— Chapter 10: Saturday, January 10th, Morning —
Makoto awoke to the sound of her alarm, groggy from a fitful night of rest. After hanging up the phone with Ren last night, she'd gone immediately to bed, but unpleasant images and reminders of things she'd have to follow up on kept popping into her thoughts, keeping her awake. Images of the mystery woman and Kento's headless corpse danced on a loop inside her brain, while other to-do list items skirted in periodically to join the waltz. As she dragged herself through her morning routines, she tried to recall all those things well enough to set an agenda for her work day.
I need to talk to Kimi Okada, she thought. If there's any chance she knows the mystery woman's identity, that would be a huge break in both cases. I also need to double-check those forensic photos—see if I'm misremembering about the blood… I should make a list of questions to ask the medical examiner… Talk to Emiko first? I should text her from the subway… Ugh, do I need to avoid Sato today? I'll decide what to do with Saki Kobayashi after I've dug a little more…
After a modest breakfast of toast and coffee, Makoto was out the door and headed to the station. She texted Emiko: Hey Emi—is there any way for you to see if Tae was the ME on a particular autopsy? She didn't hear back before she'd gotten off the train, but that was still at least one item checked off of her mental agenda for a while.
Back at her cubicle, she fired up her computer and checked her voicemail—no new messages, and most of her email was inconsequential. The email that most required her attention was one directing her to prepare her cubicle for the custodial crew to move her things to her new desk next to Sato. She was excited at the thought of getting to do more real detective work, but also realized that this would be her last day to meddle in Sato's old case without him literally being there watching over her shoulder. She needed to get as much done on that today as she could.
Pulling up the Kento Abe case file on her computer, she reopened the forensic photography files. Her stomach twisted as she saw them—they were only slightly less horrifying on a second viewing than they had been on the first. Swallowing hard, she navigated to the bird's eye view of Kento's decapitated body. Focusing on the blood that had pooled at the base of the neck, she tried to gauge whether the quantity was consistent with what she thought she knew about decapitation. Is that what two liters looks like…? Her brow furrowed, Makoto stared intently at the photographs for several minutes.
With a sigh, Makoto eventually slumped in her desk chair. Back at the Academy, she had passed her Forensic Photography final with flying colors—she knew what she would expect to see in the case of decapitation. The full pressure of the heart pushing behind it, the first blood out of the body would come out at velocity. After a couple strong spurts, the blood would flow out in pulses, but without the force needed to propel it any real distance. There should have been splashes, plus an uneven pool of blood, wider towards the neck where it pooled, and tapering off as you got further away, as the only blood able to make it that far would've been that which had spurted out initially. On a flat surface, the requisite amount of blood—two liters—coming out according to those expectations, would appear as a predictably teardrop-shaped blob.
The trouble was, this blood pattern just didn't go according to the textbook. The subway ties created channels for the blood to pool in, so it was just as wide toward the neck as it was further out. Did the pool extend far enough out to account for a spurt? The fact of the narrow pool, bounded by the shape of the subway rails, made it too difficult for her to tell, and she could not gauge, from the photos alone, what the overall blood volume could be estimated at—to say nothing of what would have been on the train itself. To her relatively untrained eyes, there wasn't anything here that couldn't be explained by what the medical examiner had written in their report.
And what's wrong with that? she wondered. The idea was to confirm that this was a suicide, just as it had been ruled, and to bring that conclusion back to Kento's mother, right? Why do you want this to be any more complicated than that?
Makoto leaned back, closed her eyes. Why was this gnawing at her so much?
The woman.…
The fact of that woman's appearance in both cases was just too great a coincidence for Makoto to reconcile—her instinct was telling her that there must be a connection. And if there was a connection, then this was no longer a straightforward suicide.
Makoto's phone chimed. Anxiously, Makoto unlocked her phone and tapped the notification—Emiko had responded.
Ummm, why do you want to know what bodies Tae is cutting into?
Makoto gave a wry smile. I was just hoping I might be able to ask her about her conclusions, she responded.
Ok, well, I can ask her, I guess
How will she know which autopsy you're asking about?
It was a suicide at the Nakano subway station
From a little over a week ago
Hopefully that's enough context to jog her memory…
I would think so
I'll ask when i see her later
I'm walking to the subway now
Makoto responded with a succinct 'thank you' and looked back at her computer screen. Weighing her options, she let out another defeated sigh, deciding that the best use of her time right now was to clean out her desk. She needed to wait for NCIC to get Kimi Okada's contact information back to her before she could interview her, and she was waiting to hear back from Emiko or Tae about the medical examiner's report.
She stepped out of her cubicle to go look for a box for her desk stuff, all the while her mind running through hypothetical conversations with Sato, trying to conjure an elegant dodge for what she was up to in case she bumped into him and he asked how her case was going.
— — —
When Emiko arrived at the University of Tokyo hospital, she headed straight for Dr. Takemi's office, primed and ready for another day as an intern. However, when she arrived, instead of finding Dr. Takemi at her desk, clinical notes in hand, she was instead met with a closed door and a post-it note directing her to check in with the office manager. Puzzled, she plucked the note off the door and headed to where she'd been directed.
The office manager was a chipper man in his early-to-mid forties who went by the nickname "Nat", which Emiko assumed had was short for Natsuki or something like that. She always imagined office managers to be very organized and systematic about how they did things, which painted a certain stereotype in her mind that Nat definitely did not fit. Instead of the muted, sterile professional she pictured, he was a quirky dork who wore a purple crystal on a leather cord around his neck, and whose desk was decorated with watercolor paintings of dragons. Much like Tae, Nat was someone who defied your expectations of what hospital staff were "supposed" to be like—but unlike Tae, Nat didn't come across as particularly "hip".
He had no shortage of smiles though. As Emiko approached his desk, Nat met her with a warm greeting and an open face. "Good morning, Miss Tanaka! I see you got Doc's note!"
"Yes, I did. Good morning, sir. How are you this morning?"
"Mars is roaring away through Capricorn and I'm feeling fine! Thank you for asking!" he replied, looking down at his desk for something. "Doctor Takemi wanted me to let you know she wouldn't be coming in today. She left her keys here for you so you can use her office, but she's arranged for you to shadow Doctor Nagatomi today, instead."
"Oh, that's too bad," said Emiko. "I had a question for her… I guess I'll just have to text her instead."
