Nagai Minami—Nan to her ex-husband—must have cleared her throat and fidgeted with her suit half a dozen times before she could find the courage to ring the doorbell. If her colleagues could see her, her hesitation would have struck them as quite out-of-character. But these sorts of house calls were not what she was used to making.
A woman in her mid-twenties answered the door, her smile faltering a little. "Mrs. Asai?" said Nan.
Mrs. Asai must have recognized her type. "You want to speak to my husband?"
"If it isn't too much trouble."
As if on cue, the man in question appeared in the hall, chasing his four-year-old daughter. In the middle of a pretend monster growl, he looked up, and his eyes widened in recognition. He sobered. And Nan could see traces of the burns she had been briefed would be there, the shiny, still-raw patches on one side of his face and neck.
"I'll bring you two some tea," his wife said, making way for Nan to enter, and led her daughter by the hand back to the kitchen with her.
"My condolences," Asai said when the two of them were seated in the living room. "I know you were separated, but it couldn't have been easy, what with the history you two had."
"Nothing with Yuu was ever easy," Nan said with a fond smile, as much to herself as to Asai. "But it has been . . . strange, surreal, to think I'll never see him again. Even through the divorce, when there were times I wanted nothing more to do with him, I always knew he was there if I needed him. A phone call away."
Asai looked down at his knees. His wife brought a tray with tea for two, and promptly excused herself again.
"In any case," said Nan as the junior detective poured for her, "I came here to tell you how sorry I was for the loss. You were the most important person in his life at the end. He spoke fondly of you, you know. Yuuto wasn't always an easy man to get along with, and he blew through a lot of partners before you came along. I wonder if maybe you reminded him a little of himself, or like a younger brother he never had. He seemed rather proud when he mentioned you."
That earned her a little lopsided smile. One thing she had noticed about Asai when they were looking into the Muraki matter, he was eager to share ideas that had to do with a case or useless trivia, but when it came to himself, he was careful not to give too much away. So that smile, Nan figured, meant more than it would on another, less self-protective person. "I guess Sempai could be a bit of a grump, but he taught me a lot. About being a detective, and a father."
A curious thing to say, seeing as Imai had never had nor wanted any kids; but Nan figured it must have had some meaning for Asai that was none of her business.
"But you didn't come all the way down here to Kumamoto just for condolences, Ms. Nagai. Did you?"
Nan let out a sigh. "No," she confessed. "I didn't. I figured I owed it to you to give you a heads up, before you go back to work and find out the hard way. The National Police are working very hard to cover the whole incident up. A burst gas line in a residential district where a wanted person was just sighted doesn't look so good for national security, and the local authorities don't like the idea that they've been neglecting utility maintenance either."
"But it wasn't a gas line," Asai said. "Like I told them—"
"I know what you told them. That it was as bright as a nuclear explosion. And trust me, the government is investigating the angle. They've got the block shut down, are running radiation tests—but that's strictly between you and me. The public can't know that there might have been a suitcase bomb set off on Japanese soil. It would dredge up memories of Hiroshima or Nagasaki all over again, incite a panic the Diet can't afford."
"But it wasn't a bomb either," Asai insisted, lowering his voice. "If you read my report, then you know what I saw."
It felt like there was a stone sitting in Nan's stomach. "You mean the giant bird. The one made out of light."
Her tone must have told him well enough what she thought of that. He sat back. "I wasn't hallucinating."
"I'm not suggesting you're somehow at fault. Only . . . sometimes bright lights can play tricks on us, and it was the middle of the night when it happened, your eyes were already adjusted to the dark—"
He laughed, bitterly. "You don't believe me. And I thought you of all people would. Hadn't you just called us about seeing Muraki turn into a devil-man before your eyes? You said you shot at it, with actual bullets. Your colleagues saw it. And you're going to tell me that it was just the light playing tricks on you, too?"
Flashbacks arose, summoned by his words, but Nan forced them back to the corners of her mind. If she wanted to stay sane, she couldn't dwell too much on the implications of that day. There had to be a reasonable explanation for it, one which didn't require the adoption of an entire, antiquated belief system. "We think there was some sort of gas leak in the air conditioning that we weren't aware of at the time," she said, feeling like a liar even as she did. "Some minor malfunction lasting long enough for us all to get a whiff, before the gas dissipated on its own. There have been reports of similar things causing mass-hysteria—"
Asai shook his head. He wasn't believing that any more than she was.
"Look," she tried. "I know something strange happened that night, something that I can't readily explain. But you can't just go around talking about demons and birds made of light and how it's all part of some conspiracy, and think that's going to go over well at your next psych evaluation. You want to keep being a detective, don't you? Well, is getting yourself released from the force over what you did or didn't see any way to honor Imai's memory?"
"And is covering up the truth about how Sempai died any better?"
No, she had to agree, it wasn't. It was an affront to everything she stood for to sit there and lie to Asai just like she had to lie to her colleagues and bosses, and it was an affront to her late ex-husband's memory to say he died in a gas line explosion when that wasn't the truth.
"We both know what we saw," Nan said, her hands tightening together in her lap. "But we must be realistic. Nothing we say can help Yuuto now. I think if he were here, he would want us to think of the work that we do, and keep doing it, to the best of our abilities. If not for him, for the people who rely on our service."
