Chapter Text
Tokyo, Japan
13/9/20
19:02
Shuichi lay in his bed, squinting his eyes to read the characters in his book. The blue LED lights hung along his bedroom walls made it difficult to decipher the writing on the page. His wired earbuds were tucked in his ears, its cord plugged into his phone laying face down next to his head. The gentle guitar strummed melodically with the singer's voice—it was some song from one of his many playlists.
On the walls surrounding him were posters hung from different bands, album covers, TV shows, and movies he liked. His favorite poster hung above his bed, Gerard Way screaming into a microphone tightly gripped in one of his hands, a skull painted on his face, and his hair bleached white.
Shuichi's childhood bedroom was decorated with the things he loved. His bookshelf had all his favorite books on the top shelves and his CDs on the bottom. Along the sides were souvenirs bought from old trips, and he kept his retro speaker beside the sheet music he printed from the internet.
On his desk laid his iPad, with a pack of guitar picks beside it, and a forensics kit his uncle got him for his birthday.
His guitars were in the corner of his room. He only had one guitar stand for the two he owned. He kept his electric on it with its amp close by. His acoustic was balanced against the wall.
He played his electric more often, but his uncle wanted him to play the acoustic like he did, so he got Shuichi one for Christmas. In turn, Shuichi made sure to be grateful and play it every once in a while. When he did, it reminded him of being a little kid, sitting on the porch at dusk while his uncle plucked away at his six-string.
His room was familiar, made by him, and designed to be what he needed. It was cozy and defined by all the eras of his life spent in his uncle's house—from early childhood to his edgy middle school years, and now at fifteen during the pandemic, confined to his home all day.
His pillow beneath him was damp from his wet hair. He had taken a shower a half hour ago before getting into his pajamas and settling in for the night. The hair against his face felt soft and oddly foreign. He couldn't remember the last time he showered before then. His school moved to online learning and the only person who saw him was his uncle, so what did it matter to stay hygienic?
The floor of his room lightly shook before a dull grinding noise emitted beneath him. Shuichi heard the garage grating open over his music.
Switching to hold his book in one hand, he used his free hand to pat around the surface of his bed until he found his phone. He turned his volume up a few notches.
Downstairs, the front door opened and closed. Footsteps moved around the house, going from place to place in a routine before heading up the stairs. There was a light knock on his bedroom door, but the sound was masked by Shuichi's music.
The door slowly creaked open. The yellow lighting from the hallway lamps flooded into his deep blue room. Shuichi looked up at the doorway where Haru stood, his figure basked in a mixture of shadow and dull light. He was in his work clothes, a black blazer over a white button-up with gray dress pants, and a navy blue tie.
"Hey, Shuichi," he greeted softly. His voice was quiet and husky. He looked tired.
Shuichi switched off his music, put his book aside, and sat up to face Haru, leaning his back against his bedframe.
"Hi," he greeted back.
Haru placed a hand on the doorframe, a watch framing his wrist. "How can you read with these on?" He looked around the ceiling at the LED lights. His brows furrowed. "It’s stuffy in here too. Maybe keep this door open.”
His hand left the doorframe and grabbed the doorknob to open the door wider. In his other hand kept loosely at his side, he held an envelope. Shuichi guessed he must have gotten the mail before coming in.
"What've you been up to? Just reading?" Haru asked.
Shuichi shrugged, looking off to the side. "Pretty much. How was work?”
“It was fine.” Haru ran a hand through the black stubble framing his jaw and leaned against the doorframe. "We've been backed up a lot recently. A lotta business going on around this time."
"That sucks," Shuichi murmured. "What's the envelope for?" He nodded toward Haru, his eyes on the letter in his hand.
Haru looked down at the envelope, realizing it was still there. “Oh. Heh, how dumb of me, I forgot I was still holding this. Meant to set it on the counter.” He looked behind him down the hall in the general direction of the kitchen. "It's uh, been a long day."
“Who's it from?”
“It’s for work," he answered vaguely. Haru held it up before setting it on the dresser next to the door. "Have you had any dinner yet?"
“No.” Shuichi flipped over his phone, checking the time. It was 7 PM. He forgot to eat again.
Since the pandemic spread to Japan, Shuichi's school had switched to at-home learning. He used to like it, but he began to find himself lying in his bed for hours on end every day. He would stare up at his ceiling, counting how long he could hold his eyes open until it hurt too bad. He had gotten up to two minutes. It was a distraction that never lasted long.
“I'll make you something,” Haru offered. "Does anything sound good?"
“Uh, do we still have some of the yakitori left over?" Shuichi asked.
