Oracle: Special Crime Countermeasures Division

An Unwilling Reunion6

　The concert venue in Komabashi was nestled among mixed-use buildings, a brisk six-minute walk from the nearest station. Upon descending the entrance stairs, the reception desk was immediately to the left. Beyond it, double doors opened to the hall.

　Inside, equipment was scattered about, with crew members adjusting lighting and sound checks. The stage transformed with hues of red, blue, and yellow.

　Holding a microphone, Komabashi emerged from behind the stage curtains. Her gaze briefly met Sakuraba's, but without acknowledgment, she moved center stage. From a distance, a crew member's voice announced, "Final test, starting!"

　The lights dimmed, spotlighting only Komabashi. As music enveloped the hall, she sang and danced with passion.

　True to Hino's word, even Sakuraba, unfamiliar with the nuances of dance, could tell Komabashi's performance was exceptional. He had expected her to lip-sync, but her voice rang true and clear. Singing with such vigor while dancing was surely a testament to her dedication and practice.

"She's truly talented and works hard to hone it," Sakuraba murmured. He tried to retract his words, but Majima, seemingly lost in the performance, didn't react.

　Once the song concluded and the lights brightened, Sasaguchi approached from the back of the hall.

"Mr. Sakuraba, Mr. Majima, thank you for coming. Any leads yet?"

"We're still working on identifying the email sender. We'll update you once we have something," Sakuraba replied. Grateful, Sasaguchi nodded repeatedly. When Sakuraba expressed interest in inspecting the venue further, Sasaguchi volunteered to lead the way.

　For the audience, the sole entrance and exit was the door through which Sakuraba and Majima had entered. Although staff frequently used the back door, it would be secured during the concert. There were plans to erect barriers in front of the stage with staff supervision to prevent any rush from the audience.

　Backstage access was available through two doors: one at the rear-left of the stage and another on the left side of the hall. The hall-side door would be locked when the concert began, while a staff member would guard the stage-side door.

　As Sakuraba and Majima toured the venue and deliberated on security staffing, they concluded that at least four more personnel would be necessary. A mutual sigh escaped them; even with the entire SCCD team, they'd fall short.

"You both look rather glum. Remember, you're detectives; buck up!" Komabashi, emerging from backstage, stood before them, showing no traces of her earlier performance.

"Don't assume this is merely a prank and slack off. Any news on the email sender?"

"A top engineer is on it, working tirelessly. We'll need a bit more time," Sakuraba assured.

　Komabashi, clearly unimpressed with Sakuraba's explanation, turned her back, her face creased in displeasure. Sasaguchi, standing nearby, wiped sweat from his brow. "Airi, they're doing this for you..."

"But," Majima cut in, his eyes narrowing at Komabashi. "This situation is of your own making. Do you even regret your actions? Doesn't seem like it."

　His voice was edged with a harshness. Sakuraba attempted to interject, but Majima pressed on. "For this email, while it's likely a prank, Sakuraba is treating it seriously, considering the slim chance it isn't. Any other detective would have dismissed you the moment you reached the Special Crime Countermeasures Division."

"Majima, that's enough."

"Realize how many people rally around you. Who ensures you have concerts? Who enables your TV appearances? Don't act so self-reliant."

"Majima!"

　Losing his patience, Sakuraba seized Majima by the collar. "Enough," he said, voice strained. Majima looked away, clearly unrepentant.

　Releasing Majima, Sakuraba turned to Komabashi. "I apologize for his behavior. We didn't mean to upset you." He hesitated, considering if he should bow deeply, like Sasaguchi. Deciding against it, he shot a glance at Majima, who was looking down in silence.

"It doesn't matter," Komabashi responded, her voice devoid of emotion, as she left through the door to the left. Sakuraba thought he glimpsed tears in her eyes.

　Leaving Sasaguchi and Majima to plan the following day's meeting, Sakuraba pursued Komabashi. After inquiring about her dressing room, he paused before a door draped with a pink curtain. "Ms. Komabashi? It's Sakuraba."

"Come in."

　He entered a room approximately 90 square feet in size. There was a vanity table towards the back and, by the entrance, a movable rack holding concert costumes.

　Komabashi sat, her knees hugged to her chest, along the wall. Her face was obscured by her hair, but her dejection was palpable.

"Ms. Komabashi..."

"I get it," she murmured without looking up. "Everyone's mad. They're frustrated because I acted on my own. I bet they're glad Majima spoke out."

"Majima's words were out of line for a detective. I sincerely apologize."

　Sakuraba bowed again. It was irrelevant how Komabashi was personally. Letting personal biases affect an investigation was inexcusable. It was a lesson he should've mastered in police school.

　Komabashi wiped her face, gradually lifting her eyes. They were slightly reddened and puffy."You're quite genuine, aren't you, Sakuraba? Reminds me of Sasaguchi."

"Would it help if I kneeled in apology?"

