Chapter Text
Heizou hated summers in Inazuma
Not that he was all that familiar with summers outside of Inazuma. He’d never left the nation of his birth, never really left Narukami Island, even. The closest he’d ever gotten was on the shores of Ritou, watching trading ships from around the world dock and try their hand at a foreign market. The hulls all in different shapes and sizes, distinct even to his own untrained eye, and larger than he could ever imagine a sea-faring vessel could possibly be at the time. The sailors there carried with them stories from their homeland, and were a valuable resource when Heizou was first expanding his little puddle of knowledge.
But back to summer.
Summer was awful.
The humidity was inescapable. It didn’t matter how big your fan was or how many chilled drinks you downed, you were at constant and exhausting war with the elements as you fought against overheating and that disgusting sticky feeling on your skin. The human body’s natural response to heat was to sweat, which just made the whole thing even more hellish and unbearable as the pungent stink of a hundred men and women stuck in an office together seeped into the walls, and Heizou could only curse as he ran out of clothes to strip off before he’d start skinning himself alive—or worse still, be lectured at the workplace for inappropriate dress.
That wasn’t even getting into the summer storms that always happened around this time of year. Not to say that it wasn’t storming in Inazuma all year round, for what was the land of thunder and lightning without storm clouds always teasing at its borders? No, there were always storms. But the thunder and rain always seemed a little worse during the summer. Like the Shogun herself was announcing her displeasure at the heat and proceeding to make it everyone else’s problem as well.
And then after hours of removing every piece of clothing while struggling to still remain decent, the nights cooled down considerably, especially if hot clouds were plentiful during the day. Rain would start drizzling down, uncaring of the poor folk that were nowhere near ready to weather the downpour.
In short, of all the seasons of the year, summer was hands down the worst of the four.
Heizou sighed and rubbed his palms against his pants, trying futilely to avoid damaging the documents at his desk with his own sweat. Outside the office, a light rain was drumming against the stone paths of Tenryou, the occasional flash of lightning brightening the clouded night sky. He was one of the few people still in the office, most having gone home some time ago to be with their loved ones after a long week of work. The only people that Heizou knew were still around were Doushin Uesugi and Yoriki Tazuma.
It’d only be a few short weeks since he’d started working at the police station, and already he was wondering if he’d made a mistake. The yoriki here were strict and the doushins were thoughtless followers. Heizou couldn’t say that he’d had high expectations in the first place—he did solve a few cases for the Tenryou commission before officially joining their ranks, after all, and it wasn’t lost on him how they’d acted like they were doing the poor little private detective a service, but come on . Already Heizou had been scolded more than once for not falling in line with expectations, not completing paperwork to the same standard, not greeting his superiors with stiff-backed salutes, blah blah blah.
The rookie doushin hardly cared. He just didn’t see the need for any of these silly rules the police force kept trying to impose on him. Some rules were needed, sure, but stopping your work to respectfully bow to your senior as they graced you with their holy eminence was not one of them.
He sighed.
Sango’s agency had never needed so much paperwork.
Before his mind could follow that train of thought, someone broke the relative silence of the police station with a slam, bringing the drumming rain back into focus. “Doushin Shikanoin!”
He winced. Then put on his most winning smile. “Yes, sir!”
A yoriki, one he didn’t know the name of but had seen around the place a few times, frowned at him, his hat and clothes dripping wet. From where he’d come from, Heizou hadn’t the faintest. Just that he was from Outside, which meant he was Wet, which Heizou definitely did not want to be, no matter how hot he was at the moment. It just wasn’t worth all the sneezing the following day.
Now that he recalled, this particular yoriki, a heavy-set man with a voice that could bellow like no other and a rasp in his throat that spoke of habitual smoking, was one of his detractors. Heizou could count on one hand the people he was on neutral terms with, so that wasn’t exactly a key piece of the puzzle that was this man’s identity and relevance to Heizou in particular, but he does seem to bear a vague resemblance to the guy with the stick up his ass that didn’t stop scolding Heizou about keeping a clean desk until someone pulled Heizou over for patrol duty. Memorable for being one of the few times that Heizou was in near tears of gratitude for being able to perform the regular duties of a doushin, providing a legitimate excuse for the way he’d dashed out of the police station.
The yoriki stepped inside and let the door close behind him just as Heizou finished [thinking his thoughts], getting water all over the hardwood flooring. Without so much as a preamble, he grunted at Heizou. “You’re needed on scene.”
Heizou blinked at the unexpected order. On scene?
A newbie like him?
No, they hadn’t let him tackle active investigations yet. He was still proving his worth his own way, by plowing through all the cold cases that the police had no time or resources to dedicate to (or in Heizou’s most private of opinions, no one smart enough to figure out the culprit). He’d been subtly nudging at his supervisors to let him do some real investigating, sure, but no one would give the rookie the time of day. not yet, anyway.
He gave the older man a more thorough once-over.