Asai nodded. He leaned over his knees, his clasped hands pressed to his lips, lost in a memory. "Sempai liked to call things as he saw them, didn't care if he ruffled some feathers or stepped on a few toes. Getting to the truth of the matter came first with him. But if we had a person of interest who just wasn't keen on opening up to us, he always knew what to say to make them trust him. Even if he didn't believe what he was saying himself, he would convince you that he was one-hundred-percent on your side."
"Yeah." Nan snorted. "One of the many reasons we broke up."
"But it made him a good detective." He stayed in that memory for a while longer, and Nan wasn't eager or willing to break the silence and pull him out of it. She knew how precious those moments were, when they were all you had left. "It seems it would be a greater dishonor not to live up to his example," Asai said at last.
And Nan took that to mean he wouldn't insist on what he had witnessed when he went back to work. "I agree. I can't deny there's a part of me that wants everyone else to acknowledge what happened, if for no other reason than to prove I'm not losing my mind. But there's another part that feels like Yuuto died for nothing if I dwell on the specifics, and not move on. After all, there's a reason we both went into law enforcement."
Asai's daughter chose that moment to run into the room, grinning and squealing for her daddy. Her mother, close behind, apologized that the girl had slipped away from her too easily.
Nan waved away her apology, as Asai scooped the girl up onto his lap. Watching the three of them together, she felt sorry for herself that she and Imai had never started a family together. Of course, she knew it never would have worked, and she would have felt guilty putting a child through the pain of divorce, of custody battles.
Still, she couldn't help a pang of envy. If something were to happen to Asai, at least his wife would have someone to remember him by, every minute of the day—someone who was also a piece of him, of them both. And what did Nan have but some suits and ties? The first and only watch she ever bought him? A few photographs and awards that Yuuto had always been too embarrassed to display? There weren't even ashes left.
"You know you always have someone here to talk to about it," Asai said to her while his daughter fidgeted with the toy pony clutched in her tiny hands. It felt to Nan like he had seen something inside her that she'd been trying so hard to forget about, like a flash of gold on the muddy bottom of a lake. He just reached in and snatched it up, and handed it back to her as her own. "Anytime you feel like there's no one else who would understand, or believe you. I will."
Mother of the savior.
Ukyou might have laughed not long ago if anyone had suggested she, of all people, could ever be such a thing.
Now that she was here, in a Hell that undoubtedly existed, she had no choice but to believe. At least, to accept that was what her captors in this place truly believed her to be. And her unborn child—Tsuzuki's child—what was it to them, some sort of Antichrist, destined to bring the world to its knees?
They'll use it. From the moment it's born, they'll turn it against me. Against humanity.
Ukyou may not have had any control over her own escape from this prison, but this one thing she could still decide. She couldn't let them do that.
She was well acquainted with human anatomy. She knew where and how deep a puncture would get the job done.
But no amount of planning or deep breathing could have prepared her for the pain. The jagged bone that she'd found in the shadows of her cell—no telling who or what it had once belonged to, or who or what must have broken it in half to get at the marrow—felt as though it were splitting her apart.
And the blood—there was so much of it. She panicked, feeling shock set in much faster than she'd anticipated. Any strength she might have had to pull the bone out and try again was gone. All she could do was fall to her knees and wait for nature to take its course and her womb to abort its pregnancy. Whether she survived it or not, at this point she was beyond caring. What future was left for her at the end of this, anyway? Trapped in Hell for the rest of her natural life? Or a slow, excruciating death at the hands of sadistic demons? Better to go relatively painlessly from blood loss.
She was aware of her captors shouting for help. She heard their grotesque voices as though from a great distance, through a fog. Even as her blood streamed out of her, she could hear its surging in her ears, and let it lull her into a sort of half-sleep.
She was reluctant to leave it when the metal grating screeched open, and cold hands pulled her into a sitting position. The bone shiv was yanked from her body; she yelped as it pulled at her flesh, opening her wound further, and heard it clatter back into its corner.
"What have you done?" It was Focalor's voice that growled in her ear, his fingers that gripped her jaw until she had no choice but to open her eyes, peer into his pale face.
"It's too late." A weak laugh escaped her when she saw his terror. His terror. The master he kept talking about, threatening her guards with—Focalor would feel his wrath now. At least Ukyou could die believing he would go down with her, for failing to prevent this. "I've killed it, your savior." It was better this way, better it never be born than whatever fate they had in store for it."I'm not letting you use a child for your evil purposes."
The devil's lips curled back in barely contained rage, tugging at the ruined flesh of his cheek. Though she still felt ill at the sight of him, it didn't much matter to Ukyou what he did now.
His eyes shifted down to her wound. And then, to Ukyou's surprise, he grinned. "Sorry, Doctor, but it seems that choice isn't yours to make."
"What?" He released her, and she found to her surprise that she had no problem sitting up on her own. The wound in her belly was fading to a dull, stinging ache, the pain in her womb no worse than a bad cramp. Ukyou prodded the skin around the incision—lifted her sweater when, alarmingly, she couldn't find the wound.
