Chapter Text
“Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.” - Voltaire
Nine months later…
January 14th, 20XX
Late Night
Tokyo Alleyway
Another night, another case.
For tonight’s patrol, Ren and Makoto sat in their cruiser checking back notes on if this was the perpetrator they were looking for. They received warnings from several people that a couple were around the Shinjuku area causing trouble. They were rowdy, unruly, and downright ruthless to those who attempted to disperse or break them up.
Ren sighed and placed the journal of notes on the dashboard and lightly stretched, feeling a light crack from his lower back. “It’s them, alright.” he said, wearily. “You want me to deal with it first or do you wanna get in on the action?”
Makoto chuckled before rubbing her temples after a long night. She looked like she could’ve used some pain medication right now just to take the edge off, yet all the same she could power through one more case before the night ends. “Same rules apply?”
He shrugged, but in agreement. “Yeah. If they run, you’re buying. And if they don’t…”
“Yeah, yeah…I’m buying for the night.” Makoto finished the thought.
Whosoever was correct in an embarrassingly stupid game of rounds, bought the winner anything they wanted for the night - and it was usually traded in as a drink ticket elsewhere around town. Other nights, it could’ve been for food, or simple groceries, anything to keep them from making it too mundane out over here. For tonight, just as every other common night, was drinks.
Ren exited the police car first, straightening up his shirt. He prepared some handcuffs at the ready, and began approaching the couple down the alleyway, cross-referencing the notes from what the police wrote down and what he was seeing before him. He’d approach them just as how he would’ve approached every encounter over the past several months: By-the-book. Clinical. Hollow-eyed. It was, obviously, the correct way the system in place permitted him to act as.
Over the course of these months, Ren and Makoto had these investigations and reports down to a science, to the point where it began to feel like pointless shakedowns.
Step one - Approach them with amiable intent.
Step two - Ask if they could empty their pockets and if they were in the clear, they’ll walk free.
Step three - Should step two fail, apprehend thugs.
Steps four, five, and six all ended up on how far everyone would go - either quietly or loudly, but more often than not this was the breaking of glass in case of emergencies of guidance.
If they ran, Makoto would outrun them and just book them for resisting arrest - she was the more athletic out of the two, but Ren was slowly keeping up over time.
Steps five and six were usually when backup would be requested if things got too violent, or things were not going as well as they’d hoped. Six, above all else, was to effectively resign yourself to the white flag of surrender if all else failed, and just hoping you live another day. There had never been a need for Step Six, because Step Five was authorization for non-lethal guns.
Petty crimes such as these unfortunately lead to pettiness and weariness, more so for Ren as he’d been doing the same things for months on end. As his figure blocked the cruiser’s blinding lights, his own gaze sorted both of them out to be the typical man and woman duo that permeated often in Shinjuku. They glared at him like they’d just seen red.
“Evening folks,” He’d always begin, script-like. “We’ve received some reports of a disturbance happening around these streets.”
“Ain’t none of your business what’s happenin’ here!” The man shouted at him, disrupting the peace further. “Fuck off, pig!”
And as per usual, this was the response from individuals who were under the influence of drugs. The degradation of his sensibilities, whittling little by little. Anybody at this stage would’ve just opted for the easy way out: Punch first, ask questions later. Ren was not that kind of person, and neither was Makoto.
The sound of the driver-side car door reverberated into the alleyway and Makoto exited out of the door tailing behind Ren. She was quicker on the uptake, now appearing close-by without a word. She crossed her arms, letting Ren take the lead.
Continuing on with his usual scripts, Ren rolled his eyes. “As I was saying…I just need to see what’s inside your pockets. Nothing more, nothing less. You can do that, right?”
“Huh?!” The couple exclaimed at the same time, but it was now the woman’s turn to speak up. “Like hell you are! Why do we gotta listen to you?!”
The man interjected, taking one step forward as Ren and Makoto took one step back. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ya!” he threatened.
“Yeah, fuck ‘em up babe!” The woman encouraged her boyfriend as he was quickly approaching Ren.
“Now, now…let’s not get so hasty…” Ren chuckled nervously, raising his hands up in defense. “You don’t want to do this to the police, now would you?”
