"The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there." — L. P. Hartley
…
After Suzuki's death, I spent the next two nights wide awake, fuelled on coffee, hard liquor, and my stash of cigarettes. I couldn't stop going over everything that had happened so far, everything I'd seen and heard in that camp, at the Blue Lotus, at the Ikebukuro market. I started to feel like I was forgetting something, like I'd missed a detail, and that thought alone was enough to keep me from sleeping. I tore through Nika's things again, reread the client ledger over and over, marked a few names, looking for every mention of Suzuki. It was like I hadn't taken this case seriously enough until now, and I needed to make up for lost time.
After we found Suzuki, the firefighters showed up to put out the flames, and the police followed soon after, saying they'd investigate the cause of the fire. Waste of time. To me, it was obvious. I'd seen the bottle of rubbing alcohol lying open and half-melted in the corner of the kitchen. I'd seen the flames focused on Suzuki's body. And more importantly, I knew about the other two recent, equally bizarre suicides—one of which I'd witnessed with my own eyes. That couldn't be a coincidence. Like Kurama said, these weren't isolated incidents.
That's when it hit me.
I started by digging into newspaper archives. Focused on a few keywords, looking for any mention of suicides or unexplained deaths involving the youkai community. Checked obituaries and local news snippets.
The first one I found was from about a month ago. A shopkeeper from High Town had fallen onto the subway tracks at seven in the morning. The article was vague about the circumstances of the death, focusing more on the train delays it caused on one of the city's main lines.
That wasn't enough to prove anything. So I moved on to the weekly tabloids, the trashiest ones. They had no filters, no standards. They'd publish stories that would never make it into any of the big papers.
And that's when the cases started piling up.
A housewife who stuck her head into a pot of boiling water. A teenager who hanged himself with a charger cord. A couple who supposedly drank massive amounts of kerosene. A carpenter who decapitated himself with a circular saw.
Seven cases total over the last three months. And those were just the ones that had been reported.
I was stunned. I checked my watch. It was just after six in the morning, and the sun was starting to creep in. My coffee had gone cold, but I drank it anyway and dropped the rest of my cigarette into the mug.
What the hell. Looked like I was going to pay Reikai a visit.
(…)
The place looked the same as always. So did the way everyone stared at me. My reputation in the Spirit World had had its ups and downs, but I think that was a new record. My status as persona non grata had been freshly updated after the scandal six years ago. Not that I cared. If it were up to me, I'd never set foot in Reikai again—but these were extraordinary circumstances, and I had to swallow my pride.
"I'm here to see Koenma," I told the oni blocking the entrance to the main hall.
"He's not seeing anyone."
"Oh yeah? That's too bad."
I shoved the poor guy aside. He just stood there, stunned. I knew security would be on my ass in no time, but I wasn't planning to turn this into a spectacle. The faster I talked to Koenma, the better.
Of course, that's not how it went. A few others tried to stop me along the way, someone triggered an intruder alert, and I was about to lose my patience completely when Koenma showed up to calm things down. He waved everyone off, told them I had clearance, and told me to head to his office. But once the door shut behind us, he didn't seem so welcoming anymore.
"What do you want, Yusuke?"
"Did you hear about Suzuki?"
He didn't answer. Just leaned back against the door, crossed his arms, lowered his head, and let out an annoyed sigh.
"Of course you did," I said.
"You came here to talk about Suzuki?"
"You know damn well why I'm here. I know about the suicides."
Koenma looked at me. He had that expression, like he knew more than he wanted to admit. His frustration turned into caution.
"Yusuke—"
"That's what you were talking about that day we ran into each other, isn't it? There's someone—or something—behind these suicides. And you know what it is. Shit, you've known this whole time."
Yeah, I know. It's not like Koenma hadn't tried to bring it up before. I didn't really have the moral high ground to demand answers now, not when I'd been the one who refused to get involved. But I was too fired up to care. Koenma, on the other hand, stood perfectly still, just watching me.
"I thought you didn't want to get involved in this sort of thing anymore."
"Things hit differently when my friends start dying. First Suzuki, then who's next?"
He uncrossed his arms and moved to sit at his desk. He was clearly reluctant, probably thinking through every word before saying anything at all.
"Got nothing to say?" I pushed.
"You're right. I noticed a strange pattern in the deaths of several youkai. Suzuki was the most recent."
"Why? Why is this happening?"
Koenma hesitated again.
"Yusuke... I shouldn't have brought this up with you that day. It was a slip. I can't ask for your help."
"You're not asking. I'm the one asking you. I want to help."
"The thing is... I don't know if it's safe for you to be involved."
"Excuse me?!"
