AROSHI-YOKOHAMA
TEAM NARITO, OJIRO, AND KENMA

The room was quiet except for the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath them. Ojiro exhaled, his arms crossed as he began recounting their discovery.

"In Yokohama," he started, his voice steady but carrying a weight of unease, "we went in and looked around again. The second floor-every inch of it-we scrutinized thoroughly. The windows, the room doors, the ceiling, the tiles... every corner of the corridor. And we double-checked each of the rooms, one by one, searching for anything that seemed out of place."

A tense silence settled as the others listened closely, hanging on to his words.

"Then," Kenma picked up where Ojiro left off, his voice quieter but no less intense, "in the corner of the last room, I noticed something small-just a tiny piece of paper. It was stuck to one of the tiles, barely visible unless you were looking for it." He frowned slightly at the memory, his fingers unconsciously curling as if still feeling the rough edge of the tile. "I tried to pull the tile out. At first, it wouldn't budge. It was stuck firm. But with enough force, I finally managed to pry it free."

Kenma's gaze darkened slightly as he continued. "The part beneath the tile-it wasn't cement, nor wood, nor even an unfinished floor. It was hollow. A dark, open space, but from the way it felt, it seemed... wider from the inside."

Narito nodded, stepping in to add, "Kenma called us over immediately. At first, we thought it was just a hidden storage space-somewhere to keep valuables hidden away." His brows furrowed slightly as he recalled the moment. "But then Kenma reached inside. His fingers brushed against something, and it wasn't solid. It was... cold air. That's when we realized this wasn't just a safe. It was a passageway leading downward."

Kenma remained silent for a moment, his eyes flicking downward as if still deep in thought. In his hand, he had found the small piece of paper-the one stuck to the tile. He had hidden it from the others, keeping it clutched in his fingers. There were numbers scribbled on it, faint but deliberate. At the time, he had assumed it was nothing more than a locker number. So, he left it be.

Narito's voice broke through his thoughts, continuing the story. "We stepped into the space, hoping to find a flight of stairs. And just as we had guessed... there were stairs leading deep down into the passage. The air grew thick, the temperature dropping slightly as we gathered our courage and pressed on." His voice took on a hushed, almost reverent tone. "With each step, the darkness seemed to expand around us, swallowing the light from above. The deeper we went, the less it felt like just an empty passage."

Kenma's jaw tightened slightly. "When we finally reached the bottom of the stairway, it wasn't just a hollow space anymore." His eyes flickered to Kavei, who had remained still, listening intently. "There were gas lights lining the walls, casting an eerie glow. The way the tunnel stretched ahead of us, it almost looked ancient... like the kind of place where gold and treasures were hidden away centuries ago."

Kavei finally spoke, his voice quiet but filled with suspicion. "Who was supposed to come here?" he muttered, almost to himself. "And how come I never came across this passage? Aro never told me anything about it..." His words trailed off, his unease settling over the room like a thick fog.

Narito stopped abruptly, his next words hesitant. "There were piles of tiny sandbags at the end of the hallway."

Kavei's eyes narrowed. "Sandbags?" His mind raced. "Was it a storage room?"

Kenma shook his head slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "No, Kavei."

And that single word sent a chill through the room.

[BACK IN YOKOHAMA
4TH AUGUST]

Kenma had picked up one of the bags, its rough fabric covered in a fine layer of dust. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers working to untie the thread sealing the mouth of the sack. His heart pounded in his chest-something about this place felt wrong, but he needed to see what was inside. As the knot loosened, the fabric fell away, revealing several glass bottles nestled within.

"What is this?" he murmured, lifting one of the bottles out. The liquid inside was a deep, rich red, swirling slightly as he tilted the bottle in his grasp.

"Wine?" He guessed aloud, bringing the bottle closer to his nose. But the second the scent hit him, a cold, suffocating dread wrapped around his chest.

His entire body recoiled. "Ah! What the heck-!"

