๐ฑ๐๐ข๐๐๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ - ๐ฒ๐ 9: ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ณ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
SatoRisa fanfic
โ ๐ฑ๐พ๐บ๐ฝ ๐ฟ๐๐๐ ๐ข๐๐บ๐๐๐พ๐ 1 โ
๐ข๐ 9 ๐ฒ๐๐๐๐บ๐๐: ๐ณ๐๐ ๐๐พ๐พ๐๐ ๐บ๐ฟ๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐ฝ๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐พ๐๐พ๐ผ๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐, ๐ฅ๐๐๐๐๐บ๐๐บ ๐ผ๐บ๐'๐ ๐๐พ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ผ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐๐๐บ๐ผ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐ ๐๐ฝ, ๐๐บ๐๐๐๐บ๐ ๐ ๐, ๐๐พ ๐๐พ๐พ๐ฝ๐ ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐๐๐ฝ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐บ๐.
โ สแดแดษชษดษข: แด
๊ฑแดแด แด๊ฐแดแดส แดสแด ๊ฐษชษดแดส แดแดษดษขแด แดสแดแดแดแดส
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- โ
Satoshi buttoned his shirt before deftly adjusting his necktie until it sat perfectly in place.
Just as he reached for his vest, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, expecting another notification from the station. Instead, it was an alert from the apartment's delivery box.
Someone had left a package for him.
He frowned, trying to remember whether he'd ordered anything recently.
Nothing came to mind, but he'd check the package later.
For now, he took his time with his coffee. It was the only breakfast he planned on having anyway.
The ticking of the clock echoed through the quiet apartment.
6:30 a.m.
Yesterday, he'd slept for nearly eighteen hours straight.
He'd only woken up long enough to buy something from the convenience store, check for any work notifications, eat, then crawl back into bed.
He couldn't deny it.
After so many sleepless nights, the long rest had done wonders for him.
Unfortunately, it had also given him far too much time to realize he'd spent the entire night hugging his pillow.
Satoshi let out a quiet sigh.
For five years, he'd managed to lock away every thought of the younger Harada sister. However yesterday, she'd shattered that wall so effortlessly that it almost wounded his pride.
After moving to Tokyo, women had continued to flock around him.
There had been countless invitations to dinner, confessions, and even Fujiwara-san's occasional jokes about marrying his daughter off to him.
None of them had ever meant anything.
Spending his entire childhood suppressing his emotions to keep his alter ego from taking advantage of them had undoubtedly played a part.
By the time Dark disappeared...
Love had become something he'd simply learned to live without.
But... Harada Risa was honestly another reason.
Satoshi had spent years convincing himself that whatever he'd felt back then had merely been childish affection.
Two teenagers who happened to cross paths over the same piece of artwork.
Nothing more.
That explanation should have been enough.
So why...
Why did her face always find its way into his thoughts whenever he hadn't slept for two days?
Why was she the first person he thought of whenever Fujiwara-san casually asked about his nonexistent love life?
ย ย Is she happy now?
ย ย Did she finally find the happiness she deserved?
ย ย Can she still find it... without remembering Dark?
Whenever he spoke to Daisuke and they found themselves reminiscing about middle school or high school.
There was always a part of him that wanted to ask about the younger Harada sister.
He never did.
And yesterday certainly hadn't helped. The pillow still carried the faint scent of her, and somehow, Satoshi had spent nearly eighteen hours sleeping with it in his arms.
He'd never hugged a pillow to sleep before, yet yesterday he'd clung to it as though he couldn't bring himself to let go.
Because deep down, he knew what he really wanted.
It wasn't only the lingering scent she'd left behind. He wanted to hear her voice again. To see her sitting on his sofa. To know she was there.
He wanted...
Her.
The realization made him close his eyes for a brief moment.
Who was he to ask for something like that?
Satoshi exhaled slowly before taking another sip of his coffee. The warmth lingered only briefly before he finished the rest in one gulp.
Meeting Harada Risa again after five years had completely thrown his mind into disarray.
So he needed a distraction.
Work would do. He'd bury himself in reports, cold cases, paperwork... Anything that would keep his thoughts occupied.
After grabbing his bag, he headed downstairs and stopped by the apartment lobby.
He might as well check the delivery box before leaving.
He opened it, and his eyes widened. Inside, neatly folded in a paper bag and wrapped in clear laundry plastic, was his familiar navy overcoat.
Satoshi instinctively checked the notification on his phone again.
