Chapter 1

Autopsy: Among the Living and the Dead

Japan — Tokyo, Year 2020
Nakano Alley / 12:00 AM

The shops are closed.
The signs, turned off, look like dead eyelids.
The ground is damp—
not from rain,
but from something crawling beneath it.

Neon lights flicker as if afraid.
A cat hides among garbage bags.
The air is thick.
No one breathes.

Kenta (physical exhaustion):
“I just want to get home…”

He walks with slumped shoulders.
His backpack hangs like it weighs more than he does.
He doesn’t notice the streetlights turning off behind him—
one by one.

His footsteps sound hollow.
As if the alley no longer belongs to him.

Kenta (sudden unease):
“What was that…?”

He stops.
Looks back.
Nothing.
But the silence has shape.
And it’s closer than before.

The garbage bags shift without wind.
The cat is gone.

??? (deep voice, emotionless):
“You shouldn’t walk alone around here.”

A silhouette appears at the end of the alley.
Black suit. Impeccable.
White mask carved with a smile.
No eyes.
Only mouth.

It doesn’t walk.
It glides.
As if the ground accepts it without resistance.

Kenta (paralyzed with fear):
“Who are you…? What do you want?”

He steps back.
Trips over a box.
The sound is dry.
The mask approaches—
without changing pace.

The lights flicker.
Windows tremble.
No one opens.
No one screams.

??? (surgical cruelty):
“I didn’t know evil had a name…
until it fulfilled its purpose.
Hahaha…”

Autopsy: Among the Living and the Dead

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
Nakano Alley / 12:25 AM

The moment of death

The killer grabs him by the neck.
Kenta kicks.
There is no escape.
Only a dry sound—
as if something snapped inside.

The scream he releases is not human.
It drags memories with it.
It echoes like grief reborn.

Kenta (total desperation):
“Help! Please, someone…!”

Suddenly—
every house light turns on at once.
Doors swing open.
People step outside.
No one speaks.
No one moves.

An old woman drops her teacup.
A child covers his ears.
A dog barks into the void.

??? (cruel farewell):
“Thank you for your confession.”

The lights flicker.
The doors close.
But the windows remain open.

Something has been seen.
Something has been heard.

The autopsy has begun.

Scene — Where the body remained… and fear took shape

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
Nakano Alley / 12:25 AM

The body is still on the ground.
Twisted.
Blood has spread—
reaching the base of a rusted gate.

The white mask lies nearby.
Its carved smile untouched.

The house lights remain on.
The windows stay open.
The alley is filled with neighbors, police, whispers…
and fear.

️ Scene — Where the body spoke… and silence became a witness

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
Nakano Alley / 12:38 AM

The body remained on the ground. Twisted.
Blood had spread until it touched the base of a rusted gate.
The white mask, with its intact smile, lay to the side.
The house lights were still on.
The windows open.
The alley was filled with neighbors, murmurs, police… and fear.

The neighbors surrounded the corpse.
Some with hands over their mouths.
Others unable to look.
A woman held her child tightly.
An old man prayed in silence.
The air was thick.
No one dared to speak.

One of them, voice trembling, called the police:
— There’s a dead body! A young man! Come quickly!

Minutes later, a patrol car arrived.
From it stepped a middle-aged man.
Upon seeing the body, he froze.
His eyes widened.
His breath stopped.
And he collapsed to his knees.

Father (voice broken):
— No… it can’t be…

It was his son.

His partner helped him up while reporting to forensics over the radio.

Officer (professional tone, but shaken):
— We have a victim. Active scene. Requesting forensics and special division.

Suddenly, a black car skidded into the perimeter.
It braked sharply.
The patrol lights reflected off its polished paint.
Two doors opened.

He stepped out first.

Leonardo Kisaragi (neutral, firm):
— Leonardo Kisaragi. Special Crimes Division.

23 years old.
Impeccable black uniform.
Shirt buttoned to the collar.
Straight-cut pants.
Shiny shoes.
His pale skin contrasted with his deep navy-blue eyes.
He didn’t look at anyone.
Only at the body.

