Monday, November 7
What should have been an ordinary day had become anything but, because of an explosion incident four years ago.
Dressed in a black suit and black sunglasses, Jinpei sat in the passenger seat of a red Mazda RX-7 FD3S, resting his chin on his hand as he watched the scenery rush past outside the window.
'It's time.'
A week ago, he had transferred to the First Investigation Division, Violent Crimes Section 3 for this very day.
"What was that supposed to be just now? Who interrogates people like that? With your rude attitude, no one's going to tell you anything."
Sitting in the driver's seat, Miwako Sato narrowed her eyes in annoyance. She couldn't understand why this guy, who had just transferred from the bomb disposal unit, had been assigned to her by Inspector Megure. Talk about bad luck.
Thinking about the past few days, she muttered to herself, "Seriously, it's already been seven days since you got here. Could you at least try listening to my advice a little?"
Beside her, the constant clicking of phone buttons filled the air. Jinpei, who had a particular fondness for flip phones, was busy typing out an email, completely ignoring her complaints.
"Oh? Sending an email? You type pretty fast."
With a cigarette hanging from his lips, Jinpei replied flatly, "Yeah. My only redeeming quality is having nimble fingers."
Miwako's mouth twitched slightly. 'So he's aware he has a ton of flaws, huh?' She glanced at him and teased, "Don't tell me you're texting your girlfriend?"
'A girlfriend? Heh… more troublesome than that.'
Jinpei let out a quiet chuckle. "No. Even if I send this email, I won't get a reply."
Thinking back to the last time he saw that person a year ago, his expression dimmed.
"Because he disappeared four years ago."
"Huh?"
Miwako hadn't expected her casual remark to touch on something he might not want to revisit. Pressing her lips together, she said nothing more and silently drove toward the Metropolitan Police Department.
'So he can make that kind of face too… I thought he always looked like someone owed him money.'
'Wonder who he learned that attitude from.'
If Jinpei could hear her thoughts, he'd probably laugh and say,
"From that poker-faced guy who's been gone for four years, obviously."
----
Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo 11:07 AM
On the second floor of a café in Kasumigaseki 2-chome, a black-haired young man sat in the corner wearing headphones, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen.
At first glance, it looked like he was struggling over a paper.
But if someone took a closer look, they'd see a surveillance feed on the screen.
—"You're not going? What do you mean by that?"
In the video, a young female officer slammed her hand on the table, making the cigarette butts in the ashtray jump out, scattering ash everywhere.
—"It's not that I won't go. I just have to stay here today and wait for a fax. It's just a suspicious old man being brought in by the local station. You guys can handle that, right?"
—"You can't say it like that!"
The black-haired young man watching this was Ritsu.
Narrowing his eyes, he looked at Jinpei on the screen, wearing sunglasses, cigarette in mouth, looking more like a delinquent than a police officer.
Honestly, even more like a "bad guy" than himself.
He had deliberately asked Gin for leave, pushing his mission onto Akai, then snuck out of the apartment without telling Rei, who was currently overseas on a mission so he wouldn't be distracted.
Three days ago, Ritsu had asked Hiro to install a few cameras in the First Investigation Division's main office.
Officially, it was to "encourage officers to stay motivated in solving cases."
—"I've heard about it. Every year on November 7, headquarters receives that, right?"
—"Yeah. Starting three years ago, we've been receiving a fax every year on this day with a large number written on it. Probably just a prank."
—"Three years ago it was '3,' two years ago '2,' last year '1.' If you ask me, it's some bomber doing a countdown. He's planning to act… and it'll be today."
After the explosion incident four years ago, Ritsu had gathered all the information he could about the case.
One of the perpetrators had been exposed due to a journalist's incorrect report, revealing how to defuse the bomb. Spotted by police lying in wait, he fled, only to be struck and killed by a passing truck while climbing over a fence.
As for why the bomb's countdown resumed.
It was likely the other culprit, enraged after witnessing his partner's death, who restarted it in an attempt to kill the police in retaliation.
His plan had failed.
But criminals like that, antisocial, arrogant, were highly likely to seek revenge. So every November over the past few years, Ritsu had quietly monitored police activity.
That's how he learned about the numbered faxes.
Knowing they represented a countdown, he had made preparations. Because he understood Jinpei. He knew exactly what Jinpei would do.
Just in case, Ritsu decided he needed to intervene in the investigation. And also, for Kenji, who had lost an eye and endured painful skin graft surgery.
For his sake, the culprit had to be caught.
—"Officer, we received another strange fax this year."
Ritsu's eyes lit up. Sitting up straight, he pressed his headphones tighter and listened carefully.
—"It's just another number again, right? So what number did we get this time?"
—"No… this time it's a message."
Just as he thought. This year, the culprit would act.
And the target… was the police.
—"We are the Knights of the Round Table. All you foolish yet cunning police, take heed. At noon today and again at 2 PM, we will ignite celebratory flames using the heads of our fallen comrades. If you have the ability, then come and stop us. We will leave seat number 72 vacant, awaiting your arrival."
On screen, Inspector Megure blinked in confusion, clearly unable to grasp the meaning of the message.
—"What does that even mean?"
Officer Shiratori shook his head, he didn't know either.
Then Miwako, noticing movement behind her, turned around just in time to see Jinpei sling his bag over his shoulder and head for the exit.
—"Wait, Matsuda! Where are you going?"
—"You still don't get it?" Jinpei said, just like back in police academy days, one hand in his pocket, a confident grin on his face.
—"They said they'd leave seat number 72 open for us. If we're talking about a round structure with 72 seats… There's only one place."
—"The Ferris wheel at Beika Shopping Center, the largest in Japan."
Sitting on the sofa, Ritsu removed his headphones. Reaching out, he shut his laptop.
Something didn't sit right.
There was no way the code was this simple. The culprit had spent three years planning this, provoking the police, seeking revenge.
Would the message really be this easy to decipher?
No.
There had to be another motive.
Stuffing the laptop into his bag, Ritsu put on a white mask and a black bucket hat, then hurried toward a nearby open-air parking lot.