XCEL

Chiba City Municipal Police Station

“You said your name was Dentaku Bango, didn’t you?”

The boy nodded.

“Good, good. I was never great with names, you’ll have to excuse me.”

Detective Ibuse sat backwards on a chair opposite. Folding his arms, he leaned forward, resting his chest on the chair’s raised back. The man ran a hand through his hair, wiping some sweat off his brow, and sighed. His posture was purposefully casual; Bango, by contrast, looked as though he’d had his spine surgically replaced with a telegraph pole.

“Why am I here,” was the question Bango wanted to ask, and yet did not. He already knew the answer. In fact, there were two. The first was the answer they’d give him. Following any traumatic event, eyewitnesses were questioned to gather details of what had happened. Statements had to be given to the press, after all, as well as the extensive documentation required for police records. He had already seen snippets of news coverage on the web. It was being framed as domestic terrorism. A student had smuggled in explosives and detonated them in the early hours of the afternoon on the second and third floors. Parts of the building were reduced to rubble, not to mention corpses of students and faculty members alike were left in the explosion’s wake.

The second reason, he knew, was to keep him and his fellow students quiet. In any incident where panic sparked among the public, finding and prosecuting the crime’s culprit was only part of the police force’s priority. Part of the job was in ensuring damage control, making sure classified information of the event, eyewitness statements, were exclusively available to them first and not the general public, so that they could choose to release information in a reasonable manner. Despite their efforts, the event had already achieved notoriety. It was being referred to online as the “Senketsu Incident”.

His only experience of police interrogation rooms was—like all law-abiding citizens—the dramatized kind seen on cop shows and in action-thrillers. Looking around him, this one seemed right out of central casting. A sealed room, harsh lighting overhead, with a mirror at one end. Bango had no doubts that there were people watching from beyond it. Most of the surfaces were brushed metal, the floor was concrete. He had done nothing wrong, and yet, with where he sat and the hushed nature of it all made him feel as though he was the one responsible. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew all his fellow students—the ones who survived—had felt the same. They hadn’t been allowed to return home that day. The police had escorted them all away to dormitories, as they were now protected witnesses in police custody.

“Bango, can you hear me?”

It seemed he had drifted off slightly. The detective was speaking to him now. Snapping back to attention, Bango nodded.

“You looked lost in thought,” Ibuse gave him an easy smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Unfortunately, we’re fairly short on time.”

“It’s my fault. My apologies,” Bango replied stiffly.

“There’s no need to be so formal, kid,” Ibuse tried to ease him. “You’re not in trouble, I promise. You seem like a smart one. I think you already know what I’m about to ask.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Were you there at the time, Detective?”

Ibuse paused. He had been nearby. What he had seen, his eyes hadn’t wanted to believe. But he had been there. He had seen them.

“No. Unfortunately not,” he lied. “That’s why I need your version of events. Is that okay?”

Bango nodded.

“Then,” Ibuse gestured for him to continue. “Whenever you’re ready. Oh, and please,” he did his best to keep his smile, “feel free to call me Nagora. Or Mr Ibuse. Whatever’s most comfortable for you.”

Bango nodded again. No matter what the man said, there was no way he was going to address an officer of the law by his first name. The boy looked down at the floor for a moment, sighed, and began to explain.

What followed only confirmed what Ibuse himself had seen. Learning that he had gone crazy and had begun hallucinating things would’ve been a much easier truth for the detective to grasp over the reality that what he saw was real, and really did happen.

“So, about this friend of yours,” Ibuse continued, steering the conversation into his line of questioning.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Right, of course. Remind me of his name.”

“Rinkaku Harigane.”

“That’s right.” Ibuse cleared his throat. “He’s the main target of our investigations at the moment. Your fellow students who witnessed the event highlighted him as a… person of interest.”

“I see.”

“How long have you known him?”

Far too long. Bango hesitated for a moment. “Eleven years, seven months.”

“Wow.” Ibuse leaned back in his chair. “That’s precise. Quite the history, too, if you don’t mind me saying. You must know him quite well, then.”

Bango averted his gaze. “Not really. Harigane and I, we’ve always competed.”

That was an understatement.

“And that’s been it, has it?

“Yeah.”

Harigane never wanted much to do with him otherwise.

“Is that right?” Ibuse scratched at the stubble on his chin. He pointed loosely with a finger. “Yeah, I thought I recognised your names before. Didn’t the both of you finish first and second in the National Mathematics Championship last year? I swear I saw it on TV.”

Underneath the desk, Bango’s hands tightened on his knees. Harigane had beaten him, yet again.

“So, what do you think of him?”

“I hate him.”

Not even a second’s pause. Bango felt goosebumps erupt along the back of his neck. Catharsis.

Ibuse looked taken aback. “Why’s that, then?”

“He’s always been better than me,” Bango’s jaw clenched. “Always.”

“In school, and such?”

He nodded.

Ibuse knew he needed to choose his next words carefully. In his attempts to coax some answers out of the boy, he’d stumbled into a proverbial minefield.

“Would he consider you his friend?”

This got Bango to pause. He didn’t look at Ibuse for a good moment.

“I don’t think he considers me at all.”

Now it was Ibuse’s turn to pause.

“I don’t quite follow you.”

“Harigane never acknowledges me, what I can do.” Bango’s stare drilled a hole in the tabletop.

Ibuse was very glad the boy wasn’t looking at him.

“He’s so focused on himself, on what he’s doing,” Bango continued. “No matter what I do, I can never get him to acknowledge it. He always…” At this, Bango sighed. “He always just brushes me off.”

“I see.”

As much as Ibuse wanted to inquire further, he knew it wasn’t his place. He was a detective, not a psychologist.

“Did you notice any strange behaviour of his yesterday? Before the incident, I mean.”

