…
…
Torada Yui was a master of the art of underperformance. Her cover as a normal woman needed to be maintained no matter what, so she had hidden her precise intuition as a police detective under fake smiles and compassion as she searched for clues whenever her in-laws were asleep. Her decision was made in a moment of selfishness and selflessness, when she quitted the police and sacrificed her private life to solve a murder from her childhood, the murder of the person who inspired her.
Her childhood consisted of two childhood friends and a senior officer who had died under suspicious circumstances. A senior officer, who inspired the three of them to become police too, had become an important piece of herself that worthed all the trouble and sacrifice.
Her efforts to uncover the truth were not the first ever made. A childhood friend of hers, an inspector in the prefectural police, had tried to look into a potential lead about the case when an unfortunate accident put him into coma. His situation prompted her to turn to more drastic methods, and so, she made up her mind: not many people could be considered suspects in the case, and a personal tie to those people presented her the chance to put a period on the matter. Her name became of one of the suspects on paper. Her heart took that bad, her heart was committed to another, but that person laid in a hospital bed, in coma, and his will was to solve the case.
However, to think that another murder would happen—
Her hand held the chopsticks with firm conviction as she ate the dinner with casual ease. A mixture of nervousness and indiscretion threatened to overcome her, however, none of that could be noticed as she observed those four who pretended to be police. Her experience screamed lie the moment none of them identified themselves, but decided not to warn the others. Her attention followed the teen, who talked the most. He was too much a kid to be police, and the same went for the other teen too. And then, there was the older man to express his loud fascination towards their traditional cuisine at the side of a cup of sake, unlike what police would do in the situation.
Her head ached as she tried to brainstorm reasons for someone to impersonate the police, because as much as she would have wanted to think that these people had no idea that their prank or ruse to have free accommodation or whatever was a crime, the opposite was more probable: the actions, the flow of conversations that included all information from their side and no information from the other pointed at the deceptive talent of the teen, who weaved the words so that their presence would be welcomed in the house even without the most basic introductions and that pressed the question about their, his, identities even more.
A faint thud resounded on the table. Her hold loosened as her concentration wandered into the deep world of speculation, and the rice ball slipped from between the chopsticks and crumbled on her plate. Her husband took notice of her unusual lack of focus.
"Yui! You should take a rest."
A tint of hurt wormed into her heart at the concern. Her intentions had been less than honest when she married him, but the amount of care she received from him was undeniable. He loved her with all his heart, however, she could not reciprocate love for a suspect.
"I feel fine. I would like some more sushi, actually."
Her response convinced her husband and averted the attention from her back to the conversation that touched upon the festival. Her attention was back to continue the observation that felt to be her task as a former police detective. However, there were no suspicious actions or words from them no matter how careful she looked, which irritated her to no end. It was impossible to keep up the act forever nevertheless. Time would reveal them, sooner or later.
"Talk about horseback archers, there was a police officer who was rumoured to be talented in that." A sentence made her listen to the conversation she dismissed before. "I heard that he never missed, not even once. His name was—hm, what was it—"
"Kuroto Kai."
Her mouth moved on its own.
He twisted the sentence so as to make her speak the needed information. A mental note was made to be careful around him, but then—almost all of her in-laws reacted somehow to the mentioned name. Her husband and brother-in-law looked spooked and her mother-in-law was—a moment, and that expression vanished. Her attention was back at the one who asked the question. A pleased smirk curved in the corners of his mouth, like he had done a splendid work.
His actions left her baffled. He poked into an old topic on purpose, which he looked to know more about than an outsider like him could ever, and tested their reactions to the name of the victim. He read their nonverbals, which not even real police detectives could learn.
…
Her husband put down his chopsticks.
"Thank you for the dinner."
…
"Yoshiro!"
…
…
Shinichi closed the sash door as he entered the extra room their quartet was allowed to use. He could feel the winter breeze brush to his unclad feet from outside, a small instance of lack that proved that the esteemed clan did not live as well as claimed. A bundle of blankets attempted to compensate them for the inconvenience over the futons and respective linen white kimonos placed in the traditional room. He would not have proper clothes to sleep in, then.
He was tempted to welcome the kindness and rest before his mission would continue with the arrival of the police. He would have to come up with an excuse for their lies, but that would be no hard task in comparison to his usual schemes. He loosened his necktie as he prepared himself to deal with the case his workaholism did not allow him to dismiss. There were still seven months before that would happen, however, he would feel bad to leave without the smallest resolution. He would have less and less time for individual cases in the future too, and who knew whether his substitute would be able to continue until this case reached the top of the index.
Ran divided the blankets between them and dropped one on her father red with sake, who claimed and laid on a futon without the smallest shame. He hiccupped as he noticed his look of irritation upside down. He wondered how their hosts did not realise the ruse with this idiot around.
"Wha was tha, Kudo. Tha rando' person ya mention'ed ther—"
"Ran. Knock him out."
