The setting sun splashed red over the manilla folder, open to the top page of the profile contained within it. The dying sunlight distorted the picture attached to it, but one could still make out the distinguishing characteristics; hair slightly mussed but kept close cut, square jaw, stern eyes that spoke of overwork and cynicism, and a mouth that was a step away from a frown. A small label below it identified the portrait's subject in block characters: DOJIMA RYOTARO.
The file was dropped unceremoniously to the desk below it. "He passed?"
"With flying colors, sir. I believe the physician noted we'd do well if half our force had his numbers."
The older of the two men drummed his fingers on top of the profile. "Surprising. Seeing as everything indicated after the events of last December, he'd be lucky to meet bare minimum for his age, not just the entrance requirements. Anything we know that changed this past year that might explain it?"
The younger man flipped through a stack of handwritten notes. "Nothing particularly dramatic. His nephew was living with him until March, wherein he returned to Tokyo to rejoin his parents. That same nephew was the reason he was here during the incident at Takura Productions with the Love Meets Bond festival."
"Hrmph, don't remind me. Had a hell of a time of keeping that one under wraps. Thankfully, the last thing Takura wants is bad press about their idols being the center of a mass panic." The older man's attention turned back to the file in front of him. "Anything else?"
"Not really. His nephew did come back to live with him shortly after that, to prepare for university. His sergeant said there'd been nothing of note until riot. Though he did exhibit some odd behavior afterwards. Said that he suddenly quit smoking, full stop, and was observed to be much more restless than usual."
"Nervous about something?"
The younger man shook his head. "Not that we could dig up. There was some speculation it had to with one of the escapees being Adachi Tohru, but otherwise, nothing." He handed over an envelope. "The physician did say there were some abnormalities we should note, though."
Inside the envelope were two x-rays, the dates at the bottom putting them a little over a year apart. Both were torso shots, but the first was cloudy around the lungs, as if dirty, and several ribs were fractured. The second one seemed to be of a younger person, with clear lungs and every bone practically glowing white. "There's got to be a mix up, here…"
"No, they tripled checked both records. The first is from the time of the November incident with Namatame, and the second is from the physical. The physician had his own doubts, but he personally handled the film."
A frown pulled the older man's lips together. "Did someone take the physical for him?"
Again, the younger man shook his head. "CCTV footage confirms it was him the entire time."
The older man closed the file in front of him. "Somehow the man's had the clock turned back ten years. Interesting. Well, makes sidelining him a whole lot harder, but this might just play to our advantage. Keep the infoscrape going. Dismissed."
As the younger man bowed and slinked out of the office, the older gentleman reopened the file to the portrait.
"What's your secret, hm?"
"Ahhh…!" Dojima caught himself. Damnit, that was the third time in the last hour he'd tried to sneeze. Was he coming down with something? He didn't feel like it. He just felt...cold.
After they'd returned with Adachi, the fire that had driven him mad was slowly...ebbing, leaving him all the more aware of the colder air of winter. Certainly, he still had moments of flare ups…he had to switch to a reusable metal canteen for his coffee, after the third paper cup he scorched set off the fire alarm. Even still, he found himself shivering more often than not in the office, when before he'd complained about how warm they kept it. He'd even started to keep his suit jacket on, which had caught the attention of a few of the younger detectives. It had taken a more than a little self control to keep him from showing them what this 'stuffy old cop' could do.
His mind wandered over the past week, since he'd jump through the hoops and forced the higher ups to allow him back on the field. While the fire had ebbed, none of his other new, ah, 'abilities' had shown any signs of abating. Most of the time, it was easy to forget anything had changed; it wasn't as if people were normally put into situations where they were being shot at, or pushing the limits of their strength. Not even policemen, no matter how the media portrayed it.
Which made it even worse when he did slip up. Like this morning, when they'd gone to check on a lead on the location of one of the escaped convicts. He'd gone and opened a door to the apartment… before it had been unlocked. Thankfully, the building was old and rotten, so it had been easy to blame the doorknob in his hand on shoddy maintenance, and not his own strength. It'd been a blessing in disguise, in the end; the witness was so rattled by the incident they'd offered up more information than originally expected.
Which is why he was now standing outside, in this bitter cold, with a few other plainclothes detectives, surrounding a rundown house on the outskirts of Inaba. The building was the last known address of Seitou Noburo, wanted escaped convict, among other things. Dojima adjusted the black leather gloves on his hands to hide a scan of the surroundings around his lookout position.
Seitou was a nasty asshole, that was for sure. Dojima had worked on the original case as a rookie that had put him away eight years ago, and it still left a bitter taste in the detective's mouth. The man had orchestrated a series of violent robberies throughout the great Inaba area, and had been suspected of everything from weapon trafficking to even kidnapping for the North Koreans. They'd never been able to pin most of it on him, even with the burden of proof on Seitou himself, but it said something when even the local members of yakuza had offered information on the man's activities. In the end, the only way they'd been able to pin him on any charges was when he'd gone too far in his abuse of his live in girlfriend, and had attempted to continue it in front of EMTs and the police officer they'd called to the scene. That had been enough for a warrant to search his place. Seitou was someone who had a grudge and a violent streak; no wonder they'd pulled every available officer for this takedown.
There was a sudden movement to his left, by the garage. Dojima hid the turn of his head by making an adjustment to the sunglasses he wore. The action, he realized, was just a stray cat stalking the high wall around the house, but it drew him to a glint through the bushes that overhung the garden.
