Shinji
Ozawa’s ghost wasn’t at her house either. Just from the brief look Shinji took through the bedroom’s window, the area was clear of ghosts. With no other spectral interference, even if Ozawa’s spirit was hiding, Shinji would’ve still been able to sense her with hisreiryoku, but she wasn’t here.
Exhausted, Shinji pulled back his white spiritual energy, wishing he was working at his full potential.She might’ve crossed over, he thought. Yet something didn’t sit well.
Yamato’s spirit had suddenly vanished from his apartment last night. Now Ozawa wasn’t at her house either. Two ghosts of two murder victims moving to the afterlife on their own? No way. Something must have made them decide to wander off. Or maybe the Shinigami who was in charge of the respective jurisdiction called their spirits and sent them to the other side? It would’ve been against the rules to do that before ensuring the ghosts had properly wrapped up their business here. But if Ozawa’s memories were worse than Yamato’s, the Shinigami wouldn’t have wasted time waiting for her memories to return.
Normally, he’d walk around the neighborhood and search for them, covering as much area as he could on foot. More often than not, he found the spirits and linked them to himself, so they wouldn’t stray away or be linked to a different Shinigami. But he couldn’t afford to search for them now, not with an ongoing investigation. There wasn’t even a pertinent excuse he could offer to Hayashi so he’d let Shinji look for the ghosts. Telling the truth was out of the question. Besides, even if he did find Ozawa, there was no way to link her spirit to himself with his powers still sealed.
Shinji sighed. It was fine. They could solve the case on their own. Getting info from the ghosts would’ve been helpful, but there had been many times when he and his late superior officer had to make do on their own with no “special” help. They were detectives after all.
He patted his suit jacket’s inner pocket containing the piece of paper with Yamato Daichi’s name and address. He needed to find a believable way to tell Hayashi the jogger’s name without looking suspicious, especially since he couldn’t find Yamato in any missing persons reports or other database. It was too risky to check Yamato’s apartment on his own, but the more he postponed telling Hayashi, the more chances there were for the criminal to go there. The killer didn’t seem interested in going to the victim’s homes, but one never knew.
Shinji rubbed the back of his neck, grunting in frustration.
“Got anything?” Hayashi asked.
“Nothing, sir.” Shinji shook his head.
“Let’s go.”
Shinji followed the chief back to the living room where the parents were waiting on the sofa. Hayashi left his number in case they remembered something else. He reassured them they were doing their best to find the murderer, and informed them another officer would call shortly about their official statements.
Hayashi checked his watch as they climbed back in the car. “We’ll stop at a coffee shop and check out the friend’s Instagram page while we grab lunch.” He set the GPS for a recent address which he must’ve frequented when working on cases.
Fifteen minutes later Shinji parked in an neighborhood in Ginza, full ofkissaten—tea and coffee-drinking shops. Hayashi pointed ahead and guided Shinji through the narrow and quiet streets. Most shops were filled with customers sipping their teas and coffees while reading or browsing on laptops and phones. Hayashi stopped at a stylishkissatenwith dark brown bricked walls and two statues of deities Shinji didn’t recognize. Tall green plants lined the walls and square metal lanterns hung above the entrance, the candles unlit.
Hayashi entered like he owned the place—though that seemed to be the chief’s style of walking no matter where he went—and the barista greeted them. The interior was cozy, clad in shades of copper and beige. On the right was a bar with high chairs, shelves lined with decorative plates and cups along with metal tins and sealed bags of teas and coffees. On the left were tables for two or four people. More plants adorned the corners and the walls, along with paintings of women and men dressed in ancient kimono style.
Turning a corner, Hayashi slid open a door and entered another section of thekissatenwith large windows, most of them open. He sat down at a table and gestured for Shinji to join him.
“You come here often, sir?” Shinji asked.
Hayashi nodded. “Smoking is still allowed in this part of the coffee shop,” he explained as he lit his cigarette, “so I like to work from here sometimes.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Shinji nodded. “It’s very nice. Feels like we’re on a date, not work.” He smiled wide, hoping the little joke wouldn’t bother Hayashi.
It didn’t seem to as Hayashi chuckled. “Glad to know I still have a good taste for dating places after so long.”
The comment didn’t go unnoticed and Shinji’s curiosity piqued. “Are you currently single, sir?” He cleared his throat. “Apologies, if that’s too personal…”
“I’m single,” Hayashi answered, shrugging. “My job is taking a lot of my free time, but I couldn’t have gotten where I am without making a few sacrifices.”
Shinji related to that as he’d been unable to keep a relationship for longer than a year at best. Working part-time as a Shinigami shortened his free time even more.
Hayashi looked up as the waiter stopped at their table. “The usual,” he said.
Shinji reached the menu, realizing he hadn’t even checked it, focused as he had been on Hayashi. His fingers brushed Hayashi’s and their gaze met for yet another tense second.
“Uh… I’ll have what he’s having,” Shinji said, reluctantly withdrawing his hand.
“Chickenkaraageand black coffee?” the waiter confirmed.
“Yes, thank you.”
The waiter left and Shinji loosened his tie, then brought out his phone and notepad. He hid the piece of paper with Yamato’s name and address at the back, then set the notepad on the table. Hayashi leaned forward as Shinji scrolled through the Instagram page of Ozawa’s friend.
“I see you’re on social media,” Hayashi said.