"Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly."

…

I rang the doorbell and knocked three or four times on Suzuki's door. Knocked was an understatement. I was almost banging on the last try. Nothing but silence on the other side.

I checked my watch: 10:15 a.m. If he was asleep, all that fuss on the corridor would have woken him up by now, so he probably wasn't home. Of course. I should've figured Koto had taken him to spend the night at her place.

I let out a frustrated huff. I didn't want to go looking for Koto—I preferred talking to Suzuki alone. The problem was that, without any new leads, I was back to square one. The box with Nika's stuff hadn't helped much either. Her notebook had other names, sure, and I could start from there. But none of them were listed on the day she died. That privilege seemed to belong to Suzuki alone. Other than the names, the last few pages were just scribbles I couldn't make sense of.

The rest of the items were just as useless—some photos of her, but she was alone in all of them; random personal belongings; and a flower. It looked like it had been plucked from somewhere, but the stem and leaves were still green. The long, thin petals were dark, but overall, it seemed fresh. I don't know much about plants, but I figured they'd start dying after a few days. If this one still looked good as new, maybe it was recent. Maybe someone had left it there?

I suddenly heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I was still leaning against the hallway wall, facing Suzuki's closed door, and for a second, I thought he was coming home.

But then Daya stepped into view.

She stopped when she saw me, but not for long. She kept walking down the hall, and I knew—instinctively—that she was headed for the same door I was standing in front of.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite detective," she said. She was wearing sunglasses, even indoors.

"He's not home," I said, nodding toward the door.

She glanced at it, then back at me.

"And yet, here you are."

"I thought he might be on his way back, but I'm starting to think waiting around is a waste of time."

She looked at the door again, then down both ends of the hallway. She let out a sigh that sounded almost impatient.

"You're sure no one's home?"

I nodded, explaining that I'd knocked a thousand times already, but she couldn't care less. She pushed her sunglasses up and dug through the bag she was carrying. She pulled up a card, about the size of a regular credit card. Before she even reached for the door, I knew what she was about to do.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I asked, grabbing her arm.

A subtle smile appeared on her lips. Gently, she pried my hand off her.

"I won't take long. If you leave now, you can pretend you never saw anything."

Daya leaned against the door, gripping the handle with one hand while sliding the card through the lock with the other. She tried a few times until I heard a click. The handle turned, and the door cracked open slightly. She slipped the card back into her bag.

"Oops, I guess that makes you my accomplice now," she said, pushing the door open wider and stepping inside. "It's okay, I don't judge."

I was stunned by how easily she had decided to just break into Suzuki's apartment—without a second thought. I stood in the hallway for a moment, but in the end, I followed her in. Maybe to make sure she wouldn't do anything she shouldn't be doing. Or maybe because that could be my best shot at finding something interesting. I could deal with Suzuki later.

The apartment was small, more like a studio. Had a cramped bathroom, a narrow kitchen, and some basic furniture scattered around. Daya wasted no time rummaging through the place, pulling open drawers, cabinets, anything she could get her hands on.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

"A book. Dark leather cover, about this thick," she said, holding her fingers a few inches apart. "Let me know if you find anything."

"Why are you looking for a book here? Does it belong to him?"

"Not really. I mean, it could've been—if he had paid me, that is. Since he didn't, I'm taking it back. I'm not a charity, you know?"

I remembered what Koto had said about Daya bringing goods from Makai. So Suzuki was one of her clients too? Did she even knew? What else was he doing behind Koto's back?

"What kind of book is this? Was it a special order or something?"

I started moving through the apartment as well. As much as I hated adding Suzuki to my suspect list, the more I uncovered, the clearer it became that he was hiding something.

"Not exactly. Just a book. Looked old, thought it might be worth something, so I was trying to resell it. I imagine by now you already know what line of work I'm into. Or should I be worried you'll rat me out?"

"I'm not turning you in to the Reikai, if that's what you mean. But I still have a lot of questions for you."

I stepped into the kitchen area. It was small, like the rest of the apartment. A table for two sat in the corner, next to a short fridge and a tiny two-burner stove. The sink was filled with dirty dishes from the day before.

I opened drawers and cabinets, but aside from some cutlery and kitchen utensils, there was nothing of interest. Daya was still searching the bedroom-living room space, double checking everything.

