looks between his boss and his friend, waiting to see who'll give first. At last, Hachiman stretches his arms and stands up.

"Well, it doesn't look like I have much of a choice."

Kudou heads back inside without a word of acknowledgement; they follow him into the gloom.

It's dimly lit. The majority of the light comes from within the interrogation room itself, where the suspect sits, utterly unmoving, staring straight forward. Kudou and the rest of his team watch as the interrogators open the door and step out.

One of them walks over to Hachiman and heads him a file of papers. "Same-san," he says. "Sorry to put you through this, but he's refusing to speak otherwise. All the details are there, if you need them."

Hachiman swallows. He's never once sat opposite a culprit after being apprehended. He has no experience with interrogation, no training, no precedent to follow. The suspect he has to speak to is a sociopath to the bone- it's altogether likely that he will be the one being interrogated.

Chief Inspector Kudou knows this. Hachiman can see it in his eyes. But the investigators agrees with the method. If the suspect wants him, then he'll get him.

Besides, he thinks, I stuck around for answers. At least I'll be getting them firsthand.

He takes a deep breath, steels his nerves, and opens the door to the interrogation room with as impassive a face as he can muster. It closes with a click of finality, and all of a sudden, he's alone in a room with a serial rapist.

Nakatani Yasuo's eyes light up at his presence. Reacquainted with this father and husband, all the features he'd thought inconspicuous take on a new, repulsive shade of meaning. It's that very inconspicuousness which, for this man, became a weapon. That very unassuming quality which gave him the licence to go against human nature.

If, indeed, this man knows anything of human nature.

"Good evening, Hikigaya-kun," he says, in that light tenor pitch. "Or do you still prefer Shuji-kun?"

Hachiman takes the opposite seat. "Hikigaya-kun is fine."

"Excellent. If you wanted, I'd let you call me Yasuo, but I doubt such a thing will appeal to you." He laughs. "I must admit, I'm half tempted to call you 'Same-san' as well. When you came round to my house, I couldn't resist throwing in that reference to shark fin soup. Your reputation precedes you, Hikigaya-kun. It really does."

"That's good to hear." The investigator nearly balks at the memory of that first conversation. "… Am I to take it that you'll answer all of my questions honestly?"

"As honestly as I can."

"Good. So… just so we can get the official stuff out way, I'd like you to formally confess. Not just to the recent attacks, but to the Kansai region murders you committed two years ago."

His eyes widen. "My… you really are as sharp as they say, aren't you? I wasn't sure if you'd figured that part out as well, but… well, that is most impressive."

"So you do confess to them?"

"Yes, yes. I formally confess to both incidents. But if you'll permit me, can I just ask… how did you come to realise I was behind the Kansai murders?"

"… I'm not sure that's relevant."

"Oh, it surely is, Hikigaya-kun. All the fun I've had the past month was designed to catch your attention. To test your abilities. Seeing as you've passed that test with flying colours, don't underplay your own success. Revel in it. Take me through everything."

"… If it keeps things moving, then alright." Hachiman sits back, trying to collect his thoughts. "… I remember well hearing about the Kansai murders two years back. Interesting case. The fact that all the victims were middle-aged women was the only real lead, but since you didn't leave any other clues, it was impossible to solve. At the time, that is."

"That's most flattering of you to say."

"I was helped out by the fact a friend of mine is writing an article about you. That meant the details of the Kansai murders were fresh in my mind when I got to your house. First, there was the fact you moved here with your family two years ago, exactly when the crimes in Osaka stopped.

"Then there's your job as a gynaecologist. That's why the victims were all women of that age. They were all nearing the point where they wouldn't be able to have children anymore; it would only be natural to book an appointment with someone of your profession. It was a steady stream of victims, walking right through your door. Like Londoners heading into Sweeney Todd's barbershop."

"You're right. I worked at a private clinic too, where we had no legal obligation to record our clients or time of appointments. There was no way they could be traced back to me." He sighs wistfully. "It was perfect. A conveyor belt of amusements, for myself alone..."

