Fic - The Mystery of Yomiyama, Part 4
Title: The Mystery of Yomiyama, Part 4
Fandom: Detective Conan/Another
Genre: Crossover, Mystery, Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters: Conan Edogawa, Ai Haibara, Detective Boys, Tatsuji Chibiki, cameos from various members of the Another cast
Word Count: 4,528
Part 4
“How is your project coming along?” Ayumi asked as she slid into the seat across from him. The Detective Boys had agreed to meet at Inoya Café, a small cafe that was close to their hotel. The stone walls and dim lighting seemed to give it more of a bar atmosphere, but the waitress had said that kids were allowed.
“Really good! Our research is nearly done, which I think is great. How about yours?” he asked, looking over as Genta and Mitsuhiko came in the door, seemingly in the middle of an argument over Kamen Yaiba.
“It’s going good too, and Genta says you’ll be really surprised with what topic we’re doing!” she replied, giving him a smile as the other two boys arrived at the table.
“Where’s Haibara-san?” Mitsuhiko asked as he sat down beside Conan.
“She said she was going back to the hotel to do a few things,” the detective replied, wondering if all the research and investigating was tiring Haibara out. They had spent their free time after class working on their project, and he suspected that she was doing some investigating of her own.
“Did she eat too much or something?” Genta asked as the waitress came up to the table.
Everyone put in an order, then Ayumi said, “I don’t think so, but maybe she’s not feeling well? Let’s check on her once we get back!”
“Yeah!” Genta and Mitsuhiko chorused, and Conan nodded. She had mentioned something about calling Professor Agasa, so he hoped for his friend’s sake that she was in a good mood.
“Conan, help me out here. Mitsuhiko thinks that Yaiba doesn’t have any other secret moves to show off, but I sure he’s wrong and I need to convince him!” Genta explained, shooting an irritated look at the other Detective Boy.
“No, you’re wrong! I have analyzed everything carefully, and I’m certain that Yaiba will come up with a new move shortly. What do you think, Conan-kun?” Mitsuhiko asked, glaring right back at his friend.
“Uh…” Hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with arguing room mates for the rest of the night, Conan gave a tense smile and tried to decide which side of the argument to back.
- - -
Conan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, tired of staring at the microform screen. He had just finished going over the death notices and such for 1990 to 1994, and hadn’t discovered anything new.
“Perhaps the serial killer decided to act after something happened to him personally?: Haibara suggested from her place beside him.
“That’s a good possibility. It would have to be something major to go on a spree like this, so there would probably be some record of it in the paper,” he murmured back, reaching for the microfilm canister for 1989.
“H-Haibara…” he said shakily a minute later, staring at the screen in horror. She leaned over his shoulder to look, and he heard her gasp as she read the familiar words on the screen. Class 3-3 of Yomiyama North Middle School. “This can’t be true…”
“Maybe it is. Maybe the killer has been active for years. Keep looking,” she urged, sounding just as broken as he felt. Conan began to scroll back through the 1989 papers, automatically writing down the names of people who had that terrible line mentioned with their death. 1988 was quiet for the most part, but he found more deaths linked to Class 3-3 in the first three months of the year. 1987. 1986. 1985. The list of names kept getting longer, and his stomach kept twisting into bigger knots. This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.
“They stopped,” Haibara breathed, and Conan blinked coming out of the daze he had fallen in. The newspaper was dated March of 1984, and all the death notices and funeral announcements appeared normal. Wanting to be sure, he flicked backwards into 1983, but the relief he felt at not seeing ‘Class of 3-3’ vanished when he came to the third week in August.
“Hamaguchi Jun and Hoshikawa Yuki, both from that class. Both died on the same day,” he read aloud, rubbing his chin as he thought about the possibilities.
“Didn’t the deaths at the shrine we visited happen in 1983? Perhaps these are the student who died,” Haibara said, and he looked over to see her examining the death announcements closely.
“But those deaths were weather related. There’s no way the serial killer could have planned them. Even if he was targeting those students, the storm killing them was just coincidence,” he objected. A serial killer betting on the weather to do his work for him was far too risky, and it didn’t seem to follow the logic of the later victims at all. “Let’s keep going back and see if there were deaths prior to the shrine visit.”
To his dismay, there were. As he worked backwards through the summer and into spring, more deaths appeared. “How far back are we going?” Haibara asked.
“As far back as we need to,” he said, not caring how long it took them, even if they were late for supper.
“Then allow me to help,” she pressed, and he shifted the chair over so that she could sit beside him, Conan continuing to operate the machine while she wrote down the names. As they neared the year 1981, he realized that the death count was nearing 150 victims. Were the police here that incompetent that they couldn’t see what was happening?!
He had already gone past the photograph by the time its contents registered in his mind. Pausing, he went back to it and stared at the picture, leaning in close to try and see better. It was old, and was rather faded from being scanned onto the microfilm, but with the exception of one student, he was able to see their faces clearly. Once he was certain, he read the caption beneath the photograph. ‘The graduates of Class 3-3 of Yomiyama North High School, with their homeroom teacher Chibiki Tatsuji.’ The date on the paper was March of 1973.
“That’s him. That must be him,” Conan breathed, then explained to Haibara, “The librarian we met was once the teacher for Class 3-3. If my theory’s correct, we just found the serial killer!”
“How so?”
