The date was early morning on March 18, 1993, a Thursday; the place was Daiji Matsudaira's humble apartment within the Oakwood Century Tower of Shibuya...
Daiji slathered shaving cream all over his growing stubble as he blinked away the sleepiness of his rheumy eyes in front of the bathroom mirror.
He had the same nightmare again of his deadly meeting with the Kanji Killer... or rather, the One-Eight-Ten Killer... and the dying words of his beloved wife, but that wasn't unusual.
The whir of the electric razor drowned out his thoughts, but not the dying echoes of the long-deceased Itsumi Matsudaira. He gulped as bits of red spots appeared on his neck. He should buy a new blade for his shaver.
His eyes traveled across his reflection's chest, the combined characters for one, eight, and ten... also known as the kanji "Hei"... permanently emblazoned over his torso, his own scarlet letter of sorts that he could never erase. It burned even hotter nowadays, like a gaping wound, which he took as a good sign. That way, he'd never forget what happened that fateful night.
He brushed his teeth, the scraping sound reminding him of Itsumi's bloody fingers over the broken windshield, scratching at him to save her while he remained pinned under the weight of their crumpled car.
The widower went about his morning rituals... showering, flossing, brushing, and dressing for work... without much incident, save of course for the fading cries of Itsumi at the back of his head, the vision of blood sprayed across twisted metal and crushed glass, his wife gasping her last breaths, the water of his shower unable to clean out the smell of her blood, his gums aching with the taste of rust, his floss dyed red as well...
His tired, crimson eyes stung him again. He was probably paying for his one hour of fragmented sleep. He couldn't help it; his solving of yesterday's case provided him the lead he needed to... make things right.
Thankfully, by the time he groomed his sharp-banged hair and picked up yesterday's folder-full of paperwork for the Quintuplet Murder Case, the screams had only become whispers in the background. They never altogether disappeared at the back of his mind though, but that was more his doing and desire than anything else. He didn't want to forget... not that he could. To move on, there was only one thing he could do.
He went to the dining table to get a piece of coffee and a cup of toast. Drinking the toast and biting through the cup proved difficult.
He reorganized his thoughts while simultaneously rearranging the sets of CDs that Itsumi used to own in alphabetical order before his sister-in-law, Likka Ikumi, began taking them off the shelf and returning them at random slots.
"So you had another all-nighter," presumed Likka as she rubbed her eyes and straightened his tie, her braid of hair impossibly long and her cow-spotted pajamas worsening Daiji's headache as though it were an optical illusion. Nevertheless, he appreciated the anchor of "normalcy" that the last remnant he had of his late wife provided.
Likka's lips moved inwards as she licked them from inside her mouth; a mannerism Daiji supposed was done by all female members of the Ikumi clan.
"Are you having a busy day at work, Uncle Jiji?"
"Good morning, Likka-san. Uh, yes. Yes, it's been busy. Please don't call me that name." Other than her strange, long braid that would make Rapunzel proud and her equally bizarre taste in attire, Likka had the same eyes, face shape, and hair color of the glasses-wearing Itsumi.
They were both late-bloomers too, so he looked forward to seeing Likka blossom as well (of course, he had enough self-preservation instincts to never tell either of them that). He patted her head and declined her offer of miso soup and rice with nori for breakfast.
"I have to go."
Likka pouted as she preened her ruffled hair and stuck her tongue out at her brother-in-law. "You're a ray of sunshine as usual."
Daiji raised an eyebrow as he blinked at Likka several times. "Sarcasm?" he queried while he remembered one time when he was almost convinced by Itsumi that she was a lesbian because of his failure to read her constant use of cutting remarks and ironical taunts... or, as he interpreted it, lying to make herself look good, which was also an observation that Itsumi replied to sarcastically as well.
"You think?" Likka began poking at Daiji's stone-faced visage and stretching his mouth to all sorts different proportions.
"Unless of course you're actually deluded enough to believe that you're a ray of sunshine, in which case you might as well get a fresh new collection of medications. A wall has more emotional depth than you. Or, alternately, you may believe that the one emotion you're so good at expressing is a catch-all one that can mean, 'ray of sunshine'. Either way, you need to get your pretty little head checked."
Had Itsumi been there, she would've retorted, "Likka, are you drunk? You're a minor. Stop acting drunk even when you're not drunk, you're freaking people out." With that said, Daiji's mouth moved a millimeter down after he was reminded of how unlike Itsumi and Likka were in terms of responses. "It was a joke."
"You're kidding. I mean, you're kidding about kidding! You don't know how to make a joke! Robots don't make jokes! Don't give me that flat, expressionless look of smugness, mister!"
Daiji considered Likka's words again. "Sarcasm?"
"...I don't want to play this game anymore." For some reason, even though she was a minor, Likka had the urge to down a mug of beer right about then.
At any rate, the two of them lighted pieces of incense and prayed in front of the altar bearing the cremated remains and the old, smiling photograph of the late Itsumi.
"Um, Uncle Jiji?" Likka ventured after they finished their daily prayer for their deceased loved one.
"Yes, Itsuka?"
Likka puffed her cheeks up and reddened like a parade balloon version of herself after hearing that amalgamation of her name and her sister's name while Daiji's thin mouth quirked upward by about a millimeter or so.
"Don't try to make jokes. Just... Don't even try." Likka bit her lip while her head fidgeted around like a tense squirrel would. "Anyway, about Tsuki-chan... I went to her apartment yesterday to check on her..."
"You should stop stalking that poor girl," Daiji advised his sister-in-law while remembering the first time he met Natsuki Shinkai. They were debating about a logic puzzle Likka found on a magazine... not the answer, which they figured out immediately, but the method by which they came up with the answer.
Likka waved him off, which woke Daiji up from his temporary respite. "Anyway, she wasn't there."
Daiji shrugged. "I don't see why you're so worried. Doesn't she regularly patrol the streets of Shinjuku, looking for information about the Kanji Killer all the while?"
When he first heard about the half-Chinese immigrant's nocturnal habits, he chalked it up as a teenaged tomboy's flights of fancy from reading too many boy's comic books.
But then he saw how she handled herself against several thugs from the infamous Shinjuku Triad Society using her cane when their paths crossed during a criminal investigation of another Kanji Killer victim. 'It was the first time I saw a cane used like that.'
With a harrumph, the braid-haired girl clarified, "Usually, by that time, her investigations within Kabukicho would be over."