Haru paused for a beat to think. "I believe so. I can heat 'em up."
"Sounds good to me."
"Alright." Haru nodded. He stood there for a moment, thinking about something Shuichi couldn't decipher. "Alright," he repeated before he turned around and left, leaving the door open.
Shuichi let out a sigh and slowly slid off his bed to close the door. His knees popped as he shifted his weight to his feet. He winced, a dull pain running through his legs that faded as he took a few steps forward. He crossed the room and shut his bedroom door.
The door clicked as he softly closed it, the gray handle turning back to its resting place as Shuichi's grip loosened. He rested his head against the door, closing his eyes. It had been a long day for him, too. Zoom meetings and silence accompanied by loneliness. He missed Haru when he was gone. The house was so barren and lifeless when only Shuichi was in it.
He sighed through his nose and opened his eyes. As his vision focused, the stark white of the envelope on his dresser stood out in his peripherals. He turned his head to look at it. Haru's name was written in neat pen with their address underneath it. His eyes curiously looked to the top left corner where the return address was written. Mizuno Yuki was the name written above it.
His eyes widened and he lifted his head off the door swiftly. Mizuno???
He had heard that name before. The Mizunos were a family in the rich upper class in Tokyo. Yuki was the daughter of a family that ran a fashion and makeup company, who went on to start a business in perfume. The Mizuno name was written in luscious pink cursive on advertisements and store signs around the city.
He took a step toward his dresser and picked up the letter, staring down at it.
What could Yuki Mizuno have to do with work? Shuichi wondered to himself. He and Haru were middle-class and never had any reason to get intertwined with a designer brand. Haru didn't focus on robbery cases, and as far as Shuichi knew, Mizuno Perfume hadn't been robbed anyway. And yet, Mizuno had personally written the letter in black ballpoint pen with delicate care in cursive handwriting.
He should head downstairs and return this to Haru. He took a step backward, ready to turn around and open the door. Before he lifted his head to take his eyes off the envelope and exit his room, something in him made him pause. He stopped in place and continued to stare at the characters atop the sealed envelope.
The ink looked bolder and darker, the writing looking more stark across the paper as if it were wet, freshly written from pen. Shuichi ran his thumb across the edge of one of the words, wondering if it would smear, but it didn't.
He tended to tear apart and get into things he shouldn’t, prodding his way into things that were not meant for him. Always in an investigation, always in a search for answers.
Haru liked this trait about him. He enjoyed listening to Shuichi's theories about the books he read and the shows he watched, he liked being told by Shuichi's teachers that while his nephew was quiet in class, he dug into their research projects more than anyone else, and he loved answering the questions Shuichi asked about his work.
However, he was weary of Shuichi going too far. He was nervous about what Shuichi could put into his head and the things he could get into online. He worried about the way Shuichi intensely analyzed others and saw friendships as something to decode.
He wanted him to live in the moment, and to value things on the surface, not only on their core for the sake of not driving himself crazy, trying to force things to go deeper than they extended.
"Shuichi," Haru would tell him. "If you keep trying to expose the other side of something that's one-sided, you'll hit a dead end every time. You can't find the truth in an answer that's already right. It doesn't make sense. Some things are what they are; at face value."
Shuichi knew that. He did. He understood that. But accepting it…
That part didn't matter. He didn't know what his uncle was so scared of anyway, or why it was wrong.
This was a letter from Mizuno Yuki. It wasn't one of those things that felt larger than it was. This was large. So he had the right to be intrigued, didn't he?
He hated it when his uncle got mad at him, and he never wanted to disappoint him, but his interest outweighed any other emotion or thoughts in his head.
With his curiosity overtaking his fear, he flipped the envelope over and carefully broke the seal. He would be quick about it and reseal it after. Haru wouldn't know.
He pulled the letter out. His heart was pounding against his rib cage. He unfolded the paper and ran his eyes over the words written in ink.
Dear Mr. Saihara,
I don't see it necessary to introduce myself, but I'm not one to skip over formalities. My name is Mizuno Yuki and I am the co-owner of Mizuno Perfume. I have been made aware that you are the new detective on a case I am involved in. I am writing to you to inform you of my position in this ordeal.
Routinely I do check-ups on each of my stores in the city to ensure they're run without problems. On August 22nd, I was in my store located at Center-gai, Shibuya, which happened to be the establishment Mai came into the night she disappeared. I was busy so I came in later, closer to closing, so I was in when she swung by. In the back, a few employees were fulfilling an order requesting a large bouquet for a wedding. I was told they were struggling with organizing the arrangements, so I sent the others on shift to aid them while I managed the front counter. When Mai came in, I was the only one in the front, which is why I'm the only one who saw her as the security camera footage I willingly gave over demonstrates.