"He will be out in a second."
He looked down and indeed, the old man was asleep amidst loud snores and a bubble of snot in his nose. He could not believe him: he handled more than expected in one moment and became a drunken idiot in the next. He would be a nice wild card with the needed experience.
"Still. You mentioned that horseback archer out of the blue." Ran sounded curious. "I was surprised that you know about someone like that person, who practised a rare traditional sport in the middle of nowhere. You are not the kind of person who is interested in tradition over what is needed to solve a case."
"You know me well, this is needed to solve a case."
He decided to involve them at last.
"Torada and Tatsuo families. I know that there will be a serial murder between those two families in seven months. Torada Yoshiro will be the first victim, but his death is accidental and the push the culprit needed to start a series of murders. Tatsuo Koji will be the second, Tatsuo Ayaka the third, Torada Shigetsugu the fourth, and Tatsuo Akira is supposed to be the fifth and last, but his death was prevented in world zero. And all of that is connected to one person."
Ran realised the connection. "Kuroto Kai."
"He was a police officer, whom both families loved. He was a horseback archer in his free time, and competed with the other candidate for the title of the best horseback archer on the festival each time. However, with serious bets involved in the competition, the supporters of the other candidate relocated one of the marks to make him miss, and he did. He went to practise to make up for his poor performance at the competition, when his horse ran into a deep and he succumbed to his wounds and starvation—which would be the end without several people with a several reasons to cause harm to him. And thus, the case continues now."
Akemi folded her arms with a hint of amusement.
"You make it sound like a trailer for a television drama."
He was satisfied in secret that he could rope her into the case as well. "There is no need to rush. As mentioned, the accidental death is a push the culprit needs to commit themselves to their crime, which will wait seven months. I have to put pressure on the correct people, but not too much to avoid acts of desperation, and make them spill the needed information from which the pieces can be put into their places. I decided not to use the name of the prophet for this one, to avoid attention. There is not much we can do until the police arrives. As the police are unable to reach this place, we are unable to leave too. At least, we have a pastime for the meanwhile."
"You call this pastime. You." Ran muttered under her breath and—
He stopped at the expression that criticized his attitude. He used another approach this time as there was no immediate time limit. He did not have to search for contacts to address and expose them to a ruthless infodump in a rush to prevent a death. He could leave this case for seven months and he would be still on time. He could have a moment of rest for a short period of time. He needed to catch his breath to connect to himself, but—
He patted her head.
"I will prevent the murders. I promise."
…
"A future prediction case, in front of me."
Akemi was fascinated.
"I would love to watch this drama."
…
…
Yui hated the desperate tries that were supposed to make their modest life appear acceptable in front of outsiders. Her in-laws believed that their visitors were police, which made their attempts even more miserable. However, there was one aspect she did not complain about, and that was how the old indoor bath was put into use. A special kind of pleasure came from the hours she spent in the hot water, hair wrapped in a white towel, and assort information into her mental boxes.
This time, she had a companion.
Her nose inhaled the steam visible in form of slow waves above the bathwater as she dived into the hotness. A chill in contrast with the temperature of the water caressed her face, which would not become warmer, as the pleasant water was a transient wonder fated disperse within an hour in that old house. And thus, she decided to cherish each moment and focus her free attention on the form across the bath. A piece of unknown shape in the puzzle, but not the person her awareness screamed about. A teen not related to detective work and deception on the outside, however, still the companion of one who was without question.
A quick appraise of the premise told that the other woman was not in for a bath.
Her mind needed to work with what was visible above water level. Her fuscous locks were tied into a bun on the top of her head, as her lilac irises pasted the ripples on the surface of the water that her hands created. Her cheeks were flushed at the unusual hotness around her—not like that basic observation revealed the smallest bit of useful information on her. Her face flushed all of a sudden, as she sunk further into the water to rid herself of unwanted ideas.
"Yui-san."
Her haze disappeared at the mention of her name, and she wondered how she knew. He knew her name, she remembered the teen that questioned him before, and he could have told to her too, so that alone was not weird. A part of her wanted to ask for hers too, however, she came to realise that their names were not the core of the matter. A name could be faked, a name could be manipulated—she could lie to her if she asked for her name.
"Yui-san, what does a head pat mean?"
Eh.
"A head pat."
"No. Nevermind." Her voice turned thin as she sunk into the water for the second time, even more embarrassed than before. Her hands touched her head with care in remembrance as she talked to herself. "I am a fool to think like that. He is in the middle of an important task, there is no—"
He had patted her head—there was little doubt in her mind who was the he in question. And while this was not the conversation she expected, she considered it a chance to learn more about them. A head pat must have been a showcase of attachment and romantic affection. Her childhood friend used to do that to her, but no, in her case, it was not romantic. A simple form of attachment from the bond the two of them shared as friends, or—it was romantic.
Her mind dismissed that, dismissed the idea of how messed up her romantic life was—
"He likes you."
