Detective Asakura and Officer Nanata found the break in the hiking trail on their walk. Nanata had led the way, brandishing a hefty torch in her left hand, and holding pepper spray in the other.
The forest was still as she crested the small incline, and her jaw fell slack.
"This doesn't feel real," she said, her eyes sparkling like the stars refracted on the water's surface.
Detective Asakura watched Nanata head into the clearing, carefully dodging the individual pools that were just an inch from the lip of the stone. Her footsteps were loud and confident as she turned on her heel and laughed. She splayed her arms out and reached to the sky. The answering hoot of an owl made her childlike glee even greater. She dashed from pool to pool, peering into the water, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever could lurk beneath the shield of bioluminescence. She beckoned Detective Asakura to join her. His steps had been careful, and measured, as he walked along some of the narrower passages to where Nanata was prodding the water's surface. The ground under his feet felt narrower when he stood on it than it had when he watched Nanata bound over it. Was she not afraid of falling? His eye twitched.
"Hey, Detective!" she said, jerking herself upright, her hair swishing like a waterfall of spun gold. She grinned from ear to ear, "This place looks like it's come straight out of a fantasy book."
Detective Asakura nodded, "It's beautiful."
Officer Nanata nodded, her body reverberating with a new wave of energy. She dipped her hand into the nearest pool and scooped clear water from inside. It was like her touch repelled the algae instantly, forcing it away from where her skin had touched it. She held the clear water in her cupped hands, a small trickle slipping down her bare forearm. She held her cupped hands up to her lips and stuck her tongue out, drinking a few drops and then letting the rest rain back down onto the pool. She stuck her tongue out and scraped it against her teeth.
"I thought it was going to taste like magic," Nanata muttered, "It just tasted gross."
Detective Asakura had turned away from her, his brows furrowed. His skin was flushed the slightest pink. With his attention off Nanata he had the opportunity to actually observe the sheer enormity of the space, and how, although most of the space appeared disturbed, like it was a frequently enough trodden path, there was something distinctly different marking one of the pools. He furrowed his brows, squinting.
"Wh-" he cleared his throat, "What's that over there?"
Nanata shrugged and made her way across the web of stone and water, her arms outstretched for balance. She walked slowly by the treeline, once again brandishing the torch.
"No, not in the trees," Detective Asakura said, "By the water!"
Nanata turned her head and pursed her lips. She pointed the beam of her torch to the ground, where a mix of moss and algae coated most of the stones.
"Keep going!" Detective Asakura said, "Forward. Forward. Bit to the left. Forward. Yes!"
Nanata had paused, her torch illuminating a mark on the floor. While a lot of the stone had a natural spatter or sheen of green, this smooth stone appeared to be otherwise unmarred, and yet, there was a small shape cast in green on the floor.
"It's either an 'I' or an exclamation mark, Sir."
Detective Asakura tentatively crossed the stone, his shoes felt like they were filled with iron, and each step could and would make the stone beneath him rupture and crumble beneath him, especially as the gaps got narrower.
"I think it's an exclamation mark," he said.
"It could be nothing?" Officer Nanata said, "Kids or something. That Yoshida girl was talking about how she spent half the night on the phone crying to her mum because some kid nearly passed out on the trail that morning."
Detective Asakura nodded, "She talked about being caught up in some legend. The one about a fish. Reckon this could be someone earmarking where to cast a line?"
"It could be," Officer Nanata said, "It could be a whole lot of nothing."
"But," Detective Asakura said, "It could be everything."
When Kaho woke up the next morning, there was a note under her door, on the reserve's official stationary, declaring that the hiking trails were off limits. The police had cordoned them off and anyone caught attempting to enter them would be cautioned if not arrested for perverting the course of justice. She swallowed thickly, contemplating what the police could have found, and whether Kaho and her friends had inadvertently tampered with something incriminating.
She was halfway through Googling what the maximum sentence for tampering with evidence was when her phone trilled with Tatsuya's good morning text. He'd sent a picture message with his red hair tousled and a 'I woke up like this' look on his face. There were a few sprouting hairs on his chin he hadn't shaved. He was already in his school uniform, the gaudy purple Muraniko blazer, neatly pressed and ironed.