The yoriki was drenched, enough that he must’ve been standing outside in the rain for a while by the way the fabric underneath his armor was soaked through. He must’ve been one of the first responders, or perhaps a superior that was called in early on in the situation. His expression wasn’t all that grim, so it wasn’t a murder, and it wasn’t bewildered, so it didn’t seem to be a case that was wholly out of the ordinary. Assaults generally weren’t crimes that dragged on long enough to call in other doushin from all the way at the police station. The drunk and disorderly hardly needed an extra pair of hands ‘on scene’, and there wasn’t an ounce of urgency that could be detected at all, so that ruled out gang violence, domestic abuse, or anything time-sensitive, really. In fact, Heizou was willing to bet that it was a crime that had already happened, possibly an hour ago or longer. But not exceeding a day.
Heizou rested his chin on his hand. “Theft?” he guessed.
The man’s eyebrow ticked downwards.
Heizou smiled. Got it in one.
“I’ve got no time for your little mind games, Doushin Shikanoin,” said the yoriki, arms crossed and looking all the world like a tired father scolding a troublesome child.
“Aw, you don’t wanna hear the very specific and logical thought process I took to make such a deduction?” Heizou cried, a hand on his chest. “I’m hurt!”
The man shook his head with a derisive snort. “Since you seem to know everything already, get a move on,” the yoriki said gruffly, turning to walk out the door he’d just come through. “I’m off to report to Kujou-sama.”
“Uh- hey,” he waved an arm out like it would stop the other man from leaving. “But I don’t know where to go?” he complained.
“Not much of a ‘detective’ if you can’t figure that out then, are ya?” the yoriki said. Then the door closed, muffling the sound of rain once more.
Heizou sighed. Leaned back in his chair and grabbed his face with his hand. Then groaned.
“Um… Heizou-senpai…” came a somewhat hesitant voice.
Heizou glared at the ceiling through his fingers. “Later, Uesugi.”
Alright, yes, technically Heizou was fully capable of finding the crime scene on his own. Even if he couldn’t remember this specific yoriki’s name, he knew the general area he was typically in charge of, knew the doushins under his jurisdiction, knew their patrol routes and knew who was currently on duty. After a few tries, he managed to find exactly where he needed to be.
But really, was it so hard to just give him the information in the first place? Yes, Heizou might be obnoxious on purpose, but that wasn’t an excuse for the man to just neglect to tell him pertinent information like that. It could give Heizou the impression that he didn’t like him, and no one wanted that, did they?
More seriously, though it might be something that wasn’t particularly time-sensitive, it was better for both the police and the victims if he got to where he needed to be as soon as possible.
Whatever, it didn’t matter. Heizou knew the man was going to be retiring soon. He’d seen the papers in his desk during one of his first all-nighters at the station.
Heizou sighed as his straw hat slipped to the side for the nth time. It was awkwardly large for his head, having been donated to him by Uesugi when the other man noticed he was going to go running out in nothing but his haori. He’d known it was too big for him, but the man reminded him way too much of Ryuuji and he really didn’t need another one of those in his life. You know, the kind of guy who you felt bad about brushing off and even worse when they blamed themselves for whatever bad thing eventually happened to Heizou due to his own choices.
Honestly, he was able to take care of himself! And if he ran out in the rain at night and got sick because he’d failed to prepare for the very predictable summer storms, that was on him, no one else.
He dispelled his musings as he finally came up on the crime scene. There was a large home with a doushin standing at the gate, arms crossed and looking bored out of his mind. Though there weren’t any signs of disturbance that he could see from where he stood, Heizou knew better than to make any conclusions just yet. So, first things first. The detective put on a bright smile and waved.
“Hey, Tamaki!” he called over the soft puttering of rain, hoping he managed to guess the name right. “You order a detective?”
The other man blinked as Heizou came to a stop before him. “Oh yeah, Yoriki Watanabe said he was gonna send someone over. Took you long enough,” he said, seemingly to himself. Then he straightened with a frown. “And why’re you being so familiar with me? That’s Tamaki- san to you.”
Heizou rubbed the back of his head. Watanabe, then. He’d remember that. Maybe. “Sorry, sorry,” he said with a laugh.
Tamaki shook his head. “Whatever, not important. I’m just waiting for this lady to come back outside.”
Now that he could see past the gate, Heizou took in more details of the house. It appeared to be a two-storied abode, with many plants decorating the courtyard, all placed in elegant-looking pottery. Just the exterior alone gave Heizou not just the impression of wealth, but tasteful decorating skills—a rarity among families that didn’t come from established clans that’d had generations to refine their sense of aesthetics. There was a fountain off in the corner, plants both for appearances and for food, he even spied some plants that were used in traditional medicinal remedies. It seemed that horticulture was valued highly here.
The home itself had a traditional-styled exterior, though like many of the more modern pieces of Inazuman architecture in the Tenryou District, especially so close to the main thoroughfare, it had its share of influences from the outside world. Wooden walls, rice-paper windows, lanterns that hung from the overhang, and a hinged set of doors with beautiful carvings on each. Definitely an expensive home, speaking as a man barely able to pay the rent on his own apartment.