And could use that action to deceive her. His complete lack of interaction with his companions made it impossible to appraise the relationships between the four, but to think that he could practise the same deceptive habits with them made her heart clench a little.
"And you like him."
And that would be perfect for him.
…
"I do. I have for a while." Her expression was laced with sorrow and somehow, she appeared so mature. "I think it started in middle school. I called him a childhood friend, but he was not a simple childhood friend anymore. I still do, and he is even less like a childhood friend now. I think, I think I love him. I know that he would reciprocate that love without a question, but that love would hinder him. I want him to succeed with what he has in mind, to make sure that he is fine, and not to burden him with a confession in the middle of all that. I know that love would become a burden for him in this, and that he would experience more pain more because of it."
Her mouth threatened to open at the confession—a minute, and she felt like she had intruded too much without even one question. However, there was no doubt in her mind about the commitment and pure love the teen held for the other.
"I needed to let that out. I am not sorry."
"I wish he deserves you."
…
"He lies a lot. He lies, but he does that to help."
Her questions born from the desire for more information were fated to remain unanswered as the ripples distorted their clear reflections on the surface of the water. A hand of hers moved to help her stand, to follow the teen who marked the end of the bath and stood up. Her fuscous locks slipped out of the bun and fell onto her back as she wrapped the towel prepared near the bath around herself. Her wet footsteps shone on the floor in a trail to the door as she was about to leave.
As her hand touched the knob, she turned back for a moment.
…
"Mouri Ran. Nice to meet you."
…
…
Ran found herself awake in the dead of the nocturnal darkness. Her tired conscious took in the details mashed into a mass of obscure black. Her hand moved on autopilot to brush the lock of her hair stuck to her face, and then, she curled on her other side to fall back asleep but no matter how deep he tucked herself into the bundle of blankets, how hard she tried to remember the last scene of her dream sequence, how slow she tried to breathe, she remained in the land of awake.
Her hold loosened on the blanket as she sprawled out on the futon in an unceremonious manner, and listened to the loud snores of her father. His pride would never admit a shame like that, but he tended to mumble, moan and emit all kind of weird sounds in his sleep. And there was the time he swore at his client in his sleep—the person must have added to the frustration level of her father from the amount of swear words included in his subconscious rant. He, on the other hand, was still. Her experience with him lacked a lot compared to her father, but she had never heard him snore in the few class trips and camps the two of them had attended.
Her tired subconscious made her turn around to peek at him—
He was nowhere.
And that made her sit up and—he was there, next to the sash door to the terrace outside. He hid in the shadows of his own features in his silent tranquil. His silhouette was sharp due to the moon outside, and that dark form without details radiated more sorrow than he ever bothered to reveal on the surface. He looked so sad, so pained in that moment that her heart was about to break and she moved, she moved without her own consent to be there for him—
His irises flared with panic at the sound of her steps on the wooden floor, but returned to their calm state once he identified her as the source. A sudden wave of shame made him look away and that shame hurt her. He should never feel ashamed to be himself.
"Ran. You should be asleep."
His words went unheard as she settled herself next to him. Her face cupped his cheeks in an invitation to tell the truth. His stubbornness made him bottle up his problems until the bottle was full. He needed to learn to care for himself because apparently, that was an unknown concept for him. He almost considered to open up, but then a moment of hesitation stroke and he swallowed his words once more. He shoved himself aside once more.
"You should sleep. You will be tired tomorrow."
"You should sleep too. You will be tired tomorrow too."
He could not muster up his will to counter her, so he chose to turn towards the faint outside illumination. His silhouette followed his unhurried movement, and hers followed his as she mimicked him. He wanted a moment of silence and underneath, a familiar presence to soothe him—
…
"I see that world when my eyes close. And remember."
Her hand motioned him to come closer. He was not embarrassed, not a bit, and rather appreciated the comfort offered to him with love. Her skin crawled with an unknown sensation as he leaned into the embrace without hold. His nose rested in the curve of her neck—she could feel the warmth of his breaths on her skin. He looked a hundred times more relaxed once he allowed himself to rest. Her hand stroked his tousled hair, in accordance to his breaths.
"Think about the world you want to live in. Think about a world without them." Her words tried to lead his troubled mind into a more peaceful premise. "Think about what you want to do once this case is over. Think about that, and—hold on that."
"Ran. I—"
He failed to resist the bout of words that needed to be spoken.
"I want to create a better future. I will create a better future, but—I know the requirements. I know that the syndicate must be eradicated, that our friends and allies must survive and that must be achieved with the least possible deaths. I know what has to be done, but—that world is incomprehensible for me. I have chased them for decades. I have chased them for a lifetime and sacrificed almost all that could be sacrificed and there was no end no matter how much was lost. I think that has become a part of me to chase them without an end—I hate that, that me. I want a better future, but unable to think about what it would be like. I must be so disillusioned."