"I'm sure Doctor Nagatomi can answer whatever questions you might have—he's worked here since the dark ages," Nat said, and held up a lanyard with a set of keys dangling from the end. "And here are her keys."
Emiko accepted the keys, smiling amusedly at the skull-and-crossbones theme of the lanyard, which she felt a bit weird about wearing around the hospital. Tae could pull off wearing symbols of death in a place dedicated to healing the sick, but Emiko felt more than a little awkward.
"Thank you," she said, hanging the lanyard around her neck with a crooked smile.
"You're very welcome!" said Nat, enthusiastically. "You'll find Doctor Nagatomi's office down that hall, but if he's not in there, he's probably in the lounge. He likes to eat his breakfast here—that way he can watch the news without paying for cable himself."
"Okay, uh, thank you, I should be able to find him." She jangled the keys that hung from her neck, adding, "I'll bring these back at the end of my shift. Have a nice day."
"You as well, Miss Tanaka! I hear you're doing great! You're a natural!"
Emiko smiled and bowed shallowly, departing. She'd heard him say "you're a natural" to other people before—it was almost a thing with him. It struck her as an odd way to end a conversation, and she didn't really understand what he meant by it, but he said it sincerely, and with kindness, so she took it in stride.
She would have to text Tae about Makoto's inquiry. Hopefully, Makoto wasn't sitting around, anxiously counting on a response in the immediate future, because she probably wasn't going to get it.
— — —
It felt like Naomi hadn't had a day off in ages. As a rookie beat cop, her work schedule was pretty erratic, subject to change as the department shifted people around in response to different needs. She had her turf she was responsible for, but the days and times that she had to patrol it were nearly impossible to predict. As a consequence, she tended to spend a lot of her time off just lazing around the house. On her own, she'd play video games, watch YouTube, or try out new recipes—she was a pretty good cook, and Jiro was an ever-willing guinea pig for her latest creations. If he wasn't busy with school, they liked to snuggle together on the couch, sometimes playing something two-player, other times just lying there feeling one another's warmth. Sometimes the cat would join in, hoping to get someone to scratch her behind the ears. Naomi loved at-home time with Jiro.
Given the unpredictability of her schedule, it was a good thing that Naomi found so much pleasure in these simple activities, but when she had a chunk of time when their schedules aligned and they could plan something more involved, sparring with Jiro was a top-three activity—sharing the list with going to the movies and hiking in the mountains. Perhaps it was his latent inclination for cosplay that was to blame, but Jiro was always willing to pick up his bo staff and take down some imagined enemies using his esoteric prowess. Naomi's geekiness was less obvious than Jiro's, but it was there—any other boyfriend would make her self-conscious over her secret desire to LARP as a character from Soul Calibur. Once, they'd taken their weapons with them on a hike, and when no one else was around, they dueled one another on the mountain trail, acting for all the world like characters in a video game, and it had been one of the most epic days of Naomi's life.
Making it all the way to the mountains wasn't going to happen any time soon, but thankfully, Jiro could still get them both into the Academy's athletics complex, which is where they found themselves today.
"I've been looking forward to this all week, Ji-Ji," said Naomi, reaching into her gym bag and producing her tonfa.
Jiro gave an amused smile, casually warming up by spinning his bo staff in slow circles in front of him. "I know you have, sweetie. I've been missing it too."
"You were just here yesterday!"
"Yeah, but it's just not the same with anyone else."
"Flatterer," Naomi smirked. "God… I haven't used my tonfa since winter break—and before that it was weeks since I used them!"
"It'll be even worse after I graduate. This is like the only place in the world where two people can all-out attack each other with medieval weapons without it being weird, or somehow a crime. Can you imagine doing this in the park?" he laughed.
"Oh my god, that would be so funny." Naomi had a faraway look in her eyes while she imagined the two of them casually sparring at full-intensity in the park, while all around them, people walked their dogs and fed bread to the pigeons like there was nothing at all out of the ordinary about what was happening—of course people would never react that way. "I bet we'd weird people out though…"
"Exactly. We'd better get our yuks in while we can. It'll be a while before we can afford a place with a big enough backyard."
Naomi turned away from him a bit so he couldn't see her blush. She loved those little comments he made sometimes, the ones that implied he was planning a future for the two of them to share in. The way he fretted over what her parents thought of him, that sort of thing.
They finished their stretches, and as her mind flitted from happy thought to happy thought, she couldn't help thinking about those who weren't as lucky.
"Hey, speaking of… stuff…" she began, not really sure it was obvious how what they'd been talking about connected to where she was going, "how's Chihiro?" she asked, crouching into a fighting position.
Jiro winced. "Not good," he said, sending a few warm-up swipes her way for her to block. "She's got some major shit going on with that dude she was with. We had to bail on practicing when she got too weepy to keep going."
"Awww," frowned Naomi. "That's so sad. Chihiro is such a kind soul. It hurts me to think of her crying over some boy." She moved fluidly as she spoke, comfortably blocking Jiro's swings at her as they warmed up together.
"Yeah, and I was not the person she needed to be talking to. I might have implied she had a bright future as a cat lady…"
Naomi laughed hard enough she had to lower her tonfa for a moment, while Jiro looked sheepish.
"I wish I knew how to help her, but I've never been in a relationship with a liar, so I can't really give her any advice on what she's going through," said Jiro.
"Gosh—if only I were more of a cad you could have given her better dating advice." Naomi sent a few casual swings of her tonfa his way for him to have to block.
"I know, right?" Jiro laughed, before lowering his staff. "I guess on the measure of things, even if it makes me less of a Dear Abby, I'm still probably better off with a girl who gets an A-plus for honesty."
"Aww… Thank you, Ji-Ji. It's easy to be honest with you because I know you won't judge me or think I'm dumb or whatever."
"You're definitely not dumb, honey. It makes me feel good about myself that I can see that. Other people are dumb."
Naomi just smiled in response, a warm feeling in her belly. All her life, people had treated Naomi like she was an idiot, and by the time she'd met Jiro, she had started to accept that she was as dumb as people seemed to think. She still didn't actually know why Jiro thought she wasn't dumb, but it made her feel good that he saw her that way, nonetheless. "So what did Chihiro's guy lie to her about?" she asked, her concern for their mutual acquaintance not yet satisfied.
