—Chapter 12—Monday, May 9th, Afternoon—

In spite of his confidence, Ren had butterflies in his stomach all day leading up to his Blades test. In one of the immense knife rooms in the athletics complex, Ren knelt at one end and waited for his teacher to arrive. A number of students from the Intermediate class had come to watch. They waited patiently in a cordoned-off section of the room, interested to see what this upstart first-year who'd already been moved up from level one could do. He wanted to give them a good show, but at the same time, was nervous about being the center of attention.

This wasn't a certification exam like Makoto had undergone—this was just to advance from one level to the next. By no means did he need to come out of this test looking like an expert, he just needed to demonstrate that he was already proficient in the goals of the Intermediate course: Knife-throwing, kata, and intermediate-difficulty hand-to-hand fighting techniques against a similarly-equipped opponent. At this level, you were expected to demonstrate that you could use at least five different styles of knives, and the hand-to-hand fighting was done using wooden replicas. There were already very few types of blades Ren didn't feel he could handle appropriately, and he had a preternatural gift when it came to knife throwing. The hand-to-hand aspect was always a little harder to predict, but he felt pretty confident he could avoid any would-be mortal blows his teacher might dish out.

"Amamiya, Ren," a voice called. Ren looked up, and there, coming through the open doors, was his teacher, ready to begin the test.

Ren stood. "Sensei," he greeted, bowing stiffly.

"Are you ready, son?" asked his teacher, a friendly but incredulous look in his eye.

"Yes, sensei," answered Ren.

"You know, I've never administered this test to a first-year before. When the Intermediate teacher told me to 'watch out' when he notified me that he was sending you up to my class, I assumed he meant that I would find you to be a pain in the ass."

"I hope I haven't been a pain in the ass, sensei."

"Oh, you have—but not in the way I had imagined," he said, grinning slyly. "Anyway, I'm looking forward to this—I told the dean about you, and even he was interested enough to want to see what you could do," he said, indicating the camera high up in the corner of the gym. "Ready to give him something to see?"

Ren swallowed, nodding. "I am, sensei."

"Well then, let's start with throws." His teacher gestured to a table on the adjacent wall lined with knives. "Choose at least five weapons, one from each set, and throw them into the three targets on this wall from a distance of no less than four meters. The faster you can make the throws, the better."

"Yes, sensei," Ren said, approaching the table. After a brief scan of the knives on offer, he plucked one off the table, tossed it up and caught it by the blade a moment later, then hurled it across the room at the wall of targets. The knife penetrated the target, striking the bullseye—from a distance of five meters.

There were audible murmurs from the crowd, but Ren didn't stop to wait for them to grow silent. He scooped up the remaining three knives from that same set, wandering to different parts of the room. From different angles and distances, he threw each one at the various targets, every one penetrating, though not quite into the bullseyes.

Ren smiled, looking quite pleased with himself. He knew he was showing off, but he didn't care. He went to the second set of knives, giving each one a twirl or a toss, something, just to gauge its weight and balance. Gathering up all four, he walked casually to a position about five meters away, in front of the leftmost target, and one after the other, he flung them into the wood: thok, thok, thok, thok. They didn't strike the bullseye, but the group of them formed a perfectly straight vertical line just left of center. Ren returned to the table, grabbing the third set of knives, testing each one's weight and balance, just as he'd done with the others.

From in front of the middle target, at a distance of six meters, he let fly each of the four knives. Thok, thok, thok, thok.

The fourth and fifth sets went very much the same way.

"Okay, that's enough, you're out of knives to throw." His teacher stepped away from the wall, walking toward Ren and the now empty table. "I'd have stopped you sooner, but I needed to see at least one from each set. Now then," he said, turning to the targets, "those were some good distances, and thrown rather quickly, but you missed the—"

Ren's teacher stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open as he looked at the targets. "Did you… Did you spell your name?"

Ren bowed deeply, hiding his self-satisfied smirk from view. "Sensei," he replied, confirming.

"Oh, for—" his teacher sighed exasperatedly. He wore a look that said it all: 'Pain. In. The. Ass'. "Okay, up next are the kata. Show me heian shodan."

Without missing a beat, Ren approached the targets and withdrew two knives. Throwing knives weren't necessarily what you wanted for close-quarters combat like the kind that kata techniques were generally designed to illustrate, but they would do for demonstration purposes. Taking the knives in hand, he performed the twenty-one steps of the heian shodan kata.

When he was finished, his teacher asked to see two other kata, the tekki nidan, and the bassai dai. Those in attendance watched quietly, rapt.

"Very well done, excellent form," said his teacher.

Ren bowed in acknowledgement. "Sensei."

"Alright then, one test left. Ready for a little one-on-one?"

"Yes, sensei," Ren replied with a nod.

"Go to the knife lockers and grab a kukri for me, then choose something for yourself. Here is my card so you can check out both." His teacher handed him his staff I.D. card.

The crowd of onlookers could be heard muttering amongst themselves, and Ren blinked—it had been everyone's understanding that the one-on-one portion of the test would be with wooden knives. "Sensei? The lockers?"

"You heard your teacher—a kukri, please, and something for yourself."