I've been told by my employees that Mai is a frequent customer, and is known for being kind, however, I had never met her before then. She made small talk with me, but it was nothing that stood out.
That is my entire story with the case. Nothing more than that. I am sure you know I am a suspect, though. I have gone through extensive interviewing, I adhered to closing the store Mai came into for multiple business days for a police search, and I did all of this willingly. The only thing I denied was a search of my residence as I did not see it necessary for there was no warrant to search my home.
I understand the stakes of this case. I understand how crucial it is for this young woman to be found as soon as possible, and my greatest condolences are to her family at this difficult time. However, because of this, I see it was necessary to intervene in this investigation of me; it is wasting vital time in the wrong place. Additionally, it has gotten to the point that this is affecting my business and family.
I am disappointed by the ignorance displayed by your office that despite no confirmation or evidence of me being guilty, my status as a suspect was leaked to the public. My sales have gone down vastly and my family and I have received numerous death threats.
I will continue to work with you as best I can. Know this. I will do anything to be cleared in a case I had no fault in getting intertwined with. And because of this, I strongly request that you allow me to; I don't want to repeat my last interaction with your office. The last detective was tactless and aggressively accusatory. I was elated when she was dropped as the lead for this case. Hopefully, you have some compassion, Saihara.
I wish you the best of luck in finding and returning this woman to her home.
Sincerely,
Yuki Mizuno
Suddenly, and without warning, Shuichi's door opened faster than he could he could stop it or hide the letter. He whipped around, startled and trying to shield the paper with his hands.
Haru's eyes quickly caught sight of the letter, and just as swiftly, he noticed the open envelope on his dresser. His eyes narrowed in disappointment and his lips formed into a grimace.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?" he asked. "Please give me that." He held out his hand expectantly and Shuichi meekly obeyed. He swiftly tucked the letter back into its envelope. "Shuichi," he sighed, "you cannot look through my personal work letters. That is a part of privacy. I respect yours; I expect you to do the same."
Shuichi looked down, guilt easing into him. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have. It was dumb of me. I don't know why— It was there and I meant to give it back to you, I just…" Shuichi trailed off, failing to find the explanation as to why he read it.
Haru sighed in frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his elbow bumping the doorframe. Unable to look him in the eyes, Shuichi stared at a small scar on Haru's nose that his thumb and index finger framed.
Haru dropped his hand from his face and took the letter back out of the envelope. His eyes began to scan across the page. "Hm…" he hummed when he finished it. He lowered the letter from his face and looked off down the hallway.
“… How long has…” Shuichi nervously asked. "How long has she been missing?"
Maybe it was wrong for him to ask and maybe he should've kept the question to himself. But pretending he knew nothing about what was in the letter wouldn't make him any less guilty.
Haru's head turned to look at him. There was a brief pause where silence hung between them. His uncle looked far away, detached and removed. Shuichi wondered if he would leave his question unanswered, but Haru made up his mind.
"It's been a week now," he confessed solemnly, his eyes drifting to the floor.
Shuichi's expression shifted to surprise. "A week?" He looked off the side to think, knowing what that meant. "Are you sure you're going to find her… alive?”
Haru took in a deep breath and put a hand to his chin. His fingers ran over his stubble as he thought to himself. “I wish there was a greater chance that we could. By some blessing, she might be alive. But there’s little to no evidence pointing to where to find her, dead or not."
“I feel bad for her family,” Shuichi sighed. "I mean, to not even know if… if you even can still hope…"
Haru looked down at Shuichi. "Yeah…"
Another silence passed over them for a beat. It was somber and heavy. At that moment, Mai could either be suffering or rotting while they stood there.
Breaking the silence, Shuichi smiled lightly and looked at the letter in Haru's hand. "Does Mizuno know she's only making herself look more suspicious by begging to be taken off the suspect list?"
Haru scoffed and smiled. "I thought the same thing. She's the last known person to have seen Mai. That doesn't solidify her as guilty to me; circumfical evidence isn't enough to prove anything. But she's been bothering the office for a while. She wasn't lying when she said she's been complacent with the investigation, but in the notes taken on her it's said she's had an attitude and took a lot of convincing."
"That sounds like a lot." Shuichi looked off to the side, trying to piece together the puzzle as if he had enough to solve it. "And she's the only person you got right now?"