It was still there, but only just. Healing itself beneath her fingertips, stopping the flow of blood. She could almost imagine she felt the heartbeat of the child still growing inside her, beating strong, defiant.
And she remembered Tsuzuki's hand. How it had mended itself while she watched. How he had seemed ashamed of what she'd thought then to be a blessing.
Only now did she fully understand. It was a curse. One his child had inherited. Its own biology wouldn't let her kill it. And now its cells ran through her veins, repairing any damage that might compromise its own safety. It wouldn't let its host die so easily. Not while it still needed her.
Focalor stood back and gave Ukyou her space as the hopelessness of her situation sank in and she broke down. He would never have pegged her as capable of such an act, but desperate times . . . It had been a mistake to keep her in this dank cell, guarded by only a few incompetent lower demons, whose faces must have seemed to her like some endless nightmare. A few pillows and a comfortable bed were not enough to make a mortal's existence here livable. He would have to use his imagination if he wanted to avoid a repeat of this.
After all, he couldn't guarantee that Ukyou wouldn't try to take her life or the baby's again. Or that she would be just as unsuccessful a second time.
Keijou could hear their footsteps coming even before they banged on the bars of his cage. Just when he'd been about to fall asleep and forget he was in this literally God-forsaken place for a few blissful hours. He stubbornly kept his eyes closed, hoping he might trick the halfwit demon into giving up and going away.
"Wake up, shinigami. I have a job for you."
That voice was new. It wasn't as repulsive as the usual crew that came to tease and insult him.
Keijou studied his guest through a cracked eyelid. This one looked human, at least, even if he wasn't in the best shape. With his slightly stooped shoulders, shaggy white hair, and doe eyes, Keijou didn't see anything about him that commanded his respect, let alone his obedience. "I don't negotiate with demons," he muttered, and tried to get more comfortable on his granite-slab cot.
"And I wasn't asking," said the other.
Okay. Something about him intrigued Keijou. He didn't sound like the others, who barely had a brain cell to share between them. For that matter, the sheer power in his voice didn't match his meek exterior. If for no other reason than his novelty, he was worth hearing out. "What's this job?" Keijou said, eyes open, turning his head to face him.
Focalor didn't bother to hide his grin. Humans were all alike, whether they were alive or dead. Curiosity was how he got this vessel—and the one before that. "I thought you didn't negotiate."
"And you made it sound like I didn't have a choice. So maybe I'd like to know what kind of torture you've got in store for me before we get going. That is what you do to people here, isn't it?"
"This isn't torture," Focalor told him as he slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. That was to say, what Focalor had planned wasn't intended as torture. Whatever Ukyou chose to make it for the shinigami was up to her. "You might have heard rumors of a mortal woman being kept in the city."
Keijou rose to his feet, taking a step towards the devil. "Maybe." He hadn't, but the fact that there was one sounded unusual, and therefore suspicious. "You want me to take her soul or something? Because, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not that kind of shinigami."
"I wasn't aware there was any other kind. But no, I don't want you to take her soul. I want you to keep her company."
Now, this was just too rich to be true. "You can't be serious."
"Can't I? As I understand it, human beings require the company of other humans. Or else they start to go mad, do reckless things—things which we cannot have her do. If you follow me."
"I follow." At least, Keijou followed that this mortal woman, whoever she was, could finally be his ticket out of this place. "I can keep her company."
"And safe. This mortal is very important to some very powerful players. I need assurances that if I let you near her, you won't try to use her as a hostage to negotiate your own release from here."
Did this guy read minds? Damn, but Keijou should have known better than to put that past any resident of Hell. He should have remembered from training. Mind-reading practically came standard on the higher demons, and particularly the fallen angels, the devils. It was much of the reason they were so successful at convincing mortals to do their bidding. They had a talent for wheedling out just what it would take to make a soul cave.
"Like I said," Keijou gritted out, trying to put a lid on his thoughts and wishing he'd focused more on that area of self-defense, "I don't negotiate with the likes of you. Assured now?"
"You'd be a fool to try it. In any case, as a shinigami, you took an oath not to harm a human being who is not already slated to die, or who poses no existential threat to the lives of others—"
"You make me sound like a freakin' robot. . . ."
"Did I get that wrong?" But Focalor didn't need confirmation. Unlike Keijou, he had done his homework. He didn't care that his smugness about that showed, either. "See, I stake more confidence in those little built-in safety features of yours than I do in the mere word of something that was once human itself, and therefore prone to lie. Of course, the vows you took only apply while under Enma's jurisdiction, and there's no telling whether you would in fact be determined in violation of them if you decided to take Dr. Sakuraiji's fate into your own hands—"
"Sakuraiji?" The smile fell from Keijou's face. "She's the human? You have her here?"
Then he really had no idea after all. Curiouser and curiouser. "You know her."
"I know of her. I was at her house. We had Tsuzuki surrounded, he was holed up inside. But we were attacked by traitors. Things got out of hand. The roof caved in—"
"You had no idea she survived." And probably no idea she was pregnant, and carrying that Tsuzuki's child. Oh, Focalor would have to make sure he was there for this introduction, and that he brought popcorn.
