Bungo Stray Dogs - Volume SS1 - Chapter Ep

EPILOGUE

Ayatsuji Detective Agency / Morning / Clear

Two weeks had gone by since then.

There was no longer a visible hole in my thigh, and I had returned to work even as I was convalescing. Meanwhile, Sakaguchi had been busier than ever following the Kyougoku incident, from being swamped with paperwork, going toe to toe against Ministry of Justice top brass, and dealing with a foreign skill organization in Yokohama.

Detective Ayatsuji, on the other hand, was now being called “The Master of Escape,” and the surveillance team keeping an eye on him increased twofold. Nevertheless, he still disappeared from time to time, only to return with new dolls for his collection. To say the Division was absolutely stunned would be an understatement.

Investigations into Kyougoku remained ongoing, but strangely enough, new cases that appeared to be Kyougoku’s doing kept cropping up occasionally. A major reorganization within the military police brought on newly appointed special agents who groused that it felt as if Kyougoku were still alive. Kyougoku’s body, which Asukai had hidden, still hadn’t been found yet, either. Perhaps Kyougoku was still alive out there somewhere. The thought alone sent a chill down my spine.

After all, who knew what that phantom was capable of?

And as for me—

“Detective Ayatsuji! Did you see this magazine article?!” I shouted the instant I walked into the detective agency.

Detective Ayatsuji, who was sipping a cup of coffee, eyed me lethargically. “Do you know what time it is, Tsujimura? What’s gotten you so excited? Did you finally learn how to tie your shoes?”

“Look at this!” I slammed a tabloid onto his desk. “SPOOKY! SORCERER’S GHOST TEMPTING PEOPLE TO DO EVIL!”

The detective calmly read the headline. “I’m already getting a headache. Who wrote this?”

“The same guy who wrote about the well,” I replied.

I then began reading parts of the article to him.

There’s been no shortage of bizarre statements made by murder suspects lately. A restaurant owner who tainted his customers’ plates with lethal poison claimed that a demon tempted him to do it while he was on a business trip in the mountains. A woman who chopped off her boyfriend’s arms and legs said she had forged a pact with a demon that was standing at the end of a crossroad.

“I’m going to skip ahead a little, okay?” I said as I turned the page.

The one thing these suspects have in common is their claim that a demon taught them how to commit the perfect crime. Word has it that a wicked sorcerer has come back from the dead with a grudge against the detective who exposed his crimes and had him killed, and now he persuades others to do his evil bidding. If this story wasn’t already terrifying enough, there are hair-raising rumors of people searching for ways to become possessed by this ghost so that they can act on grudges of their own. Personally, I can’t even fathom how sick in the head someone must be to want to commit murder. At any rate, people claim to have seen this ghost at a place known as the Haunted Kyougoku Crossroad, which I plan to investigate further—

“Journalism at its finest.” Detective Ayatsuji scowled. “He writes like he’s some sort of hero, but all he’s doing is giving wannabe murderers that last push they need to follow their dreams. ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions,’ as they say.”

“I spoke with the journalist earlier, and he basically regurgitated the same stories in this article. He apparently got this scoop from interviewing city and military police agents who were involved in the Kyougoku case.” I sighed. “Want to use the long arm of the law to get these tabloids off the street?”

“It’d be a waste of time.” Detective Ayatsuji took a sip of coffee as if he wasn’t concerned. “Other tabloids will flood the market soon enough. There’s no way to stop the rumors. It seems the tales of this ‘ghost’ have begun to spread just like he wanted.”

This ghost had been appearing at the Haunted Kyougoku Crossroad and granting evil to those who found it.

Kyougoku had won, just like the detective had said himself countless times.

We lost the moment Detective Ayatsuji killed him at the top of the waterfall three and a half months ago. The events that played out afterward were merely throwaway matches that let the defeat really sink in and make us suffer even more.

In order to put a stop to this madness, we needed to prove that Kyougoku was just an ordinary person, but that wasn’t possible now that he was dead.

Kyougoku’s death was most likely the final stroke of the pen necessary to complete his so-called ceremony.

