The silver Mazda Capella pulled up on the street next to Kawarajima park at 11:07. It came as a shock to Nagora Ibuse, rolling down his tinted passenger window, to see nothing out of ordinary. His dispatch hadn’t told him when the incident first began, but he’d originally received the call ten minutes later. He’d figured out a way to travel through time—don’t ask him how—and still he had no clue what was actually going on!
Ibuse leaned forward over his wheel, a weighted exhale shifting some dust gathered along the corner of his windscreen. He could always wait here a little while and catch his breath until something happened, that’d be the most efficient strategy. Only then, he sensed something strange. Ibuse turned his key, and the engine cut out. He’d begun to notice more and more over the past few days of calm. Occasionally, he’d get a little ping resonate through his head, strange ripples through the air. It was all to do with this flow of psychic energy; his rude awakening to this whole other world had come with a whole host of sensory enhancements. He felt like a fraud just admitting it to himself, but right now those gurus who proclaimed a diet of spirituality and overpriced subscriptions to enlightenment might have had a point.
A wry grin stretched across his face. He shook his head. What the hell had his life turned into? It was hard to imagine things as normal as they had once been, but then again, he’d never had a normal job to begin with.
Ibuse stepped out of the car. He couldn’t see much of the park beyond the black metal gates; several hedges blocked his way. From the general absence of chaos that reigned during an incident, however, he could assume whatever was going to happen—if his dispatch hadn’t been pulling his leg this entire time—hadn’t happened just yet.
A suspicious group standing just shy of the park’s entrance caught his eye. Four in total, though only three were visible. Ibuse squinted, only able to see the shoes of the fourth person eclipsed by the black, billowing overcoat and silver hair of the man who stood in front. Ibuse faltered a moment. That coat, that hair—it couldn’t be him, could it? Like that first day outside Senketsu, another chill of deja vu made the detective shiver. They were thirty metres away. His safest bet was to eavesdrop in passing. Striding with purpose—just another man on his way—Ibuse began to make out snippets of conversation.
“Remind me of the plan again?” A rotund man scratched at his goatee. “Seems awfully contrived. What’re you hoping to accomplish here?”
“I concur, sadly.” The woman next to him folded her arms. “Why not lead the pair here yourself? It seems unnecessary to have myself and Mr. Yamashita involved as well.”
“If it weren’t necessary, Mokuzo, I wouldn’t ask it of you.” A tone Ibuse definitely recognised cleared his throat—twice—then responded between puffs on a cigarette. “It can’t be me. I have my suspicions about the Fudo girl, suspicions I plan on testing in due time. Harigane’s an obvious story. He’ll suspect a trap. He may have been exposed to your it, but I’m confident he doesn’t yet know about your Woodwork. I’ve kept you a secret for that reason.”
“I’ll trust you at your word the same moment I let you spit on my grave.” Tan’in Mokuzo sighed, unsheathed a small knife, and went back to whittling. “Fine. You have my cooperation.”
“Never trust me, doll. You’re far smarter than that.”
Ibuse had passed them now. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, the man gazed into the sky for a moment, watching the clouds draw in overhead, before holding the phone up to his ear.
“What about me?” Interrupted Toji Yamashita.
“Even if this anomaly distorts the area, I have no guarantee what it’ll do to the land. You’re my insurance case, Yamashita. I’ll leave the creative liberties to you, but I don’t want that ground easy to navigate when you’re done. Clear?”
“Roger that; I'll cook something up.” He smirked. “Yoha won’t have a problem dealing with terrain. Have you told him he’s in on all this too?”
“No need. He’s just a little catalyst I thought up to make things more interesting. Besides, the moment I try and enforce orders, he’ll end up frolicking anywhere else just to spite me. If he does decide to turn up, it’ll be of his own volition.”
“To be clear,” asked the final woman, “if I go through with all this, you’ll take me to my brother and set us both free. Do I have your word on that, Hakana?”
