Tokyo: Officer Rabbit and Her Evil Partner

Chapter 13

Fushimi stared at the man in front of him. Ishizuka's face was forgettable—deep furrows across his forehead, drooping eyebrows that made his whole expression sag. Because his nose was short and flat, his glasses kept sliding down, forcing him to nudge them up every few seconds. The gesture oozed timidity.

Crime Index: 12 %

Vice: Chronic push-over

Kind.

Clearing Reward: Erase Ishizuka Kazuo's guilt to obtain LV1 Handwriting Mimic Technique.

Fushimi weighed the information for a moment, then stood. "Sorry to have bothered you. We'll keep this confidential."

"Huh? You're leaving already?"

Tamako glanced back over her shoulder as they exited. One accidental look from Ishizuka and he instantly averted his eyes.

Fushimi strode down the corridor. "Something feels off."

Ishizuka's crime value was too low—lower than an average citizen's. His only listed vice was being a push-over, which made his confession feel too neat.

"What do you mean?" Tamako asked, bewildered. "What's wrong?"

"Not sure." He couldn't put it into words, yet experience whispered that the picture was too tidy.

"Then let's walk it through from the top!" she suggested. "Whenever I'm stuck on a mystery puzzle, I start over and retrace every step."

They descended the stairs. Class B's drill cadence drifted across the parade ground, and the cherry trees in the side court blazed with spring. They sat on a bench beneath the blossoms while Tamako ticked points off on her fingers.

"First, the anonymous letter. The class leader was secretly helping Instructor Sakurai track it down..."

"Then the night-time office search. We found threats of revenge and accusations of murder inside the letter..."

"Next came the special red ink; that led us straight to Ishizuka Kazuo as the sender..."

"Finally, Mr. Ishizuka confessed to everything and spelled out his revenge plan. Case closed, right?"

She finished her tidy timeline and looked up. "Nothing's out of place."

Beside her, Fushimi's eyes had gone distant; whatever had clicked behind them stayed silent.

"I know what's wrong," he said, thumbs circling each other—a habit when his mind raced.

"Tell me, tell me!" She wanted the flaw in her reasoning.

"It's too clean."

"Huh?"

"Too smooth—like a puzzle in a magazine." Fushimi's interest finally sparked; the 'case' had become real. "When one clue snaps perfectly into the next, there's a ninety percent chance the trail was planted. In genuine investigations you grope through chaos for fragments. Two clues that actually connect is a rare coincidence—something that only happens in detective stories."

Tamako puffed her cheeks. "So my logic is flawless, and you're just nit-picking."

"Have you ever worked a real case?"

"Of course I—"

He caught himself, coughed twice, and shifted topics.

"Instructor Sakurai was hired five years ago. Ishizuka's been on staff for eight. They coexisted without incident all that time—so why the sudden urge for revenge?"

Tamako bit her thumbnail, brow furrowed. "True, that's odd. But didn't you say criminals are chaotic? Maybe he simply snapped. Who can predict?"

Fushimi didn't argue.

He didn't care about the truth, or who had killed whom. He only wanted leverage—something to keep that perverted instructor in check.

Tamako, on the other hand, cared deeply about the sixteen-year-old hit-and-run. An innocent girl had died; someone had to answer. Even if the victim's family had given up, even if the statute of limitations had lapsed, she wanted justice.

Silence fell between them. The wind spoke instead.

A whistle blew on the distant field; Class B dispersed in twos and threes.

Suddenly Tamako's world went dark. "Guess who!" a cheerful voice sang behind her.

Kawai had slipped up and covered Tamako's eyes.

"Come on, I'm not in the mood," Tamako protested, twisting free. She folded her arms, frowning. "We're thinking about something serious!"

"Still on the anonymous letter?" Kawai flipped over the bench back and landed beside her. "Any breakthroughs?"

Tamako recounted Ishizuka's confession. Kawai's eyes widened. "Wait—Instructor Sakurai really killed someone?"

She slammed a fist onto her knee. "Hit-and-run scum deserve the death penalty. No exceptions!"

Fushimi glanced at the invisible text above Kawai's head.

Crime Index: 15 %

Vice: Superstitious

Clearing Reward: Erase Nagano Kawai's guilt to obtain LV1 Lockpicking.

An average crime value, but the "superstitious" tag piqued his curiosity.

Tamako rushed to defend her friend. "Kawai's family runs a temple. Her dad's the abbot, so she despises murder. And—"

She stopped, unsure how much to reveal.

"It's fine," Kawai said, patting Tamako's head. "Friends of Tamako are friends of mine." She turned to Fushimi. "I had a younger brother who died in a traffic accident. That's why I hate hit-and-run drivers."

She tilted her head. "How did you deduce Mr. Ishizuka's daughter died in a crash?"

Tamako scratched the tip of her nose. "We... drew lots."

"Huh?"

"Fushimi wrote causes of death on scraps of paper and had me pick one at random," she stammered. "B-but luck is part of skill, right? Right, Fushimi?"

"Absolutely."

Fushimi leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes fixed on Kawai. "There's one thing that bothers me."

"What—gonna confess?" Kawai teased, crossing her arms. "Sorry, you're not my type."

He ignored her. "Didn't you say your father was a locksmith?"