A Letter by The Unknown

by PandaLynx987

Summary:

Before the former Number One, now "Yuma Kokohead" sets off for Kanai Ward, a familiar older man pays his respects for "Yuma's" decision for his resignation and gives him encouragement and advice as he reveals his own true form as a Kitsune.

Meanwhile, a certain masked individual senses that a change is arriving soon in Kanai Ward, concerned for the wellbeing of his people, he sets up a counter strategy of his own.

Both he and "Yuma" are keeping their true selves hidden for the sakes of others, and forget that by wearing the masks for too long can lead to painful consequences.

WARNING: This AU fanfic contains heavy spoilers for "Master Detective Archives: Rain Code" so please don't read this until you complete it in your own time.

A/N: Due to personal issues, this fic would be on an indefinite hiatus. I cannot say when exactly I'll be able to update this fic again, but I really appreciate all the kudos and comments!

Chapter 1: Departure

Summary:

Number One, now under his new identity "Yuma Kokohead", embarks on a journey to Kanai Ward but his body double has some words before he departs. Meanwhile, Makoto Kagutsuchi suffers a from a painful headache.

Notes:

Hello there, it's my first time submitting a fanfic for Rain Code (or a fanfic on AO3 in general) so some feedback and criticisms would be appreciated! I found Rain Code to be a great game and I really enjoyed the characters, especially Yuma and Makoto and this fic series will mainly revolve around them but other characters will have time to shine too.

I'll make more chapters for this introduction piece before moving to the next one, updates to this ficlet collection may be irregular because of school and my on-and-off motivation but I'll do my best to deliver nonetheless. English is also not my first language so I apologize for any grammatical errors. I hope you enjoy!

For as long as he could remember, he always had a strong sense of justice and an even stronger love for humanity. Yet he isolated himself from others and insisted on working alone. This is his fate as a detective, it was a job where his life was constantly veering into dangers that could easily end his journey to seek the truth for everyone’s sake. So much so, he let go of whatever past he had, his old name, his friends and family, as if he vanished from existence. He is well-aware that it was an ironically selfish decision for someone so selfless. But if it ensured the safety of those in what he referred to as his “past life”, he would do it even if it meant suffering a cruel fate. He then thought of the World Detective Organization’s Creed, a principle in life he lived and breathed.

 

“A detective must never overlook a mystery. Any and all truths must be exposed.” He said to himself as he looked through the WDO’s vault. Rummaging through many, many aisles of confidential files and cases, evidence from crime scenes, and especially the ancient books.

 

“A detective must always prioritize solving a case.” He says to no one in particular, as this is common knowledge for all detectives, even by those who aren’t affiliated with the WDO. As he says this, he catches the glimpse of the tome he was looking for. A thick and heavy one, a dark purple cover with a faded golden border. In the middle was an amethyst carved into a circle that serves as an embellishment to the book which also serves to keep the strap in place to prevent anyone from easily opening it. 

 

“Emotions must be discarded to reach a perfect solution through a perfect deduction.” He said at last to finish the creed as he hugs the book to his chest and carefully goes down the ladder he used to reach it. Despite how it looks, the book had a very ominous and unsettling aura, it was the Book of Death after all. Why would a detective such as himself use such a thing? It was for a rather complicated plan – even for his standards – a plan to solve yet another unsolved mystery. This plan took many weeks to prepare for due to the nature of the case as it involved the secret of a very isolated and dangerous place and also the mystery of how many criminals on death row all over the world were kidnapped and taken to said place for currently unknown reasons.

 

Being the detective that he is, he took it upon himself to solve it. Perfectly by himself.

 

Only a handful of people knew of his plan and even less are those who he personally requested to play a role in it. They all seemed to still hold him in high regard, even after his resignation from his title as the WDO’s Top Detective and he thanked them all dearly for it. He is currently talking to the body double who’ll play as him, they looked drastically different from each other. However there was nothing to worry about when so few know your face and the identity attached to that face. His youthful and unassuming appearance won’t make anyone think twice, but his double was a senior member and had a commanding presence expected from the WDO’s leader. They shared a firm handshake as he exchanged a payment.

 

“Thank you for having so much faith in me, ______-sama. Or should I call you the former Number One?” He admittedly got annoyed by how his double used an honorific more so than him actually saying his birth name. But he laughed nonetheless, he only meant well.

 

“I’m not even them anymore. I go by Yuma Kokohead now, the trainee allowed me adopt his name so please, just call me Yuma.” The double gave a slow nod before suddenly patting his head. How bold of him. Not many get the privilege to touch him, or see him for that matter. But he kept his mouth from saying anything more as the older man’s form began to curiously change.

 

In place of human ears, tall pointed fox ears appeared in their place, behind his shades his pupils resembled slits, well trimmed nails grew to become sharp claws and the strangest of all, was the arrival of five long gray fox tails that fanned behind him. The double also gave a small smile, in which sharp canines peeked through. A normal person might have started running in fear or desperately begging for forgiveness, but “Yuma” could only soften his eyes at the sight. 

 

His double was a yokai – a supernatural being or phenomena – that was fond of him enough to reveal a glimpse of his true form. He is no stranger to meeting such entities, even if it contradicted the deeply ingrained human logic that his job entailed. But then again, it was through this same logic that birthed their existence in the first place. “Yuma” internally laughed at the irony, humans in the past were so strange weren’t they? Their deep beliefs have caused them to associate even the minutiae of everyday life to be the gift of some deity or spirit. It is the basis of an actual religion after all.

 

“You do know of the old tales, Yuma-sama? We were once respected and feared for our role, to shepherd them from going astray and make them avoid choices that would lead to their doom.” The yokai said gravely, running a hand through his beard in contemplation. “Humans and their boundless curiosity cause them to search for knowledge and wisdom. Yet some of those very things they search for are not meant for mortal eyes, if these secrets fall into the wrong hands… the world would plunge into chaos once more.”

 

“Yuma” noticed the way the old man’s tails stilled, waiting for a response to this impromptu lecture. “To prevent humanity from either succumbing to madness or stagnation due to having achieved everything too quickly, yokai took it upon themselves to guard these secrets. It was their way of thanking the people who gave them life. The infinite imagination from their creators’ gifted them with magic – The Art of Onmyodo – so to speak.” 

 

His double nodded in approval before casting a small ball of fire in his hands. A fairly common Art of the Kitsune in particular. “Yuma” could only watch silently as the flame started to form into what seemed to be… an envelope, a simple white envelope that could be bought in any stationary shop. He was almost disappointed at the mundane utility of it, but the older looked quite proud of what he had just accomplished. The double walked forward before handing the piece of stationary to him, it was embellished with a red wax seal with the design of a fox holding a stalk of rice in its mouth. The former top detective was suddenly engulfed in feelings of nostalgia upon seeing the seal, but he couldn’t get a grasp on what it was.

 

‘Why does my head suddenly hurt? I feel like I should know what – or possibly who – is on that seal. But I… I couldn’t remember a thing. What on earth is going on?”

 

The pain ceased when the older man placed a hand on his head, almost comforting if it weren't for the way his claws threatened to pierce the skin of his scalp. He was quite used to pain and he is quite certain that he never showed any tells of his current distress, but his double seemed to look right through him as he felt a stony gaze towards his chest, where his heart should be. What was only a few seconds felt like an eternity before the fox above him gave out a jovial laugh, messing up his freshly cut hair. The wrinkled hand in his hair moved to his shoulder as he felt a claw from his other hand over his heart. “Yuma” could only think of one thing: the yokai had just appraised his soul and deemed him worthy.

 

The eyes that were once filled with mirth a moment ago were immediately replaced with deep sorrow. “And then it all went horribly wrong, so terribly wrong. Centuries of peace and harmony were shattered in a second. Perhaps it was the more vexatious of our kind setting the final straw as one prank went too far. Perhaps it was the careless humans who knowingly stepped into sacred territory before destroying our homes and shrines into rubble. No one quite knows for sure.”

 

“Yuma” could only mirror the sadness in the fox’s eyes, his ears were now drooping and his tails sluggishly laid on the ground as he continued. “The gods were angered at the insolence of it all and sent plagues and disease across the earth. It caused famine as it infected the plants and waters, leading to wars over what little resources were left. Though such conquest led to the death of many mortals, not even us yokai were spared from their anger. We could only watch in horror as some were banished away into the Land Down Below, some were forcibly exorcized into nothingness, and some lost everything from disasters.” The old man recounted the lost history, “Yuma” never learned this from any of the books in this vault. There were no winners and any survivors that remained were in such trauma that they tried to bury such knowledge into oblivion. The younger felt his hands clenched in anger at the sheer tragedy of it all.

 

“Yokai couldn’t control what they do, they’re manifestations of unexplained phenomena. It’s the reason why they defy human logic to begin with, why their mindsets and morality are so alien compared to ours.” The fox opened his mouth but there came no reply. No rebuttal.

 

He looked back into his double’s eyes, almost shrouded from the darkness of his shades as he remained speechless. “Humans played a part as well even if they’re aware of it or not. They can be cruel and harm each other for their own gain, even more so in this era where technology is so advanced. We’re now connected with each other than ever before, but at the same time we’ve distanced ourselves through the spread of negativity, maliciousness, and doubt. These emotions then contaminated beings born from thought and belief: yokai.”

 

The detective finally unclenched his pale hands. “But I still believe there is hope for change.”

 

“Whatever do you mean by this change then?”

 

As the former top detective, he would sometimes be called to solve cases of a child being ‘spirited away’ or forcing a spirit to come out of a possessed human. Yet many of the yokai culprits he would communicate with are often psychologically tortured by their own strange behavior. Sadly most don’t  seem to recognize that their actions not only affect others, but even the ones born from their cognition. Yokai aren’t inherently malevolent, this unwritten fact has caused a misunderstanding that has caused a great rift between the harmony between mortals and spirits. A problem that “Yuma” wanted to solve like the many unsolved mysteries in this world.

 

“If yokai are causing more paranormal occurrences due to the negative emotions found in the cognition of society, then why not instill positivity the way we know how?” He spoke confidently, resolute in his dream of universal peace and happiness. “Solving the unsolvable, bringing light to the truth, and providing justice and equality to everyone. Of course, I value the secrets you and your kind are tasked to keep. I won’t even dare break the oath between humans and yokai despite our now strained relationship. I’m only a detective bound to my duty and a dream after all. It may be… idealistic coming from me, but I hope for the day where everyone can smile from the bottom of their hearts. That is the truth I wish to find and treasure.”

 

“Yuma-sama,” He said finally as his clawed hand left his shoulder, the detective returned back to reality. “This may sound like the ramblings of an old man past his prime. Back in my day, people like you were the reason why humanity is still able to progress despite the hardships of life. Keep that ever kind heart of yours no matter what happens. You may not be our leader anymore, but all the detectives of the WDO have learned so much from you. We all respect and see you as ‘Number One’ and I’m deeply honored for you to choose me as your face. Go forth and solve the mysteries of Kanai Ward.”

 

He felt like a child being praised by a grandparent, and he almost let go of the Book of Death out of awe. His double reverts back to his human self before vanishing into the dark underground tunnels of WDO’s building. He may be old but he’s rather good at running away.

 

But before he sets out to prepare for his journey to Kanai Ward, he remembers the letter that his double gave him and makes sure he locks the WDO’s vault behind him. He opens the envelope by removing the wax seal. Funnily enough it smelt like fried tofu, reminding “Yuma” that he was hungry and had to stop himself from unconsciously drooling.

 

To whom it may concern,

I’m sharing this special but also simple technique, should you ever feel a strange presence around you. I’m aware that the supernatural isn’t exactly your strong suit and that it isn’t easy to perform Onmyodo Arts if you’re untrained, so here’s a ritual that requires flexible hands and a brave heart to perform should you ever feel unsafe.

The practice of performing a Fox’s Window is done by holding your hands in front of you and forming them to resemble the shape of a fox’s head before twisting the shape to create a small window in order to see invisible spirits or to distinguish a real person from a fake one -- a yokai. Then recite this incantation three times: “Show your true colors, that is, show me whether you are a yokai or a demon.”, and peer through the window made by your hands. Nowadays, it is treated as a child’s game but then again… games like ‘Bloody Mary’ are also considered as such. So remember this, while it may be ostensibly a child’s game doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be approached with caution.

One more thing, a warning if you will.

Whatever you see through the window, if something that was never there in the first place appears, you must close the window immediately. Should you fail to do this, you may be cursed or even suffer a fate worse than death. Before looking through the window, make sure you want to see what you ‘think’ you want to see. After all…

They say that “Ignorance is bliss”, ______-sama.

 

Best regards,

Senior Master Detective, Espionage Division

Unosuke Owen

 

He was shocked that his double had written his actual name on this letter. A yokai revealing their true name can lead to them being completely at the mercy, especially in the hands of a human or onmyoji – a human with powers of a yokai – with malicious and evil desires. For a Kitsune, a yokai species infamously known either for being sadistic tricksters or aloof servants of Inari, it meant that his double… Owen-san fully trusted and believed in him. If he had any doubts or fears of his plan going awry – granted that they never do, but he can’t help but still be worried. He’d do everything to make sure he’ll reveal the secrets and mysteries of Kanai Ward.

 

…Even if it meant signing his life away to a Shinigami and losing all memories of himself in order for his plan to succeed. He must, no, because he will succeed.

 

---

 

Meanwhile, upon the highest point in Kanai Ward, Makoto Kagutsuchi stares out the window of his penthouse. He wistfully watches the city’s unending downpour behind his mask. There was no loud thunder or bright lightning that illuminated the gloomy sky, only a calm yet almost eerie silence. It was a beautiful sight to see the blur of Kanai Ward’s neon lights. Yet within his heart, Makoto knew that this city was on the verge of internal collapse. He could only sigh to himself in his solitary sorrow.

 

It was tempting. Tempting for him to jump into his pool with all his clothes on for the third (or maybe fourth?) time this week. To wash all pain and sadness away, to melt into a warm, soul soothing bath. But he thinks it would be better if his papers were also waterproof. He found it amusing that the scientists in Amaterasu’s lab have yet to find a good way to waterproof valuable technology and important documents, but he supposed that it was a problem for another day. And speaking of problems…

 

‘Ah yes, him. That detective will be here soon.’

 

“If my prediction is correct, he will be getting here by train in the next few days. He’ll be here… and if he succeeds, Kanai Ward will be no more.” He says to himself as he just realized how pale his hands were from clenching them so tightly, he couldn’t help it. There was a reason why Kanai Ward was isolated from the world. Why he did all that he could to make the United Government turn a blind eye, not as Amaterasu’s CEO but as a man who loved his city.

 

“If only… if only I could understand why it all turned out like this.” He reached for his mask, in both pondering and a deeply buried guilt. For three years, he has done so much for Kanai Ward over those three long years, all by himself.  “If only I wasn’t the only one… if only they could understand that they didn’t choose to be like this… They should never know for their peace and safety. And…!” Makoto felt his breath hitch, he was becoming more emotional as of late, his love for his people is truly a double-edged sword. He feels his mask slipping off.