Hideyori Hakana’s face split into a wide grin. “As much as my word means a damn, by all means.” A pause, before, “Any further questions, you three?”
Silence.
“Then, to your positions. We only have so much time before the distortion starts attracting attention. Speaking of…”
Ibuse felt the man’s stare on the back of his head. The jig was up. He stowed away his phone. Nothing left to do, but await confrontation.
“Get moving,” Hakana ordered. Three sets of footsteps went their separate ways. A breeze swept the pavement between the two men, before Hakana tipped his hat a little lower and said, “you know, the stratagem “hidden in plain sight” only works if you’re part of a crowd, Ibuse.”
The detective did not yet turn around. “I never thought you’d be the one lecturing me on the basics of covert ops, Hakana.”
The executive barked a laugh and stuck both hands in his pockets. “Easy, tiger; I know a cry for attention when I see one. You wouldn’t have stood directly in front of me otherwise.”
“I wondered whether it was you I saw the other day. I know you saw me. Convinced myself it was wishful thinking—was it really wishful? Fearful? Regardless, here you are again.”
“Here I am again.” Hakana grinned. “Why don’t you turn around, Ibuse? Don’t tell me you’re scared to look your old friend in the only eye he has left.”
“I don’t need to turn around.” Ibuse bit down on his bottom lip. “I can already tell: you aren’t him, not anymore.”
Hakana’s grin soured. “And here I thought you’d long-since resigned yourself to playing washed-up, small-town copper. What happened, such that you’re back to sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
“I never stopped. My job has always been the same: to find out the truth of every moment; now more than ever, given what’s at stake. It used to be your job too. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”
Hakana’s tone dropped several degrees. “I can never forget.”
“A pity.” The detective paused, chewing his words. “She still asks after you, you know; Ayumi.”
The frown faded. For the smallest moment, a smile—not a grin—graced the executive’s lips. “How is she?”
“Left with questions she worries will never be answered. Don’t blame her; it’s in our nature, you know? To wonder. We both want to know what happened: to you, and to our Lady.”
Hakana grit his teeth. “What makes you think you have any right to know?”
“Then, do those years truly mean nothing to you?” Ibuse finally looked over his shoulder. “That’s sad. Then again, you always were a callous kid. I’ll admit, I never saw what she saw in you.”
“Nor me.” Hakana took a deep breath. “Hopefully, I’ll one day have an answer.”
Ibuse faltered. “You’re still looking? After all this time?”
“I never stopped.”
The two let silence lapse. An errant gust cycled decomposing leaves around their ankles. Hakana then asked, “So? How did you get roped into all of this?”
“By being in the right place at the right time. I’d ask you the same. The implications of your involvement in all this are concerning.”
“That’s underselling it.”
“No answer for me, then?”
“I know you won’t hear my advice, so have a warning instead.” Hakana fixed Ibuse with a single blue-eyed stare. That eye was so cold, it made him shiver. “Get yourself out whilst you still can. I can only pray you’re not already in too deep. Ignorance is bliss, Nagora Ibuse. Go. Get out of here. Make your wife happy, and please give her my best.”
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The man spun on his heel, coattails flapping in the breeze. Brim of his hat tilted down low over his face, the man began walking away, tightly gripping an orb by his side.
“That was her hat, wasn’t it? Lady Miren’s.”
Hakana paused. “I’ll make sure she gets it back.”
Ibuse watched the man swallow himself up into the orb. He wasn’t sure what to be more shocked by: the psychic abilities themselves, or how little it all fazed him anymore. His next breath out came out a little weightier than expected. If only it had been good to see him again. Ibuse felt a wet film obscure his sight. Damn it all. He was getting old and sentimental. Blinking away the distraction, he reminded himself of the job he had left to do. He had to find Harigane. The boy was walking into a trap.
Breaching the metal gates into the park, Ibuse saw nothing out of the ordinary until he ventured towards the centre. A crowd had gathered around a central green, pointing and shouting towards some nebulous point in the centre like it were sport. Every few seconds, they’d take a step backwards.