Her soul shook at the impossible confession. He made sure that none of them were aware of what happened in his future, and she decided not to press a topic meant to be hidden. However, to think that his enemies could distort this ambitious, kind and confident person into a broken shell without an idea for happiness and make him hate himself because of it was horrible. He needed to talk about his trauma, but she doubted that she could listen to whatever that was.
"I will help to build that world, then."
He stiffened in surprise.
…
"You need a rest for now."
…
…
February 18th, 1996
…
Akemi decided for a stroll instead of breakfast. Her mind needed a moment of solitude more than her stomach a meal. Her steps resounded with silent thuds on the wooden terrace. Her feet felt the uncomfortable winter temperature, but the breath of fresh air worthed the cold. A flicker of pale sunshine fell onto the thick snow that covered the outside landscape and reflected as dots of shininess in the distance. Her attention then wandered to a room, and to a sash door that missed an inch for the closed state.
A bout of indiscretion took over her as she approached the door. A small push was needed to put the room into better illumination. Her surprise was touchable at the suit of armour put on a pedestal on the further side of the premise and the footsteps from behind—
"Looks impressive, but unfortunately, it is made of plastic."
Not them, then.
"I swear this breakfast was delicious. You should have eaten too, miss." A man with a headband, who walked in behind her, remarked. "You should head back to them. I heard that you will question the Tatsuos. I know that words are little to convince the police, but those people are our friends—our parents oppose the idea, but there is no point in a reasonless hate. I know that our friends would never commit murder. Yoshiro knows too—the children of the two families hunt for treasure as a team."
"Treasure hunt, huh. I would like to hear more about that."
Kudo appeared in their back, posture leaned to the doorframe and hands in his suit pockets. His expression mirrored excitement, a kind of excited when a piece of important clue fell into the hands of a detective. He walked inside as the director of the drama she wanted to watch.
"There is not much of interest about it. There is a rumour that a historical treasure is hidden in the forests. Takeda Shingen, the famous historical warlord was supposed to have a mine with an immeasurable amount of noble metal. I have been obsessed with the treasure since childhood, and some classmates of that time decided to help out. This whole idea started out as a childhood pastime, but later, we became friends and continued the treasure hunt even as adults."
"A last question: who else participated in the treasure hunt?"
"Torada Yoshiro, Tatsuo Koji, Tatsuo Ayaka, Tatsuo Akira and me."
…
Her mind halted. Those were the names of the victims of the future serial murder!
Kudo moved from his position. "Akemi-san, let us leave."
…
…
Shinichi made himself comfortable in the car seat for the short ride. His mind was still delirious with that moment in the darkness and the support that was able to provide him. He turned the remembrance into determination to carve the path to a new future. He turned the remembrance into determination to handle the pressure. He turned the remembrance into determination to stand into one more case, to uncover the truth in the correct pace to make the culprit spill the evidence.
He did not like that. He did not like that there was no evidence that could be found, but this was a case that would not come around until seven more months. He prevented crimes a short time in advance, and for a reason. He needed to present evidence to have a case delivered to the court, which turned from evidence that the individual committed a crime into evidence that the individual prepared to commit a crime in his new normal. He mused on the current case that he tried to tackle seven months in advance: no traces of murder preparation and thus, no evidence. He could pinch the culprit nevertheless, but that needed a confession to work.
He hated to depend on luck.
"I understand the situation now. You want to tell me that a team that includes members of both families searches for a rumoured treasure in the forest, and those people happen to be the exact same people who will fall victim to the serial killer in the future." He listened to the old man summarize the known clues. He dismissed the part of the conversation where the others told him what had happened in the timeframe the alcohol cut from his memories. "However, the connection between them and the deceased horseback archer is still unknown. Kudo made it sound like the motive lies in the accidental death of the latter, but there is—"
"I would watch the road ahead." He warned the driver, and their car avoided a deep pothole in the last second. He was pleased with the amount of effort the old man tried to invest in the case nonetheless. "You should be patient for a while. You still lack an important clue."
He looked outside the window. Tatsuo estate.
"Kudo, tell us who the culprit is!"
…
"You will find out soon."
…
…
Yui wanted to maintain her individualism even when others intruded her life without invitation. Her situation could not be described in more accurate words. Her work made process in slow steps—in hints, slipped words. Her married life was spent with constant observation and still, her information extended to the existence of the treasure hunters, a connection, and the suspicious behaviour of her husband. As those people popped into the picture and tension increased tenfold, her pride refused to let her continue to be an observer on the sidelines and made her collect the countless small pieces that laid in her mindscape and measure them to each other.
Her role model had died in a so-claimed accidental death, his horse had run into a deep in the forest. However, the cause of his death had not been what would be expected in that case, but rather starvation. He had had serious wounds due to the fall and with his horse of the top of him, he had been unable to move. As the autumn leaves covered him, it had taken a week to discover his corpse, and that was the point that made her think: the chances that leaves would cover a person and a horse at that place to that extent were almost zero. Her suspicion was that someone had been involved in his death and wanted to hide the corpse.