The bottle slipped from his fingers, his reflexes too slow to catch it. It hit the floor, rolling a few inches before shattering against the cold stone wall. The thick red liquid spread rapidly, seeping into the cracks of the ground like it belonged there, like it had spilled there before.

Kenma stumbled backward, his foot slipping slightly on the spreading liquid. His back slammed against the right wall, pain shooting up his spine as his head collided hard against the unyielding surface.

"B-Bottles filled with blood..." His voice barely made it past his lips, more of a whisper than a declaration. His body locked up, his limbs frozen in place as he stared at the crimson liquid pooling at his feet. His breath hitched, his pulse roaring in his ears, but his body refused to move. Even as his mind screamed at him to run, to get away, he remained rooted to the spot, rolled up like a shell.

His chest tightened painfully, the shock rendering him speechless. His lips trembled, his eyes wide, but not a single tear fell. He wanted to scream again, but his voice refused to cooperate. The horror of what he had just discovered had numbed every part of him.

"Kenma!"

Narito and Ojiro rushed to his side, their own faces pale with fear. The sight of the blood-covered floor made their stomachs churn, but Kenma-Kenma looked utterly broken.

"Kenma, come on, snap out of it!" Narito crouched beside him, gripping his shoulders. He and Ojiro exchanged a quick, nervous glance before helping him to his feet. Kenma's body felt unnaturally cold, his breathing erratic as they steadied him.

"We need to get out of here," Ojiro muttered, his gaze darting toward the darkened hallway ahead. "But first, we should take some samples... Like Kavei did back at the room under the balcony."

Narito nodded, swallowing back his unease. "Yeah. Whatever this is... We need proof."

Even as they gathered the bottles carefully, the image of the blood spreading across the stone floor remained burned in their minds.

[AND NOW]

Kavei's brows furrowed as he processed what Kenma had just said. His fingers instinctively tightened around the edge of the table. "Fifty-six... of them?" His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was heavy.

Kenma nodded, his expression grim. "Yeah... I have a feeling the samples you found and the ones I found are going to match." He exhaled deeply, rubbing his temple as if trying to shake off the memory of that night. "And anyway, continuing forward..." He cleared his throat, forcing himself to stay focused. "We started asking around about Aroshi's daily routines, trying to figure out her movements."

Narito leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Turns out, Aroshi-san used to visit this small café near her house almost every day. So we went there and spoke to the owner."

Kavei exchanged a glance with the others, the pieces of the puzzle slowly beginning to take shape in his mind. "And? What did she say?"

[BACK IN YOKOHAMA]

Kenma's fingers tapped lightly against the side of his jeans as he leaned forward on the counter, his voice steady but low. "Excuse me, ma'am. Have you seen this girl around here? About four years back?" He pulled a slightly worn-out photograph from his pocket and placed it on the counter, sliding it toward the woman. "I know it's a weird question, and it might be hard to recall, but she was a regular visitor. Maybe if you think back, something will come to mind?"

The woman behind the counter furrowed her brows, taking a moment to examine the picture. "Uh? Uhm... what?" she murmured, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the photo. "That girl... she's no more..."

Kenma gave a small nod, expecting the response. "Yeah... I know." His voice remained even. "But I'd like to confirm some things. Did you see her, ma'am?"

The woman shook her head. "No, I didn't. I only started working here last year."

Kenma pressed on. "So then, who worked here before you?"

"Mailee."

A flicker of recognition flashed in Kenma's eyes. "The owner? I remember that, four years ago, this café was run by the owner herself."

"That's right."

Kenma straightened slightly. "Could I have her contact information? A number, an address-anything will do."

The woman hesitated for a moment before nodding. "She lives close by."

***

They stood before a modest, slightly worn-out house, the dim glow of the streetlights casting long shadows on the ground. Kenma rang the doorbell, his expression unreadable. Narito and Ojiro lingered behind him, exchanging glances.

