A Psychic Detective Doesn't Laugh at Tragedy

The rows of cherry blossom trees were white and in full bloom. As they were also a little past their prime, their petals were beginning to fall off one by one. The soft white flowers danced in the air, transforming the surroundings into a sea of blossoms.

Suddenly, a heavy gust of wind blew.

It was the kind of wind that you could feel deep in your gut, pressing against your eardrums.

Saku Fujisaki's vision was blanketed in white.

Countless petals twirled in the air. Some were mercilessly slammed to the ground, some gently descended onto the water's surface, and others were thrown back into the air, spinning in an endless loop.

As he looked upon this scene, Saku felt as if he could not even breathe.

That was how densely the flowers filled the space.

It was as if there was no room for even a single person to stand.

Yet, in the middle of it all, one thing stood out.

Something out of place.

Black . . .

It was a girl in black.

There she was, standing amid the storm of cherry blossoms.

The girl's figure seemed to defy the white of the cherry blossoms scattered all around.

She wore only black, her classical dress reminiscent of a noblewoman's gown. From her stockings to silk gloves, she was clad entirely in a color as dark as night.

Her face was as beautiful as the flowers, almost unearthly in its perfection. If she was not human, there was only one other alternative . . .

She was a girl.

The embodiment of girlhood.

Dark yet elegant, delicate yet strikingly vivid—such is the essence of girls.

Her existence was different from ordinary people.

The wind surged once more.

The girl held down her black hair.

Despite being showered with petals, her clothes remained untainted by the white. For some reason, not a single petal clung to her body. It was like a kind of magic, almost miraculous.

Do not touch me . . .

Do not touch . . .

As if she was whispering this, the petals veered away from the girl.

Saku naturally accepted this wonder as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

Suddenly, the girl laughed.

At least that was what it looked like.

Indeed, her red lips twisted with a womanly suppleness.

That was how it appeared to Saku.

Everything was too fantastical, too ambiguous.

Any sense of reality had long been lost.

Amid such a scene, the girl whispered in a voice that could be heard from on high.

Now, let's begin our talk.

About what?

What was there to talk about?

Saku struggled to find the right words.

Without being able to express it well.

Even though he could not articulate himself entirely, the girl nodded as if she understood everything. She was surprisingly compassionate, Saku thought. Or perhaps it was just another misunderstanding resulting from his complete lack of understanding of her existence.

She opened her mouth once again.

It's simple stuff, really.

The wind blew once again.

The girl narrowed her eyes in irritation.

Amid the whirl of cherry blossoms, she spoke.

Her voice, clear and firm, split through the white barrier.

And her whisper reached Saku's ears.

About life and death, for example.

She had always been told she was a god—the kamisama.

It was seven springs ago that Saku Fujisaki met Toka Fujisaki.

At that time, Saku was thirteen and Toka was eight.

It may be unusual in this day and age, but Saku was raised to become Toka's servant.

A thirteen-year-old boy got down on one knee before an eight-year-old girl to serve her.

Clad in black, Toka gazed beautifully at Saku.

Saku has never forgotten that day.

He will always remember the black standing out against the white.

The whispers of his mother, who held his hand until he reached Toka, still echoed in his ears.

Toka is to become the kamisama.

The moment he heard those words, Saku shuddered involuntarily.

He was too young to fully grasp his destiny to become a servant. Yet, naturally, he knew he was meant to serve someone of great importance. Understanding this, Saku firmly shut his lips.

Becoming a servant to the kamisama was considered the highest honor for the Fujisaki men.

The Fujisaki were a clan with supernatural powers.

All who inherited its bloodlines lived in a peculiar environment, even in modern times.

Fujisaki had many branch families, but the real power of the clan lay in the hands of a single person, the kamisama of the head family.

If the clan were an ancient creature, then the role of its heart would undoubtedly be played by the kamisama alone. It was a precarious and distorted arrangement, yet the Fujisaki name stood much higher than Komai of the East, Sakigasaki of the West, the Twelve Diviners of Nagase, or the Sanzashi of Divine Possession.