“There are numerous cases of humans becoming monsters or spirits,” Detective Ayatsuji said, his expression unchanged. “The Hashihime of Uji in The Tale of the Heike’s ‘Book of the Sword’ tells of a noblewoman so consumed by jealousy of another woman that she spent seven days at Kifune Shrine praying to become a demonic entity. The deity Kifune then instructed her to take on a monstrous form and submerge herself in the Kawase River in Uji for twenty-one days. The woman fashioned her long hair into five horns, covered her face with cinnabar and her body with vermilion, then crowned her head with a three-pronged trivet and set it in three torches of burning pine along with two further torches in her mouth. After twenty-one days in the river, she became a demon who haunted the people she envied to their deaths.”

Detective Ayatsuji effortlessly recited all this with his eyes closed. He basically had a photographic memory when it came to books.

“There’s one record from the Tenpyo-hoji era—specifically, the year 757, when the spirit of Tachibana no Naramaro, who died in prison, spread baseless rumors that ended up inciting a riot. Then in March of the third year of the Hoki era—the year 772—Princess Inoe was accused of putting a curse on the emperor, and both she and her son, Imperial Prince Osabe, were stripped of their titles in May of the same year. Once the two of them died under mysterious circumstances three years later, strange things started occurring within the imperial court. There’s also the well-known tale of Sugawara no Michizane. After his death in 903, he was said to have become an unruly god of storms. Multiple rainstorms and floods later, the imperial court built Kitano Tenmangu and dedicated it him. Nowadays, people know him as a god of learning.”

“They die, they become demons, they wreak havoc, and eventually, people start to worship them until they become gods…,” I said.

“Gods and demons are intrinsically equals in this country. Like beneficial insects and harmful insects.”

Maybe Kyougoku would someday come to be worshipped as a god, too. A malevolent god who provided salvation for the lonely through evil and crime. Before long, tales of him would turn into legends and eventually ghost stories.

This was Kyougoku we were talking about, after all. He might still be scheming unbeknownst to us, dispatching familiars and carrying out his plan to become a ghastly specter.

I could hear his gleeful cackle even now.

“By the way…” I lifted my head and asked, “Do you still see Kyougoku’s spirit sometimes?”

I glanced around the room. It was just me and the detective here, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here, too.

“Yeah.” Detective Ayatsuji narrowed his eyes and looked toward the back of the room. “He’s right over there.”

I instinctively followed his gaze, but there was obviously nobody there. Just darkness, a gentle breeze, and silence.

“Detective,” I began, staring at the empty space. “The Division can probably exorcise this demon possessing you. If you want them to get rid of Kyougoku for good—”

“I wish we could, but unfortunately, we can’t.” He scowled. “He may be nothing more than a shadow without a mind or body, but he still knows things that we don’t. He still has Kyougoku’s knowledge before he died. He even reveals the truth behind past murders on a whim sometimes, just to mess with me. So until we get enough information on the other wells and unsolved mysteries, I’m stuck with this aggravating parasite.”

“Then…there’s something I want you to ask him for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Why did he choose you and me?” I said. “I understand that he needed players in his scheme to solve those cases and spread rumors for his ‘ceremony,’ but why did those two people need to be us? There must’ve been plenty of other detectives and agents with skills out there.”

“Beats me,” Detective Ayatsuji replied, leaning back in his seat. Then his expression almost immediately changed. “…What?”

He peered into the corner of the room as if he was closely observing something.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Kyougoku says that’s not all.” Ayatsuji paused. “Come on… Are you messing with me?”

What else is there…?

I felt a sudden surge of anxiety. “What did Kyougoku say?”

“No…” Detective Ayatsuji shook his head and averted his gaze. “Don’t worry about it. He’s either lying or joking.”

I cocked my head, curious. “That’s not all”? Is there another reason Kyougoku got us involved in all this? One we still don’t know about?

Detective Ayatsuji stared daggers at one corner of the room. “Shut up, Kyougoku. Whatever. I don’t have time to waste on someone who’s already dead, so get out of here. And stop watching me while I sleep like you did this morning. If I wake up and see you a foot away from my face again, I’m exorcising you myself.”

He then threw the spoon in his hand at the corner of the room. It just bounced off the wall and fell to the floor.

“You’re starting to look…,” I began, “…insane.”

At my off-the-cuff remark, Detective Ayatsuji slowly turned his head in my direction…and smiled.

“…Tsujimura.” His voice would have even shaken the deepest bowels of hell. “It sounds to me like you forgot all your ‘training’ while you were in the hospital. Shall we start from the beginning again?”

I blacked out, and by the time I regained consciousness, I was prostrating myself on the floor against my better judgment.

