The train to Gifu City departed at nine in the morning.
Shouko and I sat in a nearly empty car, the countryside sliding past the windows in a blur of white fields and distant mountains. She'd packed a backpack with notebooks, her phone, and a voice recorder she'd borrowed from Shoya.
"For the interview," she'd explained. "If Kei-san says anything important, I want it documented."
I watched the landscape change as we got closer to the city. Rural homes gave way to suburbs, then to the denser urban sprawl of Gifu proper. It wasn't as massive as Musutafu, but it was still significantly bigger than Ogaki.
"You nervous?" I asked.
"A little. I've never interviewed someone for an investigation before." She pulled out her notebook, reviewing the questions she'd prepared. "What if he doesn't remember? It was four years ago. Just another fire for him."
"Then we ask questions that help him remember. Focus on specific details, things that would stand out even years later."
She nodded, still looking uncertain.
The train pulled into Gifu Station twenty minutes later. The city center was busy even on a weekday morning with commuters rushing to work, students heading to cram schools, and tourists consulting maps and guidebooks.
Shouko had called ahead and scheduled a meeting at the newspaper office. The building was modest, a four-story structure near the city center with the paper's logo Gifu Shinbun displayed prominently above the entrance.
The receptionist directed us to the third floor, where the photography department was located. We took the elevator up, and Shouko's nervousness became more apparent. Her hands kept clenching and unclenching around her backpack straps.
"Hey," I said quietly. "You've got this, just be honest about what you need."
"What if he asks why I'm looking into this now? After four years?"
"Tell him the truth. You're trying to understand what happened to your mom."
She took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, you're right."
The photography department was an open workspace filled with desks, computer stations, and walls covered in framed photos from past stories. A middle-aged man looked up from his desk as we entered. He was thin with graying hair and wearing glasses with a casual button-down shirt.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Kei-san?" Shouko said. "I called yesterday. Yashiro Shouko?"
Recognition crossed his face. "Ah, yes! The student working on the... what was it, a school project about local journalism?"
"Yes," Shouko said, using the cover story she'd prepared. "I'm studying how local papers cover community events and wanted to talk to you about your photography work."
I stayed quiet, letting her take the lead. We'd agreed beforehand that I'd mostly observe unless she needed backup.
Kei gestured to two chairs near his desk. "Sure, I've got some time, though I'm not sure how interesting my work is. Mostly routine stuff, city council meetings, local events, the occasional breaking news."
"That's exactly what I'm interested in," Shouko said, settling into the chair and pulling out her notebook. "The everyday documentation of community life. Can I record our conversation? For my notes?"
"Go ahead."
She set the voice recorder on his desk and started with safe questions. How long had he been a photographer? What kinds of stories did he typically cover? What was his favorite assignment?
Kei relaxed as he talked, clearly enjoying the opportunity to discuss his craft. He showed us examples of his work, festivals, and sports events.
After about ten minutes of this rapport-building, Shouko shifted topics.
"I'm particularly interested in how you handle difficult assignments," she said. "Fires, accidents, tragedies. How do you approach photographing something painful while still being respectful?"
"That's always a challenge," Kei said, his expression becoming more serious. "You want to document what happened, show the reality, but you also don't want to exploit people's suffering. It's a balance."
"Have you covered many fires?"
"A few over the years. They're not common, thankfully, but when they happen, they're usually significant stories."
"I saw one in the archives from about four years ago," Shouko said, her voice carefully neutral. "A house fire in Ogaki, do you remember that one?"
Kei thought for a moment. "Four years... Ogaki... Yes, actually. I remember that one. Small rental house, it was ruled accidental if I remember correctly ."
"What do you remember about it?"
I got the call late afternoon. The fire department was already on scene when I arrived. The house was mostly destroyed by then, just the foundation and some walls still standing. Heavy smoke."
"Did you photograph the scene?"
"Of course. Standard pictures, fire trucks, firefighters working, and the damaged structure. Some shots of neighbors watching." He paused. "Why the specific interest in that fire?"
Shouko's hand tightened around her pen. "The victim was my mother."
Kei's expression shifted immediately to sympathy and surprise. "Oh. I'm... I'm very sorry. I didn't realize."
"It's okay. That's actually why I'm asking. I was twelve when it happened, and I never really got closure. I'm trying to understand the event better now that I'm older."
"I see." He looked at her with new understanding. "What would you like to know?"
"The photos that were published in the paper were all the photos you took that day?"
"No. Standard practice is to take many more photos than we use. We select the best ones for publication, but I keep the full set in my archives."
Shouko leaned forward slightly. "Would it be possible to see them? The unpublished photos?"
Kei hesitated. "May I ask why?"
"I just want to see what the scene looked like to understand what happened. The police photos are sealed, and I don't have access to them. Your photos might help me... process it."
He nodded slowly. "I think that's reasonable. Let me pull up the file."
He turned to his computer, typing and clicking through folders. "Four years ago, Ogaki house fire... here we are."