“So what? Pigs are dime a dozen, people feast on ‘em as a reward! You’ll get what ya deserve!” The man threatened, now placing his knife closer to Ren’s throat.
“I got ‘em,” Makoto replied, having taken the opportunity to sneak past the man and get him from behind. With how quick and routine things became, she got used to just picking the pockets of the petty criminals she was usually up against. “This man has drugs in his pockets. Enough of a dose to be considered dealing.”
“What the FUCK!?” The man screamed in anger, turning his back to Ren and now facing Makoto. “YOU BITCH!”
“Shit, jig’s up, let’s get on outta here!” The woman called to him, and the next thing both detectives knew, they were high-tailing it out of the alleyway.
Looking at each other, Ren gave a soft smile whilst he scratched his head, and Makoto in return pointed at him. “You’re buying tonight!” She giggled before her demeanor turned serious, beginning her own sprint. “Hey! I’m an officer of the force! GET BACK HERE!”
Well, shit. Ren thought to himself, now following along in his own sprint.
Step 2b, if they just decided to book it without complying, call for backup immediately.
Ren pressed his police radio strapped to his breast. “This is Detective Amamiya, requesting backup in the Shinjuku District! We’ve got a couple runners on the loose!”
It didn’t take long considering Makoto’s athletic prowess easily catching up to one half of the couple. The man was now face firmly planted down on the ground, with Makoto’s knee on his back.
“By the order of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, you’re under arrest!” Makoto proclaimed, now handcuffing the man with one of his arms behind him, and the other clearly compressed on the ground.
Ren searched the surroundings, but he’d lost the woman in the crowd who was now gathering around them in the main streets. Briefly, just as his eyes flicked back to the man, he saw hints of the woman in the crowd. Thinking nothing of it and his inability to catch up, he let her go.
There’ll be a next time, he assured himself.
There always would be. If not today, maybe tomorrow.
His next objective now was taking note of the people around them gasping and gawking. With how Makoto was handling the man, it was clear he was in direct pain at how uncomfortable his hand was, wrapped around a pair of handcuffs - something he couldn’t deal with right now either. Ren instead raised both of his hands up innocently.
“Alright everyone, show’s over. Go back to your business, it’s just regular police work over here.” He reassured the crowd, all of whom slowly walked away from the action. Some people instead began recording footage of the incident, something he couldn’t do against, but it was within their right to do so.
“I know my rights, you fat fucking WHORE! You didn’t have A FUCKING SEARCH WARRANT!” He shouted until his throat ran hoarse, only for Makoto to lightly smack him in the face. “LEMME GO!”
“Be quiet!” She commanded him. “We’ll see how much that holds up against other charges…” Makoto murmured thereafter, then steadily pulled up the man.
Just in time, other officers arrived on the scene, but it was only one familiar face that Ren had indeed gotten used to over the course of his time here, one that he’d remember the name for.
“Detective Amamiya,” A tall man with ashen white hair greeted him, still wearing his ever-present facial bandages. He wore a sturdy build as a foundation for his physicality, and often wore fingerless gloves - yet it never hid the fact his fists were always bruised or battered. Unlike Ren and Makoto before him however, he wore a clean gray suit with a black shirt on the inside. “You alright?”
“Aki,” Ren addressed in return. “Yeah, we’re alright. We’ve apprehended a potential dealer.”
“And the substance?” Akihiko questioned, to which Makoto stepped in and stuck out her hand for Akihiko to see. It was a coke bag, and one that was ready to be supplied to others.
“I take it you'll turn him in after booking?” Makoto asked, and Akihiko nodded with a confident look on his face.
She handed the man over to Akihiko, who rapidly took hold of him to ensure he wouldn’t run away with cuffs in hand. Almost jokingly, Akihiko saluted both of them. “Pleasure doing business, Detective Niijima, we’ll handle this.”
In return, Makoto did the same, saluting back at him. “Much appreciated, Inspector Sanada. Tell Chie she still owes me a steak dinner too.”
“Heh, as if her salary’s gonna permit that.” Akihiko remarked before taking away the man, who now chose to remain silent. “Maybe I’ll see if she can’t set aside something for you.”