It was not merely because the Fujisaki clan was arrogant.

They wielded considerable influence in many circles.

The head family received vast offerings from the devoted followers who visited their temple. Moreover, they possessed strong connections with politicians and tycoons which they successfully leveraged to launch multiple businesses.

Indeed, at the heart of it all was the kamisama.

Without the kamisama, the Fujisaki house could not survive.

However, unlike, for example, the Asohito Clan of Prophecy, who similarly worshipped a deity, the Fujisaki clan was not a religious organization at its core.

The kamisama of the Fujisaki clan was a human.

She was a true being that should not exist in the modern world.

The women of Fujisaki possessed unusual abilities. Only one among them would become the kamisama, showing people the illusions they desired and delivering the voices and images of the deceased. These were secrets that had to be kept hidden.

Every time the current kamisama passed away, a new kamisama was chosen among the Fujisaki women. Indeed, when Toka Fujisaki was eight and Saku was thirteen, the then kamisama was deemed to have only about two more years to live, so Toka Fujisaki became a candidate to be the next kamisama.

The women of the clan uniformly believed that life was worthless if they did not become the kamisama. Therefore, they all desperately tried to achieve that status.

Each candidate for becoming the kamisama was assigned a servant, chosen from the Fujisaki men.

And so, Saku served for two years as the servant to Toka Fujisaki, one of the prominent kamisama candidates.

However, as it turned out, Toka Fujisaki did not become the kamisama.

When she was ten, someone else was chosen to be the kamisama instead.

Toka Fujisaki was just deemed to be a person with abilities akin to a defective product of the kamisama.

Since then, she had lost her purpose in life.

The same was true for Saku, who was fifteen when he, too, found himself without purpose.

She had always been told she was the kamisama.

But she never became one.

And then, the kamisama died.

Five years have passed since then.

Released from his duties as a servant, Saku was allowed to live freely and was currently attending college.

Many daughters who were kamisama candidates had their hopes dashed and returned to their ordinary lives as daughters of the clan. Most of the servants, too, had separated from their respective kamisama candidates and were now living independently. However, the situation was slightly different for Toka Fujisaki and Saku.

She was a NEET at the age of fifteen.

And of all things, she was living in Saku's apartment.

* * *

In the center of the kotatsu, a traditional Japanese table lined with a blanket for warmth, was a basket of mandarins.

In front of it lay a hardcover mystery book, and next to it was a recently published novel about food. Diagonally behind it, a paperback book of real-life ghost stories was stacked beneath a trendy suspense novel. Next to the pile of books was a carefully folded empty bag of potato chips and a pair of chopsticks placed neatly on top—a life hack that must have been used to prevent one's fingers from getting dirty while eating.

It seemed the experiment was a success. The hands of the one who emptied the bag were pristine.

With slender fingers, the girl carefully turned the pages of her book.

Yes, a girl.

A lone girl.

Right now, she was wearing a serious expression while engrossed in a death game novel. Her cheeks were translucently pale, and the hair cascading over her shoulders was a lustrous shade of black. Her profile, absorbed in reading, was so beautiful it seemed otherworldly. Gorgeous and lovely, she was no ordinary human but the embodiment of girlhood.

Yes, she was a girl.

Unfortunately, there was one disappointing thing about her.

She was wearing a gray, shabby tracksuit.

But it was not her appearance that was the most disappointing.

It was what lay inside.

Saku knew this.

He took a deep breath and then called out to her.

Hey, Toka.

What is it, Saku? As you can see, I'm in the middle of reading. When a person is immersed in a book, they are peering into a world far removed from this narrow one we live in. It's not nice to interrupt that, you know.

You did it again, didn't you? Put up the sign outside without asking.

Gulp!

You're probably the only person I know who says 'gulp' out loud.

Saku declared with a weary tone.

The girl, Toka, hesitantly lifted her face.

