Renji left school last. The courtyard was almost empty only a few stragglers hurrying toward the gates, someone laughing loudly, someone talking on the phone. He walked slowly, not looking back. His school bag hung heavily on one shoulder, the strap cutting into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. Every step echoed in his chest not pain, just a dull weight, as if something inside had shifted and was now rattling loose.
The house stood not in a forest of high-rises, but in a quiet residential neighborhood low two- or three-story buildings surrounded by old trees. Narrow paths ran between them, overgrown with grass and small bushes. In summer it smelled of leaves and damp earth, even in Tokyo. Now autumn was creeping in the leaves were turning yellow, wind rustling them underfoot. Renji followed the familiar path past the bench where he once sat with Aya after classes. The bench was empty now, covered in fallen leaves.
He climbed to the second floor the wooden stairs creaked on every step. The key turned in the lock easily, familiarly. The door opened with a soft sigh.
In the entryway he took off his bag and hung it on the hook by the door. He peeled off his jacket slowly, folded it onto the shelf. Changed into an old gray T-shirt and worn sweatpants the fabric soft, familiar, smelling of laundry detergent and home. He stood for a second, looking at his sneakers by the threshold dirty from the school yard. Didn't clean them. Just walked on.
The living room was small, cozy in its own way: an old sofa by the window, a low table with a vase of dried flowers, a TV on a stand that was rarely turned on. Mom sat on the sofa knees pressed together, one palm pressed tightly to her face. Her shoulders trembled faintly. Not loud sobs quiet, suppressed hiccups, as if she were trying to hide them even from herself.
Renji stopped in the doorway.
"Mom…"
She didn't answer right away. Only pressed her palm harder against her cheek, fingers going white.
"They… they came," she finally whispered, voice cracked like old glass. "Said they found evidence. Old evidence. Very old. I don't know how… how this is happening now…"
Renji felt the air thicken. He knew. Not everything, but enough. He had known since he started noticing how Dad sometimes stayed silent too long, how Mom flushed at random neighbor questions. But hearing it out loud was different. As if the words had made it real.
Outside the window came a sound first distant sirens, then closer, more insistent. Mom flinched, but didn't move her hand.
The door opened without knocking. Two uniformed officers, a third in plain clothes tall, tired eyes. One of them nodded to Mom short, almost apologetic.
"Mrs. Asakawa. We need to take your husband. Please don't make this difficult."
Dad came out of the kitchen. Hands already cuffed behind his back. Face calm, almost detached. Only his eyes empty, as if he were already somewhere else. He walked past Renji without stopping. One brief glance no words, no emotion. Just a fact: here he is, here they are.
The officers led him out. The door closed quietly, without a slam. The sirens faded downstairs, then disappeared completely.
Renji walked to the window. Pulled the thin curtain aside. Watched as they put Dad in the back of the patrol car. Dad's head was slightly bowed. The car pulled away slowly, no siren now. It drove down the narrow street, disappeared around the bend where the trees began.
Renji stood at the window for a long time. Stared at the empty street. Leaves swirled in the air, fell onto the asphalt. Mom was still sitting on the sofa, palm over her face. Her shoulders trembled more quietly now, but didn't stop.
He didn't go to her. Didn't know what to say. Just stood and watched as the day slowly darkened outside.
Meanwhile, in the small Shibuya apartment, Genzō lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. The silence no longer felt so oppressive he was getting used to it. His phone rested on his chest, screen glowing. He opened the browser and scrolled through school listings Mom had said last night: "Choose whichever you want. Just make sure it's not too far I don't want you spending an hour commuting every day."
He scrolled lazily. Most schools looked the same: standard photos of buildings, lists of clubs, parent reviews like "good teachers," "lots of homework," "convenient location." Nothing special.
Then he came across one.
"School 235."
Simple name, no frills. Photo a plain three-story gray building, sports field with a running track, a few students in uniform by the gate. In the background streets he recognized from yesterday. The intersection, the convenience store on the corner, trees along the sidewalk. Close. Very close fifteen minutes on foot, no more.
Genzō zoomed in on the photo. Looked at the building more carefully. Ordinary school. Nothing scary, nothing remarkable. Just a place where you could study and blend in.
He rolled onto his stomach, opened the chat with Mom.
"Mom, found a school. 235. Looks okay. Really close, I can walk."
The reply came quickly, Mom must have been online.
"Good job, sweetie. We'll go submit the documents tomorrow morning. I'll take the morning off. You did well looking it up yourself. Don't worry, everything will be fine."
Genzō set the phone down beside the pillow. Looked back at the ceiling. The crack in the corner seemed a little longer than yesterday or maybe it was just the light. He closed his eyes. Thoughts drifted slowly.
Tomorrow - new school.
New faces.
New voices.
Maybe it would be easier there.
Maybe not.