Violets And Violence: MM Paranormal

Mystery Romance (Tokyo MPD

Mysteries Book 3) M. Kato
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/violets-and-violence-mm-paranormal-mystery-romanc
e-tokyo-mpd-mysteries-book-3-m-kato/
 VIOLETS AND
V I O L E N C E
Tōkyō MPD Mysteries
BOOK 3
M. KATO
VIOLETS AND VIOLENCE

Tōkyō MPD Mysteries #3

Copyright © 2024 by M. Kato

All Rights Reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Violets And Violence is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Illustration by Marko

ASIN: B0CN41RRHC
Also by M. Kato
Tōkyō MPD Mysteries
The Red Collar – Book 1

No Souls On The River – Book 2

Violets And Violence – Book 3

Keep in touch

Newsletter Sign-up

Instagram

Goodreads

Bookbub
 Author’s note:

The characters’ names will be written in the following order:

[family name] and then [given name].

Example:

Hayashi Teruo > Hayashi = family name; Teruo = given name

Miyazaki Shinji > Miyazaki = family name; Shinji = given name

 Content warning and
notes on businesses portrayed in the story
The book contains: discussions about miscarriages (not shown or described); discussions about a baby’s death (not shown or described); emotional abuse (described).
There might be other heavy topics discussed, shown or described in the book. Reader discretion is advised.

Two businesses are portrayed as part of the investigative process within the story. The names, employees, events, and everything else related to these businesses are used
fictitiously. They’re not a reflection of any current businesses nor do they intend to be since this is a work of fiction.
 ABOUT THIS BOOK

The Violet Killer—as nicknamed by the media because of the violets discovered alongside his victims—returns to Tōkyō’s streets.

For homicide detective Hayashi Teruo, this case marks a haunting return to the scene of his first investigation as a rookie detective and his biggest failure. Not only did the
murderer slip through his fingers, but nearly claimed the life of Teruo’s close friend and fellow detective, Megumi.

Meanwhile, Miyazaki Shinji is caught in a web of workplace tension with a hostile colleague who is determined to expose Shinji and Teruo’s intimate relationship. Faced
with the possibility of jeopardizing both their love and careers, Shinji makes a decision that drives a wedge between him and Teruo.

As the looming threat of termination hangs over their heads, Teruo makes a shocking discovery about his family. The reason behind the true origins of his unusual healing
powers comes to light, connecting Teruo and Shinji in the most unexpected way.

Violets and Violence is a spicy paranormal police procedural. It's Book 3 in the series and features a happy ending. The book contains profanity and sexually explicit
scenes meant for mature audiences only.
Contents
CHAPTER 1 TERUO

CHAPTER 2 TERUO

CHAPTER 3 SHINJI

CHAPTER 4 TERUO

CHAPTER 5 TERUO

CHAPTER 6 SHINJI

CHAPTER 7 SHINJI

CHAPTER 8 SHINJI

CHAPTER 9 TERUO

CHAPTER 10 TERUO

CHAPTER 11 SHINJI

CHAPTER 12 SHINJI

CHAPTER 13 TERUO

CHAPTER 14 TERUO

CHAPTER 15 SHINJI

CHAPTER 16 SHINJI

CHAPTER 17 SHINJI

CHAPTER 18 TERUO

CHAPTER 19 SHINJI

CHAPTER 20 TERUO

CHAPTER 21 SHINJI

CHAPTER 22 SHINJI

CHAPTER 23 SHINJI

CHAPTER 24 TERUO

CHAPTER 25 SHINJI

CHAPTER 26 SHINJI

EPILOGUE SHINJI
 CHAPTER 1

Teruo

Teruo drummed his fingers against the tobacco vending machine, contemplating what to do. The packs of Mevius
stared back, inviting him to buy one. Just one.
Maybe it was time to move to a weaker brand or buy some patches. It would be easier to quit if he didn’t go cold
turkey. He’d been thinking about it for a while now, but every time he tried to stop smoking, he returned to his habit in a day or
two, craving that calm the nicotine offered him, especially during stressful cases which always renewed his appreciation for
cigarettes.
He ran a palm over his face and punched the buttons before shoving money inside the machine. He collected the
change and the three Mevius packs, then returned to his car in the supermarket’s parking lot. It was almost empty this late in the
evening.
Shinji was at the ticket machine, inserting coins to pay for the parking lot. Tendrils of white spiritual energy freely
hovered around him, shimmering under the lights from the nearby supermarket and the street lamps. Ever since Teruo had his
soul placed under protective wards, Shinji sometimes left his reiryoku out—even when he wasn’t actively using it—since he
wasn’t draining Teruo of energy anymore. A small part of Teruo missed healing Shinji’s energy. It was connection only the two
of them shared, and he loved that, but it was too dangerous.
Teruo’s footsteps echoed in the evening’s silence. Shinji noticed him and remained in his spot, eyes following Teruo
with that smoldering I wanna eat you whole look that made Teruo’s knees weak and his heart thump in his chest. They’d spent
the entire Sunday in Inokashira Park, enjoying the blue sky and beautiful warm weather. They glided across the lake in a boat,
and Shinji basked in the sunlight, despite whining how hot it was. The May blooms and green foliage surrounding the lake
wrapped them in fresh scents, and nothing made Teruo happier than cradling Shinji in his arms and forgetting all his worries for
a few hours.
“Hey.” Shinji smiled when Teruo reached him. “Got them?”
Teruo patted his leather jacket pocket. “Yep.”
He held Shinji’s chin between his fingers and took advantage of the now empty parking lot to give him a kiss, which
Shinji eagerly returned. The tendrils of reiryoku gave his tousled hair and brown eyes a slight glow. Teruo took another
moment to admire him, just because he could.
“Shall we?” Teruo asked.
“Yep. I’m famished. I crave a delicious dinner made by my handsome boyfriend.” Shinji grinned.
“Hm, okay. Flattery works on me. I’ll make you dinner.” Teruo drove his Nissan out of the parking lot.
They were close to their home in Suginami, so they had plenty of time to cook and enjoy the rest of the night together.
The next day would be full of paperwork and team coordination to solve their ongoing homicide cases.
“Have you given it more thought?” Shinji asked suddenly.
“Given thought to what?”
“To talking with your parents about your birth and childhood.”
Oh. That.
Shinji had brought up the topic yesterday—for the millionth time these past months—but Teruo managed to distract
him with food and sex. Then he started again today and Teruo said he wanted to enjoy the park, so Shinji dropped it. Now
Teruo was trapped inside the car and had run out of excuses. Truthfully, he needed to address this issue, but since the protective
wards were doing their job, he kept postponing it.
“No, I haven’t,” Teruo said with a sigh. “My brain decided to eliminate those thoughts.”
Shinji folded his arms, blowing air through his nose. “This isn’t funny.”
“Who said it was?”
“You’re treating the issue like it’s not a priority. You should’ve spoken with them already.”
Teruo only grunted as they pulled to a stop behind a car. He grabbed a cigarette and opened the window before
lighting it. There was a traffic jam even though it wasn’t rush hour. Others must have had the same idea to spend the weekend in
the park and now were returning home.
“It is a priority,” Teruo finally said. “It’s just that… my healing powers are still under control. Your reiryoku doesn’t
use my life force to replenish, thanks to the wards. Why rush? Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
 “Teruo,” Shinji said, and although his voice was even, there was a slight inflection that showed annoyance. “Someone
tampered with your soul.You need to rush. This is a life and death situation, but you’ve been treating it like it’s nothing for
months. Aren’t you worried at all?”
“I am worried.” He turned to Shinji while also keeping an eye on the car in front.“I’m worried sick. But, apparently,
death isn’t incentive enough to make me want to talk with my parents.”
Shinji groaned, looking up toward the dark sky, probably asking for divine intervention.“Why? Are you afraid of what
you might find out? Or that they’ll consider you crazy? You don’t have to give any details about the supernatural side. Just ask
some well-phrased questions and we’ll continue investigating on our own.”
Teruo looked back at the road and moved forward a few meters before halting the car again. He’d rarely seen this
road so crowded. Usually, it was the fastest route home from Inokashira Park. Perhaps there was a traffic accident ahead. He
had a fleeting thought of getting out and checking it, but knew this would piss off Shinji—and Teruo already felt bad for ruining
their night with his stubbornness.
He drew in air before blurting, “What if we’re siblings?”
“Huh?” Shinji blinked.“Where did that idea come from?”
“From Nakajima’s insistence that I was kidnapped in my childhood and that our families must be connected in some
way.”
The kitsune shifter, Nakajima Kazuya, was the kumicho of the largest yakuza family in Tōkyō. He’d offered to help
Teruo with his issue—much to Teruo’s dismay, because he didn’t want the help of a gangster. And although the protective
wards certainly made things easier, the guy’s theories worried Teruo.
“What if you’re my secret brother?” That was Teruo’s greatest nightmare. “Don’t get me wrong, you’d make an
awesome brother, but I want you as my lover.”
Shinji huffed and rolled his eyes. “Teruo, don’t be ridiculous. We’re not siblings. My mother had no other children
besides me.”
Teruo advanced a few more meters. “How do you know? I’m almost four years older. Maybe our parents were
entangled in some way and I am a secret love child. It’s the only explanation for this ‘connection’ Nakajima keeps going on
about and possible kidnapping.” He raised a finger. “Maybe… my healing is a curse because I’m a secret love child.”
Shinji’s mouth was agape, and he slammed back in his seat, letting out another low groan. “This isn’t some TV drama.
First, healing is never a curse—”
“It feels like one with the way it’s killing me.”
“It’s not the healing that’s killing you,” Shinji said. “It’s the fact that the process uses your own soul since you don’t
have spiritual powers. Second, my mother had no secret child before me and neither did yours. You’re losing your mind over
an impossible scenario instead of… you know… talking to your family,” Shinji added through gritted teeth. “A simple
conversation might help clear things up.”
“I don’t want to find out some weird shit about myself.”
“You won’t. I’m certain Kazuya had something else in mind when he spoke about a connection between our families
—on a supernatural level or perhaps a common ancestor that gave you these powers somehow.”
Teruo grunted, unconvinced. Obviously, he didn’t truly believe this ridiculous theory, but he also didn’t have the
courage to seek the truth. “Why the hell is Nakajima so fucking vague about it?” Teruo honked at the unmoving cars.
“Connection. What does that even mean? Can’t he just come out and say what he has in mind?”
“He’s waiting for you to find out more info, and then draw a conclusion.” Shinji shifted slightly in his seat. “Teruo,
you need to talk to your parents. If not for yourself, then for me.” He narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t, I’ll withhold sex until
you do.”
“Not gonna happen,” Teruo said, full of confidence. “You like my blowjobs too much.”
“Dammit,” Shinji whispered, tapping his fingers against his knee.
He fell quiet and Teruo eyed him suspiciously. “Are you trying to come up with ways to blackmail me?”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” Teruo relented. “I’ll talk, but not with my parents. My older sister, Natsue, might be able to tell me if I’m a
secret love child or whatever.”
“Good, but you’ll still need to speak with your mom.”
Teruo chewed his lower lip, annoyed with the situation. He didn’t want to ask his parents for help. He’d barely
spoken to them in years and didn’t want to owe them anything, not now, not ever. However, he was aware that Natsue might not
find useful information, and it was easier and faster if Teruo led the discussion with their mother. He would have to make a
decision—and fast.
“Why are you calling him Kazuya?” Teruo changed the subject. “Since when are you two on a first name basis?”
Shinji raised a brow, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Jealousy? I kinda like it.” He winked. “Don’t worry. He
insisted on leaving formalities aside, that’s all.”
 “He didn’t do that with me.”
“I’m not surprised.” Shinji shrugged. “You glare at him every time you meet like he murdered your entire family.”
“He’s a yakuza!”
Shinji waved his hands. “And that’s why you two aren’t on a first name basis.”
“I don’t like you calling him Kazuya,” Teruo growled.
Shinji brought a hand to Teruo’s chin and caressed the rough stubble. “Keep that growl until we get home. It’s hot.”
Teruo’s annoyance melted into a smile, and he kissed Shinji’s wrist. He leaned sideways and Shinji met him halfway,
cupping Teruo’s neck and pressing his soft lips against Teruo’s. One way or another, he needed to find answers about his
family’s connection with the supernatural. He didn’t want to drive Shinji away because he was too pig-headed to hold a
conversation with his parents.
Police sirens startled them and Teruo turned to look as three police cars passed them by and pulled up a few meters
ahead.
“Accident?” Shinji wondered out loud.
“I was thinking the same,” Teruo said and advanced as the cars in front moved.
The red lights of the police cars became clearer in the evening’s dimness. Teruo craned his neck to see better and
noticed the cars were parked next to each other at the head of a small side street. Uniformed officers stood in a circle behind
the cars and two others were struggling to do crowd control. As Teruo rolled forward, he realized that none of the parked
vehicles had been in an accident.
“Is she dead?” the panicked voice of a young man echoed from the sidewalk.
Teruo spun the steering wheel and parked the car on the cycle lane, eliciting a few frustrated yells from the other
drivers. He needed to see what was going on and provide help if necessary.
“What are you doing?” Shinji asked.
Teruo put on the emergency lights and slapped the red flashing beacon atop the car. “I wanna check it out.” He nodded
toward the officers.
“They’re handling it. We’re not on duty.”
“I won’t be long.” Teruo grabbed his badge from the glove compartment. He never left home without it, even while
off-duty. “You can wait here if you want.”
Shinji sighed. “I’ll come, but let’s be quick about it. We’ve got our own cases to worry about.”
Teruo stepped out of the car, flashing his badge up in the air at the annoyed drivers. He crossed the road through the
slow-moving traffic, Shinji close behind him, and reached the officers who were surrounding the perimeter with yellow tape.
He showed his badge, and both officers raised their brows before letting him and Shinji pass. He walked beyond the
cars to see the victim, but another uniformed officer stepped in his way.
“You’re not allowed here. Please return to your car.”
“Good evening. We’re from the Metropolitan Police. I’m Chief Inspector Hayashi and this is my partner, Sergeant
Miyazaki. We just want to see if we can help.”
The officer glanced from Teruo to Shinji before reluctantly moving aside and telling his colleagues to do the same.
Teruo’s eyes widened as his gaze fell on the victim.
The woman lay on the ground, crammed onto a small corner sidewalk on the narrow street, right next to a business
building with crimson and beige bricked walls. Her arms were open wide with one leg twisted at a strange angle, as if she had
been thrown or fallen. Teruo looked up at the business building, then to the right where a dance school was. Both had
balconies. Had she been pushed from there? Or jumped?
Teruo returned his attention to the victim. Her black, shoulder-length hair was splayed around her. She wore a
business suit—gray blazer and slacks with a white shirt and black heeled shoes. Perhaps she was an employee, working
overtime on a Sunday. But something didn’t add up…
She had been beaten to death.
Her face was swollen and bloody, more prominent around the eyes and jaw line. The nose looked broken, but Teruo
wasn’t sure with the amount of blood covering it. Her neck presented bruises, but they didn’t seem fresh; some were bluish-
purple, while others had already become yellow. More blood was visible on her shirt, in patches of dark red, and her nails
were torn, the skin on the tip of her fingers peeled as if she’d tried to escape from wherever she’d been kept and beaten for
days.
“It’s likely a domestic homicide,” one officer said.
Teruo nodded absentmindedly, his gaze traveling the length of the victim. She hadn’t been pushed from above. In fact,
he was sure she hadn’t died here. There was no blood around, only a few splatters beneath her, but certainly not as much as
such deep wounds would leave. She had been abandoned here on the sidewalk. Brazen, to leave her in a public place. Or
incredibly foolish.
Near her face, a flash of color blended into the dark strands around her head, catching Teruo’s attention. He grabbed a
pair of foot covers from an officer and quickly put them on his shoes and stepped closer to the victim’s left side. He crouched
next to her and his breath stopped in his throat as he realized what it was.
Violets.
A little bouquet, clustered and pinned to the victim’s hair.
Fucking bastard!
Teruo released a shaky breath and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on
him. It wasn’t possible. That man disappeared years ago, never to be heard from since.
His flashlight illuminated the velvety petals. No, he wasn’t hallucinating. They were real. Had the killer returned to
his violent vendetta, or was it a copycat? Either way, it didn’t matter. He had to take over this case.
Teruo stood up quickly, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He blinked, pulling himself together, and pocketed his
phone.
Turning to the officers, he spoke, “The TMPD is officially taking over this crime scene.” He pointed to one of the
officers. “Join your colleague and handle crowd control and direct traffic to another road. I need this entire area to be cleared
out.” He turned to the first officer. “Have you taken witness statements yet?”
The officer stared at Teruo. “Uh… No.”
“Do that,” Teruo said. When the officer’s mouth fell open, Teruo added, “It’s not a suggestion, it’s an order.”
“Sir—” Shinji started.
“This is our scene,” the first officer said. “We can take care of it. We don’t need the metropolitan—”
“You’ll do as I say. Call the forensic techs and also the Tōkyō Medical Examiner’s Office. Tell them to send Suzuki if
she’s available.” She was the medical examiner Teruo preferred to work with.
“But—”
“Now.”
The officer bristled. “When my superiors find out—”
“I outrank everyone here. There’s nothing you can do about it. This crime scene officially belongs to the TMPD.”
Teruo gestured to two other officers, and they approached him. “Check these buildings and see if either of them has cameras
installed. If they do, find the managers or owners or whoever you can and get the footage.” Then he pointed straight ahead to
where the narrow street led to a small residential neighborhood. “Send someone to those houses to ask if anyone saw anything
suspicious. Get statements and if they have video cameras on the property, get the footage too. I want officers at the buildings
across the street as well.”
The officers exchanged a reluctant glance, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Once all the officers were out of his hair, Teruo stepped back to look at the victim again. When was the last time he
had this image in front of him? Nine years ago? Ten? The case turned cold after the killer disappeared. But no matter how much
time passed, this case—his very first case as a homicide detective—would stay with him forever.
“Sir,” a voice echoed in his ears.
Teruo ignored it, too focused on the violets. The bastard always loved leaving those flowers. Teruo never understood
the meaning behind them. Perhaps they were some sort of symbolism for the horrifying bruises and injuries he left on his
victims.
Sick fucker.
“Chief Hayashi!” Shinji got right into Teruo’s face. His brows were knit and mouth twisted to the side. “May we
speak for a second?” Shinji asked in the usual polite tone he used whenever they were on official business, but there was an
edge to his voice.
“Not now,” Teruo said.
“It’s urgent, sir,” Shinji insisted.
Teruo remembered they were in Musashino—Shinji’s jurisdiction. As a Shinigami under contract, Shinji had a certain
area of the metropolis where he handled the spirits of the dead who hadn’t passed to the afterlife on their own. Whenever those
ghosts weren’t ready to cross over, Shinji would link their energy with his own and keep them by his side until they were
ready. Maybe he had found the woman’s ghost.
“All right.”Teruo followed Shinji away from prying eyes, then lowered his voice to a whisper, “Is her ghost here?
Does she remember anything?”
“What? No. She’s not.”
“Oh.” Teruo deflated in disappointment. “I thought since we’re in Musashino—”
“I’m not in charge of the entire municipality, Teruo. Also, that’s not how it works with ghosts.” Shinji ran his hands
through his hair. “Why are you taking this case from the local police? We have three ongoing murder cases. We don’t need a
fourth one.”
Teruo rubbed his eyes. “I run the entire homicide department, Shinji. There will always be months when I juggle
multiple homicides. My team can handle a fourth one.”
 Shinji sighed. “Can they, though?”
“Yeah, they can because I’ll be personally involved in this case, the same as I am with all complex cases.”
Shinji hitched a thumb toward the victim. “This isn’t a complex case, it’s a domestic homicide. The perpetrator is
probably the boyfriend or husband.”
“It’s not a domestic homicide,” Teruo snapped. “I know this murderer.”
Shinji’s jaw went slack. “You do?”
“Yes. Not his identity or his motives, but I know he is a man with a deep hatred for women. The media used to call
him the Violet Killer for the violets he always left by his victims. We nearly had him, years ago, when Superintendent Yoshida
was the chief.”
“What happened?”
Teruo held his thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart. “I was this close to catching him and he slipped right through
my fingers, but not before nearly beating Megumi to death. She almost became his sixth victim.”
 CHAPTER 2
Teruo