Her eyes, large like a cat's, blinked at Saku. Their constantly glistening surfaces reflected Saku's figure. He had long brown hair and was of average height.

With a gaunt face and generally faint facial features, an outsider might describe him as "androgynous." However, Saku thought that he always just looked "worn out."

Whether she was aware of Saku's fatigue or not, Toka pursed her lips.

Well, you see, without a sign, no customers would come, right? After all, I'm just a defective product. A defective product is an item that is inferior in performance and quality. In other words, that's me in comparison to the head family. Haha, it's a pretty harsh expression, isn't it? Even if it's the truth.

Nobody's calling you a defective product. You just like to call yourself that.

How rude! I'm merely stating the facts! I'm modest enough to be fully aware that I'm a defective product! It's commendable! Ugh . . . Anyway, customers constantly seek the head family for salvation. Not many come my way since I'm a defective product.

And . . . ?

That's why I cannot be complacent and need to be more proactive in my business activities.

That's no reason to hang something like this in front of someone's apartment.

With a thud, Saku placed the removed sign on top of the kotatsu.

It was a rectangular plastic board, a cheap item purchased from the hardware store. The fact that it was duct-taped to the door suggested that Toka might not have put it up with serious intentions.

The problem was the text written on it.

It read, "Toka Psychic Detective Agency."

It was like an ingenious explosive concoction of dubiousness and absurdity.

Moreover, Toka had not even filed a business registration for the detective agency.

It would be a different story if he owned the entire apartment building. But Saku's apartment was subject to the watchful eyes of his neighbors, so putting up such a sign would not be tolerated. Saku's complaint was entirely justified.

However, Toka looked up at the ceiling in a dramatic manner. Then, she flung herself on top of the kotatsu.

Toka sighed.

Waaaaah, you took it down? After I went through all the trouble of putting it up.

You're also probably the only person I know who says 'waaaaah' out loud like that.

You're heartless!

Just be grateful I didn't destroy the sign.

Hah, so you're discriminating against me because I'm a defective product, huh? I'll sue!

Who will you sue?

You, Saku.

But I'm the only person you can count on.

Yeah, there's no one else! Waaaaaaah!

At Saku's remark, Toka rolled from side to side inside the kotatsu. Laying on her stomach, she made small crying noises and occasionally glanced at Saku. Her black eyes were totally dry. Perhaps judging from Saku's expression that the odds were against her, Toka returned to pretending to cry.

She might be distressed, but she showed no sign of remorse. They had known each other for a long time, so that much was obvious. Saku let out a deep sigh. He knew it well.

If he was seriously upset with her, there would only be one solution.

It would be to simply kick Toka out.

Upon failing to become the kamisama, Toka had lost her worth to the clan.

Since then, her family treated her as if she didn't exist. But they were not outright cruel. If Toka wished, she could probably re-do her compulsory education. But, of all things, she chose the path of a NEET. At fifteen years old, she should be in high school, so calling her a NEET might be premature. However, refusing to belong to any social structure, Toka was more fittingly described as a NEET than a shut-in.

At Saku's apartment, she spent her days reading books and playing games.

Her living expenses were regularly transferred from her family, who saw it as a blessing as long as someone was willing to take care of her. With this, Toka's days had grown increasingly indolent.

She was the very picture of a NEET.

Saku often thought about getting genuinely angry with her. However, due to his deeply-ingrained servant mentality, he could not bring himself to be stern with Toka. Thus, she continued to leech off him.

Occasionally, she did take some initiative.

When it came to the Psychic Detective Agency, Toka was even proactive.

There was a reason for this.

It seemed Toka was searching for a way to utilize her powers, now that no one needed her any longer. At the same time, solving various mysterious cases related to the supernatural might be her way of competing with the kamisama of the head family.

Saku thought it would be better if she could forget.

Forget about her past of almost being chosen to be the kamisama.

But it seemed that was not possible for Toka.

Because of this, she continued to put up the sign of the Psychic Detective Agency.

It would be fine if it were just a joke.

