Chapter Text
“Okay, let’s take it from the top.”
Taking up far too much space in the already cramped storage room was a large pinboard that, up until ten minutes prior, had been covered in dozens of photos, scraps of notes, and scribbled diagrams. Now all of it had been laid out on a cluttered table, haphazardly sorted into loose piles that only made sense to the man in front of them.
Shikanoin Heizou, the famous ace detective of the Tenryou Commission paced along the length of the table, hand pressed to his chin as he expertly took in all the details. He was the brightest of the force, capable of solving years old cases with near nothing to go on. With his sharp eyes and a sharper mind he could no doubt take any amount of evidence, however small, and fit it neatly into the massive jigsaw puzzle that was the truth.
Or at least that was the narrative circling his head as he stared down the mountain of potential clues he’d collected over the course of the two months since he’d taken the case. In reality, Heizou had already pulled everything off the wall twice that day, re-sorted all the miscellany with a new set of vague criteria, and began running through his findings again one by one. Review the clue, pin it in place. Then the next, pin it nearby. Connect with red string to make it obvious their relation. Then onto the next, and the next, and the next—
“Shikanoin, shouldn’t you consider taking a break?”
Heizou was ruffling through a pile of photographs he’d acquired; snapshots of remote villages, civilians, scenery, all noted with their location, date, time, weather, who was nearby, and most importantly, the proximity to the victim. All important pieces in their own right, but their order and relevance was yet unknown.
It was that unknown he needed to find.
He began laying the photos out across the table alongside scratch paper covered in notes and scribbles in reds and blacks. Heizou stared at them for a long moment, hand to his chin, mumbling a theory to himself. Then he snatched one of the photos and climbed onto the table.
“S-Shikanoin…”
“Hm? Yes, Aoyama?”
Heizou didn’t look his way when he answered, instead he plucked a couple of tacks from the board and a length of red string from his pocket. The photo of a smiling little girl in pink and white yukata stared back at him. The first victim, missing 6 months.
“I said you should take a break.”
“Nope! I’m actually doing pretty good, but thanks!”
The other officer let out an exasperated sigh. Aoyama was new to their station. Early twenties. Tall, wiry, could probably do with a few extra meals. Nervous disposition, fidgeted with his lapel badge when he thought no one was looking. Only recently moved to the city proper… In a blink Heizou had this man’s entire profile drawn up in his mind, then filed it away as something inconsequential to his current task. What was relevant was that there was not enough space in his makeshift “office” for the man to be hovering so close while he worked.
“B-but you’ve been at this all morning. We’re late for patrols, aren’t we?”
Heizou grimaced. Man alive, this again?
From atop the table he turned to face the officer, arms crossed over his chest and an absolutely sour look leveled the younger man’s way, “Seriously, Aoyama. What we’re doing here takes precedence. We haven’t had any proper traction on this case in nearly a month! At this rate, we’re running the risk of losing the trail entirely.” it was clear in his tone how frustrated he was. Heizou wasn’t exactly used to not having the answers to a case after that long. The utter lack of tangible leads and unreliable testimonies were not helping.
He turned back to the board and rifled through more notes, pulling out another photograph, this time of a young boy with a bright smile despite the missing front tooth. The second victim, missing 5 months.
Aoyama—apparently braver than Heizou first deduced—pressed on, “But isn’t it important to do your duty around the city, still? This is not the only case that requires our attention…”
He had to admit, Aoyama was right. There were other cases, other crimes to prevent, criminals to catch or convince to change their ways. But Heizou was 97% sure that none were as imperative as the ones in front of him at that moment, else he’d already be out the door and on his way.
Perhaps Aoyama just didn’t understand that.
Most of the doushin didn’t understand, and that was why it was so difficult to get anyone to work with him. It was a wonder that Aoyama had stuck around for so long. The man had lasted nearly a month of Heizou dodging patrols, disappearing mid-shift to chase a lead, or just holing himself up among the files at the station until A) he’d hit a hard enough wall that actual sleep was needed to overcome the logical hurdle, B) they’d run out of the passable coffee or cafeteria food, meaning he needed to find viable fuel for his brain elsewhere, or C) Madam Kujou herself had caught wind of his behavior and ordered him to leave.
