•«Phoenix»•
"There are no bargains between lions and men. I will kill you and eat you raw."
— The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller
«PART XI»
—•— Friday, 21 February (9:21am) —•—
The Professor looked at the young man in front of him.
The picture was nothing in comparison to the real thing. Brick Jojo's expression was unreadable. He said nothing and only looked directly at him, attentive.
There was something both uncomfortable and comforting about it, depending on how one looked at the circumstances. It felt as if Brick's entire focus had been narrowed to the scientist sitting across from him. It was an unnerving feeling and the Professor had to resist the urge to fix his collar out of self-consciousness.
Instead, he chose to give a small smile. "Hello, Brick."
There was no reply.
"I don't believe we've met before. I'm Professor Utonium. I'm a scientist, working in private research. You're familiar with the Powerpuff Girls Z, yes?"
"I know who you are."
The voice was deep and clear, and it almost surprised him. Almost. "Well then, I can skip the introductions. I'm currently working alongside the police in your case. You might already be aware that your…circumstances have led them to ask for my guidance. I'm here to ensure that both you and the police are fully aware of your capabilities."
"You want to find out why I am the way I am."
"That's one way to put it." A pause. "Do you have anything against this?"
"No."
"That's good. I would like to work with you and it would benefit the both of us if we cooperated." The Professor shifted and pulled a briefcase onto his lap. "Now, you provided various body samples to our pathologist recently. We had a look at the test results and I was given a chance to study them. Here are the documents with what we found."
The Professor pulled a large lever-arch folder from the briefcase, placing it on the metal table, in front of Brick. For a moment, Brick assessed the red cover and the general size of it before his eyes flickered back up to the Professor.
The Professor nodded. "Yes, you can open it and read."
Brick leaned forward, the chain on his handcuffs clinking against the table. He pulled the folder closer to him and flipped through the first few introductory pages.
The test results were impressively detailed and, although he couldn't fully comprehend some of the terminology and test data, he had a fairly good idea of the majority of what was recorded. One of the tests caught his eye.
"Somatotropin."
The Professor's smile grew ever so slightly, impressed. "Growth hormone," he said in confirmation. Interesting. He hadn't expected Brick to know any of what was written in here. "It's responsible for the cell reproduction and regeneration in your body." He watched Brick skim through the writing. "It's also associated with protein synthesis which, in turn, is linked to your body's development."
"What do the results say?"
"There is an increased amount of natural human growth hormone in your blood tests. This is not normally found in others."
"So it's harmful."
"Not…necessarily. It's difficult to tell at this very moment. It could help provide an explanation for why you're…" The Professor trailed off, looking back to the young man in front of him. "It could help explain why your physical body, and therefore related physiology, has grown further than what age you're expected to be."
Brick said nothing. He flipped to the next page.
"It doesn't mean that increased somatotropin is the sole reason for it. There are other factors that have possibly contributed to your…accelerated growth."
"Such as?"
"Your DNA and RNA."
Brick looked back up to the Professor.
"And the events surrounding your birth."
"What events?"
"I was hoping you would tell me."
Brick stayed quiet for a moment. Ah, so this was why he had wanted his cooperation. The Professor and the others didn't know how he and his brothers were born. Only Mojo knew. And they themselves knew too.
"I know chemical Z was involved."
As if that wasn't obvious.
"However, I'm not clear on the details. It would help to give us more background on what happened so we can provide you with a more concise set of—"
"Testosterone."
The Professor blinked. "What?"
Brick gestured to one of the pages with a graph. "My testosterone levels. It's listed as being a factor for my — how did you put it? — 'accelerated growth.'"
"Ah. Right. Of course. Your testosterone levels are fairly normal, as shown here. Normal to that of other males, that is, but that's the topic of interest. Your androgen hormone levels are similar to that of a male post-puberty. If you truly were fourteen physically, this would not be the case. With this, we can confirm that you are definitely over the age of sixteen. At least, physically speaking."
There was a pause while Brick considered this.
"With regards to your accelerated growth, it's difficult to tell what's happening." The Professor flipped through the pages of the document and finally landed on one with a large line graph in the middle. "This shows the current situation of your growth based on the data we've received."
Brick studied it. He now understood why the Professor had been calling it accelerated growth. The line on the graph started off at an extremely steep angle, climbing and then slowly curving off into a plateau.
"This provides a good explanation as to what is happening in your body. I believe that, when you were born, something caused a huge surge of androgens, somatotropin and protein synthesis to result in accelerated cell growth and reproduction, way beyond normal human development. At least, it was enough to fast forward your growth to ten years of age. And then, later, although there is still accelerated cell reproduction, the graph shows that it's beginning to slow down now and reach normal human development. Almost like a catalyst was involved. A very powerful catalyst. As powerful as chemical Z."
The Professor watched as Brick's eyes took in the graph.
"It could have killed you," said the Professor quietly. "Accelerated growth like that is…impossible. At least, it I believed it was. This kind of growth is more dangerous than of that found in cancer. It should have completely obliterated you, but it didn't."
Brick leaned back, away from the folder.
"So what happened, Brick?" The Professor asked. "What was it that occurred at your birth? I can help you understand this, but you need to trust me and tell me what you can."
Brick met his eyes and the Professor was immersed in the deep shade of red. There was an aura about him that didn't quite invoke fear, but it was still intimidating nonetheless. There was a quiet but calculated air about him that the scientist just couldn't quite explain.
Brick finally spoke. "For someone who claims to be intelligent, do you think I would trust you?"
"I'm not asking you to put your faith in me blindly. I'm asking you to trust me in small increments, and enough to provide you with information. I'm asking you to trust me enough to be beneficial for the both of us."
The Professor swore he saw a brief quirk of the lips, but if he had, it was gone quickly before Brick responded. "I don't trust you."
The Professor stared at him for a moment and then nodded. "Alright then." He lifted the folder from the table and slipped it into the briefcase before getting up. He paused. "Chemical Z is a powerful element, Brick. The things that it can do are still a mystery that I am trying to solve, and the unknown is always a dangerous thing. Chemical Z has created unnecessary damage before. It changed lives, some for the better, and some for the worse. Your father knows this and—"
"Don't," Brick growled.
The Professor was taken aback by the harshness of the word. The disgust and the venom behind it.
"Don't say that. Don't talk about him."
It was the first real emotion he had seen on his face. It was anger, but it was still an emotion. The Professor paused before slowly closing the briefcase. "Apologies. I'll head out now." He gently stood up from his seat. "If you ever need me…"
Brick said nothing. His expression was back to being unreadable. His eyes, however, were hot and bright, flashing with half-hidden warning.
The Professor lifted the briefcase and pressed a button by the door before a buzz let him out and one of the guards followed behind him.
Brick frowned to himself after he left. The conversation had been informative to say the least. Very informative. Much more than he had been expecting.
It was also quite unsettling.
So that was what had happened. Chemical Z, the catalyst in his birth, had packed ten years worth of development into a matter of a few seconds.
The Professor was right. It was powerful.
As Brick waited for one of the guards to take him back to his room, he wondered just what the scientist had meant by 'unnecessary damage.'
To: Momoko Akatsustumi; Kaoru Matsubara; Miyako Gotokuji
From: Professor Utonium
Date/Time: 21/02/14; 11:54am
Subject: Medical Report
Attachment(s): Medical_Summary_Report_21_02_2014_Brick_Jojo
Hello, all.
