Tokyo Detective Chronicles

Fushimi pulled a clean shirt, a pair of loose sweatpants, and an unopened pair of men's underwear from the closet.

After all, there were no women's clothes in his house, so he had to make do with his own.

When he returned to the bathroom door, Fushimi gently knocked on the door:

"I left my change of clothes by the door."

After saying that, Fushimi was about to put the clothes on the ground, but the door lock clicked open at that moment. Hayakawa poked her head out and took the clothes from his hands, but her blush deepened.

Fushimi's gaze lingered politely on her face.

"Thank you, senior!"

Hayakawa took the clothes, her eyes crinkling into a smile. "Um... have I caused you a lot of trouble? I'm really sorry..."

Even among the people of Yingzhou, who generally love to apologize and express gratitude, she is considered to be one of the most enthusiastic.

However, compared to the formulaic politeness of most Yingzhou people, her expression was full of sincerity.

Every time Fushimi helped her, big or small, she acted like a child who had never received a gift before, suddenly being stuffed with candy.

"It's alright," Fushimi said.

The bathroom door closed again.

Fushimi retreated to the living room and fell into thought.

Why does her bag have that strange fragrance from Professor Takeda's teacup?

"..."

But ultimately, is this strange fragrance related to the white leech, or is it just wishful thinking on my part?

What happened to those wounds on Hayakawa Chiho's body...?

Was it done by that girl named Akiyama?

If school bullying has reached this level and no one is doing anything about it... it's going too far no matter how you look at it.

Fushimi stood still and took a deep breath.

Regardless, this remains a direction for investigation, and Fushimi has ample time in the three days before Morikawa Aoi finishes making the wedding candles.

The shower stopped.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened again.

Hayakawa Chiho came out wearing Fushimi's shirt.

The shirt was definitely too big for her; the hem hung down to her thighs like a skirt, and the sleeves were so long that they needed to be rolled up several times and piled up at her elbows.

Perhaps the waistband was too loose, because she didn't wear those sweatpants.

He was only wearing that pair of men's underwear.

Her long, straight legs were completely exposed, gleaming like ivory under the dim yellow light of the living room.

She was barefoot on the wooden floor, her wet hair draped over her shoulders, the ends still dripping water, and water droplets sliding down her neck and into the collar of her shirt.

A towel was draped over his shoulders, and he exuded a mixture of heat and moisture.

"Senior, where's the hair dryer?"

She asked, her face still bearing that perfect smile, devoid of any gloom.

As she spoke, she leaned forward slightly, causing her wide collar to flare out, revealing glimpses of her soft breasts beneath the shirt fabric.

Fushimi looked away, took a hairdryer from the drawer, and handed it to him.

Hayakawa sat down next to the power outlet in the living room, facing him sideways, with her legs together and crossed at an angle, and pressed the switch.

The rumbling of the wind filled the quiet room.

Fushimi sat at his desk, organizing documents, but his gaze kept glancing at the girl.

Through the wide collar of her shirt, he could see the complete outline of the bruise below her collarbone, the center of which was the darkest and gradually faded outwards.

Even a slight, large movement of the arm could cause further damage to the wound.

Under Fushimi's spiritual observation, the edges of the wound were red, swollen, and inflamed.

It's no wonder they get infected after being soaked in that dirty water...

"Hayakawa-san."

Fushimi spoke, trying to make his voice sound casual: "The injuries on your body...were they inflicted by that girl named Akiyama?"

Hayakawa turned off the hairdryer and turned her head.

Her face was flushed, whether from the hot water or from shyness, it was hard to tell.

"Ah, this... haha..."

She tightened her collar, scratched her cheek with her fingers, and her smile became a little shy: "No, it has nothing to do with Akiyama and the others."

"That is..."

"I bumped into it by accident!"

Hayakawa spoke lightly, pointing a finger to the ceiling as if he were talking about someone else:

"I'm clumsy and often bump into things like table corners and door frames. My mom says I don't act like a girl at all."

The lie was so clumsy that Fushimi didn't bother to question or refute it.

But it was precisely because of this that he finally realized what was strange about Hayakawa Chiho's smile...

She was smiling, her eyes crinkling and the corners of her mouth turning up.

There was no malice, scheming, or concealment; it was simply a habit, or perhaps numbness.

Like a traveling circus performer who performs the same act year after year, repeating lines he has memorized countless times, no longer thinking about the meaning behind the lines.

Later on, even he himself was tricked into it.

"I'll blow it for you," Fushimi suddenly said.

"Huh?" Hayakawa was taken aback.

"Your hair at the back isn't dry." Fushimi got up and walked over, taking the hairdryer from her hand. "Wet hair will give you a headache."

"Then... I'll have to trouble you, senior."

Hayakawa turned around and knelt on the tatami with her back to him.

Fushimi turned on the hairdryer, and the warm air brushed against the girl's hair.

Her hair was in great condition, soft and smooth, with a faint scent of Fushimi's shampoo... To be honest, this was the first time Fushimi had realized that the shampoo he had bought actually smelled like this.

It's refreshing yet not overpowering, with a subtle citrus scent.

But beneath that black hair, through the wide collar of his shirt, he could see that Hayakawa's back was covered in scars.

Fushimi's fingers paused almost imperceptibly.

Just as he had thought, it was even more exaggerated than the wound on the front.

The interlacing and varying shades... make one feel somewhat uncomfortable just by looking closely.