Said order was usually delivered loudly and acted upon swiftly, with a bonus lecture if he’d been a particularly bothersome thorn in her side that week. She was a woman of action, after all, and probably the only person on the force that Heizou would actually obey. He’d insist this was due to the respect he held for the woman because of her capabilities as a leader and fellow officer, and not any previous demonstrations of her ability to escort him off the premises. Forcibly and bodily. Her physical prowess was not limited to her skills with a bow and, as it turns out, detectives made impressive projectiles when thrown. Especially the genius ones.
His situation had yet to come to that, or perhaps Madam Kujou was also feeling the strain of that ever ticking clock that hung over the pile of evidence that was now half-pinned to the board again.
Heizou sighed. He could afford to cut the rookie some slack, right? He’d wished the others had done the same for him back when he first started, though their situations differed. Heizou busted in and shook up the place, and Aoyama was…well…Heizou tried to keep his tone light, cheerful, even, just to reassure the jittery man a bit. Even if he was just trying to convince Aoyama to leave him be, Heizou was still his senior. And by how on edge he always was while on duty, Aoyama could probably use a friendly mentor.
Heizou hopped off the table and faced the younger doushin, “Hey, I know Owada basically dropped me in your lap and bolted, but you don’t actually have to babysit me.” He gave a nonchalant grin and a dismissive wave of his hand, “Sticking you with Shikanoin Duty is essentially their idea of hazing the rookie. No one is going to reprimand you for not making me ‘behave’ or anything.” He gestured the quotes with his fingers, then shrugged. “You’re not required to skimp on your duties just because I have my priorities elsewhere. So go ahead and start patrol. I’ll keep working on this.” With that, Heizou turned back around and continued running string between the tacks.
There was still some tension in Aoyama’s voice when he spoke again. Unease, even. “You say that but…if even you haven’t found a lead after this long…isn’t it a lost cause?”
Heizou flinched and the room fell completely still. Any inkling of what could be a warm and fuzzy sempai-kouhai bonding moment disappeared with that single phrase.
“A lost cause, huh.” Heizou said quietly, tone low and flat. He’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t been mingling at the back of his mind. Any lead he’d come up with thus far had fallen through somehow. Shaky testimonies, misplaced evidence, false reports. Setbacks, each one more frustrating than the last, sucking the hope from the families and the confidence in himself.
Heizou hadn’t noticed his clenched fists until he sensed Aoyama shifting uncomfortably behind him. Only then did he consciously relax his hands, but the tension in the air only seemed to increase.
“Tell that to the Umeharas.” Another photograph was tacked onto the board with much more force than necessary. This one was of a pair of young girls, both smiling brightly at the kamera. The third victim, missing 4 months, and the fourth victim, remains located just two days prior.
Heizou had been present when the family was brought in to identify what parts of her body they’d managed to uncover.
They identified her by the birthmark on her left hip. There wasn’t enough of her to confirm anything further.
Whether it was Heizou’s tone, the tension, or fear of being struck, Aoyama finally seemed convinced. Heizou didn’t need to look at him to know the man was bowing his head in shame. “I apologize. I will…uh…I’ll go start our—my patrol.” He wanted to say something else, Heizou could tell, but his words were just as hesitant as his steps as he backed away from the detective. There was a sense of fear there; Heizou couldn’t quite figure out why. Surely not of him?
Heizou sighed and allowed his shoulders to sag a little before facing the fleeing man once more, “Hey, once you’re done with patrol, let’s get something to eat! My treat.” The cheerful smile and the upbeat, self-assured demeanor was back in place. He hoped it’d be enough to ease the tension. The last thing Heizou wanted was another colleague that couldn’t stand his presence.
