A hand reached out over a flat, rubber floor, composed and steady as a statue. Next to it, another hand reached out, further, and shaking. Next to it, a third hand, trembling under its own weight, collapsed onto the mat. The second hand fell down hardly a moment later.

And the first hand quickly pulled back in and tapped at the screen of a smart phone, and extended back out just as fast.

Lap 1 – 0:37

The hand stood out, alone for the time being, until thirty seven seconds became fifty… sixty… Its fingers curled in, its every muscle tensed up. But it also gave out.

1:10

Kasumi pushed herself up onto her feet. The bounce in her step was back in a flash, and she stood over Ren and Makoto. "You two are getting better already!"

Makoto struggled to lift as much as his shoulder even a sliver off the floor mat. "I don't feel better," he said. Ren wasn't doing so awesome either. Sweat pooled over the floor around his ear.

"Ah, that's just the pain talking," Kasumi said. "You'll feel it when it stops. But for now," she dropped down and held a hand out to both of them. "Do you want to keep going?"

Makoto fought against all the burning pain all over his body to heave himself off his chest and onto his side. Ren pulled himself up by Kasumi's arm, braced on one knee. "I think…" Ren wiped a sheen of sweat off of his hair, "I can go a little more."

Makoto was about to say something similar, but the weight and stagger of his breath did all the talking for him.

Kasumi fell back and laughed, and she hopped upright. "Well, don't push yourselves too hard. I'm going to take a walk around. You guys take a minute, catch your breath. We'll pick up right where we left off, okay?"

"Will do!" Ren saluted as she took off. He and Makoto took turns dragging each other up and shambled their way to a bench. When they got there, something felt different. As though behind the sudden, sharp gleam of his glasses, Ren had become a completely different person. "Thanks for saying what you did. Back at the studio."

"About-" Makoto caught himself. He and Ren both looked around for anyone eavesdropping, or even just within earshot, and there were plenty. Makoto bobbed his head. "I mean, it's the truth, right?"

"Not everyone sees it that way," Ren said. "Like Akechi."

"The detective guy?" Makoto leaned back on his hands, then realized he'd probably be on his arms again when Kasumi returned and quickly sat right back up. "I'm sure he means well."

Behind his glasses, some of the light in Ren's eyes faded. "I'm not so sure," he said. There was something he wasn't saying, something too weird or too sensitive, or both. "But, I guess I could be wrong. So, how much do you know, then?"

"Well, I know it's you, Ryuji, and Ann," Makoto said. "I know Kamoshida deserved what he got. I know there's a reason for what you do. You see something wrong, and you can't just do nothing. And I know you must have found something else, because you did it again."

Ren nodded faintly. "That's most of it. But if you can understand that so readily, why go to the lengths you did to expose us? Couldn't you just accept what happened?"

"I didn't figure it out until after." Makoto wrung his hands together. "And it wasn't all of you. Just Ann, and I wasn't certain about it, I don't think." But as he thought about it just now, didn't he tell the Principal everything just a few days ago? He dropped his head into his hands. "… Crap."

"What?"

"I just remembered, I did give Kobayakawa your name, and Ryuji," Makoto said. "Him and the prosecutor."

"Damn it. I'm going to get expelled for sure." Ren hung his head back. "Well, what's the prosecutor's angle in this? Besides arresting us, obviously."

"For now, nothing, it looks like," Makoto said. "After everything I said, she dismissed it all as hearsay and told me and Kobayakawa to stay put. I guess she's looking for more concrete proof."

"So she wants all the credit for herself?" Ren's eyes snapped onto Makoto. "Figures. At least that gives us time."

"Time? Are you on to something?"

"Something. You?"

Makoto wondered what Ren's case could have been. "You've heard rumors going around about blackmail? Suspicious part time jobs?" Ren's eyelids pulled up and away, but he nodded. It was hard to miss the rumors, but easy to ignore them sometimes. "I'm trying to put a stop to it, before it gets worse."

"Is that really something you can do?" Ren said.

"You had to have doubts," Makoto said. "About Kamoshida, and Madarame. But you didn't let those stop you. You couldn't just do nothing. Neither can I."

Ren looked past him, to the bend around the fitness center where Kasumi showed up. "Hey Ren! Hey Makoto!" She waved as she walked up to them at the bench. "Ready to get back to it?" Her eyes flashed between them.