Now as the main street returned to its status quo, Ren finished penning in the finale of the case for tonight with a small notebook. He pocketed both the book and pen back into their respective places, and witnessed as Makoto took a deep sigh and headed back out of the alleyway.
“So, where to?” She said, making her way back to the cruiser with Ren in tow.
“Well, since we’re close…Crossroads?”
“Never a bad choice, Detective Amamiya,” Makoto coyly said. “I’m gonna need a few stiff ones tonight.”
Ren could only force a laugh, knowing this place was expensive, but it suited Makoto’s tastes. He got into the passenger side of the car, and off they went into the night.
January 15th, 20XX
Midnight
Crossroads Bar
One thing Makoto would be notoriously good and bad at, it’s always how she’d hold her drink. On the one hand, she was a heavy drinker. On the other hand, she was a goddamn heavy drinker. Though Crossroads itself was on a fairly peaceful evening service, it still had immense business in the way of Makoto emptying wallets with the booze she drank.
After ordering the first round, Ren dived deep into some stress-free entertainment, reading the latest Vague issue. It was pertaining to the story of the front cover’s leading lady, and how she managed to cope with the loss of a beloved friend back in the day. At the front of every Vague magazine of course, provided the feature of the one and only up and coming supermodel. This one in particular was extra pretentious:
“Blazing Inferno of a Thousand Suns, The Meteoric Eruption of Ann Takamaki”
Ren paid no real mind to what she was wearing, or any of the sort at the time. Makoto, having downed half of her glass of ale, took note of it. She almost choked at the sight, coughing wildly.
“You really gotta slow down,” Ren commented. “And not just talking about how you drink, either.”
Makoto reached out to her partner and lowered the magazine from his purview. “Not that. Did you know Ann used to be part of Shujin Academy, too?”
“Eh?” Ren interrupted, now closing the magazine article and flipping it to the front. He kept a tab on it however, planting his index on the page he was on. Having now taken in what Ann was wearing - designer shades on top of her head, a chic off-shoulder white T-shirt, and several pieces of adorned jewelry to compliment her twin pigtails, he leaned his head to the side. “Her? Hang on, what class was she in?”
“2-D, just like yours, eheh…” Makoto giggled. “Although since Mr. Unassuming never cared to look around, you probably just never noticed.”
That can’t be. Simply because they’d be in two wholly different worlds if that were true. Yet, he did remember Ann’s signature platinum blonde pigtails often when the class had to present something for class, be it a report on a book or otherwise. Briefly, he flipped back to the article and scanned the words in particular, and sure enough…there was mention of Shujin Academy in there.
He set the magazine down and sighed. “Alright, can we please talk about something else?”
“Such as?” Makoto chimed in.
“That bust like an hour ago. He was right, you know.”
“...About?” Makoto asked, drinking more of her beer. “What? A search warrant?”
“Yeah. I don’t wanna say it because I know you hate me saying it but…”
“I get it, Ren-kun.” Makoto let out a low sigh and shook her head. “I really messed up today.” Then, she slammed her palm on the table. “But illegal or not, we found the drugs, didn’t we? They ran. They resisted arrest. They’re off the streets.”
“It’s still illegal. Procedures exist and we --” Ren explained, but Makoto cut him off all the same.
“It’s bullshit is what it is!” Makoto said, raising her voice at it in anger. “Why does it matter if it gets results all the same?! It’s just so goddamn annoying!” In retaliation, she downed the rest of her drink and then promptly picked up the next one, drinking more in the process.
“Like…I didn’t sign up to be a detective just so I could waste my time dealing with low-level kids thinking they’re hot shit…” Makoto said, her words now trailing off. Briefly, she set aside the glass and slowly wiped her face down with both her hands, but hung both of them halfway to cover her mouth. “Ren…” she said in a low voice, ignoring the honorific.
“...Yeah?” He responded, hesitantly.
She sighed, now steepling her hands, her voice cracking, as if she were ready to cry. “I’m tired of this. Everything we do, we keep telling ourselves that it’s helping change Japan for the better. But is it really…?”
Ren struggled for an answer. He lightly wetted his lips, giving some thought to it.
