Spring, 2016

Chihaya sighed as she turned the page of the file, finding more word soup that would inevitably turn her brain into mush. Working a case with few leads was boring—being the one forced to do paperwork was even worse.

At least she had company. Across the table, Mamoru sat with none of the restlessness that Chihaya had. Calmly, he wetted his finger and turned the page of the file. He rapidly scanned through, then repeated the process with the other page.

Chihaya and Mamoru were mere acquaintances, as he seemed to be with everyone else in their department.

Looking down, Chihaya found herself lost among the pages of words. She made so little progress that she refused to believe she was useful to the team when scanning through paperwork. Her natural intuition told her otherwise—that something important laid dormant in those piles of coroner reports—but she was only human and could only evade boredom for so long.

"Have you found anything yet, Hayase-san?" Chihaya said. She didn't want to talk about the case, just use it as a segue into actual conversation.

"Hm…" Mamoru closed the file. He picked it up with his hands on both sides of the ball, then let it drop against the table to line up the papers within. Looking at Chihaya, finally, he nodded. "Suicides."

"Pardon?"

"Suicides—and accidental deaths, I mean," he corrected. The file he held dropped to the table, and he pressed his finger into it. "The number of incidents involving an individual with even just alleged bōryokudan has skyrocketed over the last five years. You didn't notice?"

Chihaya's face reddened at embarrassment. She knew Mamoru took a task like paperwork more seriously than she did, but didn't expect to be outdone.

"I didn't."

"What kind of person living on an honor system with considerable income decides to take their own life? I don't understand it," Mamoru said. He didn't look at Chihaya as his eyes stared into whatever possibilities his imagination conjured. "Same rate increase with heart attacks, too. It's strange, isn't it?"

"Maybe. Do you think you're giving the small details too much power?"

"Of course not." Mamoru opened the file, turned it around, and slid it across the table to Chihaya. She adjusted it to be straight, then scanned through info about a twenty-year-old dying of a massive heart attack. "Severe heart attacks don't happen to twenty-somethings who work out every day. And then there are the accidents among smuggling trucks, and—"

"What?"

"You didn't notice that either?" Mamoru glanced out the glass wall at the rest of the department office, surely scanning over all the cops he'd prefer to work with than Chihaya. "Drug runners swerving off the road once or twice a year is understandable. Twenty times in seven months, though…"

"Ah." Chihaya nodded as she read the paperwork. Mamoru's explanations didn't enhance her reading because all of it was mixing before her eyes. Maybe she needed to start going to bed earlier. "I'm glad you're making progress, Hayase-san. I'm a bit out of it today, I think."

"That's fine." Chihaya passed the folder back to Mamoru, who flipped it closed to set it on the stack. "We've done enough to satisfy Niijima-san, any more would be satisfying a personal curiosity."

"What's that?"

"The motive of derailing an opposing family is easy enough to determine. How it's being done, is another question. Whether all those heart attacks and suicides were actual heart attacks and suicides is what I want to know." Mamoru's gaze turned on a dime, almost startling Chihaya out of her seat with how much he bore down on her just to ask for her thoughts. "What do you think? Is someone in the coroner's office in on it?"

Chihaya sighed as she tried to rub some sense into herself through her eyes. "I dunno, honestly," she said, trying to be apologetic so Mamoru wouldn't be more angry with her.

"Bribing coroners is uncharted territory. These guys—the Aka Handan Ikka—they're good. How much do you think they're paying?"

Chihaya was tired, and hearing questions about things that didn't sound remotely true tired her even more. "Hayase-san…"

"Why stop at the coroner's office? What about out there?" Mamoru nodded at the glass wall that looked into the department office. Chihaya turned her gaze to see all her coworkers. Some had smiles as they socialized, others were buried in tear-jerking levels of paperwork. "Would you take a bribe, Chihaya?"

"No, I certainly wouldn't, and I hope you don't question the rest of the team like this."

Mamoru's fidgeting gaze paused on Chihaya, noticing emotion simmering from beneath her exhausted eyes. "I am sorry. I've gotten a bit carried away with such thoughts lately."

Chihaya didn't hold it against Mamoru. It was a strange incident, but both of them had their faults that morning. "You need to find someone who'll let you vent. That helps me," she said. Some excitement could be found in the fact that she got to converse about something other than police work.

"I usually have someone—my girlfriend. She's out of town right now, unfortunately."

"Ooh a girlfriend?" Scraps of dried-out gossip energized Chihaya; she knew something so simple was below her, yet she clung to it. "Good for you, Hayase," she teased.