Ren shook his head before looking away from Makoto, and got up with a shrug.

When Makoto turned around, he saw the corner of Kasumi's lip pinched. "Let's do this!" he said, and she gave up her analyzing stare and followed them back to their spot on the mat just off center of the gym.

Kasumi dug her phone out of her pocket and set it on the floor, opened to its stopwatch. "Other arm, other leg this time," she said, and when Ren and Makoto's faces scrunched up in their renewed struggle, Kasumi raised her limbs and dipped her nose and time started ticking.

Even after the walk the train station, his chest throbbed and beat as fast as a jackhammer. Makoto shook in place on the platform, only kept from tipping over by Kasumi's arm around his shoulder. From his stomach, everything in every direction cramped like crazy.

Ren wasn't quivering like a blob of jelly like Makoto, but he was still feeling the exercises Kasumi had put them through, too. He couldn't bow all the way before parting, taking the eastbound train that just arrived.

"So, what happened while I was gone?" Kasumi said. Makoto looked to her, stunned for a second, but he recalled the few minutes she was gone. "You and Ren looked like you were in the middle of something when I got back."

"It's a secret," he said. "At least, his part of it is. Sorry, Kasumi."

"Would you mind sharing your part of it?" Kasumi said. "If it's what I think it is, anyway."

"Wait, what do you think it is?"

"Your next investigation, of course!" Kasumi pumped up her other arm. "So, what's the scoop?"

He didn't have much to go on himself, just Nishiyama's statements and the rumors he heard on the train, of all places. But it was what he had, and it was what he'd use. "There's a group of suspicious people in Shibuya offering part time jobs to students," he said.

"Oh?!" She covered her gasp. "I've heard about this. Quick and discreet, right?" When Makoto nodded, Kasumi dragged her hand down to her chin. "Do you think it's something illegal?"

That would explain why Iida clammed up about it, why Yoneno ducked everyone, to avoid talking about it. "It probably is."

It definitely was. The question was what he could about it. Makoto slipped away from Kasumi's arm. He leaned on a nearby pillar and closed his eyes, pictured all of Central Street in his mind. Somewhere on that street, the criminals approached unsuspecting students with their offer.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Kasumi facing him head on. "Did you just think of what it is?" she said.

Makoto stooped his head down. "No. But I know a way to find out." To find out what the job was, and expose it, there was only one way he could think of. If no one was going to open up about it, then there was only one thing left to do. "I'm going to take it."

Kasumi crouched down, breaking back into his field of view. "Doesn't that just put you in the same situation as everyone else?"

"I don't have to actually do the job," Makoto said. "Just play along until I figure out what it is. Then I can expose it on the spot."

"To who?" Kasumi stood up, keeping Makoto's gaze. "It'd have to be a police officer, right? By the time you find one, the guy who gave you the job is just going to disappear." She shifted around, leaning back in a spot next to him. "So, what if the police officer comes to you?"

Makoto craned his head around. "What?"

"If the cop is going to you, he'll see everything right as it happens," Kasumi said. "The criminal won't have any time to get away."

"That could work." Her idea was sound, Makoto thought. But the timing seemed too specific. Too coincidental. "How would I set that up?"

Kasumi tiled her head. Smirked at him. "Not on your own."

The pins of a lock tumbler fell into position and unlatched. Makoto pushed her way inside. A bandage covered a part of her right arm. She took off her shoes and dropped her headband and phone on the kitchen counter, and froze up when she saw Sae at the table. "Sis," she said. "I didn't think you'd be home yet."

Sae typed on her laptop with characteristic speed, and she didn't look up. "It's pretty late," she said.

"I guess." Makoto stepped up by Sae's shoulder. "You've been out later than this, though. I hardly know when to expect you anymore."

"I'd text you if I'm working late."

Except for last week. The melancholy thought crossed Makoto's face so clearly, Sae would surely see it if she just glanced her way. But the very next moment, it was gone. "I know," Makoto said, newly composed.

She opened the refrigerator door. Only now did Sae look up from her work. "Dinner's on the way," she said. "You don't have to worry about that tonight." She saw the bandages on her arm. "What happened there?"