On the fridge door, two photos were pinned with magnets, along with a restaurant flyer. I grabbed all three.

One of the photos was of Koto—or rather, a magazine clipping of her posing in a bikini. It looked old, and I knew it was from back when she had her brief 15 minutest of fame among humans, years ago. She looked young and radiant in the picture, completely different from the Koto I'd seen at the Blue Lotus.

The second photo hit me with an unexpected wave of nostalgia. Shishiwakamaru, Touya, and Jin were posing in a park, with Jin floating slightly above the others, legs crossed. I couldn't tell how old the picture was—I even flipped it over to check for a date, but there was nothing. Probably just as old as Koto's magazine. I wondered if Suzuki still kept in touch with them, or where they were now. Most likely in Makai. I knew a lot of them had chosen to stay and fight in the war when the barrier was lifted back then.

Daya said something from inside the bedroom, but I wasn't listening. The image had dragged me back to a time when things were much, much simpler. Even when they were hard.

I put the photos back on the fridge. The takeout flyer was still in my hand, and I took a good look at it. It was from a curry place in High Town, advertising the weekly specials. There was a crease in the middle, like it had been folded, but other than that, it looked like any ordinary flyer.

I was about to put it back on the fridge when the light from the window hit the paper, and I noticed something—there was writing on the back. I flipped it over. Someone had scrawled an address in pen. Some highway number, like a rural location rather than an urban one. Right beside it, a date and time.

Fuck me. I pulled out the notebook I'd brought with me to check, and sure enough—right next to Suzuki's name, the numbers matched exactly. Date, month, time. Bingo!

"What's that?"

I looked up. Daya was standing in the kitchen doorway, her sunglasses back on, pointing at the paper in my hand.

I glanced at it again, reread the address, then handed the flyer to her.

"Do you know where this is?"

She read it in silence, taking a few seconds before answering.

"I do," she said, handing the paper back. "It's a campground, right off the highway heading north. About an hour from here."

"Great." I folded the paper and tucked it into my pocket. "You're taking me there."

(…)

Daya's car was an old, silver secondhand Toyota. It was parked a few blocks away from Suzuki's building. She walked to it without saying a word, but before she unlocked the door, she turned to face me.

"Why do you want to go there?"

"I think Suzuki was there. Probably with Nika. The date matches the day she died."

She stared at me for a few seconds, thinking, then opened the door.

"Alright, I'll take you this time. Just don't get used to it. That place gives me the creeps."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see when we get there," she said, sliding into the driver's seat and shutting the door.

I got into the passenger side.

I had no idea how Daya managed to drive that thing through High Town's streets, considering how narrow they were and how packed with pedestrians. It took us a while to get out of the neighbourhood, but once we did, the traffic flowed much faster. High Town was so far from downtown that the surrounding districts were mostly industrial zones.

Not long after, we merged onto the highway. The scenery around us gradually started to change.

"What kind of campground is it?" I asked.

Daya sighed.

"You got a cigarette?"

I pulled my pack and lighter from my pocket, lit a cigarette, and handed it to her. She muttered a thanks and rolled the window down to let the smoke out.

"It's a shelter for youkai who have nowhere else to go. Or who don't want to live in the city."

"What do you think Nika and Suzuki were doing there?"

Daya took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl out before resting her hand outside the window, cigarette between her fingers. Her other hand stayed on the wheel.

"She was a volunteer there. Suzuki, I have no clue. To be honest, I didn't even know they talked beyond the occasional 'good evening' when they ran into each other at the Blue Lotus. Let alone meeting up."

"Yeah, looks like they were keeping it quiet. Koto didn't seem to know anything either."

"You think you'll find something there today?"

I stared out the window. Fields and farms rolled past us. Tokyo was already behind us. A lot of things were.

"I don't know. I thought I knew Suzuki, but now that I think about it… we were never that close."

"Well, he loved telling people he knew you personally. If Koto hadn't confirmed it, I'd have doubted half his stories. And he never let anyone talk shit about you. He'd pick a fight if he heard anything."

I turned to her, surprised. That, I hadn't expected. Was this the same guy who was ready to punch me last night? I felt even guiltier about breaking into his apartment.

"That's news to me," I said. And then I thought about what she'd told me when we first me, how everyone in High Town knew who I was. Apparently, they didn't just know; they had their own opinions about me too, and some were probably not too flattering. "So? Did you find your book?"