“P-please… Anything but that.” My entire body was trembling. “N-no more training, please… I beg of you! Anything but that! Please…!”

“Hmph.” Detective Ayatsuji stood up and glared icily at me. “As long as you know your place, we’re good. Now, let’s go, Tsujimura. Bring the car around.”

“…Huh?” I lifted my head. “Where are we going?”

“I’ve been summoned,” the detective replied while placing his pipe between his lips. “Your people want me at their secret base.”

Ayatsuji entered the Special Division for Unusual Power’s base alone. A certain hallway in the building—which appeared to be nothing more than a countryside library—led him to an empty closed-stack library.

After he placed a hand on an old white wall and twisted his wrist, the wall lowered, creating a path even farther into the building.

Once he got past the monitoring systems, voice-recognition device, and retina scanner, he walked through a heavily guarded checkpoint, received permission to pass, and started heading underground.

At the end of the dimly lit, spacious hallway was a massive aluminum door, which silently opened, revealing a colossal underground white library that was far more impressive than the fake one above. The ceiling seemed almost endlessly high, and the room was so big that he couldn’t even clearly see the wall on the opposite side. Silvery-white bookshelves stood like ceremonial guards, stuffed with valuable books from all over the world.

It was a land full of time, paper, and silence.

Ayatsuji observed his surroundings. Near the entrance was a large desk where a woman was sitting alone, reading.

She had a quiet demeanor and seemed to be around forty to fifty years old. She was in a pale-blue knit sweater and wore a simple hairband to hold back her black hair, which was accented by strands of silver. The woman didn’t have on any jewelry or other accessories. Her light-colored eyes carefully traced each word she read.

Only the sound of her turning pages filled the silent library. However, each page turned only made the silence stand out even more. She was like time and knowledge compressed into a single person.

Ayatsuji took the seat across from her, but neither of them said so much as a word for a while. The turning pages of the book sounded like the booming of ocean waves.

“How about going outside every once in a while, Director?” Ayatsuji asked.

“What’s wrong with here?” the woman replied while keeping her eyes glued to her book. “By the way, Ayatsuji, I’m the assistant director. I know I’m never on center stage, so it must be easy to forget.”

“Right, You’re the real boss of the Special Division, the one who pulls the strings from the shadows.”

The assistant director lifted her head and smiled. “I see you’re still just as outspoken after all these years.”

“Five years, to be exact.” Ayatsuji’s smile was so faint that it almost seemed nonexistent. “Did you summon me here just to hear my hot takes? Because you could have called me ages ago if you simply wanted to hear my voice.”

“You know I can’t do that.” The assistant director softly combed her hair back, revealing a small, old scar on her right ear. “Only a few people know that I’m even alive. How would the public feel if they saw a woman who was supposed to be dead strolling down the street? It would give them a heart attack, right?”

“Yeah.” Ayatsuji nodded.

“You’re absolutely right, Assistant Director Tsujimura,” he added.

The woman gently smiled at him with a quiet gaze, then carefully closed her book and asked:

“How’s my daughter?”

Her voice shook the spacious library, emphasizing its silence even further.

“As reckless as always.” Ayatsuji shook his head. “She’s planning on pooling her savings and next paycheck to buy a bulletproof SUV with a four-wheel drive. You know, the kind with a machine gun installed in the back seat. I heard her huffing and puffing about how she was going to ‘get them good next time’ or something like that.”

“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.” The woman’s smile deepened even more. “But I feel safe leaving her with you.”

“Right. I plan on making her my maid, by the way.”

“No, you don’t.”

Ayatsuji inhaled as if he was going to say something but instead quietly exhaled, keeping whatever thought he had to himself. He looked into the distance for a while; once again, silence returned. It was like sand slowly blowing in the desert wind.

“Sorry for crushing the Shadow Child,” he abruptly said, still gazing into the distance.

“Don’t be. That was its mission, after all.” She shook her head. “It’s not an issue, regardless. Autonomous skill-derived life-forms grow back to their usual size after a few years.”

“A Port Mafia executive said something curious to your daughter,” the detective mentioned as he observed the white desk’s design. “He told her the Shadow Child reeked of death.”

The woman didn’t reply immediately, staring quietly at him.

“I guess it makes sense, though,” the detective added. “You and the Shadow Child have slaughtered countless criminals and foreign spies with skills, after all. You are a specialist in skill-based combat—a true agent like the film heroes that your daughter so aspires to be.”

