The Detective is Already Dead

Chapter 43: 6 years ago, Nagisa

I was on the shore, listening to the ripples.

Plish, plash—little waves surged in, then retreated. My anxiety and pain faded, and my heart grew quiet. Listening to the ocean's voice here at the waterline was the only thing I looked forward to.

"What are you doing over there?"

Out of nowhere, I heard an unfamiliar voice behind me. It was a girl's voice—cool and clear, but certainly not cold.

"...Listening to the ocean," I answered, although I'd tensed up a little; I hadn't expected to run into anyone else here.

"Just listening? You're not looking at it?" "Well, I mean, you can't see it now."

You really couldn't; it was nighttime. During the day, the sea shone like emeralds, but the only light at this hour came from the stars, and the water was black. That's why I was just enjoying the murmur of the waves.

"Couldn't you come during the day, then?"

I felt the girl sit down beside me. She'd struck me as kind of mature at first, but from the location of her voice, she seemed to be my height. Were we about the same age?

"I'd like to. They'd notice if I did, though." I kept the conversation going, opening up to her a bit.

"They'd notice? Who's 'they'?"

"...The thing is, I'm sick. I really should be in my hospital room. The bed is hard, and just lying there all the time hurts, so sometimes I sneak out here."

These moments were my only comfort, when I could escape for a little while from the painful treatments and endless boredom.

"Never mind that. Who are you? I don't think I recognize your voice." It was nice to get to talk with a girl my age, so I asked her a question of my own.

"They brought me here recently. There was a bit of a situation."

"...I see." When she said "here," she didn't mean the hospital. This place was an orphanage on a certain isolated island. "It's okay, though. The people

who live here are all kids like us."

Kids who were as unlucky as we were. What part of that was "okay"? I knew the answer was "nothing," really; I just couldn't think of anything better to say.

"What's your name?" the girl asked.

"Number 602. That's what the adults call me," I told her.

It wasn't just me. All the children here were treated that way... But I was sure this girl would get used to it before too long. Someday she'd also be—

"Nagisa."

At first, I thought she was talking about the seashore, but no, she meant it as a name.

"You like the ocean, so that's what I'll call you," she said with a quiet smile. Or at least it seemed as if she'd smiled.

...And so I echoed her question, sending it back to her. "What's your name?"

"I don't have one. But..." " 'But'?"

"I do have a code name, I think."

Then she told me what it was, and I thought I'd never forget it as long as I lived.

I didn't want to forget.