Daiji raised an eyebrow at how concerned Likka was regarding Natsuki's "disappearance" when she should instead be bothered by why she knew so much about her classmate's daily routine instead.
"I'm worried. I have a bad feeling about this. She didn't come home all night yesterday."
"Wait. You waited for Natsuki-kun all night long outside her apartment?" Daiji asked, holding the rest of his questions at bay for risk of learning too much information about her sister-in-law's relationship with Natsuki.
She rolled her eyes. "I have a key."
"I still don't understand why she gave you one." He shook his head, his lips and the lids of his eyes as straight and flat as a ruler.
She pouted. "It's a duplicate." And she left it at that.
Daiji straightened his tie and had his body face towards the door as he put on his coat. He afterwards tightened his mouth and glanced back at Likka before she could deliver her protest. "Look. You and I know that Natsuki-kun is one of the most responsible fourteen year olds we ever met."
He tried touching her shoulder as a sign of reassurance the way Itsumi used to do to him, but his late wife's sister merely shrugged his hand off and looked away.
He continued. "Judging by her past habits, Natsuki-kun probably got a big break in the Kanji Killer case. Even if she ends up absent today in your class, it shouldn't be a cause of alarm because she's done this before. To tell you the truth, I myself have a big break on the case too, so I better get going lest she cracks the case before I do. Now if you'll excuse me..."
At that point, Likka snapped. "Oh man, everything's just a logic puzzle to you, isn't it?" she exclaimed just short of tearing her hair out.
"Kanji Killer this, One-Eight-Ten Killer that! You've become obsessed with that man! Have you really forgotten the rest of the world? Are you satisfied living within that plastic bubble of yours? My only real friend in school is missing, and you were still able to somehow shoehorn that damn murderer into the conversation! What, aren't all those newspaper clippings and files you use as wallpaper in your room not enough?"
Instead of looking at Likka's sharp glare, Daiji's blue eyes gazed straight at the altar they prayed to earlier. "You know why."
"Don't you dare pull that card on me, mister; I haven't forgotten about her either." Likka sniffled, her eyes red from either rage or sadness... Daiji honestly couldn't tell. Probably both.
"Can you please for one minute steer your attention away from that goddamn sociopath serial killer and try to at least pretend to care about the people who are still in your life, Uncle Jiji?"
"Actually, a sociopath isn't as well adjusted to society compared to a psychopath, who has an outer personality he uses to charm people and lull them into a false sense of security. Judging by how hard it is to find the Kanji Killer, he's most likely a psychopath."
Likka growled, turned, and raised her hands up before storming back into her room. "AARRGH! You're impossible! Are you even human? Do you even feel anything?"
"...I'm sorry. I'm not here to win a debate against you. But unless you have something more than 'female intuition'," Daiji made it a point to emphasize the quotation marks with his fingers, "on hand to prove that Natsuki-kun is in some sort of peril, I'm going to presume that you're overreacting. Again. She can take care of herself, Likka-san."
His only response from Likka was a slammed door to his face. He drummed his fingers over his chin. "That could've gone better."
After a minute of staring at the shuddering door, he double-checked himself to make sure that his file on the Shimamura rape-slay case was still with him. He then exited his apartment while matter-of-factly reminding the fuming girl that he lived with to lock up after him.
Youtou Shinnoken
A Rurouni Kenshin/Yuyu Hakusho Crossover Fan Fiction by Chester Castañeda
Original Concept by Chad Yang
Well, there you have it; a more in-depth look into Daiji Matsudaira's back story.
Disclaimer: Yuyu Hakusho is the rightful property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV, and St. Pierrot. Rurouni Kenshin is the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallup, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted material that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.
Chapter 27: Tactics (Part 2)
About a year ago, in 1992; Daiji couldn't remember the exact date, but it was around the time when the incident where the United States President George Bush vomited and fainted during a banquet hosted by Prime Minister Kiichi Miyazawa was being parodied mercilessly by local comedy shows...
"I'd like you to meet the new transfer student in my class, Uncle Jiji! Her name is Shinkai Natsuki. Tsuki-chan has been dying to meet you... I meant that figuratively, of course, don't you dare nitpick that statement," the pastel-and-denim-clad Likka cautioned Daiji while the pageboy-haired girl beside her bowed at him.
He nodded back before returning to the magazine he was reading. "Oh, and she's half-Chinese too. Don't let the lack of a cheongsam fool you."
The modestly (in a comparative sense) attired Natsuki looked at Likka as though the girl with the bombastic outfit was doing a dance number for a chewing gum commercial with a humanoid dog.
"Please don't tell me that you actually think that all Chinese women wear cheongsams," Natsuki pleaded.
Likka tilted her head to the side. "You don't?"
"Do all Japanese women wear kimonos?" Natsuki countered.
"Duh. Of course they don't! You should know that, you're supposed to be half-Japanese!" Likka answered in a huff while Daiji covered his face with the magazine he was reading in reaction to the strange conversation.
"...What?"
Natsuki didn't even bother to grunt or groan. Instead, she turned to face Daiji while remarking, "I heard you're the leading expert and investigator concerning the Kanji Killer, Daiji-sempai."
Daiji flipped a page of his magazine at the mention of 'sempai'. "Yes and no. I consider myself an expert, but I'm not necessarily the expert on the subject. I'm not the lead investigator of that cold case either."
"It's only been four years since the first reported Kanji Killer killings took place. It's hardly an unsolved mystery. Besides, I know for a fact that you have vested interest in bringing to justice the Kanji Killer," Natsuki said, which prompted Daiji to shift his eyes towards her and a frantically headshaking Likka.
"I didn't tell her anything about us or Oneechan! Honest! I only met her a few weeks ago, and that's too personal for me to share!" Likka protested.
Natsuki said, "She's telling the truth. Then again, anyone with a passing interest in the Kanji Killer knows who you are, Matsudaira Daiji-sempai."
Daiji put down his magazine, pushed his glasses over the bridge of his nose, and examined Likka's new friend from head to toe.
"Bravo. You've done your research. I have to warn you though, like with the Zodiac Killer, lots of armchair detectives present all sorts of conspiracy theories concerning the Kanji Killer. Are you one of those people?"
Natsuki didn't even miss a beat. "Nope."
"Then tell me something the public doesn't know about the Kanji Killer."
"Certain media outlets had him named the Kanji Killer because they erroneously thought he marked his victims with the character for 'Hon'. He instead marks them with the kanji for one, eight, and ten, so that's why among professional Kanji Killer investigators, they call him the One-Eight-Ten Killer."