This e-mail is regarding Brick Jojo's medical report, as mentioned earlier in the week. I have attached a summary of it with this e-mail. I hope it will provide insight into the investigation thus far. Once again, I would like to remind you that this is confidential information. Thank you.
Regards,
Prof. Utonium
Private Researcher
Tokyo City Private Science Research Laboratory
—•— Friday, 21 February (6:54pm) —•—
Butch leaned against the window of his old bedroom. The one that overlooked the mess that was once a garden. Albeit, a very small garden.
It was overgrown with weeds dominating the ground, strangling the flowers trying to bloom in the spring. The trees that used to be tiny had now grown thick and large, their branches gnarly and twisting around the garden's boundaries.
Across from here, there used to be a public playground for the local community. This had been back before the construction began for the high-rise apartments.
Boomer had gotten into his first fight there. An actual fight. With fists.
Butch had said something to one of the bullies at the playground, in front of his friends, enough to bruise his ego. They had ganged up on him and, before he could even defend himself, it was his younger brother that had come to the rescue.
Boomer had stood in between Butch and the group of young boys, his lips set in a tight line. It was a very stern and quiet warning, but a warning nonetheless. Butch remembered being surprised and somewhat at awe at seeing his younger brother like that.
Of course, the leader of the boys — the one that Butch had offended — paid no attention to the warning. He hit Boomer in the face and, in lightning speed, Boomer hit back, twice as hard, knocking the boy down into his circle of friends.
His friends had fought back, their pride damaged, but it had been surprisingly easy for both of the brothers to finish off the fight. That had been entertaining. Even more so when the older brother of one of the boys had come by, picking a fight with Butch and Boomer. It hadn't ended well with him, and both Butch and Boomer received another lecture from Mojo about it. But Butch could tell that he was secretly proud that they had fought back.
It had also sent out a warning to all the other boys in the area to not mess with them. Made life a lot easier for them when they were hanging out in the streets or playing basketball at the courts. Butch would have been lying if he said he didn't feel the slightest bit smug about beating their ass as he swaggered through the streets.
Butch moved away from the window when he heard Boomer calling his name. He took one last glance around his old bedroom before heading down the stairs to where his younger brother had cleared some space in the middle of the living area.
Butch had to admit that being pseudo-leader in Brick's absence wasn't nearly as fun as he had thought when the only person he could boss around was his younger brother who didn't really seem to care about his orders anyway.
He also hadn't realised the amount of responsibility placed on his shoulders and he immediately sobered up as he stared down at the casket.
Boomer glanced at him warily. "Shall we open it?"
Butch nodded and leaned down, his hands working on the metal latch. His younger brother hovered behind him, looking over his shoulder, his lips set in a tight line and his expression cautious.
Butch took in a deep breath and finally lifted the cover.
The smell hit them instantaneously and Butch threw open the cover before immediately backing away, using his hands to cover his mouth and nose.
Boomer was already retching in one corner, his body shaking. Butch looked away, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.
Good God. That was foul. The smell was so fucking rancid.
Butch swallowed down the rising bile, trying to block out the sounds of his own brother throwing up. Finally Boomer stopped, swaying while he stood back up. He had his back turned to the casket though. He wouldn't dare look at it. Not after this.
Butch's curiosity made him move back towards the casket, one of his hands still clamped around his mouth and his green eyes scanning the interior of it.
Christ. No wonder Boomer didn't want to look.
Butch already knew what was in here but actually seeing it was different. Smelling it was also another thing entirely.
The horrid smell emanated from the rotting organs in the casket. Some of them were growing soft and almost looked like they were melting. The brain seemed to be bubbling ever so slightly from the heat and the limbs had sunken into bones.
It suddenly hit Butch that his eldest brother had done all this.
He knew about the murders. Of course he had. But he only vaguely acknowledged them the way one would acknowledge the time of day — it was just something that happened.
He had never actually seen—
He heard a sharp intake of air from behind him and turned.
Boomer's mouth was slightly apart and his eyes took in the sight of the rotting organs before flickering up to Butch.
"Please don't throw up again," muttered his older brother, trying to diffuse the serious atmosphere in the room. But it was difficult.
Christ. He hadn't even thought about what Brick had been doing. How he had killed those women. Removing parts of their bodies, getting blood on his hands…
Butch turned away from the casket.
No wonder Brick was so serious about this.
He glanced back to Boomer. "Do you have the Chemical Z?"
"Uh, yeah," replied Boomer before clearing his throat and looking at him properly. "Yes, I do."
"And the papers?"
Boomer nodded and pulled out the papers he had stashed into a bag. He gently placed them onto the floor of Mojo's house, the edges fluttering from the warm air that wafted through the tiny gaps in the boarded up windows. He studied the anatomical images drawn onto the papers as he positioned them each in order. It wasn't the anatomy of person. No, the body seemed too abnormal for it to be human. What looked to be pincer claws replaced what should have been hands. The limbs were long, lanky and fluid — almost feline. It was a hideous combination for a form and shouldn't have existed.
He shouldn't have existed.
Boomer shivered and moved away from the pages, rubbing his arms.
Butch leaned over to pick up the first page, scanning through the instructions. Some of the writing he recognised as Brick's. His older brother had a neat writing style that tilted towards the right. However, the majority of the writing on the sheets were sharp scrawls that almost pierced through the old papers. He didn't even recognise the language. It was clear that Brick's notes were a translation of whatever was written.
Butch's gaze flickered to the casket with a grim expression before turning to Boomer.
"Let's get started."
—•— Friday, 21 February (9:56pm) —•—
The rain was ceaseless tonight. Momoko could hear the constant tapping against the window.
Kuriko was sitting on the carpeted floor, next to the bed, listening to something with her earphones in. Momoko doubted she was even listening to the song. After all, her younger sister seemed to be preoccupied with painting the nails on her toes. A concentrated look on her face.
Why she had decided to come into Momoko's room to do it was beyond her.
Still, Momoko decided not to question it. As long as her sister wasn't causing any trouble, she didn't really care. Although, she had to admit, she was ever so slightly sceptical. Her sister didn't usually come to her unless she needed something. Nonetheless, she had more important things to worry about.
She tore her eyes away from her sister and back to the laptop.
The report was long. Way too long. She wondered whether Kaoru would even bother to read it. Miyako probably already had. Momoko had to roll her eyes at the word 'summary' in the e-mail. The 'summary' was fifty-eight pages long. One hell of a summary. It made her wonder how long the full report was.
She shifted at her desk, propping one leg over the other. She could smell the nail polish from here but also knew that she couldn't open the windows to get rid of it, thanks to the heavy rainfall.
Momoko had been making notes as she went through the report. Just the important things. And the things that she could actually understand. A good majority of the information flew completely over her head. Fifty-eight pages of it.
Tapping her pen against the notepad absentmindedly, her attention drifted to the picture of his face that was opened on a separate window on the screen, next to the summary report.
Brick Jojo. The name seemed both familiar and foreign at the same time.
What turns a young child into a serial killer? What circumstances had to be present to transform him into something inhuman?
She didn't know.
