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The Little Things
The Path of No Return IV
By: Seravy
Edited by: Kieli
Seppuku- also known as hara-kiri (“stomach-cutting" or "belly slicing"), seppuku is a form of Japanese ritual suicide by disembowelment (taken from wikipedia)
The station that she was taken to seemed no different than any other office building with tall windows and white cement walls. Immaculately dressed employees slid in and out of the revolving glass doors as they swished in the turnstile. The two officers who drove her here walked uncomfortably close to her as they led her to a spacious, impossibly clean room. Its plain beige walls and spotless gray tiles felt more prison-like than the rest of the décor of the station with a large, wooden table in the middle of the room to accentuate the feeling of confinement. A swing-arm black lamp was clamped to the side of its walnut varnished surface; it would no doubt be the instrument that one of those suit-clad men would shine into her face and yell “I want some answers!” as she had seen many times in old cop movies. The sound of shifting papers and the endless ticking of the wall clock was all that could be heard.
Natsuki truly doubted the psychological effect of the “interrogation” process as everything seemed to be born out of cheap budgeting rather than sophisticated design. They didn’t even have one of those two-way mirrors and simply opted for a camcorder pointed directly into her face from across the table. She did not appreciate the possibility of someone having the sadistic pleasure of watching and re-watching her being tortured by boredom.
However, it was what not being said that mattered. Five times Natsuki had asked why she was here and each time, she was rewarded with silent, arrogant glances between the two officers as they came to a private consensus. She chose to actively reciprocate this treatment.
With her arms crossed and her legs on the table, one over the other, Natsuki rocked on her chair. Facing the soles of her running shoes were the two suit clad men who had forced her into this state of fuming frustration. They were both middle aged, though the left man clearly looked much younger than the other. The telltale sign of his youth and inexperience was his refusal to back down from this staring contest with the girl in their custody.
Five times Yoshimoto Shingo had asked her to take her legs off the table. He was ignored all five times regardless of whether he asked nicely or yelled which resulted in this stalemate.
The older officer stayed out of this battle of wills as he flipped through the folder before him. His dark brown hair was curly with strands of gray showing through here and there. The two sides of his hairline pulled back and were obviously much thinner than the rest of his head. His doctor told him it was mostly due to stress. Hayashimizu Rokusaburo didn’t doubt that diagnosis.
This Kuga Natsuki character was proving to be more troublesome than he had anticipated. Any girl her age would have caved by now with the fear of being questioned in a facility beyond what one would expect from a normal police station.
It also didn’t help that he was burdened with the task of training (more like babysitting) a rookie. Their recent little chat was the only thing that kept Yoshimoto from simply doing things the “old fashioned” way. In that scenario, that young girl would have paid dearly for her arrogance. As law enforcers in the country of Japan, they were implicitly given much liberty as to how a confession could be extracted.
Either Kuga Natsuki was truly that ignorant or she was so sure about the forces behind her that she dared to overstep her bounds to such extent. Now it was up to them to figure out which of those possibilities it was.
“Alright, it seems we’ve started on the wrong foot. So, let’s start over,” Hayashimizu suggested mildly, ending the childish game.
“Your name?”
The answer he received was the echo of his own question, bouncing off the walls of the confined room. Swallowing his displeasure, Hayashimizu tried again.
“Age?”
Still nothing.
“You’re currently attending Fuuka Academy, correct?”
His detainee replied with an exaggerated yawn but nothing more.
“Kuga-san,” came Hayashimizu’s murmured remonstration.
“I have the right to remain silent, don’t I?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rookie’s nostrils flare with indignation. The older detective discreetly pressed his heel into his partner’s foot, twisting it twice for good measure. The leash was tugged and the beast was held at bay, at least for the moment.
“These basic factual questions are procedures to ensure that our subject is conscious and able to understand the charges being brought against them,” Hayashimizu intoned, pointedly clearing his throat to continue his questioning.
“Have you broken the law in the last year?”
“If I did, do you think I'd tell you?”
Natsuki added a small smirk for good measure. It gave her great joy watching the one named Yoshimoto battle with his inwardly raging temper. Yamada had warned her before every mission about the risks and consequences of being caught. There were limits as to what they could do but once in the custody of the police, getting out is nearly impossible until they are satisfied. So far though, she had yet to see any of the acts described so graphically by the informant. Maybe he had exaggerated in an attempt to sway her determination? Or was it simply that her current situation didn't demand such extremes?