 

“If only my face wasn’t—” The man didn’t get a chance to finish as he was stricken with an immense pain in his head, like it was breaking open from the inside. He could feel himself shouting and screaming, but he couldn’t hear his own voice or even see what’s going on around him. ‘No one would come’ , his mind supplied even despite the anguish he currently felt, ‘No one would hear you at all. You are all on your own.’

 

That night, the entirety of Kanai Ward heard tortured blood-curdling screams, they didn’t sound human at all. No, no human nor animal can mimic whatever the voice was. None of them would even believe that it did come from their beloved yet mysterious CEO of Amaterasu Corporation. The will-o-wisps that appeared since that night too, the residents thought it was some elaborate prank by a particularly mischievous, or devilish, yokai.

 

But not all things are illusions in Kanai Ward’s unending rain.

Notes:

The Fox's Window is a real thing that you can do with your hands, though I don't really recommend doing it if your hands aren't that flexible or not being a fan of being able to see paranormal stuff. I'll expand on it on the next chapter, but selecting the highlighted word of it in the double's letter will show more information about it.

This series is highly inspired a manga of the same name by @koikoisararira (on Twitter) or sarara (on Pixiv). I highly recommend checking them out so you can have more context to this AU.
Link on Pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/user/21865959/series/195707

(Update as of 7/16/2024: Chapter 4 release! Thank you for reading!)

Chapter 2: Rebirth

Summary:

Upon solving the mystery of the Nail Man, Yuma has been taking nightly visits to the church every so often. While he can't place his reasons for doing so, he meets an unlikely soul that can hopefully tell him about his forgotten past and memories.

Notes:

I wish I can place one of those iconic AO3 author explanations to why this chapter took so long but I can only answer in four words: family obligations and school.

It's been a while since I've posted, but just know that my Rain Code brainrot hasn't dropped one bit and I'd do my best to write and post the next chapter as soon as I could. Thank you for your patience.

Special thanks to Kazin for betareading for me, the suggestions helped me add a lot more to this chapter and your theories help me get inspired to write more. Shoutout to the makoyuma Discord server for the wacky hijinks, the cool theories and headcanons, and especially the infectious joy I receive from being able to interact with them daily.

“Master, you know this is the fourth time this week that we've gone to that creepy ass church.” Shinigami floated around him, clearly distressed by his behavior and his silence is not helping her case. Yuma can see her from the periphery of his vision and she suddenly gasps, pulling a tissue out of nowhere.  "Don't tell me that nun is tempting you to abandon your duty as a detective!"

 

To tell the truth, Yuma didn't know why he was visiting this place again. Lost in thought as he scrambles to pick up the remaining pieces of his empty mind together. His first memory was waking up in that storage room, with the Book of Death and his directives to take the train to Kanai Ward. He remembers those other five – no, four – Master Detectives on that train. He understood their apprehension once he entered as the sixth passenger, and accepted... tolerated the presence of an amnesiac detective with nothing but only his name intact. He also formally met Shinigami on that train, despite hearing her voice since he woke up in the storage room of that station.

 

‘So why... What did they deserve to die the way that they did? Was the secret that the Master Detectives are trying to uncover about Kanai Ward that important? That a hitman of Amaterasu had to be involved to prevent any information leaks?’

 

Yuma had to remind himself to stay alert of his surroundings ever since then. Especially since it looks like Shinigami was about to sucker punch him. Not that it will hurt him but he's already made her impatient from his constant night escapades.

 

“Shinigami-chan, it's not that. I... I don't know how exactly to describe this to you.” He cleared his throat as he walked past the church's antique metal gate, “ever since we found out that the priest was the Nail Man and that the worshipper was a copycat killer, I get this... almost erm, calming feeling? Therapeutic even. It also feels like I'm being pulled here by some force, as if it wants to show me something I missed.”

 

“Master, did you hit your head while you're sleeping? Not that I can tell since I lose my consciousness when you sleep too. Kyahahaha!” He can only laugh awkwardly in response, but at least the death god has cheered up from her distress at their current predicament.

 

The rookie detective offered a silent prayer – he learned it from the nun, who was in a good mood to teach him when he finished her request – looking up at the imposing structure before him. He remembers how off-putting and eerie the church was, especially with the eye-shaped window bars in front of the molten orange glass, watching its visitors with unnerving scrutiny. But recently, his feelings towards the Metal Fox Church have changed, perhaps it may be the naivete that comes with his amnesia.

 

‘Is it... is it connected to my past? My memories?’ Yuma thought as he loitered around. The nun wasn't here to look after the church tonight, she went home earlier to take a break and hoped that the rest will help her broken arm heal sooner. He felt a bit guilty about intruding at such an hour, but Yuma feels like the church has something important to show him. To alleviate the gnawing feeling of loss in his heart, mind and soul.

 

The rookie detective eventually found himself standing in front of a weather worn monument. Some parts of it were chipped off due to the chemicals, causing it to soften and dissolve the rock, he thought as he observed carefully. Yuma turned his head up slightly to look at the centerpiece of the monument, a fox head, the church's symbol.

 

“An otherwise fine atmosphere spoiled by a lame-ass fox. A gargoyle would easily tie the piece together!” Shinigami exclaims as she turns to give an exasperated look. “Master, are you just looking for excuses to not be Fuzzhead's errand boy? Then again, something that wastes your mentor's mysteriful techniques is truly a tragedy!”

 

Then it hit him, technique... that sounds really familiar somehow. Before he left the submarine, checked his short pocket for the dispatch notice that confirmed his identity... as well as a curious letter from someone he didn't recognize, someone from the WDO named Owen. This ‘Owen’ person listed down instructions about technique he should perform once he feels a strange presence around him. It feels odd to listen to the words of someone he knew nothing about besides the name and position from the organization he worked in, but he doesn't have any other options for now.

 

To the best of his ability, he followed the steps in how to form a so-called ‘Fox's Window’ with his hands. It did initially cause some strain, but he managed to get it right while Shinigami silently laughed from his sudden bizarre hand movements. He then lifts his hands so that he can clearly see the fox head through the gap between his fingers.

 

“Show your true colors, that is, show me whether you are a yokai or a demon.” He recites once... twice, and by the third time—

 

Yuma gasped as he saw the fox's head blink, before angling its stony gaze downwards. He didn't think that the 'Fox's Window' would actually work, and he can feel his heart painfully beating in his chest, but he still stood his ground as the head started to laugh before speaking in a drawled voice.

 

“Well well well,” it punctuated each word with hints of amusement and surprise, “Who would've thought that one of Nari's pups would arrive at this gloomy, dreary, and pathetic excuse of a church?”

 

The rookie detective came back here looking for answers, but now he had even more questions. He wanted to look back at Shinigami, who's oddly silent now, but something in his gut told him that looking away from the monument now would lead to... unsavory consequences. Especially now that the fox head is currently looking right through him, piercing through his very being.

 

“...Hang on, you don't recognize me? It's me, Old Gin! You know, a fellow Kitsune that you trapped because of the petty crime of burning down a human village?”

 

Yuma could only weakly shake his head in reply, “It doesn't ring a bell, I'm sorry.” He wanted to comment more on how setting the homes of many people on fire is a ‘petty crime’, but he had more important priorities. “Am I... a familiar presence to you, Old Gin?”  

 

There seems to be a dawning realization as Gin looks next to Yuma before looking back at the detective with a pitiful look in their eyes. “A pact with a shinigami huh? It's already fortunate enough that you've gotten this far, pup. Let me just... call Nari to check in on you, you deserve that much.”

 

As Gin returned to their original immobile state, Yuma's vision faded to black as the last conscious action he did was to clutch his head. In pain? In confusion? In disbelief? He wasn't sure anymore. He doesn't know if Shinigami noticed his present state or if she called out to him as he felt himself falling down – into a deep ever-consuming void. 

 

Seconds become minutes. Minutes become hours. Hours become days. Does time even affect this place? He wished he had an answer.

 

To his surprise, Yuma slowly opened his eyes to find that he wasn't in a pitch-black void. He was greeted with a clear sky blending with a golden yellow horizon. He sat up and felt soft grass around him, unlike the hard rocks molded into the ground. Looking around, it seemed this mysterious plain was endless and he took a hesitant breath of air. He smelled nature all around him, and it filled him with a sense of a strangely emotional nostalgia.

 

But the most curious thing that stood out was this large red torii gate, and past it was a small shrine to place offerings. The shrine's size reminded him of a dollhouse some of the children would plead their parents to buy. There was also a purification fountain near the shrine itself, his mind supplied. The thoughts currently entering his head feel like they don't belong to him but he could only push down the suffocating apprehension he feels and carefully walk towards the shrine. 

 

As he does, he vaguely recalls that he shouldn't walk in the middle of the path and stay on the side as he passes through the gate. He almost feels like a puppet as he does his hardest to purify himself with the fountain. Filling the nearby ladle with fresh water and raising his hands with it. Then he pours water into his cupped hands to rinse his mouth, before spitting the water beside the fountain. It didn't feel right to dry his hands by wiping them on his outfit so he quickly shook off the cool water.

 

As he turns to the shrine – Yuma is surprised by a giggle. It definitely wasn't Shinigami's but it sounded like someone he vaguely remembers in the deepest crevice of his memories. Then he notices the faded text on the bottom of the shrine, as it reads:

 

稲荷大神

(Inari Okami)

 

The owner of the giggle suddenly appears, as a large white fox – almost as large as a wolf -- jumps from the top of the torii gate and soundlessly lands on the dirt ground. Flowers and plants grow from underneath the fox's paws as it sits in front of the detective. Eight extra tails also manifest behind it with the fox's face gaining intricate red markings. There wasn't any doubt about it, he was face-to-face with a very powerful deity and he kneels in front of them. “So you were the pup sent here by Old Gin.” The fox – Inari – seemed happy to see him as their tails wagged at his presence. Yuma returned a polite smile in kind despite his nervousness.

 

"Inari-sama," he believes the honorific cannot capture the deity's importance but continues, “I suppose the fact Old Gin summoned me here means that there's something I must know. I haven't been in Kanai Ward for long, and I don't even know much about myself for far longer. It might be incredibly rude for me, an empty shell, to ask a request from you, but could you tell me about my past and my lost memories?”

 

The deity's silence was deafening and after what seemed to be an eternity, Inari opened their eyes. Their carmine eyes also share the same piercing gaze similar to the stony Gin as they cleared their throat to return another question: “Do you really want to know, pup?”

 

He nods with desperation and clutches his hands in prayer. “This is the only thing I will ask from you. So... please help me.”

 

Inari stands up and guides the detective towards the fountain, he was anxious why the deity can't simply say the truth aloud. It reminded him of the way Shinigami would react when he first asked her about Coalescence, where it seemed like she intentionally avoided speaking about the specifics of its power. While Inari so far is using a silent approach, perhaps deities and spirits have some unspoken rule about telling the truth to mortals.

 

Yuma stopped to look into the fountain, he found the sight more unbelievable than the fact that he currently has a pact with a death god and that he's asking a favor from an important deity. 

 

Instead of normal pupils, the ones that appeared in the water were slit, just like Inari's. The fox bit the rim of the hat and tugged it off his head to reveal large triangular ears that share the same lilac hue of his hair. He curiously reached behind him, feeling something soft and bushy and used his fingers to find where his spine would connect to this new appendage, a lilac tail with a white tip at the end. The wolf-sized fox beside him watched him intently.

 

“I'm... not human.” It now dawns upon him when he realizes why Gin and Inari would refer to him as a ‘pup’. The initial confusion turns into a sense of relief as he comes a hand through his hair and he feels his ears, he also takes note that his human ears are missing to accommodate the change. Relief then turns to wonder, he feels a warm feeling under his skin, he lifts up a finger to manifest a small blue flame and then outstretches a palm to manifest an even bigger flame. Yuma knew that it isn't exactly a normal reaction to recognize the fact that he's not a regular human as he thought he would be, but his experiences so far aren't exactly one would describe as normal either.

 

“Welcome back, pup. It's been a decade or two since you last saw the likes of this great one, but you are One's personally chosen Messengers.” Inari squinted as they lifted their head high, a sign of the deity's arrogance, Yuma thought. “Or should one say... rookie detective Yuma Kokohead, or whatever name you go by these days.”

 

Somehow, he wasn't surprised by the fox's almost dismissive latter comment. If anything it reminded him of the way Shinigami would act around him or other people and provided an odd sense of comfort. He looks at his reflection in the fountain once more, to find that his yokai features have been replaced by his everyday human self.

 

“Please, just Yuma is fine. And um, could you please answer me about who I once was and the memories I had... prior to my pact I mean.” He wanted to have high hopes for the information Inari would give him, any little detail would give peace to the heart restlessly beating in his chest. The fox seemed to see through him as they raised a clawed finger, feeling its sharpness through his uniform.

 

“...You were left behind by those who ought to protect you. They've mistaken one's blessing for a curse and paid the price for it, a shame for the unfaithful. A priestess from one's shrine took you in and raised you as her own, her pure soul recognized your potential.” Yuma felt Inari's anger rise from the claw almost piercing cotton and flesh, the truth of his past seemed to affect them more than him. “She sacrificed her life to protect you but all was naught as evildoers took you from one's domain, stealing your true identity along with it. Yet your soul was still intact despite all that, no horror from the human or spirit world can make its flame waver, something not even a god can grant. Determination.”

 

After that was a silence, where the sheer tension between deity and servant was thick enough to be cut by a blade. Inari lowered their finger and calmed down as Yuma hesitantly reached out to pat their head, to soothe their anger from the past he had. 

 

“I'm deeply sorry for causing you pain, I was selfish for—” Yuma stopped as the fox looked at him, carmine eyes now glassy with unshed tears.

 

“One is aware about the pact you've made with your current partner,” the deity said as their nine tails laid motionless on the ground. “It's only reasonable for a pup to be curious about the past and their memories. One has simply overreacted a little, as One is... afraid of losing One’s kin again, even as a kami, as One’s powers cannot return what was lost.”

 

The detective lets go of their head as Inari's eyes close once more. They quickly go behind the shrine and come back carrying a piece of red cloth with a small sleigh bell attached, which Yuma recognized as one of the red bibs worn by those who serve the deity. As he carefully takes the bib from their mouth, he thinks of an idea. Instead of wearing the bib around his neck, he twists the cloth and turns it into a makeshift cloth band around his wrist and ties it in a fairly strong knot as he is sure there's space for the blood in his veins to flow. Thankfully, the benefactor doesn't take offense to this and chortles.