Aoyama blinked, taken aback by the offer, but said nothing further. All Heizou got in return was a nervous yet genuine smile and a quick bow before he swiftly exited the detective’s makeshift office.
The chipper smile slipped away and once again it was just Heizou and his disjointed clue board left behind. Heizou waited until he could no longer hear Aoyama’s footsteps to let the facade slip away. Slowly he turned to face the disjointed collage of information and its frustrating amount of loose strings of red.
A lost cause. The phrase continued to bounce around his skull and Heizou felt the urge to take his frustration out on the wall next to him. But the prospect of redoing the board a fourth time in his current state of mind would only make him feel worse. Instead he drew a slow breath and stepped back to take another look at the web of information.
I know there’s more to this.
Heizou quickly glanced over his shoulder to assure Aoyama had truly left. Now alone, he dug through the collection of file folders and loose papers on the table, eventually pulling a book free from the pile. A detective novel, lovingly worn and read dozens of times. When he was a child he’d have to sneak away to read it so his father wouldn’t catch him fantasizing about walking in the protagonist’s footsteps. Not like it did anything to stop him, rebellious and headstrong as he was.
The memory brought a fond smile to his face, small but so fleeting, as with so many before it.
Heizou turned the book for-edge up and tugged a folded piece of parchment from between the pages. A letter found wedged in the jamb of his front door seven days prior, addressed to Detective Shikanoin. He pressed the paper against the board and smoothed the folds out as best he could before pinning it among the rest of the evidence.
For a long moment Heizou stared at it, face expressionless, body still but mind racing. An anonymous note on plain parchment with no discernable markings as to its make or manufacturer. And on it, written in an ink an unsettling shade of ruddy brown:
TREAD CAREFULLY, LITTLE DEER
“There’s more to this.” he muttered as he pulled the string hanging from each of the victims’ photos and wrapped the loose ends around the tack holding the letter in place. “And I’m gonna find out what it is.”
The sun had just begun to sink below the horizon when Heizou finally emerged from his office. It was the end of his shift and even though he was good to continue the case analysis, he’d offered to treat Aoyama to dinner when he returned from his patrol. It wasn’t often that Heizou asked anyone to join him for anything, let alone a colleague.
It was just one of those things; the genius detective of the Tenryou Commission garnered a certain reputation, as did any doushin. It was no secret that Heizou was exceptionally good at his job, even if his methods could be rather unorthodox. Or risky. Or downright half-boiled, if Madam Kujou had anything to say about them. Opinions of his skill and work ethic were divided which often led to situations that weren’t exactly conducive to a positive work environment.
For those reasons he tended to work alone.
It was better that way.
But it would be nice to have at least one person around that would be willing to be in his vicinity for longer than five minutes without nitpicking something inane like how he wore his uniform “incorrectly” or the backlog of paperwork collecting dust on his desk. And Aoyama had seemed sincere and from what Heizou observed thus far, had a genuine desire to do good and improve the lives of others. Perhaps not the brightest light in the harbor, but genuine nevertheless. Heizou had to wonder if he was some distant relative of Ryuuji in that regard.
With a sigh Heizou rounded his actual assigned desk and flopped into the chair. The stack of dusty documents on the corner were ignored as he leaned back with hands behind his head and feet propped on the old wood.
“Shikanoin? Interesting seeing you at your desk for once.” Another doushin called from his place at his own desk, “Did you get tired of your craft project?”
Heizou tensed, a knee jerk reaction. He was glad that the station was mostly empty that time of day; the glare on his face could earn him a life sentence for manslaughter. Not worth it, Shikanoin.
Slow breath in, then out. Relax his jaw and plaster the confident grin back in place. Only then did he face the other man.
The first realization was that he didn’t immediately recognize him. Another new recruit? No, if that were the case, he would not be aware of my reputation. Keen eyes scanned the doushin’s appearance. He was older, perhaps a good decade over Heizou. His uniform was clean and pressed, but had definitely seen some time out in the sun, and the color of his standard issued haori didn’t match the rest of his uniform. Could be a recently reassigned guard. There’s been several personnel shifts since the incident at Tenshukaku. It’s why everyone at the station suddenly has such a sour view of me, I’m sure.