He was unable to keep the smile off his face as he explained his reasoning. “Well, the serial killer would have to have lived in Yomiyama for years in order to keep murdering people, right? Plus he would have to be someone with both a connection to the school and to the community. Chibiki fits both - he’s been at the school for years, and he’s often involved in community events.” Conan had noticed that one name kept coming up over and over as he scrolled backwards through the papers, that of Chibiki Tatsuji. He hadn’t really considered the man a suspect until he had seen the connection he had with Class 3-3, and then everything clicked into place.
Haibara looked at him for a moment, then smiled, his desire to end this case mirrored in her expression. “If so, then we better look into his motive for doing such heinous acts,” she said quietly, and he nodded. This case was nearly solved, that much he knew.
- - -
“Serious, somewhat harsh, and has a love for theatre…” Conan mumbled as he re-read the scant notes he had managed to get on Chibiki. “Librarian at Yomiyama North since 1974, occasionally active in local theatre groups and well-respected by the community.” If Chibiki had kept under the radar this long without garnering suspicion about what he was really doing, it made sense for him to be liked by those who knew him. The detective wished he could interview people directly associated with the man, like fellow teachers and family members, but he was running out of time and doing so would surely alert his suspect that he was close to being caught.
Conan looked out the window at the rain-drenched town, wishing he could stay longer and see this case through to the end. He would just have to call the local police as Shinichi before he left, and maybe he could convince Hattori to come in to ensure that Chibiki was caught and put on trial. If the man turned violent during the confrontation tomorrow, he would put him to sleep using his watch and escape. Then Yomiyama would go back to being the peaceful town it was supposed to be once he left.
“Tomorrow,” he vowed to the falling rain. “Tomorrow this will all end!”
- - -
“I’m coming with you,” Haibara said immediately after Conan outlined what he was going to do. He frowned in irritation, and opened his mouth to refuse, but was cut off. “Don’t bother trying to persuade me to stay. This is dangerous, so I’m coming with you, Edogawa-kun.”
“…Fine,” he agreed, glancing around at the rest of the class. Everyone was enjoying their lunch, so no one was listening to them. “We’ll meet in the shoe room after class and go to the school from there.” Haibara nodded to show she understood, and Conan began to eat his lunch, his mind on the end of the case.
- - -
"Alright, everyone’s pretty much gone,” Conan said as he peered around the corner at the school gates. The rain hadn’t let up, so he and Haibara had elected to wait a little farther away as to both stay out of the weather and to not look quite so obvious. Only a few students passed them as they went in, most walking fast as to avoid spending too much time in the rain. Once they reached the school, the pair headed for the stairs, and Conan felt his heart start to pound with excitement. Everything would all be over soon.
They stood in front of the library a few minutes later, and Conan tried the door, praying that it wasn’t locked. As on their last visit, it slid open easily, and he edged in, careful to be as quiet as possible. Haibara followed, and a quick search confirmed that the library was empty. “I can probably reach the yearbooks if you give me a boost,” she whispered, and he nodded and led the way to where they were kept.
Soon, they had the 1972-1973 yearbook spread out on the table. Right inside the front cover was a dedication to a student and his family who had died early in the school year, and Conan’s eyes narrowed as a theory began to form. “Haibara, give me a hand.”
Having gotten the yearbooks he wanted to look at, he quickly flicked through them, smiling as he gathered evidence to support his theory. Some parts were missing of course, but he had a good idea of what had set Chibiki on his murderous path.
“You again!” Haibara looked up at Chibiki’s voice, but Conan didn’t turn around.
“Us again,” the boy replied calmly, sliding off his chair and turning to face the librarian.
Chibiki’s mouth was set in a hard line, indicating that he was upset, and his eyes were cold as he looked down at Conan. “Come with me. I’m calling your parents right now.”
“No, you’re not. You’re not going anywhere,” Conan said flatly, dropping his childlike demeanour entirely. The man blinked but didn’t move, clearly sensing that something was wrong.
“What do you mean by that?”
“We mean we know what you are, Chibiki-san. We know everything,” Haibara said, and Conan took his cue to begin.
“We know that you’re the one who has been killing the students of Class 3-3, along with their families,” he said, focusing entirely on Chibiki.
“What?!” His eyes had gone wide at the accusation, and he seemed to be stunned into silence for a moment. Then he took a breath and said in a calmer tone, “What foolish children you are to think that I would be capable of such an act.”
“Don’t deny it!” Glaring at Chibiki, Conan continued with growing anger, “You have been murdering the students of the class you used to teach ever since 1973, after the death of Yomiyama Misaki. You were so affected by their tragic death that you have been killing the students of Class 3-3 ever since, the same class in which Misaki-san belonged to!”
“And why would I do something like that?” Chibiki looked sad now, but Conan ignored his expression and pressed on.
“Misaki-san was an excellent student, popular with their classmates, and well-liked by everyone. I imagine that you probably got to know them well prior to becoming their teacher, and you must have been devastated when Misaki-san died. Perhaps your sorrow led you to become angry at the class the following year for not containing such a bright student and you took revenge on them. Or perhaps Misaki-san’s death simply allowed you to unleash any pent-up rage you held, and once you started killing, you found yourself unable to stop, at least for any length of time.”
Conan paused and pointed his finger at his suspect. “Whatever your reason for ending so many innocent lives is, your freedom ends today. You are a coward and a killer, and I won’t let you kill anyone else!”
