Chapter 21: Yazaki Hitomi

As Kishida Masayoshi caught her eye, Yomikawa offered a lazy, almost indifferent wave.

He unclipped his safety harness, his body still radiating the heat of exertion, and made his way over, a look of genuine surprise on his face. They’d had enough encounters now for a certain… familiarity… to have set in, so his usual professional stiffness was somewhat relaxed. “Oh, hey there. When the caseload isn’t actively trying to kill me, I try to squeeze in a workout. Didn’t peg you as a climbing enthusiast, though.”

His detective instincts, a deeply ingrained habit, kicked in, and he found himself subconsciously cataloging her appearance. Yomikawa was dressed in a dark, forest-green ankle-length skirt paired with a simple blue top. The cold tones gave her an air of quiet, almost somber beauty, a stark contrast to the sharp, almost aggressive intelligence he’d come to associate with her. This softer image didn’t quite mesh with the mental file he had on the whip-smart, often caustic, young woman.

“Well, as it happens, the proprietor of this fine establishment is an acquaintance of my mother’s,” Yomikawa Tsuko explained, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. Her eyes, cold and assessing, swept over him. “I merely came to pay her a visit. Running into you here, Officer Kishida, is an… unexpected bonus.” She paused, her gaze lingering. “Your climbing technique appears quite… proficient. As one might expect from someone who clearly excels in pursuits of a more… physical nature.”

Strong limbs, simple mind? Is that the implication?

A wry, almost pained, smile touched Kishida Masayoshi’s lips. He mopped the sweat from his neck with a towel, then took a long, grateful swig of water. “It’s just a hobby,” he said, his voice still slightly breathless. “When I’m on the wall, everything else just… fades away. The good, the bad, all of it. All that matters is the next hold, the next move. It’s more effective than a bottle of whiskey, I tell you.”

“Wanting to forget the bad is perfectly understandable,” Yomikawa observed, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “But the good things too? Why would you wish to erase those?”

“Isn’t that the very lesson you so effectively taught me?” Kishida said, a hint of self-deprecating humor in his tone. “Good things, bad things… they both cloud the judgment, don’t they? Emotions, they interfere with rational deduction, make you miss the crucial details, the hard evidence.”

This guy, Yomikawa mused internally, while perhaps not a strategic mastermind, possesses a rather disarming honesty. A rare commodity. She clasped her hands behind her back, the faint, almost predatory, smile slowly receding from her lips. “It appears Officer Kishida is making commendable progress in his… self-awareness. Do continue your diligent efforts. Perhaps you’ll even manage to solve a case one of these days.”

“If Yomikawa-san were perhaps more… forthcoming… with her cooperation, the speed of said case-solving might increase exponentially,” Kishida countered, a hint of his usual detective’s frustration creeping back in. “As it stands, whether we’re talking Ōshima Masaki, Hasebe Koichi, or the vanishing Kagehara Tetsuya, we’re operating in a vacuum. No solid leads. My colleagues are half-convinced Kagehara has skipped town, maybe even left the prefecture entirely.”

Two corpses and a ghost. Of course, there are no leads, you fool.

Honestly, tasking these… conventional… police officers with unraveling a situation so far outside their mundane experience is an exercise in futility. It’s like asking a goldfish to climb a tree.

“Still,” she said aloud, her voice smooth, “this sort of… less demanding… investigative work must be a pleasant change of pace, no?”

“Hardly a vacation,” Kishida grumbled. “We’re still trying to identify the mysterious ‘A’ – you remember, the woman Hasebe Koichi was apparently blackmailing. We suspect they might have frequented certain establishments together. It’s a needle-in-a-haystack situation, forcing us to deploy significant manpower on what amounts to a city-wide fishing expedition.”

“A rather inefficient allocation of resources, wouldn’t you agree? Time-consuming, with no guarantee of results. Essentially, you’re relying on blind luck.”

And without a name, a face, even an approximate age for this ‘A,’ their chances are statistically insignificant.

Kishida Masayoshi, however, seemed to take her observation not as a critique, but as an opening. He leaned in slightly, his voice earnest. “If you have any information, Yomikawa-san, any clue at all, no matter how small it might seem… I implore you, please, share it with me.”

“My, my,” Yomikawa Tsuko purred, her usual sarcastic edge returning with a vengeance. “You’ve even mastered the art of polite entreaty. Such remarkable progress, Officer.” Then, with a sudden, disorienting shift in tone, she added, “Very well. If what you truly desire is Kagehara-kun’s diary, you need only ask directly.”

Hope, stark and sudden, flared in Kishida Masayoshi’s eyes. “You… you’d be willing to share it?”

Yomikawa Tsuko didn’t offer a direct answer. Instead, a sly, knowing smile touched her lips. “Your investigation into those… discreet establishments… the love hotels. Has it yielded any fruit thus far?”

She knew. Damn it, she knew. He’d barely mentioned that line of inquiry, a vague, passing reference, and she’d pounced on it, dissected it, understood its implications. Kishida sighed, a sense of weary resignation settling over him. “Not yet,” he admitted truthfully. “That particular angle is relatively new. It will take time. Speaking of which… the diary… might I perhaps… ‘borrow’ it for a brief perusal?”

