—Chapter 21—Monday, May 23rd, Morning—

Makoto sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair, browsing through her email for a reminder of everything Sae had told her to do and say. She was ready, but just reading the information over again helped ground her. The clerk entered the courtroom, and everyone got quiet. The few people who were still standing around chatting took their seats as well.

The courtroom was especially full, in spite of the blandness of the case. Makoto correctly guessed that enough gossip had made it out about what this was about that people were interested, even if, on its face, this was going to be a very boring procedure. Makoto looked across the aisle at the defense, and was relieved to see that Tetsuo wasn't there. Sae had said he wouldn't be, and she hadn't expected him to be, but it was still a relief to not see him. In his stead: A well-to-do lawyer with weirdly puffy hair.

The bailiff entered the room and called out to those in attendance, "All rise for the Honorable Judge Fumihiro Ito."

Makoto stood up, straightening the skirt of her charcoal gray dress suit. Judge Ito entered casually, before casting a curious eye over the crowded courtroom. The bailiff presented the judge with a copy of the complaint. "Good morning, Judge. Niijima versus Watanabe." The judge sat down, and the clerk motioned for those in attendance to take their seats once more as well.

"Thank you, Tori-san. Good morning to you." The judge looked over the papers in his hands. "You are Makoto Niijima?"

"Yes, your Honor," answered Makoto.

"And you are Junichiro Hasegawa, representing the defendant?"

The expensive lawyer answered, "Yes, your Honor."

"And where, pray tell, is Mister Watanabe?"

"My client is unable to be present today, your Honor."

"And would you care to enlighten the Court as to why he is unable to defend himself against these charges?"

"Your Honor, my client is currently being detained in relation to another ongoing investigation."

"I see. And what investigation would that be?"

The lawyer shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Your Honor, may I approach the bench?"

"Granted."

The lawyer stepped up to the bench and whispered surreptitiously to the judge. Makoto couldn't make out any of what was being said, but she was able to see the judge's face as he reacted to it. His eyes grew larger for a moment—apparently he hadn't heard the same gossip everyone else in the room had. The lawyer finished his explanation, and Judge Ito took a moment to get his expression back in order.

Makoto watched as the judge took another look over the paperwork he'd been handed before picking up his gavel and addressing the courtroom. "The Court finds in favor of Makoto Niijima. Order of protection granted." With that, the judge smacked his gavel, and the gallery erupted in whispers, which were immediately silenced by a stern look from Judge Ito. The bailiff instructed everyone to stand once more, Judge Ito promptly left, and the courtroom seemed to explode in chatter as the audience members began talking to one another.

Makoto stood there, shell-shocked, but victorious, her eyes swelling. She had thought she'd have to actually present evidence to make her case, but she'd apparently won just by showing up. A woman in the gallery grabbed her arm to congratulate her, and Makoto snapped out of her shock. She sniffed back her tears, thanked the woman, and collected her things to leave.

Outside, the warm spring sun shone on her face. This was just one of many dominos that needed to fall before the end, but it had fallen in the right direction.

—Thursday, May 26th, Afternoon—

It was a beautiful day, so Kaito Mifune had decided to hold class outside. There was a courtyard in the middle of the athletics complex that was just about the right size to accommodate the number of students in the Advanced class. Benches lining the perimeter of the area even allowed for spectators to observe as the students engaged in their kata and sparring exercises. Students in Advanced Blades were given access to more realistic-looking knives with retractable blades, so after the first few 'stabbings', they had accrued an impressive number of onlookers. It was obvious from the look on Mifune's face whenever he glanced at the onlookers that he got a kick out of watching their reactions.

Ren couldn't hold back his own chuckling either. There was something a tad perverse, perhaps, in finding amusement at people's shock at seeing someone stabbed. Maybe he was perverse. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was fake that made him smile. Whatever the reason, whenever any of the other students got 'stabbed', he couldn't help quietly laughing to himself.

At least laughing didn't hurt so much anymore. He had another four weeks to go, according to his doctor, before he was allowed to engage in anything strenuous again—the only treatment for broken ribs is to just back off from physical activity for a while. His gunshot wounds were healing nicely, but they were yet another reason for him to sit among the spectators for now. He was already barely using the cane when he walked, but that didn't mean that every step didn't still hurt.

Since he had only just started attending school again on Monday, this was Ren's first day of the Advanced Blades class. His teacher was content to just let him watch and get his bearings for now. Ren wasn't content—he ached to get in there and show up these noobs—but watching was better than nothing.

At the close of class, Mifune had all the students line up for final announcements. Ren was unsure whether or not his teacher had intended for him to get up and act like the rest of the group. Since class was held outside today, no one could tell him apart from the other spectators, and they hadn't seemed to recognize him either. Ren elected to remain on his bench—he didn't feel up to the inevitable attention and questions that his presence would draw.

With a final bow to their sensei, the students departed. Leaning on his cane, Ren stood up and prepared to depart as well, but his teacher stopped him. "Amamiya-kun, how did you enjoy your first day back?"

"Well, technically, sensei, Monday was my first day back," Ren replied with a bow, respectfully correcting his teacher. "This was just my first day of Advanced Blades; I'm disappointed I couldn't participate, but I enjoyed watching everyone."

"I'm looking forward to having you fully engaged in what we do here," said his teacher.

"As am I." Ren smiled slyly.

"Can you come with me to my office?" asked Mifune. "I know you're injured—I'm not offended if you say 'no'—but it's not far."

Ren blinked. "Certainly, I can come with you. Things are healing well," he said, taking his first steps to follow his teacher into the athletics building.