The trouble was that requests did come in, albeit not as frequently as to the head family.

And they came regularly.

One might call it the fate of the Fujisaki women, but . . . why would anyone need her help?

Just as Saku was thinking this . . .

Ping!

Toka's phone made a noise.

Having a bad hunch, Saku furrowed his brows.

Toka picked up her phone and began checking her email. With practiced movements, she scrolled through the text, and after pausing to think for a moment, typed her reply with a serious expression.

Eventually, Toka nodded vigorously and returned the phone to the kotatsu's tabletop. Saku could not help but ask.

Who was that?

Mmm, it was a request.

As expected. Saku's intuition was often right.

Toka had set up a website and blog as a "psychic detective." Requests were regularly sent to the email address listed there.

Just like right now.

Feeling a headache coming on, Saku pressed a hand to his forehead. However, Toka was oddly calm.

She showed no excitement about the request, nor any signs of getting ready to move. As usual, she continued reading a book inside the kotatsu. Saku lifted the kotatsu blanket and sat down next to her.

Picking up a mandarin from the basket, he began peeling it.

Toka put down her book and stretched her neck out like a turtle. She opened her mouth wide.

Ahh.

Don't just say, 'Ahh.' Here.

One by one, Saku placed the mandarin slices into Toka's mouth. She chewed contentedly. Saku ate the remaining half. Toka opened her mouth again, and Saku tapped her on the forehead.

Ouch.

Peel the next one yourself.

Tsk, you're such a tyrant, Saku.

Who's the tyrant?

What am I to do if you stop spoiling me? Who else am I gonna rely on?

Don’t worry. Everyone has themselves to rely on.

Saku casually peeled another mandarin. But the small mouth next to him opened up again, asking for more. In the end, he placed all the mandarin pieces inside her mouth. Saku let out a deep internal sigh.

Saku always spoiled Toka.

As she chewed, Saku asked her a question.

So, are you not taking that case?

Nope. I mean, it's too much for a psychic detective, isn't it?

Toka rested her chin on the kotatsu. Her glossy black hair fanned out over the tabletop.

She smiled slightly and continued in a troubled tone.

I was asked to solve the case of the organ-dropping murders.

* * *

The organ-dropping murders.

A bizarre murder case that had been making the rounds recently.

The case involved victims’ internal organs being gouged out and thrown from rooftops.

The crime was simple: the culprit attacked people on unmonitored streets at night, then stabbed and dismembered them at a different location—likely the culprit’s residence—before dropping parts of their bodies from high places.

The police considered it the work of a thrill-seeking psychopath.

I received an email from someone . . . asking if the psychic detective could solve it. Unfortunately, it's too heavy a burden for a defective product like me! Besides . . . the culprit has been acting so ostentatiously, and the frequency of the crimes is increasing rapidly. They have no self-control . . . Even if I do nothing, the culprit will be caught by the police soon enough.

Toka declared in a flowing tone. Saku nodded, agreeing with her assessment.

With such conspicuous actions, it was unlikely the culprit could escape. The Japanese police were not incompetent. The culprit had been too bold. An arrest was inevitable.

However, Toka added an unexpected remark.

Well, about the motive, I do have a different take from the police.

Is that so?

Saku nodded, his voice serious.

If Toka said so, it must be true.

In such matters, Saku trusted Toka completely. She had never been wrong about a criminal’s motive before. But before continuing the conversation, Toka waved her hands.

It was her signal for tea.

Is soy tea all right?

Sounds good.

Saku got up. He went to the kitchen and poured some ready-made soy tea into her special cat-patterned mug. Thinking it might be a little cold, he warmed it up in the microwave. Saku snorted at his own naivety as he carried the tea over with a feeling of slight regret.

Yay!

Toka cheered and reached her arms out.

She took the mug and sipped the lukewarm soy tea in high spirits.

Saku returned to the kotatsu and sighed deeply.

Be it the mandarins, the soy tea, or allowing her to stay at his apartment, all of it was typical of their relationship.

