Chapter Twenty-Eight: Having Faith

Sitting cross-legged at the family table, Souta stared at his math homework. Fractions and decimals, rows of problems were gridded across his tablet screen. None of them done.

He tabbed to another window, revealing a social media feed, and he hit refresh. Old videos of a nightclub fight and a suicide rescue populated along with dozens of speculating comments, either admiring or condemning the Demon of Namidabashi.

He sighed with relief. There was nothing new.

A cup of green tea in her hand, Kagome peeked into the living room.

"Souta, do your homework," she scolded lightheartedly.

"I am," he growled, switching back to the first tab.

Smirking, she brought her cup to her lips and blew on the steamy surface before taking a sip.

"I can't concentrate with you here," he snapped at her, "So go away."

"Grouchy."

"Leave me alone."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

She sighed, her tone softening. "He'll be all right."

He slammed his stylus down onto the table. "Don't talk to me like I'm a little kid. I'm not stupid!"

"What's your problem?" she snapped back. "I was trying to comfort you."

"By lying to me? By pretending that everything will be okay when you don't know if it will be? And if he comes home tonight all messed up, are you going to act like it's some big surprise?" His voice turned shrill and feminine. "Look at me, I'm Kagome. I can't believe Sesshoumaru got shot five times and almost fell off a ten-story building tonight. We were only looking for a missing girl. What were the chances that this was going to happen?"

Choking on her tea, she started to cough.

"If you're trying to protect me by telling me that he'll be fine, don't."

The coughing continued.

He crossed his arms against his chest and waited.

"What he's doing," she explained, clearing her throat, "It isn't any more dangerous than what I went through every day in the Sengoku Jidai. And you didn't have to worry about me then."

"Well, maybe I should have! Maybe I should have hid your backpack. Or your clothes." He threw his hands up in the air. "But then again maybe you have a great sense of smell, so you'd find your stuff anyway."

She smiled softly. "I'm sorry. I only meant to comfort you."

He grumbled under his breath.

"What I said before. It's not a lie. It's what I tell myself," she said as she entered the room. Taking a seat on the floor beside the table, she looked him in the eyes. "I want to believe that he'll be all right. In fact, I have to believe it. Because, if I think about every bad thing that could happen, I freeze up. I can't do what I need to do."

"And what's that?"

She nodded towards his tablet. "Math homework. Or my physics reading. Or making sure the first aid kit is stocked up."

"And if he's not okay?"

"Then I do what I need to do if he's not okay. And I make a plan."

Letting out a tired sigh, he picked up his stylus.

"Good."

"I'm sorry for making fun of you," he muttered, his gaze on the tablet, seeing it but not seeing it.

She laughed. "It was like looking in a mirror."

He smiled begrudgingly.

Climbing to her feet, she gazed at him and returned his smile but in better spirits. "I know that you're not in the mood for reassurances but remember that we made Tora go with him too. It's just a routine night."

"I know."

Chiming, a notification message popped up on the tablet screen.

His brow furrowed.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"The Demon of Namidabashi is trending."

Frowning, she walked around the table to stand behind him. As she leaned down to spy over his shoulder, he switched to his social media tab. A new video popped up in the feed.

The footage jounced about as the person filming it wove through the crowd trying to get a better view, their breathing staticky across the phone speaker. A geyser of water poured down, dousing the street. Somewhere off camera, police lights pulsed, illuminating everything in flashing red. Center-framed and in costume, Sesshoumaru stood, surrounded by officers. He stepped backwards.

There was a pop.

He was on the ground, writhing weakly.

"Oh, shit," she cursed, her hand lightly cupping her mouth, then she called out, "Mama!"

"Yes, Kagome?" she replied from another room.

"Sesshoumaru is fighting the cops!"

"What?!"

A police officer approached him and was tossed away, colliding with several others as they closed in. Then he was gone. More gunshots rang out.

"Is he all right?" Mama asked worriedly.

Kagome stuttered. "I-I don't know. It's hard to tell with him."

Protected by a gas mask, another police officer entered the frame with a bulky rifle in hand. Aiming high, he sighted a broken, third-story window, and a bang echoed. A few seconds later, white smoke billowed from the window. Then the cannister flew back out, trailing fumes as it bounced across the street and into the crowd. Yelling and running ensued.

"How are the cops doing?" Mama asked.

She sighed. "About as expected."

"Is it happening right now?"

"Maybe? The video shows…" She searched for the date stamp on the post. "Fifteen minutes ago, at the latest."

"I'm calling Tora."

"Good idea," she said as she patted her pockets. "Where's my phone? Maybe he left me a message or something." Coming up empty, she rushed out of the room and headed upstairs to her bedroom.

Souta exited the apps on his tablet and opened another one. After it loaded, he nodded, his jaw set. Then he was on his feet, walking towards the entryway to get his jacket from its hook.

"Do what I need to do if he's not okay. And I make a plan."