Her back leaned to a tree as the snow started to set the mood. A mark was located a few steps from her side, the top covered in a collection of the white flakes that cascaded down from above in that moment too. Her ears picked up the sounds of horseshoes on snow and soon, a familiar silhouette flashed between the trees. A moment later, an arrow wheezed in the chill of the air and buried itself deep into the centre of the mark beside her.
"You could have been hit."
Tatsuo Akira halted his horse near her.
"You never miss. Kai-san would be proud."
"Kai-san deserved a better apprentice than me. I was proud be his nonetheless." He moved his bow to his back. "I have inherited an important task from him, a task that needs to be performed at the festival competition. I will practise in snow and rain to honour him."
Her mind had erased him from the list of potential suspects. He could have had a motive, a motive like he wanted to become the best horseback archer and the final competitor at the festival, but he respected his teacher too much to have killed him. However, he had ties to the members of treasure hunter team, who hid more than showed without a doubt. He was an excellent source of information without a reason to lie, and she used that source of information more than once.
"You still feel remorseful about that."
"I do. I should have followed him on the practise—"
He looked pained to remember his last moments with his teacher. He was not the culprit, he did not want to surpass the level of his teacher, but there could have been people who wanted him to. He could have been the motive nonetheless. His friends became suspects from her point of view—she could see that the members of the treasure hunter team, who became friends and more for a lifetime, wanted one of them to become the best and planned the remove the obstacle. Her observation cleared that no moral borderline would have stopped that circle of friends to help out one of them, not even the murder of a beloved and nice person.
His wife, for example—
…
"Ayaka."
Her face snapped back at the mention of the name on her mind, and met the woman in question approach them from the direction of the house. Her locks rustled in the chill wind that picked up momentum in the moment one of her suspects noticed her presence, however, their reaction was not tainted with smallest amount of wariness. Her cover was solid, which was touchable in the complete trust that both the current horseback archer and his wife of had for her.
"Yui-san, nice to see you." Ayaka smiled and showed the lunch for her husband. "I have made bento. It can be a little cold, those detectives held me up for a while. They asked all kind of questions about our treasure hunt, like that was connected to the murder at the Toradas."
"A murder?!"
Akira was shocked.
"An unfortunate incident. I found a corpse in out shed." Her arms folded in front of herself, better to tell the truth when those wannabes would involve everyone in the way anyways. It was unclear to her what those four were after. "I bet those people harassed you with all kind of questions."
Ayaka tried to recount the conversation with the weird quartet. "You know, there were some unconventional questions mixed in the understandable ones. I received questions from that teen-like detective about our treasure hunt. He said that was to establish connections between the involved people for reference, not because he suspects us to be the culprits. He also asked about the shed we have in the forest, because the culprit needs a hideout until the snowdrifts deescalate. So, their questions were weird but reasonable nonetheless, it is that we have never realised how certain details can connect to a random incident. Kind of weird to think about."
No, that was what he wanted them to think as he tricked information out of them. Her lips pinched into a thin line as she wondered about his true intentions—he had appeared out of nowhere, pretended to be police to look into the fresh murder case and deducted that an outsider was responsible and then, his interest turned towards a case filed as accident. His attention turned around so quick that his performance looked like an act, but at the same time, he seemed to know about all. His antics bothered her mind that could not handle when there was no explanation, and that exclamation was a scratch on the surface of what he was.
His intentions were as unclear as possible.
…
"Ayaka-san, did that detective mention where he went?"
"I think he wanted to visit the treasure hunter shed." Her mind reeled from the next unreasonable decision. Her first action was to visit the shed herself but had found no connection to the case. He did mention that it can be a hideout, hm. "He will have trouble with that, in this weather that will take a while."
…
Her decision was made.
"I will follow them."
…
…
Shinichi leaned to the bonnet as the others followed the lead and climbed out of the comfortable warmth of the car. He remembered the location of the shed, so he was not worried about their lack of map, but rather how much time the expedition would take. He had to add an additional three hours on the two hours because of the snow, and the sun remained above the horizon for a set amount of time. He looked into the distance and hoped that he would be able to find that in minutes.
"Ran—"
His childhood friend stepped closer.
"I lied back there. I doubt that the person responsible for the current murder would hide in the shed, but that was a reasonable deduction nevertheless. I have to consider that the assassin stuck in the area because of the snowdrifts, in which case that lie can become the truth with ease." He expressed his other concern. "I will break the door when we arrive, and in case someone is there, leave the disarmament to me and prepare to attack with karate."
Her nod was the response he needed.
…
He came overprepared.
