The sun rose slowly over the city. Morning was quiet, as if Tokyo hadn't fully woken up yet. Rays pierced through a thin layer of clouds, gilding the roofs of low houses, reflecting in the windows of high-rises, sliding across the leaves of trees in quiet neighborhoods. The air was fresh, carrying the light scent of damp earth and coffee from nearby convenience stores. Somewhere far off the first trains were already humming, but here in the residential streets silence still reigned only occasional cyclists and early joggers broke it.
Inside the kindergarten life was already in full swing. Children ran around the hall, laughing, building towers from blocks, shouting "you're it!" in tag. Sunlight poured through the large windows, making everything brighter, warmer, almost carefree. In the corner by the window, away from the main chaos, two high school students stood talking quietly, almost in whispers, so as not to attract the attention of the teachers.
There were two of them, Ria and Ken, standing in the kindergarten.
The girl leaned against the windowsill, watching the little ones race around.
"Is Takumi coming today?"
The boy shrugged, eyes still on the playing children.
"He said yes. Said he has 'plans.' As always."
The girl snorted, crossing her arms.
"Plans… He always says that. Then either he takes money from someone, or just starts bullying. Do you think he's planning something serious today?"
The boy turned his head toward her.
"Serious? You never know with him. Maybe just a bad mood. Maybe he spotted someone new and decided that's his 'target for the day.' Or maybe something big for real. With him it's always like that either boring or hell."
The girl sighed.
"As long as he doesn't touch us. I'm already tired of his 'jokes.'"
The boy smirked.
"We're all tired. But as long as he doesn't touch us we stay quiet. It's easier that way."
They fell silent. Only children's laughter and the patter of small feet across the floor filled the space between them. The sun climbed higher, and the shadows from the window frames slowly crept across the floor, as if time was stretching lazily, unhurried.
At the same time, in the headquarters three people stood. Sua was turning an old photograph in his hands. Takamura stood by the board covered with pinned faded newspaper clippings. Akira sat at the table, flipping through a folder.
Sua looked up.
"Takamura-san… have you ever heard of Takayama?"
Takamura froze. Turned slowly.
"I've heard. Where did you hear that name?"
Sua placed the photo on the table an old picture of a middle-aged man smiling at the camera, but with cold eyes.
"Found it in the archives. They wrote that he… raped women. Killed them. Dismembered them. Then disappeared. Car flipped over, body never found. But rumors still circulate."
Akira lifted her gaze from the folder. Her voice was even, but laced with bitterness.
"He wasn't just a maniac. He was a predator. Chose victims among prostitutes—the ones no one would look for. Humiliated them before death. Left… traces. Then vanished. As if he dissolved."
Takamura nodded, eyes still on the board.
"He was connected to some club. Unofficial. Something like a cult. People paid to get in. To watch. To participate. No one proved it. No one wanted to prove it."
Sua swallowed.
"And do you think… he's dead?"
Akira closed the folder.
"No one knows. But if he's alive… he's somewhere close. People like that don't just disappear."
Takamura turned to the window, looking down at the street where children from the kindergarten played on the playground.
"If he's alive he won't stop. People like that never stop."
In another place in a dimly lit club on the outskirts, where music played softly and the light was red and muted Takayama sat at a corner table. In front of him stood three girls young, made-up, in short dresses. He smiled calmly, almost fatherly. One of them, a blonde with trembling hands, tried to step back.
He reached out, touched her thigh slowly, possessively.
"Don't be afraid, darling. Everyone here is family."
Another girl a brunette with a tattoo on her collarbone snorted.
"Pervert."
Takayama only smiled wider.
"Pervert? No. Just a man who takes what he wants. And you… you want it too, don't you?"
The girls stayed silent. He laughed quietly.
"Good. Let's have some fun."
In a dark alley narrow, littered with trash, where streetlights barely glowed Asura and Renji stood. Asura leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Renji stood opposite, hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground.
He looked up.
"Want to go to grandma's? She baked pies. With cabbage and meat. Still hot."
Asura grimaced.
"To grandma's? Seriously? That's embarrassing, Renji. I'm not going to eat pies at your grandma's like some neighborhood girl."
Renji shrugged. He wasn't offended he simply didn't pay attention. Looked around at the dark walls, the trash bins.
"At least ten people were killed here. Over the last few years. No one found the killer. No one even tried."
Asura snorted.
"So what? You think I'm scared? I can handle myself. If someone comes at me I'll just slit his throat."
Renji looked at her calmly, without emotion.
"Maybe you would. But better not test it."
Asura pushed off the wall.
"Fine, hero. Go to your grandma with the pies. I'm going home. And don't even think about walking me I'm not a child."
She turned and walked away heels clicking on the asphalt, echoes bouncing off the walls.
Renji remained alone. He looked toward the end of the alley where the streetlight barely reached. Then turned and walked the other way.