“Kuga-san, we'd really appreciate more of your cooperation and less of the attitude,” said Hayashimizu in a serious tone. Even his legendary patience was beginning to fray at the edges.
“You get what you give,” replied Natsuki coolly. It was simple retaliation. If they refuse to tell her why she was here then she would deny them what they want as well. It was obvious that they were trying to press their advantage against someone they had deemed defenseless. For that, she felt no need to respect either of them.
As if reading her determination, Hayashimizu let out a long deep sigh before nodding his agreement.
“You're right. I apologize for withholding certain information.”
Indeed he was at fault for the girl had only asked of them what was given to all suspects. His apology was also for himself as he now realized his first mistake in underestimating his young opponent. This girl wasn't afraid in the least. In fact, she held a certain hardness within her that he found himself admiring and pitying at the same time.
“Before I tell you though, I'm just going to ask you one more question: Are you familiar with the name Fujino Shizuru?” asked Hayashimizu. The steel he had just saw seconds ago suddenly flexed a little. He even caught a flicker of panic in those emerald eyes before he even finished his sentence. He did, much to his surprise, get a reply.
“Yes.”
“Do you know her well?”
“Why is Shizuru even in this conversation at all?”
He quickly made a mental note of her usage of the subject in question’s first name and forged on.
“We are merely following some leads on a few persons suspected of inside-trading, bribery, extortion and embezzlement. Unfortunately, both of your names came up during the investigation so we are obligated to follow up on this.”
There was a moment of complete stillness before deep coloured eyebrows furrowed with surprise, alarm then anger. In one violent movement, Natsuki swept her legs off the table, stood up, and slammed her palms down flat on the table with enough force to rattle everything on it.
“What?!”
“Please calm down, Kuga-san,” answered Hayshimizu as he gestured for his suspect to take a seat, “Preliminary evidence has pointed us to you and a few others as well. It's our job to investigate all possibilities no matter how improbable. If you are indeed innocent then there is nothing for you to be concerned about.”
“Is Shizuru here too?” said Natsuki. Her voice was low with a note of danger within its growl.
“Yes, Fujino-san is in the room beside us. Don't worry. Once we've asked our questions, you may both leave.”
Hayashimizu could sense the grudging consent from the other girl as she took her place on the chair. Not once did she lose eye contact with him though. It was as if she was making a silent promise of danger. Was she concerned about Fujino Shizuru’s safety? Now, more then ever, he was beginning to understand the role this girl played in this case.
Leafing through his papers, Hayashimizu found the list of questions that he had prepared in advance.
“I understand you are on scholarship. What about your other expenses? How do you afford them?”
“I get an allowance.”
“From who?”
“My father.”
“How much does he give you?”
“2.3 million¥ (20 000 USD) a month,” replied Natsuki.
Neither officers reacted to the number as if it were common knowledge, which it in fact, was.
“We have here your monthly bank statements for the past four years,” continued the middle-aged officer, as he shifted through the papers before him, “You receive your allowance twice a month; once on the first of every month, and the second time on the 5th of every month.”
Natsuki grunted which Hayashimizu simply took as an affirmative response.
“We couldn't help but notice that initially there was only one deposit of 150 000 ¥ (1300USD) each month which coincided when you started to attend Fuuka Academy. The second transfer only occurred two months later. What exactly triggered this change?”
“I had other expenses.”
“Like lingerie?” the once silent Yoshimoto sneered.
“How I spend my money is NONE of your business, Mr. Alcoholic,” snarled Natsuki. This barb wasn’t far off the mark; the way the car reeked of cigarettes, booze and pizza gave her a good indication of his habits. She took no pleasure in this low blow but her temper had slipped in that moment. Something wild and dark always invaded her whenever someone mentioned her father.
The one named Hayashimizu laid a firm hand on his partner's shoulder to keep him in place. It was a serious accusation that could cause any police personnel to lose his job. Yoshimoto would have met that fate if the older detective hadn’t promised the rookie’s dead father to look after his son. A brief glimpse of remorse within those young eyes did not go unnoticed to him though. It made him almost feel sorry for what he was about to do.
