The wind beneath the Tokyo Tower died down. The sirens faded into a dull, silent rhythm in the background. For a moment, the world shrank down to a triangle of broken people: the Detective, the Doctor, and the Monster.
Jin Sato stood in the circle of floodlights. He had pushed his sister away, forcing her to safety behind the line of armored vehicles where Manjiro held her upright. She was sobbing.
He looked up at the orange steel lattice of the tower, stretching into the black sky like a stairway to a heaven he would never see.
He reached into the back of his waistband.
"Gun!" a sergeant screamed. "He's got a gun!"
Dozens of safeties clicked off. Fingers tightened on triggers.
He stood ten yards away, his Sig Sauer leveled at Jin's heart. His hands were steady now.
Jin pulled out a pistol - a Glock 19, likely taken from the unconscious bodyguard Senku hours ago.
But he didn't aim it at Kenji.
He raised it straight up, pointing the barrel at the stars.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
Jin screamed. It was a raw, harsh sound of pure, unadulterated wrath. It was the sound of a ten-year-old boy watching his parents burn. It was the sound of fifteen years of living in the sewers. It was the sound of a soul that had been twisted until it snapped.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
He pulled the trigger as fast as he could. Muzzle flashes lit up his face in light bursts, revealing teeth gritted in agony and eyes swimming with tears.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The brass outer layers of bullets clattered onto the pavement, ringing like bells. He was shooting at god. He was shooting at the silence. He was laughing, a high, broken, maniacal sound that tore through the night.
Then, the laughter stopped.
Jin lowered his arm. He was panting, his chest heaving. The rage seemed to drain out of him, leaving him looking small. Fragile. Just a young man in a grey hoodie who had lost his way in the dark.
He turned his head slowly to look at Kaori. She was kneeling on the ground, Manjiro's arm around her shoulders, her face a mask of absolute heartbreak.
Jin smiled. It was wild. Desperate.
"I'm sorry, Kaori." Jin whispered. The silence was so deep his voice carried across the plaza. "I couldn't be the brother you wanted. The fire... it burned too much of me away."
Kaori choked on a sob, her hands clutching her chest. "Jin..."
"Haha.. Just kidding, you sick little bitch-ch. Cry over me" Jin laughed as devil. "The boy you loved died a long time ago. This thing standing here is evil!"
Jin's eyes hardened. The shark-like emptiness returned in a flash.
"He still has the Urge."
In a blur of motion, Jin whipped the gun around. He leveled it straight at Kaori's face.
"DIE!" Jin roared, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Panic exploded in Kenji's brain. He saw the gun pointed at the doctor. He saw the monster about to kill his own sister. The rage white-hot and blinding took over.
He's going to do it. He's a mad dog. Put him down.
Kenji Sano didn't hesitate. He thought about Hideo bleeding out in the dojo. He thought about Reika torn apart in the warehouse.
He squeezed the trigger.
BANG.
A single shot.
The bullet struck Jin Sato dead center in the chest.
He looked surprised, as if he hadn't truly believed it would happen until the impact hit him.
He stumbled back one step. Two steps.
He looked up at the Tokyo Tower one last time.
Then, his legs folded. He collapsed onto the cold concrete of the plaza, his body landing in the shadow of the stake he had built. The Glock fell from his hand on to ground.
Silence rushed back into the world, heavy and suffocating.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!" the sergeant shouted.
Kenji lowered his gun. He was panting, the adrenaline crashing through his system.
"Jin!"
Kaori screamed. It was a sound of primal loss that echoed through the park. She broke free from Manjiro's grip and scrambled across the pavement, crawling on her hands and knees toward the body.
Kenji walked forward. His boots felt heavy. He looked down at the body of the Shogun.
Mad bastard, Kenji thought, anger still running chills in his gut. He tried to kill his own sister.
Kenji holstered his own weapon and knelt beside the gun Jin had dropped. He needed to secure the evidence. He reached out with a gloved hand and picked up the Glock 19.