"Nope. Not a damn trace. I hope the bastard didn't screw me over."

"How do you even get into Makai? I thought Reikai was cracking down hard on border control."

She took another drag, finishing off the cigarette before flicking it out the window and rolling it back up.

"I don't think I need to tell you that sneaking past Reikai's patrols isn't mission impossible. The barrier has blind spots, like everything else. Sure, if they catch you, you're done."

I kept looking at her, waiting for her to go on. I knew of youkai sneaking across the border back in the day, but I figured that under Koenma's administration, and with a full-blown war going on, that was a thing of the past.

"There's an opening. A hidden one. Only a handful of people know how to find it."

"Including you."

Daya glanced at me, lifting her sunglasses with one hand just long enough to shoot me a wink and a smirk.

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, Yusuke. It's all about networking. I have some good contacts up my sleeve"

"What kind of contacts?"

"Why do you ask? Thinking of taking a little field trip to Makai?" She smirked again. "You know, this opening isn't as secretive as it used to be. There are ways to get access. It's not a safe crossing, but then again, what is safe these days?"

"What's that supposed to mean? You really think Reikai wouldn't notice if youkai started coming and going as they please?"

"Would they?" She grew serious again, eyes fixed on the road. "Yusuke, this camp we're heading to… at least half the people there are refugees. They came here after the war started. After the barrier was raised. They ran away from the hell that Makai has become."

"What?" I asked, stunned. The information echoed in my head. I had never even considered the possibility of refugees, of youkai literally fleeing the war to seek shelter among humans. I'd always seen Makai as a land full of beings who lived to fight, so it never occurred to me that some would rather escape.

But it made sense. I had met all kinds of youkai during my time there, including peaceful ones, ones who weren't built for combat. In the end, war was a cruel thing everywhere.

"Because of that gap in the barrier, there's now a whole market of runners, of demon smugglers, people who get paid to bring youkai over. Almost a goddamn mafia," Daya continued. "It's neither easy nor cheap for those who want to try their luck crossing over. And yet, they keep coming in buckets… Usually after losing someone to the war. Or before losing someone else. Anyway, it's a shitty situation. That's what I'm trying to say."

I nodded. What else didn't I know about this new world we were living in? I had to admit, it stung a little realizing how far removed I had become, how much I didn't know about what was happening to people.

"Yeah, I know a thing or two about losing someone," I murmured. Without realizing it, I ran my thumb over the ring I still wore on my left hand.

"Married?" Daya asked. She was looking at my hand too, watching my fingers trace the band.

"Widowed."

"Oh. I'm sorry. What happened?"

I looked down at the ring.

"A tsunami. Off the coast of Okinawa. She was visiting her parents." I hesitated. "I should've gone with her that day, but I didn't. I was working." I turned toward the window. The road had turned to dirt, dust kicking up against the glass. "I still regret it."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"It's fine. It's been six years," I said, pretending it didn't still hurt, like it was just another story.

I kept staring out the window for the rest of the drive, thinking about what I had chosen not to say. That her body was never found. That I had been in Makai on Koenma's orders. That I was afraid I had caused that tsunami. That I still had nightmares about those days.

The rest of the trip was silent. From time to time, my fingers brushed over the ring.

The campground was massive, much bigger than I had expected. It stretched across a valley beside an unpaved road, with nothing around except distant mountains. Part of the mountainside was pale, with loose rocks piled at the base. Right in front of it stood a crumbling concrete structure, the remains of what looked like an abandoned building.

A few yards from the road, the tents started to lined up, stretching nearly a mile or two. They were grey, dirty, and worn out, some visibly patched up. The ground was covered in dry, brittle grass, already starting to yellow during that early Autumn. Dozens of youkai were scattered among the tents, some watching us with quiet suspicion.

Daya took the lead, speaking briefly with someone. That person gestured toward another youkai not far away. Daya motioned for me to follow.

Despite the sheer number of demons gathered there, the place was eerily quiet. Almost unnaturally still, as if even the wind refused to blow. The weight of their stares followed us.

We walked in the direction we had been given. Dry leaves crunched quietly beneath our feet, and I could hear a constant hum of flies. Way too constant, considering the time of year. Shouldn't flies be gone by now? If not for that buzzing or the sound of our steps, I wasn't sure I'd hear anything else at all in this place.

