"Saskia?" Tanizaki asked with concern as he pulled at the sleeve of her jacket. She couldn't tell if it was fear or shock that paralyzed her. Or were those her frantic thoughts that pulled out her of the reality. Thoughts on how to deal with this situation. How to deal with minimal damage.

"Yes?" she finally replied to her own name, albeit still filling dazed.

"What happened?" Junichiro whispered. Saskia took a deep breath. She had no doubt he'd believe her. If she were to whisper to him that she knew exactly who the shapeshifter was, Junichiro would believe her. But she had no clue what to do next. Matsukata — whatever his real name was — was safe here. Untouchable, even. And he knew that. But there was also something he wanted desperately. She could only speculate about what it truly was. Sending Tyutchev here like a mad dog following a scent would be madness. Port Mafia had already once blown up a station. And the agency was busy trying to find Dazai.

"Dazai," Blok spoke. It wasn't an answer for Tanizaki. Merely her voicing her own epiphany. "I'm worried about Dazai." The lie came out so freely. "Let's get back to work." It was a strange feeling of calm that overwhelmed her at that moment. It wasn't a comfortable or comforting feeling, yet she couldn't help or stop it.

"I'm sure he'll be alright," Junichiro said. That must have been his attempt to soothe her, a gesture of politeness and human kindness. But she didn't one anymore. She had found it herself. Matsukata wanted something so desperately he talked with Dazai.

"I'm sure he will be," Blok agreed carelessly. This feeling of calm that washed over her suddenly wasn't that of comfort or confidence or even positivism. The origin of her tranquility was that of arrogance. Matsukata had made a horrible mistake in choosing Dazai as any form of ally.

"Huh, well, that's Dazai for you," Junichiro awkwardly added as they took place behind their respective workstations. "Despite his suicide attempts, he is perfectly healthy. True to what he says."

"Hmm?" It was more of an obligatory way to continue the conversation, a way to distract the young man from the paleness of her face he witnessed a few minutes before. Whatever stream of consciousness suddenly hit Tanizaki, she was willing to endure it. Anything better than Dazai's consciousness.

"Every ability user has something wrong with them deep inside."

"I can how that's true in his case," Saskia said absentmindedly. "But you seem pretty normal to me, Junichiro."

"Huh, thanks, Saskia. Umm, I think you are pretty normal too."

It felt wrong to feel so unbothered by the presence of what Saskia decided to be a monster. Matsukata Satoru, the skin of the recent victim of the shapeshifter, was a dressed-up neat monster. Thinking of him as a human being was too considerate, too kind. And yet, the monsters didn't exist. Not in this world. The shadows that haunt you at night are that of trees in the forest. It's not about the shadows their branches cast, but what can be hiding behind a tree. Often, a fellow human. But as the monster's eyes, the ones that looked exactly like Satoru's, were watching her holding no fear.

"Alright," Matsukata said, standing up from the desk. "I'm done for today."

Saskia scoffed listening to something truthful. "Got a hot date?" she asked flashing a smile. Outside of the walls of the precinct, Matsukata was a free-range prey. Yet she also understood she couldn't let him roam free.

"Yes," Satoru nodded. And then he said when and where. It was convoluted enough for someone like Tanizaki to not understand. But every cop knows of places like those. Places where no decent folks went, and no decent activities were performed. You don't name those places; you speak about what's around them. And that's all she needed to know about Dazai's whereabouts, about what Matsukata wanted. It made sense he wanted her. But if he wanted to become her, he could have done so long ago.

"TMI, Matsukata, TMI," Blok replied waving the man off. The monster that was wearing human skin. This was a comforting thought; it was even a comfortable thought. To think of him as nothing but a mad beast. She simply could not allow herself to feel anything but disgust and resentment towards him. There weren't many places this road could lead.

"Going to say here long?" he asked.

"No, we'll leave soon. Be seeing you."

"Be seeing you, Saskia."

It was the waiting that was crushing down on her. She had to be careful about her timing and her actions as to not throw Tanizaki off. He would question her and, if he didn't listen to her, he'd call up the agency. And Saskia would give anything but not deal with a bunch of ability users. The strength is in numbers. The numbers were hazardous. Matsukata got desperate once and attacked Dazai. If not for his ability, there'd be another corpse and they'd come to nothing again. The chameleon would change colours, and they would have to play the whole find-ten-differences game again. But if she was honest, it was all about having a little more control. Even the illusion of control. A semblance of power over the situation. She had none. The moment she signed that contract, all she had was Dazai's manipulations, intrusions, lack of control over her own life. Despite every misfortune Dazai Osamu had brought into her life, she couldn't deny him this final thing of catching the man they've been looking for. A man like Dazai Osamu did not forget his phone in some hole-in-the-wall pub and mysteriously disappear. And while she wouldn't trust him with money, driving or any other normal task suited for any adult human, she could trust him on this one thing: finishing what he started.

