Chapter 57
Dark Stain
It was a bustling neighborhood. Located near the Unesco world heritage site, the shotengai blended the old and new. Traditional shophouses had cedar, lattice windows, and paper sliding doors. Then there were the modern rectangular two-story structures made of cement and glass. Between the alleyways of the unique shopping district were private apartments and terrace houses.
Music from evening advertisements blared from analog speakers attached to white poles. They were surrounded by businessmen, workers, children, students, and housewives going about their daily lives. Many were carrying shopping bags, while others gathered in small groups to gossip—a hub of activity. It would be hard to imagine that 17 years ago, a fire raged through the area, destroying a row of shops, and an apartment, leaving 15 people dead. Of these, three were children, ten were adults, and two were unidentified—burnt to a crisp.
In the end, the arson remained unsolved. The details of the case have largely faded away in the old files that Satou-san and Furuya Rei had to dig up. Having lost the address where the notorious blaze began, they were now here. With a hand resting on his chin, Shinichi was looking intently at the ground, thinking deeply. Shiho knows not to disturb him right now. After all, disrupting his thought process would not only irritate him but also slow progress. There were some aspects he needed to figure out on his own. However, Sera Masumi and Hattori Heiji did not get the message.
Shiho's lips curled in amusement. The Osaka idiot and tomboy were bombarding the mostly annoyed detective with their theories.
"Isn't it odd that the fire spread without detection?" Sera speculated.
"Yes, and to add to it, there were no signs of gasoline or foul play amongst the other houses except for multiple witnesses claiming the fire started from…" Heiji continued.
"The house of red," Satou-san joins the conversation. In her hands, she held another stick of roasted squid, which she bought, weak against the elderly shopkeepers, unable to turn them down.
"Wasn't that house address erased from the written reports," Sera asked, and Satou-san nodded.
"Redacted," Satou-san discovered, with the help of Rei Furuya—a disturbing web of lies.
"An Akio Watanabe requested that it be removed since it is unimportant. Though the officers found it strange, nobody questioned him since he was the superintendent general of the Hiroshima Prefectural Police Department at the time."
"Why, though?" Heiji raised a brow at the inspector.
"Akio Watanabe," Satou-san replied, "was the husband of Asuka Takizaki, the sister of Satoru Takizaki."
It was an interesting coincidence. However, inquiring about Akio Watanabe's actions would be futile. Both Akio and Asuka had long since left this world. One from a heart attack and the other from cancer. Because of their wealth and influence, it was no surprise that the case was shelved, despite the severity and scale. No matter their motives, it was clear a one-eyed beast had directed them.
"Regardless," Shinichi emerges from his thinking session, "the fire started somewhere in this shopping district."
"No shit, Sherlock," they retorted as Shinichi eyed them with annoyance.
"I was not done," he snapped.
"Thank god, if that's what you concluded, we might have to find a new great detective," Heiji quipped.
"I hate to say this, but I would have to agree," Shiho smirked.
"So, what were you going to say?" Sera asked, chuckling at their shenanigans.
Shinichi glared at them before motioning to the buildings around.
"We are in an old neighborhood. Some witnesses from past fires may still be around."
"And we might find someone who knows something about the case," Heiji catches his train of thought.
"Yes," Shinichi nodded, "And, well…" he faced Shiho. She spots his hesitation.
"Shinichi?"
Shaking his head, he points to the shophouses behind him. "I'll tell you later," he said, "for now, let's focus on this."
He was about to grab her hand when Heiji cuts between them and wrings an arm loosely around Shinichi's neck.
"Let me go! Hey! Hattori!" Shinichi protested as the Osaka detective drags him away.
"Wait up!" Satou-san, confused, ran after the boys.
Shiho frowned at their antics and was about to follow them when Sera reached for her shoulder, stopping her. The tomboyish detective had no problem invading personal space. Sera and Heiji likely planned this.
"Sera-san," Shiho slaps the intrusive hand gripping her shoulder. "I can walk by myself."
"It's Masumi," the girl responded with a cheeky turtle tooth grin. "I can never understand the formalities. And anyway, it's time we talked alone."
"What's there to talk about?" Shiho wondered where this girl got her persistence from.
"Oh, you know, the usual," Sera led them toward the alleyways. It was quieter here, with a few modest restaurants by the sides. There was a faint scent of ramen wafting through the air.
"Searching aimlessly would do us no good," Sera quipped, "How about lunch?"
"Without the others?"
"Would you rather eat or spend the next hour looking for them?"
Shiho folded her arms and glanced at the quaint traditional shop next to her. As the aroma of fresh chives and soup emanated from within, she relented.
"Fine."
Upon entering, the rambunctious girl greeted the owner loudly and ordered two bowls of ramen before settling by the counter seats.
"So, Shiho-san," Sera talks with her mouth full, sending bits of noodles flying across. Shiho passed her a tissue wordlessly. Three years of eating with Genta and the professor no longer faze her.
"Tell me about yourself."
"Why?"
"Cause you are technically my cousin?" Sera frowned.
Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Shiho tightened her grip on her chopsticks. She couldn't lie. She had been a little apprehensive about Sera joining today. Despite her best efforts, Shiho was still unsure of how to act in front of the girl. As Shiho fiddled with the noodles in her bowl, she remembered their first interaction with Mary-sera.