Twenty minutes ago.
He stared at the screen for a moment before quietly putting his phone away.
Of course.
Harada clearly hadn't wanted to meet him in person. That was probably why she'd left the coat in the delivery box instead.
Even if he'd somehow left his apartment twenty minutes earlierโฆ Nothing would've changed. At most, they would've exchanged an awkward greeting, followed immediately by another goodbye.
Silently, Satoshi closed the delivery box.
He'd pick up the coat after work.
--------
Fujiwara's POV
It has been two weeks since the Hiwatari kid had finally taken some time off. And ever since he'd returned to work, the unusual blue-haired detective had somehow finished the entire backlog of headquarters reports in just two days.
Two days.
When Fujiwara had first been told about the pile of paperwork, everyone had estimated it'd take nearly a month to clear.
Naturally, Hiwatari had proven them all wrong.
Then, as if that weren't enough, the kid had requested permission to reopen three cold cases.
Three.
While still handling his regular workload of murders, kidnappings, and arson investigations.
At this rate, he'd probably start wandering into other divisions, stealing their cases too, and leaving every department squeaky clean before anyone realized what had happened.
Fujiwara chuckled to himself.
The kid was unbelievable.
The tall, broad-shouldered director made his way over to Division One's section of the office.
Sure enoughโฆ There was Hiwatari.
Fast asleep at his desk, his head resting on his folded arms amid piles of reports and case files.
Beside him sat his familiar black mug, the coffee inside long gone cold. Fujiwara had no idea how long it had been sitting there untouched, but judging by the thin layer of oil floating on the surface... probably far too long.
He lightly tapped his fingers against the edge of the desk.
"...Mm." With a groan, the young detective slowly lifted his head.
"Hiwatari."
Satoshi pushed himself upright, his eyes still heavy with sleep. The annoyed look he gave Fujiwara, however, was perfectly clear.
"Director. If you need the report for tomorrow's meeting, it's already on your desk."
Fujiwara crossed his arms over his broad chest and sighed. "Go home."
"And the meeting isn't tomorrow," Fujiwara added, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. "The meeting is today. It's currently one-thirty in the morning."
The office had already gone quiet. Most of the lights had been switched off, leaving only a handful of desks illuminated. At this hour, the only people still around were the night-shift officers.
The director himself.
And somehowโฆ The team leader of Division One.
"If you leave now," Fujiwara continued, "you can still get four or five hours of sleep before the meeting."
Hiwatari leaned farther back in his chair. His usually neat blue hair was sticking up in every direction. His tie hung crooked around his neck.
With his ring finger, he absentmindedly pushed his glasses back into place. "No need, sir. I was planning to finish the report for one of the cold cases. It's theโ"
Fujiwara immediately raised a hand. "No."
The boy blinked.
"No. I know how this goes. You explain yourself, and somehow I end up approving another hundred pages of paperwork."
The dark-haired director took another step closer. "Hiwatari... did something happen?"
He clearly saw the young detective flinch.
It was only for a split secondโso subtle that most people probably wouldn't have noticed. But Fujiwara did.
Hiwatari didn't answer. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the documents scattered across his desk, silently staring at the pages.
To anyone else, it might've looked like he was reading. But his eyes hadn't moved from the same spot on the page.
Honestlyโฆ How the kid's brain still worked after going days without proper sleep was beyond him. Fujiwara would've forgotten his own name by now.
Yet there Hiwatari was, clearly thinking about something. Just not the reports in front of him.
"...Nothing, sir."
Fujiwara frowned. Then, without warningโ
Smack!
His palm landed squarely on Hiwatari's shoulder. The force nearly knocked the boy sideways.
"You think I'd believe that?" His booming voice echoed across the Division One section.
A few officers from the night shift looked over before immediately returning to their work. Watching Director Fujiwara bullyโno,ย play withโtheir genius team leader had become a normal part of their worklife.
Hiwatari straightened himself with a sigh and adjusted his glasses once again.
This time, Fujiwara didn't smack him.
Instead, he rested a heavy hand firmly on the young man's shoulder.
Five years had passed since the boy first joined the force.
He'd grown taller.
Broader.
He'd even put on a bit of muscle, making him even more popular in the marriage department. Thank God the kid refused to show his face in the media. Otherwise, headquarters would've needed a separate hotline just for his admirers.
Fujiwara still remembered the scrawny teenager who'd first walked into headquarters looking like a strong gust of wind might blow him away.