“Handing over the entirety of it to you, Officer? Unchaperoned? That is, of course, entirely out of the question,” Yomikawa said, turning with a graceful, almost dismissive, pivot and strolling towards the gym’s small rest area. Kishida, after a moment’s hesitation, followed. “There are… entries within its pages that are of no relevance to your… official inquiries,” she continued, her back still to him. “Matters of a more… personal nature, which I’m quite certain Kagehara-kun would prefer remain private. Therefore, a degree of… curation on my part will be necessary.”

So, no more outright refusals? No more declarations of righteous anger and non-cooperation? This is… progress.

A jolt of renewed energy surged through Kishida. “That would be… immensely helpful, Yomikawa-san. Truly. But… when might I expect to… borrow... this curated selection of entries?”

“We will discuss it further in a few days,” Yomikawa said, settling into one of the plastic chairs with an air of regal indifference. “I find being rushed… counterproductive.” She paused, then added, her voice casual, almost an afterthought, “Oh, by the way, Officer. Has our young Ōgami-kun happened to contact you this week?”

“Ōgami?” Kishida was visibly startled, his composure momentarily deserting him. “Th-that… he… I…” he stammered, a flush rising on his neck.

“Eh—” Yomikawa Tsuko’s voice dropped, taking on a low, silken quality that was far more unnerving than any shout. Her dark eyes, obsidian sharp, fixed on Kishida, her gaze coldly appraising, almost… condescending. The silence stretched, taut and uncomfortable, before she finally spoke again. “So, he did make contact, then. And did he, perchance, mention… me?”

“No! Not you specifically, no,” Kishida blurted out, perhaps a little too quickly. He didn’t know why, but this young woman, this mere schoolgirl, had an uncanny ability to make him feel like a raw recruit facing a seasoned interrogator. Lying under the unwavering intensity of those dark eyes felt like an exercise in futility. “He merely… he asked for my assistance in looking into an accident. A minor matter.” He rushed on, eager to deflect. “Regarding your own… involvement… I assure you, I have maintained the strictest confidentiality. This is a highly sensitive situation. Naturally, I am exercising extreme caution.”

“Speaking from experience, are we, Officer?” Yomikawa Tsuko let out a soft, almost contemptuous, harrumph. “In any event, I have no doubt that you intend to take Kagehara-kun’s diary and dissect its contents with your colleagues. However, my conditions are clear. You must give me your absolute assurance that the fact the diary is currently in my possession will remain a secret, known only to you. If you cannot guarantee that… then I would sooner commit the diary to flames than allow it to fall into your hands.”

It was, he had to admit, a perfectly reasonable demand, under the circumstances. Kishida Masayoshi nodded, his expression serious. “That is, of course, understood. If the diary proves to be authentic, your status would shift to that of a key witness. And the police have stringent protocols in place for the protection and confidentiality of all such individuals.”

Just as they were concluding this delicate negotiation, a figure approached them. A mature woman, likely in her late thirties, with a pleasantly rounded figure, dressed in a tasteful pale green dress, an expensive-looking handbag looped over her arm. “Tsuko-chan,” she said, her voice warm, before her gaze fell on Kishida, a subtle note of caution entering her tone. “Oh. Um… is this a friend of yours, dear?”

Yazaki Hitomi’s eyes, though smiling, held a flicker of wariness as she looked at Kishida Masayoshi. An adult man, in athletic attire, in close conversation with an underage high school girl… regardless of the setting, it was a scene that could easily invite… unfortunate assumptions. Especially when the high school girl in question was, in a manner of speaking, under her care.

Kishida, acutely aware of the potential for misunderstanding, immediately straightened. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Kishida Masayoshi,” he said, offering a polite, if slightly stiff, bow. “I’m a police detective. There are certain… matters… pertaining to an ongoing case that I wished to discuss with Yomikawa-san, to request her assistance.”

“Eh? Eh-eh?! A case?!” Yazaki Hitomi’s eyes widened, her reaction immediate and agitated. “A police detective? Then it must be a criminal case, surely! How on earth could Tsuko-chan possibly be involved in a criminal case? You must be mistaken! There must be some dreadful misunderstanding!”

Kishida Masayoshi, well-accustomed to this brand of protective skepticism, cleared his throat, offering his well-rehearsed, if somewhat clumsy, reassurance. “Please, ma’am, there’s no cause for alarm. The police do not, in any way, suspect Yomikawa-san of any wrongdoing. We merely consider her a potential witness, and we are simply requesting her cooperation, her assistance in a sensitive matter.”

“Oh, is that so?” Yomikawa Tsuko interjected, her voice laced with a cold, almost mocking amusement. “So, Officer Kishida never suspected me, not even for a moment? How… utterly delightful to hear.” She let out a soft, almost inaudible snort of laughter, completely ignoring the detective, who was now visibly squirming under her gaze. She turned to the older woman, her expression smoothing into one of polite dismissal. “Well, anyway, don’t trouble yourself about him, Hitomi-obasan. Shall we go?”