"But in this case, the attacks were on high school girls. That gave me no guarantee you were the same person. Only once I'd established that it was neither Kawatomo-san nor her homeroom teacher did things become clear. The attacker had to have known Nakatani Maeko personally. Furthermore, they had to have been aware not only of Kawatomo's bullying, but the specific content of the chain mail Maeko had been spreading. You were the only other person present at the meeting, where yourself, Yoshida-sensei, Kawatomo-san and her parents discussed it. Therefore, the only viable option was you.

"Finally, the rigorousness of your preparation. Both the recent attacks and the prior ones were virtually flawless. You left no fingerprints, no evidence, no nothing. Their perfection was the only link. They were so perfect that only the same person could have committed them."

Yasuo shakes his head. "Brilliant. Just brilliant."

"Yet their very different crimes in motivation, aren't they Nakatani-san?" Hachiman leans in. "The Kansai murders were just for your own pleasure. That was why you moved away; you didn't want to get caught."

"Very true."

"Which begs the question… why go through all this trouble? Why stage a new series of attacks? Why plant so many red herrings, like implicating a woman with the sex toys and the strength of the blows to the head? Why endanger yourself by using your own daughter to frame Kawatomo Kaori? Was it really all to test me?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Hachiman snorts. "A person like you, so concerned with self-preservation… you wouldn't risk yourself like this, even for the sake of testing me. You have no reason to. You wouldn't care."

"Again, you've got to the very crux of the matter," Yasuo says, smiling broadly. "That's the thing, Hikigaya-kun. It's not me who cares."

"What does that mean?"

"None of this was my idea. I was asked to do it… well, asked being the operative word. The puzzle was all my own invention, but I was forced into doing it by someone else."

"…"

"You don't believe me, Hikigaya-kun? Oh, I suppose it must seem unlikely, but there are others out there who are just as clever as us. This third party in our little game… they're the instigator of it, really. They figured out I was responsible for the attacks in Osaka, and decided to use me as a means to end."

"…"

"Hm… seems like I've left you speechless. Perhaps you and this significant other, so to speak, are already aware of each other?"

Hachiman grits his teeth. His top and bottom set grind over each other so violently they feel liable to snap. A maelstrom of nightmares, regrets and repressed hatreds are bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

"Who is this… this third party? What's their name?"

"Unfortunately, that's the one thing I can't tell you-"

"Cut the fucking crap. Tell me who they are. Tell me who they are right now." All of a sudden, he's standing up, short of breath, his dead fish eyes burning.

"My. Clearly, you two being 'aware' of each other doesn't really cut it… Well, I can't tell you who they are, because I don't know myself. They only spoke to me on phone. But if it helps, they told me something. Something that would identify them to you."

"What's that."

"Just two words. Yamanishi Koe-"

Within seconds, he's moved round to the opposite side of the table. Within seconds, his fingers are digging into the top of Yasuo's shirt, yanking him up from the chair. The broad smile remains on his face. If anything, it gets stronger.

"What else did they say?" Hachiman hisses, his face right in the attacker's. "Tell me. Tell me now."

Yasuo coughs. "D- don't worry. I promised I'd tell you everything already. It seems to me you're the only person who might be able to catch them. That's the closest thing I can get to a revenge, in this situation. They've forced me to throw away a very comfortable life. A life that I fashioned for myself. I was rather fond of that little family of mine, you kno-"

"I don't care about your family, and neither do you. That poor daughter of your's will attest to that."

He sighs. "Maeko… ah, well, I concede I've always been a tad curious what she'd be like. If she'd be like her mother, I mean. If anything good's come of this, it gave me the opportunity to find out-"

"Shut it."

"I thought you wanted me to talk-"

He pushes the man back down into the chair, his voice raising to a shout. "Don't get clever with me. You've tried that, and I figured you out. You asked me to revel in it, and that's exactly what I'm doing. Now tell me what they said."

"So impatient…" He coughs once more, and then the smiles returns. "Alright. They asked me to give you a message. Must be important in some way, otherwise they wouldn't have gone to the trouble."

"What's the message?"

"They said this, verbatim: In one month, Yukinoshita Yukino will return to Yamanishi Koen. And this time, she won't leave it alive."

Hachiman's blood goes colder than ice. 31… 31 days.

"Satisfied?"

