—Chapter 19—Wednesday, May 11th, After Dark—

Makoto sat at the kitchen table staring at what was left of the dinner of ramen and vegetables that Naomi had made for her. Everyone else had finished already, and had left the table to complete their last-minute preparations before piling into Momo's car and heading off for their confrontation with Dean Yoshinora—where they would naïvely offer Ren to a serial killer in the hopes that said killer would somehow slip up. Now that they were staring down the barrel of their desperate plan, Makoto realized just how ill-conceived it was.

But it was too late to turn back now. Until Ren was caught, the police weren't going to consider other suspects, and if they caught him now, his life would be over. They had no alternative—this had to work.

Makoto took a shaky breath and looked up from her food. Naomi was in her room, practicing switching from one campus CCTV camera to another, and Emiko and Jiro were in Emiko's room with Ren, getting him all mic'd up and ready to present himself to a killer. Makoto stood up from the table and walked steadily over to Emiko's room.

She pushed the door open a bit further as she entered. Jiro and Emiko were studying their handiwork, looking Ren over as he sat on her bed staring down at himself, wires and tape criss-crossing his bare chest.

"Is that going to get in the way after he's all dressed and everything?" asked Jiro.

"I don't think so," answered Emiko, "although it might not be very comfortable. It would be good if we could test how far away you can be before the audio signal degrades, though."

Makoto interrupted their inspection. "How's it going in here?" she asked. Everyone looked up at her.

"Oh, fine," said Emiko. "I was just wondering about range, though. We didn't think to test these mics through all the clothing and stuff."

"If you guys can't hear him," said Ren, "just whisper in my earpiece and tell me to get closer."

"If you get too close, he'll see your earpiece," observed Jiro. "There's a balance to consider…"

Makoto swallowed hard. "Can, uh… Can Ren and I have a minute?" she asked, staring at her hands.

The three of them stopped what they were doing and studied her. Emiko and Jiro glanced at Ren, nodded, and stepped away from him. "Certainly, of course," said Emiko. "Take as much time as you need."

"Just, you know, not too much time," said Jiro. "We gotta leave soon." Emiko shot him a disapproving look and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him out of her room and closing the door as the two of them departed. Makoto was left alone with Ren, leaning up against the wall, as he watched her from the bed.

"You okay?" said Ren, knowing full well she wasn't.

She looked him in the eyes from under her downcast brows. It was several seconds before she answered. "No. I'm not."

Ren sighed. "I know how you feel. But it'll be fine. I'll be okay."

Makoto moved away from the wall and took a seat on the bed next to him. Reflexively, he took her hand and held it in his lap. The two looked at each other.

"I just feel…" said Makoto, haltingly. "I just feel like… I've spent so long knowing you… Knowing you existed… Knowing you were special… But still somehow managing to ignore you. To bury everything I thought about you and felt about you into a little tiny corner where I could ignore it for a long time. Now that I've finally… allowed myself to see you… I have to—" She started to choke on her words.

Ren picked her hand up with his good arm and brought it to his lips. After kissing her hand again and again, he held it to his cheek and caressed it.

Makoto started to cry. "There's no shadow version of you this time… If he kills you, you really will be dead… Oh god! I remember how weak in the knees I was when I heard them announce your death on the news the first time… Even though I knew it wasn't true, I thought I would die hearing those words! I think if I have to hear them again… I really will die this time! I'll die… Ren, please! You have to promise me you'll be okay!"

Though it made his shoulder burn to do so, he wrapped both his arms around her and pulled her in close. She buried her face in his neck and wept as he stroked her back and her hair. "I promise you, I will be okay."

Sobbing, she clutched at him. Where this sense of desperation came from, she didn't know, but she surprised herself with her neediness. Her mind floated back to what Ren had said to her in his dorm room, the night she rediscovered herself: "Needing other people doesn't mean you're incomplete. People aren't supposed to be alone. It's a feature, not a bug—it's how we're made." She needed him—she knew it. Now that she'd allowed herself to have him, she couldn't envision an existence without him. She had never imagined she could need another person this much. "I can't lose you," she said, shaking her head.

