Kawashima Akira was taken back to the police station.
The sky was gloomy, and raindrops tapped against the windows with a rhythmic patter. Akira sat in the familiar interrogation room, surrounded by cold metal furniture and a blinking recording device on the table. His wrists were cuffed, his body slightly leaning forward, yet his eyes remained calm, as if the upcoming interrogation had nothing to do with him.
The police entered with stern expressions. The interrogation began with repeated questions and answers.
"Kawashima Megumi," a young officer asked softly, his tone gentle. "Do you admit to killing Misaki Suzuki and several others?"
Akira nodded without any emotional change.
"Good. Since you've confessed, we can proceed further. Can you tell us why you killed them?" The officer wrote down Akira's confession with anticipation in his voice.
But Akira didn't respond. He merely lowered his gaze.
"Miss Kawashima, please cooperate," the officer remained patient, trying to appeal to Akira.
Still, Akira said nothing.
The officer grew slightly impatient, his voice rising, "You must understand that your silence delays the case. We need a clear motive to move forward!"
Akira continued to stare, his gaze like ice—either looking at something or at nothing at all. His silence made the atmosphere in the room unbearably heavy.
As time passed, the officers tried different tactics. A seasoned, middle-aged officer entered with a smile of understanding.
"Miss Kawashima, we're all here to find the truth. Everyone has their story—I'd like to hear yours."
Still nothing. Akira even closed his eyes.
"I believe only through understanding your story can we find a solution and help you find real peace." The officer maintained a friendly tone, but Akira's stubborn silence left him helpless. Another officer finally snapped, slamming the table and yelling, "You're just avoiding responsibility! Murder is no small matter! Do you know what the law will do to you?!"
Akira finally lifted his head, eyes steely with defiance.
"You think I'm afraid at this point?" His voice was like a knife—sharp, cold, and cutting to the bone.
The interrogation was grueling. Despite the officers' efforts, they couldn't pry a motive from Akira. His unreadable face left them helpless. His silence was a riddle they couldn't solve.
Until one day, Takumi entered the interrogation room, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knew that Akira had personally killed his daughter, Misaki Suzuki. Though his heart ached, he didn't blame this pitiful child.
"Megumi," Takumi said, his voice low like calling an old friend.
Akira looked up, emotions flashing through his eyes. Seeing Takumi, a warmth he'd never known surged inside—something almost like… family. Takumi took out a few steaming dishes—Akira's favorite food.
"I brought you something to eat." His tone carried a gentle concern, without a single mention of the murders.
Akira's heart trembled. Tears sprang from his eyes. His long-suppressed emotions broke open like a dam. Other than his sister, he had never felt such genuine kindness. The longing for a father figure within him was torn wide open.
"Uncle Takumi… I…" Akira choked, tears streaming down his face, voice low and helpless.
"Don't say anything." Takumi gently patted his shoulder, pain and understanding in his eyes. "I know you've been through a lot. If you don't want to talk, then don't. You're not a bad kid. You've just handled everything the wrong way."
These words hit Akira like a hammer. He had never imagined Takumi would see him this way. Moved and warmed, he finally let his guard down and confessed why he had killed.
"I'm not Kawashima Megumi. I'm her younger brother—Kawashima Akira. They killed my sister."
His voice grew quieter. "She was the only one who ever treated me well. I hated them all—they had to pay. Chizuru, Riko, Mai… I killed them all. But the joy never lasted. Now I just feel empty. Something's missing and I don't know why."
"I just want it all to end…"
Takumi froze.
"Megumi… What are you talking about? How could you be a boy?"
Akira's hands trembled. A storm rose within.
"I really am…" He reached to tear off the wig on his head—
But pain shot through his scalp. It wouldn't come off. Panic surged through him. He yanked harder. Strands of hair came loose—real hair.
Terrified, Akira stared at the fallen hair as if looking at the shattered pieces of his soul. His heart raced. The overwhelming shock made his vision go black—and he passed out.
Kawashima Megumi opened her eyes.
A white ceiling greeted her. She looked down—she was wearing a hospital gown. Everything about her surroundings felt foreign.
"How is this possible? Wasn't I just at the police station?" Her mind was chaos.
"Kawashima Megumi, you're finally awake," a familiar voice said.
She looked up instinctively—it was Watanabe Makoto, standing by her bedside, concern in his eyes.
"You've been unconscious for a whole month. I healed, and you still hadn't woken up." He pointed to his neck and forced a light smile. "That slash almost ended me in those woods."
Megumi was full of doubt. Her mind was a swirl of memories before her collapse. She grabbed Watanabe's arm in a panic:
"Why do you keep calling me Kawashima Megumi? I'm Kawashima Akira! I've said this so many times!"
Watanabe sighed, eyes full of pity.
"I didn't expect your mental illness to be this severe."
He gently handed her a diagnosis form.
"You were examined while unconscious. You suffer from severe dissociative identity disorder."
Megumi read the document, horrified. Her emotions flared until she shredded the paper into pieces, which floated down like fragments of her unraveling psyche.
"No… no! I'm Akira! My sister is in a coma—I put her in the hospital—I paid the fees—you can check!"
Watanabe shook his head slowly.
"We checked. There's no such record. Kawashima Akira—there is no such person. There's only Kawashima Megumi. Your classmates know you. Do you think they wouldn't recognize you? And Satoru Sato—whom you killed. You think we wouldn't realize you're not a boy? If you still don't believe it… check your own body."
Megumi froze as if struck by lightning.
She looked down… her chest.
Full, unmistakable. A girl's body. Her world collapsed.
They were lying. They had to be. She couldn't be Megumi.
Terror and despair flooded her. Her beliefs ripped apart by reality. She couldn't understand, much less accept it. Her mind spun like a ship in a storm.
"I'm not her! I'm not Kawashima Megumi!!"
She screamed, voice echoing in the sterile hospital room.
She gripped the sheets, fingers digging deep, seeking something real to hold on to.
"Megumi," Watanabe said gently but firmly,
"You have to face this. No matter how you run, the facts won't change. You are Kawashima Megumi. That has never changed."
"You're all lying! I'm not!" she howled hoarsely, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Her grief was volcanic, unstoppable.
She curled into a ball, trying to resist the crashing truth.
Watanabe hesitated, then said:
"Accepting the truth takes courage. Acknowledging your past isn't surrender—it's the first step to healing. Cooperate with treatment. You have a mental illness. You won't be sentenced to death."
The words struck her core. She trembled. The pain of rejection surged through her. Her mind—filled with Akira's memories—was slowly invaded by unfamiliar yet oddly familiar images. Megumi's past—laughter with her sister, simple happiness—all began to resurface.
She clutched her head in terror, trying to drive those truths away.
"It's all fake… it's all fake…"
She whispered in despair, unable to stop the tears. Her mind warred against itself, drowning in pain. She wished it were all a dream—wished to wake up and be Akira again. Maybe… her sister was still alive.
This thought spun in her mind—her final lifeline.
Watanabe watched in silence, heart filled with helplessness and sorrow. He knew only a skilled psychiatrist—and Megumi herself—could pull her back from this abyss.
He turned and walked out of the room, praying she might find the strength to face the truth.
Outside, sunlight streamed through the trees. Warm and bright. A weight lifted from his heart. He had finally solved the case that had stumped the entire nation. Though the truth was deeply unsettling, it earned him a promotion and a raise. Pleased, he began planning a well-deserved break.
Just as he sank into a pleasant daydream, a phone call jolted him.
"Hello?" he answered, cheerful.
A voice on the line said urgently:
"Bad news—another brutal murder just occurred in City B. The method is identical to Kawashima Megumi's case!"