"July 12th, Clear"
There was a small accident today, and I feel quite conflicted.
When I went to the cinema for a date in the afternoon, my date suddenly tried to kiss me, and it was really disgusting.
"July 13th, Overcast"
Shopping in the streets, and occasionally walking out isn't too bad.
"July 14th, Clear"
The high heels rubbed my ankle until it broke the skin, and I need to apply ointment again. It feels like feet are much more delicate than hands; if not well taken care of, calluses will grow.
"July 15th, Rainy"
It's raining, so I can't go out—a boring day.
…
In an empty classroom, the two sat each in their own seats.
Minamoto Tamako widened her eyes, reading the page of the diary from top to bottom, unable to see any records related to crime.
Fushimi Roku pushed open the window, allowing the late spring breeze to rush in, ruffling through the pages on the desk.
At this moment, he really wanted a cigarette; it was an old habit from his previous life.
Last night he returned to the playground and saw Kawai tied to the flagpole. The latter was drenched all over, like a pitiful wet dog.
He walked over and exchanged a few words with Kawai.
The latter warned Fushimi Roku, saying Instructor Sakurai was nearby, watching, trying to use her as bait to lure out her accomplices.
Fushimi Roku expressed indifference, as he was already being watched; the more lice, the less it's itchy, and the more debts, the less it's troubling.
Instructor Sakurai probably wouldn't expel him; even without thinking, it was clear that Instructor Sakurai would hold this over him to threaten and tame him harshly.
Under the cover of night, Kawai gestured for Fushimi Roku to take the diary page hidden in her underwear.
Although it was soaked by water, after drying, the handwriting remained clearly legible.
It turned out that Fushimi Roku guessed right; the next day, the academic affairs office indeed did not call him for a talk. Instructor Sakurai suppressed the matter and only expelled Nagono Kawai.
At present, after Minamoto Tamako finished reading the diary, she asked blankly, "What... what can be seen from this?"
Fushimi Roku, contemplating whether to inhale the mist for wisdom, turned his head at her question:
"Nothing can be seen, even if you reluctantly deduced that a crime happened that day, it couldn't be presented as evidence to a judge."
"How can it be... Then, wouldn't Kawai have sacrificed for nothing..."
Minamoto Tamako lowered her head dejectedly, about to cry.
Fushimi Roku suddenly asked, "Why do you think Kawai specifically tore out this page of the diary?"
"Could it be... does this page of the diary have some hidden value that we haven't discovered?" Minamoto Tamako immediately lowered her head, eyes wide, scrutinizing each word for fear of missing any clue.
"Didn't I just say? Even if you deduced a crime from this, it can't be submitted as evidence, the case is essentially a dead end."
Fushimi Roku paused, then changed the topic: "However, this page does indeed have other hidden clues."
He had a vague guess in his mind, but it needed to be verified.
"What? How come I can't see it?" Minamoto Tamako nearly pressed the diary to her face, trying to spot a flaw.
She studied it for a long time, examining in all directions, yet couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Minamoto Tamako was about to ask when she turned her head and realized Fushimi Roku was gone.
Panicked, she ran out of the classroom, just in time to see Fushimi Roku's back as he prepared to go downstairs, with no hint of where he was headed.
"Hey! Why did you leave without saying anything!"
Minamoto Tamako carefully put away the diary and chased after him.
Fushimi Roku, without turning back, said, "I'm going to investigate some things..."
"I want to go too!" Minamoto Tamako interrupted.
"Even if you come, you won't understand... whatever, if you want to follow, then follow."
Seeing Minamoto Tamako puffing her cheeks, looking like she was really going to get angry, Fushimi Roku had to give in a bit.
"Alright then!"
Minamoto Tamako clenched her fists to cheer herself up.
Keep it up, Tamako! Carrying the hopes of your friend, the wrongful souls of the victims, and the mission of justice, you must not give up like this! You must try even harder!
She picked herself back up, restored her usual vigor, pestering Fushimi Roku nonstop about the mystery of that diary page.
"I'm not intentionally withholding information; it's really inconvenient to say," Fushimi Roku, turning into a riddler, said: "This clue, only you can find it yourself, I can't help you."
Minamoto Tamako, persistent: "Come on! Why is it inconvenient to say? Aren't we partners? Tell me..."
Fushimi Roku ignored her, walked downstairs quickly, and passed through the side garden.
The sky was overcast, and the school looked dim. The air was humid, with the muggy warmth of incoming summer rains transitioning from spring.
They entered the teaching building, and Fushimi Roku found Ishizuka Yoshio, who, as always, was overlooked by everyone, eating his own packed lunch alone in the office.
"Sorry to interrupt," Fushimi Roku casually pulled over a chair and sat down in front of Ishizuka Yoshio: "Could I take five minutes of your time?"
"Uh, could you maybe wait until I finish eating..."
Before Ishizuka Yoshio could finish his sentence, Fushimi Roku asked: "May I ask how your daughter died?"
"Uh, didn't I say? Hit and run..."
"Did you see it with your own eyes?" Fushimi Roku asked.
Ishizuka Yoshio was stunned for a moment, hesitated for a second: "I saw it."
"Are you sure it was Instructor Sakurai who drove and hit her?" Fushimi Roku asked again.
"I'm sure." Ishizuka Yoshio replied.
"Can you describe the situation at that time?" Fushimi Roku stared into his eyes, interlocking his fingers, thumbs spinning in circles.
Minamoto Tamako felt this request was a bit cruel. Asking a father to recall and describe the scene of his daughter's death inevitably would cause him secondary trauma.
But to find out the truth and to redress the injustice suffered by the victim, these sacrifices were worth it!
She tightened her small face, focused fully, took out a notepad and ballpoint pen from her pocket, ready to record all of Ishizuka Yoshio's testimony.
"At that time, I was walking with my daughter by the street, preparing to cross the road. I am sure the traffic light was green."
"Because I was holding groceries, I wasn't holding my daughter's hand. I was in a hurry to go home and didn't notice she'd fallen a few steps behind."
"Then, a red car rushed over, knocking my daughter to the ground. Blood splattered across the crosswalk, and my mind went blank."
"Before I could react, the car began to reverse, running over her repeatedly until she stopped breathing, then sped away."
"I was too tense, too agitated, my mind couldn't think, and I was staring at my daughter's body, unable to remember the license plate... when the police asked later, I was helpless."
"I only saw the face of the driver; she rolled down the window and glanced at my daughter's body... but with just a memory of the face, the police couldn't identify the suspect."
"You know what happened after that."
Ishizuka Yoshio spoke calmly, recounting the past while absentmindedly stirring the natto in his lunch box and pouring it over his rice.
Minamoto Tamako wrote furiously, anger filling her chest, thinking to herself that this was not a hit-and-run; it was obviously murder!
To evade legal responsibility for the hit, repeatedly crushing the victim—such a heinous act is unforgivable!
"One last question," Fushimi Roku's spinning thumbs came to a halt: "How did you handle your daughter's body?"
Ishizuka Yoshio's hand paused, clutching his chopsticks; he turned his head and adjusted his glasses, as if re-evaluating this young student.
"Sent it to a temple and buried her," he said.