The air inside the vehicle was as stale as it was quiet. Only the unbalanced, deflated left rear wheel showed any signs of life as the car limped its way into the Chichibu Main district. The forest shrank in the rearview mirror, the hills of Nagatoro flattening out behind us the same way a serpent crawls underground.
I had never been questioned by authorities before. My mind scrambled between questions that wouldn't fully form and an adrenaline rush that refused to let me focus. Just like earlier in class, I was drifting between the present moment and sinking into a heavy haze.
One moment we were passing open roads and green fields broken up by man-made billboards, or the occasional graffiti defiling the concrete, while somehow respecting nature. Next, my eyes registered traffic lights guiding salarymen across a busy intersection. I almost regretted not savoring the ride more; the main districts were much busier than anywhere I felt comfortable.
I had the window seat, but then again, we all did. Hiro sat up straight in the front passenger seat, while Masato and I sat in the back, each of us keeping to ourselves. Detective Yaguchi drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel, his eyes cursing the red light.
In the reflection of the glass, I could see Masato fidgeting with his hands, a stark contrast to my own stillness. While my friend's mind was racing with questions and uncertainty, I felt a strange, numbing sense of relief. Maybe Yumi's fanatics were a blessing in disguise, though I'd never thank her for it. The overstimulation from our classroom conflict had left me completely deflated—it was as if a warm fuzz had been planted inside my forehead, creating an atmosphere that felt comforting simply because it hid my thoughts and emotions so well.
But I wasn't a fool; I wouldn't allow myself to be completely oblivious. Although the detectives appeared calm and collected on the surface, Detective Yaguchi's constant drumming and synchronized glances at the rearview mirror confirmed what I already suspected. It showed we wouldn't be let out of his sight. Even though I couldn't fathom what my involvement could possibly be, I knew I would need to tread their questions with absolute care.
The car's indicator brought me out of my tenth daydream as the vehicle took a sharp right turn, crossing another road before approaching an entrance guarded by a security gate.
It wasn't the lighting that broadcast the sheer scale of the building in front of us, nor the gate that treated us with rigid procedures. It was the massive concrete walls and how instantly they made me feel further away from home. The car rolled in with a mocking sort of leisure, finding an open parking space that practically echoed for us to leave in haste.
Closing the car door, I felt fully awake again. The unfamiliar, sterile air cleared the fog from my brain just as my body felt like it was about to fall apart.
By the entrance, I noticed a set of double doors whose design lacked the traditional wood I was used to. Erina, Kiori, and Ichinose stood huddled together, on the verge of holding hands yet too afraid to actually do it. Detective Haruka stood closer to the road, her body angled to watch our arrival and the girls' miniature, anxious squirms.
"Walk ahead of me, single file, and don't speak until you're spoken to," Yaguchi said efficiently.
We had already shut our car doors, and Hiro naturally took the lead, striding forward as if the order required no discussion. I followed, trying to take in the area in full, but the towering concrete walls and the heavy stench of exhaust fumes forced my eyes to the floor. The gravel transitioned into a sleek tiling that appeared almost glass-like, yet sturdy and clean—a perfect representation of the people who worked here.
The overwhelming smell and city noise died the moment our group passed through the double doors, which slid open in a swift, mechanical silence. I looked up and noticed the ceiling lowering, enclosing the space and limiting my eyes' wanderings as I was forced to face the front reception desk.
Behind it sat about seven officers, some male, some female, all hunched over their work and paying us little to no attention. I saw why immediately—Haruka steered the girls toward a corridor on the left, while Hiro led our side of the group into a hallway whose walls were decorated with official self-portraits, framed certificates, and copper plates boasting the date of the station's establishment. It almost made the place seem more human, as if trying to remind us that actual people worked here. Yet, as we passed a few closed doors to rooms I knew I'd never investigate in this lifetime, I noted how every passing officer holstered a weapon.
Typically, you'd find that comforting—a sign of their duty to protect. But with the way we were being treated like actual suspects, those weapons suddenly felt a whole lot more threatening.
