Those Who Are Not Protected - Chapter 1: Episode 3.1

After asking questions at the Welfare and Health Office, they also visited several places to check what happened on October 1st, the day Mikumo was kidnapped. It was already past 9 p.m.

“Let’s stop for today.”

Since the younger one, Hasuda, found it difficult to suggest a break, it was always Tashino who decided when to finish. After contacting headquarters, the two men walked back to the dormitory.

Just before they parted at the dorm, Hasuda called out to him.

“Mr. Tashino, if you don’t mind, would you like to have dinner together?”

Was this unnecessary kindness part of being in a sports club?

“It would bother your wife.”

“Not at all. She actually said it’s been a while since she spoke with you. She said, it’s too lonely.”

They all lived in the same dorm building, so it couldn’t really be lonely. His words were just polite talk, and it actually made things more awkward.

“Sorry, maybe next time.”

Tashino said that and left Hasuda. Hasuda’s son was probably still in kindergarten. Maybe he wanted to feel that warm family atmosphere again. If that was true, even though Hasuda meant no harm, it was still a painful kind of kindness.

As soon as Tashino opened the door, the damp air wrapped around him. The smell of dust and sweat was always there. He turned on the light, and the cold, pale light from the fluorescent lamp filled the small, lonely room.

Tashino quickly turned on the TV. He would rather not watch anything—he just wanted to hear some sound. A variety show was playing, and he chose not to change the channel.

Ignoring the loud voices of the comedians and the empty laughter, he went to the kitchen. He took a frozen meal and put it in the microwave. It wasn’t real cooking, but it felt a little more like home than a convenience store meal. It helped push away the laziness, even if just a little.

Ding.

He placed the steaming fried rice on the low table and softly said, “Let’s eat.” It was a habit he had developed after getting married. Even now, eating alone, the words came out naturally.

On the table was a photo frame. It showed his wife and their only child.

Before being transferred to the prefectural police headquarters, Tashino worked in the Violent Crimes Division at the Kesennuma Station. Back then, his family didn’t live in the dorm. They rented a house. Life with his wife of 20 years and their son felt full and happy. His son had been born after he turned 40. Just seeing his little face made all the hard work worth it.

“Daddy will protect you both.” Every day, Tashino repeated this to his baby, despite the child’s inability to understand his words.

Having someone to protect gave his work more meaning. People seemed able to go beyond their limits when doing things for others. Even when he had to work late into the night or early morning, knowing his family was waiting at home made his steps feel lighter. Now, when he looked back, those were the best days of his life.

That life ended in March 2011.

On the 11th, Tashino was away from the city because of a case. The shaking from the earthquake made him stumble, but at first, he didn’t think it was serious.

Through the police radio, he heard there was an emergency. As the news came in, he learned the situation around Kesennuma Bay was very bad.

The news on TV showed him everything.

The familiar town was swallowed by muddy water. His house was among the many houses that were swept away.

Tashino felt that all strength left his body. He fell to the ground. It was a great shock that didn’t just steal his energy but crushed his spirit too.

The Kesennuma Station itself lost function because of the tsunami. It was moved to the local disaster center. But they didn’t have time to gather information. Their first job was to protect and guide the survivors. While Tashino helped people in danger, he looked for the faces of his wife and son. He couldn’t find them. He wanted to drop everything and go home, but his sense of duty as a public servant kept him torn inside. To keep his fear away, he had to focus on work.

Soon, as the damage in the city became clearer, he realized his wife and son were gone. Their house had been washed away, leaving only the foundation of it. Everything that proved their lives—every trace—was gone.

Even though the station had moved to the disaster center, it didn’t work properly for a while. They couldn’t collect much information. Many officers were also worried about their own families. The only good thing was that almost no one in the disaster area broke the law. Tashino was deeply impressed by the people’s discipline and kindness.

The work of rebuilding began by erasing the signs of tragedy. Machines cleared away the rubble that once held people’s memories. After the clearing, only empty land remained—just like the emptiness in the hearts of those who lost their families.

Tashino was the same. On his days off, he kept going back to where his house used to be, searching for their belongings. When he looked up, he saw others who were also doing the same, staring at the ground.

But he never found anything. During that time, he received a transfer notice to move to the prefectural police headquarters.

Sendai City started rebuilding earlier than other places. At night, neon lights lit up the streets, welcoming workers sent to help with the recovery.

