Oracle: Special Crime Countermeasures Division

An Unwilling Reunion11

"Have you managed to gather your thoughts?" Kamikura inquired, dangling from the Power Tower. "I need a bit more time," Sakuraba responded, marking his attendance in the book before taking a seat.

"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Sakuraba?" Furusaki offered, treating him with their usual camaraderie. It felt better than any hollow words of comfort.

"Yes, thank you."

"Understood."

　The aroma of fresh coffee permeated the room. Furusaki poured cups for everyone, and Majima distributed them.

　A whiteboard, titled "Airi Komabashi Murder Case", drew Sakuraba's attention. Attached to it were multiple crime scene photos, along with a chart depicting the relationships of those involved.

　Sipping his coffee, Sakuraba examined the board. Pictures of Komabashi and Umeshita's bodies, the knife identified as the murder weapon, the discarded suicide note, the exterior of the hotel, and the concert venue, all were displayed.

　It seemed the media was fervently covering Komabashi's murder. Like the First Investigation Division, news outlets hypothesized that Komabashi might have invited Umeshita to her hotel room. A television segment Sakuraba had seen before leaving his house even featured a commentator brazenly speculating on Komabashi and Umeshita's relationship.

　A tabloid magazine that had intended to print a salacious story about Komabashi had, in light of her death, pivoted to an exposé on her private life. Baseless pieces on her ties with Umeshita were published, misleading fans and the public alike, leading to a massive uproar.

　Softly, Furusaki began to sing. The familiar melody was one Komabashi had performed on stage.

　Taking a deep breath, Sakuraba shut his eyes. A tumultuous cascade of memories and facts swirled within. Information coalesced into card-like forms, stacking and arranging themselves in various orientations. In his mind's eye, Sakuraba floated in a weightless space, observing the card decks from above.

　All the pieces were coming together. Opening his eyes, Sakuraba headed to the board games shelf. He confidently selected one box and made his way to the lounge sofa.

"Majima, play with me."

"You mean a game?" Majima's expression unmistakably read, "Seriously? A game right now?" Sakuraba understood the skepticism but didn't have the luxury to explain.

　Kamikura intervened, "Just humor him, Majima," nudging Majima forward. With a bemused look, Majima seated himself opposite Sakuraba.

　Lifting the box lid, Sakuraba displayed its contents: a board checkered with squares and a small bag brimming with black and white tiles. These tiles, ranging from one to five units in size, showcased varied designs—some straight, others bent.

　Briefly outlining the rules, Sakuraba described the territorial game. Players would take turns, placing their tiles so that only corners touched. The game would proceed until no more tiles could be placed. The winner would be the player with the fewest tiles left in hand by the end.

　For Sakuraba, this game was more than a pastime. It was a mental exercise. Each move helped him organize his thoughts. Previously, he'd challenge Kamikura or Furusaki, but with Majima currently in the SCCD, it felt right to involve his partner.

"You start," Sakuraba offered.

"I hope you'll be patient with me." Majima began, laying down a white tile.

　With each snap of the pieces on the board, a gust of clarity swept through Sakuraba's mind. Information fragmented, spiraled, and then reassembled. He visualized the threatening email sent to Komabashi, the concert venue, and the messages on Komabashi's social media.

　He placed a piece.

　Sakuraba's memories shifted to a car's interior—the stakeout near the hotel. A conversation with Hino resurfaced: "...This likely involves someone with special abilities—perhaps the power to control electronics."

　He placed a piece.

　Sakuraba's mind leaped between quick images: Umeshita's suicide note, a blood-covered knife, an open laptop belonging to Komabashi, her unscathed corpse, and Umeshita's missing phone.

　He placed a piece.

"Chamomile. It's calming and helps promote sleep when drunk before bedtime," Furusaki's voice echoed, accompanied by an evocative aroma. Mental images converged, focusing Sakuraba's thoughts.

"It's all connected," Sakuraba mused, almost in a whisper.

"To what?" Majima questioned.

　The game had just commenced, but Sakuraba had already assembled the pieces he needed, not on the board, but in his mind. Rising, he stared intently, fixated on an unseen image.

"The truth behind this case is now unveiled."