He was pouting in the picture, his full lips were pursed and sulky, like a child watching his parent put candy on the top shelf of the cabinet, far out of reach. Kaho bit her lip as her insides ached. She felt like she'd punched in the gut. She whined, rolling over on the bed and curling up in a ball. She glanced up at Fumiko, who remained fast asleep.
She was sprawled out, fast asleep like a starfish, her hair was stuck out in a thousand different tufts and sprouting directions. She'd slept with wet hair. In what had once been Kaho's bed. Kaho was, once again, asleep in Fumiko's bed. Fortunately, Konoishi wasn't sleeping in their room again. When Kaho returned to the cabin the previous night, Fumiko had been gambling her chocolates against Akane and a few of the kids from Seiran in a game of 'bullshit', and while Kaho had been escorted back to her cabin by the rest of the team, only Naseru stayed, and subsequently wiped the floor with Fumiko, and had been dragged back to Akane's cabin, again, and it felt like the air was being snatched from her lungs as she watched Akane drag him along like a lost puppy.
Kaho rolled back over again and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. She screwed her eyes shut and thought back to the previous night; Akane in her slouchy clothes dragging Naseru outside with this confident swagger in her step, and how it made Kaho feel like she was on fire. She had to stop – Naseru was, evidently, into Akane, with the way he trailed along after her. Meanwhile, she had Tatsuya sending her good morning texts. She put her head in her hands and wished the bed would consume her like a black hole.
Her phone buzzed again, 'Hope you can come back soon! I miss you x' from Tatsuya. He then sent a GIF of a cartoon walrus blowing a kiss with his flipper. Kaho double tapped the GIF and resent it back and threw her head backwards, smacking it against the headboard. An instant wave of pain like ripples in water came over her. She whimpered, clutching the back of her head and clambered out of bed, wincing with every step.
She padded into the bathroom and tentatively flicked the lights on. There wasn't any blood on her hands, so regardless of the pain in her head, she wasn't gravely injured. Though, her headaches always felt like an invisible man was using the mushy flesh of her brain as a treadmill. A constant pulsing sensation like someone was jogging on it. She groaned, putting her head in her hands. Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Tatsuya, a zoomed in, unflattering picture of his face smooshed up against the lens of his camera. She huffed. The boy was many things, but subtle wasn't one.
He wanted a good morning picture. Apparently reusing his cute animal GIF was no longer the height of romance. She scowled at her reflection. In the awkward angry blue lighting, she looked sallow and washed out, even in her dark blue button-down silk pyjama set, if anything, the shade of blue made Kaho look dead. She sighed audibly and reached for her toothbrush.
Compared to the picture Tatsuya sent, she felt juvenile. She looked at her reflection again, her lips covered in smeared toothpaste. She looked ridiculous; all sleepy, puffy eyed and riddled with bedhead. When she'd finished brushing her teeth, she ran her hands under the tap and attempted to tame it into submission. She glanced at the silk pyjamas and undid her top button. Then another. She contemplated unfastening a third button, glaring at her reflection. Was she trying too hard?
She prised the button open, and was faced by the centre panel of her black bra. She squeaked and quickly did the button back up. She leaned back against the wall and opened her camera app, taking a selfie for Tatsuya, sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes. If she looked silly, then her rough-around-the-edges look would be fine. It was nowhere near as sultry or alluring, but it was hard to compete with a model. She hit send before she overthought it and sighed. She was awake now. She might as well get ready for the day.
When Fumiko woke up, it was already almost nine. If she'd actually been at school, they'd already be in homeroom. But they were on a retreat and the drill-sergeant vibe that had existed for the weekend had ebbed away in sleep deprivation, boredom and repetitive drills. Being cooped up with tonnes of teenagers was going to make the coaches go grey, Kaho was sure.
Kaho left Fumiko behind when she declared she needed concealer. She had waited long enough, her stomach was churning like whale song, and she needed an obligatory smoothie to start her day, or she might just burst into flames. Fumiko hadn't held it against her. She'd been the one keeping Kaho up all night; her impromptu night of cards in their shared bedroom had lasted until the small hours. No wonder Fumiko was so tired.
