Thank you so much for the positive feedback (aside from the one, extremely random and judgmental doomsday prophecy chanting reviewer!). I am really excited to have received encouraging words and excitement from and tumblr users alike. It really makes my heart sing with happiness when I see your reviews!

This chapter is a bit heavy on the cop stuff, so if you're into that kind of genre, I hope you like it! Fun fact - unlike America, those arrested in Japan are NOT offered a public defender. Also, their conviction rate is a whopping 98%!

Also, a shout-out to Pia Bartolini for beta-editing this and passing along her fantastic edits... and at 2am nonetheless! You're too good to me!

I hope you enjoy! Please review!

Mamoru groaned into the floral pillowcase as the penetrating ring of his work phone snapped him out of his much-needed sleep.

Blearily, he reached over to the nightstand and picked up the shrilling device, identifying the number as his Inspector. Before answering, however, he took note that the time was 3:36 in the morning.

Vainly scrubbing the sleep from his face, he answered the phone with a gruff "Chiba."

"Chiba, we need you to report to Ueno Park as soon as possible," the voice commanded. Upon hearing the urgency, Mamoru propped himself up into a sitting position, confusion furrowing his brow.

"What's going on?"

"We've got a homicide. I need you there immediately; we've set perimeter at Ikenohata Gate. Kino-san is already there; she will fill you in with the details."

Mamoru could feel his adrenaline pumping with each word the Inspector issued. Homicides were at a historical low in Japan; to receive a call of this nature was exceedingly rare. Shucking the duvet cover off of his naked body, he swung his legs out of the bed and began to search for his discarded jeans.

"I am leaving now. I will be there in about 20 minutes."

"Excellent. Thank you, Chiba." As the call disconnected, Mamoru replaced the phone on the bedside stand and resumed the hunt for his clothes, not bothering to stop when a soft groan accompanied his rustling

"You're leaving?" the sleepy voice whimpered. Mamoru exhaled in annoyance.

"Yes."

"Are you coming back?"

"No."

"Aww, come on," the drowsy voice persisted. "It'll be fun. You come back after working the big case, and I'll be waiting?"

"I said no," Mamoru bit as he slid his jeans on. "That's not part of the deal." When he heard a light sigh in response, he concluded his task, slipping on his form-fitting black button up. Mamoru grimaced slightly as he recalled his previous evening's attire; he was going to get his balls busted for looking 'pretty,' he just knew it.

With a final shuffle of his stuff, Mamoru slipped his phone into his back pocket, mentally calculating how long it would take to get to the station, pick up his weapon - a New Nambu Model 60 - and car, and then get to the scene of the crime. Just as he was about to make his way out of the apartment, a chippy reply came his way.

"Don't forget, Mamoru-kun, you called me tonight."

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the handle and thrust the door open. "And you answered, An."

#

It was quite a sight to see when Mamoru pulled his Nissan Skyline up to the blockade, red and blue flashing lights streaking the night sky. With a quick flash of his badge to the patrol officer, he pulled off and parked his car by the other unmarked vehicles. As he made his way over to the group, Mamoru quickly spotted Makoto by her signature high-pony tail, who was feverishly taking notes. Just as he was about to close the distance between them, she looked up in his direction before making a scrunched up face.

"Dude, the fuck are you wearing?"

Mamoru groaned; yep, he knew that was coming. "It was all I had with me," he groaned before accepting a paper cup of coffee from one of the stand-by officers. "Thank you," he added to the uniformed colleague.

"Ah, yes, that's right. The new fuck of the month," Makoto said with a shake of her head. "It's coming together now."

"Oh, shut up," Mamoru replied with a frown. "What's going on here?"

Makoto quickly changed her expression from buddy to cop in an instant. "A couple of late-night walkers stumbled across the scene. Male victim, gunshot wound to the head," she explained briefly as they walked over to the scene.

Mamoru blinked a few times, surprised by the method. "Did you say gunshot?"

Makoto nodded. "Yes. Execution style, nonetheless."

