It's been a week, what felt like a month, and Julius still had zero leads on the mysterious shapeshifter. The clues corroborated put them in the weapon trading rink. Where men carrying briefcases gathered in alleyways for an exchange be it special weapon or drugs. Julius searched for the former though reported drug trafficking cases to the police, his hands were full carrying briefcases.

"Well look who the cat dragged in." Cran always had a crass way of handling these afternoon encounters. Surprisingly he never paid for it with a fist to the face. In fact the sellers thought the duo were funny and often wanted them to stick around for a smoke break to which Julius was forced to smoke his first cigar. Personal questions such as what they did for a living, how they ended up in the criminal underworld painted a sympathetic view. But the end result was always going to be the same.

One brutality after another. If they didn't have the answers he wanted he was forced to kill, if they weren't useful of course. Midare treated the Blue Corps like a clean up crew rather than knight protectors. They weren't in France anymore and the concrete jungle was blind to the justice Julius carried as a souvenir. Cran affixed his personality to fit the underground business world but Julius couldn't hold a lie for long. Gradually his mask slipped since it wasn't fastened well.

"A letter? You ancient or something Julius?" Once his letter had slipped out of his pocket and the underground boss, a chain smoker with a light facial hair and messy comb over said. With a narrower Englishman's face and wider eyes compared to the Japanese he associated with, knowing English didn't help Julius shake off accusations of being a foreigner and thus unworthy of conducting business with the yakuza and other organizations. Even when faced with the unexpected, he always had an answer. In response to being called filth he pulled his revolver and started a gunfight. That was the kind of person he was.

"It's not mine." Julius said.

"It has your name on it, and a buncha hearts." The smoke addict flipped the letter and cleared his throat. Julius broke and admitted it, going to snatch it out of his hand. He sounded mad, and Julius stood ready to blow his cover and fight if the smoker eluded to tossing him in a barrel for being undercover. Instead, Julius was pulled aside to the roof of their warehouse hideout where the smoker talked about the death of his wife by a debt owed was the reason he went dark. Julius' situation was unique; the letter was from a child he had assumed a fatherly role for in Lemon's absence. Their bond was akin to that of a princess and her knight, although the child harbored hopes of marrying him when she came of age. However, Lemon intended to keep her away from the conflict, far from harm's reach. Julius deliberately glossed over crucial details, portraying the relationship as one-sided, and the smoker refrained from probing further.

"You're not bad Julius." He said. "But you know there's nothing for you here. Why do you insist on staying?"

"I'm looking for something. Once I find it, I'll be on my way home." Julius replied.

"A searcher huh?" The smoker removed his stick and flicked it off the roof. "I get you. I want to leave too, but one thing I realized when my buddy died is that your sins will catch up to you someday…"

A day sooner than he would expect. This particular day Cran had the clues to follow another trail and sought to end this small organization made up of five men, not including themselves. He slid open the rusted metallic doors and didn't bother closing it this time. The warehouse walls were white, grey under the afternoon shade, pipes and open seams sprawled upwards to connect to ceiling lights and others leading nowhere in particular. The concrete floor was sweeped of dirt and debris making it more like an empty house than a hideout for like minded society rejects. From beyond the door to the adjoining room, shouts and screams echoed, drawing their attention. Upon entering, they witnessed one of the five men bound to a chair, receiving blows from the smoker's fists.

"If it isn't you? Then why am I punching you!?" The smoker swung again.

"Pah!" The man tied to the chair spat blood. "Because you believe it's me you bitch!"

"So it is you!" The smoker grabbed his collar. "You know something I don't, and until we get an answer you're gonna sit in that hot seat. I might even light a fire under your ass—burn you up like a cigar."

"What's going on gentlemen." Cran strolled in casually like always, but Julius stumbled behind with staggered feet.

The smoker turned around, straightening his suit jacket over his blood-spattered shirt. "Got a tip from an informant, a woman with purple hair of all things. Claims one of us is an undercover cop working with the WMA. She says to kill him on sight and I can't disagree."

