"Mr Sato? Oh my God!" Kaho squeaked.
She glanced over her shoulder where his shadow loomed beneath the door. She was trapped. She felt sick. Nausea bubbled up in her stomach. She ran to the toilet and retched…
Kaho sat on the floor of the bathroom, her head in her hands. If she'd read her letter earlier, she could have found a way to put the police on Mr Sato's trail. She felt bile rise in her throat and took a long, slow breath.
She knew there were a few people in her class who had read ahead. Maki for example seemed to have a keen knowledge of Tsumugi's world, despite no longer tearing her down for everything. After that first letter, she was certain Maki was ahead with her letters. Maybe she should have read ahead too. Maybe that Mr Tanaka would still be alive in his sopping wet clothes, annoying his wife with his lack of punctuality.
A man had died, and more people could still die because she hadn't read ahead in her letters. What if Kenta was already planning on killing her? What if he already had a place to dump her in mind, and a means to frame her brother?
Just the thought made her vomit again.
Kenta had waited, leaning against the doorframe, on his phone. When Kaho opened the door, she felt the nausea take her again.
"You okay, Kaho?" he asked, in an almost perfect imitation of her own voice and cadence.
She swallowed the bile that rose to her mouth. Tears pricked at her waterline. She felt heavy and lethargic, and her legs felt like lead. She still felt dizzy, and her mouth tasted of vomit, even after swilling her mouth out with almost all of the mouthwash in the room. She felt empty, sore, and her stomach felt like it was burning. The letter felt heavy in her pocket, concealed between her phone and her phone case. She'd been quick, and avoided pulling her phone out, just in case he suspected she knew. It also helped her conveniently avoid the barrage of texts she was still receiving. She had bigger things to worry about.
The walk back to the gym was like a funeral procession. She'd been gone for too long. Taiga would worry. He always worried. If Kenta had chosen Kaho instead, would the police suspect Taiga? Or would they have considered Ryota a more likely suspect? She felt the nausea take hold and had to stop. She clutched her angry, burning, churning stomach and took a few laboured breaths.
As Kaho and Kenta approached the gym, rounding a corner and slipping through a thin spattering of trees, an obnoxious honking sound dispersed the gathering mob of journalists. The consistent beeping sound made Kaho think of a car, but the whole place had been closed off to the public all day. Only the cops had entered past the barricade.
She whirled her head around, looking for any on-duty officers to de-escalate what looked to be a car seeking to break the police barricade. Except, the two officers who'd been blocking the press' path all day shared a look, muttered into their radios and opened their makeshift blockade.
The car parted the press like the seas. It was a sleek, new-model Mercedes Benz, being driven by a white man in a pressed suit. The back windows were tinted, blocking whoever was inside from being seen. Kaho peered between the branches of the nearest trees as the police reformed the barricade behind the car and the driver climbed out of the front to retrieve his charge from the back.
The police officer who had addressed the students that morning, Officer Takahashi, left the main foyer of the reserve and bowed quickly.
"Welcome to the reserve, Detective," said Officer Takahashi.
"Detective Asakura Ryoichi at your service, Officer. Please, lead the way. I look forward to being briefed about the circumstances of this case."
Kaho, not wanting to be caught breaking the pre-ordained rules from the police, dashed to the gym, breaking into a sprint for those last hundred meters and skidding inside to see Jean-Luc Barbier on the court, bouncing the ball with such dramatic, flimsy looking arm movements, he looked like he was doing an interpretive dance. Had this been charades, Kaho would have guessed he was trying to be a crane. And yet, despite his strange choice of form, he maintained control of the ball as he bounced it past the Kuroyama player blocking him. Unfortunately, Captain Isamu of Kuroyama intercepted the pass and attempted a ballsy three, which missed, just as Coach Itomi blew the whistle.
Jean-Luc swore.
"Sorry, dude," his teammate said, clapping him on the shoulder. Jean-Luc scowled.
Kaho glanced at the score, Kuroyama had won by just two baskets.
Taiga blew his whistle, drawing the attention of all the Hanagawa players on the court. He beckoned them closer and narrowed his eyes. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Kaho's did a moment later. She frowned and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Eight new messages – most from Kikiyo and Ichigo. But, the most recent was from her mother. It was a hyperlink to a news story, declaring a man had died at that very resort. The murder the press had been hounding them about all morning.
The story had broken, whether the police wanted it to or not.
'Tell me you're all safe, please Kaho'
Kaho's eyes flickered to her phone screen. She typed a hasty reply to her mum, and to Kikiyo and Ichigo, who'd been texting her since the story broke, while she'd been just meters away from the guy who'd done it. She felt sick.
When she looked up again Hanagawa were on the court – debuting their new starting lineup: Captain Hirano Azumi, Vice-Captain Sunada Iwao, Nitta Michio and Omura Nobuyuki, their dependable centre, on thin ice but ready to play, and their ace – Iwai Ryota, right where he ought to be.
Kaho smiled. She turned to the second-years and wriggled herself in between Naseru and Eiji. There were three third-years on the benches, Konoishi Satoru, Matsushita Hisashi and Tomohiro Kousuke. All were warmed up and ready to jump in if needed. As the team made room for her on the bench, Kaho noticed Captain Isamu from Kuroyama beckoning Coach Itomi over. They whispered to each other and nodded.
When everyone was in position, Omura and Captain Isamu prepared for the tip-off.