Momoko still couldn't understand how he had done it. Why he had done it. There were still so many questions burning at the back of her mind because it just didn't fit. It couldn't be this easy. Brick just coming in to surrender… It couldn't be that easy. He was basically handing himself on a plate. It didn't make sense. There was more to this. There had to be. Like what happened with the missing organs, and how the uranium had been stolen at the same time as the murder, why he even needed the uranium and the titanium, the sudden increase of black aura, the CCTV tape, the framing, the picture—
God. There were so many pieces still missing from the puzzle. So many things that still didn't make sense.
It felt like they were only seeing the tip of the iceberg. What was underneath was much bigger and ran much deeper. There was more to this than they thought. More to just the murders. But, like the submerged underside of the iceberg, it was too dark and unclear. Momoko couldn't see what she was supposed to see. And it was vital for her to see it before it was too late.
Her gaze fell back to his photograph. He looked dangerous, she thought to herself while staring at the photo. Not the way most people assumed one looked dangerous when they saw a criminal. There wasn't rage blazing in his eyes, nor was there any sign of him showing a hint of emotion. He looked directly at the camera, face set, removing any show of weakness. It was an act. A very good one. In this picture, the only picture that was taken of him, he was a closed book. It was evident that she would get nothing from this. He made sure of that. He made sure that he was unreadable.
"Is he in your class?"
Momoko jumped at the sound. Spinning around, she found Kuriko behind her. God, how had she not heard her?
"Well?"
Momoko cleared her throat. "Uh, no. No, he's not."
"Where do you know him from then?"
"I don't. Not really."
"You're doing it wrong. This is the part where you tell me you've got a crush on him."
Momoko raised an eyebrow. "Why? So you can tell Mum and Dad?"
"Oh, wow. You think they'd actually care?"
Momoko narrowed her eyes at her sister. "Did I ever tell you how much I hate you?"
Kuriko grinned. "It never hurts to say it once more."
Momoko rolled her eyes. "Leave."
"You're no fun."
Nonetheless, Kuriko did as she was asked and picked up the nail polish from the carpet and reached towards the door. She was about to turn the handle when she hesitated and looked back at Momoko. Well, not really look. Her eyes drifted away from her older sister towards the armoire, the bookshelf and the bed. She seemed to be avoiding her stare. Thinking about something.
Well, this was interesting.
"Something you need to say?" asked Momoko, curious now.
Kuriko opened her mouth before closing it. She stood there for a moment, unsure. It was the first time Momoko had seen her that way.
"You were at the party."
Momoko nodded slowly. "I was."
"You knew I was there."
"I…did." But why was she bringing this up now? Neither of them had ever talked about it since Momoko got grounded. There was never any real need to.
"Did you come to get me?"
"Yes."
Kuriko seemed to be considering this, her expression set in a frown. "Someone got killed." Momoko waited. "Someone died while I was there. They think it's the Red Massacre killer. I didn't even know the girl. She wasn't from our school, but I think she came with one of my classmates. I can't remember."
Kuriko's expression looked pained and Momoko tensed. This was new.
"We… We only talked once and then she said was going to go to the bathroom to fix her makeup. We were going to go out with the others to the local shops and get some snacks. The food at the party was crap. But she never showed up and so we thought she must have ditched us. We went without her and then I eventually went home."
Momoko was listening now. She never heard this side of the story. She had no idea what her sister must have been going through.
Kuriko took in a ragged breath. "And I keep thinking… I keep thinking that, while we were joking around, waiting for her, she must have been in the bathroom, terrified, screaming for help and…"
Her eyes were wet with tears and Momoko immediately got up from her seat, wrapping her arms around her little sister and sitting her down on the bed. Under normal circumstances, Kuriko would have batted her away. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't even be talking like this at all. Instead, Kuriko didn't resist and sobbed into Momoko's chest, her body shaking.
"I can't sleep. I can't sleep anymore," she murmured. "I should have gone to check. I should have gone with her. I could have helped her…"
Momoko said nothing. She stroked the back of her sister's head reassuringly, listening to her.
Eventually, the tears stopped and Kuriko felt exhausted. She pulled away, adjusting her clothes and looking out the window.
There was a moment of silence as they both sat there, looking out at the night, listening to the tapping of rain on the window.
"I fit the victim description. That could have been me. He could have killed me that night. I might not have come home," she whispered.
"You're safe now," said Momoko, brushing her thumb over her sister's hand. "And I'm so relieved."
"I feel bad for saying that. Just because I wasn't the victim doesn't mean that someone else didn't die. She had a family too and know they're crying because they've just lost a daughter." Kuriko sighed. "I keep thinking what might have happened had it been me. You would've been at that party, seeing my body being taken onto the ambulance. The police could have come knocking on our door to tell Mum and Dad that their daughter was dead. And it would have been you three eating dinner in the quiet because I decided to be stupid and go to a party I wasn't allowed to go to."
That explained why Kuriko had been spending so much time at home nowadays. Momoko had noticed that she wasn't going out anymore, except for school. And now that the weather was warmer, she had been curious why Kuriko seemed to stay inside, around people. She never seemed to be alone these days.
Her little sister was afraid and that filled Momoko with a sudden anger that surprised her.
"It's not your fault," she said, her voice deep and clear. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen. You shouldn't have to. You should be allowed to feel safe. That's not your fault. It's…" his, she was about to finish. Instead, she stopped herself. "It's not your fault," she corrected. "Kuriko. Sometimes things happen that are completely out of your control. You can't do anything about it and that hurts. Of course it hurts. I understand that you're upset for going to the party behind our backs. Yeah, that was stupid. But at least you're not going to do it again. You know that now. You're better for it. But this murder? That's not your fault. It will never be your fault. Whoever did it… It's their fault. Not yours. They did this. Don't ever think that it's your fault, because it isn't. Do you understand?"
Kuriko nodded gently, still looking tired.
"And I'm your older sister. I'm always going to be here for you. You know that. You could fuck up a million ways and I'm still going to be there, fighting off the bad guys," she paused, "and maybe also giving you some ice-cream because you look like you need it."
Kuriko gave a weak smile. "Thank you. I don't think I ever say it, but you're the best."
"It never hurts to say it once more."
Kuriko's face broke out into a full grin. "Leave."
"Excuse you. This is my room."
"Well, I'm sleeping here tonight. Good luck trying to get me to leave."
Momoko rolled her eyes and got up, moving back towards her desk while her younger sister wrapped herself in the blankets.
She sat down on her chair, positioning the notepad. Now that it was quiet, she could think properly.
Or overthink.
Her eyes drifted back to the photograph of Brick Jojo.
She just couldn't understand what had happened. The last time she had seen Brick, he was just a kid. If someone had told her four years ago that he had murdered someone, she would have laughed. She couldn't ever dream of him killing someone. It was so awful to associate murder with the child she imagined in her head. The young boy who was a nuisance most times and would wreak havoc among the city with his brothers. But murder? It was so alien to her, she couldn't fathom it.
But when she looked at the photograph, she no longer so that young child. Instead, she saw a young man. This man — the one with the direct stare and his head held high, his expression composed and deliberate — this man could do it. This man could kill someone. She could see it. She could even believe it.
Momoko looked at his face and realised she couldn't picture him as a person. A true human being.
She tried to see past the smell of fumes and the body hanging from the ceiling. She tried to see past the woman submerged in water, the statistics of the people he had killed and her sister crying in her bedroom.
She tried to see past all of the hurt that he had caused and tried to see him.
