Chapter 12

Darkness as far as the eye could see. Which … was ridiculous. That wasn't seeing a damn thing!

It's usually not this dark in the cell block. There's always some ambient light for their nosy eyes. Am I dreaming?

A blazing fireball erupted, waves of heat washed over Fukuda as he used an arm to shield himself from the blast. His eyes sluggishly adjusted to the light.

Whoa! That ain't normal!

Engulfed in flames, a police car lay over tuned—inside a building.

Hehehe, someone had a bad drift. Hrm, this is an odd dream for me. I've never dreamed of the police before. Let's face it, got no warm fuzzies for those guys. Wonder if they've painted over the numbers on my walls yet? Have to ask Momoki next chance I get. He blinked, leaning forward. Hello … what the heck is this?

Wandering around the fire, which hadn't spread one bit, he ran his hand along a steel paneled wall, absently fingering the rust holes. The flicker of the flames touched the rafters overhead. But his eyes focused on the eve of the far wall. A crooked sign hung there. In peeling paint a cartoonish horned whale leapt through a star with four points. On its spiraled horn it had stabbed through a smiling fish.

"Gnarly! That's a whale with some serious style. Talk about nature's drill bit." Standing back, he admired the work. Amateurish at best, but the concept, there was a certain appeal to it.

His foot slipped on something. Crouching down he realized it was pooling blood. In the surface the reflection of a bright flash caught his attention, a dark object overhead shifted by the heatwaves. He twisted around and looked up, narrowing his eyes.

"Well fuck me, if this isn't disturbing." Hanging over his head from a large hook was a pair of handcuffs and a black shirt, partially shredded … as it shifted it revealed the white K of the Kura's logo.

Fukuda knew that shirt … Narihisago!

His eyes opened to the sound of the lights slamming on in the cell block. With more haste than usual, Fukuda dashed to the door of his cell and pounded his fists against it. "Guards!" He was surprised at the force of his voice, more accustomed to the subdued tone. "Guards! Come here! Hurry up!"

For a moment he stopped pounding, keening an ear to listen. Nothing.

He resumed with greater vigor. "Get over here, quick! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Swift footsteps came his way. Soma and Hagashi came to halt, confusion written on their faces. "What is it?"

Flattening his palms against the barrier, he pleaded, "I need to talk to Momoki right away!"

Hagashi scratched his head. "It's early, he's not here yet. Why?"

"I had a weird dream and I don't think there's much time."

"Uhhh, yeah. Not sure the director is going to care about dreams right now."

He pounded again. "This one he will! I think it was a coded message. Let me talk to Momoki!"

Soma held up a hand, stopping Hagashi's remark. "Stranger things have happened. I'll give him a call. Hagashi, cuff Fukuda, we're taking him to the interrogation room. You can wait there for him."

With a relieved sigh, Fukuda extended his wrists in front of him as the door opened. His eyes strayed to the empty cell across the way. Soon now. It's been lonely without anyone to talk to.

~ID~

Momoki sat at the table, drumming his fingers. He hadn't expected to come down to the interrogation room first thing. But Soma's message left while he'd been driving struck a chord.

Now he knew why. He'd never seen Fukuda so … animated? His voice was still affected by a drawl, but beneath a current seemed as if it were pushing against the dam, trying to force the words through faster.

"I'm tellin' ya, I know my dreams. I only have a few that rotate. This wasn't one of them. The place felt too detailed, like it was real. But I've never been there before. In the light of the car fire I saw a black shirt with the Kura's logo."

"This is very interesting, Fukuda. But I have other things I should be doing."

He leaned forward, his cuffs dragging across the table. "No wait! There was something else. It was obscenely clear."

"What was it," Momoki smirked, "the First Division's logo on the police car?"

"It did kinda look like a logo. A painting on an old cracked wooden panel. A horned whale leaping through a star with four points."

Momoki grabbed his jumpsuit collar. "A fish skewered on narwhal's horn?"

Fukuda nodded. "Smiling like a happy little sacrifice. That mean something to you?"

"Holy shit …" Releasing him, he stood leaning on his hands. "You're right, that has to be a message … I know where that was. If this is the case … I know where they've been taken!"

Grabbing out his phone he dialed as fast as his fingers could, the moment there was an answer, he cut it off. "Matsuoka! I think I know where they are—don't ask, there isn't time to explain. Do you remember the warehouse from the Stitcher case?"

"Yeah, down by the shipyards. But it should have been torn down ages ago."

"Something tells me it wasn't. It was far back out of the way. I think Hondomachi and Narihisago are being held there."