Cran furrowed his brow. "Well it's not him for sure, I can tell you that. Guy is rocks dumb."

"It's you—you bastard!" The man in the chair trembled. Exhausted and beaten, he slumped further into his seat. "You're the reason… The Takakomi family are all dead. You kill them all but not all of them!"

"Cran?" The smoker looked him in the eye. Cran opened his mouth—

"Yes…" Julius stepped forward and pulled out his badge. "We're undercover detectives. Cease operation and we'll make your arrest painless."

The smoker simply looked puzzled. He paced left and right, raising his finger to say something, perhaps to make a joke out of the situation, but he couldn't. He moved over to a stray toilet attached to the wall and picked up a katana resting on top before returning to face the two. Slowly, he unsheathed the red-bladed weapon and tossed its sheath aside, then aimed it in their direction. "Lemme guess, this is what you're after?"

"Just one of the things we're after." Cran frowned. Confirming their suspicions, the other four men in the room reached into their coat pockets to pull out a handgun.

Julius sweated, "What are you doing?! We don't have to fight, just cooperate."

"..." The smoker pursed his lips then said, "No can do. Not after I trusted you. One of us is going to have to leave in a bodybag. To the death, just like ronins intended."

"We should get out of here, Cran." Julius furrowed a brow, glanced to his partner who kept a permanent smirk.

"We're more than capable of taking on a few men." Cran cracked his knuckles.

"It's because we're better that I want to escape. It's wrong to needlessly kill others without reason." Julius argued.

"Oh we have a reason to kill each other." The smoker declared, allowing his cigar to fall from his lips. He added, "Cran, I've never been fond of you. Your carefree attitude always struck me as someone who never matured beyond high school. You've got the perfect face for growing a beard, yet... you don't."

Cran snickered. "Don't try to change our feud into something tragic."

"The Elite told me you weren't to be trusted. I trusted my gut instead." The Cigar addict said, prompting Cran to tense again. He raised his arms half way. "Fine, you may have beaten me."

The smoker lowered his arm. "Are you walking away? Once you're in, you can't get out. Eventually, we'll have to face each other again—"

"Julius, hard light winds," Cran commanded.

The rabbit didn't hesitate, acting quick as a hare. He traced his finger in the air, leaving a yellow trail that formed a sigil made of circles and triangles. With a swift motion, he thrust his hand outward, conjuring a powerful gust of wind from the magic sigil. The force blew away their adversaries into the wall, leaving them grounded for a time.

Julius turned around. "That should be enough. Let's get out of here."

"It's not enough…" Cran then spread his arms wide. "We're not done until one side is dead! It's either us or them, because that is the nature of the conflict we're in—good vs evil. These men profit off the exploitation of naive innocence and see it as a noble pursuit after rejecting society's hand."

Dark clouds formed over the collapsed group. Once gathered enough to make it look like a storm, Cran exclaimed, "L'eclair!"

Thunder rained down obliterating the very ground on which his opponents stood. Their bodies hardly looked human by the end of it.

A cup of coffee wasn't going to be enough to wipe the vivid memory. Seven cups of coffee were only going to keep Julius in a waking nightmare. Justice wasn't a one way train. Where was his sympathy for the people who had lives, despite how immoral their lives were. Cran wasn't easily swayed by words nor was he stopping once he had his mind set.

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A child approached his table in the corner of the cafe. "Guess what Julius! I made a new friend today." They were well acquainted. The girl had short light blue hair covered by a newsboy cap and her attire was a sweater vest over a buttoned shirt and shorts. Excitement moved the cap on its own, a fox ear twitching up only for her to readjust her cap to hide it. "What wrong Julius? Did I misspell something in my letter?"

"No… In fact, your letter was really heartful. I admire the Haiku you wrote." Julius replied with a smile, but the young girl was suspicious of it. "Yuriri, Tell me about this friend you made."

