Chapter 48
A Japanese officer who loses his sidearm faces disciplinary action that varies with the circumstances. If the weapon is recovered quickly and no serious harm results, the punishnt is usually administrative—suspension or a written warning.
Shirata Masahiro reported the loss imdiately. His superiors decided no grave consequences had occurred, so under the regulations they demoted him. All the effort he had spent making detective—every comndation he had earned at the precinct—vanished overnight.
But the story didn't end there. Now the sa pistol has a death tied to it. Even if the victim took his own life, the officer who lost the weapon can be charged. "Life ruined" might sound lodramatic, but his police career is unquestionably finished.
That gives so idea of the resolve Shirata needed to confess. He has worked conscientiously his entire life and made only this single mistake. Anyone would feel bitter. Yet he has made peace with it; the fault is his, and he will accept whatever penalty follows.
"If I keep hiding the truth," Shirata said, stubbing out his cigarette, "the guilt will eat at . I couldn't stay here and teach." He looked at the two cadets. "Please turn in to the Inspector. Whatever the verdict, I'll face it."
He paused and added, voice firm, "I'm counting on you."
Tamako's tongue tangled; she could not force out a coherent sentence. For the first ti she felt the law's demands collide with her own sense of right and wrong. She didn't want Shirata punished, yet for the sake of justice she ought to report him and let the law take its course.
While she wavered, Fushimi Shika patted her head. "You've t a teacher who practices what he preaches."
"Eh?"
"You keep insisting 'the law is justice.' If that's the road you've chosen, you have to walk it, however hard it gets."
Fushimi lifted his gaze to Shirata. "That's what Instructor Shirata believes, isn't it? Everyone is equal before the law—himself included. If we bend the rules out of pity, every other officer who loses a gun will claim the sa leniency. Where's the fairness then? And without fairness, where's justice?"
Shirata said nothing. There was no way to varnish the truth, so he let Fushimi lecture Tamako right in front of him.
Tamako's head buzzed. She finally felt the full weight of the words "the law is justice." This wasn't an A-or-B choice in a deduction ga, nor the cool line a detective utters when the cuffs click. It was a double-edged blade—wielded by the strong, yet ever ready to cut them down as well.
"I... I understand."
Tamako drew a long breath, knelt formally on the tatami, and bowed to Shirata. "From now on I will uphold fairness—toward others and toward myself."
Fushimi bead like a proud tutor and gathered the evidence they had spread on the floor. "Then, as you asked, we'll submit this to the prosecutor. Whatever the court decides is out of our hands."
"Exactly what I hoped for."
Having said everything he needed to say, Shirata took his leave. At the door he reminded them the bus left at seven; all cadets would ride back together.
The bedroom fell quiet. Fushimi sat by the kotatsu peeling a mandarin, content as a cat.
Tamako needed several minutes to recover; it felt like the most important lesson of her life. Then a nagging thought struck her. That smug tsundere—hadn't he always sneered at the "law equals justice" mantra? Why the sudden conversion?
Very suspicious.
Tamako narrowed her eyes and activated her Super Cold-Reading Technique. "Fushimi," she began, "why are you suddenly backing Instructor Shirata? Are you hiding sothing?"
"Of course not!"
Fushimi's eyes widened in theatrical outrage. Righteous aura crackling, he slamd the table. "We're partners in the Reasoning Squad, and you doubt my devotion to justice? I'm wounded!"
Tamako panicked and clasped her hands in apology. "I didn't an it! It's just—you said 'you t a good teacher,' not 'we t one.' That made think you were lying. Sorry!"
"Honestly! Such heartfelt words, and you call them lies?" Fushimi crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Suspicion like that undermines team unity."
"I'm sorry! I'll reflect on it!"
Tamako bowed repeatedly, guilt surging. After all, he had hiked into the mountains to fetch her and helped investigate the naless skeleton—such selflessness! And she had doubted him. Unforgivable.
"A board pierced by a nail still bears the hole. If apologies fixed everything, we wouldn't need police. True disappointnt isn't loud; real heartbreak isn't tears. Sotis it's the quiet knowledge that soone you care about doesn't trust you anymore..."
Fushimi's combo left Tamako dizzy and guiltier by the second.
When she was on the verge of tears, he relented. Rising, he told her to stay and contemplate the wall. He needed the restroom, and he expected visible remorse by the ti he returned.
"...All right." Kneeling, Tamako faced the wall, eyes brimming.
Fushimi clattered downstairs in his geta. At the front desk he picked up a packet of bath salts, entered the washroom, and locked the door behind him.
"Now, where to begin?"
He snapped on latex cleaning gloves, laid the pistol and bullet on the sink, and smiled like a boy about to pull a prank.
"Clearing sin" didn't always require a literal erasure; he had always wanted to test other thods. At last the chance had arrived.
With a scraper Fushimi removed verdigris from the bullet and gun barrel. Using a pipe wrench he reshaped the bullet's profile and etched tiny characters into the tal. Police-issue pistols carry a serial: the first four digits match the local postal code, the rest identify the officer. He leaned in and altered several digits.
Next he poured sulfur-rich bath salts into a plunger, dropped the bullet inside, and added an acidic cleanser. The mixture produced hydrogen sulfide—deadly to inhale—so he held his breath, sealed the plunger over the sink, and let the copper oxidize rapidly.
Yes—he was fabricating evidence to save Shirata Masahiro.
System notification: "Clearing Reward: Clear Shirata Masahiro's sin to receive 2 Attribute Points."
Fushimi watched the second hand sweep. "In court, victory is justice."
Hell—if the protagonist can turn guilty evidence innocent, couldn't he also make the innocent look guilty?
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