Capítulo 30: Sick and Twisted
Matsugane Erina had always been a firm believer in the importance of composure.
'Haruna…'
Every health worker worth their salt knew that composure was right up there with compassion in terms of criticality to ensuring effectiveness and success in the healthcare sector. Regardless of whether it was a bullet wound, a stab wound, terminal illness, or something else that was similarly severe, those working in healthcare were expected – indeed, required – to resist the impulse to freak out and panic in favour of remaining calm and focused on the task at hand. While some health workers exhibited a greater mastery of the skill than others, all of them would inevitably learn the value of remaining calm under pressure. Within the health profession, it was widely believed that any doctor, nurse, or paramedic who was incapable of mastering or at least controlling their emotions was one who was more likely to cause more harm than good in the long run.
'How could this happen?'
More importantly, every health worker worth their salt understood the reason why it was essential for them to be capable of remaining calm and composed under pressure. Despite what an outside observer might have assumed while watching health workers do their job, their ability to maintain their composure was decidedly not because they were callous, unfeeling, or otherwise incapable of caring. After all, their choice of vocation alone served as hard evidence to the contrary. If anything, all health workers understood that it was precisely because they cared for the health and survival of their patients that they had to put their feelings aside when duty called. They knew perfectly well that they held their patients' lives in their hands, and that they simply couldn't afford to lose their minds when there was a patient in front of them who desperately needed medical attention.
'Who could have done this to you?'
Indeed, Erina understood the importance of composure better than many of her colleagues – or at least, that was what her direct superior had once noted down in her performance evaluation. Remaining calm, composed, and focused under pressure was a skill she had carefully honed ever since her days in nursing school, during which she got herself into the habit of starting and ending each day with guided meditation and mindfulness exercises. The same skill had earned her the respect and admiration of her peers and superiors as surely as it had earned her the appreciation of the countless patients she had helped care for. One of her fellow nurses had said as much to Ayato on one occasion when he came to their hospital so they could walk home together after her shift.
"Your girl's on a whole new level," her junior had told him at the time. "I know it's hard to believe since we know what she's like off-duty, but watching her work, you'd think she was a robot."
Needless to say, that got Ayato gushing to anyone and everyone who would listen that his girlfriend was nurse extraordinaire at the Rakuen Recovery and Rehabilitation Center.
'Why would anyone do this to you?'
Matsugane Erina wasn't easily overcome by emotion. She was rarely overcome with emotion no matter what she faced. Whether she was faced with a severely ill or dying patient, a mercy killing, or a stillbirth, she always managed to keep her calm, laser-like focus. Right now, however, all of that had gone out the window as she wailed unashamedly in her boyfriend's arms, neither noticing nor caring that they were in the police chief's office or that everyone else in the room was staring at her. "Haruna didn't deserve to die, Ayato," she sobbed. "Not that way. Not like that."
"You knew this girl, Erina?" Riku asked, surprised.
"Haruna was an old friend, Detective," answered Ayato in her stead; he seemed comparably more composed than his girlfriend given what just happened, though his eyes were noticeably watery as he comforted Erina. "We all went to the same middle school, until she had to drop out prematurely so she could take care of her orphaned niece."
A few solemn moments of silence fell upon them at those words. From Ryoma's perspective, it was yet more proof as to the background Erina and the Akizuki siblings had hailed from. While the combination of luck and hard work had enabled them to leave their less-than-ideal origins, it was all too clear that not all of their peers had been so lucky. More importantly, if Ayato's explanation was true, the woman who was murdered had just left behind a young child who had no one left to care for her.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Ayato," the chief's reply finally came. "We'll take care of the kid, and we'll get justice for your friend. Whoever did this isn't getting away-"
The door to the office opened at that moment as a uniformed policewoman entered, before heading to the chief's desk and snapping up a salute. "Evening, Yayoi," Ryoma greeted the new arrival with a tired, wan smile. "Please, have a seat. There's plenty of room, after all."
She did as the chief instructed, settling on the spot on the couch between Saaya and Riku.
"Shugo, Ayato, Erina, I'd like you to meet Officer Yoshiki Yayoi," the policewoman nodded to each of the three youths in turn as Ryoma made the introductions. "I had her and the rest of her team from Forensics do the autopsy as soon as we got here. How's it coming along, by the way?"
"It's done, sir," Yayoi informed them. "Based on what we've seen, it looks like the killer injected her with poison, before draining her blood and then turning her into a life-sized doll."
Yayoi's improbable observation elicited varying reactions from her present company. While her chief and her two colleagues acknowledged her report with a grim nod, the three youths were less reserved. The way Shugo's mouth fell open clearly conveyed shock and horror, just as the way Ayato's eyes widened as he gritted his teeth was a subtle but unmistakable indication of outrage. Unsurprisingly, however, it was Erina who took the news hardest of all. As she broke into a fresh round of sobs at the policewoman's words, Ayato and Riku wordlessly nodded to each other, before both men got to their feet and escorted the devastated nurse out of the office to the chief's back room. Likewise, Yayoi excused herself and took her leave a moment later, likely to return to their office downstairs.
"Sorry about that," Riku apologized once he returned. "Turns out the victim was a close friend of Erina's. Ayato's trying to comfort her as we speak."
Shugo could only close his eyes in sympathy at what happened. He was no stranger to losing people who were close to him, nor was he unfamiliar with the terrible crushing sensation of grief and sorrow that wracked the bereaved. But then, most of those friends and loved ones had died from illness or natural causes, with the exception of his mother and father who had died in childbirth and in a car crash, respectively. Though he'd experienced losing loved ones to illness, old age, and tragic accidents, he'd never known what it was like to lose a friend or family member to senseless acts of violence, nor did he care to ever know.