"I won't leave you alone," he said. "We'll get him, don't worry. And after it's over, we'll be together."

She held him for a long time. She knew he couldn't really promise her anything—whether he lived or died tonight wasn't really within his control. He was putting on a brave face for her by making a promise, and she believed he would do his best to keep it, but in the end, chaos would rule the day. All she could do was to pray that luck was on their side.

There was a knock at the door, and Emiko opened it just slightly. "Guys?" she asked tentatively through the crack in the door. "We should really get a move on…"

Makoto sat up, pulling out of Ren's grasp. Wiping her eyes and governing her voice, she replied, "Yeah, we're moving, sorry. He's getting dressed now, we'll just be a minute."

"Okay," answered Emiko. "Let us know if you need anything. The car's packed—we're just waiting by the door."

"Okay," Makoto said, answering back. Ren looked at her sympathetically, and she met his eyes. "Okay," she said, to Ren this time, "let's get the rest of this shit on you so we can leave."

He didn't need as much help getting dressed as she gave him, but he wasn't about to complain. For these last few quiet minutes, she would let her fingers linger over his skin as she helped him shimmy into his clothes—and he would let her, relishing the sensation of her touch. When they were finished, he stood up slowly from the bed, leaning into Jiro's bo staff for support. She opened the door for him, and he stepped through it.

Jiro, Naomi, and Emiko stood at the front door, watching him as he emerged from the bedroom. They opened the front door for him and parted down the middle, each placing a hand on his back as he walked between them to the car.

—

"Naomi, is the coast all clear?" whispered Makoto into her hidden microphone as she wheeled Ren toward Blue Square. Emiko and Jiro had already peeled off to take their posts at different vantage points looking into the Square.

Naomi was back at the house, watching everything on CCTV. She answered: "I don't see anyone yet, but be careful anyway. I can only see through one camera at a time… And call me 'Talim'."

"I'm sorry Naomi, I love you, but I'm not calling you that," said Makoto, a small smile playing at her mouth.

"You'll call me that, right Sticks?" pleaded Naomi, apparently talking to Jiro.

"I'm really not sold on 'Sticks' as a code name, sweetie… It's what Val Kilmer calls the baby in Willow…"

"Oooh! I love that movie. Madmartigan is hot," said Naomi.

"Yeah, but the baby isn't…" Jiro whined. Mercifully, for everyone else on the comm, that was the end of that conversation.

As they'd planned, they'd gotten here early—but not too early, or they might have run into any students who were lingering on campus. The last thing they needed was to drag a bunch of ignorant bystanders into the quagmire they'd manufactured. However, it was important that they got here before the dean did. Assuming he showed up at all—there was always the possibility, however remote, that the police would come to meet them here instead. Ren had ordered them all to bolt and save themselves if the police did show up, but had no confidence that they would follow his directive.

In spite of the incandescence of the lamps placed sporadically around the Square, there was a foreboding aura about the campus. A fog had settled in, creating a translucent glow around the lamps that made the air brighter, yet the atmosphere darker. Stepping out into the shadowy inner area of the Square felt like something out of Twin Peaks—they were Agent Cooper, and this was the Black Lodge.

Makoto steered him over the grass and up to a picnic table in the middle of the Square. Ren's left arm hung limply in a sling, so Makoto had to help him up out of the chair, transitioning him over to the picnic bench. A lantern, currently extinguished, hung from the back of the wheelchair, and Makoto lifted it off and set it on the table. Ren clutched Jiro's bo staff in his lap, secure in one hand. "Do you have eyes on the Square?" she whispered to Naomi.

"Yes," she replied. "All clear."

"Thanks," Makoto replied. She looked down at Ren, seated on the bench. Leaning down, she got forehead to forehead with him. "I guess it's time for me to go," she said.

Ren tilted his chin up to kiss her, and the two stole a moment together. "I'll see you when this is over," he said to her.

"Mmm," she hummed in response. She kissed him one final time. "Get him to spill his guts, Joker," she said encouragingly.

"Figuratively, at least," he replied.