He opened a folder containing dozens of photos. The screen showed thumbnails of images from that day: flames, smoke, emergency vehicles, neighbors, and the ruined house.
"I took about fifty photos total," he said. "The paper used three of them."
"Can I look through all of them?"
"Of course."
He opened the first image to full size. It showed the house fully engulfed, flames visible through the windows, smoke billowing. Even through the photo, the destruction was clear.
Shouko stared at it, her face pale but composed. I watched her, ready to intervene if it became too much.
"Can you go through them slowly?" she asked. "I want to see each one."
Kei clicked through all the images, then he came to a photo that made Shouko go rigid.
"Wait," she said. "Go back."
He clicked to the previous image. It showed the crowd of onlookers, taken from an angle that captured their faces. Neighbors, mostly. Some looked shocked, others concerned, a few crying.
And in the background, partially obscured by other people, was a man in a business coat.
Yashiro Gaku.
"Can you zoom in on that area?" Shouko asked, pointing.
Kei enlarged the section. Gaku's face became clearer. He was watching the fire, expression neutral. Not shocked like the neighbors, just... watching.
"Do you remember this man being there?" Shouko asked.
Kei squinted at the image. "Not specifically. There were a lot of onlookers. Why?"
"He owned the property. I'm just surprised he was there so quickly. The fire happened in the afternoon, right? Most property owners would be at work."
"That's a good observation. Unfortunately, I don't remember the specific timeline of who arrived when I was focused on getting shots of the fire itself."
"Can you go through the rest?"
He continued clicking, but then another photo caught my attention.
"Wait," I said. "That one."
Kei paused. The photo showed the side of the house, taken at an angle that revealed a window. Or rather, what remained of a window.
"Can you zoom in on the window frame?" I asked.
He did. The image became grainier as it enlarged, but something was visible in the frame.
"Is that... glass on the outside of the window?" Shouko said slowly.
We all leaned closer. She was right. Shards of glass were scattered on the ground outside the window frame, not inside where they should have been if the window had broken from heat or pressure inside the house.
"Windows break outward when there's an explosion or pressure inside," Kei said thoughtfully. "But they break inward if something impacts them from outside."
"Or if someone broke them before the fire started," Shouko said quietly. "To create ventilation and to make the fire spread faster."
Kei looked at her sharply. "That's a very specific observation."
"My mother's death was ruled accidental as you said, but I never believed that." She met his eyes. "Can you email me copies of all these photos? Especially the ones showing Gaku and the window?"
"I... that might be evidence of something more serious than an accident."
"I know, that's why I need them."
Kei was quiet for a moment, clearly processing the implications, then he nodded slowly.
"I'll email them to you. All of them. If there's even a chance that fire wasn't an accident, it should be investigated properly."
"Thank you."
He pulled out a business card and wrote something on the back. "This is my personal email. If you find something, let me know, and if you need me to testify about these photos, I will."
Shouko took the card with shaking hands. "Thank you. Really. Thank you."
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
We left the newspaper office twenty minutes later with promises that the photos would be sent within the hour. Shouko was quiet as we walked back toward the station, processing everything we'd learned.
"The glass," she said finally. "That's proof that someone broke into the house before the fire."
"Or proof that a window broke outward for some other reason," I cautioned.
"But combined with Gaku being there, with the inheritance motive, with the insurance payout-"
"It's building a case, and it's a good case, but you still need something that directly connects him to starting the fire."
She pulled out her phone as we walked, checking messages. "Shoya texted. His uncle got the neighbor statements. We can pick them up tomorrow."
"Good. Maybe someone saw something useful."
We grabbed lunch at a small restaurant near the station, udon and tempura, warm and filling. Shouko was distracted, clearly thinking through everything we'd learned.
We finished eating and caught the train back to Ogaki. The ride felt shorter going back, maybe because we had so much to discuss.
"We need to figure out who else was involved," Shouko said as the countryside rolled past. "The will said Gaku got everything if my mom died, but setting a convincingly accidental fire? That takes skills."
"The two other people from the shrine," I said. "The ones you mentioned might be conspirators. Have you identified them yet?"
"Not yet. But I will." She pulled out her notebook and started writing. "We need to find out who Gaku associates with and who he trusts enough to help him commit murder."
"That's going to be harder to investigate without being obvious."
"I know. But there has to be a way." She tapped her pen against the page. "It's a small town; surely there's someone who Gaku spends time with."
When we got back to Ogaki, it was mid-afternoon. We walked from the station toward Grandmother's house, both of us tired but energized by what we'd discovered.
Shouko's phone buzzed. She checked it, and her expression grew serious.
"Kei sent all of the photos."
"Are you going to look through them now?"
"Tonight. When I can focus properly." She looked at me. "Want to help?"
"Yeah."
We reached the house to find my parents and grandparents sitting in the living room, drinking tea and talking. They looked up when we entered.
"How was the city?" Grandmother asked.
"Good," Shouko said. "Got what we needed for the school project."
"Buy anythin'?"
"Just supplies."
"You look tired, Kori." My mother said.