Narito crossed his arms, glancing at the slightly run-down exterior of the house. "Are we sure this is the same Mailee who used to own that famous café?" he muttered under his breath.

Kenma shot him a glare. "What's the big idea?"

"I mean, look at this place. Seems like a rented, lowly paradise. I know I shouldn't judge, but what if that woman at the café lied to us?"

Kenma scoffed. "Why would she lie? We're just a bunch of curious kids in the eyes of any adult who crosses paths with us." He smirked slightly. "And it's not like I look scary or something."

Narito held back a snort. 'Speak for yourself, you idiot. Your glare gets me feeling like a housefly in a spider's web. And guess what? You're the spider.'

Kenma raised an eyebrow at Narito's sudden silence. "Hey. What are you thinking?"

Narito quickly looked away. "Nothing."

Before another word could be exchanged, the door creaked open. A woman, likely in her late thirties, peered through the gap.

"Yes?" she asked cautiously.

Ojiro hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to say. "Oh, um... We're-"

"We're students from a school in Shinjuku," Kenma interjected smoothly. His tone was polite yet firm. "We're here to ask some things we believe you have answers to. Can you please spare us some time, ma'am?"

The woman studied them for a moment before her lips curved slightly. "Students from Shinjuku?" She stepped aside. "Oh. Come on in."

Narito leaned toward Ojiro, whispering, "Since when are we students in Shinjuku? I thought we were from Yokohama."

Ojiro whispered back, "How the heck should I know? We're miraculously students of some school in Shinjuku. Work with me here."

They stepped inside, settling on the couch as Mailee disappeared momentarily.

"I'll get something for you guys to eat-"

Kenma quickly stood up and bowed slightly. "Thank you very much, ma'am. And I'm sorry to cut in like this, but we're in a bit of a hurry. Sorry for being so selfish, but could we get straight to the point? I truly appreciate your time, and I apologize for the trouble."

Mailee chuckled, shaking her head. "Ah! What a polite young man you are. Nothing you boys do could cause me trouble. Go ahead, ask whatever it is."

Narito stared at Kenma, his thoughts running wild. 'Damn. He's so good with people.'

Kenma reached into his pocket and pulled out the same picture, placing it on the table. "It'll be quick. Do you happen to know this girl?"

Mailee's eyes widened slightly. "Oh? Her? Why?"

Kenma leaned forward slightly. "So, you do know her?"

"Of course, I do. She used to work as a part-timer here when she was in fifth grade."

Kenma's demeanor shifted in an instant. His voice, once polite and composed, now held an edge. "As a part-timer in fifth grade? And you hired her?"

Mailee glanced at him, folding her hands in her lap. "May I know your name, child?"

"...Kenma," he responded after a beat.

Mailee nodded. "Alright, Kenma-kun. I wouldn't normally allow children to work, but she begged me. And I don't like to see kids cry or beg like that. So, I allowed her to help out for an hour a day. She didn't do much-just put away plates and glasses after I washed them." She sighed. "I yelled at her sometimes. Occasionally. But I paid her enough so she wouldn't think it was a farce."

Kenma's sharp gaze didn't waver. "Did she ever tell you why she was working?"

"For kittens."

"...Kittens?"

"That's what she told me."

Kenma exhaled, absorbing the information. "Alright. And after she quit, did she continue coming to the café? Buying things? Eating there?"

"She quit after three months, but she still visited regularly. She never bought anything. She'd sit for hours with just a glass of cold water, staring out the window."

Kenma's fingers curled slightly against his knee. "The window?"

"Yes. She had a specific seat she always sat in."

"Could you tell us which one?"

Mailee gave a small smile. "I could... but it's easier to show you." She stood up. "Hold on. I'll grab my keys."

***

The café was quiet when they arrived, the warm scent of coffee lingering in the air. Mailee led them to a familiar spot, stopping by a couch next to the window.