"I'm relieved to hear that," said Mifune. "This way."

Just inside the building, they took the elevator to the second floor. Two doors down from there was Kaito Mifune's office. "Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk before taking the seat opposite.

"Sensei," began Ren, "I appreciate you asking me to come here. There's something I wanted to say to you—"

Mifune held up his hand to silence him. "I know what you're going to say," he said, "and there's no need. I am as guilty as anyone else of rushing to judgment—of believing what they'd said about you before all of the evidence was in. I certainly knew you had the skill to be guilty of what they were alleging, but I should have known better. I had seen the look in your eyes when we sparred together—there is fire there, but no malice. I should have trusted my own instincts better, rather than listen to talk. I know you want to thank me, but really, what I want is to apologize to you."

Ren was speechless. "Mifune-sensei, I…"

"You're grateful, I know. Understand, though: I was honor-bound to inform the police of my incredulity regarding the dean's claims—your thanks is unwarranted. But since you feel grateful anyway… Well, I want to feel like I've earned that gratitude." Kaito Mifune bent over, reaching toward the floor behind the desk where Ren couldn't see. "I have something for you," he said, setting a cloth-wrapped bundle on his desk.

Ren stared at the small package wrapped in cloth and twine, his mind swirling over what it could be. He placed his fingers on the bow tying it shut and looked at his teacher.

"Go ahead, open it," Mifune smiled.

Ren pulled on the ends and peeled away the cloth. The weight of the object inside felt familiar. As the last layer of cloth fell away, Ren's eyes widened in disbelief. "My… My knife! But… how did you…?"

"I have quite a few former students at the CPF," said Mifune, by way of explanation. "I only just managed to pry this out of their hands yesterday. It's been one excuse after another, but now that Yoshinora has been formally charged in all of the deaths, I finally convinced them that they had no reason to hang on to this any longer. It's yours again."

"I'm… stunned. Really. I'm honored, sir. Thank you so much. For everything."

"Oh, stop blathering," said Mifune, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Once your doctor clears you, I plan to put you to work again. A beautiful knife is just an overpowered letter opener unless you know how to use it. You're going to help me whip those rookies into shape. It's not a gift—it's equipment."

Ren cocked his head, smiling conspiratorially at his teacher. "I look forward to putting it to good use, sensei."

"And I look forward to watching you, Amamiya-san."

—Thursday, July 21st, Late Morning—

Makoto had been going for almost an hour, and her legs were beginning to feel it. This last term, she'd gotten really bad about exercising regularly, and now that summer vacation was underway, she was trying to get back into the routine of regularly using her stationary bicycle. Now that she wasn't just using it as a coat rack anymore, she realized her actual coat rack was a bit too small, but at least she could confidently say that her bike was being used as a bike again.

As the built-in timer rounded the fifty-fifth minute, the front door swung open. "Hi Makoto, we're home," said Ren, setting down his bag and adding to the cluster of jackets on the overcrowded rack.

"Hi," she huffed, trying not to let up before she could complete the last five minutes of her cycling goal. "Did you… get all the… stuff we need?" she asked breathlessly.

A small head popped out of Ren's bag and proceeded to meow in annoyance. Morgana strutted toward the couch, flicking his tail.

"Yeah, like he says, they were out of eel, but I figured we could just substitute flounder. So, I got stuff to go with that instead," said Ren.

"They won't… know the… difference…" said Makoto, sweating up a storm. Fifty-six minutes and counting.

"I bet no one eats anything anyway," said Ren. "They'll be so engrossed by the TV…" Makoto nodded her agreement, sparing herself the breath of having to say anything.

Ren went into the kitchen and proceeded to unload his shopping bags, putting some things away and getting other things out. Makoto continued to pedal.

Fifty-nine fifty-seven, fifty-nine fifty-eight, fifty-nine fifty-nine, SIXTY. Makoto stopped pedaling and collapsed onto her handlebars, heaving with breath. Morgana meowed at her. "Quiet… Mona…" huffed Makoto, climbing exhaustedly from the stationary bicycle. She trudged into the kitchen and headed for the sink.

As she passed him, Ren intercepted her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. He could taste the salt from her sweat on them.

"Don't touch me, I'm gross," she said, filling a glass with water. "Just one drink, then I'm heading for the shower. What time is it?" she asked.

Ren lifted his wrist to look at his watch. "We have plenty of time," he said. "They're not going to read the verdict until one o'clock."

"But they're getting here earlier than that," she said. "I can barely move—I want to make sure I'm dressed by the time they arrive."

"You've got time," he assured her. He grabbed a knife from the butcher block and juggled it from his left hand to his right, preparing to slice up the flounder.

Makoto emptied her glass in one long slug, then set it next to the sink to use again later. She traced her fingers over Ren's back as she walked past him, toward the bedroom to undress and get her shower. Morgana meowed at her one more time, licking his paws as she crossed the room. "Yeah, well, it's better than laying around all day," she said, sticking her tongue out at him and closing the bedroom door behind her.

Makoto stripped out of her sweaty workout clothes and tossed them in the hamper in the corner. She'd have to do her laundry soon, or the whole room would stink. It didn't bother her so much when it was Ren's sweat emanating from the laundry, but her own stink, she could not abide.

She glanced at a clock before stepping into the bathroom. Ren was right, they had plenty of time—it only felt like she'd been biking for three hours.

Makoto shivered as she stepped into the cold spray. She hadn't given it time to warm up, but she just couldn't bring herself to stand around waiting for it—she was far too antsy. They were announcing the verdict today.

