Hello! Back from the void, and hoping that school finishes up soon for the winter so I can devote more time to writing. This next chapter was hard to write, but thanks to the tireless editing of Sassybratt9791, what was initially a few barebone paragraphs turned into a suitably coherent chapter, so thanks for that dear :D

Reader discretion for Inuyasha's potty mouth is advised.

"So Higurashi, is it?"

"That's right."

Miroku had been assigned to follow up on interrogating the inhabitants of the apartment block where the crime took place. He currently sat across the block's landlord, Kunihiko Wada; a stout, middle-aged man with a short, ratty beard and a face that desperately needed glasses to correct his prominent squint. Wada rested a hand over his round belly and scratched his beard thoughtfully before continuing.

"They've been renting from me for about two years now. They're a nice enough couple—they pay on time, and the girl always says hello and good morning, and even gives out leftovers on the times they have any. The guy though—he's a surly one. And the arguments they have are really hard to handle, what with the thin walls and everything."

Miroku's ears perked up. Yesterday most of the interviewees had expressed fear over a break-in and possible robbery. This was the first time he had ever heard anything about a prior conflict.

And it could possibly point to something troubling about the inhabitants of the apartment.

"What kind of arguments?" Miroku asked carefully.

Wada shrugged noncommittally. "The usual. Over work, money…the thing is that they argued on an almost daily basis. And even with the thin walls, they're always extremely loud."

"Has there ever been any indication of those arguments having turned violent?"

Wada furrowed his brow. "Hmmm...can't say I've seen any. They're usually quick to make up after."

The standard white office clock hanging over the adjacent wall caught Miroku's eye; it read ten past nine, which meant that Taniguchi-san was already here with her grandson and it would be their turn soon. The chair made a slight scraping noise as it was pushed back when Miroku stood, who then bowed to the landlord respectfully. "Thank you for your cooperation, Wada-san. We greatly appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. Just doin' my civic duty, officer."

"Let me walk you out."

Wada 'mhhmm-ed' in reply, allowing himself to be escorted out of the small office. To their immediate left were two other offices, with one also being used for the apartment block questionings, and the other currently unoccupied. Their placement was discreetly tucked away from the rest of the precinct office—a large, bustling place whose open-floor plan afforded them much more space than the kōban Miroku had been previously assigned to. A flat-screen showing the news hung from the ceiling close to the receptionist's counter for the few people who sat waiting in the rows of plastic seats for their appointments. The smaller desks were for the pencil pushers who also took additional calls redirected from other kōbans, or helped file the reams of paperwork involved in every aspect of their bureaucracy.

Taniguchi, her grandson, and a woman Miroku assumed was the boy's mother—Achika, according to her mother-in-law—stood up from their seats after noticing Wada exiting. After briefly exchanging greetings, Wada left, and Miroku held the door open to allow the small family inside for their continued interrogation.

"Thank you for coming," he bowed politely and directed them to sit in the chairs facing the desk. "Would anyone like something to drink?"

"No, but thank you," the boy's mother replied. She gestured to the bottle of peach nectar the boy had most likely purchased from one of the vending machines near the entrance. "I was told Daichi needed to come in for questioning."

"It's nothing too serious," Miroku assured her in response to the uneasy edge to her voice. "His grandmother said he heard what happened, as they were together at the time. Since I didn't get a chance to ask him what his version of the event is, I was hoping that scheduling the appointment for today would help us get a clearer picture of the crime scene."

Achika pursed her lips nervously. "I understand. But please, don't push him too hard."

Miroku pressed a hand to his chest, assuming an entirely serious face. "You have my word." The detective then directed his attention to the little boy, who had been completely engrossed with trying to open his bottle of juice with little success. He wore a tiny face mask and he looked as though he hadn't slept well. "Hello. Do you need any help with that?"

Daichi looked up, a little surprised that he was being addressed, but handed the bottle over gratefully. "Yes, please. It's really hard!"

The cap came off with an easy twist of the wrist, and Miroku handed the peach drink back, which was hastily gulped before a stern look from his mother reminded Daichi that he had to mind his manners. "Thank you, mister policeman!" he said in a congested voice.

"It was no trouble at all," Miroku smiled kindly. He walked over to the boy's side, kneeled down to his eye level, and leaned in confidentially. "Can you keep a secret?"

Daichi's eyes widened. "Mama says it's not nice to keep things from others."