"This?" Makoto stretched her injured arm. "It's just a training accident. I'm practicing aikido with one of my classmates, trying to disarm a knife, got a small cut."

"Same as your headache this morning?" Sae said. Her scrutinizing was scant at best.

Makoto eased the fridge door shut, and sheepishly held her other hand over her head. "Yeah…"

A smile found its way onto Sae. "I remember what that's like. I don't suppose it'll help to remind you not to push yourself too hard?" she said as she fell back into pace on her keyboard.

"Not on this, Sis." Makoto came back to the kitchen table, and sat across from her sister. She reached one hand half way across the table. "Do you have a minute?"

"I'm a little busy-"

"It might be relevant," Makoto said. "There was a strange man at school yesterday, fat, with slick hair. I heard something about him being involved in killing police officers."

She couldn't have known exactly what it was, but Sae's sudden jerk away from her computer screamed that Makoto had struck a nerve somewhere. "You think this has to do with Dad?" Sae said. "Is that what you're getting at, Makoto?"

"Yes. It is," she said. "He was taking on the Yakuza, nearly on his own. That was his last assignment when he died. And now I see a Yakuza head talk about killing cops. How can I not make that connection?"

"So what?" The simple refutation ripped through Makoto's heart like a bullet. "You may have time to look back and dredge up the past, but I don't. At least all the hearsay Naegi brings up is about his immediate problems, not this," Sae clawed at the tabletop, "revenge fantasy."

Sae pulled her arms in. "Look, Makoto, it's not that I don't want justice too, but I need something solid to work with. Something undeniable."

Makoto could feel herself accepting the challenge, but she swallowed all her confrontational words. All that was left was, "I understand." She got up to shut herself in her room.

"What would you do?" Makoto said. Sae must have told Naegi the same thing she just heard. From the newspaper Fuyuhiko pointed out, the slick haired criminal was involved at Shujin. But that, too, was probably just circumstance. How could either of them prove it as fact?

She stepped into the bathroom. Makoto undid her ribbon tie, the top buttons of her blouse, and she locked the door behind her.

Steel ground on steel. Compressed air hissed through the valves that opened the doors of an incoming train. Kasumi tapped her foot in front of the paired bathroom doors, waiting for Makoto to come out of the boys' room in his olive hoodie.

They headed to the stairs out toward Central Street. "How long do I have after we split?" Makoto said.

"I can't really waste a cop's time." Kasumi dragged her foot across the floor tiles. "I'll wait a minute, then make the call."

"Got it." With little more than a look of determination, Makoto and Kasumi climbed the stairs, out to the street.

They faded into the crowd almost immediately. Every look he stole to his left, Makoto couldn't tell whether to expect Kasumi to still be there or not. And although she didn't look back, she could feel every glance. "Don't worry about me, Makoto," she said. "Just do your thing."

Off her reassurance, Makoto turned to look off to the right, the glimpses of the alleys in between the shifting sea of people. He thought he saw something, and took one step away, then another.

"Senpai? Where are you?" he heard behind him. "Senpai?"

A girl in a lavender jacket sat in silent, stoic watch over Central Street. "Were you expecting something more exciting?" she said. Makoto looked away from her, away from the Shujin school paper on the table between them. She huffed a notable breath. "Real stakeouts often aren't as eventful as they are in fiction."

"Yeah, yeah, Kyoko, I get that." Makoto locked in on the crowd. "But I have a good feeling about this one."

There was a small splash of olive green behind all the other bodies crossing both ways, that looked like it was heading somewhere with purpose.

In brief flashes, a girl wearing a familiar black and red skirt looked around and spun on her heels. She reached into her bag, when a touch of hesitation seized her.

Makoto squinted on her hair. "Sumire?" she said. No, her hair was a brighter red than this.

"You know her?" Kyoko said.

"I know someone I've seen her with."

"The person in the green hoodie?" If that was what Kyoko saw, Makoto wasn't about to argue. "I think I know he's heading." Kyoko got up from the table and beckoned her to follow, pushing through the crowd parallel to the olive green blur on the other side.

No sign of Kasumi anymore. Makoto was on his own, now. He looked wide down each alley he passed, when an instantly sketchy looking man popped out of the shadows, and stopped Makoto in his tracks.