His badge gleamed under the artificial light.
He held it firmly.
As if it were a command.

Behind him, she stepped out.

Aki Moriyama (tense, impressed):
— Aki Moriyama. Structural Analysis Unit.

Short hair tied back.
Honey-colored eyes, tense.
Her badge was ready too—
but her hands weren’t.

She walked behind Leonardo, examining the corpse.
The marks.
The position.
The object on the ground.

Aki (softly, in awe):
— This wasn’t a robbery.
It wasn’t a hit.
This was… brutal.

Leonardo was known for how he saw crime scenes.
Not as evidence.
Not as procedure.
But as story.
As silent confession written in blood.

While the others stared in horror,
he was already reading what no one else could see.

The alley wasn’t just a scene.
It was a message.
And Leonardo…
was already deciphering it.

Scene — Where the body spoke… and silence became a witness

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
Nakano Alley / 12:38 AM

Leonardo Kisaragi (observant, focused):
— The leaves… they’ve been stepped on. Not by accident. There’s a pattern.

He crouches.
Touches them with gloved fingers.
Then stands.
Closes his eyes.

Leonardo opens them again.
They’re no longer blue.
They’re blood red.

He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t speak.
But in front of him—
the scene changes.

The alley reconstructs.
The lights rewind.
The body rises.
The silhouette of the killer appears.
The mask smiles.

Everything unfolds in silence.
As if time itself had bent.

Leonardo doesn’t act.
He only observes.
The scene plays out before his eyes—
exact, flawless.

Aki Moriyama (holding her breath):
— Leonardo…? What are you seeing…?

Leonardo Kisaragi (precise, emotionless):
— He entered from the east side. Waited forty-seven seconds. The victim was distracted. He grabbed him from behind. Turned him. Cut him in three places.

Aki Moriyama (looking at the body):
— Then… he’s coming back.

Leonardo Kisaragi (without hesitation):
— Yes.
And next time… he won’t leave just a signature.

The scene freezes.
The lights remain on.
The windows stay open.
The body no longer speaks.
But Leonardo heard everything.

The autopsy has begun.

Scene — Single Bullet, Multiple Escape

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
Nakano Alley / 12:38 AM

The alley is silent—
but not calm.

The body still lies on the ground.
Blood has cooled on the concrete.
House lights remain on.
Neighbors watch from their windows—
some trembling,
others praying.

Police hold the perimeter.
But the air is heavy.
Something is about to break. 

Leonardo Kisaragi (lightning alert):
— Aki, to the side!

A red dot appears on Aki’s chest.
Leonardo sees it.
Doesn’t hesitate.

In one swift motion,
he shoves her hard to the side.
She falls behind a metal dumpster.
A gunshot tears through the air.

Aki Moriyama (frightened, disoriented):
— Leonardo, what was that?!

She covers herself, breathing heavily.
Looks at Leonardo, waiting for an answer.
But he’s already moving.

Leonardo spins.
Draws his weapon with surgical speed.
The killer fires again from above.
Leonardo fires too.

The two bullets cross in midair.
They graze.
They merge.
One bullet.
One impact.

The sound that follows isn’t normal.
It’s as if the air itself split.

From the ledge of a building,
the killer appears.

Dark suit.
White mask.
Smile intact.

His silhouette cuts against the night sky.
He doesn’t hide.
Doesn’t run.
He just laughs.

??? (euphoric laughter):
— One single bullet! How romantic!
— We’ll meet again, corpse surgeon!

His voice blends with the wind.
Then he turns—
and vanishes across the rooftops.

Scene — Where the laughter faded… and judgment began to breathe again

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
Nakano Alley / 12:45 AM

The masked man was gone.
His laughter still echoed across the rooftops, as if the sound refused to die.
The house lights remained on.
The windows stayed open.
But no one was watching anymore.

Aki, pulse still racing, grabbed her radio and called for forensic transport.
— Unit 7, requesting immediate body transfer. Scene secured.