"Just a lot of walking."
"Well, dinner's in an hour. Go rest until then."
I went to my room, Bobby greeting me with his tail wags and face licks. I played with him for a bit, letting the joy of puppy energy wash away some of the heaviness of the day.
That evening, after dinner and after my parents had gone to bed, I slipped down the hall to Shouko's room again.
She had her laptop open, the fifty photos from Kei displayed in a grid. Her notebook was covered in observations, arrows connecting different details.
"Find anything new?" I asked, sitting beside her.
"Maybe. Look at this sequence." She pulled up three photos in chronological order based on the metadata. "These were taken about fifteen minutes apart. The first one shows Gaku arriving. The second one shows him talking to someone. The third one shows him leaving."
"Who was he talking to?"
She zoomed in on the second photo. Two men stood with Gaku, slightly away from the main crowd. Both wore work clothes, the kind contractors or manual laborers might wear.
"I don't recognize them," she said. "But look at their body language, it looks like they're having a serious convo."
"Can you identify them?"
"The photo quality isn't great, and their faces are partially obscured. But..." She pulled up another photo from later in the sequence. "One of them shows up again here, near his truck. It has a company logo on the side."
She zoomed in on the truck. The logo was partially visible: something about construction or contracting.
"I can work with this," she said. "Run an image search, see if I can identify the company. From there, figure out who worked for them four years ago."
"That's smart."
"If these guys worked for Gaku's property management company, or if they're contractors he regularly uses, that's a connection, and if they were at the fire scene having serious conversations with him..."
"They're either witnesses or accomplices."
"Exactly." She made more notes. "Tomorrow, I'll get the neighbor statements from Shoya's uncle. Between those and these photos, we might be able to identify everyone who was involved." She saved her work and closed the laptop. "Tomorrow's going to be busy. We need to pick up those police statements, research the construction company, maybe stake out Gaku's office to see who he meets with."
We talked for a while longer, planning tomorrow's activities, before I headed back to my room. Bobby was already asleep on the futon, snoring softly. I lay down beside him, quickly falling asleep.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The next morning started with a phone call.
Shouko's phone rang during breakfast, and she glanced at the screen, eyes widening, and excused herself to take it outside.
She came back five minutes later, face pale. She sat down and continued eating, but I could see the tension in her shoulders.
After breakfast, she pulled me aside in the hallway, out of earshot from everyone.
"That was Shoya. His uncle can't give us the police statements."
"Why not?"
"Someone already requested them yesterday, and when the records clerk went to pull the file, she found that several pages were missing."
My stomach dropped. "Missing?"
"Like, removed from the file. Cut out or torn out." Her voice was low and urgent. "His uncle thinks someone with access to the police archives took them."
"That's evidence tampering."
"Yeah. And there's only one reason someone would tamper with a closed case file." She looked at me seriously. "They know we're looking into it."
"How?"
"I don't know. Maybe I was too obvious in asking questions around town. Maybe someone saw us at the newspaper office, maybe Gaku has connections in the police department." She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. "But someone knows, and they're covering their tracks."
"What do we do?"
"We get more careful." She pulled out her phone, "The missing statements confirm it, we're onto something real. But it also means we need to be way more subtle. If they're watching the police files, they might be watching other things too."
"Like us."
"Exactly. Where we go, who we talk to." She checked her messages. "I sent that construction company logo to Shoya last night. He's running image searches to identify it. Once we know the company, we can figure out who those men were," and then we have potential co-conspirators. We can investigate them, see if they connect to Gaku in other ways." She hesitated. "But we need to be subtle about it.
"We must be onto something real then."
"Yeah. But they might also be watching us. "I sent that construction company logo to Shoya last night. He founded the company named which is 'Nakamura Construction.' It's a small outfit, mostly does renovation work for rental properties."
"Let me guess. Gaku uses them for his properties."
"Probably. Shoya's checking business records now to confirm." She started typing a response. "If we can prove Nakamura Construction workers were at the scene, and that they work regularly for Gaku, that's another connection."
"How much longer do you think until we have enough?" I asked.
"I have no idea, she looked at me seriously. "You're only here until the sixth, that's four more days; we might not solve this before you leave."
The thought hadn't occurred to me. I'd gotten so caught up in the investigation that I'd forgotten I had a time limit.
"What happens if we don't finish before I go home?"
"I keep investigating, with Shoya and the others." She smiled slightly. "But I'll miss having you around, you're good at this."
"Thank you."
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
We spent the rest of the day in her room, going through the photos again, making detailed notes about everyone visible in each frame, documenting the timeline and locations.
By evening, we had a comprehensive timeline of the fire scene. Who had arrived when, where they'd been standing, who they'd talked to, when they'd left.
"Tomorrow," Shouko said, "we'll figure out who those workers are, and we'll start watching Gaku. See if he meets with them and see if there's any current connection we can document."
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
A/N: Advanced chapters are now on my patreon! support your boy at patreon.com/keyblast
700 Powerstone: Incomplete
900 Powerstone: Incomplete