"Hey, kid," he said as cool as he could. "What brings you around here?"

This had to be the guy. "I was going to the… beef bowl shop," Makoto said. He'd seen the flier for the job there, at least once, and was pretty sure that was the one that was open at night. "I have an interview there."

The sketchy guy looked at him sideways, then threw his head back in laughter. He wagged his finger in front of Makoto. "No, no, no, you don't want to work there, kid. Trust me. I got something a lot better for you."

He froze for a moment again, before holding his hands up. "I already called, though," Makoto said.

"So call it off," the sketchy guy said. "Hey! If this doesn't work out," he spun his hands back and forth between them, "you can always reschedule with them. But I can tell, you're gonna like this!"

Makoto lowered his hands, back into his pockets. "I mean, maybe. What's the job?"

"It's the easiest thing in the world." The sketchy man stepped just past Makoto and turned him around, looking out to Central Shibuya. Over the crest of the wave of heads, Makoto saw the top of a police officer's cap poking through.

"Shh!"

A tacky hand covered his mouth. The sketchy man pushed him back towards a wall and waited. His eyes flicked between the cop and Makoto, but eventually dimmed. "Whew! That was close."

"Urgh!" Makoto sank down against the brick wall. "You're telling me. So, what do I have to do?"

The sketchy man took an envelope out from his shirt. "You know the rows of lockers in the subway station?" Makoto nodded absently, fixated on the envelope. There was a number written on it. "Just slip it into the right one. Hardly even counts as work, does it? Oh, but don't, uh," he waved his thumb out towards the street.

Towards the cop.

He held the envelope in front of him. "And, when do I get paid?" Makoto said.

The man shook his head. "Don't worry about this stuff. We'll find a way. So," he bent down. The package was right in Makoto's face.

Makoto gulped. He focused on the envelope, not daring to even look away for the police. Just trust the plan, he though, and he took the envelope, and with it, the job.

A grin filled the sketchy man's face. "Everyone's nervous at first," he said. "It doesn't even matter what job it is. You'd be sweating like this at the beef bowl, I guarantee you. This is good for you. Trust me."

"Yeah, I get it," Makoto said. He folded the packet by the long side, and tucked it into his pocket. He stepped out of the alley, bumped into someone in too much of a hurry to pay attention.

Now or never.

Makoto took it right back out and tore it in half.

A bag of white powder fell into his hands. The sketchy man turned to him in a flash. "You little-!"

"There he is!" It was Kasumi's voice, and the heavy footsteps of a grizzled policeman that followed.

The knot in the front of his sweater tightened on his neck. The sketchy man dragged him back into the alley by the hood, and a switchblade knife clicked and stung cold against his skin.

The policeman drew a gun. Screams erupted from the passers on the street, bubbling around the scene. Cameras flashed from everywhere.

"Stay back!" the sketchy man said. "Back off or the kid dies!"

He stared down the gun barrel. Every inch of him shook with fear. Whether of the knife or the gun, Makoto couldn't even say.

"Drop it!" the officer said. The knife didn't budge. "What can we do for the boy's safety?"

"Put the gun down! Then we can talk!"

"You have to drop the knife," the officer said. Makoto felt his blood trickle down his chest. He stepped back, following the sketchy man's retreat.

Another man in a fancy print shirt collapsed onto his back. A girl in a purple jacket picked up a knife that fell at the man's side.

Makoto felt a hard knuckle jab on his neck, but it was infinitely better than the switchblade. The man's hand twisted and opened wide. The knife clattered on the ground. He heard bones cracking.

He fell forwards, clutching the wound on his neck, blood soaking his palm as Kasumi ran up to him. "Makoto!" She held him steady, as steady as her own heavy breathing allowed.

A mix of sirens cleared the space outside the alley.

His eyes tracked the police officer, the whole squad of them pouring out from their cars, as they bound the other fancy man on the ground in handcuffs. He tracked them as they passed by to the sketchy man, where Niijima held him pinned down.

The handcuffs clicked, and the cops marched him, kicking and screaming, to the back of their squad car. All except one, who stood over Makoto, directing a pair of ambulance drivers with a stretcher. "Makoto Naegi, you're under arrest."

Over Kasumi's and Niijima's protests, the third set of handcuffs clicked.