The prosecution had invited her and Ren and everyone else to watch them read the verdict from the gallery, but they had declined the offer. The trial was sensationalized enough as it was without the former suspect and his fan club of rookie detectives watching. Instead, their friends would come over and they would watch the verdict be read from the peace and security of Makoto's dining room, over plates of fresh sushi and cold beer.

Finished showering, Makoto wrapped herself in a nice, fluffy towel and stepped out into the bedroom, where she found Ren folding laundry. She stitched her brow at him. "Did you do laundry this morning? I have no memory of that…"

"I did it a couple days ago, but I figured now was the time to actually pull it out of the dryer," he said. "I thought you'd want to run yours pretty soon," he said, throwing her a knowing smile.

She blushed. "You could smell my stink, huh?"

"I love your stink," he said, tossing a ball of socks into his open dresser drawer, "but I know it embarasses you, so I thought I'd get my shit out of your way so you could use the machine." He came over to her and wrapped his arms around her, inhaling deeply of her lavender body wash.

"Hey, the door's open," she said, nudging him away. Ren frowned and headed for the door.

Makoto unwrapped her towel from around her body and tossed it onto the bed, revealing her nakedness just as Ren was about to shut the door all the way. He stopped just short of letting it click into place before laying eyes on her and thinking better of it. Instead, he opened it just a few inches and called to Morgana through the crack in the door. "Code Red, Mona," he said, before finally closing it all the way.

"'Code Red'?" she said incredulously, wearing only a wry smile. "When did you come up with that?"

"Well, after last time…" he said, shrugging his shoulders, unbuckling his belt as he walked.

"Yeah, having housemates is fun, isn't it?" she teased.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," he replied. "On the 'Jiro scale' of housemates, you're at least a seven," he said sarcastically, as he wrapped one arm around her to pull her to him, sucking on her breast as his other hand worked the button of his jeans.

She laughed, running her fingers through his hair as he worshiped her breasts. Her muscles were tired, but standing there, letting him run his lips and tongue over her moist, freshly-showered body—that was an exertion she could manage. His attention relaxed her, and she threw her head back in contentment.

Ren gently guided Makoto backwards towards the dresser, lifting her up onto it once she was there. Spreading her legs apart, he lowered himself into the space between her thighs. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her pussy and knew what she was in for. She lifted her legs and rested her feet on his back and shoulders, leaning her head into the wall as she closed her eyes.

He slipped his tongue in between her folds, massaging the flesh around her clit. Makoto moaned in response as her body melted around her. She ran her fingers through his hair, gently kneading his scalp as some meager recompense for what he was giving her.

Ren nibbled slowly at the swollen flesh of her labia, sucking and pulling, letting his teeth scrape across the soft skin of her lips. The sensation was incredible, and soon, Makoto's hips were rocking back and forth as the burn in her belly intensified. She moaned and tugged on his hair, urging him on, pulling his mouth into her.

At the sound of a dresser drawer being opened, Makoto glanced down just barely, and realized what he was doing. She tugged encouragingly at his hair, rocking her pelvis into his face. A few seconds later she felt the prodding of a soft rubber dildo at the opening of her dripping wet pussy.

"Oh… yes… now…" she begged, opening her legs wider. Slowly, teasingly, he inserted the dildo up into her as he continued to lick and suck on her clit. Makoto squeezed her breasts and moved her feet to the lip of her dresser, giving her more control over her hips so she could drive herself into his face with more intensity. With the press of a button, the dildo was vibrating inside of her, twisting itself back and forth across the walls of her pussy. She squirmed under the mounting pleasure.

Makoto could hear things fall from the dresser to the floor, and she knew she must have been shaking it too harshly. The distraction delayed her orgasm, and she whined as she shut her eyes tighter and tried to focus on the sensations between her legs. Seconds later, she felt herself back on the cusp, so close now that even the banging of the dresser couldn't distract her as she teetered on the edge of completely unraveling. Ren kept even pressure on her clitoris as he rubbed it back and forth with the flat part of his tongue.

Makoto screamed, grateful for the Code Red that had driven Morgana from the house. As the walls of her pussy tightened at her climax, the dildo squirted out of her, falling unceremoniously to the floor, where it buzzed around ineffectually. Ren shifted his attention from her clit back to her labia as she rode the fall of her orgasm. Sweat had beaded up between her breasts, and she heaved with breath as she came down.

But Ren continued to bite and suck at her folds, and it wasn't long before her hips were once again rocking into his face.

"Ready for more?" he whispered, just barely loud enough for her to hear.

Makoto nodded, following up quickly with a barely audible 'Mhm' when it occurred to her that he wasn't looking at her face.

"Good," he replied, rising up to bury his face between her tits. Sliding his hands under her ass, he lifted her up off the dresser and carried her to the bed, stepping over the vibrator as it crawled its way across the floor, twisting circles around itself.

With a flounce, Ren dropped her into the middle of the mattress and stared predatorially down at her, licking his lips. Makoto opened her eyes and looked up at him. At some point, while he'd been eating her pussy, he had managed to strip completely out of his clothes, and now she beheld him, leering over her, his cock in his hand, wild-eyed and hungry.

"Use them," she urged, arching her back as she writhed on the bed, desperate for him. He grunted a simple reply, then bent over to the edge of the mattress and produced a restraint, tethered to the leg of the bed. He slipped the end of it around her ankle and cinched it into place before moving to the other corner, where he repeated the process.

Makoto's ankles thus bound to the corners of the bed, she lay open and waiting for him. "Now… fuck me," she commanded, balling the bedsheets tightly in her fists.