“Yes…” The woman quietly nodded. “But people like that don’t last long.”

“True, you made too many enemies for yourself, so you had to go into hiding. And that’s why in return for sparing my life, you asked me to help you fake your death. So I went to Reigo Island during those murders and made it look like my skill had killed you in an accident. I never expected your daughter would find me while trying to unravel the mystery, though.”

“She may not look it, but she’s stubborn. Once she’s made up her mind, she doesn’t give up.” The assistant director smiled.

“Heh. Yeah, ‘stubborn’ is a nice way of putting it,” the detective scoffed. “She really takes after you.”

Assistant Director Tsujimura beamed from ear to ear.

“You being alive really helped me solve this case, by the way,” Ayatsuji added. “The moment Kubo said you were dead, I realized that he wasn’t the Engineer. He probably confused the records of the incident with his actual memories after the satori altered them.”

“I’m glad I could help.” The assistant director bitterly smirked. “Since we’re already talking about the case, how about you explain something to me? Kyougoku needed a detective for his plan to succeed, but why did he end up choosing you and my daughter?”

“That’s…”

Ayatsuji hesitated; he seemed to be thinking about something.

It was the same question that Agent Tsujimura asked him earlier—a question that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to answer.

The detective stared at the woman in front of him, who carefully gazed back at him with eyes that saw all. But eventually, he sighed in acquiescence and started the tale.

“In general, there are rules to where a ghost or monster can appear,” he began. “They have to be places where everyday life crosses with the spirit world: wells, bridges, the foot of a mountain…and crossroads where paths literally cross one another.” The detective folded his hands together over the table. “One Buddhist event was merged with an old Japanese custom to create what we know nowadays as Obon, where we honor the spirits of our ancestors. Since ancient times, people have believed that offering incense at graves in their village or at crossroads allowed their ancestors’ spirits to return to this world. There’s also a long custom of performing the traditional Obon dance in the center of the village—in other words, at the center of the crossroad. In some regions, whenever there’s a funeral, people will pierce white pieces of paper with bamboo sticks and shove them into village crossroads. This way, people in the village knew a funeral had taken place. All this to say: Crossroads in ancient times were considered boundaries between this world and the next, at least subconsciously.”

Assistant Director Tsujimura nodded quietly. “I understand that much, but go on.”

“In the Kyuuai Zuihitsu, the crossroad—or the tsuji, as they used to call them—to the northeast of the Kyoto Imperial Palace was named the Washbasin Tsuji. A specter rendered anyone passing through it on horseback unable to move. There are also numerous legends of an ubume—the evil spirit of a deceased pregnant woman—appearing at a tsuji as well. And monsters known as darashi are said to appear at a tsuji and grab onto anyone who passes by, holding them down until the victim is too exhausted to move. There’s also a wayside shrine by a tsuji in Ibaraki and a similar one in Kagoshima. There are even tsuji fortune tellers in Sakai. Anyway, you could go on and on for days bringing up ghost stories that involve crossroads. One legend overseas tells of a demon at a crossroad who will grant you whatever you wish in return for your soul.”

The assistant director’s expression suddenly clouded over as if she had come to some sort of realization. Ayatsuji held out a finger to stop her before she could say anything.

“I don’t know if crossroads actually are boundaries between worlds,” he continued, “but I do know that Kyougoku was obsessed with the idea. He wanted to become a demon just like the Hashihime of Uji and Emperor Sutoku, so he became fixated on whatever was needed to make that happen. And what he needed most of all was someone who could serve as the foundation by solving these bizarre mysteries and spreading their rumors to the public. Put simply, he needed a detective to be the phantom’s hunter as well as the source of the phantom’s origin.”

“Hold on,” the assistant director interjected, covering her face with a hand. “Does that mean…the reason why Kyougoku was so obsessed with making you and my daughter his rivals to carry out his final plan was simply because—?”

“Yes,” the detective easily admitted. “My name is Ayatsuji, and my assistant’s name is Tsujimura. That’s why.”

The assistant director shook her head incredulously. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

“Anyway, it was nice talking with you.” Ayatsuji scooted back in his chair and stood up. “I should be heading out. Tsujimura’s waiting for me.”

“Can I ask you one last thing about my daughter?” the woman ventured. “You lied in your report.”

The detective quietly stared back at her for a few moments. “Which lie are you talking about? I’ve lost count.”