Out of curiosity, Heizou looked back at the front of the gate, only to find it empty.
“No nameplate?” he wondered.
The other doushin shrugged. “The lady of the house said they’d only just moved here and haven’t gotten around to getting one.” He looked down at a paper he was shielding from the rain. “Uh, family name is ‘Matsui,’ though.”
Heizou brought a hand to his chin. Then he looked back at the heavily decorated courtyard. At the slight dirt stains left in the stone from one of the potted plants that had been moved. The small scuffs he could see in the wooden steps leading up to the door. Signs of wear. Aging.
She was lying.
Just as he had that thought, the door opened, bathing both doushin in a warm light. A woman stood at the entryway, only a silhouette against the warm glow of the interior, her sleeved hand brought up over her mouth.
“I’m sorry for the delay, Doushin-san, I had no intention of leaving you out in the rain for so long.” Her voice was soft, barely heard over the light pitter-patter of the rain on stone streets. “Please, come in.”
“It’s no trouble, ma’am. Thank you for welcoming us into your home,” Tamaki gave her a light bow.
Heizou nodded his head. “Yes, thank you.”
“Of course, of course.”
The two doushin left their sandals at the door, and followed the woman to a dining room, the décor a mix of traditional Inazuman elements and more foreign ones. Based on his own admittedly limited knowledge, Heizou could spot dressers from Liyue, wine bottles from Mondstat, a curious trinket from Fontaine, and other decorations that he couldn’t put a name to, all placed decoratively around the home. A true display of wealth, intended to awe visitors.
They took a seat at the low table as the woman brought out some tea for them to drink. Both doushin waited as she poured steaming liquid into their cups, an herbal scent filling the room. Tamaki thanked her while Heizou simply nodded and held the cup in his hands. Though he’d been complaining about the summer heat earlier, now that it was a rainy night, his fingertips had grown cold.
In the silence, accompanied only by the rain that remained muffled in the background, Heizou watched this woman, Matsui-san. Her kimono was made from fine silks, of an obviously expensive make. Her hands were soft and unblemished, her nails smooth and without a crack. Her face was youthful and framed by loose strands of black hair, the rest of it tied back into a bun and pinned with an ornate hairpin. He estimated her to be around 25 to 30 years of age, with only the slightest of wrinkles around her mouth; smile lines from years of laughter. In summary, the picture of the perfect Inazuman housewife, with no hard edges and blessed with a wealthy husband.
Then the questioning began.
“My name is Matsui Anzu,” she said, voice lily-soft and eyes downcast. “My husband is Matsui Daido. He’s the owner of a shipping company and is often called away on work, so you will have to excuse his absence.”
“It’s no trouble, Mastui-san,” Tamaki said, setting down his tea. “I can see he works hard to provide for your family.”
She smiled, faint and delicate. “Yes, he does work hard.”
Heizou watched Tamaki pull out a small notepad from the inside of his haori, kept safe from the rain. “Would you mind walking me through what happened tonight? From the beginning, if you could.”
The woman’s face grew somber. She nodded. “Of course.”
She told her tale. How she’d been away from her home nearly all day, having entrusted its care to the regular servants that they employed. She’d run several errands through the day, all to prepare for her husband’s return, who had recently docked on Ritou and was to arrive in Inazuma City within the next few days, by tomorrow if the weather permitted. She wanted to prepare a delicious pot of oden for him and set out to create the perfect welcome home.
“I came home later than I’d originally anticipated, but my servants had already locked up as I instructed them to. I had many things to prepare and knew I could take some time to return, so I informed them as such and gave my permission to leave after their work was done, provided that everything was secured when they left,” she said.
She set down her tea, not having taken a single sip of it. “When I returned, everything was locked tight. But still, somehow…”
Matsui Anzu trailed off, and Tamaki’s eyes softened. “You know of the robberies that have been happening around this neighborhood, I assume.”
Heizou’s eyes snapped to Tamaki and he lifted the cup to his lips as smoothly as he could. Robberies? As in, more than one? Multiple robberies?
The woman nodded. “Yes. A friend of mine spoke of it during our last conversation. Dreadful news to hear, and in one’s own neighborhood, no less. I took precautions, of course. Though it seems they were ineffective,” she shook her head.
“Is it possible that one of the staff might’ve stolen something? Maybe a new hire?” Heizou piped up for the first time.
The woman seemed startled by the implication. “No, of course not. All our servants have worked with us for years and have my utmost trust and gratitude for all the work they do.” She frowned at the detective. “I doubt any of them are even capable of something so foul as to steal from this home.”
“You’d be surprised what people are capable of, given the right motive,” Heizou said back. “Has anyone seemed displeased with their situation? Perhaps had a change in personality? Exhibiting signs of stress or depression?”