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Are you spoken for?"

"No, I can't say I am." Chihaya's luck with Tokyo's dating scene was non-existent. Few men tolerated her interest in divining the future. 'A load of horseshit' was Chihaya's preferred way for her passion to be degraded, not like she cared what they thought. If they weren't interested in her because she took cards too seriously, they could fuck off.

"Then you're more devoted to police work than I am," Mamoru said. He grabbed a file from the stack that remained unopened, getting right back to work as if the exchange never happened.

"That concludes our report on the coroner's paperwork," Mamoru said as he set the files down. The table of detectives sat in silence as they awaited Makoto's next order of business. Although Mamoru claimed it as their report, Makoto could tell that Chihaya's contributions were minimal. She said nothing thus far into the team meeting.

"Thank you, Hayase-san." Mamoru nodded but sheepishly looked away from Makoto. His shyness never ceased, it seemed. Makoto turned to her left where Adachi and Yukiko sat. "Where do we stand with Kitagawa?"

"Awaiting an official warrant from a judge, but we've set up surveillance on his house," Yukiko said. Like Mamoru, she couldn't meet Makoto's eyes either. Her and Satonaka's failure still lingered whenever Kitagawa came up. Makoto was angry, of course, but she moved on. Being a leader meant getting the best out of her squad, not constantly reminding them of their failure. "Nobody has seen anything out of the Kitagawa house, except his wife leaving a few days ago. Nothing since..."

"What do you know about her?"

"Yukari Takeba, failed actress," Adachi said. "Got kicked off the set of her first and only commercial for being 'difficult to work with.' Called it quits on having a career, then got hitched to Kitagawa. Now, she spends her time doing yoga and walking her rat-dog."

"Rat-dog?"

"It's, er…" Adachi rubbed the back of his head as he sank away from the table and the attention of the team. "What I call those small dogs with big eyes and—"

"Rat-dog?!" Chie took offense to the poor choice of words. "Those are cute!"

"Uh-huh. Totally…"

"For future reference, please leave any personal biases out of reports." Makoto quickly transitioned the meeting to her next subject of importance. "Moving on, we have the Nakajima murder. Unfortunately, we missed a major break in the case because paramedics failed to notify us that they transported a yakuza member to the hospital. However, we have confirmed the other body from Kokichi's clothing as a member of the Second Kaneshiro based on the tattoos."

"Seems like a big thing to forget," Adachi said. When everyone turned to him, he shrugged with his hands out. "What? They get to the scene, find one dead, a shopkeeper with a smoking shotgun, and another in critical condition, and they don't figure it's yakuza-related? Paramedics have to go to school; they can't be that dumb."

"That's not the scene they walked into, though," Chihaya said. Maybe her morning of combing through paperwork did help. "The paramedics that were there only found one body: the gunman."

"Oh my god…" Chie took the words out of the room so she could connect the dots. "What if the shopkeeper is in on the scheme?! You think he took Nakajima to the hospital?"

"That's reasonable to assume, given that he possessed a firearm. Satonaka-san, could you stop by Kokichi's Clothes when you get a chance?" Upon getting a nod, Makoto began dolling out the rest of the squad's jobs. "Amagi-san, you'll accompany Satonaka. Mifune, you're fine to keep doing paperwork?"

She frowned. "Yep. Of course." Makoto wanted to reconsider, but there wasn't much else for Chihaya to do. Marching into the coroner's office and accusing its employees of fraud would set the department on fire with how little actual evidence they had. Plus, the surveillance team outside Kitagawa's house had jobs solely to watch if a door opened or closed all day long. All Chihaya could do was run through files with Mamoru.

Makoto didn't ask Mamoru; he enthusiastically complied with everything Makoto had thrown at him thus far in the case. That left only Adachi for her to assign. "Adachi-san, we'll be visiting Inaba."

"Exciting."

"Very." Makoto stood up. "Questions?" In response, they stood up. "Good. Focus on the details, because that's where we're falling behind."

Makoto looked out the window. The highway barrier blurred a few feet outside the window, but the distant green hills of trees had much more detail to them. Inaba's distance from Tokyo seemed like an afterthought before Makoto got in the cruiser. After an hour and a half of nothing but fields and hills, the distance became a nuisance.

"Whaddya think of the countryside?" Makoto pulled her head from the window and looked toward the driver's seat. Adachi, with one hand on the wheel and another resting on the door, expected an answer.