During the trip back from Gunma to Beika, they came to rest at a hotel just off the road. With Mary's help needed, it was the only logical move. While ordering food from the hotel's diner, Sera and Akai reconcile their relationship. Leaving Shiho and Shinichi alone with the mysterious entity.
"My sister's curse, was it?"
The woman turned middle school girl had mentioned it. Observing the girl closely, Shiho studied her features. Ayumi had said Masumi Sera did look like her, and now upon careful inspection—she was beginning to see the resemblance.
"What do you want from us?" Mary asked. The woman was calm, even though the organization's threat loomed, even when she was hunted...even when she was seated next to the daughter of the woman who ruined her life.
"Why now?" Shiho mumbled. "Where were yo—"
Shinichi shook his head, stopping her before she could say more. A pair of olive green eyes peered into hers, and questions, guilt, and anger flooded through. It made Shiho sick. Her mind spun, making her nauseous, and she very much wanted to bolt.
"Mary-san," Shinichi started, "Our chances right now are not looking too great. A few kinks still need to be worked out, and I'm afraid there are members of black organizations that still pose a threat. We're hoping you have information about them."
"You expect me to hand it to you for free?"
"I was hoping you would," Shinichi grinned. The woman wagged her finger.
"That isn't how deals work, Kudou Shinichi," the woman picks up a teacup placed on the table. She sipped the drink before making a face. Her eyebrows twitched, and she placed the cup back on the mahogany table. "Step one in negotiations," she wipes her lips in dissatisfaction, "provide better food."
"And step two?"
"Mutual trust," she glanced at him, "You're not telling me everything, aren't you."
"As expected," Shinichi deliberated, "From…Tsutomu Akai's wife."
The woman froze with a subtle but noticeable tension. Observing the fury creeping into the woman's visage, Shiho recognizes it momentarily. An intense hatred. It mellows out into apathy when Mary-san collects herself.
And a wry smirk emerges.
"Fifty, fifty, I say," she chirps, "Or as the Americans like to say—you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours."
"Deal," Shinichi produced a document from his pocket. It was handwritten and not placed in the database. And the only one in the world. Written with Shinichi's messy handwriting, Mary regards it.
"It's getting late. We can talk about this tomorrow," Shinichi continued as he placed the detective badge on the table. "We'll correspond with this from now on."
Mary picked it up and inspected it, chuckling dryly. "So this is the miracle device that brought Soma Karasuma to his grave?"
"In the flesh."
Later, after they had finished their food, Mary approached them as they were about to leave. Her hands cupped around Shiho's cheeks.
Shiho stood motionless, stunned by the woman's sudden abruptness.
"Elena was always a go-getter, the wild card in our family," she muttered softly. "Your father charmed her, and the next thing you know, they were married and on their way to Japan. They were both…idiots."
"Mary-san?" Shinichi steps in between them, forcing Mary to release her.
"I warned them about the organization, but like everything else, your mother would not listen."
She sighed. "Stubborn to the very end. Our family's toxic trait. She was always naive, a hopeless romantic, but she was still…my sister."
As a genuine smile arose, Shiho couldn't turn away. Not when the woman approached her again, "Shiho, I am glad," Mary embraced her.
"You have…your mother's eyes."
For weeks after, Shiho contemplated Mary's words. What should she say? What should she do? She hardly knew them. They were still strangers at this point.
And so she avoids the subject, letting it fester.
Sera had called numerous times after that, coming over to hang out with Shinichi and the professor, and at the same time, made multiple attempts to communicate with Shiho. But by no fault of her own, Shiho had ignored the tomboy detective's advances and buried herself in the basement. Mary-san, though, was more subtle. The woman frequently asked about Shiho as she corresponded with Shinichi. The conversations usually derail back to the operations. Plans were formed, and they had been busy. Shiho, not having the time herself—works on the antidote.
Then came the meeting with Rei Furuya. And Shiho made a conscious decision to communicate after that. Though, with how busy she got, Shiho found that she hadn't had the chance to speak to Masumi Sera or her mother.
Masumi Sera's participation in this particular outing to Hiroshima was no coincidence. When they found out about their little trip, the tomboy detective and her mother were adamant that she joined them.
Following their run-in with Vodka, the girl and Mary had rushed to the professor's house. Drenched by the storm, the shrunken woman uncharacteristically held Shiho by the shoulder. Olive green pools pierced hers, her stern demeanor etched with trepidation. "Are you ok?" Masumi Sera had exclaimed. It was evident that they cared. Shiho finds herself unable to react or speak. Losing her courage again to speak to her supposed family.
"Hey, earth to Shiho-chan," Sera nudges her out of her thoughts. "Where were you?"
Shiho glanced at the girl before her. Effortlessly, Sera shoveled ramen noodles into her mouth, slurping loudly. The soup splashes against her cheeks. More than the food itself, Shiho is more fascinated by the girl's ability to eat through her nose.
"Are you sure we're related?" Shiho quipped, and Sera eyed her with a pout.
"Aren't we, or do you have a problem with that? I've been trying to talk to you privately, but you've been shying away. Don't think I haven't noticed!"
Shiho flinched at her statements before looking intently at her bowl.
"And what do you want to know?" Shiho started.
"I want you to tell me more about yourself," Sera replied.
Shiho hesitated.
"Come on. Even seven-year-olds can easily introduce themselves. How hard can it be?"
Eyebrows twitching, Shiho regards her. "And how would you do it?"
