Chapter 51: Calm

"Excuse me, which room is Gennai Masashi in?"

"He's in Room 309," the nurse at the reception desk replied automatically.

"Thank you." Maeda Ryutaro nodded politely and headed up to the third floor.

Another visitor for Gennai Masashi? Why are so many people coming to see that boy? And this time, it's a policeman. Did that boy do something wrong? The nurse began to wonder.

Maeda knocked on the door, and a lazy voice answered from inside, "Come in."

He opened the door to find Masashi comfortably leaning back on the hospital bed, holding a book, looking up at him. Kazumi was sitting beside his bed, peeling an apple. When she saw Maeda enter, she gestured for silence, pointing to Rumi, who was asleep on the sofa.

Masashi made a hand motion suggesting they speak outside, and Maeda nodded. As Masashi reached the door, Kazumi handed him the peeled apple. He smiled, took it, and walked out.

The two of them went up to the rooftop terrace.

"I just got back to the station after a business trip and heard about what happened. I never expected something like this." Maeda Ryutaro started the conversation.

"All thanks to you, big brother," Masashi replied sarcastically.

Maeda gave a bitter smile. "I never thought that guy would see my report. I'm really sorry for dragging you, Kazumi, and Rumi into this case." Maeda's face was filled with guilt.

"By the way, how are those kids doing? Did any of them not make it?"

Hearing Masashi speak so casually, Maeda felt torn between laughter and tears.

"Fortunately, no one died. Three of them did suffer broken ribs or femurs from the blast wave, and others have various injuries. Also, aside from the three of you, everyone else needs psychological counseling."

"Well, at least they survived. As for psychological issues, that's not my concern." Masashi shrugged.

"Alright, that's all I wanted to discuss. I'm going back to rest now. Also, if you have time today, please arrange our discharge. I know my own condition best—if it weren't for Mom insisting on thorough checkups, I wouldn't want to stay here at all."

"But Rumiko might be upset," Maeda replied, a bit hesitant.

"She's already got you under her thumb before you're married. Just imagine after."

"That won't happen; Rumiko is a gentle and reasonable woman," Maeda replied, a bit embarrassed.

Seeing this big, burly man with such a soft expression, Masashi couldn't help but smile.

"Anyway, you're responsible for getting our discharge sorted. Consider it your punishment." Masashi waved his hand dismissively, leaving no room for negotiation.

"Fine, I'll let Rumiko know," Maeda agreed with a sigh.

"Thanks," Masashi grinned.

After saying goodbye to Maeda, Masashi returned to the hospital room. When he opened the door, he found both girls fast asleep.

Watching their peaceful faces as they slept, Masashi suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Though he hadn't intended it, they had been dragged into this bizarre case because of him.

Masashi sighed, picked up two blankets, and gently draped them over the girls.

After two days in the hospital, with every possible checkup completed, Rumiko finally allowed them to leave. The three of them, tired of the smell of disinfectant, felt immense relief at the news. They quickly changed out of their hospital gowns, eager to return home. Naturally, Maeda Ryutaro acted as their driver.

When they arrived home, Rumiko celebrated their survival with a huge spread of food.

Masashi noticed that most of the dishes were vegetarian, likely because Maeda had mentioned their aversion to meat. Seeing this thoughtful side of the big man made Masashi smile.

"What is it? Do I have something on my face?" Maeda asked, puzzled.

"Nothing, I was just curious. You're not fully Japanese, are you?"

"How did you know?" Maeda looked at him, surprised.

Hearing this, Kazumi and Rumi perked up with interest.

"Because a typical Japanese man wouldn't help out in the kitchen; they consider it beneath them. And most importantly, your facial structure isn't like the average Japanese man's. It's rare to see such strong features in Japan."

"It's a waste you're not a detective. You're right; my father is Filipino, and my mother is Japanese. They divorced when I was young, and I've lived with my mother in Japan since I was ten. I can't even speak Filipino anymore. You're the first to notice this."

"Senior, you could become a fortune teller," Rumi said innocently.

The atmosphere at dinner was warm and lively, like they'd always been a family.