"Your mama is right, but in this case, I'm asking you because you look like someone who's good at helping others. And I need your help to do my job, Daichi-kun."

The little boy glanced back at his mother, who nodded encouragingly, if a bit anxiously, back at him. Daichi then mulled over the request with a small, thoughtful pout. "...Ok."

"Thank you, Daichi-kun," Miroku beamed brightly. He cupped his hand next to his mouth. "You'll be a great help to me. You see, I'm actually a detective."

Daichi gasped. "Like Conan?"

"Yes, just like Conan."

The boy exhaled a quiet little 'wow.' His eyes shone with pure, undisguised amazement. "Does that mean you catch a lot of bad guys?"

Miroku uttered a short, blustery laugh. "If there are bad guys to be caught, then yes. But my job is mostly finding out things that are hidden, or need a little more help solving." His tone shifted; age appropriate enough not to scare the child, but much more serious and professional compared to his previous candour. "You were with your grandmother yesterday when the police came, right? You heard what happened before we got there?"

"...Yeah," Daichi's voice turned small and timid. He clutched his mother's hand for support. "It was really loud and scary."

"Could you tell me what happened before and during the time that you were there?"

The little boy bit his lip. Looking back to his mother, she gave him a reassuring look, which was enough to give him the courage to speak. "Okay." He screwed up his face as he attempted to gather his recollection of the events.

"Take all the time you need," Miroku said.

"Mama dropped me off at grandma's in the morning because she said I was too sick for school," he intoned slowly. "We said hi to mister Inuyasha because it was time for him to go to work, and Kagome nee-chan stayed home too because she got sick like me."

"I remember," Taniguchi spoke, looking apologetic for interrupting, "that I offered her some of the leftover soup I had. She said she was too sick to keep any food down, but thanked us all the same. The poor girl…"

"She looked awful," Daichi added.

"Daichi! Don't be so rude!" his mother scolded.

"But it's true! And besides, I looked the same when I ate Grandpa's stew, and you said it was because he used bad crabs."

As highly amusing as he found the exchange, Miroku cleared his throat politely but firmly. "Might we return to the subject at hand?"

Taniguchi's cheeks flushed a faint pink. "My apologies...I shouldn't have interrupted like that."

"Please, don't worry, Taniguchi-san. I'm just hoping we can be able to finish our session soon, so that you can all go back home and return to your normal lives. Being cooped up in a police station is stressful enough for you all."

"Thank you, Detective."

"So," Miroku turned back to Daichi. "What happened next?"

The little boy hummed pensively before responding. "Grandma made breakfast...she said I could have potato croquettes if I finished my soup, so I did, and I was happy because she makes really good croquettes. Then she gave me my medicine, and it was really yucky. I felt bad yesterday because I was coughing a lot and my throat felt funny, so grandma made me tea and let me watch some TV, but then there was this boring show on so I stopped watching. And then I got tired and grandma said we could take a nap."

"And after that is when you heard what happened in the neighbour's apartment," Miroku concluded.

"Yeah," Daichi mumbled.

Miroku needed to know more. He already heard Taniguchi-san's recollection of the events, and, despite that a child as young as Daichi might possibly not have as clear a memory of the crime as he would have liked (or a testimony as detailed as an adult's) the detective pressed on. "Can you tell me what happened when you heard the noise?"

The little boy twisted his hands over and under each other, a repetitive, self-soothing motion that underscored the effort he was putting into remembering. "I woke up because of it. Grandma covered my ears," he said. "It was really scary and loud."

Miroku noted Daichi's omission of him crying, but, heedful of his mother's warning, chose not to comment to avoid a possible upset. "Did it last long? Were you able to hear anything?" he questioned cautiously. "What did you do after?"

"Ummmm…" Daichi's soft hum echoed the buzz of the overhead fluorescent lights uncomfortably, similar to the effect of talking into a fan. "I don't really know how long it was...but I could hear a few things…"

"Like?"

"Kagome nee-chan sounded angry, but also scared. I heard her say 'get out!' and 'my husband will be here soon!'"

The boy's words, frustratingly enough, didn't give Miroku enough clues as to who Mrs Higurashi was referring to, or whether she knew the person at all. Daichi's grandmother was equally vague, having focused more on keeping him close and consoling him, and thus missed out on the specifics. However, Daichi's statement did provide Miroku the confirmation he needed: that Higurashi had confronted an intruder, and said intruder was the reason for her disappearance.