"I don't know what's bothering you," Fujiwara said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "But go homeโฆ Get some rest. Those eye bags of yours are starting to look criminal."
He laughed loudly. "I'm afraid people are going to reportย meย for overworking you."
Fujiwara's smile softened.
He knew exactly how brilliant Hiwatari was. Commissioner Hiwatari had personally recommended his own son all those years ago. And over the last five years, Fujiwara had watched the young detective solve one impossible case after another.
He'd seen that frighteningly calm mind piece together answers no one else could find.
He'd watched the boy earn promotion after promotion.
But sometimesโฆ People forgot.
Hiwatari was only twenty.
Looking at him now, with his messy hair, exhausted eyes, and distant expression...
Fujiwara couldn't help seeing something beyond the prodigy everyone admired.
Just a lonely kid.
"Understood?" he said a little louder before finally lifting his heavy hand from the young detective's shoulder. "Go home. That's an order."
Hiwatari looked seconds away from rolling his eyes. Instead, he let out a long sigh. "...Yes, sir."
"That's better." Fujiwara grinned before ruffling the boy's already messy blue hair.
Honestly, he kind of missed the long-haired version. Though Fujiwara had to admit, the shorter hair suited him tooโand it was certainly more practical for police work.
Then again, there wasn't much variety when it came to hairstyles around here. About eighty-five percent of the male officers seemed to have some version of the exact same short haircut.
The other fifteen percent...
Well. They were bald.
"Ahhh..." Fujiwara sighed dramatically. "If only you'd accepted Misaki! She'd take good care of you!"
He turned back toward the boy with a grin. "Are youย sureย you don't want to marry my daughter? I'd be heartbroken to lose my precious little girl..."
He paused. "...But for you, Hiwatari-boy, I'd allow it!"
Hiwatari slowly turned his head toward him. The glare he gave Fujiwara would've been far more intimidating if his hair weren't sticking up in every direction.
Fujiwara burst into laughter. "Alright, alright! I'm going home to my lovely wife and happy family."
He waved as he headed toward the exit. "You'd better go home too. See you in the morning."
As he reached the doorway, Fujiwara glanced back one last time.
Hiwatari was still sitting exactly where Fujiwara had left him. His left elbow rested on the armrest, his hand supporting the side of his head as he quietly stared at the pile of documents covering his desk.
The older man couldn't tell whether the boy was still thinking about work or if his mind had drifted somewhere else entirely.
Fujiwara let out another quiet sigh.
Whether that stubborn kid would actually pack up and go home...
Well, tomorrow morning would give him the answer.
โ-----
Director Fujiwara walked into the office wearing a freshly pressed shirt and one of his tailored suits.
Well, with a body as big as his, everything had to be tailored anyway.
It was only six in the morningโstill an hour and a half before the monthly headquarters meetingโbut he always liked arriving early to go over the materials one last time.
"Good morning!" he called loudly as he stepped into the room.
His subordinates immediately stood and greeted him back.
Fujiwara's eyes naturally drifted toward the desk belonging to Division One's team leader.
And, wellโฆ The kid was already there.
The director walked straight over to the young detective.
Hiwatari looked up from the mountain of documents covering his desk. A thin stream of steam still rose from the familiar black mug of coffee resting beside him.
His short blue hair had been neatly styled with soft volume, the slightly tousled fringe falling naturally over his forehead. His necktie sat perfectly beneath his collar. His glasses framed his lightly tan face as neatly as ever.
But...
Those ridiculous eye bags were still there.
Fujiwara let out a sigh. "So, did you go home?"
Hiwatari stood up from his chair. His shirt and trousers were as crisp as if he'd just put them on.
"Yes, sir. I did."
The two of them looked at each other for a brief moment. Almost as if he could already tell what the boy was thinking, Fujiwara asked another question. "...Did you sleep?"
Silence.
Hiwatari could have lied. But both of them knew there was no point.
You simply didn't lie in front of Director Fujiwara.
The man had spent over thirty years conducting interrogations. On top of that, he was frighteningly good at reading facial expressions and body language.
Even Hiwatari Satoshiโwith that unreadable poker face of hisโhad never been able to completely hide a lie from the older man.
Fujiwara sighed again. This time, there was no teasing in his voice. "Satoshi... You can't keep treating your body like this. It's slowly eating you alive."
Hiwatari's blue eyes widened ever so slightly.
