1.7 Below Ground

The vehicle was stale just as the air was quiet, with only the unbalanced, deflated left back wheel showing signs of life as the car limped its way into the Chichibu Main district.

The forest kept itself in the rearview mirror, with the hills of Nagatoro flattening behind the same way a serpent crawls its way down underground.

I've never been questioned by authorities before — my mind scrambled between questions that wouldn't form and adrenaline that refused complete attention.

Just like this morning in class, I was drifting between what was present and sinking into what felt like a heavy haze.

One moment we are passing open roads, fields of green grass holding an architecture of human-made board signs or the occasional slander that defiles concrete and yet respects nature.

In the next, I find my eyes registering traffic lights guiding the salarymen across a busy intersection. I almost regret not savoring the ride more; the main districts are much busier than what I am comfortable with.

I had the window seat, but then again, we all did. Hiro sat up straight in the front passenger seat, Masato and I sat in the back, each of us keeping to our own while the detective tagged as Yaguchi drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel, his eyes cursing the red light.

I could note in the reflection of the window how Masato played with his hands, this contrasting my own otherwise stillness. While my friend's mind was racing with questions and uncertainty, I felt calm in the sense of relief.

Maybe Yumi's fanatics are a blessing in disguise, though I'll never thank her for it. The overstimulation from our conflict has left me deflated — it's as if a warm fuzz was planted within my forehead, creating an atmosphere that is comforting because it hides my thoughts and emotions well.

But I'm not a fool; I won't allow myself to be completely foregone. Although the detectives were calm and collected in their outward appearance, Detective Yaguchi's constant drumming and synchronized checking of the rear-view mirror confirmed something to me.

It showed that we wouldn't be left out of his sight, and even though I couldn't fathom my involvement, I would need to tread their questions with absolute care.

~*~

The car's indicator brought me out of my tenth daydream as the vehicle took a right turn, crossing another road before meeting an entrance guarded by a gate.

The sheer scale of the building in front of us wasn't the light that showed importance, or the gate that treated us with procedures.

It was the concrete walls and how they made me feel further from home. The car rolled in with a mocking leisure, yet found an open parking space that echoed us to leave in haste.

Closing the car door, I felt awake — the unfamiliar air cleansing the fuzz — as I felt my body wanting to fall apart.

I note by the entrance the double doors, it's design not the traditional wood that I'm used to. Erina, Kiori and Ichinose stood together on the verge of holding hands yet afraid to. Detective Haruka stood closer to the road, her body rotated to see our coming and the girls miniature squirms.

"Walk ahead of me, single file, and don't speak until you're spoken to." Yaguchi said efficiently. We had already closed our car doors and Hiro naturally began to stride in front as if the order would not be discussed.

I followed, trying to observe the area in full, but the concrete walls and smell of car fumes forced me to eye the floor as the gravel paved into tiling that appeared almost glass-like, yet sturdy and clean — as if representing all those who work here.

The intoxicating smell and noise all died after our group passed the double doors, which had opened in a swift silence. I gazed upwards and noted the roof lowering, trying to enclose the space, minimizing options for my eyes to wander as I was forced to confront the front desk.

Behind it sat about seven of them, some male, some female, all in uniform and hunched over, paying us little to no attention. I see why immediately — Haruka steered the girls to a corridor on the left, Hiro followed as we turned into a hallway with walls decorated with self-portraits, framed certificates and copper plates boasting the date of establishment.

It almost made this place seem more enjoyable, human even, as if trying to remind us that it's people that work here. Yet as we passed the few closed doors of rooms that I'll never investigate in this lifetime, I noted how every officer holstered a weapon.

You'd typically find that comforting, showing their duty to protect, but with how we were being treated as if suspects, those weapons suddenly felt a whole lot more threatening.

At the end of the hallway, I saw four ways to continue — a left turn, a right turn, and stairs that both ascended and descended. I realized we were on ground level, meaning those stairs descended below ground. The realization hitched my breath as Hiro peered over his shoulder, eyeing me.

"Look forward." I heard Yaguchi echo from behind, though at a distance. I looked over my shoulder — a natural reaction — as I glimpsed a gap between Masato and me.

"I said look forward." Yaguchi's voice was raised, without echo. I quickly turned my head back as I watched the girls heading upstairs — Haruka leading them — not paying us any attention, her gaze fixed on their ascent.

"Go downstairs, two floors, turn right and enter the second door to your left."

The instructions were crisp and clear; it filled me with dread. Our group was beginning to separate — internally, I had predicted this — but the thought of going underground...

It's not the same as a tunnel, and the nerves were back, but I held together for my own sake. If this was just a questioning, then surely we could use any other floor or room?

Hiro diligently adhered to the detective's orders. I wish I could borrow his courage — this is the difference between us. Why he could swing a baseball and I could not.

We made our descent with haste, turning right and within meters finding the correct door. We had to wait as Masato and Yaguchi were still busy with their descent. I examine the door — the glass was a blur, impossible to see through. The hallway itself was a lot dimmer, the lighting held together by bulbs instead of the fancier ceiling lights found near the front desk upstairs.

I examined the door — the glass was a blur, impossible to see through. The hallway itself was a lot dimmer, the lighting held together by bulbs instead of the fancier ceiling lights found near the front desk upstairs.

I looked onward. This hallway appeared empty and the walls were covered by nothing but the paint itself and doors of the same design. My mind was quickening, questions pressing to the front of my skull demanding attention yet never fully forming.

Hiro took the best action — crossing his arms to his chest, leaning against the white walls unafraid that they might swallow him in.

It bothered me, how nonchalant he was about all of this, and my only retreat was staring at the door, asking it to remove its blur and reveal what it held within.

Surprisingly, it spoke.

"Do you think this is about Alison?"

I was perplexed by the question but immediately retracted from my own foolishness. Hiro stared at me, as if my mind had revealed the many incomplete questions — maybe he had simply asked the clearest one.

Still, I didn't want to answer it.

"What do you mean?" I stalled, though his gaze was easier to match now. Hiro continued to stare, his expression never shifting from its calm demeanor.

"Well, Alison never came to school..." He started, but then his pupils drew back slightly and he stared at the floor. I never thought I'd hold his gaze long enough — but the realization behind his logic, though not fully spoken, brought all my nerves to a standstill. They say you should expect the worst, so that you are neither surprised nor disappointed.

But considering my morning, and where I now was — was it really so foolish to hang on to better notions?

"Everyone that was called in knows her well, and honestly I can't think of anything else..." He failed to finish his thought, a second time in a row.

"I don't think so." I said flatly. I wanted to explain that I had seen Alison the previous evening, but the thought of explaining that to Hiro dented my confidence.

Still, I felt I needed to offer my own direction — my own thought process. Otherwise I might start to believe Hiro's projection.

"Don't we all live close to one another? Maybe it's something more related to that?"

At first, it had made sense. I had registered it and thought it over all in an instant.

Yet the logic was fatally flawed. For one, Nagatoro rarely sees the visits of law enforcement. The last time was years ago, when a rich kid took the wrong train line — back when they still worked — and ended up lost for a day.

That was eight years ago. Even that story, as humorous as it appeared on the surface, had far more spine and reason behind it than my own breakdown.

I was honestly surprised.

Surprised at my logic.

Surprised at my Stupidity.