"First, I'll start with the usual. You know...like my past, likes, dislikes, hobbies…" Sera grumbled, "And mom calls you a genius?"
Annoyed, Shiho stabbed at her ramen.
"What can I say?" she smirked ironically, reverting back to her bad habits. "A mad scientist who enjoys dabbling in the creation of a deadly drug, an ex-organization member who studied in America, if that's what you want."
The girl paused with noodles hanging mid-way. The situation was comical, and Shiho could not hide the slight tug of amusement on her lips.
"Although that interests me greatly," Sera points her chopsticks rudely at Shiho, "that's not the way to introduce oneself."
"Ara, I was simply following your instructions."
"Yes, but I was hoping for something more like, what is your favorite color? Or maybe your favorite book or activity."
"Now, that is surprising," Shiho remarked.
"How so?"
"I hadn't expected something so…feminine from you."
"Just so you know, I'm a girl too."
"Hmm…"
Sera narrowed her gaze.
"Would you like it if I introduced myself as Sera Masumi, private detective, orphaned by the organization, and daughter of a mother poisoned by your creation?" Sera eyes her with a crooked smile. Both girls understood the significance of her statement. Having lost her patience previously, Shiho understood that she had treated the girl unfairly.
"I'll admit," Shiho struggled to apologize. "That was…uncalled for."
"See, kills the mood, am I right," the girl mumbled before rubbing her head awkwardly. Her gaze softens.
"You probably think I hate you or something like that. I don't," Sera shrugged, "Oh, but I'm still a little angry. I'll confess that I wanted to hit you when I found out." Shiho grips her chopsticks even tighter as the girl continues. "But Mom's not mad at you, and she said the situation ain't that black and white, besides..."
"Finding out that I have cousins really makes my day."
She grins widely. "Shiho-chan, I really want this to work, so could we try again? Pretty please, promise I won't do anything weird."
Speechless once more, Shiho considered before sighing.
"Do what you like."
After leaving, they strolled through the streets again. Shiho was exhausted from the girl's constant pestering. Sera talked about her likes and dislikes, what she did in America, her favorite foods, and pastime activities. Grabbing Shiho's arm, the girl gradually moved closer as Shiho wrinkled her nose in displeasure. Sera reminded her of an exuberant puppy and was dragged along by the girl, who pointed out the many shophouses in the neighborhood. Despite the apprehension from an hour ago, Sera's cheerful, almost carefree demur helped take the edge off the tension, and Shiho finds herself relaxing in her presence.
They entered another alleyway, one that was much quieter. There was a row of terrace apartments here. Some are two stories high, while others are one-room abodes between run-down four-story apartments built years ago. The busy streets of Hiroshima's Shotengai lay ahead. "I see why the fires spread so fast," Sera noted as she looked around the compact nooks between the buildings. There were crumbling trash bins, with some high stacks of newspapers and cardboard strewn around it. It looked like it hadn't been cleared for a long time.
"I guess the city is trying to save cost," Shiho shrugged as Sera snorted. As they strolled down, Sera asked a few more locals about the fires without success.
"I hope Kudou-kun is luckier than us," Sera said after sitting, rather unladylike, against a concrete stairway in one of the apartment buildings. She gratefully accepted the coffee Shiho had gotten from one of the vending machines in the area. "It has been two hours, and no one has any substantial information about the fire."
"It's been seventeen years," Shiho drowns out the girl's incessant whining, "Memories fade. We might not even receive the information we seek."
"You'd think a fire like that would be talked about for years," Sera continued.
"It was a horrendous event," Shiho gazed at the busy streets outside their alleyway. "Nobody would want to recall something of that nature."
"I don't know how you can be so patient," Sera sighed before looking at her intently.
"What?" Shiho backed away from her intense stare, feeling slightly uncomfortable.
"Mom used to tell me that the organization was faceless. Though it was led by Soma Karasuma, she always mentioned another," Sera muttered. "A shared madness."
"Your point?" Shiho studied the tomboy detective, who was turning the can in her hands, mulling over what they already knew.
"Cain. Abel. In the Bible, a verse describes the first murder of mankind, the abyss of sin. Blood spilled out of jealousy and pride."
Her light olive green eyes harden.
"It might only be a theory, but I feel that his objective lies somewhere between...family ties."
Sera's statement stuck. The pieces were starting to fall into place. Her parent's creations, a silver bullet, the drug's true purpose, the answer just lingering at the edge when—
"Who's there!" Sera stands with arms outstretched, shielding Shiho.
"Sera-san?"
Alarmed, she senses the encroaching figure. Standing just ahead was a middle-aged man. He wore a business suit which was in an absolute mess. From the crumpled dress suit to the wrinkled pants to the twisted necktie. Drool trickled down his lips as he glared at them.
"What do you want?" Sera demanded. He did not respond and stumbled forward, glassy-eyed in appearance.
There was foam coming out of his mouth, and he could not walk straight.
"Stay back!" Sera ordered.
Shiho gasped when she spotted distinct purplish lines running down the man's neck. He slumped for a moment before looking up. A tense quietness followed, and then—
Stumbling over his feet, he roared, rushing forward. Sera raised her hands, taking a stance Shiho had seen Ran use.
The girl slammed her fist into the back of the man's head before spinning around swiftly, holding him in place with a chokehold. He cried as he struggled to escape her grasp.
Recognizing the symptoms of a cursed drug, Shiho approached him.