"Literally is fine too," she said. "As long as he confesses first." She stood up and looked around, but beyond the blackness of the Square was nothing but a sea of white fog. "Naomi," she said, directing her voice into her mic, "I'm about to leave him. Focus on his mic, and tell me when you can't hear me anymore."

"Roger," Naomi replied.

Raising her voice to a volume about equivalent to how she expected the dean would be speaking, Makoto began counting as she walked away. Pushing the empty wheelchair out of the Square, she headed for the perimeter, for one of the walkways radiating out between adjacent buildings. Her post awaited her.

She hadn't remotely made it out of the Square before Naomi was in her ear: "I lost you at about sixteen," she said. "At that point, I could still hear that you were talking, but I couldn't make out what you were saying," she clarified.

"Noted," said Makoto. "Did you hear that, Ren? You only have about twenty feet before we stop being able to make out actual words."

"I heard," he replied on the open comm. "That's not very far."

No, it isn't, she thought dismally. He would have to get pretty close to the dean before they would be able to record anything worth listening to.

Makoto had made it to one of the walkways leading to the Square, shielded on her left and right by two-story buildings. She found a large, box-shaped planter to crouch behind, and made sure she could see Ren and most of the rest of the Square from her hiding place. Of course, she was screwed if the Dean came to Blue Square by this route, but hopefully Naomi could help ensure she wasn't taken by surprise. "What time is it?" she whispered.

Ren looked down at his watch. "Nine fifty-two," he answered. "Jiro? Emiko? Can you two hear us?"

"I can, yeah," answered Jiro.

"Me too," said Emiko. "I'm in position on the west end of the Square."

"And I'm on the south," said Jiro. "Nothing of note to be seen from where I'm at."

"Okay, good," said Makoto. "For reference, I'm on the north side. Based on where he lives, I would think he'd approach from the east, but keep your eyes peeled, and stay out of sight. If he spots you, there could be hell to pay."

"Roger that," said Jiro. "For the record, I'd like to avoid hell." No one had any witty rejoinders of their own to counter with.

Everyone remained quiet for the next few minutes. Tense, they waited for their guest.

Makoto's heart raced, and she could feel the cold sweat accumulating on her body. Her phone had been turned off since they'd brought Ren home, but the time had come to power it back up—she would need it to record video from her point of view.

Once it was on, she could again see the time: 10:01pm. Any second now.

Ren looked all around him, but in all directions, the view was the same: darkness and fog. He was calm. At peace. He didn't want to die, but he wasn't actually afraid of it—he was afraid, but not of death. What he was afraid of—terrified, in fact—was letting Makoto down. Breaking his promise to her. He would do absolutely everything he could to keep it.

"Guys, to the east!"

Naomi's hissed words came like an alarm to each of them. Peering forward, Ren tried to look through the darkness, through the fog, for any hint of movement. Leaning on Jiro's bo staff, he stood up. Slipping his arm carefully out of his sling, he set his free hand on the lantern, preparing to turn it on.

"Amamiya? Amamiya, is that you? I can see the light reflecting off your glasses."

"Dean Yoshinora?" Ren replied. He still couldn't see him, but the sound came from the east, just as Naomi had said.

"That's right," came the reply. "You said to meet you here. I couldn't pass up such an intriguing invitation. Once a detective, always a detective."

"I know you killed Tetsuo Watanabe—the man in the alley outside my dorm. I have evidence. If you agree to help me out from under suspicion, I'll destroy the evidence I have on you."

"Ren, I can't hear him!" Naomi's whispered voice cut urgently through his earpiece.

"And just what evidence do you think you have?" called the dean. Ren still couldn't even see him.

"Come closer, and I'll show you. But I need to know you're not armed. I don't want to be shot again."

"You're the killer, not me," said the dean devilishly, though he did come closer.

Ren turned on his lantern and aimed its beam of light ahead of him. "Come into the light."

The dean stepped out of the shadows and into the Square where the lantern's light fell. "You look hurt, son. Is that a sling you're wearing? Everything okay?"

