"Are you working here?" Inspector Samezaki scanned the izakaya's interior, his gaze settling on Hayashi Shuichi. "Business doesn't seem great."
"Something happened recently, so the shop was closed for a while," Shuichi explained simply. "What would the four of you like to eat?"
"Something filling, and fast," Officer Matsumoto said impatiently.
"We've been busy all day," Detective Morimura added with a smile. "Everyone's starving."
There was plenty of curry rice left, and since they were closing soon, Shuichi served it all to the four officers.
The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department officers grabbed their spoons and dug in.
"Hmm, this curry's really good," Inspector Megure said, surprised. "When I saw the place was empty earlier, I thought…"
He trailed off with a sheepish laugh, realizing he'd spoken out of turn.
Shuichi didn't mind and poured each of them a glass of iced beer at their request.
"Gulp, gulp…" Officer Matsumoto chugged his beer and let out a long sigh. "Refreshing! Kid, get me another!"
"Drink less," Inspector Samezaki warned. "We're working overtime tonight. The paperwork for this morning's case is due tomorrow."
"Don't worry, sir," Matsumoto said, waving him off. "The more I drink, the more energized I get."
Samezaki said nothing more. The First Division was understaffed and overworked, so sometimes they let officers unwind to stay effective.
…
Samezaki finished his curry first. Sipping oolong tea, he watched Shuichi clear dishes and asked, "Shuichi-kun, have you thought about what you want to do in the future?"
"Get into a good university, then take the civil service exam," Shuichi replied casually.
"Civil servant…" Samezaki's eyes lit up. "What about becoming a detective? You've got a knack for solving cases. If you joined the First Division, you'd shine."
"Sorry, I'm not interested in being a police officer," Shuichi said bluntly.
Samezaki frowned, about to ask why, when Matsumoto slammed the table. "Kid, what's that supposed to mean? Something wrong with being a cop?"
"I've got nothing against the police," Shuichi said, shaking his head. "I just don't want a life that's too exhausting."
"Too exhausting?" Morimura asked, puzzled.
"Inspector Megure started today and already has to work overtime tonight," Shuichi pointed out. "Compared to that, I'd rather do something less demanding."
"Hmph, no ambition," Matsumoto muttered.
"I want to be a police officer!" Kogoro interjected. "Joining the First Division as a detective would be even better."
"You?" Samezaki chuckled, recalling Kogoro's panic at the sight of the corpse that morning.
"To be a detective, you can't be timid."
"I'm not a coward!" Kogoro retorted, indignant.
"This morning was Kogoro's first time seeing a corpse, so it's normal for him to be shaken," Shuichi said, defending his friend.
"And you?" Morimura eyed Shuichi curiously. "You were calmer than even Inspector Megure."
"Huh?" Megure looked up, startled. "Sir, I…"
"You couldn't even look at the body directly," Matsumoto said irritably. "Did you think we didn't notice? The boss had you take the witnesses' statements to spare you stress on your first day."
"So that's why," Megure said, pausing. "Don't worry, sir, I'll get used to… corpses soon."
"Don't mind Matsumoto too much," Samezaki said with a chuckle. "When he first saw a murder scene, he did worse than you—he threw up on the spot."
"That was a dismembered body case!" Matsumoto protested.
"When I first saw a corpse, I wasn't much better," Morimura admitted. "I only forced myself to look closely so I wouldn't be mocked."
His gaze returned to Shuichi, still waiting for an answer.
Most people feel fear when seeing a corpse for the first time, driven by biology, psychology, or culture. Those who stay calm are outliers—either they've seen bodies before or they have psychological issues.
Morimura's question hinted at suspicion, wondering if Shuichi had a troubling past or mental condition, as such people could be potential criminals.
As a former detective in his past life, Shuichi instantly grasped Morimura's intent. But he couldn't admit he was used to crime scenes from his previous life.
"When I was four, my parents took me for a drive, and we got into a car accident," Shuichi said quickly. "They died in front of me. I was the only survivor."
"When we met Shuichi in kindergarten, he barely spoke and didn't play with others. He was always alone," Eri added, noticing Morimura's suspicion. "The teachers thought he might have autism from the trauma of his parents' accident."
"Thanks to Eri and me pestering him, he opened up and started talking more," Kogoro boasted proudly, oblivious to the tension.
That wasn't autism! Shuichi thought, both amused and exasperated.
When he first transmigrated, he couldn't understand Japanese at all, knowing only words like "yamete" and "iku." He stayed silent, observing others, and it took him six months to manage basic conversations.
"I see," Morimura said, his wary look softening to sympathy. "Sorry for bringing up painful memories."
…
After paying, Samezaki and his three subordinates stood to leave. At the door, Samezaki told the others to go ahead, then turned back to Shuichi, who was clearing dishes.
"Shuichi-kun, I hope you'll…"
A sudden crunch of breaking glass cut him off from outside the izakaya.
"Sir, two women are fighting on the balcony across the street and broke the glass!" Megure called, poking his head in.