Seated at his table, she shared a story about a girl who couldn't speak. Recalling her name as Hoka, she spoke at length about the places Yamiko had taken them. Julius listened, nodding occasionally and asking basic questions, though he couldn't recall what he said immediately after. The conversation was just a set piece for the deeper questions he had for Cran. Hosting ideas of cornering him to pick his sense for justice, or debate it. Perhaps he had a better philosophy—a better grasp of the evils they were dealing with. Julius couldn't shake the feeling about killing for good.

He went to Midare for answers about their conflict, asking the most pressing question of all; why do we lie? More specifically, Why do we have to lie? It was a contradiction in their line of work searching for the truth.

Cornered in her office, she had no choice but to answer the job's hypocrisy. "It's just business." Was her response. As a knight, superior's orders weren't supposed to be called into question, but a leader's vagueness had to be searched into. Not to usurp him but to know. Because if lies came to light then a knight would lay down his life aware of the truth.

"That kind of answer is for children." Julius' brows knotted on their own. "I know there's more to our hypocrisyーa reason for just cause."

"It's just us vs them, until Soap is caught. That's the nature of our conflict." Midare said.

Julius couldn't help but groan. They didn't need to listen to the nature of their conflict. Things could be different if…

But that was wishful thinking. Reality was often different and dismissive of morality.

────── 〔✿〕──────

One case and it was back to normalcy. Their performance at the shrine earned them a smile from Midare. It was something Mary said to cherish because they'd never see it again once it was time to go back to work seconds after. She tasked them to undergo grueling training. Exercise and stretching and running, the kind of things that would make every desk sitter cry. Detectives had no need to train the body. The work—the chores given didn't feel very detective-like either. Unlike a proper hard-boiled detective who had an office to return to, he would often have brief one-line exchanges with the fox-eared maid who served as the agency's secretary in many ways. Calling it "reporting" seemed overly formal.

"We successfully completed the mission."

"Okay."

Whether that'd be visiting a greenhouse to water the plants or make a jogging run to buy groceries. She took out some forms and began writing, but the paperwork made it seem like a bigger issue than many of his afterschool cases actually were.

Before he knew it he was back to normal everyday life. Yamiko must've been planning something given how oddly distant she was being, and often Lambda replaced her position behind the dormitory counter. She desperately tried to get Hyde and any other dorm resident to look at her skating videos but was largely brushed over. Two thousand views but none of which were from those she knew. In an attempt to fight off boredom, Hyde briefly joined the band club with Mary, but his stay was short-lived as he cut his finger on the guitar string during his second attempt at playing.

"Am I really a detective?" Hyde reached up to the clouds in the sky. He wanted to ask Yamiko why she chose him but anytime he alluded to it, she dodged his questions with vague proverbs. Something was amiss in his reality though he never had a past to look back fondly on. The present was all there was to remember. His arm fell aside.

Dakota leaned over to peer down at Hyde, who was lying back on the grass. His head and hat shielded Hyde's eyes from the sun's glare, and from the cowboy's perspective, it made his eye bags visible from a distance. "Are you having a stroke?" Dakota inquired, a note of concern lacing his words.

"What are the political implications of being a detective?" Hyde said with his voice trailing off.

Dakota turned to Ruena on first base. "Timeout! I think Hyde's lost it."

She lowered her wooden bat. "Did something bad happen?"

White baseballs lay scattered across the baseball field as Mary strolled around collecting each one and placing them into a nearby paper bag. Today's training session was all about having fun, a foreign concept breaking up his usual routine. It was Levin who had proposed a visit to a community baseball field as a means to pass the time while Midare tackled the ever-increasing pile of paperwork on her desk.

Hyde glanced over at Hoka, who was sitting on the bleachers, idly tossing a baseball up and down. She was having fun just by Hyde being in her presence, but he couldn't reciprocate the sentiment. Her slashed vocal chords made it impossible for her to speak again lest she open the stitching to internal bleeding. Hyde couldn't apologize enough to her, at least in his mind. Once was enough to vocalize without breaking down.

"Midare hasn't given us any information on the next case." Hyde said.

"I guess there's nothing for us to investigate. Not yet at least. Think of it as… the calm before the storm." Dakota tried to make it sound fun but doing nothing was anything but fun. So far none tried to intercept and capture Hoka.