Teruo stood outside the blue tent erected to conceal the crime scene from the crowd. The uniformed officers had
redirected the traffic while the forensic techs took pictures of the victim and swept the area for evidence. A horrible pit formed
in Teruo’s stomach. What if they found nothing this time, too?
Shinji left a few minutes earlier to do some recon in the area and check for the woman’s ghost, but he didn’t seem too
optimistic. If she’d been murdered somewhere else, chances were, the spirit was still there and not near her body. Or worse,
another Shinigami—a Grim Reaper like Shinji—could’ve sent her to the afterlife before they had a chance to speak with her.
Teruo couldn’t help but wonder: if he’d known Shinji years ago, would talking with the victims’ ghosts have helped
solve the case? But Superintendent Yoshida was a supernatural too, yet the criminal still escaped. Perhaps this was one of
those cases when even having supernatural powers didn’t matter. The killer had outsmarted them all.
Images of that night flashed through his mind, of the first and last time he saw the murderer. Plain jacket and jeans. A
surgical mask covered his face. He might have had short-trimmed hair, Teruo wasn’t sure. It had been difficult to see in the
dark of the night, and with his focus on Megumi. The criminal had beaten her and would’ve killed her if Teruo hadn’t heard her
screams and raced to help. That man still inflicted enough injuries to send Megumi to the hospital. At that moment, Teruo
thought he’d never see her again.
He shoved his hands in his pockets so the officers wouldn’t notice how much they shook. He addressed the closest
officer, who had called the Medical Examiner’s Office. “You asked if Suzuki’s available, like I told you, yes?”
“No, sir…”
Teruo held his breath, so he wouldn’t snap, but he snapped anyway. “Then call back and ask!”
“I’m already here,” Suzuki’s voice rose above the chatter, and Teruo pivoted on his heels.
She approached with her assistant, Kojima, both carrying medical duffel bags on their shoulders, although Suzuki was
dressed in casual clothes. She must’ve come from home instead of the office, while Kojima was in a blue uniform with a cap
on and her hair tied underneath it.
“I could hear you from inside the car,” Suzuki continued. “You’re crying for me more than my husband.” She shook
her head, amused.
Teruo smiled. “You’re the best.” Seeing Suzuki helped calm his nerves.
She’d been an intern ten years ago, when the first murders started, and assisted the M.E. who had done the autopsies.
“Keep those compliments coming, and I might prioritize your case.”
“I think you’ll do that without my flattery,” Teruo added.
Suzuki tilted her head, arching her brow in curiosity, and Teruo nodded for her and Kojima to follow. He opened the
tent flap, and after the forensic team gave their okay, the three of them approached the victim’s body.
Kojima covered her mouth with her hand, while Suzuki’s face changed from intrigued into a grim frown. “The Violet
Killer.”
“Yeah.” Teruo sighed. “Or a copycat. We don’t know yet.”
“It’s been so long. I thought he might’ve…” she trailed off.
“Who’s the Violet Killer?” Kojima asked.
Suzuki’s lips thinned. “It happened ten years ago. I guess you’re too young to remember. He was vicious and
frustratingly smart. Killed five women—”
“That we know of,” Teruo interjected.
“—before disappearing. Journalists gave him that nickname because of the flowers he always left on his victims. It
was a nightmare for the families, for the police, and the media just worsened everything.”
Teruo remembered. The TMPD took the brunt of it, as the vultures called the entire investigative team incompetents
for letting the killer get away. The press conference that followed created even more chaos. If it hadn’t been for Megumi’s
encouragement, Teruo would’ve resigned. A chill went down his spine as he realized he’d have to hold another press
conference as the current lead detective on the case.
Suzuki pointed to the wounds on the victim’s body. “This is how all the women looked: brutalized until they drew
their last breath. But he didn’t kill them fast.” She audibly swallowed. “He must have loved to see them suffer.”
Kojima took in the victim, then looked back at Suzuki. “Any signs of sexual assault for the previous victims?”
“No,” Teruo and Suzuki said at the same time. “He never…” Teruo trailed off. “Didn’t undress them either. Only beat
the life out of them.”
“I’d never in my life seen such a violent crime,” Suzuki added, “and I’ve autopsied members of gangs.” She pressed
her palms in a small prayer—Teruo and Kojima mirroring her—then kneeled. “Let’s check what we can here, then do the
autopsy first thing in the morning.”
Teruo moved away to give them space to work. “I appreciate both of you coming on such short notice, and on a
Sunday night, too.”
“Thank my colleagues.” Suzuki smiled. “The ones you always antagonize. They heard you took over the case and
probably figured you’d want me as the medical examiner. My husband wasn’t too happy, though.”
“I’ll make it up to him,” Teruo promised. Since he was going to see his sister about the other issue, he’d get Suzuki
and her family some discounts for Natsue’s luxury inns as an apology. Noticing Kojima’s pale face under the tent’s lights, Teruo
made a note to get her something, too.
The flap opened again, and Shinji entered. Their eyes met, and he shook his head. No sign of the woman’s ghost.
“Good evening.” Shinji bowed toward Suzuki and Kojima.
“Oh, he dragged you here too?” Suzuki asked as she glanced at Shinji’s plain clothes. “Typical Hayashi.” She
snapped on gloves and started the examination as Kojima took samples off the victim’s body. “Do we know her identity?”
“No,” Teruo replied. “No phone, wallet, purse. Nothing.”
“Mhm.” Suzuki stood and turned to them. “Rigor mortis has already settled, so my preliminary estimation is that the
victim died around five to seven hours ago.” She squatted at the victim’s head and shone the flashlight on the wounds, making
them even more macabre under the blue light. “These wounds may look fresh at a first glance, but they aren’t. Scabs have
formed over some of them. I’m estimating they’re two or three days old.”
Teruo rubbed a palm over his chin. “This adds up to his usual MO: beating the victim for days before killing and then
disposing of them.”
“Yes.” Suzuki nodded and unbuttoned the victim’s shirt, revealing significant bruising, covering the entire abdomen.
“That doesn’t seem too told,” Shinji said.
“It’s not,” Suzuki confirmed. “And it’s likely this injury that caused internal bleeding, which ultimately killed her. If I
remember correctly, previous victims died similarly: internal bleeding in the abdomen or brain.” She changed position and
held one of the victim’s hands up in the air. “Swab here,” she instructed Kojima, who carefully took samples from the torn
nails.
“What do you think of those?” Teruo asked. “Plucked by the killer, or was she locked up and tried to break her way
out?”
Suzuki fell silent as she examined the woman’s fingers. “I’d say both. Perhaps she tried to claw her way out. The tips
of her fingers are raw and her skin is peeled off. Then he yanked off her nails.” Suzuki went to the victim’s feet and raised one.
“She was likely locked up a few days or a week. Look at the high heels.”
Shinji frowned. “They don’t seem to fit her. Did he change her shoes?”
“No.” Teruo sighed. “She must’ve taken them off, her feet swelled as he beat her, and then he shoved the shoes back
on. It matches our previous victims. The killer always made sure the women had all their clothing and accessories on—minus
their purses containing their wallets.”
“Wanted to keep you from identifying the victims.” Shinji nodded.
“From identifying them too fast,” Teruo said. “Many criminals do this to buy themselves more time. This fucker
succeeded because he killed five women before we had a chance to find out who he was. Then he disappeared…”
“Why did he disappear?” Kojima asked as she placed samples in her bag. “Why not continue killing since he got
away with it?”
“We almost had him,” Teruo answered. “He fell into our trap, but slipped away. It must have shaken him up, made
him stop. We have had no cases matching his MO in the past few years and I doubt he briefly changed his style. He loved his
fucking violets.”
Shinji carefully took the evidence bag containing the violets and stared at it. “Symbolism, right? But of what?”
“Hell if I know.” Teruo lifted his shoulders, then exhaled with a low groan. “We were never able to tell why he chose
those damn flowers. Clearly, they mean something to him. Perhaps, this time, we’ll find out what.”
Suzuki stood and placed the last samples with the others. “We’ll take her for autopsy. I’ll text you when I’m done,
tomorrow or the day after, at the latest.”
“Thanks,” Teruo said. “I appreciate it.”
“I want to catch him as much as you do.” Suzuki looked at the victim. “It’s horrifying what he’s doing to these
women.”
“Yeah…”
Suzuki and Kojima bagged the victim’s body, set her on the stretcher, and two officers carried her away. Then they
bid their goodbyes and left.
 Teruo exited the tent and took a breath of fresh air. His hand curled around the cigarette pack in his pocket and he
closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, Shinji was standing in front of him.
“Are you okay?” Shinji asked.
“Tired. Frustrated, too. Of all the things, I didn’t expect… this.” Teruo moved his hand from the pack and cracked his
knuckles. “Let’s speak with the witnesses. The first officer said two men saw the criminal dumping the body and called the
police.”
The witnesses stood on the sidewalk in front of the crimson bricked building, still talking to an officer. Both had
casual clothes—one wore a bright blue t-shirt with a logo Teruo didn’t recognize, while the other wore a gray hoodie and had
a thick mane of hair. Both seemed to be in their early to mid-twenties.
Teruo approached, Shinji beside him, and showed his badge. “May I?” he asked the officer, who nodded and backed
away. “I’m Chief Inspector Hayashi with the metropolitan police. This is my partner, Sergeant Miyazaki.”
The men tensed and exchanged a few worried looks.
“Can you walk me through what you saw?” Teruo asked.
The man in the gray hoodie spoke first. “We were just about to cross the street.” He pointed to the crosswalk
perpendicular to the narrow road. “A white microvan came from that way and halted. Kinda surprised us.”
Teruo glanced to the man’s left. So, it came from the small residential neighborhood. “What type of microvan?”
“A Hijet, I think?” the other young man, with a blue t-shirt, said. “We thought it stopped to let us pass, but the driver
slid open the side door, then I heard a thud. The driver pushed something outside. I was the closest, but I couldn’t tell what fell
from the car at first. And then he just drove away quickly.”
“When we realized it was a woman,” the man in the hoodie said, “we called the police…”
“Do you remember the car plate?” Teruo asked.
They shook their heads. Without at least a partial plate, it was like searching for a needle in the haystack. Many
residents owned microvans. During the investigation years ago, no microvans had been spotted, but it had been assumed the
killer used a vehicle to transport the victims. This time the killer had become bold, throwing the victim out on the street just
like that. Sure, the sun had already set, but it was still a risky move. He must’ve been confident he’d escape; unless the
deviation from the original MO of dumping the body in remote places meant this was a copycat.
“Was there anything in particular you noticed about the microvan?” Shinji inquired. “Some company name plastered
onto it? Maybe dents or scratches. Anything distinctive or unusual?”
“Nothing,” the man in the hoodie said, and the other agreed. “I saw the driver, but it happened so fast, I wouldn’t be
able to describe him. I think he had a dark long-sleeved shirt on?” He raised his shoulders and sighed. “Which could be
anyone, I guess.”
“But you’re sure the driver was a man?” Teruo asked.
Both nodded in agreement. Although the description wasn’t helpful, at least they knew the perpetrator was male. With
a little luck, maybe the witnesses would remember more details later. “What time did it happen?”
“About eight thirty,” the one in the blue t-shirt said.
Teruo fished out two business cards and offered them to the young men. “Thank you for your cooperation. If you think
of anything else—anything at all—contact me.”
Teruo left the witnesses with the first officer and took Shinji aside. “What do you think?”
“A microvan is an easy way to carry the victims around,” Shinji said.
“Yeah.” Teruo paused, contemplating his next steps. “I want to take a look around the neighborhood. If you want to go
home, I’ll call you a taxi.”
“I already circled the neighborhood. Her ghost’s not here,” Shinji whispered.
“No, that’s not what I’m interested in. I just want to check the area.”
“Well then, I’m coming with you.”
Teruo rubbed the nape of his neck, trying to massage the tense muscles. “Sorry to keep you here.”
“We’re partners.” Shinji smiled. “I am where you are. Besides, I can tell this case is difficult for you. I haven’t seen
you look this haunted in a while.”
Teruo blew out a long breath. “I’m not easily shaken, but I guess I have my moments. Give me a few minutes to wrap
things up and then we’ll go.”
He headed back to the tent and confirmed with the forensic techs that they were nearly finished. There wasn’t much
else to be done here, so he ordered them to pack the tent, take off the yellow tape and allow vehicles to pass. After reiterating
for the millionth time that everything was to be sent to the TMPD and his work email, Teruo turned to Shinji and nodded for
him to follow.
They walked down the narrow street between the business building and dance school. There was a small parking lot
underneath the dwelling to their right, housing four cars, one of which was a white microvan. Of course, Teruo thought.
They reached a small, two-story apartment block which had its own parking lot. Not surprisingly, yet another damn
white microvan sat there as if mocking Teruo. He groaned, annoyed, and Shinji gave him a worried look.
“You sure you’re okay?” Shinji asked.
“I’m not okay, but I’ll manage. I have to.” For all the women who died at the hands of this despicable man. For
Megumi. He dreaded having to tell her the killer was back and open old wounds.
The road continued, with two houses on their left and more apartment blocks on the right. The interior lights were
turned off and only the tall light poles lit the street. Teruo stopped and looked around him. Such a quiet neighborhood. Probably
no one ever thought a serial killer would pass through, casually dropping off a victim like she was a used rag. Or maybe they
did know, and the killer hid in one of these houses or apartments, laughing at the police from inside.
What the hell am I doing here? It was nearly midnight. He wouldn’t find the murderer strolling about in this
neighborhood. Another long sigh escaped his lips.
“Let’s get back to the car. I’ve dragged you around long enough.”
Shinji entwined his fingers through Teruo’s and squeezed. “I don’t mind, but I’m worried about you. I can tell there’s
something else bothering you.” He stopped before the side street, turned back toward the main road and caressed Teruo’s
cheek.
“There is, but I’ve been trying not to think about it.”
“Tell me,” Shinji encouraged.
“We have no known survivors… except Megumi. What if the killer decides this is the moment to finish the job?”
 CHAPTER 3
Shinji

