The next day started with a problem I hadn't anticipated.
"Absolutely not."
My mother stood in the hallway, arms crossed. I'd just asked if I could go out with Shouko again, and apparently, she'd decided to put her foot down.
"Why not?" I asked, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.
"Because you've been running around town with teenagers for two days now. You need to spend time with your actual family."
"Shouko is family, you said so yourself."
"Don't be smart with me." But there was no real anger in her tone. "Your father and I came here to spend time together as a family. We barely see you."
She had a point. We'd come to Ogaki to escape and heal together, and I'd immediately gotten wrapped up in Shouko's investigation.
"Okay," I said. "What did you want to do today?"
My mother's expression softened. "Your father wants to take you to see the historical district. Apparently, there's a museum and some old buildings, and your grandmother wants to teach you how to make soba from scratch."
"That actually sounds nice."
"Does it? Or are you just saying that?"
"No, really. I want to spend time with you guys." And I meant it. Despite the investigation pulling at my attention, I did want to be with my parents, especially after everything we'd been through.
My mother smiled and ruffled my hair. "Good. Now go get dressed. We're leaving in twenty minutes."
I found Shouko in the kitchen, eating breakfast. When I told her I couldn't help investigate today, she just shrugged.
"It's fine. I've got to research stuff that's gonna be boring as hell anyway."
"What kind of research?"
"Public records, old newspapers, property ownership documents. Real detective stuff." She grinned. "Don't worry, I'll catch you up tonight."
The historical district turned out to be more interesting than I expected. Old merchant houses preserved from the Edo period, a small museum with artifacts from local history, and streets laid out the same way they'd been for centuries.
My father was in his element, reading every placard, taking photos, explaining historical context I already half-knew from my previous life's education but pretended to learn for the first time.
"Look at this," my father said, pointing to a display about the town's merchant guilds. "Ogaki used to be a major trading hub because of its location. The Nakasendo route passed right through here."
"What's the Nakasendo?" I asked.
"One of the five main routes connecting Edo to Kyoto during the Tokugawa period. Merchants, samurai, officials, everyone traveled this road."
The museum had a section on the town's development through the Meiji Restoration, industrialization, and World War II. I read about local families who'd been here for generations, businesses that had survived centuries.
And I thought about Gaku Yashiro. If his family had property here, they were probably old money and had connections.
That would make investigating him harder.
After the museum, we got lunch at a small restaurant that served traditional Gifu cuisine. My grandmother had recommended it, and the food was incredible: Hoba miso, mountain vegetables, and river fish.
"This is nice," my mother said, watching me eat. "All of us together.
"It is nice," I agreed.
"We should do this more often. Take trips, explore places together." She glanced at my father. "Make memories."
My father reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
"We will," he promised. "As a family."
After lunch, we returned to the house for the soba-making lesson. Grandmother had everything set up in the kitchen: flour, water, a large wooden board, and a special knife.
"Makin' soba is an art," she explained, tying an apron around me. "Takes practice and patience, but once ya learn, you'll never forget."
She showed me how to mix the buckwheat flour with water, how to knead it until the texture was just right. Her hands moved with ease due to the decades of experience she had making them.
"Ya gotta feel it," she said. "Too dry, it'll crack. Too wet, it'll stick. Right in the middle, that's perfect."
I tried to mimic her movements, but my hands were too small, and my coordination was still developing.
"That's alright," Grandmother encouraged. "Nobody gets it perfect the first time. Keep tryin'."
My mother watched from the doorway, smiling at the scene. My father had disappeared somewhere with Grandfather, probably to help with chores.
"I used to watch my grandmother make soba," my mother said softly. "Just like this. In this same kitchen."
"Did she teach ya?" Grandmother asked.
"She tried. I was terrible at it." My mother laughed. "Maybe Kori inherited more of the family skill than I did."
"He's got good hands." Grandmother watched me work. "He'll get it."
Eventually, after multiple attempts and corrections, I managed to create something resembling proper soba dough. Grandmother showed me how to roll it out thin, how to fold it, how to cut it into perfect noodles with even strokes.
"Beautiful!" she declared when I finished my first batch. "Look at that! Even thickness, good length. Natural talent!"
The praise made me feel warm in a way I hadn't expected. We cooked the soba for dinner, the whole family gathered around the table, and everyone complimented my soba
"Better than my first attempt," Shouko said. "Mine fell apart in the water."
"That's 'cause ya didn't knead it enough," Grandmother chided. "Always rushin'."
The evening passed, and after dinner, my parents and grandparents stayed up talking, drinking tea, and sharing stories about family history.