Daiji's mouth quirked upward. "And why is it so hard to catch the One-Eight-Ten Killer?"
"Because he has a lot of copycats who employ the same methods as he does. Several of them are easy enough to identify as separate cases wherein the Kanji Killer was used as a scapegoat for the sake of hiding the identities of the real culprits. However, there are other cases... or at least one other person... who, upon forensic investigation, matches the modus operandi of the serial killer to a 't' save for one important detail..."
To Natsuki's surprise, Daiji finished her sentence for her, chorusing the last few words she said. "...This Kanji Killer is an even better Kanji Killer than the one the police are looking for: A master assassin with the purest swordsmanship technique."
To the half-Chinese girl's chagrin, the detective began to applaud her. "Are you mocking me, Mister Matsudaira?"
"No. Not at all. I have one last request, though. I found a simple brainteaser at the last page of this magazine I'm reading. Help me answer it." Detective Daiji cleared his throat. "There was a couple racing through the streets inside their car..."
Likka's shaky eyes darted back and forth Natsuki and Daiji before it settled on her brother-in-law. She was about to say something, her lips mouthing the name of someone intimately familiar to the both of them when he cut her off by simply staring into her eyes then quickly focusing his attention back to the half-Chinese transfer student.
"They halted the car, and the husband immediately got out, still in a rush. By the time he came back to the car, his wife was dead and there was someone inside with her that he'd never seen before. The car wasn't broken into at all. Now tell me what happened."
Natsuki took all of three seconds to answer, "The wife was pregnant and she died of childbirth." To her surprise, Daiji mouthed the same answer as she did. The detective then asked, "Now please explain: How did you come up with your solution?"
Meanwhile, a speechless Likka slumped back to the wall and stared at her sister's picture while shaking her head; she felt like she fell for one of those double-entendre jokes where a couple was supposedly having sex but was actually doing something else.
Natsuki shrugged. "Well, the simplest answer usually is the best answer. If the wife and her husband are in a rush, then they must've had an emergency. Having a baby is an emergency. Therefore, the wife and husband are in a rush because they're having a baby. Also, the wife ended up dying with a stranger even though the car is locked.
"A baby is a stranger even to its parents up until it's born. Therefore, the wife ended up dying while giving birth to her baby inside a locked car. The presence of the baby also explains why the father was in such a rush; he probably left his car to get a physician and a wheelchair for his pregnant wife."
Likka gulped and rubbed her eyes; the coincidental riddle hit too close to home. She then frowned upon seeing the impassive demeanor of her brother-in-law.
Nevertheless, Natsuki's classmate couldn't help but query, "It wasn't a robber or somebody out to get them that caused them to do what they did? I mean, that answers why they were in such a rush, and the husband could've panicked and called the cops, but by the time he got back, the killer had already killed his wife."
"No," Natsuki replied. "If they were robbed, it would beg the question why the husband left her side even though he was so concerned for her safety. That theory leaves too many holes in the story. Since this is a brainteaser asking for one particular answer concerning the entire premise, a pregnant woman and her worried spouse seemed like the most logical choice."
"First off, you're using the term, 'beg the question' wrong. Secondly, while your solution is technically correct, your deduction leaves much to be desired. I'm guessing it's either a Chinese thing how you solved that problem or something was lost in translation when you first heard the brainteaser," Daiji assessed as he closed the magazine, put it on the nearby coffee table, and crossed his arms.
"Excuse me? My mother taught me how to speak in Japanese and Mandarin Chinese, so I'm fluent in both languages!" Natsuki declared with flaring nostrils and tightening fists, her Japanese accent partially slipping back to Chinese in the middle of that statement, much to her chagrin. "What was wrong in my deduction anyway?"
"You presume too much. Instead of looking at the facts, you jumped to conclusions and theorized your way out of it. A policeman would look at the facts and evidence before making his assessment instead of turning it into a Sherlock Holmes guessing game."
"There's nothing wrong with theorizing as long as it remains consistent with the facts! If the theory isn't consistent, then just make another theory. Trial and error is a completely reasonable way to go about solving puzzles!" Natsuki protested. "Besides, how would you have solved it, Mister Master Detective?"
While Likka tried saying "Mister Master Detective" five times fast, Daiji elucidated, "I would've noted that they were a couple, they were in a rush inside a moving vehicle, and the husband ended up with a stranger inside the car and his dead wife after leaving her from an unspecified reason.
"Childbirth is a common emergency among couples, and it can also lead to the death of the mother if not taken care of properly. The conclusion that childbirth caused the entire situation to unfold should root from the evidence you've gathered. Before guessing the answer, you should first stick to the objective observations and then make a theory based on the pattern presented by the facts."
The crooked smile Natsuki sported didn't quite reach her blazing eyes, her eyebrows raised way up upon hearing Daiji's conclusion.
"I can't believe this. You're nitpicking! We came up with the same answer, and you're saying that my logic doesn't make any sense! What's more, you're using inductive reasoning to come up with your conclusion, not deductive reasoning! What kind of a detective are you? Induction suffers from generalizations and can lead to logical fallacies!"
Just before the shouting match started, Likka asked, "So tell me, nerds. Riddle me this. I always lie. Am I telling the truth or am I lying?"
Both Natsuki and Daiji gave her dirty looks (or whatever constituted as a dirty look for Daiji). "Hahaha. I read that from another book. That silly little paradox always pisses the both of you off every time I bring it up. In any case, I told you so. I told you that you two eggheads will get along famously."
Were Daiji able to live for four more years... around 1997, to be exact... he'd probably bear witness to another Japanese Zodiac Killer copycat (and minor) known as Seito Sakakibara (also known as Onibara and Boy A because Japanese law had a tendency to protect the identities of its criminal minors). By that time, he could say, "Before there was Sakakibara Seito, there was the Kanji Killer."
By being able to tell the difference between the two Kanji Killers who were considered by most of the police to be one and the same despite the subtle disparity between their "random" murders, Daiji was able to pinpoint the movements of the Kanji Killer he was actually after: The nodachi-wielding, couple-killing One-Eight-Ten Killer.
To him, the confusion between the two separate serial killers was the same as the general public's tendency to confuse the Red Queen with the Queen of Hearts in Lewis Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland" book series... the more popular depiction tended to win out in the end.
Once Daiji Matsudaira met up with the mysterious Natsuki Shinkai, his theories were further confirmed, particularly by her original research (which, although he trusted, he always took with a grain of salt) concerning the One-Eight-Ten Killer's psychological profile.