"Excuse me," Daya said as we reached the youkai we had been pointed to.

He turned to face us. He wore a faded, dark-orange robe that made him look like a monk. Wrapped tightly around his head was a cloth bandage, covering his eyes entirely. Maybe a blind?

"Yes?"

Daya and I exchanged glances.

"Hi, hello. I wanted to ask about one of your volunteers," I said. "Can you confirm if Nika worked here?"

"Yes, she used to come at least once a week."

"Do you know if she was here last week?"

The youkai remained silent. Just for a few seconds, but long enough to unsettle me. Long enough that I nearly repeated the question.

"Forgive me, but who am I speaking with?"

"Yusuke Urameshi. Private detective. Do you know if Nika was here last week?"

Even with his eyes covered, I could tell he raised his eyebrows. I wasn't sure if it was because my name rang a bell or it was the fact a detective was here asking questions. But aside from that, he didn't show any other reaction.

"Yes, she was. As I said, she came every week."

"Was she with someone?"

"Nika was a devoted volunteer. Sometimes she brought people along to help. She was here with a young man last time, but I don't remember his name. And as you can see—" he gestured toward his covered eyes "—I wouldn't be able to identify him either. Why? Is something wrong, detective? I hope she's not in any trouble."

Daya shot me a glance from the corner of her eye.

"She took her own life last week. Probably just a few hours after leaving here."

The youkai brought a hand to his mouth.

"I had no idea," he said.

"Yeah, I figured. What did the two of them do here last week?"

A fly buzzed past my face. The youkai took a moment to answer, as if still processing the news. There was no one else around us, but several demons watched from a distance, listening intently.

"The usual, I believe. They worked on some project, patching up torn tents or handing out food. There's always something to do here, and unfortunately, I can't manage everything myself. So forgive me for not being more helpful." He spread his hands in a gesture of apology. "But please, feel free to look around our camp."

"One more question. That structure back there, near the mountain. What is it?"

"Oh, I know what you're talking about. From what we've been told, this area used to be a quarry years ago, but it was shut down. The building must be some old extraction plant, and is abandoned now. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He bowed slightly and walked away, leaving us alone. My eyes lingered on the quarry a little longer: on the stark white mountainside, the rough concrete structure standing in contrast.

"What do you think?" Daya asked, pulling my attention away from the mountain.

"I think this charity story smells like bullshit. I'm going to walk around. I'll find you later."

(…)

The rest of the campground was the same: the same rows of tents, the same heavy air, the same flies, the same wary stares. Interacting with the youkai was difficult. No one seemed willing to talk, and some wouldn't even acknowledge me. They were a bunch that clearly didn't appreciate outsiders, especially one asking questions.

Was this how they had treated Suzuki, too?

I dropped his name a few times, along with Nika's, fishing for a reaction. I got almost nothing worthwhile. And when I tried pressing for scraps of information, it only made things worse. They shut down completely, turned away, or got aggressive.

At least I found an explanation for all the flies. I came across several carcasses along the way—some with rotting flesh still clinging to the bone, others with fresh blood staining the grass. I tried not to think too much about it, but I silently hoped they were only animal remains.

The whole place was fucked up, and I could see why Daya had hesitated to bring me here.

I was starting to feel tired and frustrated. More than once, I caught myself questioning why I was even there, why I had taken this case. Why did I think I could still be a detective? Hadn't I already given up on everything once?

I reached the end of what felt like the thousandth row of tents. I had lost count of how many paths I had walked down—they all looked the same. Ahead of me, several feet away, the white mountain rose up, partially obscured by the abandoned structure which, now that I was closer, was taller than it had seemed from a distance.

The ground here was different, sandy with small pebbles scattered around. Large rocks were piled up further ahead, most gathered at the mountain's base or around the building. For some reason (boredom, I thought at first), I decided to check it out. The place had intrigued me since we arrived, and even though I didn't expect to find anything, I felt like I couldn't leave without taking a closer look.

I started crossing the open ground toward the building when I suddenly stopped. I could've sworn I heard something. Something faint, like a whisper, muffled by the crunch of my shoes over the gravel. I stood still, listening.

There it was again. A sort of murmuring, words whispered too softly to make out.

I kept walking. The murmuring followed me, even though there was no one nearby. The closest youkai were at least ten away, back at the camp. Whoever was making that sound had to be hiding behind the concrete structure—maybe even inside it.