Ren wasted no time in following her directive. Climbing on top, he thrust himself into her, the soft, slippery flesh easily giving way to him. Makoto cried out in ecstasy, bending her knees, pulling on the restraints to drive herself toward his throbbing cock. "Harder… faster…" she ordered, craning her back into the mattress.

Like an animal, Ren pounded into her, lifting her ass from the mattress, grinding and pumping. The restraints kept her anchored in place so she couldn't migrate away from him as he thrust into her. He held her ass firmly in his hands, growling as he fucked her.

Soon, she could hear him holding his breath as his own orgasm approached. With a last, terrific gasp, he unspooled into her, lessening the force of his thrusts as he dropped off the precipice. He collapsed onto her, mingling their sweat between their bodies, sticking to one another. Between gasps, Ren kissed Makoto's shoulder, tracing the lines of her ribcage with his free hand. Makoto ran her fingernails up and down the length of his spine as they lay there recovering.

They would probably need another shower before company came. And possibly another Code Red.

—Thursday, July 21st, Midday—

Emiko, Naomi and Jiro rounded the corner from the street into Makoto's front courtyard like they'd done dozens of times before. On a handful of those occasions, they'd been met with a black cat, casually sunning itself on the steps in front of the door. Today was such an occasion.

"Uh oh, it's the monster cat," said Jiro, stopping just short of the steps, loath to encroach on Morgana's territory. The cat hissed at him, reproachfully flicking its tail back and forth.

"Oh, stop, he's a good kitty," said Naomi, bending over to scratch Morgana behind his ears. The cat allowed the attention in spite of seeming just the tiniest bit irritated.

"Does this mean we can't go in?" asked Emiko.

"God dammit, they even knew we were coming… What the fuck," said Jiro, annoyed. "Are we just supposed to stand out here like a bunch of douchebags?"

Before either of the women could respond, the door opened, and Ren stepped out to greet them. "Sorry guys, come on in, it's fine."

The three visitors followed the cat into the living room and began pulling off their jackets. "Dude, I don't know how you managed to train this cat to guard the door for you when you're doing it, but when I was a kid, I couldn't even get my cat to shit in a box, much less keep people from busting into my room when I was jerking off."

"Jiro, Jesus Christ…" scolded Emiko, aghast that he could say such things so casually. "Have a little tact."

"Tact, nothing," he replied. "It's a compliment. That cat must love him to death."

"I'm just finishing up making the food," said Ren, changing the subject. "Go ahead and have a seat. Makoto will be out in just a sec."

Jiro, Naomi and Emiko took their seats at the dining room table, and Naomi picked up the remote and turned on the TV, though it was currently in a commercial break. The delay gave Ren a moment to finish getting the food ready, and for Makoto to return from the bedroom.

"Hi guys, sorry it took me so long," she said, greeting everyone with an awkward wave and an embarrassed smile.

"No problem, your cat was here to keep us entertained," said Jiro.

Morgana meowed in response, and Makoto frowned disapprovingly at Jiro. "Jiro," she scolded, "did you call him a monster cat?"

Jiro threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh my god, every time! How do you know I called him that? Does he channel the devil to speak to you or something?"

"You always call him a monster cat, Ji-ji," laughed Naomi.

"Yeah, it's pretty much a given that that's what you would've said," said Emiko.

"Whatever—I swear, that cat talks. Just don't be surprised when his head starts spinning around and he projectile vomits everywhere," said Jiro, shaking his head. Morgana studied him coldly, casually licking his paws.

"Guys, it's starting," said Naomi, turning up the volume. Ren came to the table with a couple of plates, which he set down in front of Naomi and Emiko. Makoto held two Asahi beers in each hand, which she distributed across the table to her guests. By the time everyone had a plate of food and a beer, the news coverage was in full swing. Midori Juuichi of Capital News Four, beat reporter for everything Midnight-Blade-related, was at the courthouse covering the developing story.

"It's taken the jury just two days to reach a verdict in this case after almost two months of testimony from various forensic experts and character witnesses. Giichi Yoshinora, a twenty-two year veteran of the Capital Police Force and Dean of the Academy of Justice and Policing for the past fifteen years, charged with being the serial killer known colloquially as 'The Midnight Blade', is facing five counts of murder in the first degree, two counts of attempted murder in the first degree, aggravated assault, and evidence tampering. A guilty verdict on a murder charge typically carries with it the death penalty."

From his desk at the studio, the Capital News Four anchorman questioned the reporter: "Midori, can you summarize for our viewers what evidence was brought to bear against Mister Yoshinora in this case?"

"Of course, Kenji. The evidence tampering charge was brought after investigators realized that the footage leading to the original suspect, Ren Amamiya—which had been provided by the Academy at the direction of Dean Yoshinora—had been edited to exclude Mister Yoshinora while implicating Mister Amamiya instead. The unedited footage, recovered directly from the servers, reveals Mister Yoshinora entering the alley and stabbing victim number five, just moments after Mister Amamiya had left the scene."

"Now, Midori, the victim you refer to is the one who survived, correct?"

"Yes, Kenji. That victim was Mister Tetsuo Watanabe, who is now suing Mister Yoshinora over charges that he manipulated him into participating in the attempted murder of Mister Amamiya on the night of May eleventh."

"And Mister Watanabe is in jail awaiting his own trial, isn't he, Midori?"

"That's right, Kenji. Mister Watanabe was seen on video attempting to shoot Mister Amamiya on the night of May eleventh—the crime he claims he was manipulated into participating in. Though, the unedited footage of his own stabbing two days earlier also shows him attempting to kill Mister Amamiya—in that case, with a knife."