"Wait," she said to Sera. It had been a mistake. The man, with uncanny strength, shoves Sera away. Seeing his opportunity, he launched himself at her. Sera shouted a warning as Shiho crashed painfully to the ground. The hat used to hide her hair falling off. They landed painfully on the concrete streets just outside the alleyway.
The pedestrians shrieked when the man pinned her to the ground. The drool leaking from his mouth spilled on her blouse. "Yo…you!" he roared. A flurry of activity ensued, with bystanders and the public backing away. Some screamed when the man shouted again.
"Shiho!" Sera shouted.
"F…F…" he was unable to form coherent words as he pressed down.
"Get off her!" Sera shouted. With practiced ease, the girl kicked the man. He cried out, rolling off, before scrambling to his feet. The crazed look in his eyes grew wilder. As he stood shakily amid the blaring advertisement boards, teeming shops, and cafes, he reached into his pockets and rushed toward her again.
There were shrieks, and Sera stood protectively in front of Shiho. The bystanders parted as the guttural cry of the man echoed throughout the chilly autumn air. Sera blocked his advances before twisting his hand using his momentum. Flipping him, she sends him somersaulting backward. With a loud thud, the man hits the ground. There was a moment of profound silence. All that could be heard was the blaring music from the advertisements that played on the giant LED screen above. As Sera helped Shiho up, cheers erupted from the crowd gathered. While ignoring the pats on the back and praises, the tomboy detective, with fury in her eyes, made her way to the man lying on the ground in agony.
"State your purpose!" she demanded. He crumbled, moaning in pain. Sera stepped on his chest, locking his arms in place with her knees. Flaying uselessly, he struggled for freedom. "What do you want!" Sera shouted again. His eyes got redder as the drool continued to roll down his chin. Shiho approaches the man, pushing his head to the side. She spots it—a needle indentation.
When she did so, he screamed incoherently. "For you! It's for you! Take it! Take it, or they'll kill me!"
Violently spasming, the man shoves a photograph into Shiho's hands.
His lips began foaming with white bubbles as Sera released him. He was going into shock, and Shiho sprang into action. She turned the man by his side so he wouldn't choke on his spit.
"Call the ambulance!"
"Wha—"
"Hurry!" she instructed. The crowd, which had gathered, had realized the change and backed away from them. Sera whips out her phone as Shiho inspects the man. At this point, he was convulsing, and she could do nothing but hold him in place.
"What's happening?" Sera demanded.
"He needs medical attention!" Shiho snapped, "It's APTX 4869. He's dying!"
His mouth foams over as he loses consciousness. As the veins in his neck deepened, they turned a dark purple color. His eyes bulged, transforming from white to a deep scarlet red. It was them. Again, her creation had been used. But why?
A murmur broke through the crowd as Shiho caught a glimpse of the photo the man had handed her.
Time seemed to stand still. Her fingers taunt against the flimsy picture. She crushes it before glaring at the crowd. She spotted him. There—standing amidst the flurry of people, she recognized him anywhere.
"Shiho-chan, I've called the ambulance. They'll be here soon…" Sera trailed off, noticing her pale complexion.
"Hey?"
When Sera catches sight of the photo in her hand, she snatches it from her grasp and turns it over to examine it, gasping at what she'd seen.
They were mocking her. It erupted, tearing through like the fires that killed her parents.
Damn the consequences—she'll end it herself.
"Shiho, where are you going? Wait!" Sera called out as Shiho took off, pushing past the crowd. The man moved forward in his usual black suit, sunglasses, and black hat.
While pushing through the throng, Shiho charged toward him. Moving fast, he merges into the sea of people, disappearing.
"Stop," she shouted, rushing through the streets, bumping into passersby without care. "Stop!" Her rage echoed through the chaos.
"Vodka!"
"Let me go, Hattori," Shinichi shoved away from the tanned detective.
"Why the long face, relax? We're in Hiroshima's busiest shopping district. It's not every day we get to travel like this," Heiji winked.
Shinichi scoffed. "We're here for a case, Hattori, and leaving the girls alone is dangerous."
"Relax, Kudou," Heiji drawled, "Sera-san knows Jeet-kune do. She fought Ran. If anything, she could kick both of our asses."
"Anyone can probably kick both your asses if they wanted to," Satou-san remarked behind them. Shinichi raises a brow at the bundle of roasted chestnuts she was carrying. "Satou-san, saying no isn't a bad thing," he quipped.
Taking a bite of the corn dog stick she had been forced to buy from an elderly store owner, she shrugged.
"Just look at their eyes," she gestures to a couple of older shopkeepers slinking towards her with a bundle of piping hot snacks. They were smiling, friendly, and sparkling with glee as they forced their goods forward.
"You're weak, Satou-san," Heiji mocked playfully. A few minutes later, the tanned detective was bombarded as well. Laughing nervously, he fought off pesky vendors pushing samples and freebies at him. Emerging from the thicket, Shinichi eyed the plastic bags and snack boxes in the Osaka detective's hands.
"You were saying?"
"I swear it was their eyes!" Heiji snapped.
Satou-san, wearing a recently purchased hat and pink sunglasses, nodded. "Told you so."
Shinichi sighed, putting his hands into his pocket and looking at the busy streets before him. Along with the shophouses, makeshift food stores were selling a variety of items. Some old, some new...and beside them are a few local department stores with LED screens blaring loud music. A series of small apartment blocks and houses were between the quieter alleyways. Undoubtedly, the bustling Shotengai was constructed to generate business from tourists visiting the Unesco site.