"When it was over, grandma told me to go to her room and close the door because she was gonna call the police. I was really scared but I did what she told me," Daichi sniffled. "I waited and when she was done, she told me that she called my mama to come pick me up early. I wanted to go check on Kagome nee-chan because I wanted to make sure she was okay, but grandma said no. She said I couldn't go to mister Inuyasha and Kagome nee-chan's place because it might be dangerous, and they wouldn't like it if I snooped. So she told me to wait again while she talked to the police, and then mama came and we went home."

Miroku considered the little boy's statement very carefully. There seemed to be no major omission of details, and his testimony matched his grandmother's. Before he wrapped the session up, he wanted to see if Daichi could also confirm what Wada told him.

Something about what he heard of the husband was rubbing Miroku the wrong way.

"I heard from the landlord," the detective probed very carefully, "that the Higurashis argued a lot. Did you ever hear any of their fights before today?"

Daichi's brow furrowed, confused. "Yeah. Why?"

"Well, I was told the walls are very thin and the hallway amplifies a lot of sound—were you able to hear anything more that Kagome-san said? Like when she fought with her husband?"

"But I told you. Grandma covered my ears."

Achika made a displeased noise at the back of her throat, but otherwise said nothing, and Miroku reminded himself to dial back his approach. "I'm sorry. I just want to get a better picture of the scene." He scratched his neck sheepishly and cleared his throat before resuming. "Were there any problems with them before today? Anything that was weird about them at all?"

"No, but...Mister Inuyasha wasn't home when it happened…"

"Did you know if anyone was really mad with the Higurashis? Or one of them specifically?"

"No, they're really nice people and we all like them."

"Are you sure about that?" The words tumbled out of Miroku's mouth before he had a chance to stop and think them over, and he immediately regretted them as Daichi's eyes went wide and round with shock.

Achika reached a hand out to her son, and the look she shot Miroku was hard and unforgiving. "Daichi—"

"I'm not lying!" the little boy blubbered. "They're not bad people! I promise!"

"Daichi-kun, I—" Miroku tried to speak.

"They didn't do anything wrong! Please don't take them away!" Daichi's tiny little surgical mask crumpled over his distraught face as he turned to grab fistfuls of his mother's pink cardigan. "If the detective thinks they're bad people, then he's gonna lock them up and we'll never ever see them again!" he wailed.

"I think we're done here." Daichi's mother heaved her crying toddler over her shoulder and rubbed his back slowly but firmly. The look on her face was absolutely uncompromising and brooked no further arguments. "Thank you for your time, Detective."

Miroku bowed low, deeply apologetic. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to upset him."

"It's all right," Achika said stiffly. "I think we should get going."

"I'll walk you out."

The little boy's subdued sniffles were drowned out by the sudden rush of noise from the station when Miroku opened the door, allowing the small family to exit before he did. Daichi lifted his head from his mother's shoulder and rubbed tiredly at his red-rimmed eyes, focusing his worried gaze on Miroku. "Am I in trouble?" he asked in a small voice.

"Not at all," Miroku reassured him quickly. "You were very helpful and I'm very grateful that you came today."

Daichi said nothing, laying his head down on his mother's shoulder again. Achika was about to say something to Miroku before Daichi shot up in her arms, wriggling and struggling until she was forced to let him go, and the boy immediately made for the entrance with his shocked mother about to call after him; until her recognition of the man that appeared in the doorway made her stop in her tracks.

Higurashi Inuyasha's worn, bright red work jacket was like a flashing beacon, to say nothing of his very long and less than socially acceptable hairstyle. The rest of his outfit was as equally scruffy as his outerwear, and his dirty boots had muddied up the station's floor. The little boy had run straight to the man, grabbing the leg of his pants and tugging almost desperately. He said something that Miroku couldn't hear from where he was watching.

"Not now, kid," Miroku heard Higurashi mutter.

Daichi shook his head and tugged on the man's pants again, insistently. He turned back to look and, spotting the detective, pointed straight to him, the rude gesture prompting Taniguchi-san to suck in a reproachful breath. He then pulled out a small Kamen Rider action figure from the pocket of his baggy sweatshirt and gave it to Inuyasha. When Higurashi protested and made to give it back, Daichi shook his head and pressed it harder into the older man's much larger hand.