"Wouldn't that tend to indicate that the killing of Mister Amamiya was originally his own idea, Midori?"

"That will be up to another jury to decide, Kenji. Interestingly, evidence does show that the gun Watanabe used against Mister Amamiya on May eleventh was the same gun Mister Yoshinora had used to shoot him—allegedly—the day before. Strike marks on the bullet pulled from Mister Amamiya's shoulder after he fled Yoshinora's house on May tenth match the gun that was recovered in Watanabe's possession on the eleventh."

The anchorman sighed. "So—allegedly—Mister Watanabe was using Mister Yoshinora's gun? This is truly a convoluted series of events, isn't it, Midori?"

"It certainly is, Kenji—quite convoluted."

"Now, you referenced the night of May tenth, when the last victim, Ms. Yuki Yoshinora, the defendant's wife, was killed. Can you remind our viewers what happened that night?"

"Of course, Kenji. Ren Amamiya testified that on the night of May tenth, when he was being pursued by police in connection with the fifth incident, he was picked up by Mister Yoshinora in his car and driven to his home on the south side of the Academy district. There, Mister Yoshinora attempted to kill him in an elaborate plot to shift blame for his wife's murder onto Mister Amamiya."

"Mister Amamiya testified to that himself?"

"That's correct. Mister Amamiya's testimony played a pivotal role in the trial, including that of several of his friends, whose efforts to clear Mister Amamiya from suspicion included collecting audio and video evidence from Blue Square on the night of May eleventh."

"Dude, we're famous," said Jiro, beating his chest triumphantly. "Can't wait for someone to offer to buy the rights to my story—Hollywood, here I come!" Emiko shushed him.

"For our viewers, Midori, can you remind us what kind of audio and video evidence Amamiya's friends uncovered?"

"Yes, their evidence included cell phone video and hidden microphone recordings they gathered during a sting operation they'd set up to try to cajole a confession from Mister Yoshinora, whom they had already suspected was guilty of the killings. They also presented CCTV footage of the event which they'd gathered by hacking into the Academy's security cameras."

"Hacking? Will Mister Amamiya or his friends be facing charges for cybercrimes, Midori?"

"No word yet on any charges there, Kenji." The friends seated at the table glanced at Makoto, who naturally had the most direct contact with their lawyer. She shook her head, mouthing the word 'no' at them.

"What evidence tying Mister Yoshinora to the earlier killings did the jury have to consider, Midori?"

"Forensic investigators uncovered biological evidence on the knife Mister Yoshinora had on him at the time of his arrest. Genetic testing found blood matching that of his wife, Tetsuo Watanabe, and the third victim, Yosuke Imahara. There was also circumstantial surveillance video evidence taken from the train station and the Sukatto cocktail bar that placed Mister Yoshinora near the locations where the first and fourth victims were found, and a bartender from the Hip Joint nightclub testified that he saw Mister Yoshinora get into a screaming match with Kanji Yatsushiro, the second victim, hours before his death."

"Did Mister Yoshinora know any of his alleged victims, Midori? Besides his wife, that is?"

"It's unclear how well Mister Yoshinora knew most of his victims. The defense elected to keep Mister Yoshinora from testifying on his own behalf, and nothing in the expert testimony alluded to any prior relationships. The fact that the fifth victim, Tetsuo Watanabe, is the nephew of Police Chief Masashi Watanabe, former colleague of Mister Yoshinora, appears to be a coincidence."

"What about Mister Amamiya? He and Watanabe were both students at the Academy. Could Mister Yoshinora have known either of them through that?"

"One of the Bladed Arts instructors at the Academy, a Mister Kaito Mifune, testified that he brought Mister Amamiya to the defendant's attention when he invited him to watch Amamiya take a test to advance to the next level course. He blamed himself for putting Mister Amamiya in the dean's crosshairs. So yes, it's possible that Mister Amamiya was targeted specifically in response to that event. The prosecution certainly made that argument, though Yoshinora was never forced to testify about that."

"Truly, an unbelievable series of events, Midori."

"You're absolutely right, Kenji." A bustling commotion in the courthouse signaled to the reporter that something was about to happen. "It's approaching time for the jury to deliver its verdict, Kenji. Let's head back to the courtroom so we can listen."

The cameras followed the reporter into the court, where they then panned across the room. From their seats at Makoto's dining room table, everyone got to see Dean Giichi Yoshinora seated next to his lawyer on the defense's side of the courtroom. His expression was neutral, though his eyes looked tired. It had only been about a month since they'd last seen him, but the dean looked significantly older. Maybe it was the lighting.

The jury returned to the courtroom, and the cameras focused in on them. Once they were seated, the judge addressed the jury: "Will the jury foreperson please stand?" The judge waited momentarily as the foreperson stood up. Observers could have heard a pin drop, they were so attuned to what was happening. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

Answering in the affirmative, the jury foreperson prepared to read the verdict to the court, as everyone watching waited with bated breath. Back in her dining room, Makoto gripped Ren's hand tightly, shivering in anticipation. Everyone's eyes were glued to the screen, pulses racing.

"We the jury, on the charge of count one of murder in the first degree, find the defendant, Giichi Yoshinora, guilty."

At the sound of those words, there was a collective sigh. Somewhere in the world, a tremendous balloon had popped, and came slowly crashing down as it deflated over the ensuing seconds, minutes maybe—an eternity passed as the jury foreperson continued to read off verdicts, one after another. They listened intently to each one, though all Ren heard was noise as his head spun.

