Protection

[Tokyo Metropolitan Police HQ – Chief's Office – Night]

Rain tapped against the wide windows of the chief's office. The gray city lights reflected in the glass, blending with the tired faces of people who hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks.

Chief Shiraishi leaned over his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hand. In front of him stood Nakamura, in his usual posture: upright, silent. Beside him, Tanaka – holding a cup of cold coffee and a fresh bandage on his arm from the last crime scene.

"So..." the chief spoke. "This Kisaragi. She's already given her statement."

"Yes," Nakamura confirmed. "Clear and without a hint of hesitation. She sees this case like she's looking into a mirror."

Tanaka scratched the back of his neck.
"Too much, almost... Sometimes I get the feeling there's something off about her too. But damn it, I've never seen anyone describe a madman so precisely and coldly. And that's just from one look at the photos."

The chief looked at them over his clasped hands.
"And what if that cold approach makes us miss something that only instinct can catch? Sometimes too much analysis is just... losing touch with the human side."

Nakamura didn't reply right away. He walked slowly along the office, eyes fixed on the rain outside.

"Instinct has gotten us nowhere so far," he finally said quietly. "We have victims, we have traces, but we have no understanding. She... understands."

"Or she thinks she understands," Shiraishi interjected. "And what if she leads us the wrong way?"

"Then the responsibility is mine," Nakamura answered immediately. "But if she's right and we shut her out... then the blood of the next victims will be on us too."

The chief stood up. He walked to a cabinet, pulled out a clean form with an investigation stamp.

"Only for the duration of the case. Conditional. No full autonomy, no right to conduct unsupervised interrogations." He slid the paper toward Nakamura. "You're officially submitting her to the investigation team."

"I am," Nakamura said.

Tanaka got up.
"I've got a feeling this is going to be one hell of a ride."

The chief only muttered:
"If she's right... then we're all already sitting on a ticking time bomb."

[The next day – Briefing Room, Headquarters]

Kisaragi was just finishing her dispassionate analysis when the door opened abruptly. A young officer rushed inside, carrying a fresh report under his arm.

"Tokyo General Hospital. Filed last night." He dropped the folder on the table. "Victim – female, sixteen years old. Admitted with severe lacerations. Heavy blood loss. She claims she was attacked by two unknown men. Managed to escape, apparently someone helped her. She refused to give further details."

Silence. Only the rustle of turning papers.

Kisaragi leaned over the document. Her gaze slid across the photos of the wounds as if she were reading hidden letters in the skin.

"Two men?" she repeated coldly. "No. That’s a lie."

Tanaka scoffed. "Why lie right away? The kid’s in shock, maybe she got it wrong—"

"Look." Kisaragi held one of the photos up to the light. "The cuts are parallel. Each with similar depth, similar angle. These aren’t chaotic wounds from a scuffle. They’re systematic incisions. Like calligraphy."

Her finger stopped on one of the wounds.
"He works in lines. In symmetry. Every attack begins like a drawing. We’ve seen the same thing in previous victims."

Nakamura narrowed his eyes. "But… she says she was attacked by two men."

"She said that to take the focus off him," Kisaragi replied without blinking. "The girl is protecting someone. And these wounds… they weren’t meant to kill her. This is unfinished work. He was interrupted."

Inoue paled, setting the paper down. "So… he was there. And someone stopped him."

Kisaragi gave a slight nod.
"He hasn’t vanished. He’s alive, he’s active. And he’s even more dangerous now, because we know there’s a witness… and that he’s no longer acting in isolation."

Nakamura fell silent, his eyes fixed on the rain outside the window.

Tanaka leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "With all due respect, Kisaragi-san… that’s just your interpretation. I’ve seen the photos – yes, the wounds are strange, but that’s not proof. The girl says she was attacked by two men. Maybe she didn’t look closely, maybe she was defending herself and remembers it wrong."

Kisaragi looked at him coolly. "Or she’s lying."

"Or she’s in shock," Nakamura interrupted her. "She was lucky to survive. If we start questioning her testimony right away, she’ll shut down and won’t tell us anything more."

Inoue nodded. "Exactly. First, we need to establish whether her version even makes sense. A witness isn’t a laboratory – statements can be chaotic. We can’t build the whole investigation on ‘this looks like his style.’"

A brief silence fell.

Nakamura sighed and pushed the folder aside. "Here’s what we’ll do: Tanaka, you’ll go to the hospital and talk to her once more. Try to stay calm – maybe she’ll reveal something she hasn’t written in the report yet. Kisaragi, you handle the technical material – compare these wounds with previous cases and give us solid data, not just intuition. Inoue call in a psychologist to prepare a profile of the victim, because we need to understand why she might lie."

Tanaka muttered under his breath, "And only then will we see if it’s actually him, or just another false lead."

Kisaragi didn’t respond. She simply closed the folder with a quiet snap and watched the raindrops sliding down the window.

[Tokyo General Hospital – Patient Room]

Tanaka entered quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. Ichiyo’s father was sitting in the chair beside the bed, but when he saw the badge, he stood up and stepped back into the corner.

"Ichiyo-san?" Tanaka’s voice was calm but carried a note of firmness. He pulled out his notebook. “I’m Officer Tanaka. We need to talk about what happened.”

