At school, everyone was standing in the big hall for the funeral of two students.
Kenta Arai and Yuto Ishigami.
Some students cried. Others didn't. Honestly, not many people liked Kenta or Yuto… but seeing their photos on display like that? Yeah—it was still kind of sad.
Random students—
"He wasn't a good person, right?" one student whispered.
"Yeah, always bragging. Kind of annoying," another replied.
A third voice joined in, quieter: "Still… what if we're next?"
"Oh please—don't say that," the first one muttered back.
"No one wants to die like that," someone else added from nearby.
"Whatever," someone whispered, almost to themselves.
So everyone is scared right now. Funerals have started. Our principal came for a speech. Let's see how much he will speak. To be honest, the principal always drags things out—whenever he talks, time feels like it stops.
"Students, Today, we gather with heavy hearts. We've lost two of our classmates—Kenta Arai and Yuto Ishigami. I know many of you are feeling afraid, uncertain, even helpless.
But I want to assure you—the police are working tirelessly to find the one responsible. You're not alone.
Let us pray that Kenta and Yuto find peace, and that their families find strength. May they rest in a better place. Ameen.
Now, please welcome the lead investigator on this case—Detective Reina.
Wait— she is here as well?
"Thank you, Principal, and thank you all for being here today.
This isn't an ordinary day. It's not one we will soon forget. Two young lives—Kenta Arai and Yuto Ishigami—were taken far too soon. And no words spoken here today can ever truly ease the pain of that reality.
Some of you knew them well. Some of you barely spoke to them. And some of you… might have had your differences with them. But that doesn't change the truth: they were classmates, part of this community, part of your daily lives. And now, they're gone.
I know many of you are scared. I've seen it in your eyes. I've heard the silence in these hallways. You wonder, Why them? Who's next? You wonder if justice will come. Let me tell you something—not as a detective, but as a human being, and as someone who understands loss:
You are not alone.
The Tokyo Special Investigations Division—TSID—is working tirelessly on this case. And I promise you, with every breath I take and every lead I follow, I will not stop until the one behind this is found. This isn't just about solving a crime. It's about restoring the sense of safety you've lost. It's about protecting every single one of you sitting here today.
I became a detective because I believe in truth. I believe in justice. And I believe that no matter how dark the road, there is always a way forward if we walk it together. That means sharing what you know, watching out for one another, and not letting fear win.
We lost Kenta and Yuto, yes. But we will not lose our will to fight for them.
To their families… I offer my deepest condolences. Nothing I do will ever bring your sons back—but I swear to you, they will not be forgotten. I will make sure their names are not reduced to whispers of tragedy. I will make them part of the reason this ends.
To the students… I ask you to be strong. Not fearless—but strong enough to keep going even when you're afraid. And if you ever see or hear anything—no matter how small—come forward. Your voice could be the one that stops this.
We owe that to Kenta. We owe that to Yuto.
Thank you."
As Detective Reina stepped back from the podium, her final words echoing in the hall—"I promise you, I will not rest until the one responsible is brought to justice"—a heavy silence filled the space. Her expression remained unreadable, but her voice had carried weight. A mixture of strength and sorrow.
The principal nodded solemnly and returned to the microphone.
"Now," he said, "I ask everyone to please stand… for a moment of silence in honor of Kenta Arai and Yuto Ishigami."
Chairs scraped softly. Feet shuffled. And then—nothing.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The kind of silence that didn't just fall, but pressed down—as if the air itself was mourning.
Some students bowed their heads. A few clutched their sleeves to hide the tears that had begun to fall. Others stood awkwardly, unsure of what to feel, but unable to escape the weight of death now sitting beside them.
It was quiet enough to hear the ticking of the gym's old wall clock.
Each tick, a second lost.
Each second, a reminder.
I looked around.
Miyu's head was lowered beside him, her hands clasped tightly together. Her knuckles were white.
Then… after a long minute…
A girl stepped forward.
Her voice trembled as she began, but she didn't turn back.
"Um… I'd like to say something," she said softly.
The principal gave a silent nod.
She walked up slowly to the stage. Her black skirt swayed slightly. She held a small paper in her hands that had been folded and unfolded so many times, the edges were nearly worn through.
She stood in front of the microphone.
"My name is Ayaka," she said. "I… I sat next to Yuto in class. We weren't close friends or anything. Actually, we argued a lot. He always copied my math homework and then acted like he did it himself…" A few light chuckles broke the tension, then faded. "But, um…"
She inhaled shakily.
"I never thought I'd be standing here… talking like this. I never thought he wouldn't be sitting in his chair today, slouched over with that smug grin, asking if I had gum."
A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it quickly.
"Kenta was loud. Annoying. Always talking about how great he was. But he also lent me his notes when I missed school. And once, when my umbrella broke, he shared his—didn't even say anything. Just opened it and held it over both of us like it was nothing."
Her voice cracked.
"They weren't perfect. But no one is. And now they're gone… and it feels so wrong."
She looked up at the crowd.