"It's… Boring."

"That's what most people say, but I guess that's why some like it." Adachi continued speaking as if he and Makoto were more than acquaintances; like they were long-time friends. "Though, I agree with you. Lemme tell you, the few times I've had to come out here… Not fun."

"Don't expect this trip to improve your opinion, then."

"Oh, I wasn't. Talking to victims' families is the hardest part of the job." When Makoto didn't respond, Adachi added to his point. "Seems like we'll be doing a lot of that at this rate."

Makoto shared the feeling. Things only seemed to be getting worse the further into the case she and her team got. The war that she was assigned to prevent worsened with every new detail that unveiled itself. Two clans, the Second Kaneshiro and—assumedly—the Aka Ikka were already trading bodies. If a full-on gang war wasn't coming, what the Hell were they doing?

"Your optimism is appreciated," Makoto said.

"You know what I mean. We're playing catch-up to a war that's already started."

"That doesn't mean we can't try to get ahead."

"Talking with grieving mothers is catch-up, not getting ahead."

"We won't know until we speak to her," Makoto calmly argued. "She might confirm Shu's connection with the Aka Ikka, give us information on how he was recruited, et cetera."

"I wouldn't expect much more from her than a few tears, Niijima-san. Seriously. Mothers are tough to deal with."

Makoto disregarded the questionable generalization and went back to looking out the window. She knew what she was getting into by bringing Adachi onto the team; part of life with him as a partner would be putting up with him. Thus far, however, his only problems were verbal.

Silence lasted longer than Makoto expected. She took Adachi as the type to feel awkward when there wasn't an active conversation, but he let Makoto stare at the empty countryside for far longer than she figured. A few minutes of peace were all it took for him to recharge his batteries, though.

"So, what's Sae up to? Been forever since I've seen her."

Makoto turned her head from the window and faced Adachi again. He kept his head facing the road, but his side-eye gave her his full attention; not that Makoto was worried about him not paying attention to the road. Barely any cars were on the highway away from Tokyo.

"She's doing some book-signing tour in America, I think," Makoto answered, not meeting Adachi's eyes as she attempted to recall the specifics. "I haven't talked to her since before she left."

Sae's reputation as a ruthless prosecutor preceded her in everything she did, to the point where an important American judge requested a meeting with her while he was visiting Japan. They hit it off, wrote a best-selling book on Japanese law from the internal and external points of view, and went to America to bolster its fame.

All of it took Makoto by surprise. She assumed Sae wanted nothing more than to keep her head down and work, yet she was taking time off to live life as a semi-celebrity. She could even retire after returning to Japan off the book's earnings, Makoto assumed.

"Wow, America?" Adachi laughed. "Always knew she was hot shit." Though, if Adachi didn't know about the book, it couldn't have been as popular as Makoto thought. "I still remember the first time meeting her. She was what? Twenty-three, twenty-four? Came into our office as if all of us were peasants for not being able to get anything out of a seasoned killer. Walked into the interrogation room, came out ten minutes later with what we needed." Adachi's hand slapped the wheel as he finished his fond recollection. "Never seen anyone that gifted at their job; cop, lawyer, or otherwise."

"That sounds like her." As much as Makoto overachieved, Sae turned it up to eleven. It seemed like she did it just so Makoto would have to hear her sister's name at every turn of her career, even when she made a point of choosing a slightly different path than her sister.

Adachi seemed content to praise Makoto's sister as much as possible. He must've thought it made Makoto proud to hear about Sae so much. "I mean, it was incredible. I went into the room to talk to the guy after Sae blazed outta there, and he was on the verge of tears. She made him into nothing."

Makoto rolled her eyes as she looked back out the window. "She's very easy to talk to," she said with nothing in her tone.

The sarcasm flew over Adachi's head and out the window of the car, probably flying back to Tokyo to bury itself in Makoto's apartment for her to regret when she returned that evening. "Yeah, sure is. I approached her after, to shake her hand and introduce myself. Now, I'll admit I did talk a bit sweet to her—I'm telling you that because I consider us friends—but she had none of it. Thanked me for my lack of help, and left. Ran into her a few times in court and she always gave me the cold shoulder."

Makoto should've been disgusted, but she wasn't. It amused her that Sae also had to put up with more of Adachi's bullshit than she did. "She takes her work very seriously," Makoto said, not wanting to do less than agree with Adachi.