Their vibrant energy contrasts with a barren, flattened landscape that existed over sixty years ago, caused by fires that rained down from the sky, forming an infamous mushroom cloud, incinerating and evaporating everything in its path.
The tragedy replayed 17 years ago when a fire turned the vibrant shopping district into a scene of carnage. The incident should have been a major event, but when they asked around, no one seemed to remember it. However, if Shinichi looked closely enough, it would appear that rather than forgetting, the locals seemed almost afraid to discuss it.
"I see you've noticed too," Heiji murmured as an elderly pottery shop owner shooed them away.
"Yeah," Shinichi frowned.
"Notice what?" Satou asked.
"They're scared to talk about it," Heiji suspected, "like it's a curse or something."
"Hmm…" Satou muttered. "That could explain why the local policemen I interacted with were reluctant to share the case files with me." As she contemplated, the woman placed a hand on her chin—the plastic bags she carried rustled. With the hat, pink sunglasses, and a silly yellow scarf, she looked like a middle-aged tourist. It was hard to take her seriously.
"Satou-san, you might want to purchase a locker."
A disgruntled grunt escaped her lips as she placed her hands on her hips.
"Did the organization cover up the case?" Heiji asked later as they stuffed Satou-san's purchases into the bicycle lockers inside one of the department stores.
"I don't think," Shinichi states, "I know."
Heiji rolled his eyes at his confidence.
"Which is why I didn't want girls wandering alone by themselves."
"Hey, don't blame me. Sera-san wanted some alone time with the little nee-chan," Heiji protested.
"And if anything happens to her," Shinichi sneered. "I'll have ways to make you disappear."
"Kudou, that doesn't scare me. I have my ways too, and really...I hate to break it to you, but..." The Osaka detective places a hand over his shoulder, regarding him with mock pity. "No girl likes an overprotective boyfriend."
"I don't want to hear that from you," Shinichi snapped.
Heiji shakes his head. "Since when? I'm ok with Kazuha going out by herself."
"So you admit to Toyama-san being your girlfriend," Shinichi grinned, and the Osaka detective choked, doing a double take from the unconscious admission he'd made.
"This isn't about me! This is about you!" he retorts. "You're overprotective! Admit it!"
"How were you expecting me to react?" Shinichi folds his arm in annoyance, "Indifference?"
"Maybe be less overbearing," Satou suggests. "If Takagi stuck to me constantly, I might throw him out the window."
"There," Heiji agrees with the woman, "What did they say...a female's intuition is always right? Kudou, admit it, you're—"
"Just an adorable young man who would do anything to protect those he cares about," Satou grins as the teenagers gawk. "Now, enough of this. Can we get some work done?" she asked, effectively ending their childish quarrel.
They found themselves in a quieter part of the Shotengai a few minutes later. The buildings were considerably older. Here, shophouses are made of brown cedar wood. A little rotted, but not falling apart. Roofs are covered in slanted blue tiles, and circular windows are constructed with bamboo. The concrete floor transforms into an elaborate stonework walkway among the busy shops. Old European lamp posts were present. Autumn winds blew vigorously through the lamp post as dark magenta banners flapped.
His stomach grumbled as he sighed loudly. It was late noon, and there were still no actual leads.
Satou-san and Heiji were trying to no avail to solicit information from a man who was sweeping outside a sweet potato store.
"Overprotective, huh," he murmured, recalling the message his father had sent him this morning about a discovery of a diary containing secrets from Atsushi Miyano himself. Having yet to tell Shiho, he grimaced at the thought of her finding out.
"Shinichi," Yusaku had said as father and son stood over the bodies of a family murdered eight years ago. As Shinichi remembered, the incident had been one of the many he had encountered on what was supposed to be a relaxing beach holiday for the Kudou family. It ended, like always, with three bodies. The perpetrator was a jealous woman so heartbroken and deeply hurt by her cheating husband she decided to poison him and her two children with cyanide. It occurred very quickly. She tried to feign innocence. Her family had been killed, and she cried profusely, but in the end, the woman was unable to keep her mask. Laughing cruelly when they found out, she justified her actions—screamed that they deserved it, without remorse.
Shinichi, then just twelve years old, fixed his gaze on the bodies of the two boys, aged seven and nine. They were roughly his age, too young, too innocent, and gone too soon. "Why?" Shinichi was unable to comprehend her actions. "She loved them."
"The human mind is like an elastic band," Yusaku placed his hand on Shinichi's shoulder as he studied the scene. "Malleable in nature, it can adapt to anything, good or bad, as we navigate our daily lives, learning as we go," his father sighed regretfully. "But like anything organic, if it stretches too far, it would reach its breaking point. And there will come a point when it simply...snaps."
"It just takes one bad day," his father continued as they watched the police officer push the woman into a flashing police car. "To make a monster."
"This is why it is essential," Yusaku nudges him lightly, breaking through his sadness, "that we take care of this…"
Holding him close, his father pressed a finger to his chest, gesturing to his heart as the sirens blared around them. His touch soothed the ache he felt each time he thought about the deceased children. "If it becomes too difficult, remember this, Shinichi, you have us. You will always have us. Regardless of the circumstances."
It was a lesson on human fragility, one that Shinichi never forgot.
"Hey, Kudou, we might have a lead," Heiji interrupts, gesturing to a narrow lane ahead. With another sigh, Shinichi follows.