Omura swatted the ball behind him into the waiting arms of Nitta Michio. He passed immediately to Sunada.
Kaho felt her knees buckle as Sunada took control on the court. He was so commanding, and demanded the eyes of everyone as he charged down centre court. Kaho remembered the third year talking to Eiji and Yuta about their communication and practicing this move again and again, even after practice was over.
Omura and Hirano were behind Sunada in a succinct arrowhead formation, while Nitta and Ryota weaved their way past the Kuroyama defence. Their defensive line were quick to act, latching onto the nearest players. Captain Isamu, being the biggest, by far, was shuffling inch by inch toward Sunada. Kaho watched Sunada move his fingers on the ball. A sign. Hirano would receive the ball. Ryota feinted left, and the ball slipped from Sunada's grip.
He swore just as Ryota skidded to a halt and dove for the ball. He skidded on the waxy floor and hurled the ball with an upward trajectory, passing to Captain Hirano, who leapt into the air and caught the ball against his ribs. The force of the pass knocked the wind out of him for a second. Hirano let out a quick three grounding breaths and pivoted on his left foot. He shot a comfortable three pointer, which landed in the basket with a swish of the net.
"Yes!" exclaimed the second year. students
"That's it Azumi!" Matsushita hollered, hands around his mouth, acting as a megaphone.
"Good shot," one of the Kuroyama guys said as he turned to block Captain Hirano.
"Thanks," he said.
When Kuroyama had control over the ball, Captain Isamu barked orders at the rest of his team, demanding they show Hanagawa how good they are. He passed the ball to one of his teammates, who had sunkissed skin and unkempt tufty dark brown hair. He squared his shoulders, bouncing the ball between his feet as he adjusted his stance, like he was going to throw a shot put or a javelin from a stationary position, caught the ball he'd dribbled and passed from his chest, moving the basketball with immense force. It hurtled across the court, from under the Kuroyama net to the inside, where one of his teammates was waiting. He threw the ball in a textbook jump shot and blew a kiss across the court. The guy who'd passed to him flipped him off. Both laughed.
Fumiko beckoned Kaho over.
"See those two, that's Saito Kenji, the one who said their Captain weighed more than a cow."
Kaho frowned and squinted. On the court, this guy was a completely different beast. His massive, leggy frame was domineering, but he was thinner than a lot of his teammates. He was quick, too, and had great form when he shot.
"And the guy who threw to him?"
"Morinaka Hiro, their Vice," Fumiko said, "Used to do track and field til he fucked his shoulder in first year."
Kaho pursed her lips, "That's why he throws like that? Surely that's a huge tell that he's going wide."
Fumiko nodded, "Would you want to get between that ball and its target?"
Kaho shook her head.
The game continued with a steady rhythm. Both Hanagawa and Kuroyama were trying out new skills, but Kaho couldn't help but notice how frequently Captain Isamu glanced over to the bench, where Naseru sat, an impassive expression on his face.
Kuroyama took the lead quickly, domineering Hanagawa with mighty passes.
"Surely those passes aren't legal," Yamada said.
"I think they are, Coach Tomogawa is reff-ing and hasn't said anything," Yuta said.
"Technically," Naseru said quietly, "They are legal chest passes. He has a huge tell by moving like that, but he's forceful, nobody would want to get between a hippo and water. It's the same thing here."
"Holy shit Matsuoka," Eiji exclaimed, "That was real insightful."
Naseru slowly turned his head and stared at Eiji. Eiji squirmed under his gaze, running a hand through his box-blonde hair.
"Sarcasm, really?"
Eiji lifted his hands in mock-surrender, "No, for reals! Thanks."
Naseru turned away, looking back at the court. The tension in Eiji's spine slowly lifted as he turned his gaze back to the court. Except, Kuroyama had called for a time-out. These games were only supposed to be half the length of a real one, to make the most of the time to train together, and yet, there Coach Itomi was, making a 'T' with his hands.
Coach Tomogawa furrowed his brows and blew the whistle, "Time out, Kuroyama. You've got two minutes, Adam."
"The Hell?" Nitta said, "Since when could we call time?"
"Hey, Nobu," Sunada said, turning to Omura, "How are you? Do you want to tap out?"
"Do you want to shit in your hands and clap?" Omura spat, "I'm fine."
Taiga scowled, "Chill Nobuyuki. We don't want you hurting your knee more than you already have."
"Any observations?" Captain Hirano asked, turning to Fumiko, "See anything we can utilise here?"
She pursed her lips, "I let the cat out of the bag yesterday. Someone from Kuroyama has had their eyes on Ryota all game. He's been reigning in the trickery. I say we give them something to look at."
Taiga glanced from Ryota to the huddle of Kuroyama students. Their captain, Isamu, had left their side of the court, and was already halfway to where the Hangawa huddle was taking place.
"Do you take us for clowns? Court jesters?" Captain Isamu demanded.
"Who do you think you're talking to Takahashi?" Taiga said, crossing his arms.
Isamu ignored him and squared in on Naseru. Kaho swallowed a lump in her throat.
"You. I just heard Goldilocks call you Matsuoka. I knew that name rang a bell yesterday – I said so yesterday and you two denied it!" Isamu declared, pointing at Naseru and Kaho in turn. They shared a glance.
"You're Kathen Matsuoka's prodigal son. Why the fuck are you benched? Get on the court and play me, coward!"