Leonardo turned to the crowd.
His voice wasn’t loud—
but everyone heard it.

Leonardo Kisaragi (calm, firm):
— There’s nothing left to see. Go home.

An officer repeated the order, this time more directly.

Police (to the neighbors):
— Please return to your homes. The investigation will continue. Do not approach.

The neighbors began to disperse.
Some walked away in silence.
Others paused for one last glance.
But one didn’t leave.

The victim’s father, eyes still flooded with tears, began to run.
Not toward his home—
but toward the back alley.
Where the killer had vanished.

Father (shouting):
— You bastard! Come back! Come back!

There was no reply.
Only a gunshot.
Dry.
Precise.
Lethal.

The father’s body collapsed between the dumpsters.
His blood mixed with his son’s.
And the killer’s laughter returned.
Euphoric.
Cruel.
As if celebrating the second act of a play only he understood.

After that laughter…
silence returned.
Not out of peace—
but out of emptiness.

The patrols withdrew.
The neighbors were gone.
The alley was left alone.
With two bodies.
And two witnesses.

Leonardo placed his right hand against his temple.
His eyes, once red like judgment, returned to their deep blue.
He took a deep breath.
Not out of relief—
but out of restrained fury.

Leonardo Kisaragi (quietly, soul tense):
— Damn it…

He turned.
Aki was still beside the metal dumpster.
Still crouched.
Still trembling.
Her honey-colored eyes searched for answers—
but found only Leonardo.

Leonardo (firm, but human):
— It’s over. You’re safe.

She nodded.
Not out of certainty—
but because her body needed to believe it.

The alley didn’t speak.
But Leonardo had heard everything.

The autopsy…
had only just begun.

️ Scene — Where the transfer was ritual… and the autopsy, inevitable

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
Nakano Alley / 1:02 AM

The black van from Japan’s Special Crimes Division pulled up without a sound.
The patrol lights reflected off its matte paint.
The rear doors opened with precision.
No words were spoken.
Only procedure.

Leonardo stepped out first.
Gloves on.
Eyes focused.
He pulled out two body bags.
Unfolded them over the concrete as if preparing for surgery.

Leonardo Kisaragi (low voice, clinical):
— The son first.

He crouched.
Placed the body with surgical care.
Sealed the bag.
Checked the zippers.
Never broke rhythm.

Aki approached the second body.
She tried to lift it.
But the weight overcame her.
She muttered in frustration.

Aki Moriyama (tense, embarrassed):
— It’s… too heavy.

Leonardo said nothing.
Finished his task.
Turned.
And covered the second body himself.
No judgment.
No reproach.
Only efficiency.

Aki lowered her gaze.
Her hands trembled.
Not from fear.
But from shame.

The van technicians stepped out.
Two men in gray coats, faces serious.
They took the bodies.
Loaded them carefully.
The van’s interior was already prepared.
Cold.
Silent.

Leonardo Kisaragi (low, firm voice, like a surgical command):
— Transfer the bodies to Room 3.
I’ll perform the autopsies.

The technicians nodded.
No questions.
No hesitation.
They knew that when Leonardo spoke like that…
the scene was no longer just evidence.
It was judgment.

Scene — Where the door closed… and the dead began to speak

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
National Forensic Institute / 1:34 AM

The black van drove away in silence, leaving behind the alley and its two bodies.
Leonardo and Aki got into the car.
The interior was quiet.
Only the hum of the engine and the faint buzz of urban lights.

Leonardo placed his hand on his temple.
The pain was sharp, as if something inside him was trying to break through.
Aki watched him.
She said nothing.
She simply reached out and placed her hand over his.
She smiled.
Not out of protocol.
But out of compassion.

Leonardo looked at her.
Just for a second.
Then lowered his gaze.
Started the engine.
And drove.

The National Forensic Institute of Japan rose like a white concrete structure, with polarized windows and cold lighting.
As they crossed the main entrance, several technicians greeted them.

