“I’m sorry for your loss,” says the girl at the scene, spinning police lights painting her face in alternating red and blue.
Makoto looks up from her paper cup of shitty tea, itchy shock blanket draped over her shoulders. She’s sitting in the back of an open ambulance–letting the EMTs ask her questions and check her pulse and shine pen lights into her eyes–even though there’s no real use for it. She’s not the one who was… hurt… and not even the fastest ambulance could have done anything for Yuuta.
She shakes off the thought desperately, focusing on the girl in front of her instead: she’s young, a teenager, too young to be here, surely. But the police officers that spoke to Makoto earlier only glance their way, no one taking notice of the teenager in trendy clothes and a string of prayer beads looped round and round her right hand.
Maybe she’s hallucinating. Maybe she’s actually in shock, imagining random girls at the spot where her husband… here. At this time.
“I know this is a lot to ask of you,” the girl adds just as Makoto is considering telling the EMTs that she’s hallucinating, “Normally I’m not called in for such recent… incidents… but I was nearby when your husband…”
The girl pauses, as if mentally chewing over her words. She takes a seat next to Makoto in the ambulance, thanking the EMT who hands her her own cup of shitty tea–which clears up the hallucination question but only raises others in how a teenage girl is on first name basis with emergency services.
“Your husband gave you something three days ago and he told you to hide it,” the girl says instead, and a chill goes down Makoto’s spine.
“How do you know?” How could anyone know about that? It was just the two of them in the house at that time.
“This was not a random accident,” the girl continues, steel in her voice. “What happened to your husband was premeditated and pointed, and I’m sorry that I cannot give you more time, but this is time sensitive and if we do not catch the person that did this to your husband, they will do the same–if not worse–to many more people.”
Makoto shuts her eyes, futilely, as if that will ward off what the girl is saying.
"Kochizaki-san, please,” the girl says, and Makoto hates this girl, hates this random girl who would dare do this to someone who is so clearly in pain, in shock, in mourning–“No, no, no, no”–
“Makoto,” the girl says, and this time… it’s still the girl’s voice. Just a normal teenage girl’s voice, but something about the tone or the cadence or something just makes her open her eyes.
“Yuuta needs you to do this. Can you do this for him?” There are detectives on the scene now, badges and suits different from the uniforms of the earlier police officers.
Detectives don’t show up for accidents.
“I will come back and explain it all to you but this must be done, and the sooner the better,” the girl says, urging.
They spot her, her and the girl who knows too much and promises too much, and head their way. Neither they or the girl look surprised.
Detectives don’t let random bystanders into active crime scenes.
“Makoto,” the girl repeats, and places her right hand on her shoulder. Maybe it’s a trick of the lights–red and blue and red and blue–but it kind of looks like the beads are glowing.
And maybe it’s just the itchy shock blanket, but it almost feels like there’s a hand on her other shoulder–a familiar, beloved hand. Makoto does not turn to look and be disappointed.
“Where did you hide the flash drive Yuuta gave you?”
A/N: I’m a little sad and angry because the musical stuff I wrote for the upcoming show is being cut and I’m just like >:/
So here’s some Haru Kuwabara at a crime scene. Normally she’s only called in for cases where all the leads have gone cold, or she calls herself in when the ghost of the victim shows up, but this time around they’re trying to stop a… hm, I dunno, a bomb or something? And the ghost involved this time was like “HEY! YOU! YOU CAN SEE ME, COME OVER HERE” and so what would have been ruled as an accident is now being considered a murder because Haru Kuwabara said so and while the police department don’t appreciate a teenager telling them how to do their jobs, she does get results.