"That's not the way to your place," Junichirio correctly observed. He was a smart young man worthy of being a member of the Armed Detective Agency. But, as of this moment, Blok didn't find it in herself to be appreciative of those wondrous qualities. "Where are we going?" he asked. Saskia contemplated the dances she could do around this question. But neither were worthy enough of performing. Tanizaki deserved a grain of truth.

"I have a meeting," she said, "and I know you can't leave me. Kunikida must have issued an order after out phone call."

"Yes," he confirmed.

"See? Please, bear with me."

But there was no deceiving the outside world. Tanizaki watched as the scenery changed, shifted to a less populated, less city-picturesque, forming that of a desolate corner of Yokohama. Every city had those corners where nothing good ever happened. Saskia knew they were heading to one such place.

"Hey, Junichiro," she started to speak again. The gravel under the tired made the vehicle jump a bit. The atmosphere started to change. She'd be guessing but probably be correct: Tanizaki started to realize where they were heading.

"Yes?" She heard the doubt in his voice. She heard the readiness to stop her. With one hand on the wheel, she reached for handcuffs. The department might not appreciate her taking those, but it was for the greater good of Junichiro.

"I've made an interesting discovery," she said as the car slowed down. "I can hear illusions with my ability. So, now that you've confirmed who you are, I know that it's you I'm chaining." Years of practicing had made it quick and easy. Blok grabbed Tanizaki's hand and cuffed him to the wheel. The young man struggled against the cold metal only once.

"I'll apologize to you as many times as you want after," she said. "But give me five minutes before calling Kunikida." She didn't wait for an answer. Locking the car, Saskia started to walk in the direction of the canal. It was a hot date, so it had to be romantic one way or another. And water always had the appeal. At least, that's what Matsukata said. It was easier to imagine doing something like this back at the station where it felt safe and right. That eerie feeling of calm vanished. It wasn't very rational, she knew, but just as much as was aware of her actions, she knew there wasn't a place for anyone else. Dazai would let the others know, he would find a way. But he wanted her here and alone. And if he got her here to die, she'd take him with her.

"Didn't think you'd come so soon," Matsukata's voice greeted her before he even appeared in sight.

"Hard to pass on such invitation," she bit back. It was oddly calm all around. Tolstoy was patiently waiting for her near the bed of water, melancholically staring ahead. Too human. Saskia reached for the gun Kunikida gave her. He did say it was a sign of trust as well as her protection. No better moment to exercise those. Dazai was sitting on the ground, hand behind his back and a muffler in his mouth. Matsukata Satoru turned around to look at her.

"Why the mouthpiece?" Saskia pointed at Dazai with the gun.

"He talks a lot," came a rueful reply. "I believe that's why you came. For him. I'm disappointed in your choices of people."

"I'll give a lot more reasons to be disappointed with my choices. Why did you want to meet me?"

"Why do you think that is?" he asked. "When I said I was Matsukata Satoru, I triggered your ability. Why's that?"

"What do you want?" Blok groaned. "You didn't go through all the trouble just to meet me."

"And if I did? Aren't you a little bit curious? I look like him. I can walk and talk like him too."

"Yeah, I guess you can. He was the rat, right? That's how you got to know him in the first place."

"Yes. Getting to him was problematic. Takara was collateral damage."

"You buried her? I don't know if it's respectful or creepy."

"You haven't seen my ability in action. The sight is so gruesome it drove her poor husband to suicide. That, or maybe it was the realization of what had happened. As for the burial, I am no monster. She happened to be nearby when I was on the run. So, I followed her home. A perfect victim. Unsuspecting. Unrelated. On paper. Her husband couldn't afford the luxurious house they were living in, not alone, that is. Still, she wasn't the worst person walking upon this rotten soil. So, I buried her. I'm not a murderer, much less a monster."

"You just confessed to killing two people," the woman scoffed.

"No," Matsukata shook his head. A smile was slowly growing on his face. From being a shadow of joy, it morphed into that of gleeful pride. "Murder implies intention, Blok Alexandra! You should know that!"

"Are you clinging onto semantics?"

"That's what the law says. Manslaughter. Do you really think I wanted to kill people? I didn't. I still don't. But my ability leaves me no choice. And the Contemporary left me no choice."

She stood, silent, gripping the gun tighter. Never before had she wished for the pain to shoot through her head, to make the ringing in her skull go so loud the world would blur and bend. But nothing came. Not the lightest sting. Not even a lick.

"I don't see the pain on your face," Tolstoy taunted, "so I must be telling the truth."

Saskia tensed upon hearing the glee in the man's voice. It wasn't twisted joy of a madman neither was it the roar of a beast. And this man, who was wearing the identity of another, was telling the truth. His truth. "I don't get it. Why not stay with Port Mafia?"

"I just got my freedom back," he replied as if she was asking something obvious. "After years, I was finally free physically and mentally," Lev tapped his temple for emphasis. "How could I exchange one cage for another?"

"Why me?"

"Because of where you come from. You see, I've known your father. And so, did many of the Contemporary."

