Sayori (Chapter One)

• Author’s note: In Japan the last name comes before the first name, so all my characters are introduced with their last name to start with.


*Keishiro*

February 17, 2008

Detective Suzuki Keishiro arrived at the crime scene an hour after the murder was reported and quickly slipped under the yellow police tape, not wanting to waste any more time. There were people everywhere from police to civilians and all of them seemed to be shocked by the sight of a young woman who lay haphazardly on the sidewalk, a pool of blood around her head. There was no doubt about it… she was dead.

“You’re finally here Suzuki-san,’’ a voice called from behind him.

Keishiro turned around, a little surprised. “Oh it’s you, Emma. Fill me in please.”

Emma walked up to him, a strange expression on her face. “Well, her name is Sayori. I’m sure you’ve seen her on television before; you know the one that sings that catchy song all the kids are singing nowadays- how does it go? Something like-.”

Keishiro cut her short. “I watch MTV too, Emma. I know Sayori is a singer and I know she’s famous. Please get on with it.”

She blushed. “Well, she’s taken two bullets to the head. From what we can see here, it looks as though she’s been thrown off the sixth story of her penthouse apartment. They’re just about to take her away to run some tests. So far it seems like an obvious case of homicide.”

He nodded. “Hey, wasn’t she with that guy-?”

“Koizumi Soichero,” Emma said, running her hand through her short brown hair. “I’m just about to run some background information on her, but he’s a definite suspect, what with his history.”

Keishiro sighed. Almost everyone in Tokyo had heard of Soichero and those that hadn’t certainly recognized his last name. The Koizumi’s were one of the most notorious families in Japan. Soichero’s father was the godfather or oyabun of the Yamaguchi-gumi, the most powerful mafia organization in the world. Keishiro wasn’t looking forward to questioning him, mainly because the guy was impossible.

He had a long history with the Koizumi’s, and had spent most of his career trying to link Soichero’s father, Koizumi Sasuki, to several murders that had taken place everywhere from Kyoto to Geneva. Finally, last summer, he had managed to dig up enough information to convict Sasuki. The old man was now serving a six year sentence in a maximum security prision just outside of Tokyo. But being behind bars hadn’t stopped Sasuki- he was very well informed and Soichero knew that if he called now he would find that Sasuki already knew about the murder of his son’s girlfriend.

“The press is going to have a field day with this one,” Emma was saying as they watched Sayori’s body get taken away.

“I wonder who did it.”

Emma looked surprised. “Don’t you think it was Soichero? I mean, the apartment wasn’t broken into or anything. Whoever got in had a key.”

Keishiro shrugged. “Somehow I don’t think so. Listen, it’s late. I think I’ll head home and get some sleep. You should do the same.”

She shook her head, “I think I’ll head straight into the office. You know how hard it is for me to sleep after seeing something like this.”

He laughed, “Maybe it’s time to think about heading in a different direction with your career. At this rate you’ll never get any sleep.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Turning around she waved at him. “Goodnight, Koizumi-san.”

He watched her walk away, wondering how the hell she could think about work at this time of night. Such dedication, he thought with a small smile. Knowing Emma she probably wouldn’t get any sleep until she’d cracked the case.

April 13, 1998

*Sayori*


“Hashizumi Sayori! Pay attention!”

Instantly I dropped the piece of paper in my hand and looked up at Akatsuka-sensei, blushing. She looked absolutely livid.

“What’s that?” She demanded, noticing the rolled up piece of paper beside my desk. “Bring it over to me!”

Everyone watched in silence as I bent down, picked up the paper and walked up to the front of the classroom to hand it to my teacher. She sniffed in disapproval as she read the note inside. “Who wrote this?” She asked, sounding annoyed.

I bowed my head, not wanting to tell on the boy.

“I did.”

Surprised, I turned around to look at him. The other kids laughed. Some even accused him of being my boyfriend. I blushed and looked back down at the floor.

“Nakata Shegeki!” Akatsuka-sensei said, sounding just as surprised as I was.

So that’s his name, I thought, biting my bottom lip to keep from smiling. I wondered why he had bothered with me. None of the other kids bothered with me. They hated me, and now they would hate him too for trying to associate with me. Or maybe not…he was very popular in our class.

“I wrote it,” he repeated. “I noticed last class that Sayori-san was having trouble with math, so I wrote that note, offering to help her. Please, sensei, don’t punish her.”

More laughter from my classmates. From the corner of my eye, I noticed my step-sister, Yumiko, staring at me. No doubt she’d run home right after school to tell our father.

“Well,” Akatsuka-sensei said with a small sigh, “you may be seated Sayori. As for you, Nakata- I want to let you know that I won’t accept this type of behavior from you in the future. You behave yourself well for the most part, so I’ll let you get off with a warning this time.”

Without even looking at the boy, I returned to my seat.

When class let out half an hour later, I gathered up my books as fast as I could and stuffed them into my bag before running out the door. The last thing I wanted was to wait around and get harassed by the other students.


“Otosan, do you know that Sayori-chan got in trouble today?”

We were sitting at the table, eating dinner. My father looked up from his bowl of rice and glanced over at me.

“Really?” He asked, helping himself to some grilled fish. “Tell me about it Yumiko.”

He didn’t sound upset but I knew better. Otosan expected us to take school seriously and had a ‘no-nonsense’ attitude where schoolwork was concerned.

My step-sister smiled at me, her eyes glinting darkly. “She was caught passing notes in class- with a boy!”

My step-mother made a sound of disapproval.

“Is this true, Sayori?” My father demanded quietly.

I shook my head, “Yes, but he just wanted to help me-.”

“You must remember your family’s honor,” my father began, not even looking at me. “If you need help with your homework you can always ask me.”

I looked down at my lap, blinking back tears. As usual he wasn’t listening to anything I had to say.

“Yumiko, did you show your father your artwork?” My step-mother asked, obviously changing the subject. “She received bonus points for creativity.”

My father smiled. “As expected of my child.”

Anger boiled up inside me. Those stupid words again!

I’m his daughter too, I thought, and yet he never says that to me! It’s always Yumiko! She’s always gets all the attention! I wanted to shout, I wanted to scream- but I didn’t. There’s nothing father hates more than people who are unable to keep their emotions at bay.

Biting my lip to keep from crying, I picked up my chopsticks, my hands shaking with anger, and concentrated on finishing my food so that I could be excused.

That night I had that nightmare again; the one where I’m running in a fog, trying to catch up to my father and Yumiko. I can always see them in the distance, holding hands and talking but when I call out to them, I find myself being ignored. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that dream means.

Even though it doesn’t sound like a really scary dream, for some reason it terrifies me. I woke up screaming, tears streaming down my cheeks. My father was at my side, concern written all over his face.

“Are you alright?’

I was shaking. “Y-yes.”

“Listen to me, Sayori-chan,” he said his voice unusually gentle. “What were you dreaming about?”

I shook my head, sobbing silently.

How could I tell him? He’d probably call me foolish and scold me, saying that Yumiko was my sister and that jealousy between sisters was shameful. So I kept quiet about it. Finally he got up and left. I was alone again, alone with the vivid images of my nightmare.