…
He walked into an abandoned shed amidst his companions without an ounce of resistance in the path. He noticed that the old man slopped into a sit and leaned to the wall, within harsh breaths and blatant dismissal of the cold around him. His own muscles screamed at the smallest movements and his sense of touch started to melt into an obscure numbness, but he had learnt how to keep himself warm and shove the exhaustion into the backmost spot in his mind. He could understand well that someone not used to extensive exercise or the consequences of the lack thereof would feel the need to have a rest—or a lot of rest.
He rubbed his hands to each other in his search for the notebook hidden somewhere in the shed—ah, there. He considered himself lucky to have obtained the most important clue about the case with relative ease. He found the needed entries inside with the same ease.
"What is that?"
Akemi peeked over his shoulder, to which he lent the notebook to her.
"I understand now. Tatsuo Akira was the apprentice of the deceased horseback archer and a treasure hunter, but his friends wanted him to surpass his teacher at the competition, so a plan was created to set up an accident that would prevent the performance of his teacher at the festival. However, the plan backfired in a rather unexpected way: the fireworks that were supposed to scare the horse and harm the rider resulted in death. However, the culprits were too cowards to admit their fault to the police and instead, tried to hide the corpse under leaves—the details of the scheme and the consequences are written in what looks like a shared memoir here."
"I see, so that is the reason the treasure hunters will be the victims." He heard the old man add to the conversation amidst his tries to stand up. "I complained the whole way here, but that memoir worths the walk. There is now connection between the victims and the past case, however—"
Akemi picked up the line. "Who will kill them? Who will be the serial killer?"
"I think the past case is the obvious motive, in which case it has to be someone who knows about the plan the treasure hunters tried to hide and resents them because of it. Tatsuo Akira sounds like a fit. He is a treasure hunter, he could have found out about the scheme that caused the death of his teacher somewhen later. He can fall to vindictiveness when the chance presents itself. I have no evidence, but this is a case that never happened, duh. I would bet on him."
"I would consider others as well. There are people in both families who could have learnt that piece of information in some form, and the victim of the past case was beloved amidst the locals. A lot of people would have a motive should the truth be found out, a former cop included."
Ran interrupted.
"You think that she will be the serial killer—"
…
And then, the others noticed the extra person on the doorstep too. He had noticed her follow them in pure determination, which was understandable in her predicament. He looked at her breaths form milk white, transparent clouds in the air as she leaned to the doorframe with one hand. A serious expression between her dark locks faced him with relentlessness, her demand for an explanation about their aims was apparent even without words. He did not warn the others about her presence to make sure that she overheard the conversation, which worked out for him. He could involve her in the resolution of the case that meant more than the police for her.
Yui took the memoire from them and checked the evidence for herself.
"I suspected them. I knew—"
Her knees crashed to the wooden floor. Her form started to shake as tears streamed down her face without consent—whether a part of her was unable to believe that the case was an unfortunate instance of accidental murder or was ecstatic that the elusive truth was revealed at last depended on personal consideration. He could not deduce the exact reason behind her reaction, but he was certain that her next question, or questions, would be about—
"You four—what are you and what do you want? I know that you are not police, but why—why do you pretend to be? I know that you asked about the past case—what interest do you have that? What about the murder—is that connected to this? What about that serial killer you mentioned? How much do you know? How is it possible that you know so much more than anyone here, despite the fact that none of has ever seen you? Your name has never been said once, and still—"
He squatted down and extended his hand towards her.
"Kudo Shinichi, detective."
His moment of silence was taken as a request of mutual introduction.
"T—Torada Yui. You know that much."
"I know that the current murder is not connected to the past case, in fact, it is not connected to the people here. A ruthless crime that happened to take place in the shed—that is what it is. It happened for reasons deeper than what can be said, and those reasons are reasons one would never want to involve themselves with. I wanted to confirm a suspicion, and pretended to be police to take a look at the scene." He ushered her to believe him and not ask questions. "I happened to know about a past murder case and another that can happen as a consequence, and decided to unravel the truth until the actual police arrives. I had free time and information."
"So, that consequence would be the mentioned serial murder."
"Yes.
"And that would be for Kai-san."
"No."
He was met with confusion from all sides. He had not cleared the situation yet.
"All of the theories from before could be the truth, and would be worth to look into. However, the culprit is someone who was not considered, not to mention that the motive is not what would be expected in the situation." He walked outside, and held an arm to protect himself from the wind that became wilder in the minutes spent inside the shed. "This case is not what it looks like, not when the culprits are the witnesses and an innocent is the culprit."
Yui could not stand him. "Leave the riddles and tell us who the culprit is!"
…
He looked to the sky where a storm was about to form.
"Yui-san, let us make a deal."
…
…
Yoshiro shot up from his sleep. He was drenched in his own sweat and the sounds of thunder and rain resounded in his head, which was no comfort after his newest dream turned remembrance of that time. He threw the blanket aside and heaved the air in wheezes of breaths. He would never want anyone to see him like that, covered in the name of murderer. He was scared to oblivion at the remembrance of the death but no, he did not want him to die. He wanted him wounded so that a friend of his would have a chance to outshine his teacher, but never dead. He was a murderer, and the rest of his friend were too, but he was scared and hid it—
He dulled to that fact with time. He remembered it in less and less detail.