"That's quite a trip for a hunch, I hope this isn't a waste of time. We can't a warrant for a building that doesn't exist. Do you want me to go look?"

Momoki looked into Fukuda's eyes, an eagerness burning there. To light that much of a fire required quite an impression … a torn Kura shirt stirring over the crackling flames … only Narihisago had worn the black shirts. "Yes," he stated firmly. "Hurry. I have a bad feeling."

Setting his phone down, he looked to Fukuda. "Part of me hopes your dream proves true … and part of me," he looked at his folded hands, " … fears that it is."

Fukuda nodded stiffly. "The dives I've done tell me, even though this didn't have Kearu in it … that was a desperate call for help. Something about the way it resonated."

~ID~

The light cast an orange glow behind his closed eyes, rousing Narihisago from a restless sleep. Dawn. A shiver of dread ran through his veins.

Hondomachi. Opening his eyes he found her sleeping curled against the wall, a thin sheet of sweat on her brow. It wasn't the trick of the light, she seemed flush compared to before. A slight rattle with every breath. Is she getting sick? This isn't good at all. At least they haven't come for her yet.

She shifted, waking with a cough. Looking around she sighed. "Morning. Sleep well?"

Lying on his side, Narihisago huffed a breath. "What do you think?"

"You're breathing deeper, does it hurt less?"

"No," he muttered, "just acclimated to it."

Shaking her head with a weary grin, what she was about to say got stolen by a coughing fit.

He didn't say anything, just watched her with sympathy.

After she regained her breath, she gazed up at the rafters. "So, how long do you think I have?"

Silently he groaned. Never ask that!

The overhead door engaged. Narihisago swallowed, scrambling for a plan. Anything that could delay this seemingly inevitable fate. As much as he longed to, he couldn't rely on Kiki—that might not have actually happened. He couldn't be certain that it wasn't just wishful thinking in his head. Even if it had been real, the chances she reached Fukuda in any meaningful way were slim—not for lack of her trying.

Hondomachi already had her legs tucked beneath her, eyes locked in a determined glare at the top of the stairs. Her teeth squealed.

Through a tiny crack in her veneer it showed, she was frightened. And who wouldn't be? If there wasn't a way out of this—her fate was horrific. Victims of that nature had not been unknown to Narihisago in his time as a detective. Those crimes revealed some of the darkest aspects of humanity.

Footsteps clanked on the stairs.

A bead of cold sweat trickled down his brow. Quick, something to stop them! Anything!

There was a way. He closed his eyes. Steeling himself, he dredged it up, willing the details to the front of his mind. He'd never done this without a dive, never tried to initiate it on his own … inside a familiar clawing had already begun to build as he held the vision of Konya's hard stare demanding his compliance. Taking a deep breath, he let it out as the discomfort began. "Hondomachi … forgive me."

When he opened his eyes, she was staring out of the corner of her eye at him. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer. The heads of the thugs crested the stairs. They stalked past Izanagi, who still barely reacted, for all Narihisago knew he might already be dead. At the moment he had one thing on his mind, and one thing only.

Konya walked along by the railing as Tsuyoshi pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and made straight toward Hondomachi. The thug chuckled, "Come on, bitch. You're about to make a bunch of men very happy."

Narihisago ignored his antics. That's what you think. Not if I have anything to say about it … he focused on Konya, cold eyes boring into him. It took less than a minute before he had the man's attention. "Flesh is so very valuable." Narihisago's voice was soft, hardly above a whisper, but their was an edge he engaged that normally wasn't there.

Immediately Konya reacted, his hands flexed at his side. "The price of a life is worth its pound in flesh."

"Is that so?" No one else in the room moved, even Hondomachi seemed transfixed. "What an unusual business model to follow."

"A fool like you wouldn't understand."

Narihisago smiled knowingly. "Try me."

Without a pause, Konya placed a hand to his chest, nose in the air. "I provide solutions for those in bind. People are careless with money, greedy for possessions. They fail to read the contract. It is not my fault."

"Not your fault? You know what's in there. You know it isn't fair. Yet you have no qualms for your collection fees?"

"Certainly not. When the contract is broken—"

"The broken little boy forces them to break themselves." He narrowed his eyes, drawing Konya up a little straighter. "That's what you live for. Seeing them kneel before you. Seeing them beg for mercy that you will not give. It's not about the money. You paid for a show, and you're going to get every ounce of entertainment you purchased out of their blood."

He wrinkled his nose as though he were smelling some awful odor. "Certainly not. If they break their contract they get what they deserve."