When the reading of the verdicts was complete, the camera panned over to the dean. He was stoic. Unmoved. Ren studied his face for any hint of what was going through his mind. There was nothing.

"Well, hot damn," said Jiro, raising his beer bottle high into the air in celebration. "We fucking did it. Son of a bitch is guilty. All counts."

Makoto held Ren's hand and watched him as his eyes remained fixed on the screen. Their other friends were clinking their bottles together, gleefully stuffing their faces as they reveled in their victory. Makoto gave Ren's hand a squeeze. "Are you okay?" she asked.

It took a moment for Ren to give any sign that he'd even heard her, but eventually, he took a long breath, turning to face her. "Did you see anything? I looked in his eyes. There was nothing there…"

"Are you asking if he had a change of heart?" she asked. He just looked at her. "Sweetheart, I don't know. Does being told that you're guilty by a court of law flip the switch for anyone? Do they go from bad to remorseful just like that? I'm not sure what it takes, honestly…"

"I just thought… I just thought I would feel more, that's all." Ren shook his head despondently. "But looking at him, I… I just don't feel anything."

By now, Emiko, Jiro and Naomi had noticed that Ren and Makoto were feeling more wistful about the conclusion of their tale than they were, and they watched respectfully as Ren processed it all. "Ren, I can't imagine how this whole thing must feel for you—we all had a part to play, but for you, it was something else entirely," said Jiro. "But don't let whatever is going on in that old fool's mind bring you down—don't give him that power. Just be glad that the son of a bitch was found guilty by the rest of Japan. It's more important that everyone else understands what he was—and what you were, and are—than that a serial killer feels remorse for what he did. He's too fucked up in the head already for us to concern ourselves with shit like that."

Makoto brought Ren's hand to her lips and kissed it. "He has a point, you know."

Ren nodded, but didn't look satisfied with that. Morgana sidled up next to him, meowing softly. Ren looked down at him and smiled. "I know, Morgana, I know. I just miss the clarity—I had taken for granted how nice it was to know that what I'd done made a difference. It was never about getting vengeance—or making myself look good. It just felt good to feel like… I could fix what was broken in someone."

Morgana jumped into Ren's lap and stared into his eyes. He meowed long and dolefully. No one but Ren and Makoto could know what he was saying, but whatever it was, Ren hugged him for saying it.

—Thursday, September 15th, Afternoon—

Ren liked to listen to music while he pedaled. After his Advanced Blades class, he always came home feeling a surge of adrenaline that only an album's worth of cycling on Makoto's stationary bike seemed to be able to burn off. Today was a holiday, so regular class wasn't in session, but he had gotten together with a few of his classmates anyway, just to spar for fun, and the adrenaline rush was the same. With the beat of The Pillows' Blues Drive Monster powering through his mind, he kept his legs moving with an equivalent intensity.

He never would have heard the knock on the door had Morgana not been jumping up and down in front of him to get his attention. Ren stepped down from the bicycle and pulled his ear buds from his ears, heading to the door. "Thanks, Mona," he said, reaching for the knob.

Ren opened the door. On the other side of the threshold was a face Ren hadn't seen in several months. Wordlessly, the two evaluated one another as war buddies just meeting again for the first time in a decade. "Detective Naabe, long time no see," said Ren, remembering where and when he was. Morgana crept around Ren's ankles, looking curiously up at the unfamiliar detective.

"Good afternoon, Amamiya-san. How are you doing? You look well."

"I'm fine, thank you. Would you like to come inside? I'm sorry, I was just working out, so I'm a bit sweaty."

Detective Naabe held up his hand to turn down the offer. "No, really, I didn't come to take up your time. I just have a delivery."

Ren blinked. "A delivery?"

"Yes, a delivery. As you know, Yoshinora is awaiting the death penalty…" The detective rubbed his temple with his free hand, and Ren couldn't help but notice the envelope he held in his other. "I'm… sort of a sucker for requests from a dying man, so I…" He started to raise his other hand.

"Don't tell me," said Ren, staring at the envelope. "This is a letter for me from Dean Yoshinora."

"I don't think you need to bother with honorifics anymore, kid… but yeah. It's from Yoshinora."

"Should I be worried?" Ren asked, glancing back up to meet the detective's eyes.

"No, it's nothing to be too concerned about. We've obviously read the letter, and we even tested it—no poisons or chemicals or what have you…"

"Just… something he wanted me to read," said Ren, as though he was trying to wrap his head around some absurdity.

"Yeah," said the detective, sighing. He held up the letter. "I made a promise that I would deliver it. My honor demands that I follow through."

"Is it just a coincidence that he asked you to do this on Respect for the Aged Day?" asked Ren, joking, but not.

"He actually asked me days ago," replied Naabe, "but he wanted me to deliver it to you on Respect for the Aged Day. So no, I guess you could say it's not a coincidence."

"What an asshole," said Ren.

"Hey now," said Naabe, mockingly pointing a scolding finger at Ren, "show some respect, you whipper snapper." Ren took the envelope from Naabe's hand. "Anyway, like I said, my honor dictated that I follow through. Respect for the aged or not."

"I'll go with 'not'," said Ren, looking at the plain envelope in his hand. "Anyway, thank you. Are you sure you don't want to come in? I could make you a cup of coffee."

The detective held up both hands, bowing forward slightly. "No, really, I need to get going. I have other cases that need my attention."

"Ignore no clues, follow every lead," said Ren collegially.

