Chapter 9

Narihisago stared at the photos on his wall as he had so many times before. Auxiliary lights reflected off the concrete ceiling, after all, the inmates of Kura were supposed to be sleeping. But the cell block never went completely dark. There had to be enough light for the cameras. Yes, sufficient to keep an eye on things especially given Narihisago's bad habit.

Not that he felt compelled to push Fukuda. Honestly, witnessing his boredom inside the id well dives, that was repayment enough to society. Far more fitting too, in Narihisago's opinion. Much like he embraced his own fate now. To repeatedly die in the service of justice was a terribly fitting penance. But Hondomachi … his fist clenched the blanket he lay on … she hadn't earned this torture. Certainly she'd put on a brave front, but the invasion of their wills pulling the strings—over and over again driving them to end it all … that left a mark, even on his own scarred psyche.

Why was this happening in the id well? It didn't make sense, not even from a seriously messed up standpoint. At least not yet. Sakaido was missing something … no, he was missing something. Both versions converged in that well in a strange amalgamation.

Though he'd never say it, that duality bothered him. That layer separating him from Sakaido's fate performed a far greater task insulating him than he had ever realized.

"You're not sleeping, I can hear the hitch in your breathing." Fukuda's voice was just above a whisper. "Figured there was no way you'd be able to sleep. Not with your drive."

Narihisago shifted, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye he noted Fukuda in a similar posture on his own cot.

"Sooooo, what's on your mind?" That lazy damn drawl of Fukuda's echoed through the hall spanning between them. "I mean, I know it's the dives. It has to be about the dives."

It took a deep breath to find his own voice. "Yeah, that's kind of a given. I've never slept well in the midst of a case, not even … before."

Fukuda chuckled. "Man, are you ever going to learn to lighten up?"

"There is a murder. People are dying."

"Yeah, but since when has trying to force an answer brought on a timely solution?"

Narihisago grunted.

"They come when the mind is quiet." With one long finger Fukuda tapped the hole in the middle of the scarred side of this face.

Leaning up on one elbow, Narihisago fixed him with a searching glare. "You got the same feeling I did inside that well."

Fukuda cracked a subtle grin. "Oh, this is the mind of a murderer alright. Not just a melodramatic yearning to end it all."

"That's just it, why is it manifesting into self-destruction?"

"I dunno, that motive's your territory."

"Not even close to amusing."

Fukuda crossed one leg over the other, bouncing his foot up and down rhythmically. "Just telling it like it is, Narihisago. You may not embrace what you are capable of, but you understand how to twist others and motivate them into a rather final choice. So, do what you're good at—analyze it."

His brow furrowed. "What do you think I am trying to do?"

"I know what you're trying, and why it isn't working. Close your eyes, still your mind, and let your subconscious dissect the information."

"You're being a smug asshole, acting like you know the answer."

Fukuda sat up slowly, his eyes stared into space before he shook his head. "Honestly, this one boggles any form of logic. I've stood at the brink, I've taken the plunge. But you saw my id well, right? Was it anything like this?"

Drifting down onto his back, Narihisago narrowed his eyes. No, it wasn't. That well's world was fractured, populated by fractured people who saw it all as whole. Fukuda's original drive had been to end his suffering—intending to end his life. It morphed into a will to fix others, as his accident had fixed him. Only a thread of suicide. This current id well …

"You're not relaxing."

"Tch!" Narihisago flopped onto his side, facing the wall. He shut his eyes and forced himself to ignore the whoosh of the air filtration, the nasal breathing of his neighbor across the corridor, the sensation of the cot springs pushing up against his body, the constriction of the support around his still healing ankle … all the little irritations slipped away.

One. By. One.

Until he drifted.

No—he was floating on his back. Shifting an arm he felt the current of a fluid beneath. He opened his eyes.

A bright blue sky dappled with clouds stretched out overhead. He knew this place, even before he heard the voice.

"Akihito." Kiki smiled down on him, her long dark hair silken against his bare arms.

