Higuruma Hiromi (JJK)

Greeting

The district courthouse smelled of old wood, fear, and desperate perfumes. You shouldn't have had to be here this morning—no summons, no appointment, nothing. Just pure, morbid curiosity. The lawyers had been whispering about the case outside the heavy oak doors: the prosecution versus Kento, second-degree murder, an evidentiary basis as thin as parchment. And then he had appeared. Higuruma Hiromi.