Assistant Director Tsujimura gently smiled. “You said that ignoring the Division’s request and running away was all an act. You claimed you only did that to lure out Kyougoku’s ‘familiar.’ Doesn’t that sound a little strange to you?”

Ayatsuji didn’t reply, but his eyes were locked on her face.

“You knew that the Shadow Child was my skill, and you knew that I was still alive.” The assistant director stroked the cover of her book. “But you didn’t know that I’d ordered the Shadow Child to kill anyone my daughter tried to kill. You only knew about that after you were on the run and I contacted you.”

The detective slowly blinked in silence for a few moments. “What are you trying to say?”

“That you realized my daughter had been set up when you were looking into Kubo’s death, and you ran away so that your skill wouldn’t kill her. You ran, even though you knew the Division would hunt you down. In other words, you were made to choose between your life and my daughter’s, and you chose hers. Am I wrong?”

“…I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ayatsuji averted his gaze and began to walk away.

“Is that so?” The assistant director laughed. “I thought the fearless Homicide Detective would have been able to come up with a better excuse than that.”

“I don’t have time for your games. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The detective began heading toward the exit, his footsteps echoing in his wake. But when he placed a hand on the door, Assistant Director Tsujimura stopped him one last time.

“Take good care of my daughter for me.”

Ayatsuji looked back with a faint smirk. “Your precious daughter, who you named after yourself, is safe with me, Assistant Director Mizuki Tsujimura.”

After Ayatsuji exited the library’s back door alone, he squinted under the bright sunlight. A deep silence enveloped the parking lot while Agent Tsujimura waited by the door.

“Detective Ayatsuji! That was quick. Did you meet with someone?”

“I was rekindling an old friendship,” Ayatsuji briefly replied as he continued to walk. “You received word of our next mission?”

“Yes, I just got the call… There’s been a series of bizarre murders.”

Tsujimura followed him, opening her notebook and checking what she wrote.

“From what I was told, all these murders occurred in a building designed by a well-known architect. Someone working there mentioned the Haunted Kyougoku Crossroad as well.”

“So his plan is going smoothly. Sounds like we’re going to have to take care of another one of his adherents.”

After a brief sigh, the detective began to head toward the car, where a familiar individual was standing.

“I have good news,” the individual said with a grin. “Your next destination will be a nightmare. One of my personal favorite serial killers will be waiting for you in a brand-new unescapable room.”

Ayatsuji kept walking to the car without even glancing in Kyougoku’s direction. The Sorcerer decided to lean in closer.

“Nothing has changed,” he told Ayatsuji. “You will be eliminated if you fail to solve the case. If you need any help, you know where to find me. I would never turn down a request from you, after all.”

“Get out of my way.” The detective swung his arm, and Kyougoku instantly vanished.

“Don’t even try. You cannot get rid of a shadow.” Kyougoku was already in the back seat of the car. “I am but a mirage—a figment of your imagination that lives in your head. Now, come. A fresh locked-door mystery awaits us, partner.”

“Who the hell are you calling—?”

But before he could even start yelling, Kyougoku was gone without a trace. Ayatsuji sighed.

Tsujimura turned a worried gaze in his direction. “Detective? Is everything okay?”

“…I’m fine,” he replied. “Tsujimura.”

“Yes?”

The detective looked back at his assistant. She was staring at him curiously with her head tilted to the side, causing her bangs to brush against her cheek.

Ayatsuji reflected on his skill.

It was a curse that spread death around him regardless of his wishes. The moment he gained this skill, he was robbed of the chance to lead an ordinary life. His world would be soaked with blood and reeking of death. Nothing but sadness and resentment. The only end to this suffering would be his demise.

Too many lives had been ruined and lost during his battle to the death with Kyougoku. Many more would follow. There was no victory in this war against the “evil” that the phantom left behind—and that was why he had to continue fighting this losing battle until he drew his very last breath.

However…

Tsujimura gazed at Ayatsuji. Her light-colored eyes were just like her mother’s.

Even then, this makes it all—

“Forget it. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Just start driving.”

“Okay!”

“Safety first.”

“I’ll get us there in a jiffy! Hold on tight!”

Ayatsuji shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Even if it meant crawling out of the pits of hell.

Even if it meant being forever surrounded by death.

Even if it meant drowning in conspiracies and resentment…

“Being a detective is worth it all,” he said, then gently smiled.

End