"So please… even if you didn't like them… remember something good. Even if it's small. Something stupid. Something funny. Something real. Because if we forget them completely… then what's left?"
Silence.
Then—quiet clapping. A few students. Then more. Not loud, not celebratory. Just… respectful.
Ayaka stepped down slowly and returned to her seat. Her shoulders were shaking.
The principal returned to the microphone, voice thick.
"Thank you, Ayaka. That was very brave."
— ✦ —
After the funeral, I sat alone in my office, staring down at the clues spread across my desk.
"Hmm… None of this makes sense. No connections, no motives—just dead ends."
I leaned back in my chair, fingers drumming the desk lightly.
"Maybe it's time I visit their houses… there might be something I've missed. Something personal."
Just then, a knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I said.
The door opened, and Chief Inspector Shinji Mori stepped in, his usual calm expression etched with a hint of urgency.
"Detective Reina."
"Yes, sir," I replied, still facing my board.
"Any progress?"
I shook my head. "Not yet, sir. I was just thinking—I'll visit the families of Kenta Arai and Yuto Ishigami. Maybe I'll find something useful."
"Good instinct," he said, walking closer. "But before that—I have something for you."
I turned to face him. "For me?"
He handed over a manila folder. "You're not alone in this investigation, remember? While you were handling the funeral proceedings, I was digging through the school files."
My eyes narrowed. "And?"
"At the main office, when no one was around, I came across a strange file. No name on the cover—just a report. Turns out, an anonymous female student submitted a formal complaint."
I opened the folder, scanning the paper quickly. "Harassment…?"
"Exactly. Two years ago, she accused both Kenta Arai and Yuto Ishigami. The report claimed she was repeatedly harassed by them—but nothing was ever done. And not long after that… she was found dead."
I looked up. "Suicide?"
"That's what the official report says. But this file… it tells a different story."
"There's no name here," I said, flipping the pages. "Not hers. Not the suspects."
"I know. When I pressed the principal for answers, he was reluctant. Acted like he didn't know anything. But eventually… he gave up their names. Kenta and Yuto."
I exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the report again. "So this might not be random after all."
"Exactly."
I closed the file. "Thank you, sir. This changes everything."
He nodded and sat down across from me. "Just be careful. These families… they've lost their sons. The air will be thick when you walk in there."
I stood and gave him a slight bow. "Understood."
"One more thing, Detective."
I paused at the door.
"Good luck."
I offered a faint smile. "Thank you."
Then I turned and walked out.
Outside, I spotted Inspector Keiji leaning against the police vehicle.
"Inspector Keiji."
He looked up and smiled. "Detective Reina. You alright?"
"Fine," I said. "Hope your day's treating you better than mine."
"Depends how you define it better."
I gave a tired smirk. "We're heading out. Two home visits. Victim families."
He nodded. "Got it."
We got into the car. As the engine started, my fingers tightened around the edge of the folder.
Something's not right about that file. Something's being hidden.
But not for long.
As we reached Kenta Arai's house, I could feel the tension in the thick air.
"Inspector Keiji!"
"Yes ma'am!"
"Stay here! I will be back soon."
"Sure!"
"Thanks…"
I went to the door and knocked on it.
Someone opened the door. It was a young lady, wearing a maid outfit.
"Who are you?"
"I'm detective Reina!"
"Oh—come in!"
As she offered me to come in, the atmosphere was heavy with grief and awkward tension. The living room is dimly lit, the curtains partly drawn. A framed photo of Kenta sits on the shelf above the TV. I saw Mr. and Mrs. Arai sitting on the couch right next to each other. Then I spoke.
"Hello! I'm detective Reina!"
Mr. Arai says, "Welcome! Please sit here."
"Sure." I replied.
Mrs. Arai (pouring tea, hands trembling): "I… I still can't believe he's gone. My son… he wasn't perfect, but he didn't deserve this."
Reina (calmly, gently accepting the tea): "I understand how difficult this is, ma'am. I'm truly sorry for your loss. I just want to ask a few questions. It might help us find the person responsible."
Mr. Arai (arms folded, guarded): "If you're here to accuse him of something, you can leave. Our son is the victim, not the criminal."
Reina (nodding slowly): "I'm not accusing anyone. I just want to know more about him. His relationships. His habits. Anything unusual lately?"
Mrs. Arai (voice cracking): "He was… loud. Stubborn. Always wanted attention. But he was just being a teenager, wasn't he? He… he bragged a lot. Even when it hurts others."
Mr. Arai (mutters): "Tried too hard to act like a man."
Reina: "Did he mention anyone bothering him recently? Any threats, fights, or… anything he might've been afraid of?"
Mr. Arai (scoffs): "Kenta? Afraid? That boy thought the world revolved around him."
Mrs. Arai (after a pause): "He did say something strange a few weeks ago… said someone at school was acting weird. Kept staring at him. But when I asked who, he laughed it off."
Reina (scribbling in her notebook): "Did he have any close friends?"