Both pairs of feet stopped as they reached the perimeter set up around the body. Mamoru looked down solemnly, his lips curled into a frown. Shootings were rare around here, especially ones that ended in death. To go so far as to shoot someone execution style was practically unheard of, especially in such a public place.

Mamoru glanced over the victim, taking note that he appeared to be a male of Japanese descent in his mid 30's. Mamoru shuffled a bit as he looked over the victim; who was this guy? He was dressed nicely in a suit, slightly plump, clean shaven. What happened that he wound up as a victim of a shooting? Was he an innocent bystander or someone mixed up in unknown criminal activity?

Did he have a family? A wife who was now widowed?

Mamoru shook his head at the unspeakable disgust he was feeling. Murder. What the hell was the point of murder? Why would someone feel such an urge, a need to end someone's life? It was incomprehensible, deranged that there are actually people out there who thought this was how problems should be handled.

This man, regardless of his background, deserved to have this mystery solved, his killer apprehended, and justice served.

Mamoru folded his arms and began to take a closer look. From the way his body was positioned on the ground, it appeared that he was on his knees when he was shot, falling backward onto the concrete. Donning black rubber gloves, he crouched down beside the body. "Look here," he said with his finger pointing along the head. "I suspect he was kneeling when he was shot. His head smacking the pavement likely caused the bleeding from an additional head contusion."

Makoto nodded in agreement as she knelt down beside him, examining the scene closer. "The murder definitely occurred here, there's no question about that."

"It's as if he was begging. Pleading for his life before it was senselessly taken," Mamoru spat with his own conclusions. "Who the hell does that to someone?"

Makoto sighed as she stood back up. "No idea. Also, we were unable to find any identification on him, which makes me question if this was a robbery gone bad. The medical examiner is on her way to transport him to the morgue. Maybe Mizuno-san can get a hit on him with his fingerprints if a missing persons report doesn't come in soon."

Mamoru nodded. "So, no suspect in custody, I assume?"

Makoto blinked two, three times in obvious surprise. "You didn't know?"

Mamoru raised an eyebrow. "Know what?"

"We have a suspect in custody."

Mamoru's eyes widened in surprise and glee at the news. "What the hell, why didn't I already know this?"

"I assumed the Inspector told you when she called you in," Makoto replied warily.

"Well, shit, that's great!" Mamoru said with a hint of resolve in his voice. Hell, this was terrific! No wild goose chase, no need to spend days or weeks looking for this phantom killer. Justice could be served quickly. "Where's the bastard?"

"He's in the back of the patrol car."

"And you're sure it's him?"

Makoto nodded. "We found the gun with him, both the weapon and him covered in blood."

"Well, I'll be damned. That hardly ever happens," Mamoru said with a nod of appreciation. What luck! What sweet, sweet luck! "So we can get him to the hospital, get the evidence collected, and maybe even get his—"

"Mamoru—"

"— confes…what?"

"He says he knows you."

Mamoru's expression morphed into a quizzical one. "Huh?"

"I assumed that's why the Inspector called you in," Makoto explained as she led Mamoru over to the patrol car. As they approached the vehicle, Mamoru was able to make out one male in custody with shaggy blonde hair and a lanky body. It wasn't until they were within a few feet of the car that Mamoru felt his feet turn into lead bricks. "He said that he knows you, was very adamant that he wanted to talk to you and only you."

His heart fell, shockwaves skittering through his limbs. It wasn't possible; no, he was a good kid. A great kid.

"Ittou A—"

"Ittou… Asanuma."

#

Mamoru sat at his desk, drumming his fingers, desperately trying to process what the hell was going on.

Ittou Asanuma.

A model student. Overachiever. A science fiction buff and was an active researcher of all things paranormal, especially aliens and UFOs.

And now apparently a cold blooded murderer?

Sure, it had been a few years since he last saw Asanuma. More than a few, Mamoru thought sullenly, as his shoulders fell. Once high school ended and University began, their friendship took a back seat to studies. They hung out every now and then, but once Mamoru was accepted into the Police Academy, he saw Asanuma less and less; he daresay, he hadn't seen his friend in at least three, maybe four years.