With that in mind, Heizou determined the man to be an asshole and not a threat. “Not tired, just satisfied with the arrangement. I’ll give it fresh eyes in the morning.” he kept his voice light and level, even if he wanted to counter the man’s jabs with jabs of his own. Still, it irked him that someone was referring to his organization of important clues and evidence for an ongoing serial-kidnapping-now-murder case as a mere craft project. Did he not know about the missing children? Or the fate of the Umeharas’ youngest child just days before?
No, it was impossible to be at the station and not know. The man must’ve been completely ignorant or just plain heartless. Or both.
Heizou didn’t want that line of conversation to continue, else he really would give the guy a jab. A hard one. To the face. “When’s Aoyama gettin’ back? Shift change should be soon.”
“Aoyama?” The man scoffed, “He left an hour ago.”
“Huh?” Heizou sat up proper in his chair, very nearly knocking the documents off his desk, “But we were—”
The doushin shrugged, “Got back, filled in his report, and said he was going home.”
He just— A quick glance at the clock on the wall proved that Heizou had actually come out in time for shift change, but Aoyama had left early?
Heizou couldn’t help the sag of his shoulders. Even after extending that olive branch, Aoyama had still bolted before Heizou could make up for his attitude earlier in the day. He hadn’t even lasted a week. It’d be almost comical if it wasn’t so depressing.
At least I can say the station’s overall opinion of me is consistent. Heizou sighed and stretched his arms over his head, “Well, more tempura for me, I guess.” It was hard to hide the bitterness in his tone. He imagined he’d come back in the morning to hear Aoyama had requested a reassignment and Heizou was on his own again. Then he’d get an earful from Madam Kujou about the importance of teamwork and having confidence in his fellow doushin. Or worse, she’d just hand him his paperwork for the day with that piteous look on her face and walk away without a word. As though she felt sorry for him because he was back to flying solo.
But it’s okay.
He’s okay.
It’s better this way.
Heizou would keep telling himself that.
At least the fried food would wait for him.
“Maybe I should talk to the families again.”
Seated at the counter with a glass of barley tea and his trusty notebook, Heizou continued poring over the many notes he’d made during the course of his investigation. They were even more abstract than what was populating his pinboard; scribbled words and arrows connecting phrases and doodles together in a cloud that would make any onlooker’s eyes cross with confusion. But they made sense to him and that was all that mattered.
He turned to the next page where he had a sketched layout of the property where the second victim lived. Arrows and circles marked points of interest that would merit a second lookover for leads. He hadn’t been officially on the case at the time so the initial sweep was done by another doushin with what material they found relevant being handed to Heizou after the fact. If I’d known it was going to be such a difficult case to crack, I would have combed the place completely a second time. Heizou flipped to another page and checked a chart of dates, times, and moon phases. Straws to be grasped at. There has to be something we missed. I should ask Madam Kujou about a trip to Yashiori to investigate… “Hmm…but the rain…”
“What was that?” Shimura called from the stove, “Did you say it was going to rain?”
“No—wait.” Heizou leaned back on his stool and glanced up at the sky. Thick clouds were rolling along the horizon to the west, blanketing the setting sun. “Actually, yeah, probably.”
Shimura didn’t question his judgment. He merely groused about certain establishments having the benefit of four solid walls before going back to the stove.
Heizou sighed and once again thumbed through his notebook in search of anything that seemed out of place in all of the scribbles. At the rate he was going, he’d need a new book altogether before the case was closed. And all for evidence he can’t seem to link up. Hm…Would it be wiser to just do another interview? If I’m not able to find anything of substance…
A dried leaf slid from between the scribble-filled pages and onto the counter. Heizou plucked it up before the wind could catch it and held it delicately in front of his face. To anyone else it looked like just an ordinary leaf you’d find virtually anywhere in Inazuma. And they were right, for the most part. But to Heizou, it held another meaning. One far more personal.