But she couldn't.
He killed them, and Momoko could only see him as a monster.
Perhaps that was what made him dangerous. Perhaps it was how he looked human. But he wasn't. Inside, he was something else entirely.
And that was a terrifying thought.
—•— Saturday, 22 February (8:32am) —•—
He was back in his bedroom. Brick didn't know when he had returned home, but he was here, in bed, wrapped in a warm duvet.
As comforting as it would have been to sleep, there was something unsettling about the situation.
For one, he was in his bedroom back at his old home. That, in itself, was enough to suddenly make him painfully aware of his surroundings.
The other was the eerie feeling that he wasn't alone.
The duvet wasn't just warm on its own. It was warm because someone was in bed with him.
He felt the heavy weight of an arm wrap around his waist and he froze.
Slow and relaxed puffs of warm breath hit the back of his neck, making the small hairs on his body stand up.
How ridiculous.
Of all the things that had happened to him and of all the situations he had ever faced, this was causing him real fear.
He was lying on his side, his back turned to…whoever was holding him from behind, his eyes fixated on the pillow his head was resting on. He knew there was a full-length mirror in his bedroom across from where he was and that, if he looked up, he would see who it was that was behind him.
He hesitated. He had no idea if the person was even awake. And if they were…
Ridiculous, ridiculous, ridiculous. He reprimanded himself in his head and immediately glanced up from the pillow to the mirror.
His breath caught in his throat.
It took Brick only second before he scrambled out of the bed, all his usual fluid and graceful movements gone, replaced by a disorienting stumble that barely kept him upright.
His breathing was heavy, but he didn't turn around. He didn't want to look at…her. Didn't want this to be real. His back was still turned to her and he could feel the contents of his stomach gurgling, begging their way to climb up his throat.
He swallowed, loudly.
Brick had his arms at his side, fists clenched. Ready to hit. Ready to fight.
He had seen enough in the mirror. He could recognise the auburn hair and those bright pink eyes anywhere.
Christ, she was awake.
He knew what a stupid decision it was to have his back turned to her. She could attack him any moment now. She could go for his back. Paralyse him. And he cursed himself for not being able to turn around and look at her.
He had never imagined he would be so close to her.
This entire time, he'd been watching her from a distance. And the times when he had been close enough to touch her, she had been asleep. She had been the one unaware and vulnerable. Not him. Not like he was now.
This had to be a joke.
He hadn't expected this. Why the hell had she touched him?
He could feel the ghost of her arm across his waist still lingering on his skin and he resisted the urge to shiver. But it didn't stop the bumps from rising across his arms.
She was quiet. So goddamn quiet.
His fear slowly turned to anger at the thought of her, standing not too far behind him, most likely amused by his reaction. In fact, pleased, perhaps, at the thought that she could break him into a mess like this so easily and so quickly, without so much as a bare touch.
This time, he couldn't help it when he shuddered.
It made him angry that she was seeing him like this — pathetic.
He had only just went to turn around and face her when he suddenly felt her touch his back and he went still, just like that.
Brick had never thought of what Blossom's fingers would feel like. But if he had, he would imagine that they would be warm and not the cool and rough jagged appendage that was running down his spine right now.
He gritted his teeth and waited until she stopped at his lower back, just above his tailbone. He then slowly twisted his neck to finally look at her.
His blood went cold.
It wasn't Blossom. Not anymore.
He backed away from the corpse of the woman he had drowned months ago. The woman who should have been dead.
As he walked backwards, he could feel himself bump into someone. This person was also felt cold and he didn't need to turn around to know it would be another one of his victims.
The room was suddenly dark and he felt as though it was being tossed in the air, from daylight to night-time, because he was thrown off balance and onto the floor. A hand grabbed for his face and—
"Brick?"
Brick gasped and flung himself backwards against what felt like a wall.
It took him a few seconds to register the clean white surroundings amidst him trying to catch his breath. He could hear his heart beat frantically to keep up with his breathing.
His eyes flickered from the toppled over chair to the table and then his eyes finally rested on the man sitting on the other side of the table.
The Professor regarded him with an expression of genuine concern, but with it was also the practiced calmness that gave him the feel of togetherness that Brick was currently seeking.
"Are you alright?" asked the Professor. He had both hands pressed against the surface of the table, looking like he was ready to get up, towards him.
Brick looked away from him and at his handcuffs which he was now only aware of when he went to wipe the sweat dripping across his forehead.
He was at the police station. There. Finally, something that made sense.
His whereabouts was enough to cue his memory and connect the other pieces together to form some kind of idea as to what the hell had just happened.
"You…had a nightmare," the Professor offered as a summary of an explanation.
Yes, Brick had gathered this much. He glanced back at the Professor, then to the toppled over chair, and then his eyes drifted to what was happening around them. He noticed the guards at the door who looked cautious, their hands already at their weapons, ready.
The Professor followed his gaze and shook his head at the guards. "Don't. He's fine."
Although dubious, one of the guards finally nodded and pulled his hand away from his firearm, settling back against the side of the door, his posture straight and his face blank. The other guards followed suit.
The Professor finally turned back to Brick. He gestured towards the fallen chair. "Sit."
Any other time, Brick might have thought to stay standing, but his knees felt weak and he could feel his legs giving away. So, without protest, he lifted the chair back up and sat down, still sweating but his breathing was beginning to even out.
"Water?"
Brick watched the Professor pull a bottle of water out of his briefcase and set it down on the middle of the table. Brick stared at him. Bringing in food items by visitors wasn't allowed. He even saw one of the guards from his peripheral move slightly, almost as if to take action, but he must have decided against it because he fell back into position.
The bottle was sealed. Still, that didn't mean anything. If the Professor wanted to, he could find a way to get anything into Brick. Through food, through water. Sealed or not. However, that was the exact reason he believed that the Professor wouldn't resort to something as obvious as a water bottle.
With that in mind, Brick reached forward, grabbing the bottle and loosening the lid. He pressed it against his chapped lips and felt the cool liquid go down his painfully dry throat.
It was refreshing and cleared his mind of the remaining fog in his brain. It also shook away the remaining irrational paranoia still left over from the nightmare. The same paranoia that had even considered the possibility that the Professor would poison him. Of course he wouldn't. The police still needed Brick, and he highly doubted that the Professor would give up his credibility, reputation and hard-earned life to live in prison for poisoning a suspect he was investigating.
Brick remembered being called in here. They had told him he had a visitor. The Professor, of course. Who else would come to visit him anyway?
He didn't remember much else after that.
His expression must have matched his thoughts because the Professor then helped him fill in the blanks.
"You fell asleep," he said, eyeing Brick. "We weren't very deep into the conversation. You didn't miss anything."
Brick kept his face neutral, ensuring that the Professor wouldn't know surprised he was.
Asleep? He had fallen asleep? Just like that?
No, he couldn't have. He wasn't even that tired. He was always alert, so how on earth had he managed to fall asleep? Much less in the middle of a conversation with the Professor of all people.
"We were in the middle of talking about Momoko." That caught his attention. "Momoko Akatsustumi."
This brought back unwanted memories from the dream, but it was a lot more faint now that he was awake. Perhaps that was why she had appeared in his subconscious. The Professor must have mentioned her and…
And he had fallen asleep.
