The orderly state of the room was long gone. Case files were spread over every available surface, pages plastered onto every wall. But Shuichi was running out of time, out of options. It all felt like a sick joke, made to torment only him, a case he had every ability to solve, but couldn't.

He scowls. There's one photo that stares at him, mocking, the one who got away. He knew the truth, who was the face behind the mask of Sparkling Justice, but no one else believed him.

And that cost him everything.

"I don't understand your preoccupation with this unsub."

Shuichi didn't answer, only snapping off the engine of their squad car. He opened the door to leave, but Kyoko hadn't moved.

"There's no case." Her tone was flat, as it was in all things. Normally this calm was the rock that could keep him safe in any storm, but now his partner only frustrated him.

"Look, I just know. It has to be him, and no one believes me."

"That's because you have no evidence."

His fist pounds against the dashboard. "Yet! He'll make a mistake, and I'll find it."

Kyoko stepped out of the car and began making her way to the building. Shuichi huffed in frustration before following her.

No one in the precinct would even touch the case. Each scene was different enough that this was the work of copycat killers. The victims were never of any importance, they weren't people anyone would miss. It was never the same location twice, the same methods, despite the sheer amount of effort each would take to set up.

And no one wanted to risk falling into one of his traps.

The warehouse was one of many—smaller, wooden, older. Finding out who owned what was a nightmare of paper documents, deceased owners and shell companies, but they held nothing of value, nothing to guard. Nothing to look for.

Kyoko stopped, studying the front of the building. "Surely the graffiti has no connection to this Glimmering—"

"Sparkling," Shuichi corrected, getting out his camera. "It's Sparkling Justice. And no, there's nothing, but that doesn't mean there isn't a clue somewhere." There were many different designs, swirls and tags and weeping clown faces. But this didn't seem like gang activity. That would mean too many people involved, too many opportunities to leave a trail or to brag to someone else. But this was too much work for one person, unless these were all built well in advance, only now being used. Only now being found, as soon as the victim died.

They want these to be found, but not on accident. All the tips were from anonymous sources, or someone who stumbled onto the scene. He had fully investigated every lead, but there was never any clue or connection. It was maddening.

"Did you honestly read the case file?" he asked.

Kyoko took a moment to respond. "No, I haven't."

"Is it because—"

"No." The suddenness made him take a step back. Kyoko sighed. "It has nothing to do with my personal history or feelings. But we have limited time and resources. I would rather spend it on the cases where we have clues and not chasing phantoms."

Shuichi had been working the case on his spare time, where she couldn't pry. But nothing got past his partner. She had been especially cold since confronting him about it, even tighter lipped as they were assigned to investigate this scene.

But if anyone could detach themselves from their personal lives for their job, it was her. But there's still something there. He looked to her, watched her confident, knowing steps towards the building.

Is she…? But that would be his most unfounded theory yet…and it still held a shred of his attention.

No, there 's no way she's that good of an actor. She doesn't have the skills to do something like this. She has no reason to do this.

Slats of light cut through the dark from the holes in the roof. Old machinery he couldn't identify took up much of the space. Shuichi pointed his flashlight up but it was swallowed by the abyss. He stepped back, trying to gage the scope of the building but bumped into Kyoko.

"Oh, sorry—"

"What was it you said he wore?"

"Uh, robes, we think." He paused. "I'm guessing you've never seen the tapes, either."

"Start me over, from the beginning."

His eyes followed her flashlight, highlighting a path in the dust that looked as if it had been swept clean. No way…

He shivered. "First off, we weren't the ones who gave him that name. The papers started calling him 'Sparkling Justice.' And, depending on who you ask, he never technically killed anyone."

Kyoko shot him a disbelieving look. "Because those he killed aren't really 'people'?"

"It's because the victims die from their own failures, they're responsible for that decision."

She took another moment to respond. "And you got that from the tapes?"