They reminded him of Kaedehara Kazuha.
The reason for the association would be obvious upon glance of the man’s name, and his attunement to the natural world around him only strengthened the connection.
So when Heizou was off-handedly presented with a single maple leaf as they said their final farewells at the docks…well, the sentiment of that association stuck. And so he’d pressed the leaf between the pages of his trusty notebook as a reminder that the enigmatic Kaedehara Kazuha existed and wasn’t just a spectacle on the steps of Tenshukaku. He was human, and one of the scant few people Heizou could call a friend.
It’d been nearly six months since Kazuha had left Inazuma.
It’s a shame. If he were here, I could drag him along to these crime scenes so he could help look for leads. He probably could have unearthed a mountain of clues from all this.
For a brief moment, Heizou considered sending a letter to ask for his aid. But where would he even send it to? One couldn’t just address a letter to The Crux Fleet and expect it to arrive at its destination. Hell, knowing Kazuha, he might not even be on board anymore.
Heizou huffed. He’s doing what he loves most, and I’m doing what I love most. We’re pursuing our individual passions and that’s how it should be.
He told himself that, but damned if his chest didn’t ache a bit when he thought about how Kazuha had zero reason to return to Inazuma. Heizou sighed, I should unpack that, but I’ve got better things to do. The leaf was carefully slid between the back pages of his notebook for safe-keeping. A nice memory.
It’s better this way.
“Here you go!”
A basket of fresh tempura was placed in front of Heizou alongside a hot bowl of miso and some rice. Heizou very nearly giggled with delight. If there was anything that could instantly lift his spirits, it was some fresh fried food. His eyes were practically sparkling as he thanked Shimura for the meal.
Heizou would note that, once again, Shimura had placed twice the usual portion of fried shrimp on his plate. Ever since Heizou had caught the burglar that ransacked the restaurant last spring, Shimura had greeted him with a smile and an extra helping of whatever it was he ordered that day. Heizou had tried to refuse out of principle, but relented when the man all but forced it onto his plate. “I have nothing but this restaurant. Were it not for you, I’d have nothing at all. Allow me to give my thanks how I can!”
Heizou wasn’t sure if gratitude could make food taste better, but he always made sure to savor that extra piece. A reminder that his work was still appreciated, however dirty it could get.
The notebook was tucked away to prevent any errant grease from smudging the ink and Heizou dug into his meal. As much as he wanted to continue his work, he had to admit it would get more difficult to concentrate on the facts before him if he didn’t have a proper meal in his belly. It was a much needed mental break from the constant concern for the missing children and the little girl they’d found days before. He tried to put it all—the missing children, the little girl they found earlier in the week—on the back burner just to rest his frazzled mind for a few minutes. Focus on the food, take a breather, then go at it refreshed and rejuvenated.
Yet in the absence of the investigation, a different issue took its place. A nagging sensation at the back of his mind kept tugging him towards the rookie Aoyama and his unusual behavior. From their previous interactions, Heizou got the impression that the man was honest and altruistic almost to a fault. But still green. He likely hadn’t seen much more action than pursuing a pickpocket or climbing a tree to rescue a cat. Which he’d done, according to his reports, without Heizou’s aid.
What stuck out was how skittish he was, as though he feared a severe reprimand should he speak up. Heizou had a reputation for being “creative” with his investigative tactics, but none of them included violence. A true detective uses his intellect and experience to bring a case to a close and Heizou did everything in his power to stick to said skills. There were the occasions where he’d been faced with a particularly trying criminal and he’d allowed his temper to color his resolve, but those were few and far between. Anything else had been self-defense.
Occasionally rumors of his martial prowess would circulate the station, but it was a toss-up if anyone actually believed them.
It wouldn’t make sense for anyone to bring that up to Aoyama either. Heizou thought, If there were going to haze him, it’d be more effective to paint me as an annoyance rather than someone to fear.