"Don't be cute," said Ren. "Lift your jacket and turn around. I don't want to see any guns strapped to your body."

"I don't carry a gun," said the dean. "Those are illegal. Only active-duty police officers are allowed to carry those. But I'll lift my jacket for you, all the same." The dean lifted his coat flaps up and turned 360 degrees in a circle, showing off his bare dress shirt and the tops of his slacks. "Satisfied?"

Ren wasn't about to drop his guard, but nothing about what he'd just seen was cause for alarm. "I'm satisfied," he replied. "Now, I need your help," he said.

"A little closer…" Naomi urged.

"What is it that you think I can do for you?" asked the dean.

"Can you come closer? I don't want to shout."

"What's the matter? Do you have holes in your legs?" said the dean, feigning ignorance.

"I said not to be cute. You know perfectly well that you shot me. It's difficult to walk."

"You picked a hell of a place to meet if walking is such a burden," said the dean. He wasn't wrong.

"I wanted to make sure to pick someplace you would be willing to go," said Ren. "I know this is safe ground for you. I know you can access the CCTV cameras whenever you want…" he added, with clear implication.

"What are you implying?" said the dean slyly, narrowing his eyes.

"Come closer," said Ren.

—

Jiro had been watching attentively from the south side of Blue Square. He couldn't hear a damn thing, but he had his video trained on the dean, ready to catch him in the act if he tried any funny business. So far, it had been a lot of just standing around, but that didn't make it any less nerve wracking to watch.

"A little closer…" Naomi said. It sounded like she could hear more than Jiro could, but still not enough for any kind of decent evidence. Jiro sighed.

He had the creepiest sensation that he was being watched. He focused on the images his phone was capturing, doing his best to quash the uncomfortable feeling. Staring at the screen, it seemed like his surroundings were just getting darker and darker.

Before he knew it, he was being lifted up from his crouching position by a large hand wrapped around his neck. Reflexively, he tried to call out, but it was already too late—no air could escape his trachea. Jiro dropped his phone and clawed at the hand around his neck, trying to pry the fingers away, but he only managed to loosen his earpiece. The mic dangled ineffectually from its wire, getting knocked around in the tumult. A second hand reinforced the first.

Jiro couldn't see. Whoever was choking him was behind him, but even still, his vision was beginning to darken—he saw nothing, either in front or behind.

"What the fuck are you doing here, you stupid little bitch?"

At those words, Jiro's useless eyes nearly popped out of his skull. And then he collapsed, unconscious, onto the pavement.

—

"Come closer?" said the dean, taking a single step forward. "Why? So you can get the drop on me? So you can stab me? So The Midnight Blade can finish the job he started in my office last night?" The dean grinned. In spite of what he was saying, he did take several steps forward.

"If you were genuinely afraid of me you'd never have come here," said Ren. "If you were innocent, you'd have taken that calling card to the police. Instead, you're letting the cops come after me for something you did." There was some muffled scratching over the open comm, like someone brushing up against their mic—Ren had to resist the urge to adjust his earpiece. "You know I'm innocent. You even said so yourself. I just need you to say so publicly, or I'll take my evidence against you to the police."

"You expect me to admit to being a killer?" asked the dean incredulously. "You're optimistic."

"I don't expect you to confess, I just want you to advocate for me—the cops will listen to you. You used to be one of them."

"Tell me what evidence you think you have," said the dean.

"I have you, on video, in the alley, stabbing Tetsuo Watanabe."

"And who is Tetsuo Watanabe?" asked the dean, playing dumb.

"The man you saw me fighting with in the alley. You came to finish him off after I left the scene."

There was a beat of silence as the dean evaluated him. "If you had that, you'd have taken it to the police. You wouldn't just be trying to get me to vouch for you—you'd have thrown me under the bus. You don't have that, because it doesn't exist."

Ren had been thrusting, but the dean had parried successfully—nothing he'd said so far was unambiguous proof of guilt. It was time to lunge. "It does exist. You know it does, because you are the one who stabbed him. You thought you'd edited yourself out of the footage, just as I know you think you can edit yourself out of this footage—but that wasn't the only recording."