"Oh, I'm not sure exactly," he said listlessly, ever so slightly turning up the intensity of the blows they were exchanging. "She said he promised her they'd be together, and I guess he didn't mean it. I felt really weird talking about all that with her, so I didn't really ask a lot of questions."
"Hmmm," said Naomi, frowning. "I know that kind of stuff ooks you out, but I think she was reaching out to you. You probably should've shown more interest…"
"Reaching out to me?" he said, moderately aghast. "Why would she wanna do that? I'm, like, the least knowledgeable person there is about that sort of shit. My love life has been one-hundred percent you, so it's not like I'm a fount of problem-solving advice over here."
Naomi shrugged almost imperceptibly, her arms too caught up in a two-tonfa blocking maneuver. "I dunno, maybe she just doesn't have many other people she can talk to. Maybe she doesn't need advice, just a shoulder to cry on. Are you planning to practice with her again?"
"I don't think so," he said, moving into a defensive stance as they traded roles. "She said she didn't think there was a lot more she could teach me, and encouraged me to find some Blades douches to practice with, but like hell I'm gonna do that."
"Doesn't Daisuke use a knife? Couldn't he help you?"
"Meh," said Jiro, with a shrug of his own. "He's one of Ren's students. I seriously doubt he's got what it takes to help me beat his teacher. Besides, the fire of vengeance has gone out of my belly—I'm not so pissed at Ren anymore that I need to whup his ass before seeing him off."
"Mmmm," hummed Naomi, thinking. "I'm glad you're not mad at him anymore." Her mind drifted back to life after graduation. Her life wasn't necessarily going to change all that much after Jiro graduated, but he would be looking for work. They'd probably move to a different place—no reason to stay in the Academy district if neither of them were actually students there. They didn't even need to stay in Utsunomiya, really. She'd taken a job here because this is where Jiro was—her family lived out in the countryside. Their future was wide open.
A minute of quiet sparring elapsed—just the clatter of wood on wood—before Naomi finally spoke again. "I think you should try to talk to Chihiro some more. Maybe we should have her over for dinner or something, just so she knows she's not alone."
Jiro blew out his lips. "You're the boss," he said, stepping away from her to do some acrobatics with his staff while his mind moved. "Just be advised that I'll be relying on you to do most of the heavy lifting, talking-wise. Unless it turns out that her relationship problems can be solved by strategies for speedrunning Crash Bandicoot, this is not my area of expertise."
Naomi just smiled, watching him spin while she looked for an opening. "No problem, Ji-Ji-kun. I've got you."
— — —
Makoto had finished cleaning out her desk and packing her things, and had gotten around to brainstorming questions for the medical examiner when she finally saw the email notification she'd been waiting for: NCIC had responded with her information request on Kimi Okada, Kento Abe's girlfriend. "Ah, finally," said Makoto, clicking 'print' on the attachment. As the paper processed, she gathered up her things she planned to take with her, and double-checked that the boxes she'd packed were properly labeled for the maintenance staff, in case this was the last she saw of them before Monday. With all her ducks in a row, she headed to the printer, and then to the main doors.
And I never even bumped into Sato this morning, she realized gratefully, reaching for the crash bar on one of the main doors to the building. On the other side of the doors was a small group of male detectives presumably on their way back from lunch. They almost bumped into her as they approached the doors, too distracted by the loud conversation they were having and laughing about.
The detective nearest her grazed her arm, and turned to apologize. "Oh, excuse me, miss, I didn't see you there."
She was about to acknowledge his apology when another man from the group interjected, "Hey Sakai, isn't that your new partner?"
Makoto seized up, scanning the group until she spotted Sato among them. She gave a small wave, hoping that this wasn't going to turn into a longer conversation—she was afraid she would let it slip that she was on the way to investigate one of his cases.
"Oh, yeah, Niijima-san, hi!" said Sato, returning her greeting. "Are you heading to lunch?"
"Uh, yes," she lied. She didn't like being dishonest with her new partner. "I'm meeting someone," she added, which was at least an honest statement.
"We just ate, or I'd offer to join you," said Sato.
One of the other detectives elbowed him in the arm. "Oh, come on, Sakai, you should join her anyway—you've certainly got the appetite." Someone else added, "Given what's on the menu, who could blame him?" The other men grunted in amusement.
Sato squirmed under their leering gazes and unsubtle innuendo, and averted his eyes from Makoto. "No, really guys, I'm good. Besides, I need to get back to work."
Makoto was grateful that he seemed to want to break off the conversation as much as she did, though she hoped these sorts of comments would be short-lived around the office. After all, these men were likely to be in Makoto's bubble a lot more often starting next week, when they officially began working together. "Maybe next time," she said, moving to get past the cluster of testosterone-addled detectives before they could engage with her further. They let her pass, but not without making her incredibly self-conscious. She wished she'd worn pants to work that day, and not one of her work skirts—she could feel eyes on her legs and backside. She crossed her fingers that this amateurish fascination with her wouldn't persist beyond her first few days there. She wasn't sure how long her tolerance for this would last.
The men made their way past her and into the building, and Makoto stepped hurriedly in the direction of the subway station. A short while later, she was in Yongen-Jaya, Kimi Okada's territory. Her mind drifting briefly back to her lie about going to lunch, she flirted with the idea of stopping at Leblanc after her interview. But first things first: Kimi Okada, and whatever information she could get to add to the growing narrative around Kento Abe, and perhaps even Kosuke Kobayashi.
Kimi lived in an apartment above a used clothing store, in an alley somewhat off the beaten path. It wasn't as seedy as where Oda Samegawa had taken up residence, but this wasn't somewhere Makoto's parents, had they been alive, would've wanted their daughter to live. Makoto wondered who Kimi Okada had looking out for her, if anyone.
The apartment was located at the end of a clean but outdated hallway, illuminated by fluorescent ceiling lights that, if they were working at all, buzzed and flickered with age. Approaching the door, Makoto straightened her outfit and cleared her throat. With an authoritative rap, she announced her presence. Inside, a dog barked. Makoto could hear it snuffling excitedly around the door.
The occupant of the apartment furtively shushed the dog and opened the door, but only as far as the door chain would allow. Through the narrow opening, a young woman peered out, assessing Makoto and her intentions.
"Hi. Who're you?" said the young woman.