 

“One’s favorite color is red. So full of boldness, passion, and vitality isn’t it?” Inari’s tails swayed in lighthearted glee and as they did Yuma noticed some glittering golden embroidery on the bib that reads “家内安全” (kanai anzen), meaning ‘please keep my family safe’. He remembers this type of omamori found inside certain gift shops; these amulets were made to ward away evil and invite good luck. However unlike how these amulets have to be disposed of after a year, the precious cloth can be worn all year round as long as it is well maintained. The fact that the deity basically gave him an everlasting protection against the world’s evils despite the fact he was barely able to recognize them from the text on the shrine… the detective could tear up from the sheer joy he felt from their heartwarming gift.

 

“I do want to wear it normally, Inari-sama. But I know a few people who would make fun of my appearance and the gift combined.” He sighs as he could imagine the jokes Shinigami would say to him if he returns to reality with the bib around his neck. The deity simply nods approvingly.

 

“You're free to come back here whenever you sleep or want to be at peace for a while. Time flows slowly in the plane between the living and spirit realms, so if you need time to think, One simply awaits you here.” The fox guides him towards the torii gate, the jingling bell makes a calming ring when he follows them to the exit. “You are One's Messenger, in other words, you're protected by the world's evils and capable of bringing fortune and happiness to others thanks to one's power. One may not be able to directly interact with the living realm due to the duties that tie One's presence here, but One hopes the power granted to you will help in your endeavors, pup.”

 

“Oh, One has almost forgotten! Remember to not reveal your true identity to any living human. You should only use One's blessing when necessary.” After mentally jotting that reminder, Yuma waves them goodbye and he steps outside of the gate. As he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a very concerned Shinigami and reality sets in as he takes in the view of the Metal Fox Church and the worn down statue of Old Gin. The death god is flying haphazardly in the air around him and is talking at lightning speed about how he was unresponsive for several minutes, almost as if his soul was ripped from his body. He checks for the red cloth around his wrist and shakes his arm to show it to Shinigami, who's only response is a baffled jaw drop from both the new accessory and his calmness towards the whole thing.

 

“Don't worry Shinigami-chan, I'm just fine. I'll explain everything once we get back to the agency. Okay?” She looks like she was about to go on another tangent about her Master's behavior, but she surprisingly only pouts as the both of them walk a  scenic route back home. 

 

“Make me worry like that again Master, and might just actually kill you for real.” Yuma didn't say anything to her murmuring but the bell on his wrist only rings in response, creating a charming tune.

 

---

 

Somewhere on along Ginma District, a certain masked man is travelling aimlessly as well-off citizens are bidding their companions goodbyes as they briskly get to their homes. The sound of wet footsteps interrupted by occasional beeping from cars as traffic gets heavier at this late hour. He can't forget the almost blinding lights from sturdy lamp posts, dronebrellas and even some of the district's statues.

 

Even in the simplest things, Makoto enjoys watching the daily lives of his people in Kanai Ward. It may not be perfect, with how the Peacekeepers' harsh regimes under Yomi's command run things, but everything's fine. Well, it would be if he can properly stop Yomi's plans of selling homunculi information to the outside world. However, if everything would go as he had planned... 

 

“Then the great Yomi, with all of his demonic might, will have his powers stripped away,” he mused to himself. Unlike the general population of yokai living among humans, the Director of the Peacekeepers boasts his status as an Oni, even showing off the single horn sprouting from his forehead and unbelievable strength to scare others to do his bidding. As much as he doesn't want to resort to directly subduing the hot-blooded Oni, he'd do it as a last resort. If anything, he wouldn't add Yomi to his plans if all he cared about was getting the CEO position from him... but he just had to get involved with Dr. Huesca too.

 

Underneath his mask, no one could see the irritated glare in his eyes. He thought that walking around town would help him get rid of the stress from the constant plotting now that his original was here, but he had made the unfortunate mistake of reminding himself about Yomi's actions. He'll have to reflect on this later as he sinks into the warmth of his hot tub, reading poetry to soothe himself better.

 

Just as he was about to head back to Kanai Tower to wash his worries away, he sees himself in the window of one of the boutiques that closed for the night. Long pale blonde hair, permanently damaged from the amount of times he dyed it. His bright purple suit and blue tie, a far more esteemed look from the bleak days of wearing that dull suffocating uniform. Pale but soft skin, free from the physical scars of his former self that'll always be youthful with the passage of time. And his polished platform shoes, which can at least gain a slight height advantage over his original (and feel more positive about at least being 5 feet tall).

 

Yes, he's his own person now. Free from the shackles of the UG and established himself as Amaterasu's CEO. One well-thought out deal with his former predecessor and several design options came with the creation of the perpetual rain machine, at the cost of Kanai Ward becoming its own isolated and autonomous zone. The masked man recalled all his achievements so far when he noticed something strange, even by Kanai Ward's standards.

 

“The rain is... falling towards the sky,” it was almost as if time was becoming distorted. He looked upwards to observe the gloomy rain clouds, they're still densely packed together to block the sun's rays so it wasn't a problem with the rain machine. He also couldn't recall anything from Amaterasu's lab facilities that can create this sort of effect on the rain, so the only possible solution is supernatural phenomena.

 

‘But who or what is causing it?’

 

Makoto took in the rare sight, as nothing in his current memories can compare with this unique control over the rain. He is aware of some anecdotes of deities or spirits controlling water in some shape or form but not quite like this. No one else seemed to notice the rain dropping towards the sky, the droplets on windows are also making attempts to ascend. It was... simply fascinating.

 

However, like all good things, the reversed rain also ended. It was all falling and spreading into the damp paths of Kanai Ward by the time he reached his penthouse. He almost felt disappointed, he could almost wish that the moment could last for longer, he counted the whole thing lasted for at least seven minutes.

 

Out of habit, he tried to feel for any soaked parts in his clothes. Even as a homunculus, he can get sick if he isn't careful with his health. He was just as surprised to find out that his clothes are in pristine condition, not a single bit soaked by the cool rain. However, as he prepared to change into his night wear, he felt that sharp headache once more as he tried to get rid of his mask.

 

The excruciating pain almost made him pass out, were his masks cursed somehow? That would make for a good cover story on why he always wore them but he'd much rather shove his face in a soft pillow now. Too much stress will only make it worse and stop him from enjoying everyday life, and reminisce about a time before he ended up in the WDO... before waking up in that lab and–

 

No, don't even think about that anymore. Makoto scolded himself as he yanked the mask off in one fell swoop, feeling his consciousness ebb and flow. “...Why can't I... remember,” his body collapses on the bed, his eyes closed, his breath stills…

 

“My... in… no… cence.”

Notes:

Don't worry everyone, the Makoto & Yuma tag isn't there for nothing. They'll be able to interact from the next chapter onwards, I don't know when the next update will be but every view and kudos I get fuels me with serotonin and motivation.

Please feel free to add any comments or give constructive criticism, writing is only a hobby for me but I'd like to improve myself for my current and future readers to enjoy my work. Also don't be shy to share your theories and questions, it also helps me brainstorm for my fic more. Thank you for reading!

This series is highly inspired a manga of the same name by @koikoisararira (on Twitter) or sarara (on Pixiv). I highly recommend checking them out so you can have more context to this AU.
Link on Pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/user/21865959/series/195707

Chapter 3: Encounter

Summary:

A week passes by since the incident of the reversing rain. Makoto is left in a state of stasis, with no signs of his original running out and about in Kanai Ward's streets. But while resting on one of his walks, a certain informant wakes him from his boredom. But what he didn't know that he was to encounter a dispirited soul... and his own 'reflection' as the rain ascends once more.

Notes:

Surprise! I did try my best to make this chapter as fast as I could, but I honestly thought this chapter ended up better than I thought it would. And yes, I did plan for this AU to have some canon divergence from the very beginning. But even I don't know how much it'll change from the original game, so stay tuned!

I *could* try to get a more regular posting schedule with more shorter chapters, but pressuring myself to write constantly will only lessen the quality of my fic. Thank you for your patience and for giving my AU a chance.

Special thanks to Kazin for betareading, to Bright for betareading and providing a tumblr post to what honorifics each character uses, to Draconic and Elina for inspiring me, and to you for reading this little passion project of mine!

Notable Tag(s) for this chapter: Injury, Implied/Referenced Torture, and depictions of Trauma

About a week has passed since Yuma rediscovered his true identity as a Kitsune, and while most of the physical aspects of that change were hidden – no one in the Nocturnal Detective Agency had seemed to notice. But he couldn't rule out the possibility that they're just not telling him that they did. On the topic of his coworkers, Desuhiko and Fubuki are quite open about their nature. In hindsight, it wasn't a surprise that the aspiring superstar capable of disguising himself is a mischievous Tanuki... but learning about Fubuki's was a genuine surprise (even after going through multiple types of reptilian yokai for her to remember the answer).

 

“Yes, I finally remember now!” Yuma could practically see the bulb light up from her cheery expression. “I am a Ryuujin. One that could control the waters of crime!”

 

“It's supposed to be ‘time’, Princess. And uh, not to be that guy, but I'm pretty sure your horns, antlers or whatever would give that away.” Said Desuhiko, exasperated from the mental gymnastics both he and Yuma had to pull to get to that conclusion. “But then again, I guess there are other yokai that have horns... but dragon horns should be quite obvious, emphasis on the ‘should’. Am I right, rookie?”

 

The rookie in question observed Fubuki's head, now free from the cat-eared beanie she would wear to hide her ivory-white horns. Their shape reminded him of deer antlers, the only difference being that they're miniature in size. The points are covered with a sort of rubber, in order to not pierce through the beanie's wool. In contrast, Desuhiko's rounded ears are hidden in his wild blonde hair, and he has no difficulty hiding his tail through a slit in the back of his pants and a hidden pocket in his backpack.

 

Subconsciously, he was upset by the fact that all of the NDA members – excluding Yakou, who confirmed everyone's status being full-yokai or part-yokai, and himself due to Inari's blessing – have to hide their true identities in public. Through clothes, shapeshifting, and in severe cases, mutilation or having their own powers exorcized out of them by force. He took a deep breath to feel calmness replace the initial disgust and anger he felt from that insane concept.

 

“You know better than anyone that your identity as a yokai should be kept as confidential as possible,” Came a cold retort from Halara, who was reading the newspaper from the chief's desk. “Same goes with the power separate from your Forte. Using your Arts, or rather magic, is only used during emergencies. If you need to use it to get rid of the discomfort that comes with too much Arts buildup, do so in a place devoid of others to avoid being seen and causing further harm. Make sure you don't overdo it either to avoid excessive exhaustion to the point of collapse.”

 

Yuma knew that despite their professionalism and cynical attitude – especially towards humans – Halara's words are coming from a point of concern. “I-I’m sure Desuhiko-san didn't mean for his remark to come out that way. Sure, he can blurt out some... concerning words at times, but I'm sure he meant that Fubuki-san's horns should be more obvious because Ryuujin are powerful yokai and she should be proud of them.”

 

The rookie didn't miss a glimpse of... what seemed to be the sway of a serpentine tail under their coat and the rhythmic tap of sharp nails on the chief's desk. While he couldn't tell what sort of yokai the ace of their agency was, Yuma gave a small smile. Halara seemed to be pleased with his answer as they went back to reading the newspaper.

 

“Don't hide it Master, I know your tail is wagging a mile per minute from any little bit of praise you get. Kyahahaha!” 

 

As Shinigami circled around his head, he felt Desuhiko at his side who was both thankful, and offended for describing his pick-up lines as ‘concerning’. But he was thankful nonetheless for the save. Meanwhile, Fubuki was marveling at the almond she tasted in her chocolate, thinking that she didn't think golden ingots in sweets would taste that good (before the Tanuki would angrily correct her ‘head in the clouds’ way of thinking). He felt at ease despite the heavy duty that came with solving Kanai Ward's mystery. Regardless of the fact he's only known everyone for about a few weeks by now... the Nocturnal Detective Agency felt like home. Safe, warm, and cozy; even under the chilling river water.

 

Speaking of chilling, he felt a sudden shiver in his spine that moved to his shoulder and then his head. He felt really bewildered by this strange sensation but he didn't feel like he was in any danger. He has heard that the sudden feeling of coldness meant that a spirit was close by. He recalls each time Shinigami would touch him in the real world. He didn't feel a thing unless she would forcefully drag him around with the invisible chain that came with their pact. Nor did any physical interaction they had in the Mystery Labyrinth feel any different from a person touching him in the real world.

 

‘So then... could it be?’

 

A feeling in his gut made him cast a glance towards a certain dweller in the fireplace. Among those in the agency, Vivia is the only person Yuma couldn't sense any power from. Especially notable considering Yakou's words when he first introduced him to everyone was–

 

“Human or not, any detective is welcome in our agency. Actually, I'm pretty sure you and I are the only humans here, Yuma. Glad to know that you and I are in the same boat, or submarine for that matter.” Yakou's words echoed in his head, the older man was trying to go for a carefree mood from his words but he felt hints of bitterness as he tried to laugh it off. In part due to the problems happening throughout Kanai Ward, and in part because he had no Forte to speak of. At the time, none of the other NDA members showed their true nature, but it was made clear when he double-checked to see that Yuma was human by using that very same technique Owen taught him in the letter.

 

The Fox's Window. 

 

No one is looking at him at the moment as Shinigami floated off to take a peek at the newspaper Halara was reading, so he could quickly use the technique on Vivia if he wanted. Admittedly, he was very curious as to what kind of yokai Vivia could possibly be. He remembered the few times he would get out of the fireplace (wondering how the man could fit in there when he's over twice Yuma's own height), he couldn't glean anything from his physical appearance or by spiritual energy. He definitely believed the bookworm had something supernatural about him; whether it was his Forte, his true identity or even both... it seemed to be a mystery to be answered for another day.

 

He felt the chill upon his head again, and then his cheek. He felt like he was being teased somehow. Yuma could only sigh in annoyance as he stared at Vivia's sleeping form with his back turned away from everyone else as they chatter away.

 

What the young Kitsune didn't notice was the almost imperceptible smile on the other's torpid state. Vivia would later tell the others he had ‘a good dream’ but he kept quiet as to not tell anyone the truth. For now, it was something only known to him and if Yuma ever found out, that was for him to process and come to terms with on his own.

 

---

 

Beneath his mask, Makoto tentatively looked around the streets of Kamasaki District. His eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted on the lookout for a certain newcomer in his home turf. Unlike most occasions, he was wearing a dark blue raincoat with thick black boots – a stark contrast to the bright purple suit and pants ensemble he preferred. While most would think he would simply be a resident from somewhere in Ginma, this particular escapade required him to blend into the crowd. 

 

His current target was out of sight so he allowed himself to take a deep breath and recollect his thoughts. Makoto could feel the coolness of the rain against his pale skin... yet as he pulled his hood lower, he couldn't feel the droplets soaking his hair. His hands were getting clammy out of his own sweat, whatever is happening to his body is clearly another anomaly to what one would consider to be real. 