"Almost there, Ren-kun," whispered Naomi in his ear. "Don't let up though… We don't quite have him yet…"

The dean's eyes narrowed. "What other recording is there?"

"I have the unedited video," said Ren.

"Unedited video of me with Watanabe?" The dean narrowed his eyes. "Where do you have that?"

"Not here, but on my laptop," Ren lied. "I promise to delete it if you agree to help me. I know they'll listen to you."

"And where's that? Where have you been hiding yourself?" asked the dean. "Do you have some team of accomplices who have secreted you away? Or was that your Hello Kitty stationery?" Back at the house, Naomi was scrunching up her shoulders in embarrassment.

"Obviously, I can't tell you that one way or the other," said Ren. "Just know that the footage exists."

"So, your big blackmail ploy is that you think you have video of me killing someone on tape. That's it? Amamiya, you have nothing. I'm disappointed in you—I thought you were more formidable than this, but I see now that you're just another pretty face that's not all that he seems. That's fine—that makes this easier. Good night, Amamiya-san." The dean turned to leave.

Ren's stomach dropped—the dean hadn't fallen for it. And not only had the dean seen through his ruse, but Ren didn't think he'd gotten him to give enough away to firmly implicate himself in any of the deaths. "Where are you going?" Ren cried, desperate to bring him back. "I'll delete what I have if you help me!"

The dean waved his hand behind him dismissively and stepped out of the cone of light emanating from Ren's lantern. He was walking northeast, between two spots of lamplight, certainly too far away for his voice to carry to Ren's hidden microphone. As the dean walked away, leaving Ren hobbling impotently after him, he called back with a cryptic warning: "Consider this payback for what you did to my wife."

Naomi whispered frantically over the comm. "Shit, Ren, I don't think we have enough! Can you go after him?"

Makoto had been watching all of this from the north. At Naomi's urging, she debated whether or not to make her presence known by getting in between the dean and his northeasterly route, blocking his escape. But if Ren could get him to turn around and re-engage, that was better—once the dean saw Makoto, the jig would be up.

Rolling the dice, she abandoned her post on the north side of the Square and moved to intercept the dean on his way back to his car, or wherever it was he was going. "Naomi, I'm going after the dean! Switch cameras if you have to to follow him! I can't lose him!"

Panicking, Naomi backed out of the main Blue Square CCTV feed, and hunted around for the next camera in line with where it looked like the dean was headed.

Ren's heart nearly jumped out of his chest at hearing what Makoto was gearing up to do, but he couldn't call out to her without the dean hearing him. Instead, he let Emiko, who was being quite vocal over the comm, yell at her in his stead. Meanwhile, he tried vainly to regain the dean's ear.

Makoto snuck around the building on the northeast edge of Blue Square, peering around the corner of the building as she approached it. She expected the dean would appear around the other side of it in just a short while. She waited a few seconds, but the dean didn't emerge where she'd thought he would.

"Naomi? What's he doing?"

"Sorry, I'm still trying to find the right camera! I don't know where he is yet!" answered Naomi.

A loud popping noise echoed through the campus, accompanied by a grunt from Ren in her ear, and followed by a shriek from Emiko. Makoto's blood ran cold, and she bolted around the corner, throwing caution to the wind as she hunted after the dean.

—

The impact knocked Ren right off his feet, and he fell backward into the grass, dropping Jiro's bo staff as he struck the ground. Emiko cried out in alarm, but was otherwise completely paralyzed. Her cell phone had been dutifully recording video from behind Ren, but she was so far away she hadn't heard anything the dean had said—she hoped Naomi had heard more through his chest mic than they were picking up in his headset. At this turn of events, she didn't know whether to keep recording, or if she needed to do something more active. The video continued running as she deliberated, trapped in indecision.

From out of the darkness to the south, a large man—a different man—emerged. A man with a gun. Emiko had only taken basic weapons training before abandoning the detective route to pursue forensic medicine. She had no idea what to do. She was frozen. Terrified, she watched, recording everything.