In the almost one year tenure he’d been here, whereas Makoto would’ve been here for the full year’s worth as is, they were meant to be handling bigger cases than this. It wasn’t glamorous, granted, but it meant something more, being at the heart of the action.
Being a detective where it mattered was what he and Makoto did sign up for, originally - to work with the illustrious Naoto Shirogane was an honor and a half, yet here they were, reduced to a mobile desk job and treated with dignity on par with janitors. Ren did agree, however, that their talents were being wasted on something insignificant. Yet still…
“It has to,” was his response. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it, sometimes. Because it’s the little things that count, right?”
“Sure, I guess…” Makoto agreed in resignation. Her eyes shifted over to the glass, and she pushed it farther away from her, all the way to the corner where the table met the wall. “I wanna go home.”
“And I’m gonna drive you then. Because you’re already too drunk even if you’re only buzzed.”
“...One for the road then,” Makoto said boldly, quickly grabbing the glass and downing it in quick succession. “Killer hangover tomorrow but I don’t work.”
“If Sae-san sees you like this then I’m not sure you’re gonna be up tomorrow either,” Ren jokingly commented. “You know she hates the fact you keep drinking, right?”
To which, Makoto could only respond with a shrug of her own before handing the keys to the cruiser over to Ren. Though she walked towards the door just fine, Makoto did begin to stumble momentarily as soon as they were facing the door. Ren swooped in quickly to help her rebalance herself, ensuring she wouldn’t fall.
“You alright?” He asked, and Makoto only nodded.
He rolled his eyes, keeping a soft smile. “I really don’t know how you drink this much and don’t ever fall apart.”
“Built different,” Makoto jokingly responded in kind. “I’m not exactly a pushover, either!”
After some consideration, it might’ve been better if he held onto her all the way until she got in the car.
January 15th, 20XX
Midnight
Niijima Residence
Turns out however, Makoto could only ever handle the first onslaught of what beer does to the body. The second onslaught was keeping conscious, of which…she slumped over on the passenger side on the way to her home.
Ren didn’t blame her. Today was a tiresome day, and one long night in excess of other long nights would take a mental toll on anyone. Once he had arrived to the residence, so far late into the night that most would be sleeping by now, he tried his best to carry his partner into the complex.
What greeted him on the way in, of course, was Makoto’s older sister, who deliberately left the door open. With a gentle knock, Ren awaited until a soft click of the door opened up entry.
Sae said nothing on the matter, only giving one half-asleep look at Ren and her sister before allowing them in. From the looks of it, she was ready to head back into her district office for another long night of her own. Sae wore subtle bags under her eyes that she was clearly hiding with extensive makeup work, and aside from that, she hadn’t even noticed the small wrinkles in her charcoal custom suit, or the fact that she was all out of sorts heading back in.
Once Ren set Makoto down in a safe spot - not laying down - he deeply exhaled and quietly nodded to Sae. Without much else, he began to leave, only to find that there was a light tug on the hems of his untucked shirt, and this touch would evolve into a deep hug into Sae herself.
“Uh, Sae-san?” Ren whispered so as to not wake up his partner. “What’re you doing?”
“Just…saying thanks,” Sae replied softly. “For always keeping my sister safe and sound.”
She let him go after, only for him to lightly scratch his head. “It’s nothing, really…I mean…she wouldn’t have made it home by herself.”
Sae smiled at it, and forced a laugh. “Still, Amamiya-kun. I feel like you should just take the compliment.”
“You should really get some rest too, you know.” He said, now putting both his hands on Sae’s shoulders. “You look tired.”
“I am tired,” Sae remarked, sighing halfway. “I’ll be alright. I’m going to wash up a little bit, excuse me.” She slid past him to enter the bathroom, then shut the door behind her.
Without much else to say, Ren could only take deep breaths and one more look at his partner, who was sleeping soundly. Even with all that alcohol in her system, she truly was remarkable in not letting the bad side effects get to her. His next focus turned to the clock near the kitchen walls, and he denoted it was almost 1 AM now.
