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Smoke curled up around the streetlight like a moth to a flame. When it reached past the light into the darkness of Yokohama’s night, it disappeared.
Even the simple dynamics of smoke was something that one could miss when they are required to sit still and act pretty like some show dog, living to be admired and serving no purpose besides the whims of their master. Ayatsuji pulled the pipe away from his mouth again, letting smoke travel from his lips to the light above him. He eventually set out to stretch his legs, but even a break or two was a welcome comfort. There was nobody out to disturb his walk, much less catch the dangerous ability Ayatsuji Yukito sneaking out yet again from his confinement. The stakes weren’t high at all, he could simply relax.
Ayatsuji closed his eyes as he leaned against the streetlight. He would have to go back soon, of course, but before that…
There was a tug on his coat, and Ayatsuji opened his eyes, looking down at the unwelcome and unnecessary disturbance. It was a little girl, donning traditional clothing. Nothing about her dress caught his eye, however, as nothing could match the lifeless look in her eyes.
“Ayatsuji Yukito… You kill criminals.”
Her delivery was as flat as her eyes, void of any distinguishable emotion. She reminded him more of a doll than a human.
“I am Kyouka Izumi. I’ve killed thirty-five people. Please kill me.”
His only response was a stare, as he attempted to grapple with the situation. There were no indicators in her eyes or her body language. Only a girl, wearing a kimono with her hair arranged into pigtails, staring at him and begging for death. Ayatsuji lifted the pipe to his mouth again but paused as he found not even that to be a suitable course of action.
“My ability doesn’t work like that. It is an unbiased judge of those destined for the netherworld. It won’t work on just your word alone.”
His ability, more often than not, was a hindrance in many regards. He could not control it. He could try to predict it, yes, but even then his predictions were merely guesses.
The girl’s expression did not change. Her grip on his coat, however, tightened.
“In the past six months, I have killed thirty-five people. My last victims were a family of three. The demon cut their heads off.”
Ayatsuji raised an eyebrow. An ability user? That would make sense, though he did not put it past higher powers to use a child as an assassin even without an ability. It was common practice after the Great War.
“Unless you commit a crime in front of me, you would have to bring along proof that you were the one to kill those people. Do you have that?”
The girl shook her head. But, she still kept a hold on his coat.
“Then I can’t help you find the end that you are seeking. Unless you would want to showcase this ability right now.”
Ayatsuji couldn’t deny his own curiosity at the ability, but there was another reason for why he pushed for her to use it. She had approached him on her own, with a hand on his shoulder that was much smaller than his. Even though she had clearly undergone some type of training, Ayatsuji was still strong enough to break out of the hold and brush her off. If she had wanted to keep him in place and prove her guilt, she would have summoned that ability already. There was a small chance that she hated to use the ability, but given her desire to meet her end she would no doubt use whatever means possible to achieve it now.
In short, she couldn’t summon that ability. But, given how many she had killed, there was likely a way to control it.
Kyouka held onto a small phone tied around her neck, knowing that she couldn’t summon this ability that she had mentioned.
“Tell me, did you command the demon?” Ayatsuji asked her.
“... No.”
“In that case, my ability would not be able to take its effect on you at all.”
“... Please,” Kyouka begged, her blank composure fading only for a second as she frowned at the failure of her situation.
Ayatsuji paused, contemplating his next move. There was no arguing with the girl, her determination was unshakeable for now. She was likely part of an organization, given how many her ability slaughtered in a short time frame. Assassin-type abilities were rather popular. He brought the pipe to his mouth, breathing in the smoke and blowing it, watching as it floated towards the light once more.
“I can’t make any promises. But, if you come with me, I might be able to figure something out.” It was a lie, in a sense. It certainly wouldn’t be what she wanted.
Still, it was enough for the expressionless girl as she released her hold on his jacket and nodded.
It was a regular morning in the Ayatsuji Detective Agency.
Ayatsuji had just finished getting his breakfast and coffee ready, adding in two cups of sugar as he did every day. His coat was leaning against his chair, his hat on his desk, and his cats curling around his legs begging for breakfast as if they were starved. As he began to fill the cat bowls, he noticed a pair of blank eyes watching from the couch.
“Misaki and Koichi. Try not to annoy them.”
The pull between little girls and cats was a strong one, and he would be a fool to try and prevent it. On numerous occasions, he had even caught Tsujimura playing with his beloved pets.
Setting the bowls down, the cats began to eat. Kyouka slowly walked into the kitchen, watching them carefully.
“I made toast and eggs. I didn’t expect you to give me an answer if I asked what you wanted to eat, so I took the liberty of making that decision for you.” A bit rude, perhaps, but it was the truth. Kyouka nodded, taking the plate and setting it down on the kitchen table to eat. Ayatsuji sipped at his coffee, enjoying the ephemeral peace.