Ren did as he was instructed. Going to the lockers, he went first to the kukri, swiped the card, and withdrew it. It was long, with substantial reach for a knife, and heavier at the blade end—it would have considerable momentum. Ren browsed the lockers for a suitable weapon to put up against it, eventually pausing in front of a selection of drop-point blades. After a moment's deliberation, he found what he was looking for.

"Drop-point with a gut hook?" said his teacher, as Ren closed the locker and returned with his teacher's card and weapon. "Interesting choice."

The two combatants took their places in the center of the room and bowed to one another. Then, after barking a signal to begin the match, his teacher got into an offensive stance, holding his kukri in a hammer grip. Ren responded by dropping into a defensive stance, knife outstretched in a modified saber grip. Wasting no time, his teacher came at him, slashing downward left and downward right. Ren had to be quick on his feet to evade the attacks, nimbly dodging the strikes, looking for an opening of his own.

Openings, however, were hard to come by—his teacher was quite skilled. Ren wondered if this was really how these tests typically went. He'd gone into this fight thinking he would be demonstrating his own attack patterns and offensive maneuvers, yet he found himself having to put real effort just into not getting sliced open. His teacher swung the kukri swiftly, and its weight left an open question as to whether or not he would be able to pull it back in time if it looked like it would actually connect.

Ren was being edged backward, toward the wall of weapons lockers—what would happen when he ran out of space to maneuver was anyone's guess. He'd spent most of the match watching, hoping for an opportunity to strike, but he was beginning to realize he would need to take a different tack. Thankfully, he'd grabbed the right weapon.

His teacher liked to employ heavy, downward slashes. Ren waited for another of those, and instead of dodging, as he'd been responding up to that point, he instead used the backside of his own weapon to get in front of the kukri. He felt his teacher's weapon slide along the dull edge of his own blade, until…

…There—it caught. With a tweak of his wrist, Ren pinched the kukri in the gut hook notch of the drop-point blade, and was able to torque it enough that he could pry it loose from his teacher's grasp, causing him to fumble the weapon. The force of the action snapped the gut hook off the back of Ren's knife, but the deadly part of his blade was still there. Turning the tables on his weaponless opponent, Ren deftly switched into a reverse grip and stabbed at his teacher's neck, stopping just shy of the flesh.

The crowd gasped, and everyone stood motionless. Breathing heavily, Ren and his teacher locked eyes. Slowly, his teacher raised his arm and laid it over the top of Ren's knife, bringing it down and away from his vitals.

"You pass, Amamiya—but you owe me a new knife."

The crowd of spectators erupted in cheers, applauding the show he'd put on. Ren held his arms at his sides and bowed respectfully to his teacher, who bowed back. The match was officially concluded. A couple students Ren didn't know slapped him on the back in appreciation of a solid performance before heading out of the gym, laughing and shaking their heads in disbelief. Ren was jittery from all the adrenaline still coursing through his body. That was a lot more of a performance than he'd been expecting to give.

"The Advanced class meets on Thursdays at one o'clock," said his teacher. "I'll see you then." He bowed once more, then promptly departed. Ren hastily bowed in return, but his teacher had already turned around and was heading out of the gym. Ren took a deep breath, assessing things.

Ren walked to the lockers, plucking the lost kukri from the floor along the way, and returned the weapons to their homes. He then gathered up his gym bag and headed out the door. Some unexpected visitors were there to greet him.

"Ho. Ly. Fuck," Jiro said, looking at him agog. By the look of the two women on either side of him, he spoke for them as well.

Makoto, fourth among the group, stepped up to him with a bright smile—a proud look that said 'I already knew you could do that'. She placed both hands on his upper arms, rubbing them affectionately as she simultaneously loosened him up. "You absolutely kicked ass in there," she said. "It was a sight to behold."

Ren laughed, hugging her tightly. "Thank you. Though that was not even a little like what I had prepared for…"

"No shit!" shouted Jiro. "Does testing out of a Firearms class mean you have to survive a fucking duel? I'm feeling real good about my decision to pursue the bo staff right now, let me just tell you."

"That was so coooool!" cried Naomi, utterly impressed, flapping her hands in excitement. "Ohmygod, you're Voldo!"

Ren shot Jiro a questioning look. "Is that…?"

Jiro nodded. "Soul Calibur, yeah."

"Neat. Thanks," he said, offering Naomi an appreciative smile. "Anyway, I didn't realize you guys were going to come. I thought you had classes of your own to attend."

"We ditched class!" shouted Naomi, with a perky shrug. "We thought it was more important to watch you test. Didn't we, Emiko?"

"Uh, yeah," said Emiko. These were her first words since Ren had emerged. "We just peeked in from the doorway. We didn't want to distract you with the knowledge that we were watching."

"Did I look like a showoff?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"With the knife throwing bit, yes," said Makoto, very matter-of-fact. "But during the fight, well…"

"Man, I think your teacher may be the killer," said Jiro, half-jokingly. "Dude had eyes of steel. Straight sociopath!"

"Glad to hear I'm no longer your prime suspect," said Ren facetiously. Emiko gave Jiro a look that Ren couldn't place, but he brushed it off. "So, you still wanna get dinner?" he asked Makoto.

"Yes, I think we have cause to celebrate a little, and I know a good place that's within walking distance of your dorm. What do you say?"