Technician 1 (respectfully):
— Good evening, Kisaragi-san. Moriyama-san.

Aki (smiling as always):
— Good evening.

Leonardo simply nodded.
His eyes were already fixed on Room 3.

They walked down the main corridor.
The walls were smooth, soundproofed.
Each room had a number and a status light.
Room 3 was lit.
Waiting.

Aki (stopping at the door):
— See you later, Leonardo.

Leonardo entered without replying.
The door closed behind him.

Room 3 — Double Autopsy / Active Clinical Protocol

The room was set to 16°C.
The lights were white, shadowless.
Two stainless steel tables.
The bodies were already placed.
Tagged.
Sealed.

Leonardo put on his lab coat.
Fresh gloves.
Mask.
Surgical cap.
He turned on the voice recorder.

Leonardo Kisaragi (firm, clinical voice):
— Double autopsy. Case 2020-0910-A and B.
Victim one: male, 19 years old.
Victim two: male, 47 years old.
Beginning procedure.

Before touching the scalpel, Leonardo walked to the door.
He locked it.
The sound of the bolt was dry.
Final.

He placed his hand on his temple.
His eyes turned red.
Not like blood.
But like judgment.

In front of him, the room changed.
Not physically.
But in perception.

The bodies remained on the tables.
But now…
they were standing.

Kenta.
And his father.

Both looked at him.
And they knew he could see them.

Leonardo Kisaragi (without raising his voice):
— Your name is Kenta, isn’t it?
Tell me… what’s the one thing you remember?

Kenta lowered his gaze.
His voice trembled.
Not from fear.
But from pain.

Kenta (broken voice):
— The mask…
The smile…
And the cold.
There was no sound.
Only him.
And I… couldn’t move.

Leonardo began the procedure.
Inverted Y incision.
Thoracic and abdominal cuts.
Tissue separation.
Organ extraction.
Weight, color, texture.
Everything recorded.

Leonardo (recording):
— Lungs: mild congestion.
Heart: no structural anomalies.
Stomach: empty.
Liver: no visible lesions.

While working, he kept asking questions.

Leonardo:
— Had you seen him before? Did you know him?

Kenta:
— No.
But he… knew me.

The father didn’t speak.
He only cried.
His tears didn’t fall.
But the pain was palpable.

Leonardo (looking at him):
— Why did you follow him?

Father (broken voice):
— Because he was my son.
And I couldn’t leave him alone.

Leonardo recorded every word.
Not on paper.
But in the scene’s log.
Each phrase was evidence.
Each memory, a piece.

He moved to the second body.
Clean chest incision.
Right lung perforated.
Bullet trajectory: direct, no deviation.

He extracted the bullet with titanium forceps.
Placed it in a sterile container.
Photographs.
Ballistic record.

Leonardo (recording):
— Cause of death: projectile impact to right lung.
Immediate respiratory collapse.
Estimated time of death: 12:44 AM.

The autopsy wasn’t just physical.
It was emotional.
It was spiritual.

Leonardo sealed the father’s body bag.
Then the son’s.
Turned off the recorder.
Removed his gloves.
Washed his hands.
Exactly ninety seconds.

The specters remained.
But they no longer spoke.

Leonardo looked at them.
And they understood.

The autopsy was over.
But the judgment…
was still in progress.

Scene — Where the coffee cooled… and the truth tried to surface

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
National Forensic Institute / 5:42 AM

Leonardo stepped out of Room 3.
The door closed behind him with a soft metallic click.
His white lab coat was creased at the edges.
His face, pale.
His steps, slow.
The hallway was silent, except for the constant hum of the cold ceiling lights.

Aki was seated in the break area, next to a coffee machine still releasing steam.
Her cup was warm in her hands.
Her honey-colored eyes lit up when she saw him.

Aki Moriyama (cheerfully):
— Four hours exactly! You’re fast… hehe!

Leonardo gave her a small smile.
Tired.
Brief.
But real.

Aki stood up, still holding her cup.
She was about to say something else, but stopped.
She looked at him.
And she saw it.