The director rarely called him by his first name. But whenever he didโฆ For just a brief moment, something in Hiwatari's expression changed. Fujiwara couldn't quite place it, but the boy suddenly looked strangely uncomfortable.
Fujiwara watched him quietly, but decided not to push. Still, his fatherly instincts had already taken over. There was no stopping him now.
Hiwatari slowly lifted his gaze until their eyes met. After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke. โI knowโฆ I just need some time, Director."
Fujiwara blinked.
Then his eyes widened.
It was almost as shocking as hearing a career criminal suddenly confess to every crime they'd ever committed.
"Oh?" A grin slowly spread across his face. "So thereย isย something bothering you!"
The director burst into laughter. "Finally found yourself a woman? Is that why you've been acting so out of your mind lately?" He waved a dismissive hand, fully expecting Hiwatari to deny it immediately.
Insteadโฆ The boy looked away.
Fujiwara's smile slowly disappeared as his mouth fell slightly open. "Oh..."
His voice came out much quieter this time. "You really did find yourself a woman?"
That was apparently enough.
Hiwatari let out a long, exhausted sigh.
Whatever little emotion had managed to escape moments ago vanished completely behind his usual expressionless face.
He adjusted his glasses before calmly reaching for his coffee. "That's none of your concern, Director. And I added another ten pages to today's meeting report. It's already on your desk."
With that, he sat back down, took another sip of his now slightly cooled black coffee, and returned his attention to the mountain of paperwork in front of him.
Fujiwara resisted the urge to smack his own forehead.
Getting Hiwatari Satoshi to open up was already a rare occurrence.
And when it finally happened, apparently Fujiwara couldn't keep his mouth shut long enough to take advantage of it.
He sighed.
Wellโฆ Maybe he'd get another chance in five years.
--------
The monthly meeting of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department's Criminal Investigation Bureau.
Quite a mouthful.
But despite its long name, it was one of the most important days of the month for everyone in the bureauโespecially for Director Fujiwara.
All five divisions under the Criminal Investigation Bureau would present the progress they'd made over the past month, including updates on ongoing investigations, recently closed cases, and any major issues that still needed attention.
The meetings usually lasted three to four hours.
Among the officers, however, they had a much simpler nickname.
The Circle of Hell.
Not because of the workload.
But because this was the day the higher-ups grilled every division about long-running cases, delayed investigations, budgets, and even criticism from the media.
Fujiwara himself wasn't innocent either. If he saw a lack of progress, he wouldn't hesitate to push his own people.
The other team leaders weren't much different. Everyone wanted their division to look the best.
Sometimes they'd ask painfully specific questions during another team's presentationโnot because they genuinely wanted an answer, but because they wanted to point out every weakness they could find.
That was simply how things worked.
After thirty years in the police force, Fujiwara knew there were plenty of traditions that deserved to disappear.
Changing them, however... was much easier said than done.
He walked toward his assigned seat at the side of the conference room, his chair facing all of the team leaders who were seated in the front row.
Behind each team leader sat the rest of their division.
Once everyone had taken their seats...
The meeting began.
Fujiwara already knew most of the reports by heart. He'd read every single one beforehand. Still, seeing each division present one after another made it much easier to compare their performance.
As expected, Hiwatari presented first.
The twenty-year-old prodigy stood before a room full of team leaders nearly twice his age.
When Fujiwara had promoted him last year, convincing everyone to accept the decision had been no easy task. Even now, he could still see traces of that resistance. Some folded their arms. Others frowned openly. A few watched Hiwatari with unconcealed irritation.
But none of it mattered.
By the time the presentation ended, there was almost nothing left to criticize.
Hiwatari had only been a team leader for just under a year. Yet under his leadership, Division One had increased its arrest rate by nearly thirty percent.
He'd solved four cold cases.
Report submission delays had dropped by an astonishing seventy percent.
Even the ongoing investigations under his supervision were meticulously organized. The risks had been identified, backup plans were already in place, and somehow, Hiwatari had managed to cover almost every question before anyone could even ask.
Fujiwara glanced around the room again.
The expressions hadn't changed. If anything, they looked even more displeased.
However, no one raised a hand.
No one challenged him.
Fujiwara knew that look well.
It wasn't dissatisfactionโฆ It was envy.
Hiwatari Satoshi had accomplished all of that at just twenty years old.
The other team leaders were talented detectives. But no matter how hard they worked, they simply couldn't replicate what the young prodigy consistently achieved.