"A contract that was impossible. Don't get me wrong, I had no pity for Itoh, but—his impossible contract brought us to your hands. And here you sit, the arbiter of our fates. Interesting that you don't hand us a blade. Why is that? I had to wonder. Why pass us off? The answer was simple, staring you straight in the face."

Konya took a step back, a flicker of worry in his eyes.

"I know I have it. I know the truth sad about you. We won't beg. We won't grovel before you in some inflated act toward your ego. That bothers you. We're supposed to be weak, we're supposed to be subservient, like your cowed cohorts. But you can't make us!"

He struck the bars of the railing with his rings. "Shut up! You're wrong!"

The raised voice betrayed the truth.

"You can't stand someone you can't control. Interesting how you never take on the victim yourself. Why is that? Then it all made sense, the rumor provided by your own henchmen. Your first and last kill."

At that Konya took a step back, gripping the railing with his other hand. The eyes of a cornered beast. He panted like a rabbit, wide-eyed and too spooked to move.

Narihisago's grin carved deeper. The claws of the monster within raking deep within, but not at him—they spared Narihisago, grinding into Konya, rending him to bits. "You were ordered to bring a man to bear, to make him profess loyalty to your father. But that man was strong-willed, outlasting your efforts to compel him. In the end before you achieved your goal and earned your father's praise, the man died at your hands. The mistake was yours, along with the shame. The solution was simple—if you never laid a hand on them again, you couldn't actually fail. Someone else would always take the blame. You're not powerful. You're just a sick twisted coward, who never grew out of being a school-yard bully having his witless lackeys do his dirty work."

Every mention of his father drove Konya leaning farther back. Panicked tears sprang to his eyes. As he darted glances at his men, he wilted further into himself. "No … no … it's not true. Don't believe it."

"Someone's got some serious daddy issues. Have you impressed him yet? That's not the question though, is it … can you ever impress him? It's impossible, isn't it. Your impossible contract."

Konya gripped the railing, color flushed from him. He was caught in a cyclone of his own collapsing psyche.

"Konya … There is a way out. A way that Daddy can never reach you. Prove to him that you are the master of your own destiny."

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder. His eyes closing and opening as a weariness overcame him. He lifted his arms wide and with a sick grin on his face, leaned backward, plummeting over the railing.

THUCK!

Narihisago laid his head back with a satisfied smile on his face, awash in the pleasure of his addiction. Aww Konya, took the last step.

After a full minute of shock, all four of the thugs ran down the stairs screaming for their boss. In their haste, Tsuyoshi dropped the key ring in his hand.

Swiftly, Hondomachi ran forward, awkwardly seizing the keys behind her back. It took a crazy dance, and a lot of finnigling, but the moment she had the first cuff loose, she flipped around and unlocked the second.

"Hurry! Get me out of these! I don't even want to think about what they'll do to me once they figure out I killed Konya"

"How do you know he's dead?"

"That was over a two story drop onto concrete."

"Wait, we were unconscious when they brought us in, how did you know that?"

"I've been here before. We're running out of time, hurry up!"

She came around behind him, working the key into the cuff lock on his left wrist. "Shit! Something's wrong. The lock is jammed."

Over his shoulder he suggested, "Leave it. Unlock the padlock, and the right one! They did it before, it has to work. Hurry! That shock won't last forever."

She worked with that, remarking tensely, "I hardly believe what I heard! That was … so … twisted and dark."

"That may have just saved your life." One wrist now free and the cuffs loosed from the chain, he pushed up ignoring the pain in his back, only acknowledging it with a hiss.

Hondomachi worked her way under his left arm, putting it across her shoulder and helping him up into what became a human crutch. "Pride be damned, let me help you."

"Heh," he winced, "I don't have any pride left to be compromised."

In a staggered hobble they made their way toward the stairs. He had to hold his left foot above the floor. Every staggering hop left him shuddering. She glanced up, "Are you—?"

"Less talk—more hustle!" He hung his head. "I don't think I can do that to the other four."

"Speaking of which, how are we going to get past them? There's only that one stairway down."

Narihisago reached for the railing as they approached, one more support. Desperation fueled him. "No idea … one step at a time." And that was another part he dreaded.

The first one he dropped down with a grunt.

"Sorry."

"Keep going!" He hissed. "Don't worry about me." Her fingers brushed against a welt on his right shoulder. It stung miserably. But one thing overrode everything else—they had to get out of here.

Below a hasty pair of footsteps carried up the stairs. Tsuyoshi and Orochi snarled, the latter pointing and screaming. "You sick fucker! You killed him!"

"Good!" Narihisago huffed out. Shit! They're blocking the way. We're injured and unarmed!

The thugs launched themselves up the stairs.

