Chapter Text
Akira Kurusu scowls as he watches dull, empty countryside scroll past his train window. He has never, ever been so bored.
No wonder Dad wants me to visit. He must be bored stiff too.
He doesn't even have his mom to pester. She sent him on this whole trip all alone – of course she did, the whole point for her was to get him out of her hair for a weekend. It wasn't so bad – Akira had gotten a cell phone out of it in case he got lost, none of the other ten-year-olds had one yet – but Dad had better do something really nice for him, or he's never visiting again.
Akira gets off the train at Yasoinaba Station, a tiny, grubby-looking place that does not impress him – but he still smiles when he sees his dad leaning on a pillar, his suit too big and his red tie askew just like always, smirking in that private way he only ever lets Akira see.
"Dad!" Akira says, smiling as he lunges toward him.
As usual, Dad spots him, picking him up and spinning him around. "Hey there, lil' sneak," Dad teases, ruffling his hair as he sets him back down. "Thought you were gonna catch me off guard, huh?"
"Yup!" he lies. He never actually catches Dad off guard – though he seems to like when he tries.
Dad puts a hand on his shoulder and then points him toward another man standing behind him – tall, older than him, with a bad shave and thick, heavy eyebrows. "This is Detective Dojima!" he says. "He's my boss. He, uh, offered to drive us into town – my car's in the shop."
"It's nice to meet you, Adachi-kun," says the older man, more kindly than Akira would expect given his looks.
But Akira has to pause a second to think. Adachi is Dad's last name – but not his. It's Kurusu, after his mom.
Then he sees that his father's face has, unnoticed by Dojima, slipped back into that loose smirk. Suddenly he knows exactly what happened. Dad lied to Dojima.
"Hello, Detective Dojima!" he chirps, trying not to let on about his momentary confusion.
The older man doesn't seem to notice anything, and as he leads them to his car, Dad and Akira smile at each other.
Everyone always says that it's bad to lie. Everyone except Dad – except, of course, when he's lying.
See, Akira and Dad both lie. A lot. Why wouldn't they? It's easy, it makes people like them, and it gets them what they want. Of course, no one but he and Dad understand that, and obviously it's no fun getting caught. But they're good at it, and they cover for each other. They were a real team, before Dad got caught at work and his bosses shipped him out to Inaba. He loves his dad – the only one who really understands him.
Dojima starts the car, drives away, and comments endlessly on boring, meaningless scenery – oh look, a gas station! – and Akira and Dad both lie like they care. Akira would hate it, except that Dojima keeps calling him 'Adachi-kun,' and he loves that. It's a good lie.
Back in Tokyo, Akira is a bit of a scandal. The boy with his mommy's last name because Dad 'knocked her up' at age seventeen and they hadn't married. But it's not like that here. No one knows about him in Inaba. No one knows his situation. Dad probably told them he's staying in Tokyo because of school or his mom's job or something – and he knows they're big enough country bumpkins that they won't do the math between how old Dad is, and how old Akira is.
And, you know. Akira kinda wishes he really did have Dad's name.
~~
Akira thinks he's keeping very good control of himself by waiting until after his dad's apartment door closes behind them before blurting out, "Tell me about the murders!"
The first murder had been only a week after Akira's first visit to Inaba. Mom didn't want him to come back after that, especially after the second murder – it had taken him and Dad weeks to wear her down. But now he was finally back, and Dad was one of the detectives on the case.
He was gonna hear about everything.
"My kid wants to talk about murders? Really?" He pauses there just long enough for Akira to start to pout, then laughs and ruffles his hair. "Of course you do. You know, you're cooking tonight if I tell you any of this."
Akira nods vigorously. He'd cook anyway – his dad can't cook to save his life, and his mom's not the best either. It's almost hilarious how grateful and apologetic Mom gets over it.
Dad laughs. "Okay, then! C'mere and I'll tell you."
They sit down at the table, Akira shoving a pile of junk off the second chair. Dad's apartment is small, cramped, and messy – it's a single room above a closed store a block outside the old shopping district. It's not a great place to stay, but it's way better than not seeing his dad at all.
"So you heard there were two victims, right?"
"Yeah!" Akira says, nodding. "The announcer, Ms. Yamano, and the witness, Ms. Konishi."
