1.17: Her StoryI waited while Rui showered. It probably wasn’t long, but it felt endless. My nerves kept churning. To distract myself, I cleaned her office. It didn’t take much searching to find the mop and bucket, and doing something physical helped steady me. By the time I wrung the mop for the st time, the water was nearly bck. I felt strangely proud of the work, even though the pce still looked like a crime novelist’s desk exploded inside a closet.

  When everything was reasonably tidy, I drifted toward the case files again. They were spread out across the table in organized chaos. Photos of victims. Reports. Transit maps. Even blueprint copies of tunnels threading under Tokyo like a spider’s web.

  I reread the testimonies from friends and families. Each line punched a hole through me.

  He was a good son, even if he used to be a delinquent.She was a dutiful daughter.She was my beloved wife. Life without her is empty.I miss my child. She never had a chance to really live.Hikari was a totally demented pervert. It’s just as well.

  Some were bittersweet. Others made my chest tighten. A few were so sad I had to put the papers down. But as I read, something clicked.

  I wasn’t the only one who lost something. Everyone represented here was grieving. Breaking. Fighting to understand why the world took someone precious from them.

  What I could do for them, and for myself, was solve this case.

  A hand touched my back.

  “Auuuuuuuughhh!” I shrieked and nearly jumped out of my skin. But it was only Rui. I wasn’t sure whether I should call her Rui, Detective, or Oni. My heart nded on Oni out of habit.

  She looked at the table, then at me. Something softened in her face. “Good job, Susumu. I can’t tell what you’re thinking behind that bnk face, but I think you’re ready to fight.”

  I swallowed and nodded. “Yes. Didn’t you say it got Reiko-chan too? Although the paper said she jumped from a building…”

  Rui’s jaw tightened. “The city would panic if anyone knew the real cause. People pretend yokai belong in old stories. They don’t want to believe that spirits still wander among us. But they do. Everywhere.” She exhaled slowly. “My family has always specialized in spiritual cases. We’ve always been handling the things that normal police can’t.”

  I blinked. “Your family? So you inherited the job?”

  She shrugged. “I inherited the responsibility. Not the talent. I have their knowledge, but none of their spiritual abilities. A pretty failure of a successor.” Her smile was brittle. “But I’m determined to carry on their legacy anyway.”

  That answer dropped into my stomach like a stone.

  “So… you’re telling me that you’re not actually qualified?” I ughed, trying to make light of it, but it came out strangled.

  “Yes,” she said calmly. “But I still have connections. My father and grandfather helped a lot of yokai before they died. They never cashed in the favors owed to them. We’ll go ask some favors now. It usually gets the job done.” She tapped a file. “And I have solved several cases on my own. Even without possessing any powers.”

  I hesitated. “Are you alone? How long have you been shouldering all this?”

  Her expression changed. Something small and quiet broke behind her eyes.

  “My parents were killed,” she said.

  The words punched the air right out of me. “Noh-face?!”

  “Oh, no. Noh-brains.” She gave me a wry smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It was a pne crash. They were traveling to America. One of those rare accidents. They passed away about four years ago..”

  I stared at her. “That’s horrible…” I stepped forward and impulsively wrapped my arms around Rui.

  “You lost your parents at eleven, and you’ve been working here alone ever since? You grew up here? I don’t know if I can…”

  Her fist sank into my stomach.

  “Aughhh!” I colpsed, clutching myself.

  “I’m not fifteen. I’m twenty.” Rui stood over me, fmes practically radiating off her body.

  “How are you twenty?!” I gaped up at her. With her small frame and babyish face, she looked… well… definitely not twenty. She looked like she should be asking someone to buy her ice cream. But her strength definitely fit someone older.

  She knelt, grabbing the colr of my suit, and pulled my face up to hers. “I might have worked pro bono for Reiko-chan’s sake, but you’re going to pay for calling me a child.” Her eyes narrowed. “If you were a girl, the price would be a kiss, but you’re an insensitive, butt-ugly guy. When you get your face back, you’re going to work off the debt. Somehow. Probably for the rest of your life.”

  “Kiss? Really? You’ve accepted cases in exchange for kisses? What sort of genius does that? How do you even pay your bills? Are you sure you’re not a noh-brain too?” I grumbled.

  She let that one slide. “I don’t need money. My parents left me enough to live comfortably. I only charge men. And most of them back off the moment they see me scowling at them when I open my door. They all judge me based on my face. My height. My voice.” She gestured around the room. “So I just turn them away unless they approach sincerely.”

  Her eyes cut toward me pointedly.

  That was all it took. Something pierced right through my chest. Tears sprang again. “I understand!” My voice cracked miserably. “People always judge me too!”

  Rui tilted her head. “Are you crying again?”

  “Yes! Because I get it!” I wailed. “We’re both suffering from unjust discrimination based on how we look!!!”

  She sighed. “Don’t try buttering me up after that. You’re way too predictable. You’re still paying big time, Susumu.”

  I sniffled pitifully.

  She huffed. “For now, let’s go hunt down that murdering noh-face. Because we need more information, we’re on our way to see some friends.”

  She pointed at my helmet set side while I was cleaning. “And put that thing back on. Although it looks silly, it’s still better than what’s beneath it.”

  I grabbed it, pulled it on, and gave her a noh-grin.

  Even though she couldn’t see my face, she burst out ughing. “Good grief…”

  And for the first time in a long while, I felt like maybe… just maybe… I wasn’t facing this nightmare alone.

  Relwing