Chapter 31: Kishida’s Curiosity

“Yomikawa-san… does she have someone important to her, buried in this cemetery?”

The question snagged in Kishida Masayoshi’s mind, a professional reflex he couldn’t suppress. His eyes, trained for detail, had already clocked and memorized the license plate number of the departing taxi.

A single, sweeping glance at the dilapidated church and its modest, untended graveyard was enough to draw a clear conclusion: this was not a final resting place for the city’s affluent or influential. Yomikawa Tsuko’s parents were highly respected academics, individuals of considerable means and social standing. Logically, if she were paying respects to a deceased relative of that caliber, it would be at one of the more prestigious, well-manicured cemeteries.

Then again, his background check on her had been superficial, focused only on her immediate parents. It was, he conceded, possible that her grandparents or other relatives were from a more humble background, that her family’s ascent into the upper echelons of society was a recent development.

“Still… something about this feels… wrong.”

He couldn’t articulate it, not yet, but the image of Yomikawa Tsuko, here, in this dreary, forgotten corner of the city, at this particular time, on a day weeping with rain… it resonated with a profound sense of wrongness. A discordant note in the strange, unsettling melody that was his ongoing, unofficial investigation into her.

The core of it, he realized, was the stark, almost violent contrast with the version of Yomikawa he had previously encountered.

In their prior meetings, even when he had approached her with open, undisguised hostility, his mind buzzing with suspicion, her demeanor had remained a placid lake of unnerving, unshakeable composure. She had claimed to be angry, yes, but her words had been delivered with a cold detachment that lacked the genuine, chaotic heat of rage.

Emotions like anger, sadness, jealousy… he had never once witnessed a genuine flicker of these common, messy human feelings on her flawlessly beautiful face.

And that was precisely why her presence here, in a place so intrinsically steeped in sorrow, felt so jarring. So… incongruous.

“Yes,” he whispered to the rain-streaked windshield. “That’s the word. Incongruous.”

A sharp-tongued, preternaturally intelligent, and strikingly beautiful young woman from a privileged background… was she really the type of person to venture out alone on a miserable, rainy day to mourn the dead in a place like this?

No matter how he turned the puzzle over in his mind, the pieces simply refused to fit.

“But… I must be careful not to be too absolute in my assumptions.”

A new feeling, a spark of intense, almost unprofessional curiosity, began to ignite within him, a welcome warmth against the cold frustration of his official, dead-end cases.

“Perhaps… perhaps she is merely the type who buries her sorrow deep, who constructs an impenetrable fortress around her heart, never allowing a single trace of vulnerability to show on the surface?”

To brave this miserable weather, to make this lonely pilgrimage… the person she had come to mourn must have been someone of immense importance to her.

“Is there a story here? A hidden, private tragedy?”

From his limited, and often contentious interactions with her, he had already concluded that Yomikawa Tsuko, despite her youth, possessed a formidable inner strength, a steely fortitude that many adult men, including himself, would struggle to match.

“For someone that strong, that composed, to come all this way, in this rain, to mourn… who could possibly have been that important to her? The thought is… surprisingly, intensely, intriguing.”

“This could be… a valuable opportunity. A chance to understand her on a deeper level. And if I can achieve that, perhaps, just perhaps, I can finally persuade her to be more… cooperative… with my investigation.”

Of course, Kishida Masayoshi had to admit, a small, less professional part of him was simply… captivated by the mystery of her.

The hidden vulnerabilities of the strong, the unexpected principles of the morally ambiguous, the secret kindness of a great villain… these stark, human paradoxes always held a certain irresistible allure, a puzzle that demanded to be solved.

His gaze fixed on the spot where the taxi had vanished into the gray gloom, Kishida pushed open his car door. He stretched his stiff, tired limbs, then retrieved a simple bouquet of white chrysanthemums from the passenger seat, opened his umbrella, and walked with a renewed sense of purpose into the cemetery.

However, the scene that greeted him inside the graveyard’s wrought-iron gates once again completely defied his expectations.

“No fresh offerings. No recently laid flowers.”

He walked slowly, methodically, down the rows of weathered tombstones, his detective’s eyes scanning each one. The small stone platforms in front of the graves were all bare, washed clean by the relentless drizzle. Yomikawa had only just left. Any offerings she might have placed – flowers, a small token, even incense – should have been fresh, vibrant, easily identifiable against the gray, damp stone. His plan had been simple: find the fresh offering, identify the name and face on the tombstone, and then use that information as a new key to unlock the enigma that was Yomikawa Tsuko.

He had been so certain.

“To come all this way, in this miserable weather, and not bring any offerings at all? Not even a single flower? That’s more than just unusual. It’s… abnormal. It’s a deliberate choice.”

Kishida Masayoshi stood there, a solitary figure under his black umbrella, a deep, frustrated frown slowly creasing his forehead.

“Is this some unique, private custom of hers? Or is there some specific, hidden reason for it?”

“Or… have I gotten it all completely wrong? Was she not here to visit a grave at all? But… I’ve seen no indication that she’s a practicing Christian. What other conceivable reason would she have to be at this remote church, at this time, on this day?”

His mind buzzing with these new, unsettling questions, Kishida Masayoshi immediately took out his phone and dialed Matsushita Makoto.

“Makoto, are you at headquarters? Excellent.”