“You’re right, I am a coward.” Chibiki closed his eyes, then looked directly at Conan. “But I am not a killer. I did care for Misaki-san, but I cared for all my students, even if I didn’t always show it. I don’t know how you learned so much, but you are wrong to accuse me of such a terrible crime.”
“Then prove it. Prove your innocence to us,” Haibara said, and Conan nodded firmly. In the unlikely chance Chibiki was innocent, he would need to see proof. But he doubted it was so - everything fit together too well.
“I cannot. The only thing I can do is to tell you why all the deaths are not my fault.” The librarian looked tired as he went over his desk and removed a large folder from a drawer and handed it to Haibara. “These are all the class rosters from 1972 to now, containing a list of everyone who has died. You’ll see an X by the name of the deceased. Why would I keep records of the crimes I have committed?”
“As a trophy to relive the kills by,” Conan declared softly as his partner began to go through the files. “Plenty of serial killers do it, so you’d be far from the first.” He narrowed his eyes and added, “If you don’t start telling the truth, then we‘ll call in a detective. Hm, but which one? Heiji Hattori? What about Kudo Shinichi? Or would you rather Mouri Kogoro?”
“The Great Detectives of the East and West as well as Sleeping Kogoro…you have some interesting friends, boy. Call them in if you wish, it won’t change what I’m about to tell you. Or the fate of this town.” Oddly, Chibiki didn’t seem bothered by the threats. Most other criminals would have been shaking already.
“Hold on a moment.” Conan turned to look at Haibara, who held up two pieces of paper. “Why are the names of some students written at the bottom of later class rosters?”
“That belongs to the reason why I am not the killer.” Chibiki settled into his chair and gave him a measured look. “It sounds impossible, but Death lives in this town.” Conan gritted his teeth, ready to lash out for blaming something that didn’t exist, but the man continued talking. “You are correct when you say Misaki’s death started all of this, but it’s not what you think.”
Chibiki took a moment to collect himself, ignoring the glare of fury he was getting from Conan. “After Misaki died, everyone was devastated, including myself. Then one of my students declared that Misaki was not dead, that he was sitting at his desk like normal. Soon, everyone was playing along, acting like he was still with us, myself included. When graduation came, we took a picture, still pretending that he was present and leaving a space for him. It was only when the picture was developed that we realized we had made a terrible mistake - for there Misaki was, a little blurry but there, standing in his allotted space and smiling with the rest of us.”
Conan breathed in sharply, recalling the class picture in the paper. He had originally thought that it was simply a flaw in the original photo or caused by the scanning process, but the rest of the picture was too nice for that. “That…that doesn’t prove anything!”
“No, it does not. But I’m not done.” Chibiki’s voice lowered as he spoke, and a sorrowful expression appeared on his face. “I remained as the homeroom teacher for Class 3, thinking that perhaps everything would return to normal. Then my students and some of their family members started dying. We had no idea what was happening until after graduation, when one of the student’s names disappeared from that year’s roster and appeared in its original place on the class roster for 1968. Somehow, that student had returned to life and come back to their former class.” The man paused and looked out the window nearest his desk. “Fearing for my life, I became the librarian, and watched as more innocent people died the next year, another student returning to the afterlife after graduation. Eventually, someone figured out that the deaths were somehow connected to Yomiyama Misaki and the class of 1972, and the class as a whole tried to figure out how to deal with the calamity that was befalling them.”
“What about the police? Why didn’t they do anything?” Conan asked, still not believing any of it.
“They couldn’t do anything, although not for lack of trying. I recall mentions of a serial killer back then, so it’s not a new idea. But no one outside the class could do anything. It took far too many deaths to come until a viable solution was found, as indicated in the class rosters.”
“He’s right. There are some years no one has died, but a name is still written at the bottom,” Haibara confirmed, causing Conan to frown. It almost sounded like she believed this curse business. She moved to stand beside him then, murmuring softly, “You are forgetting an important piece of evidence, Edogawa-kun.”
“Am I now?” he said, angry at how this was going.
“You are. How did you find out about this case?”
“I overheard some local students mentioning it.”
“What exactly did they say?” He blinked at the question, then stared at Chibiki’s desk as he tried to remember the exact words of the girl.
“That Akazawa Kazuma’s death made two so far, and that the girl couldn’t talk about it before her older brother was in the class. The boy with her said that ‘it’ always started in spring…” he trailed off as realization struck him. Why would the parents openly talk about a serial killer, and why was spring so important?
“The deaths…” Conan said slowly, raising his gaze to Chibiki, “have they always occurred within the span of the school year?”
“They have,” the librarian confirmed with a nod.
“Were you out of town for any length of time?”
“I left for several months to assist my father when he fell ill, and to attend several weddings and other events.”
“When were they?” As Chibiki listed the dates off as best as he could remember, Haibara checked the rosters, confirming that several deaths had occurred when the man was out of town. “That just means you have an accomplice,” Conan stated afterward, unwilling to concede the point.
“Unlikely, since I have been at this school for far longer than any of the other staff, and I have no siblings to assist me,” Chibiki replied calmly, and the detective ground his teeth together in frustration.
“You said a solution was found. What was it?” he asked at last.