Just as they came up with the same conclusion in regards to the Kanji Killer's separate identities and the brainteaser concerning a rushing couple, they also came up with the same conclusion regarding who the Kanji Killer really was separately.
"He's like Charles Manson. He's a nobody. A tramp, a bum, a boxcar, and a jug of wine. Also, a straight razor when you get too close to him," said Natsuki, quoting Manson's infamous KALX Radio interview in Vacaville.
"He's intelligent, but he isn't wise. He's an emptied-out husk of a man that can be filled in with anything you want. He thinks himself as society's mirror, free of hypocrisy, for all he's doing is reflecting the hypocrisies of everyone else. A hypocrite's hypocrite; a copycat's copycat."
For the longest time, police had been comparing the Kanji Killer with the Zodiac Killer in terms of their modus operandi, their mocking disdain for authority, and their tendency to leave letters and clues to give their pursuers a 'sporting chance' at catching them; upon further research, Daiji discovered that their resemblance was more than just skin deep.
Once all the "true" (probably original) Kanji Killer's killings were removed from the equation, it was plain to see that it was the One-Eight-Ten Killer who emulated... no, outright plagiarized (implying of course that murder methods were intellectual property)... the Zodiac Killer in every little way, or at the very least did so during 1988 to 1989 (possibly 1986 to 1990).
Ever since the One-Eight-Ten Killer murdered Daiji's wife and unborn son or daughter, the detective pored over stacks and stacks of everything remotely related to him, from newspaper clippings to VHS recordings to news stories surrounding what the international media dubbed as Japan's own Zodiac Killer. In fact, it was the international coverage of news media like CNN and BBC that led him to the Zodiac Killer connection.
Even the name "Kanji Killer" (or as Daiji and other Japanese people pronounced it, "Kanji Kira") was derived from a CNN news report back in 1989 concerning the detective's own tragic confrontation with the serial murderer. The report started with, "After twenty years, a new Zodiac Killer has emerged in the Far East."
At the time, the only confirmed killings were Daiji's wife and Sumida's Mitsuko Nai (a murder that was merely attributed to the Kanji Killer, but was never really proven as his handiwork), so that ironic news media byline was nothing more than flavor text for many who weren't "in the know". Furthermore, the serial killings of the other Kanji Killer and countless copycats further muddled the details behind the One-Eight-Ten Killer's activities.
Back to the relative present; on March 24, 1993...
"You can't use the real Kanji Killer's techniques against me any longer," Daiji warned while sheathing his sword after another furious exchange. "Don't even bother using the Nikaido Heiho if you can't even do a proper Shin no Ippo."
The ripped and buff Xinhai remained standing, but his suit had long ago been torn to shreds by the quick-draw style that Daiji employed with his own impossibly long nodachi. His entire office looked as though everything went through a paper shredder that could also cut through other materials like wood, plaster, leather, plastics, and concrete, which created a curious amalgamation of debris and confetti everywhere.
"Interesting. If I heard those words from someone else, I'd say they were just being full of themselves. Hearing that from you and your droning voice, it seems to me like you're only stating the obvious!"
Xinhai took a wild swing at Daiji, creating a pattern of deep, crisscrossing ruts on the floor. However, his nodachi... as long as its reach was... hit nothing but air, the detective's fluid movement and stinging counterstrikes allowing him to evade harm while adding additional scars in the Chinese man's bulky person.
"So you already know about the Nikaido Heiho technique, huh? Did you research that or did you finally emerge out of your chrysalis and regained the memories of your true self? I wonder..."
Xinhai's arm muscles tensed around his unsheathed longsword, and Daiji flinched. Taking advantage of the police detective's reaction to his feint, the Triad boss delivered a back-pass strike.
His footsteps stuttering and his eyes widening into saucers, Daiji unsheathed his sword in the nick of time to block the blindsiding, hand-switching move with what appeared to be a short sword and a sheath that looked altogether too long to house it; a kodachi versus a nodachi.
The blood-covered detective flinched as, for the first time since he stepped into that building, his own blood was spilled, the vacuum created by Xinhai's blade finally reaching him.
"Whether or not my past self has awakened doesn't matter. I am who I am. What matters is that my It-chan can at last rest in peace with the knowledge that her killer had been killed."
"Getting ahead of yourself, are we?"
Despite the dire straits he was currently in, a glint of methodical, ice-blue mercilessness illuminated Daiji's irises and influenced his words.
"With this shadowy strength from a hundred years ago, I'll make sure to destroy all evil, including you."
"You have the wrong memories, Detective. That's somebody else's line."
Xinhai chuckled as Daiji pushed his nodachi away and danced across the wrecked office like an undulating river made out of his own afterimages.
"You're not him. Otherwise, you probably wouldn't give a damn about me and your obsession with avenging your wife's death. What exactly is 'evil' to you? Me? My actions? People overuse that word as if it's the end-all, be-all explanation for the cruelties of human nature; a word used to mask the uncomfortable truth about humanity."
With a fanged grin, the giant screamed, "MATOI IZUNA!" as he swung his blade towards the ground repeatedly and from every conceivable and available angle, his vacuum slices even scaling the walls in front of him and the ceiling above him, the general area where his supposed office was located widening considerably as he literally smashed the walls down.
The floor buckled as wave after wave of sharp air currents cut the office up, destroying its pillars and making the ceiling where the forty-fifth floor and the many other floors above it lay ominously creak because of Xinhai's efforts to turn Detective-Investigator Matsudaira into human cold cuts.
"Evil is a word devised by simpletons and idiots to disguise how ugly and disgusting humanity can be. It's a catch-all phrase used to explain away horrible acts like the holocaust or the dropping of the atomic bombs: It's because people are 'evil'."
Daiji ignored Xinhai's rants, concentrating instead on dodging the vacuum slices that, upon closer inspection, relied on a solid medium to travel through. As long as he utilized his liquid movement to pass through the land-based vacuum cutter technique... at times leaping in midair to avoid the invisible, shark-fin-like projectiles... he remained safe from harm.
"It doesn't matter how strong you are if you can't hit me."
"Aren't you curious, Detective? Don't you want to know what drives people to commit these unconscionable crimes against 'humanity'? As a detective, you should have some degree of professional curiosity in regards to these seeming simultaneous instances of temporary insanity. IZUNA!"
With speed that belied his mass, Xinhai barreled over the gliding Daiji with the implacable momentum of a freight train and forced his victim to cross swords with a broad swing of his nodachi that turned most everything it touched into dust save for the detective's vibrating kodachi.