His eyes.
Red.
Not from exhaustion.
Not from reflection.
But from something else.

Without thinking, she set the cup down and grabbed his hand.
Firmly.
Urgently.

Aki (concerned):
— Come with me.

Leonardo followed.
Not out of obedience.
But out of respect.

Leonardo (as they walked down the hallway):
— What’s going on?

Aki stopped in front of a closed door.
She looked him straight in the eyes.

Aki (quiet but firm):
— Why are your eyes red?

Leonardo looked away.
Just for a second.
And in that instant…
his eyes turned blue again.

Leonardo (neutral tone):
— What are you talking about?
My eyes are blue. Not red.

Aki frowned.
Her expression shifted.
From surprise…
to frustration.

But she didn’t yell.
She didn’t argue.
She simply pouted.
And lowered her voice.

Aki (hurt):
— We’ve been friends for years, Leonardo.
Why don’t you ever tell me anything?

Leonardo looked at her.
Not with coldness.
But with a mix of guilt and distance.

Leonardo (softly):
— What should I tell you?

Aki pressed her lips together.
Her gaze didn’t waver.
She didn’t back down.

Aki (firmly):
— How you can know exactly how every crime scene unfolded.
How you can see what no one else sees.
How you…
can speak to the dead.

The hallway fell silent.
Only the hum of the coffee machine remained.
But between them…
there was no more noise.
Only truth.

Leonardo lowered his gaze.
He didn’t answer.
Because in that moment…
he knew the next judgment wouldn’t be clinical.
It would be emotional.

Scene — Where the past spoke… and the heart asked for forgiveness

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
National Forensic Institute / 5:52 AM

The hallway was silent.
The coffee machine kept humming, but its steam no longer mattered.
Aki and Leonardo stood face to face.
She was still holding his hand.
He, with his gaze lowered, knew he could no longer avoid the question.

He took a deep breath.
And spoke.

Leonardo Kisaragi (soft voice, unguarded):
— I’ll start with the first thing…
I’m an orphan.
I don’t remember if I ever had parents.

Aki said nothing.
She just looked at him.
Her honey-colored eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

— It all began when a worker from an orphanage found me.
According to what he told me…
he discovered me in a trash bin.
Wrapped in a white blanket.

— He took me with him to the orphanage.
That’s where I grew up.
But after I turned five…
no one wanted to adopt me.

— The other kids told the adults I spoke to the dead.
And from that moment on…
I became the joke.
They played tricks on me.
Threw me out of bed.
Humiliated me.

Aki covered her mouth with one hand.
Her tears began to fall, silently.

— Years passed.
And I kept seeing them.
The dead.
Some begged me to speak to their families.
To tell them what had happened.

— I would sneak out of the orphanage.
Go to the addresses they gave me.
And speak.
I told their stories.

— Some cried.
Others… received calls right after.
From the police.
Confirming that their relative had been murdered.
Or had died in another way.

— Everything changed when I saw a woman crying.
She had just died.
She looked at me.
And asked:
“Can you see me?”

— I told her yes.

— She asked me for a favor.
And I did it.

— I went to the address she gave me.
To her house.
Afraid.
But certain.

— I told them she had passed away.
They cried.
But her boyfriend…
hit me.

— I couldn’t defend myself.

Aki could no longer hold back.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Her body trembled.
Not from fear.
But from shared pain.

— After that…
every case I confirmed…
was true.

— A group of forensic specialists, amazed by my gift…
adopted me.

— And as you see me now…
I am what I always was.
What I’ve always done.
Listening to those who can no longer speak.

Aki said nothing.
She just hugged him.
Tightly.
As if trying to protect the child no one had ever protected.

Aki Moriyama (through tears):
— I’m sorry…
I’m sorry for asking that question.
I didn’t know…
I didn’t know anything.

Leonardo didn’t respond.
He simply closed his eyes.
And for the first time in years…
allowed someone to hold him without defense.

