Chapter 34: What Was Finally Spoken || Tōni Katarareta Koto

  Shunsuke’s apartment, Roppongi → November 1st, 2022

  “Truth does not heal by being gentle. It heals by being named.”

  Ryuichi sat opposite Shunsuke, Misaki, and Miyu. The room was deathly quiet, a stark contrast to the lively museum a few floors below where Yuki and Lilith were currently distracted by art and history.

  Miyu’s hand remained firmly on Shunsuke’s, her presence a silent anchor. “Do you want me to go, too?” she asked softly, searching Shunsuke’s pale face. “Maybe it would be more comfortable for you if I wasn't here to hear this?”

  Shunsuke shook his head instantly, his fingers tightening around hers. “Please don’t leave… but… if you can't listen to it... if it's too much... then please, go,” he murmured. His body was trembling, a fine, rhythmic shudder that he couldn't suppress.

  Ryuichi watched them, his heart aching. He knew that by asking these questions, he was about to retraumatize the two people he loved most. But he also knew that silence was Tsukasa’s greatest ally. He needed the information—the cold, hard facts that could build a cage.

  “I want to see Tsukasa face justice for what he did to you both. For what he’s done to everyone,” Ryuichi said, his voice forced into a firm, professional calm. He opened a notebook, his pen hovering over the blank page. “I need you to tell me everything. No details spared. Who wants to start? Shunsuke? Misaki?”

  Ryuichi pulled his phone from his pocket and set it on the coffee table between them. “I want to record this. I need to ensure I don’t miss a single detail, and to have this eventually admitted as evidence, I need to verify your identities and get your formal consent on record.”

  Shunsuke and Misaki nodded, their faces pale but set in grim determination. Miyu stood up quietly, sensing the need for a moment of transition. She walked into the open kitchen, the soft clatter of tea cups and the hiss of the kettle providing a grounding background noise. When Shunsuke glanced over his shoulder at her, she offered him a small, supportive smile—a promise that she was still within reach.

  “I will start, then,” Misaki said, her voice trembling but gaining strength. “We should... we should leave the worst for the end.”

  Ryuichi looked up from his screen, his expression unyielding. “Don’t diminish your trauma, Misaki,” he said firmly. “What happened to you is not 'lesser' than what happened to anyone else.”

  He tapped the screen to start the recording. The small red light began to pulse like a heartbeat.

  “This is Ryuichi Sakamoto. I am with Misaki Kawamura, twenty-eight years old, born July 24th in Tokyo,” he began, his voice dropping into a professional, clinical cadence. “Misaki, because Tsukasa Kawamura is your brother, you have the legal right to remain silent to avoid self-incrimination or family conflict. However, if you choose to speak, it must be the absolute truth. Are you ready to proceed?”

  "Yes. I’m ready," Misaki said, her voice finding a sudden, brittle strength.

  Ryuichi gave her a brief, encouraging smile—a flash of the cousin who cared before he pulled the mask of the investigator back on. "Then please, describe your relationship with your older brother, Tsukasa. Tell me what happened within the household."

  "Tsukasa is my older brother; we are three years apart," she began, staring at a fixed point on the coffee table. "He was my parents' favorite. They never punished him; they enabled every impulse he had, no matter how cruel." Her voice cracked, a small, sharp sound. "He was always violent. My younger brother, Shunsuke... he once had a pet hamster. A small thing he loved very much."

  She took a deep breath, her eyes clouding with the memory. "Tsukasa killed it. He didn't just do it; he made sure Shunsuke found it. He laughed while Shunsuke was heartbroken. He enjoyed the grief."

  Ryuichi’s pen paused over his notebook. He felt a surge of cold fury, but he kept his voice level for the recording. "How old was Shunsuke at the time? And how old was Tsukasa?"

  As he asked, Ryuichi glanced at Shunsuke. His brother was vibrating with a silent, rhythmic tremor, his knuckles white as he gripped Miyu’s hand.

  "Shunsuke was around four years old," Misaki whispered. "Tsukasa was ten."

  “When I was thirteen and Tsukasa was sixteen…” Misaki began, her voice barely a thread. She took a shuddering breath, her eyes glazed as she retreated into the past. “That was when he started to assault me. He laughed while he did it... he made crude, horrible comments about my body.”

  Her entire frame shook with a violent tremor. “The morning after the first time, I went to my mother. I was shaking, crying... I told her exactly what happened. She just looked at me with this cold disbelief. She told me her Tsukasa would never do such a thing. She told me that I probably wanted it... that I had tempted him.”

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  Silent, hot tears carved paths down her face. “I never told anyone again after that day. When your own mother says those things to you... it destroys something fundamental inside your soul.”

  Ryuichi nodded softly, his jaw set so tight it ached. He didn't look away from the recording light. “Misaki, for the record... how often did Tsukasa assault you?”

  Misaki closed her eyes, the weight of five years pressing down on her. “From the age of thirteen until I was eighteen. Most of the time... it was every night.”

  “Do you need a little break, Misaki?” Ryuichi asked, his voice returning to its natural, warmer tone. “It’s fine if you need a moment to breathe.”