"This one," she said, pointing. "The third seat next to the window."

Kenma traced his fingers lightly over the edge of the table in front of the couch. It was directly in line with the main entrance of the café.

Mailee folded her arms. "Come to think of it... I remember something strange."

Kenma's gaze snapped up to her. "Strange?"

"That day..." Mailee's expression darkened slightly. "She was in her school uniform-late in the evening. She looked like she was waiting for someone. She kept looking at the street clocks."

Kenma felt his heartbeat quicken. "And then?"

"Then..." Mailee hesitated. "Someone passed by her. They whispered something in her ear... and she sped off."

Kenma clenched his fists, feeling a chill creep up his spine. Someone whispered something to her... and then she ran.

[AND NOW]

The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of paper as Narito spread out the photographs they had collected-images of the café, the surrounding streets, and Miss Mailee's house. Kenma let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping against the table as he began to recount everything they had pieced together so far.

"Miss Mailee told us that the police never even interrogated her," he said, his voice steady but edged with frustration. "They had already assumed Aroshi was dead, so they didn't bother questioning anyone who might have seen her last."

The weight of those words lingered in the air.

"I asked her how long she saw Aroshi that day," Kenma continued, his gaze shifting toward Narito and Ojiro. "She told me she was just out running errands when she happened to pass by the café. That's when she saw a man standing close to Aroshi. She didn't recognize him, but something about the way he was leaning toward her-whispering something-felt off. So she approached her, asked if everything was alright."

"And what did Aroshi do?" Benio asked, his fingers interlocked, leaning forward slightly.

"She ran," Kenma said simply. "Just bolted. Didn't even answer. And before Miss Mailee could react, she lost sight of her."

Narito nodded, picking up where Kenma left off. "She said the turn was sharp, and if she wanted to know where Aroshi had gone, she would've had to follow her immediately. But she didn't."

Kenma's jaw tightened at that, but he didn't comment.

Narito took a deep breath and pointed to the pictures again. "So Kenma and I took every possible route from the café, trying to figure out which one Aroshi could've taken that day. Meanwhile, Ojiro stood outside the café. His job was to check if he could see us from the back entrance, just like how Miss Mailee described seeing Aroshi disappear. If he could see us clearly, it meant we were on the wrong path."

"It was exhausting," Ojiro muttered, rubbing his temple. "We had to keep doing it over and over again. Each street branched into different alleys and side roads, and we had to try all of them."

Kenma nodded. "Every time we took a wrong turn, Ojiro would call one of us and immediately say, 'wrong route' or 'go for a new one.' We must've gone through at least twenty, maybe thirty different paths before we finally got it right."

The room was quiet again, the tension thick as Kenma laid down the final set of pictures-the ones that changed everything.

"And then," he said, his voice lower, "we found it."

Narito exhaled sharply. "The path led us to an old warehouse. Right in front of us, at the end of the route, was this massive, run-down building. It looked abandoned, but something about it felt... off."

Kenma slid a new set of photographs forward. "And when we searched inside, we found something."

The images were laid out for everyone to see. A dimly lit interior, cracked concrete walls, and in the farthest corner of the room-barely visible at first-a chair with a length of rope strewn beside it.

Benio stared at the picture. "That... that looks like someone was tied up there."

Kenma nodded grimly. "That's not all. In the corner of the room, we found a black plastic bag. Inside it-" he tapped another photo, this one displaying a dagger with a dark, worn handle. "This."

Saira's breath hitched. "So... what are we saying? That Aroshi was here?"

"Either they kept her here," Benio said, his voice quieter than before, "or someone else was held here."

Kai nodded slowly, his brows furrowed in thought. "But for what? Kidnapped and kept there... for what reason? Anyone could've found that warehouse, right?"

Kenma leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "We'll get there, Kai," he said, his gaze unwavering. "Let's go ahead."

The only one who didn't speak or even move a muscle the entire time was Kavei.