one hundred fifty one— What Kenji Did With the Rest of His Life

What follows happened long before Kai ever set foot in this world — in the life he left behind, in the city he died in.

I include it here because I think the reader deserves to know exactly what became of the man who killed him, and what it eventually cost.

　After the car struck Haruto and Kenji drove away with Hana, he told her to take a separate route home.

　He had, he said, something else to take care of that night.

　What he actually had was a trading account he still hadn't accessed.

　He returned to Haruto's apartment building that same night, working at the lock with the quiet, practiced patience of a man who'd clearly thought this part through in advance.

　A neighbor's door opened before he finished.

　A woman named Yuki, curious about the noise, stepped outside.

　"Kenji?" she said, recognizing him. "Why are you trying to break into Haruto's place this late?"

　He had an answer ready immediately.

　Haruto was staying at his place tonight, he explained. He'd sent him to grab a few things, but he'd forgotten his own key inside.

　If there was a safer way in than forcing the door, he'd rather use it.

　He'd fix everything properly once morning came.

　Yuki believed him without hesitation.

　She led him around to her own balcony, close enough to Haruto's that climbing across was simple enough.

　Kenji thanked her and let himself in.

　The first thing he did once inside was go straight for Haruto's laptop.

　He was, it turned out, genuinely skilled with exactly this kind of work.

　He broke into the device itself without much trouble at all.

　The trading account was another matter entirely.

　He tried repeatedly.

　Found nothing that worked.

　Eventually, he turned to searching the apartment itself for anything useful.

　He found a photograph.

　A girl who'd died of cancer years earlier.

　Someone Haruto had clearly loved and never fully stopped grieving.

　"I'm really sorry I killed your boyfriend," Kenji said to the photograph, entirely sincere in his own twisted way. "Please forgive me. But don't worry — the two of you can be together again now."

　He kept searching after that.

　Eventually, he found roughly 800,000 yen in cash tucked away.

　And because greed rarely knows when to stop, he kept looking anyway, certain there had to be more.

　Haruto's older sister, a police officer named Himari Kobayashi, had called him the day before, promising to stay over.

　She'd been worried, gently, that he'd been cooping himself up too long.

　She'd tried calling all that morning with no answer.

　She assumed he was simply avoiding her.

　And once her shift ended, she decided to visit anyway.

　She stopped by her own place first for a few things.

　On the sidewalk outside, she noticed something she almost chose to ignore.

　She was a cop.

　She didn't ignore it.

　Blood, first.

　Then, as she got closer—

　A body.

　She didn't recognize it immediately.

　Not until her phone's light caught his face properly.

　And her whole world simply stopped.

　Her phone hit the ground.

　Everything she was carrying scattered.

　She was on her knees beside him before she'd consciously decided to move, blood already soaking through her clothes, trying, uselessly, desperately, to wake him.

　She called the ambulance with shaking hands.

　Kenji was still upstairs when it happened.

　Still searching.

　Still greedy.

　He eventually left the apartment with roughly 1.3 million yen total, apparently satisfied, apparently unaware of exactly what was unfolding on the sidewalk below.

　Himari didn't want to believe it.

　Their parents were already gone.

　Haruto had been the only family she had left in the world.

　She sat in the hospital waiting room, holding onto hope right up until the moment someone finally told her, gently, that it had already been too late by the time the ambulance arrived.

　She broke down completely.

　Then, because grief and duty rarely wait politely for each other, she got up.

　She went to investigate the scene herself.

　She called in colleagues she trusted — officers who knew her as someone with a genuinely kind heart, who understood immediately how much this particular case would cost her personally.

　One of them, an officer named Toru, told her gently to step back from the investigation.

　To let them handle it.

　To take the time she needed.

　Kenji, meanwhile, attended the funeral days later dressed like a man who'd recently come into money.

　He even offered Himari his own quiet, hollow comfort.

　The following day, Himari went to Haruto's apartment to gather his things and inform the neighbors.

　Before she reached the door, Toru called.

　They'd identified the person responsible.

　Security footage had caught the entire incident.

　Rage found her instantly.

　She was already moving toward the apartment when Yuki, returning from the store, spotted her.

　"Himari? Hey — how's it going? You look... I don't know, tired, I guess."

　"Sorry I didn't tell you I was coming," Himari managed.

　Yuki mentioned, in passing, that Haruto hadn't been around lately — that a friend of his had come by one night, claiming Haruto had sent him for something, locked out of his own place.

　"A friend?" Himari asked, sharp. "What was his name? What did he look like?"

　Yuki, startled by the intensity, told her to slow down.

　Himari apologized.

　Then, quietly, she told her the truth.

　"Haruto's dead."