The gesture was a very sweet one that tugged uncomfortably on Miroku's heart strings. He was unable to see the full extent of Higurashi's response, as the other man had bowed his head to get a closer look at Daichi, but then got the full brunt of his stare as Inuyasha ruffled the boy's head quietly and then lifted his eyes.

They were a very unusual colour. They could even be called amber if the light hit them right. What had captured Miroku's attention the most, however, was the look they had: the man wore an expression that only the most jaded of people possessed, with years of built up anger, mistrust, and bitterness written all over it. Bitterness and…something else that Miroku couldn't quite place his finger on, yet unnerved him all the same.

Whatever it was that Daichi saw in Higurashi was not apparent to the detective.

"Glad to see you here, Higurashi-san," Miroku bowed politely in greeting. "I was just finishing up with the Taniguchis."

"Thanks." Higurashi's quiet mutter did not sound thankful at all.

A tense silence fell upon the scene. Taniguchi-san glanced at Miroku nervously from the corner of her eye and swallowed. Daichi's mother's hand tightened ever so slightly over the strap of her purse. Daichi was fixated solely on Higurashi, and clung to the man's leg and gazed up at him with large, teary eyes.

Not often did Miroku feel daunted by the task before him, but today was one of those times.

The detective cleared his throat delicately. "Shall we, then? The office is empty for our use."

"Sure," Higurashi grunted. He stared irritably at the cheerful pink and orange posters advertising an upcoming police precinct event before brushing past Miroku and Taniguchi's family, with naught but a single glance in Daichi's direction to acknowledge anyone else.

Achika sighed. "Moody as ever…though I can't really blame him," she said under her breath. She bowed again to Miroku and took her son's hand. "We hope to have been helpful today, Detective. Thank you for your work."

"T-thank you," Daichi sniffled.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you, Daichi-kun," Miroku said, sincerely apologetic. "And I should be thanking you, too. What you told me will really help us out in our investigation."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

The little boy considered his words very carefully, chewing nervously on a loose piece of skin around his fingernail, the wet digit forming a small bulge under his medical mask. His sigh was muffled by the mask and his cold, but Miroku's statement seemed to be acceptable enough. "Ok."

"Let's go home," his mother said quietly. "I have some nice hot soup ready for you before you take your medicine, and then you can take a nap."

Daichi sighed tiredly. As they were turning to leave, Daichi whirled around, as though having forgotten something. "Mister Detective!"

Miroku was startled by the intensity of his gaze. It looked as though he wanted to say something important. The detective knelt before the little boy very solemnly, as though he were a knight waiting for a pronunciation from his lord-liege. "What is it, Daichi-kun?"

"Please don't be mean to Mister Inuyasha. He's a good guy. He said he doesn't need more trouble."

The words were spoken so clearly, so seriously, that Miroku was temporarily rendered speechless. He already knew by the outburst in the office that Daichi considered Higurashi to be someone important to him...but how? Why? Why was he so determined to vouch for the man's character, and why so desperately?

And what did he mean by 'more trouble'?

Taniguchi and her family were gone by the time he finished pondering Daichi's mysterious words, the childish plea and his tears fresh on Miroku's mind. No matter. He still had the man's testimony to process before he went on break.

An uneasy shiver ran down the length of Miroku's back, and again, he wondered at the strength of such reactions.

Miroku opened the door and offered a quick apology for his delay, seeing that Higurashi had sat down in the plastic chair facing the desk.

"Keh. Took you long enough," was his only reply.

A long, uncomfortable silence engulfed them as Miroku struggled to process the astonishingly frank rudeness of the man before him. He already knew that Higurashi was a rough character from the moment he set eyes on him, but having his first impression confirmed so quickly was a bit unsettling. It told Miroku that the interrogation process was not going to go as smoothly as he had hoped. Mori was the one who'd been tasked with Higurashi's first interrogation after he'd barged in on them processing the crime scene, so this was really the first time that he and Miroku were speaking face to face. That, and they'd had to cut it short earlier because Shako, the precinct director, thought the man needed a break after the shock of having his apartment broken into and his wife going missing.