Keijou gripped the adamantine bars of his cell in both hands. The charge that surged through him on contact burned like a steady electric current, but he wanted to feel it. To prove to himself, and to this devil, his determination. "I'll do it," he said. "I'll keep her company. Anyway, it'll give me something to wake up for other than staring at these three walls all day."
"And you'll keep her from harm? Either at her own hand or another's?"
"I will. You have my word. It's what I was made a shinigami to do in the first place. And that's a promise you can take to the bank."
Good, thought Focalor, I look forward to cashing that check. If the shinigami was so easy to convince this time, how much of a challenge would Focalor face when he needed a real favor?
It seemed everyone in Summons was relieved to return to their own sectors. Not to mention relieved that the souls they were to reap weren't those they secretly felt had earned a reprieve from death. Though the majority of shinigami had met their ends early in life and violently, there was a part of them that envied their recent cases. Perhaps because so many of them had died early and violently.
Hisoka sensed it, though he couldn't say he shared the sentiment. He had been on both sides, being the victim of such evil and violence, only to suffer for three years in a hospital bed until the pain of his daily existence finally killed him. Death was death. Unless you went instantaneously, unable to see it coming, he couldn't see that there was any way of going out that was better than another.
He couldn't say he was surprised by how quickly things returned to normal in the Summons office, either. Only a day later and Tatsumi was already making the rounds among their desks, handing down new files with new souls to collect.
"Ah, Takehara. Poltergeist in a high school drama club," Terazuma said with mock excitement, leaning his chair back on two legs with his feet propped on a waste bin, clicking a piece of hard candy against his teeth. "Great. Looking forward to it."
"I am, actually," Wakaba said as she peeked at the details. "This is a lot more in my wheelhouse than what we've had in a long time. Besides, Hajime, I thought you liked dressing up as teacher. . . ."
The salacious look she shot him elicited just the response she'd been going for. Terazuma turned bright red, nearly choked on the candy when his ankles slipped off the rim of the bin, and spun in his chair. He coughed, "Not the appropriate place, Kannuki!"
Over by the windows, Saya and Yuma looked like two mischievous chipmunks covering their laughter.
Tatsumi had not forgotten about them, though. "How does a member of a famous boy band holding on for one more tour sound to you two?"
The women's eyes lit up. "For real?!" squealed an incredulous Yuma, while Saya grabbed the file right out of his hands and tore it open.
Tatsumi enjoyed a good chuckle at that. Even more so when their dream of a romantic encounter with a young heartthrob straight out of a girls' anime died on their faces. "Aw, you didn't say it was a thirtieth anniversary tour!" Saya complained.
"Guess it's back to Kyushu for you and me, Kurosaki," Natsume said while the two of them sat before their respective computer screens. K, who was curled up on his lap, looked up at that and gave him a tired little meow. "And you, too, of course, K-kun. Mm-mm, I can taste the mizutaki now!"
"Better get it to go," Tatsumi said as he passed their desk. "No new assignments for you two today."
Which was just as well, Hisoka thought. In addition to their last cases, they had reports on their actions at Sakuraiji Pharmaceuticals to write up. They would be lucky if they were allowed to get through the extra paperwork without the distraction of a new summons.
Speaking of unwelcome distractions, Endo from Peacekeeping chose that moment to rap on Summons's open door and stick his head in.
"Hey, Kurosaki," he said once he was sure he had most of the office's attention, "just wanted to thank you for the other night. It's refreshing to see that some people around here can still see reason and put their past behind them, do the right thing. Maybe you can impress some of your cooperative spirit on the rest of your department and they'll be as obliging as you in the future."
For a second, Hisoka thought Endo must have just remembered things incorrectly. It was Natsume who had been so insistent on Peacekeeping overseeing the chain of custody of evidence, a fact which Hisoka had personally informed Endo of.
Which could only mean he had some other reason for saying what he did now, where all Hisoka's colleagues, not least of them Natsume, could witness him being on friendly terms with a Peacekeeper. Not to mention, with that smug, crooked grin on his lips, Hisoka couldn't make himself believe Endo had simply misremembered. This had to be personal.
"Oh yeah," Endo said, as though it had just occurred to him, "I knew there was another reason I came down here. I wasn't sure if you'd heard yet, but in case you hadn't, I thought you might like to know Akiyama's dead."
Natsume bolted out of his chair. "What?"
"I know! That was fast, right?" Endo grinned. He said to Natsume, "Just think if you'd put some money on it, like I suggested to your partner here. You might've been able to buy yourself a suit from this century."
Crouched on the edge of the desk with her ears back, K growled. Hisoka could feel Natsume's temperature rising as well, as if someone had just turned a kotatsu on under their desk. But it wouldn't do to let the Peacekeeping officer see him lose his cool. That was just what Todoroki would have wanted him to do.
Trying with all his might to sound as though he weren't bothered by the news, Hisoka said, "What happened?"
Endo shrugged. "Stepped in front of a train during the morning commute. Not too original, really. Leaves a huge mess. But it gets the job done."
Someone should have told him that flippant jokes about how people offed themselves didn't go over well in Summons as a whole.
Natsume's wasn't the only blood pressure getting a boost from the new arrival, either. "Was there anyone with her?" with icy calm, Tatsumi voiced the question that was on Hisoka's lips.