There was a knock at his door, and then it opened.
“Ayatsuji-sensei, I’m coming in!” Called the chipper voice of none other than Tsujimura Mizuki. She was right on time today.
“Have you given up on announcing yourself before you enter my home?” Ayatsuji asked nonchalantly. Kyouka looked at him, confused about who this woman was.
“Well, I’m here every day now, so…” Tsujimura walked into the kitchen but froze upon seeing Kyouka. “Wait, who is that?! Ayatsuji-sensei, why is there a child in your house?!”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ayatsuji replied, looking over at her with a smile.
“I… You’re 27—and with who?!” Tsujimura looked from the fourteen-year-old girl to Ayatsuji. The look of confusion on Tsujimura’s face was photo-worthy.
“I am Kyouka Izumi,” Kyouka spoke up, ruining Ayatsuji’s fun. He frowned as Tsujimura caught her breath.
“And why are you… Wait, Izumi?” Tsujimura asked. That caught Ayatsuji’s attention immediately.
“Is the name familiar to you?” He asked, looking up from his coffee.
“Well… I know my mother used to have a close friend in the government with that surname… Is that why she’s here? Why did she trust you to babysit?”
“My parents didn’t work in the government.” Kyouka paused, looking down at her empty plate. “They’re gone now. Demon Snow killed them.”
Tsujimura gasped, caught off guard by the sudden confession. Ayatsuji was not as surprised, it was obvious that her parents were out of the picture from the start. Tsujimura’s ability to come up with the wrong conclusion was hilariously cute though, like a kitten first using its legs. But, she stumbled upon a powerful nugget of information, and combining that with Kyouka’s confession… Everything was starting to come together.
“No, I’ve merely taken her as my ward for the time being.” Ayatsuji sipped his coffee, filing away his theory for later. He paid no reaction to Kyouka’s comment. He would have to call in information from a superior, but that shouldn’t be too hard.
“Your… ward? Ayatsuji-sensei, her ability has killed people!”
“I am looking into a situation she approached me about. Any more useless questions?” Ayatsuji asked.
“H-hey! That wasn’t useless! You can’t just pull something like this, Ayatsuji-sensei, I’m going to have to write up this entire incident.”
“You shouldn’t waste your time with that, Tsujimura-kun.”
Kyouka got up from her seat, putting her dish away and sitting near the cats as Ayatsuji anticipated. She moved like a ghost, detached from reality. Her movements caught Tsujimura off guard, who looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
“... Where did you find her, anyway? She doesn’t act like a child at all.”
After spending wasted time explaining the details of the previous night’s encounter with the girl, Ayatsuji was subject to a lecture on picking up random little girls on the streets, especially those with a dangerous ability. They had moved to his office, away from Kyouka who sat in the living room with the cats, to discuss this topic. Relaxing in his seat, Ayatsuji was generally nonplussed by Tsujimura’s empty threats and concerns.
“We have to report this to the Special Abilities Division. That description of her… It matches one of the new assassins from the Port Mafia that we have been keeping track of, don’t you think? She could be responsible for a lot of assassinations in such a short period, this is a concern for national safety.”
“Don’t you think she would have died an accidental death last night then, Tsujimura-kun? Yes, I do think she was involved with the Port Mafia given her demeanor and the number of people she’s killed in a short time frame. But, if you aren’t going to use your brain, I’d prefer you not to talk.”
“That’s so rude…!” Tsujimura protested, throwing her hands up, but she did pause and tilt her head. “But… she killed all those people, right? Why didn’t Another affect her?”
“I’d assume because her ability is much like your own. Another won’t judge an ability user for an ability they cannot control. The guilty party would be those who demanded the ability to kill.” Ayatsuji picked up a book. He already read it a few days ago, but focusing on anything other than Tsujimura was better than listening to her.
Tsujimura frowned at the mention of her own ability. It was a tough subject for her, especially given her strained relationship with her mother. Her mother had given her the ability “Yesterday’s Shadow Tag” as a gift before she disappeared, using a technique to pass an ability down a bloodline. This technique was not foolproof, however, as Tsujimura had no control over the shadows.
“Still… You can’t just keep her here. The higher-ups won’t allow it.”
“Give me a few days.” Ayatsuji’s tone was stern, uncharacteristically so. While he may try to give people the impression that he is always a cold, emotionless killer, he only did it as an act. That was what the government wanted him to be, so that’s what he would be. In truth… He had dedicated himself to helping this girl. But that wasn’t something he would admit to Tsujimura.
Tsujimura sighed, before taking in a seat to commence her work of watching Ayatsuji. When she grew tired and dozed off, Ayatsuji placed a call to his boss.