"And I hope you never have to know, child," Kurona whispered in his ear, her tone strongly indicating that she herself had experienced losing someone she loved in such a fashion. "While avenging such losses is well within our power, we can never undo them, nor can they ever be truly forgotten."
'Amen to that.'
Shugo fully understood where his spectral partner was coming from. If the appearance Kurona had taken when he nearly died in that ambush was any indication, she had been a warrior in life. If so, she had likely seen at least some of her comrades killed right in front of her, in which case she could only have been speaking from experience.
"Perhaps I shall one day bore you with tales from my past life," she said, interrupting her contractor's thoughts while simultaneously reminding him of her access to them. "Provided, of course, that you train yourself in the art of combat. Another enemy has just made himself known, and I will not have you throwing yourself headlong into battle until such time that I am aptly satisfied at your ability to survive and overcome without my assistance."
'Huh,' the teen thought. 'Alright, then. Challenge accepted, I guess.'
"You've been quiet so far, Shugo," Riku addressed him all of a sudden, recalling him to his surroundings in the process. "I don't suppose either you or your other half would happen to have any idea who we're dealing with?"
Now that Riku brought it up, Shugo couldn't help but wonder. Whoever they were up against was clearly no ordinary killer, at least if what he did to Erina's friend was anything to go by. Killing an innocent was bad enough, never mind killing someone and then using their dead body as a medium for some art project from hell. Someone sick and twisted enough to be capable of something like that could only be-
"-A monster," Kurona finished his train of thought for him. "A reasonable assumption, to be sure, but I do not believe this to be his handiwork. While he and I have crossed paths only once before, I know enough of our nemesis to know that he is unlikely to abandon the discretion that has served him well for centuries simply to murder random innocents in so senseless and wanton a manner."
Shugo relayed her words to Riku and the chief, both of whom nodded at the proffered reasoning.
"Not that this makes this latest sicko any less dangerous, of course," he quickly added.
"What could the killer have needed her blood for, though?" Ryoma wondered aloud. "I do recall the plastination process requiring the specimen's blood to be drained first, but…"
"I agree, sir," Riku voiced his assent. "If the killer just wanted blood, he could've just gone to the blood bank. It would've been a lot less messy, and it wouldn't have involved drawing attention to himself by committing murder."
Shugo was thinking along the same lines. If the killer needed blood for some practical purpose, there were quicker and easier ways to get hold of it that didn't involve committing murder or painting a target on his back. And as Kurona had said, the conspicuous disregard for discretion or pragmatism starkly contrasted the discretion and stealth with which their nemesis had operated for centuries. 'He's still a monster – just not the monster we know.'
"In that case," muttered Shugo, "I wonder…"
"Something on your mind?" Ryoma prompted him. "Speak freely."
"Just one thing, sir. It's a bit crazy, but…"
Riku looked at the teen as though he'd grown a second head.
"Shugo, we're after a killer who just murdered a poor girl and then used her body as a medium for his art," the detective reminded him incredulously. "You made a literal deal with a devil, for crying out loud, and you should've been dead a dozen times over by now given how many times you've been shot in the last two weeks alone. You're living proof that nothing's crazy anymore!"
Shugo sighed in resignation as he conceded the point. 'Alright, then.'
"Chief, Detective," he began, addressing each by their respective rank, "do either of you know anyone who specializes in the occult?"
"Not really, why?"
"This is just a hunch on my part, but it might be worth looking into occult rituals involving blood and human sacrifice to see if anything comes up…"
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Meanwhile, at a coffee shop somewhere else in Rakuen…
'Well, I suppose it's nice to have another maniac in town,' the man thought as he sipped on his iced vanilla latte.
He'd watched the bedlam unfold at the mall earlier that day. From what he'd gathered, a young woman had been murdered, after which her killer plastinated the body and turned it into what could be described as Hannibal Lecter's idea of an art project. He'd then proceeded to leave his handiwork in the open air ampitheater in the center of the mall, thereby ensuring that his depraved idea of art would have as many viewers and witnesses as possible.
'I guess I can't blame an artist for wanting eyes on his work,' the man mused.
'Hell,' he thought to himself with a smirk, 'I didn't even know someone like that still existed in this day and age.'
The man freely admitted that he had no right whatsoever to preach that killing was wrong, nor was he in any position to pontificate about the sanctity of human life. Even when he was a normal human, he'd made his fair share of kills on the battlefield; more importantly, he'd lost count of how many he'd killed the centuries that followed. But if nothing else, the man at least knew that his kills had all committed their fair share of evil or otherwise morally questionable deals in life. They knew the risks of the game they were playing, and they all had varying measures of blood on their hands.
'He who lives an immoral life, dies an immoral death.'
The man knew he was guilty of many things. Even so, he also knew he didn't murder innocents, which was more than could be said for the latest psycho who'd just reared his ugly head.
'Points for creativity, I guess.'
'Still, I'd be lying if I said I was a fan.'
From his perch, the man saw how his target and her patsy showed up at the scene with his friends the police chief and the detective. But for now, she'd have to take a back seat to other, more urgent concerns that needed to be addressed. It wasn't like he was in any hurry, either. As it was, he'd already waited literal centuries to cross off the final name that still remained on his kill list, and it wouldn't kill him if he had to wait a few more weeks before finally completing his centuries-long crusade.
"It looks like you guys are gonna have to wait your turn," the man said to himself as he thought of his adversary and her contractor. "Aren't you lucky?"
The man was dead set on completing his centuries-long crusade. But for now, something else took precedence that demanded his attention.
'Look at all those sins…'
Right now, there was something – and someone – he had to take care of first…
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