The librarian didn’t hesitate as he answered, “The solution was to choose one of the students in the class and declare them to be nonexistent for the entire school year. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t, with no clear reason as to why.”
Conan frowned and rubbed his chin, mentally putting everything together. If this hypothetical curse was somehow linked to Class 3-3, it made sense that it would always begin in early April, when the new school year started. That would also explain the cycle of death notices in the newspaper - since he had been reading through them backwards, he hadn’t really taken into account the start and end of the school year when the deaths either began or ended. Charting it out now, he could see it clearly. There seemed to be no evidence supporting an accomplice, and Chibiki had already said why the police had turned a blind eye to everything.
“So most people seem to be aware of this curse, at least on some level…” he murmured to himself, trying to rationalize another reason for the deaths. “Still, there’s no hard evidence disproving that you are a serial killer, Chibiki-san!” he added forcefully, glaring at the man again. He had worked too hard on this case to let the culprit slip though his fingers now.
“There’s no evidence proving that he is a serial killer, either.” Haibara said, and Conan spun around to face her, mouth hanging open in shock. “Think about it, Edogawa-kun. There are no pictures, witness reports, or other evidence proving that he was at any of the crime scenes, and I would imagine that many of the accidental deaths would have been very complicated to pull off. I’m not saying it’s impossible for a librarian to do those things, just that it’s improbable.”
“But-” he tried to cut in, but she kept going, lowering her voice so he had to strain to hear her.
“We also know that things otherwise deemed impossible also occur, otherwise we wouldn’t be in this situation. What is that favourite saying of yours? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?’”
Stunned into silence by her speech, Conan looked back to Chibiki, seeing that he was watching them calmly, hands folded atop his desk. Haibara was right, he didn’t have any hard evidence either proving or disproving that Chibiki was a serial killer. And while he had brushed it off before, the idea of the town being cursed had come up several times in his investigation. It was impossible…but maybe it was the truth.
“Why do so many people die if Death is already present?” he asked, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth.
Chibiki sighed and adjusted his glasses before speaking. “No one knows for sure, but it might be that nature is trying to correct the disrupted balance between life and death that is present in the class. I take it you believe that I am not what you say I am?”
“…Perhaps,” Conan admitted, suddenly feeling defeated. “The deaths at the shrine in 1983, were they caused by this curse as well?”
“As far as I am aware, they were.” The detective nodded, closing his eyes. There was no way a killer could have predicted a storm, and the deaths of two students was too much of a coincidence not to be related to the curse.
“So can it be stopped?”
“No, it cannot. Only averted, assuming the countermeasures work,” Chibiki replied, voice filled with guilt and sadness.
“Let’s go, Haibara. There’s nothing else we can do here.” Before he walked away, he looked back at the man. “I apologize, Chibiki-san. I was certain you were the one behind everything.”
“Understandable, considering the situation. What are your names, children? You seem quite smart for your age,” Chibiki commented, a spark of interest in his eyes.
Unable to even summon up a smile, Conan replied, “Edogawa Conan, detective.”
“Haibara Ai.”
“Pleased to meet you, Edogawa-kun, Haibara-chan,” the librarian replied formally.
Conan nodded and decided to ask the one remaining question he had. “If you ever learn more about what’s going on, could you contact Kudo Shinichi and let him know? I’m sure he’d be interested in hearing about it.”
Chibiki stared at him for a moment, dark eyes unreadable, then nodded. “I shall. Be careful on your way back to the hotel, you two.” Not surprised that he had figured out who they were with, Conan said that they would, and followed Haibara out of the library.
- - -
A brisk wind tugged at his clothes and Conan stood in before the family grave, his eyes fixed on one of the names carved into the stone. “Yomiyama Misaki…why? Why did your classmates love you so much to call your spirit back?! Why did that cause others to return, and why did that result in so many deaths? Why?!”
It was a question he couldn’t answer, and he hated it. He had been so certain that the town was being plagued by a serial killer, but the real killer was something he couldn’t bring to justice. He was as helpless to stop the curse as the families of those in Class 3-3. Even the class itself couldn’t end the calamity they were involved in. He remained there for a few minutes longer, then went in search of the other grave he wanted to visit.
This time, no one stood before it, but the wilting flowers told him that Akazawa’s sister had been here the day before. “I’m sorry,” Conan murmured to the grave. “I’m sorry I couldn’t end this so your sister would be safe. I just hope that she doesn’t end up in that class.” He remained before the grave until the sun set and the streetlights flickered to life, returning to the hotel with a heavy heart.
- - -
“Hey, look at that!” Conan looked up from his manga at the cry from the front of the bus, and looked out the window next to him. The road the bus was driving along was bordered by one of the canals that ran through Yomiyama, and as the vehicle slowed down, he saw a cluster of people gathered on the opposite bank.
“No…” he breathed, recognizing the police uniforms and coroner outfits. He quickly located the body they were gathered around, and while the distance and the angle of the morning sun made it difficult to see, the deceased appeared to be a slim figure with brown hair.
Overcome with despair, he looked away from the window as the bus moved past the crime scene, ignoring the chatter of his curious classmates as he looked at Haibara. Seated next to him, she had also had a good view of the sight, and she looked just as unhappy as he felt.
“Aww, no fair,” Genta complained from the seat behind them. “We leave just as a case appears for the Detective Boys!”
Footnote
Canon sources for Another list Asakura Mami as being the extra student for 1996.