"I say I need to shower and change, but then, yes. I still feel a little weird from all the adrenaline—I think a shower will help me reset."

"Okay," she said. "I'll head home with Naomi and Emiko, and meet you back at your dorm at six. We'll go from there."

"Sounds good," he said. He took a half-step toward her like he was going to kiss her goodbye, but stopped short, glancing at Naomi and Emiko.

Noticing, Makoto stepped toward him instead, giving him a kiss before nuzzling him lightly on the cheek. She spoke quietly into his ear. "It's okay, I don't mind. See you later."

"See ya," he said, and he and Jiro headed for the north door out of the building. The women headed east, toward the courtyard, and the exit on that side of the complex.

The two men walked together through the long hallway on the way to the north door. "Sorry," said Jiro, "I don't know if you and Makoto being a thing was supposed to be a secret or not. I mentioned it to Naomi yesterday, and she sounded surprised, so I guess Makoto hadn't already told them."

"Makoto's not big into talking about herself, so I can see her not really wanting to volunteer information like that. But it's fine, don't worry. It's not for my sake that I would've wanted it kept a secret, it's just that I worry about it getting back to Tetsuo. I like those two, I just don't really know them all that well."

"Oh, they're definitely not on Team Tetsuo," remarked Jiro. "You don't need to worry about them sneaky feeding him information, or actively rooting against you or anything. They haven't seen or heard from him since the party."

"Well that's good. Makoto never got a firm 'I'll back off' from him, so we're still sort of wary."

"I'll bet," said Jiro, pushing open the north door.

Outside, it was a beautiful spring day. The cherry trees were in full bloom, and the sky was clear and blue. People were out, back into their routines after the close of Golden Week, and the street was choked with the cars of students who were back to the gym now that their break was over. The only empty parking spaces were the few handicapped spots nearest to the door. Ren couldn't help notice the ostentatious red sedan parked in one of them.

"Check it out," said Ren. "No sticker."

"I hate when people park illegally in handicapped spots," said Jiro. "I mean, I understand the impulse—it's so hard to see those nice, convenient spots sitting there empty and not want to park in them—but I wouldn't be able to bring myself to do it, so I'm always annoyed when other people do."

"Yeah," muttered Ren, "you'd have to be a presumptuous dick to try to get away with that." Or at any rate, you'd have to be a certain presumptuous dick.

For the rest of the walk home, they chatted idly about relatively inconsequential things. Once they were back in their room, they tossed their gym bags into their respective closets and each took a seat at their desks.

"I thought you were taking a shower?" said Jiro, powering up his PlayStation.

"I will, I just want to look into something first." He got out his phone and booted up his laptop. While it was loading, he sent a text to Makoto.

What kind of car does Tetsuo drive? It's red, isn't it?

It took her a moment to respond. She probably hadn't made it all the way home yet.

Yeah, it's a red Dodge
I don't know what kind. Something muscly

Of course it is

Why?

I saw a car like that parked in one of the handicapped spots just outside the athletics complex. Just made me curious, that's all

God dammit

Keep your eyes open
If you can have Naomi and Emiko walk with you to the shuttle stop later, please do that
And walk you home, too

Okay, I will

Thanks
See you later

K, bye

Ren got on his laptop and looked up Dodge sedans. Browsing through Google images, he thought he spotted something that looked about right. "Dodge Charger," he said.

"Huh?" said Jiro.

"That car we saw was a Dodge Charger. It's Tetsuo's—probably."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Is homeboy following you now?"

"Me or Makoto—not sure which. Of course, I'm sure that wasn't his first time at the gym, so it's possible he was there for completely innocent reasons."

"'Innocent', my ass," huffed Jiro. "Dude is looking for trouble. Think he watched you test today? He'd be an idiot to pick a fight with you after that."

Ren blew out his lips. "Well, there's nothing on-brand about that…" he said sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, watch your back then," said Jiro. "Still planning to go to dinner?"

Ren chewed his cheek, considering. "What would you do?"

"If Naomi's scary, beefcake ex-boyfriend was hunting me? Probably piss my pants." He tried to think of a more serious answer. "Maybe call the cops? Isn't there a restraining order in place already?"

"It won't stop him from parking at the gym. Also it doesn't protect me. There's not anything for me to call the cops about at this point."

"So what does that mean for your dinner plans?" asked Jiro.

"Well, I guess I would continue to act like normal—well, as 'normal' as one does when there's a serial killer prowling your neighborhood…"

"Holy shit, what if Tetsuo's the killer?" asked Jiro.

Ren turned in his chair so he could study Jiro's expression. "Are you being serious, or is this like when you said I was the killer? Or my teacher, for that matter…"

Jiro dropped his head down onto his desk. "Dude, I don't even know anymore…"

—Monday, May 9th, Evening—

Ren did eventually get his shower, and at about ten to six in the evening, Makoto texted that she had boarded the shuttle. Ren got up from his desk and pulled a jacket out of the closet. "She's on her way."

"Okay," said Jiro. "Man, I'm having flashes of those game shows… You know, the ones where contestants have to make it through some gauntlet of obstacles in order to get to the finish?"

"Does this mean I'll win fabulous prizes?" asked Ren, slipping into his coat and sitting back down to put on his shoes.