Back at the picnic table, Ren lay on his back, groaning from the pain. The kevlar vest had done its job, but it still hurt like hell. On top of that, the fall had reignited the pain in his shoulder. Ren shook the stars out of his eyes as he tried to recover his wits.

Another blast came, from closer range, to the center of his chest. His instincts kicked in and he rolled under the picnic table, looking for cover. He clutched at his shoulder as he searched desperately for the source of the gunfire. He could see a pair of legs walking in his direction. They weren't the dean's.

Ren's mind raced as he watched his attacker get closer. Ren was unarmed, and his assailant had a gun. Outmatched, he whispered furiously into his mic, "I'm being attacked! Someone else is here!" But he got no response. Whether it was from the shots or the fall, something had knocked out his comm system. Alone, and unable to call for help, he looked around desperately for anything he could use as a weapon. Jiro's bo staff had fallen too far away for him to grab it—as if he knew how to use a staff as a weapon anyway.

The man with the gun had reached the table, and bent down to look for Ren. Ren's jaw dropped in disbelief—he recognized his attacker. They locked eyes, and Ren braced himself for what was to come.

—

Makoto rounded another corner and stopped dead in her tracks. There, hiding behind a row of garbage bins, was the dean, spying back on what was transpiring in Blue Square. Perplexed, Makoto suffered a moment's indecision as she realized he wasn't the shooter—stopping him would not save Ren. Retreating back behind the building corner, out of sight of the dean, Makoto whispered into her headset, "What's happening? I found the dean, but he's just… watching!"

Emiko, whose contribution to the open comm had consisted almost entirely of panicked breathing for the last bit of time, rediscovered her voice. "There's… someone else… Ahhh!" A second popping noise accompanied Emiko's cry.

Makoto peeked back at the dean, who appeared to be shaking his fist as he watched. Makoto couldn't tell if he was shaking it in frustration or if he was cheering something on.

"Ren's mic is out!" cried Naomi over the comm. "Jiro! What's going on? I'm switching back to Blue Square!"

Jiro. Makoto only just realized it, but Jiro hadn't said anything in a while. Her mind screamed at her. What the hell is happening?

Makoto grappled with herself over what to do. Then there was another gunshot. For all she knew, Ren could already be dead. Jiro and Emiko could be dead. She could be the last person standing. She didn't know what was happening. Steeling herself, she made the difficult decision not to run back to Blue Square to help her friends, and instead, she pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and aimed it at the dean, still crouching behind the bins.

She would watch, and wait, and hopefully catch him doing or saying something that would remove any doubt that he belonged behind bars for the rest of his life. And if not, she would kill him herself.

—

"I've got you now, you little shit. Get your ass out here," said Tetsuo, grabbing Ren by his left ankle. Jerking hard and popping a couple of the stitches in Ren's leg, he pulled Ren out from under the table and leveled his pistol at Ren's head.

But Ren was ready. As soon as Tetsuo had grabbed him, Ren prepared to strike back. Once he was out from under the table, he swung his right leg up into Tetsuo's hand and knocked the gun wide. The shot fired—the third of the night—missing Ren's head and implanting itself into the dirt off to his left.

But the gun was still in Tetsuo's hand, and it didn't take him long before he had it trained on Ren once more. Ren kicked again, this time at Tetsuo's knees, and Tetsuo cried out, collapsing into the grass. He was down, but not out. Furious, he crawled on top of Ren and brought his pistol front and center once more.

In spite of the pain in his shoulder and all throughout his chest, Ren reached with both arms for the gun in Tetsuo's hand, trying desperately to keep it pointed anywhere but at himself. Tetsuo was still bigger, still stronger than Ren, and he had an animal-like ferocity to his anger that Ren could never match. It had only been two days since Tetsuo had been stabbed. That Tetsuo was not only not dead, but somehow also able to put up the fight he was waging, struck Ren as superhuman. It didn't seem fair.

Tetsuo, frustrated that he still hadn't gotten the gun aimed where he wanted it, reached with his free hand for Ren's face. Curling his fingers, he went for Ren's eyes.