"Pretty much. We've been in contact with those who know her, and it's about what you wouldn't want in a missing case. Anyone who might've done it has air-tight alibis. Those who could've done it have no motive. And the evidence we have doesn't point to where she is. Our lead suspect only happened to see her last…"
"So you're at a dead end."
"Pretty much."
His answer was dull, lifeless, lacking hope. He had become accustomed to the cases that went cold after doing his work for so long. It tore at his humanity, his hope for it. It withered in his eyes— eyes that were so distant and far away as if they saw something else and not his young nephew before him. It was like an image was permanently branded over his vision.
Within the back confines of Shuichi's inner mind, an idea planted itself, creating a figure based on a vision. The seed grew from a ground nourished by hope to be something more. Born with scarcity and almost nothing to it, it configured itself into a form he plotted. It stirred through his mind as if fully brewed into an intention.
He couldn't solve everything. He couldn't fix everything. But he couldn't abandon his hope. He was a kid still looking for a purpose—and that was the closest thing he had to one.
He wanted to help. He wanted to do whatever he could because it meant more if he tried than if he walked away. There was a woman out there, maybe alive, maybe dead, with a family worried sick and most likely someone heinous not brought to justice. How could he walk away from that? How could he turn his back and pretend it wasn't there?
"It's… It's not the same, and I know this is bigger, but… you know how your boss allows me to help with divorce cases?" he began.
Haru's face dropped. His voice took a stern, icy edge. "Shuichi—”
Shuichi raised his hands, pleading for Haru to hear him out. “I know it’s way above my skill level and I'm still young, but please, give me a chance. I can handle it, I promise."
Haru took a step back, shaking his head and not looking his nephew in the eye. "No. No, you're fifteen. You're not ready for something like this." He pointed to the envelope.
"But I've already started training," Shuichi insisted. "I'm shadowing you. This can be a part of that. I'll work behind the scenes so I don't get in the way."
"This isn't about you getting in the way, it's about your safety," Haru argued. Anger crept into his tone. He was shut away, resistant to changing his mind.
"But I'll be fine if I'm not the head of the case. I'm not asking for any credit or to do my own independent work. I'll go at your pace. Everything will be under your control."
Haru shook his head again. He took a step back and stared off down the hallway. His voice was steely. "I can't afford you getting hurt."
"But I can help," Shuichi insisted.
"I don't need your help. I have the research of the previous lead detective."
"But it's been a week and you don't have anything. That research isn't enough." Shuichi took a step forward and put his hands on his chest. "And think about what I could gain from this. I've been doing all this training and work, but now when I really want to get into this, I can't. How else am I supposed to grow?"
"This is different, Shuichi," Haru insisted, his brows furrowed and shoulders tense. "This is too much for you."
"If it is… If I'm not ready now then… when will I ever be ready? Do I keep doing divorce cases until one day I can do something else?"
"Yes," Haru growled. "Then you become an adult, go to school, then we can talk. You can't skip vital steps."
The answer made Shuichi confused because it wasn't true. "But I'm shadowing you now and I officially have credit for resolved cases, don't I? I think I've skipped multiple steps already, and you supported all of them until now."
Haru grimaced and closed his eyes. His hands balled tightly into fists. "Look…" His voice was gravelly and low in a murmur. "I know what you think you're trying to say. And it might seem unfair. But I'm the only damn adult looking out for you, okay? So I get to make decisions like that." A desperate, almost fearful edge crawled into his tone. "You are not ready for this. End of discussion. I refuse to have it on my conscience if it affects you, too."
Shuichi's voice became light, receiving the final rejection while making sense of his phrasing. "What do you mean affects me, too?"
Haru paused. A solemn look spread over his face. "This case… is disturbing. You haven't seen what I've seen. I'm supposed to keep you safe, so I can't get you involved."
"I just…"
"Shuichi." His voice was made of steel. "Don't. No more of this." As he spoke, the sentence faded into a murmur.
Shuichi shifted his gaze to the side, looking at his doorframe. He didn't know what it was like to be his uncle, what it was like to do his profession full time. He couldn't imagine half of what Haru experienced. But he supposed whatever it was, it convinced him that safety meant zero risk. And there was risk in exploration.
So with no will to argue, Shuichi didn't say anything back. He had to trust that Haru knew best. Even if it prohibited him from a dream.
Haru cleared his throat. His gaze strictly hardened on the carpeted ground beneath them. "There's dinner on the table. I'm gonna take a shower, alright?"
Shuichi nodded. His lips were sealed shut.
"Okay," Haru mumbled.
A beat. Then he turned around and walked away, leaving Shuichi bereft and still in place.
The opened envelope lay on his dresser.