Chapter 39: The Pursuer of Justice and Truth
Mr. Hasebe paused, his brow furrowing as he carefully considered his response. "Koichi’s first trip was to Tokyo," he said slowly, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "The second was to Nara. I remember those clearly because I helped him pack for both. After that, he started taking money from me only, and I lost track of where he went."
"I see," Tetsuya replied, his tone neutral. He decided not to press further. Instead, he placed the photo album on the low wooden table and pulled out his phone, snapping a quick picture of the high school group photo featuring Hasabe Koichi. If he needed it later, he wouldn’t have to make another trip.
Turning his attention back to the second cardboard box, Tetsuya continued his methodical examination. The items inside were clearly from a time before Koichi’s imprisonment—old trinkets, faded mementos, and a handful of papers. Tetsuya had hoped to find something more revealing, like a diary, but there was little of substance. Still, he wasn’t one to leave any stone unturned.
His fingers brushed against a sheet of paper filled with dense handwriting. It was a list of motorcycle parts and models, likely a dream configuration Koichi had scribbled down during his high school days. Tetsuya held it up, his expression thoughtful. "If this isn’t important to you," he said, "could I ask you to write your contact information on it? Just in case I need to reach you later."
"Of course," Mr. Hasebe said without hesitation, taking the paper and jotting down his phone number in quick, uneven strokes. He didn’t seem to suspect Tetsuya’s true motive. "Um... could I have your contact information as well? If anything comes up, I’d like to know right away."
Tetsuya couldn’t risk leaving behind his own handwriting, so he picked up a small trinket from the box, pretending to examine it as he dictated the phone number he was currently using—the one that had once belonged to his senpai. Mr. Hasebe carefully noted it down, folding the paper and tucking it into his pocket.
With the seventeen-year-old handwriting sample secured, Tetsuya still needed something more recent for comparison. He wasn’t an expert in handwriting analysis, but he knew a few detective agencies that offered the service. Even if the results wouldn’t hold up in court, they might give him a lead.
His search finally yielded results in the first box. It was a delivery receipt from an online purchase Koichi had made three years ago—a collector’s edition butterfly knife, quite expensive. Tetsuya held it up, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Can I take this receipt with me?" he asked.
"Uh... sure," Mr. Hasebe replied, though his confusion was evident. He didn’t see how a receipt for a knife was relevant to the case. But since it wasn’t particularly important or valuable, he didn’t mind. "If it helps Koichi, take it."
Tetsuya slipped the receipt into his pocket, his mind already racing ahead. He glanced around the room one last time, confirming there was nothing else of interest. As he stepped toward the door, he turned to Mr. Hasebe. "You mentioned earlier that Hasebe-san often stayed outside. Do you know where he usually went?"
"I don’t know," Mr. Hasebe admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "He didn’t tell me much."
"Then do you know anyone who might know? Friends, perhaps?"
Mr. Hasebe nodded slowly. "Yes, his friends. When he wasn’t home, he was probably with them."
The dim light of the Hasebe household flickered faintly as Tetsuya stepped out of Koichi’s room. Mr. Hasebe’s answers had been sparse, almost rehearsed, but Tetsuya wasn’t too disappointed. The old man was a father clinging to hope, not a suspect.
“One more thing,” Tetsuya said, “Could I speak with your wife? She might remember something you’ve overlooked.”
Mr. Hasebe hesitated, his eyes darting toward the staircase. “Of course,” he finally said, though his tone was heavy. “But… my wife isn’t well. She’s been bedridden for some time. Please, keep your questions brief. She tires easily.”
Tetsuya gave a curt nod, and Mr. Hasebe led the way up the creaking stairs to the master bedroom. The air was thick with the scent of medicine and damp wood. Before opening the door, Mr. Hasebe paused, his hand hovering over the knob. “She’s fragile,” he warned again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t push her too hard.”
The door creaked open, revealing a room bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp. A frail woman lay in the bed, her face pale and drawn. At the sound of the door, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Who was here earlier?” she asked weakly, her voice trembling. “A reporter?”