After asking a few follow-up questionsโwhich Hiwatari answered effortlesslyโFujiwara dismissed him.
The young detective returned to his seat without the slightest change in expression. To Hiwatari, it probably was just another report, nothing worth making a fuss about.
The meeting moved on to Division Two, and Fujiwara turned his attention to the next presentation, jotting down a few notes about the questions he'd ask later.
Every so often, however, his gaze wandered around the room, unconsciously observing everyone's reactions.
Thenโฆ Something caught his eye.
Hiwatari had stopped writing.
His pen hovered above the notebook.
His eyes narrowed at first... then widened. His lips parted almost imperceptibly.
The boy was staring at the presentation screen.
Division Two had successfully dismantled part of an illegal drug distribution network that had been under investigation for nearly six months. Two suspects had already been arrested, and one of the organization's operating bases had finally been identified.
An apartment building in Tokyo.
"Our team has already neutralized the members involved," the Division Two leader continued. "We're currently securing the apartment, evacuating the residents, and coordinating with the media beforeโ"
Screech.
The sharp sound of a chair scraping across the floor interrupted the presentation.
Every head in the room turned, only to find Hiwatari already standing. His shadow partially covered the projected slide.
"Hiwatari?" Fujiwara called.
The young detective immediately turned toward him.
"I apologize." He bowed. "Director, please excuse me."
His voice sounded no different from usualโcalm, controlled, almost unnervingly so.
But Fujiwara had known him for five years. He could hear the slight uncertainty underneath it.
Fujiwara blinked.
It wasn't like Hiwatari to interrupt a meeting. Especially this one.
Still, he nodded calmly. "Alright. Report back to me once you're finished."
"Yes, sir."
Without another word, Hiwatari left the room. His notebook and pen remained on the table.
The conference room immediately filled with confused whispers.
Nobody left the monthly headquarters meeting halfway through.
Nobody.
And Hiwatari Satoshi might've been the last person Fujiwara expected to do it.
After a brief silence, the Division Two leader cautiously asked, "...Should we wait?"
Fujiwara cleared his throat.
"No, continue. Whatever it is, he'll report back when he's finished."
--------
Nearly four hours later, the meeting finally came to an end.
People gathered their documents and slowly filed out of the conference room.
Hiwatari still hadn't returned.
Nor had Fujiwara received any report from him.
Curious, the director walked over to the young detective's seat. His notebook still lay open.
Fujiwara picked it up.
There wasn't much written yet. Hiwatari had presented first, and Division Two had only just begun when he'd suddenly left the room.
Still, whatever he'd managed to write was as neat and detailed as usual.
Fujiwara turned to the last page.
ย ย Division Two.
The notes continued normally. Until they suddenly didn't.
The writing ended halfway through the address of the apartment building that had been identified as one of the organization's bases.
Fujiwara slowly raised an eyebrow.
His eyes lingered on the unfinished address for another moment. Then his mind drifted back to the expression Hiwatari had made during the presentation.
It had only lasted for a split second. But after working with the young detective for five years, Fujiwara knew that even the slightest change on that usually unreadable face was never without reason.
The director quietly closed the notebook.
Whatever had happened...
He'd get his answer once Hiwatari came back. And Hiwatari-boy had better prepare himself. Because this time, the one getting interrogated... was him.
๐ข/๐ฏ: ๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐จ๐ฐ! ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐น๐ต ๐ค๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ! ๐ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ ๐๐ถ๐ซ๐ช๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ข-๐ด๐ข๐ฏ, ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐บ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ๐บ ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ข ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ง๐ข๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ง๐ช๐จ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐๐ (๐๐ข๐ต๐ฐ๐ด๐ฉ๐ช ๐ด๐ข๐บ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ โ๐ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธโ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ด๐ต๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ง โ๐ ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅโ ๐ธ๐ข๐ด ๐ข ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ช๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ, ๐ช๐ง๐บ๐ฌ๐บ๐ฌ!!) ๐๐ฐ๐ธโฆ ๐ฅ๐ฐ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐จ๐ถ๐บ๐ด ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ค๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ช๐ด ๐จ๐ฐ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ? ๐ ๐๐ฆ๐น๐ต, ๐ธ๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข ๐-๐ฅ๐ณ๐ข๐ฎ๐ข ๐ด๐ค๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ถ๐ฑ ๐ ๐๐ฆ๐ฆ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ!
ยฉlilacrin โฆ ๐ ๐๐ถ๐น ๐๐ ๐๐ช3