Then, he knew, he wasn't Sakaido … the brilliant detective always wore that long-sleeved trench coat. Raising his right arm he glimpsed the white bracelet. Yes … the illusions stripped away, this was who he was. Akihito Narihisago. Husband. Father. Ex-cop. Murderer … monster.

Kiki brushed a finger along his cheek, tenderly she lifted her hand and studied the moisture. "Monsters don't cry."

His breath caught in his chest at her words. Slowly he sat up in the ankle deep endless water, painted in the hues of an endless sunset … or was it a sunrise? They could look identical. It would be like him now to see something at its conclusion rather than its beginning.

"Akihito, you are no more a monster than I." She wedged her fingers between his and squeezed. "I brought you here because … you're turbulent."

Dammit, her too? "Kiki, it's been a rough case."

She nodded and raked the fingers of her other hand through her hair. "I know."

"How foolish of me, of course you do." Heat rose on his cheeks. "I just can't sort out this one."

"You will. Or rather, all three of you will."

"How can you be so certain?"

She giggled. "Because you're the brilliant detectives."

"Well," his shoulders sank as he gazed at his prison bracelet, "you summoned the wrong mind. You want Sakaido's. He's the brilliant one … not me."

"One day you will realize … " Kiki's voice faded as she looked away. "Before you ask, no I don't know the solution. It's all muddled, almost numb."

"Numb … huh … " he pressed a finger to his brow. "Now that I think about it, that's something missing from the well. While there was a breeze in it, there was no temperature to it. That's unusual. A real difference from many of the others. Everything matters in these worlds comprised of the subconscious."

She leaned into him gazing up into his eyes, the warmth of her bare arm pressed against his, contact. But he was too distracted to dwell on the rare sensations of someone seeking a connection with him.

Like Fukuda's well—it's not just that which is present, missing pieces also bear relevance. Inside the well they were generally safe, aside from plummeting from the heights. The threat of death came from engaging in the strains of music. Multiple threads comprised of different instruments that lead to the same end. Suicide. Why?

"The path is not straight." Kiki released his arm and bent down. Her finger touched the surface of the water and sent out ripples. She shifted the position and sent out another. The circles radiated out, intersecting one another.

Pi ran through his thoughts. He had to force himself to shelve that, this was not his well. The answer wasn't in mathematics, nor some obscure time keeping method. It was something else.

She lifted her hand and droplets plunked down, one after the other. Three circles radiated out, crossing paths.

"Three … " Akihito mused, "why did it require three of us? Or is that just Fukuda expressing his will because of his obsession with three?"

~ID~

Momoki stood in the doorway of the cockpit chamber, one eyebrow raised. "You're serious about this? You think this will help the case."

Narihisago sat on the edge of the cockpit seat. The other two were empty. "I want to test a theory that occurred to me the other night."

"Just so you know, we have an update on the well. Matsuoka came across another cognition particle site the other night."

Even from across the room, Narihisago's cringe was visible. "Dammit, I knew a break was a bad idea. So the murderer is still active."

"Appears so. The scene was not even an hour old when he found the victim. Turns out it's a thirty-four-year-old male. Music instructor at Tokyo Music Academy. No criminal record. Habutae is running his files and should have them soon. Thus far, no obvious similarities with the other victims."

"Typical." Narihisago settled back. "Not like I'll remember the details in the id well this time."

"That's why I questioned this request the moment Soma relayed your message to me this morning. What's driving your suspicion?"

Narihisago offered him his usual weary smile. "Fukuda's triple obsession."

"Huh?"

"I want to make certain he's not altering the well conditions."

"That would be a first."

Narihisago chuckled. "Everything has a first at some point. Let's give it a shot. If Sakaido gets nowhere, it proves our reliance on Fukuda for this one."

"Alright." Momoki turned to leave. "Standby for insertion."

Up at the Wellside-proper Momoki eyed the others at their stations. All stood at the ready. He flicked the speaker to the cockpit chamber on. "Test run with just one brilliant detective. Insert Sakaido." He murmured, "hope you're right about this."

A few moments passed before Togo spoke. "Sakaido is awake. Receiving data stream."