 

‘An anomaly, an impossibility, a defect in the laws of nature,’ Makoto felt his throat constrict at the revelation and he quickly shakes the thought away, like one would do after a shower. ‘Stop that. That would only make you unable to face yourself later for everything you've done to keep the peace. Get a hold of yourself, just imagine him as a piece of rotting, fetid–’

 

“Excuse me, do you know where the Nocturnal Detective Agency is? I'm looking for someone who could... help me with a personal problem.” He could only mumble the word ‘flesh’ as his thoughts were interrupted by a young inquisitive voice from above him. In front of him was a gray-haired Aetheria Academy student with big baby blue eyes. 

 

“Um... are you okay? I couldn't really tell from the... unique mask you wear.” She seemed to realize the connotation of the word she used and her face appeared to be tickled pink in embarrassment. “Oh, unique in a good way I mean! It reminds me of those masks you buy in summer festivals, but with a vibe that fits Halloween as well!”

 

Makoto couldn't help but chuckle at her words. It may be an awkward attempt to compliment him, but she just stopped him from spiraling into darker thoughts he'd rather ignore for the time being. “My apologies, I was wondering where my,” he paused to find a more natural substitute, “my dear friend was. He's running a bit late you see, so I was getting a bit worried. He doesn't go outside that often so he gets lost quite easily, it's... quite frustrating.”

 

The girl looked relieved to hear his response and took a quick glance at the hotel's neon sign. “Is that why you're waiting by the hotel? Since the hotel's an important landmark he wouldn't miss?” Makoto nodded at the educated guess. It was an ultimately incorrect assumption, but he was the one who started the lie in the first place so he has to keep up the story for now.

 

“Correct, you've got quite a good head on your shoulders. Miss...?” He already knew her name, he memorized the names of all of Kanai Ward's citizens by heart. But the last thing he wants is to scare her away, in hopes of finding... him in person.

 

“Kurumi. Kurumi Wendy, but just Kurumi would be alright!” Came the chipper reply.

 

“A nice name for a charming young lady,” he silenced the snicker that almost escaped his lips as he glanced at the girl's flustered expression. He would love to come down onto his city's streets more often and chat with the locals, his people, more but he knew that both of them had more pressing matters. “I never went to that place myself but rumors say that the agency, its remnants that is, lies somewhere around those sewers. It's best if you watch your step, it can get pretty slippery down there.”

 

Kurumi followed the gesture of his hand towards the staircase that led to the grimy underground. Makoto felt his face relax to an amused grin as he can practically see her mentally jotting the information into her brain. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement as she thanked him over and over before disappearing into the gleaming streets. He waved back as he felt the need to adjust his mask – the grin contorting to a smug smile as he did.

 

Makoto couldn't believe his luck. Having a chance meeting with the only informant in Kanai Ward is one thing, but said informant is interested in his target's location as well? His smile grew painfully wide from the pure unadulterated glee he felt. He unconsciously lifts his hand to his face in thought, the rings clinking as his fingers rub against them. If the cards are played right, they would be meeting soon – sooner than expected actually. The subtle manipulation he performed on Kurumi was only impromptu, but he had a feeling that the girl would be able to lead his original right where he wanted him.

 

“Hmmm, perhaps he would need a little ‘motivation’ to move forward. He might have to thank me later for guiding him towards the mysteries he seeks. I sure hope you're happy now,” his mouth twitched as he spouted venom from his words. “Foolish human.”

 

…

 

Makoto faintly heard a small cracking noise as he left to wander around Kanai Ward's other districts. It's been happening more often as of late – whenever he thinks deeply about the safety of his people or about the presence of his original – his masks seem to break on their own accord. He knew that despite their lightness and simple design, they were quite durable and they didn't restrict his vision or his breathing. He remembered that one time, Yomi tried to break his masks while he was away from his penthouse. The next day, he would find the Oni wearing surgical gloves and the pungent smell of smoke while the masks remained in pristine condition while muttering something about the masks being ‘cursed’.

 

As far as Makoto knew, he is incapable of using any sort of Onmyodo Art as he was neither a yokai nor did he have the rare blood of an onmyoji in his veins. As much as he'd love to put down a few theories as to how that could have happened, he had a more pressing issue.

 

Speaking of the young director of the Peacekeepers, he should be expecting another assassination attempt this week. Makoto wondered if he or his men would toss him somewhere else if he's successful; the rivers and the rural village had started to feel like second homes in the past three years of being Amaterasu's CEO. It's almost flattering how determined Yomi is to take him down. He is quite aware of how messed up it is to enjoy getting killed by someone who hates you so much. But leaving the waking world for a solid twenty-four hours does provide some relief to his weary mind and heart. In his musings, he hears a strangled cry of a man and the sound of mocking laughter as he passes by the pathway to the Metal Fox Church.

 

He normally would have turned a blind eye, he may be Amaterasu’s CEO but he has no chance going against the Peacekeepers by himself, but then he remembered something.

 

A member of the Investigation Team had gone AWOL after the latest Nail Man case with rumors about bribery between the clergy roaming about. Makoto felt a deep pit in his stomach, he still isn’t entirely certain about his original’s whereabouts even with Kurumi’s sudden appearance and he could easily miss his chance to see him in the flesh. But if his suspicions were true, then Yomi must have crossed paths with his original and a scapegoat is taking the fall despite merely following orders. So with a quick twist of his heel, he went sprinting towards the church as he could hear the pained cries turn into hushed whispers in the downpour.

 

By the time he got there, Makoto feigned a leisurely stroll as he sauntered towards the repugnant sight.

 

Here lies Seth Burroughs without his poncho, neon pink streaks of blood from his head further staining his dirt-smeared uniform. The lanky man was curled into a ball, struggling to breath from what seems to be an iron muzzle attached covering his mouth as it enclosed his head, a worn-out collar also clamped around his throat as it was connected to a rusty metal chain being held by one of the assailants. There was also some blood on the old monolith statue of the church. Judging from the damage there was a good chance that Seth could be suffering from a concussion. He could also view some specks of bruising under his visible eye, monocle forgotten and possibly destroyed. 

 

It was both a miracle and a curse that the section chief was still conscious, his swollen eye widening as he caught a glimpse of Makoto’s mask. Seth was a man of a few words, and even less without his signature megaphone. He didn’t beg for help or mercy as a Peacekeeper stomped on his shoulder and another yanked on the chain. There were five assailants and none of them were Yomi it seemed, however he inferred that it was under Yomi’s orders that the high-ranking Peacekeeper was to be beaten and humiliated for being the assumed culprit behind the bribes. He was about to call everyone’s attention until another assailant brutally kicks Seth in the stomach, causing him to cough out blood.

 

Not just neon pink blood, but pitch black fluid that emitted a dark aura. 

 

Seth withheld a yelp as he tried to adjust himself into a sitting position as he rested his back on the statue. The warm light from the church illuminated the battered man’s features as one Peacekeeper unceremoniously unclasped the muzzle to reveal the section chief’s mouth. Curled into a fierce snarl, it was dribbling in a concoction of saliva, blood and the unknown fluid. In place of human ears, he had folded dog ears that blended into his messy hair and what laid in-between his legs was a short dog tail that simply laid lethargically like its owner.

 

Makoto was speechless as Seth refused to look at him or his assailants, the former recognized this look: one where they are completely resigned to their fate, not even having the strength to call out a final plea or prayer to some unnamed deity for mercy. Gone was the determined gaze and what laid before him was one that lost all hope to live. The masked man clenched his fists in silent fury.

 

“You have ten seconds to leave,” He managed to voice out a calm tone, but it did nothing to hide the anger beneath it. “Leave this place or there would be consequences. I don’t care if Yomi Hellsmile gave you orders. Actually, might it be a good chance to send a volunteer for Dr. Huesca’s new weapon? Or that ‘high-performance presser’ that the director mentioned in passing? Go on, take your pick.”

 

He didn’t bat an eye as most of the Peacekeepers started moving when he started counting. Makoto wasn’t a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve – not that they could see his face for that matter, an inconsequential detail – a message that they received loud and clear. Well, except for one who attempted to tackle him as the masked man simply took a brisk side step to his left. The rowdy Peacekeeper tripped over a rock, before awkwardly getting up and following his peers in shame. He ignored them as he slowly approached Seth and crouched down, observing the other’s injuries and empty expression.

 

Makoto wordlessly outstretched his hand to Seth. The latter’s face went through various degrees of confusion and fear, before setting on a face that was the definition of ‘conflicted’. He wasn’t surprised given their positions and the efforts Yomi made to actively put his underlings against him – most likely through various acts of slander or defamation. He remembered the days where Seth would sneer at him or show his fangs towards him, but oddly enough they felt forced. They lacked the real hate or distain his boss had for him. As if Seth was trying to find a deeper reason as to why Makoto should be hated. Even now, as his arms are beaten black and blue, he slowly reaches out. He seemed to be unaware of what he was doing, he quickly pulled his hand back as their fingers almost brushed. Consternation etched onto his mien.

 

“I won’t tell this to anyone, least of all to Yomi-kun.” Makoto gestured with his hand, trying to convince the other to take it. “I’d say secrets are my specialty, just like your love of horticulture! I’m planning to grow some of my own but I could use help from an expert.” He would have to be blind to miss the way Seth gave a subdued smile before hesitantly taking his hand.

 

The masked man wasted no time getting rid of the muzzle. Seth was unconsciously letting out small dog-like whines as he supported him with his shoulder. Not once did Makoto ask about what happened. He made a mental note to himself to give proper punishment to those men for their felony, it was the least he could do. No one else could stop him.

 

…

 

It was fairly difficult taking Seth to his penthouse in Kanai Tower due to their height difference but it mattered none when the lanky man all but collapsed on his bed. Makoto knew that the other hated being seen as weak. He fought hard to achieve his spot within the Peacekeepers’ rankings and never complained about the abuse he received from Yomi and his men.

 

He took a careful look over the other’s features as he took off his boots and placed a pillow under his head. Seth had what seemed to be a birthmark on his neck – its appearance not unlike the clean cut of a decapitated head – the reddish discoloration further emphasized the imagery, much to Makoto’s displeasure. He then recalled Seth’s folded ears and tail, the former barely poking out of his dark locks. Everything was starting to make sense now.

 

“Never would have thought I would meet an Inugami of all yokai in this city.” Makoto mused, peering over the man’s unconscious form. “No wonder why you were always so quiet when he was around. Anyone would break eventually under the director’s rules, I suppose that is the reason why you bit him so hard that his bones broke and his blood is in your mouth.” 

 

‘Getting demonic blood on your skin is one thing, but having it in your internal organs is another. Thankfully, he was able to expel it through vomit in the bathroom. I could just replace and disinfect the toilet and pipes if they get corroded anyhow.’ Makoto felt like his thoughts now have a mind of their own. He couldn’t recall the last time he felt so emotionally invested. Seeing Seth like that triggered such deep fear and anger in him that he could almost touch it. But there wasn’t time to lose. He doesn’t know much besides basic first aid, and the injuries Seth sustained could permanently damage his body.

 

Makoto quickly found the phonebook he kept in a cabinet, but glancing upon the names and numbers of the available hospitals and clinics made him feel ill. That innate fear that he repressed for so long is coming back to haunt him again. He couldn’t do it, he felt those combinations of letters and numbers were threatening him about the nature of his very existence. 

 

Luckily, his mind came up with an alternative. Earlier, Seth was at least coherent enough to understand what he was saying. He also tested his vision by asking how many fingers he held up – Seth answered correctly with four – before he passed out. So he quickly took a pen and sticky note, writing down the numbers and names of nearest doctors. Stopping just before he could feel the bile climb up to his throat. It meant that he would momentarily leave the security of his penthouse to a yokai that could easily betray him. Homever, he could guess the last thing Seth would want is to lose what could be his only safe place from Yomi. Either way, he only hoped that whatever decision the yokai would make would be the correct one.

 

Good morning or evening!

Hopefully you received enough rest and you’re able to read this by the time you get up. I have left some phone numbers that you can call for additional medical treatments. Just tell whoever comes by that I will be paying. No need to worry, your secret’s safe with me.

P.S. - Please tell the person helping you to leave before midnight (it’s one of the few rules I have, please respect it). Make sure to follow their advice so you can heal from your injuries much faster.

M. Kagutsuchi

 

He finishes the note with his signature and a drawing of his mask to go alongside it. He makes sure to stick the note in a place Seth could see easily when he wakes up, so he leaves it on top of the cabinet that was next to the bed. Makoto hears the yokai behind him mumble in his sleep, something about what happened at the church. After that came a slurred flood of countless apologies. He’d love to offer a prayer for Seth to have a faster recovery, but now it seemed to be a joke of poor taste at this point. So without a word, Makoto leaves the room and shuts the door.

 

But what greeted him outside his window was a startling sight.

 

“The rain… is ascending again,” Makoto gaped behind his mask but he quickly shook his head to focus on something much more important. “Looks like I won’t be able to come back by midnight after all. I think it's time I should give him a warm welcome!”

 

---

 

Solving the case behind the Amaterasu Express Massacre or the deaths caused by the Nail Man is one thing. But solving a murder case that happened in real time is another, especially with several witnesses that watched the crime unfold before their very eyes. Though he had to admit, Inari’s advice kept him a lot more focused and attentive to his surroundings. Even inside the mystery labyrinth, Inari made sure to keep his eyes on the prize – the culprits behind Karen’s death. He wasn’t surprised by the banter between Shinigami and Desuhiko but they can be… quite overwhelming as time passed. He felt his body fill up with relief knowing that Desuhiko won’t know what happened. Along with the fact he has the proverbial shoulder angel and devil in the forms of two deities guiding him.

 

“How kind of you, pup. It’s only natural to keep one of One’s own in check. Unlike a certain… chaotic upstart.” Yuma noted the difference in tone when Inari speaks their thoughts directly into his mind. He was reminded of the way Jiei Colan came to visit the agency to thank him with Kei in his arms – with much less of the pride that came from a divine being. But it immediately changed when they inferred to Shinigami, pointed and harsh.

 

“Master, don’t listen to that overgrown furball! They’re leading you astray and taking you away from the most adorable, puffy, and best partner-in-crime you could ever wish for!” Yuma could only gape his mouth in disbelief. It was common sense that calling a deity that has been around for millennia an insult like that is incredibly offensive. Even taking into account Shinigami's personality, it was still very much uncalled for.

 

“Pay no attention to the snake’s feet, Yuma. That is to say, don’t pay attention to what is unnecessary. She is only two-hundred years old so One is not surprised by her behavior, One could only wonder what Iza-senpai sees in her. Well, it’s a common sight for those who come from the Land Down Below and are under her management. One is just thankful she got One's pronouns right in all honesty.” This time, the rookie detective was baffled by Inari’s priorities. He was about to say something to Shinigami, but it looks like Inari’s words were able to keep her quiet. 