As people gathered, crime also returned to the bright city. There were still missing persons, normal crimes, and even scams that targeted disaster victims. Tashino became busy again. He didn’t have time to think about his memories anymore.

He once heard someone say that funerals kept the family busy on purpose—so they wouldn’t have time to get drowned in sadness. If that was true, then maybe being transferred was a kind act from the heavens.

Within a year, the government passed a special law. Towns and cities could issue death certificates for earthquake victims without going through the usual legal process. This allowed families to settle inheritance and insurance quickly and move on with their lives.

Even so, Tashino still hadn’t filed for death certificates for his wife and son. He kept telling himself he would do it soon, but work got in the way, and he never filled out the papers.

He knew it was just an excuse. Deep inside, he still couldn’t accept that they were gone. He didn’t want to face the fact that he had once promised to protect them but couldn’t actually do anything for them. He only stands far away and just watches.

His wife and child in the photo seemed to smile at Tashino as if they were blaming him.

*****

In the car heading to the Sendai Central Police Station, where the special investigation team was based, Hasuda—who was driving—spoke to Tashino.

“Do you think the motive could be money?”

“The killer didn’t care about the small amount of money on the victim. Maybe they were aiming for a much bigger fortune.”

“If that’s true, then the only suspects would be Mikumo’s family,” Tashino replied.

“Mikumo was a good person at work and at home. It’s unlikely someone killed him out of hatred. So maybe someone made it look like a personal grudge, but it wasn’t. That seems more reasonable, right?”

Hasuda’s opinion made sense. Since there was nothing negative about the victim’s relationships, it was natural to think that way.

But he didn’t fully agree.

“So, Tashino-san, do you think differently?”

“Not exactly. I just think we shouldn’t completely rule out the chance it was a personal grudge.”

“Then that means you do think differently,” Hasuda said with a wry smile.

“What’s bothering you about it?”

“It’s how the killer chose to starve the victim. If they wanted it to look like a murder out of hatred, there were other ways. Like cutting up the body or damaging it. There are many methods.”

“But those take time and effort. You need the strength to cut up a body, and you have to deal with the awful smell. But starvation? You just tie someone up and leave them. It’s simple and easy. But it’s still extremely cruel. The victim had to slowly wait for death in hunger and thirst. It’s more like torture than murder.”

Tashino had thought the same thing while looking at the body, so he had to agree.

“Don’t you think that kind of thinking is strange?”

“Huh?”

“To even think of killing someone this way—it’s just weird. I’ve never seen a crime scene like that before. You met Mikumo’s wife, right? It’s hard to imagine she would think of something like that.”

“But people who want to kill are a little strange in the first place, right?”

Hasuda kept going. He wasn’t arguing just to disagree—he was trying to understand, asking questions and sharing ideas. That way, things that were hard to see might become clearer.

“But not always. If only people who were disconnected from society or had mental problems killed, it’d be easy. The problem is, it’s not just them. It’s students walking to school, housewives thinking about dinner at the supermarket, tired office workers on crowded trains, or even jobless people who are stuck in their rooms. Those people can be murderers too—that’s what makes it hard.”

“I totally agree with the part about jobless people being the ones to kill.”

“So, only that part?”

“Well, most suspects we catch lately are jobless. They have a lot of anger and no job, and they have the free time to commit crimes. That’s why—”

Tashino felt this way of thinking was too shallow.

Having a job means income and not much time for committing crime. And yes, Hasuda had seen many suspects with that background, so it was understandable.

But wasn’t that just prejudice based on a negative view of human nature? Sure, there’s the saying “an idle mind is the devil’s workshop,” but that doesn’t mean being idle equals being a criminal. That’s jumping to conclusions.

“You said the motive was money, right? Then tell me—what assets did Tadakatsu Mikumo have? Have we checked his finances yet?”

“His house is worth about six million yen. He had 2.51 million yen in the bank. He also had a life insurance policy for 15 million yen, with his wife as the beneficiary.”

“So that’s 23.51 million yen in total. It’s not a small amount, but if you wait until Mikumo retires, he’d get a similar or bigger retirement payout. Killing him now doesn’t make sense. If the motive was really money, the killer would have waited for the best time to get the most. The way the scene was planned and how tools were prepared showed it was a carefully planned murder. That’s why this motive doesn’t fit.”

Hasuda seemed to accept Tashino’s reasoning and stayed quiet for a moment.