Matsui-san’s lips turned thin. “I do not appreciate my staff falling under suspicion before there’s even been a proper investigation, Doushin-san. I will hear of it no further.”
Heizou opened his mouth, some half-thought-out retort on his tongue, but Tamaki raised a hand and shot a glare at him. “We apologize, Matsui-san. Understand that we, as police, need to consider every possible suspect in any investigation, no matter how close they are to the victim. But you’re right. We will reserve all speculation until later.”
Her tense shoulders relaxed a fraction. “I suppose that’s fair.”
Heizou gave the other doushin a petulant frown. Now he looked like an insensitive brat compared to the ever so eloquent and polite Tamaki-san. Which was unfair. Heizou knew this guy had the mouth of a sailor when he got riled up. Or at least when Heizou specifically riled him up.
What a nice woman, to defend her servants so.
“What happened when you arrived home?” Tamaki prompted.
Her eyes fell to the table, a finger slowly scratching at the side of her cup. “Everything seemed as it should be from the outside. It was dark. I knew everyone must’ve gone home already, so I took a look inside through the gate, but there was nothing out of place in the courtyard. So I unlocked the door and entered.
“Again, at the entrance, everything was in its place. The souvenirs that my husband collected abroad were all on display, exactly as they were when I left. So I let myself relax and started to brew myself some tea. This exact pot, actually,” she gestured toward the teapot. “It was when I went to the bedroom that I noticed what was wrong.”
Her hand raised to cover her mouth, the sleeve of her kimono shielding most of her expression. “It was as if looters had broken in. Everything was thrown to the floor. The bed sheets were in disarray. Many of my perfumes were shattered. They took everything they could carry, and destroyed whatever they couldn’t.” Her voice trembled and her eyes were glassy. “Many of our most precious valuables were taken, probably just so that they could make a quick mora.”
Tamaki genuinely looked pained, and Heizou let his expression soften as well. “I’m very sorry about what’s happened, Matsui-san,” Tamaki said. “Rest assured the police force will dedicate all its resources to finding who stole from you.”
The woman nodded, a single tear making its way down her painted face. Even in her grief, Heizou couldn’t help but note her physical beauty. With or without makeup, he knew she would be stunning no matter what she was doing.
But the case itched at him. “May we be shown to this bedroom, Matsui-san?” Heizou looked at her apologetically. “It’s vital we collect as many details as we can, as soon as possible.”
Tamaki looked over at Heizou, probably to reprimand him, but Matsui-san nodded before he could say anything. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry, I was rambling on for too long. You young men must be antsy to get to work.”
Heizou smiled at her. “It's no trouble at all, ma’am. This is a terrible thing to have happened. The day before your husband’s return, no less.”
Her eyebrows furrowed upwards and her eyes glistened, but no tears fell. “It is. I can’t understand why misfortune had to strike now, of all times.”
Once Tamaki finished his tea and thanked the woman for her hospitality, she led both doushin through the halls of her home. The wood flooring was of a quality Heizou didn’t often get a chance to observe. It was comparable to that of the inside of the Tenryou Commission Headquarters, the finish smooth and the wood a rich, reddish color. Cherry wood, imported from the mainland. A nice contrast to the cream-colored walls and paper screens of the modern home.
As they went along, Matsui-san pointed out some of the objects that were taken and Tamaki dutifully made a record. “An antique vase used to be here, originally from a master craftsman in Sumeru. Oh, and a beautiful jade carving from Liyue. Over here, there were a few small trinkets that my husband picked up during his travels abroad. Their origins escape me, but they were quite curious.”
Things like small wooden carvings were left behind, as well as less expensive items like different quartz and other not-as-precious stones that were on display.
On another desk, something nudged at his brain. “Was there anything else taken from here?” Heizou asked. There was an ever-so-thin layer of dust, leaving behind silhouettes on the wood. Little rectangular strips of something bracketed by large circles, where decorative pottery must’ve once sat.
The lady of the house paused in her walk and took a closer look. She hummed. “I don’t believe so. I can only remember the bowls from Natlan. They came in the most vibrant colors, too, decorated in these beautiful colors, and with animals painted on the inside and outside.” She gave a watery sigh into her kimono sleeve, her distress tangible. Heizou relented.
Once they reached the end of the hall, Matsui-san slid open the door to the bedroom, and both doushin sharpened.
It was, to be frank, a disaster.
As was her testimony, everything that could be destroyed seemed to have been destroyed. The bedsheets were torn by something sharp. Furniture and its contents were upended onto the floor. Some of the more delicate things had shattered against the tatami, the shards of glazed terracotta and fine porcelain glittering in the lamplight. Even the screens weren’t spared, most having been slashed through by a sharp instrument.
Then there was the most noticeable crime. The perfume bottles that Matsui-san spoke of were either uncorked or shattered on the floor, the scented oils and other liquids already soaked deep into the tatami, creating an overpowering smell that nearly sent Heizou reeling. It would need to be replaced immediately. And probably scrubbed with some kind of detergent.