“I need you to run two things for me, right away. First, I want a complete list of all burials in the Fura Public Cemetery. Have it on my desk for when I get back. Second, I’m sending you a license plate number. I need the contact information for the driver of that taxi. Text it to me as soon as you have it.”

After giving the instructions, he made his way to his own father’s grave, a brief, somber visit, before returning to the cold comfort of his car. Just as he settled into the driver’s seat, a message pinged on his phone. Makoto, efficient as always, had already sent the taxi driver’s contact details.

“Hello, am I speaking with Mr. Shibata Nagakatsu? This is Detective Kishida Masayoshi. Our investigation indicates that you recently transported a female passenger to the Fura Church. I need to ask you a few questions about that fare.”

He calculated the time. Yomikawa would have been dropped off by now. No need for subtlety.

The voice on the other end, when it came, was laced with shock and a healthy dose of suspicion. It wasn’t every day you dropped off a fare and immediately received a call from a police detective.

“Eh? That young lady? What about her? Is she the daughter of some bigwig? Or a fugitive on the run? Look, whatever it is, I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

“Please don’t worry, Mr. Shibata. This is just a routine inquiry. I simply need you to describe your interaction with that female passenger in as much detail as you can recall.”

“Well, if that’s all… sure, I can help you out. The girl, she wasn’t very old. High school, maybe first year of college. Incredibly beautiful. I’d guess she lives up in Nagano Ward. Definitely looked like she came from money.”

“After she got in the car, she just sat in the back. Gave me the destination and then… nothing. Didn’t say another word the whole trip. Spent most of the time just staring out the window at the rain. When a customer’s quiet, I just drive quiet, you know?”

“She was probably visiting a deceased relative, I figured. I noticed her eyes were a little red. When we were stopped at a traffic light, I caught a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror. She was wiping away tears. Maybe she just lost someone close to her. A real shame, a girl that young.”

Yomikawa Tsuko… cried?

The thought struck Kishida Masayoshi with the force of a physical blow. He tried to conjure the image in his mind, to picture that cold, intelligent, almost perpetually smirking young woman, the one who so effortlessly mocked and outmaneuvered him, actually shedding tears. He couldn’t. The two images refused to coexist.

He didn’t know if it was professional instinct, or just that unreliable sixth sense of his kicking into overdrive, but for some reason, he felt an inexplicable, almost obsessive, need to understand the secret behind her visit.

Did something happen to her recently? Or was today some kind of significant, painful anniversary? For a fleeting moment, he considered calling Ōgami Yōsuke, but then hesitated. Dragging that kid any deeper into this… it probably wasn’t the right thing to do.

“When we got to the church,” the driver continued, oblivious to Kishida’s internal turmoil, “she asked me to wait, said she’d be right back. I figured she was just popping in to pay her respects, so I didn’t think much of it. Just watched her walk towards the cemetery. About ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, she came back…”

“Wait a minute,” Kishida Masayoshi interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp, urgent. “When she got out of your car, besides her umbrella, was she carrying anything else? Anything at all? Like offerings, a bouquet of flowers?”

“Eh?” The question clearly caught Shibata Nagakatsu off guard. “Well, now that you mention it… no. Besides her umbrella, her hands were completely empty. But maybe she had something tucked away in her pockets? No… wait… she was wearing one of those long, black trench coats, the kind without pockets. And under that, a long black dress. No pockets there either, from what I could see. So… yeah. Now that I think about it, she really wasn’t carrying anything at all.”

“And afterwards? After she returned from the cemetery, where did she go?”

“She just asked me to take her back to where I’d originally picked her up. Dropped her off, and that was that. But… you know, she did seem different, after she came back from the grave. I’ve been driving this taxi for a long time, I’ve seen a lot of people come and go. And even from just a quick glance, I could tell. The sadness, the redness in her eyes… it was gone. And her expression, her whole… aura… it was much harder. Sharper. More… determined.”

Kishida Masayoshi nodded slowly, a thoughtful, deeply unsettled expression on his face. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Shibata. I’ll be in touch if I require any further information.”

Shibata’s testimony had confirmed it beyond a doubt: Yomikawa Tsuko had come to this lonely cemetery to visit someone. And the fact that she had brought no offerings… it could only mean one thing. She hadn’t wanted to leave any trace of her visit.

It was, he knew, a significant leap in logic, almost an accusation in itself. But he couldn’t afford to underestimate Yomikawa Tsuko. It was far better to assume she was even more intelligent, even more deliberate and calculating in her actions, than she appeared, than to risk missing a single, crucial clue.

“But if that’s the case…” he murmured to the empty car, his mind racing, “doesn’t that just make this entire situation even more… intriguing? To visit the grave of someone so important to you, yet to be so meticulously careful that no one can discover any trace of your visit… even a non-detective would be able to smell a dark, hidden ‘secret’ in a situation like that, wouldn’t they?”

It was, he acknowledged, Yomikawa Tsuko’s private business. But what if… what if it was somehow connected to the web of death and disappearance he was so desperately trying to untangle?

Of course, the more likely explanation was that he was simply overthinking things, chasing shadows, allowing his fascination with her to cloud his professional judgment. But… it didn’t matter. If he was wrong, he’d just apologize. It wouldn’t be the first time.

With that thought, a new, almost reckless, resolve took hold. He started the car and began the drive back to headquarters. Driven by this new, gnawing curiosity, this obsession with the enigma that was Yomikawa Tsuko, his foot pressed down on the accelerator, a little harder than usual.