Chapter 3.1

“...A statement has been released by Public Safety Director Tanaka Arataki: ‘This was not an action taken by the state. It was an unauthorized operation conducted by a limited number of individuals. Those individuals are currently in custody.’”

“The Commission also emphasized that there is no confirmed connection between the Odori Park reports and the earlier Sapporo incident, describing comparisons circulating online as speculative and inaccurate…”

The television snapped off.

Director Tanaka Arataki set the remote on a laminated steel table carrying a manila folder. He leaned back in his chair. Two mages guarded the door.

“The days of you playing detective are over, Reiko Nakamura.”

“So this is why the NPSC took us in,” Reiko shook her head with a bitter smile. “Where’s Kazuo? Where’s my team?”

“Section Chief Kazuo Shinomiya is under house arrest,” Arataki explained. “He is under investigation to determine his involvement in the assassination. As for your so-called team, you’ve been relinquished of any authority. You have no right to know their whereabouts.”

“There were five Egregore who saw the Taboo that you let go kill Lisa Everest,” Reiko said. “Calling this a farce doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.”

“The surviving Egregore have returned to Castle Gramarye, no doubt devastated by the loss of their own. How dare you weaponize their tragedy!”

“And was this your plan all along?” Reiko asked. “Let a Taboo run amok, knowing it was capable of killing a witch? You have the perfect cover story. An old witch hunting special unit that you could assign and throw under the bus.”

Director Tanaka Arataki’s face darkened.

“The only thing I’m missing,” Reiko wondered, “is a motive. Why do this? I still haven’t quite figured that out. You’ve sabotaged our relationship with the Americans. Is it in your interest to undermine the current administration? Were you after a different Egregore and it backfired? Either way, Arataki, you won’t be here to interrogate me for much longer.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to speculate when we’ve got you locked in here and cuffed,” Arataki muttered.

“Cuffed?” Reiko raised an eyebrow. She lifted her hands. A melted handcuff dangled from her wrists. “You mean these?”

“What–” Arataki’s eyes popped open.

“Don’t worry,” Reiko surrendered her hands to the alerted mages behind Arataki. “You’re holding my team hostage. I’m not stupid enough to try something. Yet.”

“Those are special grade restraints you just melted,” Arataki glowered. “So the rumors I heard about you are true.”

“What rumors?” Reiko smiled. “You received my file when you folded Section Eight beneath the NPSC. What could you possibly not know about me?”

“File? I’ve never seen such heavy redaction in my career, except maybe, when they wouldn’t let me access Natsuko Ichinose’s dossier.”

Reiko remained silent.

“What’s the relationship between you two, I wonder? The hidden lives of this country’s most powerful Egregore hunter and you, this country’s shameful secret.”

“Mockery won’t get you anywhere, director,” Reiko sighed. “Why don’t you stop beating around the bush and tell me why you’ve brought me here?”

“Ascension,” Arataki crossed his arms. “The ritual that births new Egregore.”

Reiko raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a closely protected state secret. I hope you’re not here to ask me to write down how it’s done.”

“I’m here to ask Section Eight to attempt it again.”

Reiko paused.

“...Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” Arataki folded his hands over the table. “It’s this country that’s lost its way. I intend to use the powers of the Commission to right its path, and I’ve prepared an offer for you at my table.”

“An offer or a demand?”

“The Japanese government must now make a choice. The Americans, in their sick nature, will again demand from us unconditional surrender. If we do nothing, we, like obedient dogs to violent masters, will fetch it for them. America will pillage everything we have in the name of ‘compensation’ and chain us with sanctions and their self-righteous ‘international norms.’ We can indulge them as we have always done, or we can choose to live as dignified humans. Consider your choice no different from this.”

“Slaying an Egregore in the name of national sovereignty?” Reiko laughed. “You really have gone insane.”

“Better to be insane than to live as a demon’s thrall,” Arataki scowled. “Does this mean your team won’t perform another ascension?”

“You seem confident that I’ve attempted it before,” Reiko said.

“Your powers notwithstanding, I don’t have real evidence to prove it,” Arataki shook his head. “Our country’s intelligence service is first rate. There’s nothing except circumstance now to suggest you were a candidate.”

“Circumstance?”

“Ten years ago, the Egregore planned a tea party in Japan,” Arataki recalled. “The party was abandoned at the last minute by its then youngest Egregore, Lisa Everest, not unlike its last minute arrival ten years later. What happened that turned them away?”

“The witches have always been capricious.”

“Oh, I agree,” Arataki chuckled, “but in the days leading to their arrival, two separate events transpired, one after the other. The first was the disappearance of the Brideskiller, who murdered eleven victims in twelve months and vanished without performing his final kill.”

“The second,” Arataki continued, “was Natsuko Ichinose’s death.”

“Natsuko’s body was found in Tokyo,” Reiko bit her lower lip, “a thousand kilometers from the nearest victim.”

“There!” Arataki snapped his fingers. “That's what I mean. Coincidental. How could these events relate to one another at all?”

What does he know, Reiko thought to herself. Natsuko’s killer was never found. Not even Kazuo or Elio found anything.

“Now you’re interested,” Arataki grinned. “Really, I’m disappointed in you, Captain Nakamura. For someone who solved the Brideskiller case, I would have expected you to connect the dots by now.”

Tanaka Arataki opened the manila folder still resting on the table. Inside sat two sheets of paper.

Divorce papers and… a flight manifest?

“As you might have noticed in your investigation, Kosuke Sakurai, the Brideskiller, was once married,” Arataki slid over the first page. “His motives for killing can be traced to the collapse of that marriage.”

“His ex-wife, Risa Sakurai,” Reiko remembered, “left him for a man in America.”

“A common enough story,” Arataki shrugged and offered Reiko the second slip of paper. “Did you ever follow up on Risa’s maiden name?”

“She didn’t register the divorce until after she left the country. We didn’t see any reason…”

Reiko’s blood ran cold once the pages landed on her side of the table. A once innocuous sentence penetrated her mind.

You sound like my ex-husband.

Arataki tapped the flight manifest with patient fingers.

“I wonder who flew out of Haneda Airport on the night of Natsuko Ichinose’s death?” he said. “Only a writer could have adopted such a preposterous pseudonym.”

The divorce papers and passenger list shared one similarity. The same name on both documents had been highlighted and circled in confident, velvet red ink. When she read it, Reiko finally understood why a good mystery shoved its truth in plain sight, then forced everyone to look away:

Risa Eberesuto.