Yet, he lingered in the moment. In a way, this residence could be his home too, should he choose. He glanced over to Makoto again, who now began to naturally slide down to a more comfortable position. As she did however, Ren’s eyes unintentionally focused on a manila folder displayed across the coffee table.
Quietly, he moved over to an unoccupied seat adjacent to Makoto. He slid the manila folder over to his seat, and opened up the folder.
The first file was about a relatively low-tier criminal subjected to a case of robbery of a jewelry store, something that he and Makoto heard about. Sergeant Satonaka cleared that one out, and it was the highlight of her day back at the office, and it was like they’d just caught the head of a terrorist organization.
Small victories were still, nevertheless, victories, even if it didn’t mean much. It was a way to keep up morale around the office, if nothing else.
As Ren was skimming through the file, his eyes hovered a little longer over something that was amiss, and clearly edited through human hands. This criminal was now deceased, having been overwritten in heavily dark ink.
Curiously, there was also another page behind the dossier, which he flipped over, revealing the fate of what happened to this individual. What he saw was not something he was prepared for, as his eyes widened and he almost dropped the folder down on the ground in pure terror.
It was a nightmarish image to behold, witnessing the robber’s throat slit violently open in a near perfect angle, almost to the point his jaw was unhinged open. Large amounts of blood pooled below his body, and his eyes remained open to the terror he witnessed, as well as amputated hands placed symbolically at the center of his body.
Away in the background, Ren could briefly make out a bloodied handprint dripping down one of the walls before a much larger splash of crimson painted the walls on the way down.
The next dossier would not be any easier, as Ren flipped through them, now out of morbid curiosity. Each one, he always read the case report of who it was, and all noticing they were deceased. Often, he prepared his mind for the inevitable.
“What in the hell…?” Ren murmured to himself. Though his brain was telling him to run away from this moment, it was actively absorbing what he was trying to process at the same time. He flipped the page, now greeted with another dossier of a criminal.
This one contained a misdemeanor was a fairly notable hit and run almost two months ago, causing the victim to lose their bottom half functions. They lived, but the cost was the rest of their bright future.
Now, that criminal was found dead on the streets with his bones crushed, a missing shoe tossed far away from the scene, and his head was almost completely decapitated from getting run over by a tire. The car used did not fare any better; its windows were cracked and alarmingly bloodied, with the result being that the body was so misshapen and twisted that the mangled corpse could’ve been mistaken for roadkill.
Ren’s fingers began tingling, yet something compelled him to keep going in spite of his breathing becoming unsteady and his heart rate beating faster. Nervously swallowing, Ren tried his best to steel his nerves, briefly putting the folder down to ball his fists together. After calming down, he gave a quick nod to himself, picking up the folder again.
Yet still, the next one was perhaps the most nightmarish of all.
Another criminal, known for being a pyromaniac, set afire a well known studio building while its residents were unaware. Hailed as one of the most horrific incidents in recent memory, many perished in that fire, but the rest were scarred in more ways than physically that day.
It was considered one of Japan’s most devastating tragedies, having lost so much unfathomable potential with a heinous act out of sheer malice. The image revealed that his body was now a mixture of rubber and ash, for he had been burnt alive through the method of necklacing. What remained was an inhuman mixture of the tires strapped around his chest and feet, and whatever bones didn’t melt were brittle and charred by the end of it.
The more dossiers he came across, the more gruesome the encounter: For voyeurism, the man’s eyes were now gouged out of his skull and his ears removed, shoved directly into a punctured cavity freshly made with a large blade incision. For sexual abuse, the person was stripped naked, their genitalia cut off, and, even more hideously, their tongues were pulled directly out of their mouths and forcibly sewed where the genitalia used to be.
At the very end of it all, a report from someone who survived an encounter. Aside from the fact none of these people had anything in common besides their felonies, this was the work of someone who was clearly a monster. They couldn’t possibly breathe the same air or feel the same warmth of the sun as other humans would. In their right minds, who could even live with the possibility of committing such atrocities and consider it to be normal?