Late last night there had been a delivery, with each of the requested items on the Hanagawa shopping list, placed on the cabin's doorstep, and as Kaho headed into the dining area that morning, she saw that everyone was wearing the exact same thing; a white short sleeved t-shirt with a round neck and a pair of black shorts. While the boys were in basketball shorts, a soft and thick cotton material that they were used to wearing during practice, Kaho, Fumiko, and potentially Akane had been given cycling shorts, which clung to the skin of their thighs. It was comfortable enough, but she never would have chosen the outfit had she been in the store. Perhaps it was more about identifying them; since the Jun and Yoko stunt, Kaho and Fumiko had been hosting Akane every evening in increasingly convoluted schemes to keep her under some kind of surveillance so Kenta couldn't find her.
Kaho saw many of the boys who'd played cards with Fumiko and Akane in the dining room. They looked like Kaho felt; like they'd been run through a hedge backwards, all wearing the white shirts and shorts they'd been provided. The bags under one boy's eyes looked like they extended long-past his cheekbones.
Any pent-up frustration Kaho had felt about Fumiko's sleeping in was only exacerbated by the lack of a strawberry and banana smoothie, and most of the breakfast goods being demolished. She glared at the fried breakfast options, a boiled egg and a soggy, overly buttered piece of toast being one of the scarce options. She huffed, picked up the egg, a spoon, and the toast and headed to the smoothie bar, reluctantly using the tap to measure out a mango smoothie into the mason jar. She glanced over at the fruit, took a green apple, and turned to the diners.
Since the police had insisted that everyone stay on the premises, the adults had been snippier, easier to anger, and took full advantage of the breakfast bar; greasy rashers of bacon glistened in molten butter, oil and tomato sauce on an array of abandoned plates. Few of the paying guests lingered, but one woman sat on her own, far from the noise of the basketball teams.
She was wearing a cornflower blue floor-length dress with a little white daisy print over it. The neckline was designed to plunge far deeper than it did, a guilty strand of extra stitching on the lining of the top, indicating it had been altered by hand to fit. She looked rough; gaunt even, her eyebags looking like angry bruises. She had her hair scraped back into a messy bun and was staring into the abyss of black coffee in her mug. It was tepid, without a trace of steam on the porcelain, and there was little food in front of her, just one measly piece of half-eaten toast.
Kaho tried not to stare, but her eyes seemed to gravitate toward her. Mrs Tanaka was wrought with grief, and was struggling to maintain even a façade of togetherness. As Kaho passed one of the other diners, she heard them whispering how she'd clearly killed her husband. It must be terrible, for people to place that kind of blame on you. She hoped she'd never feel like that.
She caught a glimpse of the Hanagawa team; while some of the third years had splintered off to chat with other players, the second-year students were all together, aside from Naseru, who was sitting alone. For a moment, she contemplated going to sit with him and leave the rest of the team to it, when she saw Ryota wave his arm from across the room. She took a step closer, her mind abuzz with thoughts – from Mrs Tanaka's supposed guilt, to whether she and the other Hanagawa basketball players had jeopardised a police investigation by going fishing.
The egg and toast no longer felt appetising. Her gaze flickered over the dining hall, seeking out Matsushita or Omura, who probably had a well of otherwise stupid knowledge in their heads. She wondered whether they thought the police had cordoned off the hiking trails solely for the sake of the fish and the legend surrounding it, and whether she had tampered with evidence. But, from what she remembered from her first and only stay in custody, Naseru seemed to be the guy to ask.
She turned her head toward Naseru, opening her mouth to speak, when she spotted Jean-Luc Barbier all but sprinting across the dining hall to sit with him. Jean-Luc chatted animatedly with Naseru, though it didn't look like Naseru was saying much back to him. But he wasn't eating alone.
Kaho huffed and sat with the other Hanagawa second years again, finding herself sandwiched between Yuta and Yamada, both of whom were wearing the white shirts and shorts the police had bought for them. Her phone buzzed again, a message from Tatsuya, a series of frenzied emojis reacting to her good morning picture. She rolled her eyes and bit into her sad piece of toast, letting the noise of the table swallow her up.