20. Falling from a Mountain Leads to Painful Injuries

When a person is left with no other choice, they may resort to desperate measures. In order to survive, people abandon their principles and cross boundaries. They act like animals. Source: me.

I will never know the names of those armed men whom Reiji, me and Shintaro shot in the back while they were trying to clear a fallen tree from the road. I didn't care about the ideals they were fighting for. I didn't think about whether their families would mourn them. The only thing that concerned me was whether the battered Toyota Hilux they were driving had enough fuel to get us to Cotabato. And whether they had any food. By that time, we hadn't eaten for four days.

They didn't have food, but they did have a bottle with a few liters of clean water. We would have made it to the city that day if we hadn't run into an overturned by explosion M35 truck, which we couldn't bypass. In the end, neither Reiji nor Shintaro were saved by that killing, or any others. But I was saved. I'm alive, and I continue to fight. And once again, I find myself in a situation that may force me to act against the principles and rules instilled in me during my childhood.

A conversation I overheard put my thoughts in order. If Rentaro Hoshino decided to escalate the pressure on the Yukinoshita family, now would be the time to retaliate in kind. Choose safe facts to disclose, and reveal how the police and the prosecutor's office are protecting a failed blackmailer from prosecution at the request of his criminal relative.

Once I got home, I began searching for the appropriate resources. It was clear that posting angry articles on Ameba or Note would be pointless. I needed an opinion leader, a respected journalist or blogger who would spread my point of view to a wide audience.

Mine? I thought for a moment. Yes, undoubtedly, only mine. Yukino and her family must remain uninvolved. The story about a police officer who suffered while performing his duty could be interesting enough on its own. Of course, after that, I could say goodbye to any future in law enforcement. But that's a price I'm willing to pay. I could always try to work as a truck driver, after all.

So, the choice became even harder. I needed someone who, in the pursuit of a sensational story, wouldn't help the Kuronaga gang and tarnish the Yukinoshita name.

I thought about it. Again, I needed the missing social connections. Something told me that asking my wife for help in this situation was a terrible idea. Yukino doesn't like it when I sacrifice myself. So, ideally, she shouldn't find out until public opinion has been sufficiently stirred up. How could I find someone reckless enough, but also authoritative? Unfortunately, Kei Yoda isn't part of my inner circle.

I'd have to expand it. The 21st century offers us many opportunities for that. Social networks, where people share unnecessary personal information, sometimes turn out to be essential. I paused to think. Maybe I could look among those I once studied with? The problem was, I had forgotten their names over the past ten years. Fortunately, the name of my high school hadn't slipped my mind.

A search by school revealed many pages of people living their own lives, unrelated to mine. They studied, worked, married, had children, and divorced. This didn't help me at all.

It was nice to see that Totsuka had become a professional tennis player with several ATP 250 and ATP 500 tournament wins in his career. It was surprising that Ebina turned out to be a decent literary critic. I even bookmarked her blog, I'll read it when I have free time. But what did it matter to me that a certain Sagami had received a letter of thanks from the head of the department?

Modern detectives often have to dig through social networks to find information. There was nothing new for me in this work.

I hate hard labor. And at the same time, I know that it's usually rewarded. A few hours later, sifting through someone else's public life, I came across a photo taken in a TV studio. The pastel blue tones of our local news are familiar to every resident of Chiba. And the caption read: "Making news for you."

Unfortunately, I came across this page through links from others. There was no real name listed. I didn't recognize the short-haired brunette in the photo. But this was my first potential contact in the media industry that I could dig up that evening. Maybe she didn't remember me and would agree to help a fellow alumnus from the same school, out of solidarity.

I cautiously greeted her in a private message.

"Good afternoon, I'm Hikigaya. We attended Sobu High School at the same time. Do you remember me?"

The reply came almost immediately.

"Senpai?!"

So she was one of the juniors. Probably Komachi's classmate. Wait, Hachiman, you idiot. Your sister is a PR specialist. She makes a living solving problems like yours. If I can scare her enough so she doesn't tell Yukino, this could be resolved much faster and more safely than I thought.