The girl swallowed, her hand trembling on the blanket. "I’ve already told… there were two men. They attacked me, one had a knife. I don’t remember what they looked like."

Tanaka sat across from her, leaning slightly forward. "Yes, I read the doctor’s report. But I want to hear it from you again. Every detail matters."

"I’ve already said everything," she whispered, looking away.

Tanaka watched her silently for a moment, then asked gently, "Why do you insist there were two of them?"

Ichiyo froze. Her heart began to pound like a hammer. "Because… because there were."

"Look, girl." Tanaka opened the folder and ran his finger over the photos of the wounds. "These cuts… they’re too even. They don’t look like random strikes in a struggle. One perpetrator, not two. I can see that with my own eyes."

Her eyes widened, her breathing quickened.

"Who did this to you?" His voice hardened. "Are you protecting someone?"

The girl hesitated, her lips parting as if to say something… then quickly dropped her gaze.
"No… it was two. I remember… they surrounded me. One cut, the other… pushed. Maybe… maybe the photos look different, but that’s how it was."

Tanaka studied her in silence for a long moment. He recognized the tone – words spoken too quickly to hide a gap in the story.

He closed his notebook. "Alright. I’ll write it down. But remember, Ichiyo-san – if there’s something you’re not telling us, it could cost you your life. Next time, you might not be so lucky."

Ichiyo didn’t respond. She only clutched the blanket tighter and turned her head toward the window, hiding her eyes.

Tanaka stood, nodded to her father, and left the room.

He paused briefly in the hallway, exhaling heavily and muttering to himself,
"She’s lying... But why?"

[Back at Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department – Corridor]

Tanaka left the restroom, notebook loosely held in his hand. He leaned his back against the cold wall and closed his eyes for a moment. Footsteps echoed – Kisaragi was approaching with quick, confident strides, followed by Nakamura and Inoue.

"So?" Nakamura asked before he even had a chance to light his cigarette.

Tanaka opened the notebook, flipped through a few pages, then snapped it shut. "She’s lying. She keeps repeating the story about two men, but her eyes… every gesture screams that she’s not telling everything. She pieces details together too quickly, like she’s reciting something learned."

"The psychologist I've talked with said very similar. Ichiyo's behavior is not accidental." Inoue added.

Kisaragi crossed her arms. "I told you. She’s protecting him."

"Maybe," Tanaka muttered, "or she’s protecting someone else. She hesitated – almost slipped up. And immediately covered it with a story. Something’s there."

Nakamura narrowed his eyes. "And the father? Did he seem worried?"

"He didn’t interfere, but he looked like someone who suspects something. Just didn’t dare to push her."

A brief silence fell. The air smelled of paper.

Kisaragi spoke first. "If she knows who did this and stays silent, we have to assume she’s in contact with someone connected to the perpetrator. Tracking the father and daughter will tell us more than another round of questioning."

Tanaka glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "So what – stake them out? Turn the girl into bait?"

"Not bait. Protection." Kisaragi’s gaze was cold. "But at the same time, watch their every move. If anyone tries to contact her again, we catch them."

Nakamura drew in smoke and flicked the butt into the trash. "Alright. Here’s the plan: Tanaka, tomorrow morning you come back and watch the girl. Inoue, check the surveillance in the area where she was attacked. Kisaragi, review the connections between the victim and any witnesses. I’ll handle it formally – request the prosecutor’s approval for observation. If this girl has the key to the whole puzzle, we can’t take our eyes off her.”

Tanaka pocketed his notebook. "She won’t tell us the truth voluntarily. But sooner or later, someone will approach her. And then we’ll be ready."

Kisaragi nodded silently.

The three of them walked down the corridor toward the exit, in silence, as if each of them understood that the lies of a sixteen-year-old girl might be the last barrier between them and the monster they were hunting.

[Headquarters – Briefing Room, a few days later]

Nakamura tossed a folder onto the table. It was thin — too thin, considering how many days of work had gone into it.

"All right, let’s summarize. Observation of Ichiyo — zero contact with any suspects, zero suspicious activity. School, home, studying. No visits, no signals."

Tanaka leaned back in his chair, sighing. "The girl is acting like any other teenager. If she knows something, she’s hiding it well. And if she doesn’t… then we’re wasting our time."

Kisaragi sat in silence, scanning through her notes. Finally, she asked, "And the surveillance?"

Inoue shook his head. "Checked it. The attack site — city cameras end two intersections before it. Around the apartment, where we might look for leads — nothing. It’s an old residential area with low crime, so they never installed anything. And private cameras… the owners didn’t give permission. Without a court order, we can’t compel them."

Tanaka snorted. "So we have a blind spot. Exactly where we’d need an eye."

"Yes," Nakamura admitted, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. "And the prosecutor won’t sign an order when all we have is the uncertain testimony of a sixteen-year-old claiming she was attacked by two unknown men. Formally — no legal grounds."

Silence fell.

Kisaragi looked up. "He’s still out there, somewhere close. The attack on the girl wasn’t random. But until he makes a mistake, we’re blind."

Tanaka frowned. "So what, we give up?"

Nakamura nodded slowly. "For now, yes. We leave her alone, close the report as ‘no further operational possibilities.’ But if a new report comes in with the same wound pattern — we go back to square one. And then there will be no excuses."

Kisaragi pressed her lips into a thin line but said nothing.