However, storms worked his memories.
For some reason, the sounds of thunder and rain made him remember the fireworks and another sound and flash and that did not matter because—no, he needed to focus on the room around him, the futon, the sash door, the lamp and he was there, not in that memory.
He could not continue like this. He had tried to initiate conversations with his friends, to convince them to turn to the police to admit their crime and the odd details that his panic attacks would remind him of each time a storm hit. He bit back a sharp scream and covered his head with his arms as another thunder resonated in the house, his ironic punishment doled to him with ruthlessness. His own mind turned on him and he knew, he knew that there was one solution to make this end—he crawled out of his bedsheets and tried to find the room the police detectives slept in. He could wake them and confess now, when his rational mind would not stop him and his friends would—
He locked his attention on a feminine form in the darkness. His wife stood in the door, her expression shadowed over. He did not know what he should feel or think—he found her detached attitude somewhat uncharacteristic and weird and fearsome but she was his wife—
"Yui. I—"
He latched onto her.
"I—I killed—"
He cried in despair.
…
"Kuroto Kai. I killed him with the treasure hunters, but—we meant none of that!" His voice hitched as he held on her kimono in despair. He wanted her to—what, hold him, comfort him. He did not deserve that. "You have a horrible husband. You have to let me confess—I know those police detectives are still here. Let me—"
Her arms sneaked around his torso, but the touch was—
"Yoshiro, those people are not police."
W—What—
…
"But I am."
…
…
February 19th, 1996
…
Torada Tatsue was unnerved ever since that bunch of people had invited themselves into her house. Her deeds had dulled with time, however—for someone to disappear from the memories of others even more patience was needed. Her life was indifferent to that fact, as the blade above her head disappeared the moment the case was cleared and closed as an accident—oh, there had been adventurous individuals to scream murder, but those had retreated too without the smallest evidence on their hands. Her situation could not have been better until those people trampled into her house to examine a corpse an idiot dumped on their land, and started to ask questions.
Her face twitched when the name was spoken at the dinner table, but—she contained herself.
And that started the real threat. Her ear happened to pick up lines that used the current murder as an excuse, but leaned too much towards the past case, and that did not bid her preference. Her preference was a silent discussion about the paperwork the corpse would cost them, but these incessant little pests—police detectives or not, she needed to consider how their existence could disappear too. Her men would love to take care of it, that much was certain.
"Tatsue—"
Her husband stumbled over the doorstep, spooked.
"Tatsuos—!"
His sentence was interrupted when the door was pushed aside and revealed the head of the rival clan in his full extent. Tatsuo Tamefumi walked into the room with a proud posture and his relatives behind him. Tatsuo Koji, Tatsuo Akira, Tatsuo Ayaka—his old mother was absent, but otherwise, the entire clan showed up in the house of their supposed mortal enemies. Not to mention that the commotion was supplemented with her own children—Yoshiro and Shigetsugu. Her frantic attention wandered across the room as all those people invited themselves to sit beside the table, because that was unnatural, that was not supposed to happen—
"I called them here, mother-in-law."
Yui appeared in the doorframe, and she understood. Her own pokes at the hidden truth had been a source of nervousness for a while, and she had wanted to dispose of the woman multiple times, but decided otherwise as there was no evidence to be found. Her secret was safe and that eased her concerns.
Her husband retaliated. "What kind of insanity is this? Explain, Yui!"
…
"Kuroto Kai was the best horseback archer ever seen in the field. He practised from dusk to dawn and because of that, his expertise reached a level that he never missed, not even once. His work as police was respected amidst the people, which made him a beloved person. However, his expertise made the outcome of the festival competition predetermined, which was a reason for some people to bore ill intention towards a beloved person like him. Tatsuo Akira here was his apprentice—"
Akira protested.
"I admired my teacher! I never had any ill intention towards him!"
"I have little doubt about that, but that is not how others saw the matter. Let me make a fact clear: he was a victim of murder and not accident. His corpse was discovered a week after his disappearance in a deep covered in leaves, where that was almost impossible to happen naturally. A more plausible conclusion is that someone wanted to hide the corpse and covered it with leaves. Kuroto Kai had a special kind of talent that overshadowed his rivals, so no matter how much one practised, one would have no chance to shine with him in the competition. Your friends wanted to make a difference, so the plan to make him drop out of the competition was born."
Yoshiro stood up, expression shadowed over. "I admit. I came up with the idea to wound him, so that he would not be able to compete. I prepared fireworks to scare his horse and followed the plan. I admit that his death was, while was not our intention, but our fault."
Akira was pissed so much that he needed to be restrained.
"You are a murderer, you and your—"
…
Akira looked at the people who restrained him with disbelief.