Harigane was never what you’d call ‘ordinary’. Then again, neither was he. Bango was self-aware enough to know that much, at least.

“He was his usual irritating self yesterday. Nothing was out of the ordinary.”

As their conversation continued, Bango did find his tongue loosening slightly. Ibuse was clearly skilled at his job, given he was able to transform this unforgiving interrogation room into somewhere that someone felt comfortable talking.

“He kept on looking in his bag, though. I saw him do it repeatedly in class after lunch, just before those…” He suppressed a shudder, “those things attacked.”

Bango hadn’t found it strange at the time, but all these kinds of small details resurfaced after the fact with new context.

“His schoolbag? Is that where he kept the knife you mentioned, do you think?”

“I’m certain of it.”

Ibuse had been interested to hear about that knife. From the way Bango described it, it sounded like a museum relic. The boy had keen eyes, even in the midst of crisis. He’d managed to pick out a scarab beetle emblem on the knife’s hilt. Ibuse was no archaeologist, but he had wandered around enough ancient Egyptian museum exhibits with his daughter to know the relevance of that. The thought stuck in his mind: archaeology. What was so relevant about that?

“That reminds me. Is your…” he chewed on his words for a second, “classmate, Rinkaku, related to the Egyptologist Katsuro Harigane? ”

“He never talked about his family.”

“I see.”

That was it. He had been idling in front of the television after work that night, when a news report about an archaeological triumph had come on air. That was only a week or so ago. For the life of him, Ibuse couldn’t remember what the discovery was. All he remembered was the name Katsuro Harigane. The detective cursed himself for not paying attention at the time but, without some kind of precognition, how could he have known? Was this information even directly relevant? He’d have to do some research on the matter before passing his report onto his superiors.

“I appreciate your help with all of this, Bango.”

The boy nodded.

“Just before I came in, I heard the forensics teams at the school now have identified all the bodies of your classmates that didn’t make it. I’m very sorry.”

Bango didn’t look moved. Then again, appearances were often deceiving.

“What about Amibari?”

Ibuse exhaled through his nose. “There’s been no sign of her. She and Rinkaku Harigane remain the only ones unaccounted for. Our officers are searching for them as we speak, I promise. Were the two of you close?”

“Not especially. She was close to Harigane, though. Was,” he clarified.

“But Harigane attacked her, didn’t he?”

“That’s right.” Bango paused. “About that, there’s something I… haven’t yet told you.”

Ibuse raised an eyebrow.

“Those monsters earlier… I don’t know how he did it, but Harigane managed to kill all of them. They looked like they had been sliced down the middle, others had their heads cut clean off.” It was a horrible sight to behold, but Rin had executed it with a kind of elegance Bango never knew he possessed. It was incredible.

“This was after he stabbed himself in the head and survived?”

That alone was strange enough by itself. Ibuse had never heard of another case where someone had survived a stab wound directly to the face—let alone a self-inflicted one.

“Yeah. That was when he… changed. He had a third eye on his forehead.” He pointed at his own. “And a strange tattoo beneath his left eye. His voice sounded a lot deeper, too…” He then drifted off, looking towards the corner of the room.

Ibuse didn’t interrupt him. The boy was deep in thought.

“It was almost like he was being possessed. What’s more, I think he had some strange power.”

Ibuse’s eyes widened. He shuffled forwards on his chair.

“That knife couldn’t have done it. It was far too small,” Bango continued. “Something cut through those monsters.”

“And you didn’t see what that something was?”

Bango shook his head.

“Are you saying it was some kind of magic?” Ibuse continued the train of thought.

Bango’s eyes widened. “It’s an irrational conclusion, I’m well aware,” he said after a pause. Giving it some more thought, he shook his head. “Then again, I… couldn’t see anything else that could’ve caused it. Harigane didn’t even touch them, he was standing a good few feet away. My memory’s still hazy in places…” The boy leaned forward on the desk, supporting his head with one hand. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Ibuse reassured. “I suspect you’re still recovering from the shock.”

Throughout their meeting, his pen had been flying across his notebook. His hand was now starting to tire. Writing his report later, he’d no doubt have access to the audio transcript. This intel was invaluable. How reliable it was, given the fragility of the boy’s state at the moment, wasn’t clear just yet. The claim of some kind of other force existing was about as nonsensical as could be. Then again, he had seen those monsters with his own eyes. There was no way he could doubt that. Once you opened that can of worms, the existence of some invisible power capable of combating these demons didn’t seem so implausible anymore.

Closing the notebook, Ibuse stood.

“Thank you for answering my questions.” He smiled. “I’ve kept you here long enough; I’m sure your parents will be eager to see you safe and sound.” Looking at the mirror, Ibuse signalled to his associates the end of the questioning. Irrespective of how many questions he had left to ask, it wouldn’t be kind on the poor boy to keep him here. The weary look in his eyes said it all: Bango’s mind was far, far away from here; hardly surprising, too. It wasn’t every day you lived through such a tragedy.

“Take care.”

Another cordial nod was all the response Ibuse received. Without another word, Bango left the interrogation room, and followed the officers guiding the students from the station.

Poor kid, Ibuse thought. He busied his hands by trying to get his paperwork in order. The day would be in full swing for most, but he doubted he’d see the sky again until late that night. He wore a mirthless smile. Yeah, he wouldn’t be enjoying any of those nice days off for a long time now. A bitter taste soured his tongue for a moment. If he’d wanted to keep his workload, he thought, he would’ve stayed with the service. Then again, it seemed trouble followed him, rather than the other way around. What had once been his peaceful day off, had quickly become one of his biggest cases yet.

No rest for the weary, and all that.

Was that how the old adage went?

He couldn’t even remember anymore.

Ibuse chuckled. “What a joke.”