What the hell happened?

How does a kid go from a gentle type like the Asanuma he grew up with to a killer?

Mamoru pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. He was so confused, rattled by the thought that someone as caring and kind as Asanuma had it in him to murder someone. What happened? Where did life go wrong for him?

"Chiba, you ready?"

Mamoru looked up at the Inspector, her cold, amber eyes settling on him. An involuntary shudder ran up his arms from the calculated stare. Once Inspector Beryl Himura found out that Mamoru had a connection to the suspect, she wanted him to handle the interrogation. The thought of questioning and badgering Asanuma made his stomach churn, but he couldn't disobey orders.

Mamoru nodded his head before slowly pushing his chair back. Makoto looked at him with a sympathetic glance, but even she could not hide the hunger for the confession twinkling in her green eyes. She wasn't wrong to think that way; after all, all signs point to him being the murderer. But Asanuma? A killer? He still couldn't wrap his mind around it.

When Mamoru and Beryl reached the interview room, Mamoru took a good, long look at Asanuma through the window. In here, he would try to crack him. Make him confess. Unwind the interwoven thoughts of a murderer. Tactic #1: Put them in the small room; make them uncomfortable.

As much as Mamoru tried to psyche up his mind, like he did time and time again, all he could see was a frail, scared friend of the past. Someone who he tutored. Someone who he tried to guide.

Clearly, Mamoru failed him.

"Chiba," Beryl pressed, urging him to go in. He nodded, complying with the order, despite his hand shaking as he clutched the doorknob.

Letting out a painful breath, Mamoru pushed in the door and entered the room. Tactic #2: turn up the thermostat. Get them uncomfortable, get them to start sweating. Anything to make them want to leave the room. Mamoru looked over to the dial, the digital numbers staring back at him a very warm and distressing temperature.

His heart nearly broke when he watched Asanuma look up from the ground and at him, the recognition of the individual in front of him and awareness of the environment around him. How his look transformed from one of fear to one of regret. "M-M-M-Mamoru-sempai!" Bile rose up in his throat at the affectionate name of years past.

He swallowed hard. "Asanuma. What-"

"I didn't do it!" Asanuma interrupted. "Please believe me! I did not do this!"

"Asanuma—"

"No! No! I don't know why I am here! Why am I here?! What is happening?"

"Asanuma…"

"Mamoru-sempai, please, please believe me! I didn't do this!"

Dropping his notepad on to the table, Mamoru ran his hands over his face. "Asanuma, I can't… I can't believe that nothing happened here," he responded dejectedly.

"I swear it, Mamoru-sempai, I didn't do it!" he cried out.

Mamoru closed his eyes and held up his hand, signaling for Asanuma to stop. It took a few moments, but once he sat back down on the silver, worn out, folded chair - Tactic #3: Don't let them get comfortable - Mamoru looked at him straight on.

"You were at the scene of the crime."

"I know, but—"

"With the weapon."

"I know! But—"

"You are covered in blood; DNA tests are being run to match the blood on your hands and clothing and guess what? They will match the blood of the victim."

"I know! But!"

"We've also tested your hands, and your clothing, for gunshot residue. And when those also come back positive, Asanuma, there's no helping you from there."

"But—"

"Asanuma. I can't help you unless you tell me what the hell is going on here. Please," Mamoru encouraged, "help me here. What happened? What happened to you that you're mixed up in all of this?"

Mamoru watched as Asanuma's eyes shifted, his sweaty visage flickering from fear to worry to contemplation to hesitancy. Yes, the confession, the one he was so used to receiving and usually so glad to watch come into fruition, was about to surface.

Only this time, there was no joy. No rush of adrenaline or sense of accomplishment.

He felt horrible.

Mamoru kept his eyes trained on Asanuma as the desperate man opened and closed his mouth a few times, but words did not come. Eventually, Mamoru decided to try to coax the information out with some leading questions. Opening up his manila folder, Mamoru pulled out the photograph of the victim, the headshot from the scene of the crime, and placed it in front of Asanuma. "The victim; do you know him?"