How long had he been asleep for? Surely not that long. He doubted the Professor would stay here long enough to watch him doze off. Still, it bothered him that he had let his guard down and made himself vulnerable so easily. How the hell did he fall asleep? And the Professor had watched him. He must have. As soon as Brick had woken up, the Professor was already there, his eyes trained on him.
"How do you know Momoko?"
Brick looked at him. Stupid question. "She's Blossom. We've met before."
The Professor watched his face for any tell-tale signs. Finally, he said, "Yes, but that's not common knowledge. I'm asking how do you know she's Blossom?"
The Professor had watched him when he woke up. The guards had seen him too. Brick had been thrown completely off course in his own mind. Enough to topple over his chair and slam his back against the wall behind him. They had seen him sweating, trying to catch his breath, clutching at his chest. They had seen him scared. Terrified.
Brick didn't answer the question. The Professor stared at him for a moment before asking, "Have you been sleeping?"
"Yes."
"You seem tired."
"I'm not."
"We can continue this conversation another time. Rest."
Brick felt annoyed at that but quickly pushed the feeling out of his way. "You came here for a reason."
The Professor shook his head and gave him a small smile. "I did, but like I said, we can talk about this later. You're clearly tired. Rest up, Brick."
It pissed him off. This false kindness. Like the Professor even gave a damn about whether he was sleeping well.
Control. Get it under control, Brick told himself. The nightmare had put him on edge and was making him angry way too easily. That would be troublesome if it got out of hand. He could already feel the familiar powerful energy pulsing in his mind and body, and he needed to resist it. Not here. He forced a blank expression on his face as he watched the Professor stand up, briefcase in hand.
"I will talk to you sometime later, Brick." He gave a small nod to signal his leaving. Brick said nothing.
When the Professor left through the door, the guards asked Brick to stand and escorted him back to his temporary room, letting him inside and unlocking his handcuffs.
Brick sat on the bed, thinking back to the dream.
He was now no longer concerned about Blossom's appearance in the dream. That could be reasonably explained by the mention of her name in his conversation with the Professor. Of course she would pop up. What was on his mind right now was the victims.
He thought back to the nightmare he had last time. The one with his dead victims, hovering over him as he lay powerless and paralysed.
Why the hell was he having these dreams now of all times?
Brick lay back against the uncomfortable pillow, his eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling, trying to make sense out of the abstract shapes absentmindedly. He was still tired. Much more than he would have liked to admit to Professor Utonium. Tired enough to fall asleep in front of the Professor, in fact. In front of the guards. In front of the CCTV cameras. In front of anyone there to witness it.
He wondered why now? Why was he so tired now? He had been feeling exhausted ever since he had come to the police station. Like all his lost sleep over the past year had finally come back to haunt him. Or curse him. Maybe that was what was happening. After all, it was the first time in months that he finally had the chance to just…rest.
He could feel his eyelids drooping again, but something in him kept forcing them open, just about managing to refocus his gaze on the shadowed shapes on the ceiling.
He couldn't pinpoint it at first. Thought it was just his usual need for caution.
Then he realised he was afraid. He was afraid to go back to sleep and back to dreaming. Once was enough. This had been the second dream. He didn't think he could handle another one. And most certainly not another one with…her.
Was it really guilt then? Some form of remorse clawing its way out of the depths of his subconscious? He didn't know. He didn't want to know. This was getting too personal and too close for his liking.
The last time, Boomer had been there, providing an anchor for Brick to tether himself too. It had been easier then. He had felt comforted by the mere company of his brother.
Now? Now he was alone.
It chilled Brick's bones and made him unfold the thin blanket, throwing it over himself, curling up to reserve as much heat as he could.
A brief image of him wrapped in the warm duvet flashed through his mind. The feel of Blossom's arm— No, one of his victim's arm? Christ, he didn't even know anymore. He just knew he wanted to them gone. All of them. The dreams, the victims, the police, the Professor… He didn't trust anyone here and he most certainly didn't want to be left locked in here with his own self for company any longer than necessary.
Brick took in a deep breath, reasoning with himself, reassuring that he would be back with his brothers in no time. Back where he could do something. Take action, talk, anything.
He turned to his side, closing his eyes, hoping that he would be graced by a dreamless sleep.
—•— Monday, 24 February (1:11pm) —•—
"Kaoru has abs."
Kaoru looked at Momoko, confused. "What? How did you—"
"Really?"
Momoko shrugged at Miyako. "See for yourself."
Kaoru backed away immediately. "Okay. No. I'm not unbuttoning my shirt for you guys. We're in the library, nerds."
"Is that a six pack I see?" joked Momoko.
"Oh, be quiet," snapped Kaoru. "It's a two pack at most." Miyako hit her in the stomach and she wheezed, clutching her abdomen. "Jesus Christ, Miyako. What the fuck?"
"Oh, wow," said Miyako with an expression that revealed genuine surprise. "That's rock solid, Kaoru. How did you get that?"
"Okay, ow, that fucking hurt. And I work out. What else did you expect?"
"Look at you, getting all the ladies," said Momoko with a low whistle.
Kaoru shot Momoko a sour look. "Oh, fuck you."
Momoko smiled brightly in return. "I thought we were having a moment."
"I was only vaguely aware that we were having a moment."
"Are you three actually here to do any work?" asked the librarian from behind them. "Because, if you're not, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Momoko gestured towards the folder in front of her. "Of course we're working," she replied, trying to suppress a grin that said otherwise.
The librarian rolled her eyes. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but the next time I come around here, I need to see you three actually doing work. Exams may be over, but I won't have students coming into the library just to mess about."
Miyako nodded and gave a smile. "We understand."
The librarian was about to say something else, but the sudden sound of chairs toppling over behind one of the bookshelves made her immediately leave their table to see what had happened.
Miyako looked back to Kaoru and frowned. "Why are you going through those medical textbooks?"
Momoko glanced at the books and then back to her friend. "Didn't you get the e-mail?"
"What e-mail?"
Kaoru pushed aside one of the books and opened another. "The e-mail that the Professor sent last Friday."
"Oh, wow. I completely forgot to check my e-mails. I've been so busy with the student art exhibition coming up and finishing off my designs… What was it about?"
Momoko picked up one of Kaoru's books and flicked through it. "It was just a summary of Brick's medical report. You know, the results of all the tests they've done on him so far."
Kaoru snorted at the word 'summary.' "Yeah. Have fun reading through fifty-eight pages of that. Take your time and work on your designs. We're still deciphering half of the document. That's why we've got all these books out."
"I'll help soon," said Miyako, watching them skim through the pages. "I just need to—"
"I'm serious. Get your designs done first. You're really not missing anything exciting. Besides, we'll let you know what this all means once we're done translating half of this shit."
Miyako smiled. "What have you guys found so far?"
"Accelerated growth," said Momoko. "It's mentioned in the document multiple times, so I'm assuming it's important. We've actually found a lot of test results that suggest Brick Jojo is…developing at an alarmingly fast rate."
"Basically, he's growing quick as shit. And that's not fucking normal," said Kaoru.
"Something about testosterone, protein synthesis… There's also a lot of confusion about his birth."
"If you can call it that."
"Because he wasn't born naturally?" asked Miyako.
"Hell, he wasn't even conceived naturally." Kaoru paused. "At least, I don't think so. Unless Mojo…" She immediately regretted saying anything. "Ew. Gross. I'm so sorry I even went down that line of thought. Ugh."