Part 3 | Master Post
Fandom: Detective Conan/Another
Genre: Crossover, Mystery, Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters: Conan Edogawa, Ai Haibara, Detective Boys, Tatsuji Chibiki, cameos from various members of the Another cast
Word Count: 4,528
Part 4
“How is your project coming along?” Ayumi asked as she slid into the seat across from him. The Detective Boys had agreed to meet at Inoya Café, a small cafe that was close to their hotel. The stone walls and dim lighting seemed to give it more of a bar atmosphere, but the waitress had said that kids were allowed.
“Really good! Our research is nearly done, which I think is great. How about yours?” he asked, looking over as Genta and Mitsuhiko came in the door, seemingly in the middle of an argument over Kamen Yaiba.
“It’s going good too, and Genta says you’ll be really surprised with what topic we’re doing!” she replied, giving him a smile as the other two boys arrived at the table.
“Where’s Haibara-san?” Mitsuhiko asked as he sat down beside Conan.
“She said she was going back to the hotel to do a few things,” the detective replied, wondering if all the research and investigating was tiring Haibara out. They had spent their free time after class working on their project, and he suspected that she was doing some investigating of her own.
“Did she eat too much or something?” Genta asked as the waitress came up to the table.
Everyone put in an order, then Ayumi said, “I don’t think so, but maybe she’s not feeling well? Let’s check on her once we get back!”
“Yeah!” Genta and Mitsuhiko chorused, and Conan nodded. She had mentioned something about calling Professor Agasa, so he hoped for his friend’s sake that she was in a good mood.
“Conan, help me out here. Mitsuhiko thinks that Yaiba doesn’t have any other secret moves to show off, but I sure he’s wrong and I need to convince him!” Genta explained, shooting an irritated look at the other Detective Boy.
“No, you’re wrong! I have analyzed everything carefully, and I’m certain that Yaiba will come up with a new move shortly. What do you think, Conan-kun?” Mitsuhiko asked, glaring right back at his friend.
“Uh…” Hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with arguing room mates for the rest of the night, Conan gave a tense smile and tried to decide which side of the argument to back.
- - -
Conan leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, tired of staring at the microform screen. He had just finished going over the death notices and such for 1990 to 1994, and hadn’t discovered anything new.
“Perhaps the serial killer decided to act after something happened to him personally?: Haibara suggested from her place beside him.
“That’s a good possibility. It would have to be something major to go on a spree like this, so there would probably be some record of it in the paper,” he murmured back, reaching for the microfilm canister for 1989.
“H-Haibara…” he said shakily a minute later, staring at the screen in horror. She leaned over his shoulder to look, and he heard her gasp as she read the familiar words on the screen. Class 3-3 of Yomiyama North Middle School. “This can’t be true…”
“Maybe it is. Maybe the killer has been active for years. Keep looking,” she urged, sounding just as broken as he felt. Conan began to scroll back through the 1989 papers, automatically writing down the names of people who had that terrible line mentioned with their death. 1988 was quiet for the most part, but he found more deaths linked to Class 3-3 in the first three months of the year. 1987. 1986. 1985. The list of names kept getting longer, and his stomach kept twisting into bigger knots. This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.
“They stopped,” Haibara breathed, and Conan blinked coming out of the daze he had fallen in. The newspaper was dated March of 1984, and all the death notices and funeral announcements appeared normal. Wanting to be sure, he flicked backwards into 1983, but the relief he felt at not seeing ‘Class of 3-3’ vanished when he came to the third week in August.
“Hamaguchi Jun and Hoshikawa Yuki, both from that class. Both died on the same day,” he read aloud, rubbing his chin as he thought about the possibilities.
“Didn’t the deaths at the shrine we visited happen in 1983? Perhaps these are the student who died,” Haibara said, and he looked over to see her examining the death announcements closely.
“But those deaths were weather related. There’s no way the serial killer could have planned them. Even if he was targeting those students, the storm killing them was just coincidence,” he objected. A serial killer betting on the weather to do his work for him was far too risky, and it didn’t seem to follow the logic of the later victims at all. “Let’s keep going back and see if there were deaths prior to the shrine visit.”
To his dismay, there were. As he worked backwards through the summer and into spring, more deaths appeared. “How far back are we going?” Haibara asked.
“As far back as we need to,” he said, not caring how long it took them, even if they were late for supper.
“Then allow me to help,” she pressed, and he shifted the chair over so that she could sit beside him, Conan continuing to operate the machine while she wrote down the names. As they neared the year 1981, he realized that the death count was nearing 150 victims. Were the police here that incompetent that they couldn’t see what was happening?!
He had already gone past the photograph by the time its contents registered in his mind. Pausing, he went back to it and stared at the picture, leaning in close to try and see better. It was old, and was rather faded from being scanned onto the microfilm, but with the exception of one student, he was able to see their faces clearly. Once he was certain, he read the caption beneath the photograph. ‘The graduates of Class 3-3 of Yomiyama North High School, with their homeroom teacher Chibiki Tatsuji.’ The date on the paper was March of 1973.
“That’s him. That must be him,” Conan breathed, then explained to Haibara, “The librarian we met was once the teacher for Class 3-3. If my theory’s correct, we just found the serial killer!”
“How so?”