Makoto swallowed and held up her identification for Ms. Okada to see. "I'm Detective Makoto Niijima with the Tokyo Police Department. Are you Kimi Okada?" Makoto could see that the woman looked like the same person as the photo she had been given: short hair, nosering, expensive eyeliner habit.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "What's this about?" The dog at her heels was trying to stick its head out to investigate Makoto, but the woman's foot was blocking its access.
Though the young woman did match Kimi Okada's appearance from the photograph, Makoto was loath to divulge too many details before ascertaining the woman's identity. "Do you know Kento Abe?"
The woman's face fell, and she was stunned silent for a moment. After a beat, she said, "Just a second," and closed the door, only to reopen it a moment later with the door chain disengaged and the smallish dog in her arms. "Come in," she said, opening the door wider.
Makoto stepped into the tiny apartment and surveyed her surroundings. Though the furnishings were cheap, the apartment was tidy and decorated with care. Music venue flyers and band posters were tacked carefully to the walls, Christmas lights and creeping vines were wrapped circuitously about the room, and throw rugs and blankets were used liberally to add color and no doubt conceal unattractive parts of the apartment. In the corner of the living room, on prominent display, stood electric, acoustic, and bass guitars, an amplifier, and a series of cables. No doubt, Makoto had found the right person.
"So you're Miss Okada?" said Makoto, confirming the woman's identity.
Kimi nodded, nervously petting the dog in her arms, a shiba inu by the look of him, who was still panting excitedly. "Yeah. What's this about Kento?"
"I was told that you were Kento's girlfriend. Is that correct?" asked Makoto.
Kimi looked away remorsefully. "Past tense, yeah… He just ditched me out of nowhere. I was worried you might be the landlord coming to bitch at me about having a dog in here—wasn't expecting the cops… So… What? Did Kento tell you I stole his dog, and you're here to collect?"
Makoto's brow furrowed in perplexity. "His dog? No, that's not… Miss Okada, Mister Abe is… He died about a week ago."
Kimi's eyes got big and the color drained from her face. Still holding the dog, she stumbled backward, trying to find the couch. She started to sit, and Makoto had to reach out and guide her descent onto the cushion so she didn't drop the dog or end up on the armrest.
"Holy fuck…" said Kimi, breathlessly, staring into space. "Holy fuck… He's dead?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Okada. I didn't realize you weren't already aware of that. I'm investigating the circumstances of his death." Artfully, Makoto kept her surprise off of her face, but her mind was reeling. She took a seat on the sofa next to Kimi.
"Holy shit," said Kimi, still processing what she was hearing. The little dog licked her face, excitedly wagging its tail. "He's fucking dead… What the fuck…" Kimi's eyes began to tear up.
"I'm sorry to be the one to break the news to you," said Makoto, regretting that she hadn't mentally prepared for this as a possibility. "Are you able to answer some questions for me?"
Kimi Okada hunched her shoulders and began sobbing, burying her face into the dog's fur. Makoto waited patiently while the young woman processed her grief.
A minute later, Kimi was able to catch her breath well enough to speak, but her words came in spurts as her breathing hitched from the agony she was feeling. "What… do you want to… know?" Kimi said, wiping her eyes carefully with her fingers, trying to avoid her eyeliner.
"Can you tell me when the last time was that you saw or spoke to him?" Makoto asked as gently as she could.
Kimi thought back, still shaking with tears. "There was a… big party for him… at the club where he does… did… sound. For his birthday… November twenty-eighth."
"And how did that go?" Makoto fished around in her bag for her notebook, preparing to record Kimi's statement.
"It was… fine. Great. We had a… terrific night. All his friends were there… I had made a… cake for him. We passed a… mic around so we could tell stories. He even told one… And at the end he said he… he…" Kimi started to lose what little composure she had regained, the tears seizing her with renewed vigor. Makoto watched sympathetically, patiently waiting for Kimi to continue.
"He said he… loved me," said Kimi finally, between sobs. She pulled the blanket from the arm of the sofa and used it to wipe her face, finally giving up any hope of sparing her makeup, and getting black marks all over the cloth. "Talked about how he… couldn't believe that he'd found someone like me so… early in his life… Said we were… soul mates…"
"And that was the last time you saw him?" asked Makoto, the surprise evident in her tone.
Kimi nodded. "I mean, I said goodbye to him the next morning, before leaving his place to head out to my day job, but my band had a show at a different venue the next night… So I didn't see him the rest of the day. The day after that, he fucking texted me that we were breaking up." Through her tears, the hurt and anguish of that fact was clear.
Makoto jotted this down. She tried to remain poker-faced, but breaking up over text is a dick move for anyone, and really shocking from someone who had professed to be your soul mate two days earlier. "He texted you a breakup message? Do you still have it?"
Kimi nodded, and pulled her phone from her back pocket, shifting the dog in her lap as she reached for it. Unlocking the phone, she opened her text app and had to scroll down a ways to find her thread with Kento. "I texted him a bunch for a while after that bullshit, but I haven't tried in like a month. I just figured he'd blocked me…"
Kimi swiped back through the conversation to get past all her pleas with him to come to his senses, but she eventually got to the breakup text. "Here," she said, handing Makoto her phone. Makoto read the message:
Hi Kimi, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I've found someone else. I know I said we were soul mates, but that was before I met her. She's beautiful, she's smart, she's everything I could've ever imagined in another person. So I'm leaving. Please don't try to contact me, I won't be around.
"Do you mind if I read your other texts with him?" she asked, preparing to scroll down. Kimi shook her head, so Makoto started by reading the replies Kimi had sent in response to Kento's farewell text.
Haha, not funny
? ? ?
Dude REPLY
Srsly wtf?
yr NOT seriously bailing on us, r u?
Is this because of yr fucking mom or something?
Did she set u up with this dream girl yr ditching me for?
Look, im sorry ur mom has given u so much shit for being with me but COME ON
PLEASE reply
Im coming over
Ok u fucking asshole
By 'wont be around' i didnt realize u meant u wouldnt be home ever
Yr landlord let me in to get lavie
I cant believe u just left her there
I have her now, so she wont goddam STARVE to death inside yr fucking apartment
Lavie trashed the place, yr landlord was pissed
I srsly dont get this
Are u there? ?