It was going to bug him until he had an answer. To find the culprit, he needed to speak with the prime witness, and that meant asking Aoyama up front if he’d been offended by Heizou’s actions and if he was comfortable with staying as his partner on the job.
He could ask him the next day, but Heizou was never good at sitting still once he had a new lead in a case.
That and…his intuition told him it’d be better to see him sooner rather than later.
“Hey, Oji-san. Mind packing up some tempura to-go?”
Aoyama’s address was in an older, less kept neighborhood at the outermost edge of Hanamizaka. It was an area of higher crime that Heizou had unfortunately become very familiar with. Between the outdated make and the lack of modern amenities, many of the homes had fallen into disrepair to the point of being condemned. Those that remained were taken up by families with lower income, a lot of which Heizou had dealings with in some capacity.
Heizou wasn’t exactly welcome in the area for this reason, but that rarely stopped him from doing anything.
As he continued towards his destination, something seemed…off. The streets were quiet, which itself was unusual. Even if it was after dark it wasn’t so late that folks would have the lamps out and the kids tucked into bed. Yet everything was quiet as though everyone had up and left for the evening, leaving the houses abandoned.
Odd, Heizou thought, clutching his peace offering of a box of fresh tempura closer to his chest. A feeling of unease bubbled in the pit of his gut, and the further down the street he went, the more it grew.
Heizou paused at the corner and took in his surroundings. Nothing looked out of place at first, but then Heizou noted the state of the house next to him. To his right, a small home he knew had a simple room intended for a bachelor or single mother. The paper covering the front door had large holes in it and some of the lattices had been snapped off. With winter coming surely the resident would have wanted it fixed right away, but the water damage on the paper showed it’d been in that state for a week minimum.
To his left, the house was in a similar state. Holes in the shoji and a long wooden board wedged in the frame corner to corner. Blocked. The same with the next, and the next, and the next…
Are all these homes…condemned? It hasn’t been that long since I was last here, has it? I’m certain the station roster listed his address on this street, but…
No sooner had Heizou turned the corner was he hit with not the familiar scent of autumn leaves and the distant promise of rain, but the unmistakable stench of copper and viscera.
His mind kicked into overdrive. Blood. There was blood nearby.
Something was wrong.
Instantly he dropped into work mode. He listened closely for any signs of struggle, any cries for help, but received only silence in return. Not an altercation in progress, but there’s definitely something injured nearby. Heizou took a few, tentative steps forward, eyes darting from roof to door to dirt path to window and back. What was different? Something out of place, something he could use as a lead. Condemned houses, an empty street, the smell of fresh blood—
Heizou's eyes locked onto the house at the end of the street. The door was wide open.
Aoyama’s door.
Something is wrong.
The box of takeout was abandoned as Heizou darted for the open door. With each step the scent of blood grew. Had he been injured on the way home? Had a nobushi assumed the house vacant only to find Aoyama inside? Had there been an altercation? Was Aoyama even home?
His mind came to a screeching halt when something splashed onto his shoe, wooden heels sinking slightly into a patch of soft earth.
It hasn’t rained yet.
Heizou’s gaze fell to his feet. A puddle of black mud, a spatter of red on his toes.
I can’t be here.
He moved on autopilot. One step after another, unsteady ground soaked in red. It was smeared across the shoji, dripped thickly off the wooden porch onto the surrounding patches of dead grass.
I need to leave.
A glint of brass discarded in the flow caught his eye. Heizou crouched to pluck it from the muck without a second thought. A familiar shape, a point of pride for himself and every officer among the commission, now scratched and smearing red on his fingertips.
Don’t look—
Beyond the threshold the meager flicker of an oil lamp illuminated the damp tatami. A glistening river tracked from Heizou’s feet into the demolished room, and among the debris lay the tributary himself, eyes wide but unseeing.
Heizou, historically, did not handle the sight of fresh corpses well. Especially ones belonging to someone he knew.