"Akira, we were on the plan too. And we feel remorseful about it."
Her face threatened to morph into an amused smirk, but she needed to keep the appearance. Her known connection to the horseback archer was not worth of mention. There was no need to feel sadness or express condemnation, a little surprise did the trick. His shocked expression at the true nature of his friends fed her sadism a special kind of satisfaction. He turned to his wife, who held onto his arm with shame and desperation, which was like a confession—
"Ayaka, you too—"
However, this outcome was ideal. Her mind remembered that there had been others around, but as those people never turned up to accuse her, she headed that no attention. Her deeds would be hidden when there were more plausible suspects, suspects who were convinced about their own fault, and the case would not be reopened twice. A twisted part of her wanted to thank her incessant interest in the case to have created the perfect cover for her—
…
"However, that is not the full truth."
Eh—
"A simple firework could scare a horse, but alone could hardly make it run into a deep. Not to mention that there had been someone else at the scene when the fireworks were set off, who caused another sound and flash that certain members of the treasure hunters here remember."
Her face abandoned the amusement and faced the incessant woman as a threat to herself. Her hand positioned to motion her men, her men that hid themselves in the near in case of complications expected to happen with the past case as a hot topic in the recent times. A flick of hand was needed for her men to rush inside and kill everyone in the room, yes, she could kill everyone and escape. There was no reason to be concerned, no matter how her involvement was found out—
Yoshiro, that idiot, admitted that too. "I did see an unknown sound and flash that time. I know that the others have heard and seen that too—that haunted us in our sleep, and we started to discuss between ourselves to confess about the incident. I have no idea what that was—"
…
"A shotgun."
Yui pointed at her with theatrical conviction.
"And the one who fired it that time was you, Torada Tatsue!"
…
Her hands shook with irritation and—the combined attention of the present in the room was focused at her, and she should pretend to be shocked and point out that there was no evidence to back up that ridiculous deduction but her hands itched to murder and a desire awakened and she wanted them to die die die!
Her hand motioned with an order to dispose of them.
Her hand searched for her—
…
"I have taken that. You have no means to win."
…
Ha.
Haha—
There was no means for her to win—that was the joke of the decade. Her men were still around, in the house, and about to dispose of everyone in the room expect her. Her concern were the absent police detectives, but nevermind—police detectives could die the same. A couple of more people would not count as much. Her mind screwed the act as she started to chuckle in maniac pleasure, and the face of her accuser looked down on her with despise—oh, that despise.
"Your deduction is correct. I shot at him to scare his horse and kill him—there is no point in bets when one competitor wins all the time. I hated that fool. He made me immeasurable financial harm, and what is more important, irritated me to no end. His attitude towards justice and all that crap! As if there was justice in the face of earth!" Her revelation shocked the present into silence. "However, none of that matters now. You all will die soon—"
…
"I doubt that."
Her rant was interrupted as the door was pushed aside—him, that detective with the mess of dark hair stood in the doorframe, head cocked to the wall and foot rested on the side of the door. His form radiated a confidence that watered down her own—a smirk appeared on his lips. A small detail, a small moment of defiance made her blood boil—so, so damn conceited, believed that he could win in her house. He needed to disappear now, he needed to disappear first—
"Motou! Kill him!"
"Motou? You mean him?"
He pushed the door open to have an unconscious man facepalm the floor. Her mind dismissed the shocked whispers from the rest of the present as it stood confused in front of the concept that one of her best men had been defeated, defeated by whom—no, that did not matter. Her instinct to flee kicked in when she realised that she was outsmarted somehow. Her body moved in perfect coordination to escape, but a force tackled her from behind and pinned her to the floor.
"Torada Tatsue, you are under arrest for the second-degree murder of Kuroto Kai and the attempted assassination of twelve people." A voice exclaimed in a professional tone, but how, she had double checked that person in the past, to make sure. "Arrest made at 10:43 am."
Her past assessment could not have been more off the mark.
…
"Tora—no, Uehara Yui, prefectural police detective at your service."
…
Published: 10/08/2023
I have no idea, but certain chapters feel like fillers. I think that is because of the slower pace, but come on—the characters would drop dead from exhaustion in a couple of chapters is each of them were like the previous two. Ahem—anyways. Yui could solve the past case with some help and called herself a police detective, which is the shameless intention of this entire mini arc. I want to incorporate her in the events that will come, but she needs to return to the police first. Not to mention that a looser plot has potential for Shinichi/Ran scenes. I love to write their moments and try not to make it too bad. Romance is hard to write well—for me, at least.
ABCDE: I looked it up, and—yup. Shiratori is the first name. Damn. His uncle's name sounded much better this way. I think we can pretend for the sake of this story that his name is Ninzaburo Shiratori (in Japanese order). I know, I know. I screw up canon much more, this should not matter.
Gamelover41592 and Hoshi2050: thank you for the reviews too, as always.