To Narihisago's surprise, Hondomachi shoved him down on the stair behind her and stood protecting him. Fists up. She swung hard, and delivered a hook to Tsuyoshi sending him back into Orochi. The two recovered their feet and changed targets. Both now concentrating on her. Orochi gained the upper ground, flanking Hondomachi as she pounded on Tsuyoshi.

Two on one isn't fair. Narihisago grabbed the stair rail and dragged himself up, shaking from the effort. He needed an advantage, he lacked the strength to get enough force now for a knockout. Locking the empty cuff, he tugged the bandage loose from his right wrist. Orochi wasn't paying him any mind at all.

With an enraged snarl, Narihisago leaned forward, swinging with his left hand to whip the cuff around Orochi's neck. He looped the bandage through the empty cuff and caught both ends, giving it a savage yank. As Orochi bucked, the tension across his neck cut off the air with a crunching sensation, Narihisago twisted the bandage around his fingers tightening the cuff-choke hold.

Orochi's arms flailed, trying to free himself. His fingers grasped around Narihisago's right wrist. Pain shot up his arm as the nails dug into the burned wound. He cringed, but renewed his resolve, shutting his eyes and pulling back harder. Orochi dropped to is knees, leaning back, trying to ease the pressure on his throat.

Narihisago gritted his teeth. Three minutes! It takes three minutes to lethally cut off the air. Already he felt the burning in his arms threatening failure. He couldn't let go, if he did Orochi would go for her! Her life depended on him not letting go!

The nails clawed, both hands gripping and kneading into his flesh. It was on fire!

Tugging harder, Narihisago felt the chain biting into Orochi's throat. Huffing each breath through clenched teeth, he had no air for threat. Just DIE, you bastard! He drew up the memories of Orochi denying him air, letting it feed his rage. Fitting way for this piece of shit to go! How do you like the receiving end, asshole?

Orochi opened his mouth trying to draw in a breath. It didn't come. His muscles seized a couple times, then released and dropped them both backward onto the step. There was no pulse against the chain.

But it didn't matter whether there was or not. Completely spent, Narihisago's grip faltered the moment his welted back struck the cold metal. His hand went limp, releasing the ragged bandaged, slipping it from the cuff as the hand itself dropped against the step. His vision blurred. Everything felt so far away.

"Home … ," he rasped. "I want to go home … "

~ID~

Hondomachi's fist pounded into Tsuyoshi's face. Orochi tried to grapple her, but suddenly his hands slipped away. She didn't have time to wonder about her good fortune. The prick in front of her required all her attention.

He went for his gun, tugging it out.

With a vicious kick, she sent it into his gut, wrenching the wrist at an odd angle.

Tsuyoshi wailed out as the gun clattered through the open stairs. "How could yo—ooofff!"

Her fist slammed into his jaw. "Shut up, low life!"

He shook his head, and leaped, throwing his weight against her.

That wasn't expected, startled, and very annoyed, Hondomachi fell against the left railing slamming her injured elbow. He collided with her ramming it harder. It renewed the pain in an agonizing wave. She screamed out, the arm once again hanging useless at her side.

Tsuyoshi smiled and grabbed her wrists, pressing on her. "Did I hurt you?"

Furious, she tried to knee him.

He artfully dodged her with a grin. "Not that again."

"Fine!" One tactic out of commission, she kicked her heel into the side of his knee.

That joint wasn't meant to bend that way. Tsuyoshi released his grip on her and howled.

That was all she needed. She brought her knee up into his chin sending him into a hard tumble down the stairs, his neck snapping on the way. "Screw you, prick!"

Behind her, a few steps higher, nothing moved. She turned around. Orochi lay sprawled across a step, a bluish color to his tongue as he stared in frozen horror at nothing at all. A massive blackened line around his neck. Underneath his fallen body, she spotted Narihisago.

Climbing up, she tugged Orochi off of him, and punted his corpse down the stairs. He rolled a few before stopping. Narihisago lay, eyes half closed, unfocused. Skin pale, much paler than before.

She knelt down beside him. "Hey, Narihisago. Come on. We have to get moving before the other two come." Those bruisers would prove troublesome.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied red. Flung out, his right hand lay palm up, a steady flow of blood seeping between savage nail streaks—that had torn the burned incision on his wrist wide open. The flow marked his pulse.

"No!" She screamed and wrapped her fingers around the wound, holding the limb up. She struggled to staunch the bleeding. It continued to stubbornly seep. No matter how tight she gripped, the blood welled between his fingers. "Don't you dare die on me now! Hang on! You have to live! Narihisago please—answer me!"