The recognition that it had only been two days since Tetsuo had been stabbed gave Ren an idea. Squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could as Tetsuo tried to claw them out, Ren brought his right leg up into Tetsuo's stomach and kicked hard. Tetsuo cursed in pain and jerked back and away from Ren.

Blinking furiously, Ren felt around for his glasses, but they were no longer on his face. Giving up on them, he refocused his attention on Tetsuo, who looked genuinely wounded by the kick to his stomach, retching like he was about to throw up from the pain, though still not neutralized. Grimacing, Tetsuo once again brought his pistol around to aim at Ren, who was at this point too far away to reach for it or knock it away, and there was nothing he could hide behind. With Makoto in his thoughts, he shut his eyes in preparation for the shot that was coming, just praying that the bullet didn't find his head.

In his mind's eye, he heard a woman screaming in protest. He heard the shot, but felt no pain—Ren half-wondered if he was already dead. Just to see if he could, he tried to open his eyes.

What Ren saw was shocking. He found Emiko grappling with Tetsuo, trying furiously to wrestle the gun away from him as she sat on his chest. The interference from Emiko gave Ren a chance to crawl his way back to within striking distance.

With a resounding crack, Tetsuo pistol-whipped Emiko across the face, knocking her face-down in the grass, insensate. At that, Ren was immediately on him, and the two were once again struggling over control of the weapon.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Amamiya…" muttered Tetsuo through gritted teeth as they fought. "You have to die… If I don't kill you, I—"

There was another loud crack, and Ren flinched. Suddenly, like a blessing from on high, Tetsuo went limp and the gun fell to the ground with a soft thump. Tetsuo flopped over onto his side, twitching and unconscious. Ren was allowed a moment to get his bearings.

"Who's the 'stupid little bitch' now, you dumb motherfucker?!" It was Jiro, holding his bo staff proudly across his body as he shouted down at his prey. "Choke me unconscious, will you? Well, take that." Ren looked up at his randomly assigned roommate, his throat already a dark mottled blue from where Tetsuo's hands had been. Ren's bruised friend beamed down at him, immensely pleased with himself. "Dude, did you see that? Shit was straight out of Coming to America! I just knocked Samuel L. Jackson out cold!" He put his foot up on Tetsuo's chest and yelled triumphantly down at him: "YES, they deserve to die, and I hope they burn in HELL!" In all his excitement, he was really mixing up his movie references.

Ren crawled over to Emiko, who was still face-down in the grass. He took her by the shoulder and rolled her over. She was conscious, but groggy, and bleeding from the side of her face. Her cheek was already turning purple from where Tetsuo had hit her. She groaned as Ren moved her.

"Emiko… Emiko, can you hear me?"

"Mmmm… hurts…" she moaned. Her eyes were unfocused, and her neck couldn't hold the weight of her head. Ren supported her neck and upper body in his arms as he sat there, ignoring his own pains.

"Naomi?" he called. "Are you still hearing me?"

There was no answer that Ren could hear. Holding Emiko close, Ren started issuing orders. "Jiro, can you drag Tetsuo over to that lamp post? We need to tie him up before he comes to."

Jiro nodded. Setting down his bo staff, he grabbed Tetsuo by his armpits and tried to lift-drag him over to the post. "Jeeeesus fucking Christ this guy's heavy…" complained Jiro bitterly. It wasn't efficient, but he was able to move him without help from Ren. Once he had dragged him near enough to the post, he pulled Tetsuo's windbreaker off. "Check this out: I saw this in a movie once, and I've always wanted to try it." Jiro leaned Tetsuo up against the post and put his windbreaker back on him, but backwards, zipping it closed with the pole inside. "See?" said Jiro, showing off his handiwork. "Now he's stuck here. Pretty great, right?"

Ren was incredulous. "Why don't you come get my belt, and secure his arms behind him with that?"