Daiji's knees buckled, but he held his ground and pushed the behemoth back by moving in close and controlling the attacking range. Xinhai had no choice but to back away in order to gain enough leverage to swing his mighty blade. However, Daiji kept tailing him and mixing things up with some hand-to-hand combat to ensure that the fight remained in close quarters.
"I've long ago stopped asking myself why you killed It-chan and my unborn child. All that matters to me now is how and when I'm going to kill you. KAITEN KENBU!"
"Then you're no worse than any other human in this world; blind to all his faults and hypocrisies. TOBI IZUNA!"
Back to the relative present, while Kenshin, Botan, Kaoru, Sanosuke, and Yahiko were in the middle of preparing to jump into the Spirit World...
"Xinhai Feng is Raijuta Isurugi? You're kidding!" Sanosuke exclaimed after Yahiko confirmed his earlier suspicions to Kenshin. "They barely look like each other, and he's even the wrong nationality! Aside from being a know-it-all asshole with the muscles of a workhorse, that Chinese mafia boss has nothing in common with Shoulder Feathers!"
"Sano, when it comes to reincarnation, you don't have to look like your past self," Yahiko explained with a snort. "Seriously, how did you end up in Tengoku without knowing this stuff? According to both Buddhism and Hinduism, you can get reincarnated as a banana slug if you screw up your life badly enough. There's no permanent consciousness that moves from life to life."
"For some reason, Raijuta managed to not only get reincarnated in this present time, but he also retained his past memories back when he and I dueled in the Meiji Era," Kenshin added as he remembered the words he told Raijuta. Isurugi's present self, Xinhai, completely misinterpreted them, employing them as his dubious slogan for his macabre actions.
"Meanwhile, the Hiryu Sen clued me in that Kenshin figured out who this Chojin imposter is; the only time we've seen him use that technique was on that all-bark, no-bite loser anyway. That, coupled with the fact that Raijuta's little speech about killing was almost a word-for-word quote of the same speech Kenshin gave to him after handing him his ass made me figure things out in a jiffy," Yahiko further clarified.
Sano rubbed his nose, let out an abrupt exhale, and harrumphed. "It's just our luck that Shoulder Feathers didn't end up a dung beetle or a cockroach when he got reincarnated. Raijuta sucked as an opponent, and now he's suddenly Mister Class-S Superman? What a load of bullshit." He scratched his brush-like hair. "Does that mean that all his posturing and jaki flames were...?"
"...Nothing more than him copying the techniques and demeanor of his cohorts. I remember Jine mention something about a Shin Ju and a Dai Shin Kan. I have a feeling they're the two groups that make up a major part of the Chojin's undead army," Kenshin further elaborated while realizing then and there that his awakening in the modern world wasn't a coincidence after all.
"Whoa, hold on. Jine? As in Kurogasa? That fence-toothed assassin that stabbed my forearm with a broken sword exists in this time period, and you only remembered to tell us that important piece of information now?" Sano queried while shaking an "Oro?"-exclaiming Kenshin like a rag doll.
"We can't go back to the Spirit World just yet," Botan told the quarrelling trio ("Hey! I'm not quarrelling with nobody!" came Yahiko's double-negative, close-captioned objection to the narrative prose) as she ceased finding a suitable spot to hide their bodies while their astral projections traveled to the land of the dead.
"Why is that, um... Kaoru? Botan? Which personality are you now?" Yahiko asked, and both Sanosuke and Kenshin halted their little horseplay and winced at the oar swing to the skull that never came.
"I'm Botan," Botan answered flatly, and judging by her no-nonsense response involving little to no slapstick whatsoever, she was probably telling the truth.
"The reason why we can't go yet is because I received two A-minus blips on the spirit energy detector, and one of them quickly turned into a Class-A blip just now. This Raijuta fellow or any of the Chojin's minions may still be within the Shinjuku area, and we have the chance to take him out right now. For Koenma-sama's sake."
The date was late morning on March 18, 1993, a Thursday; at the office of Inspector Masaya Taniguchi inside the Shinjuku Police Station...
"Are you absolutely sure? You know where the Kanji Killer is?" Inspector Taniguchi asked. "We really can't move until we're absolutely certain that this suspect you have in mind is the real Kanji Killer. I do hope that you aren't being blinded by your emotions in regards to this case, Detective Matsudaira."
"I've done all that I can to not let my feelings hamper the progress of my investigation, Inspector," Daiji assured while handing out his latest reports on the elusive serial killer. Meanwhile, the business card (that appeared more like a credit card or a hotel key because it was made of plastic) provided to him by Houjo Shimamura remained in his back pocket.
"Trust me on this. We have him where we want him. If you want a witness to identify him, you're looking at him. However, I'll need backup to ensure the success of this mission. Here's what I've found out so far..."
Everyone back in the late eighties thought that the comparisons the media made between the One-Eight-Ten Killer and the Zodiac Killer were superficial at best, akin to comparing the both of them to the just-as-mysterious criminal known as Jack the Ripper.
Little did they know that these comparisons were a lot more on the nose than they thought. Thankfully, hindsight remained twenty-twenty, so as early as 1991, Daiji had enough puzzle pieces within his grasp to realize how similar the Zodiac Killer was to the One-Eight-Ten Killer (or how much of an understatement that sentence was).
To be more specific, had the One-Eight-Ten Killer copied the infamous Ed "I made a belt out of women's nipples" Gein's modus operandi too (and, judging by his copycat nature, he might as well have), he would've hunted down the Zodiac Killer and made a skin suit out of him in order to become him.
That was how obsessed the copycat murderer was with his predecessor. He might have even thought that he was the "New and Improved" Zodiac Killer of the Eighties and Nineties; Daiji wouldn't put it past him.
By eliminating the murders perpetrated by the "real" Kanji Killer (and in most of his killings, the presence of the "Hei" marking was the only proof the police had of his involvement because he was too much of a seasoned pro to leave behind other evidence or witnesses of his murders) and comparing the confirmed and suspected victims of the Zodiac Killer a good twenty years ago to the One-Eight-Ten victims exactly twenty years later, Daiji discovered some disturbing patterns and similarities.
First off, here were the confirmed victims of the One-Eight-Ten Killer. Sixteen-year-old Mitsuki Takiguchi and seventeen-year-old Junpei Saigo were sliced up and marked with the "Hei" kanji (popularly mistaken as the "Hon" kanji) on December 22, 1988 at the Asakusa District near Taito. Twenty-year-old Daiji Matsudaira and his wife, nineteen-year-old Itsumi Matsudaira, were assaulted at Taito in the Ueno district on July 5, 1989.