"Tell me about it. I've had to read her name at the bottom line of all my finished cases for the past ten years. It's a bit annoying, honestly." If he thought that was annoying but still talked about her to Makoto, he must've been the least self-aware person she ever met. "But there's no one better than her. No one. Must make things easier for you, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you want a favor from the prosecutor's office, or you need some connections, you've got an easy in."

Makoto couldn't tell if he was implying that she used Sae to further her career or if that's what he thought she should've been doing.

"I'd like to accomplish things on my own."

"Oh, you guys have one of those competitive sibling relationships?"

"We did."

"Did?"

"I stopped trying to be like her once I figured out what I wanted to do with my life." And she grew out of treating Sae like a sister, but Adachi was already overstepping some personal boundaries. Makoto needed to learn to tell him to be quiet.

"Oh. Well, that's cool, too." Adachi never got the hints that Makoto put out for him to shut up. She was gaining first-hand experience on why Adachi's negative reputation worried the rest of her team. It was a miracle Mamoru put up with him. Surely, there was no worse match for partners in the department than those two. "I'd kill for a sibling like Sae."

"I'm sure you would."

Makoto was relieved when she didn't get a response. Satisfied with herself for shutting up Adachi—even if she wasn't the cause—she turned back to the window and its plain view of the countryside.

Adachi stood at the top of the steps, just before the door to the Nakajimas' home. Makoto waited at the bottom with crossed arms and her back turned to her partner. She watched the street, assessing every car that passed and each person inside. Inaba was a quiet town and its people minded their own business, making it a strange place for bōryokudan to come from.

Little was known about Shu. No arrest records, no night-long bookings in local jails, nothing. All that proved his existence was his inclusion in the last census.

The woman who opened the door to Adachi proved his existence as well. Makoto turned around when she heard the door, seeing a short, older woman dressed in all-red. Her frayed hair was done with bangs and a ponytail, though Makoto could tell its usual organization was off; the woman was a mess. Her distressed appearance made Shu more than a name on a list for Makoto, and it made Inaba more than a nothing-town in the middle of nowhere.

"Yes?" the woman asked softly. Her quiet voice had no force to it.

Before saying anything—before even being polite—Adachi held up his badge. "Mari Nakajima? I'm Detective Adachi and that's my partner Detective Niijima. We'd like to speak with you about your late son."

Makoto walked up the steps, assuming that they would be invited in soon enough. She balanced on one of the thin steps while trying to look past Adachi and see Mari. The woman's face soured and she stepped back from the door. "I knew this was coming…" She stepped out of the way of the door and beckoned. "Go on."

Adachi and Makoto walked into the small home. Both of them were immediately hit with the smell of onions and some kind of soup. Makoto's eyes wandered around the compact first floor, which only managed to fit the kitchen and living room into its space. The kotatsu sat in front of the TV with a cup of steaming tea atop it. The two detectives stood in the middle of everything, unsure where to go.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable." Mari scurried past them into the kitchen. She took a boiling pot off the stove and set it on the kitchen counter to cool, then began using a separate pot to pour tea. Adachi and Makoto shared a glance over the pleasant surprise that was hospitality. They turned away from the kitchen and sat down at the kotatsu. A moment later, Mari joined them with their cups of tea.

"Before we begin, Nakajima-san, know that you can end this at any time if you are having trouble," Makoto said. "It would just be a great help to us if you answered what you can."

"I…" As if she knew what would happen, Mari reached into her breast pocket and procured a handkerchief. "Shu was my little angel."

Makoto didn't want to ask a question about her little angel's yakuza affiliation, but Adachi didn't have the same decency. "Nakajima-san, do—" Thankfully, Mari cut him off by clearing her nostrils into the handkerchief. Makoto and Adachi watched in pity as she blew a hole in the ragged piece of cloth. She sobbed in between each release. They gave her time to settle. Finally, when her nose had nothing left to give, she looked Adachi in the eyes again. "Nakajima-san, what do you know about Shu's ties with the Aka Handan Ikka?"

For a moment, her face seemed to drop at her son's name. Makoto feared another fit would take over, but Mari stayed strong. "Is that it was? He never told me the name. He stopped telling me anything when he left."

"Did he plan on joining a yakuza family? Why'd he leave Inaba for Tokyo?"

"It was—" Mari choked on a sob as she wiped her nose with the handkerchief. "It was that punk Yosuke. My little angel was so sweet, so kind, until he started hanging out with Yosuke." She blew more snot into the thinning cloth. Makoto sipped her tea as she waited. Adachi sat quietly, a look of annoyed disgust on his face.