And it wasn't a peaceful sound. It was oppressive, despite being just a whisper. There was something sinister in those words I couldn't understand.

Immediately, my mind went back to the caged demon from the night market. Right before he slit his throat, he had chanted something similar—something unintelligible, made even more incomprehensible by his missing tongue. I had no idea if these whispers were the same, but the bad feeling they gave me was exactly alike.

"Are you lost, detective?"

I spun around at the sound of the voice. The blind youkai was right behind me.

I didn't know if he had been following me. I didn't even know how he had found me. Maybe he had tracked me by the noise of the stones under my feet.

"What is that sound?" I asked.

"Are you sure you're not just imagining things?"

I ignored him. I kept moving toward the building, and this time, he walked beside me. His hands were clasped behind his back, his steps steady. He knew exactly where he was going.

"I hope you don't mind my company, Mr. Urameshi."

"Drop the 'Mister.' I just want to know what this is all about."

"As I said, it's nothing but an abandoned human structure."

We reached the back of the building. The walls were raw concrete, the windows shattered or missing altogether. Part of it was crumbling, while another section was overgrown with vegetation.

I stepped closer.

The plants climbing up the wall, their leaves lush and green, had dark-petaled flowers blooming at the tips. I plucked one. It looked disturbingly similar to the flower I had found in Nika's box, but maybe that was just my imagination. What do I know about flowers? But I slipped it into my pocket anyway.

The murmuring went on.

"Did you get the information you came for?" the youkai asked.

"I don't think anyone here wants me to find anything at all."

He let out a brief chuckle.

"Forgive them. They're a very closed-off group. They struggle to trust outsiders."

"Oh yeah? Are they like that with the volunteers too?"

I circled around the building. There was an entrance, a passage that must have once had a door, but now it was just a gaping hole in the wall. Chunks of concrete crumbled around the edges.

Inside, debris was scattered across the corners. A staircase led upward, but the upper floors had either collapsed or been removed. Looking up, I could see remnants of hallways and structures clinging to the edges where the floors had once been.

The walls were covered in markings. Some were letters, others were circles, some were just meaningless shapes. All drawn in black paint.

And above all else, there were the whispers. The ones I had been hearing from outside. Here, they were even stronger, louder, though still just weird-as-shit whispers. A continuous murmuring, a kind of lament, spoken in a way I couldn't understand. Maybe in a foreign language.

It was unsettling.

I wouldn't say I was afraid, but I definitely felt something.

"Where is that sound coming from? And don't tell me you don't hear it."

"Of course I do. And I'm glad that you do as well. Not everyone hears the call."

"The call? What the hell are you talking about?"

He had followed me inside, walking effortlessly over the rubble without stumbling on anything. For a moment, I wondered if he was truly blind.

"Have you ever heard of kotodama? The power of words?"

I didn't answer. I was scanning my surroundings, trying to find the source of the sound, searching for someone—anyone—to justify it. But it wasn't just one person. The whispers were layered, a chorus of voices, not a single one.

"Words are energy, and energy is matter. Many people feel lost, despair when they hit rock bottom, and all they want is to be saved. They don't realize they possess, within themselves, the transformative power carried by words. Perhaps that's how you feel as well?"

"Look, you can cut the pseudo-spiritual bullshit. I don't know what any of this has to do with—"

I stopped mid-sentence.

Something yanked my attention away, hard.

Above me, on one of the exposed walkways on the higher floors, stood a youkai. He faced the empty space where there must have once been a floor, but now, there was only a vast, open void.

He was at the highest point—maybe three, four feet above us. Just standing there, arms at his sides, unmoving, gaze fixed ahead.

Maybe whispering something?

"What the…"

But before I could finish my question, his body tipped forward, and he fell.

He didn't jump. He didn't lunge. He didn't make any sudden movements.

He just let himself drop.

He hit the ground with a heavy crash, right in the middle of the rubble, just a few steps from where we stood.

I could only widen my eyes, my mouth opening in some exclamation I couldn't even register. First, I looked at the blind youkai beside me—who hadn't so much as flinched at the sound—then at the pile of debris hiding the fallen body.

I ran over, started pushing aside the rubble. But the youkai behind me placed a hand on my shoulder, told me not to worry, and after that—

I blacked out.