Chapter 38

"Here, give me your bag."

She did. Not that there was much in it. Just some clothes she hadn't deemed clean enough to wear in the cab. Naegi shuffled off with them, and she overheard clinking in the laundry room as he set to work. She herself retreated to the kitchen, where she made herself the biggest, hottest cup of tea she could.

"Owada-kun messed up the place and tossed things around, but it doesn't look like he damaged much. We could clean up in a day," Naegi said as he walked into the kitchen.

She nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Naegi asked. He sat across from her and waited.

She shook her head. "There's nothing more to discuss. He drowned. I couldn't do anything to help him."

"You haven't seen that very often, have you?" Naegi asked carefully. "Someone dying in front of you."

"Most people haven't." More as a shot at his insensitivity than as a real question, she asked, "Why, have you?"

"Only in my nightmares," he said bitterly. "You know this isn't your fault, right?"

She knew. If Ishimaru had swept the scene properly, he would have found the scripture and Owada would never have gotten his hands on it. But then what? If that had happened, would it instead be Ishimaru at the bottom of a watery grave? There was also the added factor of why that scripture had been in Fujisaki's possession in the first place.

Naegi mumbled. "Why are so many people dying? They're not even involved!"

"I don't know," she said hoarsely. "Nothing about this case makes sense."

He stiffened when she said that. "You're not . . . Please tell me you're not thinking of doing that again. You know, sneaking back there."

"No!" she said firmly, gut clenching at the thought. I learned my lesson. "I didn't give Togami-kun enough credit. He knew what he was doing when he took us off the case."

"So, now what?"

"We wait for our next assignment. We move on," she said.

". . . You don't know how amazing that sounds," Naegi said. "Kamukura-kun and Yonaga-san are nice, but they don't outweigh the bad of that place."

"Odd. You seemed to be having a great time with them."

"Don't say it like that," Naegi said. "I was bored and . . . Komaeda left me alone when I was with others."

Oh? Naegi hadn't mentioned that before. She knew he thought it was because Komaeda didn't want to be a creep in front of others, but she had a different picture in her mind: of a wily coyote herding sheep into the jaws of its brethren –

BANG! BANG!

"Ah, Togami-kun must be here." She wrapped her braid around her finger, trying to sound nonchalant.

Togami hammered on the door again. Naegi looked like he wanted to dive under the table and hide.

Kirigiri stood. "You stay. I'll take care of this."

Honestly, it seemed as if Togami had deliberately struck a pose after that second set of knocks. For he was the perfect picture of displeased authority: nostrils flared, chest thrust out, chin turned up and to the side as if he had smelt something unpleasant. He simply stood there, in that pose, and she didn't know what she was supposed to say.

Togami sighed, and then walked past her into the kitchen. He snapped his fingers at Naegi, ordering him out of the chair. But despite forcing Naegi to vacate his seat, Togami made no move to claim it.

"Naegi, leave," Togami said calmly.

Naegi protested. "But . . ."

"It's fine," Kirigiri said. "This is mine to deal with."

Between the two of them, they were able to badger Naegi into leaving. Togami turned on her afterwards, his pointer finger driving straight into her chest.

"I should fire you," Togami snarled. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

She flinched. "I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"That's right, it wasn't. And why was that? Because you weren't supposed to be there in the first place!" The finger drew back, only to curl into a fist. "Now, I'm down yet another officer. Give me one reason why I shouldn't attend the inevitable interview with the media and direct all the blame at you."

She hugged herself, as if she could shield herself from that future. "If that is necessary, then I understand."

There was a blur of motion. The back of Togami's hand was an inch from her cheek, as he had stopped just before it hit her. She glanced at it.

"Why aren't you angry?" Togami demanded. "Why didn't you react to that?"

"Because you and Makoto were right," she said, turning away. "I needed to be taken off that case. I shouldn't have returned there."

"What happened?" She recognized her own cool tone in Togami's, the tone she used whenever she realized that the person she had thought to be the prime suspect was actually the key witness.

"Barring Owada-kun? Nothing," she spat. Because it was true. They hadn't done anything to her and somehow, that made everything worse.

Her back was to Togami, but she felt him approach. "I took you off that case not only because of your poor decision making, but because Naegi and I were concerned about your mental health. Obviously, it isn't just yours I should be concerned about. My officers don't suddenly go crazy. They don't just start lunging at each other with the intent to kill. What is going on?"

She yanked on her braid, revelling in the pain that followed. "I don't know!"