“Let me through,” Ibuse commanded briskly. “I’m with the police. What’s going on?”
A couple turned around, horror and wonder dancing a curious tango on their faces. “Thank goodness you’re here. Officer, what on earth is that thing?”
Ibuse had never seen anything like it. A tear in the fabric of space itself had ripped a crevice five feet wide in the wall between dimensions. This rip exuded a strange aura—a distortion—steadily corrupting its surroundings, both land and sky. Storm clouds, the colour of foreboding, were now rolling in, as the air itself buzzed with a certain static.
“Everyone, get back!” Ibuse cried. “Get out of here as quickly as you can, or else—”
A devastating white rift carved a fissure through space inches away from Ibuse. The corruption spread further. An unlucky few had been seized by the rift, contorted in visceral agony as their bodies split wide open. People screamed and ran, but the rifts kept splintering the ground. Psychic energy poured at a faster rate through the tear and into the material world. Ibuse had to put a stop to this, but how?
He knew one way.
> Open The Door
>
> 開門 Kaimon
The golden screen doors carved themselves into existence behind him, and time ceased to flow.
Harigane. If anyone had the nous to put an end to all this, it would be him.
Ibuse had arrived too early to find the boy, too late to do anything to fix this problem, and right on time to get mixed up in all of it. Just his luck. As far as his skills and knowledge were concerned, he was already far too out of his depth. Once of the most valuable lessons he’d ever learned was when to ask for help. He could always come back any time he wanted. He had been removed from the current, after all.
All that was left to do was walk the Evening Corridor to whenever he was needed most.
* * *
“Fine. You win. I’ll give you the blade.”
Meguru stopped. “All that resistance, and you’re just going to give it to me?” He turned and smiled. “Told you, you should’ve just picked the easy way from the start.”
Rin wormed his way onto his back as Meguru strolled toward him.
“Where is it, kid?” He flexed a hand. “Give it up.”
“My right pocket.” Rin rolled onto his left side. “Can’t reach it. You broke both my arms.”
“Fair point.” Meguru shrugged. He called to Aiko over his shoulder. “Come grab the knife from loverboy’s pocket over here.”
She hesitated.
“Do it, or I’ll split the kid’s skull like a watermelon.”
She yelped and hurried forward. “Please,” she sobbed. “Why are you doing this? Why did you hurt him like that?”
“All these questions of why; right pain in the neck.” Meguru scratched the back of his. “I’m just trying to have a good time here; not my fault the boss is so keen on killing my vibe. Don’t see why I even needed to come here, anyhow.”
Aiko knelt beside Rin and whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to see him kill you.” Her hand slipped inside Rin’s pocket, fingers closing around a flat object. She withdrew it. A fragment of that infamous ritual knife, curved blade and winged hilt, was captured in a frame the size of a credit card. Hand shaking, she offered it to Meguru.
“The fuck is this shit? This ain’t no Ascension Blade.”
“Sure is. Not lying to you, either.” Rin smirked. “That’s the Ascension Blade, plain and simple.” Rin rolled onto his back. “You were right. I couldn’t defeat you. I lost. I just wasn’t good enough.”
“Stop fucking around!” Meguru snarled. “You think I can give this to the boss?”
“Oh man, I’d love to see the look on Gus Ishimatsu’s face.” Rin coughed up blood. His injuries had finally taken their toll, his psychic signature flickering. “Shame; this is likely the end of the line for me, but you know what? I’m happy: happy you fuckers lost the one thing you’re looking for. This fragment of the Ascension Blade will die with me.”
“I know this is a trick of your Specialty!” Meguru yelled. “Reverse it; turn it back to normal!”
“Can’t do. You broke both my arms, remember?” Rin chuckled in spite of the pain shooting up his spine every time he moved.
“I’ll kill you.”
