The night was deep, but the lights in the police station remained on. Watanabe Makoto frowned as he stared at the map and a photo of Akira on the table, his mind replaying the surveillance report. Several plainclothes officers responsible for tailing Kawashima Akira were reporting in front of him, the atmosphere tense.
"Officer Watanabe, we've followed your instructions, keeping a 24-hour watch on Kawashima Megumi," one of the officers said. "She's shown almost no suspicious behavior—just going to school, coming back home, and hardly leaving afterward. Last night, she went to a restaurant, seems like she's working there, and then returned home on time. There's really nothing unusual about her."
Watanabe rubbed his eyes, as if trying to ward off fatigue, his voice tired: "Are you sure there hasn't been any suspicious behavior at all? Not a single unusual act?"
"Yes, sir," another officer nodded. "We've been watching her closely, and she's acting completely normal. Maybe she's not the culprit after all, or she's given up on making any further moves."
Although Watanabe had initially abandoned the idea of surveilling Akira, he reconsidered, thinking that even if she noticed the tail, it might at least prevent her from acting. It could also provide useful information about her movements.
Watanabe snorted coldly, his sharp gaze sweeping over his subordinates. "You're underestimating her. Kawashima Megumi is not an ordinary student. Her calmness under pressure and counter-surveillance skills are far beyond what you'd expect."
One young officer, confused, asked, "Sir, are you saying she's pretending to be innocent? But if she's that cautious, why wouldn't she just stop entirely?"
Watanabe pondered for a moment, his tone low. "Because her actions have a purpose. This isn't impulsive crime. She has a plan, and she knows we're watching her, yet she's still willing to move forward. She's testing us, provoking us to see where our limits are."
A silence fell over the group as the officers exchanged uneasy glances. Watanabe's words sent a chill through them.
"Step up surveillance," Watanabe finally decided. "But don't let her notice you. Continue approaching her in the usual way. The more flawless she seems, the more likely something's off."
Meanwhile, Akira walked alone on his way home, his figure cloaked in the shadows of the night. His steps were light, seemingly casual, but each one was calculated. Akira knew she was being watched, though the watchers tried to blend in, they couldn't escape his sharp senses. Lately, there were more people tailing him—strangers near the station, a black car that "accidentally" appeared too often, even customers loitering suspiciously in a shop.
"Watanabe's men, as expected," Akira thought to herself, a slight, cold smile curling his lips. "But if they think they can suppress me with this, they're far too naive."
Akira discreetly observed his surroundings, memorizing every blind spot and every possible escape route. He knew the surveillance wouldn't let up easily, but that wouldn't stop him. In fact, He found this "cat-and-mouse game" thrilling. The tension sharpened his senses, bringing an exhilarating sense of control. As Akira mentally reviewed his plan, confirming no gaps, he knew he had to be more cautious than ever. He had already mapped out every alley, every street, every surveillance blind spot in the city.
The best way to clear suspicion, Akira thought coldly, was to strike again while under surveillance.
After leaving the restaurant, Akira walked into the night, taking a secluded path with few people and even fewer cameras. He slowed his pace, making it look like a leisurely stroll, but every step had a purpose.
At a deserted corner, Akira pretended to adjust his sleeve while scanning her surroundings. In the distance, a black car with two plainclothes officers was tailing him, pretending to be passersby. Akira's lips curled into a smile as a plan formed. Slowing his steps as if hesitating to enter a nearby alley, he suddenly darted into it. The plainclothes officers immediately reacted, giving chase, but when they rounded the corner, Akira had vanished.
"Damn it, where'd she go?" one of the officers cursed under his breath.
"Keep looking! Don't let her get away!" The other officer pulled out his radio, contacting their colleagues.
But Akira had already slipped through a secret passage leading to another district, heading to an abandoned warehouse far from their surveillance. His movements were seamless, with no wasted effort. He moved quickly, but his steps remained poised, as if savoring the contest of wits and endurance.
His next move required more caution. Tonight's target was a classmate who often hung out with Suzuki Misaki—a girl named Riko.His target appeared faster than expected. Riko had just left the bar, staggering along a dimly lit path, drunk and completely unguarded. Perhaps due to her school's reputation and the protection of her family, she had never truly known fear. Now, intoxicated and stumbling on the dark street, she was completely oblivious to Akira, hidden in the shadows.