  Misaki nodded softly, her eyes unfocused as she tried to pull herself out of the memories of her mother’s coldness. Ryuichi reached out and paused the recording.

  “You’re doing great, Misaki. Truly,” he said, his expression softening with a pained empathy. “I’m sorry if I sound so detached. I hate talking to you this way.”

  Misaki shook her head, a small, sad smile touching her lips. “I understand, Ryuichi. You have to sound like this. If we want this to mean anything, it has to be professional.”

  Ryuichi nodded, grateful for her strength. Miyu stepped in then, moving with a quiet, graceful efficiency. She set a cup of coffee down in front of Ryuichi, who gave her a look of profound gratitude. She then placed steaming cups of tea before Shunsuke and Misaki, the scent of chamomile and honey momentarily masking the sterile tension of the room.

  Before Misaki could reach for her tea, Kuro made his move. The raccoon chattered softly and scrambled onto Misaki’s lap, his weight warm and solid against her. He pushed his masked face against her arm, sensing the deep distress radiating from her.

  Misaki let out a shaky breath and hugged the raccoon close, burying her face in his fur for a brief second. “Thank you for the support, Kuro,” she murmured, her voice muffled.

  Shunsuke watched them, his own hand still trembling. Seeing the animal comfort his sister seemed to ground him slightly, though the look in his eyes remained haunted. He knew that his turn to speak was coming.

  After a quiet moment, Misaki gave Kuro one last stroke. The raccoon let out a soft, vibrating purr before settling into her lap like a living shield. "We can continue, Ryuichi," she said, her voice reclaiming its iron-willed firmness.

  Ryuichi nodded, his face settling back into its mask of professional detachment. He tapped the screen, and the red light resumed its steady pulse. “I have resumed the recording with Misaki Kawamura. Misaki, please continue with the events following the initial period of abuse.”

  “When I was eighteen... one night, my younger brother, Shunsuke, came into my room while Tsukasa was assaulting me,” she began. Her voice didn't waver this time, but the air in the room seemed to turn ice-cold. “Shunsuke tried to pull our brother off me. He fought with everything he had, but... he wasn't strong enough.”

  Ryuichi shifted his gaze to Shunsuke, observing the way his brother’s eyes remained fixed on the floor, his posture suggesting a man reliving his greatest failure. Ryuichi turned back to Misaki. “For the record, how old was Shunsuke at this time? And how old was Tsukasa?”

  Misaki reached out a hand toward Shunsuke, though she didn't touch him. “Shunsuke was fifteen. Of course he couldn't do anything against Tsukasa, who was twenty-one and already trained in the family’s 'enforcement' methods.”

  “After that night, the incidents with me became rare. I realized far too late why,” Misaki said, her voice dropping to a hollow whisper as she hugged Kuro tightly. The raccoon remained still, a warm weight against her chest. “I didn't realize until much later that Tsukasa hadn’t stopped; he had simply shifted his sadistic pleasures toward a new victim. He had traded me for Shunsuke.”

  The silence in the room was heavy, a physical pressure. Misaki’s eyes remained shut as she continued. “When I was nineteen, shortly before finishing high school... I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t have to guess who the father was. There was only one person it could have been.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “My parents... they forced me to give birth. They wouldn't allow an 'embarrassment' like an abortion, yet they treated me like a prisoner to hide the truth. I wasn't allowed outside; I wasn't even allowed to leave my room. Shunsuke and Ryuichi—who has always been as much of a brother to me as Shunsuke—they were the only reason I survived those months. They brought me food and books. They stayed through the nights when the nightmares were so loud I couldn't breathe.”

  A single tear tracked down her cheek. “The moment I gave birth, I gave the child up for adoption. I refused to let the Kawamura family get their hands on it; I wouldn't let that bloodline claim another soul. As soon as I graduated, I fled to London. I didn't look back until now.”

  Ryuichi gave a final, solemn nod toward the phone. “Thank you for your testimony, Misaki. I am ending the recording now.” He tapped the screen, the pulsing red light vanishing. Immediately, his fingers flew across the glass, renaming the file with a cryptic code and uploading an encrypted backup to a secure cloud server he managed outside of Gumi reach.

  “You did really well, Misaki. I’m proud of you,” Ryuichi said, his voice shedding its clinical armor for a moment to show the genuine warmth underneath.

  Misaki let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension finally leaving her shoulders as she leaned back into the sofa. “I need to thank you, Ryuichi. For finally giving us a path to justice.”

  Ryuichi offered her a small, sad smile. “Always.”

  He then turned his attention to the other side of the couch. Shunsuke was leaning heavily against Miyu, his eyes closed as he tried to regulate his breathing. The "President" looked fragile, like a glass statue that had been struck one too many times.

  “If you need a bit more time, tell me, Nii-san,” Ryuichi said softly, acknowledging the immense psychological toll this was taking.

  Shunsuke didn't open his eyes immediately. He just leaned further into Miyu’s warmth, his voice a mere thread of sound. “Just a minute... just give me a minute.”