OOOOOOOOOO

With one hand atop his head pinning his fedora down, Nakagawa hustled through the shipping yard. As he passed by rows of cargo containers, he himself was outpaced by another convoy of forensic vans. Their destination was the same: the multiple homicide crime scene haloed in floodlights ahead.

A strange brew of emotions tightened in his chest. The excitement that arose with a new case and sympathy when he considered how many had died. And an unexpected pang of anxiety that overshadowed it all. The Demon of Namidabashi was the prime suspect. After seeing him risk his life to save a girl, it hadn't seemed right. And when he watched the viral video on the train, he knew for certain that something was off.

He spared a glance back to the city skyline behind him. Marked by its blinking navigation lights and the brilliance of its searchlight, a helicopter droned as it patrolled the streets, hunting. He sighed with relief. They hadn't caught the demon yet.

He wasn't sure whose luck it was that had kept him busy at the prefectural headquarters until well after his shift was over. The paperwork involved with the missing girl cases had transformed into a prosecution nightmare with the sex trafficking developments and the nightclub and hotel shootouts. It was making someone's career somewhere, but not his. Still, he told himself a long time ago that justice was all that he cared about. And so, his paperwork would be perfect, no matter how late he had to stay at the office.

As he approached the crime scene, portable lighting rigs turned night into day and a ribbon of police tape cordoned off the area. Just inside the tapeline, the forensic team started setting up their tables and laying down numbered cards beside items of interest. Their best forensic lead, Yoshino Maho, was there. And standing with her but on this side of the tape, he spotted Jin, her phone in hand as she took notes.

He snorted, shaking his head as he wondered when she slept.

"Detective Nakagawa," Yoshino greeted.

"Good evening, Yoshino-san," he replied breathlessly as he jogged up to them.

"Do you ever sleep?" Jin asked incredulously.

He chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Yoshino-san," he said, turning his attention happily to the forensic lead, "What do you know so far?"

"As I was telling Detective Jin," she began, "It's a little early in our investigation for me to give either of you any reliable information. We haven't collected enough evidence."

"I realize that. And I think I speak for the two of us when I say that we don't intend to apply undue pressure on you, especially about anything you can't confirm. Just whatever you know with reasonable sureness."

She eyed them both, her lips screwed up into a frown.

He gave her his best smile, well aware of its charming goofiness.

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "I'll tell you guys what I know. Keep it brief though. The weather is decent tonight, so I'm not as worried about losing evidence, but it's still a time game, understand?"

"Got it."

"We have eight victims," she explained, "So far, it appears that they've been killed by blunt force trauma. We discovered a crowbar at the scene, and while it seems to have blood and hair trace evidence on it, I cannot confirm that it's the murder weapon without matching it to the injuries."

"Right."

"But it's the likely murder weapon," Jin confirmed. "Similar to what the prime suspect has been seen using?"

"I cannot confirm that," Yoshino said, shrugging, "I only gather evidence. You guys are the ones who connect the dots."

"He didn't do it," Nakagawa disputed. "He doesn't kill people. He's being..."

"Please don't say it," Jin muttered, rubbing her temples. "Please don't say that he's been set-up."

"He's being set-up."

She groaned. "What makes you think that? He was literally at the crime scene when it happened."

"That doesn't matter. I mean, that's the point of a set-up, right?"

"Please don't do this. It's embarrassing."

"Look," he said as he pulled his phone from his trench coat pocket and brought up the video. The footage played, and as the demon on the screen stepped backwards, he paused it. "See here, before he's shot, we can see his back." He zoomed in. "His crowbar is in his sash. This one isn't his."

She frowned.

"Yoshino-san?" he called out, "If a person killed eight people with a crowbar, would they get blood on their clothes?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "I don't think there's any way that you wouldn't be covered in blood, either from the back spatter from striking the victim or from the cast-off from the weapon."

Raising his eyebrows, he glanced at Jin before letting the video play. He paused it again, this time after the demon had tossed the officer away but before he leapt to the window above. He was facing the camera. "Where's the blood, Fumiko? This guy wears white. Where is it?"

"There's some red on the tunic at the bottom," she tried and softly added. "And don't call me Fumiko."

"You've seen him before. Twice. The red at the bottom is the design. The blood should be all over his chest and abdomen. But there's none."

"Maybe he changed his clothes."

"When? When did he have time? Our people were onto him the instant it happened. And that's another thing. Who called this in?" He gestured to the crime scene. "Who are these victims? What were they doing here? Who owns this shipping yard?"

She crossed her arms. "I don't know."

"Hold on," Yoshino said, holding up a finger. Stepping away, she approached one of her assistants and borrowed their tablet. With it in hand, she returned. "Some of the victims have IDs on them."

She read the names.

His fists clenching, he exclaimed, "They're guys from the case!"

Jin nodded. "The missing girls. These men are gang members. They were arrested at the hotel, and they talked."

"Something is going on here," he concluded, pointing to his phone screen and the demon frozen on it. "And he's being set-up."

She sighed. "Then what was he doing at the scene of the crime if he's not involved? Why was he here at all?"