Matsui-san coughed and tried in vain to fan the pungent smell away. “I’m so sorry. I thought it better to leave things as they are, but perhaps I should’ve at least removed the tatami mats…”
Heizou shook his head, pulling up the sleeve of his haori to cover his nose. “No. As much as it pains me to say it, this is better. In your efforts to clean up, a crucial bit of evidence could’ve been lost.”
A small gasp. “Oh. I didn’t think of it like that.”
“It’s not really something most people think of,” Tamaki said, equally affected by the unfortunate concoction on the floor. “We only know so because it’s our job.”
Heizou nodded. Then he took a breath and marched into the room. There was evidence to analyze.
Whatever conversation the other two were having was set to the back of his mind as he took in the room. Unlike the rest of the house, this place was completely turned upside down. Even most of the couple’s clothing was free game to the perpetrator, thrown to the floor, some of it torn through and stomped all over, giving Heizou an excellent view of what was probably a footprint. If he had to guess, their criminal used two-tooth sandals while they were here, only a little bigger than Heizou’s own. In fact, there were many similar prints, all over the mess of clothes.
He would be astonished if this wasn’t personal somehow. He’d bet this month’s and next month’s rent on it.
Anyways, first things first. He took out a measuring tape that he kept on his person. “Tamaki-kun, could you pass me the Kamera?”
“Tamaki- san,” he heard the man groan. “San.”
Well, with such a prompt response, he must’ve stopped chatting with Matsui-san and actually started working. Heizou held out a hand and quirked an eyebrow.
There was a brief moment of silence as Tamaki seemed to process his request
“...Wait, didn’t you bring one?”
Heizou looked at him. Squinted. “Noo…” he said slowly.
“What?” he hissed. “How could you forget to bring one?!”
“How did you only just realize I don’t have one?” He shot back. Then he patted himself down. “Seriously, where could I have possibly been hiding one of those things? They’re the size of my head!”
“You have a vision!”
“For the last time, not everything that doesn’t add up can be explained away by visions.”
“Ughh,” Tamaki groaned. “Figures the newbie wouldn’t bring vital equipment the first time he gets to do some real work.”
Now that did sting a little. “Well excuse me for thinking that I was working with a professional,” he sniped. “How was I supposed to know that there wasn’t already a Kamera at an established crime scene?”
“Didn’t Watanabe-san tell you to bring one?”
Heizou threw up his hands. “No, actually. He wasted my time and didn’t tell me where this place even was. I had to find it myself!”
They bickered for a little while longer before they both realized they were wasting time and their benevolent victim probably wasn’t going to remain benevolent if they took all night gathering evidence. So Heizou and Tamaki sighed and took out their notebooks to start sketching out important pieces of information, Heizou grumbling all the while and Tamaki grumbling even louder.
Heizou was by no means an artist, but his sketches would be useful to him. He included notes and measurements where applicable, like the kind of wood the bedframe was made from or the estimated value of the objects left behind—his own estimations, of course, not the ones of a licensed appraiser. If he could find information like the specific artisan or tailor, he included that too. He even went so far as to sketch out the patterns on certain objects, like the woodgrain from a dresser or the facets of the glass perfume bottles.
That’s why Kameras were near indispensable. There was no telling which details would later be relevant.
Regardless, even with as many details as he could capture in an image, he still reverted to mostly text-based documentation. Measurements, small observations, things like that. It was just faster.
Through this whole process, he couldn’t help but notice how very… angry this person must’ve been. He would have to check the other homes before making any speculations (and wasn’t that something, a serial robber!), but something told him he wouldn’t find this level of destruction. Especially a destruction that seemed more intent on destroying the wife’s possessions rather than the husband’s.
He kept the observation to himself for now.
Something caught the candlelight. On the floor, something long and thin shined, and Heizou almost wrote it off as spider’s silk before taking a closer look.
He reached for it and held it to his face, twisting it between his fingers. A strand of pale, almost white hair.
“Matsui-san,” he called. “Do you have anyone with lighter-colored hair working for you? Blonde, maybe?”
He heard the padding of feet against hardwood. “No,” went the woman’s voice. “Everyone has either black or brown hair.”
He curled the hair around his finger. Then he took out a square of wax paper. “Light brown or dark brown?”
“Dark brown,” she said. He could hear her confusion.
Heizou merely hummed. “What about friends?” he asked, glancing at her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know very many blond people, except maybe for that girl that works at the fireworks shop. Did you find something?”
Heizou shrugged. “Nothing damning.”
A singular strand of hair meant very little. It could’ve belonged to a friend, a coworker, a contractor. It could’ve belonged to someone whose clothes were being borrowed for the day by their lover. It didn’t mean anything.
Heizou tucked it inside his haori. Still, it wasn’t something to be written off.
The rest of their visit was very routine after that (at least, what Heizou imagined to be routine; he wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t generally allowed to partake in active investigations). Both doushin eventually wrapped up the recording, the questioning, and gave the woman official permission to clean up as she would.