"There are two kinds: one is him speaking through a puppet which…." How do I even explain to someone who hasn't seen it? "It has a very particular way of talking. They've never been released to the public, there's no way that someone guessed what it was and made their own.

"The other is of Sparkling Justice himself. He's always wearing what looks like a robe and a mask, but it's different characters. The one he wore for that trap is always found by the body."

Kyoko began following the path deeper into the warehouse; Shuichi made a beeline to her side. Even though there was no reason to believe the killer was here…this was still a dangerous situation. He has to have cameras to watch people in their traps…there's no reason he wouldn't have ones in the building.

"What, exactly, does the press know?" Kyoko asked; if she was afraid, she was doing a marvelous job hiding it.

"The names of victims, basic details about the traps…and the piece he takes from each person."

Kyoko shot him a look. "What?"

"He takes a sparkle-shaped piece of skin."

"For what reason?"

"I don't know." Shuichi glanced around the oppressive darkness pressing into them. "The tapes with him are very…obsessed with justice. Almost like an evil superhero. And the bear's—"

"Bear?"

"The puppet is a bear. Those tapes focus on the personal failures of the victims, how they don't appreciate their lives, and how this is supposed to fix that."

"Those are two very different M.O.s."Kyoko's flashlight stopped at a door, open just a crack.

"I know," Shuichi said. "But they both reference the trap, the person, and they're both found at the scene. Even if it's two different people making them, they're still working together to do this. So that means—what are you doing?"

She glared at him, door handle already half-turned in her hand. "You wanted to investigate this, so stop being afraid of every little thing."

He pushes past her and wrenches the door open. A staircase down to a landing, then another set turning to the right. A light somewhere at the destination was on, painting the tile an off-putting puce.

He won't be there, it's just a trap. One that's already been sprung. And a dead body, but that wasn't new to either of them. It was just the context that was different. No one who's murdered wanted to be. There's pain, and suffering, torture even, but… Logically, this was no different than any other serial killer. Detectives made whole careers of tracking them down and they never got rattled like this.

Kyoko is a million times better at me than this. It wasn't an uncommon thought. But there's no time for this. She's not ready for this like I am. I need to get her to see the truth!

He presses forward, making his way down the steps, Kyoko steps behind. Their footfalls echo in the tiny space as the musty air shifts, to something fruited and sour. The familiar odor of death began to coat his tongue.

At the landing they were able to see—

"What the hell?"

"Kyoko?"

She pushes past him and takes the last few steps into the open room. Long-stained concrete clacks under her feet, then splashes. She stops and looks down. "We're too late…."

"This wouldn't be a surprise if you read up on the case." Shuichi steps around her, trying not to think about whatever mix of fluids they were standing in. "Either the victim steps out of the trap alive, or they die within it. Those are the only two choices."

His flashlight falls to the chamber. It was made of plexiglass, or perhaps acrylic, with metal seams holding it together. Inside were a number of panels, tilted askew, his light catching on sinister green edges and bouncing on silvered expanses.

"It's like one of those funhouses," he realized. "With all the mirrors." And jagged panes of glass, with passages that would be a tight fight for someone as slim as himself. It took all of his willpower to not imagine what the victim experienced trying to find their way out.

clunk

whirrrrrrr

Shuichi turned around to see Kyoko fiddling with a tv on a cart. It was one of the old-fashioned CRT types with a built-in VHS player.

"This should be the one he was supposed to see if he was successful," Shuichi said. "The motive tape is probably still in the maze."

"Are the traps supposed to be winnable?"

"It's hard to say. But he always frames it that escape is possible."

The machine clicked as it finished rewinding; Kyoko pressed play. The screen was black for a moment before showing a person wearing a robe, hood up, and a panda mask with a smear of blood on its forehead. Everything was tinged blue and looked worse than the old technology implied.

"Is that the bear?" Kyoko asked.