Toka was no longer Saku’s master.

Yet, even during the short period of his servitude, a master-servant relationship had been established. Although there may be other reasons for it, he continued to spoil her. Excessively so.

Saku thought he should be more disciplined with himself. But such resolutions had never been successful in the past.

Thank you, Saku.

Sure.

Even now, Toka's unguarded smile made his lips involuntarily relax.

She sipped the soy tea several times before suddenly resuming the conversation.

A few weeks ago, there was a case that caused a stir on social media.

Toka Fujisaki was a NEET.

That meant she was highly aware of information on the internet.

Swiftly operating her phone, she searched for and displayed tweets on a particular topic.

Saku peered at the screen, squinting as he scanned the large volumes of text. Various accounts were discussing the same matter, with words that could be described as bizarre catching his eye one after another.

[The Angel's Suicide]

Ah, that case.

Saku was already aware of it.

It all started with a post by a certain account.

It was a miraculously beautiful photograph.

The issue was with the subject of the photo.

The image was simply captioned "The Angel's Suicide."

It depicted the body of a girl who had jumped to her death.

Grotesque details such as internal organs and burst eyeballs were skillfully blurred out.

The girl was captured in the center of the frame from a distance, clad in a lovely white dress stained crimson. On the miraculously deserted street, her blood happened to be splattered in a pattern resembling the shapes of feathered wings, enhancing the eerie beauty and mystery of her death.

This tweet had garnered hundreds of thousands of retweets and likes.

Initially, there were doubts about whether the dead body was real. However, those doubts were dispelled as photos from different angles were posted by several people.

The girl's body was indeed real.

Eventually, the photo was forcibly removed.

Soon after, it was reported that the girl had committed suicide due to bullying.

The police had deemed there was no foul play involved in the incident.

Yet, on social media, there were whispers suggesting that the person who posted the "angel's body" might have committed murder. However, contrary to the rumors, it was confirmed that the poster was merely a bystander who happened to be at the scene and took the photo. They were let off with a stern warning by the police.

Put into words, that was all there was to the incident.

At least, that was how Saku perceived it.

But a lot has changed since this incident.

Toka sipped her tea, noting it was just the right temperature as she smacked her lips.

It's just the right temparature.

She smacked her lips.

Saku tilted his head, unable to fully grasp what Toka was implying.

Was it not just something that temporarily caused a stir on social media?

Changed . . . ? What do you mean?

The Angel's Suicide was merely a coincidental shot, a miraculous one. But it ended up becoming a sort of social experiment: 'Can the corpse of a suicide become an icon when it is so beautiful?'

An icon?

The answer is yes.

Toka gulped down her tea as Saku ruminated over her answer.

Can the corpse of a suicide become an icon? Yes.

The corpse had become idolized.

Saku could not quite understand the meaning of it.

But as a matter of course, Toka spoke about the changes that occurred as a result.

Since The Angel's Suicide was posted on social media, posts of 'beautiful suicides' by young people started becoming a problem. Attempting suicide and capturing their near-death states in the most aesthetically pleasing way possible became a trend born from admiration. And societal attention shifted—from suicides to 'more beautiful' suicides.

It's an unpleasant topic, but . . . what does it all mean?

It means that unaesthetic suicides are no longer getting noticed.

Toka spoke the cold hard truth.

Simply dying was not enough to be noticed anymore.

Those words gave Saku a chill, but he shook his head and steered the conversation back to his original question.

So, how does that connect to the organ-dropping murders?

It wasn't until after The Angel's Suicide that internal organs started being thrown off rooftops . . . I think.

With the tip of her finger, Toka rolled a mandarin around the tabletop. The orange ball moved around smoothly, following her finger's lead, until she brought it to the edge of the kotatsu and stopped.

Interrupting the mandarin's suicidal plunge, she whispered.

I think the culprit's goal was to commit the ultimate ugly suicide.

Toka Fujisaki said, voicing her speculations on why the culprit might be discarding internal organs.