Shinji entered the homicide section’s briefing room. The moment he stepped inside, the hushed murmur of
conversations came to an abrupt halt and the group of officers closest to the door turned right to him, their stares odd and
piercing. Shinji’s stride slowed and he bowed his head toward them, continuing his walk under the weight of the tense silence.
He sat himself at an empty desk by the window as far from them as the room allowed.
These kinds of strange looks had happened more and more frequently in the past few months, and always came from
Furuya’s team. Furuya was an inspector and disliked Shinji for being Teruo’s partner, despite Shinji being lower in rank than
Furuya. There had been various arguments about it a while ago, but Teruo put a stop to it—or so he thought. But Furuya hadn’t
stopped, and exchanged loud protests with glares, encouraging his team to do the same. Shinji wished Furuya would just say
what he had to say especially since Shinji couldn’t confront him because of their difference in rank.
He didn’t understand Furuya’s envy. Since his promotion, Furuya was in charge of smaller teams of detectives within
the homicide unit, whereas Shinji couldn’t hold such responsibility. What had looked like a competition to gain Teruo’s favor
now appeared to be personal, and Shinji didn’t know what to do or say to Furuya to make him stop. Whining to Teruo wasn’t
an option either because that would mean using his relationship with Teruo to get a one up on Furuya which would add fuel to
the rumors.
A chilly breeze wafted through the room as Keiko joined Shinji and sat on the desk in front of him. After Shinji and
Teruo solved her murder months ago, she had remained behind in this world to help with the cases, and sometimes do a bit of
spying for Shinji.
“Why aren’t you preparing the case with Teruo?” Keiko asked.
Shinji put his phone to his ear, pretending to talk, so he could easily communicate with Keiko without looking crazy to
his colleagues. Apart from Superintendent Yoshida, no one else in the homicide department was a supernatural, and they
couldn’t see or hear Keiko.
“He wanted to break the news to Megumi on his own,” Shinji replied in a low voice.
“I had no idea he and Megumi had been involved in such a horrifying case.” Keiko sighed. “I didn’t know her back
then. Hell, I thought my case was tough, but this? Five women beaten to death? And Megumi almost dying?” She pressed her
lips together and shook her head in disbelief.
“Never compare cases,” Shinji said. “Each one is tough in its own way.”
“Yeah. I just wish I could tell Megumi I’m here for her, but even if she could see me, she probably wouldn’t speak
about the case. She rarely shared details of investigations whenever we went out.”
“We’re not allowed to,” Shinji added. “Other than public details available on the news, the rest don’t leave these
walls. The same goes for your… existence,” he whispered. “You can’t contact her in any way. We’ve talked about this.”
“I know—”
“And don’t visit her too often either. Keep the distance otherwise you become dangerous to her health.”
“Don’t worry,” Keiko said, sounding a bit exasperated. “I’m respecting the rules. But… do you think the killer will
target her again?” Keiko worried at her lower lip.
“The chief said the same.” Shinji preferred not to call Teruo by his given name while in the briefing room, just in case
anyone eavesdropped. “He’ll likely take some measures to protect her.”
Keiko straightened. “I’ll keep an eye on her when she’s not at work—at a distance,” she added quickly. Then her gaze
darted toward the opposite side of the room and arched a brow. “Furuya’s staring.”
“I noticed,” Shinji said, sniffing in annoyance.
“That guy either passionately hates you or wants to make passionate love to you.” Keiko nodded sagely to herself.
Shinji rolled his eyes, half amused by her assessment and half worried at the thought of Furuya having a crush on him.
Keiko’s eyes suddenly widened. “Heads up! He’s coming over here.”
Shinji froze for a second before pulling himself together and shifting in his seat just as Furuya settled on the chair
beside him. He pretended to say goodbye to the imaginary person on his phone, and put it face down on the desk.
“Hey.” Furuya gave him an awkward up-nod in greeting.
“Good morning.” Shinji offered a small bow, wondering what he wanted. Rarely had Furuya intentionally sat beside
Shinji.
“Who were you talking to?” Furuya asked.
 “None of your damn business, is it?” Keiko snapped, mirroring what Shinji was about to say.
He decided against it. “One of our M.E.’s assistants regarding the autopsy,” Shinji lied.
“And?”
“It’s not done yet.”
Furuya nodded slowly, returning his attention to the papers he’d placed on the desk. “I noticed you and Chief Hayashi
arrived at the crime scene together.”
Shinji held his breath, carefully considering his next words. “We arrived almost at the same time, yes. I got called—”
“No. Together.” Furuya pointed at the papers. “It’s what the first officer stated.”
Shinji quickly scrambled for a plausible excuse. “The first officer only saw us once we approached the crime scene,
so it’s a fair assumption on his part.”
“You two must be very close,” Furuya said in a tone that Shinji couldn’t read. “You often come to work in the same
car.”
“What does this guy want?” Keiko bristled. “He’s sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Tell him, Shinji.”
While he agreed with Keiko, antagonizing Furuya wasn’t a smart move. Why was Furuya suddenly preoccupied with
—Shinji’s train of thought stopped abruptly. Did this guy know something about his relationship with Teruo? Was he trying to
catch Shinji with his guard down and make him confess? That would never happen, but there was definitely an ulterior motive
for Furuya’s weird line of questioning. Had he seen them kissing or touching?
Shinji’s blood ran cold with the possibilities, but he kept a neutral face. If Furuya had concrete evidence about Teruo
and Shinji’s relationship, he’d have already made it public just to get at Shinji, instead of skirting the issue like this. Something
else was going on, and Shinji had no idea what.
“I don’t own a car, and sometimes the chief is kind enough to give me a lift,” Shinji lied again. “Nothing strange about
it. He does this for other officers, too.”
Shinji owned a car now. He’d bought it to avoid dragging Teruo to his jurisdiction every time he had souls to harvest
and risk the Onmyōryō discovering their relationship. Getting a taxi was troublesome too, because it was expensive and Shinji
didn’t have the time—or patience—to haul his ass to Higashikurume and defray the expenses. But they still shared Teruo’s car
on their way to work, because both enjoyed their little morning and evening routine too much.
“No, he doesn’t,” Furuya countered. “He’s never given me a lift—official police business aside.”
“I’m sure if you ever have car trouble, the chief will help you.”
Furuya frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I can’t possibly ask the chief to pick me up.”
Shinji smiled. “He’s more approachable than you think.” He left it at that and started browsing the news on his phone
to avoid continuing the conversation.
“You know,” Keiko said, “Teruo really isn’t approachable. I’ve heard the newbie officers saying they nearly shat
their pants when he snapped at them during an investigation.”
Shinji bit his lower lip, struggling not to burst into laughter. That was an accurate description of the emotions Teruo
stirred within rookies.
When Furuya didn’t restart the conversation, Shinji let out a breath of relief. His train of thought halted as
Superintendent Yoshida entered the briefing room, followed by Megumi and Teruo. The officers all rose to their feet and
bowed in unison.
Shinji allowed himself a few seconds to shamelessly ogle Teruo, now that Furuya’s attention had turned to the files.
Teruo’s straight posture and sure stride exuded a commanding presence, even stronger than the superintendent’s. He wore a
charcoal gray suit that hugged his tall frame in the best way. The jacket draped over his broad shoulders and the crisp white
dress shirt emphasized his tanned skin.
Superintendent Yoshida sat at the desk in front and Megumi settled beside him while Teruo remained on his feet,
tapping on the laptop’s keyboard and running a hand over his trimmed beard. Shinji thought about all the ways he enjoyed that
beard in the privacy of their home.
“Saliva’s dripping down your chin,” Keiko said.
Shinji startled and wiped his mouth, then realized Keiko was messing with him. He blushed at the huge grin on her
face and grabbed the bottle of water to busy himself and stop staring, especially after Furuya’s strange questioning.
The projector came alive with an image of the case number and, beneath it, was written The Violet Killer.
“That’s the nickname the media gave the killer years ago,” Teruo said. “We’ll be using the previous case files as a
starting point because we may be dealing either with a copycat or with the original killer.” He raised his head from the laptop
and looked at the officers. “Everything we discuss is not to be shared with the press until I say so. Is that clear?”
After a “yes, sir!” echoed loudly in the briefing room, Teruo tapped on the keyboard and the next slide showed
several images of the same woman. The first picture depicted her before the attack: shoulder-length black hair, strawberry-
shaped face, her lips had a tint of rosy lipstick and she wore a light blue shirt with a blazer. It was the type of picture one took
for a resume.
 The other pictures were after the attack. She’d been beaten just as brutally as their current victim. Almost nothing of
her face was clear, her neck exhibited signs of strangulation, and her shirt had rusty hues from dried blood. Her nails bore signs
of tearing, as if she too, had tried to escape from somewhere.
“This is the first victim we found ten years ago,” Teruo said. “Hirano Akie, thirty-two. Divorced. Had a five-year-old
son. Worked at a law firm. She was grabbed late at night from the parking lot of her apartment building. No one heard or saw
anything, but her keys were on the ground next to her car. She was found a week later abandoned in a dumpster, a small bundle
of violets pinned to the lapel of her blazer. Cause of death: internal bleeding.”
Shinji compared the information with what they had about their current victim. She seemed to be somewhere in her
early thirties to mid-thirties and possibly worked in an office based on her clothes. Was this the killer’s sick fantasy? Beating
working women?
“The next victim was discovered about a month and a half later,” Teruo continued. “Matsui Kazue.”
The image changed again to a similarly beaten woman and the ever-present violets. There was no physical likeliness,
but Matsui was thirty-five, married, had a seven-year-old daughter, worked a high-paying job in cyber security. According to
the report on the screen, the women weren’t related and had never met each other.
“After Matsui, we found ourselves with three more victims.” Teruo paused and a heavy silence fell over them. He
cleared his throat and continued, “The time between the killings ranged from a month and a half to three months. All victims
had the following things in common: they were employed, they had at least one child and they were in their thirties.”
One officer raised a hand. “Sir, why was their employment status relevant? Many victims are usually employed.”
“Many male victims,” Teruo corrected. “Back then, there was a higher percent of stay-at-home mothers compared to
employed mothers. We believed their employment status was an important criterion in his choice of victims. He expressly
chose working mothers.” His gaze locked with Megumi’s, who nodded in agreement.
The next to raise a hand was Furuya. “The files name the killer as a man. If the murderer hadn’t been identified at the
time the investigation turned cold, how are we so sure it’s a guy?” There was a little edge to his voice, right at the end.
All the officers stared at Teruo who, without losing a beat, replied, “Because I caught him in the act.”
“Oh,” Furuya said. “How—”
“And because Chief Koga here”–Teruo pointed to Megumi—“was attacked by this man.”
“We set a trap for the killer,” Megumi intervened. “The victims had one more thing in common: all had applied to the
same recruitment agency to further their careers.”
Just as she said it, Teruo clicked on the next image showing the agency’s name and logo: Brilliant Careers,
specializing in hiring workers for multinational corporations with branches in Japan or for large Japanese companies. The
following images were lists of the agency’s employees, some marked as people of interest, but it seemed there was no solid
evidence against them. Shinji figured one of these people must have been the killer, or perhaps aided the perpetrator in some
way. There was quite a lot of focus on this agency based on all the images Teruo was scrolling through, so at least at the time,
the investigative team must have thought it a worthy lead to pursue.
“We created a false persona,” Megumi continued, and her picture appeared on the screen.
She sported a bob with bangs, definitely not looking older than her twenty-four years—same as Teruo back then. Her
alias placed her at thirty-one, with a five-year-old son, divorced and a graduate of economics applying to become an employee
at a large company.
“Chief Koga sent her resume to Brilliant Careers, same as the other victims,” Teruo said. “Meanwhile, we rented an
apartment as our base of operations and created a routine for her because we knew he would stalk her before the abduction.
She was due to walk every day from her apartment to one or two companies and pretend to offer her resume in person while
waiting for the agency to process her application. The rest of us”–Teruo looked at Superintendent Yoshida—“followed her
from the shadows, always at a distance, so the killer wouldn’t notice us. It took about three and a half weeks before he
ambushed her.”
“Where did he ambush you?” Shinji asked.
“On my way back home,” Megumi said. “He intended to sedate me as he covered my mouth and nose with a
handkerchief drenched in halothane.” Silence fell in the briefing room. She continued, “I anticipated the attack and held my
breath, then fought back. He must have not expected it because he started hitting me then and there. My colleagues rushed to my
aid. Chief Hayashi”–she glanced at Teruo—“arrived first and the killer left me on the ground and fled.”
“Unfortunately, I lost his trail,” Teruo added. “He didn’t surface again, until now, but there’s a difference in his MO.
He’d left his previous victims in hidden places, but the newest one was dumped in a public place, so there’s a possibility this
could be a copycat.”
Megumi leaned forward and pressed a key on the laptop. The screen moved to photographs of her after the incident.
The officers exchanged a few hushed words. The right side of her face was bruised and her eye was half closed. Dark blood
covered her nose and mouth. The medical report mentioned cracked ribs. Since the time between the ambush and the moment
Teruo arrived was short, the killer must’ve hit her with all his force to produce such damage.
 If these images distressed Megumi, Shinji couldn’t tell, as her face was a perfect mask of calmness. Keiko, on the
other hand, gasped and muttered something under her breath.
“My attacker was definitely a man,” Megumi said. “Slightly taller than me in heels and, I would say, of average
physical strength. If I hadn’t been dizzy from inhaling a small amount of halothane, I’d have probably overpowered him. But
that had us wonder: why use halothane, when a syringe with a sedative would’ve done the job faster? If I’d been injected, I
wouldn’t be sitting here now. We never found an answer.”
Teruo’s handsome face looked sunken and creased with worry lines as he stared at Megumi’s picture on the screen.
Shinji gripped the files underneath his hands. He needed to find the latest victim’s ghost as soon as possible. She could have
invaluable information to help them with the case. He’d already sent an alert to the Onmyōryō with the woman’s photograph to
avoid any Shinigami sending her to the other side, but so far, she hadn’t made an appearance.
“Now, we’ve got some preliminary reports, don’t we?” Teruo grabbed a chair and sat beside Megumi.
Nakagawa rose to her feet. “Yes, sir. There are no video cameras surrounding the crime scene, except for a small one
at the entrance of the business building. It doesn’t face the road, so it has no footage for us.” She pushed aside the file and
focused on the next. “Two of the residential houses in the area have video cameras. We’ve gone through the footage and the
microvan appears minutes before our witnesses called the police. The plate is yellow, but the writing isn’t clear.”
“Private use,” Teruo said. “It will help us narrow down the owners.”
Not by much, Shinji knew, but it seemed Teruo was struggling not to be too pessimistic in front of his team. It was
rare to see Teruo so defeated before the investigation had even begun. Failing to catch the criminal ten years ago must have
weighed even heavier on Teruo’s mind than Shinji imagined.
“We’ve got a few more statements from witnesses,” Nakagawa continued, “but none can identify the car or the driver.
We’ve also interviewed the residents, and no one noticed a microvan passing by during that time because… a lot of microvans
pass that area, so…” She trailed off and sat down.
“Anything from the forensic reports?” Yoshida asked.
“Not yet,” another officer replied.
“All right.” Teruo rubbed his palms together. “Miyazaki, Furuya and Nakagawa, you three will work with me on this
case. The other investigations will remain as previously assigned. However, this case takes precedence, so if you find anything
that could help us move forward, let me know.” He rose to his feet and looked right at Shinji. “Miyazaki, come on.” Then he
exited the briefing room in a hurry, Megumi right beside him.
Shinji gathered the folders and walked out under Furuya’s judgmental stare, heading toward the office he shared with
Teruo. The window was open, letting the warm spring breeze inside along with the noise of cars from the crowded road below.
Teruo’s ashtray lay on the sill, two cigarette butts in it.
Teruo sat behind his desk, gaze focused on Megumi as she studied the photographs of the newest victim. Her finger
trailed over the violets pinned in the victim’s hair. Shinji wanted to ask if she was okay, but was afraid he would sound
patronizing. She couldn’t have been okay—who would be in this situation?—but she was a professional, and it wasn’t his
place to question her.
“You’re not sure it’s him,” Megumi said, more like a statement rather than a question.
“Not yet,” Teruo answered. “It’s a big time gap, but we’ll know after the complete forensic and autopsy reports. If it
is him, then after finding the victim’s identity, we’ll be able to determine what made him choose her.”
“If it’s a copycat,” Megumi said, “he’s probably some sort of, I don’t know, ‘fan’ maybe, who’s attempting to continue
what the killer didn’t finish ten years ago.” She paused as her gaze fell on her own picture. “I’d like to be kept in the loop with
the investigation.”
Teruo nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry that you have to go through—”
“Don’t worry about me.” Megumi smiled, though Shinji noticed it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m okay.”
“You shouldn’t have been put through that in the first place.” Teruo sighed, running his knuckles over his forehead. “If
you hadn’t been pressured. If I had done more—”
“Teruo.” She raised a hand and stopped him. “In the end, it was my decision.”
Shinji held his breath, feeling like maybe he should leave the room, but it would’ve been too awkward to do it now.
There was something unspoken between Teruo and Megumi, something Shinji couldn’t quite figure out.
“What does he mean by pressured?” Keiko whispered. “Can you ask Megumi?”
Shinji glanced at Keiko, not sure if asking about it was a good idea. He didn’t want to add to the tension, but Keiko
was staring at him expectantly.
“My apologies.” Shinji cleared his throat. “Pressured in what way?”
Megumi glanced from Teruo to Shinji before answering, “I was the only woman in a male-dominated team. They
hinted that, naturally, I needed to be bait and ensure a fast arrest. Ultimately, I made that decision on my own, but I’d be lying if
I said the pressure didn’t contribute to it.”
Teruo’s fists tightened, and he closed his eyes as Megumi spoke, his brows furrowing. Shinji doubted he’d been
among the detectives who pressured her, but he hadn’t stopped it either. Teruo opened his eyes again as Megumi reached for
him and squeezed his forearm.
“It’s fine,” she added. “This happened a long time ago. Besides, it’s my job as a police officer to catch criminals, so
I’m okay with doing anything necessary for that to happen.” She paused, then checked her phone. “Gotta go. Text me if you need
me.”
Megumi turned on her heels and left the office. Shinji couldn’t help but wonder what had transpired ten years ago.
Many officers often went undercover or baited the criminals to lure them into a trap, but this felt like something more. Teruo
once mentioned in passing that Megumi gave up on homicide and switched to robberies, where death was a rare occurrence.
Shinji wondered whether this case had anything to do with it.
 CHAPTER 4

Teruo

Teruo leaned forward in his chair, staring at Megumi’s photograph on his desk. This case was like a knife ripping
them both open and bringing out all the painful memories they had buried deep over the years.
Flashbacks from ten years ago flooded through his mind. He had insisted on being in the interview room when
Megumi was brought back to the station after her hospital stay. Superintendent Yoshida didn’t want to let him in at first, but
Teruo’s stubbornness won that battle. He had stayed in a corner, keeping an eye on Yoshida and the other detective as they
interviewed her, making sure they weren’t crossing any lines.
Megumi had sat hunched, with her hands clasped together in her lap. The side of her temple was red and the corner of
her mouth scabbed where the wound was slowly healing. Her eyes were sunken, haunted. Each bruise on her face was a
reminder that Teruo had almost been too late. She was the strongest person he knew, but seeing her like that made Teruo want to
turn the capital upside down, find the killer and—
Teruo drew a breath and blinked, returning his attention to the present and the pictures of the victims. He stood and
went to the whiteboard behind Shinji’s desk, pinning them onto it, then writing down the names.
“Call Furuya and Nakagawa in here,” he told Shinji.
“Right away.” Shinji picked the landline and called the briefing room’s extension. “They’ll be here in a minute.”
Teruo nodded as he placed the last photograph—of Megumi—onto the board. His fingered lingered on it for a second
before he returned to his desk. The office door opened and Nakagawa, along with Furuya, stepped inside, the sat down.
Teruo looked at Furuya, who immediately straightened. “I want you to search all missing persons reports for any
woman matching our current victim’s profile. According to the M.E.’s initial on-site examination, some of the victim’s wounds
were days old. Her family, friends or coworkers may have called the police when she didn’t turn up home or at work.”
“Yes, sir,” Furuya said.
“And keep monitoring the reports even after you find her. There’s a chance he might have already abducted another
woman.”
“But it’s barely been twenty-four hours,” Shinji intervened. “According to the files on previous victims, the time
frame between abductions was up to three months.”
“That’s true, but I’m worried about a possible escalation. Ten years ago, the pool of his victims was smaller.
Recruitment agencies working for foreign companies were few in numbers and the application process was pretty restrictive,
since many still frowned on hiring working mothers. Since his criteria are so specific, the killer had to wait awhile until a
working woman fitting his fantasy came along.”
“I see.” Shinji twirled a pen between his fingers. “There are more opportunities now, therefore a larger pool of
victims.”
“Precisely,” Teruo said. “We also have to work on the premise that, if this man is a copycat, he could deviate from the
original MO. But, even if it is the original killer, it’s clear that some significant event has triggered him after this much time. He
could go on a killing spree. Thing is, we simply don’t know.” He turned back to Furuya. “The missing persons reports could
alert us toward his next victim and we might be able to find him before we have even more deaths on our hands. The Violet
Killer is the type of murderer who won’t stop until he’s caught.”
“Yes, sir.” Furuya bowed his head.
“Nakagawa,” Teruo continued. “I want you to research Brilliant Careers, see if the company is still up and running. If
it is, call them and set up an interview with the manager because the killer is likely among the employees. If they refuse, call
for a warrant. We need to find out if our victim applied to them or if the recruitment agency isn’t a good lead anymore.”
“What if the company closed down?” Nakagawa asked.
“Then do a background check on the manager and see if they’ve opened other recruitment agencies. If not, we’ll have
to wait until Suzuki identifies the body.”
“I have a question…” Nakagawa continued. “How fast was Chief Koga’s application to Brilliant Careers processed?
Perhaps there’s a correlation between the attack and the resume’s processing.”
“At the time she was attacked,” Teruo replied, “her application hadn’t been processed yet. The working theory was
that the recruitment agency was simply a means to gather info on victims and whether the candidates were accepted for the
interview was irrelevant. The killer was interested in the victims’ profile as working mothers. Their personal info appeared on
their resumes and anyone with access to the resumes had been on our radar.”
Shinji rolled his chair closer, a folder in his hand. “What about the persons of interest from a decade ago? Had any of
them fit the killer’s profile?”
“Those four men you’re seeing there”–Teruo pointed to the pictures in the folder—“were the only ones without alibis
during the time frame of the abduction and killing of the victims. The problem was that we had no solid evidence against them
and Megumi couldn’t identify them either. The lack of an alibi isn’t enough for an arrest.”
“Are we going to re-interview them?” Shinji asked.
“Definitely,” Teruo said. “In fact, I want you to find their whereabouts so we can check their alibis against the newest
victim.”
Shinji nodded. “Understood.”
After Teruo wrapped up his instructions, Nakagawa and Furuya left. The moment the door closed behind them, Teruo
finally let out the long groan he’d been holding and stood up to stretch. They were spread thin. Normally, he would’ve asked
for all hands on deck because there were too many things that needed rechecking, but he had to make do with just the four of
them—plus Keiko—for now.
Shinji quickly locked the door and then in three swift steps was by Teruo’s side. His warm hands kneaded the tense
muscles of shoulders, massaging away the accumulated stress. Teruo groaned softly and leaned forward, pressing his forehead
against Shinji’s. He realized they’d barely had a few minutes to themselves since yesterday’s incident and wrapped his arms
around Shinji’s waist, enjoying this short break before they had to return to the investigation.
“You can talk to me,” Shinji said. “You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself.”
“I’m the one who failed to catch him. It’s my responsibility.”
“It’s ours now. It’s our case, isn’t it?” Shinji backed away a little, his gaze traveling over Teruo’s face. “I don’t think
I’ve ever seen you so disheartened before.”
Teruo’s brows knitted together, and he closed his eyes. “Is it that obvious?”
“A bit, yeah.”
“Damn it.” He drew in air, then exhaled before opening his eyes. “I can’t help myself. I keep thinking I’ll fail again
and he’ll get away—”
“Teruo, you’re not the same person you were ten years ago.” Shinji smiled and cupped Teruo’s cheeks, then locked
their lips in a chaste kiss. “You’re an exceptional detective. I joined the TMPD for a chance to work with you. I respect you
and I think, deep down, you know you’re the victims’ best chance.”
Teruo smiled, some of the tension in his body easing. “Thank you.”
Shinji cupped Teruo’s chin and smiled. “Feeling better?”
“Much better. You always know what to say.”
“There are only good things to be said, so…” Shinji gave him a cheeky wink.
Teruo chuckled and wagged finger. “Now, that isn't true.”
“Maybe others don’t have good things to say about you, but I do.” Shinji tapped his fingers on Teruo’s chest.
“Remember how you told me I’m your definition of perfect? Well, you are mine, in all your… grumpy, stubborn glory. Although
sometimes I want to throttle you.”
Teruo burst into laughter and gave Shinji a smack on the lips, then pulled him in for a much-needed embrace, their
bodies drawing close and their chests pressed together. Teruo kissed the pulse of Shinji’s neck, lingering for a while to feel the
softness of Shinji’s skin and the earthy scent of his cologne. He held tight onto Shinji’s waist, glad to have him as a partner and
lover. Shinji’s words meant the world to him. With Shinji by his side, Teruo could overcome anything, even the crippling self-
doubt that he wasn’t good enough to solve this case.
Teruo tilted his head and placed a kiss under Shinji’s ear, then another on his cheek. Shinji moaned softly and
captured Teruo’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss. Their lips melted together, and the kiss deepened, turning from gentle to fiery
and full of desire. Shinji pressed his body against Teruo’s, his fingers digging into Teruo’s hair, his touch electrifying. Feeling
Shinji devour him like this made the world around Teruo fade into oblivion, even if it was only for a few minutes.
Their lips reluctantly parted, and Teruo traced his knuckles over Shinji’s jaw. All he could think about right now was
how much he loved Shinji and when he met Shinji’s beautiful, gentle eyes, he opened his mouth to say it, to tell Shinji how he
felt. The words remained stuck in his throat and Teruo swallowed hard. This wasn’t the best moment. He needed it to be
perfect. He needed it to be about the two of them, with no other things looming over them. And he needed it to be somewhere
else and not in the office.
Teruo turned his attention back to the whiteboard. “Shall we tackle this case?”
“Yep. Keiko’s already brainstorming by herself.”
Teruo scratched the back of his head, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Ah, I forgot she’s here…”
“No worries. She said we’ve become background noise.” Shinji narrowed his eyes. “Though I’m not sure if I should
feel insulted or relieved.” He looked over his shoulder and blushed. “We’re definitely not going to do that!” He turned back to
Teruo. “Don’t mind her.”
“I can’t hear her…”
“It’s for the best.” Shinji patted Teruo’s shoulder, then headed to the door and unlocked it before returning to the
whiteboard. He exchanged a few hushed words with Keiko, his cheeks becoming even redder.
Teruo chuckled and shook his head. He couldn’t even see Keiko, but somehow her presence always managed to relax
him. Pushing away from his desk, Teruo joined them, folding his arms as he looked at the information written on the board.
“Tell me about the criminal’s profile,” Shinji said. “The one you worked out a decade ago.”
“At first we thought it was a domestic homicide, just like you thought last night.” Teruo picked one folder and showed
Shinji a picture of Hirano Akie—the first victim. “We suspected her ex-husband might be the killer. Superintendent Yoshida
wanted to arrest him, but we had no evidence against him. We were too focused on it being a domestic crime and completely
ignored the violets and all other details about the victim until the second one—Matsui Kazue—was found.”
Shinji browsed the reports. “And the similarities were too striking to be a coincidence.”
“Yes, but we got lost. Matsui had a good marriage. She didn’t know Hirano and two husbands certainly couldn’t kill
in the same manner. Then the third victim died, and we found the link with Brilliant Careers, so our focus turned to them.
Megumi applied and you know the rest…” Teruo trailed off, not wanting to expand on that part of the story any longer.
“Here’s what doesn’t add up for me,” Shinji said. “Many cases of violence against women involve sexual assault. It’s
not a given, but it’s prevalent. But the autopsies for the previous victims mention no such thing.”
“Our theory was that he isn’t looking to fulfill sexual fantasies,” Teruo explained. “The beatings offer an emotional
release of his inner rage. He hates women. He’s mad at them. Why? There could be many reasons. Ten years ago, we focused
on the theory that his mother was a career woman. He felt neglected, and the victims represent her. He’s using them as proxies
to punish his mother.”
Shinji nodded. “Yeah, that fits. Could it also be relationship problems? His girlfriend or wife was too career-driven
and left him to mind the children on his own. He didn’t like that, so he went on a killing spree?”
“It’s possible,” Teruo agreed. “Either way, I’d like to work every angle, leave no stone unturned.”
Shinji’s gaze shifted to his left, where Keiko probably stood, and he gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah… true.”
“What did she say?” Teruo asked.
“That many women have had to raise kids by themselves since the dawn of humanity, but we don’t see them going on
killing sprees.”
Teruo raised his shoulders. “You’re right,” he told Keiko, then returned his attention to the whiteboard. “We need to
take a fresh look at our suspects and see if we missed something the first time around.” He grabbed a marker and circled the
newest victim’s name. “I’m thinking that whatever he saw in this victim it enraged him enough to kill again.”
 CHAPTER 5
Teruo