　As Sakuraba began to lower himself, Komabashi chuckled, "Enough of that," motioning him to the seat beside her. "It's easier to converse when we're eye to eye."

　Sakuraba hesitated, considering how close it would place him, but sat down. He pondered the repercussions if her fans saw them this close - he'd likely be more than just reprimanded.

"Drop the formalities, they create a distance."

"But..."

　Before he could protest further, Komabashi sneakily took a selfie with him. She teasingly showed him the picture, in which they appeared quite close, and held it near his face.

"If you continue being formal, I'll share this 'intimate' photo on social media."

"Alright, alright."

　She seemed satisfied, placing her phone aside. Sakuraba briefly considered ways to distract her and take the phone. But before he could finalize a plan, Komabashi's voice broke his thoughts.

"So, why'd you become a detective?"

"Well, someone I greatly admired once helped me. It's quite the tale."

"I'd like to hear it."

"It's not particularly cheerful."

　She subtly waved her smartphone, prompting him to begin.

"You might recall a bombing at a Tokyo shopping mall six years ago?"

"I remember the news. A terror group or cult was blamed, right? You weren't... involved?"

"I was one of the victims."

　She gasped softly.

"I did warn you it wasn't a light tale. We could stop here."

"No, go on."

　Komabashi's demeanor shifted, her gaze deeply locked onto Sakuraba's. Taking a deep breath, he began recounting his past.

　On a sunny day, he had accompanied his parents to a shopping mall, looking for a birthday cake for his sister. The place buzzed with activity. Young families and couples filled the scene.

　Amidst a jovial conversation with his parents, a deafening explosion occurred. Sakuraba found himself flung and, upon regaining consciousness, trapped beneath debris. His tiny air pocket, a seeming blessing, felt like a cage.

　He shouted desperately for his parents, receiving no response. Another explosion sounded, and a realization hit Sakuraba: he might not make it out.

　Feeling suffocated and voice raw from shouting, he was on the verge of succumbing to despair when he heard a faint call, "Is anyone there?" Summoning his last ounce of energy, Sakuraba responded, and a helping hand reached out to him.

　His memories stopped there, only to resume two days later when he awoke in a hospital bed.

"That incident claimed many lives, both civilians and rescue personnel. As for the individual who rescued me, I never learned of their fate. Sadly, I can't even recall their face."

"That's only natural," Komabashi replied compassionately. "Given the trauma, and the sheer exhaustion, it's understandable." Sakuraba had often rationalized it in the same way, but an internal guilt persisted.

"That's precisely why I chose this path; to be of help and hence I became a detective."

"You have a profound reason. Mine's less so."

"And why did you aspire to be an idol?"

"I've harbored this dream since my primary school years. Yet, despite numerous attempts, I kept failing to get into my preferred group. Thus, I performed as an underground idol. It seems rather comical, doesn't it?"

　She remarked with a rueful smile. Her hands, resting on her lap, tightened to the point where her nails pressed into her skin.

"You've come far, Komabashi. Watching your rehearsal, I saw your dedication. Your proficiency isn't accidental."

　Caught in the flow of conversation, Sakuraba hesitated before adding, "Let's ensure tomorrow's concert is a triumph." Komabashi smiled faintly, but anxiety soon clouded her expression.

"I've been considering the eerie email as a joke, but the possibility of it being genuine terrifies me. If any harm befell our fans, the crew, or Sasaguchi..." She seemed to empty her thoughts, releasing the stress.

"We have notified everyone about the threat and baggage inspections via social media. This disclosure sparked an enormous backlash. Many are pinning the blame on my supposed demeanor."

　Hino had earlier alluded to Komabashi's controversial remarks. People who held prior biases probably seized this as a chance to vilify her further. It was evident they overlooked the fact that behind the screen was a real person bearing the brunt of their fury.

"The man from the tabloid photos? He's a TV producer, not a boyfriend. He showed interest when I made my television debut, often inviting me for meals. Recently, he proposed we meet at a hotel, offering more TV roles in return. I should have declined..."

　Overwhelmed, Komabashi buried her face, muffling her sobs. The weight of guilt and loneliness must have been oppressive, reflected in her quivering frame and ceaseless tears.

　Finding the right words proved challenging for Sakuraba. He murmured, "We'll ensure your safety." Comforting her with a gentle pat, he heard her whisper, "Thank you."

　After she regained her composure, Sakuraba exited. Spotting a familiar face in the hallway, he felt a surge of anger. Suppressing the urge to confront him aggressively, he approached Majima.

"I'm truly sorry," Majima apologized, bowing.

"Your apology should be directed at Ms. Komabashi, not me."

"I intend to seek her forgiveness tomorrow."

"A mere apology seems insufficient."

　As Sakuraba spoke sternly, Majima flinched.

"Ms. Komabashi has always been considerate of those around her. Can you say the same?"

　Majima's whispered acknowledgment barely registered.