"Something…" shrugged Jiro. "Provided it isn't Squid Game…" he added, under his breath.

Ren huffed in amusement, but otherwise ignored the comparison. Once his shoes were tied, he got up and looked out the window, scanning up and down the street. He then went to the alley window and did the same thing.

"Are you looking for red cars?" Jiro asked. "Has it come to that?"

"I was, but I don't see anything," he answered. He sat back down in the bean bag chair to wait out the next ten minutes. After some time spent scrolling through his phone's news feed, he saw an article about the killings.

"They released the identity of the third victim," he said. "Nineteen-year old Yosuke Imahara of Nagano."

"Nineteen? Damn, that's young. Was he a student here?"

"Checking…" Ren answered, moving his thumb up and down the screen. "Looks liiiike… Yes, he was. Holy shit, he was walking home after visiting friends of his that live in this dorm."

"That live here? Oh crap…"

"Yeah, shit, that cuts close to home."

"Dude, please be careful going out tonight!" Jiro begged. "If it was me, I might stay in… I can take the shuttle back to Naomi's place if you and Makoto want to just hang out here."

"Pass," said Ren. "Thanks for the offer though. Makoto and I can take care of ourselves. We'll keep our eyes open."

"Man, that is exactly the sort of thing someone says in the movies right before they end up dead!"

"You watch too much TV," countered Ren.

"Well, duh, but that doesn't mean it can't happen!"

"I promise, we'll be okay."

Jiro sighed. "Well, I won't be able to sleep tonight until you get home, so don't stay out forever. And if you decide to go back to her place, text me, or something, so I know you're not dead."

"Will do," said Ren, getting up. He had just received a text from Makoto that her shuttle was about to arrive.

Before saying goodbye to Jiro, Ren took one more look out the windows. "Fuck," he said. "I don't believe it."

Jiro shot up in his seat. "What? What is it?"

Ren pointed out the window. "Red car, down the street."

Jiro ran up to the window and looked out. "What the hell?" he cried, eyes popping out of his skull. "Dude, seriously! Stay in, would you please?"

Ren opened his camera app and took a picture of the car he thought was Tetsuo's. "I'm not running from him. This will just be more evidence we take to court when Makoto has to defend her case against him. We're prepared. If we have to, we can defend ourselves."

"Jesus, if you say so…" said Jiro. "I'm gonna watch out the window all fucking night though, and if that car moves, I'm texting you."

"I appreciate it, thanks. We'll add it to our arsenal of evidence. See ya later," he said, heading out the door.

"Yeah, bye," said Jiro, still peering out the window and down the street.

Ren took the elevator to the lobby and stepped out. Students were coming and going from the dining commons, and things were busy. Makoto was by no means the only person getting off the shuttle at this time, but in the throng of mostly male bodies, he could easily pick her out. He greeted her outside, but waved her into the lobby to talk to her.

"What's up?" she asked. "Dinner's that way," she said, pointing out the door and toward the alley.

"Just thought I'd show you this first," he said, pulling out his phone. "See that?"

She examined the picture on the screen. "Is that his goddamn car? Son of a bitch."

"Pretty sure it is, yeah. It showed up in between you texting me to say you'd left, and you getting here. Jiro is watching it now."

"Is it okay for us to go out?" she asked.

"Well, this is what I wanted to ask you. I have my opinion, but I'd like to hear yours first."

Makoto was unfazed. "Oh, the hell with that guy—I say we go out. He tries anything, I'll stomp on his dick."

Ren couldn't help but to laugh. He pulled her in for a hug. "Oh, Mako-chan…" he said sweetly, swaying back and forth with her in his arms, "I think… I think I've fallen for you."

Makoto smiled, squeezing him affectionately. That wasn't exactly an 'I love you', but it was close. She thought about saying it to him, but she wasn't quite ready yet. She thought she probably did, but she was pragmatic, and she knew what the blood chemistry of attraction could do to a person's ability to think clearly. The logical-rational part of her brain said to her, 'If it's true now, it'll still be true in a week, or a month, and you can tell him then'.

After swaying with him for another few seconds, she pulled away and brought him in for a kiss. A few guys in the lobby could be heard 'ooh'-ing at them. They broke apart with a chuckle.

"Well," said Ren, smiling, "dinner then?"

"Yeah, let's go."

Holding hands, they walked right out of the lobby, and turned toward the east alley. Once they were actually in the alley, Ren looked up toward his room window for any sign from Jiro. Not seeing anything, he shifted his attention in front of him, getting the lay of the land. There was a big dumpster on his right, but besides that, the alley was empty. Nothing but concrete and metal ductwork.

Coming to the street on the back side of his building, things opened up. His dorm was right on the edge of campus, so city streets stretched out in front of him. Utsunomiya was a capital city, and this was the Academy district—streets were lined with quaint outdoor seating, mini parks, and local art installations. Trees were strung with colorful paper lanterns, and happy noises filtered out from various dining and recreation establishments.

"Neat town," said Ren. "This is pretty much my first time going anywhere besides campus or your neck of the woods."

"You mean besides the park, your first day here," she corrected him. "It is a beautiful city."

"That's right, the park. I almost forgot—that feels like forever ago." Ren's phone chimed as he spoke.