Scene — Where the hallway opened… and the dead walked with them

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
National Forensic Institute / 6:03 AM

Leonardo stopped in front of Aki.
His eyes were still damp from the earlier confession.
He looked at her calmly, but with a seriousness that left no room for doubt.

Leonardo Kisaragi (low, firm voice):
— Hold onto my coat. Don’t let go.

Aki nodded.
No questions.
No hesitation.
She gripped the edge of his coat with both hands.

Leonardo’s eyes turned red.
They didn’t glow.
They didn’t burn.
They simply opened… like doors.

Together, they began walking down the main hallway.
The cold ceiling lights seemed dimmer.
The air, heavier.

Forensic technicians passed by, pushing gurneys with bodies covered in white sheets.
Some spoke quietly among themselves.

Forensic Tech 1 (while reviewing a chart):
— Room 5, male, 42 years old, cranial trauma.
Room 2, child, 7 years old, drowning.

Forensic Tech 2 (nodding):
— They’re ready for intake protocol.

But Aki wasn’t looking at the living.
She was looking at the others.
The dead.

Beside each gurney, a figure.
Some adults.
Others children.
Some cried.
Others screamed.
All of them… stared at their own bodies.

A small boy ran behind his gurney, sobbing.

Deceased Child (crying):
— Mom! Mom, wake up! I don’t want to be alone!

A woman—his mother—walked behind another gurney.
She recognized him.
She tried to hold him.
But couldn’t touch him.

Deceased Mother (broken voice):
— My baby… my love… I’m sorry…

Leonardo kept walking without stopping.
Aki followed, her eyes wide, her soul trembling.

Leonardo Kisaragi (without looking back):
— This is my everyday life… as you can see.

Just then, an entire family arrived.
Five bodies.
Two adults.
Three children.

The children clung to their parents.
They were afraid.
The parents wrapped their arms around them.
They didn’t speak.
They only cried together.

One of the children looked at Leonardo.
His eyes were wide, full of questions.

Deceased Child (whispering):
— Can you help us?
Are we going to be okay?

Leonardo stopped.
He looked at him.
He didn’t answer with words.
He simply nodded.

Aki gripped the coat tighter.
Her hands trembled.
But she didn’t let go.

The hallway continued.
The bodies kept arriving.
The dead kept speaking.
And Leonardo…
kept listening.

Scene — Where truth was spoken… and silence listened

Tokyo — Japan, Year 2020
National Forensic Institute / 6:15 AM

The hallway was calm.
Aki and Leonardo walked slowly, still with the echo of the specters behind them.
The white ceiling lights seemed warmer, as if the world had lowered its volume to hear what was about to be said.

Leonardo stopped.
He looked toward one of the hallway windows, where the first light of dawn was beginning to peek through.
Aki watched him in silence, her eyes still marked by the previous scene.

Leonardo Kisaragi (serene, deep voice):
— Most people believe that money brings happiness.
Because you can do many things with it.
Travel. Buy. Distract yourself.

— But the truth is…
the only thing truly worth it…
is enjoying life.

— We don’t know if we’ll die today…
or tomorrow.

— Sometimes a child doesn’t value their mother.
And just when they want to spend time with her…
she’s already in her final days.

— Or when we have problems with our parents…
most don’t reach out.
And when they finally decide to go…
it’s too late.
They’ve already passed.

Aki lowered her gaze.
Her hands folded in front of her.
She didn’t interrupt.
She just listened.

— No matter how cruel life knocks us down…
there’s no other choice but to try to stand up again.

— I never knew my mother.
Never knew my father.

— I’ve seen teenagers despise their own parents…
just because they don’t get what they want.

— And that…
that’s something I wish I could ask for.

— A mother’s touch.
A father’s advice.

— But even without that…
every day I get up.
I look at the ceiling.
And I rise…
despite not having it.

Aki slowly stepped closer.
She didn’t say a word.
She simply placed a hand on Leonardo’s shoulder.
Not as comfort.
But as recognition.

The hallway remained silent.
But in that moment…
life didn’t seem so unfair.
Because someone had listened.