He was unable to keep the smile off his face as he explained his reasoning. “Well, the serial killer would have to have lived in Yomiyama for years in order to keep murdering people, right? Plus he would have to be someone with both a connection to the school and to the community. Chibiki fits both - he’s been at the school for years, and he’s often involved in community events.” Conan had noticed that one name kept coming up over and over as he scrolled backwards through the papers, that of Chibiki Tatsuji. He hadn’t really considered the man a suspect until he had seen the connection he had with Class 3-3, and then everything clicked into place.
Haibara looked at him for a moment, then smiled, his desire to end this case mirrored in her expression. “If so, then we better look into his motive for doing such heinous acts,” she said quietly, and he nodded. This case was nearly solved, that much he knew.
- - -
“Serious, somewhat harsh, and has a love for theatre…” Conan mumbled as he re-read the scant notes he had managed to get on Chibiki. “Librarian at Yomiyama North since 1974, occasionally active in local theatre groups and well-respected by the community.” If Chibiki had kept under the radar this long without garnering suspicion about what he was really doing, it made sense for him to be liked by those who knew him. The detective wished he could interview people directly associated with the man, like fellow teachers and family members, but he was running out of time and doing so would surely alert his suspect that he was close to being caught.
Conan looked out the window at the rain-drenched town, wishing he could stay longer and see this case through to the end. He would just have to call the local police as Shinichi before he left, and maybe he could convince Hattori to come in to ensure that Chibiki was caught and put on trial. If the man turned violent during the confrontation tomorrow, he would put him to sleep using his watch and escape. Then Yomiyama would go back to being the peaceful town it was supposed to be once he left.
“Tomorrow,” he vowed to the falling rain. “Tomorrow this will all end!”
- - -
“I’m coming with you,” Haibara said immediately after Conan outlined what he was going to do. He frowned in irritation, and opened his mouth to refuse, but was cut off. “Don’t bother trying to persuade me to stay. This is dangerous, so I’m coming with you, Edogawa-kun.”
“…Fine,” he agreed, glancing around at the rest of the class. Everyone was enjoying their lunch, so no one was listening to them. “We’ll meet in the shoe room after class and go to the school from there.” Haibara nodded to show she understood, and Conan began to eat his lunch, his mind on the end of the case.
- - -
"Alright, everyone’s pretty much gone,” Conan said as he peered around the corner at the school gates. The rain hadn’t let up, so he and Haibara had elected to wait a little farther away as to both stay out of the weather and to not look quite so obvious. Only a few students passed them as they went in, most walking fast as to avoid spending too much time in the rain. Once they reached the school, the pair headed for the stairs, and Conan felt his heart start to pound with excitement. Everything would all be over soon.
They stood in front of the library a few minutes later, and Conan tried the door, praying that it wasn’t locked. As on their last visit, it slid open easily, and he edged in, careful to be as quiet as possible. Haibara followed, and a quick search confirmed that the library was empty. “I can probably reach the yearbooks if you give me a boost,” she whispered, and he nodded and led the way to where they were kept.
Soon, they had the 1972-1973 yearbook spread out on the table. Right inside the front cover was a dedication to a student and his family who had died early in the school year, and Conan’s eyes narrowed as a theory began to form. “Haibara, give me a hand.”
Having gotten the yearbooks he wanted to look at, he quickly flicked through them, smiling as he gathered evidence to support his theory. Some parts were missing of course, but he had a good idea of what had set Chibiki on his murderous path.
“You again!” Haibara looked up at Chibiki’s voice, but Conan didn’t turn around.
“Us again,” the boy replied calmly, sliding off his chair and turning to face the librarian.
Chibiki’s mouth was set in a hard line, indicating that he was upset, and his eyes were cold as he looked down at Conan. “Come with me. I’m calling your parents right now.”
“No, you’re not. You’re not going anywhere,” Conan said flatly, dropping his childlike demeanour entirely. The man blinked but didn’t move, clearly sensing that something was wrong.
“What do you mean by that?”
“We mean we know what you are, Chibiki-san. We know everything,” Haibara said, and Conan took his cue to begin.
“We know that you’re the one who has been killing the students of Class 3-3, along with their families,” he said, focusing entirely on Chibiki.
“What?!” His eyes had gone wide at the accusation, and he seemed to be stunned into silence for a moment. Then he took a breath and said in a calmer tone, “What foolish children you are to think that I would be capable of such an act.”
“Don’t deny it!” Glaring at Chibiki, Conan continued with growing anger, “You have been murdering the students of the class you used to teach ever since 1973, after the death of Yomiyama Misaki. You were so affected by their tragic death that you have been killing the students of Class 3-3 ever since, the same class in which Misaki-san belonged to!”
“And why would I do something like that?” Chibiki looked sad now, but Conan ignored his expression and pressed on.
“Misaki-san was an excellent student, popular with their classmates, and well-liked by everyone. I imagine that you probably got to know them well prior to becoming their teacher, and you must have been devastated when Misaki-san died. Perhaps your sorrow led you to become angry at the class the following year for not containing such a bright student and you took revenge on them. Or perhaps Misaki-san’s death simply allowed you to unleash any pent-up rage you held, and once you started killing, you found yourself unable to stop, at least for any length of time.”
Conan paused and pointed his finger at his suspect. “Whatever your reason for ending so many innocent lives is, your freedom ends today. You are a coward and a killer, and I won’t let you kill anyone else!”
