"Morofushi!" Instructor Onizuka shouted sternly, striding toward Morofushi Akihiko, who happened to be standing in the corner. He frowned, "What are you doing?!"
Instructor Onizuka stared at Morofushi Akihiko, observing that the upturned eyes held the same gentleness as usual. His gaze shifted downward, meeting the police-issued handgun still gripped in the other's hand.
Morofushi's grip on the handgun was perfectly standard—exactly the posture he had just taught—good enough to be photographed or recorded as a model example for others.
Faced with Instructor Onizuka's sudden questioning, a fellow trainee nearby curiously glanced over, only to be glared back fiercely by the instructor. He shrugged his shoulders, readjusted his protective earmuffs, and refocused on the target in front of him, no longer paying attention to the conversation between Morofushi and the instructor.
Amid this minor interruption, Morofushi Akihiko held the handgun in his hand, his tone still polite and gentle, calmly explaining, "This handgun seems to have some issues, so I wanted to check it myself… I'm sorry, I should have informed you immediately, Instructor Onizuka."
Meeting Instructor Onizuka's still suspicious and somewhat unsettled gaze, Morofushi Akihiko's expression remained unchanged, his face naturally carrying a hint of the awe and shyness of someone holding a gun for the first time.
It was as if, because it was his first time holding a gun, even if he discovered an issue with it, he wasn't quite ready to hand it over to the instructor right away.
Morofushi Akihiko continued speaking, sounding a bit embarrassed, "Since you happened to come over, Instructor Onizuka, could you help me check what's wrong with this gun? I'm not entirely sure."
Instructor Onizuka stared at Morofushi Akihiko, clearly pondering something. The student-like shyness that had initially appeared on Morofushi's face slowly faded, replaced by a hint of confusion, "Is something wrong, Instructor Onizuka?"
"No, nothing." Instructor Onizuka reached out, signaling for Morofushi Akihiko to hand over the handgun.
After carefully inspecting it, Instructor Onizuka returned the handgun to Morofushi Akihiko, "The gun is fine. Fire a shot and let me see."
Morofushi Akihiko raised his hand accordingly, smoothly aiming the muzzle at the target not far away, then pulled the trigger.
"Bang—!"
After the first shot, Morofushi Akihiko didn't stop. The interval between shots was short—he quickly pulled the trigger a second time, then a third, until all five bullets in the handgun were expended.
This was also Instructor Onizuka's earlier requirement: four rounds of testing, five shots per round. This model of police handgun could only hold five bullets.
Instructor Onizuka instinctively looked toward the bullseye—dead center, without any deviation. Instinctively, he then looked at the person who had fired the shots, noticing the straight line of his lips after firing.
However, after the shooting ended and he lowered his hand, Morofushi Akihiko's lips curved upward again, returning to the model student demeanor he usually displayed.
"Perhaps I was just too nervous earlier," Morofushi Akihiko said softly. "It seems the gun really has no issues."
"I'm sorry for troubling you, Instructor Onizuka," he added politely.
Seeing his model student's natural attitude and reaction, the suspicion that had risen in Instructor Onizuka's heart gradually dissipated.
That angle just now… He must have been mistaken, right? Instructor Onizuka thought to himself. After all, no matter how he looked at it, Morofushi Akihiko had neither the motive nor the reason to commit suicide here.
Having convinced himself, Instructor Onizuka’s peripheral gaze swept over the target paper that had yet to be collected, and he couldn’t help but feel even more satisfied with this already outstanding student.
But he couldn’t let anyone grow too arrogant either, so he naturally remarked, “Although your marksmanship is good, don’t get too proud. There was a senior of yours who scored a perfect mark on his first test—a genius who landed all twenty bullets right in the center!”
A humble expression appeared on Morofushi Akihiko’s face as he followed Instructor Onizuka’s words, saying, “Really? That senior must have been truly remarkable.”
After sharing some of his past teaching experiences, Instructor Onizuka left with satisfaction, having completely forgotten what he had originally intended to do.
Morofushi Akihiko watched Instructor Onizuka leave before turning his gaze to the pistol in his hand.
The gun was indeed fine—if there had been an issue, he would have noticed it immediately. His earlier excuse had merely been a way to placate Instructor Onizuka.
He was certain he had aimed at the heart and pulled the trigger, but the moment he did, the bullet had suddenly jammed.
Although the pistols provided by the police academy for student practice weren’t the latest models, they weren’t so outdated as to jam.
Should he try again? Morofushi Akihiko lowered his eyes, loading bullets one by one into the chamber.
The black-haired, blue-eyed young man in a police academy uniform raised one hand, aiming the muzzle at the very center of the target.
They needed to complete four rounds of testing—the first had just ended.