Eventually, they made their way purposely to a quaint cafe on the edge of the district. A traditional European, Japanese-style tea house reminiscent of the architecture of the Meiji Era.
"The catastrophe you mean," an old woman confirmed as she served them.
Shinichi, Heiji, and Satou-san settled at the seats near the counters of her cafe. Even though the oak wood tables were scratched, they were repaired and repainted after being painstakingly lacquered. While faded, the leather seats on the couch were covered in a white woven cloth. In another corner, beneath a green glass lamp, was a phonograph. Through faded phage curtains, its brass trumpet-shaped horn reflects the rays of the evening sun. On it, a record played soft music—an old blues song.
The strumming of the guitar, and raspy man's voice, create a haunting melody. It was playing on repeat. The lyrics add to its eeriness.
When you knock on my door…
"The great inferno," Masako Fumie, a witness to the fire and owner of the cafe that had been operating for 78 years, elaborated. The cafe was apparently built by her grandfather. Masako had been talking fondly about the legacy of her family's tea house when Satou-san interrupted with questions concerning the case. Several years ago, Masako had been interviewed by police about the incident, and they were now here by no coincidence. It took a while for the woman to answer, only doing so when Satou-san produced her police badge. She was obviously reluctant but had no choice in the matter.
"The great inferno?" Heiji questioned as the woman set a kettle down on the stove.
"Yes, it has been seventeen years. The locals don't like to talk about it."
"May I ask why, though?" Satou-san sipped from the teacup as they snacked on the muffins provided.
Masako hesitated before continuing. "While it may seem superstitious, the locals believed that a ghost caused the fire."
And I said, "Hello, Satan...
"A ghost?" Shinichi muttered. "If we're not mistaken, it started from a red house. My apologies, Masako-san, but I'm having trouble understanding what you're saying."
"We don't talk about the red house," a tremor ran through Masako's body. "It was owned by the Nakano family," her voice barely audible over the dreaded music.
I believe it's time to go…"
"The Nakano family," Shinichi recalls Akai-san's notes about the families who participated in an auction at the sunset manor. "What about the Nakano family?" he asked tentatively.
"They are a cursed bunch. Merchants from northern lands. A rumor circulated about how they acquired their wealth...and the gossip spoke of human sacrifices, demon worshiping, and practices in the occult. Although the rumors were unproven, we avoided them," Masako takes in a sharp breath, "It was not difficult. They kept to themselves, only appearing at large functions. After the war, they were seldom seen; their heir carried on the business."
"Heir? Business?"
"You're unaware?" Masako quipped.
Me and the devil
"The Nakanos played a significant role in the revival of this Shotengai. Several contracts were made with the people of the area, and they contributed to rebuilding the shopping district. All seemed well for a while, the Shotengai thrived, and businesses blossomed, but then it happened."
"What?"
"Ten years after the war, disappearances of several locals happened. Back then, I was only twenty-three years old, and memories of the war were still fresh in people's minds. Maybe it was fear, but the gossip returned—sacrifices of humans, secret societies, and contracts with demons. In the middle of it all, there were the Nakanos. It has been reported that children often seen playing near Nakano's residences disappear. However, no one dared to question them. Even if they did, they were silenced. Due to the family's wealth, it was kept secret."
"Until the fire happened..." Shinichi muttered as he considered the situation.
"Yes," Masako started. "It began seventeen years ago in the middle of the night. This heat was tremendous, and..." she trailed off.
"I apologize. There are reasons why people are terrified," she continued a moment later, "The fire blazed through, killing many, and amid everything...we saw him."
"We?"
"Yes, the people who helped put it out. Standing and laughing at the flames was...a ghost."
"Fumie-san?"
Was walking side by side.
"I saw him walking away from the burning house, surrounded by thick black smog...smelling of gasoline."
"Why didn't you tell the police this?" Satou asked, "That could be the culprit."
"I tried," Masako said, "and many of the witnesses did as well. However, the authorities at that time claimed we were hallucinating. We couldn't believe it either. It was simply not possible."
"What do you mean?"
The woman froze before looking away. The woman seemingly recounts something she did not want to relive.
"Take it as you will, boy," she snorted bitterly. "When we shared, we were mocked by the public and called liars."
Masako was not willing to continue. The trauma of it all made her tight-lipped. Shinichi could understand her dilemma, but she held important information that they needed. He could not back down now. Shinichi would need to tread carefully.
"I know that it's difficult," he looks at the woman.
"I've said too muc—"
"We have unidentified bodies that need to be identified," Heiji joins in, "Don't you agree that...it's only fair that the families of the victims receive closure?"
"Please, Fumie-san," Shinichi glances at the woman, who was studying them carefully.
Then, she wavers. Masako, letting out a deep sigh, "Perhaps I have grown too old to care about what others think."
Her gray eyes had lost their spark, and Shinichi felt a chill run down his spine. Secrets spilled as a kettle hissed on the stove. Heiji and Satou-san gasped. Shinichi regards the information solemnly.
Me and the devil.
"But that would mean…" Shinichi pondered. The woman nodded.
"A dark stain of our town," Masako motioned to the banners attached to the lamppost. Dark blue, flapping violently, a kanji displaying the number seven, surrounded by chrysanthemums. "The Nakano Family."
Was walking side-by-side.