"Could we have Yosuke's full name?"

"If it brings him to justice… It's Yosuke Hanamura. He was always known as a slacker around town. Never cared about his grades. He only chased girls and scammed us hardworking folks out of money!" Mari paused as she looked down at the kotatsu. Her tea was near the top of the cup while Makoto's was almost empty. "And Shu… Poor Shu… Yosuke corrupted him. I know Shu had good in him until the end. I know it, he just didn't get the chance!"

Adachi winced as the handkerchief's abuse continued. Makoto was more apologetic, hiding her gaze in the almost empty teacup. "So Yosuke was locally known as a lowlife?" Adachi asked.

"Oh…" Mari wiped her nose, yet her congestion lingered in her tone. "Yes. The other parents and I had a few meetings about him—how to keep him away from poisoning our youth. Turns out that it's my son he poisons…"

"Yosuke took Shu to Tokyo?"

"Yes… He said he was leaving to find work, but I know that Yosuke lured him with money. He was always flashing more money than he should've earned at that job of his—he was a janitor. Can you believe that? A janitor!" Her distasteful condescension took over her grief for the slightest moment. She would've spat on the profession if she could've. "He loved tricking people. That's how he got Shu—he gave him money he made off tricking adults."

"Where'd he work?" Makoto said.

"Junes, for his parents. They run the store. They gave him opportunity after opportunity, but…" Mari shook her head. "Parents place too much hope in degenerates. A son like that should've been given up on a long time ago."

"Do you think Yosuke was a member of the Aka Handan Ikka?"

"If Shu was—absolutely. My angel wouldn't have joined otherwise."

"Could we have an address for Yosuke's parents?" Makoto asked. She pulled a notepad and pen out of her jacket pocket and slid them across the kotatsu to Mari. Without answering, the woman's shaky hands got to work scribbling out the address. Makoto got the notepad back a moment later with the proper information. "Thank you, Nakajima-san."

"I… Of course. Anything I can do to help justice prevail." Mari looked over at the wall, with Makoto following her gaze to a photo of a teenage Shu. He, bearing a giant grin, held up a test with a perfect score. "The man who killed Shu… I know he's dead, but…" Whatever she wanted to ask, she couldn't say it. Makoto wanted to let the woman overcome her silence, but Adachi didn't seem to have time for that.

"He was part of the Second Kaneshiro, a rival family to Shu's." It stopped Mari from saying whatever she originally wanted to voice. "It wasn't Shu's fault; just the wrong place at the wrong time."

Mari's eyes watered again. "Oh, who do you think put him there?!" She blew a particularly aggressive amount of snot into her handkerchief.

Makoto and Adachi shared a glance, though neither shared their feelings toward Nakajima. Makoto was sure Adachi didn't have the same sympathy she did. "Shu's funeral—it will be in Inaba, correct?" she asked as she turned back to the mother.

"Yes…" she said with a snivel. "Why?"

"Then you shouldn't worry about unannounced visitors."

"Don't worry, Nakajima-san." Makoto stood up, signaling Adachi that they had what they needed. "We'll make sure Yosuke atones." She took the notepad and scribbled out the department's tip number. "If you remember anything else, reach us here." She tore the page out of the notepad and set it on the table for the uninterested woman.

"Wouldn't you like to stay longer? There's more tea!"

"We can't, sorry," Makoto answered. "We have to speak with the Hanamuras, then get back to Tokyo before the night's over." She and her partner walked towards the door, leaving Mari sitting at the kotatsu alone.

They said their goodbyes and parted ways with the empty living room, regrouping together at the bottom of the steps to the front door. "She was something," Adachi muttered as he walked in a circle, then stopped once he was facing Makoto.

"Can you blame her?" Makoto's hand naturally found its way to her chin as she considered what they learned. "Shu should never have been in that store. He never should've joined the Aka Ikka." She thought of the picture of Shu holding up his successful test, dampening her resolve a bit. It was so far removed from the mess of tubes and blood that the police arrived to in the hospital eight hours after the shooting.

"Yeah, yeah…" Adachi couldn't be bothered to argue. Makoto knew he disagreed, but she didn't push it. "Anyway, we should visit the Hanamuras. Got the address?" Makoto held up the slip of paper, prompting a nod from Adachi. "Perfect. I'm driving."

Just like before, Makoto waited behind her partner as he stood in front of a closed door. His closed fist banged against the wood, echoing down the deserted street. The sun set quickly over Inaba and cast tall shadows under each building, especially the home of the Hanamuras.