Mamoru watched as Asanuma leaned over the table and scan the photo. Eventually, he nodded slowly.

"Who is he?"

Silence greeted him.

"Who is he, Asanuma?"

"Tojo … Tojo Akira."

Mamoru quickly jotted down the lost soul's name. "Who is Tojo Akira?"

Asanuma shook his head. Mamoru sighed.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me," Mamoru coaxed. Asanuma still stubbornly silent.

Mamoru scratched at his the stubble from working overnight that began to form on his chin. He needed to figure out what was going on, but how? For whatever reason, Asanuma was proclaiming innocence while refusing to speak. Something peculiar was going on, and Mamoru needed to find out what. Was Tojo Akira the answer?

Mamoru glanced up at the mirror, hoping that by giving an eyebrow raise and tapping the paper that it would give Beryl the hint to run the unknown name. Maybe a hit would come up that could be the thread to unravel the story.

In the meantime, however, Mamoru was stumped. Asanuma looked petrified, like so many others before. Only this time, Mamoru cared. And it made it so much harder for him to do his job.

His job. Closing his eyes, Mamoru nodded. This was his job. His career. His passion. It was his civic responsibility to humanity to carry out justice, despite who is sitting in the chair. Friend or foe, stranger or acquaintance, he owed it to the deceased to let justice prevail.

So why did it feel so damn wrong?

"I haven't seen you in at least, what, three years?" Mamoru pondered aloud, trying to lessen the tension in the room. Asanuma nodded. "What have you been up to these last few years?"

Mamoru waited unwaveringly as Asanuma hesitated. His patience, however, eventually paid off. "I've been working," he replied vaguely.

"Did you finish University?" Mamoru was surprised when Asanuma shook his head no. "No? How come?"

"My… my dad, he lost his job. So, I started to work, so we could keep our house," Asanuma responded slowly, the reluctance to divulge information still rampant in his answers.

"Oh, Asanuma, I am so sorry," Mamoru answered honestly. Last he knew, Asanuma had wanted to become an astronomer and study lunar sciences. Aside from the childhood desire to discover aliens and UFOs, he recalled Asanuma finding interest in studying the Earth's moon. To have learned he had to give up on his dream saddened him.

"So, you found work, then?" Mamoru resolved from the information Asanuma already gave him. Asanuma nodded slowly, but still refused to give information away. "Does Tojo Akira have to do with your work?"

It was unmistakable, the flicker his eyes gave away, but suddenly, Tojo Akira and Ittou Asanuma had a common thread linking them.

The first break in the case.

"Let's talk about your work. What kind of company do you work for?"

Silence.

Mamoru tapped the eraser of his pencil against the notepad, frustration beginning to bubble. "You know, you started off so adamant that you were innocent, but now so quiet to answer questions. I can't help you unless you help me."

"Help me?" Asanuma scoffed. "Help me? You're… you're not going to help me! You're going to throw me in jail even though I didn't do this! I didn't! I swear to God I did not do this!"

"Then let me help you!" Mamoru stressed out. "I don't want to see you go to jail, Asanuma. I want to help you, but I can't do it if you don't tell me what is going on here."

"I—"

"Chiba." Mamoru looked over to the doorway, the Inspector and Makoto standing in the entryway. He frowned; he was just about to get Asanuma to give up some pertinent information, why were they interrupting him? He looked back over to Asanuma, then back over to his colleagues.

"I'll be right back," he said as gently as he could, taking his notepad and pen with him. Once he reached the two women, he closed the door behind him. "What the hell? I was about to get him to start talking!"

Beryl was disinterested. "The DNA came back."

Mamoru raised an eyebrow at that. "Already? Bullshit."

Makoto nodded in support of Beryl's word. "Ami-chan put a rush on it. The blood, at least. It's a match. The gunpowder residue and ballistics are still being processed, but we should have those back in the next day or two. But just like he said, John Doe is in fact Tojo Akira, Vice President of Japan Financial Bank, and it's his blood."