At the end of the hallway, the path split four ways—a left turn, a right turn, and staircases that both ascended and descended. I realized we were on the ground level, meaning the descending stairs led straight down into the earth. The realization hitched my breath. Hiro peered over his shoulder, locking eyes with me.
"Look forward," Yaguchi's voice echoed from a short distance behind us.
Out of natural reaction, I glanced over my shoulder anyway, catching sight of the physical gap between Masato and me.
"I said look forward." Yaguchi's voice rose, cutting through the corridor without an echo.
I quickly snapped my head back around. I caught a final glimpse of the girls heading upstairs with Haruka leading the way, their gazes fixed on the ascent, paying us no mind.
"Go downstairs, two floors, turn right, and enter the second door to your left."
The instructions were crisp and clear, filling me with a deep dread. Our group was beginning to separate—internally, I had predicted this—but the thought of going underground made my stomach turn. It wasn't the same as a hollow train tunnel. The nerves were rushing back, but I held myself together for my own sake. If this was just a routine questioning, couldn't they have used any other room on the upper floors?
Hiro diligently adhered to the detective's orders. I found myself wishing I could borrow some of his courage; this was the fundamental difference between us. It was the reason why he could swing a baseball bat under pressure and I could not.
We made our descent quickly, turning right at the bottom and finding the correct door within a few meters. We had to wait outside since Masato and Yaguchi were still making their way down the stairs.
I examined the door. The glass pane was a heavy blur, making it impossible to see through. The hallway down here was significantly dimmer, with light from exposed bulbs rather than the fancier recessed ceiling lights near the front desk upstairs. I looked onward. This corridor appeared entirely empty, the walls covered in nothing but blank paint and identical doors. My mind began to quicken, questions pressing to the front of my skull, demanding attention yet never fully forming.
Hiro took the most practical action available—crossing his arms over his chest and leaning casually against the white wall, completely unafraid that it might swallow him whole. It bothered me how nonchalant he was about all of this. My only retreat was to stare back at the blurred glass of the door, silently asking it to reveal what it held within.
Surprisingly, the silence broke.
"Do you think this is about Alison?"
I was perplexed by the sudden question, but immediately retracted my own foolishness. Hiro was staring right at me. It was as if my mind had openly revealed its many incomplete questions—or maybe he had simply asked the clearest one on both of our minds.
Still, I didn't want to answer it.
"What do you mean?" I stalled, though his gaze was easier to match now.
Hiro continued to stare, his expression never shifting from its calm, steady demeanor. "Well, Alison never came to school…" He started, but then his pupils shrank slightly, and his gaze dropped to the floor.
I never thought I'd hold his gaze long enough to see that crack in his armor, but the realization behind his unspoken logic brought all my nerves to a sudden standstill. They say you should expect the worst so that you are neither surprised nor disappointed. But considering my morning, and where I now stood—was it really so foolish to hang onto a better notion?
"Everyone who was called in knows her well," Hiro continued, his voice dropping. "And honestly, I can't think of anything else…" He failed to finish his thought for the second time in a row.
"I don't think so," I said flatly.
I wanted to explain that I had seen Alison the previous evening, but the thought of having to explain our secret night meeting to Hiro completely dented my confidence. Still, I felt I needed to offer a different direction—my own thought process. Otherwise, I might start to believe Hiro's dark projection.
"Don't we all just live close to one another? Maybe it's something related to that?"
At first, it had made perfect sense in my head. I had registered the thought and processed it in an instant. Yet, the logic was fatally flawed. For one thing, Nagatoro rarely saw law enforcement visits. The last time police had been out our way was years ago, when a wealthy kid took the wrong train line—back when they still worked—and ended up lost for a day.
That was eight years ago. Even that story, as humorous as it appeared on the surface, had far more backbone and reason behind it than my current, desperate mental breakdown.
Standing there in the dim light, I was honestly surprised. Surprised at my own hollow logic. Surprised at my own stupidity.