After the four rounds of practice concluded, Morofushi Akihiko, like his fellow trainees, returned the police-issued pistol. Another instructor was specifically in charge of collecting the bullets.
Once the bullets and pistols were confirmed to have been returned and Instructor Onizuka had tallied the scores, this class would be over.
Since pistols were a novelty for most people, the instructors were well aware that after the shooting course ended, the police academy students would have no interest in paying attention to the following classes. For the rest of the day, conversations would revolve around holding guns and shooting.
Thus, this class was scheduled as the last one in the afternoon. Once it ended, all classes for the day would be over.
His range of movement afterward would also increase.
“What?! One bullet wasn’t returned?!” Hearing this familiar statement, Morofushi Akihiko, who had been lost in thought, lifted his eyes and looked toward the two instructors engaged in conversation.
It seemed that secretly hoarding bullets was a common occurrence, Morofushi Akihiko thought idly.
But unlike the last time, this year’s batch didn’t seem to have any troublemakers who would argue with the instructors, nor any fellow trainees who would draw their ire.
Therefore, the instructors didn’t single out anyone or have a direct suspect. The solution was to conduct a body search on everyone before they left. If caught, the offender would be expelled. Of course, turning it in now would result in leniency.
This matter had nothing to do with him. Morofushi Akihiko lowered his eyes, refraining from saying anything unnecessary. He simply stood quietly among his fellow trainees until the commotion ended.
After finally identifying who had privately hidden the bullet, Morofushi Akihiko glanced over and then withdrew his gaze.
He didn’t recognize them.
Instructor Onizuka finally gave the order to dismiss. Morofushi Akihiko stood in place for two seconds, confirming that no one actively approached him to speak, then naturally followed the flow of people away from his current position until he was completely alone.
Morofushi Akihiko halted his subconscious steps toward a sheltered spot and swept his gaze over the familiar police academy buildings.
He still couldn’t determine exactly what was going on.
If he went to the archives to look up information, would he inadvertently reveal things that shouldn’t be exposed?
Morofushi Akihiko considered the feasibility of investigating the Nagano case, but this case involved not only him but also his older brother.
Although his name was certainly exposed by now, wouldn’t it be better to hide as much as possible? Morofushi Akihiko felt somewhat helpless.
In this uncertain situation, he was far too passive. Apart from suicide, he really couldn’t think of a better solution for now.
If attempting suicide with a handgun failed, should he try another method?
Hmm… something that wouldn’t cause too much commotion.
Morofushi Akihiko shifted direction and began heading toward the police academy cafeteria.
…
Police Academy Shooting Range.
Instructor Onizuka was still chatting with his colleague nearby, sighing helplessly, “Every year, this happens once or twice. What’s so appealing about privately hiding bullets?”
“Hahaha, they’re young, after all. Who hasn’t been through that phase?” Another instructor, with a more easygoing temperament, became cheerful again after confirming all the bullets had been recovered.
“Don’t be so relaxed, Matsumoto,” Instructor Onizuka said while organizing the unused target papers that hadn’t been collected.
Instructor Matsumoto was just here to help; he was the instructor for the neighboring class. However, incidents often occurred during shooting classes every year, and since firearms were inherently dangerous, such courses typically required supervision by at least two instructors.
“Speaking of which, are there any particularly outstanding students this year?” Matsumoto asked cheerfully. “There’s one in my class who’s quite promising—he’ll make an excellent detective in the future.”
“They’re alright, nothing particularly eye-catching. Morofushi is pretty good, but he’s just a typical top student,” Instructor Onizuka shrugged. “Exceptionally unique talents don’t come along every year.”
“A genius like Mouri is truly unprecedented. I still don’t quite understand why he went on to open a detective agency…”
Whenever this topic came up, Instructor Onizuka felt a vague sense of frustration.
“Hahaha, everyone has their own ideas. Don’t be so strict.”
“Hmm?” At that moment, Instructor Matsumoto narrowed his eyes and picked up a used target paper. “Whose is this?”
“What?” Instructor Onizuka looked over curiously and then saw the student number marked on the target paper. He naturally identified the student it belonged to. “Oh, that’s Morofushi… Wait.”
Instructor Onizuka snatched the target paper from Instructor Matsumoto’s hand in shock. On the intact target paper, there was only one hole.
And the location of the hole was precisely at the dead center of the bullseye.
Noticing Instructor Onizuka’s stunned expression, Matsumoto’s smile widened a bit as he said cheerfully, “It seems it’s not quite as you described.”
"—You've really encountered quite an exceptional student this time, Instructor Onizuka."
And the exceptional student mentioned by this instructor was currently in his single dorm room.
With a calm expression, he picked up a sharp fruit knife.