 

‘This ‘Iza-senpai’ could only refer to Izanami. From what I’ve read, she was considered to be the first shinigami to ever exist. I suppose even death gods have a sort of workplace culture that I don’t know of.’ Yuma was lost in thought from this piece of information, it felt almost uncanny that even Shinigami is working under someone. He truly wanted to learn more past her duties as a death god. Yet the detective got the feeling that it was a touchy subject, but he suddenly remembered something:

 

‘Oh no! I completely forgot about the meat buns the chief asked me! He must be famished at this point. I have to get going and–’ He heard someone calling his name and before he knew it, he was trapped in a tight embrace from Kurumi. The action startled him so much he let out an animal-like scream, causing her to let go of him in a panic. Desuhiko, who was right beside him, shook his head in disappointment. The Tanuki was muttering that he should be ‘lucky’ that Kurumi was able to give him a hug like that. Ticked off by the comment, Yuma glares daggers at him, causing the Tanuki to immediately shut up and take a step back. He may have grown closer to Desuhiko due to the chain of events that led them to this moment. However, that doesn’t mean he can excuse what he said.

 

“Calm down, man! Look, sorry for what I said just now but you look mad freaky with those eyes of yours. Are you good or…?” The rookie detective then realized he slipped up, his pupils must have turned into those of a fox. If his scream didn’t also raise some eyebrows, then he’s surely done for. Kurumi bore her big pitiful eyes into his soul. Bless her heart for not saying anything, his thoughts are running a mile per minute in his agitated mind.

 

“I’m sorry for worrying you two. All that has happened today has made me stressed, no, very stressed actually. I… I still have a long way to go as a trainee. Ah right, I’m also sorry for hiding the fact that I’m not actually a Master Detective, Kurumi-chan. Our agency has been looking for any sort of lead to solving Kanai Ward’s Ultimate Secret. I used you and took advantage of your kindness, something a detective should never do.” Yuma bowed to the both of them, he didn’t ask for their forgiveness. He only wished that they didn’t notice his true nature as he made a silent prayer to Inari. 

 

Meanwhile Shinigami was taking the chance to laugh at him. “Kyahahaha! Any more, and I would have thought you would get on your knees and prostrate yourself dogeza-style!” He hated to admit it, but he was thinking of Vivia’s catchphrase at this point.

 

Kurumi patted his shoulder, “I appreciate the honesty, Yuma. I should have been more sensitive to what you are feeling as well. I couldn’t imagine what it’s like to solve a murder that just occurred, even as a trainee! I was also being selfish with my request to help Aiko. I never got to meet a detective in person after all. You even saved me, thank you so much for that.” 

 

“What she said, you’re hella cool my man! Not as cool as I am just yet, but still cool!” Desuhiko quipped.

 

“Thank you guys. And um, remind me again.” 

 

“Yes? / Yeah?” They asked at the same time.

 

“What time is it now?”

 

“...About a quarter to 10 pm, why do you ask?” Kurumi tilted her head.

 

“No, the meat bun stalls will close at this time! Chief is gonna be so mad at me, I have to go!” And with that, Yuma bolted out of the theater club as fast as he could.

 

Meanwhile, back in the agency, a certain lethargic yokai sneezed. 

 

“...Sternutation from the unspoken words of the silenced, or is it the grasp of those from beyond as this poison is expelled from this worn vessel..?” Vivia closes his book and sighs deeply. “I wanna die someday…”

 

---

 

If Makoto was asked how he felt by the time he reached Aetheria Academy, confusion would be his answer. Ever since the rain started to ascend, it was almost like his body wasn’t his own as he took the nearest route to the school. He regained that control once he stopped by the gate near the fountain, but even then, he couldn’t fathom a possible explanation for it.

 

Was it a gut feeling? Was something related to the play’s dress rehearsal? Or maybe even destiny? No, destiny meant that it was set in stone from the very beginning. He was the one who lured him here in the first place. The fact that he pulled the strings behind it all far from what one would consider destiny. Or was it beyond his control? His strings were the one being tugged all along, a plaything for the gods to toy with. That thing you called–

 

Fate?

 

Before he realized it, he felt something – no, someone – crash into him. He and the other figure came crashing to the wet rock tiles on the ground, skin coming into contact with stone. Wait, hold on. His skin? What happened to his mask? Makoto knew that he fled the tower while it was stuck on his face. Did it fly off as the person crashed into him? His long locks and the dark hood he wore obscured his vision. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest from the shock and fear. Almost as bad as when he wrote down those names and numbers earlier.

 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!” It was an all too familiar voice.

 

It was his voice – his original. 

 

He heard other voices too, one of them belonged to Kurumi. The other was a panicked boyish voice, he couldn’t quite recall the name but he had a vague picture of what the speaker looked like. Wild blonde hair and stars in his emerald eyes. Makoto also realized that he couldn’t speak, not because of the secret that he was trying to hide, but because no words fell from his mouth. Haphazardly, he pulled his long locks to veil his eyes and lowered his hood. It was no use, he couldn’t feel his mask was nearby. Is this how it ends? How all the hard work he had accomplished will come undone?

 

His original spoke up again, now steady and firm. “Kurumi-chan, please take this money and buy a pack of meat buns from the nearest stall and bring it to the agency. It is only a few more turns away from when we first met each other. Desuhiko-kun, if it's possible, could you make another mask similar to this with your Forte? I know you’re still not in top condition but this is all I ask.”

 

What? Since when was he – his original self – a bleeding heart of all things? This makes absolutely no sense. The Number One he knew would be cold to strangers unless they needed his help to solve a case. The Number One he knew would only rely on himself. The Number One he knew would… would… tear his hands away from his face and yank his bangs to cruelly look back at him, a criminal. After all, he was once that very man. Long before his current existence as Makoto Kagutsuchi. A phony, made with a god’s wrong hand. 

 

A warm hand supported his head behind him. It glided under his dark hood and gently brushed through damaged locks. “Oh thank goodness. They don't have any injuries. Thanks for the quick work on the mask, Desuhiko-kun. Just hold this for me as I help them up and put it in your backpack.” He just realized that his hair was getting soaked by the rain as it stuck to his skin. His original looked away as Makoto felt his hands come into contact with the familiar feel of plastic. He wasted no time in putting it on clumsily as he pushed back his hair, his hands were now slippery from rain water.

 

Now that he wore his mask, he just realized that he never got a painful headache since it came off. Even the new mask that was given to him fit perfectly with his face. How odd, but he wasn’t complaining.

 

“Okay dude, you got your mask back on. I know Yuma didn’t mean to run into you and all that, but he shouted pretty loudly to get out of the way. But it looked like you were in your own world or something… are you good now?” The boy with the large backpack, he remembered now, Desuhiko inquired. He simply nodded in a mute response, Makoto didn’t quite trust his voice yet.

 

“Glad to see it. Um, do you need help in getting back up? What is your name?” His voice spoke to him, there were hints of guilt in it. Imagining his original being like this was almost unsettling. Makoto shook his head as he got up by himself and pulled the hood over his head.

 

The masked man coughed a few times before replying with an answer. “Makoto, just Makoto. You didn’t have to help me like that. I’m only a mere stranger compared to the likes of you detectives.”

 

“Wait, hold up! How did you know we’re detectives? Kanai Ward isn’t exactly filled to the brim with them you know.” Suspicion was evident in Desuhiko’s tone.

 

“I’ve heard from a student from this academy that they needed help from someone with investigative skills. Even if that person didn’t have any formal training, it would only be fair to call them a detective with that definition.” It wasn’t a lie, nor a full truth. He’s heard from several people that it was difficult to take his words at face value. His original looks curious but he didn’t press on the statement. 

 

“I see. Were you waiting for someone, Makoto-san?” Came the next inquiry from the detective with lilac hair.

 

“In all honesty, I do not know. It felt almost as if the rain wanted to tell me a secret. That secret is somewhere around this school. Other than that, I couldn’t say for certain.” He shrugged.

 

“The rain… do you mean–”

 

“My man, it’s always raining. What’s any different about the rain now?” Desuhiko cut through his friend’s words. Not out of malice, but out of confusion.

 

“Right. I did say it earlier but I’m really sorry for running into you–”

 

“Forgot to get food for your boss?” Makoto regretted saying it in a snappier tone than he meant to.

 

His original laughed awkwardly, “So you heard what I said huh…”

 

“No worries! You are forgiven. Let’s just remind ourselves to pay more attention to our surroundings. You two are in a hurry, correct? You better get going then!” It was getting harder to control his emotions the longer this continued, so he started to walk away–

 

But then he was stopped by an armor-piercing question.

 

“Have we met each other before, Makoto-san?”

 

Then came the silence. Seconds become minutes. Minutes become hours. Hours become days. He wished he could just continue walking but his feet remained in place.

 

“Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, I–”

 

“No. I don’t think we’ve ever met before,” He didn’t turn back to see his face. “If we did, I would have remembered it quite clearly.”

 

And like that, Makoto ran off into the brilliant streets of Ginma District. Yuma and Desuhiko remained in an uncomfortable silence, the former wanting to speak up, but was stopped by the latter’s hand. “Hey, Yuma. Before we head back to the agency. Did you notice something odd? Not the guy, but in general?” The rookie pretended to ponder the question. He already knew the answer.

 

“The mask right?”

 

“That guy isn’t human. He’s a yokai too but there’s something… messed up about it.”

 

“It’s the mask right, Desuhiko-kun?” The Kitsune hated where this was going.

 

“...Yeah. There’s no doubt about it.” The Tanuki took a shaky breath.

 

So Yuma finishes for him. 

 

“Makoto-san… has a deadly curse upon that mask.”

Notes:

Hopefully you are enjoying the story so far! While the AU is far from over, I do have some ideas for side stories for the NDA cast and Yuma that I will post as their own standalone fics. These are only draft ideas at best, but if anyone wants me to explore how they interact with each other in this AU (both during and post-game), then maybe I can start cooking. ^^

...Why did Seth make a sudden appearance in the story? I have something in store for him (and possibly a certain right hand) in the future. I also find him to be the most interesting out of the other Peacekeepers due to his portrait not being crossed out in the epilogue, thought it be nice to flesh him out as well. (In other words, I wanted to find another way to make Yomi suffer by making Makoto gain a new friend. Sue me.)

This series is highly inspired a manga of the same name by @koikoisararira (on Twitter) or sarara (on Pixiv). I highly recommend checking them out so you can have more context to this AU.
Link on Pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/user/21865959/series/195707

Chapter 4: Anamnesis

Summary:

After finishing Kurumi's request to solve the circumstances behind Aiko's death, Yuma returns to the agency to report some good news. Things go awry as the submarine explodes, with a certain masked man waiting to return the favor. While the trainee detective remains locked in a strange dream, his savior meets some unexpected visitors.

Notes:

I humbly apologize for the long wait. My exams ended a couple weeks back but my free time was constantly interrupted by a lot of things, both good and bad. To make up for all that time without updates, have this big hefty chapter with almost 10k words! I didn't expect it to be that long but I hope you guys enjoy everything nonetheless. Thank you everyone for over 500 hits and all the kudos! I never thought this AU of mine would be enjoyed by so many people and I really appreciate all the support.

I don't really post much, but feel free to check my Twitter and Tumblr!

Special thanks to Draconic and Elina for betareading this chapter for me, and to you for sticking around despite my slow update schedule.

Notable Tag(s) for this chapter: (Mentioned) Strangulation, Childhood Memories, Mild Blood, and depictions of Trauma

“I was gonna say that mask was creepy as all hell, not that it was cursed! My man, you freaked me out!” Desuhiko yelled in horror after Yuma’s statement, before proceeding to shake the rookie profusely. “It’s already horrifying that I have to see a dead body with blood everywhere, now I have to handle the fact that you’re acting out of character the whole time!” 

 

No, Yuma didn’t forget about Desuhiko’s fears. He already had a good visual as to why the Tanuki would focus his investigative skills on espionage and infiltration. But what was really curious is that yokai, in general, have the aptitude to sense supernatural occurrences. Even if Yuma did let parts of his true self slip earlier, his current human form doesn’t have the same sensing capabilities. That being said, the energy slipping from the broken mask (that they forgot to give back) was practically oozing with corrupted Arts. He could only laugh awkwardly to hopefully calm the tension in the blonde’s nerves.

 

“Sorry if I worried you, this whole thing has got me all confused too,” Thankfully, Desuhiko stopped shaking him as he said this. “But um, could you really not sense anything in the mask?”

 

A beat. Yuma observed the way Desuhiko’s eye twitch, the latter’s expression morphing into one of discomfort. The face he would make when he was caught doing something suspicious. “My man, w-w-what are you talking about? Of course I sensed something in the mask! How could a human sense something that I, a yokai, can't? Oh wait, you’re not actually human are you? ” The Tanuki tried and failed to snatch the mask – that was split perfectly into two – from the Kitsune’s hands.

 

Looks like this was a sore point for the Tanuki to discuss in public, he really shouldn’t have asked. He also can’t let him know in order to keep his oath to Inari. “Desuhiko, I’m sorry if I offended you with my question. I had my reasons for asking it. Also, Chief Yakou already confirmed that I am human. He used the Fox’s Window on me when I first arrived at the agency.” Yuma made sure to wear his best distressed face, not too forced and not too subtle.

 

The Tanuki stared at him for what felt like minutes, before finally letting go of him. “Right, I forgot. I still call what happened back in the theater club pretty suspicious. But my head might be a little out of whack this whole case so… I guess we’re even.” Internally, Yuma sighed in relief. He wouldn’t be surprised if Desuhiko would try to get their chief to double check if he’s really human just to be completely sure.  

 

The two of them trusted each other to not let what happened affect their newly forged friendship they made during the case. As they took the quickest route back to the agency, Inari was showering him with praise. But then he realized one thing was off.

 

Shinigami was as silent as a corpse.

 

…

 

Yuma wasn’t surprised when Yakou came up to him and asked for his permission to use the Fox’s Window on him again after scolding him for running into the Peacekeepers again. Luckily, Kurumi’s impromptu food delivery did seem to help the older man’s hunger and mood so he was safe from another lecture for now. And speaking of her, she was able to uphold her end of the bargain when they bumped into each other again in Kamasaki. He ignored the way Desuhiko was nudging him to have some ‘alone time’ with her as he noticed how she seemed more… relaxed and honest compared to the nervous yet peppy girl he met in the sewers. Even as she told him more about Kanai Ward’s Ultimate Secret – the existence of an immortal monster known as a homunculus – the informant was quite surprised by how much he took it in stride. 

 

“...You’re not even shocked by the information I just told you?” Kurumi blinked in confusion.

 

“It’s not that, I am quite frightened by the idea of an immortal monster like that lurking in this city.” Yuma shakes his head before locking eyes with her. “I’m just thinking about how it makes sense that Kanai Ward’s isolation is related to some conspiracy that both involved Amaterasu and the Unified Government. Having this sort of research being out in the open would shake the world to its core as you said. I know that, for now, it’s only a rumor but I trust your capabilities as an informant. Being able to evade the Peacekeepers for this long is a remarkable feat and collecting information like this, even as a high schooler, is just as amazing.”