Her shout rang through the house. Internally, she groaned: Naegi would have heard their quarrel and wouldn't stay away for long. In fact, speaking of the devil, she heard Togami try to order Naegi to leave again.

"If there was anything I could say to help you, then I would say it," Kirigiri said. "But I cannot. I don't understand them or their motives, let alone the events that have occurred."

"You are not going back there," Togami ordered. "Neither of you are."

She nodded slowly. "No one should. This investigation . . . it needs to die."

"That's wonderful. Now, if you excuse me, I need to figure out how to proceed with this search and rescue without yet another officer losing his mind."

They spent most of the day cleaning up after Owada. It was mindless work – exactly what the doctor had called for. They ordered pizza, Kirigiri having found that the fridge was nearly empty. They would have to leave the house and go shopping. . . She would deal with that later.

Naegi retired early to relax in the bathtub. She took care of what little cleanup there was and dumped the dishes in the dishrack. Boring, mindless chores. How she had missed them. She watched the water drain and quietly reflected on how badly things had spiraled out of control.

Someone knocked on the back door. Standing there on the other side, looking in, was Tanaka.

"You two have been absent for some time." The door was closed, but the window above the sink was but a screen, and Tanaka's voice filtered in through that.

Her fists clenched. "You've been watching us."

"Does that bother you?" Tanaka asked. "Your society's gods are said to watch you every second of the day, yet that is not feared."

"I'm atheist," she said flatly. "That doesn't apply to me. Give me a reason not to call the police."

He chuckled deeply. "Are you still under the delusion that their chains can hold me?"

Perhaps. Perhaps not. They still had no idea how Tanaka had broken out last time. Right. Tanaka had broken out after she arrested him . . . and now he was here. . . facing the person responsible for his arrest. She swept his body for weapons, thankful there was a glass door between them.

"Why are you here?" she demanded.

"For the last few nights," Tanaka said, "the world has sung songs of torment. The earth itself has rumbled with foul whispers from beyond. The Devas speak of abominations clambering at the gate. The tainted power of that church may blind me to within, but I still hear them bay in triumph. What evil have you wrought upon us?"

"You make just as much sense as you did before you disappeared," she said, frustrated. "You shouldn't have returned. The police were not looking for you."

And for some reason, what she said infuriated him. The sound exploded in her eardrums like a gunshot as he slammed his fists against the glass. He tore the scarf away from his jaw, for once letting her see his naked expression and the ugly, jagged twist of his snarl. A small, furry head poked out of his collar, and she swore those beady little eyes were glaring at her.

"After what you have seen, you still think I am the enemy?" His hot breaths fogged up the glass between them. "This is beyond regular human ignorance. Open your eyes and see the truth before you!"

"How can I when no one tells me anything?" she shouted back. "What truth am I supposed to see? What am I supposed to be fighting against?"

"The gate!" Tanaka hollered. "They are trying to open the gate!"

"And what happens when they do?"

His red eye blazed bright in the night. "Then they unleash hell unto this universe."

She fought the urge to beat her head against the glass. "And what does that stand for?"

Tanaka stared at her silently. Then he lowered his voice.

"It doesn't stand for anything."

She was silent.

"They have allotted a role for you, but I do not understand why," Tanaka said. "You are human."

"Tanaka-kun?"

Naegi peered at the two of them from down the hall. He didn't seem alarmed to see Tanaka, just confused. Silently, she berated him for interrupting at a time where Tanaka was at least trying to give answers.

". . . He's been cursed," Tanaka hissed.

She whipped around, but Tanaka had already disappeared, leaving her with nothing but those dire words echoing in her ears.

She lived with an anxiety she wasn't used to as she shopped that day. She had tried hard – very hard actually – to convince Naegi to come with her, but he hadn't been the least bit inclined. And yet he had no problems with her leaving, so she could only conclude he wanted to be alone. Though it must have been benign, she couldn't wonder if he was doubting her motives the way Togami was. She could vividly recall the real fear she saw there when Naegi had questioned her loyalty. After everything, she couldn't blame him for still doubting her. (Because even she didn't fully trust herself.)

At least they had phones. She kept their connection alive with texts, sending him a message at least every half-hour about what she was buying or things that came to mind. She lived for his responses, for the little beep of her phone that indicated he was safe. She still shopped as quickly as she could, however, and had even recruited Maizono to gather materials even faster.