I excused myself to get ready for bed, but instead of going to my room, I slipped down the hall to Shouko's.
She was at her desk, laptop open, surrounded by printed papers and notebooks. She looked up when I entered.
"Wanna see what I found?"
I closed the door and sat beside her. The laptop screen showed what looked like property records.
"So," she started, pushing her glasses up her nose, when did she start wearing glasses? "I spent today digging into Gaku Yashiro. And it's complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"He's not just some random property owner. His family's been in Ogaki for six generations. They own about fifteen properties around town, apartments, commercial buildings, and some farmland on the outskirts." She pulled up a document. "This is public record; anyone can access it, but here's where it gets interesting."
She clicked to another page. "Four years ago, right around the time my mom died, Gaku bought three new properties, all in the same neighborhood."
"Your neighborhood?"
"Not exactly. But close. Like, two streets over." She highlighted something on the screen. "The purchases went through about two weeks after the fire. Which could be coincidence, except..."
She pulled out a printed newspaper article, yellowed and carefully preserved. The headline read: "Local Fire Destroys Home, One Dead."
"This is from the local paper. Small story, bottom of page three. They barely covered it because it was ruled accidental." She pointed to a paragraph. "But look at this quote."
I read where she indicated: "Neighbors report the deceased, Yashiro Sachiko, was a quiet woman who kept to herself. She had lived in the rental property for approximately three years."
"Yashiro Sachiko," I said slowly. "Same last name as—"
"As Gaku. Yeah." Shouko's expression was grim. "I knew my mom's maiden name was Yashiro. But I never connected it because it's such a common name. Except now I'm wondering if there's a relation."
"You think they were family?"
"I don't know. That's what I need to figure out." She pulled up a genealogy website. "Problem is, Gaku is like the Smith of Japan. Tracing family connections is gonna be a nightmare without proper records."
"What about asking grandpa and grandma? They might know."
"Can't. If I start asking about my mom's family history, they'll want to know why, and I'm not ready to tell them what I'm investigating."
"I see."
She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. "The police report is sealed. I can't access it without a legal reason, and my mom's personal documents, anything that might have family information, were burned in the fire."
"What about the rental property thing? The article said she was renting. Who owned it?"
Shouko's eyes widened slightly. "I... I never thought to check that."
She typed rapidly, navigating through property records. "The house that burned down was at 2-47 Sakura Street. Owner of record was..." She scrolled down. "A company. Ogaki Property Management LLC."
More typing. "And the owner of Ogaki Property Management LLC is..."
She went very still.
"Yashiro Gaku."
The words hung in the air.
"My mom was renting from him," she said quietly. "She was living in his property when she died."
"That's not necessarily suspicious," I pointed out. "He owns a lot of properties. It could be a coincidence."
"Except for the insurance." She clicked on another document. "Property owners carry insurance on rentals. When a building burns down, they get paid out and according to this public insurance claim record..."
She turned the laptop so I could see clearly.
"Gaku received ¥15 million in insurance money for the destroyed property. The land was worth maybe ¥3 million. The building was old and small, probably ¥4 million to replace. He got paid more than triple what the property was worth."
"Insurance fraud?"
"Maybe. Or the insurance company just didn't investigate thoroughly because it was ruled an accident." She leaned back, thinking. "If Gaku needed money, and my mom was renting one of his properties, and he had a way to make it look like an accident..."
"That might be a motive I said. "But it's not proof."
"I know. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I'm probably seeing patterns that aren't there. Just like everyone said."
"Or you're seeing patterns because they're actually there." I studied the documents. "What about the smell? You said you smelled something specific at the shrine. If we could confirm Gaku smokes that particular cigarette brand and wears that specific cologne—"
"That's still not proof he was at the scene. Just that he smells like someone who was." She sighed. "I need something concrete, like physical evidence, a witness. Something that actually links him to the fire beyond superficial connections and a smell I can't prove to anyone but myself."
I thought about the problem like I would a skateboarding trick. When you couldn't land something directly, you broke it into smaller components. Practice each piece until you can put it together.
"What if we work backwards?" I suggested. "Instead of trying to prove he was there, what if we figure out if there's a reason he'd want your mom dead specifically?"
"I told you, my mom kept to herself. She didn't have enemies."
"But if they were related, if she was family, maybe there was an inheritance issue? Or a property dispute? Something that would make her death convenient for him?"
Shouko considered that. "The Yashiro family is old money. If there was inheritance involved..." She started typing again. "Let me check death records from around that time."
She pulled up a database of local obituaries and death certificates. Scrolled through entries from four to five years ago.
Then stopped.