Teruo’s fingers tapped restlessly on the files spread across his office desk. His phone emitted a soft buzz against the
wooden surface, breaking the concentration he had been channeling into each document he read. Teruo reached for it and read
Megumi’s text that she’d finished work and would meet him in the corridor outside their offices. Earlier, he’d invited himself
over for a beer at her place and Megumi had accepted. Only as he read her message, the realization hit him that it was almost
8:00 p.m.
He and Shinji had been sifting through old files the entire day, seeking any overlooked details from a decade ago. No
luck yet, and Teruo’s temples throbbed with an intensifying ache.
Shinji sat hunched at his desk, head propped in his palm and his gaze sweeping over a report. A bowl full of sweets
stood beside him and he popped a chocolate candy in his mouth every once in a while.
“Let’s call it a day,” Teruo said. “We’re both tired.”
As if he wanted to prove Teruo’s statement, Shinji let out a jaw-splitting yawn, then stretched. “I’m going cross-eyed
from reading so much.”
“Is it okay if you go on ahead? I want to pass by Megumi’s apartment.”
“No worries.” Shinji smiled. “I figure you two probably have a lot to talk about.”
Teruo stood and placed his keys on Shinji’s desk. “Take my car. I’ll ride with Megumi and get a taxi back.”
“Not sure it’s a good idea to use your car. I think Furuya is onto us. He might get even more suspicious if he sees me
in your car without you.”
Teruo froze mid-motion as he leaned over Shinji’s desk for a kiss. “What’s he saying?”
“He’s pestering me with weird questions about us arriving at investigations and at work together. I have no idea how
much he knows, and I’m not going to ask and give us away.”
A sense of dread mixed with annoyance crossed through Teruo. Apparently, Furuya was more relentless than Teruo
initially estimated. There must be something that drove him to this line of questioning. “What if Ueda told him about us?”
Shinji shoved two more candies in his mouth. “I thought about it. Before the Onmyōryō arrested him, he had told me
the ‘seed had been planted’ at the TMPD, but I ignored that threat after he went through the extraction process and nothing
happened. He and Furuya didn’t even know each other back in January when Ueda ‘assisted’ us.”
“Actually, they met while I was arresting Keiko’s ex-husband. Ueda barged in on us and I had Furuya monitor him
outside.”
Shinji’s hand dropped on the desk with a loud thud. “Shit. Now you’re telling me?”
“I thought nothing of it,” Teruo said. “I was preoccupied with the arrest and with the fact that Ueda was spying on
me.” He scratched the back of his head, uncertain what to do. “I could speak with Furuya again—”
“No way.” Shinji waved his hands in disapproval. “That will just make him even more suspicious. I’ll have Keiko
poke around and check things out. I think it will be better if we keep a low profile—like actually keep it. We’ll come to work
separately, leave separately—”
“No,” Teruo immediately cut in.
Shinji’s brows rose, his mouth twisting to the side. “No?”
“I don’t want it to affect our relationship.” Teruo had enough on his mind right now, and this uncertainty about what
Furuya knew festered somewhere in his thoughts, not yet serious enough to stress him, but still there, poking at him. “We don’t
actually break any rules by coming to work together. Other cops do the same.”
“Other cops aren’t you, Teruo.” Shinji folded his arms. “You’re top brass, chief. Officers of your rank don’t drive
their sergeants to work.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“You’ve also got a reputation,” Shinji continued, his tone sharp, and his brows knit. “You don’t play nice. You’re
rude. You hate everybody, but you favor me.”
“I don’t—”
“Besides me, the only other people you treat with kindness are Megumi and Dr. Suzuki, neither of whom is part of
your team. People talk, Teruo.”
A ball of anger tightened in Teruo’s chest and he clicked his tongue. “Who’s been gossiping? Tell me.”
 “Not gonna do that.” Shinji held Teruo’s gaze, as if daring him to push the issue.
“All right.” Teruo raised his hands in surrender. “When I get back from Megumi’s, we’ll talk about it and find a
solution.”
“The same way you’re talking to your parents?”
Teruo’s squared shoulders deflated and his anger turned into sadness. Did Shinji not trust him anymore? Of course he
didn’t. He’d been on Teruo’s case for months to have a discussion with his parents and Teruo postponed it like a toddler who
smashed a vase and hid it under the sofa.
“I promise, we’ll talk about Furuya,” Teruo said. “And, first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll call Natsue.”
Circling Shinji’s desk, Teruo stopped by the chair and bent down to give Shinji a kiss. But Shinji kept his lips shut
and his face in a scowl. That didn’t deter Teruo, and he placed another kiss on Shinji’s soft cheek and another on his forehead.
Although the creases of his frown disappeared, Shinji shook his head.
“What?” Teruo asked.
“We shouldn’t kiss when the door’s unlocked.”
“Weren’t you all for being rebellious in the office?” Teruo smiled.
Shinji scoffed. “Yeah, when I didn’t have Furuya on my ass, questioning my every move. And,” he added, “when the
door is locked. If I know there’s no chance of anyone barging in, then I let you do anything you want to me.”
That was an opportunity Teruo couldn’t miss. “Anything?” He wiggled his brows.
Shinji’s mouth curved into the gorgeous flirty smile that Teruo loved. “Anything.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Teruo thrummed with excitement, but he had to hold it for when they were both home. “We’ll
deal with Furuya, okay?”
Teruo cupped Shinji’s cheeks and kissed his nose, then his lips. This time Shinji responded, opening his mouth to
deepen the kiss, his lips and tongue tasting of chocolate. Teruo couldn’t get enough of Shinji’s sweet mouth, but he reluctantly
broke off the kiss. He gazed into Shinji’s beautiful brown eyes and ran his fingers through the soft, tousled locks of hair. As
usual, Shinji was well aware of the effect he had on Teruo—even when he was angry—and his mouth curved in a cocky smirk.
“You’re handsome,” Teruo said, trailing a thumb over Shinji’s jaw.
“I know.” Shinji winked. “Better keep it in your pants, though. As tough as that may be.”
Teruo chuckled and, if he wasn’t pressed for time or in danger of being outed by Furuya, he’d have ripped off Shinji’s
clothes, laid him on the desk and made him moan in pleasure.
“Gotta go,” Teruo said. “I won’t stay long.”
“Stay as long as Megumi needs.”
Teruo pointed toward the keys. “Check if Furuya is in the briefing room, then take my car.”
Shinji sighed. “All right…”
They shared another quick kiss, then Teruo left the office. He found Megumi leaning against the wall in the corridor.
“Did I keep you waiting long?”
“No, just got here.” She pushed off the wall and tapped a fast text on her phone as they walked toward the elevator.
Then her eyes fell on something on their left and Teruo followed her line of sight finding Furuya in the briefing room’s
doorway, awkwardly bowing at them both. Furuya looked up and their gaze met for a split second before he stared back at the
floor.
Megumi leaned toward Teruo’s ear and whispered, “Is he still causing you trouble?”
Teruo nodded and send a message to Shinji that Furuya was about to leave. “We’ll find a solution.”
They stepped inside the elevator and Megumi turned to him. “You know, you don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” Teruo asked.
“Accompany me home. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Teruo said. “I just really want to drink your beer.” He grinned and Megumi rolled her eyes,
smiling.
Obviously, he did have an ulterior motive for this visit—namely to discuss in the privacy of her home how she
actually felt about the killer’s reappearance. The worry was eating him up from the inside.
As they reached Megumi’s car in the parking lot, Teruo climbed inside and leaned back, staring out the window as
Megumi drove. Headlights cut through the darkness and the road bustled with people returning home from work or heading to
pubs for a drink with their colleagues. Teruo had forgone that tradition and always left it up to his team to decide whether they
wanted to go out for drinks. They were already giving enough of their time working crimes at ungodly hours. And Teruo hated
socializing.
“My mom keeps asking about you.” Megumi gave him a playful side eye. “She’s interested in you more than me.”
Teruo chuckled. “Tell her I’m good.” Her mother had taken a liking to him when Megumi brought him to her parents’
house for dinner a few years ago. She misunderstood their friendship as a romantic relationship despite Megumi’s attempts at
dissuading her.
 “Ah no. Not that easy.” Megumi wagged a finger. “Even after I explained to her a million times that it’s never gonna
happen, she’s still asking when you plan to propose.”
Teruo burst into laughter. “Wow, thinking big, huh?”
“I swear, that woman is relentless, and gets on my nerves. Dad hides whenever she brings up the topic of marriage.
That might be a sign,” Megumi whispered conspiratorially.
Teruo shook his head, amused. “Fortunately, my parents didn’t have a chance tp pester me about marriage. I left,
so…”
“Still not talking to them?”
Teruo folded his arms. “I’ll start talking when they’ll stop telling me to quit my job and take care of the family
business.”
“They’re not over that?”
“Actually, I’m not sure. Years back, Father gave me an ultimatum to quit ‘working for the government’ or else he
would disown me. I told him to do it and stopped contacting him. No idea if he changed his stance, but I doubt it. He’s too
stubborn.”
“Like someone else I know,” Megumi said.
Teruo grunted, not quite wanting to admit out loud that he had, in fact, inherited his father’s stubbornness. He pinched
a piece of lint off his sleeve. “I might have to play nice with them again. I need some information only they can provide.”
“About?”
“Some health issues.”
Megumi frowned. “Life threatening?”
“No,” Teruo replied, though that wasn’t quite true.
He didn’t elaborate, and Megumi didn’t insist. She’d always been patient, letting him tell her things at his own pace.
Anyone else might’ve become frustrated with him, but never Megumi. This time, however, it wasn’t about his level of comfort,
but about the fact that he couldn’t tell her the reason for talking with his parents was to find out if something had happened in
his childhood that triggered or created his healing abilities. And whether Shinji’s family had anything to do with it. The whole
thing was such a complicated mess, he wouldn’t know where to start even if he could tell her.
Just another lie that loomed heavily between them. If she knew the things he hid, what would she think? She’d
probably be disappointed that their friendship meant so little to him, he didn’t even grace her with the truth. And he would
understand if she felt that way. The worst lie he had to hold was about Keiko’s ghost. Megumi didn’t show it, but he knew that,
deep inside, she still grieved her friend’s death and felt guilty about it. If Megumi found out Keiko was among the living in
spirit form and she could’ve spoken to her this entire time, Teruo wasn’t sure he’d ever be forgiven.
Megumi’s apartment complex appeared as she turned a corner into the suburbs of Nakano City, not too far from
Suginami, where Teruo lived. It was a black and beige-bricked three-story building with open balconies and a low fence that
encircled the building. The left and right sides of the building had small gardens with short pine trees and shrubs of red
azaleas. One neighbor, who was out on the balcony, waved at Megumi and she bowed back.
Teruo followed Megumi inside and up to the second floor. She unlocked the apartment door and turned on the hallway
light. A larger pair of slippers were tucked in a corner, and Teruo took off his shoes, then stepped from the genkan entrance up
onto the hardwood floor and put on the slippers.
“Beer, yes?” Megumi asked as she went into the kitchen.
“Yup. Thanks.” Teruo hung his suit jacket and tie in the hallway, then rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and opened
two buttons on his shirt.
Megumi returned with two beer bottles in one hand and two glasses in the other, setting them on the low living room
table. “Give me a few seconds to change. I’ve endured these clothes enough.”
Teruo chuckled and sat on a floor cushion. Megumi emerged barely five minutes later in a white t-shirt and gray
shorts, her hair braided to the side, makeup still on. Her red lipstick was striking against her fair skin. She had started wearing
it years ago after one idiot from their team kept bullying her about the scabbing on her lips, suggesting she put on a thicker
foundation to hide it because it was disgusting. He didn’t stop even after Teruo threatened to break his bones and throw him out
the window. Megumi bought herself the reddest lipstick she could find and the next day came to work like that, attracting even
more attention toward the scabs. She got called on it by her superiors, but never stopped wearing it.
Teruo opened a bottle and poured into Megumi’s glass, then she filled his glass, and they clinked in cheers before
taking a swig.
Megumi sighed, content. “Nothing’s better than a cold beer after a long workday.” She took another swig, then eyed
Teruo, who was carefully sipping from his glass. “Okay, out with it.”
“Out with what?” Teruo cocked his head.
“With whatever you want to say.” She rested her chin on her palm, lips in a small smile. “I know you came here for a
reason.”
 Teruo shifted to face her, one elbow propped on the table. “I just wanted to talk. Really talk. Working masks off and
all that.” He made a vague gesture at his face to emphasize his point. When Megumi didn’t reply, he continued, “I’m worried
about you. I know you don’t want me to, but I can’t help it. You would be too if you were in my place, wouldn’t you?”
A dark shadow crossed her face, but it disappeared quickly. “I appreciate it, but you’re worried over nothing.”
“Is it truly nothing?”
Another long minute passed before Megumi slowly pushed the beer away and set her hands in her lap, fingers rubbing
her ankles. Her smile disappeared, and she stared ahead, as if looking for the right words. “I feel responsible for his return.”
Back then, Megumi had blamed herself for not fighting harder, for not doing her best to hold on to the murderer so he
wouldn’t escape, for not pulling off the surgical mask covering his face, for being injured and getting in Teruo’s way. That was
the one thing they’d never agreed on. Teruo hadn’t immediately chased the killer. He stopped to check on Megumi, to make sure
she was okay. With the little strength she had, she ushered him to leave her and catch the criminal, but it was too late. He had
gained enough of a head start for Teruo to lose him. The other officers canvassed the area, but never found him.
After she’d woken up at the hospital, Megumi berated Teruo for stopping instead of chasing. She had sounded scared,
but Teruo wasn’t sure if she had feared death or failure. Though her words made his heart ache, he let her take it out on him,
knowing she didn’t mean it. When the effect of the medication had completely worn off, she apologized and hugged him,
thanking him for saving her. As he held her thin, bruised body in her arms, Teruo didn’t feel he deserved her gratitude. He
didn’t feel like he truly saved her.
Megumi exhaled a long sigh. “Never mind. You’ve got enough on your plate without worrying about me.”
Teruo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “There are very few people I hold dear in my
heart. You’re one of them. I’ll always worry about you.”
Her lips stretched in a wide smile. “Since when have you become such a smooth talker? Must be Shinji’s influence.”
“He can take full credit.” Teruo grinned.
She chuckled before the earlier darkness returned to her face. “I… uh…” She blew a breath. “I felt his presence
every night after I woke up in the hospital. I never saw him in my nightmares, but in those moments between awareness and
sleep, I’d feel his boots kicking my stomach and my ribs, his knuckles punching my face, his gloved fingers grabbing my hair.”
Her palm trailed over cheek as if she still felt that phantom sensation from everything she had to endure.
Teruo’s fist clenched with a desire to find that man right now and beat him within an inch of his life. He released a
slow breath and unclenched his fist.
“You slept over for three weeks,” Megumi continued.
Although she had protested at first, Teruo made himself comfortable on her sofa and refused to leave. He cooked,
cleaned, helped her wash, and drove her to the hospital and back for her weekly checks. He would’ve stayed until the very last
bruise faded away, but he knew she needed her space.
“I thought I was healing since you were by my side almost every moment of the day,” she said. “But once I was on my
own again, I became afraid. I thought he’d come and kill me. I would look over my shoulder even in daylight, thinking he was
behind me. I lived like that for years…”
Teruo’s eyes widened. “Why did you never tell me?”
Megumi shrugged. “How would it have helped other than stress you out?”
“No, you should’ve—”
Megumi raised her palm. “I got over it eventually, okay? Well, mostly. It took some time, and some getting used to the
fact that I survived a serial killer, but I got better. Hell, I had forgotten about him.” She combed her hands through her hair and
closed her eyes. “But now he’s back and I am…” She straightened and sighed. “I am a coward.”
Teruo pulled her closer to him and gently rubbed his palm over her shoulder. “You’re not a coward.”
“I’m a cop. I shouldn’t be acting like a scared little child. I hate how much he affected my life and forced me to make
decisions I now regret.”
“Being scared isn’t a weakness. It’s self-preservation. I’m scared every time I chase a murderer, knowing I or any
other officer in my team could get injured or die.”
“Even so,” Megumi said, chewing on her lip, “you didn’t leave homicide as I did. I crapped on my career and
switched to arresting idiots robbing jewelry stores. I mean, I like my unit, obviously, but… it was dumb to leave.”
“Not dumb at all,” Teruo replied, his voice firm. “You made a decision that helped you cope and heal. There’s
nothing shameful about that.”
After the Violet Killer case went cold and was pushed lower on the list of priorities, Teruo had hoped things would
return the previous state. Megumi remained in the team for another two years, during which she had pursued the killer’s trail
whenever she had time, but to no avail. And then one day, she suddenly announced she would switch units. That must have been
the moment she reached the end of the rope and realized only a change in units would help.
It destroyed Teruo to see her go, but he wanted what was best for her.
“You stayed,” Megumi whispered. “You remained in homicide. No matter how tough things got, you didn’t run. I
could’ve worked by your side now…”
Teruo smiled. “You would’ve been the chief and bossed me around.”
Megumi grinned smugly. “I already boss you around.”
“True.” He wiped away a small tear that gathered at her corner of her eye. “Don’t put yourself down. You’re in a
great place. You run the robberies unit and, if you want to return to homicide, I can help with your transfer.”
She shook her head. “It’s too late now…”
“You know, if Yoshida retires, you might be the next superintendent of the First Division.” Teruo winked.
She let out an incredulous snort. “Now that would be a real miracle. The hyenas from the other units already have
their eyes on his spot.”
“You’re better than all of them put together.”
“Thank you. For everything.” She smiled warmly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“That’s my line.”
Megumi placed her head on his shoulder, then narrowed her eyes at him. “Now, tell me… what were those plain-
clothes cops doing in the parking lot?”
Teruo sucked in a breath. “Ah, you noticed them.”
“Obviously.”
A faint blush spread on his cheeks that he’d been caught before he had a chance to tell her. “I asked them to keep an
eye on your apartment building.”
She only nodded, and Teruo arched a brow. “You’re not angry I didn’t consult you?”
“Eh, just a little bit, but I know myself. I would’ve probably said no.” Megumi grabbed the glass of beer, downing
what was left in one go. “If this is a copycat, he might not even know who I am. But if it’s the original killer… I wouldn’t be
surprised if he comes after me.” Her shoulders drooped, and she held in a breath before exhaling a soft groan. “This is
maddening.”
“Yeah…” Teruo agreed and took a swig, placing the glass back on the coaster with a thud. “I’ll catch him this time. I
promise.”
 CHAPTER 6