Jiro couldn't deny that added security was a good idea, and quickly came back to help Ren out of his belt. Ren assisted as best he could with his busted arm, though much of his focus was on trying to keep Emiko awake. He knew that she had been concussed by the blow to her head, and that she needed to stay with them. "Emiko, are you there? I need to know that you can hear my words." Emiko's eyelids were fluttering, and her lips were moving like she was talking, but no sound was coming out. "Jiro, do you see the gun anywhere?"

Jiro scanned the ground for the weapon. "There it is." He kicked it further from Tetsuo, but did not reach down to pick it up. "Your glasses too," he added, and those he did reach for, handing them back to Ren.

Jiro and Ren's comm systems had both been wrecked in the fight, and with Emiko barely clinging to consciousness, none of them were aware of what was transpiring elsewhere on campus.

—

Whatever the dean had witnessed, he wasn't pleased—his tensed back, heaving breath, and white knuckles were giving a first-year seminar on body language—but his anger and disappointment brought Makoto hope. She continued to watch him from behind, collecting footage that she desperately hoped would amount to conclusive evidence of his guilt.

"Fuck!" he cursed. "God damn that worthless little prick. I guess I have to get my hands dirty again…"

Makoto watched, transfixed, as the dean knelt down and hiked up the leg of his brown suit pants. There, on his lower leg, just as she'd seen on Ren, was a narrow blade concealed in a sheath. Upon the shock at seeing this, Makoto squeaked, just loudly enough to draw the dean's attention. He turned his head back around, and saw her there, filming him. His eyes widened as he realized what she was doing, and what she'd just seen him do.

"Oh, you've just made a big mistake, honey," he said, standing up to his full height, his blade gleaming reflected lamplight back at her.

Makoto's blood froze as his eyes locked on her and he advanced, knife in hand. After just a moment to recover her wits, her mind raced through her options: She could run. She had enough evidence now to shift suspicion onto the dean. She could run straight to the police. He'd never catch her.

But there was no way she was going to do that. There was simply no part of her that wanted to run from this man, now or ever. Jamming her cell phone into her pocket, Makoto clenched her fists at her sides as her spine straightened to meet his level. This was reckless, she knew it—but she didn't care. She braced herself.

The dean approached her as he'd approached all the others, except that unlike them, she could see it coming. He assumed she'd been struck dumb with fear, but he was wrong. Thrusting forward, toward her abdomen, he aimed to make short work of her.

But like water, Makoto fluidly sidestepped his strike. Taking the dean's outstretched forearm in her hands, she jerked him harshly into her knee as she lifted it into his belly. Unprepared as he was, his eyes bulged in shock as her knee connected with the bundle of nerves under his ribcage. He exhaled sharply and fumbled his knife, gasping to recover his breath. His momentum had him about to fall to his knees, but Makoto wouldn't let him fall all the way. Grabbing him by his hair, she pulled back on his head, redirecting his torso to remain vertical as he fell. His knees bore his full weight as he slammed down on the concrete. Still clutching his hair in one hand, she slammed her other fist into his face.

One after another, she chiseled away at his weaker parts. Cartilage snapped. Flesh broke open. Blood oozed. As she became aware of a dull ache in her knuckles, she released her iron grip on the dean's hair, and his body rag-dolled, falling face-first onto the pavement. The moist sound of air escaping his lungs is all the sound the dean made as he collapsed, completely neutralized.

Makoto looked down at him, making sure he wasn't about to go anywhere as he lay there moaning on the ground. Satisfied, she shifted her gaze to her knuckles. They were gory, but she was pretty sure most of the mess there had been his.

Suddenly, there were lights on her, and she was disoriented by the glare. With the thudding of her heart in her ears, she hadn't noticed the sounds of shoes scuffing on pavement and men shouting commands at one another. Now that they were upon her, their commands were aimed at her.

"Freeze!" shouted one of the men, urgently. Shielding her eyes, she looked toward the voice.

A flood of officers came at her. One grabbed her by her forearms and pulled them behind her back. The cold metal around her wrists told her she'd been cuffed.

"Get a paramedic over here!" yelled one officer, and a team of policemen crowded around the dean. To her relief, they cuffed him too.

As the team of officers huddled around Dean Yoshinora, Makoto was hauled away, taken into custody.