Hayashi Shuichi and the others stood a short distance away, watching the scene unfold with a complex mixture of emotions.
"Such a moving display of sibling love," Inspector Megure murmured, his voice thick with sympathy. "They must have been incredibly close while she was alive."
"Indeed." Officer Matsumoto nodded, a rare look of genuine emotion crossing his face. "It's truly touching."
"Inspector," Shuichi interrupted, his voice cutting through the somber atmosphere. "Could we arrange a background check on Yuto Ogasawara? I'd also like a list of the places he's frequented recently."
"Yuto Ogasawara?" Inspector Samezaki asked, confused. "Why investigate him?"
"Something about him doesn't sit right with me," Shuichi stated plainly.
"Hayashi-kun, aren't you being a bit too sensitive?" Matsumoto asked, sounding surprised. "A brother losing his sister... isn't this reaction perfectly natural?"
"From the moment he arrived at the scene, he barely glanced at the head," Shuichi explained. "Earlier, he claimed he identified her by the mole on her wrist. For a normal person, wouldn't the first thing you notice—the thing you'd be most shocked by—be the fact that your sister's face had been dissolved? Yet, he had almost no reaction to the disfigurement."
Shuichi gestured toward the grieving man. "And look at him now. He's cradling the body and crying his eyes out, and he got furious when an officer stepped near her hand. But look—because of how he's clutching the torso, the head has rolled off to the side. Its face is literally buried in the mud, yet he acts as if he can't even see it. He hasn't made a move to pick it up or clean it. He has zero reaction to it."
Matsumoto froze, a look of sudden realization dawning on him. "That is... odd. Wait, are you suggesting that while the body is his sister's, the head might belong to someone else? That's why he's indifferent to it?"
"The possibility is high," Shuichi said meaningfully. "And if he knows that, then there's a nine-out-of-ten chance he's involved in this case personally."
"Very well," Samezaki muttered, his expression hardening as he issued the order. "I'll take him back to the Metropolitan Police Department for a formal statement. The rest of you use this opportunity to search his residence."
With the plan set, the group split up. Inspector Samezaki and Inspector Megure took the remains and the two primary suspects back to headquarters, while Shuichi, Matsumoto, and a few other officers headed for Yuto Ogasawara's home.
In the patrol car on the way to the apartment, Eri Kisaki and Reiko—who had both stubbornly insisted on following—were briefed on the situation. However, the two girls had vastly different takeaways.
"But Yuto seemed to care about his sister so much," Eri mused, her brow furrowed. "What possible motive could he have for killing her?"
"Onii-chan, what's so fun about hitting each other?" Reiko asked, her eyes wide with innocent confusion. "Was President Okawa lying about those 'games'?"
"That's a question you can find the answer to when you're older," Shuichi replied with a faint smile, reaching over to playfully pinch his sister's cheek. He then turned to Eri. "Who knows? At this stage, our belief that he's involved is still just a theory."
Amidst their conversation, the police car soon arrived at the apartment complex where Yuto Ogasawara lived. Through the building manager—a kindly, elderly man—Officer Matsumoto confirmed that the siblings rented Unit 303.
As they walked toward the room, Shuichi asked the manager if anyone had heard anything strange or unusual in the building over the past week.
"A week ago? Nothing out of the ordinary," the manager said, thinking back. "Though, yesterday at noon, young Yuto in 303 seemed to be using an electric saw. It was quite loud. A few of the tenants who work night shifts were trying to sleep and called to complain. I actually went up there to check on him."
"What was he doing?" Shuichi asked immediately.
"He said he was sawing wood to fix some furniture," the manager explained. "By the time I got there, he was already finished, so I didn't think much more of it."
They reached Unit 303, and the manager unlocked the door.
The group stepped inside. The apartment was remarkably clean. Photos of the Ogasawara siblings were everywhere—on the walls, on the tables, in every corner. In the pictures, the two were always leaning close together, their smiles bright and full of warmth.
"Why are there only pictures of the two of them?" Eri asked, scanning the frames. "Where are their parents?"
"I heard from Miss Ogasawara that their parents passed away a long time ago," the manager said sympathetically. "They've lived together, relying only on each other, for years. They were always so close... to be honest, some of the neighbors used to think they were a married couple."
A couple? Shuichi's mind sparked. It felt like he had just grasped a vital thread.
He walked into the kitchen and discovered a large freezer sitting in the corner. Its surface was somewhat worn, decorated with a few cute stickers. He pulled it open, but found only a few scattered packages of frozen meat.
"Mr. Ogasawara is a chef," the manager added, seeing Shuichi inspecting the freezer. "He often makes dishes to share with the neighbors. He's a very nice young man."
"Is that so?" Shuichi reached in and pulled out a bag of frozen meat. He pressed his fingers against the package, feeling the texture of the cuts through the plastic.
"Hayashi-kun," Matsumoto whispered, leaning in close. "Is there something wrong with the meat? It's not... human, is it?"
"It's just ordinary frozen pork," Shuichi replied, shaking his head.
"Are you sure?" Matsumoto double-checked. "I remember you saying a section of the victim's neck was missing."
"I run an izakaya, Matsumoto-san. I'm a chef myself," Shuichi said dryly. "I'm not going to misidentify a cut of meat."
Once he was satisfied that the freezer held no secrets, Shuichi began to wander through the rest of the apartment. He soon entered Mari Ogasawara's bedroom.
On the nightstand sat a half-empty bottle of bright red nail polish. The color was an exact match for the polish on the victim's toes. As Shuichi reached for the bottle, he noticed something else: a few splatters of the same red polish on the leg of the bed, as if the bottle had been knocked over or handled clumsily.
It was clear that Mari had encountered something unexpected while she was painting her nails—something that had interrupted her and caused the spill.
Leaving the room, Shuichi entered Yuto's bedroom.
Unlike his sister's pristine room, Yuto's was a mess. Clothes were strewn across the floor, and books were piled haphazardly on the desk. Shuichi scanned the clutter and quickly spotted a crumpled invitation on the table.
It was a funeral notice for a high school classmate of Yuto's. The girl had died unexpectedly in a traffic accident, and her funeral had been held two days ago. The invitation was badly wrinkled, as if Yuto had gripped it with immense force, the edges of the paper torn and frayed.
On the other side of the apartment, Matsumoto and his officers had finished a thorough search of every nook and cranny. They came up empty-handed.
"Could we have gotten it wrong?" Matsumoto asked, frowning. "Maybe Yuto Ogasawara really is innocent?"
"Which restaurant does he work at?" Shuichi asked the manager.
"It's an izakaya not far from here," the manager provided the address.
"Come on," Shuichi said, gesturing toward the door. "Let's go take a look over there."
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