“And what are these 'other expenses'?”
“You can read, can’t you ?”
“Indeed we can and we cannot help but notice significant cash withdrawals, no less than $3000 USD several times a month up to $15 000 USD throughout the past four years...”
“I hired a private investigator.”
“For?”
“Personal reasons.”
“I'm sorry, Kuga-san, but given the nature of this investigation, we'll have to ask you to be more specific. Rest assured that all information revealed will be classified.”
Discreetly, he took note of the time and for five whole minutes, no one said anything. He could sense his partner's impatience but he himself was more than willing to wait. Finally, at six minutes and thirty four seconds, the girl answered.
“I needed to know more about my mother's death.”
“I'm sorry for your loss...but our records indicate that your mother passed away due to a car accident.”
“It wasn't an accident,” growled Natsuki.
“Your father agrees with your suspicions?”
“No.”
“But he still agreed to give you the money...”
“Yeah.”
“What made him agree to finance this investigation then?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“We aren't exactly on speaking terms.”
To Natsuki's relief, there were no further questions on that subject.
“Describe the process in which you persuaded him to give you this money then.”
“Fuuka Island was the crime scene. Going back there gave me a chance to find out the truth. I called him soon after I transferred to the academy. We got into a fight when I asked him for the money over the phone. A few days later though, the money suddenly showed up.”
“Did you contact him about the money?”
“No.”
“Not even a 'thank you' note or anything?”
“No.”
Something in her voice, a distinct coldness within, made Hayashimizu pause before he posed his remaining questions.
“It's rather odd that the two transfers are so close together. People usually prefer bimonthly transfers for practical reasons. Why does he do that?”
“I don't know.”
“That's not a good answer.”
“Too bad, 'cause that's the only answer I have.”
“Then, do you know why he splits up the amount so unevenly into two?”
“No.”
“Have you ever asked him?”
“No.”
“I see...” said Hayashimizu, dragging out the two syllables as if in though, “So all of this money was given to you by your father, correct?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you have a tendency to repeat the obvious?”
“Kuga-san, a simple yes or no will do.”
Even though she was the one who had initiated the eye contact, Natsuki suddenly found herself the object of intense scrutiny. The older officer’s gaze bored into her as if it knew the answer to every question and dared her to say otherwise. A guilty person would perhaps shy away from this direct confrontation. Natsuki simply met the challenge and replied.
“Yes.”
“So everything you've said so far, to your knowledge, is true?”
“Yes.”
Finally, the contact was broken and the man leaned back into his chair in resolute silence. His partner, on the other hand, sat up like a tag team wrestler finally getting his turn. He reached into his own folder and pulled out a single piece of paper. There was a certain smugness in his eyes as he spun it around on the table to show Natsuki its contents. It was her bank statement from the month before with the two transfers from her father highlighted in bright yellow.
“Kuga-san, I'm sure you recognize what this is. Highlighted are the two major transfers that we've just discussed. They are both under the name Kuga Hyobe who I presume to be your father, correct?”
Despite having asked her a question, Yoshimoto didn't wait for her to reply and simply continued on.
“We’ve investigated both transfers. The first one indeed belonged to Kuga Hyobe, confirmed by his bank statements and income tax reports for the past four years. The second transfer however was not documented anywhere. Care to explain this discrepancy?”
“You should be taking that up with him. Not me.”
“We did. And Kuga-san senior has only confirmed the first transfer, claiming to have no knowledge of the second transfer. He has no reason to lie, especially when he could easily list your ‘allowance’ as part of his expenses for a tax break.”
“I got the money from Kuga Hyobe. If it’s not him, then I don’t know.”
“Ok. Let’s pretend for a second here then that this money does come from your old man. Now where do those chunks of cash go aside from your daily ‘expenses’?”
“I told you, I used it to investigate my mother’s murder!”
“What about this month? Those large cash withdrawals have stopped for the past month and a half.”
“Because I’ve stopped.”
“Oh! So who’s the culprit?” mocked Yoshimoto, “‘Cause that would be our jurisdiction now.”