Hyde started to grow suspicious that his client really wasn't as important as The Boss made her out to be. Her origins were a complete mystery. No one in the agency knew about the little girl's background other than she had a special kind of magic. Info they gained eavesdropped on conversations between the agency's older staff, a better use of their time than watching Hoka all day. Maybe this was Yamiko's test of sorts, but Hyde didn't entertain that idea for long.

He sat up with an idea, brushing grass out of his hair. "Maybe we should start our own investigation."

"That doesn't seem like a good idea, Hyde." Said Mary, carrying a handful of baseballs she dropped when Hyde grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "You're tired of this too, aren't you? I've seen it on your face."

"Midare might get mad at us."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes. Lloyd's words about him not having what it takes to be a detective rooted deep in his core. He had to prove himself somehow, through independently taking action when something was amiss. "There's a shrine here, right? Let's take a look and see if there's any special weapons around."

Not taking no for an answer he assumed the lead, going back to the dirt trail pathway then climbing long steps up to a shrine hoping there would be something there awaiting him. To his surprise he found Yamiko inspecting the shrine building. Her keen ears caught the sound of their approaching footsteps, prompting her to spin around.

With a friendly wave, she welcomed their arrival. "Care to join me at the shrine?"

Dakota, his eyes narrowing, voiced the question that had already crossed Hyde's mind. "What's Yamiko doing here?" Yet, if Hyde had posed another query, it would have been whether she was also a shrine maiden.

"I was merely checking if there were any more unique weapons here. Ancient shrines often house powerful relics of old. Can you feel any magic, perhaps..?"

"Sense magic? How would I do that?" Hyde asked out loud.

Yamiko approached him, taking his hand gently and guiding his gaze to his palm. "The simplest method is to concentrate your magic into a single point. You might not have much magic, but everyone possesses enough to perceive lingering traces in the vicinity. The final lesson about magic you should all be aware of is that everyone is born with a predefined elemental affinity. Some are born fortunate in this regard, while others are not."

In a swift move he pulled his hand away, disturbed by her closeness. "I see."

"Looks like we're one step closer toward becoming magicians. Makes me wonder if we can sense a special weapon around here." Dakota cheekily brushed his nose. He spun around smirking at his brilliant idea then stopped dead in his tracks. "What the hell?!"

The group turned their attention to discover another Yamiko at the top of the steps. However, this Yamiko had changed attire, opting for winter clothing to combat the cold weather. She wore a brown faux fur coat, zipped up to a sizable white bow around her collar. A lengthy red plaid skirt extending to her ankles covered her slender legs, leaving Hyde with no opportunity to admire them any longer.

The two Yamikos locked eyes, and the one dressed for winter narrowed hers, clearly unimpressed by this prank. "Oh…" she muttered.

Hyde did a double take at both ladies. "So the imposter is here, but which one is real?"

"Quickly stop her before she gets away!" Yamiko(the one beside him) exclaimed. The novice detectives hesitated to make any moves without a clear answer of who was the real deal. She stepped past the group finally elaborating, "The shape shifter criminal… Midare and I often planned together ways to corner her. One of our plans was to make him disguise as one of us, that way, Midare could kill her."

The Yamiko in winter clothing, presumably the imposter, smirked and contributed the other half of the story, "Elite is his alias... because he's the master imposter. Crafting convincing disguises... so convincing that… even you were fooled."

"Who should we believe?!" Mary cried.

Hyde spun his finger in the air thinking about leaving it to chance.

"Hm… You're not perceptive enough." The presumed fake Yamiko replied calmly "I'll let you decide… Who is real and who is not. Consider my life your first test…"

But the other Yamiko narrowed her eyes "Please… Do not play with my detectives' emotions."

Yamiko would leave and the group of novice detectives was left to carry the heaviest of decisions. Hyde especially didn't like being thrusted into this position, always thinking of Yamiko as his caretaker despite having limited memories about her. She had motherly qualities, to him at least, and having to decide which to hurt—perhaps kill, messed up his entire reality.