". . . And everyone was just standing there, waiting for her to say her lines, but the poor thing was terrified – that's always the danger of working with new actors. Then, out of nowhere, the male lead pops in and just swoops her off her feet – literally – into a ballet lift. Not only do they make that look like it was planned, but it shook her enough to start thinking again and the two managed to adlib their way back into the original script. I know you don't work in theatre, but trust me when I say that's impressive."

"I don't doubt it," she said. Her phone vibrated, and she quickly scanned over Naegi's latest text. Maizono watched her do so.

Maizono asked, "Is everything okay?"

She sighed. "We've had a rough few days, but it's fine now."

"Is this related to what's happening with the police?"

What? Something else was happening? Neutrally, hiding her own lack of knowledge, Kirigiri said, "You'll have to be more specific."

"I saw Officer Ishimaru bawling on a bench in the park. That doesn't strike me as usual behaviour for him."

Ah. It was only a matter of time before it started getting out. "There's been a death on the force. Officer Ishimaru was very close to the victim."

"I'm sorry for your loss. Oh, looks like Hagakure-kun was here."

She looked where Maizono was pointing. Sure enough, there was an 'The End is Nigh!' sign abandoned on the ground.

"Are you sure everything's alright? You don't just invite me to shop with you out of the blue," Maizono said knowingly. "I'm not sure you would shop with anyone other than Naegi-kun on a normal day."

"Does everyone always think the world is ending when I decide to socialize?" The words sounded serious, but Kirigiri was careful to express them so that Maizono knew she wasn't hurt.

"Great talent always brings out the gossipers," Maizono said.

"Really? And what kind of gossip have you heard about me?"

Maizono blushed a little, and Kirigiri couldn't tell whether she was flexing her acting muscles or not. "Well, I don't think it's something I need to say out loud in public. . ."

". . . It's the one where I'm attracted to corpses, isn't it?" That little rumor had dogged her for years.

"If it helps, I never believed it," Maizono said with a cheery smile. As if to ease any ruffled feathers left by the teasing, Maizono hooked their arms together. "You know, when I was younger, I never would have imagined we would get along so well."

"I wasn't that bad. Was I?"

"You're definitely more social now," Maizono confirmed, "but I was referring to the time you threatened to kill me."

Monotonously, Kirigiri said, "Please don't exaggerate."

"I'm not exaggerating. I'm talking about the time you . . . You don't remember, do you?"

"Why would I have ever threatened you like that?" She truly had no idea, because she didn't even speak to criminals that way.

"Why else?" Maizono said, as if it didn't matter. "Makoto."

"Makoto?" she parroted. "That doesn't make any sense. You're his best friend."

"That's exactly why it makes sense," Maizono said with laughter. "You thought I might get in the way of your relationship. So, you told me if I did, you'd kill me."

Maizono was laughing, as if this was nothing more than a silly accident between childhood friends. But Kirigiri knew herself. While she had sized Maizono up as competition when she was younger, she never would have taken it to such extremes. She never would have exposed herself like that.

"Honestly, it was terrifying at the time," Maizono said. "If it hadn't happened and today, someone showed me a picture of how you looked at me back then, I wouldn't have believed them. It was like you were a different person. But now I know that behind that seriousness, there's a very nice person inside."

Why was Maizono smiling? This wasn't funny. This was wrong. This was . . . it was . . .

"Who signed those papers?"

Ishimaru stared at her. "You did."

"I had Fujisaki run some facial recognition algorithms," Togami said, frowning. "Every single one of them pointed to you."

"Then why do you keep doing things like this?" Naegi cried.

. . . It was the truth, wasn't it?

The radio was on when she walked inside, playing a light melody. She dropped her bags by the door. She could hear Naegi in the kitchen washing dishes and some weight lifted from her shoulders. Maybe if she closed her eyes, maybe if she crept up behind him, wrapped her arms around his shoulder and laid a kiss on his cheek, she could pretend this was an ordinary day in an ordinary life.

She stared at her hands. Slowly, she pulled one free of its glove. Her scars wrinkled as she manipulated her hand in the daylight. The mark of a Kirigiri. A reminder of duty and sacrifice.

No. She tossed the glove aside for now. She'd cleansed her hands of the case; it was time to cleanse her soul, to wash herself of her sins. An she felt like she needed to wash them literally, too. Her gloves protected her hands from dirt, but the gnarled skin still felt dirty to her. She walked into the washroom –

And froze at the red liquid that had started to harden on the sink.

