[Date: July 15
Time: 3:00 pm
Location: Kavei's house]

Kavei's anger simmered just beneath the surface as he moved around the kitchen, the irritation from his earlier run-in with Sebiki refusing to fade. He tried to focus on the fruit in front of him, the steady rhythm of chopping meant to calm his thoughts, but the conversation kept looping in his head, each replay more aggravating than the last.

Across the room, Shiraka sat slouched on the tatami, lazily watching him work. She didn't say anything, but the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth showed she'd picked up on Kavei's mood. The dull thud of the knife hitting the cutting board was sharper than it needed to be, and the bowl was filling faster than usual.

"What on earth is wrong with them?" Kavei muttered, not really speaking to Shiraka but loud enough for her to hear. His movements were clipped and deliberate as he tossed another handful of chopped fruit into the bowl. "I thought they'd dropped it when it didn't come up again. Guess they were just holding out until they could rope Souta-san in—and clearly, that wasn't going well for them so they took their time."

Shiraka raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, letting the quiet stretch.

A knock at the door broke through the tension, and Kavei let out a sharp breath through his nose. He tossed the apron onto the counter and strode over, his footsteps heavy on the floor. When he pulled the door open, Itsuhara Yukina was standing there, and for the first time in minutes, his expression shifted—though only slightly.

"Miss Itsuhara. What's up?" Kavei's voice softened the moment he saw her at the door, his earlier irritation easing a fraction.

"I guess I'm not getting any closer to you," she said with a mock pout as she stepped inside, slipping off her shoes.

Kavei gave a faint smirk. "Come on in."

From her spot on the mat, Shiraka watched the exchange without comment, one leg lazily propped over the other. She'd been watching Kavei all afternoon—how quick his knife had been hitting the cutting board, the way his shoulders were set—and he could tell the visit had caught Kavei off guard.

As Yukina sat down opposite Shiraka, she gave the girl a swift head nod. Shiraka countered it with a full bow of her own head. "I am Kondou Shiraka. Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Oh no you may drop the formalities. I am Itsuhara Yukina by the way. A friend of Kavei is a friend of mine, so don't worry," Yukina said as she smiled at Shiraka.

In the kitchen, Kavei moved with practiced ease, setting a couple of steaming cup of coffee in front of Yukina and Shiraka a moment later.

Yukina's eyes lit up after the first sip. "Still perfect. I swear, no café can top this."

Kavei allowed himself a small smile as he settled beside Shiraka, opposite Yukina. "Glad to hear it." The quiet moment was a welcome change from the earlier tension, but it didn't last long.

"So," Yukina began, leaning forward, "I'm here to give you a task."

Kavei's brow lifted. "Already?"

"It's been three months since you joined," she reminded him.

He gave a resigned shrug. "Alright, what is it?"

She slid a folder across the table. The papers inside smelled faintly of printer ink, still fresh. Kavei thumbed through them, scanning the details.

"A kidnapping case?" His tone sharpened with interest.

"Mm-hm. You in?"

"What about the police?"

"They took it, but no progress. The couple doesn't trust them anymore, something about not trusting authorities, so they came to us," Yukina explained.

Kavei glanced up. "Aren't we... technically authorities too?"

"We're private detectives. Feels different to them, I guess," she said with a shrug. "Anyway, they showed up this morning, so here we are."

He tapped the folder. "Mind if I keep this?"

"Of course. Where would you start?"

"Where she was taken from."

"That's the problem," Yukina said, leaning back. "We don't know. She's been missing for three days. Her parents thought she was at a friend's place, but when she didn't come home, they panicked."

Kavei's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then we talk to the people who know her."

"Exactly. But..." She hesitated. "You'll have to go alone on this one."

Kavei blinked. "Sorry, what?"

Shiraka raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the flicker of annoyance returning to Kavei's face.

"I've got other things to handle," Yukina said quickly. "Henkai can go with you."

Kavei folded his arms. "And my protection?"

"Henkai will cover you. Please, Kavei," she said, her tone softening. "It's important."

Shiraka didn't speak, but the faint curl of her mouth suggested she found the whole thing slightly amusing—though she wisely kept that thought to herself.

The hum of the engine was the only sound between Kavei and Henkai as the white sedan cut through the afternoon streets. Warm air drifted in through the open window, carrying with it the faint scent of new bloom summer flowers. Kavei leaned his elbow against the door, eyes on the passing scenery but mind elsewhere.

"I didn't even say anything," he muttered under his breath, watching a row of shopfronts blur by. "And yet here I am, riding shotgun with Henkai to the victim's house."