 

Kurumi was oddly silent for a moment but then that bright glint in her eyes returned. “Wow! You sounded so cool just now, Yuma-kun! For a moment, I thought you were a professional. Are you really sure you’re just a trainee?” 

 

Yuma could practically hear Inari’s hum of approval in his mind as he gathered his thoughts to reply. “I, um, thank you. I’m just doing my best despite my status, that’s all.”

 

“Says the hero who saved me. Kanai Ward could really use more detectives, or well… good people like you,” She makes a fist with her hand and stares at it. “I… I was a little hurt when you didn’t clarify the fact you were only a trainee, but remembering what you did for me and for solving what truly happened to Aiko… I couldn’t be more grateful. Thank you… so much.”

 

“I just did what I could as a member of the Nocturnal Detective Agency,” He smiles at her. “Although, can I ask you a favor, Kurumi-chan?”

 

She tilts her head curiously from the question, staying silent so that he can continue. “Whatever first impression or thoughts you have about me in general, please don’t mix me with your ideals of what a detective should be like.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“All I’m saying is that… I may not live up to your expectations of what a hero should be. My amnesia makes it impossible for me to remember my past, so I could have easily been somebody completely different to who I am now. I would also prefer it if we could treat each other as good friends, even if I’ll eventually leave this city someday. That’s all.” He flinched slightly when Kurumi grabbed his hand, saying that she’ll remember everything in her heart before they eventually parted ways once more.

 

His thoughts return to the present when he can hear Desuhiko’s loud shock and confusion about Yuma being ‘human’. Inari was practically failing to hold back their laughter as the rest of the NDA were making lighthearted fun of Desuhiko’s predicament. Halara made a comment of how absurd it would be for the technique used to reveal all of their identities to fail on a trainee, Fubuki (with no ill intent) compliments the Tanuki’s skill in stating the obvious, and Yakou laughing awkwardly as Desuhiko rants about his butt-monkey status. As for Vivia, he simply shakes his head at the noise as he continues reading a new book he found. 

 

Even with the current situation, Yuma feels his heart grow warm as he laughs off the chaotic scene unfolding before him. He couldn’t help but think if this was what a family felt like. Did he even have a family before losing his memories? Somehow, he wasn’t bothered with the idea of not having any relatives. All that mattered now was to enjoy the moment before they look for more leads sooner or later.

 

Suddenly, Inari begins to speak. “One is wondering how long you’ll be neglecting your duties as a mentor for my pup, young Shade.”

 

“What now you overgrown furball? You’re already stealing my rightful place as Master’s partner after rudely bringing up that old hag’s name again! Go on! Just forcibly end the pact I have with him with your bullshit divine powers and send me to the most anticlimactic brain death imaginable! Oh wait, I’m already a death god so that’s impossible, kyahahaha!” Yuma could tell that Shinigami is just putting on an act to hide her true emotions. As much as he would like to tell her to calm down and clarify what the deity meant, he knew Inari is more experienced when it comes to handling younger souls. Just ask him – he’s living proof of it.

 

“One didn’t mean for their actions to come off that way.” The deity spoke amicably, as if the earlier insults were nothing but noise in the wind. “One doesn’t believe that ‘tough love’ as a teaching approach is wrong, but your… penchant for chaos can easily put the pup in more danger than he should. One admits this: watching you treat his adventures to the Mystery Labyrinth as a game is amusing, but imagine the pup doing the same thing to you. As a theoretical example, how would you react if the pup says your job is absolutely worthless and mere child’s play?” 

 

“...Are you saying that because you hate my boss?” Shinigami deadpans.

 

“Far from it! One believes that Iza-senpai’s job balances the endless abundance that One’s domain provides as it brings balance to the realms,” The fox puffs proudly but quickly returns to their mentor-like state. “But you see the idea, right? It’s a lot harder to focus and get along with someone who actively dismisses your efforts to do something. The mixed signals you give don’t help either, even dismissing the strange morality that comes with your nature.”

 

Shinigami grumbles as they continue. “One understands the feeling of being trapped in an artifact for so long, it makes you want to latch onto the closest things you encounter as an effort to be attached to the waking world. You fear going back into that paper thin prison. You desperately want the pup to pay attention to you – and only you – in hopes you’ll always be in his memories. One may not know the details of the pact you had while my pup had his memories intact, but just know that One can practically see your fear of abandonment and desire for companionship. Don’t let the first clash with the second if you wish to be a good mentor figure to him, young Shade.”

 

The death god blinks as she realizes her mistake, now poking her fingers together in apology. “Okay… fine. You win. Never thought I would be lectured by someone who’s in the exact opposite domain, much less a major deity of all people. I’m sorry for making Master so agitated and nervous all the time, and I’m sorry for calling you an overgrown furball… Nari.”

 

Yuma could hear the sound of happy barking in his head. “Oh, who was the last one who called me by that name? Right, never expected you and Old Gin to call me the very same nickname of all things!”

 

“Uhh… who the hell is this Old Gin you’re yapping about?” Shinigami sways from side to side in curiosity.

 

“Oh, right. You both don’t know,” The fox then clears their throat. “If One’s memory serves One correctly, he should have around… five tails now. Looks stern, but his attempts to look classy usually end up backfiring in some way… like those cheap shades he changes every once in a while. One wonders how he’s faring nowadays.”

 

Yuma then feels his jaw drop at that information. ‘Wait Inari-san, you don’t mean that...’

 

But before the fox can answer, Halara raises their hand to make the chatter stop. “Yuma, since you and Desuhiko took a while to get back to the agency, mind telling us what you’ve found during your investigation?”

 

It didn’t take long for the young Kitsune to share the interesting rumor he learned from Kurumi as part of their deal. The feeling of pride bloomed in his chest when he observed everyone’s looks of wonder and respect towards him, they didn’t fade even as he clarified that it was only a rumor he heard from the informant. In particular, Halara looked pleased as their tail flicked back and forth as they praised his efforts. If he was allowed to show his true self to everyone, his tail would be moving like his mysterious colleague’s – not like a dog, mind you.

 

However, the feeling was only short-lived as Yakou began to complain of how easily the Kitsune got into trouble with the Peacekeepers. He knew that the chief was worried sick despite his cowardly self. Yuma could understand where he’s coming from; he had no right to judge the way Yakou lives his life considering Kanai Ward’s predicament. No one else seemed to pay attention to the chief’s ranting… until a certain sentence made the Kitsune snap.

 

“I swear, Yuma should be put on a leash…”

 

“Be quiet.” Yuma mumbled, but it didn’t mask the bubbling anger and fear he felt by the implication of the chief statement. Why did these thoughts remind him about his encounters with Seth? He knew why. It’s because this is a fear all Kitsune were born with.

 

“Uh, were you saying something Yuma?”

 

“Don’t you dare imply that I am a dog, Yakou.” His eyes are burning now, he was sure they didn’t look remotely human but he continued glaring at the chief regardless. He unconsciously grabbed the red bib that he tied on his arm, it did little to provide him any comfort. “I’m more dignified than some nameless mongrel.”

 

“Oh shi–shoot,” Yakou caught himself as he nervously raised his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry if I said something offensive to you and I could only offer my sincere gratitude for managing to get the meat buns I wanted on short notice! By the way, is this the ‘freaky looking glare’ that Desuhiko was talking about? I can, uh, sure see why!”

 

Cue Desuhiko cheering in agreement as Yuma closes his eyes tight, the burning sensation still not fading away. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t do anything right without someone butting in to point out some minute mistake. He was sure the rest of the members were questioning his identity even more now, a problem he brought upon himself as the white noise in his ears became almost deafening – if it weren’t for a sweet voice calming him down.

 

“There, there, Yuma-san.” It was Fubuki, he could hear the smile on her face as she spoke. The coolness of her hand on his shoulder also alleviated his boiling blood. “There’s no need to get upset. Even my Forte couldn’t help me with finding what you’ve learned even if I tried. Please look my way, take a deep breath, and smile. Um, did I say everything right Halara-san?”

 

“Thank you, Fubuki-san… and Halara-san. I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts lately, so I’m sorry if I worried you all.” He couldn’t help but give a relieved sigh as he opened his eyes. The ace of their agency gave a small hum before shifting their position in their chair, they gave a small glance to Vivia before looking back at him. How… curious.

 

“Just make sure you aren’t releasing too much Arts when you’re feeling intense emotions, I’m going to assume that your personality shifts thanks to the cloth tied to your arm. I can sense powerful energy coming from it. Where did you obtain such a unique item, Yuma?”

 

“Unless you wish for the hand of Death to grasp onto your soul,” Vivia narrows his eyes at their remark as he absentmindedly taps his fingers against the fireplace. “You mustn’t invoke its name at any cost. I’m sure you know this well, Halara-kun.”

 

“...What do you mean by that, Vivia?” They answer, masking their apprehension with a layer of morbid curiosity.

 

“I can sense the energy from Yuma-kun the same way you do. Although… my guess is that you can’t tell what type of energy it is.” The dweller of the fireplace then casts a somber gaze towards the Kitsune; he couldn’t read the emotion in those empty eyes. “Do you want to curse others with knowledge that is wholly impossible to unlearn? Even if it meant that… they’ll never see you the same way ever again, Yuma-kun?”

 

Yuma swallowed at the implication of Vivia’s words. “Uh…?”

 

Vivia blinked a few times before deeply sighing. “Ah, don’t take it the wrong way… You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. If the words I said just now made you uncomfortable, I refuse to apologize. Apologizing is too much of a hassle.”

 

“Cryptic and unclear as ever, this guy I swear.” Desuhiko mutters.

 

The rest of the conversation comes back to Halara pointing out how similar the cases between the Nail Man and the Aetheria Academy murders were. Then Fubuki jokingly refers to the memory wipe that they and Desuhiko went through as a sort of Forte. Yakou and Desuhiko were also providing their own thoughts on the matter. While Vivia was staring into space in Yuma’s general direction, but not staring at the young Kitsune himself, almost as if the man fell asleep with his eyes open. But none of that mattered when he heard two voices in his head scream to get his attention.

 

“Pup! / Master! Look out!” Before he knew it, he felt the floor violently tremble under his feet as several pipes bursted. Water spilling into the submarine and flooding the space. Yet as he tried to call for everyone to calm down, another pipe near him broke into large chunks. Large enough to hit him and force him onto the soaked floor, the impact making his vision blurry as he slowly lost consciousness. Everything was tuned out by the water gushing in, drowning his senses along with it. A stray tear from his eye blended into the river, as he cursed his luck for harming the people who held most dear. If he was truly dying here… then he’d accept his fate.

???

 

“My sweet boy, my dear Lotus. Welcome to this beautiful world.”

 

The young detective opened his eyes to find a strange scene. He wasn’t greeted to the sight of Kanai Ward’s deep and murky waters, but instead he finds himself in a minimalist bedroom. The voice he heard belonged to a beautiful woman, her rosy hair cascading down her face and looking down on what seemed to be a newborn baby in her arms. Her fluffy ears mimicked the downcast motion of her eyes as her seven tails tilted to and fro. Looking closer, Yuma noticed that the child in her arms wasn’t human – a young cub with white and lilac fur.

 

Yuma couldn’t, for the life of him, remember who she is. But just from this alone, he can tell that this was his mother. His heart aches as he could only watch the nameless vixen kiss the young cub on its little forehead as she slowly stands up. Periwinkle eyes glinting in the filtered light from the antiquated windows as she starts to walk somewhere else in the house. He follows her out of curiosity while his heart beats a mile per minute. Why was he receiving a memory of his childhood of all things at this very moment? He had no answer and he couldn’t even hear a whisper from either Shinigami or Inari. Yet he couldn’t shake off the strange feeling of déjà vu as he tailed behind his mother’s brisk pace.

 

Each room looked almost identical to the last if it weren’t for the tatami mats being a different color and for the unique flower pattern plastered onto each sliding door. The first thought that came to his mind was that these were either the bedrooms of each resident, or a nursery. There were nine of them, including the room his mother held him in. Did these all belong to his family? He was sure he would remember living in a warm traditional home like this. In fact, walking through these rooms felt like second nature to him before the woman opened the sliding door to what seemed to be a large living area to entertain visitors.

 

And there were a lot of visitors.

 

He couldn’t count how many as they all have varied shapes, sizes, and personalities. Their chattering and mumbling stopped as his mother walked in as if they were never there to begin with. They slowly part away like a sea being split in the middle. Some were silent, some were in awe, and some were ecstatic upon seeing the matriarch of the family grace the household with a new member. But that wasn’t even the most interesting part – it lies in the middle of the crowd, like roses surrounded by thickets and thorns.

 

Not counting his mother joining the group, he saw at least twenty individuals surrounding a giant sunken hearth in the middle of the room where a large pot laid on top of a flame that continuously changed colors. They were all Kitsune – his relatives and extended family. Not unlike the visitors circling them, they all looked unique with each having their own fur color, bright slit eyes, and wore time-honored fabrics that had patterns of specific flowers.

 

“The ceremony was about to start without you, Sakura.”

 

“My dear Botan, you knew our son couldn’t even gain a humanoid form yet.”

 

“That still doesn’t excuse your lateness, you late bloomer.”

 

Everyone around them chuckled. It seemed to be an inside joke he didn’t understand. He had to look up to get a proper look at Botan, his father. He had shoulder-length hair that was tied a loose ponytail, its color a couple of shades darker than his own, similar to his namesake. Despite his lithe build, his physique had a toughness that was honed by countless years of disciplined etiquette, his eight tails emphasizing that status. Yuma couldn’t read his father’s stoic countenance, but his voice revealed what felt – a loving tease to his wife and child – with deep violet eyes softening at the sight.

 

“Well then, the Feast doesn’t wait for anyone. It’s your turn to lead right?”

 

“...Of course. Please let me embrace our little bud.”

 

“If he starts crying, that’s on you, my love.”

 

Yuma knew he should be feeling something at the sight of his parents proudly presenting him to a big crowd on a special day. And yet he felt empty, almost as if his body can’t accept the portrayal of his past memories being so bright, happy, and… grandiose. He wanted to believe in the way everyone cheered after his father completed the inaugural speech, the hall filling with the sounds of manic joy as yokai of all shapes and forms would make their own offerings as they partake in this Feast. He couldn’t help but nervously swallow the lump in his throat, the young Kitsune is starting to feel that familiar feeling trying to suffocate him once more.

 

A feeling labeled dread.

 

He hears the sound of the giant pot opening and giving way to clouds of steam, enticing everyone around it to take a bite, and another, and another. He then notices the color of the broth, a boring and unappetizing gray. It didn’t look like the food had any artificial colorings in it either. Yuma squinted to take a better look at the large chunks of charred meat floating in the ashen liquid. Each piece seemed to be intentionally cut to look like… the parts of a humanoid creature. Whether it was truly belonging to something humanoid or animal meat fashioned to look like it, he couldn’t quite tell. Regardless, the initial dread he felt quickly morphed into fear.