"Don't feel too bad for them. They were both real bitches." Dad says with a grin, and a look in his eyes that tells Akira that's all he's gonna say, no matter how much he pushes. Usually that means the rest would get him caught.
Akira shrugs. "Okay. But what about the bodies, Dad?"
"Both of them were found at the crack of dawn, hanging upside down from the power lines," Dad says with a grin. "The others still haven't figured out how they got up there. It should have been a big production. They'd need special equipment – we had to get a utility truck, and shut the power lines down. And the fog was so thick both nights, you could barely see your nose in front of your face. Who could have done a thing like that, huh?" Dad's smirk gets uglier, and Akira sticks his lip out, pouting. He just knows Dad is hiding something.
Dad never tells Akira anything really dangerous. Sometimes he can sorta get it – Dad doesn't want to make him keep his big, scary adult secrets. But Akira still knows the secrets are there. He just doesn't find out the details, and it drives him nuts.
"It shouldn't have been possible," Dad says, his voice low and gloating. "Someone should have seen it. But it happened, and no one did. The bodies hung there like the hand of God had reached down from the fog and dropped them there."
"Wow," Akira breathes, trying to act like he's impressed by the murders and not just freaking out on the inside. He knows how his father is acting – like he's proud. Like he got away with something big. And there's only one thing to get away with in this story.
Dad did this. He murdered these people. Somehow.
Akira doesn't have any evidence. No way Dad would admit it, not even to him. Obviously. Dad would end up in prison forever if someone could prove it.
"I've got both case files open on my laptop," Dad says, gesturing to the old computer on the kitchen counter with half-scraped police stickers on its lid. "If you want to see more. Not that I'd ever forget to lock it..."
Akira smiles and nods. "Got it, Dad!"
"Thank me with good food," he says with a crooked grin. "I haven't eaten this badly since I was in college. This place's idea of high cuisine is the Junes food court."
Akira starts cooking, reading the files at the same time, while Dad turns the TV on and plunks down on the couch. (The enormous TV – when did Dad get one that big?)
He runs through his thoughts over and over again while he works. It's strange to think that his dad is probably a murderer. Dad's never done anything like this before, he's pretty sure. Akira's never had anything to do with something like that.
It's not that Akira feels unsafe. Even if they don't care about anyone else, he and his dad love each other, in their own way. But murder is just... big. It's scary. Sure, Akira lies and tricks people about as often as he breathes, and he's... figured out... that this means hurting people. But it's never that bad, is it? No one ever dies! And it's weird to think that Dad just did what they both always do... and it meant killing somebody.
Akira wonders, a strange emptiness in his chest, if he's ever going to have to kill somebody.
But for now, he's going to do what he always does: pretend nothing ever happened, and lie like a rug.
~~
The police station buzzes with activity as Adachi leads Akira through the scrum to his desk – a dirty, hulking wooden desk, painted grey, in the middle of a long row of other desks just like it. On it sits a lamp, a pile of file folders, and a laptop sticking out over the edge, left haphazardly open.
"It's busy in here," Akira says, eyeing Dad nervously. "What happened?"
"A local kid went missing yesterday," Dad replies. "Kanji Tatsumi. He has a bit of a reputation." He chuckles. "Told a TV reporter to get bent on camera."
"Oh," he says. Then he pauses, thinking. He spent all of yesterday with Dad – well, except when he was sleeping, but there's no way Dad could have gone out without waking him, the apartment is way too tiny for that. He couldn't have been the one to kidnap Tatsumi.
Had Akira come to conclusions too fast? But Dad still seemed smug about something – he had been all day. So maybe it was still his fault somehow? Dad always used to say, the perfect crime is the one you get someone else to commit...
A loud, rough voice calls out from behind them. "You bringing in another special investigator, Adachi?" They turn around to look at the speaker, a cop with messy black hair and an unfortunately flared nose.
"Did the prefecture send this one too?" jeers the man with buzz-cut hair sitting next to him.
"Maybe in a few years," Dad says, grinning dopily at them – one of his most disarming expressions. "This is my son, Akira!" He turns to me. "Say hi!"
But Akira doesn't get to say hi – despite putting on his very cutest smile – as the sound of someone clearing their throat rings out behind them. Akira turns around to see a striking young man, short but very thin, with blue hair that goes very well with his blue coat and hat.