"Nope. Apparently she said at her trial it was all her idea. Don't know why there would have to be someone else anyway. It's like I told you. Types like that, they lose their life's work in an instant, no reason to drag it out."
"I only ask because you sound as though you were quite confident this would happen, a full day ahead of time. It's almost enough to make one wonder if you didn't have a hand in the young woman's death yourself, Mr. Endo."
"Well, lucky for me, I have an air-tight alibi. Just ask my chief." Sensing the growing hostility in the office—and, no doubt, a deepening of the shadows—Endo shoved off the door frame to leave. But he couldn't help one more jab when he caught sight of Nonomiya by the printer. "Summons looks good on you, Nonomiya," he called, winking. "Maybe you should make it permanent."
"Hey!" Terazuma barked, sitting up straight. "Why don't you leave her alone."
It was the wrong thing to say. Anything would have been. It would have been better if he hadn't drawn attention to himself.
Endo feigned a double-take, and laughed. "Wait—is that you, Terazuma? Oh-ho, man! Hardly recognized you since you look so, you know . . . so human."
With a scowl on her face, Wakaba grabbed the stapler off her and Terazuma's desk and chucked it at Endo. It might have hit, too, if Endo hadn't been so quick to dodge, and in the end only took a sizable chunk out of the side of the door frame he'd been leaning against.
She wasn't the only one enraged to action, either. Using some colorful language to suggest what Endo could go do with himself and his relations, Natsume leaped to the door, and slammed it in the Peacekeeper's face.
Looking around at his colleagues, Hisoka could sense that a few of them had wanted to do quite a bit more to the man. K couldn't help twitching her tail and hissing even after Endo was gone. But it was the suddenness of Natsume's outburst that unsettled Hisoka. Since they had been partners, he had shown himself to be quite unflappable, even in the face of clear and present danger. Startling what a little bit of harmless mean-spiritedness was able to bring out in him.
"Don't listen to him, Kochou," Saya said in a small voice in the silence that followed.
But Nonomiya waved it off, insisting she was fine.
"Endo's a bully," Terazuma said to no one in particular. "Always has been, always will be. You can't take anything he says seriously. I'm beginning to think the only reason Todoroki has kept him around all these years is for intimidation, because God knows he's shit at keeping the peace."
It didn't take an empath to see how fragile her cheery, flight-attendant smile was, however, when Nonomiya said through her teeth, "Maybe he does have a point, though. I'd rather call myself a Summons officer than be thought of in the same category as him for the rest of my afterlife." And who could blame her if she didn't want to go back to work with someone as toxic as that?
"I don't buy it for one second," Hisoka said. "I was there last night. I met Akiyama. There was nothing remotely suicidal about her."
"People can change in a few hours," Natsume said, as he returned, still trembling with anger, to his desk.
But Hisoka shook his head. "I'm telling you, she didn't come off that way at all. If anything, she wanted revenge on us for ruining her career and killing her patients. She wanted to prove she could overcome this setback and keep helping people. She was planning for the future—months, years from now. People who plan that far ahead usually aren't thinking of taking their own lives the next morning."
"You could feel all that?" said a distraught Yuma.
At which a troubling shadow passed over Tatsumi's features.
"Endo said no one was with her," said Saya, but in such a way that Hisoka knew she was only trying to be helpful. "If she wasn't suicidal, then what? She tripped? Someone brainwashed her and remote-controlled her off the platform?"
"Yes! I mean, it's entirely possible. I've seen Muraki hypnotize people into doing much more complicated things. Isn't it possible someone could have wanted Akiyama silenced before news of what she was doing got out—especially someone like him?"
Whether it was the mention of Muraki's name or something else, that was Tatsumi's cue to interrupt. "Can I see you in private, Kurosaki?"
They used the conference room, Tatsumi shutting the blinds after shutting the door.
He didn't mince words. "You really think Muraki is behind this suicide?"
He didn't ask because he doubted it himself. More that he dreaded that Hisoka would only confirm what he already feared. "I seem to recall more than once people around here reminding me I suspect Muraki too quickly."
"But that is your opinion?"
Hisoka sighed. "It's complicated. When we interviewed Akiyama at her office, she said she had no involvement with Muraki, and I had no reason to believe she was lying."
"You mean, empathically."
"Yes. But now . . . She wouldn't have killed herself," he insisted, as though if he just repeated it enough times, someone other than himself might help share the burden of his conviction. "I'm telling you, Tatsumi, she wasn't the kind of person who even considers it an option. Someone must have given her a push. If not physically, then at least they put the urge in her head. It's the only explanation that makes sense. Besides, it would be just like Muraki to do something like this to punish us for interfering. Or, that's how he would see it, anyway."
Tatsumi hummed and nodded slowly. It seemed Akiyama's fate or Muraki's possible involvement were not what particularly interested him, however. "Your powers of empathy are getting stronger, aren't they? Ever since your accident?"
Where did this come from? But Hisoka gave it some thought. He must have been acting differently enough lately for someone like Tatsumi, who was usually content to mind his own business, to pick up on it, let alone think it was important enough to mention. "It's not as easy to ignore other people's thoughts as it was before Rikugou blew up on me. If that's what you're asking, then, yeah, I guess they're stronger." Even if my control over them seems to have gotten weaker.
