Flickering Lights

[Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department – 22:47]

The office was dim — only desk lamps and the dull glow from the hallway lit the room.

Outside, the wind was already thrashing, a warning of the approaching typhoon.

A police radio played quietly in the background, left on a news station by someone. The announcer’s voice sounded dry and mechanical:

"Typhoon Hachiman is approaching the Kanto region. Wind gusts exceeding 150 km/h are expected. Residents of Tokyo are advised to remain indoors…"

Tanaka pulled open a drawer, took out a cold onigiri he had bought three hours earlier, and tossed it onto his desk.

He didn’t even have the strength to open it.

"Great…" he muttered, pulling his chair closer. "Tomorrow they’ll let us go home early, but we’ll probably still be stuck in traffic across half the city."

The officer across from him, finishing up paperwork, looked at him with a serious expression:

"We’re lucky they’re letting us out at all. With the mess we’re in, they could’ve ordered us to sleep here."

Inoue let out a long sigh.

"Chief Shiraishi is already pissed after what happened with Watanabe…"

He rubbed his forehead with a tired motion.

"The media are praising the police for uncovering the hidden operation, but… the public is asking where the main perpetrator is. And us? We didn’t even know where he was for the past few weeks."

Nakamura didn’t respond right away.

His eyes drifted to the corkboard filled with photos, maps, and notes.

Watanabe’s photo was already turned sideways — case closed.

But the photo of Hideaki Miyahara was still pinned to the center of the board.

Staring back at them with empty, red eyes from the police file.

Kisaragi sat at her desk by the window, holding a pen but writing nothing.

She was watching the sharp, needle-like drops of rain hitting the glass.

"The public…" she repeated quietly.

"They want closure. An ending. Justice. Anything that will let them sleep at night."

She turned to the others.

Tanaka looked at her. "And we don’t have a single lead. Nothing. Even those reports about ‘Sekiguchi’ turned out to be nothing but random data of a guy who showed up as a likely patient transporter. No connections, no motive, nothing."

Nakamura crossed his arms.

"Shiraishi was clear: either we push this investigation forward, or the whole department will look like a bunch of incompetent idiots who stumbled onto Watanabe by accident rather than actually catching him."

"Well…" Inoue grumbled dryly. "That’s not entirely wrong."

Tanaka shot him a look, too exhausted to truly get annoyed.

"Thanks, Inoue. Great motivation."

The radio switched to local news:

"Police have still not located serial killer Hideaki Miyahara, wanted for over three months…"

All three officers turned toward the speaker as if hypnotized.

"Residents of Tokyo express concern over the lack of progress. Social media is full of criticism toward the investigation and questions about why the police focused on hospital corruption instead of apprehending a murderer who may still be in the city."

Tanaka narrowed his eyes.

"Perfect. Even the weather and radio are getting on our case."

Kisaragi stared at the city lights disappearing behind the curtain of incoming rain — intensely, coldly, analytically.

She turned the radio dial down, then said:

"He’ll seek shelter."

Tanaka raised a brow.

"Who? Miyahara?"

Kisaragi nodded slowly.

"The typhoon will force everyone indoors, even him. Strong wind, heavy rain, flooding — he won’t survive outside in his state. He’ll have to find a roof somewhere."

Nakamura scratched the back of his head.

"Well, yeah… no normal person would stay out in this."

"And he," Kisaragi replied, "despite everything, reacts like a human. Impulsively, chaotically, but still human. When he’s threatened, he looks for safety. It’s instinct, not logic."

Tanaka leaned on his desk and looked at her more intently.

"You have a specific place in mind?"

Kisaragi looked at the board, at Hideaki’s picture, then — at the spot where a note about Seiji Sekiguchi used to hang.

Her eyes sharpened with that familiar, icy clarity she had when connecting evidence.

"One place is the most likely," she said after a moment. "Sekiguchi."

Tanaka narrowed his eyes.

"That programmer? Again? But we’ve got nothing on him."

Kisaragi lifted a hand slightly, signaling him to stop.

"If Sekiguchi-san really picked him up that time, then Miyahara trusted him. Something must have cracked inside him to take that risk. Approaching a civilian. And because of that, Sekiguchi-san may be the only emotional anchor Miyahara feels he can return to when he’s afraid."

"‘Emotional’? ‘When he’s afraid?’ Kisaragi-san, with all due respect, we’re talking about a guy who slits throats for fun," added the same officer from earlier.

"Yes, I’m aware," Kisaragi replied, turning to him. "Miyahara behaves irrationally, but his killings are not irrational. His emotions ignite the impulse — but the execution is precise."

She continued calmly.

"But will he really go there?" Tanaka sounded like he was searching for a flaw in her reasoning.

"I put the chances at fifty percent,” she answered without hesitation. “If Sekiguchi helped him before and still didn’t report him — he enabled contact. Knowing he can rely on him, there is a very high probability Miyahara will use him again.

However…

Miyahara is still unpredictable. He could panic and change direction. Enter any building — a stairwell, an abandoned shop, even a tunnel. His mental state is unstable. As unpredictable as the typhoon forming above us."

She looked out the window again. The first heavy drops hit the glass.

"But if we want to track him, assuming he’s in the city and not with Sekiguchi, we have to act now," Nakamura added. "Before the typhoon turns the city into a witnessless wasteland. After that he’ll disappear off the radar completely. And by morning, we won’t have a single new lead."

Tanaka looked at Nakamura, then at Kisaragi.

"You’re talking like this is our last chance before the storm."

Kisaragi slowly nodded.

"It is."

For a moment, the office was completely silent, interrupted only by the rising wail of the wind.

A sudden gust struck the window, making the glass tremble.

The three officers fell quiet.

A storm hung over Tokyo.

And over their investigation — an even bigger one.

[Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department – 23:18, Searching before typhoon hits]

Nakamura zipped up his rain jacket, grabbed the radio, and nodded to Tanaka and Inoue, who were already preparing to leave.

"Alright, let’s go. We’re taking patrol car O-17. We’ll check the area around Sekiguchi’s apartment and the next two blocks. Only observation. No contact without backup."

"Got it." Tanaka snatched the keys from the wall. "Let’s just hope we don’t catch a flying road sign on the hood."

Kisaragi fastened the last button of her coat and headed out first.