Shinji

Shinji shifted in bed, turning to the other side, and reached for Teruo to spoon him. Empty. Shinji patted the mattress,
then cracked one eye open. Had Teruo slept at Megumi’s? But the pillow and sheets were rumpled, and Teruo’s phone sat on
the nightstand. He checked the time. Five fifty. Teruo rarely woke up this early.
Since he was awake anyway, Shinji stumbled out of bed and put on his shorts as he sensed Keiko’s presence in the
living room. He headed downstairs and found Keiko sitting on the floor, holding a toy mouse by its tail and teasing Mochi who
was in assassin-mode, claws batting relentlessly at the mouse. Shinji envied how much stamina Mochi had so early in the
morning. Dango was stretched on the sofa, disinterested in mice or any morning activities. Shinji could relate to that.
Keiko had been practicing how to hold or move things by focusing her ghostly energy. She’d made a lot of progress
these past months, although she couldn’t move anything heavier than a few grams. Teruo wavered between being freaked out
whenever he saw a levitating toy mouse, circling the middle of the living room, and impressed whenever Keiko communicated
with him via a little magnetic white board that he set on the kitchen fridge. It was hilarious and adorable.
“Mornin’,” Shinji said.
Keiko looked up from the floor. “Morning. You’re both up early.”
“Teruo’s home?”
“Yeah, he’s exercising.” Keiko pointed her thumb at toward the workout room at the far end of the hall. “He seems a
bit down.”
Shinji nodded. He guessed that Teruo’s conversation with Megumi must still be bothering him. Turning on his heels,
Shinji headed to the small corridor underneath the stairs, stopping in the doorway of the workout room. With a shoulder resting
on the jamb, Shinji took his time to gaze at Teruo who was in the middle of an exercise.
He sat on the pull-down machine, his torso and sinewy arms flexing with each movement. The sweat-drenched fabric
of his sleeveless t-shirt clung to him, tracing every contour of his chiseled chest. His usually neat hair was in disarray, lending
him a rakish look that Shinji loved.
Teruo stopped and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”
“Don’t worry, you didn’t.” He pushed away from the door and walked the distance between them, sitting on the
training bench next to the machine. “I found the bed empty, so I wondered where you were.”
Teruo moved to sit on the bench next to Shinji. Only up close did Shinji notice the bags under his eyes. He placed a
palm on Teruo’s cheek, caressing it slowly.
“You look tired…”
“I barely slept last night,” Teruo said. He held Shinji’s hand and placed a kiss on his palm. “Tossed and turned for a
few hours until I decided to just get up.”
“I’m sorry.” Shinji cupped Teruo’s cheeks and pressed their mouths together, eliciting a soft moan from Teruo. Their
lips moved slowly against each other, sending a thrill through Shinji’s body. He tugged at Teruo’s lower lip, then pulled away,
pressing his forehead against Teruo’s. “How is Megumi holding up?” Shinji asked.
“Okay, but worried. I am too.” He sighed. “I have a team of plain-clothes officers keeping an eye on her until we
manage to get this bastard.”
“That’s good.”
“It may not be enough…”
Shinji slid his fingers through Teruo’s and squeezed. “We’ll find him. Let’s focus on that, okay?” He pressed another
kiss on Teruo’s lips, feeling rather guilty at the fact that he’d intended to bring up the topic of Furuya’s meddling again along
with a reminder for Teruo to talk with his family. But Shinji swallowed his words, deciding to tackle all these things one at a
time. Teruo’s well-being came first, then everything else.
“Suzuki texted yesterday evening,” Teruo said. “She’s done with the autopsy and waiting for us at nine. There’s plenty
of time until then, so… wanna take a shower together?”
Shinji grinned. “When do I ever refuse that?”
They entwined their fingers and headed up the stairs toward the en suite bathroom. Shinji turned on the water, then
shucked off his shorts, catching a glimpse of Teruo in the mirror as he set his gym clothes into the laundry basket. He seemed on
edge, muttering a few curse words when he dropped the t-shirt on the floor, then shoved it back into the basket.
When he met Shinji’s eyes he put on a little smile. “Sorry, I’m…” he trailed off, his shoulders tensing.
 Shinji dove under the steamy water, holding out one hand. “It’s okay. Come here.”
Teruo took it, kissing each one of his fingers, his wrist, moving slowly up to Shinji’s shoulder, the stubble prickling
his skin the way Shinji loved. He cupped a hand behind Teruo’s neck and brought him in for a wet kiss, pressing their bodies
together, skin slightly catching as the water dripped between them. He nipped at Teruo’s lower lip, tugging lightly, then kissed
his way down the column of Teruo’s throat, and across his collarbone, feeling Teruo’s chest rise as he gasped in pleasure.
The rivulets of water poured down Teruo’s torso, across his abs and low between the curls of hair at the base of his
hard cock. He looked ravishing dripping wet and Shinji placed his hand at the root of Teruo’s shaft, dragging it up slowly,
loving the way Teruo shivered under his touch. He ran his other hand up Teruo’s hip, over the curve of his spine, then pulled
Teruo close to him again, lips kissing along his jaw. There was still a lingering tension within Teruo’s body and Shinji
smoothed his palm over the roll of Teruo’s shoulders, while slowly stroking his length.
"I’m here," he whispered against Teruo’s ear.
Teruo gave him a small smile and kissed the tip of Shinji’s nose. “I’m ruining the mood, aren’t I?”
“Not at all.” Shinji caressed his cheek. “You just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.” He gave Teruo a
playful wink, then wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.
Teruo’s palms wandered all over Shinji’s naked body, over his shoulder blades, then down his ribs, thumbs skimming
over his wet skin. Shinji rubbed himself against Teruo with a needy whimper.
“I want you make you moan and feel you writhe in my arms.” Teruo cupped his hills of Shinji’s ass and squeezed.
Shinji bit his lip, the anticipation making him painfully hard. “I’m yours. Do what you want to me.”
The look of pure hunger in Teruo’s eyes was incredibly arousing. Digging his fingers into Shinji’s hair, Teruo pulled
him back to capture his mouth in a fiery kiss, tongue exploring inside Shinji’s mouth, teeth catching on his lips, and Shinji let
out a muffled gasp.
The tips of Teruo’s fingers dragged down Shinji’s chest, reaching a nipple and twisting it between the thumb and
forefinger, making Shinji wriggle in pleasure. The heady scent of sandalwood hung in the air as Teruo opened the bottle of
shower with one hand and poured it over Shinji before working it into a lather, palms massaging Shinji’s skin in smooth
movements.
A long moan escaped Shinji as Teruo’s hands reached down his balls, rolling them, tracing circles with the pads of
his fingers and slowly rubbing his middle finger right between them. Shinji gasped, his arms shaking as he held onto Teruo’s
shoulders to keep himself in place.
One hand skimmed along Shinji’s hip and the small of his back until it landed between his ass cheeks and Teruo
flicked his finger over Shinji’s hole, his lustful gaze carefully studying Shinji as he caressed around the rim, not yet pushing a
finger inside.
“You like watching me?” Shinji teased.
“Yes,” Teruo growled, sending a shiver down Shinji’s spine. “The way your body responds…” He pushed a finger
inside Shinji, making him jolt, and moan again. “And the sounds you make…” Teruo smiled, then pressed his lips on the
throbbing pulse of Shinji’s neck, kissing before biting him again and shoving a second finger inside him.
“Oh god…!” Shinji cried, squeezing his eyes shut.
Teruo’s fingers were working his wet hole, in and out, in fast strokes and deep pushes, touching that sensitive spot
inside him until Shinji was panting, his nails digging into Teruo’s shoulders.
He tilted his head, capturing Teruo’s lips again, moaning into the kiss as Teruo’s fingers rubbed him just the way he
loved. Shinji almost wanted to jump and wrap both his legs around Teruo’s waist, but that would’ve made them lose balance in
the slippery shower, so he slightly raised one leg, carefully wrapping it around Teruo’s calf. It opened his ass more and Teruo’s
fingers filled him to the knuckles. Shinji’s moans echoed even through the loud water stream and he pushed back against
Teruo’s fingers.
“More!” Shinji breathed against Teruo’s lips, and his lover obliged, diving his digits inside in a relentless rhythm.
Shinji ran one hand across Teruo’s chest, feeling the taut and wet muscles, then reached between them, and wrapped
his hand around the root of Teruo’s hard cock, squeezing, then moving it up and down, pumping it faster. Teruo tensed in his
arms, groaning against Shinji’s ear and thrusting his hips into Shinji’s fist. Then Teruo moved his free hand in between them as
well, and grasped Shinji’s shaft, making him jolt again in pleasure.
“Don’t stop,” Shinji managed to breath between labored gasps, barely able to form coherent thoughts.
His entire body was on fire, and Teruo’s hands slid in and out of him, and up and down his cock, slick and hot and
feeling amazing. Shinji pressed his forehead against the crook of Teruo’s neck, looking down as their fists moved together in
quick strokes.
Just a few more thrusts of Teruo’s fingers and Shinji came with a low growl, spilling over Teruo’s hand, the threads
of cum washed by the shower. He felt Teruo’s cock throbbing in his palm, and Teruo climaxed as well, whispering Shinji’s
name against his ear, and Shinji melted in his arms.
“Feeling better?” Shinji asked, tilting his head back to see Teruo better. He pressed a kiss to Teruo’s lips and
carefully pushed him toward the spray of water to rinse.
Teruo hummed and kneaded Shinji’s buttocks. “Yes.” It seemed like he wanted to say more, but instead he smiled and
placed a warm kiss on Shinji’s forehead.

~*~

After drying up, Shinji walked back to the living room where Keiko had settled on the sofa, watching in amusement as
Mochi played with the toy mouse.
“Keiko,” he said. “I need your help.”
She floated up at Shinji’s level, placing her feet on the ground. “I’m all ears, sarge!”
“I want you to follow Furuya for the next few days,” Shinji said.
“Furuya?” Keiko blew a gust of ghostly mist. “I need to guard Megumi.”
“Teruo assigned police officers to protect her. Don’t worry.” Shinji tried to reassure Keiko. “Besides, you know it’s
not safe to stay so close to Megumi all the time. Let the police monitor her, and you can keep an eye on her from afar.” But
Keiko wasn’t having it and frowned at him. “Please,” Shinji pleaded. “Furuya’s getting info about Teruo and me. I can’t find
out from where by myself.”
She folded her arms, spreading more ghostly mist into the living room. “What about the case? I want to help you find
the guy who attacked Megumi and destroy him!” Her shoulders drooped. “I can’t do that if I’m stuck babysitting Furuya.”
“You’re forgetting that Furuya is working the case too. What he finds out, you’ll know too.”
Keiko’s face brightened. “Oh. Yeah, that’s true. Fine, since you insist so much, I’ll supervise Furuya.”
“Thank you!” Shinji exhaled a breath of relief. “Go everywhere he goes—within the limits of privacy, of course—
and find out if he has any evidence that points to me and Teruo being together or if there’s someone else who gives him info
about us.”
Keiko tapped her chin, contemplating for a few seconds. “What if he doesn’t have physical proof or an informant?
Maybe he saw you kissing or hugging?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Shinji admitted. “I have to confront him about it somehow, but until I know more, it’s
risky. I need to have at least some sort of plan in mind if he decides to spill the beans.”
“No worries. I’ll see what I can find,” Keiko leaned toward Shinji and whispered, “Can I spook Furuya? A little
fluttering of papers, a few screeches on the white board, just for good measure.”
Shinji snickered. “You’re enjoying this too much. No, don’t scare him. You know the rules,” he repeated.
“Okaaaay. Let me know if you change your mind, because I have a huge list of spooky things to do.” Keiko winked.
“Also, I better get promoted for doubling as a detective and a spy.” She waved him goodbye and flew out through the wall.
Shinji chuckled to himself. After enjoying a delicious breakfast cooked by Teruo, they headed toward the garage, and
Teruo picked his personal laptop on the way.
“Furuya compiled a list of missing persons that fit our victim’s profile,” Teruo said. “I haven’t checked it yet.” He
passed the laptop to Shinji. “Take a look while I drive.”
“Shouldn’t I be driving?” Shinji asked. “You said you haven’t slept well.”
“I’m okay, don’t worry. The coffee is starting to kick in. Besides, I’m functioning on adrenaline now. I need to find
this fucker and break his bones,” Teruo growled, his voice thick and his eyes dark.
That was the look which made rookies piss their pants and Shinji tent his pants. He climbed into the car, and
skimmed through the information Furuya had sent. Three women were reported missing, all fitting the age-range and
employment. Unfortunately, their victim had been beaten beyond recognition.
“It’s difficult to tell which one is our vic,” Shinji said. “We’ll have to count on Dr. Suzuki’s autopsy for identification,
then check the list to see if she has been reported missing.”
Teruo nodded and Shinji turned off the laptop and sat back as Teruo drove through the crowded early morning streets.
Tōkyō buzzed with commuters hurrying toward the train station, rowdy students heading to school and cyclists sliding
smoothly on the bike lanes unlike the cars stuck in traffic. As Teruo came to another stop at the traffic lights, he pulled his
phone and set it on the dashboard holder, then tapped on the screen. He clicked on his contacts and tapped na tsu, then clicked
on Natsue-nee, and put it on speaker.
That was Teruo’s older sister that Shinji didn’t know much about, only that she was a businesswoman who owned
several luxury inns throughout Japan’s mountains. Teruo also sometimes got discounted vacation offers from her and gave them
to Suzuki as a present or more like an apology for nagging her so much—according to Teruo himself. He’d promised Shinji to
get one for themselves, but they haven’t had a chance for a trip longer than one day.
Shinji had honestly thought that Teruo would pretend to forget about his promise to speak with his sister and now felt
even guiltier for not trusting him.
“Teruo,” came a curt answer from the other line.
 “Good morning,” Teruo said. “Are you well, sister?”
Shinji raised a brow in confusion. He’d never heard Teruo speaking so politely.
“I’m well, thank you. Has something happened?” She sounded eager to end the conversation fast.
Teruo shifted in his seat, his hands tightening on the wheel. “I would like to meet, if possible. Either at your office or
wherever is convenient for you.”
A long pause stretched before Natsue spoke again, “Whatever for? If it’s about vouchers, I can send them to your
email.”
“It’s not that. It’s personal.” He accelerated as the road cleared. “I really need us to speak face to face.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“Very well. I will meet you on Saturday, at lunch,” she said. “I’ll text you the address.”
Shinji noticed how she didn’t even ask if Teruo was okay with the day and time—simply gave him the instructions.
He knew from Teruo that they had a “transactional” relationship as Teruo called it, but Shinji wasn’t sure what that meant.
“Perfect,” Teruo said. “I’ll see you then.”
Shortly after the call ended, Teruo’s phone buzzed with a text message and he threw it a glance before refocusing his
attention to the traffic ahead.
“Thank you for setting up a meeting with her,” Shinji said. “I can tell it wasn’t easy to do.”
“We were never close, even as children. We grew colder over the years. Couldn’t have expected it to go any other
way,” Teruo muttered.
Shinji chanced a question. “May I ask what you mean by that?”
“There was a lot of pressure on the two of us. We just never had the opportunity to care for each other, maybe have
some sort of sibling friendship. All we had was jealousy and resentment. I’m surprised she’s still talking to me.”
“I see…” Shinji nodded, though Teruo’s intentionally vague explanations only raised more questions. He wondered
what sort of pressure they’d been under. For good grades? Good jobs? And why the jealousy and resentment? Both siblings had
stellar careers. One was a successful businesswoman and the other ran the homicide unit of the Tōkyō Metropolitan Police
Department.
On the other hand, many things could’ve happened in their childhood to make them hate each other. Shinji wondered
what it would’ve been like to have a sibling. Would his life have been easier? Or would they have just shared their father’s
abuse along with Shinji? And what if his mother hadn’t died in childbirth? Maybe they could’ve been one happy family.
How silly to fantasize about impossible things.
Shinji glanced at Teruo. He wanted Teruo to be his family and wondered if Teruo hoped for the same. They hadn’t
made plans for the distant future yet. Shinji feared it would jinx the relationship if they did.
They arrived at the medical center and Shinji grabbed Teruo’s hand, a bit too hard. He loosened his grip and rubbed a
thumb over Teruo’s knuckles.
“If you want me to come with you on Saturday or if I can do anything else, please tell me.”
Teruo smiled. “Don’t worry. This discussion was long overdue. Let’s see Suzuki.”
Shinji drew a heavy breath and followed Teruo inside the building and toward the familiar examination room where
Suzuki performed the autopsies. As they reached the door, Teruo barged inside without even knocking. Only Kojima was inside
and she gasped, losing her grip on a metal tool that fell on the floor with a loud cling.
“You scared me.” Kojima placed a hand on her chest.
Teruo smiled sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to.”
Suzuki walked inside behind them. “Barging in like you own this turf.” She flicked her finger on the back of his head.
“That hurts!” Teruo protested, grinning.
“Good.” Suzuki nodded, satisfied. She went to a desk in the corner where a few files lay in a neat pile. “I’m guessing
you’re eager to find out who our victim is, yes?”
“Yeah,” Teruo said. “We’ve got a few missing persons reports, but with the level of injuries she sustained, it’s
difficult to compare.”
Suzuki walked to the stainless steel table where the body lay, covered in a white sheet. As Suzuki pulled it down to
the chest, Shinji’s stomach twisted at the swelling and bruises covering her face.
“We found her identity through dental records,” Suzuki said and passed Teruo a report containing the victim’s name
and personal details.
“Sawada Madoka.” Teruo read out loud. “Thirty-four years old.”
Shinji quickly pulled open the laptop and skimmed the missing persons list, finding her name. “Her husband filed the
report last week on Monday. The killer dumped her body on Sunday night.”
“Kept her a week.” Teruo nodded, then turned to Suzuki. “Have you noticed anything different compared to the
previous victims?”
 “Nothing.” Suzuki shook her head. She pulled the sheet further down, stopping it at her victim’s pelvis. The skin on
the abdomen was dark purple and yellow. “See all this bruising?” Suzuki continued. “These indicate blunt force trauma. The
organs ruptured, leading to internal bleeding, leading to death. She also has two broken rib bones, one of which punctured her
skin.” She pointed at a sewed section just underneath the victim’s left breast.
“He used a lot of force to do such damage,” Shinji said. “Hadn’t Chief Koga told us he’s of average height and
strength?”
Suzuki circled the table, walking to their side. “It’s likely that was her estimation based on the fact that she was
awake and at almost full strength. However, based on the tox screen, besides the halothane used to for the abduction, the
victims had a variety of mild sedatives pumped in their veins to keep them weak. They were awake as it all happened, feeling
everything, but unable to fight back.” She held the victim’s right arm in her hands and showed them the juncture above the
elbow. It had several injection marks. “And some of the injuries hadn’t been done with fists or feet, but wood bats. We found
splinters in the skin.”
Shinji closed his eyes for a second, feeling sick at the thought of all the torture this woman had to endure. “Does this
fit with the MO from a decade ago?”
“It does,” Teruo said and Suzuki nodded. “And it proves it’s our original killer. While the violets had been known to
the public due to witnesses and media coverage, no one knew he used halothane combined with other mild sedatives.”
“Agreed,” Suzuki said. “Halothane isn’t something frequently used among killers. The former medical examiner
didn’t pursue this lead, but I’ll dig deeper.”
“Appreciate it,” Teruo replied. “Now that we have her name, we can talk with her family and find out more
information.”
 CHAPTER 7