"There are things," he said, pausing like he was weighing every syllable, "that are beyond my understanding. Things I'm not even sure I can handle. And I'm afraid you might not be able to, either. Believe me, I'm in no position to turn down help, but I just can't take the risk—"
"Oh, give me a fucking break!" I snapped. "Since when are you worried about what happens to me? Where was all this concern when you sent me to that shithole cave? When you let Keiko die?"
Koenma's face went stiff as stone—and honestly, I think that was just his way of hiding how much that line cut. People can be mean when they are in pain. And I've never been the type to think before I speak. The words came out before I even realized.
That's when the door burst open and we both looked up.
I was fully expecting one of the Special Squad goons to come drag me out—was hoping for it, so I could unload on someone. But standing in the doorway was Botan.
She looked surprised at first, then lit up.
"Yusuke! You're back!" she said, throwing her arms around my neck and nearly knocking me over.
"Botan, easy," I said, patting her arm so she'd let go.
She did, but kept her hands on my shoulders. Then she glanced between me and Koenma and quickly caught on to the tension thick in the room.
"Don't tell me you two were fighting again," she said.
"Botan, please escort Yusuke back to the Ningenkai," Koenma said without even looking at me. He turned away, started tidying up papers on his desk, pretending to be busy—anything to avoid meeting my eyes.
"No need, Botan. I know the way," I said, already heading for the door. "And you know what? Fuck this shit."
And I left, slamming the door behind me. Went home. Slept through the whole damn day.
(…)
Saying I woke up with a goddamn brutal headache would be an understatement. I felt drained, like I hadn't rested at all. The nightmare had come back, only this time it was way more vivid. Probably because of the fight with Koenma.
In the dream, I was in the same place as always. The cave in the middle of the ocean, with its spiral-covered walls and blah blah blah. But something was different. This time I heard the whispers, the same ones I'd heard back at the camp. I felt the flies buzzing around me and noticed different markings on the walls. That same black flower was growing in the corners. I stood frozen, hypnotized. Wanting to leave but completely unable to move. I woke up drenched in sweat.
There was a missed call from Kurama on my phone. I didn't call him back right away. I needed a shower, some space to clear my head, or honestly, not to think about anything at all. I liked that, when I could just shut my brain off completely. Total blank.
Under the hot water, I felt broken. I had bruises I didn't even remember getting, and my skin stung from a scratch I couldn't really recall.
I stalled for a while after the shower. Through the window, I saw the day was dull and heavy and grey. A perfect reflection of how my week was going. Nika's box of stuff was still open on the table, and all my notes on the suicides were scattered around. I thought I'd made progress by uncovering the other deaths, but if I couldn't figure out the connection between them, what good was it? And the visit to Reikai had done jack shit to clarify anything.
Fuck. The pain flared behind my eyes. I called Kurama and asked him to meet me at the restaurant.
The restaurant still bore Keiko's family name. When the Yukimuras retired and moved to Okinawa, I'd promised to keep the place just as it was, and to take care of the kitchen—and that's what I'd done, even if they weren't around to see it. The facade hadn't changed in years. Running the restaurant had been the only thing keeping me sane these past few years, so it stung a little to realize how much I'd been neglecting it lately because of this goddamn case.
Kurama showed up not long after. I unlocked the door to let him in, then locked it again behind him, leaving the "Closed" sign in place. Another day without customers. I headed back behind the counter where I was throwing together a quick bowl of udon, mostly just to have something in my stomach besides caffeine. I offered some to Kurama, but he declined.
"How are you doing?"
"Like shit," I answered. "Feels like a jackhammer's been pounding my skull for days."
"I meant how are you doing."
I stopped cooking for a moment. My back was to him—he was sitting on one of the stools at the counter—but I understood the question. It wasn't just about the past few days.
"I'm… getting by, you know how it is. Honestly? I thought I'd be more used to the fact that nothing's ever going to be the same again, but it still sucks. Always thinking how different things could've been if I'd just made other choices."
"It's not worth obsessing over what didn't happen, Yusuke."
Sure. Easy to say. I didn't argue the point.
"You seen Kuwabara?"
"Yeah, now and then."
"How's he doing?"
I brought my bowl to the counter and sat down across from Kurama. He gave me a slight smile.
"I think you already know what I'm going to say."
I looked at him, then buried my face in my food again.
"That I should ask him myself. I know. But why don't you just tell me what you really came to say?"
Kurama's face turned serious again. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the ziplock bag with the black flower we'd found at the camp. He placed it on the counter.
"Remember this?" he asked.
"The plant that was growing in the ruined building. What about it?"
He stared at the flower a few seconds longer than I expected. Kurama was never one to beat around the bush.