The car slowed to a crawl before gliding to a stop. With a soft mechanical hiss, the doors swung open. Kavei stepped out first, Henkai following close behind, the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes breaking the quiet.

The mansion loomed ahead—an elegant but somber structure, its tall windows catching the dim light like watchful eyes. When Kavei pressed the doorbell, the chime echoed through the halls inside.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal a woman in her mid-forties. She wore a simple black gown, the color deepened by the white apron tied neatly at her waist. Her hair was pulled back, but not tightly enough to hide the weariness in her face.

"Good afternoon," Henkai said smoothly, introducing them both as he pulled out their cards. "I am sub-detective Sakuranda Henkai and this is Junior Detective Niram Kavei. We are here to gather information regarding Miyasi."

The woman bowed slightly before stepping aside to let them in. The faint scent of brewed tea hung in the air as she led them into a sitting room, its furnishings neat but unpretentious. She gestured for them to take the couch while she settled into the chair across from them. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her mouth held the ghost of a polite smile.

"What do you want to know about Miyasi?" she asked. Her voice, though soft, carried a certain firmness—like someone determined to hold herself together.

Kavei met her gaze. "Everything you can tell us."

The woman nodded, inhaling slowly before she began. "Miyasi was a shy girl. Always kept to herself. She only had one close friend, someone she trusted completely. Sometimes she'd stay over at that friend's place for a night or two."

Kavei's mind was already ticking through possibilities, filing the detail away. "Before she went missing, did you notice anything unusual? Changes in her behavior?"

"No," the woman said, shaking her head. "She was her usual quiet self."

"And you spoke to her that morning?"

"Yes," she said. "As always."

"What exactly happened that day?"

Her eyes flickered down as she recalled it. "She came downstairs in her school uniform, had a little breakfast—she never ate much in the morning—and then she left for school with her bag. My husband and I went to work soon after."

Kavei glanced at Henkai briefly, then back to her. "Where is your husband now?"

"At his office. He asked for leave because of the... situation, but they didn't allow it."

Kavei made a mental note. "When you came home, was there any sign she'd returned? A note, anything out of place?"

"Nothing," she said, her voice tightening.

"What about her room? Anything missing?"

"No," the woman said, and this time her composure faltered. Her hands twisted in her lap, and her eyes glistened. "It was just as she left it."

Kavei's tone softened. "Which school did she attend?"

She gave the name, her voice low, and for a moment the room fell silent except for the quiet ticking of a wall clock.

Kavei leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly—not in suspicion, but in thought. Somewhere in her answers, he felt the edges of a thread. Now he just had to find it.

"Miyasi?" The woman in the blue knee-length frock slowed when she heard the name, shifting the stack of folders in her arms. "Yes... I'm her homeroom teacher."

She didn't look like someone with answers. Her eyes flicked between Kavei and Henkai, worry written there, but no recognition of where to even start.

"I heard about what happened. I hope she's alright," she said. It came out soft, sincere, but in that way people speak when they can't offer more than good wishes. From the sound of it, she hadn't been in Miyasi's class recently—maybe the details she had were just bits she'd picked up in passing.

She dipped her head in a quick bow and stepped aside. Her long black hair swayed with each step as she walked down the hall, the faint tap of her shoes fading into the background noise of the school.

Kavei glanced at Henkai. One look was enough: nothing useful here.

"Let's keep going," he muttered, already turning away.

"Hmm... During my class, she was just... you know, sitting there. Quiet. Taking notes." The language teacher shifted her weight slightly, the ends of her orange bobbed hair brushing against her cheek. The brown coat she wore looked a little too warm for the day, but it suited her—made her seem even more composed.

Kavei didn't interrupt. He just let her keep talking, hoping something—anything—would slip out.

"She didn't speak much," the teacher went on, glancing toward the staffroom door as if the memory wasn't worth holding onto. "The bell rang, and I left. That's all I saw." She gave a small, polite smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

There was a pause. Then, with a slight bow, she turned and disappeared into the staffroom. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the hallway oddly still.

Kavei let out a slow breath. "Well... that was nothing," Henkai muttered beside him.

"Maybe," Kavei said, eyes fixed on the closed door. "Or maybe it's something we're not seeing yet."

They didn't linger. The answers weren't here.

"Yeah... I'm Miyasi's math teacher," the man said, adjusting the zipper on his white gym suit like he wasn't sure where to start. His brow pulled together while he thought. "That day... uh... I think she was just, you know, taking notes. Quiet, as usual."