"I don't know."

"He's a vigilante," she said, shaking her head, "Even if he didn't kill these people. Even if it's a set-up. What he's doing is wrong. It's criminal. He needs to be caught and arrested. He needs to answer for the crimes he has committed."

Slipping his phone into his pocket, he turned and started walking away, heading towards the shipping yard exit.

"Nakagawa…"

"He saved that girl. He exposed a sex trafficking ring. He doesn't deserve this."

OOOOOOOOOO

Riding with the tide of traffic on a busy Tokyo avenue, Hiroshi pedaled his bicycle. Sporting a light coat with his stand's logo, he wore a blocky pack on his back, now empty of the takeout he had just delivered. Demand for his family's ramen was booming, but the prospect of more deliveries wasn't what drove him to weave between cars as he rushed back. Even though there hadn't been anymore trouble, he still didn't like leaving his father alone at the stand for long.

In a rolling cascade, brake lights filled the avenue as the traffic ahead came to a stop.

Somewhere nearby, a helicopter whipped.

Yanking up on the handlebars, Hiroshi hopped onto the sidewalk. With a ring of his bell, he darted around pedestrians, speeding along. Hard to hear over the din of the street, people rumbled nearby, and his feet stopped pedaling as he tried to listen. Was it a crowd? Maybe a block over?

A man in white stepped out in front of him.

"Shit!" he blurted out under his breath and swerved, narrowly missing him. His heart beating in his throat, he spied back to see if he was all right, and his jaw dropped. Clad in a mask and tunic, it was him. "Pork cutlet guy?"

Taking a few steps back into the alleyway, the demon turned to look at him. Or close to him. There was something off about the angle of his mask. It was as if he was looking past him.

"I didn't mean to almost run you over," Hiroshi apologized nervously, and adjusted the cap he wore on his head.

Cars honked their horns as traffic in both directions stopped up.

"I've been wanting to thank you again…" Then, he paused, frowning. "Um, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," the demon replied, taking another step back. "Your gratitude is appreciated. You may leave."

"It just seems like you're not okay. Like you're looking at me but not looking at me."

"Do not concern yourself."

Leaning to the side, he slipped off his bicycle and pushed the kickstand down with his foot. "There's something wrong, isn't there? If there wasn't, you would have ghosted me by now."

"Why does no one listen to me when I tell them not to concern themselves? Does that have some other meaning to humans?"

He chuckled. "It means that you need help." With his hands up in a placating manner, he approached. And as he neared, the mask aligned closer with his position, tracking him. "I'm walking towards you. Please don't throw me across the street."

He sighed. "I will not throw you across the street without good reason."

"Not really reassuring, but all right," he said, swallowing. "It seems like there's something wrong with your eyes. Can you remove your mask?"

The demon hesitated, taking another step back.

"I swear on my life that I would never betray your trust here. I owe you everything. My family owes you everything."

"Your family?"

"We owe you everything."

"I cannot sense who you are. You are asking much of me."

"Then, I swear on my family that you can trust me."

"That is a solemn oath."

"I know."

Snorting softly, the demon shook his head. And then he reached up and clasped his mask. He drew it up and away from his face, revealing blotchy skin. Mucous oozed from his nose and dried tears crusted his cheeks. The sclerae of his squinting eyes were bright red, contrasting with his gold irises and needlelike pupils.

"You really aren't human, are you?" Hiroshi whispered, awestruck.

"I was exposed to a type of miasma by the police. It has blinded my vision and my sense of smell. My hearing appears to be unaffected."

"Sounds like they hit you with tear gas. I don't know much about the symptoms, but it seems like you're having an extreme reaction."

The demon turned his head slightly.

"What?"

"They've realized that I'm no longer in the building. The helicopter is on the move."

"Okay, then you're coming with me. They'll catch you if you stay here."

"I cannot place that burden upon you—"

"What you said right now was just another way of saying that you need help," Hiroshi interrupted as he set his pack down and shrugged out of his coat. He held the coat out to him. "Here put this on. And give me your mask."

Again, he hesitated.

"Look, I'm not doing anything I don't want to do. And honestly, I couldn't live with the shame if I abandoned you here to save myself. You protected us and now I'm protecting you. That's what family does."

The helicopter grew louder.

"I'm not leaving without you."

Giving him a slight nod, the demon accepted the coat and handed him the mask.

"All right," he said, grinning. Unzipping his pack, he stuffed the mask and its trailing headdress inside and closed it up. When he looked back at the demon now wearing his coat, he frowned. "Tuck your tunic tails into your pants." He took off his cap and offered it. "And put this on."

"Is this acceptable?" he asked when he was finished.

"It's the best that we can do," Hiroshi replied, slinging his pack back on and fetching his bicycle. When he returned, he held out his forearm. "Let's go."

A moment passed, and then the demon's hand gently grasped him.

"You know, you're a lot taller than I realized," he remarked as they made their way down the sidewalk.

"That seems to be a common perception."