As if from far away, the investigator hears the door to the interrogation room open, and the sound of multiple footsteps streaming in. He feels arms wrap around his midriff, pulling him away from the suspect, and he half-recognises Sakiyama, whispering his ear, "It's alright Hikigaya-san. It's alright…"

His world is spinning; it's the culmination, the validation of an obsession which has plagued him for the majority of his life. He doesn't remember what it felt like not to have this obsession weighing him down, burdening his every step. Now, the burden has only grown heavier, but at the very least, he can turn around and say, with confidence, that I was right.

And that's exactly what he does. He turns around, Sakiyama still holding him back, and takes in the shape of Chief Inspector Kudou, with a face like conflicted thunder.

"Still think Yamanishi Koen's a cold case?" He snarls.

"… Maybe we should take another look at that file…"

---

Hayama Hayato's foot taps on the floor of the restaurant with marked impatience.

Chiba may be in possession of many of the modern cities' essentials, but a thriving food scene is not one of them. Should you gravitate over to nearby Tokyo, you will find over 200 restaurants with the honour of a Michelin star. Chiba is not quite the same, but for tonight, Hayama has picked one of the best.

It's a three star sushi restaurant that, for the general public, has to be booked months in advance. But those with a connection to the Yukinoshita family will find that, for them, many doors seem in the habit of unexpectedly swinging open.

He, as one of their key legal representatives, has found his way into a great many venues the Hayama family alone wouldn't have had a prayer of. Tonight, he has reserved one of the best seats in the whole restaurant.

He means to impress. With Yukinoshita Haruno, few can resist the temptation to try.

His foot keeps tapping away. Where is she? He thinks. I told her 7:30, just so she could fashionably late at 8. I know she's busy, but…

The elder sister of the Yukinoshitas has been groomed for stepping into her mother's shoes of power since a young age. With all the influence the family yields, in both the political and corporate sphere, it's inevitable that preparation for such a position would take a whole lifetime.

They were childhood friends, and grew up together. As such, Hayama understands Haruno's reluctance in taking up that position. How ironic that someone so reluctant would prove so good at the job. Since taking her mother's reigns, the Yukinoshita family's power has, if anything, increased.

And, as a result, their contact has been limited to a professional capacity. To night outs like this, when Haruno calls him out the blue, plays her usual games of innuendos and ropes him into a meeting.

A meeting that will have some discernible benefit for her. A meeting that will leave him grasping at straws to please her. As it's always been.

When he finally sees Yukinoshita Haruno enter, it still sets his heart to accelerate, despite having waited for nearly an hour. It's 8:30 am, but she waltzes over to his table with the grin of the madman, her well-cut midnight blue outfit drawing eyes from all across the restaurant.

Some of them will know her name, and what she represents. Others will just know she looks irresistible in a tight fitting dress.

"Good evening, Hayato!" she says dazzlingly. "Hope I wasn't too late?"

"Of course not," he says, thinly.

She smirks. "You really pulled out all the stops for this, didn't you? I've only been to this place twice before. I can always trust you, Hayato, to show me a good time."

"Good to know I'm reliable in some way, at least." The lawyer resorts to his menu, trying to stay angry at her. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to order. It has been awhile."

"Oh dear. It looks like I've annoyed you."

"Not at all. I just would've appreciated a text if you were going to turn up late. I've come to expect such things, but for some forewarning would be nice."

"Oh, but when you have a schedule as busy as mine, Hayato, things are bound to get a little mixed up. I really did try to get here at 8, but those executives were so insistent I stayed longer…"

The evening rambles on as Yukinoshita Haruno lists her latest manipulative exploits. Their entrees come and go under a stream of expensive wine; she occasionally compliments his table manners or his suit with the glinting condescension of a mother to a child.

By the time it's come to order deserts, he's thoroughly sick of the whole affair. Sick of constantly expecting a night out with Yukinoshita Haruno to end differently. Sick of clinging onto past connections that have never once brought him a shred of happiness.

"… and by the time he was asking me on a date, I'd really had enough. First, he thinks flashing a helicopter ride at me will be enough, and then he thinks that-"

"Yukinoshita-san," he interrupts, trying to keep his voice calm. "Has it ever occurred to that my own schedule might be just as busy as yours?"