"It's called Night Lily. The last known record of this species in Makai dates back at least eighteen hundred years. Like I suspected, it's extremely rare—only blooms under very specific conditions. And yet here it is, in the Ningenkai."
"There was one of those among Nika's stuff. Looked fresh. Like it'd just been picked."
Kurama shook his head.
"Night Lily doesn't die once it's cut. It's a kind of 'ever-living' plant—retains its form even after being plucked."
"Sorry, Kurama, but I'm not seeing the point."
He paused again, hesitating.
"There's something else. There are… urban legends about the uses of this flower in the past. Stories that suggest it was used in black magic rituals, or cults linked to necromancy or occult sciences. Old tales, obviously, mostly ancient lore, and real facts are hard to come by. But let's just say this flower has a very dark reputation."
"Black magic? Like Hiei's dark flames?"
"Not exactly. Hiei's Black Flames are elemental, at least in theory—even if no one really knows what goes into mastering that technique."
I looked at him while I kept chewing. There was a flicker of unease in Kurama's eyes, a trace of tension as he spoke, like the subject made him uncomfortable. That was new. I couldn't remember Kurama ever having trouble talking about anything.
"So what are you trying to tell me? That someone's reviving ancient Makai black magic in that camp?"
"You're the detective, Yusuke."
"But it is a possibility."
"It's a possibility."
"Great," I muttered, dropping my chopsticks onto the empty bowl. So this was what had killed Suzuki, Nika, and the others? This was what Koenma hadn't wanted to tell me? That some lunatic was trying to recreate two-thousand-year-old black magic rituals?
"Is that why you knew Suzuki would be the next victim?"
"It was just a hunch… not only because of the Night Lily, but also because I saw runes carved into the walls of that building, characters from a dead Makai language I unfortunately can't read. I thought there might be a connection."
"Well damn, that's one hell of a hunch."
I told him about the other cases I'd uncovered. About how Koenma had confirmed them, but also refused to give me anything more. I recounted everything matter-of-factly. I hadn't fully processed it yet, but the weight of it all was starting to hit me as I spoke.
This case was way, way worse than I'd thought.
(…)
I went back home feeling a little dazed. I'll admit—I wouldn't have given much credit to this whole black magic talk if it hadn't come from Kurama. What can I say? The guy has credibility. He also mentioned he needed more time to understand the true properties of the Night Lily and to run a few tests. Apparently, the flower was so ancient and mysterious that even he was running into walls.
Suzuki's death was still burning in the back of my mind. It bothered me that the last time we spoke, we argued. That he'd died resentful, and we never got to clear the air. Not that we were ever that close to begin with, but it still left a bad taste, like unfinished business.
I thought about everyone I'd drifted away from. I thought about Raizen, literally starving himself to death, letting life drain out of him over a lost love. Maybe I wasn't so different from him after all.
I stepped inside my apartment and collapsed on the couch. Not even two seconds had gone by before I felt her presence. And honestly? I wasn't even surprised.
"Hey, Botan," I said, without even looking. "Please don't tell me you waited here this whole time."
"I was worried!"
"Of course you were."
I kept lying there, staring up at the ceiling, catching a glimpse of Botan in my peripheral vision as she walked over.
"Why did you go talk to Koenma?" she asked.
"He didn't tell you?"
"He hasn't told me much of anything lately."
"Then maybe it's better that way."
I closed my eyes, hoping she'd let it go. But this was Botan, so of course she didn't let it go. My trip to Reikai was exactly the excuse she needed to try and talk to me.
"Yusuke, don't you think it's time you and Koenma made peace? I understand your grief—better than anyone, really. I see people going through it every day. But it's been six years. This bad blood between you two isn't getting either of you anywhere."
"I really don't want to talk about this, Botan."
"You can't keep acting like this forever."
"I think I can act however the hell I want."
She went silent. I opened my eyes. Botan was crouched next to me now, arms folded, staring at me with a furrowed brow and that tight, disapproving frown.
"You're being unfair."
I sat up on the couch, and she stood again. I fumbled around in my pocket for a cigarette and lit one.
"Don't you see how all of this has affected Koenma, too?" she pressed.
"So now I'm supposed to feel sorry for him?"
"I'm just saying, he already paid for his mistakes. And he's still paying. You have no idea what happened to his standing in Reikai after everything. He was basically ostracized by the other Spirit World officials, lost almost all his support. The only reason they still follow his orders is out of formality."
"That's not my problem."
"Koenma barely has any allies left, you know. He's always had to go against the flow in Reikai—especially because he always defended you."
I stood up. I was already pissed, and I definitely didn't want to be having this conversation.
"Botan, all of this is the result of choices he made, consequences that could have been avoided."