Mister Matsudaira survived and Missus Matsudaira was pronounced dead-on-arrival at a nearby hospital. Nineteen-year-old Yuji Nishihara and twenty-two-year-old Kumiko Sakuma were attacked on September 27, 1989 near the Ara River of the Adachi District. Nishihara died instantly while Sakuma died at a hospital because of her injuries on September 30, 1989. Finally, twenty-nine-year-old Nobuetsu Horisawa was mutilated on October 11, 1989 at Shibuya's Yoyogi Park.
Secondly, here were the Zodiac Killer's confirmed victims a good twenty years ago. Seventeen-year-old David Arthur Faraday and sixteen-year-old Betty Lou Jensen were shot and murdered on December 20, 1968 within the city limits of Benicia on Lake Herman Road. Nineteen-year-old Michael Renault Mageau and twenty-two-year-old Elizabeth Ferrin were assaulted at Vallejo's Blue Rock Springs Park.
Mageau survived and Ferrin was pronounced dead-on-arrival at a nearby hospital. Twenty-year-old Bryan Calvin Hartnell and twenty-two-year-old Cecelia Ann Shepard were attacked on September 27, 1969 at Napa County's Lake Berryessa. Hartnell survived the attack while Shepard died at a hospital because of her injuries on September 29, 1969. Finally, twenty-nine-year-old Paul Lee Stine was shot and murdered on October 11, 1969 at San Francisco's Presidio Heights neighborhood.
Even a cursory glance at the two sets of information yielded the same conclusion: From the dates of the murders to the ages of the victims, and even including the manner by which the murders were ultimately perpetrated, they were all similar. Daiji was harder pressed to find differences between the killings, truth be told.
Even though the Zodiac Killer preferred killing people "by fire, by knife, by gun, by rope" in contrast to the One-Eight-Ten Killer's similarly ripped-off use of a sword and a kenjutsu school that used kanji character brushstrokes as sword forms, the consequences of their actions were almost always the same; exactly the same, even.
There were few survivors of the confirmed attacks. Two of the women ended up at a hospital, and both died there. There were little to no motives found behind the crimes. Both the One-Eight-Ten Killer and the Zodiac Killer had the same number of confirmed and suspected victims.
Sure, there were more than a couple of differences between the two sets of known victims. Hartnell's analogue, Nishihara, didn't survive, and the Japanese teenager was a year younger to boot. Itsumi's counterpart, Ferrin, was much older and wasn't pregnant at the time of her murder. Shepard's foil, Sakuma, died of her injuries a day earlier. Daiji himself could vouch for the fact that he and his wife hadn't parked their car in order to lounge around when the attack against them occurred.
Nevertheless, all of these differences were issues beyond the One-Eight-Ten Killer's control; all the rest of the variables he had a choice in reflected a sinister obsession in following the footsteps of San Francisco's most notorious serial killer. Even the Copycat Zodiac Killer wasn't as meticulous in copying the modus operandi of the Zodiac.
Even the places wherein the One-Eight-Ten killings happened served as equivalents to the sites where the Zodiac Killer's serial murders occurred an ocean away. Hartnell and Shepard were killed near a large body of water, which was the same thing that happened to Nishihara and Sakuma. Daiji and his wife were attacked along a roadside, even though they didn't have their car parked at the time.
Most crucially (perhaps fatefully because of how similar each location was despite the crimes occurring in two separate countries), when the places were mapped out, both the Zodiac Killer and One-Eight-Ten Killer's movement from Point A to Point D followed the same arrow-like quadrilateral shape as well. Moreover, the dates of the attacks themselves disturbed Daiji quite a bit.
When CNN first covered this story as a side note of sorts because of other major current events happening in the world at the time (incidentally, on the same day that Itsumi died, the infamous Tiananmen Square massacre occurred on live television on July 4, 1989), there was mention that it was the twentieth death anniversary of Zodiac Killer victim Elizabeth Ferrin on that very same date barring time zone differences (her death anniversary was eventually celebrated sixteen hours later).
Daiji had already talked to his fellow survivor and suspected One-Eight-Ten Killer victim, Mamiko Suzuki, who served as the counterpart to Kathleen Johns. She noted that she had a feeling that the One-Eight-Ten Killer intentionally let her go; the serial killer was probably following a pattern established twenty years ago, Daiji reckoned.
Of course, Detective Matsudaira wasn't the first or last investigator to notice this pattern despite the red herring killings of the original Kanji Killer (to whom many an unsolved case since the late seventies was attributed).
Nonetheless, that important information remained a dead end anyway because by the time people figured out the One-Eight-Ten Killer's modus operandi, he'd run out of known Zodiac Killer victims to rip off, so to speak. He remained at large like his counterpart from twenty years ago because, then and now, the police couldn't do a damn thing about either murderer.
Critics of the "Zodiac Killer Plagiarism" theory were quick to note that overzealous, gung-ho investigators tended to jump to conclusions when it came to shoehorning connections between the Zodiac Killer cases and the Kanji Killer cases as a way to make sense of killings that were basically motiveless and senseless.
In addition, the premise relied too much on the unproven notion of a "second" Kanji Killer. Saying that the Kanji Killer and Zodiac Killer had a similar number of identified cases basically hinged upon a debatable theory and the Sharpshooter Fallacy wherein conditions were set only after the premise was created: In other words, metaphorically shooting the side of a barn full of holes before painting the target, so to speak.
Furthermore, the idea that the Kanji Killer was able to copy even the route and locations that the Zodiac took was "patently absurd" because of how geographically different Tokyo was to San Francisco. Any similarities between the two areas were strictly coincidental, and the Kanji Killer could've chosen better places to strike if he were really copying the Zodiac Killer's modus operandi so closely.
Critics further noted the fact that the distances between murder locations weren't the same between either set of serial murders, which proved that investigators and "armchair detectives" were forcing their "conspiracy theories" on the case using coincidences and circumstantial evidence.
Of course, despite detractors and because he witnessed the so-called modus operandi of the One-Eight-Ten Killer with his own eyes, Daiji continued following the theory of two Kanji Killers before having his most recent epiphany. What if the "coincidences" critics keep on harping about weren't coincidences at all?