Akira quietly gripped his knife, adjusting his breath to ensure that his movements made no sound. As Riko passed his hiding spot, he swiftly lunged, covering her mouth and dragging her into a nearby warehouse. Without hesitation, he violently plunged the blade into her throat, slicing through her trachea and arteries, giving her no chance to scream.
In the dim light, the blade glinted coldly. Riko writhed on the ground in pain, her drunkenness evaporating instantly. Akira leaned closer, his breath hot against her face, as he ran the knife lightly across her skin. Pressing the blade against her neck, he slowly cut a shallow line. Blood welled up, trickling down her neck. Akira's gaze fixated on each drop as if witnessing the most beautiful sight in the world. His lips curled into a cold smile. Instinctively, Riko tried to fight back, but Akira easily restrained her wrists and severed her tendons with a swift motion.
As Akira admired her agonized expression, he let the knife glide across her skin, carving thin, long wounds. Riko's face twisted in pain, her legs buckling beneath her as she collapsed to her knees, frantically bowing her head to Akira. He frowned in irritation at her frantic movements.
"Stay still," he growled. His blade moved with precise brutality, creating wounds that avoided vital spots but inflicted unbearable pain. Blood flowed from the cuts, soaking her clothes and dripping onto the floor with a faint ticking sound. Akira crouched down, dragging the blade across her arm, first tracing shallow lines before plunging the tip deep into her flesh, tearing through muscle and severing nerves. Riko let out a strangled, animalistic groan, blood pouring from her mouth, the sound raw and pitiful, like a dying creature's final whimper.
Akira watched her face contort from the pain, feeling her breaths weaken. Yet his hands did not stop. The knife continued to carve deep into her body. He plunged the blade into her abdomen, twisting it slowly, savoring the sensation of her organs tearing apart. Blood gushed out, pooling beneath her. As her agony deepened, her face turned a sickly purple, her cheeks and chin twitching violently. Tears mixed with sweat as they slid down her face, soaking into her blood-stained clothes. Her mouth opened wide, but her screams were stifled, reduced to pitiful whimpers. Her forehead was slick with sweat, and her pupils, dilated in terror and pain, made her look even more frightening.
In her final moments of struggle, Akira expertly drove the knife into her heart. Her body stiffened before going limp, devoid of life. Akira stood amidst the blood, coldly observing his handiwork, a flicker of cruel satisfaction passing through his eyes.
Calmly, he withdrew the knife, wiping it clean before tucking it back into his sleeve. He turned and left the warehouse, leaving behind only silence and the stench of blood.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere at the police station grew increasingly tense. Watanabe Makoto stared at the series of red dots on the map in front of him, each marking the location of the city's recent string of murders. Every dot seemed to mock him and his team.
"She's struck again," Watanabe muttered through gritted teeth upon receiving the latest report. He immediately called his team together, quickly outlining a new plan of action.
A young officer handed him a report. "Sir, we found a body near where she was last seen. It's one of her classmates."
"This time, she acted in a blind spot and completely evaded our surveillance," one technician said with frustration as they looked at the computer. "We have no evidence, not even a record of her being there. This Kawashima Megumi is absolutely insane!"
Watanabe slammed his fist on the table, his eyes burning with both fury and helplessness. He knew how dangerous his opponent was—this high school girl was proving far more formidable than he had imagined.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Watanabe ordered, "Increase surveillance, expand the monitored areas, and be ready to act at any moment. We can't let this drag on any longer. Every minute we wait means another innocent life could be lost."
He glanced at the map of crime scenes on the wall, the red markers taunting him. Watanabe knew that the hunt had entered its most dangerous phase, and he had to muster all his strength to bring this deadly girl to justice. After a moment of deep thought, he left the police station, dressed in plain clothes.
In a bustling restaurant, the air was thick with the smell of grease, soy sauce, and fried food. Despite being an ordinary diner, it was clean and well-maintained, with a simple, no-frills menu that gave it a humble, down-to-earth feel. A few customers were eating lunch, the sounds of chewing and clanking utensils mingling with the noise of a busy kitchen.
Watanabe scanned the room and quickly spotted the owner, Takumi, hard at work. Takumi wore an old apron, his hands stained with oil, as he focused on stirring a pan of food. Watanabe approached the counter and tapped on it lightly. Takumi looked up, a hint of confusion in his eyes when he saw Watanabe.