Momoko grimaced. "Yeah. Thanks for that mental image, Kaoru." She shook her head. "Anyway, that's as far as we've gotten. If we find anything more, we'll pass on the information to you," she said, looking at Miyako.
"Oh, that reminds me." Miyako pulled her phone out of her blazer, making sure the librarian wasn't watching. "I was thinking we make a group chat."
"A group chat?"
"Yeah. You know, to make life easier for us, so we can talk to each other in one go. Like this investigation. That way, we don't have to keep e-mailing and texting each other the same thing over and over again. We can add the Professor too so he can just send us documents through the chat."
Momoko nodded. "That's actually a really good idea, Miyako. Why on earth didn't we think of that before?"
Miyako unlocked her phone and added them all into a new group. "There. Done. What should we call it?"
"Powerpuff Girls Z."
"Yeah, that's a great idea," said Kaoru, folding her arms. "So if someone looked over my shoulder, they would totally not think that I'm part of a badass superteam."
"Hm, point taken. Just name it something inconspicuous."
"Drug Dealers."
"Really, Kaoru?"
"With a 'z.'"
"Just call it the Library Group or something. We spend half our lives here anyway."
"Jesus. The Library Group?" asked Kaoru, looking at Momoko incredulously.
"Well, if you have anything better—"
"Drug Dealerz."
"No. We're sticking to the Library Group."
Miyako entered the name onto her phone. "Don't worry. We can just change the name later if we need to."
"Yeah, to something better than the Library Group," said Kaoru, standing up to stretch. "In other news, the finals are tomorrow."
Momoko moved her head out of the way. "Oh, yeah. Sakamoto is coming along with us to the game. Do you want to join us?"
"No thanks. I don't want to get in the way of your little rendezvous, as much as I love cockblocking."
Momoko rolled her eyes. "You're not cockblocking anything."
"Don't worry, Kaoru," said Miyako. "We could both always go together."
Kaoru raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that we have our own little romantic rendezvous?"
"Only if you buy me a drink. I don't come cheap."
Kaoru grinned. "Unfortunately for you, I'm broke. Maybe some other time."
"I'm surprised you're not coming to the game," said Momoko. "I thought you'd still want to support your team, even if you're not playing."
"Oh, I'm coming to the game alright. I'm just not sitting with you losers. I've got an image to protect. You're hurting my rep."
"You're just jealous we've got working legs and you don't."
"Okay, rude much?"
Momoko rolled her eyes and stood up because lunch would be ending soon. "I need to head to class now, guys. I'll see you both at the game tomorrow."
—•— Tuesday, 25 February (1:48pm) —•—
Something felt off. Wrong.
Kaoru glanced across the basketball court. She had never been on this side before and it was an unusual experience. Not one she was growing fond of, or ever would. It was usually her playing out on the court. Now, here she was, sitting out at the side, watching from the benches like the rest of the audience.
It was torture.
She could feel her blood thrumming in her ears and her fingers twitched every time someone in her team was passed the ball. She should have been out there, playing. It was her who was supposed to have been in the middle of it all, coordinating her teammates, working together, leading her school to victory.
Instead, here she was, stuck with this pathetic excuse for an injury.
"You okay?" asked Sakamoto, noticing her scowling.
"Absolutely fantastic," muttered Kaoru in reply.
She had been meaning to sit at the front, closer to her teammates so that she could support them, but she quickly learned that the students on the benches tended to throw their rubbish towards the front. She decided that sitting with her friends would be nicer after all. So much for her image.
Momoko and Miyako had both left together to get drinks for the four, leaving Kaoru in Sakamoto's company.
He wasn't bad company. Not at all. He had been nothing but nice, but Kaoru was in a foul mood today and he was getting most of the heat from it. She couldn't think of a single topic to talk about. There was too much on her mind, like the constant thoughts of what she would do once she found out who the hell had caused her injury. And if it was Brick, she would be sure to return the lovely favour of his courtesy.
Sakamoto was trying, at least. Grasping at straws, he had been attempting to offer various subjects to discuss over the last five minutes, hoping to lift her mood even a little bit.
She had to applaud his tenacity.
"How's your…" He was going to ask about her injury, but her glare was warning enough. He cleared his throat. "How's your family?" he tried to finish.
Kaoru's attention was directed towards a player on the opposing team who was making life difficult for one of her teammates. She glared at him, frustrated that she couldn't get down there and help her. "My brother is back from uni and I'm currently waking up every morning to dubstep."
"That's…nice. I didn't even know you had an older brother. What's he like?"
"Decent on a good day."
"Oh."
An awkward silence followed and she finally caved. "How's your family?"
His expression immediately brightened. "Oh, yeah, they're great. Actually, just yesterday—"
"You know what? Never mind. Forget I asked."
How long did it take for those two to get drinks?
She noticed that the odd feeling still lingered. The feeling of something not quite right. She shivered slightly, the hall suddenly feeling very cold, despite all the people in here and the weather being warmer.
"What do you think of me?" Sakamoto asked suddenly.
Well, that was unexpected. Thinking the worst, Kaoru narrowed her eyes at him. "You better not be saying what I think you're saying."
His eyes widened, catching on to her meaning. "Oh, God, no. No, no, no. I mean, that's not to say that you're not attractive or nice-looking or anything, I'm just not—"
"Shut up," said Kaoru, immediately interrupting him.
He cleared his throat, starting again. "Do you think that Momoko likes me?"
Oh, so that's what this was all about. Kaoru raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this something you should be asking her?"
His face flushed. "I'm not sure whether she likes me back."
"And you think I'll know?"
"Well, I mean, you're her friend and I just thought she might have mentioned something…" He caught her looking at him with a strange expression and he quickly added, "I mean, you don't have to. We could just… Let's just pretend we never had this conversation."
"Agreed," muttered Kaoru, her attention back on the court.
Why did it feel so cold?
"Do you want to borrow my jacket?" asked Sakamoto, noticing her rubbing her arms.
"I swear, Sakamoto. If you're trying to hit on me—"
"I'm not! I promise!"
She looked at him. "Fine. Give me your fucking jacket. And if you tell anybody this was anything more, I'll beat the shit out of you."
He believed her and nodded quickly, almost ripping his jacket off from himself, throwing it at her, afraid she would get angrier if he took too long. Kaoru slipped on the jacket and folded her arms, looking back towards the game.
What on earth was taking those two so long?
"The score is looking pretty good so far," said Sakamoto, trying to create some form of decent conversation. "It looks like—"
"What the fuck?"
He looked at her confused, thinking she was talking to him. No, it seemed that she had muttered to herself, her focus elsewhere. He followed her eyes to the other side of the court, away from the players.
Someone stood there, leaning against the wall, arms folded, wearing the opposing team's uniform. Their hood was covering their face so he couldn't make out what they looked like, but from the figure in general, he assumed that the person was male.
Under normal circumstances, Sakamoto wouldn't have noticed him, but Kaoru's behaviour seemed to indicate that there was something not quite right.
He was about to say something but Kaoru then stumbled over his legs in her haste to get out from the row of benches. He apologised quickly, terrified of her. She hissed, getting back up, and took a hold of his arm, dragging him with her.
She wouldn't let that asshole get away this time.