She bowed her head. “Thank you for your hard work, gentlemen. Though I can’t say I’ll rest easy tonight, I am grateful for your efforts. And your company.”
Tamaki nodded. “It’s no problem, Matsui-san. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to flag down anyone from the Tenryou Commission.”
“Do you have anyone you can stay with for tonight?” Heizou piped up, a small furrow to his brow. “I’m not sure it’s wise to spend the night in this large house on your own.”
“Oh,” she blinked. “I see what you mean. I think there’s a friend I can stay with, at least for the night.”
Tamaki placed a hand on his chest and bowed. “Allow us to escort you, Matsui-san. As safe as the Tenryou District is, I can’t in good conscience let a young woman like yourself walk around alone in the middle of the night.”
For as much as she might be hiding from them, Heizou shared the sentiment. He couldn’t let anyone come to harm if they might be at risk, never mind the victim of a robbery that had just occurred.
A few minutes later and both doushin were waiting outside the door of the house, Heizou with his arms crossed and making small observations of the courtyard and Tamaki fiddling with his clothes.
The rain seemed lighter, now. Light enough that during the wait, Heizou took some time looking around the perimeter of the property. As expected, the rain had washed away anything that might’ve been there before. He could find no external sign of a break-in. So the perpetrator had to have some way to enter through the front door. And Heizou didn’t find any evidence of lockpicking.
But there was nothing more to be gained, especially at this hour, in this weather. So he returned to where Tamaki stood, flipping through his notes and writing some extra things down here and there.
Heizou took advantage of the opportunity. “So… robberies?”
Tamaki nodded, distracted by whatever thought he was jotting down. “Yeah. This past week there’ve been a few houses in the area that were broken into.”
Heizou wanted to ask why he wasn’t told, but he bit his tongue. Of course they weren’t gonna let the rookie in on any of the interesting cases. No matter what his history with his old detective agency might’ve said.
Tamaki must’ve been feeling chatty though, or maybe he pitied Heizou and his drive to move up in the world, because he offered up another morsel without prompting. “It’s all expensive things from rich houses,” he shrugged. “Probably just some guy hoping to pawn off the goods and make some money.”
It was certainly a common assumption one might make. Stealing items of value to sell them off later happened often enough. Hell, Heizou had helped find a few thieves since he’d started his career. Those cases looked exactly like this one.
Still, something nagged at him.
They only had to wait a few minutes more for Matusi-san to lock everything up and gather her personal belongings. She stepped outside, wagasa in hand to shield herself from the rain. Tamaki offered to hold it for her, but she politely refused, saying she couldn’t impose on them any more than she already had. Heizou privately thought that she just wanted to have something to fiddle with as he watched her thumb at the wood handle.
He held the rim of his hat against the rainfall. There really wasn’t a way to salvage his dignity here. The hat was oversized. It was obvious. It was probably too big for even Uesugi, now that he thought about it. So he resigned himself to holding on to the thing just to keep himself from getting too wet.
“Well, at least we can all go get some rest after this,” Tamaki said. “I am tired of being wet.”
Heizou nodded and the trio left the home, Matsui-san giving them directions to her friend’s residence while the two doushin walked out in front of her. With the way the wind blew the rainfall, Heizou was forced to pull his hat low, enough that he couldn’t really see the road in front of him as much as he’d like. Not that it was something that concerned him. The likelihood of danger was low. Not even criminals like traveling through this kind of weather at this late an hour, not unless they had everything to gain.
It was by pure luck that Heizou saw a figure dart across the street from under the rim of his hat.
The doushin startled, just like the other two people he was accompanying, but the world slowed down and let him observe properly.
A red and black haori. A single katana strapped to his waist. Sandals with two teeth and a straw hat obscuring his face from view.
Light-colored hair peeking out from under his hat.
The sprinting samurai hadn’t left their sight for more than a second before Heizou took off like a shot, forgetting his hat on the street and ignoring Tamaki’s surprised shout of “Shikanoin!”
He barely realized what he was doing before the other figure seemed to notice him give chase. There was a brief glance backward before there was a burst of wind and the samurai took to the roofs, an inhuman leap leaving Heizou in the dust.
All at the same time, Heizou had multiple thoughts run through his head, like several trains running on parallel tracks.
‘What am I doing?’ ‘Who is that?’ ‘Why am I chasing him?’ All of which were answered by one thing.
There was a pull there. A deep sense of something pointing him in that direction. A flash of instinct, a spark of intuition.
Whoever that samurai was, whether they were the thief he was looking for or just someone who happened to be running away from the scene of the crime, something had him convinced that he’d lead him to the next clue.
There was another thought that came milliseconds later.
‘How did he do that?’
Which was immediately followed by, ‘Can I do that?’
After a very clumsy burst of anemo that almost sent him careening off the edge of a rain-slick roof, the answer was yes, he could totally do that.