"Yashiro Satoru," she read aloud. "Died five years ago at age seventy-eight. Survived by his son Gaku Yashiro and daughter Sachiko Yashiro."
She looked at me, eyes wide.
"My mom wasn't just related to Gaku. She was his sister."
The revelation settled over us like snow.
"He killed his own sister?" I said, trying to process that.
"Maybe. If there was inheritance involved, if she was entitled to part of the family property..." Shouko was typing furiously now. "Let me find the will. Estate records are public after probate."
It took several minutes of searching, but she finally found it. The will of Yashiro Satoru, filed with the local courthouse.
We read it together.
Satoru had left his entire estate, property, money, and business holdings to his son Gaku with one condition.
"If his daughter were to predecease him or die within five years of his death, her portion of the inheritance would revert to Gaku," Shouko read. "But if she survived beyond five years, she would be entitled to claim half the estate."
We stared at each other.
"That's a clear reason for him to kill her," Shouko said. If he let her survive another year, he'd lose half of everything. But if she died before then, he keeps it all."
"It's still not proof," she said, but her voice was shaking. "It's not evidence that would hold up in court.
"But it's more than you had before."
She nodded, hands clenching into fists. "I need to find someone who saw something. Someone who can place him at the house that day."
"The police interviewed the neighbors, right? After the fire?"
"Yeah, but they were asking if anyone saw signs of forced entry or suspicious activity.
"What if he was there earlier that day? Before the fire started? And someone saw him, but didn't think anything of it because he was the landlord?"
Shouko's eyes lit up. "The old police report might have neighbor statements. Even if the investigators didn't follow up on seeing Gaku, someone might have mentioned it."
"Can you get the report?"
"Not officially. But..." She chewed her lip, thinking. "Shoya's uncle is a retired police officer. Lives in the next town over. If I asked him really nicely..."
"Would he help?"
"Maybe. Especially if I don't tell him exactly why I'm asking." She looked at her notes, at the connections we'd made. "I need to be careful about this. If Gaku really did kill my mom, and he finds out I'm investigating him, he will definitely kill me
"Shouko, I think we should stop. It's getting dangerous."
"I'll be careful, I promise, but I'm not stopping, not when I'm this close."
"Okay," I said. "But we do this smart, remember, just info gathering.
"Just info gathering," she agreed.
We spent the next hour organizing everything she'd found. Creating a timeline, listing connections, and noting gaps in our knowledge.
Shouko was really good at this. She considered alternative explanations, didn't jump to conclusions, even when the evidence seemed obvious. Her mind worked like a detective.
I helped where I could, asking questions that made her think deeper, pointing out inconsistencies or areas that needed more investigation.
"Tomorrow," she said finally, sitting back. "I'll call Shoya's uncle. See if he can get me copies of the neighbor statements from four years ago. Even if they're redacted, it might give us something."
"And if he asks why you want them?"
"I'll say I'm trying to get closure. That's true enough." She looked at her notes. "What about you? Can you help tomorrow, or is it another family day?"
"I'll ask. But even if I can't, you should keep investigating. Don't wait for me."
"You sure? This was your idea, working backwards."
"It's your mom and your case. I'm just supporting."
She smiled. "Pretty good support for a six-year-old."
"I try."
A knock on the door made us both jump. Shouko quickly closed the laptop as my mother poked her head in.
"Kori, it's bedtime. Stop bothering Shouko."
"He's not bothering me," Shouko said quickly.
"Still. He needs sleep, say goodnight."
"Goodnight," I said to Shouko.
"Night. Thanks for helping with my... school project."
My mother looked between us, clearly knowing that "school project" was code for something else but choosing not to press. "Alright. Come on, Kori."
I followed her back to my room. Bobby was already asleep on the futon, curled into a tight ball. I changed into pajamas and climbed in next to him.
My mother sat on the edge of the futon, "You're being careful, right?" she asked quietly. "Whatever you and Shouko are up to?"
"We're not up to anything."
"Kori." Her tone was knowing. "I'm not stupid. You're investigating something, both of you have that look, like you're carrying a secret."
I didn't know what to say to that.
"I'm not going to stop you," she continued. "You're smart, and Shouko seems trustworthy. But promise me you'll be careful, and if anything feels dangerous, you'll tell an adult."
"I promise."
She then kissed my forehead. "You're growing up too fast. My little boy, hanging around with teenagers.
"Goodnight, Mom."
"Goodnight, Kori. I love you."
"Love you too."
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but my mind kept working through the problem. What we knew, what we needed to know, how we'd get there.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The next morning, I woke up to Bobby licking my face again; apparently, this was going to be an everyday routine.
