After the award ceremony concluded, Matsuda Jotaro followed Inspector Samezaki toward the police cars parked outside the venue, just as they had agreed.
Matsuda Jinpei followed closely behind, his small hand gripping the hem of his father's jacket, refusing to let go.
Hayashi Shuichi knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with the stubborn young boy. "Jinpei, why don't you head back to the izakaya with the Hagiwaras and wait for news there, okay?"
Jinpei bit his lip hard. It took a long moment before he finally released his father's clothes.
Suddenly, he bowed deeply, his small body bending at a perfect ninety-degree angle. "Shuichi-niisan, I'm leaving my dad's case in your hands! Please!"
Shuichi patted the boy's shoulder gently. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the truth comes out."
Jinpei straightened up. Something seemed to occur to him, and he gritted his teeth, his face flushing a bright, embarrassed red. "As long as you clear my dad's name, Shuichi-niisan... I... I won't compete with you for Chihaya-nee anymore!"
"Huh?" Shuichi was caught completely off guard.
Beside them, Hagiwara Chihaya's fair cheeks turned crimson in an instant, before her expression darkened like the bottom of a charred pot.
She balled her hand into a fist and, without a shred of mercy, delivered a sharp rap to the top of Jinpei's head. "You brat! Why do you always have to involve me when you open your mouth?!"
After dealing with Jinpei, Chihaya looked toward Shuichi, her voice softening involuntarily. "Shuichi-niisan, I know you'll find out what really happened to Matsuda-san."
"Shuichi-niisan, I'm waiting for you to become my brother-in-law, okay?" Hagiwara Kenji popped out from behind his sister, flashing a cheeky grin and giving Shuichi a big thumbs-up.
Chihaya's fist clenched again in flustered rage, ready to discipline her brother.
Kenji scrambled behind Shuichi for cover. "Onee-san, nobody likes a girl who's too violent!"
"You just wait until we get home," Chihaya muttered, lowering her hand with a frustrated huff.
"The police are very busy with their investigation. Stop wasting Onii-chan's time!" Reiko added crossly, her arms folded over her chest.
Matsuda Jotaro took one last look at his son before turning to climb into the back of the police cruiser.
Although he was now in Inspector Samezaki's custody, the case had originally been handled by the Bunkyo Precinct. All relevant crime scene reports and evidence were still stored there.
Once Shuichi was inside the car, Samezaki started the engine and began the drive toward the Bunkyo Precinct.
Along the way, Shuichi observed Jotaro through the rearview mirror. The boxer's rough, calloused fingers were interlaced tightly, his knuckles white from tension.
"Matsuda-san," Shuichi began in a gentle tone. "Can you tell me in detail what happened when you were heading home yesterday afternoon?"
Jotaro took a deep breath, searching his memory. "It wasn't much different from any other day, really. I was worried that overtraining would affect my condition for today's finals... so I left the gym about two hours earlier than usual to head back to my apartment."
"It must have been shortly after five o'clock when I passed by that park. I heard two men shouting at each other. I didn't want any trouble, so I just quickened my pace and walked past."
"The appearance of those two men... their builds," Shuichi pressed. "Do you remember anything specific?"
Jotaro closed his eyes, concentrating. "One was about my height, maybe 180 centimeters. The other..." He held out his hand, gesturing. "He was about half a head shorter. As for their faces..."
Jotaro shook his head helplessly, his face clouded with frustration. "I didn't pay them any mind at all."
"If I had known," he suddenly tightened his fists, his voice thick with self-reproach, "I should have stepped in and stopped them yesterday. If I had, maybe there wouldn't be a dead man, and I wouldn't be in this mess today."
"First of all, this isn't your responsibility," Shuichi comforted him. "Second, there's no use regretting what's already happened. Just try to think carefully—was there any detail, no matter how small, that you might have overlooked?"
"Yes!" Jotaro sat up straight and nodded vigorously.
For the rest of the trip, he remained silent, racking his brain to recall the scene. But as he had said, since he had intended to stay out of trouble, he hadn't lingered in the park. Noticing specific details was easier said than done.
The two MPD vehicles soon arrived at the Bunkyo Precinct.
Officer Ota was already waiting for them. When he saw Shuichi and the others enter, his lips curled into a sneer.
"Quite the grand entrance, gentlemen."
With a tone dripping with sarcasm, Ota tossed several file folders onto a desk. "There it is. The complete file on the case. We're finished with these 'scraps,' so feel free to take them."
Without waiting for a response from Inspector Samezaki, Ota turned on his heel and strode away.
"I apologize," the Chief of the Bunkyo Precinct said, stepping forward while rubbing his hands together. "Ota's temper... it's always been that foul."
"But regarding this case," the Chief added, looking puzzled, "it seems fairly open-and-shut, doesn't it? We have a witness placing Matsuda Jotaro at the scene. Is there really a need to re-investigate?"
Samezaki picked up the file folder, his face expressionless. "Given the evidence you currently have, would you actually dare to hand this over to the Prosecutors?"
Japan is famous for its 99.99% criminal conviction rate. On the surface, this makes the police and prosecutors look incredibly competent.
In reality, that number exists because of a silent understanding between the two branches. Prosecutors are terrified that a "not guilty" verdict will stain their careers, so they only bring charges in cases where the evidence is air-tight and the logic is flawless. Anything less is kicked back to the police for "further investigation."
To avoid having too many cases rejected, the police have developed their own habit: if they aren't absolutely sure of a win, they either refuse to file the case or let it rot in a drawer indefinitely.
Samezaki knew this all too well. The Precinct Chief gave a forced laugh, wisely dropping the subject. After a few more hollow pleasantries, he excused himself and left.
"Let's go," Officer Matsumoto said, looking around. The other officers in the Bunkyo Precinct were casting cold, hostile glances at their "guests." "We clearly aren't welcome here."
On the way back to the MPD Headquarters, Hayashi Shuichi carefully flipped through the Bunkyo investigation files.
The deceased was named Takeda Yamato. The photo in the file showed a man with a rugged face and a prominent scar over his eyebrow.
Like Matsuda Jotaro, Takeda Yamato was a professional boxer.
However, compared to the successful Jotaro, Takeda's career had been far more tragic. despite struggling in Tokyo for years, he had never managed to break out of the ranks of second and third-tier fighters.
The forensic report confirmed the cause of death was exactly what Ota had claimed: a heavy blow to the head resulting in fatal brain trauma.
Aside from that, there were no other injuries on the body.
Takeda Yamato's height was similar to Jotaro's. If Jotaro's statement about the two men fighting was true, then the killer was likely the man who was half a head shorter than Takeda.
"This man," Shuichi said, handing the photo of Takeda Yamato to Jotaro in the backseat. "Are you certain you don't recognize him?"
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