"Kudou, this changes everything," the Osaka detective warned. Shinichi held the note Masako had written for them. Inked scribbles, a messy map drawn from memory. In the aftermath of the catastrophe, the neighborhood had been rebuilt, and the Nakano family had decided to sink into anonymity. Though their home is in plain sight, it was unknown to the general public, looking like most of the other apartments and mansions in the surrounding area.
"It does," Shinichi agreed. The inspector regarded the map with a stern expression.
"Kudou-kun, what exactly are we up against? Ai-chan had warned us about the dangers. But this—this is on a whole new level."
Shinichi gripped the paper tighter. It was true. They weren't dwelling in the realm of rationality. As Miyano Atsushi put it—it was madness. The memory of Rum killing Renya is still fresh in his memories. The man's demented expression was a telling reminder of what they were facing.
"One step at a time," he reassured the Osaka detective and the inspector. "First, we find this red hous—"
He was interrupted by a piercing ambulance siren.
Shiho!
When he was about to run toward the vehicle that had just passed by, someone bumped hard into him, causing him to drop the map. Shinichi stumbled back. Satou-san caught them, stabilizing them. He was met with the wild, unhinged expression of an auburn-haired scientist.
"Shiho?!" he exclaimed. She was belligerent, blind, and deaf to what was around her, her gaze fixed stubbornly on something. He tried to hold her captive, but her raw, unbridled anger was giving her strength that was overpowering him.
"Shiho, what happened?"
"Let me go!"
"What—"
"Let me go!" She struggled against him, not recognizing him, consumed by rage.
"I've got to...he..." Pounding against his chest, he trapped her in his arms, holding her in place as her hits grew weaker. "Shiho. Hey, calm down…hey."
"What happened?" he asked again. Still struggling, the girl was unable to form coherent sentences. He would not receive answers from her—not like this.
"Where's Sera-san?" Heiji demanded.
"Who were you chasing, Ai-chan?" Satou-san asked. With eyes closed tightly, Shiho yielded, breathing heavily as she leaned against him.
"Vodka," she forced out. Shinichi froze. He was right…he never wanted to be. Curse his abilities. Sharing a glance with Heiji, who understood his intentions, the Osaka detective and Satou-san made their way toward the ambulance, and the crowd formed rapidly in front.
Shinichi then pulled the scientist into a quiet alley near some vending machines. Shiho slumped her back against the wall, clearly exhausted. She was missing her hat. Her auburn hair was exposed for all to see.
"What happened," he asked again.
While she composed herself, the insurmountable rage she expressed earlier was suppressed underneath a stoic façade.
"Hey," Shinichi shook her gently, "Are you sure…it was him?"
"No, Shinichi," she quipped, panting slightly while he pestered her, "It was Ryusuke Higo from Big Osaka."
"Shiho..." He groaned as a bitter smirk formed on her face.
She peers into the sky above, leaning her head against the alley wall.
"It was Vodka," she confirmed.
"And you chased him! Do you know how dangerous that was!?"
"Why didn't you inform us?" Taking a step closer, Shinichi nagged at her like a mother hen to its chicks. "We were close by. What if something happened? What if they made their move now?"
In response, Shiho waved him away and settled on the ground. Recognizing her stubbornness, Shinichi sighed before kneeling before her.
The scientist tucked her legs against her chest, placing her chin against her kneecaps.
"Hey," he muttered, "Tell me what happened?"
She hesitated, then buried her face in her knees. "They used it, Shinichi," she murmured, her voice muffled, "they used my creation to kill...the man...his...".
Shinichi reached out and placed a hand over her shoulder.
"That man…he's probably going to…"
There was nothing he could say to improve the situation. Instead, he removes his black sweater, draping it over Shiho and helping her into it. Lifting the hood, he covers her hair before embracing her. Stroking her back, Shinichi whispered soothing words as she lay limp against him, letting him carry her weight.
When he finally he pulled away, he was met with a flushed scientist. A chuckle escaped his lips as she averts her gaze.
"You stink," she muttered, and he lightly flicked her forehead.
"I have you know that I washed at least twice yesterday."
"Ara, you did? I'm amazed."
"The word is…thank you," he grumbled, letting her go, about to leave when she grabbed him, holding on tight to his cuffs.
"That wasn't so hard, wasn't it," he admonished slightly. Shinichi reached out and wiped away the faint smudge of blood on Shiho's cheeks. She likely scratched it during the scuffle. It was so unlike her to react in such a way—to lose control.
"They did something, didn't they?" he deduced, and she nodded slowly.
"Shinichi," she whispered, "He killed my parents."
"I know."
She couldn't speak nor hide the hurt. As she fought to quell the fury threatening to boil over, her distress was difficult to witness.
"We'll take them down," he promised as she glanced at him. "Not now, however. We have a plan…remember."
"Right," she snorted, and the tension in her shoulders relaxes. Her voice takes on the logical tone she often used during their usual operations discussions.
"They know we're here," Shiho speculated while holding onto the lapel of Shinichi's shirt. "It's their usual game."
Shinichi tightens his hold on her.
"Rum," she muttered, "was baiting us."
"Well…" Shinichi muttered sheepishly.
"You predicted this," she remarked with a narrowed gaze.
"I didn't want to worry you," he chuckled nervously, "but yes, I suspected it."
"Hiding vital information from me again," she eyes him with furrowed brows.
"I wasn't hiding. It just wasn't confirmed."
"Like the bodies in the cargoes and the synchronized fires after Vodka's visit to the professor's house?" she revealed, and he paused.