"Hello, I'm Watanabe Makoto, police," Watanabe said calmly, showing his badge. "I need to ask you about Kawashima Megumi."
Takumi's expression froze for a moment before he set down his spatula and stepped out of the kitchen, gesturing for Watanabe to sit. Takumi seemed nervous as he sat across from him, wiping his hands on his apron.
"Officer, I only know a girl named Kawashima Akira. I don't know anyone named Kawashima Megumi," Takumi said, his voice tinged with unease.
Watanabe was taken aback. He pulled out a photo of Kawashima Megumi from his wallet and handed it to Takumi. "Is this the Kawashima Akira you know?"
Takumi glanced at the photo and quickly nodded. "Yes, that's her, but she goes by Kawashima Akira. Officer, has something happened to her?"
Watanabe pressed further, "Don't worry, Mr. Takumi. This is just a routine investigation. I've heard that Kawashima Megumi, or rather Akira, works here. I'd like to know more about her."
Takumi's nervousness eased slightly as he began to talk. "Akira is a good kid. Hardworking, never lazy. I've always been happy with her performance."
Watanabe nodded, continuing in a gentle tone, "Can you tell me more about her? Her personality, how she interacts with others?"
Takumi, now more relaxed, thought for a moment before replying. "Akira is quiet, a bit shy, but very serious about her work. The customers like her too, think she's polite and well-mannered. She never has any conflicts with anyone. Sometimes, when I'm really busy, she even offers to help out more."
Watanabe nodded, his gaze subtly shifting around the room as if searching for clues. "She sounds like a great worker. But outside of work, has she ever done anything unusual, anything that made you question her behavior?"
Takumi hesitated briefly but then shook his head. "No, I've never noticed anything odd about her. … Well, if I had to say, she's a bit too reserved. Officer, has something happened?"
Watanabe didn't answer directly, only asking another question: "What about her schedule? Does she stay late, or has she ever seemed to act strangely?"
Takumi thought for a moment, shaking his head. "No, she always goes home on time. Never acted out of the ordinary. Sometimes she brings her school books and studies when there are no customers."
Watanabe paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing in thought. "So, she's a responsible girl. But she always calls herself 'Kawashima Akira.' Did you ever think that name might be a little off?"
Takumi seemed puzzled. He rubbed his nose thoughtfully before answering. "No, not really. It wasn't until you told me today that I realized her real name was Kawashima Megumi."
Watanabe's eyes narrowed slightly, watching Takumi's face for any signs of deception. "Do you think she might be hiding something? Perhaps she's been in trouble before or has something she doesn't want others to know?"
Takumi's expression grew more complex. He shook his head, clearly thinking deeply, but he eventually replied firmly. "I don't believe Akira has any secrets. She's just an ordinary girl. Maybe that name has special meaning for her, but I don't think she's hiding anything."
Watanabe smiled slightly, probing further. "Perhaps you just don't know her well enough. People can be unpredictable. To be honest, she's a suspect in a series of recent murders."
Takumi's expression shifted slightly, as if he had been affected, but he still shook his head firmly. "No way! I have faith in Akira. She's not the kind of person who would do something bad. She has always behaved normally, never doing anything strange. Every time I was drunk, it was her who stayed by my side, listening to me pour out my troubles."
Watanabe Makoto's eyes flickered with surprise. "Oh? Can you tell me more about that?"
Takumi nodded, recalling that day. "I've got this bad habit, you see. When I get upset, I drink too much, and I was completely out of it that night, rambling on to Akira for half the night. I thought she would find me annoying, but instead, she quietly listened the whole time, even advising me to drink less in the future. I passed out after that, and when I woke up, I found myself at home. Everything around me was tidy and clean. Later, I learned it was Akira who brought me home. She took care of everything, even neatly placing the shoes I had taken off. Although she seems cold on the outside, I can tell she has a very warm heart."
Watanabe stared intently at Takumi's face, searching for a crack in his story, but Takumi's expression remained sincere and resolute. Despite several attempts to probe further, Watanabe could glean no new information. Takumi's trust in Kawashima Akira was clearly heartfelt, and Watanabe couldn't get any more clues from the restaurant owner. Seeing Takumi's honest demeanor, Watanabe even began to question if his suspicion of Akira might be misplaced.