“You’re right, I am a coward.” Chibiki closed his eyes, then looked directly at Conan. “But I am not a killer. I did care for Misaki-san, but I cared for all my students, even if I didn’t always show it. I don’t know how you learned so much, but you are wrong to accuse me of such a terrible crime.”
“Then prove it. Prove your innocence to us,” Haibara said, and Conan nodded firmly. In the unlikely chance Chibiki was innocent, he would need to see proof. But he doubted it was so - everything fit together too well.
“I cannot. The only thing I can do is to tell you why all the deaths are not my fault.” The librarian looked tired as he went over his desk and removed a large folder from a drawer and handed it to Haibara. “These are all the class rosters from 1972 to now, containing a list of everyone who has died. You’ll see an X by the name of the deceased. Why would I keep records of the crimes I have committed?”
“As a trophy to relive the kills by,” Conan declared softly as his partner began to go through the files. “Plenty of serial killers do it, so you’d be far from the first.” He narrowed his eyes and added, “If you don’t start telling the truth, then we‘ll call in a detective. Hm, but which one? Heiji Hattori? What about Kudo Shinichi? Or would you rather Mouri Kogoro?”
“The Great Detectives of the East and West as well as Sleeping Kogoro…you have some interesting friends, boy. Call them in if you wish, it won’t change what I’m about to tell you. Or the fate of this town.” Oddly, Chibiki didn’t seem bothered by the threats. Most other criminals would have been shaking already.
“Hold on a moment.” Conan turned to look at Haibara, who held up two pieces of paper. “Why are the names of some students written at the bottom of later class rosters?”
“That belongs to the reason why I am not the killer.” Chibiki settled into his chair and gave him a measured look. “It sounds impossible, but Death lives in this town.” Conan gritted his teeth, ready to lash out for blaming something that didn’t exist, but the man continued talking. “You are correct when you say Misaki’s death started all of this, but it’s not what you think.”
Chibiki took a moment to collect himself, ignoring the glare of fury he was getting from Conan. “After Misaki died, everyone was devastated, including myself. Then one of my students declared that Misaki was not dead, that he was sitting at his desk like normal. Soon, everyone was playing along, acting like he was still with us, myself included. When graduation came, we took a picture, still pretending that he was present and leaving a space for him. It was only when the picture was developed that we realized we had made a terrible mistake - for there Misaki was, a little blurry but there, standing in his allotted space and smiling with the rest of us.”
Conan breathed in sharply, recalling the class picture in the paper. He had originally thought that it was simply a flaw in the original photo or caused by the scanning process, but the rest of the picture was too nice for that. “That…that doesn’t prove anything!”
“No, it does not. But I’m not done.” Chibiki’s voice lowered as he spoke, and a sorrowful expression appeared on his face. “I remained as the homeroom teacher for Class 3, thinking that perhaps everything would return to normal. Then my students and some of their family members started dying. We had no idea what was happening until after graduation, when one of the student’s names disappeared from that year’s roster and appeared in its original place on the class roster for 1968. Somehow, that student had returned to life and come back to their former class.” The man paused and looked out the window nearest his desk. “Fearing for my life, I became the librarian, and watched as more innocent people died the next year, another student returning to the afterlife after graduation. Eventually, someone figured out that the deaths were somehow connected to Yomiyama Misaki and the class of 1972, and the class as a whole tried to figure out how to deal with the calamity that was befalling them.”
“What about the police? Why didn’t they do anything?” Conan asked, still not believing any of it.
“They couldn’t do anything, although not for lack of trying. I recall mentions of a serial killer back then, so it’s not a new idea. But no one outside the class could do anything. It took far too many deaths to come until a viable solution was found, as indicated in the class rosters.”
“He’s right. There are some years no one has died, but a name is still written at the bottom,” Haibara confirmed, causing Conan to frown. It almost sounded like she believed this curse business. She moved to stand beside him then, murmuring softly, “You are forgetting an important piece of evidence, Edogawa-kun.”
“Am I now?” he said, angry at how this was going.
“You are. How did you find out about this case?”
“I overheard some local students mentioning it.”
“What exactly did they say?” He blinked at the question, then stared at Chibiki’s desk as he tried to remember the exact words of the girl.
“That Akazawa Kazuma’s death made two so far, and that the girl couldn’t talk about it before her older brother was in the class. The boy with her said that ‘it’ always started in spring…” he trailed off as realization struck him. Why would the parents openly talk about a serial killer, and why was spring so important?
“The deaths…” Conan said slowly, raising his gaze to Chibiki, “have they always occurred within the span of the school year?”
“They have,” the librarian confirmed with a nod.
“Were you out of town for any length of time?”
“I left for several months to assist my father when he fell ill, and to attend several weddings and other events.”
“When were they?” As Chibiki listed the dates off as best as he could remember, Haibara checked the rosters, confirming that several deaths had occurred when the man was out of town. “That just means you have an accomplice,” Conan stated afterward, unwilling to concede the point.
“Unlikely, since I have been at this school for far longer than any of the other staff, and I have no siblings to assist me,” Chibiki replied calmly, and the detective ground his teeth together in frustration.
“You said a solution was found. What was it?” he asked at last.
The librarian didn’t hesitate as he answered, “The solution was to choose one of the students in the class and declare them to be nonexistent for the entire school year. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t, with no clear reason as to why.”