* * *

A cold wind was blowing over the rooftop of a gray building. It was December. The temperature fluctuated daily, occasionally bringing flurries of snow. The night sky appeared endlessly high and clear. In the darkness, the stars shone faintly.

With hands stuffed in the pockets of his brown duffle coat, Saku surveyed the surroundings.

The buildings around here have mostly been abandoned due to the deteriorating performance of their associated companies. In the oppressively gray landscape, no lights of human activity could be seen.

By now, the police tape had been removed. However, the time for fearlessly curious onlookers had probably passed. The rooftop was deserted and quiet.

Saku and Toka were standing at the scene of the first incident.

I think the atmosphere needs to be right to continue, and we need to buy meat buns and ice cream at the convenience store on the way home.

She was the type of NEET who is aggressive about securing food. However, it seems that wasn't the only reason they came here—while burying her face in a gingham-checkered scarf, Toka spoke.

It was a uterus that got dropped in the first case, right?

Yeah . . .

Saku furrowed his brows.

People were murdered, their organs removed and thrown down.

It was indeed a dreadful case.

Toka approached the low fence.

The uterus was probably thrown from there.

She looked down at the distant road.

Throwing parts of human bodies . . . For a pleasure-driven bizarre murder, there is no consistency or pattern. Some of the remaining body parts have been discovered, while others have not. The information we have about the incidents is only from the early stages . . . Although there were no press restrictions at the time, I haven’t heard of any sexual misconduct being committed. That and the repeated act of 'throwing human bodies' after The Angel's Suicide . . . That’s what got me thinking.

Yeah?

The culprit is likely someone who can no longer commit suicide.

Someone who can no longer commit suicide? You mean the murderer?

It was a baffling statement. Saku frowned.

Emm.

Toka nodded.

This is just a guess, but . . .

With that as a preface, she continued.

Beautiful suicides have become so glorified that unaesthetic suicides are not even paid attention to anymore . . . Hence, the culprit started a protest.

Wait a second.

Saku held his forehead. With clear eyes, Toka stared at him. He arranged the grim reality of her words in his mind.

A protest by killing people and throwing their internal organs from rooftops?

It’s an antithesis to the societal trend that finds beauty in suicide. Throwing internal organs from rooftops is the ugliest form of suicide by replicating the act of jumping using someone else’s body. Maybe the culprit doesn’t even realize they are committing murder.

Even though they’re killing someone and throwing down parts of victims' bodies?

Yes. For the culprit, it’s merely 'jumping'.

Toka spoke without hesitation. Desperately, Saku tried to imagine it.

Organs are also parts of the human body. In a way, the act of throwing them down could also be considered a form of "throwing oneself to death." But still, it was hard to comprehend.

Toka ignored Saku's confusion.

For the culprit, the act is nothing more than a protest against society. By doing so, they intend to expose the ugliness of suicide to the public and, eventually, commit suicide themselves. That’s how I perceive the culprit of the organ-dropping murders.

But no one else sees it that way.

Toka nodded. She waved her gloved finger in the air.

That’s the problem. Naturally, the public perceives the culprit’s protest as 'murder' and separates it from The Angel's Suicide.' Perhaps no one else besides me has realized the culprit’s intention.

Saku felt dizzy. What Toka was saying was messed up. It did not make logical sense.

But he was convinced she was onto something.

Time and time again, Toka had pinpointed the motives of criminals. Above all, the women of the Fujisaki clan were unusually familiar with the psyche of the disturbed and understood them with ease.

Toka was no different. She had a keen insight into broken minds.

Placing a hand on her chest, Toka spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

That's why, for now, the culprit's goal hasn't been achieved. Until their protest is acknowledged, who knows how many more people they intend to dismember . . . Hmm.

Suddenly, Toka began to ponder something. Saku had a bad feeling.

Spreading her arms, Toka looked down at her body bundled up in thick clothing. She was a young woman, petite and seemingly frail. Details of the reports on victims of the organ-dropping murders had been censored midway through the investigation. However, common sense would suggest that Toka fits the profile of a likely victim. Toka opened her mouth as if she had just thought of a great idea.

