Officer Yoshiko Yuka didn't wear a uniform that morning, but there was no mistaking her profession.
The way she carried herself, clean-cut sweater tucked into black slacks, her badge not visible but somehow still felt. Gave her the unmistakable weight of law. She was in her early thirties, maybe late twenties, with hair done simply and a light scent of cigarette smoke clinging to her fingertips.
Mirai thought: She looks like someone's older sister you don't want to disappoint. Assertive, yes. But not unkind.
As soon as Yuka saw Riku, she walked over briskly, handed him a plain paper bag, and gave a quick nod.
"Riku-kun. Found another scene, did you?"
The word 'again' slid off her tongue with tired familiarity as her gaze swept across the lakeside.
In the last half-month alone, Fukuda Riku had stumbled upon or walked straight into five different crime scenes, each one more grotesque than the last. Beheadings. Blood on the wrong side of town. Corpses rotting in places no one should've found.
A normal person would've called the police once and stayed the hell out the way.
But this one? This one had her number saved under 'sister' and called like clockwork.
Yuka sighed.
"If this keeps up, we'll have to start assigning you your own squad."
Riku accepted the bag without thanks. A glance behind her shoulder. Empty lot. Not a single backup in sight.
"You came alone?" His voice had no inflection, but the expression on his face said enough.
Yuka flicked the ash off a thin lady's cigarette and smiled crookedly. "I came because it was you. Not because I had a full team. The higher-ups don't dispatch people just because a boy says he 'smells blood in the wind.'"
She took a drag, exhaled sideways.
"And I still have to write a full report for the last one. You're putting your poor Yuka-neesan through hell."
Riku didn't smile. His eyes were sharp, unreadable.
Behind him, Mirai shifted.
Yuka's gaze snapped to the girl half-hidden in his shadow.
"Oh?"
A pause.
"Riku-kun... is this your girlfriend?"
Before Riku could respond, Mirai stepped out with the posture of someone trained in lies. She bowed politely, her tone soft like she was raised in tea houses.
"Yes. I'm one of his girlfriends," she said, half-laughing. "You can call me Mirai, Onee-san."
Yuka raised an eyebrow, lips twitching in amusement.
Riku didn't say anything. He didn't even bother to look back at Mirai. Just started walking.
"This one's linked," he said flatly. "It smells like the serial killings I told you about—ten days ago. The hut, back there. You'll want to see it yourself."
Yuka didn't question him this time.
She caught the faint, bitter scent in the breeze. Blood. Faint rot. Something old and buried rising back up.
"…Tch. You weren't kidding."
She ground the cigarette into the gravel, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Alright. Lead the way, Fukuda-kun."
...
The rest went smoother than expected.
Officer Yoshiko called in backup, taped off the hut, and gave curt instructions while chewing her gum like a woman already three coffees behind schedule. Forensics rolled in ten minutes later.
Riku and Mirai were taken to the station, gave their statements, and sat under too-bright fluorescent lights until the paperwork was done.
Then, oddly enough, they ended up in the back of Yuka's car, windows cracked, engine humming low outside a local ice cream shop near Shinmachi. The kind of place with faded posters of parfaits on the windows and cheap plastic tables that stuck to your elbows.
Yuka lit another cigarette but didn't light it. She just chewed the end thoughtfully.
"Judging by the weapon and the victim's condition," she said, voice casual but tight, "I'd say this lines up with that pervert who started his spree about three months back. Can't rule out gang involvement either, but we'll wait on forensics."
She popped her gum.
"It's almost identical to the case from ten days ago. Girl's head was struck with something heavy, steel pipe, maybe, and then the arms were cleanly removed. Precise, surgical. Same style."
Her eyes drifted to Mirai.
"You have a question, Riku-kun's little friend?"
Mirai raised her hand, like she was in homeroom.
"Why can't it be a copycat?" she asked, lowering her hand gently.
That made Yuka chuckle. Low, from her throat.
"Because the existence of the killer hasn't been made public. Only we know the details. Whoever did this... it's the same person, or someone with access to our files."
She gave Mirai a faint smile.
"But with this latest one? I doubt we can keep it quiet any longer. We'll have to go public. Not that it'll do much. We're underfunded, overworked, and running in circles."
Yuka's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Especially cute girls like you, Mirai-chan, you all need to be more careful when going out. The victims have mostly been around your age."
Mirai laughed lightly, then leaned in and clung to Riku's arm without shame, squeezing it like they were on a date instead of just finished giving a murder statement.
"Good thing I have my man to protect me, then. I must look like a prime target."
Riku didn't react. He didn't even blink.
He simply asked, "Have we exhausted the current information?"
Yuka nodded, chewing slower.
"That's all for now. I'll keep you updated. You too, be careful, Riku-kun. You've now found two scenes in a row. Might be the killer's watching."
"I'll handle it."
Riku drained his glass of lemon soda in a single breath, the citrus sting doing nothing to shift his expression. Then he stood, motion smooth and final.
"Work starts tomorrow. and I've got things to take care of. I'll head out."
He turned and walked off, not bothering with a goodbye.
Yuka watched his back retreat toward the street, her gum flattening between molars as her temples pulsed again.
Every time she talked to that boy, she felt like she was trying to hold a conversation with a government official wearing a student's face.
Too calm. Too composed. No room to slip anything in.
"Is your boyfriend like that in bed too?" she muttered, not caring who heard.
"Hehe…"
Mirai's smile curled slow and sly. She tapped her finger against her chin, recalling the way Riku had moved earlier that day—deliberate, quiet, not asking for permission.
Her cheeks pinked faintly, but it wasn't from embarrassment.
The title of Fukuda Riku's girlfriend might've started as a lie, but by the end of the ice cream, it felt too fun to give up.
So the conversation about him, and what he might be like behind closed doors, continued on a little longer.
And Mirai, as usual, made sure to enjoy every second of it.