last flowers | rohan/reader

1 。 hydrangea

Her return to her hometown wasn't supposed to go quite like this.

"Police Detective [f/n] [l/n] reporting for duty!"

"[first name], relax. The formalities aren't necessary," The chief of police sat behind his desk, eyes weary and sunken. Despite having a friendly face nearby, his exhaustion was incurable and infectious. At least twenty missing person cases were active in the humble town of Morioh, with not a lick of evidence to provide steady grounds for investigation. No wonder the head officer had been so tired— all of his energy was spent on comforting the families of the missing-in-action victims and working around the press with the habitual 'no comment' replies, done in a rinse and repeat style. The local police force finally deemed it necessary to call in a higher up from S-City, so here she was, detective [first name], bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at eight in the morning.

"Sorry, sir. It's just been a long time since we've worked together, so I got excited. It's unfortunate that it's under these circumstances, though." She made herself comfortable in one of the chief's office chairs and flicked her [h/c] hair over her shoulder, focusing her attention once again on her former superior.

"It's quite unfortunate, yes. We lost officer Ryohei Higashikata a few weeks back, too. I wasn't sure if you'd been told, but our department is really hurting right now."

"Ah. Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't hear about it..." She wore a deep frown. Ryohei was a good man, a good father, and just better than [name] as an officer in general; the difference between them was that she was willing to take the risk of moving to the city— Ryohei intended on staying with his family in Morioh. He knew what he wanted in life. [Name] had no idea what she was looking for. "I'll stop by his grave later today. How's his family doing?"

"They seem like they're doing alright. We haven't done too much checking up on them, though. It's just his daughter and grandson, so at least the damage was minimal in that aspect," The chief sighed and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, gazing at [name] in a sullen manner. She shifted under his stare in discomfort and guilt. The way he looked at her implied that he felt she should've been there; that [name] should've still been an officer here in Morioh instead of moving on to greener pastures, and that her promotion into the big city department was something taken personal. It'd been three years since she left, and nobody was willing to let it go other than her.

"Maybe I'll pay them a visit as well. Tomoko Higashikata had just started teaching in my last year of high school, so she might remember me."

"Do as you'd like. Tomorrow, though, I'd like you to start looking into the missing persons investigation. It's absolutely vital that we start breaking through with more information." He slid a thick manila folder that's been resting on his desk over to [name], and she took it up in her arms hastily. She was eager to leave now that she'd been reminded of her unintentional betrayal of the Morioh Police Department through her old boss's fleeting looks of despair and distrust, and she did so immediately after receiving the giant report log folder.

Morioh was almost entirely the same as it was in the summer of 1996. The only things that might've changed were the people, as it was entirely normal to see new and old faces come and go, to never return or to never leave. [Name]'s stomach churned itself into her throat in a bout of anxiety; she was worried about being recognized by people she knew back then, being interrogated as to her whereabouts and why she left her hometown in the first place. It was a personal choice. There was no future for her in Morioh, career and life wise.

The entire city felt off as she walked through it, like a colorful village in a children's book, with a sinister undertone she couldn't help but notice. The feeling was oppressive— likely because she knew the current state of the city's ongoing crime, but that was something she felt she could ignore, given that she'd always done so previously. The atmosphere was crushing her lungs, even as completely average groups of people walked down the sidewalks with no ill intentions.