When yr ready to stop being a child u know where to find me and yr fucking dog
Makoto tapped on the messages to see the details of when they were sent. Except for the last two, they were all from November 30th, the same day that Kento had texted his breakup. The last two were from the following day, December 1st. After that, there were just a handful of texts from Kimi: some expressing sadness, some anger, some just letting him know that his dog missed him and wanted him home. Nothing at all since December 7th.
For good measure, Makoto swiped back to check the messages they'd exchanged prior to the breakup. From those, Makoto could confirm that Kimi had spent the night at Kento's apartment after the birthday party. She had also texted some status updates to him about the show she was playing that night—she joked about how the sound guy there wasn't as sexy. Kento hadn't replied to anything since the morning of the 29th, up until the breakup text on the 30th, which had come in response to Kimi texting a brief "is yr phone on? I dont have to send the cops out looking for u, do i?! :P"
Makoto noted the timestamps from their last messages in her notebook. "So, the dog is Kento's?" she asked, gesturing toward the shiba inu in Kimi's lap.
Kimi sniffled. "Yeah, her name's Lavie. Kento loved this dog… He took her everywhere with him. I couldn't believe it when I went over there and she was just… trapped in there. She had pissed and shit everywhere—he clearly hadn't let her out in a while—and she hadn't been fed. I was just like, 'What the fuck?' and took her home with me, even though pets aren't allowed here. —I didn't really think she'd end up being my fucking dog!" she cried, as she nuzzled lovingly into the animal's neck.
Makoto regarded the pair sympathetically. "You alluded in your texts to a bad relationship with Kento's mother. Can you say any more about that?"
Kimi shook her head. "Not really… He'd stopped talking to his mom because she didn't like me, but that didn't stop her from trying to break us up. He ignored all her texts, but she would periodically send him messages about some nice girl she'd met that she thought would be just perfect for him…" Kimi made a mocking face as she said this. "I just figured that the dream girl he mentioned in his breakup text must've been some lie he was telling—or that his mom was making him tell—just to get me to go away. I mean, who falls in love with someone in a day? I fell hard for Kento, but it still took me, like, a month before I knew I was in love."
Makoto thought about her own experiences with love, and she had to agree—a day was improbable. By the time Makoto had even realized she was in love with Ren, she'd already been in love with him for a long time—a heart's greatest frustration, often, is a stubborn mind.
Makoto blinked, reining her wandering thoughts back to the matter at hand: If Kento's 'dream girl' was, in fact, Makoto's 'mystery woman', then… The potential implications of this made her head spin. "Can I show you some photos?" she asked.
Kimi nodded, and Makoto pulled the manilla file folder out of her laptop bag. Being careful not to let Kimi see the grisly death scene photos, she selected a closeup of the mystery woman's face taken from the CCTV footage outside the Nightlife Bar and Grill. "Do you recognize this woman?"
Kimi leaned forward slightly, scrutinizing the photo without touching it. "No, I don't," she said finally.
Shit.
"Who is she?" asked Kimi.
Makoto sighed, thinking about what to do next. "She was at the train station when Kento died. I don't know for a fact that she's involved, but as far as we can tell, no one else was around at the time, so we're trying to figure out who she is."
Kimi nodded. "I'm sorry I can't help."
"It's alright," said Makoto, slipping the woman's photo back into the folder.
"Could you tell me… how Kento died?" asked Kimi, somewhat nervously. "You said he was found at a train station?"
Makoto squirmed in her seat. "That's right," she said, weighing what else to divulge. The more she revealed, the more likely it was that some unanticipated connection would reveal itself, but she didn't want to torture the poor woman with too much information if there was no benefit to it. "It was ruled a suicide."
"Suicide?" said Kimi, aghast. "No fuckin' way…"
"It's shocking, I know," said Makoto, nodding, showing sympathy for the young woman.
Kimi emphatically shook her head. "No, wait, I don't mean 'No fucking way' in that, like, just general surprise sort of way… What I mean is that there is no fucking way he actually killed himself. Like, it's not possible."
Makoto squinted at this. "What do you mean, 'not possible'? Surely, it's possible he killed himself."
Kimi still had a dog in her lap, but that didn't stop her from gesticulating with exasperation over this revelation. "Well, like, obviously it's possible he killed himself, but—the Kento I knew—there's just no way he would have. He loved life. Like, he was always happy, and always making plans for what he was going to do with his future. He loved music, but he was also a really terrific artist and was working on getting his stuff out there—he did comics… graphic novels, like."
Makoto nodded in understanding, though she felt compelled to play devil's advocate. "That was the Kento from a month ago, though. A lot can happen in a month. People can change."
"I know, but…" Kimi looked at the dog, looked around her apartment. "No—I still don't buy it. That simply wasn't who he is, er… who he was."
"I understand, but the medical examiner ruled it a suicide, and… and I'm inclined to agree." This was, at best, a half-truth, but if she was going to overturn everything that had already been done, it needed to be based on more than just her own nagging doubts—her untested intuition.
"Based on what?" asked Kimi. "Like, what's the evidence? If they're saying he jumped in front of a train or something, it's way more likely he just fell, or was even pushed or something. Suicide just doesn't… it wasn't him," she said firmly.
"I… I can't really show you the evidence," Makoto used procedure as her cover. "He lay down on the ground in such a way that… suffice it to say this was not a fall or jump. The evidence does indicate suicide, though."
"This just makes no fucking sense," said Kimi. She closed her eyes and hugged the dog in her lap, burying her face in its side.
Makoto allowed the young woman a couple minutes to quietly sob while she filled out some details in her notebook. She thought about what she would have to do next. She had decided that unless the woman was a world-class actress, that she had had nothing to do with Kento's death, even if it wasn't a suicide.
"I'm sorry," said Kimi, finally lifting her head. Her cheeks were moist and smeared with makeup, and her eyes were puffy. "It's such a shock, and if what you say is true… I… I don't know… I still can't really believe it.""
"His mother had the same reaction…" Makoto said, thoughtfully. "But people kill themselves all the time—even people we wouldn't think would." Two thousand, one hundred and forty-two, just last year, she thought dismally.
"I know that, I guess… but Kento just… he just had this lust for living. He really loved the world… Even on bad days or when things went wrong, he would see the good side, or… or pick up the pieces, and start again. That's how he always helped me… when I was sad."
Makoto didn't say anything, letting the woman dwell in her memories for a moment.