A cold sick feeling drifted through Natsuki’s limbs. The truth from the festival may have set her free from this burden but it had failed to remove the guilt of her choice. Her decision was to believe in her mother’s love and somehow, that had implicitly stopped any further investigation of her death. With friends around her, and the festival behind them, she had told herself to move on. She had lost more than enough to the festival that it was time to put it behind her. It was a wonderful thought that left the question of who did it still unanswered.
“Well, teenage avenger? I’m still waiting for the big revelation.”
“I don’t know!” spat Natsuki, hatred scorching her newly healed insides with an intensity she had long forgotten.
“Don’t know? So you’ve just suddenly decided to give up on your mother?” drawled Yoshimoto, no longer able to retain his guise of civility, not even in his choice of words, “Oh please! Do you really expect us to believe that sob story you’ve made up? You've purchased two motorbikes in the last four years. You rent a fancy apartment in the city where rent is sky high even though boarding is included in your scholarship. Said apartment is also currently undergoing renovations. You travel constantly. Last year, on lingerie alone, you've spent 700 000 ¥ (6000USD). Oh, you certainly sound like you’re out for revenge for your poor mommy! Not to mention the crappy job you’ve done with nothing to show for it after four years! And even after you’ve given up, the money just keeps rolling in! How very convenient!”
Natsuki opened her mouth to say something but she was quickly droned out by the power of her accuser's sardonic and spiteful words. All she could do was stare and listen as Yoshimoto, in his excitement, stood up and leaned across the table, getting closer and closer as he gave his interpretation of the facts presented.
“Daddy's money couldn't even begin to fill your appetite, now could it? Some dirty underhanded quit-pro-quo must have sounded mighty appealing to a spoiled brat like you. Running a few illegal errands, a couple drug runs on your little bike? Maybe even to provide a some private entertainment to fat rich geezers?”
His hard onyx eyes were wild with a glint of madness within; they matched so perfectly with the distorted grin upon his face. With the crack that he had created, Yoshimoto knew he had won. However, his excitement was rooted not in the fact that they were closer to the truth. Rather, it was the simple knowledge that he had complete control over another being. This was something that Hayashimizu understood well and did not tolerate.
“Enough.”
Hayashimizu’s calm voice was terse with anger. His partner had heard him but showed no sign of heeding his warning. The older detective then opted for brute force, grabbing his partner by the collar with his right hand until he could feel his short nails digging into his palm through the fabric. He brought his face within two inches of the man and repeated his order, knowing that this was the only effective method against a human temporarily without his humanity.
“Enough! You are dismissed.”
“But--”
“You take orders from me and I order your ass out of this room,” said Hayashimizu, his voice even and controlled.
His partner shoved his hands off, his eyes darting between his superior and the suspect. Hayashimizu knew that look well, one that swore silent retribution. Glaring, Yoshimoto marched out the door like a raging hurricane, carrying his wounded pride at the eye of it.
The door slammed shut, sealing off Hayashimizu and his prisoner from the outside world. Wordlessly, he sat down as he watched his suspect sit completely still without a single word of insolence. Her face may have remained stoic but her eyes betrayed everything. Shame pooled intensely within those emerald depths. Tightly drawn fists and the painful way in which the girl gnawed her bottom lip reflected a hatred reserved for her own person.
Sometimes, he really hated his line of work. People were brought in and submerged in their own weaknesses until they submitted. The adrenaline rush was addictive, like the European witch-hunts and other massacres in history that brought out the worst in human nature. Sometimes, the suspects were guilty, sometimes they weren't but on a path for justice, these sacrifices were often forgotten. It was a justice that he had been doubting for years as he climbed higher to what once was his childhood dream, especially when he had been on the receiving end of secret orders many a times to release suspects who deserved death.
“I'm sorry. That was very inappropriate.”
“What is this? Good cop, bad cop?” scoffed Natsuki, forcing a smirk on her face even as her voice shook.
After years of reading and disemboweling people's minds, Hayashimizu immediately knew that the girl was barely keeping her façade in one piece. Emotions and answers elicited were falling far from their expectations. In fact, all that prearranged rant was being taken literally, leaving the girl to reel from facts they had presumed she knew well while proving a story they had assumed to be false. Kuga Natsuki was indeed innocent. That was what his instincts and eighteen years of experience were telling him. Unfortunately, this conclusion only complicated things. The only theory he had left to link their main suspect to this girl seemed much too farfetched. But it never hurts to try. In the very least, this innocent will be released from this twisted spiral.