But there was more to it than that, more that Hisoka was hesitant to say, because he was hesitant to think of what it might mean for himself. "Sometimes I can pick out words. Specific thoughts. I wasn't able to do that before without touching the person I was reading—unless they were feeling a word as well as thinking it. My powers have always been limited to feelings before."
"Do you think this new ability could have come from your connection to your shiki? I was given to understand that a bleed-through effect of that nature can sometimes happen, even with non-parasitic types."
Hisoka wasn't sure, so he didn't answer. He didn't recall anything about mind reading in Rikugou's repertoire of powers. Also, there was something Tatsumi wasn't telling him. Something he was trying very hard, and succeeding at not letting Hisoka read.
"You said you were able to tell whether Akiyama was lying," he said instead. "Do you find that to be the case generally, or only with her?"
"It's not just her," said Hisoka. That much was clear. "Though I wouldn't say I'm an effective lie detector, either. It all depends on how badly someone is trying to hide or expose the truth. And as for what they're lying about, that's still beyond my abilities. Unless I can get close enough to touch them, that is."
When Tatsumi let out a relieved breath and ran a hand through his hair, Hisoka had to pry: "What's this all about? You think the mole in our department is still active?" They never figured out who was passing information to Peacekeeping before—or, for that matter, if their suspicions that someone was were correct—but now that Agrippina and Keijou were no more, and the two departments were ostensibly enjoying a new period of open communication, it no longer felt like an issue of any importance.
That was, until this new development with Akiyama, and Peacekeeping learning about her death so quickly. Just how had Endo come by that information so quickly? Had Judgment passed it down, hoping word would get back to Summons in the worst way possible? There were certainly individuals within the Judgment Division who wouldn't mind seeing Summons receive some sort of comeuppance.
Or did one of us pass it on? Is that what Endo was trying to tell us by rubbing the news in our faces?
"The mole? . . ." Tatsumi shook his head, massaging a temple. "To tell you the truth, I had almost forgotten that business, after everything that happened around Sakuraiji's house and these cases that I thought might never end. It's been a rather hectic month, Kurosaki."
"I can keep looking if you want. See if I can find out who it is."
"Or was, as the case may be."
"What, you don't think they'd stop just because Tsuzuki is in Muraki's clutches now, do you?"
Tatsumi sighed. And it seemed to Hisoka that the same thought had occurred to him more than once. "No, they probably would not. That is, if I wasn't just being paranoid and imagining the whole thing to begin with. I don't know. But it couldn't hurt to look into it. Chief Konoe and I agree this 'new era of cooperation and transparency' between us and Peacekeeping is likely little more than a ploy to lull us into lowering our defenses, and I refuse to humor it. What is clear to us is that either Todoroki wants to know everything that's going on in this department, or someone he's working with does, and I can't stand to think that he managed to convince one of us it's in their best interest to spy against their own colleagues."
"Couldn't he get everything he needs from Nonomiya?" But Hisoka already suspected the answer to that.
"No," said Tatsumi. "I trust she's been discreet. That's why her chief no longer trusts her. He will be looking for evidence that she's only telling him what we want him to hear. And if there is an active mole in our department, he will only confirm Todoroki's suspicions about Nonomiya. She has just as much to lose from this as any of us."
"Then, finding out who that person is should still be a priority."
"Only if you can spare the time to look into it. Off the record, of course." Though it felt to Hisoka that, despite what Tatsumi wanted him to hear on the surface, there was a deeper meaning to his words. It almost felt as though he were projecting his true wishes—broadcasting a clear go-ahead in his thoughts, knowing only Hisoka would receive the signal. "For now, though, I believe you have a report to finish?"
"Of course," Hisoka said pointedly, knowing Tatsumi would catch his Roger in it.
When Hisoka left the conference room, Natsume was no longer at his desk. Nor anywhere to be seen. K was missing as well.
"Did Natsume say where he was going?" Hisoka asked his closest neighbors, Terazuma and Wakaba, interrupting their quiet conversation.
Terazuma was no help whatsoever. "Hey, it's none of my business. He's not my partner."
Wakaba just rolled her eyes at him. "He might have mentioned something under his breath about getting some air," she told Hisoka. "You saw how worked up Endo got him. It wouldn't surprise me if he's looking for something to punch or somewhere to scream without any witnesses."
"Maybe he just snuck out for a cigarette. Not a bad idea right about now, actually."
That earned Terazuma the usual chiding, something about kissing an ashtray that made the former detective's ears turn pink. Since that was none of his business, Hisoka sank into his chair with a sigh and tried to refocus on the paperwork in front of him.
Yet the more he thought about it, the more uneasily it sat with him. They didn't have a case, so it wasn't like Natsume had ditched him. Still, that he would take off with hardly a word right after blowing up so uncharacteristically in Endo's face . . .