"Did the cops hang on to his dog collar?" asked Kimi, suddenly, out of nowhere. "Would it be possible for me to have it?"
Makoto cocked her head. "Dog collar?"
"Yeah, his dog collar…" said Kimi. "Kento had a choke chain that he always wore around his neck. It had an old dog tag of Lavie's hanging from it. He said it helped him remember who loves him, even when they weren't around to show it. Once, I made some joke, I can't remember exactly how I said it… It had to do with me loving him more than the dog, or maybe he should get a collar with my name on it, or something like that… Anyway, after we'd been dating a while, he took a Sharpie and crossed Lavie's name out, putting mine on there instead. His friends gave him shit about it, like he was saying I was a dog, or a replacement for a dog, or whatever, but I know that's not what he meant by it. He did it to keep me close by, even when I wasn't around. If he wasn't wearing that collar, then…" Kimi started to tear up again.
Makoto thought back to the paperwork from the case. "There wasn't any mention of a dog collar among his possessions."
"I mean, he always always wore it. He even showered with it on."
Just then, Makoto remembered that Kento had been wearing a chain around his neck in the photo Kento's mother had sent him. She rifled through the photos in the folder and pulled that one out. "Is this the collar you're talking about?"
Kimi looked at the photo, smiling sadly. "Mmm, yes, that's it. He took that pretty recently, like… a week before he vanished, maybe. How did you get that picture?"
"His mom sent it to me."
Kimi was silent, but managed a sad smile. "That means he sent it to her." Kimi stared at the photo for another wistful moment before handing it back as she looked Makoto in the eyes. "I really loved him, you know."
Makoto smiled sadly back at her. "I can see that. I'm so sorry that I had to tell you all of this."
"It's fine, I'm glad it was you. I don't like cops, but you seem like kind of a nice one, all things considered."
"Thank you."
"So, why did you come here, exactly? It wasn't to inform me that he was dead—you obviously thought I knew already. —Clearly no one else bothered to tell me…" she spat. "So why?"
Makoto weighed the pros and cons, before deciding that she saw no reason not to be honest with this woman. "Well—his mother had the same reaction you did to the report of his suicide, and I'm trying to help assuage her grief and provide her with some closure, but it's tough. She is completely convinced it was foul play, and… and she threw your name out there as a potential suspect."
"Ha… that tracks."
Makoto gave a wry chuckle. "I don't believe you're a suspect, but there was nothing about you having been interviewed in the report, which is somewhat unusual, and so I decided to follow up on that. If nothing else, I would like to provide her with the peace of mind that we have done everything we can." Makoto paused, before plowing ahead, "I also came here hoping you might be able to identify the woman whose picture I showed you. If it wasn't suicide, and you didn't do it, she's the only other person I know of who might've had opportunity to commit murder."
"Seems like a lot of work for a rando…" Kimi gave Makoto an interrogative look.
Makoto sighed, "It is. I have… I don't know how to say, but I just have a weird feeling about this woman."
"A hunch."
"Exactly. As I've been looking into this, something about her presence just doesn't feel right, and I would like to know why. Based on the evidence, it's hard to believe Kento was murdered, but I would be… denying my instincts if I didn't at least try to prove that she had nothing to do with his death. Of course, I can't do anything if I can't figure out who she is, or how she could have come to be near Kento. Like—what possible connection could there be between them? She doesn't really seem like the type to run in the same crowd as the two of you."
Kimi thought about it. "You know, Kento met a lot of people at his job, doing sound at the club. He's—he was—friendly and good-looking. A lot of women hit on him at the bar when he wasn't not busy."
"There's a bar at his club?" asked Makoto.
"Of course," said Kimi. "It's a twenty-and-up venue. They sell beer at the back, by the merch table."
"What's the name of the club?" asked Makoto, picking up her pen once more.
"It's the Ruby Room in Shibuya," said Kimi. "It's a cool place—he was really lucky to have landed a job there."
"I'll have to check it out," said Makoto. "Maybe someone there has seen my mystery woman."
"And what'll you do if that turns out to be a dead end?"
Makoto sighed. "I might have to just let it go. Let it stay a suicide."
"No one would blame you if you did." Kimi gave a sad, crooked smile. "But I still can't really believe that's what it was."
Makoto allowed herself a small, sad laugh. "His mother might never believe it either."
"Yeah, well, she's a bitch," said Kimi. "But," she conceded, "I know she loved her son."
Makoto smiled and began collecting her photos from off of the coffee table, preparing to leave.
"Do you think it was suicide, Detective?"
Makoto sucked in her cheeks. "I'm not sure. I don't want this to be a murder… I just want to know the truth. If I'm going to convince Kento's mom that he killed himself, I first have to convince myself… Maybe then I can convince her—and convince you too. It shouldn't be hard… Suicide fits the evidence…" Makoto trailed off, letting that sentence remain unfinished. She stood up from the couch, and her stomach grumbled audibly. A stop for lunch would do more than just make a lie into the truth. "Thank you very much for your time today, and, again, I'm so sorry for your loss. Please take my card, and if you think of anything else you want to let me know, please reach out." Makoto dropped a business card onto the coffee table so Kimi wouldn't have to get up. The dog had given no indication that it had any interest in vacating her lap.
With a nod and a shallow bow, Makoto opened the door and stepped into the hallway, leaving Kimi Okada on her couch, alone with her dog and her grief.
— — —
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"
"Hello, Boss, how are you?" Makoto set her laptop bag down on the counter and took a seat facing Sojiro, greeting him with a warm smile.
"Oh, same old, same old," he replied. "I wish there were more familiar faces around here though. I even miss that stupid cat. I started giving Ryuji discounts just to keep him coming in on occasion."
"Wow, that is desperate," she joked. "Well, it's nice to see you too."
"Glad to hear it," he said, getting a cup of coffee ready for her. "How's work going?"
Makoto pondered the question, not actually sure how to answer. "Good and bad, I guess. I think I'm making some forward progress on the kind of work I'm getting to do, but I have a couple cases right now—well, technically just one—that have me feeling pretty inadequate, so that's not great."
"Makoto Niijima, inadequate?" he said. "You must be mistaken. What makes you feel that way?"