The figure turned around and paused, clear surprise written all over his silhouette. Heizou could only grin back at him triumphantly, despite his tenuous grip on the roof’s spine, the only thing that was keeping him from slipping on the tiles. He almost laughed right then and there. That was fun!
Of course, then he took off running again, and Heizou heard himself shout “Wait, stop!” before giving chase.
Heizou had chased down a few things during his short career as a detective. Mostly pets, lost children, the occasional petty thief, and one memorable time when he was chasing a barrel full of explosives down a hill.
He could honestly say that chasing a samurai across the rooftops of Inazuma City in the dead of night during a summer storm was a first, though.
The biggest challenge wasn’t really keeping his balance, as one might think. Oh, don’t get him wrong, it was near impossible to avoid slipping every once in a while—Heizou was no hydro archon, and the uniqueness of the situation meant he didn’t have much prior experience to draw upon—but the thing he had to battle the most turned out to be the poor visibility. You’d think following a man with light-colored hair and a bright red haori would be no problem, but the rain ran into his eyes and the heavy clouds ensured that no celestial body would be aiding him tonight. It was practically pitch black, and Heizou only caught glimpses of his target whenever the samurai decided to leap from building to building, or when his form became starkly lit as lightning flashed overhead.
He briefly asked the Shogun to keep the lightning from striking either himself or his target, then immediately refocused before he took a career-ending tumble.
The fleeing samurai used liberal bursts of anemo to launch himself in the air, just enough to get himself to the next roof, feet ever so close to the edge. The glow from his vision brightened each time he called upon the winds, acting as a beacon whenever Heizou lost him among the many shadows of the city. Heizou could only stagger along as he tried to keep up, but with each burst of his own anemo vision, he was able to calculate the jump with greater accuracy. He wasn’t sure what was keeping the stranger from slipping, though. He’d almost fallen off each roof that he landed on, his only salvation being adjacent roofs that he jumped to with the aid of his vision and the mad scramble to find a foothold before he broke something. Maybe their footwear?
Eventually the stranger even started to jump down to the streets, hoping to lose Heizou in the winding paths of the city. But Heizou knew every path and every shortcut. He’d been living here for years now. Each descent only brought him closer, and the roofs did little to create distance, despite his own inexperience.
Until finally, finally , Heizou was able to tackle him to the ground, a muffled ‘oof’ escaping the samurai as Heizou let out a triumphant laugh.
He looked down to really observe his catch and had to stop himself from inhaling the tiniest of breaths.
The man beneath him was a sight, indeed. Pale, ivory-colored hair, a streak of red the only thing to break up the otherwise pure color, like a splash of blood against snow. Fair hair and fair skin, beautifully matched by the black and red of his haori, contrasting it even, the dark colors accenting the man’s unexpectedly soft features. It almost made Heizou forget the katana strapped to his waist, and the armor he wore on his shoulder. Though what really sold the boy’s otherworldly appearance was his eyes.
Red, blood-red eyes. Soft at first glance, even doe-like, but nothing could hide how fierce they must look under the right circumstances, with the right motivation. Wide open in shock and darting around Heizou’s face, they were breathtaking, like rubies glimmering in the dim light of nearby streetlamps.
Heizou wondered if he’d caught some kind of yokai.
They were both quiet for a moment, breathing in the cool night air and staring at each other in open curiosity. “You let me catch you,” Heizou finally said.
He didn’t bother to get off the other man. Perhaps the position was a little awkward, but at least by holding down his shoulders and caging the rest of him with his knees, he could keep his target in place.
The samurai huffed. “I was tired of running.” He looked up at Heizou, equally unbothered by their position except for the slight downtick of his eyebrows. “Can I help you, Doushin-san?”
Heizou blinked. Ah, that’s right.
He let go of the samurai’s shoulders and reached into his haori, pulling out the folded wax paper from earlier and letting the single strand of hair slip out onto the palm of his hand. Then without further explanation, he held it against the samurai’s own hair.
The samurai stiffened, but hadn’t made a move to escape Heizou’s loosened grip. He just watched Heizou carefully. Not that the detective was paying much attention.
The strand of hair nearly melted against the backdrop of white. Such a close match to the color that he was tempted to cuff the samurai right there.
‘Nearly,’ being the operative word.
It was just a shade too dark. A hue too vibrant. The texture was just this side of too coarse to realistically be the samurai’s own.
Heizou slumped and sighed. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”
He gave the samurai another once over. Was there something he missed? A clue that his subconscious picked up that his waking mind couldn’t articulate?
Robes tattered and frayed at the edges. A single katana at his waist.
Ah, his mistake. Not a samurai. But a ronin.
“Hey, ronin,” Heizou said. “This might be a weird question, but have you seen anyone with–”
The air tingled.
Heizou had just enough time to use another burst of anemo right before electro ripped through the air, barely able to save both himself and the ronin from death by electrocution. Both men skidded on the wet stone for a distance before Heizou was able to look at the place they’d been moments before.