He studied the man further. The dirt and grime covering Higurashi's jacket looked worse up close (he hoped it wouldn't stain the white plastic of the chair), his pants looked equally bad with their patched knees, and his boots were the worst part of his ensemble (Miroku prayed silently to whatever god was listening that the floor's clean-up wouldn't be too difficult). Higurashi's face and posture, however, were the cherries on top of the sulky sundae—everything about them screamed hostility and negativity. Whereas Taniguchi and her daughter-in-law had sat perfectly straight in their chairs, Higurashi slouched almost defiantly, with a large, scarred and calloused hand resting on the table, angled slightly towards the detective. Miroku thought that maybe he was reading too much into it, but he had a sudden thought that the gesture was meant to be threatening.

Higurashi's face though...it had a story to tell, and not a pretty one at that. The three scars he possessed (one running below his right eye, another crossing his cheekbone, and the last splitting the corner of his lips evenly) attested to a life of delinquency. And those scars underscored the hard, angry look he was giving Miroku with those strange, bright eyes of his.

They were the eyes of a man who did not trust the police.

"We're happy to have you here with us, Higurashi-san." Miroku hoped his platitudes didn't sound too forced. "I understand that you needed time to recuperate after the shock of having your apartment broken into yesterday, but your testimony is invaluable to us—"

"Whadda I gotta tell you that you don't already know from asking the neighbours and from what I told the other guy? You should be out there looking for Kagome instead of wasting time on writing your paperwork and crap."

Miroku was stunned into silence. He resisted the urge to utter a scandalised 'I beg your pardon?' as though he were a grandmother, and opted to keep silent for the moment, trying to gauge the best way to reply. "I understand that you are upset, but please understand that this is part of the process. We need to collect testimonies from every person who lives—"

"Didn't ya get it the first time around?" Higurashi snarled. "What I say doesn't matter at all, 'cause in the end all you're gonna get is the same damn thing the neighbours said, and all that means is more time spent over meaningless paper when you could be looking for my missing wife."

"Higurashi-san." His irritation slipping through, Miroku allowed his backbone to show, if only to assert himself and attempt to do his job. "I know this is very difficult for you, but you have to understand that this is part of the process. We have to collect testimony from every inhabitant of the apartment unit so that we can compare them and see what matches up and what doesn't. And as an inhabitant of the crime scene and the missing victim's husband, your testimony is the most important one of all—you were the last person to see her. We need to be sure that your words match theirs, so that we can provide updated information to our officers who are currently out canvassing the streets as we speak." He paused. "I hope that with that knowledge, we can cooperate so that we can find her faster."

Higurashi's eyes narrowed, clearly wanting to shoot back, but he kept quiet. His body language, however, changed, with his upper body now angling towards Miroku and the set of his shoulders tensing, as though he was bracing himself for something. "This better be quick."

Miroku carefully skimmed through the Taniguchi's report. "Oh, you have something else scheduled for today?" he tried to ask pleasantly, wanting to forget the past few seconds of unpleasantness...

"Yeah." Higurashi glared. "Looking for my wife."

Ah. Right.

Miroku cleared his throat and shuffled the papers out of their manila folder somewhat self-consciously. His witness was determined to be as rude and standoffish as possible, it seemed, and it put him at a bit of a loss. Miroku put a great deal of effort into being as pleasant, polite, and charming as he possibly could—it usually guaranteed great results, especially with older women. Having such an attentive and kind officer put their minds at ease, knowing that someone was looking out for them, or at least making an effort. But this man was trying his patience and rebuffing him; Higurashi's attitude, coupled with the neighbours' and Wada's previous testimony of it, made the detective take a decidedly negative view of him.

"Could you please recount to me yesterday's events?" Miroku said, taking on a more serious tone.

Higurashi rolled his eyes again. His foot drummed out an annoying rhythm on the floor. "You already heard this from the first guy, but if you want it so bad, fine," he muttered irritably. "Got up at 6:30. Showered. I could hear Kagome moaning from the futon 'cause the stupid woman didn't wanna throw out the bad leeks last night, and look where it got her."

Miroku scribbled this all down dutifully. To himself, he made a mental note to write later (and, most importantly, without Higurashi seeing): derogatory speech towards missing person.

Higurashi had his eyes trained at all times on Miroku's face, hands, and note taking; to this, Miroku added hypersuspiciouness. Higurashi's eyes narrowed but he said nothing, and continued. "She made us breakfast, but she didn't want any, and I said that she couldn't go to work like that. She's always been so damn insistent about having the last word, but then I told her that she wouldn't want to puke into the kid's breakfasts and make 'em sick too. That shut her up real quick."

Miroku already knew the answer to his question, but asked regardless. "In what line of work does your wife's job lie?"