"I have a missing person case that's almost a week old and he's no less missing than he was at the start, and another case that was already closed and was never mine in the first place, but I somehow got dragged into investigating further. I'm not confident it was closed correctly, but I'm at a loss as to how to proceed with it, especially since I'm not really supposed to poking around in it anyway, and my new partner will probably hate me if I tell him he screwed it up."
"Ren actually told me about the missing person case the other day. You're still not buying the affair explanation?"
Makoto frowned. "Not really. But the case is pretty cold right now, and if it's not just an affair, then the odds of finding him alive are decreasing with each passing day."
"That's a lot of pressure to have to carry." He slid a cup of coffee her way. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes, starving. Thank you so much."
"So what's the other case?" he asked, heading into the kitchenette to get some food ready for her.
Makoto sipped from her cup and held the smooth blend in her mouth for a few seconds, savoring it as she prepared to unburden herself on Sojiro. "On New Year's, a man was found dead at Nakano station. On the tracks, a pretty clear suicide. Before my partner was my partner, it was his case. The medical examiner is the one who ruled the death as a suicide, and the pictures, the evidence, certainly support that conclusion. Trouble is, the mother and girlfriend can't believe he would do that—they were both really adamant about , the mom kept calling to harangue the receptionists, and they finally dumped this in my lap to pacify her. I thought it would be straightforward enough to just look at the evidence and communicate it back to her, but it's ended up being way more complicated than that."
"How so? You said the pictures support that conclusion. Would you be able to just show them to her, or would that be too traumatizing?"
"That exactly—the pictures are horrifying. So here's where it gets weird. I thought I could get CCTV of the lead up to the death—that would've at least proven whether or not he was alone, or if he did it to himself intentionally—but for really suspicious reasons, there isn't any CCTV footage. On top of that, the security guard who was on duty at the time saw a woman at the station that turned out to be the same mystery woman from my missing husband case."
"The same woman? That's an incredible coincidence…"
"I know…" Makoto sighed, taking another long sip of coffee. "But no one I've talked to so far has any idea who she is, and I'm running out of people to ask. I can check at the dead man's place of work, but that's about it. If they don't know her there, then I'm out of luck."
"Want me to take a look? We get all sorts in here…"
Makoto gave a small laugh and rolled her eyes. Putting down her coffee, she reached for her bag. "Oh, why not…" She showed him the photos.
He took a few seconds to look them over. "Huh," he said eventually. "Sorry, I don't recognize her."
Makoto scoffed. "You and everyone else…" She put the pictures away and took another sip of coffee.
"What will you do if no one at the guy's work recognizes her?"
Makoto shook her head. "If I can't prove that it isn't suicide, then that's the ruling I'll have to sell. I'm not sure how to do that if I can't even convince myself, though… I'll probably just have to traumatize the mom with the damn pictures," she said, frustrated. "And the connection to my missing husband goes cold…"
"Wow, you're dealing with a lot right now…" he said, genuine sympathy in his voice.
"I wish Ren were here," she said. "I feel so stupid that I can't handle this on my own, but it's not just the case that I wish he could help with—there's some other BS at work that I'm trying to process, and…" she trailed off, more downtrodden than before.
"…And it would just be easier with someone supportive near at hand," he said.
"I guess. It's not that I'm not supported, even. I have other people here who are supporting me, and Ren's doing what he can from where he is, it's just…"
"No—I get it," said Sojiro, pushing a plate of the house special in front of Makoto. "Well, I can offer you free refreshment as often as you need it, and Ren will be here before you know it," he said, smiling.
"Still two and a half months," she said despondently. "Too late to be able to help me with my immediate problems—these cases will be long over by then."
"Maybe, maybe not," he said, trying not to betray that he already knew about Ren's plan to get back to Tokyo as soon as possible. "In the meantime, I hope you know that Ren is as anxious to get back to you as you are to see him."
Makoto smiled, her nagging insecurities quelled, but not forgotten. "I'm sure you're right."
— — — Saturday, January 10th, Evening — — —
Back in Utsunomiya, it was Saturday night, and the boys were all meeting for their weekly ritual at the Brothers in Arms. Since it was her day off, and she didn't have to work in the morning either, Naomi hung up her nightstick for the evening and joined them. They arrived together, and somewhat comically greeted Ren in unison. Ren laughed at the sit-com of it all as he greeted them right back, going to brew coffee for Jiro's beverage of choice.
"How's it goin', Ren?" asked Daisuke, taking a seat at the bar. To his right sat Takeshi and John, and to his left, Jiro and Naomi.
"Going fine, guys. I finished my Correctional Theory essay yesterday and turned it in. I need to hear back from Professor Shimada before I'll know if I passed the class or not, but I can at least get started on Behavioral Science now."
Takeshi balked at this. "You finished the final essay for an entire course in six—no, five days? It's only been a week of school! What the fuck is my tuition paying for if a class can be passed in a goddamn week!"
"Ren can pass a class in a week," said Jiro. "Don't take what he can do as representative of what you or I could do."
"Guys," said Ren, cutting in. "I haven't passed shit yet. Shimada could very easily tell me to fuck off and start over—one of the downsides to not attending class is that you can't really get a feel for a teacher's attitudes on particular topics. Maybe he has a bias toward certain methods that I shat on in my thesis, who knows?"
"He strikes me as a very progressive kind of guy when it comes to 'corrections'," said Takeshi.
"You don't mean 'progressive', you mean 'lenient'," said Jiro. "My sense is that he thinks that all wrongdoing is the result of a need for therapy, and we can fix it with primal screaming and group hugs."
"Hmmm, that would explain a lot," said Naomi. "I think I did my essay on hard labor as a deterrent. He didn't give me a very good grade…"
"What's yours on? Can I crib from your outline?" asked Takeshi, kidding, but probably not kidding.
"I went with a summary of the pros and cons of various theories of correction, but I did lean heavily into the pros of forensic therapy and CBI."
"You'll pass," said Jiro with a snort.
"What's 'CBI'?" asked Daisuke. Still only a third year, he wouldn't be taking Correctional Theory for a while yet.
"Cognitive Behavioral Interventions," replied Ren.
"Oooh, you can use a lot of that in your Behavioral Science essay too," said Naomi. "Miyaguchi will love you if you can show how his stuff is actually applicable."
"Hey Jiro, is all this talk about Ren speed-running his classes making you misty-eyed?" teased Takeshi.