Mrs. Arai: "There was Yuto. They were always together. But I didn't like that friendship. Bad influence… both ways."
Reina (quietly): "Were you aware of a harassment report filed against your son two years ago?"
Mr. Arai (sits up): "What? What the hell are you talking about?"
Mrs. Arai: "No… that can't be right. There was never any report. Was there?"
Reina (calmly sliding the printed file across the table): "This came from the school archives. It's incomplete, but your son's name is mentioned… along with Yuto Ishigami's."
Mr. Arai (reading, face turning red): "This—this is fake. The school never told us anything!"
Mrs. Arai (voice low): "They wouldn't… would they? To protect the school's name…"
Reina: "The girl who filed it… she's no longer alive. The report says suicide. But the details don't match."
Mr. Arai: "What are you suggesting?"
Reina (eyes cold but steady): "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm following facts. I understand this is painful. But if your son was involved in something deeper… I need to know. It could help stop the next death."
(Silence falls. The air grows heavier.)
Mrs. Arai (whispering, as if to herself): "I knew he was hiding something. But I was too afraid to ask."
Mr. Arai (quietly): "You think our boy brought this on himself."
Reina (gently but firmly): "I think your son may have been targeted for reasons we don't fully understand. But if we don't find the truth, someone else might die."
(A long pause. Mr. Arai sets the file down, looking away. Mrs. Arai wipes a tear.)
Mrs. Arai (softly): "Please… find whoever did this. Even if… even if it leads back to something dark. Just… stop it."
Reina: "Excuse me! If you don't mind… Can I look at Kenta Arai's room?"
Mr. Arai (angrily): "For what?"
Reina (calmly): "To see if I can find something useful to solve this case."
Mrs. Arai: "You can—"
Mr. Arai (interrupting Mrs. Arai): "But why?"
Mrs. Arai: "Let her do her job!"
Mr. Arai: "Fine… you can check!"
Reina: "Thank you."
Mrs. Arai: "Top of the left. Last door."
As I went to his room. I opened the door and saw his room was a little messy, like he was searching for something. Some band posters and game posters are on the wall.
I looked around the room. I looked at his desk and on his bed… nothing was found, but when I looked at the trash bin under his bed. I found an empty orange bottle of medication.
I picked it up and tilted it under the light. The label was partially scratched off, but I could still read it:
Alprazolam. Anti-anxiety medication.
Recently prescribed.
Only two weeks old.
But the bottle was already empty.
Too fast.
"Self-medicating… or scared of something?"
I didn't find anything else… so I walked outside.
"I guess this bottle will lead somewhere."
Back downstairs, I noticed the maid standing by the kitchen door, nervously drying a plate. She was young. Couldn't be older than twenty. She kept glancing toward the living room, where the parents sat in rehearsed grief.
I walked over, slowly.
"Can we speak… privately?" I asked.
Her hand stopped. She looked up with cautious eyes, then nodded once. I followed her to the back hallway, beside the laundry room.
Her name tag said Nao.
She folded her arms. "I don't know how I can help you, detective. I didn't see anything."
"I'm not looking for witnesses," I said. "Just insight. Something personal. Something his parents might not know."
She hesitated, and her knuckles tightened on her sleeves.
"You want to know what he was like when no one was watching," she said quietly.
I nodded. "Yes."
Nao took a deep breath. "Kenta was… complicated. When I first started here, he was just a normal boy. A bit rude. Entitled. Nothing surprising."
She looked away. "But after a while… he changed. Started yelling. He called me names when he was in a bad mood. Throwing things sometimes. I thought maybe it was pressure from school."
"Did he ever hurt you physically?" I asked, gently.
She didn't answer right away. But her silence was enough.
"One night," she said, voice tight, "I brought him his laundry. He'd been drinking—his parents didn't even notice. He grabbed my arm. Said I was pretty. Laughed like it was a joke, but it wasn't."
She paused.
"I locked myself in the pantry. After that, he stopped trying. But he never apologized. Just acted like I wasn't real."
I nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch.
"You think he was scared of something?" I asked.
Her eyes flickered toward the hallway.
"Yes," she whispered. "He was scared. I could tell. Always checking the windows. Jumping at phone calls. Like someone was watching him. Like he knew something terrible was coming and couldn't stop it."
"Did he say anything specific? Anyone's name?"
She shook her head. "No. But one night—this was just a few days before he died—I heard him crying in his room. Loud. Saying something like… 'I didn't mean to. I didn't know it would go that far.'"
Nao's voice cracked.
"I don't know what he was talking about. But it sounded like guilt. Real guilt."
I scribbled in my notebook, then met her eyes.
"Thank you, Nao. That's enough for today."
She nodded. "I… I know it's wrong to say. But I didn't cry when he died. I felt… nothing."
"You don't have to feel anything," I said softly. "That's not your job."
As I walked out of the house, the pill bottle still sat heavy in my pocket.
He was unraveling.
Something was chasing him, even before the killer got to him.
And now I had to find out what it was.