He pulled the slide back to clear the chamber.
Click.
It was empty.
Kenji froze. He stared at the empty chamber. He stared at the empty magazine well.
There was no bullet. Jin had fired every single round into the sky.
A cold feeling, colder than the wind, washed over Kenji. He looked at the body. Jin lay still, eyes open, staring at nothing.
He knew, Kenji realized. He knew it was empty. Jin never intended to kill Kaori. He talked bad about her to think he also hate her and ready to kill her. He aimed at her because he knew it was the only way to make Kenji shoot.
But suicide was too easy. He wanted to be stopped. He wanted to be punished. He wanted to be killed by the rage he had created.
Kenji looked at Kaori, who was holding gently her brother's head.
"He tried to kill you." Kenji whispered, the lie tasting like ash in his mouth. "I had to."
But Kaori didn't hear him. She was lost in her grief.
Kenji looked at the empty gun in his hand.
He had won. The killer was dead. The case was closed.
But as he stood up, Kenji felt a crushing weight settle on his shoulders. He hadn't outsmarted the Shogun. He hadn't caught him. He had just been the final tool in Jin Sato's toolbox.
He was the executioner Jin had hired.
Epilogue
Three Months Later. Spring.
The cherry blossoms were falling in Tokyo.
Pink petals drifted through the air like snow, coating the streets, the cars, and the dirty waters of the Sumida River.
The Q-Front screen in Shibuya was back to playing advertisements for shampoo and cheerful idol groups. The billboard where Dr. Ogawa had hung was now displaying a bright message: "Tokyo: Moving Forward Together."
A black sedan sat spending time in nothing, in a quiet alleyway in Shinjuku. The engine hummed softly.
Kenji Sano sat in the driver's seat. He looked older. The lines around his eyes were deeper, etched by sleepless nights. He wore cheap sunglasses, hiding eyes that had seen too much.
He wasn't a detective anymore. The suspension after the tower incident had turned into a "voluntary resignation." A quiet agreement to let him disappear in exchange for the department burying the details of his rogue investigation.
He rolled down the window. The spring breeze drifted in, carrying the sound of laughter from the main street. People were happy. They were walking around without looking over their shoulders. Peace had returned to Tokyo.
Kenji reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He hadn't smoked in five years.
He put one between his lips and flicked a lighter. The flame danced for a moment before he inhaled deeply. The smoke burned his lungs, a familiar, grounding pain.
He exhaled a cloud of grey smoke out the window. He thought about Kaori. She had left the city. Moved back to the countryside, somewhere quiet, far away from the memories of fire and steel. He hadn't called her. What could he say? I killed your brother because he tricked me?
He thought about the case.
Everyone called him a hero. The papers said he ended the reign of terror.
But Kenji knew the truth.
He was a failure.
For the first time in his career, he had failed to unravel the mystery until the very end. He hadn't caught Jin. Jin had surrendered himself. The victims were all dead. He hadn't saved Kaori from heartbreak, he had been the one to pull the trigger.
And worst of all, he hadn't fixed the city.
He looked out at the shining tall buildings. The banks were still open. The corrupt politicians were still in office, just with new faces. The developers were still evicting the poor.
Jin Sato was dead. But the sin remained.
"We killed the symptom." Kenji whispered to the empty car. "We didn't cure the disease."
Kenji looked in the rearview mirror. He saw his own reflection. A man without a badge. A man without a purpose. A man holding a smoking gun in a city that didn't care.
"He never hurt an innocent." Kenji murmured, echoing the realization that haunted his nights. "Many bastards died by his hand. But how many more are still alive?"
He took another drag of the cigarette. The cherry blossoms continued to fall, covering the concrete in a blanket of soft, pink lies.
Kenji shifted the car into drive. He stepped on the gas, and the black sedan merged into the endless, beautiful, sinful roads of Tokyo, disappearing into the traffic like a ghost.
Signing off
- AbyssKid
The Sin of Tokyo ends