"How did you know—"
"That's not important, Kudou," she cut him off. "Look, whatever you're trying to hide. I can handle it. I understand you are trying to spare me the news, but I need to know."
"I was just...trying to lessen the blows, Shiho," he tried, scratching his nose, feeling a little uneasy with the stern glance she was giving him.
This girl…he could never hide anything from her, couldn't he?
Observing the crowds move past; they sat silent for a moment. Onlookers and shopkeepers alike were busy watching the chaos as an ambulance blared. Shinichi wanted to break the news to her gently. He had no idea where to begin.
"Don't you get it? How many times must I repeat myself?" Shiho muttered, "We're partners, aren't we?"
Again, he remembers Yusaku's words. A younger Shinichi had not understood it at the time—his father's promise to him.
As a child, he was fortunate to have parents who cared and loved him deeply. He had always been supported—and comforted by his family. It was something that an auburn-haired scientist will never have.
Balancing on a tightrope. With no answers in sight, Shiho spiraled even further into the abyss. Almost every piece of information she receives is a constant blow to her mental health like a rubber band stretched too thin, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
Shinichi had thus wanted to protect her from—this.
But—
A wry smirk emerges. He was doing it again, wasn't he?
Keeping secrets. Going about it alone while trying to shield her from the truth.
In the end, it had done them no good.
"Please," she pleaded as she squeezed his hands. "I can handle it."
Relenting, he held her as the news spilled.
"My parents are in America…"
"He was a salaryman," Sera stated as they exited the police station located in the Shotengai. It was dark out; five hours had passed since the incident occurred. "Thirty-five-year-old Satoru Mikeda died on the way to the hospital."
Passing a busy department store, flashing neon LED screens played ads as the streets bustled with night shoppers and groups out for dinner. It was business as usual. Life went on as usual—the incident from before, long forgotten.
"What did the police say?" Heiji asked.
"Ask Satou-san when she returns," Sera replied. "They wouldn't reveal anything else, so Satou-san offered to speak with them."
Groaning, Heiji rubbed his neck in frustration. "Well, I hope she's having more luck. We have been walking for hours and still haven't found the house."
"You got the address?" Sera asked.
"It completely slipped my mind, to be honest," Shinichi admitted.
"You didn't forget about it. You simply lost the map Fumie-san drew for us," Heiji reminded as Shinichi scowled.
"A map?" Sera asked.
"Yes, if we still had it," Heiji quipped
"Look," Shinichi snapped, "It's not that important. We'll find our way eventually."
"Well, you'll have to explain it to Shiho-chan and me later. For now, let's get something to eat; maybe Satou-san will have something substantial to add later," Sera cuts in.
"You just ate two bowls of Ramen five hours ago," Shiho chided the tomboy detective.
"And?"
In disdain, the auburn-haired scientist shook her head as Shinichi chuckled softly. While Shiho appeared fine, rebuking both Sera-san and Heiji sharply, Shinichi saw right through her act. The death of the man, killed by her creation, and the news of what his parents had found in America were eating at her. It would take her time to process it. There wasn't much he could do—so he tightened his hold on her hand instead, hoping that he could, at the very least, provide some level of support.
They settled at a street food joint and were ushered into a small table for four. Heiji drags a put-upon Shiho toward the counter, citing an excuse about ordering food and needing a pretty lady for discounts. As Shinichi protested against the duo splitting them up again, Sera held him back.
"This ruse again…what are you and Heiji planning," he sighed.
"Kudou, I've got to show you something," she was unnaturally serious. The girl detective reached into her pockets. Resting her palms on a photo, she smacked it on the table. Spotting it, he grew silent, looking at Sera in wide-eyed horror.
"Did Shiho see this?"
"Yes," Sera confirmed. "It was from the dying man. He was probably plucked from the streets and made their delivery boy."
"These sick bastards," he seethes, barely keeping his voice down. "She's in danger, Kudou-kun," Taking the picture, Sera exhaled slowly. "You all are. They know—"
"Where and what we are," Shinichi interjects.
"Yes," Sera studies the photo again, wincing slightly at the scene. "My mother. You. Shiho. To him, you guys are experimental successes."
"It doesn't matter," his scorn for the organization deepening. "They will never test the drug again, not if I have a say in it."
"A say in what?" Satou-san interrupts with a canvas file stained with age.
"You got it?" Shinichi points to it, mildly surprised. Satou-san gave a thumbs-up with a giant grin.
"It took me a while. A few threats were made, but..."
The file is placed on the table, and she opens it. Located in the old section of the Shotengai is an unassuming two-story terrace. It was just a few blocks from Masako's cafe. Stunning gothic brass windows adorn the walls, and a tiled canopy covers the roof.
"The red house," Sera whispered.
Shinichi nodded.
"An origin point."
Reference used:
(Words in bold)
Me and the Devil Blues
I would provide a timeline for the events soon XD. I understand it's quite complicated. I even got confused by it myself. I have Post-it notes stuck around my table and had to spend an entire afternoon sorting through them. I was playing detective with myself. It's actually quite funny. Anyway, I hope this clears up some parts of the mystery :) and if you guys have any theories, I would love to hear them. Again, I would like to thank you guys for the reviews and feedback. Have a nice week ahead.
P.S. There are reasons as to why the organization has not attacked yet. I won't elaborate, but the only clue I'll give now is...Rum wants—