"He couldn't have known—"
"Oh, for fuck's sake! That again? Cut the crap, Botan. Isn't he the leader of the Spirit fucking World? Isn't it literally his job to know these things?"
Botan shot me a wounded look. I'd told her I didn't want to talk about it. I knew I was going to explode on her just like I had on Koenma. She'd caught me on a bad day, and trying to paint Koenma as the victim was the final straw.
I hated revisiting all of that. But now my thoughts, always a little masochistic, were taking me down a road I really didn't want to go.
Six years ago, I wasn't even working as a Spirit Detective anymore. By then I was just a restaurant owner-slash-private eye in my spare time. Not exactly a glamorous gig. Most of my cases were boring as hell—jealous wives, cheating husbands, that kind of thing. So when Koenma asked for my help, I jumped on it without thinking twice.
He explained that there's a point of convergence between the three realms—Human, Demon, and Spirit—where the connection between them is stronger, but also fragile. An energy vortex. And out of nowhere, that connection had started showing signs of instability. He needed someone to check it out. According to him, if something went wrong at that spot, the consequences could be catastrophic. Not that he knew what they'd be.
The problem? That convergence point was deep in the Makai. In a remote area no one from Reikai had ever reached. Even though it was technically connected to all three realms, the only way to access it was by travelling on foot through the Makai.
That's where I came in.
Koenma barely gave me any instructions on what to do—or even how to get there. He claimed nothing like this had ever happened before, so all I could do was stay alert and report back ASAP.
What I found out later was that this wasn't entirely true. Something similar had happened—long ago, back when Koenma didn't even exist. King Enma had dealt with it at the time. But Koenma was so determined not to rely on his father that it hadn't even occurred to him to ask. Idiot. How could he be that incompetent?
"He sent me into that cave completely unprepared. The fucking world could've ended because 'Koenma didn't know.' Oh, spare me, Botan!"
"Well, it's not like you cared all that much at the time, did you? You've always been impulsive—not to say reckless! You'd have ignored any instructions anyway and done whatever the hell you wanted. Isn't that always how it goes with you? You throw your damn common sense out the window the second you're on a mission. Why would this time have been any different?"
My head throbbed. I couldn't believe I was having this same goddamn argument again. My cigarette burned down, and I immediately lit another. Botan's words hit a raw nerve—and I wanted to hit back.
"And what about the lost souls that day, Botan? Has Reikai found those yet? Or are they still missing?"
Her face shut down.
"It's impossible to talk to you."
"I told you I didn't want to talk about this."
"All you ever do is push away the people who care about you."
I turned my back to her, shaking my head. I closed my eyes, and the images of that cave came rushing back. That convergence point? It was in a cave, on an island in the middle of an ocean so hot it was called the Sea of Fire. The walls were covered in spirals carved into the stone, and I barely remember anything else. Not even how long I was there. Nothing. By my own count? Maybe 36 hours. But honestly, who knows. Everything's a blur when it comes to that cursed place.
Later we found out that it would've taken way more than just a minor interference to trigger any sort of catastrophic imbalance. The cave was so remote that incidents were rare. The theory was that maybe some animal had wandered too close, causing a tiny distortion that would've corrected itself over time. In other words—there was no real reason to panic. But Koenma, desperate to prove himself as a capable leader, had rushed to act. The whole thing was pointless.
And of course, coincidence or not, after my trip to that cave, everything started falling apart. A tsunami struck Japan's coast. Dormant volcanoes across Makai erupted, spewing lava for kilometres. And hundreds of souls meant to be guided by Reikai that day just… vanished.
"Maybe I just want to be alone. Did you ever think of that?"
"Keiko would hate to see you like this."
Shit. I thought I was going to be sick. I walked over to the window. The sky was still dull, still grey. How had everything changed so fast?
"She was pregnant, Botan," I said, not turning around. I said it quietly, but loud enough to be understood. I heard her gasp.
She was speechless for a moment.
"I… I didn't know…" she whispered.
I turned to face her. Botan had her fingers over her mouth, staring at me in disbelief and sorrow. She looked just as shocked as I had been, six years ago.
"We found out the night before I left for Makai. We agreed to tell everyone once I got back. In the meantime, she wanted to spend a few days with her parents in Okinawa."
"I'm really sorry."
It was the first time I'd ever said it out loud. And honestly, it hurt less than I thought it would. Maybe I was just numb. She apologized again, and the conversation finally died out between us.
I mean… what else was there to say?
That my grief had pushed me to the edge? That it made me hostile, drove everyone away?
But maybe now Botan understood why forgiving Koenma was so hard.
And worse—why forgiving myself was even harder.