Hey, Saku.

The answer is no.

Before she could ask, Saku refused. A heavy, cold wind swept across his body. He wanted to hurry back to the apartment and slide into the kotatsu. He would bathe Toka, dry her hair, and quickly prepare her for bed. But Toka remained unmoved, gazing at Saku with clear eyes.

I've realized something. It's why I think we have to accept this request.

Didn't you already say no?

But more people are going to get hurt.

The culprit will be caught sooner or later.

Hey, Saku.

No.

Got it. I'll sneak out of the apartment alone after you've gone to sleep.

Wait.

That was the last thing Saku wanted. It was the worst possible scenario he could imagine.

Saku often left the apartment alone to go to his part-time job. It would be incredibly inconvenient if she decided to take action then. Despite everything, he truly cared about Toka.

The thought of her facing danger alone was out of the question. Yet, Toka had a determined look on her face. Saku endured a headache.

You're going to try and meet the culprit, aren't you?

Yes, that's right.

The police have been searching too and haven't found them.

That's true.

You shouldn't expect to find them easily.

I know.

One week. If we don't find them by then, we have to stop. Agreed?

Got it . . . That's fine.

Toka nodded vigorously. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again.

Seeing those large, black pupils, Saku flinched.

Those eyes again.

Occasionally, Toka gave him a look that seemed to push him away. In those moments, Toka acted as if she yearned wholly for her own death. With the calmness of a still lake surface, Toka whispered.

Honestly, you don't need to come with me.

Saku furrowed his brows. Toka was intent on encountering the culprit. And now, there was a glimmer of determination that she was willing to die for it.

Why the sudden motivation . . . ?

The main reason is something else . . . But first, the young lady who sent the email . . . She was the sister of the first victim.

With a slight smile, Toka turned back to face the fence. A desolate scene stretched out before her. She gazed into the void.

She said she was very close to her older sister. Since her sister died, it's as if her world has changed. No matter what she sees, no matter what she eats, she doesn't feel anything . . .

I see . . .

I can't promise a resolution. That would be beyond the work of a psychic detective. But if there's something I can do, I must . . . People are crying. They are grieving. If I can do something to help, then surely this power must have some meaning, right?

Does it really need to have a meaning?

It has to. Otherwise, it's no good.

Toka responded firmly, shaking her head vigorously. It was as if she was searching for a reason to live. As if she had made a promise to someone.

I have to keep looking for its meaning.

The determination was evident in Toka's voice. Still, she glanced sideways at Saku once more.

Toka smiled amibguously.

Saku, I am truly not worth risking your life for. Toka Fujisaki has no reason to live. I, more than anyone else, know that . . . So, it's okay for me to search for them on my own. Yeah, in fact, that's probably what I should do. Let's go with that.

Shut up. Don't be stupid. No matter how much you tell me not to, I'm coming with you.

Really, Saku . . . But . . .

Toka opened her mouth to speak again, trying to put her thoughts into words. But then, she quickly swallowed them back down. This happened all the time. Once again, Toka had tried to tell Saku something, only to end up keeping her mouth shut. Saku had no way of coaxing her into voicing those hidden words.

Silence lingered for a while.

Toka tried to change the subject.

Anyway . . . Let me tell you the main reason I want to do this. Like I mentioned earlier, I realized something when we arrived at the crime scene. I'm sure the culprit must have taken photos of the organs while disposing of them . . . That's why I think I have to do it . . . If I can encounter the culprit before the police do, I might be able to prevent some terrible consequences that would otherwise occur.

Terrible consequences?

Saku lowered his voice as he asked this question. Toka looked up at him with a faint smile on her face.

If things continue as they are, more people might die than in the organ-dropping murders.

Toka did not continue to explain the basis of her ominous prediction.

But Saku understood.

Her prophetic words always came true.

As if they were fate, as if they were the absolute truth.