The Shiba Park was a labyrinth of shadows and wind.
Kenji Sano and Manjiro Tenken sprinted through the underbrush, tearing their clothes on thorns, slipping on the wet grass. Above them, the Tokyo Tower looks like a burning spear, its orange steel lattice glowing radioactively against the black sky.
They had lost sight of the zipline. The killer and his hostage had vanished into the canopy moments ago, sliding down into the darkness while Kenji and Manjiro were forced to run the long way around from the apartment building.
"Do you see them?" Manjiro gasped, his shotgun heavy in his hands. "Do you see a landing zone?"
"He said the Spire." Kenji shouted, vaulting a park bench. "He's at the base! Under the legs of Spire."
Kenji's lungs burned. His mind was a chaotic storm of the killer's face - that young, blank, smiling face. A stranger. A ghost.
Who are you? Kenji thought furiously. You aren't a monster from a fairytale. You're just a kid. A kid who kills with the precision of a surgeon.
They broke through the line of trees and stumbled onto the paved plaza directly beneath the Tokyo Tower.
The wind was howling here, whipping through the massive steel legs of the structure. The tourists were gone, the park had been closed due to the curfew. The area was a vast, illuminated concrete wasteland.
"Clear!" Manjiro swept the area with his weapon. "I don't see him!"
Kenji stopped, his chest heaving. He scanned the plaza. He looked for movement. He looked for the grey hoodie.
"Ichiro!" Kenji screamed. "Ichiro Tanaka!"
The wind snatched his voice away.
"Over there." Manjiro whispered, his voice trembling. He pointed toward the very center of the plaza, directly underneath the geometric center of the tower.
There was only a single, dark object standing in the circle of light.
It looked like a stake. A wooden post driven into a crack in the paving stones.
Kenji walked toward it. His legs felt heavy, like they were moving through deep water. The feeling of fear in his stomach was a cold, hard stone.
He's too fast, Kenji thought. We were right behind him. We were minutes behind.
As he got closer, the shape resolved.
It was a rough wooden pole, about five feet high. It looked like a piece of timber salvaged from a construction site and rested on top of it, impaled on a hidden spike there was the head of Ichiro Tanaka.
Kenji stopped ten feet away. He dropped his gun to his side.
"No." Kenji breathed.
It was Gokumon. The Prison Gate.
In the Edo period, it was the ultimate punishment for severe crimes. The criminal was decapitated, and the head was mounted up on a wooden stake, and displayed in a public square for three days to shame the spirit.
The Shogun had recreated it perfectly under the most famous landmark in Japan.
Ichiro's face was pale, drained of blood. His eyes were open, staring up at the long steel web of the tower above him. His mouth was still covered with the tape as it was in the apartment.
Below the head, the wooden stake was soaked in blood. But there was no body. The rest of Ichiro Tanaka - the suit, the limbs, the heart was gone. Killer left only the head remained thinking it like a trophy placed on a pedestal.
"He cut him." Manjiro choked out, turning away to retch. "He landed... he cut his head off... and he planted it. In five minutes. How? How is that possible?"
"He prepared it." Kenji said, his voice hollow. "The stake was already here. He just needed the head to complete it."
Kenji looked up at the Tower. The orange lights seemed to mock him. The Shogun had turned the symbol of Tokyo's progress into a giant, glowing tombstone.
"We failed." Kenji whispered. "We saw him. We spoke to him and he still did it."
The helplessness washed over him. It wasn't just failure, but it was total defeat. Kenji realized they weren't chasing a criminal. They were chasing a force of nature. A hurricane that tore through the city, leaving specific, curated destruction in its wake.
Kenji walked closer to the stake. He had to look. He had to see if there was a note. A tag.
恥(Haji) - Shame
With it there was just the head. The stark, brutal reality of a life ended.
"The Legacy is dead." Kenji murmured, remembering the text message. The Law is Dead. But the Legacy Remains.
Now, the legacy was a head on a stick.
Wooooo-Wooooo-Wooooo.
The sound started in the distance, then multiplied. Sirens. Dozens of them.
Blue and red lights began to flash against the trees of Shiba Park. Tires screeched on the pavement.
"The police." Manjiro said, wiping his mouth. "They're coming. Kenji, we threw our badges away. If they find us here... standing over a severed head... with guns..."
"Let them come." Kenji didn't move. He stared into the dead eyes of Ichiro Tanaka. "I'm not running anymore."
"Kenji, we're suspects now! We're suspended officers found at a fresh murder scene!"
"We're witnesses," Kenji corrected. "we saw the face."
The first cruiser hopped the sidewalk and skidded into the plaza. Doors flew open.
"Police! Drop the weapons! DROP THEM!"
Searchlights blinded them.
Kenji slowly bent down and placed his Sig Sauer on the concrete. He raised his hands.
"Don't shoot!" Manjiro yelled, placing his shotgun down. "We are TMPD! Detective Sano and Detective Tenken!"
"Get on your knees! Hands behind your heads!"
Uniformed officers swarmed them. These weren't men from their precinct. These were nervous, terrified patrolmen from the Minato ward, jumping at shadows because the whole city was on edge.
Kenji felt rough hands grab his wrists. He was slammed forward onto the pavement, his cheek pressed against the cold stone.
"Check the perimeter!" a sergeant shouted. "Oh god... look at that. Look at the head."
Kenji lay there kneeled, the gravel digging into his skin. He tilted his head to look at the stake one last time.
The Shogun had vanished again. He had used the zip line, killed the man, set the display, and melted into the park before the sirens even started.
He's watching, Kenji thought. He's close.
"Get the forensics team!" the sergeant barked into his radio. "We have a Code Black at Tokyo Tower. Get Dr. Sato down here now! We need an ID on the victim!"
Kenji's eyes snapped open.
Dr. Sato.
Kaori.
The Shogun had killed the Money, the Land, the Law, the Science, the Authority. He had killed the Hands. He had killed the Fruit. He had killed the Heir.
Who was left?
"Kaori..." Kenji whispered into the concrete.
"Shut up!" the officer kneeling on his back shouted.
"You have to listen to me!" Kenji yelled, struggling against the cuffs. "The killer is still here! He's watching!"
"I said shut up!"
The plaza filled with more vehicles. The armored vans of the forensics unit arrived. Men in white clean-suits jumped out.
Kenji watched from ground level as the boots of the police stomped around the crime scene. They were destroying evidence, panicking, contaminating the site.
But it didn't matter. The evidence was the head.
And the message was clear.
The Shogun had finished his list, but Kenji felt something wrong.
Kenji looked toward the darkness of the trees beyond the floodlights. He felt a gaze. A cold, heavy weight pressing on the back of his neck.
The stranger with the young face was out there. He hadn't left. He was waiting for the final act.
And as the Forensic van doors opened and Dr. Kaori Sato stepped out, looking pale and terrified, Kenji was worried what that final act may be.
He was helpless. Cuffed. Pinned to the ground.
And the devil was about to step into the light.
Chapter 31 Ends - Why Shogun is still there?