After drying the girl's hair, Fushimi turned off the hairdryer, and the room suddenly fell silent.

The girl seemed not to have come to her senses. She closed her eyes, knelt blankly on the spot, and gently shook her head.

"Hayakawa-san."

His voice was soft: "The injury on your back... was it from an accident too?"

Hayakawa Chiho opened her eyes but did not answer immediately.

She kept her back to him, her shoulders slightly hunched.

After several seconds, she whispered, "Um...it was my fault..."

"Hayakawa."

Fushimi interrupted her: "If you need help, you can tell me."

The girl suddenly seemed to relax, turned around with her hands supporting her back on the tatami mat, and then sat down on it, changing from a kneeling position to a duck-like sitting position.

She looked up at Fushimi.

There was no emotional breakdown or tears as expected; not even a hint of redness in her eyes, and a smile remained on her face.

"You're such a good person, senior."

As she spoke, she clasped her hands together and spoke softly:

"But it's really okay. My mom is a doctor, and she'll take care of these injuries. She said a girl's body is very important and needs to be well taken care of so that there are no scars."

My mom will help me... just treat the wound?

What was the source of the wound?

She didn't mention it at all.

Fushimi fell silent. He got up, walked to the cabinet, and took out the first-aid kit.

"Let me disinfect it for you," he said. "Some wounds look fresh, and they might get infected if left untreated."

Hayakawa hesitated for a moment, then blushed again: "Um... no need to trouble you, senpai..."

"It's no trouble at all."

Fushimi had already opened the first-aid kit and taken out iodine and cotton swabs: "Turn around."

"oh."

The girl hesitated for a few seconds, her eyelashes trembled, and finally she obediently turned around.

Fushimi gently pulled down the collar of her shirt at the back, exposing the scars completely to the light.

A closer look reveals an even more shocking sight.

Some of the wounds were deep, with red and swollen edges, clearly inflamed.

Fushimi carefully applied the alcohol with a cotton swab.

When the cotton swab touched the wound, Hayakawa's body trembled slightly, but she did not make a sound.

"Does it hurt?" Fushimi asked.

"A little..." Hayakawa said softly, "but it's okay... I'm not afraid of pain."

Fushimi continued what he was doing.

As if to distract herself, the girl began to chatter on and on about her own affairs.

Most of the time was spent with her mother... going to the movies, going to the amusement park, and making jokes about failed baking attempts.

Occasionally, she would mention her kind neighbor or her homeroom teacher who cared about her studies.

But one important person is missing.

Her father.

Fushimi listened intently, his hands moving with meticulous care and focus.

"Hayakawa," he said, extremely inappropriately, "Where's your father?"

The girl hunched her shoulders again.

"Daddy..."

Her voice was very soft: "My mother told me that when I was very young, he... committed suicide."

"I think they probably owe a lot of money outside, so they don't want to drag us down with them..."

"..."

"Feel sorry."

"It's okay."

Hayakawa turned his head and smiled at Fushimi:

"I don't really remember him. My mom took very good care of me. Oh, right! I also have a younger sister... Although she's studying abroad now, we were very close when we were little."

"younger sister?"

"Yes, my twin sister."

Hayakawa said, "But she was in poor health and was sent to live with relatives abroad when she was young. Her mother said that the medical conditions there were better and that it would greatly help her condition."

Fushimi nodded and said nothing more.

After treating the last wound, he gently covered several more serious areas with gauze.

Then, he secretly took out a talisman from his pocket and covered it with the gauze.

As Fushimi murmured silently, the talisman seemed to completely disappear into the girl's body.

The redness and swelling around the wound subsided slightly at a visible rate, and at the same time, a rune that only Fushimi could see appeared on Hayakawa's back.

Clearly, Hayakawa's abnormalities were so numerous that he could no longer selectively ignore them.

Hayakawa let out a soft "Eh."

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing..."

She shook her head: "I just suddenly felt... a warm feeling on my back, and it was a little itchy."

Fushimi nonchalantly tossed the blood-soaked cotton swab into the trash can, casually replying, "It's probably from the alcohol."

"Is that so..."

After treating the injury on her back, Fushimi turned to face her.

This time, Hayakawa wasn't shy at all. Instead, she cooperated by tilting her head back slightly, revealing the wound below her collarbone.

This pose allows the shirt collar to open wider.

Fushimi tried to keep his gaze focused on the wound, but his peripheral vision inevitably swept over the fair skin and the barely visible curves beneath the shirt.

"Okay," he said.

Hayakawa turned around and tugged at the collar of his shirt, seemingly avoiding Fushimi's gaze.

"Thank you so much, senior! You really helped me a lot..."

"Senior, why..." The words caught in her throat, and she couldn't say them.

Hayakawa Chiho stood up and bowed deeply again: "I'll go home once my clothes are dry. Thank you so much for today!"

"Isn't your mother on the night shift tonight?"

Fushimi asked, "Are you alright being home alone?"

"No problem!"

Hayakawa laughed and opened her arms, "I'm used to it, and when my mom comes home in the morning, she makes me breakfast."

Fushimi looked at Hayakawa Chiho.

The girl was wearing his shirt, standing barefoot on his floor, with her arms outstretched towards him.

Her smile was so radiant, as if the world was always sunny and bright for her.

Behind her, Fushimi saw Karin leaning against the door frame, her expression obscured, only her golden pupils faintly visible.