Kaoru was actually quite surprised by how quickly she had noticed him. It hadn't taken that long at all.
One moment, she was talking to Sakamoto and, in the next, she could feel something. Not truly feel, but rather sense. It was just an awareness of something else — no, not something else, but rather someone else — in the peripheral of her surroundings.
It was a familiar feeling and a sensation she immediately recognised from the last basketball match.
Tugging Sakamoto out of the crowd — why had she brought him along with her? — she scanned the other side of the sports hall. The person was leaving through one of the exits.
Gritting her teeth, she looked for the nearest exit and rushed over to it, prying it open and running into the dark corridor.
Classes were cancelled for the day and the electricity to the other parts of campus had been shut off. No wonder it was so dark.
And quiet.
Every now and then noise from the game erupted and reverberated throughout the corridor with dull sounds of cheering. Everyone else seemed to be in the court, and the snacks were being sold at a different exit, closer to the front of the hall. Not this one. No one else seemed to be here.
"So…why are we out here again?" asked Sakamoto, folding his arms once Kaoru let go of him.
She didn't answer, looking around the corridor instead.
There was an ache in her leg where she had been injured. Right. Of course. She wasn't supposed to run. Well, it was a little too late for that now.
That guy… Whoever he was, his exit was supposed to be close to this one, so where the hell was he? Unless he had already made it outside? But then he would have had to pass them. The corridor ran around the entire sports hall, after all. Had he—
"Looking for me?"
Kaoru jumped and turned around. For a split-second, she deliberated whether to ask who the hell he was, or to punch him first and then ask.
Fortunately, Sakamoto made the decision easier while he looked at the guy cautiously. "Who are you?"
The man didn't answer. He kept his focus on Kaoru and, even in the dim light with the hood over his head, she could somewhat see the tilt of his lips.
"How's the leg?" he asked.
And that was enough for Kaoru to swing at him.
He ducked and rolled his eyes. "I could've done worse, you know."
Another attempt at a punch and the man smiled wider.
"God. Are you even trying?"
She growled when he stepped back from her third attack without so much as a blink of an eye.
"Look, I don't know what's going on between you two, but could we, you know, maybe find another way to sort this out without hitting each other?" said Sakamoto, scratching the back of his head, watching the scene unfold.
Finally the man's attention flickered to him.
Kaoru immediately put her hand out, stopping him from going towards Sakamoto. "Don't," she said in a low voice.
A smirk but, surprisingly, he did take a step back.
Sakamoto glanced towards Kaoru with uncertainty. "Do you want me to call a teacher…?"
Kaoru shook her head, "No. Just leave."
Sakamoto looked surprised. "What? But—"
"Go back to the court, Sakamoto," she bit out.
"I'm not just going to leave you here alone with—"
"You heard her," said the man with a lazy drawl. "Us adults have business."
Kaoru gritted her teeth. Somewhere, in the back of her head, she felt like she knew him. From even before the match. Something about him seemed to ring some sort of familiarity in her mind. Had she seen him before?
She couldn't even see clearly in the dark. There was only a dull light from another corridor in the distance from behind him. She couldn't even get that good of a look at him. All she could do was sense him.
Thankfully, Sakamoto slowly backed away and left them. It was just the two of them now.
"I know you from somewhere…" she muttered, mostly to herself.
The man folded his arms. "You do."
Her eyes flickered up to his face, surprised. She hadn't actually expected him to answer. "Who…are you?"
He rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. "Wow. I'm actually offended. I mean, I know our relationship has been a little rocky in the past—" Relationship? Kaoru narrowed her eyes at him. "—but I still thought we had something. Do I really mean so little to you?"
Kaoru highly doubted they ever had a romantic relationship from his exaggerated tone. So where did she know him from? He clearly had something against her, what with him trying to attack her at a match before.
Caught up in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed him slowly stepping closer to her. She immediately backed away. "Get the fuck away from me."
He smirked. "Oh, come on. You really don't remember me?"
No, she didn't, but her mind was awake, ringing alarms, telling her that she knew him. But there was no name and no memories to tell her who he was.
Kaoru was still walking backwards while he kept coming closer. She risked a quick glance behind her and realised he was trying to back her into a corner. She turned back to him and—
Oh, God. Where did he go?
"Boo."
The voice had been quiet but he grabbed her by her shoulders and she couldn't stop herself from gasping at the suddenness.
There was no way in hell he could have moved that fast. Absolutely no way. What the fuck had that been?
"Let go of me!" She tried to kick him but he had grabbed her arms and forced them behind her back.
"Oh, come on. I'm not going to hurt you."
She let out a breathless chuckle at that whilst she struggled against his hold, trying to get out. Or hurt him. Or both. "We both know that's a lie."
"Hm. You're right."
Kaoru was suddenly thrown against the wall and she could feel her head hit the bricks long before she heard the sound. That hurt. She was on the floor, everything spinning for a moment. He hardly gave her the chance to recover before he kicked her in the stomach and she coughed. He hadn't even kicked her that hard. Not yet. But she knew he could. He would. Her head was still dizzy but she could feel the wall, so she propped herself up against it. He let her.
The man stood towering over her, his arms folded. This time, she really couldn't see his face. At all. The light was behind him and she could make out the blurry figure of a silhouette.
"Say my name," he said, voice low.
"Asshole," she spat.
He kicked her again and she winced. "Don't get clever. Say it and I'll stop."
This man had more than just a grudge. He had a death wish for her. Who the hell was he and what had she done to piss him off that bad? He was a villain. He had to be. Or maybe not. She couldn't tell. It was too dark for her to see his aura around him. If he even had one.
"I don't know your fucking name," she hissed, trying to ignore the pain and get up. He wouldn't let her. Instead, she threw her leg out, kicking him. It must have hurt because he grunted before he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders again, pulling her up and pinning her against the wall.
"You know me. Stop pretending you don't," he growled. His earlier playful tone had disappeared altogether and she realised he was being serious. He thought that she actually remembered him.
"I don't. I don't fucking remember. I told you already."
He tilted his head, letting his hood fall down so that he could see her. She may not have been able to see the rest of him, but his eyes were bright and coloured green. They looked at her intently and she knew. She knew. After everything that had happened lately, she knew. It immediately connected in her mind like the final piece of the puzzle fitting into place.
"Butch," she said, her eyes wide in surprise.
She was suddenly dropped back onto the floor as he stepped away from her, dusting his hands as if he was getting rid of her. "My God, you're difficult," he muttered.
There was the unexpected sound of doors being thrown open and running.
"Kaoru!"
That was Momoko's voice. Kaoru had only looked away from him for a second, but when she turned back, Butch was gone.
"Sakamoto said that something was wrong," said Momoko, breathless as she came over to Kaoru.
Miyako joined them and saw Kaoru. "What happened?"
"Get the Professor. Get the police. It was Butch—"
"Butch? Wait, Brick's brother? What about him?"
"He was here. Butch was just here. I don't know where the hell he went but—"
Sakamoto appeared behind them. "Sorry, I took so long. I was getting the teacher and— Oh my God, Kaoru. Are you okay?"
Momoko and Miyako didn't need to hear any more from Kaoru. They nodded at her and Momoko said, "We'll take care of it. Sakamoto, stay with Kaoru. We'll be right back."
"Wait, where are you two…"
They didn't stay to listen to him. Instead, they ran off into the opposite direction of the corridor.