The next day, Ayatsuji had read a particular report twenty-seven times. It was by no means easy to get a hold of the report, but after some prodding, he was able to convince Ango to send it to him, under the guise that it was important for a case. The contents of the report were everything he expected. He didn’t read the report continuously for the information, but, rather the feeling. The girl believed that her ability killed her parents, and let herself fall into the mafia and be used as a weapon because of it. To bring up this new information would shock her. Ayatsuji knew that he couldn’t do it, he didn’t have that gentleness. He set the report aside, wishing for once in his life that Tsujimura hurried up.
When Tsujimura reached the Ayatsuji Detective Agency, she went immediately to his office, finding him leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. He made one simple gesture to the report on his desk, and wordlessly Tsujimura picked the report up.
“You were right. Your mother did know Kyouka’s. They were close enough that she taught Kyouka’s mother the ability to pass down her ability,” Ayatsuji explained briefly. He wasn’t in the mood for any long-winded explanations, he would get right to the point.
Tsujimura’s eyes widened. “A-Ayatsuji-sensei… You don’t mean to say…”
“Demon Snow is not Kyouka’s ability, but her mother’s. It was a final gift, an act of love.” They were far too sentimental words for him, but they were the fact of the matter.
Tsujimura swallowed heavily as she held the report close to her chest.
She sat down in one of the chairs, opening the report and shifting through it. The information that Ayatsuji had memorized—she could tell when she read each line. It was a shame Tsujimura wore makeup today because before long she started crying occasionally. There was plenty of tragedy to the report, yes, but there was also an underlying connection between Tsujimura and Kyouka. Tsujimura had thought her mother died for a certain period of time, leaving her with her ability. To see that same sacrifice be done—and for Kyouka’s mother to have actually died—hit her hard.
Once Tsujimura finished reading through it, she looked up at Ayatsuji.
“Does… Does she know?” Tsujimura attempted to wipe away some of her tears carefully, not minding how she had openly cried in front of Ayatsuji. This wasn’t something to mock her over. Even Ayatsuji’s cruelness had its limits.
“You have to be the one to show her.”
Tsujimura’s eyes widened, but she also understood, for once. “I see… Can I have a minute, Ayatsuji-sensei?”
“Take your time,” Ayatsuji replied, wiping some dust off of his desk.
After several minutes spent collecting herself, Tsujimura stood up and went into the living room where Kyouka sat. Ayatsuji stood up, but made it only to the door frame and leaned against it, listening to the conversation.
Kyouka didn’t take an interest in many things. She would sit on the couch and stare at the blank television for hours. She would occasionally ask Ayatsuji how he planned to help her, but he gave her a nonanswer each time. When Tsujimura approached her, she didn’t regard her at all.
Sitting next to her, Tsujimura handed her the report.
“This… Is a very classified document on two of our agents. Your mother and father were both powerful assassins for the government, with your mother wielding the deadly ability Demon Snow,” Tsujimura explained gently.
Kyouka paused, then looked at the folder.
“Demon Snow is my ability,” she claimed in her monotone voice.
Tsujimura shook her head. “There’s… a way that someone can pass down an ability to someone in their bloodline. My mother knew how to do it, and worked in the government alongside yours. At some point, she had taught her…” It might have been better for her to get her mother involved, but she was still on shaky terms with her mother. “Your parents were attacked by an ability user seeking revenge. They were able to control them through blood, and in her last moments, your mother passed down the ability to you. It explains why you can’t fully control Demon Snow,” Tsujimura paused. “I can’t control my ability either.”
Kyouka looked up at her, trying to find a lying face. But, Tsujimura wore her heart on her sleeve, and all that could be found was pity and understanding. That, mixed with Tsujimura showing her own vulnerability, struck a nerve within the girl. With slow, shaking hands, Kyouka grabbed the report and opened it up. Her reading through the pages seemed to take forever, but Tsujimura didn’t leave her side even once. When she finally closed the report, Kyouka stared forward at the television.
“It’s… It’s okay to cry. I know we don’t really know each other, but what you went through—”
Kyouka leaned forward into Tsujimura, burying her face into her side. Water began to seep through her jacket, but she didn’t mind as she wrapped an arm around the little girl. Her entire world had changed in a matter of seconds. What once was a symbol of death became a symbol of a parent’s love.
Ayatsuji turned and walked back into his office. There would be a lot to deal with, given her past in the Port Mafia and the people she had a hand in killing. But, there was merit to keeping an ability user like that alive, and she could be kept under watch here. Even though today Kyouka had shown her emotions for the first time, there was a long road ahead for her to be able to regain just a bit of the childhood that she had taken from her so brutally.
Perhaps he saw some of himself in her, but more than that, he saw hope. It was something he had almost forgotten, after all these years.