"Senpai! Are you about to disappear for another ten years?"

"I'm here. I just can't recognize you. Did you study in the same class as my sister Komachi?"

"Are you trying to give me a compliment? I'm not Hiratsuka-sensei, and I'm not ashamed of my age. You're 29, and I'm still 28! And in any case, you won't win my heart with such dubious compliments."

"Sorry, but I really don't recognize you."

"Blame it on the silly stereotypes. One-eighth American blood, naturally blonde hair, and the whole world already sees you as a dyed show-off. I had to become a dyed brunette. But I still don't believe that senpai has forgotten his favorite kouhai. Your first election victory, your first date with a girl…"

The election victory? Yes, of course... Some jokers had played a prank on the football team manager, Isshiki, by nominating her for the student council president without her knowing. I convinced a freshman to run seriously, Yukinoshita withdrew her candidacy, and the girl won. She was decent as president, just a bit too fond of spending school funds on her whims and passing the tough work onto others.

"Isshiki-san, I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you. You've changed a lot physically. But the habit of manipulating people hasn't gone anywhere. My first date happened long before we met."

"That's hurtful. However, you won't hear kind words from senpai. What made you suddenly remember?"

"I was looking for acquaintances with connections in the media or investigative bloggers. It's no longer needed. Someone else will help me."

"I'm a producer at Chiba TV's news department. Spill it, senpai, do you have a scoop?"

"Can we meet and talk?"

"If possible, come to our headquarters today. It's in Chuo."

"I know. I work in Mihama, near the ward office."

"When can you come?"

"In about an hour and a half."

"Here's my number. Call me."

Less than two hours later, we were sitting in a small meeting room. On the table was a magical yellow can of MAX Coffee and some fruit tea I had never seen before.

"I hope you're still drinking this nasty stuff. It would be a waste of money otherwise."

"People like you will never understand the greatness of this drink. When life is bitter, at least the coffee should be sweet."

"And whose fault is it that your life isn't sweet enough? You've missed plenty of opportunities, senpai."

"And you won't miss an opportunity to remind me about them."

"Not a single one. Come on, tell me, why did you need connections within our trade?"

I gave a shortened and edited version of my story. In it, me, a humble detective from the Nishi-Chiba precinct, was involved in the investigation of a robbery at a wealthy house. The yakuza boss who had targeted its owner sent a relative to me with an offer to help blackmail the rich man using fabricated evidence. Instead, I initiated an investigation against the blackmailer. But the yakuza boss was persistent, pulling all the strings, and now I'm being accused of fabricating evidence to cover up someone else's crime, while the blackmailer is supposedly off the hook.

"My lawyer thinks this criminal case will never go to court. The thugs just want to teach me a lesson. But I want to teach them a lesson too. I know their names. If only I could find a journalist who isn't afraid of organized crime…"

"Senpai as always asks for the impossible," Isshiki smirked. She really did resemble that cunning, capricious girl, one I'd once thought of as yet another younger sister of mine. "Too bad, but we at Chiba TV can't handle that kind of story. Investigations are not our thing. But I know someone who can help you."

"I'd be very grateful for the recommendation."

"Very, very — how much do you mean? Like a dinner date at an expensive restaurant?"

"Do you still need a training dummy for dates? Sorry, but I'm a married man. Ask for something more realistic."

"Well, look at that. Even Hikigaya managed to get married. And I'm still all alone in this big wide world."

"That sounded hurtful."

"Alright. I'll figure out how you'll repay me later. For now, here's the contact. Nanako Terasawa, also known as NaNaNoCo. Her specialty is nepotism and corruption in the Kanto region, but she's not afraid to go after the yakuza either. I'll write to her. But I have to go now. I need to check the footage for the evening news."

I thanked Isshiki and went home. I wrote to Terasawa, made some Filipino mami (it's lighter than the ramen, which Yukino finds too greasy), and waited to see what other surprises life had in store for me.