 

“May The Conflagration bless with His warmth and light to bloom forever…”

 

“And ever…!”

 

The young Kitsune tried his hardest to close his eyes at the sight but something is preventing him from prying his gaze away from the scene. The continuous chanting, roaring and screaming of the crowd is almost unbearable. Not even his efforts to cover his ears can stop the voices from getting louder. Did this really happen during his youth? If so, he definitely didn’t expect bearing witness to a ritual of all things. He tried to look for his parents in an effort to calm himself down, hoping that the sight of his family would wash his fears away. Nothing like the tears pricking and burning his own eyes.

 

“Can’t you two see that the young one is in distress?”

 

Yuma slowly turns his head at the enchanting voice cutting through all the cacophony of the Feast. It belonged to a Kitsune with golden fur and big brown eyes filled with worry and concern. Just the sight of her made his heart stop, a wholly different feeling from him being able to recognize his own parents. The shock alone made him hold his breath. Who was this young woman? And why does his heart ache to look at her now?

 

“Oh sweet Himawari, you want to hold him?”

 

“It’s not like that, Sakura-nee. Lotus seems really freaked out by the noise.”

 

“Now that you mention it, he’s shaking quite a bit. Here, please take him to the nursery to rest.”

 

“Yes, ma’am. Calm down Little Lotus, it’s just Auntie Hima here. Shhh…”

 

The detective could only watch in silence as he followed his aunt, her hair shimmering under the speckled sunlight passing through paper doors. Curiosity filling him as he travels back from whence he came. The raucous shouting of the partygoers dwindled with each room they passed. His aunt’s brisk pace beckoned Yuma to not lose sight of her, but he started to get second thoughts as they passed by his mother – Lady Sakura’s – room. The older woman in gold pushes the pup’s head to her chest, her frantic heartbeat reverberating in Yuma’s own ears.

 

“...I’m sorry. I’m making you worried aren’t I?”

 

“Inari-sama has granted you Their blessing. If anyone else knew…”

 

“I don’t care if they see me as a traitor to The Conflagration. I never believed in Him from the start to begin with. I’m tired of all the blood and ash I have to clean up in this house.”

 

“This house that was built upon the suffering of others is meant to fall eventually.”

 

“Hi-no-Kagutsuchi has died. No amount of Divine Arts, rituals, or offerings can ever bring Him back from the ashes.”

 

Yuma couldn’t believe what he was hearing. So even deities can permanently die? Inari-sama has told him that those with too few believers or who have failed to withstand the test of time could be considered as such. But as far as he knew, the myth he remembered was a tragic one. His fiery nature burned His own mother to death during childbirth, His father chopped the child into pieces out of rage and grief. The pieces of that newborn deity became active volcanoes. The young Kitsune tried to think of a good reason in his mind, none of them answered his earlier inquiry. He’ll ask Inari and Shinigami when he wakes up.

 

As sudden as the thoughts arrived, they vanished when he felt the ground tremor below.

 

“This scent…! Humans?! Lotus, hold tight to Auntie would you? As tight as your paws could.”

 

“May the The Prosperity protect us, forevermore.”

 

Before he knew it, Yuma’s old home transformed from a tranquil scene of respite into a full-blown disaster of ruinous flames. He was suddenly outside of the abode which was now rife with the sounds of the cracking fire, the vile cursing of the attackers, and the sound of… laughter. Pure, joyous laughter. His eyes caught a glimpse of a gold and lilac blur disappearing into the tall grass, escaping into the dense forest beyond it. As much as he wanted to follow the two foxes, he ends up looking back at the house that is consumed by gluttonous flames. He stares at the human crowd, who’re mercilessly destroying his home.

 

“Go back from whence you came, foul beasts!”

 

“May your souls eternally suffer in the World Down Below!”

 

“Spiriting away children from our village and using them in your Feasts! Kill them!!!”

 

“It was one of your kind who burned our village years ago, this is our revenge!”

 

Yuma knew he should be angry for what they have done. He should be crying for what he has lost because of them. And yet he felt empty – pure nothingness – as the beloved home is reduced to nothing but ashes. But knowing what has transpired in that house, he supposed that his family and the visitors are overjoyed by the absolute destruction. Just like the appellation they gave to that deity, the Conflagration welcomes them in His embrace. The humans only gave them what they wanted. Their revenge was for naught. He only observes the awful spectacle in silence, contemplating on what has transpired in his repressed memories.

 

Not even the familiar presence looming over his unconscious body couldn’t free him from his nightmares.

 

---

 

Makoto scrutinizes his original’s unfortunate state behind his mask. The feelings bubbling up inside him have become more complicated due to their unexpected encounter in Aetheria Academy. The initial angst, almost bordering on hatred and envy, were now diluted with the feelings of confusion and perhaps… a spark of interest. He knew he shouldn’t be expecting much due to the fact that he was his clone, but he still mentally noted the other’s appearance. Youthful face, fair skin, and he couldn’t quite forget the distinctive purple eyes they both share. 

 

He hummed to himself as he lifted Yuma’s wrist, his thumb brushing over his rough palm and calloused fingers. The once motionless body suddenly twitched, making Makoto drop the other’s wrist out of surprise. He knew that he was alive, even if the rise and fall of his chest wasn’t quite obvious, but he was still quite startled regardless. It led the masked man to feel his own hands unconsciously; they were soft and smooth to the touch. He suddenly felt acutely aware of the small scars just underneath Yuma’s collar, or the bruise on the detective’s other wrist. The former he knew were from his past working for the WDO, while the latter…he must have taken a hard fall when they first met at the academy too. 

 

He sneaks a finger under his own collar to feel a slight change of skin texture. There was none, not even a single injury to be felt.

 

Makoto releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding this whole time.

 

The masked man brings himself to sit by the edge of the bed despite the unsettling knowledge of not having injuries he clearly remembers having. So he distracts himself by recalling how he saved his original from drowning in the river, putting a hand under his chin as he does.

 

“You know, I always had a feeling that Yomi would do something like this eventually.” He says to no one in particular. “He’s been recently complaining that he couldn’t find more, what did he call it? ‘Garbage’ or ‘Trash’ he can vent his thinly-veiled anger issues on? I personally think a good warm soak can cleanse one’s worries away. Maybe I should tell him that when we meet sooner or later!”

 

Speaking of the word ‘soak’, Makoto could definitely feel how heavy his original was thanks to the river water weighing on his clothes. Not to mention, the both of them having the same weight and body structure also played a part in his difficulty trying to carry the detective to his home in Kanai Tower. He was quite lucky that he managed to find said detective’s bucket hat floating close to his body on the river’s surface. Spinning the story where his ‘friend’ was so exhausted from running around the city before resting on a rail above the submarine led him to cartoonishly falling into the river – it was probably his funniest fake story thus far! 

 

…Although, that doesn’t quite explain the fact that Yuma’s body was curiously surrounded by lily pads. Not to mention the lotus flowers, or even their stems and roots that wrapped around his body. As far as he knew, his original wasn’t capable of using Arts, much less summoning plants while unconscious, because he would also have that ability as well. While they certainly provide a reason as to how Yuma’s body was floating in the river – Makoto couldn’t help but think of one question.

 

‘How did those plants come to be in the first place?’

 

The masked man would be aware if plants such as lotuses would exist in his city just from his daily walks alone. And from what he learned from observing the other Peacekeepers who happen to be yokai, using Arts or magic requires one’s mind to be focused and alert. Otherwise it would lead to incomplete spells or mistakes in casting. Not to mention, as he swam to get Yuma’s body, those stems and roots started to wrap around his hands as he was leading the both of them to shore. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but enough to leave a regular person deeply frightened by the sudden movement. Trying to get rid of the plants from the detective’s body was also a piece of work; those stems and roots were really holding on tight! But after a minute of not pulling them apart to not accidentally injure Yuma, they simply wilted and shriveled until they were nothing but dead leaves. 

 

Just thinking back on what happened led that spark of interest in Makoto’s heart to turn into a restless spirit of pure curiosity. Nothing in the past three years of being Kanai Ward’s CEO had made him this invested in something other than plotting to keep the city and its citizens safe from harm. He can feel the questions fill his mind faster than he can blink.

 

However, Makoto knew that his questions would never be answered.

 

“...Well, I suppose that’s just how the cookie crumbles.” Suddenly, an idea popped in his head and he had to hold back a laugh. “How about giving him some homemade cookies as a thank you for the new mask when he wakes up? Can’t forget Yomi too, he must have been starving just loitering around Kanai Ward’s streets all day. No wonder he’s so irritated all the time. Oh well, couldn’t be me!” 

 

Ignoring the impulse in his mind to put his hands around his original's neck, he saunters out of the room. Mentally noting how these irregular migraines (for a lack of a better word) become less painful when Yuma's presence is nearby.

 

But what he didn't quite expect to see in his living room would be young Seth, who he left under the care of a white coat yesterday evening, and also the sight of Ms. Electro on his couch. The latter of whom seemed to be in a catatonic state, curled up into herself on his couch as she continuously sobbed into her damaged sleeves. Under the haphazard bandages were splotches of hot pink blood and the unusual appearance of black and white feathers. Now that he thinks about it, that would explain why he would sometimes see these familiar feathers in random places in Amaterasu’s buildings. 

 

“...Would you mind telling me what happened?” He inquires in a calm tone, masking the worry and anxiety in his own heart.

 

“Yomi. That's what happened to her,” Seth speaks without the aid of his megaphone, but Makoto can hear his words perfectly despite his weak voice. Makoto immediately noticed the lack of honorifics when he refers to the infamous director. But this conversation wasn't about the Oni, this was about what happened to his poor right hand woman. 

 

Martina continued to sob and make inaudible noises, some of which sounded like pained squawking or mumblings of the Oni's full name. Seth could only awkwardly provide his shoulder for her to lean on as he hesitantly tried to rub her back. The CEO didn't miss the way his eyebrows furrowed at her poorly medicated injuries. The Inugami gives a small sigh as he looks up at his superior with a blank expression.

 

“You only just barely recovered from your own injuries, Mr. Burroughs.”

 

“...What's your game, Kagutsuchi-san.” He mumbles before his face turns into one of confusion. “Hang on, you aren't going to ask me to raise my voice or ask about my megaphone?”

 

Makoto shakes his head as he sits across from the two Peacekeepers. “I can hear you just fine! What brings the both of you here to my humble abode then?”

 

Seth avoids his gaze as he opens his mouth to say something to the woman next to him, but no words escape his mouth. “...I have nothing to say to his mistress. In fact, I would have gladly let her get crushed by that presser. But…”

 

“But?” The CEO tilts his head as the other trails off, he notes the way he tries to reach for the loose bandages on her arms. But he stops when Martina sobbed louder, keeping mum as her cries overpower whatever words he was trying to convey. He turns away to cough before looking back at Makoto, almost appearing meek if not for the small glint in his eye.

 

“She owes me her best herbal tea. The dead don't fulfill promises after all.” Seth chuckles to himself, the woman in question doesn't seem to hear him at all. “It's not everyday I get to have someone above me be under my debt.”

 

“A rather poor choice of words, considering the rumors about you.” Makoto couldn't help but let the inside joke in his mind slip. The glare and light pink flush on the Inugami's cheeks was worth it.

 

“...I think I'm starting to understand why he hates you.” 

 

Makoto couldn't deny that Yomi hated his guts, but it was for other obvious reasons. The Oni coveted power and control, two things that the CEO wouldn't give him the satisfaction of. Even with the rare successful assassination, his inability to die has led to multiple Peacekeepers under the Oni's will to be more terrified of Makoto than their own director. At least they had enough tact to keep their mouths shut, seeing the masked man walk around like nothing happened the next day.

 

Not that Yomi would spare them from any punishments unfortunately.

 

Actually, now that he thought more about it. What did he actually know about Yomi Hellsmile? Besides personal information from employee files and documents, no one knew – or rather, kept quiet – about the one underneath the bloodthirsty tyrant. Considering Martina's status, he couldn't ask her. But Makoto still figured it would be a good way to kill some time to ask about Yomi, before he wakes up.

 

“You seem to know more about Yomi than you let on, Mr. Burroughs.” He inquires as he leans forward, clasping his hands and propping his arms on his thighs. Seth stayed silent, trying to avoid the masked man's gaze, focusing on tightening Martina's bandages. Makoto carefully prepared the hook.

 

“I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious about the Oni's background.” He turns his head to the taller woman as he continues, setting up the hook's line. “Unfortunately, neither the man himself nor his right hand woman would answer my inquiries. I'm also quite certain Ms. Electro won't be able to provide me answers anytime soon.”

 

Finally, the sinker. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but Yomi seems to be the cause of many of the issues within the corporation. Not just Amaterasu, but he's bringing Kanai Ward's safety into the fray as well. I want to know what exactly molded him into the Oni we're familiar with now. Who knows? It may help me create a plan to knock him off his proverbial high horse.”

 

Makoto couldn't hide his smile when he noticed the way Seth's floppy ears twitched at his last statement. The Inugami seemed intrigued as he finally faced him, his green eye shining despite the bruises around it.

 

“...I can say whatever I want and he would never know?” Seth whispered, but the masked man heard him loud and clear.

 

“Anything said in this room, stays in this room.”

 

“How can I be so sure you won't rat me out?” The Inugami sneered.

 

“I can tell you that my home is one of the few places in Kanai Ward without Yomi's constant surveillance. Not to mention, I could have easily told Yomi about what happened to you, but I simply showed him your ruined poncho with your blood on it and he didn't question a thing.”

 

At this, Seth stared back in silent disbelief. Makoto could see the gears turning in the Inugami's head despite his own injuries, trying to sense if Makoto's words held any lies. In the end, Seth appeared to not view him as a threat as he finally allowed himself to lean his back into the couch, shoulders relaxing as he sighed in relief.

 

“Hah… Where do I even begin with the ‘Great’ Yomi Hellsmile?” But before Seth would begin to start talking about the yokai in question, the CEO grabs what seemed to be noise canceling earbuds and gestured toward the woman next to him. She had fallen silent after crying her eyes out, not paying any attention to what the two men were saying to each other. They have to tread carefully whenever the single horned demon was brought up. The Inugami didn't need to be told twice, lying Martina down on the couch as he quickly placed the earbuds snug in her ears.

 

“Just going to make this clear before I start, Kagutsuchi-san.” Seth clears his throat before he continues. “You might be… shocked from how much I actually know. My only request is that you won't make any assumptions as to why and how I'm aware of all this.”