After breakfast, I asked my parents if I could help Shouko with her "school project" again.
My father exchanged a look with my mother. She nodded.
"Just for the morning," he said. "We're having a family dinner tonight, your grandmother's making something special."
"Okay. Thank you."
I found Shouko already on the phone in her room, talking to someone in low tones. She waved me in, putting the call on speaker.
"Understand you can't give me the full report," she was saying. "But the neighbor statements aren't classified, are they?"
An older man's voice came through the speaker. "They're part of the case file; even closed cases have privacy protections."
"But I'm family. I'm her daughter. Don't I have a right to know what people said about my mother's death?"
A long pause. "What exactly are you looking for, Shouko-chan?"
"Closure. The official report said it was an accident, faulty wiring. But I just... I want to know if anyone saw anything unusual that day, even small things."
Another pause. Then a sigh. "I'll see what I can do, but I'm not promising anything, and if I do get you anything, it'll be redacted. Names, addresses, all that stays confidential."
"That's fine. Thank you, Kenya-san. Really."
"Give me a few days. I'll call Shoya when I have something."
The line went dead. Shouko looked at me, eyes bright.
"He's going to help."
"That was Shoya's uncle?"
"Yeah. If anyone can get those statements, it's him." She stood up, energized. "While we wait for that, I have another idea."
"What?"
"The fire happened four years ago. But the investigation files might not be the only record. Local newspapers sometimes keep more detailed notes than what they publish, and the photographer who covered the fire might have taken more photos than made it to print."
"You know the photographer?"
"No, but I can find out who it was. Newspaper archives list photo credits." She was already at her laptop, pulling up the local paper's website. "If we can see more photos from the scene, maybe there's something in the background. Someone who shouldn't have been there."
I watched as she navigated the archive system, searching for articles from the relevant date range. She found the fire story again, checked the photo credit.
"Kei Sanbe," she read. "Staff photographer." She pulled up the newspaper's current staff directory. "Still works there. Based out of their main office in Gifu City."
"Are you going to call him?"
"Better. I'm going to visit him." She looked at me. "Want to take a train ride tomorrow?"
"To Gifu City? That's like an hour away."
"Exactly. Far enough that no one here will see us asking questions. Close enough that we can make it a day trip." She grinned. "I'll tell ma we're going shopping for school supplies."
"Will she believe that?"
"Probably not, but she'll let me go anyway because she trusts me."
"Okay," I said. "I'm in."
"Good. Because I'm going with or without you, and it'll be less suspicious if I have company."
We spent the rest of the morning planning. What we'd ask the photographer, how we'd approach it, and what cover story we'd use if needed.
Shouko made notes, anticipated problems, and thought through contingencies. Watching her work, I realized she wasn't just smart, she was also strategic.
"You're good at this," I said.
"At what?"
"Detective work."
She shrugged. "I've had four years to think about this. You get good at analysis when you've got nothing but time and questions."
"We'll figure it out," I said.
"Yeah." She looked at her notes, at the web of connections we were building. "Yeah, we will."
That night at dinner, Grandmother announced that she was teaching me to make miso soup the next day.
"Can't," I said. "Shouko and I are going to Gifu City, Shopping for school supplies."
Grandmother raised an eyebrow. "School supplies? In the middle of winter break?"
"I like to be prepared," Shouko said smoothly.
"Mm-hmm." Grandmother didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. "Alright. But ya be back before dark, ya hear?"
"We will. Promise."
Grandfather looked up from his food. "Gifu City's a big place. Ya stay together, don't go wanderin' off alone."
"We won't, Gramps."
My parents exchanged another one of those looks, but they didn't object either, maybe they thought we were just doing some weird friend things.
If only they knew we were investigating a murder.
After dinner, I helped Grandmother clean up while Shouko disappeared to her room to finalize tomorrow's plan.
"That girl's lucky to have ya as a friend," Grandmother said, handing me a dish to dry.
"I'm lucky to have her, too."
"She's been through a lot. More than most kids her age, but she's strong and resilient." Grandmother smiled softly. "Your friendship is good for her, gives her somethin' to care about besides old hurts."
I thought about that. Was our investigation good for Shouko? Or was it just reopening wounds that should heal?
But then I remembered the light in her eyes when she'd made those connections tonight. This wasn't about dwelling on the past; this was about finding the truth.
That had to be worth something.
"She's good for me too," I said honestly. "Helps me think about something other than my own problems."
Grandmother patted my head affectionately. "Ya, both take care of each other. That's what family does."
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
300 Powerstones: Complete
450 Powerstones: Incomplete