"Arrest him," Beryl ordered.

Mamoru's jaw slackened. "What?"

"I said, arrest him."

"But, we don't have his confession!"

"Inspector, I can go in and arrest him," Makoto interjected. "I was first detective on the scene after all."

"No. Detective Chiba, I am ordering you to place the suspect under arrest. Or will I have to reprimand you?"

Mamoru felt as if he had been doused in ice water; cold, shaken. Never had he been threatened to be punished, not even when he pushed boundaries. Maybe this case was too close to home for him with it being his childhood friend. Maybe he should have recused himself rather than allow himself to be called in by Beryl.

No, no. This was his job. He needed to do this.

Defeated, Mamoru nodded his head before reaching for his handcuffs, tossing a look to Makoto. She should be her arrest, her case. Just because he was called in to interrogate, a power play by Beryl so to speak, Makoto loses her arrest?

Mamoru paused and swallowed thickly, heart heavy with emotion. Stepping into the room, he didn't even have a chance to look up before Asanuma spoke.

"You're arresting me now, aren't you?"

Mamoru looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah."

"I thought you were going to help me."

"The DNA came back as a match, Asanuma. I have no choice but to arrest you."

"You said you'd help me. You said so! You said it, Mamoru-sempai!"

"Asanuma, I'm—" Mamoru paused and closed his eyes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. "Ittou Asanuma, you are under arrest for the murder of Tojo Akira. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney at trial. Should you not be able to afford an attorney, one will not be appointed to you."

Mamoru gulped as he cuffed his friend, his schoolmate, and escorted him out of the room and to two uniformed officers in the stationhouse. He felt his morals rattled, his core shaken as he passed Asanuma off. From the brief bit of information they had exchanged, Asanuma didn't have money; he worked to save his family's livelihood. He wouldn't have a defense attorney; there were no public prosecutors in Japan. He would be tried. Arraigned.

Convicted.

"Good work, Chiba," Beryl responded, clearly pleased that the murder suspect was quickly detained, interrogated, and arrested.

Mamoru looked over to the senior officer in disgust. Numbers. All she cared about was numbers. The words were on the tip of his tongue, telling her to go fuck herself, but instead he marched over to his desk and sat down, dropping his head into his hands.

He felt fucking awful.

But what could he do?

#

"Minako-chan!" Usagi sang as she walked down the bright, glass hallways of her law office, "guess what I've got!?"

Minako looked up from her computer and to her boss, her baby blues widening in recognition of the white coffee cups nestled in the carrier. "Please tell me that's a PSL!"

Usagi grinned. "Bingo!" Lifting the venti Starbucks cup out of the drink tray, she presented the beverage to her assistant. "Pumpkin season is back, baby!"

"Yay!" Minako cheered as she thrust her fist up into the air. "I'm so glad you're just as basic as I am!"

Usagi giggled. "Oh, I knew it was going to be a good day when I woke up today. First day of pumpkin back on the menu, the sun is shining, what could go wrong?"

"Ooh, yes, let me tell you!" Minako said hurriedly as she leaned in over her desk. "You have one hell of a hot guy waiting for you in your office. Tall, dark, handsome, no wedding ring," she added with a wink.

"Really?" Usagi said with a grin. Placing her purse and cup down on Minako's desk, she began to fuss over her hair and smooth out her dress. "I didn't have any appointments this morning."

"He just showed up, said it was urgent and needed counsel. I hope that's okay?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Usagi said excitedly as she finished fussing with the light gray dress. "Do I look okay?"

"Gorgeous. Now go, go!" Minako insisted as she tossed her a wink. With a confident nod, Usagi opened the door, a mile-wide smile stretched on her face as she was about to say hello. As swiftly as it arrived, the friendliness quickly dropped, warmth blowing out of her.

So much for a good day today.

Usagi narrowed her eyes at the unwelcome male in her office, peering at her wall, as if he was calculating whether the Law degree on her wall was real or not. The epitome of smug. A weasel cloaked in a black suit and tie. A mockery of a detective.

"Chiba."