Chapter 128: Harajuku Private Hospital
The next day, Kamihara Shinji began investigating the case. Though Hinata Daiga didn’t press him—nor dared to—Kamihara’s frustration over letting the Chihaya family’s doll anomaly escape fueled his determination. Hinata Keigo’s case demanded his focus.
According to the files, Keigo and his brother Masato shared identical death patterns: sudden collapse, souls vanishing instantly. Masato’s death was Asada Kazumasa’s doing via the Soul-Trapping Pencil, but Keigo’s cause remained unclear. Kamihara recalled another similar death: Saikyo Daisuke, the editor. At midnight, he’d questioned Asada about Saikyo, and Asada denied knowing him, confirming Saikyo wasn’t his victim or friend. Kamihara trusted Asada’s truthfulness.
So, how did Saikyo die? The mystery began to unravel with the Hinata family’s detailed dossier on Keigo, including his plot with clan members to kill Masato for the family’s mainline succession. Reviewing it, Kamihara sighed—large families bred chaos. As patriarch, Hinata Daiga prioritized the Special Division, delegating family oversight. As long as he held his think tank seat, the Hinata clan stood firm. Sibling rivalry? He was indifferent. In this despairing world, ordinary people were anomaly fodder, and even the enlightened clung to survival. Family legacy? Daiga barely considered it—an anomaly could wipe them out any day.
In the classroom, Kamihara pored over the files all morning, mastering their contents. He awaited Saikyo’s dossier from the Hinata family and Metropolitan Police. Comparing both could reveal commonalities. Saikyo’s death had stumped him due to a single sample—until now, no others died similarly. Monitors shunned the case, fearing anomalies, many suspecting Hell Girl, whose soul-vanishing kills matched the pattern. Uncontainable, she was only suppressed online, an unsolvable threat. As for Daiga or the think tank’s deaths? Monitors didn’t care.
The police and Hinata family moved swiftly, delivering Saikyo’s detailed file by lunch. Like Keigo’s, it chronicled his life from childhood, with recent entries meticulously thorough. From lunch to dismissal, Kamihara cross-referenced the files, seeking overlaps. Luck struck—he found one. Despite their disparate lifestyles, Keigo and Saikyo had visited the same place: Harajuku Private Hospital in Chiyoda Ward, a top-tier, tertiary-care facility akin to a premier hospital.
In Japan, minor ailments were treated at clinics, with serious cases escalating to major hospitals, balancing medical resources. Saikyo, frugal in daily life, spared no expense on health, rushing to major hospitals for any discomfort beyond a cold. Keigo, however, visited Harajuku Hospital not for treatment but to woo a female doctor, though he’d undergone an appendectomy for appendicitis. Similarly, Saikyo had an appendectomy there months prior.
Appendectomies were minor surgeries. Was it coincidence that both died post-procedure? Kamihara cautioned himself against jumping to conclusions—countless people died daily, sharing traits. Neither died immediately post-surgery, and their deaths were staggered: Keigo a week ago, Saikyo days ago. Keigo’s surgery was a month prior, Saikyo’s three months. The hospital was likely blameless.
Still, Kamihara visited Harajuku Private Hospital after school. At the entrance, he scanned the crowd, his fourth-stage spiritual senses detecting no active anomaly kills. If not an anomaly, a rule-based item could be the culprit—both intrigued him. Entering, he saw patients of all kinds. Hospitals, often called grim and oppressive, reflected their purpose: people came to heal, not rejoice. Kamihara agreed but dismissed the notion of cheerful doctor visits.
Wandering aimlessly inside, he sensed nothing unusual. Harajuku Private Hospital was a typical comprehensive facility. A nurse directed him to the gastroenterology department for appendicitis cases, but even there, nothing stood out. Rule-based item kills were undetectable, and dormant anomalies were equally elusive. If an anomaly lurked, he’d need to wait passively.
He sought the female doctor Keigo pursued, but she was on leave. Showing his police badge, he obtained her contact information and left. His approach might be flawed. Pondering, he decided to have the police check for similar deaths elsewhere. A wry smile crossed his face—Little Ai’s soul-reaping kills mimicked this pattern, risking confusion if police lumped her victims in.