"Fuck off, Takeshi, and no, it's fine. We got shitfaced together on Wednesday, spilling our souls to one another over Irish coffee and shots of Jameson. 'S'all good now." Jiro and Ren clinked coffee cups together.
"Jameson proper Irish," said John, nodding in approval.
"Yeah, though I think it may have sheared the lining off my esophagus," said Jiro. "You Irish don't fuck around…"
"I say again: I not Irish," said John. "Though not fuck around correct."
"Where does this leave you with your plans to put the beat-down on Ren before he abandons you?" asked Takeshi.
Ren laughed. "Yes, when will I be getting my ass handed to me?"
Jiro shook his head dismissively. "Yeah, I gave up on that. My masculine energies are better spent elsewhere," he said, leaning into Naomi a bit more, who happily snuggled him back. "Besides, it ended up that my bo staff tutor couldn't really teach me much more anyway, so…"
"Who? Chihiro?" asked Ren. "Why not?"
"I saw her yesterday, and, well… she's going through some shit, so we decided to call it quits."
"Ohhhh, right," said Ren, remembering what Naomi had said at dinner on Thursday. "Was it guy problems after all?"
"Sure was," said Jiro. "She cried at me and everything."
"Oof," said Takeshi, taking a hearty swig from his pint. "Crying to you… That's gotta be serious…"
"As a heart attack," agreed Jiro.
"Is she okay?" asked Ren. "I haven't been spending much time in the S.I. office lately, so I haven't seen her."
"I think she needs some support," said Naomi. "I told Jiro to invite her over."
"You think hanging out with Utsunomiya's most demonstrative couple will make her feel better?" asked Takeshi, with a supremely incredulous look on his face.
"Yeah, you're better off bringing her here. What she needs is a rebound guy, and this place is a goddamn sausage festival," said Daisuke, without a trace of sarcasm.
"Be nice have more women in here," said John. "This not been what I imagine college in Japan be like."
"What were you expecting?" asked Daisuke.
"I seen anime," said John. That was his whole answer.
"There aren't no women in here," said Ren, looking out across the bar. "There are some right there." He gestured to a couple of young women sitting casually at a booth about halfway toward the back of the room. You could only see one woman's face, as they sat opposite one another at the table. They appeared to be chatting amiably over a couple pints of beer.
"Holy shit, he's right," said Daisuke, his eyes filling in wonderment. "I stopped even looking for girls in here—I just assumed there'd never be any."
"Well, I'll be," said Takeshi. "You don't think they're lesbians, do you? There's no way a lesbian couple would come to a bar like this on a Saturday night, right?"
"Well, I know one way find out," said John, finishing off the last of his coffee and standing up from his stool, a determined look in his eyes."
"Uh oh," said Jiro.
"Shit, I hope I won't have to eighty-six one of my own friends," said Ren, watching suspiciously as John strode over to the ladies' booth. The others watched as well, their attention rapt.
John leaned over the table, placing both palms flat on its surface, and said something to the women that the others could not overhear. The women looked at him, and the one facing them raised her eyebrows and glanced at her friend before hiding her mouth behind her hand. She looked like she was snickering.
John stood up straight and made a motion that looked like he was trying to draw them over toward Ren and the others. The women looked their way and made eye contact with several of them. Unsure what else to do, Jiro offered them an awkward wave. They then looked at each other and one shook her head. John leaned over again, appearing to try harder. He looked like he was about to sit down next to one of them until the woman scooted closer to the entrance of the booth, leaving him with no room to put himself. After another very awkward few moments had elapsed, John finally gave up and returned to his friends.
He pulled out his barstool and sat back down. "They lesbians."
The others couldn't help laughing.
"We couldn't hear anything you said, but I still feel like I need to offer them each a free drink," said Ren.
Daisuke gave John a pat on the back in consolation. "No worries, Ren, I'll patch things up with them. Just watch." Daisuke grabbed his pint glass, still about a third full of beer, and headed over to the women's booth. He stood a respectful distance away and, from his body language, it looked like he was making some excuses for his friend, executing his plan to smooth things over.
The women laughed, nodding, and after a short while, the woman facing them scooted further into the booth to make room for Daisuke to sit down, which he immediately did. He inconspicuously glanced back at his friends, a broad, victorious smile on his face that he tried to hide by taking a swig of beer.
"I don't think they're lesbians," said Jiro.
John stabbed at his empty coffee cup, indicating that Ren should promptly refill it. "Fuck anime," he said.
"I think bringing Chihiro here is actually still a good idea," said Naomi. "Just don't you hit on her, okay John?"
Pouting fiercely, John hunched over his cup. "Fuck," he said again.
— — —
Before calling it a day, Makoto had made a pit stop at the Ruby Room in Shibuya to flash the mystery woman's photo around at Kento Abe's place of work. This effort bore even less fruit than it had at Aspire Media, where at least one or two employees could confirm having seen her. None of the Ruby Room staff she'd spoken to remembered her. They could, however, confirm that Kento hadn't been back to work since his birthday party back on November 28th, and he hadn't responded to any of their attempts to get ahold of him to see what was up. Makoto was taken aback. Kento Abe had apparently been missing, abandoning his whole life for an entire month before he finally turned up dead.
She'd texted back and forth enough with Emiko to learn that Tae hadn't been at the hospital today, so there'd been no movement on her questions regarding the autopsy report. It was already too late to get into the medical examiner's office before Monday, but Emiko might still be able to offer some insight into what to ask when she got there, so the two of them made plans to hang out tomorrow and go over her notes.
She'd texted Ren, but hadn't heard back. She knew he had already started his shift at the bar by the time she'd sent her texts, and she was too tired to stay up waiting for a reply. After sliding into bed and turning out the lights, she lay on her back staring into the dark, unseeing, for a few minutes. Her mind circled around a singular thought: If these cases are connected, and follow a similar pattern, I've got about three weeks to find him before he dies too…
She knew she was probably just being paranoid, but she still couldn't help feeling that if she was ever going to find Kosuke Kobayashi before his time ran out, she would need to be well-rested and alert. She couldn't have another night like last night, tossing and turning as the stress of her job kept her awake. Sighing, she closed her eyes and shut out the dark, focusing on clearing her mind. She breathed in and out, evenly, drawing out the poison in her spirit with each rise and fall of her chest, willing herself to detach from it all. Within minutes, she was asleep.