Everyone had a breaking point, Hisoka told himself, and Endo sure seemed talented at figuring out what that was. But he couldn't help thinking about what the Peacekeeper had told him two nights ago, at Sakuraiji's office. Natsume's not your friend. He isn't anyone's friend. He's a freak. Him and that partner of his. It would be just like Endo to try to drive a wedge between them, and therefore Hisoka would be better off not taking anything he said too seriously. Not to mention, Natsume and K both had a habit of coming and going from Summons whenever they wanted, and Hisoka had never felt like he needed an explanation for it before.
And yet. . . . What if Endo had been serious? What if those words had been meant as a genuine warning to Hisoka?
And who the hell was this other partner? Was he talking about Tsuzuki? Because as far as Hisoka knew, until just a few months ago, Natsume had only ever had one partner before the higher-ups realized he wasn't Summons material and moved him.
When he really thought about it, Hisoka realized he knew next to nothing about Natsume—not only who he was now, but what he'd been in life, what he had done in his brief first go-around as a shinigami for Summons.
And now, when he was as emotionally vulnerable as Hisoka had yet to see him, was perhaps as good an opportunity as Hisoka could hope for to find out. His defenses would be down. And Hisoka was prepared to listen, whether Natsume felt like talking or not.
"Fresh air does sound good right now," he said to no one in particular as he grabbed his jacket off his chair, and hurried out the door.
Where have I seen him before? Where, where, where. . . .
The question ran circles round Imai's head until it almost became a song. Which would have been just what he needed: an honest-to-goodness ear-worm as bad as the one he was trying to get rid of: the mystery of why Kurosaki Hisoka seemed so damn familiar.
While Imai was tapping his pencil and trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on his computer screen, Endo came striding into the office, all cocksure and whistling a tune in a nonchalant way that no one was buying. He hadn't been able to fool Imai for one minute ever since they'd met. In life, Imai had put away plenty of assholes who thought they were too clever to get caught, and Endo had all the hallmarks of one of them.
And here he comes to pour a cup of coffee. (And why, oh why, Imai wondered, did he have to be stuck at the desk closest to the coffee machine? Was it a new guy, hazing thing? See how he functioned with people constantly passing by his desk, looking over his shoulder?) A thousand yen he's gonna shake that packet of sugar like it owes him money.
"Anyone care to guess who I just ran into down in Summons?" Endo said as though everyone within earshot actually cared, while he poured himself a cup of coffee. Then proceeded to shake the sugar packet like it did him wrong before tearing it open.
"And how is our Nonomiya doing?" said another of their coworkers, one who was actually quite decent in Imai's opinion, and entirely too generous when it came to entertaining Endo's delusions of his own grandeur.
Another day in paradise, Imai thought sardonically.
"Oh, you know," said Endo. "Another day in paradise." And Imai rolled his eyes. Not only was Endo a Class-A asshat, he was a laughably predictable one. Why did guys like him always have to say that? And ruin a perfectly good Phil Collins song for everyone. . . .
He happened to look over at Kazuma, and it didn't escape him how tightly her jaw was clenched, or the murderous look in her eyes as she avoided looking in Endo's direction. Imai was missing something there, but whatever it was, it was clearly none of his business.
"Hey, Sempai?" he said to her in a low voice, hoping not to bring anyone's attention to himself but hers. It was strange after so many years of being the sempai himself to use the word again, particularly with a woman he probably had ten years on.
It did the trick. Kazuma glanced over at him, forgetting for the moment at least to resent Endo's very existence. "What's up?"
"I was wondering—well, you see, this Kurosaki thing is driving me nuts. But I figured, he works in Summons, right? Which is kind of like some sort of welfare agency in the living world, from what I can tell? Well, I'm assuming the cases he worked on have to be on record somewhere. Is there some way I might be able to search them—just the Kumamoto ones, of course, to see if any of them jog any memories?"
It was a long shot. Imai guessed that much the longer it took her to contemplate the question.
He was prepared to be shot down. A little less prepared—though pleasantly surprised—when she said, "I think that's doable, actually. I know who to put in a request with, in any event."
"That's it? You're not going to tell me I don't have the proper clearance or that I lack the seniority or something?"
Maybe it was Endo's influence, or maybe she liked Imai more than she let on. Kazuma laughed, and said just a little bit mischievously, "You're in Todoroki's Peacekeeping Division now, Detective. We here don't know the meaning of this thing you call 'proper clearance'."
So much for getting fresh air. There was no sign of Natsume among the cherry trees, or in any of the meticulously landscaped areas that served as natural spaces outside the Judgment Bureau's network of offices. No one Hisoka ran into had seen him hanging around the cafeteria or library—though Gushoushin the Younger felt eager to help as much as he could.
Though the ethics of it struck him as a little fuzzy, Hisoka decided to take a chance: "Hey, Gushoushin? By any chance, did you have any interaction with Natsume back when he and Tsuzuki were partners?"
"Well, that was a long time ago . . ." the little bird-man began, clearly reluctant to go down this line of conversation. Even if Hisoka hadn't been empathic, he would have recognized it as a dodge. The Gushoushin may have been ancient, but Enma wouldn't have put them in charge of an entire library of human lives and deaths if they had short memories. "He didn't really come around here much after he was transferred to Accounting, either. No reason to, really."
"Accounting? I thought he was in Billing."