“I know this wouldn't mean much but I believe you... about your mother that is,” said Hayashimizu softly, “You really loved her, didn’t you... going through so much just to avenge her.”
“Save it. It won't work on me.”
“Well, regardless of what I'm trying to work on you, the fact remains that you needed money.”
“I’m not saying that you did something wrong,” added the graying detective quickly, “But someone has given you a lot of money. They must have known about your mother and the only reason that I could think of for this generosity is because they care about you. The problem is, that money, by no fault of yours, might have come from illegal means. And we need to find that someone to clear their name or stop them from hurting others. Now, tell me honestly, do you know who that someone is? Because the longer they evade the law, the worse it’ll be.”
Already, Hayashimizu could see the effects of his carefully chosen words, especially when he beautified their main suspect’s intentions. His charge had unconsciously gasped, eyes dilating with revelation. This girl knew something but to have her confess, he still needed to undo the horrible delusions the culprit had cast upon Kuga Natsuki. Unfortunately, the remedy he had in mind used the same demented mixture of truth and lies. After all, one could not fight evil with good alone.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to answer. I just have one final question, or rather, a task, for you and then you’re free to go.”
Instead of selectively choosing his evidence this time though, Hayashimizu shifted the entire folder to face his charge.
“Go ahead.”
The girl had her head down so he was unable to gauge her reaction as she took the offered liberty. Page by page, lingering for only brief seconds, Hayashimizu knew that the information made no sense without a finance background. The act was only for Kuga Natsuki to regain her composure until his next move. After all, his point was not to break her but for her to think and doubt.
Finally, the only red separator within the folder passed onto the other side to reveal an old magazine clipping. As he had expected, the pages stopped turning. The article was upside down from his point of view but he could still read the large black and bolded title across the top: “Teenage girl saves Kei Enterprises from hostile takeover.”
The second part, which he knew off by heart, read: “While Kei Hisoka, CEO of Kei Enterprises, was taken into police custody, stock prices tanked, throwing the company into a state of panic. Rival company, Noshiya Inc, launched a hostile takeover stopped only by an unexpected leader within this crisis: Kei Hisoka’s thirteen year old personal assistant, Kei Kurenai.”
The rest of the article detailed the rest of the incident with two photos to embellish an otherwise wordy display of print. The first one, featured in the center, was a portrait of a young woman in mid-speech from an angle. Her flowing chestnut hair just barely touched her shoulders, framing her high cheekbones, tall nose and full pink lips. Light makeup accentuated the girl’s mixed heritage found within her facial features. Eyes that tittered within the spectrum of late autumn maple leaves exuded a quiet confidence of power heightened by the black dress suit she wore. One couldn’t help but stare and be sucked into their abyss, guessing their true colour and what lay behind them. When Hayashimizu had first seen this photo, he found himself sick with disbelief. The person captured was indeed thirteen but she was also a mature woman that men would not hesitate to call “sexy’. What bothered him most though was that ominous, unreadable smile Kei Kurenai always had in every picture he had of her.
The second photo was buried in the lower right corner, a quarter the size of the first one. It featured the day Kei Hisoka was released from the police station, showing an attractive but grim woman in her thirties with straight neck-length black hair entering a limo. By the door of the vehicle with her head bowed respectfully was her personal assistant, welcoming her return.
Natsuki reached out to touch the laminated article. Her fingertips passed over the center photograph again and again, as if her touch could change what her eyes were seeing.
“That girl you see is Kei Kurenai, our main suspect in this series of white-collar crimes. Before legally changing her name, though, she was Fujinozuka Kurenai.”
Hayashimizu saw the girl before him visibly stiffen. He knew it would after having learned of the incident at Fuuka Academy last night. It was those very kanjis painted on those brick walls around the front gate and a chat with the artist of that mural that prodded them into action.