The door opened. "Can I help you?" asked a wide man with a thick beard. His hair barely retained any of the brown color Makoto saw hints of.

"Evening, Hanamura-san. Detective Adachi here with Detective Niijima." His badge was shoved in Hanamura's face until the poor old man nodded. "We'd like to talk to you about Yosuke if you wouldn't mind."

Hanamura's brow furrowed and he looked down. A sigh escaped him. "I'm sure you do…" Despite what he said, he moved out of the way of the door. Adachi needed no more invitation to enter, with Makoto following closely behind him. Hanamura shut the door behind them and walked past them. They followed him through a small entrance hall, complete with a case for visitor's shoes to be left that would be unhonored, into a dining room. As they turned the corner, Makoto could see the start of a massive living room that dwarfed the entire first floor of the Nakajima home.

Hanamura curled around a massive glass dining table, dragging a chair with a glass backside across the floor then sitting down. He beckoned for Adachi and Makoto to do the same. Once they sat at each side of him, he placed his hands under the surface of the table on his lap. Makoto watched them curl together and fidget; the man picked at rough cuticles as his gaze turned from detective to detective.

"Kenta, have you looked over that list of egg suppliers I gave you? We need—" All three people who sat at the table turned to see a woman walk into the room. She stopped when she made eye contact with Makoto. "Er, am I interrupting something?"

"Sit down, Natsumi," Kenta Hanamura said. Hesitantly, the woman, presumably Kenta's wife judging by her age, sat down at the other head of the dining table so she could maintain her distance from the strangers. "These are detectives. They're here for Yosuke."

Makoto stopped looking at the confused woman to finally assess her surroundings. The dining room and its walls divided the living room from the kitchen, isolating the group among a sea of Hanamura family memories that they wanted on display for their guests. Makoto looked for photos of anyone besides younger versions of Kenta and Natsumi. To them, Yosuke Hanamura didn't exist until two detectives brought his name back to their home.

The thought of Yosuke was unwanted by the two of them. They hated to even remember they were his parents, to think that they spent their time and money on him. He was a lost cause from the beginning, but they were so noble and generous as parents that they gave him chance after chance.

Or, more realistically, Makoto's assumptions were getting away from her.

"This may be a touchy subject," Adachi began, only speaking to Kenta rather than both of the parents, "but we'd like your full cooperation. We're investigating a bōryokudan family, and your son's name is of some importance.

"Oh my god… I knew it!" Makoto glanced over to Natsumi, who rested her face in her hands. "I knew we never should have let him leave! He was never going to Korea, no. All he can do is lie!"

"We were referred to here after following up on the death of Shu Nakajima. He and Yosuke were friends?" Makoto asked, also only speaking to Kenta because Natsumi seemed too distressed.

"Uh, yeah…" Kenta wouldn't look Makoto in the eye, rolling his head back so he could look at the ceiling and reminisce. "Yosuke took a liking to Shu. Never knew why, 'cause Shu was a year younger and there's that whole thing about rivalry between years at the high school. It's a small-town thing." Makoto nodded as Kenta continued. "Yosuke and Shu worked for us at our store, Junes, for a bit, but…"

"But what?" Adachi cut-in.

Kenta shrugged. "They never showed up. Yosuke was always off trying to start something with anyone, and he would have Shu tag along. He'd only show up when that girl was working. Let's see…" He looked across the table at his sadness-stricken wife. "Who was it?"

"Saki Konishi," Natsumi immediately said. The redness of her face showed embarrassment, unintentionally confusing Makoto. How could a parent be embarrassed by the actions of an uncontrollable child?

"Yeah, Saki. Yosuke had a crush on her. Didn't motivate him enough to get right, though."

"Why'd he leave?" Adachi asked.

"Expelled from school. Spent a year hanging around town, doing mostly nothing, and—"

"Mostly?"

"Well," Kenta coughed. "He'd be making money. I didn't know how, and I didn't want to ask, but he started dressing flashier. Bought a car for himself, too."

"How'd Shu react?"

"Dropped out."

"And since Yosuke's departure, have you guys had any contact?"

"Like my wife said," Kenta gestured across the table at his sneakily crying wife, "we thought he was going to Korea. Haven't spoken to him in a year and a half, two years." Kenta crossed his arms. "Kid always lacked respect. We offered him a great spot at Junes and he turned it down." He shook his head in a way that only a disappointed father could.

"Seems like he wanted more immediate opportunities," Adachi said.

