Romantic Troubles of Duanmu-kun

Final Chapter, Part One: Father and Son

BANG!

With the flash of fire, she recognized it.

…A gunshot.

And the Nagawa City killer never used guns.

Miyagi-san spun around quickly, lifting her high-heeled sandal to deliver a fierce kick to the groin of the man lunging at her from behind.

“—?!”

A dull thud.

The stun gun in her hand crashed hard against the attacker’s neck, blue sparks flashing momentarily. After a brief spasm, he collapsed to the ground.

…

She looked toward the distance.

At the corner of the empty street stood a young man in a hoodie, his hood pulled down.

He held a gun.

Wisps of smoke curled from its dark barrel.

Though she couldn’t make out his features clearly, Miyagi-san smiled, greeting him warmly.

“Landlord-san, did you just shoot directly at him?”

“…Of course not. I just thought I couldn’t make it running, so I fired a warning shot from afar.”

The young man sighed, walking toward them.

*

After confirming that the attacker, Otsuka Ken, wouldn’t wake up anytime soon, he returned the cold, heavy metal to his pocket.

“If you’re here, that means you found it, right? The killer’s hideout.”

“…”

After a long silence, the novelist answered seriously.

“I went to Nagawa City earlier.

“It was difficult, but I finally found the answer at the city hall.”

“In the serial killings eight years ago, the police couldn’t find any connection between victims or establish a normal motive, so they assumed the culprit killed randomly for pleasure. But that wasn’t correct. While the victims weren’t connected, there was a pattern in their times of death.”

“Not the season or weather. Simply that on each day of the murders, nearby schools and community centers had conducted disaster drills.”

The prolonged disaster warning sirens—

“That was the ‘loud sound’ signaling the killer to ‘go out and kill!'”

Miyagi Aki nodded vigorously, eyes sparkling as she exclaimed, “Amazing! Landlord-san is just like a detective!”

“…Actually, Miyagi-san was guiding my thoughts in this direction all along, wasn’t she? Really now, who else would notice such an bizarre connection?”

Whether it was the specific questions she asked or the railway renovation maps with marked areas, connecting the hidden hints led to the answer.

“So eight years later, Miyagi-san followed similar logic to find the killer, using train whistles from construction zones.”

“…Ah, but you know. That thinking was actually flawed. I truly didn’t find Otsuka-kun or stop him from killing.”

The girl kicked the fallen killer’s cheek with her heel.

“…Indeed. If the killer only followed train whistles, we can’t explain why there was only one victim in over twenty days.”

The whistle times were fixed daily. At that rate, there should have been over twenty victims in the city by now.

“It can’t be explained by simple mood or ability issues—at least eight years ago, this guy strictly followed the signals to kill. So…”

The young man pulled down his hood, revealing his pale face. He gazed into the distance.

“There’s more than one way to give orders without leaving traces like phone calls or emails. There are other ‘signals.'”

“Corresponding to the ‘loud sounds’ are the ‘bright colors’ existing in this city.”

…

The sun was setting.

The city gradually became shrouded in hazy shadows and twilight. The distant forest of steel and concrete was painted in gold.

Looking half a block away, there stood a department store over ten stories tall, its glass facade swimming with interweaving red and green neon lights.

That place only displayed dynamic building projections during holidays (usually Japanese national holidays).

“The first murder happened on Coming of Age Day twenty-some days ago. The same colors were flashing then, visible even blocks away, right?”

Due to its location, there were no buildings over ten stories nearby. To passersby, it stood out like a burning torch of various colors.

It was said to be a department store operated by the famous conglomerate Niwa Industries, one of the earliest skyscrapers built in the Tokyo metropolitan area, serving as a local landmark for quite some time.

“Today is February 11th, National Foundation Day, hence the projected advertisements. Also, though it’s just my guess, both the train whistles and warning sirens sound a lot like police sirens, don’t they? The colors are similar to police lights too—perhaps related to his childhood experiences.”

“Eh? Landlord-san, are you saying the department store’s projections are also one of the ‘signals’? But the Otsuka father and son have inherited eye conditions—they can’t see that far. Of course, their heads aren’t right either!”

That explained why Otsuka Yuuya’s rental apartment was so dark. Lights off, curtains drawn—not a normal living condition. Light was severely damaging to his fragile eyes.

Due to his age, Yuuya’s health had been declining. Currently unemployed because of his eye condition, he hadn’t left his apartment in a long time.

This trait was inherited by his son, Otsuka Ken. Since their first meeting eight years ago, his vision had been poor. When anxious, he had the strange habit of rubbing his eyes frantically.

“The reason for that is simple too.”

He turned around, answering quietly.

“It’s because someone treated and fixed his eyes afterward, that’s all.”

…

As he spoke.

“Run away… run away…”

A familiar voice came from near their feet.

So faint it seemed like a floating illusion, disappearing into the air in an instant.

*

“Well! Whatever the case, this guy’s down, so it can end now! The story of the Nagawa City killer can finally close its curtains.”

The girl stretched, showing her tall, graceful figure. Her long hair gleamed like gold in the setting sun.

“What a hopeless father and son pair. Physical illness is forgivable, but once the mind breaks, there’s no coming back.”

Just then, as if suddenly remembering something, Aki explained apologetically.

“…Ah, sorry, I forgot. Landlord-san probably hasn’t met his father yet? Anyway, though he didn’t commit murder, he’s still an unforgivable man with a terrible record.”

The novelist pressed his lips together tightly, shaking his head, his face growing paler.

“…Otsuka Ken’s father is dead.”

After a moment of silence, he said softly.

“Eh… how can that be?”

For the first time, Aki showed an expression of surprise.

“I visited Otsuka Yuuya’s home a few days ago, hoping to learn his son’s whereabouts. But I wasn’t successful.”

If what Miyagi-san said was true, what happened to Otsuka Yuuya after she left?

Perhaps he was simply silenced after revealing the truth about the incidents;
Or perhaps he was killed in frustration after refusing to reveal his son’s whereabouts even under cruel torture.

Either way, it was something the novelist couldn’t know now.

However…

“Otsuka Ken must have really trusted his father, right?”

“…Why do you say that?”

“If I’m not mistaken, this father and son weren’t estranged as they appeared, but were maintaining contact in some way.”

Through secondhand old cassette tapes and specific radio frequencies, they could communicate without meeting and without others noticing.

“Get away from here…”

That voice came from their feet again.

This time, it wasn’t an illusion.

The voice heard from the cassette tape sounded weak but clear nearby.

Otsuka Ken hadn’t woken up.

Stunned by the taser, his body had lost all strength.

In his dark nightmare, he kept mumbling the same words about “running away.”

When the novelist first found that tape under the pedestrian bridge, he thought it was a bystander’s voice. The “run away” warning seemed to be from someone who had witnessed the killer.

But following the lead of who sold the tape led him to Otsuka Yuuya’s home, where he found his brutally murdered body.

In other words, the person speaking on the tape wasn’t a stranger—it was the “killer” himself.

According to Miyagi-san’s information, Otsuka Yuuya had been a yakuza member, a thug who lived by oppressing and persecuting innocent citizens.

In his childhood, Otsuka Ken often came home from school to find police cars outside and face questioning from officers; sometimes at night, menacing adults would come knocking while he tried to sleep.

Even so, he never thought to blame his father, choosing instead to endure alone.

He must have said the same words back then.

Anxious.

Afraid.

Praying.

Repeating over and over.

“Run away—”

…

…

Run away, Father.

This time, please don’t let the bad people catch you.