Sure, the one-in-a-million chances of the One-Eight-Ten Killer recreating each and every last Zodiac crime in similar locations were serendipitous, to say the least, but if his blatant and unscrupulous stealing of the Zodiac Killer's modus operandi were to be believed, then he could be one of the most fastidious and painstakingly thorough criminals since Ted Bundy.
If Natsuki were to be believed, then the One-Eight-Ten Killer was nothing more than a copycat and a rip-off who hid himself by copying the identities and modus operandi of other, more successful criminals... the Zodiac Killer and the true Kanji Killer.
Daiji would even go a step beyond that theory; in order to hide his activities (and victims) after 1990, the One-Eight-Ten Killer took advantage of the growing trend of Kanji Killer copycats that popped up like suicide cults at the time and used them as his "forest" to hide his "trees". The One-Eight-Ten Killer's true modus operandi was copying modus operandi.
Even Daiji had to admit that his theory was a little "out there" because a serial killer would need the supernatural capabilities of a seemingly omniscient god in order to take advantage of his own copycats to hide himself from the long arm of the law and make the original killer he copied look like a copycat of his too.
Then again, what plan could be more brilliant than manipulating a copycat of yours to perpetrate a crime in your name then having the police absolve you of all wrongdoing because they believe your copycat merely "framed" you for "his" crime?
In a sense, the One-Eight-Ten Killer was like London's arch-criminal, Jonathan Wild, who was a beloved figure that pretended to catch thieves and their loot in order to get reward money and the trust of an entire nation, but was in fact the person who masterminded the thievery in the first place.
The fact that this was the third time he'd heard the name Chikyusei uttered whenever false Kanji Killer cases appeared prompted him to research this new lead of sorts. The appearance of this Earth Club Organization... a shady company reputed to be a "rich man's problem solver", which Houjo Shimamura was feverishly looking for around the time his trouble with Miki Kishida started... confirmed Daiji's suspicions.
The One-Eight-Ten Killer wasn't only free to do as he pleased at the moment; he had also been committing his crimes and fulfilling his need for victims and "slaves" by making his copycats serve as his scapegoats. Houjo might've been a clever teenager, but it was only through the help of the criminal mastermind known as the One-Eight-Ten Killer and (perhaps) the true Kanji Killer that he almost got away with raping and murdering Miss Kishida.
Later that night on March 18, 1993; beyond the Yasukuidori Avenue, at the seediest parts of Shinjuku's Kabukicho, which was also known as the "Sleepless Town"...
Armed with his Colt Python .357, a wiretap, pocket money, and a whole suitcase full of unmarked yen bills, the "dressed to the nines" Daiji Matsudaira strolled through the infamous (but relatively tame when compared to other red light districts) Kabukicho, the address listed on the card given to him by Houjo long ago memorized. The town's name was actually derived from a proposed but never-built Kabuki theater during wartime Japan. The theater was never made, but the name stuck nonetheless.
By the end of World War II, after being demolished by U.S. air raids, the former post station eventually became the center of the black market economy. Criminal elements from all walks of life began congregating there along with the prostitutes, hosts, hostesses, and brothel owners who merely wanted to earn an honest... albeit degenerate... living.
Inspector Taniguchi approved of the sting operation with the caveat that this was to be considered as a separate assignment from the Kanji Killer case. Despite all the time, effort, and research Daiji invested into his ultimate mission of sorts, he still lacked solid proof that the man who potentially masterminded several false Kanji Killer murder cases was also the One-Eight-Ten Killer they'd been looking for; he had covered his tracks that well, the bastard.
Regardless, they could still charge the man (or woman, for all they knew) for all the Kanji Killer copycat murder cases associated with the so-called Chikyusei, or at least keep him in their custody. Even though he wouldn't be charged for the unsolved serial murders he committed, he could still be incarcerated for the crimes he perpetrated afterwards, if the sting operation proved successful.
Daiji didn't know what to expect, save for a muscular man with wild black hair, narrow eyes without lids, and a scar on his naked back for the character "Hei". If Matsudaira were lucky, he'd be able to meet with the One-Eight-Ten Killer himself immediately, but when it came to criminal outfits like theirs, scapegoat representatives were the norm. The detective didn't care. He'd smoke him out if he had too.
He passed by restaurants, shops, love hotels, soaplands, nightclubs, hostess bars, host bars, and so forth, the milling lines of faceless humanity as blurry as the sex organs of the porn stars performing in censored, government-approved softcore pornography. Several times, he'd been solicited by the hard workers of this "entertainment" industry... of both genders, several of which were drag queens, in fact... but he politely declined every one of them as he soldiered on to the neon-lighted labyrinth.
Around every corner of the 36,000-square-meter enclave of commercialized hedonism gathered a small army of plainclothes policemen that swarmed the area as the minutes ticked by. His mouth quirked a bit as Officer Shigetaka Uye got a little carried away by his "undercover" identity, harassing several women customers exiting a nearby host club (he probably thought were streetwalkers) before Detective-Specialist Aiko Tsunemoto dragged him away by the ear with apologetic bows to the throng of females.
Meanwhile, Officer Takumi Hamada remained absent for that day. The inspector figured that his cold must've gotten worse. Speaking of the inspector, within the outer limits of the area waited Inspector Masaya Taniguchi inside a van full of wiretapping equipment. Everything was already set. The success of the operation all depended on Detective-Investigator Daiji Matsudaira now.
He went through an alleyway and came upon a nondescript entrance; it was comparatively nondescript because it featured the same colorful Japanese characters and bombastic lightshow advertising the promise of a good time that was found in the majority of nightclubs within the red light district. Daiji double-checked the address while the naked picture of a girl looking demurely over her shoulder stared at him.
"It looks like this is the place," he whispered for the benefit of his fellow officers that were listening through his wiretap. "'Kamurocho', huh? What an interesting name for a nightclub." He flashed his Earth Club plastic card to the man "sitting" guard outside the establishment in a lotus position.
"I am a representative of Chikyusei," the lithe, pony-tailed "bouncer" that looked too scrawny for the job introduced himself after a couple of minutes of silence. He had a scar over his face, sported a mane as green as freshly mowed grass, and wore a loose-fitting outfit. "I need to ask you a couple of questions before you can enter."
Daiji nodded once. "I understand. Go ahead."
"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" the scar-faced, green-haired man in baggy clothing asked.
"A riddle? Who is he, a comic book villain or something? Over," Inspector Taniguchi groused.
"Uh, is it because Edgar Allan Poe wrote on both of them?" Officer Uye suggested.
