The smell of tatami mats lingered in the air, blending with the faint scent of tea that had long gone cold. The dining room in Benimaru-san's house was silent except for the creak of the old ceiling beams and the steady ticking of a wooden wall clock. We sat around a round, polished wooden table. Opposite us sat three elderly figures, their presence solid and weathered like the walls of this house.
One of them, a man seated on the left side, squinted at us — me, Zhong, and Shizu — as though we were stray cats brought in from the cold. His back was hunched slightly, and his face had the hardened look of someone who had argued through decades of village meetings.
"Are these the ones the Izanas sent to help us?" he asked, his tone sharp. "They're just kids. Is this a joke?"
I didn't respond. Neither did Zhong. Shizu tensed beside me, her hands clasped tightly under the table. We were used to doubt. It came with the job.
"Calm down, Sajo," Benimaru-san said from his seat at the head of the table. "The Izana family's numbers have dropped. We should be grateful they sent anyone at all."
The old man — Sajo-san, as Benimaru called him — crossed his arms and huffed, but he didn't argue further. His gaze lingered on us, untrusting.
The other two elders sat silently, observing. One of them, a thin man with neatly combed gray hair and eyes that never blinked, eventually spoke. "Benny," he said, "I told you before — we didn't need to involve the Izanas. We left that life behind."
"Shinji-san," Benimaru said, his voice level, "we've been waiting for the police to solve this, hoping the killings would stop. But all we've done is bury more people. Do you want that to continue?"
Shinji-san's mouth tightened. He looked down at his clasped hands. Sajo-san had no immediate response. Neither did anyone else. The silence thickened.
Shizu's eyes narrowed. She looked like she wanted to speak, but held herself back. I knew that expression. She was being patient — for now.
I leaned forward slightly. "You do realize we're not exactly... normal humans, right?" My voice was calm.
Both Sajo and Shinji looked up.
"If everyone in this town picked up weapons and tried to fight us, it wouldn't take long — maybe a few hours — for the three of us to beat them all down," I continued. "Three kids. That's all it would take."
Their jaws dropped. Zhong stifled a laugh. Shizu burst out, chuckling. And for the first time, the woman elder sitting quietly — Mrs. Yozora — laughed too. Her laughter was soft but warm, like a breeze passing through paper doors.
"What do you mean by that!?" Sajo-san shouted, slamming his palm on the table.
Shizu crossed her arms, her smile fading. "He means you need to let the professionals handle this. We already have a plan. All we need is your cooperation. Or you can keep letting people die because of pride and fear."
Zhong bowed his head. "Please. Let us help."
Mrs. Yozora looked at us for a long moment. Her features were still youthful beneath the signs of age — short black hair with streaks of gray, and a long-sleeved pale kimono. There was a tired kindness in her eyes. "Why don't we let them do what they came here for?" she said, glancing at the two men. "We've seen enough death. Let's not see more. Please, help us, Izanas." She gave us a respectful bow, showing more humility than we expected.
Shizu bowed back immediately. "Trust us. We won't fail you."
Zhong and I followed, our heads lowering in unison.
Benimaru-san smiled, quietly pleased.
"I guess I was just frustrated," Shinji-san said after a moment, scratching the back of his head. "Too many things going wrong. I agree. We can't rely on the police anymore."
"We're just going to let kids handle this?" Sajo muttered, still unsettled.
"Shut up, Sajo," Yozora snapped. Her glare silenced him.
"Sorry..." he mumbled, turning his eyes away.
"Good," Benimaru said. "Now that we're on the same page, let's plan the town gathering. Meanwhile, the Izana team will be working on the killer's scent."
Sajo raised an eyebrow. "Scent? When you aren't dogs. How do you even plan to get the so-called scent?"
"That's our concern," Shizu shot back, staring him down.
"Come on, Sajo," Shinji said, rising to his feet. He dragged Sajo along with him, ignoring the man's protests as he grumbled about being "not done yet."
Once they left, the room felt lighter.
"Don't mind Sajo," Yozora said gently. "He lost a grandchild to the killer. He's grieving, and he's scared that you might get hurt. That's all."
"We understand," Zhong said.
"So, you'll be sneaking into the hospital?" she asked.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"I wish you luck," she said as she stood up. "And I'll be expecting good news. Benny mentioned you'd be visiting my bathhouse later. I hope we get a chance to speak more, Shizu. It's been so long since I've seen your face." Her voice softened. "You've grown into a fine young woman."
She bowed and stepped out.
"I... can't remember her," Shizu said, frowning.
Benimaru chuckled. "That's because she's changed. The last time you saw her, she was just getting married. She lost loved ones in the Izana incident... but she didn't let it darken her heart. If anything, she looked happy seeing you."
"Wait... She's Big Sis Hina?" Shizu's eyes widened.
He nodded.
"No way! She was so young back then. Wow. Time really flies."
"Okay," I cut in. "We can reminisce later. We don't have much time before the body's transferred to the family."
"Alright, alright," Shizu said, stretching her arms and rolling her neck. "Let's go. Stay safe, Benny!"
We slipped out of the house and began walking toward the hospital. The streets were mostly quiet, the town subdued under the pressure of fear. Only a few pedestrians wandered about, their faces tight with worry.
"Are we going to run?" Shizu asked.
"Of course," I said, stretching my limbs.
"Zhong, ready?"
"Always." His eyes lit up, excited.
"Then let's move." Shizu gave a quick nod, and the three of us took off. We kept to the rooftops, our feet light against the tiles, moving with practiced agility. To the ordinary eye, we were shadows flickering across buildings — three strange figures racing through Kinugawa's fading afternoon like ghosts in daylight.
We had no time to waste. The killer wouldn't wait. Neither would we.