The other police officers pale. Muttering their excuses, they scurry off into the station.
"You interviewed the victim's mother?" the man asks.
"Yeah," Dad says. He fishes a few pages of computer paper out of his stacks and hands them to her. He makes an exaggerated frown. "The system wouldn't take my report again."
"As long as it's finished," the man says, tucking the pages into a briefcase. He starts to turn away, but stops when he notices me.
"Hi!" Akira says, perking up at the eye contact.
"Hello, Adachi-kun," says the man, looking down at me and smiling nervously.
"This is Mr. Shirogane," Dad says. "He's not too much older than you, but he's already a renowned detective. The prefecture sent him in."
"Wow!" Akira says. "Hi, Mr. Shirogane!" It's obvious the man is insecure – the other officers were just mocking him – and so Akira is pulling out one of his usual tricks, acting just a little younger than his age.
Dad smiles, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes – he's obviously caught on, and he approves. Flatter Shirogane, and maybe he won't catch Dad. "Do you still want to be a detective, Akira?"
No, not really. He's seen how much Dad hates it. "Of course!" he chirps, smiling perkily.
"Then watch him – he's going places." Dad grins. "I even saw him on TV!"
"Of course!" Akira says.
Shirogane demurs, but he's clearly flattered, even as he begs off to go read the report. Dad and Akira grin at each other when he leaves. They've won another man over.
~~
The day the police find Mr. Shirogane – he'd gone missing, too – Dad brings Akira to Dojima's house for a strange, offbeat party. Dad and Dojima both get drunk, and Akira mostly plays with Nanako, Dojima's daughter. She's a few years younger than him, but she's surprisingly canny. Akira doesn't manage to trick her into anything at all – Dad doesn't say anything, but Akira can just feel his smirk.
Another boy comes in fairly late – a teenager with silver hair and grey eyes. Dojima's nephew, he thinks. There's something strangely familiar about him, though Akira is sure they've never met.
The boy seems to think the same – he stares at Akira almost long enough to be uncomfortable. "Hello," he finally says, offering his hand. "Hello," he says. "I'm Yu Narukami. It's nice to meet you."
"I'm Akira Adachi," he says, smiling. He likes calling himself that. They exchange pleasantries and shake hands, which sends an odd electric feeling up Akira's arm. His brow wrinkles. There's something up with this boy, he's sure of it.
But then Dad yells out "Hey! Welcome back!" in a slurred, drunken voice, and Narukami turns away.
Yu sits down at the table, and Dad starts to... spill secrets about the investigation? Why? Akira blinks as he tries to work out the game Dad's playing. Dad obviously doesn't want the case solved – he's the culprit! He has easier ways to look harmless to Dojima – this is only pissing him off. And there's no way this is accidental. No chance Dad's as drunk as he seems – though he is still pretty drunk.
Eventually, Dad and Yu push Dojima to the point of storming off in a huff. Akira gets up to sit next to Dad, as he tries to soothe Nanako's fears – then squeezes Dad's hand as he starts to boast about his brains. C'mon, Dad, Akira tries to communicate telepathically. Stop doing that! Are you actually drunk?
"W-well," Dad stammers. "Now that Mr. Dojima's gone, we should get going too. Good night!"
He stands, and Akira stands with him. "Good night!" Akira echoes.
As he thought, Dad gets noticeably less drunk as they step out the door, his posture and gait returning to normal along with his speech. They walk home – Dad's still definitely too drunk to drive, and he's careful about that kind of stuff when Akira is with him.
"What is it between you and the kid?" Akira asks, tilting his head. "You were saying way too much."
Dad laughs. "You're better off not knowing."
"All right..." Akira lowers his head. He kinda figured, but that doesn't mean he enjoys hearing it.
~~
Akira is having the best winter ever! His school gave him all of December off, and Mom said he could spend it all with Dad! And when he gets there, Dad gives him a huge present – they're moving out of the crummy studio apartment, because he bought a house!
He says he got it real cheap – not that houses are ever very expensive in Inaba – because the owner had been that teacher who got murdered, and no one else wanted to move in. Dad doesn't say why he's not worried, but Akira can certainly guess.
The house is in pretty good shape. It's on a small, steep plot of land on a hill near the high school, and it has an amazing view of Inaba. They have to repaint the walls – they're hideous, Akira's bedroom is eggplant purple and the living room is mustard yellow – but the furniture left behind is surprisingly nice.