"Only a month ago—pretty much exactly. It does feel like a long time though. So much has happened in that time."

"The car moved," he said, checking his phone.

"That was Jiro?"

"Yup," he said. "Would've left shortly after we disappeared into the alley."

"Sheesh," she said. "You think he thinks he's being sneaky?"

"Probably. I mean, if I hadn't happened to notice his car parked illegally earlier today, this might actually be sneaky… It only isn't because we happen to be on the lookout for it."

"He did get his car back today," she reminded him. "I've had my eyes open all day, expecting something from him."

"No new calls? Or texts?"

"No, he's been radio silent."

"I wish I could figure out what he thinks he's going to get by doing any of this. I guess I'm just bad at criminal psychology, because I can't conjure a motivation for it. I mean, I can, it just doesn't make sense…"

"Like, you can't understand the point of threats and stalking?" she asked.

"Yeah. I mean, what does he think he'll accomplish if he actually tries something? Say he finds me and kicks the shit out of me—does that bring you back to him? Does he think you'll be so impressed at his manliness, that you'll come running back into his open, waiting, veiny arms?"

"Maybe it's just vengeance, and he doesn't really care whether he gets me back or not." She scowled.

"Okay then, say it's that. Is he completely unafraid of the legal consequences? How would he possibly get away with it? I know your order of protection doesn't actually cover me, but there is at least a paper trail. I could prosecute him for harassment and assault. Given the line of work we're aspiring to get into, that would ruin his whole future."

Makoto thought about this, and he was right—she couldn't figure out a way for him to really 'get away with it' either. In her head, she continued to go around and around on this.

After another minute of walking, they'd made it to the restaurant. "Here we are," she said.

"Ooooh, fancy sushi," Ren cooed, examining the exterior of the establishment. Out front were several tables cordoned off by a low fence, mostly unoccupied and illuminated by strings of globe lights criss-crossing above. Inside looked busier, and dim lighting revealed little else. "Indoor and outdoor seating options… preference?"

"Outdoor," she said, after just a moment's consideration.

A sign reading 'Please seat yourselves' greeted them at the entrance, so the two took seats at a table on the perimeter of the space, facing one another. From Ren's seat, he had a good view of the street out front, but trees and other obstacles prevented him from seeing things that were any significant distance away. Looking around, he didn't think he'd have a better view from any of the other tables.

"How's the view?" she asked.

"Meh," he answered. "I can see the street right around us, but not much beyond."

"Would you feel better inside?"

"Nah, this is fine. I prefer having fewer other patrons around anyway."

"Agreed," she said, smiling at him.

A moment later, a server greeted them. "Good evening, my name is Kenichi, I'll be your server tonight. And how are the two of you this evening?"

"We're fine, thank you," said Makoto.

"Can I start the two of you off with something to drink? We have a house sake that is quite good."

"Just Sapporo for me," replied Ren.

"Tea, please," said Makoto.

"Very good. Here are your menus. I'll be right back with those drinks."

"Thank you," they replied in unison.

Makoto leaned forward conspiratorially. "You're old enough to buy booze?"

"Barely," he replied. "That was actually my first time ordering beer in a restaurant—I'm kind of disappointed he didn't ask to see my I.D."

She chuckled, studying her menu. As she examined her options, the question of Tetsuo's motivations wormed its way back into her head. "Why would he stalk me?" she asked.

"Huh?" Ren said, looking up from his menu. It wasn't quite from out of nowhere, but it still took him a moment to connect back to what she was talking about. "You mean, besides the fact that he's a possessive dirtbag with an ego inversely proportional to the size of his tiny little steroid dick?"

She exploded into a fit of laughter at his colorful depiction of her ex-boyfriend's member. After finally getting control of herself, she was able to answer him. "In case you were wondering, I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of a shrunken dick."

"I wasn't wondering, and I'd prefer you didn't try," he said wryly, with a swift shake of his head.

"Okay, yes, anyway, besides that reason," she said, "has stalking ever won someone their girlfriend back?"

Ren shrugged. "I've read about cases before where women were intimidated into getting back together with their abusers. They'd try to get away, but the constant looking over their shoulder gets to be too much, and they relent. In other, rarer cases, the women get the idea that the stalking is a sign that the man really loves them, and they take him back happily."

"Are you kidding me?" she said, aghast. "Are they idiots?"

"I try not to judge," Ren sighed. "I can only imagine that there's a lot of emotional abuse that leads them one way or the other."

She bit her lip, thinking. "You know, it's true. I was only with Tetsuo for three months, but after we broke up, I realized that I'd already let a lot of my agency erode away—almost everything that we did together, he was deciding for me. It had just become easier not to have a strong opinion about anything. I guess I can understand how, if you're with someone like that for a longer period of time, they can eventually make you believe things like that."

"Believe that being with them is easier or better than not being with them, you mean?" he asked.

"Yeah, or that controlling you is a sign that they love you."

"Here are your drinks," interrupted the server, approaching with a tray. "And sir, I apologize, I should have asked this earlier, but may I see your I.D. please?"

"Oh, of course," said Ren, winking exaggeratedly at Makoto as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He handed the server his I.D.

"Thank you, sir. I thought you looked old enough, but my supervisor insisted I check first."

