"When that guy heard me mention my wife, he said it wasn't convenient to talk at the entrance and took me up to the rooftop," Mr. Fujimori said with a cold sneer.
"Up there, he not only admitted he was a swindler but also said he'd already squandered our ten million yen. If I wanted the money back, I'd have to work with him."
"Work with him?" Reiko blinked, confused. "He admitted he's a conman. What kind of cooperation?"
"Probably to help him scam more people," Shuichi Hayashi guessed. "He likely wanted Mr. Fujimori to point him toward other gullible elderly folks from the village."
"Exactly," Mr. Fujimori scoffed. "That bastard didn't just refuse to return our retirement savings—he wanted me to give him information on other village elders so he could keep swindling."
"Hearing that, I couldn't hold back anymore. When he turned his back, I took out a small hammer I'd brought for self-defense and smashed it against his head."
"He passed out instantly. Seeing the blood on the back of his skull, my biggest fear was that if he woke up and called the police, I'd be arrested. Then who'd take care of my wife?"
"So, just as you said, I used a trick we use in the village for trapping game. I set up a simple mechanism with fishing line."
"As long as he fell from the rooftop, the ten-story drop would ensure no one would notice the wound on his head was from my hammer, no matter how mangled he ended up."
"That way, even if I didn't get the money back, I'd at least avenged my wife."
"Why didn't you go to the police?" Reiko couldn't help asking. "They could've helped you get the money back."
"The police? Haha…" Mr. Fujimori laughed as if he'd heard a joke. "Child, you think my wife didn't try that?"
"Before coming to Tokyo, I found a police report receipt in her bag. It clearly stated there wasn't enough evidence, so they wouldn't open a case."
"Why?" Reiko asked, incredulous. "He obviously didn't just scam your family. If the police investigated even a little, they'd find something…"
"Mr. Fujimori, the money your wife gave the swindler—it was all cash, wasn't it?" Shuichi asked.
"Yes, all cash," the old man nodded. "She withdrew it from the bank before coming to Tokyo."
"I bet the swindler specifically told her to bring cash," Shuichi said gravely. "Cash is hard to trace. Unless they catch him red-handed, it's nearly impossible to convict."
"Even if the police arrested him and found the money at his place, they couldn't prove it was yours. If the case went to the prosecutor's office, they'd send it back for insufficient evidence."
"My mom and dad would never do that!" Reiko, whose parents were both prosecutors, shot back. "They'd never let a bad guy go! Japan's criminal conviction rate is 99.99%!"
"Silly girl, if the police and prosecutors were that capable, why do people call the police a waste of taxpayer money? Doesn't that contradict the stats?" Shuichi said, ruffling his sister's hair.
"To become a prosecutor, you need to graduate from a top university and pass an exam with a one-in-a-hundred-thousand acceptance rate, plus layers of tests."
"But if a prosecutor brings a flawed case, they face consequences—minor ones like public apologies or demotions, or worse, losing their job entirely."
"So, prosecutors only take on cases with airtight evidence and perfect chains of proof."
"Cases with insufficient evidence get sent back to the police for more investigation, which just piles more work on them."
"Over time, police and prosecutors have formed an unspoken agreement. Cases without a strong chance of conviction either don't get filed at all or rot in the precinct's backlog."
"Murders without a clear suspect get labeled suicides. If there's no body, it's a disappearance. And disappearances? They call those 'kamikakushi'—spirited away."
"That's the truth behind Japan's 99.99% conviction rate."
"How can that be…"
Reiko's eyes reddened, her face a mix of shock and confusion. Her worldview was shaken. If anyone else had said this, she wouldn't have believed it. But coming from the brother she'd trusted since childhood, it hit hard.
"Onii-chan, are the things on TV and in newspapers all lies?"
"Some things aren't just true or false," Shuichi said, seeing her distress and pulling her into a comforting hug. "The world isn't just light and dark—there's a murky gray in between."
"Hayashi-san, you're young, but your insight outstrips us old folks," Mr. Fujimori said with a bitter smile. "If my wife and I had half your smarts, we wouldn't have been fooled."
"You were on the phone with the hospital where your wife is, weren't you? How is she…" Shuichi trailed off, hesitant.
"Right when I killed that swindler, my wife passed away," Mr. Fujimori said, his voice hollow. "Hayashi-san, is this retribution? I took a life, and she died. Why didn't the retribution fall on me?"
Just as I thought…
Shuichi sighed. When he'd seen Mr. Fujimori's dazed, lifeless expression at the phone booth, he'd already suspected this outcome.
"Hayashi-san, your tamagoyaki tastes so much like hers," Mr. Fujimori said, his face growing deathly pale. Clutching his chest, he gasped, "If I could just have one more bite…"
His voice turned desperate. "Hayashi-san, when I'm gone, please ask the police to send my ashes back to my hometown. I want to be buried with her. Please… I beg you…"
"I promise," Shuichi said firmly. "I'll make sure they know."
Seeing Shuichi's nod, a faint smile broke through the pain on Mr. Fujimori's face. "Thank you… My wife… I'm coming to you…"
His words faded, and his head drooped, motionless.
"Onii-chan, is he…" Reiko swallowed hard. "Is he dead?"
Shuichi checked his pulse. "Yes. Probably a heart attack."
For Mr. Fujimori, this was likely the best outcome. He'd avenged his wife and left the world with little suffering.
If there was an afterlife, this devoted elderly couple would surely reunite in the underworld.
(End of Chapter)
------------------------
🔥 Want more chapters right now?✨ Support me on Patreon and unlock advanced chapters early!
👉 patreon.com/TripleCrown07
Join in, get ahead of the story, and enjoy exclusive perks along the way 🚀📖