Dad still hasn't moved all his stuff out of the old apartment yet, but the big TV now has pride of place in the living room, replacing an ancient CRT. And when they put Dad's suits in his new closet, Akira gets to try one on. It looks silly – the jacket is as long as a cape, they have to roll the sleeves back almost halfway so his hands can stick out, and the tie reaches down to his knees – but it's still cool, to see himself looking like Dad.
Inaba is covered in a strange fog that never lifts, thick and oddly yellow, but Akira doesn't mind that. His dad has always taken him out on foggy nights, through the veiled and shrouded shopping district – they dance there, wild and uncoordinated, reveling in secret when everyone else is asleep, when the line between dream and reality is blurred and they can be the rulers of the night. Akira still isn't quite sure he believes everything he sees there, but he knows for certain that he loves every moment of it.
He should have known something would go wrong.
It's late at night on Monday – Dad said he'd be supervising a prisoner transfer, for that poor bastard he'd framed for the murders. (Okay, he didn't actually say that last part.) Akira is cooking dinner late when the TV suddenly turns on – a white bullseye pattern radiating across the black screen.
It takes Akira a second to process that he's really seeing this, that it isn't a trick of the light. That he hadn't left it on accidentally. It takes him another second to stop worrying about the dinner – to put the spatula down, step up to the TV, and stare.
That's when Dad bursts right out of the center of the bullseye. Not his picture – him. Three-dimensional, living, breathing, still wearing his suit and tie.
"Hey, Akira," Dad says.
He doesn't know what to say. He really, truly does not.
Dad drapes himself onto the frame of the television, a put-upon look on his face. "They got me," he says, turning exaggerated puppy-dog eyes to the sky.
"For what?" It's not an unusual question for the two – just, he's never asked it like this before.
"For all the murders," Dad says, still wearing a too-cute smile. "Threw 'em into the TV, they showed up dead out there. The first time was actually a surprise."
"Okay." It's not a total shock that Dad is the killer, but it's still weird to hear him say it so blithely.
"Oh, only the first two! Mitsuo Kubo really did kill that teacher, and Taro Namatame really did kidnap all those kids." He pauses for a second. "I did put Kubo in the TV, though."
Akira has a hard time finding something to say. He doesn't even know what in the TV means, beyond that it probably has something to do with his dad popping out of it. In the end, he asks the obvious. "Am I in trouble? Are they gonna come here?"
"You shouldn't be," Dad says. "You didn't do anything, and you didn't know."
Akira grimaces. "I kinda guessed," he admits.
"You really are the smartest kid in Inaba, huh?" Dad laughs. "Just don't tell them that! And they shouldn't find you here, because I bought the house in your name. No one in Inaba knows your last name is Kurusu, and I'm not on your birth certificate, soooo it'll probably stump the cops. But if it doesn't, they shouldn't have anything on you."
"Wait. You mean this is my house?"
"Yup!" Dad says, beaming at him. "Biggest Christmas present ever! Fitting since I, ah, might not get a chance to buy you another."
"You think you're going to get caught?" Akira stares at him. "You're inside the TV! Who's gonna get you out of there?"
"I wish." Dad rolls his eyes. "You know all those people who got kidnapped, but showed back up again? They were all thrown into the TV too. They would have all died like the first two... except it turns out some nosy kids can't mind their own business. They've been getting them out before they could die." He smirks. "It's Narukami and his friends. Remember him?"
Akira nods. "Dojima's nephew. You asked me to deliver some letters to him when you got me my bicycle.
Dad huffs out a laugh. "Right! Forgot about that. If they ask, you can say I gave you those – no reason to lie about it now."
"Okay." He blinks, then looks back to the kitchen. "Do you still want dinner?" Hopefully it hasn't burned while he was distracted.
"Nah." Dad grins. "It's weird, but I don't think I need to eat in here. Time is a little strange. Tell you what – once I've figured this place out a little more, I'll show you around!"
His head bobs. "Okay. Uh, until then—"
"Just stay home and keep your head down. If I can kill those kids, I still might get out of this." Dad waves jauntily. "See ya, Akira! Sleep well!"
He pops back into the TV, and the screen goes black again.