He looked between Kavei and Henkai, maybe hoping one of them would say something that jogged his memory, but neither did.

Kavei kept his gaze steady, letting the silence sit for a second before nodding. "Thanks. If you remember anything else, please contact us."

The man nodded back, still frowning a little, and headed into the staffroom. The door swung shut behind him with a soft thump.

Kavei glanced over at Henkai. No words — just that look people share when they both know they didn't get what they came for.

"I teach her science," the woman said, her voice calm but kind. She looked to be in her early thirties, with a gentle way about her that didn't quite match the weight of the conversation. The corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile, as if trying to offer some comfort. Standing next to a potted plant, her green dress almost blended into the leaves behind her.

"She didn't say a word the whole time. But... that's normal for her," she added, her eyes softening as she thought back. There was a faint warmth in her tone — not dismissive, but the sort of fondness a teacher sometimes has for the quiet ones.

Kavei gave a slow nod, taking in her words. Quiet. Always quiet. It was the same picture everyone had painted of Miyasi so far, and it didn't bring them any closer to answers.

The teacher bowed politely before stepping away, leaving the faint sound of her heels against the floor. Kavei and Henkai caught each other's eyes for a moment — no need for words. The look said it all: they still had nothing.

“Oh… Miyasi, huh?” The gym teacher let out a low grumble, as if just hearing her name was enough to put a crease in his mood. He leaned back against the doorway, arms crossed, the red tracksuit making him look even more impatient.

“She never showed up for gym. Not once. Always had a medical note ready — like she kept a stack of them somewhere just in case. Slipped right out of my class every time.” He shook his head, half annoyed, half… maybe even a little impressed.

For a moment, his frown eased, but only slightly. “Still… nothing strange that day. Same as always.” His voice flattened at the end, the fight going out of him.

Kavei didn’t interrupt, just listened. Even small scraps could be useful, though this one felt more like a dead end. Still, it added something to the picture — Miyasi skipping gym wasn’t a one-off, it was a habit. Which begged the question: what was she doing with all that time she freed up?

The teacher gave a curt nod and stepped back into the staffroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

The school nurse glanced up from her desk when Kavei and Henkai stepped inside. A faint draft followed them in, stirring the edge of the papers she’d been sorting. She was a small, neat woman with a short bob of brown hair and round glasses that kept sliding down her nose.

“Oh—Miyasi-chan?” she repeated, her brows lifting slightly. She sat back in her chair, hands folding over the front of her white coat. “Yes… she comes here a lot. Usually during gym.” Her voice was warm but carried a trace of worry. “She just lies down, sometimes falls asleep. Doesn’t talk much.”

The nurse’s gaze drifted for a moment toward the empty bed in the corner, as if picturing Miyasi there. Sunlight spilled through the blinds, cutting pale stripes across the pillow. “She’s quiet. Never makes a fuss,” she added. “But I’ve always wondered if she’s all right.”

Kavei shifted his weight, the faint squeak of his shoe against the floor breaking the momentary silence. He and Henkai didn’t press her for more; there was already enough in what she’d said. The infirmary smelled faintly of disinfectant, but there was a softness to the room — a folded blanket on the bed, a vase with fresh flowers by the window.

When they turned to go, the nurse gave them a small smile, one that said she’d help if she could. Kavei caught it, filed it away in the growing puzzle of Miyasi’s disappearance, and followed Henkai back into the hallway.

The hallway was alive with noise — the thud of lockers closing, the shuffle of shoes, fragments of conversations overlapping into a constant murmur. Kavei and Henkai moved through it in step, their shoes clicking lightly against the tile.

A cluster of students came toward them, laughing about something only they understood. But the laughter thinned when they noticed the two. Their voices dropped, eyes following them in that half-curious, half-cautious way high schoolers had.

Kavei’s gaze drifted over the group until it landed on a girl he thought might be willing to talk. She had her books hugged to her chest and a look that suggested she wasn’t about to bolt the second he spoke.

“Hey,” he said, slowing his pace just enough. “Do you know Miyasi?”

The girl blinked, caught a little off guard. Her friends shifted behind her, waiting. “Miyasi?” she repeated, as if turning the name over in her head. “I… don’t really know her. I’m not in her class.” She glanced sideways at her companions, almost as if checking whether she’d said too much.

The moment stretched, filled by the faint hum of a vending machine down the hall. Kavei nodded once in thanks, reading the hesitation in her eyes as clearly as her words, then stepped back to fall in beside Henkai. They kept walking, most girls following them with irritable gazes.