Shinji

Shinji drove to Sawada Madoka’s address, while Teruo finished up a call with Furuya, instructing him about their next steps.
An almost inaudible grumble escaped Teruo post-call, and he reached for the waiting cup of fresh coffee in the car’s holder,
taking hearty gulps. His hand ventured into his inner breast pocket—the designated spot for his pack of Mevius—then he
withdrew it with a frustrated exhale.
“Something wrong?” Shinji asked.
“I’m supposed to be quitting, but I keep reaching for the damn cigarettes.”
Shinji pressed his palm on Teruo’s knee, squeezing lightly, before returning it to the steering wheel. “Don’t put so
much pressure on yourself. Quitting smoking is a long process—or so I’ve heard. If you stress yourself, it’s only gonna become
even more difficult. We’ll buy some nicotine patches on our way back.”
“I’m sorry,” Teruo muttered, the words escaping with a heavy sigh. “I thought I’d be better at quitting.”
As he navigated the road ahead, Shinji glanced at Teruo, his lips curving into a reassuring half-smile. “You don’t have
to apologize to me,” he said.
The hum of the engine filled the silence between them as Teruo stared out the window, his eyes distant.
“Wait,” Shinji added. “You’re not quitting for me, are you?”
Teruo’s fingers traced the edge of the dashboard, and he took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to meet Shinji’s. “For
you, for us,” he replied, the words carrying a mix of determination and vulnerability—something Teruo rarely showed.
Shinji’s heart melted and if he wasn’t driving, he’d have kissed Teruo. “You need to do it for yourself first,” he added
gently. “Don’t even think about me.”
“I always think about you.” Teruo blushed as the words came out of his mouth.
“You’re cheesy,” Shinji teased.
“You make me say cheesy things.” Teruo grinned.
Shinji’s lips stretched in a wide smile, glad his playful teasing lifted Teruo’s spirits. Shinji cherished these interludes
between investigations when they had some time alone to enjoy each other’s presence.
“Is Keiko around?” Teruo asked
“No, I sent her to spy on Furuya.”
“Ah.” Teruo chuckled. “I was just about to suggest that. But,”–he raised a finger—“let her know not step on any
privacy boundaries.”
“Already told her that.” Shinji smiled. “Don’t worry, she’s not that kind of person.”
“What about other ghosts?” Teruo asked. “Do they frequently creep on people?”
“Some do, yes. Especially on non-supernaturals who have no way of knowing and protecting themselves. There’s not
much we can do about it because we can’t always know who died, where they died, and hurry there to take care of their ghosts
before they can be up in people’s business.”
“You think we’ll be able to find Sawada’s ghost?”
Shinji twisted his mouth to the side. “I’m not sure. If she’s not at the dump site, she will likely be wherever the
murderer keeps the victims alive. Some ghosts return to their homes. It’s an instinctual thing, but it’s not a given. Now that I
have a clear picture of her, I’ll send it to the Onmyōryō and they’ll check whether she’s passed through any of our supervised
gates.”
Teruo nodded. Ever since Ueda had mentioned the Onmyōryō in front of Teruo months ago, Shinji hadn’t bothered to
hide the organization’s name anymore, although he seldom used it out loud. To Shinji’s astonishment, Teruo didn’t ask too many
questions about it. He’d expressed his amazement that the organization was still running in the shadows, but that was it.
What worried Shinji lately was the Onmyōryō’s lobbying to get more personnel into the Metropolitan Police. It was
among the only governmental institutions with fewer supernaturals and, of course, the Onmyōryō hated that. They wanted to
keep a close eye on investigations, especially with the way Keiko’s peculiar case evolved back in January. Many details of that
case were still being brought into question by both the TMPD and the Onmyōryō. The possibility of the Onmyōryō getting too
close to Teruo frightened Shinji, but all of TMPD’s higher ups were non-supernaturals, so they were still somewhat safe.
The car closed in on the metropolis’ Sumida City. It occurred to Shinji just how far the victim’s address was from the
dump site in Musashino, practically on the far west side of the capital—which matched the information in the reports from a
decade ago.
Shinji reached the front of a three-story apartment complex, situated on a narrow street devoid of fences or gardens,
the buildings’ entrances seamlessly merging with the sidewalk. The scarcity of vehicles allowed Shinji to park in front of
Madoka’s apartment complex.
He’d barely followed Teruo out of the car when he sensed the unmistakable aura of a ghost. It was icy and heavy,
clinging to him like a damp blanket that had been left in the snow. This was an agitated spirit, which never boded well. But
was it Madoka or another ghost?
Teruo pressed the building’s intercom, and a man answered, presumably the husband as Dr. Suzuki’s records showed
Madoka was married. They introduced themselves and the main door opened. Shinji braced himself for the horrible news he
and Teruo were about to deliver.
As they walked toward apartment three on the first floor, the man was already outside. He was of average height,
with heavy bags under his eyes, a grease-spotted sweater and a pair of jeans that had seen better days. The ghostly aura became
more potent, mist spilling out from inside the apartment. This had to be their victim.
“Did you find Madoka?” the man asked.
They pulled out their badges, and Teruo spoke, “Are you Sawada Madoka’s husband?”
“Yes,” the husband whispered, looking from Teruo to Shinji, then back to Teruo.
“Would it be all right to come inside?” Teruo asked.
“Sure.” The husband’s face blanched, but he nodded and moved out of the way. He offered them each a pair of
slippers, hands shaking, then pushed some toys from the sofa. “Sorry for the mess. Hiroki has been asking for his mother and
I…” The husband trailed off, rubbing his palms on his thighs.
“Darling!” a feminine voice startled Shinji just as he sat down. “Don’t forget to pick up Hiroki today!”
Shinji glanced from Teruo to the husband. Neither had reacted to the voice. Shinji focused on the aura, tracing it
toward what was probably the bedroom.
“Are you alone?” Shinji inquired.
The husband nodded. “Hiroki’s with his grandmother.”
Shinji exchanged a glance with Teruo, hoping his eyes conveyed his thoughts. She’s here. Just then, a strong wave of
ghostly mist flowed into the living room and Shinji fought against an involuntary shiver that threatened to seize him. Sawada
Madoka’s spirit appeared through the wall.
“I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait up,” she said.
She bore the marks of her torture, strikingly dark against, her white spiritual body. The swelling, the bruises, the torn
nails, the bloody clothes, everything looked just as Shinji had seen on the pavement where the killer dumped her body. But
Sawada didn’t seem aware of her state. She was just going about her day like nothing happened, fixing her hair and earrings,
none of which changed shape as she touched them.
“Oh, and call my mom,” she added as she headed toward the door. “Ask her if she can watch Hiroki next weekend. I
think I’m getting the job,” she whispered excitedly, looking toward her husband. “I want us to celebrate!” She turned on her
heels and walked out through the door.
Shinji held his breath, focusing. Her aura didn’t leave the neighborhood. It traveled up toward the roof, then fluttered
smoothly back into the bedroom. Her voice resonated from inside again and she muttered things to herself or possibly to her
husband, who she thought could still see her.
Madoka’s ghost was stuck in a loop, and Shinji would have to break through it in order to gain her attention. He
couldn’t do that here because ghosts often had horrible reactions when their routine was interrupted. The loop provided a safe
cocoon for them, keeping them from the harsh reality of their situation. But the loop also hid a highly volatile state of mind
because only ghosts who’d had a terrible shock at their death remained stuck in such a state.
Shinji returned his attention to Madoka’s husband and patiently waited for her to walk into the living room again, so
he could link his reiryoku to her spiritual aura.
“I’m afraid we come bearing bad news,” Teruo started. “Your wife was found dead on Sunday evening in
Musashino.” He paused, letting the words sink in.
The husband didn’t blink. He had a faraway look on his face. “Madoka doesn’t work in Musashino. We have no
family there, either.”
“Your wife was murdered,” Teruo said, carefully. “Musashino is where the body was found.”
“How do you know it’s her?” he asked.
“Through dental records,” Shinji answered.
“Is that even accurate?” The husband’s foot tapped restlessly on the floor.
“It’s accurate,” Teruo confirmed. “Our medical examiner double-checked her findings with the help of a forensic
orthodontist. The victim is your wife, Sawada Madoka.”
“No… no… it’s not her.” The husband shook his head, nails digging into his knees. “It can’t be Madoka. She’s not
dead. She has to be alive… what will I do? I don’t know what to do!” he burst into tears, covering his face with his palms.
“What do I tell Hiroki…?” he muttered.
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Teruo said.
He turned to Shinji, and they both waited patiently, giving the husband the space he needed to adjust to this horrible
news. Of all the things Shinji had seen in his lifetime, nothing felt worse than seeing people agonizing over the loss of their
loved ones. Madoka’s husband had to carry on living, knowing that he’d never see his wife again.
The ghost made her appearance, repeating the same words from earlier. Shinji brought out his reiryoku, stretching it
from his body in white tendrils. He reached for Sawada’s spirit, carefully linking her aura with his energy, then drew it back.
She stopped for a fraction of a second, looking around her, but Shinji averted his eyes, pretending like nothing happened. He
preferred to speak with her far away from the apartment, where she couldn’t do as much damage if she lashed out at him.
The husband let out a shaky breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. Teruo offered him a handkerchief
which he accepted with a murmured “thank you”.
“How did she die?” he asked.
Teruo hesitated. “It would be better—”
“Just tell me, please.”
“She was beaten to death.”
The husband closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking. “Why? Why did—wait. Was it a man?”
“We believe the killer might be a man.”
“D-did he—”
“No, he did not,” Teruo said, then leaned forward. “Mr. Sawada, we’re doing everything we can to bring the person
who did this to justice. To help with that, we have a few questions about your wife.” Teruo waited for the husband to nod, then
continued, “Where did she work?”
“She was a software engineer. Worked at a small company and wanted to switch to a managerial position, so she
applied for a new job three weeks ago.” He paused and wiped his eyes again. “She was sure she’d get it. She was so
excited…”
Shinji wrote down the details which matched the previous victims’ profile.
“May I inquire why she wanted a different job?” Shinji asked.
“She is… was,” the husband corrected himself, choking on his words, “very passionate and career-driven. She felt
that her boss didn’t appreciate her, that he held her back.”
“Would you say that’s true?” Shinji added.
The husband nodded. “Yeah… yeah. She was smart, talented. She deserved more—a bigger salary too because she
was severely underpaid.”
“So,” Teruo interjected, “there were no arguments between you two about her application?”
“Absolutely not!” The husband frowned, looking slightly insulted. “Why would we argue? She’d get a better salary,
more benefits. We were hoping to move to a larger apartment.”
“Could you tell us more details about the job she applied for?” Shinji asked.
“Oh… uh…” The husband tapped his foot and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She started by going in person to
companies that had open positions and handed them her resume.” He stood and walked to the entertainment unit underneath the
TV and pulled open a drawer, then returned with a few stapled files. “This is her resume.”
Shinji took it and skimmed it along with Teruo. It was the usual type of resume, most of it handwritten, as some
companies were more traditional and preferred a personal touch. She wrote about her qualifications and passion for the job.
“Then she switched to applying online as well,” the husband continued, “through a recruitment agency. It was easier
to let them handle everything.”
Teruo immediately straightened. “Tell us about this agency.”
“Uh… it’s called Premium Solutions, I think. They have an extensive application process and Madoka passed most of
their tests.”
“Do you know who the contact person at the agency is?” Shinji asked, struggling not to get distracted as Madoka’s
ghost appeared for the third time, saying the same thing and just as loud.
“No, but she’s got all the details on her personal laptop.” He walked toward the bedroom, passing right through his
wife’s ghost. She had no reaction, but he shivered before returning promptly with a laptop and a password written on a sticky
note.
“Thank you,” Teruo said. “Could we take it with us for our digital technicians to analyze?”
“Of course. I’ll give you anything you need to…” He ran a hand over his face. “I’d give anything…”
“Had your wife told you recently that she felt unsafe?” Shinji asked. “That someone was watching her or following
her?”
The husband shook his head. “We were excited about the job. Then she suddenly disappeared Monday last week. I
filed a police report, but they kept telling me she just ran away and would return soon. That she had an affair. Madoka wouldn’t
do such a thing! They never listened…”
Teruo’s shoulders tensed and Shinji had a feeling he planned on having a discussion with the officers responsible for
the report. It made Shinji’s blood boil at the thought that they just dismissed her disappearance like that.
Madoka’s ghost headed toward the exit yet again and Shinji gave Teruo a light elbow nudge, then turned to the
husband. “May we take a look at her belongings in the bedroom?” Shinji inquired. “It might help us.”
“Sure.” The husband gestured for them to follow and pushed the door open.
As Teruo glanced at the vanity table standing against the wall to their right, Shinji focused on the ghostly aura. It
hovered above them, slowly flowing down until Madoka appeared through the ceiling, landing on her feet. The moment she
opened her eyes, it was like a switch went on and she started going about her morning, rummaging through the closed wardrobe
and chatting about her job application.
“What did you tell her Monday morning?” Shinji asked the husband.
“That it had been a great decision to apply for a new job. That I was sure she’d love it.” He sighed. “I can’t
remember every word. I should, shouldn’t I? Those were my last words to her. I didn’t call her all day…”
Shinji looked at him. “Your last words to her were encouraging ones. I’m certain she remembered them.”
The husband closed his eyes and pressed the pads of his fingers to the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, I…” He headed
back inside, body shaking.
Madoka broke her focus for a fraction of a second and looked at her husband before turning back to her routine, like
nothing happened. A small part of her was aware of the situation, but she couldn’t yet let go of her happy life.
Shinji wondered what the killer had seen in Sawada Madoka. What was the stressor that awakened him after so long?
 CHAPTER 8

Shinji

Shinji looked over his shoulder at Madoka’s ghost, who was continuing her morning routine. “Keep the husband
busy,” Shinji whispered. “I need to break Madoka from her loop.”
Teruo frowned, confused. “Loop?”
“I’ll explain afterwards.”
“Got it.” Teruo nodded.
Shinji walked out of the bedroom while Teruo remained behind with her husband. The discussion faded into the
background as Shinji’s attention focused on the ghost. He mulled over several strategies to ease Madoka out of the loop without
injuring Teruo and her husband in the process.
There weren’t many options. Breaking ghosts out of loops—even delicately—had unpredictable consequences. She
could comply or could burst into earsplitting shrieks and shake the entire apartment, which would definitely scare or injure her
non-supernatural husband—neighbors too. But Shinji had to break her from the loop.
Shinji walked ahead of her and exited the apartment building, waiting at the main entrance. It was better to attempt
this outside. When Madoka appeared, he shifted his position, putting himself right in front of her. For a second, Madoka
startled and glanced at him before she lost focus and her aura started stretching up toward the sky, likely returning to the
bedroom to restart the loop.
“Mrs. Sawada,” Shinji said. “I need to talk to you.”
She ignored him and continued up toward the roof, then she descended to the bedroom. Her routine and speech
repeated and Shinji patiently waited to try and get her attention one more time. He wanted to avoid forcefully snapping her out
of the loop, not wishing to do such a thing to a woman who had been beaten to death.
Once again, Madoka reappeared, walking toward him, then stopping as the loop reset. Shinji brought forth his
reiryoku, and it emerged from his body in thin, white, smoky tendrils. He surrounded Madoka without touching her immaterial
body yet.
“Mrs. Sawada, please. I’m here to help you. Can you look at me?”
When her aura started stretching toward the sky again, Shinji pressed his lips in a grim line, then latched the tendrils
of his spiritual energy onto Madoka’s body like ropes. He kept the grip of his reiryoku as light as possible without losing her
again. The last thing he wanted was to grab her like the man who killed her.
The energy held Madoka’s spiritual body from lifting itself up, and she remained levitating half a meter above the
ground. She opened her eyes wide and Shinji felt her tugging on his reiryoku, wanting to release herself from it. She glanced at
the top of the building, then down at her body and patted her arms as if she were dusting off some cobwebs. When that didn’t
work, she tried grabbing onto Shinji’s spiritual energy without success.
“What the hell?” she rasped. “Let me go!”
Shinji slowly pulled her back down on the ground, but kept his distance. Madoka aggressively pawed at the tendrils
of energy, struggling to pry herself free. Pools of ghostly mist emanated from her, engulfing them both in a thick, glacial fog.
White breath left Shinji’s mouth, and a shiver went down his spine.
Her glare shifted from the reiryoku to Shinji, her almost white eyes pinned on him. A low snarl escaped her. Shinji
barely had time to blink when Madoka flew toward him, her fists balling his shirt, tightening it around his neck.
“Let go!” she growled. Her hair stood on end as the ghostly mist thickened and the marks on her body darkened.
Black blood oozed out from her mouth and nose, disappearing once it left her body. It wasn’t real blood. Everything that
appeared on her immaterial body was a phantom of the horrors she went through in her last moments; a cruel and unfair
reminder.
The mist prickled Shinji’s skin like needles, and his eyes watered from the cold air. Even used to the icy auras of
ghosts as he was, Madoka’s must have reached below freezing levels as the ground underneath them was turning into a mirror
of ice.
“Mrs. Sawada,” Shinji said, his voice cracking. “I’m here to help you.”
She shrieked in his face, the sound making his ears ring. Her hands tightened more, the hem of his shirt stretching and
cutting into his skin. “I want my husband! I want my son! Let me go!”
Tears rolled down from her swollen eyes and Shinji’s heart broke for her. She was probably confusing him with the
murderer, and her hands tightened with every second, pressing on his windpipe.
“I’m very sorry…” he murmured, his stomach twisting at what he was about to do. He gathered his reiryoku in his
palms and grabbed her wrists, his spiritual energy piercing her ghostly body. Madoka hissed and pulled herself away from him,
her chest heaving with each heavy and cold breath she took.
The tendrils of his reiryoku wrapped around her arms and legs, like snakes, holding her in place. His energy
pulsated, fighting against Madoka’s will to break free, and Shinji found himself struggling for the first time in a while.
You got too comfortable, he chastised himself. Holding down a ghost shouldn’t have left him so exhausted, but damn,
was Madoka strong!
“Mrs. Sawada… Madoka, please,” Shinji pleaded, keeping his voice low. The fog was only hiding him physically,
but anyone could hear him. “I mean you no harm. I’m here to help.”
“If you want to help, let me go!” she howled.
“I can’t.” Shinji carefully approached her, his skin stinging and bones aching from the freezing air. “You need to come
with me. You can’t remain with your husband and child. Please. You have no control over your strength. You could accidentally
hurt your son.”
She gaped at him. “I would never!”
“I know. Please…” Shinji soothed her aura with his spiritual energy, the tendrils slowly dissipating the mist.
Madoka deflated, her brows furrowing and shoulders slouching. Bringing her hands up, she looked at them and
shuddered. “Why is my body transparent? What are these—” She stopped, staring at the dark marks on her hands and suit—
bruises and blood.
Shinji reached and held her hands in his own, struggling not to wince as the coldness of her spiritual body made his
fingers numb. “Madoka, you died,” he said, as gently as possible. “I’m so sorry.”
“No…” She shook her head. “My husband…” She looked around her. “Where is he?”
“Inside your apartment. He is talking with the detective in charge of the investigation.”
Madoka’s eyes widened. “What investigation?”
“I’ll tell you everything, but I need you to promise not to attack me—or anyone else.”
Her body started shaking, and more tears poured down, dissipating as they hit the air. She took a deep breath and
most of the ghostly mist cleared, but its iciness lingered. Shinji drew back his reiryoku too, but kept it active around Madoka,
just in case.
“How did I die?” Madoka asked.
“You were murdered,” Shinji said, deciding not to skirt around it. “We’ll do everything in our power to find the
person responsible for this.” He paused, waiting for his words to sink in, but Madoka’s attention was still on her immaterial
body and the dark wounds on her hands.
“Do I have to leave my family?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“It would be better to remain with me during the investigation,” Shinji said. “You’ll still be able to visit your husband
and son whenever you want, but your ghostly aura is dangerous to them, so you can’t stay here.” It was best to wait until she
was calmer before telling her she'd eventually have to cross to the other side.
Madoka nodded, and the last traces of ghostly mist disappeared. “Can I go say goodbye?”
“Of course.” Shinji pulled away his reiryoku, though their link remained.
She seemed to have calmed, but Shinji stayed on his guard, ready to drag her back to him if she attacked Teruo—or
worse, her husband. Death made spirits do things they’d never do while alive.
Shinji fished out his phone and sent Teruo a message that all was well with Madoka. Soon after, Teruo came out of the
apartment complex and headed toward Shinji.
“Sorry I left like that,” Shinji said, still catching his breath. ”Breaking Mrs. Sawada out of the loop without using too
much force was harder than I expected.”
“That bad, huh?” Teruo’s gaze took in the reiryoku, still swirling around Shinji.
“Yeah. I dislike having to exert so much force over a spirit, but sometimes the circumstances require it.” Though it
was part of his job, he would never not feel horrible about having to use his powers on the ghosts of murder victims.
“Did you say part of your skills is to have control over ghosts? To use them in however way you want? You told me
that yourself.”
“’Course I do. I choose not to because it’s inhumane. They may be dead, but it doesn’t mean they’re still not people.
Forcing them into submissiveness is something I abhor doing. I reserve this kind of treatment for ghosts who are out of control
and a danger to everyone around them or for special situations.”
Teruo smiled. “You’re very kind. There should be more like you in this world.”
Shinji shook his head. “I’m really not. I’ve done enough bad things in my career as a… Shinigami,” he whispered.
“Anyway. Did you get other info from the husband?”
“Got some contacts from Mr. Sawada.” Teruo showed Shinji the notepad. “Friends and coworkers. I want to speak to
them”—Teruo checked his watch—“Today, if possible.”
“Is it okay if you go by yourself? I’d like to take Madoka home, help her settle and talk for a bit. Find out how much
she remembers.”
Teruo pursed his lips, looking up toward the sky.
“What?” Shinji asked. “I’ll come with you, if you—”
“Nah, I was trying to decide who I should take with me. Furuya, the awkward one or Nakagawa, the rookie. Hm…”
Shinji scoffed and lightly punched Teruo’s shoulder. “Stop being an asshole. Pick Furuya, so you and Keiko can keep
an eye on him.”
“But I want you,” Teruo whined.
Shinji's lips stretched in a smirk and he leaned in, then whispered, “I like it when you say that. Don’t worry, you’ll
have me at home.”
Teruo’s fingers brushed Shinji’s. “I won’t be able to focus if you tell me such things. I’ll think about you all day.”
“Oh, Furuya will make sure you focus with his incessant nagging.”
Teruo’s eyes rolled, and he pulled away. “You ruined my sexy fantasy.”
Shinji chuckled, then his attention turned to the apartment complex and the feel of Madoka’s ghostly mist inside.
“What made him kill after so long? What did he see in Sawada Madoka?”
“I don’t know, but it’s somehow related to that recruitment agency. It's too much of a coincidence that all the victims,
including the current one, applied for a job.”
“Could also be a false lead,” Shinji said. When Teruo gave him an inquisitive look, he continued, “I mean, using
another recruitment agency to find victims sounds like madness. Why would he use the same strategy from a decade ago? And
if he is, then he’s probably overconfident. Hopefully, that will be his demise.”
Teruo frowned. “You think he’s overconfident?”
“Well, yeah.” Shinji raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “The guy eluded the police once and he would’ve likely
lived the rest of his days in peace, yet he chose to kill again—and most importantly—to dump the victim in a public place. It
looks like a ‘catch me if you can’ challenge.”
Teruo turned his head toward the street, rubbing absentmindedly at his suit jacket’s breast pocket. Shinji realized too
late what he had just said.
“Shit, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean it that way.” He placed his hand on Teruo’s shoulder. “None of this is your fault.”
“No, you are correct. He did get away.” Teruo chewed on the inside of his lip. “And he’s confident he’ll get away
again.”
“He won’t. Not this time. Not with you in charge.”
Teruo gave him a tense smile and a long pause stretched. Shinji glanced toward the apartment complex. Madoka was
still inside, and he decided to give her a few more minutes. As he returned his attention back to Teruo, he noticed an alarmed
look on his face.
“Something wrong?” Shinji asked.
Teruo drew a breath. “Is there a chance this guy is supernatural too?”
“Oh… Well, right now, there’s no proof of him being a supernatural. In our previous cases, there were
inconsistencies like superhuman strength or obvious ghost possession. But here, the autopsy shows death was caused by
internal bleeding. The level of violence—although horrifying—can be done by a non-supernatural.”
“So, he’s definitely not a shaman or something?”
“I didn’t say that. I said we have no proof… yet. He seems to be just a deranged man who is using these women as
surrogates to get revenge for whatever has happened to him in the past.”
“But if he is—”
“If he is, we’ll do our job like we did in the past.” Shinji squeezed Teruo’s shoulder. “We’ll get him.”
Teruo sighed and checked his watch. “I need to go. Want me to call a taxi?”
“I’ll go by public transport,” Shinji said. “It’s good exposure therapy for Mrs. Sawada. It might awaken her
memories.”
“Isn’t it dangerous?”
“I have a good grasp on her right now. I don’t like to exert this much force, but sometimes the circumstances require
it.”
Teruo climbed into the driver seat. “I’ll see you at home.”
Shinji glanced around them, making sure the coast was clear, then ducked through the open door and gave Teruo a
quick and rough kiss. A soft moan escaped Shinji as he savored Teruo’s warm lips. When he backed away, Teruo had a huge
grin on his face.
“See you at home.” Shinji winked.
He waited for Teruo to drive away, then gently tugged on Madoka’s ghostly aura. She crossed through the building’s
walls and flew down, setting her feet firmly on the ground.
“Ready?”
“I guess.” Madoka looked behind her one more time, then followed Shinji down the street. “I just wish I could’ve
seen Hiroki, too. He’s with my mother.”
“You’ll see him. You can come back and check on your family, but for now, I need your help to catch your killer.”
Madoka trailed her fingers over the dark marks on her hands, then checked her torn nails. She quickly clasped her
hands behind her, possibly so she wouldn’t see them anymore. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything you remember,” Shinji said. “Anything at all. Take your time.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated and closed it, like she wasn’t sure of her words. They rounded the
corner, leaving the small neighborhood behind and reaching the main street that led toward the bus station.
“I don’t know what the killer looks like, if that’s what you want to know,” Madoka finally said. “But two things have
been lingering in my mind since I… died. I’m just noticing them now.”
“Okay, that’s good. What things?”
“A smell.” She looked at Shinji, her brows knit, like she was confused by her own thoughts. “And flowers.”
Shinji held his breath. Olfactory and visual senses were a great way to ground her and awaken other memories. And
if she had seen flowers…
“Go on,” Shinji encouraged. “What did you smell and see?”
“Decay and pots of violets.”
 CHAPTER 9