"Oh yeah," Kenta said with a laugh. "For a kid born in the slowest town on Earth, he wanted to live as fast as possible."

"Has Yosuke's room been altered since he left?" Makoto asked, leading into her next question depending on the answer she got.

"Untouched," Natsumi said from the other side of the table. With everyone's eyes on her, she flailed her hands out in frustration, revealing streaks of makeup down her cheeks. "We thought that maybe the world would finally make him see things realistically, that he'd mellow and—" A sob interrupted her and she was lost in sadness. Natsumi stood, excused herself, and left the trio alone.

Kento tried his best to crack a smile. "Apologies."

For once, Adachi said the right thing. "None needed. It's understandable." Just as quickly as he had a response, he got back to the importance of the visit. "Could we take a look around Yosuke's room?"

"Have at it." Kento stood and started walking without waiting for Adachi and Makoto. They hurriedly scooted out from the dining table, then turned the corner to the staircase that led upstairs. Kento awaited them at the top of the stairs. "Second door on the left."

Makoto nodded thanks, then took charge. Kento left her and Adachi to their own devices when it came to finding the room—he had his reasons, surely. Makoto assumed Yosuke's rooms brought back unfortunate memories for everyone.

Following the vague directions, Makoto pushed open the cracked door. Yosuke's room was exactly as described—untouched. No one cleaned up the dirty socks laying around or took his jacket off his desk chair.

"Looks like he coulda left yesterday," Adachi mused. He walked over to the desk, which provided the foundation for a sizable desktop computer, and moved the mouse around on the mousepad. The monitor flickered to life—it had been sleeping the whole time. "Kid doesn't even know how to turn a computer off and he's bōryokudan—weird world we live in, huh?"

Makoto wasn't listening. She floated around the room, taking note of everything she saw. Pens and pencils littered counter spaces along with family photos. One photo, which excluded Kento and Natsumi, featured Yosuke with a skinny glasses-wearing kid. "Shu," Makoto said under her breath.

Her eyes drifted across the dresser to a stark white letter. At its peak was the seal of Yasogami High School. A few inches below that was the thesis statement of Yosuke's academic career: expulsion, on the grounds of assault. Makoto made a mental note to have Mamoru correspond with the Inaba Police Department for the relevant records, if such records existed.

"Got something." Makoto turned away from the dresser, finding Adachi sitting on the swivel chair at the desk. He swung back and forth while his hand dangled a sheet torn from a notebook. "Takenotsuka Apartments," he read from the paper.

"What do you think—an idea or a plan?"

"Plan." Adachi shrugged, spinning the chair to face the computer screen again. He set down the paper and stood up. "Even if it isn't, we can still check for a Hanamura living there."

"Detectives?" Makoto glanced at the door to her right. Kento stood in the doorframe, locking eyes with her, then promptly stepping into the room. He closed the door behind him, yet lowered his voice anyway. "I have something that might help." In his extended hand was a sealed envelope. "We received a letter fro—"

"You didn't open it?" Adachi interrupted. Makoto had the same question, just not the same indecency to cut off a saddened father.

"No, no… And I haven't told her," Kento said with a hung head. "I can't bear to read it."

Makoto straightened her posture and tried to initiate eye contact, but Kento's lowered gaze made things difficult. "You should—"

Again, Adachi interrupted. "Thank you," he said as he snatched the envelope. "Niijima-san, could you write down this address?" Adachi held the envelope up as he let Makoto scramble to procure the necessary materials. She ended up taking the slip of paper Yosuke's potential apartment was written on, and one of the pencils from his dresser. "The Nine-Five-Three, thirteen Yasukuni-Dori Avenue, Shinjuku. Got it?"

Makoto nodded, slipping the paper into her pocket and dropping the pencil back onto the dresser. "Thank you, Hanamura-san. We—"

"You're going to arrest him, right?"

"We cannot say—"

"If you do, please…" Kento looked up. He crossed his arms, and his brow stiffened with resolve. "Make something of him. Natsumi and I did what we could for him, but he needs a real lesson from life."

"Understood."

With that, Makoto bowed for Kento. Adachi watched and waited, but Kento's respect soon had him matching the bow. Once the gestures ended, the three said their goodbyes—including a reminder to call the TMPD if any new information came to light—and left Yosuke's room.

"That was a good morale booster. Crew's gonna love what we got," Adachi said. Unlike earlier, Makoto had no countryside to look out at while they drove. Only darkness came through the window, with vague outlines of hills and spinning shadows hinting at something more.

