February 7th, 3:00 AM.
After thoroughly enjoying himself speeding around the outskirts, Ritsu slowly rode his motorcycle back to the hotel where he was staying. After parking in the underground garage, he took the elevator up to his floor.
Dragging his exhausted body toward the bathroom, he stripped off his clothes and turned the shower all the way up, allowing the warm water to run from his hair down past his collarbone, across his chest, and over his waist.
After shutting off the shower, he grabbed the white bathrobe placed nearby. With his hair still dripping wet, he searched for the hotel hairdryer. Yet the moment his hand wrapped around it, Ritsu realized his fingers were trembling slightly.
What would have happened… if he hadn't been there earlier tonight?
The image of bloodied flesh flashed through his mind. A wave of delayed fear made him stumble back two steps until his back pressed against the cold marble wall. His slender fingers slid through his damp hair, brushing the bangs from his eyes.
His unfocused gaze stared emptily at the tiled floor.
"So it's already past midnight, huh? Today's actually that guy's death anniversary."
If Wataru hadn't mentioned it, Ritsu would have forgotten. It had already been a full year since his death.
February 7th was his death anniversary.
Thinking back to the four bullets that pierced his abdomen last year… thinking back to being trapped inside that transparent glass chamber…
He shut his eyes, unwilling to remember any further, even though he already knew the fatal bullet hadn't been fired by him.
But the one who had pushed everything forward, the one who had sent him tumbling into that lightless abyss...
Was himself.
Bad memories couldn't simply be filtered out of his mind. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Ritsu tightened his grip on the hairdryer and began drying his hair.
Since he had already decided to visit the cemetery, he ought to dress properly.
Two hours later.
After resting briefly in the hotel suite, Ritsu got dressed and headed outside. Instead of taking his motorcycle, he hailed a taxi like before.
After all, nobody rode a motorcycle while wearing a suit. That would just look ridiculous.
Earlier, he had used the laptop in his suitcase to search for information related to the name "Sasajima Ritsu." Under the dual protection of both the MPD and the National Police Agency, there was only a single searchable result regarding his life.
It stated that an ordinary detective named Sasajima Ritsu had died in an accident on February 7th of last year and had been buried with a gravestone at Beika Cemetery.
He truly hadn't expected them to prepare a gravestone for him. Especially when they had never even found a body.
Wearing a white dress shirt beneath a black suit jacket, his pure black necktie tied perfectly, Ritsu was dressed more formally than usual. Yet after stepping out of the taxi and seeing the words "Beika Cemetery," an inexplicable heaviness settled over him.
'How many people could understand the feeling of visiting their own grave?'
Ritsu curled his lips in self-mockery and walked into the cemetery at an unhurried pace. Eventually, he discovered his gravestone had been placed in the center position.
'That spot must have cost quite a lot of money. Had they chosen it because they were afraid I would be lonely in the afterlife?'
The gravestone, made of dark gray granite, bore no photograph. Only the simple inscription,
Grave of Sasajima Ritsu
Even the memorial tablet beneath it only listed his name, age, date of birth, and date of death.
Having a gravestone at all was already more than enough.
Ritsu was satisfied.
Still, visiting his own grave felt strangely surreal. He gently touched the memorial tablet, as though trying to understand the life of Ritsu.
"What would they say here?"
"Would anyone cry for me?"
Staring at the gravestone for a long while, he couldn't help murmuring to himself.
"I bet Jinpei cried the hardest, didn't he? Tell me… did he stand here cursing me for a long time?"
"As for Kenji, he probably wouldn't cry out loud. He cares too much about appearances. Besides, crying too much is bad for the eyes. He's already lost one eye, he can't afford to lose the other."
"Class leader definitely wouldn't cry. At most, his eyes would get red. Because he's the class leader, he has to set an example of 'not crying easily.'"
"And as for Hiro…"
Once Rei learned of his death, he definitely would have reported it to the National Police Agency immediately. He was probably the second person to learn the news.
What kind of expression had he made? Ritsu didn't dare imagine it.
To him, Hiro had been the person who dragged him out of his unbearably dull and meaningless life. Someone special.
A brother unrelated by blood.
He must have been devastated.
Remembering how Hiro once suffered from mutism, Ritsu wondered, would the grief have left him speechless again?
His fist tightened slightly as he turned away from the gravestone. The moment he lifted his head, raindrops landed against the tip of his nose.
So it was raining.
Was this the kind of moment where he was allowed to cry freely?
But no tears came. He had already cried them all out a year ago.
Slowly turning back toward his own grave, he said indifferently, "You really are a sinner… making so many people grieve for you."
He never placed the flowers in his hands down. After all, he wasn't actually buried here, was he?
Opening a black umbrella, Ritsu began walking toward the cemetery entrance.
It was almost time for him to report to the Metropolitan Police Department.
He couldn't exactly be late on his first day.
"Seriously, Jin, did you put any thought into this? Last year it was Calpis and this year you brought Calpis again!"
"Shut up! That guy talked about Calpis nonstop, remember?! It's not my fault he had so few hobbies…"
"The flowers I brought for Ritsu-ya are gorgeous, though. Freshest bouquet I could find. If he were holding a bouquet of red roses, he'd definitely charm thousands of girls."
"What about you, Hiro? Last time you didn't bring anything. What's in the lunchbox this time?"
"Fish and chips, Ritsu's favorite. I didn't have time to prepare it last year, so of course I wouldn't forget this year."
Dark circles lingered heavily beneath Hiro's eyes. In just one year, his aura had changed drastically as well. Much of his sharpness had softened. If he paired his appearance with round glasses, people might mistake him for a young university professor.
Smiling gently, he said,
"It goes perfectly with your Calpis, Jinpei. Now we've got both food and drinks covered."
Ritsu quietly switched the umbrella handle from his left hand to his right, lowering it slightly to conceal as much of his face as possible.
And just like that, he brushed past the four of them.
No greeting.
No exchanged glance.
Like complete strangers.
Though perhaps "like" wasn't the right word. They truly were strangers now.
He could call himself Augier. He could call himself Onizawa Takashi. But he could never again be the spirited young man they spoke of.
The one who loved Calpis and fish and chips.
Stopping in his tracks, he slowly turned around. His crimson eyes fixed tightly on the four figures walking away in the distance.
What had brushed past him wasn't only them but also the light of hope he once longed for.
He lifted his hand and tossed the bouquet into the trash bin by the cemetery entrance.
The dream was over.
On this road, in the end, he was the only one left walking it.
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