"No, wait! It's because it can produce a few notes, though they are very flat; and it is 'nevar' put with the wrong end in front! Over," Detective Tsunemoto answered in impeccable English, which meant several of the eavesdropping officers were barely able to understand what she said.
"It's because they both come with inky quills! Over," Inspector Taniguchi eventually joined in on the guessing game.
"You should do something more worthwhile than wasting your time asking answers for riddles without answers," Daiji paraphrased from memory Alice's response to the Mad Hatter's relatively world-famous riddle.
"What does the Zodiac Killer have in common with gamblers?" came the green-haired man's second question.
"Belief in a 'paradise'," Daiji answered immediately in serviceable but accented English before any of his cohorts commenced shouting suggestions at his earpiece again.
Paradise could also be read as "pair of dice". Meanwhile, "paradice" was the infamous misspelling found in one of the Zodiac Killer's mocking letters to the police.
"Who is the Kanji Killer?" came the green-haired man's third question.
"He's a nobody. A tramp, a bum, a boxcar, and a jug of wine. Also, a straight razor when you get too close to him," Daiji translated the original quote attributed to the infamous Helter Skelter mastermind, Charles Manson, in Japanese.
After several more minutes, the green-haired, scar-faced man nodded his assent. "You may now pass," he mentioned before getting up from his seat and beckoning Daiji to follow him.
Just beyond the ornate door that Daiji's reticent "doorman" opened by sliding the Chikyusei card... which apparently doubled as a keycard of some sort, like the ones found in hotels... the first things that greeted him were breasts and smiles. "Welcome!" they seemingly said.
All around him were women in tight-fitting, low-cut nurse uniforms. All around them were middle-aged men in business suits like his, enjoying their sushi dinners on top of naked women that served as their plates.
Moreover, it didn't matter that he was armed; everyone else in the establishment were packing heat too, judging by the hardened bulks around their pants that were either their guns or their erections.
He took his seat and used his menu to cover his face, his eyes scanning the room for anyone suspicious or familiar.
"Did you get lost from a nearby host club or are you on break, handsome?" a "voluptuous even by American standards" vixen... that Daiji gathered had been on foreign soil at some point of her life considering her straightforwardness and lack of Japanese modesty... greeted the undercover detective.
Behind her, several giggling nurse-waitresses watched the "action" unfold. Perhaps she'd been prompted to attend to him on a dare or a bet. "I'm Mitsuko. What will be your prescription drink for today?"
The widower's brain scrambled for his memories of his interactions with his wife and even his colleague, Detective Tsunemoto, for an appropriate response. Failing that, he replied the way he always answered when he didn't know what to say: By noticing trivialities.
"Aren't you a bit contradictory with your nightclub's theme? I mean, a naked woman sushi plate and nurses... What's the connection?"
A loud, squealing audio feedback from his hidden earpiece made him squint and excuse himself, citing mosquitoes around the air-conditioned nightclub. "Are you kidding me? She was flirting with you and you talk about the connection between naked woman sushi plates and nurses? What's wrong with you?" was what Aiko meant when she screeched, "Idiot. Over."
"Detective Tsunemoto, we're not trying to land Detective Matsudaira a date! Stop wasting government funds and keep quiet!" was what Inspector Taniguchi meant to say when he shushed Aiko and appended, "Over."
Meanwhile, Daiji cleared his throat, which was the closest thing to a groan he could muster given the circumstances.
Nurse-Waitress Mitsuko appeared mostly unaffected by the conversation she couldn't hear as she twirled her hair, touched the rim of Daiji's glass of water, and batted her eyelids.
"Oh, ol' Naoko was a special request by the geezers. Besides, we're a lot more casual here than other nightclubs. We have a different theme every week."
"That's very interesting," Detective Matsudaira lied as he sipped his water before remembering why he was there in the first place. Lacking any other option, he bit the bullet and asked straight out, "I'm looking for the Earth Club's boss. Do you know where to find him? I have a job for him," while flashing the Earth Club plastic card from behind him.
In an instant, Mitsuko's demeanor changed. With a sigh, a smile that didn't reach her eyes, and hazel irises that avoided Daiji's blue ones, she said, "Oh, so that's what you're looking for." She bowed before whispering, "Well, I'm sorry to say that you don't look for the Earth Club. The Earth Club looks for you. Good luck."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Over," Officer Uye managed to put his two yen in before supposing, "Hey, did anyone else think she reacted to Daiji's question the same way she would've reacted if he told her he was gay and he wasn't interested in her? Over." Everyone else's collective cold shoulder prompted Shigetaka to keep quiet.
After a few more moments, Daiji took hold of his Chikyusei card marked with the zodiac sign for Earth and stared at it while considering his options. He could ask the other patrons for the location of the establishment's owner while flashing the card like some sort of badge. Of course, the last thing he needed was the One-Eight-Ten Killer bolting out at the last minute after realizing that the coppers were closing in on him.
Daiji jerked his head to the side upon noticing a lithe, long-haired person take the empty seat in front of him without so much as an "Excuse me". The thin man in a tuxedo and top hat who, impossibly enough, made the effeminate doorman earlier look buff and brawny in comparison, looked for all intents and purposes like a stage magician save for the presence of an overly elaborate facemask that reached all the way to the bridge of his nose. "My boss is ready to see you now."
The skinny tuxedoed man led Detective Matsudaira into a private section of the nightclub that offered Daiji a full view of the proceedings happening outside thanks to one-way mirrors reminiscent of interrogation rooms, except this time the "voyeurs" were located within the room instead of outside it.
The detective's heart skipped a beat. Right before him at the table in the middle of what he presumed was the VIP section of the nightclub sat the bleached-haired monster who murdered his unborn son and wife, his suit apparently bursting at the seams because of his large muscular frame: The One-Eight-Ten Killer.
It took all of Daiji's willpower to stop himself from drawing his gun and shooting the serial killer then and there. The first and last time he met the One-Eight-Ten Killer was that fateful July night a good three to four years ago. When he last saw him, he wasn't as large, ripped, or buff, plus he didn't even have his hair bleached yet. Nevertheless, the police officer could recognize him from anywhere.
To Be Continued...
Next: Confrontation at Kabukicho.
If you've been paying attention, you would've figured out who Daiji Matsudaira is supposed to be by now. Oh, and "Kamurocho" is a reference to the "Kamurocho District" of the game "Yakuza". All rights reserved.
Hindi ako papayag na maghari ang kasamaan sa daigdig!
Abdiel