“In accordance to a testimony by one Mitsuhide Koga, he had been attacked by a mysterious assailant who only wore all black, and had a distinct black surgical mask accompanying them. They could not see who the person was, much less remember any distinct features of the proposed serial killer. Physically, he is alive and will live - but mentally, he is shattered. The person responsible used what we can deduce is a bat as a primary weapon, but was also seen using a bladed weapon, as evidence of Koga’s missing eye and other victims.”
Ren furrowed his eyebrows, having now shut the manila folder in a cold sweat. A sudden thought passed his mind, and one that wasn’t supposed to.
“They’re just criminals. Nobody would mourn for them.”
“Wait,” Ren said aloud, disrupting his own thoughts. “No. That’s not…” He rapidly shook his head, then checked the time again. It was late, and it was probably his mind hallucinating things. He felt a sense of nausea rush over him, now that he sat in silence and could feel the tingling sensation arise again.
He rushed on over to the kitchen, letting the tap run cold water, and briefly, he ran his hands over to feel its chill in order for him to snap back to reality. Cupping his hands, he lapped up some of the water. He started coughing, feeling that urge of nausea rush at him, strength overwhelming.
After some time, Ren cupped his hands again, now gargling it before spitting it out, breathing rather heavily. As the chill continued, he splashed it towards his face and found nearby napkins to dry off with, and after some time, his breathing steadied again.
“Might be time for me to go now,” He whispered to himself, turning around. As he did, Sae opened up the bathroom door, now fully dressed and looking much fresher than she did previously. She took note of him, feeling a little bit energized.
“Are you leaving?” Sae asked. “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along. Nobody’s really going to pick me up at this hour to get to the office either...” She said, “If it’s not too much trouble?”
Nervously, Ren chuckled and leaned his head inwards. “Perfect timing.” He beckoned her to continue as he walked into the hallways. “Let’s go then.”
So it goes, Ren got into the driver’s seat and Sae rode in the passenger’s side. While they got situated, Ren thought back once more to what he read. He quickly glanced over to the prosecutor before him, who seemed aware he was withholding something on his mind.
“What is it, Amamiya-kun?”
He pursed his lips, letting the car idle for all but a moment. “Did Makoto tell you about what was in that manila folder on the table?”
Sae looked back at the building, taking a bit longer to gaze at it, almost as if she wanted to get out and investigate, but then she looked back at Ren. “Unfortunately, yes…although I don’t know what’s in there, she gave me a bit of a scare when she mentioned it was about a serial killer.” She shut the door of the cruiser again shortly afterwards, and then put on her seatbelt. “Did she not mention it to you?”
Ren shook his head, and Sae only hummed. “Just…be careful, okay?” She placed a hand on his lap. “Don’t let it get inside your head.”
With a quick nod, Ren put his foot down on the pedal and began driving. They did not talk to each other after, with Sae only saying her farewells once they approached the prosecutor’s office. Afterwards, Ren drove straight home immediately, watching as the lamplights outside whizz by him.
Once he got to the apartment complex, having now calmed down, the fatigue began to creep up to him. All other obligations could wait until he was rested, yet there was one more fight before he could put himself at ease.
His eyelids wore heavily upon him, and he could barely register more than two steps ahead of him at any time as the night lingered onwards. As he was ascending the stairs upwards, he stopped midway, looking back at the car.
“Did I lock it?” lingered in his mind. In truth, he did. For extra safety measures, using the fob, he descended back down and pressed the button to double confirm. With a sigh and some resignation in the effort, Ren stared back at the ascension.
As he entered into his own apartment, Ren slipped off his dress shoes, undoing one before naturally letting the other fall. He almost tripped over his own socks in the process, and then he undid his tie, letting it hang lazily around his neck. Unbuttoning his shirt, Ren contemplated if he’d take a shower, but there was a chance he’d just fall asleep in there. He entered into his own bedroom, and rolled into bed.
As he laid down, however, the thoughts of what he saw at Makoto’s home didn’t leave his mind. He stared at the ceiling momentarily, thinking prominently about the charred body and the imagery that was now painted in his mind. Did he really consider this to be a good thing?
No. It can’t be. That’s just…horrible. Nobody should go out like that. He thought to himself. He could never rationalize that. Criminal or not, nobody deserved to go through with that. Before long, the fatigue overtook him, and he shut his eyes.