“She was quite the business prodigy; even made the front page of the Wall Street Journal once. The woman you see beside her is Kei Hisoka, Fujinozuka’s legal guardian. Four years ago, Fujinozuka was involved in a case of provoked suicide of a man named Ominozuka Son, the house head of an old famous Kyoto family called Yonshinkei. She was found innocent on those charges due to the ritualistic nature of the suicide; he apparently committed seppuku. Two months later though, she disappeared. And just after three days of her disappearance, Kei Hisoka pressed charges against her personal assistant for embezzlement, bribery, extortion and insider-trading.”
“That’s not possible,” whispered Natsuki, more to herself than to the man across the table. Shizuru had said that the boy made a mistake.
“Anything is possible in this day and age,” Hayashimizu murmured with a trace of irony in his voice. “I’m sure you’ve already noticed the resemblance between Fujino-san and Fujinozuka Kurenai. Coincidently, confirmable records of Fujino-san’s activities date back to only fours years ago, around the time that Fujinozuka disappeared.”
Hayashimizu ran a hand through his thinning hair, closing his eyes as an inner question disrupted his train of thought. Could one call himself a good man when he lies constantly? Because he now had to lie in order to be a good man.
“To verify Fujino-san’s identity, we’ve also done a background check so forgive me if I’m about to repeat information you already know: Fujino-san’s parents passed away four years ago. However, nothing in their records indicated that they’ve ever had a daughter. The only person who could verify Fujino-san’s identity is her legal guardian, a young woman named Himeno Fumi who claims to be her childhood friend. Everything I’ve said is based on evidence under the blue tab you see in the folder.”
Natsuki didn’t dare look up. She trusted her. Shizuru promised. They promised each other no more secrets and to be honest with each other. Shizuru would never lie to her. Not again. They were important to each other. The festival had proved it. Still, she found herself reaching for the blue tab, her hesitation naked before her interrogator.
If only she knew what Hayashimizu knew. The older detective could clearly see how much Fujino Shizuru meant to that girl. Why else would she care if this were a lie or not? Why else would she fail to see through his act as he laced his commentaries with facts, speculation and pure fiction. His gut churned with the knowledge that he was betraying his own morality. Wounds heal but some may never and he was knowingly inflicting permanent damage. It made him sick but that was what he did for a living.
“You said it yourself. Anything’s possible.” Natsuki parroted Hayashimizu’s words back to him. “This is just a coincidence.”
But she didn’t believe what she just said. Natsuki’s inner voice chanted the same mantra endlessly, willing her hand to stop from performing this act of betrayal. I trusted you. I trusted you, Shizuru. You told me that boy made a mistake. I trusted you
And it suddenly hit her as she repeated those same words again and again, the same ones that have been going through her head since the end of the carnival: her trust was an obligation. She must trust Shizuru. It was a symbol of forgiveness, restoring their friendship to what it was before that madness. Trust made all the lies irrelevant, lies that weren’t revealed until it was inevitable: Shizuru’s HiME identity, the secret motivation behind every act of kindness… and the way her best friend had abused her trust during her weakest moment. It was all she had to offer after everything that Shizuru had given her.
In their final battle, she had confronted and chosen death because she loved her best friend despite those mistakes. Even after the second chance they all received, her feelings remained the same. But in the end, trust cannot be based upon dishonesty. And Shizuru had proved again and again how artistically gifted she was at deceit. Natsuki didn’t know what to feel, rival emotions ripping at her from all sides. Her mind tried to ease the conflict by conjuring soothing memories that the two of them had shared, but all she did was analyze and doubt every act, every gesture, every word. Natsuki idly fingered the blue tabbed page with indecision, truth no longer something simple and pure.
It was then that Hayashimizu reached over the table and moved the tab himself to reveal a page full of nothing but paragraphed print. He wanted to stop himself but what was the point. It was too late.
Once again, it was a jumble of numbers, Japanese and English but Natsuki did recognize the letterhead of her school at the top.
“I won’t go into every transaction but for the past four years Fuuka Academy has been funneling funds into Fujino-san’s account through various means; club sponsorships, student council project reimbursements, various scholarships etcetera, accumulating to a total of 6.5 million USD. We also have evidence pointing towards Fujino-san’s illegal activities in recent years. Highly unlikely for two different persons to share the same face, the same talents and the same crimes.”
And for the second time in her life, Natsuki tasted betrayal as it bit her tongue.
I trusted you and you looked me in the eye and lied to me.
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