It wasn't just there. A splatter of blood rested on the ground by the toilet; a small trail of drops led to the garbage can where a layer of crumpled, not-red tissues lay. She reached into the trash, and it didn't take much scavenging before she found the blood-stained paper towels underneath the deceptive white layer. The blood on the ground was congealing, so it wasn't recent, but this didn't happen long ago either. It was recent enough that she should have been here to stop it, and long enough ago that it could be too late –

"Kyoko?"

Her head smacked into the underside of the sink as she leapt to her feet. Something slipped out of Naegi's hand to the floor with a thump as he rushed forward. . . only to promptly trip over his feet, smack into her, and send her head into the sink again. They landed in a groaning heap, Naegi giggling nervously and apologizing.

"It's fine." She grabbed his chin and wrenched it this way and that, checking his scalp for bleeding. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Huh?" He stretched the word out. "Oh, yeah. Yeah! I'm fine. I had a big nosebleed and I was coming to clean it up."

His arm flopped toward the item he had dropped, which she saw now was a large, wet rag. Okay. His explanation made sense. She groped under his shirt just in case, checking for injuries, only receiving resistance when she strayed too close to his waistband.

"You're not injured?" she repeated.

He nodded giddily. "Nope!"

It made sense. But if that was the case . . .

Then why had Naegi hidden those bloody papers under clean ones?

"What triggered the nosebleed?"

He stared blankly at her. It almost looked like someone had pointed a remote and clicked 'pause.' "Oh, uh, I guess it was just its time. It just decided to happen. Isn't that rude?"

She blinked. Why was he talking like this?

"Okay, I'm going to clean up now!" He tried to grab the rag without getting off his bottom, which ended up tipping him over. He lay there on his side, still reaching for it.

She had a horrible suspicion of what was going on. She yanked him back upright, spun him toward her, leaned in, and took a big sniff.

"You have got to be joking. What on earth were you drinking?"

"Me? Drinking? No! Noooooo! I wasn't drinking." He tried to bat his eyelids innocently, but just made his eyeballs look like they were twitching.

"You're drunk. I can't believe this. You're drunk!" She stood up in a rage, pulling at her braid. "I come home with the worst theory of my life, I need you, and you went and got yourself drunk. You don't even drink! Where did you even . . .?"

She stopped. Naegi was cowering on the floor, like she was yelling at a child.

". . . Where did you get alcohol?"

Naegi shuffled away, holding his hands close as if hiding something.

"Makoto, did you leave the house today?"

"No," he said.

"Where did you get alcohol?" They had some wines, but they were for her and visitors as Naegi didn't have much of a taste for them.

He mumbled too quietly for her to hear. She said his name firmly and then he groaned, "I can't tell you. I promised."

That left one option: someone had brought him alcohol.

Someone had come here with alcohol while Naegi was alone. Someone had somehow not only coaxed him into accepting it, but into drinking it as well. That same person might have been inside the house, might have been here while Naegi was drunk and malleable.

"Makoto!" She grabbed his hoodie by the shoulders. "What else happened?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell you. It was the deal."

What was he doing? She could wait until he was sober, as he didn't seem drunk enough to black out and lose his memories. But what if the visitor had been someone dangerous? She knew it was a male, and that could easily mean Komaeda – oh god was Komaeda staking out their doorstep now? Half the people at that church were males and while Shinguji was an enigma, Komaeda and Kamukura were definite threats.

"Makoto, look at me. Look at me. Did you make a deal with Hope's Peak?"

"Hope's Peak?" His face twisted with disgust. "No! Komaeda's mean. They need to . . . to go away!"

The revulsion sounded genuine. But if not anyone from Hope's Peak, then who?

. . . He'd been doing dishes, hadn't he? That might give her a clue. She went into the kitchen, where one sink was still full of suds. There was nothing other than liquid in either. There was, however, one thing in the dish rack that caught her eye.

A steak knife.

The blade was clean, but also freshly washed. Who knew what Naegi had washed off it? She didn't dare pick the knife up herself, fearing she would fumble it. She had no idea what was going on, why Naegi wasn't talking . . .

But even though something strange had happened to him, at least he remembered it. She couldn't say the same for herself. People kept saying she was doing things and she never remembered performing those acts. She couldn't even discuss it with anyone because no one would believe her and the only person she trusted was too drunk to understand . . .

Hold on.

Was it true no one would believe her? If she thought about it, if she loosened her restrictions, she had spoken to someone who had been through something similar. But it would . . . it would require going back to that. She didn't want to. She couldn't.

But she had to. There was no where else to get answers, and she couldn't afford not to get them.

So be it. She needed to speak to Yonaga Angie.