As he walked, dialing the doctor’s number, his steps halted. Across the street, an elderly man collapsed abruptly. Instinctively, Kamihara sensed the man’s soul vanish instantly, not fading gradually.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 129: A Breakthrough in the Dark
With Harajuku Private Hospital nearby, Kamihara Shinji crossed the street, hoisting the elderly man and carrying him inside. Onlookers stared, but none assisted. Back at the hospital, he summoned doctors and nurses, who rushed the man to the emergency room. Soon, a young nurse emerged, spotting Kamihara on a chair. “Are you the patient’s family?” she asked.
Snapped from his thoughts, Kamihara shook his head. “No.” He handed over his Metropolitan Police badge. “I’m Inspector Kamihara. What’s the man’s name?”
The nurse, eyeing his school uniform, took the badge skeptically. Kamihara was used to such looks—uniformed inspectors were oddities. “The ID card says Tachibana Takeshi,” she said, returning the badge, then lowered her voice. “But he’s likely beyond saving.”
“Cause?” Kamihara asked.
“Multiple conditions flared up, compounded by age,” she replied.
Kamihara nodded. Many elderly seemed fine until they didn’t, passing quietly in sleep. But he knew Tachibana Takeshi’s death wasn’t natural—it matched Saikyo Daisuke and Hinata Keigo’s, caused by a rule-based item or anomaly. This deepened his confusion. He’d witnessed Saikyo and Tachibana’s deaths firsthand, yet sensed no anomalous aura, unlike Keigo’s, where he was absent.
As he prepared to question the nurse, a doctor exited the ER, removing his mask. Sighing heavily, he addressed Kamihara. “I’m Dr. Yabumoto. You’re the patient’s family?”
“No,” Kamihara repeated.
Yabumoto faltered, his rehearsed condolence evaporating. Mildly exasperated, he turned to the nurse. “No family contacted yet?”
“No, he had no phone,” she replied.
Yabumoto was speechless. Kamihara interjected, “Dr. Yabumoto, has the deceased visited Harajuku Hospital recently?”
Fresh from a death, Yabumoto was subdued but answered, “We’d need to check. But… you’re not family. Why ask?” Suspicion flashed. “Reporter?”
“I’m a Metropolitan Police inspector,” Kamihara said, presenting his badge again, his tone grave. “Tachibana Takeshi is linked to a case. I need the hospital’s help to confirm if he sought treatment here recently.”
“I don’t know offhand,” Yabumoto said, eyeing the badge warily. “I’ll need to verify with the police.”
“Go ahead,” Kamihara said.
As Yabumoto called, Kamihara dialed the police, requesting Tachibana’s file. Two minutes later, Yabumoto hung up, smiling faintly. “Inspector Kamihara, follow me.”
In Yabumoto’s office, he offered water. “Have a seat. I’ll check, but don’t expect much.” The police’s stern directive to assist Kamihara fully had rattled him.
“Of course,” Kamihara said, anticipating delay or failure. But Yabumoto soon spoke up, surprised. “Found it. Tachibana Takeshi had a checkup here yesterday.”
Kamihara’s spirits lifted. A lead emerged where he’d feared none—a breakthrough in the dark. Keigo, Saikyo, and now Tachibana had all visited Harajuku Private Hospital. “Checkup results?” he asked.
“Not great,” Yabumoto said, glancing at the screen with a sigh. “He was a solitary widower, brought by community staff. No wonder no family’s here.” He printed Tachibana’s report and handed it over.
Kamihara reviewed it: Tachibana had seven or eight conditions, mostly hypertension-related, including myocardial infarction, emphysema, and coronary disease. Common for the elderly, where multiple systemic ailments coexist. Was it truly coincidence? Tachibana’s age made sudden death plausible.
Frowning, Kamihara lacked answers but had a plan. He faced Yabumoto. “Dr. Yabumoto, I need all patient records from Harajuku Private Hospital for the past three months.”
Yabumoto blinked, confused. “That… requires the director’s approval.”
“Contact the director, please,” Kamihara said.
“Alright, one moment.”
With Kamihara’s inspector status, even the hospital director couldn’t defy state authority, especially given Kamihara’s unique position. Soon, three months’ worth of patient records were sent to the police. Kamihara didn’t intend to review them himself, delegating the task to the police to identify any deaths matching Keigo, Saikyo, and Tachibana’s pattern—sudden, with souls vanishing.
If multiple cases emerged, the hospital itself might be the problem. For now, Kamihara planned to investigate the female doctor Keigo pursued, hoping for clarity.
(End of Chapter)
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