Chapter 50: Subtle Chess Moves

Chapter 50: Chapter 50: Subtle Chess Moves

Mataguchi monologue, POV

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Yesterday

The walk from Tokyo Dome City to the newly opened Shinjuku Grand Cinema was silent.

The mid-afternoon sun beat down relentlessly on the concrete sidewalks.

Junpai walked like a man whose skeletal system had been hollowed out. His hands were shoved so deep into his denim jacket pockets that the fabric threatened to rip, his gaze locked entirely on his scuffing shoes. Beside him, Aki was a ticking bomb of protective rage, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently in his cheek.

At the front of the group, Shion clung to Oota’s left arm. Her grip was tight, desperate, and fragile. She walked with a delicate, rhythmic limp, occasionally pulling the sleeve of her pastel sweater down to cover her reddened wrist whenever Oota looked her way.

"Are you sure you don’t want to sit on a bench for a bit, Shion?" Oota asked, his voice thick with a mixture of protective concern and the exhausting, lingering dread from his own chaotic week. "We can skip the trailers. There’s no rush."

Shion looked up, her purple eyes swimming with a perfectly calculated layer of unshed tears. She offered a brave, trembling smile. "No... I’m okay, Oota. Being out here... where everyone is staring... it makes me feel exposed. I just want to sit in the dark for a while. With you."

"Right," Oota murmured, his chest tightening. He glanced back at Junpai, feeling a profound wave of guilt.

This was supposed to be a good day. For everyone. And instead...This must have been Oota very thoughts right now.

From the very back of the procession, two entities moved in absolute detachment from the emotional wreckage.

Inosuki took a slow, methodical sip from his half-empty sports drink. His sharp, calculating eyes flicked from the back of Shion’s head down to her platform boots, then over to the space where Nanami had stood only twenty minutes prior.

"Mataguchi," Inosuki said, his voice dropping into a low, private frequency beneath the roar of passing city traffic.

"Hmm," I muttered without turning my head.

"The audio file Shion played," Inosuki began, his tone entirely clinical though anyone could sense unease from his wordings. "Did you notice the baseline noise?"

"....." I didn’t respond but listened instead. Is he trying to add me to this mess?

"I mean..." Inosuki continued "The wind resistance inside those pods is static, but the click that ended the file was perfectly clean. There was no shuffling sound. No physical impact captured on the microphone before the recording cut."

The human brain possesses an innate vulnerability called confirmation bias... Ithought while my eyes directed to inosuki before facing back forward.

"...."

When a subject desires a specific emotional outcome, they will willingly ignore structural discrepancies in data to protect that comfort. Shion provided a villain. Aki and Junpai required a villain to explain the discomfort of rejection. Thus the equation solved itself...

"I don’t actually, from what I’d noticed Nanami wasn’t really into Junpai....maybe Shion figuring out and outing it plain to her must have triggered a negative reaction"

"Well I can’t say for sure since I wasn’t there when it happened"

".....is that your point of view on the situation" Inosuki questioned.

"More or less, I’m still confused no things"

I deadpan, facing forward.

"So in other words, you couldn’t care less" Inosuki translated. If he was so interested on investigating why not become a detective?

"...." I went silent my eyes shifted to Inosuki.

"What?" Inosuki muttered immediately upon my sudden shift.

"I didn’t even say anything like that" I corrected..

"Right"

"... maybe you are over thinking the situation" I uttered while facing back forward, my poker face still remaining still. Besides it will do you a great deal not to interfere.

Inosuki’s eyes narrowed as they approached the grand glass facade of the theater.

Nanami is a displaced variable, but destroying her isn’t Shion style of handling things... I mentally added noticing Inosuki getting lost in his own train of thoughts.

Not that this matters

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Present time. September 7th, 2025.

The city seemed to have a different personality on Sundays.

The roads were still busy, but the traffic lacked the aggression of a weekday morning. Office workers had disappeared from the sidewalks, replaced by families, couples, and people who walked without constantly checking the time.

Some shops had their shutters halfway open. Others were already playing music loud enough to compete with the traffic outside.

It was an ordinary day.

At least, that was how it appeared.

I walked along the pavement with one hand inside the pocket of my dark trousers and the other holding my phone.

I wore a plain black T-shirt beneath a lightweight oversized jacket, accompanied by white sneakers that had seen better days. Nothing about my appearance suggested that he belonged to a particularly wealthy family, attended an elite school or stood out in any way.

I looked like an ordinary high-schooler who had decided to spend my Sunday outside.

My hair, black and falling loosely around my forehead leading down to cover my eyes slightly, moved slightly whenever the wind passed.

I wasn’t in a hurry. There was still enough time.