Kaoru went to stand up but flinched when she felt pain spark up the side of her abdomen. Sakamoto rushed to her side, looking guilty.
"I knew I shouldn't have left you alone. I should have stayed, I should have—"
"Sakamoto, for the love of God, shut up and get me a nurse."
—•— Tuesday, 25 February (2:26pm) —•—
On Tuesday afternoon, Brick was back in the interview room. The walls were white and the lights bright in his eyes. The handcuffs left sore marks around his wrists. A dark puckered line had formed across his skin and he looked at it with distaste.
His interviewer still hadn't arrived yet. He was left in the room with just the two guards at the door.
The interview room wasn't exactly where he wanted to be, but he was glad to be out of his assigned room. The room he had been put in was fairly cool compared to the warm weather outside. He was grateful. He couldn't imagine what he would have done had he been sweating through his clothes. The clothes that they had searched thoroughly before putting him in the room.
He supposed if he had a solicitor, he could have called them out for it. Harassment and whatnot. But he didn't care. Not about that, at least. He didn't have anything to hide in his clothes, sans the pack of mint chewing gum that they removed from him. Fortunately, they let him brush his teeth here, so he chalked the removed chewing gum as an unfortunate loss.
The door clicked and the detective sat down in front of him, all business. This detective was different from the other one who had been questioning him from day one, up until now. He didn't have the warm face nor the small smile like the last one. Perhaps they were growing tired of not getting answers from him. Perhaps the nice and soothing routine wasn't working and they decided to try a different tactic.
This detective had hard lines near his mouth and a crease between his eyebrows, showing that he frowned a lot.
Brick focused on his eyes as the detective looked at him, having already set up the recorder.
"You already know the drill. You're allowed a solicitor, you can stop the interview at any time, yes?"
Brick nodded in confirmation. No introduction?
"Good. Let's get started." The detective leaned forward and pressed the record button on the tape recorder. "This interview is being tape recorded. I am Detective Sato and I'm based at Homicide Investigations, Tokyo City Police. Currently interviewing Brick Jojo. The date is Tuesday 25th February 2014 and the time is," he glanced at his watch, "2:35pm."
He then turned his gaze to Brick.
"I'm going to cut to the chase. Are you the killer?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes."
"See, you keep saying that, but none of it adds up. You've got us in a tight spot. If you're the killer, why surrender? Why now?"
"I gave up."
"That doesn't sound like you." He said that as if he knew him. "You were at the top of your game. You could have, quite literally, gotten away with murder. So why didn't you?"
"I grew bored."
"Bored of killing?"
"Yes."
"Prove it to me. Prove to me that you killed them."
This again. "I told you how I did it—"
"That could have easily been a guess." A pause. "You're a lot smarter than you seem, I've been told."
Brick blinked at him. By who?
"So, tell me. How does someone of your intelligence — and yes, you did manage to avoid us thus far, so I can only assume you are smarter than we give you credit for — kill so many people, avoid detection, and then just…surrender?"
Detective Sato was asking all the questions Brick should have been asked as soon as he had been arrested.
"I just find it interesting. You're what? Four? Fourteen? Whatever age you could possibly be? You're still young. So how does someone like you get away so many murders?" A small smile. "No offence."
He was right. They were turning up the heat. The police weren't getting answers, and they needed them. Fast.
"You know what I think?" asked Detective Sato, leaning forward, his hands clasped. "I don't think you killed them at all."
Brick's gaze didn't falter. "I did."
"Oh? Is that so? You haven't been able to prove a single thing. Where are the organs then? What did you do with them?"
"I took the organs and discarded them."
"I heard. But you've failed to mention where."
"Rivers. Forests. Anywhere people wouldn't go and find them."
"Convenient." The mocking smile that the detective had had immediately disappeared. "Be more specific. Which river? Which forest?"
Brick said nothing.
"No? Nothing? You won't say or can't say?"
"I don't remember."
"Bullshit. You and I both know you're lying through your teeth. So stop wasting both of our times and tell me why you took the organs. What was the purpose?"
"There was no pur—"
"Stop lying, I told you. Now, try again. What was the purpose of taking the organs? You went through all that trouble to get them."
Silence.
"Were you harvesting the organs? Hm?"
Still nothing.
"No, of course not. That requires more precision. You just wanted them out of the body. There was no clinical procedure. The taking of the organs was done in a very crude manner. You should really work on that."
Brick looked at him, resisting the smile that wanted to form on his lips. They were growing desperate. They couldn't keep him arrested forever. They needed something more substantial, otherwise they would have to let him go.
"The police went to your old house today." The detective paused for a moment, allowing Brick the chance to be surprised. His face still remained neutral. "Guess what they found?"
Detective Sato unfolded a piece of paper, pushing it forward across the table, towards Brick. He glanced at it, quickly skimming the contents before looking back at the detective.
"Mind telling me what this is?"
Detective Sato had a slight tilt to his lips. Brick knew exactly what the letter was.
"Shall I read it to you?"
No answer.
The detective picked up the page. "'Go to the police. Tell them it was you. You know what will happen if you don't.' Eloquently put. Straightforward and simple." He waited for a response from Brick. "Who wrote this?"
"I don't know."
Detective Sato sighed. "Are we really back to this again? Lying? You know exactly who wrote this. Tell me."
"I told you, I don't know."
"Hm, really? I know who did it. Want me to tell you?"
Brick said nothing.
"Mojo Jojo." Another pause. The detective smiled. "Yes, you remember him, don't you? Your guardian?"
Brick was glad he chose the word 'guardian' instead of 'father.'
"Mojo had written this. Told you to go to the police and tell us that you did it. Did what, I wonder? Tell us that you're the killer? And then the last sentence. A threat. 'You know what will happen if you don't.' Now, that's interesting." The detective tilted his head. "Do you know how we know it's Mojo?"
Brick glanced at the page for a second before looking back at the detective.
"His fingerprints and yours are all over this. His handwriting also matches." The detective grimaced at that. He was right. Mojo's handwriting was awful. "This implies that you're not the one who killed the girls. It was someone else. You're just lying because you were told to— No, threatened to do so. Isn't that right?"
Brick moved his hands away from the surface of the table and into his lap.
"My question is, why? Why does your guardian want you to lie and say that you're the killer?"
Silence.
The detective sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. All the previous mockery gone. "Look, Brick. We're trying to find the killer, alright? The person who did this. And you know what? The evidence says it's not you. You're being threatened to come in here and lie. That's not a confession and it won't stand in court, no matter what you think. So stop lying to me and tell me what you know."
"I don't—"
"I swear, Brick. Don't piss me off now. You're not off the goddamn hook, but I can help you if you help me." The detective took in a deep breath, trying to control his temper. "Right. What are they threatening you with? What will happen if you don't lie to us?"
There was silence as Detective Sato watched Brick, arms folded, the page resting on the table.
"Fine. I'm done with you. We're currently analysing new evidence as we speak, and it won't take long for us to find out who killed those girls, believe me. So you can sit here and lie and go to jail with whoever did this, or you and your brothers can tell me the truth, and we'll do our best to help you."
Brick's blood ran cold. No they didn't. They couldn't have. "What did you say?"
The detective raised an eyebrow at him. "Did I forget to mention your brothers are here?"
Christ, they did.
Published: 12.03.2017