"I completely understand," said Ren, holding his hand up. "I wouldn't want you to get in trouble for serving minors."

"I appreciate that, sir. And you, miss?"

Makoto perked up at the question, glad to know that she hadn't yet crossed the Rubicon into too-old-looking-to-be-carded-at-bars territory, and swiftly produced her I.D. from her purse.

The server gave it a cursory glance. "Thank you very much. Are the two of you ready to order?" he asked, handing back their respective identification cards.

Ren gestured to Makoto, inviting her to go first.

"Oh! I haven't finished studying the menu yet… What do you think looks good?" she asked Ren.

He shook his head pointedly. "No way am I letting you let me order for you," he said. "Not after the conversation we've been having. Just pick something—I'm sure it's all delicious."

If a glare can be affectionate, then that's how she looked at him.

"Do you need another minute?" the server asked.

"No no, it's fine," she said, sighing heavily. "I'll have… unagi sushi and miso soup, please."

"Very good. And for you, sir?"

"Make that two, please," Ren answered.

"Two unagis and two miso soups. Thank you very much," he said, bowing to hide a small smile. He took their menus from them, then turned around and went back inside the restaurant.

Makoto looked at Ren. "Is that really what you were going to order?" she asked.

"I'll never tell," he said.

—Monday, May 9th, Nighttime—

They stayed together in the restaurant for a good long time. Long enough that Ren had had to switch from beer to coffee to avoid going home wobbly. Night had fully descended, and they had ordered dessert just so they could stay a bit longer without feeling like they were freeloading off the restaurant's hospitality.

They were just finishing off their anmitsu and mochi when Ren glanced at his watch. "The shuttles are going to stop running soon. We need to wrap this up."

"Oh, boo," she said, tossing her napkin cavalierly onto the table. "I guess you're right. There's a stop not far from here—might be faster than catching the one from your dorm."

"You might not make it to the one at my dorm."

"It's that late?" she said, picking up her phone to check the time.

"It's that late," he said, confirming. He waved his arm to catch the eye of the server, who was probably anxious to call it a night himself.

The server approached, check already in hand. "Did the two of you have a nice visit with us?" he asked politely.

"We had a fantastic time, thank you," said Makoto, reaching for her purse.

"I got it," said Ren, pulling a few bills from his wallet and handing them to the server with both hands. "Thank you for the meal," he said, bowing. "We're in a hurry, so please don't bother bringing back the change."

The server examined the bills he'd been handed, making sure there weren't any there that he could easily give back. "Thank you very much, sir. Please, have a safe trip home, and come visit us again sometime."

"Definitely," said Makoto, pulling on her coat. Together, hand in hand, she and Ren left the friendly, well-lit atmosphere of the restaurant. Almost as soon as they had passed through the gap in the courtyard's low fence, it was like a shroud had fallen over them, and they were both on alert, scanning the area as they walked. Ren felt instantly sobered up.

"See anything?" he asked her.

"No, you?"

"No." He shook his head. "But you feel it though, right?" Makoto squeezed his hand in response.

They walked briskly together, continuing to keep the conversation at a minimum as they kept their eyes glued to the shadows. It wasn't until the shuttle stop, a beacon of light in the darkness, came into view that they began to slow their pace.

"Are we in time?" he asked.

Makoto checked her phone. "Should be," she said. Once they reached the covered waiting area, Makoto checked the schedule on the wall. "There's one more coming," she said. "Should be here in just a few minutes."

"Wow, we really pushed it. Jiro's gonna be pissed at me," he said, pulling out his phone and firing off a quick text: Home soon

"Is he waiting up?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's convinced Tetsuo's gonna kill me. Or that Tetsuo is the serial killer. Or that goblins will eat me alive—that guy worries about a lotta shit." His phone let out a ping: Jiro's confirmation that he'd gotten the message.

"Too many violent video games," she said, shaking her head.

"For real. Kids these days, am I right?" he joked.

She laughed, coming in for a hug. He welcomed it eagerly, opening his arms to her and offering her a chaste kiss.

"I had a really nice time this evening," she said.

"Me too," he agreed. "This felt very normal, when very little else lately has."

"I know what you mean," she said. "This felt like… we're an actual couple." The way she said it hung in the air, like she was waiting for him to catch it before it could fall.

"Aren't we?" he asked her.

"I'd like that," she said. "I just… wanted to make sure that that's what you wanted too. I know I came on… kind of strong… and I wanted to make sure you understood that I… would like you to be…" she spoke haltingly, like she'd forgotten her courage.

"… Exclusive?" he said, finishing her thought for her. "Makoto, I'm shocked you needed to ask."

"I'm sorry, I just… Making assumptions is dangerous, and I…"

He cupped his hands on either side of her face and brought her to him for a long, sweet kiss. "Of course, there's no one else," he said, before kissing her again.

The screeching of hydraulics let them know that their time together was up. Makoto pulled away from him reluctantly, reaching into her purse for her I.D. The shuttle came to a stop outside the waiting area, and she walked to meet it.

"Congratulations again on passing your test," she said. "Good night."

He held a hand up in goodbye. "Good night, Makoto. Remember to let Emiko and Naomi know that you're on your way back."