The water crackled and sparked, spreading outwards from the epicenter of the strike and stopping a short ways away from where Heizou now crouched in front of the ronin. The purple afterglow left behind confirmed his suspicions, and Heizou whipped his head to find their attacker.
A man stood there, katana crackling with electro and pointed where they’d both been just seconds before, donned in a faded red haori and what looked like a wakizashi strapped to his side. Ashen-blond hair was only just visible from underneath his hat, and the shadows it cast on his face only served to highlight his eyes. Lavender-colored flints of light that seemed to glow with his element, and they were narrowed dangerously at Heizou and Kazuha.
“Tomo,” Heizou heard a breath from behind him, and the detective nearly stumbled from surprise.
“Kazuha,” the other ronin drawled and deceptively relaxed his grip on his katana. “So this is where you’ve been hiding?”
He wanted to glance back behind him. Kazuha? Tomo? Did these two know each other? Why did the other man attack them? What was going on?
“Wait, Tomo, don’t do anything rash–”
The man, apparently called Tomo, clicked his tongue and brought his katana to rest on his shoulder with a smooth sweep. “You’re seriously a pain. What, exactly, is so rash about taking out the trash?”
Heizou felt like he was on the back foot. There was something that he didn’t know. He could feel it like an itch at the back of his brain. But he knew he couldn’t let himself or the young ronin behind him come to harm, so he let anemo infuse his fists and widened his stance.
The ronin who was called Tomo seemed to grow excited at the prospect of a fight, and he readied his katana in front of him.
“Stop!”
A whirlwind of anemo manifested between the two, and the pale boy that was once behind him was now in front of him, his arms thrown wide to protect… Heizou?
“Tomo, stop and think. I am more than capable of protecting myself. I’ve never run into any trouble with the law. Why would I ever be held against my will by anyone unless it wasn’t against my will?”
Heizou was completely unused to being as out of the loop as he was now. The only thing that left his pride intact was the utter confusion on the older ronin’s face.
“Wh- but you never showed up for dinner! And I haven’t seen you all day!”
“Yes, and I apologize for that, I lost track of time. It was when I was running to meet you that I was interrupted, but this man has done nothing wrong.”
The other ronin sputtered. “Done nothing wrong-?”
“Oh, you two are friends,” Heizou said to himself.
It was obvious. The attack hadn’t been meant to strike both of them, but only Heizou himself. The man had only been interested in Heizou once he’d confirmed the younger ronin was unharmed, in a sort of roundabout way. And to be fair, they’d been discovered in a rather compromising position, with Heizou straddling the other man on the cold stone in the rain, both out of breath from the chase and with one of the boy’s shoulders pinned to the floor. It was a natural assumption to make that Heizou was taking advantage of both his position as a doushin and the ronin’s position as, well, a ronin. Thus, the assault on his person.
Which really didn’t excuse the attempted murder of an officer (or the reckless endangerment of his friend), but at least he had the full picture now.
Heizou finally noticed the silence and blinked up to see both ronin staring at him.
He looked back. Did he say something wrong?
The anemo user was the first to break the silence and coughed into his hand. “Erm, yes. I deeply apologize for my friend’s conduct.”
The boy walked to stand by said friend and shoved his head down to a low bow at the waist, heedless of the taller man’s sudden squawk and contained flailing.
“He thought you were trying to do me harm. Tomo is often brash and foolhardy, but he is a good man with strong principles. Though I know that is no excuse, I beg that you forgive him his transgressions against you, Doushin-san.”
“But there was no way that was appropriate–”
“Hush, you fool.”
Heizou held his chin and hummed.
He was cold. And wet. If he was unlucky, he’d be suffering from a cold come tomorrow, and that would stop him from being let in on this case with the robberies. And never mind his lack of background information, he had no leads to offer the people who were overseeing the case, just a random hunch that led him on a wild goose chase across the city. Tamaki was probably beyond irritated.
He remembered blond hair.
“How about this,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “Let me check out your friend here, and I won’t bring him in for assaulting an officer and endangering a bystander.”
Tomo lifted his head to look at Heizou suspiciously. “What do you mean check me out–?”
“Done.”
“Hey!”
Satisfied, Heizou walked towards the pair and brought out the slip of wax paper that had somehow survived all that ruckus earlier.
The man shifted but refused to be cowed under Heizou’s gaze, instead meeting him head-on and with his arms crossed in front of him. It seemed the detective had left a poor first impression, but that was hardly new. Most people regarded him with thinly veiled suspicion and obvious irritation.
The detective ignored the ronin’s confused distrust and brought the hair up to his head. And he held it there for a time. Long enough that even the white-haired ronin started to tense.
He smiled.
“Tomo-san,” Heizou announced, “you are being arrested under reasonable grounds of involvement in the robbery of the home of Mastui Anzu and Matsui Daido. You have the right to silence, and anything you say may be used as evidence against you.”