"Oh, he is. Now. His chief at the time determined that might be a little more his speed. Harder to mess up, lower security clearance." Then, as if realizing he had said too much, Gushoushin shut his beak with a little snap. "But you're his partner. You must know all this already."
"No. You'd think someone would have told me this sort of thing when we were assigned to each other, though, wouldn't you? You know, as a courtesy."
"Well, seeing as you're the only one who's ever lasted for more than a few months as Tsuzuki's partner, maybe they thought you had some special insight into how to handle Mr. Natsume."
"How to handle him? How exactly did their partnership end?"
"How does any partnership with Tsuzuki end?" But Gushoushin had apparently reached his limit of what he deemed safe to say. "Sorry, Hisoka. You don't deserve that. Not after what happened to Tsu— Well, I'm sure it wasn't your fault, in any case. You tried your best with what was a pretty unfair situation from the beginning.
"And this is all really none of my business. If you're so curious, why don't you ask Natsume himself?" he said with a rather forced tone of cheerfulness. "You're his partner."
So Hisoka kept being reminded. Yet it would help if he knew where Natsume was if he was to ask him anything.
They weren't much help in Billing either. The few people to be found in that labyrinth of cubicles hadn't seen Natsume for at least a few days. Though they were eager to finally meet the mysterious Kurosaki who was their friend's new partner in person.
Natsume hadn't been kidding when he said the place was like a purgatory within purgatory. Underground, fluorescent instead of natural light, a faint and ubiquitous aroma of toner on the air. Way more cubicles than there were bodies to fill them, as though Enma had been planning for some financial crisis that had yet to happen.
Natsume's colleagues must not have had much of a life outside the office and their homes, because they spoke of Hisoka's exploits more like he was a character in some drama than a guy who worked upstairs in another department. If this was the environment Natsume was working in day in and out, Hisoka had a little more sympathy for him. Even the most gregarious person would become a bit socially awkward after a year's confinement here, let alone decades'. Treating a pet cat like it was a person seemed like a rather understandable and healthy way to deal with the loneliness, come to think of it.
But along with that sympathy came a wave of suspicion. This was exactly the sort of environment where someone could have a secret life and their coworkers be none the wiser. And Natsume had a reputation as something of a computer genius. From a place like this, he could reach into any database he could hack his way into, take his pick of the Judgment Bureau's most classified documents. Not to mention, send secure e-mails or even talk openly on the phone with anyone he wanted, with no one to look over his shoulder.
All at once it snapped into place for Hisoka.
Tatsumi trusted Natsume, enough to bring him in on secret meetings regarding their search for Tsuzuki. And Natsume had been quite frustrated when Tatsumi hadn't taken his suggestions for hardening their digital security seriously. If he had, surely Natsume would have been the one overseeing Summons's security upgrades. As it was, Tatsumi had practically handed Natsume the opportunity and material to report back to Todoroki's agents.
And then there were all the times he had conveniently disappeared just before Summons's confrontations with Peacekeeping.
Not least among which at the Castle of Candles, when Natsume had aided in Hisoka and the chief's escape, only to part ways from them in the tunnels so he could get advance word back to Tatsumi. What if, after he had done that, he had also warned Keijou and Agrippina of their plans? He would have had plenty of time to get a message through. And it was uncanny how close on Hisoka's tail those two had been, arriving at Ukyou's house in Tokyo—with reinforcements—only minutes after him and Konoe.
Now that Hisoka looked back on it, it all matched up so perfectly. And none of them had even suspected that a former partner of Tsuzuki's would be working against Summons. No one had suspected, that is, except Terazuma, and he only for a brief spell. And who would have blamed him? Terazuma knew better than anyone that being Tsuzuki's partner didn't usually endear one to him; but any protestations against Natsume's being included in their inner circle would have been passed off as just that: misplaced bitterness about his own past with Tsuzuki.
Natsume would only need to point that out, win Terazuma over to his side—both of which he had done—and his loyalty would continue to go unquestioned, and unchallenged.
Hisoka could have kicked himself. He should have seen it—he should have felt it at very least! This is about revenge. Revenge against Tsuzuki, for whatever happened between them. That must be why he's doing this, why he would work with Peacekeeping when he clearly hates them. All he had to do was wait for an opportunity to present itself to set it all in motion. God—how long has he been planning this?
However long Natsume's scheme had been in the works, it would end today. There was one place Hisoka suspected he might find his partner, someplace deep underground that few even knew existed. If he was right, they could speak openly there without any fear of eavesdroppers.
Or witnesses, should Hisoka be forced to take physical action. He had to be prepared for a confrontation, in case it came to that. Though Hisoka hoped Natsume would see the sense in turning himself in peacefully, he knew he could not count on it.
The Lake of Fire roiled like the surface of the sun caught in an indoor Olympic swimming pool-sized enclosure, casting its hellishly glowing orange wave shadows over everything. Hisoka could feel the oppressive heat of it rolling over him the moment he stepped out of the elevator.
And sure enough, there on the lake's bank stood Natsume, patiently wiping the steam from his glasses. "Oh, hello, Kurosaki," he said without looking up, a note of resignation in his voice. "Should have known you'd figure out my hiding spot. I guess there's no putting this conversation off any longer, is there?"