"No, it's—"

"The world must always be bathed in the light of justice!" The voice was deep, artificially so, even further decayed by whatever de-mastering the video had gone through. "And I have become the merciless sword of justice! Takumi Hijirihara, your crimes cannot be overlooked!"

Shuichi glanced back at the chamber. The victim now had a name, but who was he…?

"You lurked in the shadows, content with the life of a serial killer, which flies in the face of justice! You do not execute evil or uphold justice, no! You look up to the very villains you despise!

"To be a true ally of justice, you must be willing to become something beyond yourself! You must forgo your own identity to become the ideal of justice! But you failed to become something more, so I must execute justice for the sake of protecting justice!

"Justice…complete!"

The screen went blank. Neither of them said anything for several moments.

"I understand what you mean by your 'evil superhero' comparison," Kyoko finally said.

"Did I hear that right?" Shuichi stepped up to the tv and hit rewind. "Did he say that Takumi was a serial killer?"

"I thought Sparkling Justice only went after criminals."

"Yeah, but it's always been stuff like drug possession or time card theft. They're crimes, but nothing worth killing someone over. And definitely not with this much effort." He replayed the tape, staring at the screen.

"…Justice…complete!"

"It sounds like," Kyoko began, "that his issue was that he…didn't become something more? Like what…?"

The realization hit Shuichi like a thunder clap. He staggered backwards. "I-I h-he—"

"What?"

"He wanted him to become just like him. He wants an accomplice."

Kyoko tosses the envelope onto Shuichi's desk. "I'm leaving for the day."

There was no way this wasn't because of who was being brought in, but he knew not to say anything about it. She would just deny that this had anything to do with her personal feelings. But it was impossible to hide this wasn't affecting her. Removing herself from the situation was still reacting to it, no matter how much she pretended it wasn't.

"I got everything handled here," he said. He picked up the envelope and saw that it was the forensic results he was waiting for.

Kyoko pauses at the door before opening it. "If you choose to go forward with this," she said slowly, "make it count. Don't waste everyone's time, and don't let a killer walk free." She disappeared before he has a chance to question her further.

Makoto, despite his looks, was a formidable adversary. He bumbles his way through every question, always with a reasonable answer, but nothing to back it up. Being a paper salesman meant frequently being out of the office and no one could speak for his movements.

Shuichi spreads the photos across the table, Makoto leans forward for a better look. There was no jingling of cuffs or chains, there still wasn't enough evidence for an arrest warrant. But Makoto was stupid enough to show up for questioning anyways.

Or confident enough to know he can handle this.

"What's all this?" he asks, as if he didn't already know. They were pretty banal pictures of the room that contained the trap; cement walls, a locked door, the outside of the location.

"What, it doesn't look familiar?" Shuichi is almost vibrating, he knows exactly how to respond next, he just needed the killer to fall into a trap of his own.

"No, I've never seen anything like this before."

"What about," Shuichi pushes the evidence baggie towards him, "this?"

"W-where did you find this?" Makoto picks it up. It was a fountain pen, capped, with a golden clip. And they both knew that his name was engraved on the barrel, a present from his boss for his 10-year work anniversary.

"Same place as this." Shuichi presents one final photograph; Makoto jumps out of his seat and staggers back.

"Wh-what the hell is this?"

"It was Misaki Asano, until she failed to escape your 'Excalibur' trap."

The body was in a pillory, stained dark-brown from the fatal blow; without a head, it was only held up by the restraints at the wrists, legs buckled and knees barely scraping the floor. A sword with dried blood was attached to a swung-down mechanical arm. By one of the hands was a small box with a keypad and another sword sticking out the top of it.

"If you wish to leave this room alive," Sparkling Justice had said on the tape, "then you must ally yourself with the side of justice! You have been knowingly harboring a serial killer, hiding them from law enforcement. But like the gaze of the sun, none can hide before me.

"To save your own neck, enter the ID number of this foul criminal, then you may seize the sword of justice and block Excalibur from smiting you."

