Detective Reid pressed the doorbell, the quiet chime echoing through the small house. The afternoon sun hung low, casting a warm glow over the neighborhood, but the feeling in the air was heavy—thick with dread and the weight of what they were about to say.
A woman opened the door. She looked to be in her early forties, her hair tied into a messy bun, her eyes tired but gentle.
"Yes?" she asked.
Reid and Carter held up their badges simultaneously.
"Are you Miyu Shimizu?" Reid asked.
The woman hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes… I am."
"We're here to speak with you about your son," Reid said softly.
Miyu's lips parted—but no sound came out. Instead, she stepped aside and motioned them inside.
The living room was cozy. Framed pictures lined the shelves: some of Miyu smiling with her son, others of Akihiko posing with peace signs or proudly holding a school project. But Carter noticed something immediately.
There was no father in any of the photos.
"Mrs. Shimizu," Carter said carefully, "is Akihiko's father not… living here?"
The woman let out a long sigh. "No. My husband left years ago." She walked to the mantle and brushed her fingers over one of the photos. "He couldn't accept our son being gay. He… he said he didn't want a 'broken child.' So he left."
Carter's chest tightened. She wanted to say something—anything—but Miyu suddenly turned to them, eyes trembling.
"Why are you here? What's happened to my son?"
Reid took a slow breath. He withdrew the picture taken at the crime scene, though he held it face down until the last second. "Mrs. Shimizu… I'm afraid your son was murdered last night. In Sakura Park. In the restroom."
Miyu's face went pale. She covered her mouth with both hands, and her knees buckled slightly. Reid rushed forward, guiding her into a chair.
He slowly held out the photo. "Is this… him?"
A single tear escaped her eye, then another, and then the floodgates opened. She nodded repeatedly, unable to speak. Her voice was barely a whisper:
"My baby…"
Reid crouched beside her. "Mrs. Shimizu, do you know why your son might have gone out last night?"
Her shaking hands gripped a tissue tightly. "H-he went out to a movie… with his only friend. I thought he stayed at his house when he didn't come home." She wiped at her eyes, though they only filled again. "My son… Akihiko… he had such a miserable life for so long."
Carter lowered her gaze.
Miyu continued, voice cracking. "His father abandoned him. His classmates bullied him every day. They teased him, beat him, called him names no parent should ever hear. I wanted to transfer him but… we couldn't afford it." She breathed shakily. "But in high school… he finally met someone. A good friend. Someone who accepted him. He finally felt safe."
She looked at both detectives, pleading.
"So why… WHY would someone go so far as to kill him?"
Carter wanted to say they would catch the killer.
She wanted to promise they were close.
But her throat closed. She had nothing—not with the strange symbols, the ritualistic patterns, the lack of leads. And Reid—
Reid was hiding something. She could feel it in her bones.
Her heart pounded.
Her thoughts spiraled.
The cases.
The symbols.
The secrets.
Her partner's lies.
Her inability to protect the victims.
It all crashed down at once.
"I—I'm sorry," she said abruptly and stood up.
"Lisa?" Reid asked, startled.
But Lisa didn't hear him. She couldn't breathe. Her chest tightened as panic clawed its way up her throat.
She ran.
Two blocks away, Lisa finally slowed, leaning against a lamppost. She sucked in air, wiping her face with her sleeve. Her mind screamed a dozen different things at once.
I can't trust Reid.
He's hiding something big.
These symbols… they mean something.
I can't solve this if he keeps lying.
Maybe… maybe I should work alone.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Then—
Bump.
She collided with someone. Hard.
"S-sorry," Lisa muttered, rubbing her forehead. "I wasn't looking."
The person wore a gray hoodie with the hood drawn low over his face. His voice was calm—too calm.
"I can help you find your killer."
Lisa blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"The boy in the park," he said, slipping past her. "The one stabbed in the bathroom. You're trying to find the person who killed him, aren't you?"
She stiffened. "Wait—how do you know that? Who are you?"
"You'll know soon enough." His voice floated back like smoke. "But for now… check your hand."
"My hand?"
She looked down.
A small yellow slip of paper sat curled between her fingers. She hadn't even felt him place it there.
Printed on it were two words:
"Cannibal Killer."
Her breath caught.
She snapped her head up.
The man in the hoodie was gone.
Completely gone.
The day has come for the next round for the exorcists. Back at the Northern Shrine, the Japanese garden behind the shrine was serene as ever, with trimmed bushes, koi ponds, and gently swaying bamboo. But today, the air buzzed with tension.
On a wooden board, eight names were written clearly:
Aiko
Jay
Sota
Rin
Ryuji
Masato
Tsubasa
Kenshin
These were the chosen eight.
Itsuki-sensei clapped his hands together cheerfully. "Congratulations to all of you! You've survived demons, traps, and each other. Now for the next stage—the tournament!"
A wave of murmurs spread among the students.
"A tournament?"
"We have to fight each other?"
"This is insane…"
"I wonder who will go against who."
Tension and thrill swirled together like hot and cold air.
Itsuki drew a bracket on the board.
Everyone leaned in.
One name appeared after another.
Then the matches:
Round 1
Match 1: Aiko vs. Masato
Match 2: Ryuji vs. Rin
Match 3: Kenshin vs. Tsubasa
Match 4: Jay vs. Sota
"Damn," Aiko muttered under her breath. "I'm first."
Masato grinned. "What kind of ability does she have?"
"Alright everyone!" Itsuki-sensei shouted, waving his arms dramatically. "Clear the circle!"
All exorcists backed up, forming a perfect ring around the combat area. A shimmering barrier formed between the participants and spectators.
"Now," Itsuki said, pacing at the edge of the ring. "The rules are simple. If one of you is knocked out, we stop the fight. If someone forfeits, we stop the fight. If we sensei say stop, we stop the fight. Don't worry about the other members, they will be protected by a barrier and we have maids that are specialized in healing if one of you gets badly injured. Otherwise -."
He grinned wildly.
"Go all out."
Aiko cracked her knuckles.
Masato summoned a small shadow serpent that slithered around his arm like a bracelet.
From the side, Chiaki sighed. "This is a terrible idea…"
"I think it's great!" Itsuki said proudly.
"Of course you do."
He raised his hand high.
"Aiko, Masato—are you ready?"
"Yes!" Aiko called out, stance firm.
"Ready," Masato said, shadows curling at his feet.
Itsuki-sensei sliced his hand through the air.
"BEGIN!"