My phone vibrated, i glanced at the notification. It was from the Instagram app.

Then another notification appeared, and another. I stopped walking.

For several seconds, i simply stared at the screen, the message i had sent to the group chat yesterday had accumulated considerably more responses than i had expected. The original discussion had already moved several pages down, buried beneath reactions, arguments, and screenshots.

Someone had reposted the message elsewhere, someone else had taken that repost and uploaded it to another platform. By this morning, the thing had spread beyond the people who were supposed to see it.

I scrolled, i didn’t smile or frown, either. My expression remained as unremarkable as ever.

The original post hadn’t been particularly impressive. It was a short observation about an anomalous occurrence, accompanied by enough information to make people curious without providing anything conclusive.

At the time, it had seemed like a harmless way to get a few people talking. Now, strangers were arguing over what it meant.

Some believed it was a hoax. Others were convinced that the information pointed to something being deliberately concealed. A few had gone further, producing elaborate explanations based on details that hadn’t even appeared in the original message.

The most popular theory was also the least convincing. I read a few comments before locking my phone.

People were remarkably good at finding patterns. They were considerably worse at determining whether those patterns had any significance.

Still, the response was useful.

I resumed walking.

A few steps later, i took out my phone again and opened Discord.

The application loaded into my account after inputting my fingerprint.

My profile picture appeared in the corner. My status was unchanged, and the familiar list of servers populated the screen.

To kill time i checked the account information then the recent activity, then the messages.

Nothing immediately stood out.

I opened the relevant group and looked through the conversation. There were no unexpected messages sent from his account. No unfamiliar conversations had appeared, and nothing suggested that someone else had gained access to my profile.

I guess Oota did follow the other phase, which meant the confronting his final dead-end.

I spent another moment examining the available information before closing the application.

That was reassuring.

Not because i had been particularly worried. Rather, because an explanation that could be eliminated early was one less thing to account for later.

I slipped my phone into my pocket. I had other matters to attend to. In particular, someone was supposed to meet me today. Mrs Kahori-San

The thought reminded me to check the time, i was still early so there was no reason to rush.

As i approached the next intersection, i noticed a familiar figure coming from the opposite direction.

Black hair.

A familiar gait, a face i had seen often enough to recognize without needing a second look.

Oota Kageyama.

I slowed slightly, i had already considered the possibility of encountering Oota this morning. Our usual routes occasionally overlapped, particularly around this part of the city but not on sundays. Oota’s presence wasn’t surprising, and there was nothing especially remarkable about the timing.

Even so, seeing someone you knew outside the environment in which you usually encountered them always felt a little different. At school, people carried their reputations with them. Outside it, those reputations tended to become less useful.

Oota walked with his hands in his pockets, his attention directed somewhere ahead of him. He didn’t appear particularly interested in the shops or the people around him. He seemed positive today.

I guess it would help in his meeting.

I was about to pass him when Oota’s eyes shifted in my direction.

He stopped.

"Prez?"

I turned my head. "Morning, Oota."

"Morning." Oota approached, his expression changing slightly as he recognized me properly.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Walking."

Oota stared at me then he gave a short laugh. "Seriously? That’s your answer?"

"Would you prefer a more detailed explanation of the process?"

"No, I’m good." Oota shook his head.

For a moment, the two of us stood beside the pavement while people continued moving around them. There was nothing particularly awkward about the silence. We had known each other for long enough that we didn’t need to fill every gap in a conversation. Oota could be difficult to read on certain days, but i had never found the need to interrogate him whenever he seemed quiet.

Sometimes, people simply had things on their minds. Besides, i had learned that asking someone what was wrong didn’t necessarily make them more willing to tell you.

"So," Oota began, glancing at him. "Where are you headed?"

"An appointment." I answered

"An appointment?" He asked, I guess he wanted me to be more specific.

"Yes."

Oota waited, in which i said nothing more.

"You’re really going to make me drag every piece of information out of you, aren’t you?" He finally added.

"You asked where I was going. I answered."

"You’re unbelievable."

"Thank you."

"That wasn’t a compliment." Oota protested.

"I know."

Oota let out another laugh, this time with a little more warmth. For a brief moment, i found myself remembering how we had spoken to each other as children.

Oota had always been capable of making a simple conversation unnecessarily complicated when he felt like being annoying. Back then, i had been more inclined to argue with him. Not to mention when he changed drastically after meeting me, or so Shion had pointed out.

I had since discovered that silence was often the more efficient response. Oota had apparently discovered that it wasn’t always the most satisfying one.

"So, who are you meeting?" Oota asked.

"An elderly lady."

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"The beauty of the move lies not in its appearance but in the thought behind it."

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