“Go right ahead. Do that, and my ability dies with me. There’s no way of cancelling out my Framework, either: that Jammer girl’s Specialty won’t do shit. Once I capture a frame, that becomes a physical object. Break the frame, you break whatever’s inside it. It’s the ultimate failsafe.”
“You little prick.” Meguru stamped on Rin’s left forearm, sending a spiral fracture shooting down towards his wrist. The boy seized up from the pain. That didn’t stop the smirk from returning, however. Rin stared Meguru in the face, and laughed.
“Stop!” Aiko attempted to get between them. “Please, stop hurting him! He’s dying!”
“Shut the fuck up.” Meguru slapped her across the face.
“Had enough humiliation yet, lucky boy?” Rin gasped in between retches. His laughs had become breathless, his pupils fading into and out of focus.
“If you got the strength to quip, seems I haven’t broken enough of your bones.”
Meguru stepped on Rin’s right hand. A series of agonising crunches made the boy scream. Under the slightest pressure from Meguru’s heel, every single bone in his hand began to shatter, sharp shards splitting outwards and piercing through his skin. Blinding white spots burst behind Rin’s eyes. Not only was Meguru amplifying the consequence on his bones, but also the signals of pain sent through each nerve.
“Still with me, kid? You’ve still got feeling in one hand, ain’tcha. Bet you can still activate your ability, even if your elbow’s broken. I’ll touch this frame of yours to your left hand, and you’ll cancel your ability and restore the knife to its original form. Deal?”
Rin clamped his jaw shut to stifle his own screams. Using every last inch of control over his face, he forced a grim grin onto the corners of his mouth. “I’d rather kill myself than cooperate with you.”
“Wrong answer.”
Another surge of blinding pain. The impact hit his liver directly—non-fatal, but excruciating. Rin involuntarily curled up and onto his side. Meguru drove his toe hard into Rin’s kidney. This was the final nail. The pain finally broke all thresholds, and Rin’s vision cut out completely.
* * *
“Do you truly intend to let it end this way, boy?”
Rin opened his eyes to the Architect’s voice. The skies of his Further Plane had replaced Kawarajima’s storm-ridden firmament. No longer bound to the concrete expanse, or with featureless skyscrapers dotted around, Rin lay on a certain floor of a gigantic and elaborate tower, stretching up into infinity. The Architect sat on his throne nearby.
“Am I dead yet, Arch?” Rin asked. The scene felt oddly familiar.
“Not yet. I’ll ask you again: do you truly intend to let it end this way?”
“Not sure what choice I have. I did my best, but I lost.” Rin unfurled his left arm—unbroken in spirit—and let it lie across the stone. “I did well, didn’t I?”
“You did. Your skills have come a long way, and your flow. You are not the true loser of this battle.”
Rin chuckled weakly. “Yeah. You should’ve seen the look on his face.”
“You set up that failsafe when you first learned about Framework’s properties, didn’t you? I commend your forethought.”
“I appreciate that.” Rin smiled. “Always knew there’d come a time like this. I should have made more of an attempt to get out, but I let my anger get the better of me. I hope Aiko gets out safe.”
“What is it to you?”
“She’s an architect too. I wanted to learn about what she did, learn some perspective from her. Shame I won’t get the chance.”
“What makes you so sure? Have you forgotten your end of our contract?”
“I really want to accomplish my dream, Architect. I really do. My will persists.” Rin reached up towards the top of the tower, but his fingers grasped only air. “But, if we’re being real here? My body’s broken; I can’t fight anymore.”
“You’ve done well to come this far, Rinkaku Harigane. I believe you, and your resolve to strive for your dream.” The Architect stood and paced around him. “It is for this reason that I do not consider your end of the contract forfeit. So long as your spirit persists, I will not let you die. If you will allow me, however, I am willing to carry on in your stead.”
Rin’s eyes widened. “Take over my body?”
“As per the rules of our contract, I can only do so with your permission.”
“Go for it, Architect; murder that son of a bitch. I permit you.”