"I will," she called back, as the shuttle doors concealed her inside. The shuttle pulled away, and everything was quiet. Ren stood alone, under the harsh, artificial lights of the waiting area, and looked out into the darkness beyond. He couldn't see anything out there. He would need for his eyes to adjust, but that wasn't going to happen if he stayed where he was. He pulled out his phone and checked his thread with Jiro. The message from earlier waited for him: Okay, good. Was starting to get worried

Ren thought it would be good to send one more text before he dove into the blackness of his walk back home: Makoto's shuttle just pulled away. Leaving the shuttle stop now. I won't check my phone until I'm back, just FYI

Jiro replied with a terse 'K', and Ren put his phone away, looking out once again into the dark Utsunomiya streets. He took a breath, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

He gave his eyes just a moment to adjust to the sudden change in lighting. He knew Tetsuo was out there—he'd seen the car on a side street shortly after they'd left the restaurant. It was too dark to make out the color, but he recognized its silhouette, and that of the large man in the driver seat. Tetsuo had given himself a view of the street in front of the restaurant, but was out of sight of the patrons. Ren didn't know who Tetsuo was more interested in following though, him or Makoto—but his instincts screamed at him to be careful.

He could've told Makoto what he'd seen and chosen to go home with her instead, avoiding a confrontation entirely, but he'd chosen not to. Not that Ren was a fool—he wasn't looking for a fight. He was, however, interested in putting an end to things with him and Tetsuo, and should Tetsuo decide that assaulting Ren was the thing he was going to do, Ren knew that would speed up getting him criminally prosecuted and out of their lives for good. Tetsuo was bigger and stronger, but Ren wasn't afraid of him. Tetsuo was a hothead, and Ren was going to punish him for it.

If it actually came to that, of course.

Having adjusted nearly fully to the nighttime lighting, Ren began the long march back to his dorm. He continued to scan side streets as he went, listening for every little noise that his ears could detect. He tried to stay away from streetlights, to keep his night vision intact and to keep himself hidden from his potential hunter. He had several blocks to go. Except for an older man shuffling by in what looked like a jogging suit, Ren saw no activity that drew his attention.

Ren walked for quite a while with no issues at all. He was beginning to wonder if he might make it back to his dorm without an encounter. Turning a corner, he could see his building in the distance, and picked up his pace. His heart was pounding—he was struggling to hear over the noise it was making. He walked a little further—his dorm was across the street. Through the alley, then he'd be home.

In the middle of the street, he paused, looking around, listening intently. There was nothing. No noises, no cars, no subtle movements in the shadows. But the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Crouching down, he slipped his hand under his pant leg and pulled out his knife.

Keeping it close to his body, out of sight, he slowly crept forward, toward the alley. He heard Jiro's voice in his head: 'It's like one of those game shows…' Entering the alley, he walked as soundlessly as he could, glancing backward periodically to make sure he wasn't being followed. He was halfway through the alley—he could see the light ahead, up on the right: His dorm room, and Jiro, still awake, holding down the fort. He took a slow, deep breath.

Stepping slowly forward, approaching the dumpster in the alley, which was now on his left… And with barely a whisper to foretell of the storm, someone, a large man, came at him from behind the dumpster, swinging a knife. Ren jumped back, startled but not surprised, bringing his own weapon up into the fray. The lighting was bad—he couldn't tell who it was. Swiping with his stiletto, he caught his attacker in the arm, prompting barely a curse in response.

There was something unnatural about the mild reaction he'd gotten from his attack, but there was no mistaking the low, raspy quality of the grunt. "Tetsuo?! Is that you? What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm gonna fucking kill you, Ren Amamiya. This'll go down as another one for the killer, and you'll be fucking dead. I'm gonna enjoy this." Tetsuo came at him again, but he was slow, slower than Ren, and Ren was able to evade Tetsuo's thrusts.

Ren had to think. It hadn't occurred to him that Tetsuo would actually want to kill him—he didn't believe that Tetsuo was the serial killer who had taken four lives already. But apparently, Tetsuo's plan had been to make Ren's death look like he'd fallen victim to the killer. Ren would die by the knife, in an alley near his dorm, just like Yosuke Imahara, and he would be victim number five of the mysterious serial killer.

Tetsuo was still coming. "You're gonna die, Amamiya… Then I'm going to fuck Makoto… And she's going to want it, because after you're gone, I'll be all she has left… Once you're dead, she'll fucking listen to me again… You fucking asshole…"

This was serious. Had all Ren needed to avoid was an ass-whooping, he'd been prepared to defend himself—the slash he'd rendered on Tetsuo's arm would've been enough to end the fight. But this opponent was crazy, and prepared to fight to the death—stopping him might require in-kind action. And then Ren would be the killer everyone was after.

Fuck. Ren kept his blade in front of him like a shield, but Tetsuo was undeterred by its presence. Tetsuo had longer reach, and greater strength. Ren was better with a knife, but unless he was willing to throw it, effectively discarding his own weapon, that would do little good—he needed to get within the range of Tetsuo's arm. Ren's advantage was that he was faster. He would need to use that.

Tetsuo came at him, and Ren sidestepped the attack, moving to put his back against the dormitory wall. He held his knife out in front of him, taunting Tetsuo to try again, which he did, all too eagerly, stabbing at Ren's chest.