"I will do my very best," said the detective, looking Ren pointedly in the eyes. "You taught me that. Good day, Amamiya-san." Hotaru Naabe bowed deeply before turning around and walking away.

"You can call me 'Ren'," he called, but the detective just raised a hand behind him and rounded the corner of the fenceline. Ren watched the top of the detective's hat as it receded from view.

Ren looked down at the envelope in his hands. Stepping back inside, he swung the front door closed and went to have a seat at the dining table. Reaching behind him, he pulled a retractable stiletto from the kitchen counter and ejected the blade. Sliding it under the lip of the envelope, he carefully sliced it open and peered inside at the contents. Ren almost laughed. Pulling a piece of bright pink My Melody stationery from the envelope, Ren began to read:

Dear Amamiya-san,

I asked for Hello Kitty paper, but these idiots gave me this off-brand shit instead. I thought you'd appreciate that, but they had to go and fuck it up. Oh well. Just know that the intent was there.

Ren shook his head dismissively. My Melody is still Sanrio, but whatever, he thought. He kept reading:

I was disappointed not to see you at the sentencing. I guess I understand why you didn't come, but still, I had hoped. I'm sure this isn't what you want to hear, but I wanted you to know that I see some of myself in you. I hope that hearing that doesn't make you put this paper down and set it on fire without reading the rest, but it's true. We're more alike than you think we are, I suspect.

Are you familiar with the works of Carl Jung? He was a famous psychologist. If you get the chance, take the Criminal Psychology course—really anything in the behavioral sciences, and you'll definitely get an earful about Jung. Anyway, Carl Jung wrote of the 'persona'. When he coined the term, he was referring to the masks worn by Etruscan mimes. He posited that the 'persona' was the mask we put on, the 'self' that we present to other people—it's the compromise we make between our innate selves and society at large, so that we can adapt to society's demands. For as long as I can remember, I've been wearing a mask, trying to show people the 'me' that I believed they wanted to see: The brave detective. The devoted husband. The upstanding citizen. The straight shooter. There is power in wearing the mask. It's the power that made my word stronger than yours. It was my shield—it's why I was in a position to get away with what I did in the first place.

Wearing the mask and lying to others was one thing—that, I could manage—but lying to myself was something else. I had dedicated my life to the pursuit of justice—but the police are corrupt. So I sought to improve them—but after fifteen years, our graduates are no better. What was all of that power getting me? What was the point of me? So I went to the train station that night with the intention of disemboweling myself on the tracks.

But then I saw him there, and I was taken by a different impulse entirely. If I was going to die anyway, why not give in to it? So I did. And it felt good, Amamiya. It felt good to kill that poor sod. In all my years as a detective, I had wondered what was in it for those who committed cold-blooded murder. If I was going to lie to the world, I may as well enjoy it. I had always known that I wore a mask—it was what was underneath it that I only recently began to understand.

So I led two lives. My life during the day was the one I let others see. Then at night, I would 'jog'… How my wife could believe that a man could jog so often and stay so fat is anyone's guess. She probably knew I wasn't really jogging—I bet she thought I was cheating on her. (If only!) She probably went along with the charade because she knew that without it, her persona would fall apart as well. She couldn't be the successful, perfect, dutiful wife if she didn't have a husband she could hitch her wagon to. We are all bound by these personas, you see.

Even you. You hide a knife on your ankle because there's a 'you' that craves the dark alleys and dangerous side streets. That enjoys the feel of cold metal against your skin. The thought of stabbing it into someone… over, and over again. Aren't you curious how that would feel? The only difference between us is that I actually bothered to find out.

Besides, I didn't believe for one second that they would be able to catch me. Ironically, if I had just kept going, I would have been fine—it was my decision to stop that brought about my downfall. I thought, if my wife were dead, I could quit my pointless job and give up the good husband routine at the same time. Your existence presented an opportunity for me to do that—it was as if the gods themselves had sent you to me. Killing you would bring the investigation to a close, and I would be a sympathetic hero for doing it. I could've had a different life—and a more powerful mask to wear.

You were stronger than I'd anticipated—revealing myself to you was my mistake.

I'm going to die, Amamiya. My country is going to hang me. Please promise me, when I'm swinging from the gallows, that you will watch. My dying wish is that you learn something from me. I don't know exactly what the lesson is—the answer requires more time and introspection from me than Japan will allow—but I know there is one. I want you to watch what happens to me, so you can figure it out. I know you can—and I won't be able to.

Show a little respect for your elders.

In arms,
Giichi

Ren held the paper between his fingers, his eyes fixed on it. He let out the breath he'd been holding as he dropped the letter on the table. He felt gross. Getting up, he headed for the bathroom. It was time for a shower.

—Thursday, November 3rd, Early Evening—

Ashikaga Flower Park. She'd always wanted to go there, ever since she was a little girl. It was only ninety minutes from Tokyo by train, and though her dad had always promised to take her, he could never seem to get away from work. And then, after he had died, well…

"This place is incredible," Ren said with uncharacteristic awe.

"Yeah," Makoto nodded in agreement. "I mean, I knew that—it has the reputation—but seeing it in person… the pictures don't do it justice."

"We'll have to try and come back next year, in April," he said, looking out across the water at the lilies. "The sage is beautiful, but I hear that the big draw is really the wisteria."

Makoto nodded, clutching his arm as her eyes roamed the sage fields. "The 'Wisteria Wonderland'…" she said, her imagination running wild, trying to picture what could possibly be better than this. "I wonder if we could squeeze in a visit before the start of next school year."