He was halfway to his radio when the shot whizzed by his head. There hadn't been the sound of a gunshot...was the shooter using a silencer? His thoughts were oddly calm as he zigzagged toward where he'd seen the gunman. The fire that had been ash in his gut for the last week bloomed anew in him, directing him to dodge out of the way of the second shot. His earpiece was squawking as the others scrambled to move on the house, but he ignored it for the most part. There were four more shots at other officers, and Dojima had to grit his teeth when he heard one connect… thankfully, it was merely a graze. A few more meters, and he'd be there… though what he'd do when he got there wasn't entirely clear.
The roar of a car engine caught him off guard, and he nearly stumbled. A large black car suddenly smashed through the garage door a meter away from him, sending fragments of wood and metal flying. The driver must have spotted the detective, because several tonnes of steel and fiberglass swerved toward Dojima with frightening accuracy. He didn't have time to think, let alone dodge or grab his sidearm.
Fire screamed in his blood as he felt time slow around him. The car was paused in front of him, the driver paused in his rage. Dojima stepped to the side and in the same motion, drew the gun from under his coat. Time began pick up speed again, and something told him that a shot wouldn't be fast enough to stop the driver. Still, the gun would be useful.
The safety glass of the driver side window crumpled around the gun as Dojima punched it through the passing vehicle. He caught the driver's jaw with the barrel, and he could feel the bone crack under the force. His arm stuck momentarily in the ruined mess of glass and plastic, the detective spun around almost a full circle until momentum pulled him free. The vehicle careened into an electric pole, before the wall of an embankment brought it to a full stop.
It took Dojima a moment to jog up to the remains of the driver side window, several other officers not far behind. In one glance, the detective knew two things. One, the driver would live to see the inside of a jail side. The second...
"It's not Seitou! I said, the driver is not Seitou!" Dojima yelled into his radio, no longer bothering with keeping a blown cover. The two younger officers had already pulled the driver from the car, assessing his injuries and looking for any IDs.
"EMTs are already on their way; but other than a mangled jaw," Dojima winced slightly, "and a broken leg, he's seems to be in one piece. Nice shot, Dojima-san."
"Hm?" The older detective was only half listening.
"I mean, none of us were expecting the car, and you managed to shoot the side window out fast enough to stop him..." the rest of the officer's babble drifted away as Dojima ran back to the house, where the rest of the detail was swarming. Damn, twice in one day he'd acted without thinking. How long before he pulls something off that he *can't* explain away…?
They'd already broken down the front door with a battering ram by the time he arrived, with others checking the garage and backyard, covering all the exits. Chatter over his earpiece was constant. "No sign of anyone in the back, moving forward," and "First floor clear. Anyone find where that smoke is coming from?"
Smoke?
Dojima scanned the foyer, nodding to the other officer on guard, who waved him in with his gun, as the man used his free hand to press a handkerchief to his face. What was he doing? Pulling off his sunglasses, Dojima wondered what he was missing here.
Smoky haze filled the room, almost obscuring everything in its path. Wait, what? Where had this all come from? It felt like a fog rolled in when he'd blinked….
Fog.
His hands shook slightly as he looked down at the glasses in his hands. He hadn't even noticed they were the pair that Teddie kid had made him for the TV World when he'd grabbed them from his jacket. He slipped them back on, and sure enough, the mist around him vanished.
Fuck , this was bad.
Taking out a tissue from his pocket, he pretended to heed his colleagues' concerns about smoke inhalation, all the while grimacing at the implications. Following the stairs upwards, he could hear the confusion.
"Any sign of Seitou?"
One of the riot squad shook his head. "Not yet. Hitogami saw him flee up here, but we still can't find anything beyond smoke, and well…." Dojima didn't need to guess what the other officer was mentioning. With the TV glasses cutting through the fog, it wasn't hard to see the dead man propped against a closet door, part of his head a bloody firework on the wall next him. Kazuma Sera, one of the other escaped convicts from the jailbreak two weeks prior. Seitou apparently hadn't wanted to have his cellmate talking to police if he got caught.
No television in the room, which was a relief, even as fellow officers pulled up rugs and tatami mats, looking for a hiding spot. Still, something caught the detective's eye that he couldn't ignore. There was something odd about Kazuma's body placement. Dojima gingerly stepped around the dead man's limbs, trying to figure out the trajectory of the shot. It was almost as if he'd been shot by someone in the closet… but the door was closed…
His hand brushed the surface of the full length mirror on the door, and an icy thrill shot up his arm. Dojima recoiled from the touch, and nearly tripped over the corpse's legs behind him. The mirror's surface rippled for a moment, before once again becoming still. Just like when his nephew put his hand through the TV at Junes.
Tipping his sunglasses and fighting to keep his breath calm, he watched the mist pour out of the mirror's surface, like fog over a lake. The mist was obviously slowing down, finally trickling to a stop, but no doubt this was the place of origin.
Seitou Noburo had left the building, and the fire in Dojima's gut told him that the convict wasn't done just yet.
Notes:
See, I told you the physical could get Dojima in trouble! Someone's got it out for our hardboiled superdetective, and we don't know why. Who has he pissed off this time? And what mysterious force is he up against going after the escaped convict? Izanami might be no longer a threat, but she's not the only one in the taking over the world business.
So, yeah, hopefully this is a little more action packed for you folks. As always, reviews and favorites are greatly appreciated; they fuel this poor little soul to write more.