"She works at this orphanage type place. She helps to look after kids and old people."

"I see."

The electric droning sound of the incandescent lights and the steady monotony of the clock ticking underscored how ill at ease Miroku felt about the whole situation. Not in the sense of impending doom or dread or anything of the sort...but something about it was just off-putting.

"Kagome saw me off at the door," Higurashi said, unprompted, puncturing the bubble of uncomfortable silence. "Taniguchi's daughter-in-law was dropping off her brat and they said hi. They offered us soup. Then I left for work."

"And what is your current line of employment?" Miroku already knew the answer to that too.

Higurashi grunted noncommittally, but the rapid-fire tap-tap of his fingers betrayed his agitation. "Construction."

"Could you elaborate on that, please?"

"What's there to elaborate? It's construction. Welding. Heavy lifting. Same old shit."

Foul mouthed. Miroku remembered yesterday's outburst and added it silently.

"What was that?"

With a start, Miroku realised that he had been mouthing his mental notes to himself, and Higurashi caught on to that, if his thunderous expression was anything to go by. Cursing himself (mentally), the detective tried to wave it off. "Oh, sorry. I sometimes just mumble gibberish to myself. It's a bad habit I've had for a long time," he chuckled nervously.

My ass, Miroku saw Higurashi mutter to himself. He wished the clock could move a little faster.

Tapping his pen apprehensively against the surface of the manila folder, Miroku tried to stay on the line of questioning. "And you were at work all day?"

"No. I got a call around noon for me—us grunts never get calls 'cause the phone's in the office, unless it's an emergency. I thought her stupid ass had tried to be brave about being sick and she'd decided to try and cook something. That dump of a place is always in danger of burning down, especially with old hags like Taniguchi constantly falling asleep over the damn stove."

"But this wasn't a call about a fire," Miroku said.

"No." Something in Higurashi's eyes darkened—his voiced turned rougher, and his body hunched in on itself. His scarred hand rubbed his wrist. "Eijun from next door was the one who called. Said he heard a fight in our apartment...that someone'd tried to break in while Kagome was in there."

"So you left work to come check on her?"

"You're damn right I did!" Higurashi's growl was positively animalistic. Like an angry dog's. "I footed it all the damn way 'cause I didn't have time for a cab or some shit like that. When I got home, the place was swarming with cops." He stopped to glare menacingly at Miroku. "And I found you there, too."

"I remember." Miroku attempted to keep his reply as even as possible.

"I've told you all I know now," Higurashi rasped angrily. "Now you gotta tell me what I wanna know. Where the hell is she?"

The detective pondered his next words very, very carefully. He was not liking the direction the conversation was going—recounting the events seemed to have agitated Higurashi, and his moody hyperfocus on Miroku had turned nastier in tone. Miroku did not want a fight to start in the office...especially not at such a busy hour for the precinct.

But what to say?

"We don't know yet," Miroku said calmly, trying to ignore the frustrated growl in response. "We're in the process of checking the streets surrounding the neighbourhood to see if any camera might have captured anything we can use."

"If you don't know, then this is fucking pointless!" Higurashi snarled. "I already told you everything. The neighbours told you everything. All you're doing is rehashing useless shit so you can file papers at a cushy desk instead of doing your fucking job and looking for my missing wife!"

"Higurashi-san, please," Miroku pleaded. "We still have some questions to ask—"

"I'm done answering your fucking questions!" Higurashi's chair screeched awfully as he stood up, threw the door open, and stormed out of the precinct, leaving a tide of scared and confused bystanders in his wake. A few turned to look back into the open office, with Miroku still holding on helplessly to his pen.

He knew he would have Higurashi back in there for another round of questioning—the department already had his home telephone number and his landlord's as contact info. Even so, the spectacularly public end to the interrogation presaged a bad future series of meetings that only deepened Miroku's dislike of the man.

Miroku is not liking the few buildings blocks he has to work with on the case so far...and it remains to be seen whether Inuyasha will turn out out to be more sympathetic in the future.

A few notes...

A kōban is a small police box placed in strategic areas in neighbourhoods-if you have a problem, you can visit one to ask for help. They're like a tiny, downgraded version of a police precinct.

I have little clue as to how the Japanese Police Force actually works, but I'm doing my best with research. If there are any mistakes that readers want to point out/good articles for reference that can be used, please do say so!

Until next time ;)