Chapter 40

"To sum up, that's pretty much the whole story."

Fushimi paused, then added, "Instructor Shirata made the entire class hike back. They're probably still on the road."

"So... we're in an inn right now?" Tamako still sounded dazed.

"Yep."

He lowered her head gently onto the pillow. His thigh had gone numb from her weight; at last he could stretch his legs under the kotatsu—an exquisite mix of pain and relief.

Last night he'd tried to put her to bed, but she'd clung to him like an octopus, burning up, skin flushed the color of boiled shrimp. With no other choice he'd become her human body pillow, warming the futon for half the night.

Tamako burrowed into the quilt and whispered, "I knew it. Fushimi-kun is actually kind inside."

The word "gentle" triggered memories of his last relationship. One winter night he'd gotten up to nurse a sick girlfriend, brewing ginger tea until dawn. She'd said nothing, merely assumed it was a boyfriend's duty.

"If you can't even provide that much emotional value, why would I keep you around?" She'd made it sound reasonable, yet it felt like reducing affection to a transaction. The phrase "emotional value" itself disgusted him—it reeked of calculation.

He shook the thought away. He'd dated exactly once, in university, decided romance was a hassle, and never bothered again—especially after handling several spousal criminal-litigation cases.

"Tch. Obviously. You paid me; as your partner I'm obliged to deliver." Fushimi yawned, sprawled on the tatami. "Heads-up: our contract expires tomorrow at 2 p.m. sharp."

Even brothers settle accounts; he hated mixing business with sentiment.

Tamako had been about to thank him sincerely, but the words froze on her tongue.

So... he only partnered with me for money? And here I was, all touched, wondering how to repay him...

Come to think of it, he never said he wanted to be friends either. Maybe I've just been deluding myself...

Her nose stung. Pulling the quilt over her head, she curled up like a caterpillar.

Fushimi noticed the quilt quivering. Was she crying under there? He tugged the edge, but she'd twisted it tight; it wouldn't budge.

"What's wrong? Feeling worse?" he asked.

"N-no... I'm better," came her muffled sniffle. "Th-thank you for coming to get me... I'll pay... next month's fee... for gratitude... how much ever you want..."

Friendship fee? He almost laughed. Also felt like extorting an elementary-schooler.

He patted the quilt where her head was. Words failed him. At last he muttered, "As if I care about your pocket change."

The room fell quiet.

He sensed he'd said the wrong thing. Before he could fix it, a small voice asked, "Then... you didn't become my partner for the money?"

Ah. That's what this is about.

He sighed. Silly girl—wait till life slaps her around a bit. Without cash, who calls you buddy? When the poor fight over the bill, the rich have people scrambling to pay. That's adulthood.

Still, the contract wasn't up yet; a partner had duties.

"Of course not."

He surprised himself—usually lies left a sour taste. This one slid out smooth as laxatives.

"Then... why?" Tamako pressed.

He felt his patience fray. "Because you're brilliant," he blurted. "Top-tier reasoning. Solving cases with you is fun."

He felt a twinge of guilt.

"Hehe, really?"

From inside the quilt came a watery giggle. So Fushimi-kun thinks that way! Kawai was right—I misjudged him! And he called me smart! My Fixed-Point Search Method must've impressed him!

Though she'd lost the graduation showdown, defeat tasted like honor. Fushimi had declared her reasoning world-class; clearly she'd shone.

Tamako snickered under the covers, then sneezed.

Fushimi dragged her out, relieved to see her spirits restored, and handed her tissues. "Blow your nose before it drips onto your lip."

No! Tamako, don't get cocky!

She caught herself, solemn again. "I'm still a step below world-class."

"Blow first, philosophy later."

After tidying up, she lay back. The cowlick on her crown sprang up. "So, how should I repay you? Anything you want?"

"Money."

"So crass! It wouldn't express my gratitude at all!" She scrunched her brows. "Something meaningful?"

"Meaningful is what you tell yourself. Money is inherently meaningful." Fushimi moved to the kotatsu, grabbed an orange. "Pointless discussion. Get well first."

"...True."

Tamako stared at the ceiling.

Suddenly she bolted upright. "Ah!"

Fushimi flinched, half expecting a resurrection. She stared wide-eyed. "I forgot! In Daisetsuzan I found a corpse!"

"Big deal—"

"It wasn't one of the instructors' dummies!" She clenched fists, excited. "A real skeleton—at least two years old, murdered!"

A bad feeling crept over him. "Don't tell me you're planning to—"

"Exactly! Time for the Reasoning Squad!"

Tamako thumbed her nose like a yakuza tough. "A murder demands justice! Lifting the fog for the victim—that's our mission!"

The moment she finished, subtitles flickered across Fushimi's vision.

[Criminal Request Triggered]

Task: Identify the killer of the nameless corpse

Reward: Level 1 Handgun Proficiency

Note: Follow-up quests locked

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