"I-I don't even know who that is." Makoto was sweating now, and it wasn't from the icy air of the interrogation room.

"That's not what your co-workers had to say. She was your point of contact at SCB Industries. So, tell me," Shuichi leans back in his chair, "what was your pen doing at the scene? Surely you didn't happen to wander in, see a decapitated body, and then turned around and left."

"I don't know how it got there! I-I-I misplaced the pen, but that was awhile ago!"

"Can you prove that?"

Makoto grit his teeth. "What reason would I have to want her dead? She was always a great customer."

"I imagine it has to do with Takumi Hijirihara. Maybe she saw you abduct him, maybe she was asking too many questions as to where her coworker went. But it's clear that he was your real target. She was just collateral." His work ID was the solution to the puzzle, which Asano would have known; whether she actually knew that he was a serial killer was a different question.

Makoto took a moment to collect himself. "Look, I don't know where you got the idea that I'm Sparkling Justice, but I'm not. Do I really look like somebody who can kidnap people, build all those traps, and do everything else?"

"You don't."

"So why do you—"

"That's why you need an accomplice." Shuichi crossed his arms. "You were a little too specific in the tape you left for Hijirihara." It was a weird clue, as if it was left just for the police. But this wouldn't be the first time that a serial killer gave law enforcement tips that could lead to their capture. Just to make things more interesting, to further feel like they were in control. To gloat that they were doing such a good job killing indiscriminately, that the police needed a perp wanting to be caught.

Or maybe doing this all on his own while trying to maintain a normal life was getting to him. Maybe he was finally slipping. The pen was the perfect clue, it only had Makoto's fingerprints, it was the only one in the world like it.

So why isn't he cracking now? Why isn't he asking for a lawyer? The connections were still too tenuous, the pen could have easily been planted, Makoto could walk out of here and there was nothing Shuichi could do to stop him. He needed a confession, or an admission of something, some infraction that he could use to hold him. If he were Sparkling Justice, then the games would stop when he was detained, making the case even stronger.

Unless he already has an accomplice. But it seemed unlikely, the scene with Hijirihara was too fresh, and there was…

I need to be more aggressive. He 's already rattled, so let's push it even further.

"You have to understand," Makoto said, "I'm being set up. Someone wants me to take the fall for this."

"Oh, who?"

Makoto's gaze fell to the floor. "I don't know…I don't think I have any enemies…Maybe someone is doing this to get revenge on my wife."

Sure, like I'm going to believe that. And it wasn't like she wasn't able to take care of herself. They would go after her, not go through all this effort to frame Makoto instead.

Shuichi stood up, chair scraping against the floor. "I'm sure you're tired of talking. Do you want a break?"

"Oh, uh." Makoto paused. "Sure?"

"Great, just sit tight." Shuichi walked over to the two-way mirror and flipped a switch, revealing two people sitting in an office on the other side: another detective and a woman with strawberry-blond hair. She looked utterly exhausted and bruises stained her pale face, medical tapes doing little to hide them.

"What's this?" Makoto asked. Shuichi only knocked twice on the glass; the woman jumped in her seat.

"W-what the fuck was that?" Her voice was being piped in from the other room.

"I apologize, our HVAC really needs to get looked at," the detective said. "I know you already told Detective Kirigiri the basics, but I would appreciate it if you go over it one more time. And take your time, don't think any detail is too small."

She glances at the window. "There isn't anyone watching us from the other side or some bullshit like that, is there?"

"No, it's just the interrogation room. There wouldn't be any reason for them to see into my office. I'm sure you've seen something just like it on tv."

She looks at the window for several moments more before sighing. "Fine, but you better be taking notes, 'cause I'm getting pretty tired of telling this story over and over. My time is too valuable to be wasted here on pigs like you."

"Pay attention, Makoto," Shuichi instructed. "I want you to understand what you did to this poor girl."