Kurosaki Katsuo had been on remand for three days. The thin mattress had left permanent kinks in his neck, and every meal of microwavable curry made his stomach churn. The chicken still tasted like cardboard, but complaining would only make him look weaker than he already felt.
The ugly station sweats hung loose on his frame—gray cotton that smelled of industrial detergent and other people's desperation. His fingers traced the fabric covering his arm, feeling the raised scar beneath. Hidden. Everything that had made him somebody was hidden now.
Through the small barred window, he could hear the distant hum of traffic, normal people living normal lives. The irony wasn't lost on him—he'd wanted to be feared, respected. Now he was just another punk in a cell, reduced to making small talk with the elderly receptionist about yarn patterns.
The sound of shuffling footsteps approached. Honda's knitting needles clicked in a steady rhythm as she hobbled from the kitchen, her arthritic fingers somehow maintaining perfect tension in the wool.
"Oh, Kurosaki, sweetheart," she said, her voice warm despite the circumstances. "Someone left you a letter. It is from your parents who dropped the letter off to you."
Katsuo's stomach dropped. The envelope was black with a red sticker—the kind of thing that usually meant bad news. His hands shook slightly as he took it through the bars.
'Katsuo.
You are receiving this letter because you are at a crossroads in your life. Before now, you hadn't a chance of listening to anything I had to say, because you were so caught up in yourself. You're probably wondering who this is, and how they have the audacity to speak to you like this, and be so brazen. My name is Kurosaki Katsuo and I am writing you this letter from the future.
Your classmates have been having letters like this too. That's why they were glaring at you, or chatting shit behind your back. They knew what you did, what you were going to do because their Future Selves told them. In my reality, Kobayashi Hikaru was ostracized at school for Sayuri's kidnapping. Notice how that didn't happen this time around because guilty consciences will have told the other students at Hanagawa High School that it wasn't him, it was you. It was only a matter of time until you'd be caught.
You have a choice going forward, to be a better person, embrace the wrong you did and use it to help yourself and others expose the people you work for, serve your time, enter witness protection and do something for yourself as a free man. I refused that offer and took dozens of beatings in the slammer for it. The fast money of that type of ecosystem never works out for most. If you are sent out your town then watch out for the booty bandit. One of those girls relatives is going to send a booty bandit after you. I probably shouldn't be warning you that you're going to get the shit beaten out of you, but that's a fact of your life now, as a criminal. You made your bed. Lay in it.
Do better. Your future is yours for the taking,
Katsuo'
When he finished reading, his hands had gone completely still. The paper crinkled as his grip tightened.
"Who was that from?" Honda asked, offering him a rich tea biscuit through the bars. The simple kindness in the gesture made his throat tight.
"A well-wisher, I guess." His voice came out rougher than intended. "Someone who wanted me to use this... fork in the road to better myself."
Honda's needles resumed their gentle clicking. "You're young, you have time to be better, you know?"
Katsuo stared down at his hands—pale now from days without sunlight, no longer the hands of someone important. "I don't even know how to go about it."
"When the time comes, it'll come to you, Kurosaki." She handed him her ball of yarn to hold while she worked. The simple task felt foreign after everything, but somehow... grounding.
He closed his eyes and let the rhythmic click-clack of her knitting needles wash over him like a lullaby.
Sunday. The word felt heavy in Kaho's chest as she sat on the park bench, her eyes fixed on Kikiyo's front door like a hawk watching prey. The last day they had to ensure Kikiyo didn't make a decision she'd regret and the pressure was on. The spring air carried the scent of cherry blossoms, and despite the warmth of the season, she felt cold with worry. Himiko's laughter carried across the playground, a bright sound that felt almost surreal against the weight of what they were trying to prevent.
Three hours. Three hours of watching that door, and her shoulders ached from the tension. Every time a shadow moved behind the curtains, her pulse spiked. Every footstep on the street made her head snap up.
Mamoru had stationed himself at the mall, in case Kikiyo went for a haircut or something to make her look older. It also had good transport links in case she went somewhere else.
Her phone buzzed constantly—updates from Mamoru at the mall, Mariah's increasingly frantic research about "busting pimps without getting the girls arrested" (complete with way too many exclamation points), and Ryota's check-ins from his strategic jogs past the convenience store.
It was sounding, from her constant double messaging, and heavy use of exclamation points that she was either excited or frustrated.
Kaho's finger hovered over Tatsuya's missed calls from yesterday. Two of them. The guilt gnawed at her—she'd been so consumed with Mamoru's crisis that she'd basically ghosted her boyfriend. Not exactly girlfriend of the year material.
She'd missed two calls from Tatsuya yesterday, having stayed at Mamoru's house until late. He was supposed to meet up with her later. Though, she was sure having a nine-year-old third wheeling their date wasn't what Tatsuya had in mind. But, needs must. She sighed.
Kaho didn't continue to look down anymore to messages from Kaho's phone. Instead, she was on literal, physical, Kikiyo Watch. She'd taken Himiko to the play park across the street from Kikiyo's house, and while her little sister played with some of her school friends on the jungle gym, Kaho's eyes were trained on the front door of her friend's house.
In the three hours Kaho had been watching Kikiyo's front door, nobody had left the house, not even to go to the store. Kaho hadn't seen either of Kikiyo's parents, Ichigo or their siblings, it was like they hadn't dared make a sound. Were they in trouble?
The house across the street remained eerily quiet. No one had entered or left since Kikiyo departed for her shift. No parents running errands, no siblings playing in the yard. The stillness felt wrong, like the whole family was holding its breath.
Her phone buzzed: 'How about we go for dinner tonight instead? This science homework is kicking my ass.'
Kaho's fingers flew across the screen: 'Can we go to the café down by the station?'
She needed to be there anyway—to intercept Kikiyo if she showed up looking for that job posting. The timing would be perfect if Tatsuya agreed.
'If you want, I guess? But I was thinking of udon personally'
'Great! The cafe has great banana bread! Can't wait! Love you xoxo'
She hit send before she could second-guess the forced enthusiasm. Himiko's voice called out from the jungle gym, and Kaho waved automatically while keeping one eye on that damned front door.
All of Kaho's homework was done, and she'd managed to get some drawing done. Himiko's friends Izumi and Sachiko were at the park with their mothers, meaning Kaho could do her schoolwork while Izumi and Sachiko's mothers watched the three kids. There were perks of being an older sibling 'helping her mom out'. She hoped neither Izumi or Sachiko's mums would ask hers why Kaho took Himiko out, and found out it had actually been Kaho's idea. That would be an awkward conversation with her mother.
Her phone buzzed again. Two messages at once.
First: Ryota. 'Kikiyo's leaving the store. Heading your way.'
Second: Tatsuya. 'We need to talk.'
The blood drained from Kaho's face. Those four words never meant anything good. Her hands went cold as she stared at the screen, and for a moment, even Kikiyo's approaching crisis faded into background noise.
We need to talk.