She turned her head away from the window. Adachi, with his head propped up by an arm that rested on the door, drove with one hand. "What do you mean?"

"This Yosuke kid—I don't think I've ever seen a more obvious snitch in my whole career. All we gotta do is put a little pressure on him, and he'll break."

"I would've given that title to Nakajima," Makoto said, thinking of the scrawny, wimpy kid from Yosuke's bedroom photo. He hadn't changed much in the years since, besides his height.

"Maybe, but Yosuke's our golden goose. He's an opportunist. We find one crack, pour a little water in, and he'll fall apart. He'll scream names at the top of his lungs if we find a way to make a year of time reasonable."

"And how do we do that?" Makoto asked. "Besides his connection to Nakajima and the Aka Ikka, there's nothing we can arrest him for."

"Eh, should be easy. Search his apartment, find that he's stashing drugs under the couch, there ya go. Kid's stupid, I'm telling you."

"I wouldn't count on it—he wouldn't be allowed in such a discreet clan if he was an idiot."

"And I wouldn't count on the intelligence of the Aka Ikka. For all we know, the department has been sitting ducks and letting them fuck around. They probably just have a lot of money going through the coroner's office, maybe some going to our bosses," Adachi said too casually. "Who knows?"

Makoto rolled her eyes. It was nothing more than a conspiracy theory that excused the difficulty of the case. While she could admit that the department's lazy attempts at putting anyone on the case were questionable, it made sense. Why give up resources when there was nothing to go on?

The jarring sound of a ringing phone cut through the radio's music, prompting curiosity from Makoto. Adachi answered the call, yet left it on the car speakers.

"Tohru, how're ya doing?" a deep, gruff voice asked. It almost sounded like Akihiko with fewer years weighing down his vocal cords.

"Not great. Had a field trip to Inaba today."

"Sheesh, that's rough," the voice said with fake sympathy. "Well, I don't wanna be an ass, but I'd like to remind you that you skipped out on port-watching with me for that little task force." Makoto raised an eyebrow as the caller continued speaking. "Found a shipment of guns today. Huge thing, actually. Boss said it's one of the biggest busts of the last decade. You'd be in line for a promotion if ya stuck with me."

"Congrats, and thanks for the reminder," Adachi said, glancing at the watchful detective sitting next to him, "but I'm fine where I am. We're making a difference our way."

"You sure?" The caller laughed at the dumb statement, which made Makoto wince a little. "When I'm retiring early, with a medal or two to my name, you'll be happy with making a difference?"

Adachi gritted his teeth. "Yep."

"Heh, suit yourself. You're invited to the department party tomorrow, anyway, so…"

"I'll pass." Adachi hung up the phone and turned to Makoto. The radio resumed its awful selection of poppy jams that Makoto heard too many times before. "Sorry 'bout that… Old partner lets things get to his head."

"Do you think it affects our case?"

"Huh? No, he's not even in the same divi—"

"Not him, Adachi-san. I'm talking about the guns."

"What?"

"Who do you think shipped in the guns? It has to be a bōryokudan family—maybe the one we're working on."

"Nothing points to the Aka Ikka liking to go loud. There was never a shooting credited to them until Kitagawa, and—"

"That's because of the war that's coming," Makoto said. The car hummed through their silence as they glided down the highway. Tokyo's lights could be seen on the horizon, only a half hour away. Makoto secretly hoped some flowers would be at her door to make up for the stressful day. "We started playing catch-up way too late in the game to make a difference."

"Don't say that." Adachi, surprisingly, tried to encourage Makoto. She saw through it immediately, but his effort did endear him to hear. "We're gonna bag Yosuke, get some names out of him, then blow it all up. Alright?"

"Your optimism is unfounded, Adachi-san." Makoto assumed that Adachi would shut up, that he'd let her go back to looking out the window as she awaited Tokyo's excess to spill over past the city boundaries and welcome them home. She assumed that her day with him would be over with her getting the last word.

Adachi chuckled. "I beg to differ, Niijima-san. With someone as naturally gifted as you leading our team, we've got a chance to stop things." He placed too much trust in her last name.

Nonetheless, she maintained her motivation to continue with the case. Nakajima's mother and Yosuke's parents were victims of the vicious machine of the Aka Ikka, and many more would be killed if those guns were as involved as Makoto believed them to be.

Time was running out.

A/N: The upcoming chapters need a bit more time in the oven, so updates will now be every two weeks. Spring should wrap up by Chapter 23.

Thanks for reading!