"What are you saying?" It wasn't a question. She knew precisely what was implied. As if this knowledge could physically touch her, she made a cautious step back. It was a fruitless hope and a meaningless wish, but the pain never came again. Knowing when people lied seemed like a burden, it was a private knowledge she always got for free. It pained but never lasted. The truth was just as heavy a burden.

"Your father was one of us once. That's about it. I hoped you inherited his ability. You didn't. Покойся он с миром, you received a gift far more interesting. They'd want you. Tyutchev, Turgenev, Fet, the lot of them." Spite coloured his tone. The movement of his hands as he spoke tensed. "The organization you know as Contemporary started out with one goal: to use abilities to improve the world. Abilities that could alter the world, bend it to their will, all with the idea of improving the lives of many. To serve humanity and a greater purpose. After all, why not? Some just happened to have more power than others. The power was granted them, so there must have been a reason. But like many organizations with good intentions, it got corrupted. And now we are here."

"Why are you telling me this?" Saskia asked, confused and angered. The situation made her feel bare, raw. The feeling you get when something bad was about to happen. Like an animal sensing a disaster, Saskia felt the hairs on her skin stand up. There had to be a reason for his talking. For the truth was a burden to bear.

"I thoughts you'd like to know where you were coming from," Tolstoy shrugged, nonchalantly.

"I've never known my father. Or my biological mother." The words spoke true and of frustration. She had no business of carrying the sins of her parents. Unwittingly, she stepped forward, closer towards the man talking.

"That even I can't tell," Lev continued speaking, unbothered by Blok approaching. "He was married, sure, but whether or not you are her child only God knows."

She launched at him. The heavy gunmetal met with the soft flesh of the man's cheek and rebounded off the cheekbone. "I don't care!" It was a scream. A desperate shout. But, all in all, an empty sound that didn't ring true. Matsukata look-alike did not fight back. He staggered and stumbled backwards, shocked and dumb with the force of impact. But another punch was coming. A tight fist aimed at solar plexus.

"Saskia!" Dazai shouted. The sound of her name pulled her out of the blind rage. Saskia landed two punches. Tolstoy started to laugh. No sound was coming out, just his shoulders shaking quietly with amusement.

"Of course, a gag wouldn't shut you," Blok spit, aiming the gun at the man on the ground.

"Don't touch him," Dazai warned.

"You are not even struggling," she observed.

"Those are police handcuffs."

"Useful toys," Matsukata chimed in.

Saskia aimed the gun at the man she assaulted. His face, the face that didn't belong to him, was red but not bleeding yet. "Why did you want me to come here? Tell me!" The safety switch clicked.

"Because I'd rather die than be turned in to them again," Lev answered with a sigh.

"You want me to kill you?" she rebuked. If the situation allowed for it, if the adrenaline wasn't running high in her blood after a little tussle, she'd throw up. The idea was too repulsing to handle. "If you want to die, there's a great canal right behind you."

A human mind shouldn't turn to death as an answer. Whether it's the freedom one is seeking or shedding their sins, death is too simple an answer for questions so great.

"He sold you out," Matsukata said instead, pointing at Dazai. The latter wasn't phased by being called out. He shrugged. "For information on the Contemporary."

"I refuse." Her aim never wavered yet. That wouldn't last forever. Either the doubt would fill her mind, or her hand would grow tired.

"Come on, Saskia!" Lev screamed with despair. "I'm giving power over me!"

"I think I have enough power over people as is," she retorted.

"Life, death! My truth, my lie, you have it all! Just end me, I beg of you."

"Nope," she lowered her gun and stepped, "not me."

"Saskia, I am begging," he insisted again. "I don't even remember how I looked. Before I was forced to switch bodies over and over again. Was I blonde? Or brunette? I don't remember. My age? I have lied about it so many times, I am not sure I remember the correct date. You know I am not lying."

"I'm just here to pick up Dazai and turn you in," she replied apathetically. That was her goal for coming here. Thinking Dazai had a plan, she came here thinking all she had to do is to act natural. Dazai had proved to be cunning enough to realize who was the shapeshifter before she did. He had met with his attacker before getting consensually kidnapped. Yet Dazai's plan yielded nothing.

"That's deeply disappointing," Lev lamented. "You chose a man immune to your ability. It's a gift, Alexandra, a gift of immense value."

"All it is, is pain. You have no clue how it feels to know more than you should. To know things you shouldn't be knowing. I can't trust people, I never properly learned how to do it!" A strange masochistic joy took power over her. Exhilarating as it was to confess, the looming of the eventual consequences to such sincerity were all too familiar. "I know the truth regardless! And if I try to have a trusting relationship, it's like I'm taking advantage of them! Because I always know more than they want me to!"

"Hypocrite," commented Dazai, getting up from the ground, with his hands cuffed behind his back.

"Ah, yes, you." That's all Tolstoy said before pulling the gun out. Saskia reacted immediately, mimicking the action, feeling the grip slipping. "It appears we are at a standstill."