Ren ducked, causing the attack to miss. Tetsuo had put a lot of force behind that strike, and when it missed, his knife hand crashed into the wall at Ren's back. Tetsuo cried out, bloodying his hand and dropping the weapon. Thinking quickly, Ren plucked the weapon up off the alley floor and hurled it into the dumpster on the opposite wall. Tetsuo had been disarmed.

"You son of a bitch! You fucking cocksucker! You're going to pay for that!"

Tetsuo shook off the pain in his hand and balled it into a massive fist. It wasn't going to look like Ren had been stabbed by the serial killer anymore, but Tetsuo didn't seem to care—he was preparing to beat Ren to death. Ren switched to a reverse hammer grip on his knife, holding the butt end at his thumb and forefinger. The next time Tetsuo came at him, Ren ducked under the punch, and threw his own fist into Tetsuo's gut, striking him exactly the same way he'd hit Jiro in training on Friday, except that this time, there was follow through.

Tetsuo wheezed, desperately sucking in air as he fell to his knees. Ren had knocked the wind out of him.

"You fu… hhhhh… You fuhhhh…"

"I'm calling the cops," Ren said, slipping away from Tetsuo's reach. "Get some help, you fucking psychopath. And if I catch you anywhere near Makoto, I'll cut your dick off, do you hear me?" Tetsuo could only rasp out further obscenities.

Ren wiped the little bit of Tetsuo's blood off of his knife before kneeling down and sliding it back into its sheath. Then he walked out of the alley, glancing behind him to make sure Tetsuo stayed put. He just knelt there, struggling to breathe.

Back upstairs, Ren headed right out of the elevator and into the communal bathroom. A quick glance around revealed no other residents. At the sink farthest from the door, Ren turned on the water and washed his hands, scrubbing them thoroughly. He looked at his face in the mirror—under the harsh bathroom lighting, his face looked yellow and ghostly. He quickly rinsed off the soap and rubbed his face up and down with his wet hands, catching his breath as the adrenaline bled out of his system. With one last look at himself in the mirror, he shook off his hands and wiped them on his pants, leaving the bathroom.

At the end of the hall, he slotted his key into the door and opened it wide. Jiro was there, at his PlayStation, just as Ren had expected him to be.

"Ah, you made it, finally," he said, pausing his game of Tetris and turning around in his chair to face Ren. "How far away is the restaurant you guys went to? That took longer than I expected it would. And why are you all sweaty?"

Ren collapsed into the bean bag chair and pulled out his phone, ignoring Jiro. In the fracas, he had missed a couple texts from Makoto: 'Made it home. You?'. And from a minute later: 'Please text me when you get this'. He punched the call icon on his phone.

Makoto answered. "Hi! Did you make it back?"

"Tetsuo attacked me in the alley," he said. He was calm, but the adrenaline in his voice was still palpable. Jiro dropped his controller.

She was silent for a brief moment before getting very serious. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

Ren wasn't actually sure. He glanced at himself, patting down various parts of his body, but didn't find anything amiss. "I think I'm fine. Just… rattled. I was going to call the cops, but I wanted to talk to you first."

There was a commotion in the hallway. Ren and Jiro glanced toward the closed door, but did not get up.

"Tell me everything that happened," said Makoto, urgently.

"I had seen his car since leaving the restaurant, so I was already on guard. When I got to the street just behind the dorms, my hackles went up, so I pulled out my knife." At this, Jiro's eyes bulged—he hadn't been aware of Ren's stiletto. "I very cautiously entered the alley, and as soon as I got close to the dumpster, he jumped out at me from behind it, slashing at me with a knife of his own." Jiro's eyes bulged even wider. There was shouting coming from the hallway, but he was too engrossed in Ren's tale to care.

"He said he was going to kill me," said Ren. "He wanted it to look like the killer had done it."

"So he is the killer!" shouted Jiro. Makoto could hear him through the phone.

Ren shook his head. "He's not the killer… He just wanted to take advantage by copying it, so my death would be pinned on whoever else is responsible. He said as much."

There were sirens, and police lights flashing in the windows. Jiro finally stood up to investigate, checking the street out front. There were cops pouring out of four different cars. "Holy shit," he said. "Something's up." He motioned for Ren to get up.

Someone pounded on their door. Ren was baffled to silence by everything that was happening. Makoto could hear the sirens through the phone. "What's going on?" she asked.

Jiro opened the door to find one of their neighbors on the other side. "Dude, there's a dead guy in the alley! There are cops fucking everywhere!" Another student from further away could be heard yelling: "It was that serial killer again!" The student at the door ran off to tell more people.

Closing the door, Jiro went to the alley window and opened it. There were students spilling out onto the emergency exit stairs to watch what was going on down below. The police had taped off the alley and were investigating a body sprawled out on the pavement. Jiro recognized it instantly.

"That's… Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit… Ren… Tetsuo's fucking dead."

In a trance, Ren stepped awkwardly over to the window. His legs were shaky. He had dropped his phone, and Makoto's voice could be heard calling to him from the floor. Ren leaned over the bean bag chair and looked out the window. Staring into the alley below, he felt his vision darken, and he collapsed into the shapeless sack of foam beads. The last thing he'd seen was a team of paramedics hovering over the motionless body of Tetsuo Watanabe.