"I wonder if we'll have time," Ren said. "There's a lot we already wanted to cram into our break. It's hard to get away from Tokyo even under normal circumstances, and next March-April isn't going to be that normal."

"Yeah, I can't wait to take everyone to Tokyo and show them around. Futaba is coming back from Europe and everything—I'm really looking forward to getting her and Jiro in the same room."

"I'm not sure their neurodiversities are as compatible as you seem to think they are," said Ren skeptically. "And if you're right, and they do hit it off, Naomi will probably claw Futaba's eyes out."

"My god, can you imagine?" Makoto chuckled at the thought.

"Yes, I can," he replied emphatically. "Remember when we took him to Momo-Jiro for his birthday? When that server tried to give him the 'birthday special'? I thought they were going to kick us out…"

"Oh my god, I'd completely forgotten about that," said Makoto, covering her mouth. "Naomi is really scary when she gets possessive."

"Let no other woman dare to tread on those lands," he replied.

"For they are consecrated lands," she added, with a knowing shake of her head.

"Better keep him away from Ann, too…"

"Oooh, yeah," Makoto agreed, creasing her forehead. "Or at least, introduce her to them one at a time."

"Just to give him a moment to pick his jaw up off the floor."

"Yeah. Naomi will love Ann, as long as Jiro doesn't say something stupid first," said Makoto.

"Yeah. Anyway, I'm more interested in seeing how they get along with Ryuji."

"Now there's a friend Naomi can't get jealous of," agreed Makoto.

Ren suddenly started laughing, and it took a moment for him to get enough control of himself to answer Makoto's questioning eyes. "Sorry, sorry… I was just imagining Ryuji and Emiko hooking up."

"Ha! Oh my god, that would be hysterical!" Makoto took a moment to chuckle and consider it. "Though, I can just picture Ryuji being all sweet and wonderful with the right girl. He could be such a leering pervert in high school, but he's grown up so much."

"Yeah, he wears the responsibility of adulthood surprisingly well," said Ren. "He's really turned Protein Lovers around since he started working there. It's not just a gym for sad losers anymore."

"Are you calling yourself a sad loser?" she teased. "You used to work out there quite a lot, if I remember right."

"That I did," he said, adding no further follow up.

Makoto sighed, letting her mind drift through all of those future possibilities and back to the here and now. "Anyway, let's try to," she said. "To come back here, I mean. I know we said we'd try to show Emiko all the best parts of Tokyo—and there's a lot of them—before she starts her new program, but coming here again and seeing the wisteria is definitely a bucket list item for me."

"Are you sure we'll be able to swing that?" he asked, incredulous. "You already start to cry every time she mentions that she's transferring to the University of Tokyo—you really think you'll be able to leave early to get back here in time for the wisteria?"

"Wellllll," she said, beginning to concede his point, "maybe Golden Week would be a more realistic opportunity for us to get back here."

Ren chuckled, squeezing her hand. "She's going to be a hell of a doctor," he said.

Makoto smiled. The lights in the park were starting to dim, forcing her eyes to adjust to the evening dark. "It's her calling," she said, poking Ren in the scar from where Emiko had sewn him up.

"Mmm," hummed Ren in agreement, studying the expanding darkness. "Looks like it's about to start," he said. They held each other, just as they held their breath.

Then, all around them, in clusters one at a time, millions of LED lights began to glow, and the Ashikaga Flower Park came alive. "Oh, Ren!" Makoto cried, holding him even tighter. "Just look at this! Isn't it incredible?"

He looked down at her, admiring the girlish enthusiasm she had for the flowers, the lights, the spectacle of it all. The twinkling LEDs reflected off of her wide eyes as they darted from one eye-catching sight to the next.

"You're incredible," he said.

Makoto could feel his eyes on her. All of this beauty, all around them—and he was looking at her. She took a moment longer to admire the glorious display—one of the 'Top 3 biggest light-up displays in Japan', in fact—before turning to him, a broad smile stretched across her face from ear to ear.

"Is this the flower park date you'd always dreamed of?" Ren asked, tongue in cheek.

She stared at him, beaming, her heart overflowing with affection. "It's just about perfect," she said, watching the lights dance their reflected choreographies on the lenses of his glasses.

"'Just about'?" he asked incredulously. "Is there anything I can do to make it more perfect?"

Makoto narrowed her eyes, slipping her hands under the flaps of his jacket, pulling closer to him. "For now, Ren, no." She lifted up onto her toes and brought herself up to his lips to kiss him. She pushed her tongue inside his mouth and let it dance with his own, before biting gently on his lips. She let her fingernails dig ever so slightly into his sides. A fire burned in her belly.

"But when we get home, Joker, there's a lot you can do."

A/N, Feb. 4th, 2022: That's all folks! I hope you enjoyed reading this. I would greatly appreciate it if you left a review letting other readers know what you liked about this story. The reviews I have so far aren't really about the *story*, but now that it's done, I was hoping that would change. Thank you! :)

Update, April 7th, 2023: Sequel started! :D

Here's a taste:

It's been a little over three years since the conclusion of their previous adventure, but Ren and Makoto are still going strong. He's crushing it in school, he's as tight with his friends as ever, and his infamous past is but a mere footnote in history. With just weeks left before he graduates from the Academy of Justice and Policing, Ren is almost free to direct his life exactly as he sees fit, and the anticipation of moving back to Tokyo with Makoto is just about killing him.

Alas, nothing is every easy for poor Ren. With his whole future laid out in front of him and everything to look forward to, forces beyond his control threaten to snatch everything away. Before he can make it to Tokyo, it may be more than just anticipation that kills him.