 

Makoto nods in response, giving Seth both permission and space to speak freely. In truth, he already knows exactly why Seth is saying this. But it wasn't his job to bring it up, and if he did, the Inugami would definitely be more apprehensive and suspicious of him. It's a business transaction in the end, even the smallest mistake can make a valuable deal fall through.

 

“I am… his servant, if my nature doesn't already make it obvious enough.” There was sharp bitterness and disgust as he described his affiliation. “One thing in history led to another and my ancestors ended up indebted to an Oni clan of all things.”

 

“Oni clans usually follow a ‘might makes right’ ideology, specifics usually depend on the leader's own ideals.” Makoto listens attentively to every word, reminding himself to write it all down later so he wouldn't forget. “The one Yomi grew up in… They wholeheartedly believed that ‘the weak must die to give way for the strong’ and that ‘war is glorious,’ that kind of creed. They could give the terrifying Oni stereotypes a run for their damn money.”

 

Seth mumbled several curses to himself before continuing. “Quick question, have you met another Oni other than him, Kagutsuchi-san?” 

 

“Unfortunately, the director is my only frame of reference when it comes to Oni kind.” The masked man shrugged.

 

“...Looks like I'm taking the long route then.” Seth groaned, already thinking that the conversation would affect his weak voice. “You at least know what sexual dimorphism is right?”

 

Seeing Makoto nod cleared several doubts in the other's mind. “Oni that take masculine forms usually appear the way they do in the books. Large, bulky and ogreish. Feminine Oni are more or less human-like. Think of a woman that has red or blue skin with one or two horns growing from the forehead.”

 

“I think I'm starting to see the… problem you're alluding to, Mr. Burroughs.” Makoto fiddles with a stray strand of his long locks as the pieces of the puzzle are forming a better picture in his head. The look in the Inugami's face was grave yet he seemed pleased that he doesn't need to add anymore to that train of thought.

 

“To put it bluntly, Yomi was already born a pretty boy. I have my own assumptions as to how that happened, but that's not the point I'm trying to make.” Seth then turns his gaze to the now sleeping Martina. “His mother escaped a cruel fate when she died through childbirth. I didn't know her too well, but I remember that Yomi looks like a carbon copy of her… albeit with shorter hair and if he didn't dye it to that.”

 

Behind his mask, Makoto winced at the implication. “Am I correct to assume that his father didn't take his son's, for lack of a better word, condition well?” 

 

The Inugami nodded slowly. “You're quite sharp, saves us both the time. Anyway, his father had no other choice but to raise Yomi in secret. It doesn't help that Oni are strictly monogamous and… interestingly enough, they find child abandonment to be very taboo. That old fool also thought it would be a great idea to lie that both his wife and child died so that he can keep his position as leader.”

 

“My parents did their best to keep Yomi out of sight from the public. Unluckily for them, that guy was a menace as a kid and absolutely idolized his old man. I could only tell you that if Yomi wasn't… gifted with his mother's looks, he would have surpassed his awful father in no time.” 

 

Seth sighs as he puts a hand to his forehead. “I haven't even mentioned that one incident yet.”

 

“An incident during his childhood? Now I'm curious!” Makoto only received a baffled expression from Seth in return, but can anyone blame him? It's already miraculous to gain so much information about the one he referred to as his shadow. But a moment from his childhood? This was something he wouldn't miss a second of. The Inugami continues despite his concerns about the masked man’s taste in entertainment.

 

“I… I was watching over the scene at the time.” He mumbles as he recounts the sordid tale. “My mother was teaching Yomi about shapes, numbers, and colors through handmade flashcards my family drew on old parchment paper. It was my first time seeing that guy so attentive to something other than weapons or violence, it… it really creeped me out.”

 

“If I r-remember right, she taught him colors through using human faces.” Makoto noticed the way Seth subconsciously scratched the back of his neck, fingers digging into the striking birthmark that encircled it. “Like using a red face to represent anger, blue for sadness, and so forth…”

 

“One of those faces was… purple.” 

 

Makoto had to hold back his own reaction as soon as he heard the color.

 

“A-As soon as my mother finished the lesson, that guy asked her to sit down on the floor with him b-because he wanted to tell her something.” The Inugami looked out the window, the view of Kanai Ward’s city made his expression turn grim. “She couldn’t disobey his orders, I remember her hesitation as she slowly sat down. Yomi… Yomi walked up to her, placed his hands on her shoulders…”

 

“He just as quickly wrapped them around her neck to strangle her. Right in front of me.”

 

Both of them were silent. The masked man could see the glassy sheen on the other’s eye, threatening to spill tears, but Seth only tilted his head upwards to prevent that from happening. His hands were shaking too. Makoto couldn’t blame him at all.

 

“I-I couldn’t do anything at the time. Father would remind me to keep my mouth shut when things like this would happen. Because if I let out anything that could be seen as d-defiance–” 

 

“Calm down. You don’t have to pressure yourself to continue.” Makoto’s tone was void of emotion. A rare break from his usual self. 

 

Seth shook his head again, knowing that he should finish what he started. “M-Mother was… unscathed in the end, she didn’t scream or even try to bite him… she just took it like it was normal. And you know what he said to her after that? ‘I wanted to see what an actual purple face looks like. Why are you so scared?’... All while smiling innocently.”

 

“I swear, I never wanted to break off his damn horn and bash his skull with it…!” The Inugami didn’t register how Makoto was right in front of him until he felt a hand in his hair, messing up his dull mophead. The contact was almost soothing as the cold hand cooled the burning anger within his skull.

 

“You can take the tea leaves in the cabinet closest to the oven.” The masked man’s voice echoed above him. “Make sure to keep your head low while you take Martina to her room. The Oni might be visiting me at this hour, so don’t get caught and lock your door tonight, okay?”

 

“Got it… Boss.” Came Seth’s pained reply. “I… I really needed to let that out of my s-system.”

 

“No worries. Just stay safe, that’s all I could ask of you.”

 

Seth didn't need to be told twice, shaking off his superior's pale hand off his head. Wincing as he leans over to take out the earbuds in Martina's ears, before flicking a finger to the woman's forehead to wake her up. The action causes her to jolt awake. She apologizes profusely as the Inugami supports her despite his own injuries. The two Peacekeepers wave their short goodbyes as they exit the luxurious penthouse, the owner languidly waving back.

 

As soon as Makoto could no longer hear their footsteps, he grabbed the bottom of his mask. Lifting it slightly to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand. He wasn't surprised to see a distinct neon pink smear, as that sickening metallic scent and taste overpower his senses. He may not have the same craving for human flesh, but the taste of his own blood does not stop him from licking his cracked lips. Not long before he licked the smear off his hand, his rationality almost wiped along with it.

 

But hearing the familiar click of his mask does snap him back to reality. Makoto scolded himself as he fell into old habits again, a telltale sign of weakness. He weaves a hand into his scalp to calm himself, taking steady breaths as he does. 

 

‘Breath in. Breath out,’ came the soothing thought in his mind. ‘Just take a warm bath as always. Wash away your worries. Drown those bad feelings away.’

 

He could worry less about him waking up. For now, he could only briskly walk to the bathroom to set his clothes aside. Wrapping himself in a soft towel as he headed back to his indoor pool. He was tempted to just jump in, but he quietly stepped into the pool instead. Carefully placing the towel nearby to avoid it getting soaked. The water welcomes Makoto into a sweet embrace, his thoughts emptied as he sinks deeper into the warm cradle.

 

But it did nothing to erase the metallic taste on the tip of his tongue.

 

---

 

“Get up!” Shinigami zips in the air in fast hurried motions. “Ugh, why did nobody stop me from getting into a contract with my useless, reckless boytoy of a Master! If he starts dreaming about other girls I swear I'll…!”

 

It was then the young death god realized something. “Wait… why am I awake? My consciousness is linked with Master's so that must mean he's, yes, he must be awake now!” 

 

“Your mind's a lot quicker than One expected, young Shade.” 

 

“Shit, you scared me Nari.” Shinigami looked around the fancy bedroom, but she couldn't even see where Inari was. She never actually saw Inari in person before now that she thought about it. “Uh, I've been… meaning to ask you something: why the hell haven't I seen you before?”

 

“One would say that it is a long story,” the old fox sighs as their voice echoes in Shinigami's incorporeal mind. “But in its simplest of forms, One exists in the pup's soulscape. Since you and the pup have a contract that pertains to his soul, it allows the both of us to communicate. Think of it like you and him talking face-to-face while One listens through – what do those humans call it? Ah right – a speaker.”

 

“In case you're still curious, young Shade, One could materialize as a form of spirit the way you do if possible.”

 

Shinigami flips upside-down, clearly unimpressed. “And you can't cuz you lack power or something?”

 

“One confirms that you are correct.” Inari then whines sadly like a distressed animal. “It's normal considering the change of eras. Humans losing their faith in us, with that, our powers fade along with it. It's not surprising, just… disappointing in One's point of view.”

 

“Yeah. You're right, I don't get it with you bigwigs and all the need for believers, power and all that religious jazz.” She laughs as she floats around aimlessly. “But fine, I'll admit that you're a deity worth your salt if you can make your voice boom in my head all ominous like that! Not as scary as Izanami-sama, but…close enough!”

 

“Why thank you, young Shade. Just make sure to follow your duties as a mentor. Not leading the pup straight into dangerous situations next time, like those pesky onibi sending travelers to their doom.” Inari's laugh reverberates through Shinigami's head, the latter's ghostly form turning red and spiky as the former laughs at her.

 

Blinded from her own growing rage, the death god failed to see her master's eyes slowly opening. Yuma's once bright eyes don't have the same luster as they used to, like shining amethysts replaced for dull purple beads. Normally, the rookie detective would have shot up from bed, alarmed by his unfamiliar surroundings. But his heart and mind were fueled by empty despair, both from the loss of his friends at the agency and the ashes from his dreams. It was difficult to keep his eyes open, which have only just adjusted to the room's lights, but he mustered all of his strength to speak.

 

“W… Where are… my friends?” His weak voice was only barely audible to any listening ears. “I, I have to… find them…!”

 

Inari hums as Shinigami floats lower to Yuma's eye level. “Pup, One has only now managed to sort through your perturbed mind. Is that really the right question to ask after witnessing your kin burn into nothing but ash?”

 

“...I think I saw my… my mother–”

 

“Wait, so you have a mother?” Shinigami suddenly cuts in, earning a displeased groan from Inari. “What? Am I the only one here who thought my Master popped into existence one day?”

 

“Mother… Father… My relatives, those guests too. I felt…nothing. Even as those humans burned my home, I didn't feel… anything.” Yuma rasps as he curls deeper into himself. “But the chief…! Halara-san, Desuhiko-kun, Fubuki-san, and Vivia-san…! T-They're gone, I'm all… alone again.”

 

“Don't think that way Master!” Shinigami points a threatening finger to his face. “Are you really just going to believe those weirdos you call friends are gonna be happy hearing that from you?”

 

Yuma attempts to sit up on the bed, but his body is still clearly weakened. “No, t-they wouldn't.”

 

“I thought so!” Shinigami nods proudly. “Might be weird coming from a cute death god like me but those folks have pretty tenacious souls for better or worse. Yes, even that anemic vampire has a more energized soul than you! Crazy, right?”

 

The detective chuckles a little at his partner's attempt to cheer him up. “Thank you, Shinigami-chan. You're… right, they definitely won't go down that easily…even in a strange city like Kanai Ward.”

 

“Actually, speaking of Kanai Ward. Where… where are we?” Yuma mumbles as he surveys the room, which had a lot more ornate and intricate architecture compared to the submarine. It lacked the familiar warmth that the detective was used to, almost making his hair stand on end.

 

“Beats the hell out of me. Got a shien for your thoughts Nari?” Shinigami questions without a care in the world.

 

“This is just based on One's speculations, but One would like to propose that we're located in Kanai Tower.” As Inari finishes their statement, something clicks in the young detective.

 

“Besides the room's style lining up with Ginma District's overall high-class aesthetic, I couldn't sense the natural mana coming from the ground or plants below very well.” Yuma continues his line of thought as he fights with his body's desire to sink into the comforting bed. “It suggests that the room is in a higher position than the academy or even the rooftop.”

 

Shinigami could only stare in bewilderment. “...Am I the only one out of the loop? Why am I not feeling any different then?”

 

“One believes that it's because of how our domains are polar opposites, young Shade. One would also take the lack of changes on your end to be a good omen, as it would signify that the pup is not in any danger.” Yuma was about to sigh in relief but the deity continued. “Immediate danger, that is.”

 

As the death god above him begins to laugh hysterically, Yuma momentarily ignores his partner's joy as his true nature's senses are starting to kick in. He quickly slides a hand over his head and his lower back, only to find nothing there. If he were in better circumstances, he would be pleased that he's getting better at keeping his Kitsune features under wraps. But he honestly hoped that his ears and tail would help him sense this foreboding – yet oddly familiar – feeling. Beyond the door, it was only faint but it only grew the more Yuma focused his energy on it. He closes his eyes, trying to sink deeper into these imaginary depths. 

 

Before he knew it, the little Kitsune found himself drowning. Almost losing himself into the intense flood of anxiety, almost into full-blown horror, if it weren't for the feelings of anger and sorrow mixed in. Yuma was concerned about getting caught up, losing control of himself from emotions that didn't belong to him. Try as he might, he had to accept he wasn't strong enough to swim through these depths. While he was frustrated for not being able to glean more information, the message was clear.

 

Whoever owns these emotions is in desperate need of help. 

 

Yuma opens his eyes to a very worried Shinigami and a low pained whine in his ears. It was also then he realized he fell back onto the bed, breathing heavily and breaking out in cold sweat. Those emotions he just felt had an adverse effect on his body. His gut instinct told him that this power belonged to neither Shinigami nor Inari. Was it something he would claim to be his own power, his Forte perhaps? Yuma didn't know what to think at this point. His mind was so blissfully blank after whatever he had done just now, despite the physical strain on his body.

 

It takes a moment for his breath to settle as he stares at the ceiling. He couldn't hear the words both of his companions were saying, but he tells them he's realized something. Something that could lead him to solving Kanai Ward's mysteries and to more truths about his past.

 

And all of those answers lied just beyond the door.

 

Notes:

I have far too many ideas but so little time to write them all. I've been taking the habit of making a checklist of what things or concepts would be placed in each chapter to not get confused. I'm really glad I did, because this chapter was... going to be a lot longer (and possibly) more complicated without it. But I'm satisfied with how this chapter turned out, which is the most important part for me when it comes to writing. ^^

Panda hopes you guys are taking care of yourselves. Remember to eat well, stay hydrated, get good sleep, and to not get too stressed. Whether you guys are fanfic writers, readers, or someone just strolling through, I sincerely hope you have a nice and colorful day or night. ^^

This series is highly inspired a manga of the same name by @koikoisararira (on Twitter) or sarara (on Pixiv). I highly recommend checking them out so you can have more context to this AU.
Link on Pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/user/21865959/series/195707

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Fox's Window