Conan frowned and rubbed his chin, mentally putting everything together. If this hypothetical curse was somehow linked to Class 3-3, it made sense that it would always begin in early April, when the new school year started. That would also explain the cycle of death notices in the newspaper - since he had been reading through them backwards, he hadn’t really taken into account the start and end of the school year when the deaths either began or ended. Charting it out now, he could see it clearly. There seemed to be no evidence supporting an accomplice, and Chibiki had already said why the police had turned a blind eye to everything.
“So most people seem to be aware of this curse, at least on some level…” he murmured to himself, trying to rationalize another reason for the deaths. “Still, there’s no hard evidence disproving that you are a serial killer, Chibiki-san!” he added forcefully, glaring at the man again. He had worked too hard on this case to let the culprit slip though his fingers now.
“There’s no evidence proving that he is a serial killer, either.” Haibara said, and Conan spun around to face her, mouth hanging open in shock. “Think about it, Edogawa-kun. There are no pictures, witness reports, or other evidence proving that he was at any of the crime scenes, and I would imagine that many of the accidental deaths would have been very complicated to pull off. I’m not saying it’s impossible for a librarian to do those things, just that it’s improbable.”
“But-” he tried to cut in, but she kept going, lowering her voice so he had to strain to hear her.
“We also know that things otherwise deemed impossible also occur, otherwise we wouldn’t be in this situation. What is that favourite saying of yours? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?’”
Stunned into silence by her speech, Conan looked back to Chibiki, seeing that he was watching them calmly, hands folded atop his desk. Haibara was right, he didn’t have any hard evidence either proving or disproving that Chibiki was a serial killer. And while he had brushed it off before, the idea of the town being cursed had come up several times in his investigation. It was impossible…but maybe it was the truth.
“Why do so many people die if Death is already present?” he asked, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth.
Chibiki sighed and adjusted his glasses before speaking. “No one knows for sure, but it might be that nature is trying to correct the disrupted balance between life and death that is present in the class. I take it you believe that I am not what you say I am?”
“…Perhaps,” Conan admitted, suddenly feeling defeated. “The deaths at the shrine in 1983, were they caused by this curse as well?”
“As far as I am aware, they were.” The detective nodded, closing his eyes. There was no way a killer could have predicted a storm, and the deaths of two students was too much of a coincidence not to be related to the curse.
“So can it be stopped?”
“No, it cannot. Only averted, assuming the countermeasures work,” Chibiki replied, voice filled with guilt and sadness.
“Let’s go, Haibara. There’s nothing else we can do here.” Before he walked away, he looked back at the man. “I apologize, Chibiki-san. I was certain you were the one behind everything.”
“Understandable, considering the situation. What are your names, children? You seem quite smart for your age,” Chibiki commented, a spark of interest in his eyes.
Unable to even summon up a smile, Conan replied, “Edogawa Conan, detective.”
“Haibara Ai.”
“Pleased to meet you, Edogawa-kun, Haibara-chan,” the librarian replied formally.
Conan nodded and decided to ask the one remaining question he had. “If you ever learn more about what’s going on, could you contact Kudo Shinichi and let him know? I’m sure he’d be interested in hearing about it.”
Chibiki stared at him for a moment, dark eyes unreadable, then nodded. “I shall. Be careful on your way back to the hotel, you two.” Not surprised that he had figured out who they were with, Conan said that they would, and followed Haibara out of the library.
- - -
A brisk wind tugged at his clothes and Conan stood in before the family grave, his eyes fixed on one of the names carved into the stone. “Yomiyama Misaki…why? Why did your classmates love you so much to call your spirit back?! Why did that cause others to return, and why did that result in so many deaths? Why?!”
It was a question he couldn’t answer, and he hated it. He had been so certain that the town was being plagued by a serial killer, but the real killer was something he couldn’t bring to justice. He was as helpless to stop the curse as the families of those in Class 3-3. Even the class itself couldn’t end the calamity they were involved in. He remained there for a few minutes longer, then went in search of the other grave he wanted to visit.
This time, no one stood before it, but the wilting flowers told him that Akazawa’s sister had been here the day before. “I’m sorry,” Conan murmured to the grave. “I’m sorry I couldn’t end this so your sister would be safe. I just hope that she doesn’t end up in that class.” He remained before the grave until the sun set and the streetlights flickered to life, returning to the hotel with a heavy heart.
- - -
“Hey, look at that!” Conan looked up from his manga at the cry from the front of the bus, and looked out the window next to him. The road the bus was driving along was bordered by one of the canals that ran through Yomiyama, and as the vehicle slowed down, he saw a cluster of people gathered on the opposite bank.
“No…” he breathed, recognizing the police uniforms and coroner outfits. He quickly located the body they were gathered around, and while the distance and the angle of the morning sun made it difficult to see, the deceased appeared to be a slim figure with brown hair.
Overcome with despair, he looked away from the window as the bus moved past the crime scene, ignoring the chatter of his curious classmates as he looked at Haibara. Seated next to him, she had also had a good view of the sight, and she looked just as unhappy as he felt.
“Aww, no fair,” Genta complained from the seat behind them. “We leave just as a case appears for the Detective Boys!”
Footnote
Canon sources for Another list Asakura Mami as being the extra student for 1996.
Part 3 | Master Post