Teruo

Teruo stepped inside the house, tired after a day of interviews with Sawada Madoka’s former coworkers. He’d
picked up a few reports, wanting to continue reading them at home, but as the third yawn in the last half hour broke out of him,
he was starting to reconsider it.
A black ball of fluff blasting by at full speed stopped Teruo in his tracks. Another one followed and only then Teruo
noticed the feathered wand cat toy that moved on its own in the living room. He held his breath, then released it slowly,
realizing this was Keiko, and yet still a little uneasy at the sight of the wand. Although he firmly believed in the existence of
ghosts now, seeing the cat toys and other objects fly around the house made the entire thing that much more real.
“Keiko?” he asked tentatively. “Hi.”
The wand stopped, then levitated toward an open drawer underneath the TV. Once the drawer closed, Mochi and
Dango turned their attention to Teruo and purred for a few good scratches.
“Having fun, sweeties?” Teruo smiled and kneeled, running his hands through their soft fur, and rubbed underneath
their necks. He gave them each a kiss on their nose before they jumped up to their high wall shelves.
Teruo headed to the kitchen where a small magnetic whiteboard hung on the fridge. A marker rose in the air from the
counter, its lid popped open and the word “Hi!” appeared.
“How are you?” Teruo said.
“Accompanied Megumi home. Will stay with Madoka outside.” Followed by a shaky drawing of a ‘thumbs up’
before the marker fell on the ground then flew up in the air again. Holding the marker straight to write was a constant struggle
—so Shinji had told him. It frequently fell through Keiko’s immaterial body, so she kept her messages short and to the point.
“No, how are you feeling,” Teruo continued. “I mean, with all that’s going on…” he trailed off, scratching his head
awkwardly.
“I’m good. Thanks!”
He nodded. “Shinji’s upstairs?”
“Yes!” Followed by a heart drawn next to it.
Teruo smiled, his cheeks warming up. “I’ll… uh… I’ll go. I appreciate you entertaining Mochi and Dango. And
protecting Megumi. Means a lot.”
“So sappy!” She drew a big heart.
Now Teruo had a full on blush on his face. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway…!” He rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs
toward the bedroom.
Teruo barely made his way inside, when his breath caught for the second time today. Shinji lay on the bed on his
belly, stark naked, his legs moving lazily up and down while he read something on his phone. Teruo’s gaze roamed over him,
stopping at the beautiful, round hills of his ass. He wanted to take a bite and prepared to pounce when Shinji looked over his
shoulder. He smiled widely, abandoning the phone, and crawled toward Teruo.
“Welcome home.” Shinji stretched his arms once he reached the edge of the bed.
Teruo set the folders containing reports on the nightstand, then fell into his embrace, gathering Shinji in his arms, their
bodies flush against each other. Shinji’s skin was a bit cold to the touch, an aftermath of using his energy to break the victim’s
ghost from the loop. Teruo tightened the hug, wishing there was a safe way to heal Shinji’s depleted reiryoku.
He kissed Shinji’s shoulder, then his neck, loving Shinji’s soft moans and the way he squirmed when Teruo’s stubble
prickled at his skin. They were finally alone, both free to be themselves with no risk of being interrupted by the wrong people.
Teruo had gotten used to secrecy over the years, but it became more difficult to hold himself back since he’d met Shinji. Teruo
constantly battled between wanting to show off their love to the whole world and wanting to have Shinji all to himself, to
protect him from those who would cause him harm.
Teruo’s hands trailed down Shinji’s back, over his shoulder blades, fingers tracing the taut muscles and soft skin until
he reached the small of Shinji’s back. He wrapped an arm around Shinji’s waist and another underneath Shinji’s ass, lifting him
off the bed, then twirled him around.
Shinji gasped. “Careful. I’m heavy.” His cheeks were pink and his lips curved in a wide smile.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 It is found on some of the loftiest peaks of the Scottish Highlands;
but in Iceland it overspreads the whole country, flourishing more
abundantly and attaining to a larger growth on the volcanic soil of the
western coast than elsewhere. It is collected triennially, for it requires
three years to reach maturity, after the spots where it thrives have
been cleared. We are told that the meal obtained from it, when
mixed with wheat-flour, produces a greater quantity, though perhaps
a less nutritious quality, of bread than can be manufactured from
wheat-flour alone. The great objection to it is its bitterness, arising
from its peculiar astringent principle, cetraria. However, the Lapps
and Icelanders remove this disagreeable pungency by a simple
process. They chop the lichen to pieces, and macerate it for several
days in water mixed with salt of tartar or quicklime, which it absorbs
very readily; next they dry it, and pulverize it; then, mixed with the
flour of the common knot-grass, it is made into a cake, or boiled, and
eaten with reindeer’s milk.

Mosses are abundant in the Arctic Regions, increasing in number

and beauty as we approach the Pole, and covering the desert land
with a thin veil of verdure, which refreshes the eye and gladdens the
heard of the traveller. On the hills of Lapland and Greenland, they
are extensively distributed; and the landscape owes most of its
interest to the charming contrasts they afford. Of all the genera,
perhaps the bog-mosses, Sphagna, are the most luxuriant; but at the
same time they are the least attractive, and the plains which they
cover are even drearier than the naked rock. In Melville Island these
mosses form upwards of a fourth part of the whole flora. Much finer
to the sight is the common hair-moss (Polytrichum commune), which
extends over the levels of Lapland, and is used by the Lapps, when
they are bound on long journeys, for a temporary couch. We may
mention also the fork-moss (Dieranum), which the Eskimos twist into
wicks for their rude lamps.
We have not space to dwell upon the grasses and fungi, though
these are numerous, and some of them interesting. The cochlearia,
or scurvy-grass, has often proved of great utility to Arctic explorers;
and Dr. Kane on more than one occasion availed himself of its
medicinal properties. Fungi extend almost to the very limits of Arctic
vegetation. The Greenlanders and Lapps make use of them for
tinder, or as styptics for stopping the flow of blood, and allaying pain.
In Siberia they abound. Frequently, in the high latitudes, they take
the form of “snow mould,” and are found growing on the barren and
ungenial snow. These species are warmed into life only when the
sun has grown sufficient to melt the superficial snow-crust, without
producing a general thaw, and then they spread far and wide in
glittering wool-like patches, dotted with specks of red or green. When
the snow melts, they overspread the grass beneath like a film of
cobweb, and in a day or two disappear.
In Siberia grows the fly-agaric (Agaricus muscarius), from which
the inhabitants obtain an intoxicating liquor of peculiarly dangerous
character. It has a tall white stem, surmounted by a dome of rich
orange scarlet, studded with white scaly tubercles, and in some parts
of Kamtschatka and the northern districts of Siberia is so abundant
that the ground sparkles and shines as if covered with a scarlet
carpet. The natives collect it during the hot summer months, and dry
it. Steeped in the juice of the whortleberry, it forms a powerful
intoxicating wine; or rolled up like a bolus, and swallowed without
chewing, it produces much the same effect as opium. On some,
however, it acts as an excitant, and induces active muscular
exertion. A talkative person, under its influence, cannot keep silence
or secrets; one fond of music, sings incessantly; and if a person who
has partaken of it wishes to step over a straw or small stick, he takes
a stride or jump sufficient to clear the trunk of a tree!
The Koriaks and Kamtschatkans personify this fungus, under the
name of Mocho Moro, as one of their penates, or household gods;
and if they are impelled by its effects to commit any dreadful crime,
they pretend they act only in obedience to commands which may not
be disputed. To qualify themselves for murder or suicide, they drink
additional doses of “this intoxicating product of decay and
corruption.”
 During Captain Penny’s voyage in search of Sir John Franklin, he
picked up two pieces of floating drift-wood, far beyond the usual limit
of Eskimo occupation, which, from their peculiar appearance, excited
a lively curiosity. The one was found in Robert Bay, off Hamilton
Island, lat. 76° 2’ north, and long. 76° west,—that is, in the route
which Franklin’s ships, it is supposed, had followed,—and was
plainly a fragment of wrought elm plank, which had been part of a
ship’s timbers. It exhibited three kinds of surface,—one that had
been planed and pitched, one roughly sawn, and the third split with
an axe. The second piece of drift-wood was picked up on the north
side of Cornwallis Island, in lat. 75° 36’ north, and long. 96° west. It
was a branch of white spruce, much bleached in some places, and in
others charred and blackened as if it had been used for fuel.
On both fragments traces of microscopic vegetation were
discovered; and as it was thought they might, if carefully examined,
afford some clue to the fate of Franklin’s expedition, they were
submitted to Mr. Berkeley, a well-known naturalist. In the report
which he addressed to the Admiralty, he stated that the vegetation in
both cases resembled the dark olive mottled patches with which
wooden structures in this country, if exposed to atmospheric
influences, are speedily covered. The bleached cells and fibres of
the fragment of elm were filled up with slender fungoid forms,
myceliæ; while on its different surfaces appeared several dark-
coloured specks, belonging to the genus Phoma. As it was not
probable that plants so minute could have retained, through the
terrible severity of an Arctic winter, their delicate naked spores in the
perfect condition in which they were found, Mr. Berkeley concluded
that they must have been developed through that same summer;
while from three to four years, in those high latitudes and amid the
rigour of stormy ice-covered seas, would suffice to produce the
bleached appearance of the wood. Hence he inferred that the plank
had not been long exposed.
On the other fragment of drift-wood he discovered some deeply-
embedded minute black fungoid forms, called Sporidesmium
lepraria. Unlike the phomas, which are very ephemeral, these plants
possess the longevity of the lichens, and the same patches last for
years unchanged on the same pieces of wood, while their traces are
discernible for a still longer period. From their condition, Mr. Berkeley
inferred that the fungi on the drifted wood had not been recently
developed, but that, on the contrary, they were the remains of the
species which existed on the drift-wood when used for fuel by the
unfortunate crews of Franklin’s ships, the Erebus and the Terror.
There can be no doubt whatever, as Dr. Macmillan remarks,
considering the circumstances in which they were discovered, and
the remarkable appearances they presented—there can be no
reasonable doubt that both fragments of drift-wood belonged to, or
were connected with, the lost ships; and the curious information
regarding the course they pursued at a certain time, furnished by
witnesses so extraordinary and unlikely as a few tiny dark specks of
cryptogamic vegetation on floating drift-wood, was confirmed, in a
wonderful manner, by the after-discovery of the first authentic
account ever obtained of the sad and pathetic history of Franklin’s
expedition.

The reader will not expect to find the tundras of Northern Asia or
the shores of the Polar Sea rich in bud and bloom, yet even these
dreary wastes are not absolutely without floral decoration. Selinum
and cerathium, as well as the poppy and sorrel, andromeda, and
several species of heath, are mentioned by Dr. Kane as blooming in
the neighbourhood of Smith Strait. On the south coast of the Polar
Sea Dr. Richardson found a considerable variety of vegetation. We
noticed, he says, about one hundred and seventy phænogamous or
flowering plants; being one-fifth of the number of species which exist
fifteen degrees of latitude further to the southward. He adds:—The
grasses, bents, and rushes constitute only one-fifth of the number of
species on the coast, but the two former tribes actually cover more
ground than all the rest of the vegetation. The cruciferæ, or cross-
like tribe, afford one-seventh of the species, and the compound
flowers are nearly as numerous. The shrubby plants that reach the
sea-coast are the common juniper, two species of willow, the dwarf-
birch, the common alder, the hippophaë, a gooseberry, the red bear
berry (arbutus uva ursi), the Labrador tea-plant, the Lapland rose,
the bog-whortleberry, and the crowberry. The kidney-leaved oxyria
grows in great abundance there, and occasionally furnished us with
an agreeable addition to our meals, as it resembles the garden-
sorrel in flavour, but is more juicy and tender. It is eaten by the
natives, and must, as well as many of the cress-like plants, prove an
excellent corrective of the gross, oily, rancid, and frequently putrid
meat on which they subsist. The small balls of the Alpine bistort, and
the long, succulent, and sweet roots of many of the astragaleæ,
which grow on the sandy shores, are eatable; but it does not seem
that the Eskimos are acquainted with their use. A few clumps of
white spruce-fir, with some straggling black spruces and canoe-
birches, grow at the distance of twenty or thirty miles from the sea, in
sheltered situations on the banks of rivers.

It has been pointed out that the principal characteristic of the

vegetation of the Arctic Regions is the predominance of perennial
and cryptogamous plants; but further southward, where night begins
to alternate with day, or in what may be called the sub-arctic zone, a
difference of species appears which greatly enhances the beauty of
the landscape. A rich and vividly-coloured flora adorns these
latitudes in Europe as well as in Asia during their brief but ardent
summer, with its intense radiance and intense warmth,—consisting
of potentillas, gentians, starry chick-weeds, spreading saxifrages and
sedums, spiræas, drabas, artemisias, and the like. The power of the
sun is so great, and the consequent rapidity of growth so
extraordinary, that these plants spring up, and blossom, and
germinate, and perish in six weeks. In a lower latitude many ligneous
plants are found,—as berry-bearing shrubs, the glaucous kalmia, the
trailing azalea, the full-blossomed rhododendron. The Siberian flora
differs from the European in the same latitudes by the inclusion of
the North American genera, phlox, mitella, and claytonia, and by the
luxuriance of its asters, spiræas, milk-vetches, and the saline plants
goosefoot and saltwort.

In Novaia Zemlaia and other northern regions the vegetation is so

stunted that it barely covers the ground, but a much greater variety
of minute plants of considerable beauty are aggregated there in a
limited space than in the Alpine climes of Europe where the same
genera occur. This is due to the feebleness of the vegetation; for in
the Swiss Alps the same plant frequently usurps a large area, and
drives out every other,—as the dark blue gentian, the violet-tinted
pansy, and the yellow and pink stone-crops. But in the far north,
where vitality is weak and the seeds do not ripen, thirty different
species, it has been observed, may be seen “crowded together in a
brilliant mass,” no one being powerful enough to overcome its
companions. In these frozen climates plants may be said to live
between the air and the earth, for they scarcely raise their heads
above the soil, and their roots, unable to penetrate it, creep along the
surface. All the woody plants—as the betula nava, the reticulated
willow, andromeda tetragona, with a few bacciferous shrubs—trail
upon the ground, and never rise more than an inch or two above it.
The Salix lanata, the giant of the Arctic forests, is about five inches in
height; while its stem, ten or twelve feet long, lies hidden among the
moss, and owes shelter, almost life, to its humble neighbour.

From Novaia Zemlaia we pass to Spitzbergen, whose flora

contains about ninety-three species of flowering or phænogamous
plants, which, like those already mentioned, generally grow in tufts or
patches, as if for the sake of mutual protection. The delicate mosses
which clothe the moist lowlands, and the hardy lichens which incrust
the rocks up to the remotest limits of vegetation, are very numerous.
Some of the Spitzbergen plants are found on the Alps, at elevations
varying from 9000 to 10,000 feet above the sea-level; such as the
Arenaria biflora, the Cerastium alpinum, and the Ranunculus
glacialis. The only esculent plant is the Cochlearia fenestrata, which
here loses its bitter principles, so much complained of by our Arctic
explorers, and may be eaten as a salad. Iceland moss and several
grasses afford sustenance for the reindeer.

A very different description is given of Kamtschatka, to which we

are once more brought in the course of our rapid survey. Its climate
is much more temperate and uniform than that of Siberia, and as the
air is humid, the herbaceous vegetation is extraordinarily luxuriant.
Not only along the banks of the rivers and lakes, but in the avenues
and copses of the woodlands, the grass attains a height of fully
twelve feet, while the size of some of the compositæ and
umbelliferæ is really colossal. For example, the Heraclium dulce and
the Senecio cannabifolius frequently grow so tall as to overtop a
rider upon horseback. The pasturage is so rich that the grass
generally yields three crops every summer. A species of lily, the dark
purple Fritallaria sarrana, is very abundant, and the inhabitants use
its tubers instead of bread and meal. If the fruits of the bread-fruit
tree are pre-eminent among all others, as affording man a perfect
substitute for bread, the roots of the sarrana, which are very similar
in taste, rank perhaps immediately after them. The collection of
these tubers in the meadows is an important summer occupation of
the women, and one which is rather troublesome, as the plant never
grows gregariously, so that each root has to be dug out separately
with a knife. Fortunately the work of gathering the tubers is much
lightened by the activity of the Siberian field-vole, which excavates
an ample burrow, and stores it for winter provision with a large
supply of roots, chiefly those of the sarrana.