She takes a sip of wine. Despite making her way through three quarters of a bottle, there has been no change to her general character.

"Why, of course it's occurred to me. You're my family's lawyer, Hayato. It's only natural we'd both be caught up in-"

"So you can imagine how frustrating it is, for me as well, when I look back on an evening and find that I've wasted my time."

The smile remains fixed in place. "Wasted your time. Is that what you think, Hayato?"

"Yes. It is. You called me here, as you always do, saying it was absolutely essential that we meet. And as always, we have discussed virtually nothing of note."

He takes a breath, unable to hold back his temper, so well controlled except for when Haruno is around. "The Yukinoshita family are not my only clients-"

"No. But we are your most important ones. And besides, aren't we the best of friends?" She wipes her face with a napkin, drawing away some of her bright red lipstick. "You're forgetting that I might just enjoy spending time with you, Hayato."

"Not as much as you used to. Now, you've realised there other people in Chiba who are just as interesting."

"Hm… I'm not so sure. Sometimes, I find myself looking back and realising some of the most interesting people came into my life during our high school years. Wouldn't you agree?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You could say this is me arriving at the 'topic of note'. Just as you want, yes?"

Hayama fiddles with the cuff of his shirt. "… That would be very obliging of you."

"Obliging?" She bursts out laughing. "Obliging! Hayato, you really are funny sometimes."

"I can't say the same for you, I'm afraid."

Another gulp of wine. "… Very well. I wanted to talk to you about one of the appointments you take care of on our behalf."

"Appointments?"

"Yes. One of the more…" She searches for the right phrase. "… 'Low profile' ones."

"A great many of them are supposed to be 'low profile'. You'll have to be more specific."

"It concerns all that unpleasant business that took place during our high school years."

"…"

"I see you remember it well, Hayato. I do too. Very, very well."

"…" She's never once brought up those appointments. None of the Yukinoshitas have. Not since it all began.

"I can tell you're surprised. Now, perhaps you can understand why I asked to discuss this with you in private." She leans in, her expression deceptively bright. "My mother may have entrusted many of her responsibilities to me, but this is something she still takes a keen interest in. If you receive my meaning."

"I… I do, Yukinoshita-san."

"Now. The reason for my own interest, after all these years, is because something about these appointments of your's has to come to my attention. These routine check ups… they're conducted at the Chiba Police Headquarters, aren't they? With that man… what's his name? I've met him at a couple of galas since then… Kusuo?"

"Kudou," he replies quietly. "Chief Inspector Kudou."

"Yes. Nice man. A little stern, but perfectly nice. Anyway, as it happened, him and his criminal investigation department have been getting all worked about this journalist in the Chiba Hoshi."

"The Chiba Hoshi? That's tabloid journalism. No one believes anything they write anyway."

"That may be so, but as we're all aware, they have a section dedicated to criminal investigations that garners considerable readership. Mostlly, it's just lurid profiles on serial killers and the like, but this particular journalist always seems more in the loop than she should be."

"Really?"

"Yes. Sometimes, she'll be found publishing articles about cases that aren't supposed to be in the public domain. And considering the, ah… unofficial capacity in which my family and the Chiba Police are acquainted, that's something of a problem. In a way, we see it like this: any undermining of the police force is also undermining our influence."

He nods. Hayama has learnt quickly to turn a blind eye so some of the Yukinoshita family's less favourable activities. You don't get as far in life as they have without some very notable 'connections'.

"So, all these little resentments kept growing and growing, until they found their way onto my desk. Naturally, I asked some of our guys to do some poking around, and would you know it? That journalist just happens to be someone we know."

"Who?"

"Do you remember Isshiki Iroha?"

"… Yes, unfortunately."

"Well, in spite of the Sobu High connection, there still wasn't much of a reason to be suspicious. We were a school of clever people, and clever people are bound to get themselves into some strange places. But then I kept poking. And that's when things started getting really interesting."

Hayama has also learnt that an excited Yukinoshita Haruno is by no means a good thing.

"Hayato… have you ever heard of the Shark of the Chiba Police?"

---

Chapter Two- 31 Days

A Doll's Eyes