“No, no,” Mr. Hasebe said quickly, crossing the room to her side. He helped her sit up, propping a pillow behind her back. “Not a reporter. A kind young lady. She says she’s a private investigator. She’s here to help Koichi. She thinks he can prove Koichi’s innocence.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and for a moment, the cloudiness in them seemed to clear. She turned to the graceful young girl entering the room, her hands clutching the edge of the blanket. “You… you can save my son?” Her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you… thank you so much.”
Tetsuya stepped forward, his expression calm but unreadable. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, his voice steady. “But I need your help. Is there anything you can tell me about Hasebe-san? Anything at all?”
Mrs. Hasebe nodded eagerly, though her strength was clearly waning. She answered his questions as best she could, but her answers mirrored her husband’s—vague, fragmented, and ultimately unhelpful.
“Once Koichi is home,” she said, her voice trembling with determination, “I’ll make sure he changes. No more wasting his life. No more trouble. He’ll be better, I promise.” It was clear that, if not for her poor health, Mrs. Hasabe would have loved to talk more with Tetsuya.
"Please, the case is in your hands. When Koichi comes back, I’ll make sure he properly thanks you."
Tetsuya offered a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You have my word,” he said, thinking to himself that letting them feel some joy before the news of Hasabe Koichi’s death arrived was a small act of kindness on his part.
“Please rest assured, Hasebe-san will be safe and sound.”
Back on the first floor, Tetsuya got straight to the point “I’ve got what I need,” he said, his tone brisk. “Don’t worry. I’ll do everything in my power to save Koichi. There’s still a lot to investigate, so I’ll take my leave now.”
Mr. Hasebe nodded, his face a mask of gratitude and desperation. As he led Tetsuya to the door, his steps measured but his voice betraying a faint unease. "How long will the investigation take?" he asked, his eyes darting to the dimly lit street outside. "And... the cost. How much will it be?"
Tetsuya offered a reassuring smile, "If things go smoothly, we might have answers in a few days. As for the cost, my employer has already taken care of it. You needn’t worry about that." He paused, as if struck by a sudden thought, and tilted his head slightly. "Oh, before I forget—did Hasabe-san send anything home recently? A letter, perhaps? Anything at all?"
Mr. Hasebe shook his head, "No. Writing letters... that’s not Koichi’s style. He’s not one for words on paper."
Tetsuya nodded, as though he’d expected the answer. What mattered was what came next: "I see. If anything does arrive—letters, packages, even a simple note—don’t open it. Contact me immediately. Wait until I’m here before you decide what to do with it."
The older man’s confusion deepened. "Why? What’s the danger in a letter?"
Tetsuya’s expression hardened, his voice dropping to a low, deliberate tone. "To be frank, I can’t rule out the possibility that Kagehara Tetsuya might try to use you. If he’s targeting Hasabe-san, you could become a means to pressure him. For your own safety, treat anything you receive with caution. Don’t act until I’m here."
Mr. Hasebe’s face paled. "You’re saying... I could be in danger too?"
"Yes," Tetsuya replied, his gaze steady. He leaned in slightly, as if to emphasize the gravity of his words. "Imagine this: Kagehara sends you a letter, forged to look like it’s from Koichi. It asks you to meet him somewhere. Would you be able to tell if it was genuine?"
Mr. Hasebe hesitated, his hands tightening at his sides. "I... I don’t know. I suppose I wouldn’t."
"Exactly," Tetsuya said, straightening. "That’s why you must contact me the moment anything arrives. And one more thing—don’t mention my involvement to anyone. Especially the police."
"The police?" Mr. Hasebe blinked, taken aback. "Why not?"
Tetsuya’s lips curled into a faint, wry smile. "Let’s just say they don’t take kindly to people like me—those who pursue truth and justice. If they find out I’m involved, they might rush to pin everything on Koichi. And once that happens, no amount of effort or regret will undo it."
Mr. Hasebe exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the situation. "That makes a lot of sense," he murmured. "I’ll keep it quiet. As for Koichi’s case... I’m counting on you." Whatever Mr. Hasebe was thinking internally, at least he agreed on the surface.
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