To sum up:—
 What may be called the Arctic climate extends over nearly the
whole of Danish America, the newly-acquired possessions of the
United States, the original Hudson Bay Territory, and Labrador, down
to that unimportant watershed which separates from the tributaries of
Hudson Bay the three great basins of the St. Lawrence, the five
great lakes, and the Mississippi. This line of watershed undulates
between the 52nd and 49th parallels of latitude, from Belle Isle Strait
to the sources of the Saskatchewan, in the Rocky Mountains, where
it inflects towards the Pacific Ocean, skirting on the north the basin
of the Columbia.
Thus bounded on the south, the Arctic lands of America,
including the groups of islands lying to the north and north-east,
cannot occupy less than 560,000 square leagues. They exceed,
therefore, the superficial area of the European lands, estimated at
about 490,000 square leagues.
We propose to divide these lands into two zones or regions, the
wooded and the desert zones: the former, in America, includes the
basins of the Upper Mackenzie, the Churchill, the Nelson, and the
Severn.
In the wooded zone the thermometer does not rise above zero
until the month of May. Then, under the influence of a more genial
temperature, the breath of life passes into the slumbering, inert
vegetation. Then the reddish shoots of the willows, the poplars, and
the birches hang out their long cottony catkins; a pleasant greenness
spreads over copse and thicket; the dandelion, the burdock, and the
saxifrages lift their heads in the shelter of the rocks; the sweet-brier
fills the air with fragrance, and the gooseberry and the strawberry are
put forth by a kindly nature; while the valleys bloom and the hill-sides
are glad with the beauty of the thuja, the larch, and the pine.
The boundary between the wooded zone and the barren would
be shown by a line drawn from the mouth of the Churchill in Hudson
Bay to Mount St. Elias on the Pacific coast, traversing the southern
shores of the Bear and the Slave Lakes. To the north, this barren
zone touches on eternal snow, and includes the ice-bound coasts of
the Parry Archipelago; to the east and the north-east, identity of
climate and uniform character of soil bring within it the greatest part
of Labrador and all Greenland.
In Asia the isothermal line of O° descends towards the 55th
parallel of latitude, one lower than in America,—though to the north
of it some important towns are situated, as Tobolsk, lat. 58° 11’;
Irkutsk, lat, 58° 16’; and Yakutsk, lat. 62°.
In Continental Europe, the only Arctic lands properly so called,
and distinguished by an Arctic flora, are Russian Lapland and the
deeply-indented coast of Northern Russia. Far away to the north,
and separated from the continent by a narrow arm of the sea, lie the
three almost contiguous islands known as Novaia Zemlaia (lat. 68°
50’ to 76° N.). And still further north, almost equidistant from the Old
World and the New, lies the gloomy mountainous archipelago of
Spitzbergen (lat. 77° to 81°, and long. 10° to 24°).

We have now only to recapitulate the general characters of the

Arctic flora, as they would present themselves to a traveller
advancing from the wooded zone into the desert, and thence to the
borders of the Polar Sea.
On the southern margin of the wooded region, as in Sweden,
Russia, and Siberia, extend immense forests, chiefly of coniferous
trees. As we move towards the north these forests dwindle into
scattered woods and isolated coppices, composed chiefly of stunted
poplars and dwarf birches and willows. The sub-alpine myrtle, and a
small creeping honeysuckle with rounded leaves, are met with in
favourable situations. Continuing our northerly progress, we wholly
leave behind the arborescent species; but the rocks and cliffs are
bright with plants belonging to the families of the ranunculaceæ,
saxifragaceæ, cruciferæ, and gramineæ. To the dwarf firs and pigmy
willows succeed a few scattered shrubs—such as the gooseberry,
the strawberry, the raspberry, pseudo-mulberry (Rubus
chamæmorus)—indigenous to this region, and the Lapland oleander
(Rhododendron laponicum).
 Still advancing northward, we find, at the extreme limits of the
mainland, some drabas (Cruciferæ), potentillas (Rosaceæ),
burweeds and rushes (Cyperaceæ), and lastly a great abundance of
mosses and lichens. The commonest mosses are the Splechnum,
which resembles small umbels; and, in moist places, the Sphagnum,
or bog-moss, whose successive accumulations, from a remote
epoch, have formed, with the detritus of the Cyperaceæ, extensive
areas of peat, which at a future day will perhaps be utilized for fuel.

We come now to examine the forms of Animal Life which exist

under the conditions of climate and vegetation we have been
describing.
Foremost we must place the animal which, in the Arctic World,
occupies much the same position as the camel in the Tropical,—the
reindeer (Cervus turandus).
In size the reindeer resembles the English stag, but his form is
less graceful and more compressed. He stands about four feet six
inches in height. Long, slender, branching horns embellish his head.
The upper part of his body is of a brown colour, the under part is
white; but as the animal advances in years his entire coat changes to
a grayish-white, and, in not a few cases, is pure white. The nether
part of the neck, or dewlap, droops like a pendent beard. The hoofs
are large, long, and black; and so are the secondary hoofs on the
hind feet. The latter, when the animal is running, make by their
collision a curious clattering sound, which may be heard at a
considerable distance.
The reindeer anciently invaded Europe and Asia to a
comparatively low latitude; and Julius Cæsar includes it among the
animals of the great Hercynian forest. Even in our own time large
herds traverse the wooded heights of the southern prolongation of
the Ouralian range. Between the Volga and the Don they descend to
the 46th parallel; and they extend their wanderings as far as the very
foot of the Caucasus, on the banks of the Kouma. Still, the proper
habitat of the reindeer is that region of ice and snow bounded by the
Arctic Circle,—or, more exactly, by the isothermal line of 0° C.
Both the wild and the tame species change their feeding-grounds
with the seasons. In winter they come down into the plains and
valleys; in summer they retire to the mountains, where the wild herds
gain the most elevated terraces, in order to escape the pertinacious
attacks of their insect-enemies. It is a fact worthy of note that every
species of animal is infested by a parasitical insect. The œstre so
terrifies the reindeer that the mere appearance of one in the air will
infuriate a troop of a thousand animals. In the moulting season these
insects deposit their eggs in the skin of the unfortunate animal, and
there the larvæ lodge and multiply ad infinitum, incessantly renewing
centres of suppuration.
To the natives of North America the reindeer is invaluable. There
is hardly a part of the animal not made available for some useful
purpose. Clothing made of its skin is, according to Sir J. Richardson,
so impervious to cold, that, with the addition of a coverlet made of
the same material, any one so protected may bivouac on the snow
with safety in the most intense cold of the Arctic night. The venison,
when in high condition, has several inches of fat on the haunches,
and is said to equal that of the fallow-deer in our English parks; the
tongue, and a portion of the tripe, are reckoned most delicious
morsels. Pemmican is made by pouring one-third part of fat over
two-third parts of the pounded meat, and mixing fat and meat
thoroughly together. The Eskimos and Greenlanders consider the
stomach, or paunch, with its contents, a special delicacy; and
Captain Sir James Ross says that the contents form the only
vegetable food ever tasted by the natives of Boothia. For the
reindeer is a herbivorous animal, and feeds upon the mosses and
grasses.
 WILD REINDEER.

The reindeer is by no means a graceful animal; its joints are

large, and powerful in proportion to its size; the divided hoofs are
very large, and as the animal is compelled to lift its feet high when
going over the snow, its gallop has none of that beautiful elastic
spring which characterizes the deer of our own islands, though its
pace is “telling,” and soon carries it ahead of everything but the long-
winded, long-legged wolf.
The stags cast their antlers, and the does drop their young, in
May or June, about the time of the first thaw. The males and females
are then very seldom found together; the female deer collecting in
small herds with their young; the little creatures, which seem all
eyes, ears, and legs, taking alarm at any unaccustomed sound or
the slightest appearance of danger. The summer vegetation fattens
the bucks and does amazingly, and the fawns thrive and develop; all
three, says Osborn, having a comparative holiday, and getting into
condition to face the trials of the coming winter; while the wolf and
the fox, their sworn enemies, are pursuing the infant seals and
bears, or attending to their own little domestic duties. But when the
autumn frost sets in, and hardens the ground, and the dense snow
once more overspreads the dreary northern landscape, the wolves
resume their attacks on the unfortunate deer.
For warmth or protection, and following the natural instincts of
gregarious animals, they now begin to collect together in large herds
of bucks, does, and fawns, numbering as many as sixty and seventy
head. The stags seem to undertake the discipline of these large
companies, as well as to be responsible for their safety.
Captain Mecham relates that, in October 1852, when crossing
that part of Melville Island which intervenes between Liddon Gulf and
Winter Harbour, he fell in with as many as three hundred head of
deer; and he adds that reindeer were always in sight, in herds
varying from ten to sixty in number. One of these herds, containing
twenty males, he tried to stalk up to on the 7th of October, but failed
in getting a shot at them; for although the does, with the inherent
weakness of their sex, showed an excessive curiosity, and made one
or two efforts to desert the herd and examine the stranger, the stags
would in nowise tolerate such conduct, but chastised them smartly
with their antlers, and kept the herd together and in motion by
running rapidly round and round, uttering at the same time a strange
noise which seemed to alarm the herd, and keep it flying from the
suspected danger.
The coat of the reindeer in summer-time is remarkably thin, and
adapted admirably in colour to that of the snow-denuded soil; but as
winter approaches, it thickens, and gradually resumes its snowy
whiteness. Though not, strictly speaking, a fur, it forms an admirable
non-conducting substance.
As winter, “ruler of the inverted year,” extends his sway over the
Polar World, and food grows scarce and indifferent, and has to be
sought over larger areas, the herds break up into companies of ten
or twenty animals; the lichens, the reindeer moss already described
(Cetraria Islandica), and the sprouts of the creeping willow forming
their principal food.
On this branch of our subject Admiral Sherard Osborn makes two
suggestive remarks.
 Arctic vegetation, he observes, has no time in the autumn to
wither or decay—while in full bloom, and before the juices have time
to return into the parent root or be otherwise dissipated, the “magic
hand of the frost king” strikes them; and thus the wisdom of the
Creator has provided for the nourishment of his creatures a fresh
and warmth-creating food, lying hid under a mantle of snow, which
the instinct of those Arctic animals teaches them to remove and
reach the stores so beneficently preserved beneath.
Moreover, most herbivorous animals have a slow system of
digestion, even in a domestic state; as, for instance, our cattle and
sheep. This appears to be more conspicuously the case in the musk-
ox, the reindeer, and the Arctic hare, and is of great utility in lands
where vegetation is scanty and wide-spread, and the weather
occasionally so severe as to compel these creatures, for two or three
days at a time, to think only of their safety by seeking shelter from
the snow-storms in deep ravines or under lofty cliffs. It appears in
their case as if Nature extracted from their food a greater quantity of
nourishment than she does from that of animals in more southern
latitudes; or possibly, the food, by the mere act of remaining in the
stomach or intestines, serves to check the cravings of appetite,
though no further nutriment should be extracted.
Most of the musk-oxen and deer shot in Captain M’Clintock’s
expedition, and especially the musk-oxen, had their entrails
distended with food apparently quite digested, while the surrounding
country in many cases was absolutely barren and lifeless,—inducing
the conclusion that these creatures had been a long time collecting
their supplies, as also that it had been a long time swallowed, and
necessitated the full activity of the vital principle to prevent the food
from proving a source of disease. This, indeed, was clearly proved in
the case of the musk-oxen, which, if shot, and left twelve hours
without being disembowelled, grew tainted throughout with a strong
musky odour, rendering the flesh uneatable.
It may also be stated, as an illustration of the facility with which
the reindeer can winter in high latitudes, that in Lapland, where they
are used as beasts of draught, a daily supply of four pounds of lichen
(Cenomyce rangiferina) is considered ample for a working animal;
and on this dietary a reindeer will be in sufficiently good condition to
go without food occasionally for two or three days, and yet, to all
appearance, not to be distressed.
Thus, as regards its stores of food, and its provision against the
severity of the Arctic winter, the reindeer would seem to be suitably
and amply endowed; and its greatest trial is the incessant rapacity of
the wolves that follow its track throughout the winter season. As that
season advances, the unfortunate animal apparently resigns itself to
an evil which it cannot avoid or avert; and the calm composure with
which a small troop of these creatures will graze with an entourage
of half a dozen wolves is not less curious to the observer than
philosophical on the part of the reindeer!
“A herd of deer,” says an eye-witness, “thus surrounded by the
wolves, who were too great cowards to rush in upon their prey,
would be startled every now and then by the long-drawn unearthly
howl of the hungry brutes; sometimes a frightened deer, horror-
stricken at the abominable chant, dashes madly away from the herd,
—away all, or a portion, of the wolfish fraternity go after it. In many
cases the scene may be briefly summed up with the old three-
volume denouement of—a rush, a shriek, a crunching of bones, and
snarling of beasts of prey, and all is over! for the wonderful powers of
swallow and horrid voracity of an Arctic wolf must be seen to be
understood; no writer would peril his reputation for veracity by
repeating what has been seen on that head. But sometimes the
frightened deer gains the open country, and goes wonderful
distances dogged by the persevering wolf, who assuredly has it,
unless another herd is met which admits the hunted deer into its
ranks.
“Occasionally, whilst a herd of deer are grazing, one of them may
happen to hit upon a spot where the food is plentiful; it naturally
lingers there, while the herd is moving slowly on against the wind.
The wolves immediately mark the straggler, and stealthily crawl on,
their object being to cut him off from the herd; that effected, there is
a howl and a rush, which if the deer does not evade by extraordinary
exertions, his fate is instantly sealed.”
 These scenes are enacted throughout the long Arctic winter.
When sight is rendered useless, scent comes to the aid of the
rapacious destroyer; and we can well believe that many an explorer,
in the December darkness of the frozen wastes, has often wished his
olfactory nerves were as sensitively organized as those of the wolf.
For although he can then hear the reindeer, it is impossible to see
them, except when they hurry across the dark but snowy landscape;
and many a bad shot has been made by a hungry seaman at a large
pair of melancholy eyes which peered out of the enveloping mist,
because he could not tell, for the life of him, whether the animal was
distant two or twenty yards.
In the dreadful winter of 1852–53, the deer approached close to
the exploring-ship Investigator, having quitted the land and traversed
the belt of ice. It is difficult to say whether this was done with a view
of seeking the warmth which instinct, if not scent, told them radiated
from the vessels,—the vessels, compared with the temperature
everywhere prevailing (namely, 9·5° below freezing-point), being
complete volcanoes of heat; or whether it was for security against
their wolfish enemies. Probably, it was for the first-named reason;
inasmuch as it is recorded that the foxes of Leopold Harbour, in
1848, soon became aware of the warmer atmosphere produced by
the presence of Sir James Ross’s squadron, and sagaciously
burrowed and bred in the embankments thrown up around the ships.
But, at length, winter and its sorrows pass away, and early in the
new year a happier life dawns on the much-tried reindeer. In
February and March the seals begin to breed, and as the attention of
the wolves and other beasts of prey is then drawn to the helpless
young, which are truly “delicious morsels,” the holidays of the
reindeer may be said to commence. We may remind the reader also
that the Arctic hare and the lemming winter in the icy north, and yield
occasional meals to wolf and fox.
The spring returns, and as the sun rises above the horizon, the
great herds gradually break up and scatter abroad; and the deer may
then be seen in wandering groups of three or four, until once more
the autumn-twilight deepens, and they reassemble in numerous
companies.
 As the reindeer is the camel of the Polar World, so the Arctic wolf
may be said to occupy the place of the tiger; so daring is its courage,
and so fierce its lust of blood. Assembling in large packs, they are
not afraid to haunt the immediate neighbourhood of man. In Captain
M’Clintock’s expedition, they gathered round the Investigator at such
close quarters, that it was unsafe for the crew to leave the ship,
unless in companies, and well-armed; and with their melancholy
howls they made night hideous. Five of them attempted to pounce
on an Eskimo dog which had long been the pet of the Investigator.
One of these brutes is described as a “perfect giant,” standing nearly
four feet high at the shoulder, and having a footmark as big as a
reindeer’s.
Our English seamen planned many a clever scheme to entrap
these wary creatures, but all failed, while some of the encounters
with them were unpleasantly close, and the risk very considerable.
One day, the boatswain, while out shooting, broke by a shot two of
the legs of a fine buck reindeer. Evening coming on, and he knowing
the animal could not drag itself far, returned to the ship. Next
morning, he started at an early hour to secure his prize. What was
his disgust, when he arrived at the place, to find his booty in the
possession of five large wolves and several foxes! Determined to
have, at all events, a share, the boatswain advanced, shouting with
all his might, and hurling at the thieves every opprobrious phrase he
could invent, yet afraid to fire his single-barrelled gun at any one of
them, for fear the rest should serve him as they were serving the
buck; more particularly as they appeared inclined to show fight, and
made no sign of retreat until he was within four yards. Even then
only four had the grace to move away, sitting down a pistol-shot off,
and howling most lamentably.
The boatswain picked up a leg of the deer, which had been
dismembered, and then grasped one end of the half-devoured
carcass, while a large she wolf tugged against him at the other.
It must be owned that this position was a disagreeable one, and
had the howling of the four wolves brought others of their kind to the
rescue, the consequences of this affray between hungry wolves and
a no less hungry sailor might have proved serious. Fortunately, the
interpreter, who chanced likewise to be out shooting on a
neighbouring hill, had his attention attracted by the noise of the
brutes, and made his appearance on the scene. He afterwards
described it as the strangest he had ever witnessed. So close were
the boatswain and the carnivora in their struggle for the meat, that he
fancied the latter had actually attacked the former. On the arrival of
this reinforcement the wolves decamped, leaving the gallant
boatswain with only twenty pounds weight of meat, instead of the
one hundred and twenty his prize must have originally weighed.

The identities between the Arctic dog and the Arctic wolf are so
important that Dr. Kane agrees with Mr. Broderip in assigning to
these animals a family origin. The oblique position of the wolf’s eye
is not uncommon among the Eskimo dogs. Dr. Kane had a slut, one
of the tamest and most affectionate of his team, who had the long
legs, the compact body, the drooping tail, and the wild scared
expression of the eye, which some naturalists have supposed to
distinguish the wolf alone. When domesticated early—and it is easy
to domesticate him—the wolf follows and loves you like a dog. “That
they are fond of wandering proves nothing; many of our pack will
stray for weeks,” says Kane, “into the wilderness of ice; yet they
cannot be persuaded, when they come back, to inhabit the kennel
we have built for them only a few hundred yards off. They crouch
around for the companionship of men.” Both animals howl in unison
alike; and, in most parts, their footprint is the same.
The musk-ox (Ovibos moschatus) is one of the largest of the
Polar ruminants. As its zoological name indicates, it is an
intermediary between the ox and the sheep. Smaller than the former,
larger than the latter, it reminds us of both in its shape and general
appearance. It has an obtuse nose; horns broad at the base,
covering the forehead and crown of the head, and curving
downwards between the eye and ear until about the level of the
mouth, where they turn upwards; the tail is short, and almost hidden
by the thickness of the shaggy hair, which is generally of a dark
brown, and of two kinds, as with all the animals of the Polar Regions;
a long hair, which on some parts of the body is thick and curled, and,
underneath, a fine kind of soft, ash-coloured wool; the legs are short
and thick, and furnished with narrow hoofs, like those of the moose.
The female is smaller than the male, and her horns are smaller. Her
general colour is black, except that the legs are whitish, and along
the back runs an elevated ridge or mane of dusky hair.
The musk-ox, as his name implies, throws out a strong odour of
musk,—with which, indeed, his very flesh is impregnated, so that the
scent is communicated to the knife used in cutting up the animal. Not
the less is he regarded as a valuable booty by the Indians and the
Eskimos, who hunt him eagerly. He wanders in small troops over the
rocky prairies which extend to the north of the great lakes of North
America. He is a fierce-tempered animal, and in defence of his
female will fight desperately.
His general habits resemble strongly those of the reindeer; but
his range appears to be principally limited to Melville Island, Banks
Land, and the large islands to the south-east of the latter.
One of our Arctic explorers describes the musk-oxen as all very
wild in April, and as generally seen in large herds from ten to seventy
in number. In June they were stupidly tame, and seemed to be
oppressed by their heavy coats of wool, which were hanging loosely
down their shoulders and hind-quarters in large quantities; the herds
much smaller, and generally composed of cows and calves.
The heavy coat of wool with which the musk-oxen are provided,
is a perfect protection against any temperature. It consists of a long
fine black hair, and in some cases white (for it is not ascertained that
these oxen change their colour during the winter), with a beautiful
fine wool or fur underneath, softer and richer than the finest alpaca
wool, as well as much longer in the staple. This mantle apparently
touches the ground; and the little creature looks, it is said, like a bale
of black wool, mounted on four short nervous goat-like legs, with two
very bright eyes, and a pair of sharp “wicked-shaped” horns peering
out of one end of it.
 THE MUSK-OX.

They seem to be of very uncertain temper, sometimes standing

stupidly glaring at their assailants, whetting their horns against their
fore legs; at other times, they will rush furiously against their hunters.
Captain Mecham discovered very great numbers of musk-oxen
near the head of Hardy Bay, Melville Island. On one plain he
observed as many as seventy grazing within a circuit of two miles;
on his approach, they divided into herds of about fifteen each,
headed by two or three enormous bulls. Their manœuvres, he says,
were so quick and regular that they might be more fittingly compared
to squadrons of cavalry than anything else he could think of. One
herd moved forward at a gallop, several times within rifle-shot, and
formed in perfect line with bulls in the van, presenting a formidable
array of horns. The last time they advanced at a gallop until within
about sixty yards, when they formed in line, the bulls snorting wildly,
and tearing up the snow. But as soon as Captain Mecham fired they
wheeled round promptly, rejoined the main body, and made off out of
sight, only waiting occasionally for the wounded animal.