Tokyo Detective Chronicles

The recurring scene faded away.

Miyazawa Rin collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. Cold sweat clung to her cheeks as her bangs framed her face. Her vision blurred, and her ears rang. It took her a good ten seconds to regain her sense of sight.

The deep blue light faded from her pupils, and the spiritual energy she had painstakingly recovered was once again completely depleted.

"...work injury compensation...compensation for emotional distress...paid leave...and more, and more..."

"No, that's not right..."

Miyazawa Rin tilted her head back and began to mutter uncontrollably in Kansai dialect.

"I've had enough... I'm quitting, I absolutely have to quit... I'm going back to my hometown... I'll never come to this godforsaken place like Tokyo again..."

No one responded to her.

Miyazawa Rin finally realized something was wrong.

She turned her head.

Hoshino, whose sight and hearing were sealed by a talisman, stood quietly at Fushimi's feet.

But she seemed to sense something, tilting her head in confusion, her little hand nervously gripping Fushimi's fingers... but Fushimi didn't grasp them back.

"Hmm...?"

no respond.

Fushimi Iori stood still, motionless.

Those eyes, which were usually devoid of emotion, now stared blankly into the distance... at the deformed monster whose flesh and blood had completely dissipated, leaving only incomplete skeletons.

"Feed..."

Fushimi's consciousness exists in a void.

There was no sky, no earth, no light, and no shadow.

There were only twelve children.

They stood before him, hand in hand, radiating white light, wearing the blood-stained white robe, their eyes not blindfolded...

We don't need it anymore.

The oldest one looked to be only ten years old, and the youngest one was short, not even as tall as Fushimi's waist.

They had no facial features; their faces were a soft blank, but Fushimi knew they were looking at him.

They just stood there quietly, as if waiting for something.

Then, the child in the lead let go of his companion's hand.

He took a step forward, stopped, and bowed deeply in Fushimi's direction.

The remaining eleven children followed him, their movements perfectly synchronized, like the piety rehearsed countless times in that sacred hymn.

There was no sentimentality, no words...

After bowing, the children turned around, hand in hand, and walked into the depths of nothingness.

They walked very slowly, their small bare feet treading on the void. There was no light, no road signs, only a gradually thickening, hazy, milky-white mist in the direction they were heading.

Fushimi stood there, watching their figures grow smaller and smaller, becoming increasingly blurry.

There was no turning back.

Then, Fushimi heard the sound of water.

At first, it was just a faint sound.

Gradually, the sound of water became clearer, eventually transforming into the roar of waves.

Fushimi followed the sound and looked in that direction.

At the end of nothingness, a river appeared out of nowhere.

That was not like any river in the world... There was no shimmering light, no reeds on the bank, and you couldn't even tell the texture of the water.

It was just a dark, quiet, silvery-gray ribbon that seemed to have flowed there since the beginning of the world.

There was no reflection on the river surface.

Or rather, it is itself a reflection, reflecting something older than the present world, something more ancient than the ordinary world.

That's the Sanzu River.

Legend has it that this is the only boundary separating the present world from the mortal world, and the mortal world from the afterlife.

The deceased, having reached this point, have no way back.

At that moment, the twelve small figures were walking towards the river.

Fushimi noticed that both sides of the riverbank were covered in flowers, which he didn't know had happened to be there.

Crimson red like blood, spread out like a woven tapestry, densely extending to the horizon. The petals are slender and curled, like countless hands reaching towards the sky, or like the red-dyed fingernails of a young girl on her wedding day.

Red spider lily.

Buddhist scriptures say that this is a flower that blooms in the heavenly realm, and those who see it will be filled with great joy and can forget all their troubles.

But in older legends, these are flowers that bloom on the road to the underworld... Their fragrance can awaken the memories of the dead, causing those self-destructive souls to lose themselves in the sea of ​​flowers for a thousand years, never to find their way across the river again.

The twelve children walked to the riverbank and stopped.

A small boat slowly emerged from the mist, with a boatman standing on it; he was the ferryman.

The children boarded the ship one by one.

The youngest one couldn't even reach the gunwale on tiptoe, so the child next to her squatted down, supported her ankles, and helped her up.

Then, the small boat changed direction and headed towards the opposite bank.

But Fushimi knew that this small boat couldn't take them home...

The sea of ​​red spider lilies burns behind us, and the Sanzu River flows beneath the boat.

Fushimi looked away in confusion.

Then he realized that there was someone else next to him.

Black hair, green eyes, and long strands of hair hanging down her forehead, almost touching her chin. The ends of her hair parted slightly at the center, revealing a pair of eyes that seemed to be smiling but weren't.

Her features were so delicate that it was difficult to tell her gender.

He was wearing an old kimono from an unknown era, with fine blue ripples printed on a plain white background. The hem of the kimono was blown up by the wind, revealing his bare feet.

One hand is crossed over her chest, while the other is raised to support her cheek.

Long, slender fingers with distinct knuckles, and slightly cool fingertips.

He looked in the direction where the children had disappeared, a smile playing on his lips.

It was that river god of Bailuchuan, wearing that very distinctive old man's mask on the side...

"Thanks to you so much."

When he spoke, his voice was also indistinguishable as either male or female.

"They can finally leave."

Fushimi remained silent.

"But you know what?"

The young-looking river god turned his head to look at him, his green eyes reflecting Fushimi's silent profile.

"Those twelve were relatively lucky among the children brought in; they were able to retain their souls..."

yes……

How could Fushimi not know...?

He had just realized that the tape had clearly stated that 37 children had been brought in, but he really didn't want to think about what the remaining 25 had gone through.

The river god looked at his expression and sighed softly.

"Later, those guys became increasingly reckless, and the world became more and more chaotic."

"Then another group of humans arrived."

Fushimi knew that he was probably referring to the Special Affairs Division.

"The leader was a very strong human." The river god's tone carried a hint of reminiscence: "So strong... I couldn't even see his limits."

He paused, as if recalling that blurry figure.

"He led his men down the ranks, slaughtering almost every cultist and monster on every level."

"But some of them still managed to escape. For the past twenty years, they've been like cockroaches, hiding deep inside, constantly multiplying, and constantly crawling outwards."

He pointed to the distant passage, which was sealed off at various levels and led to a deeper level.

"I'm too weak to perceive what's happening deep inside, but the situation is definitely not optimistic."

Therefore, shutting down the deep connection and cutting off its own arm to survive was almost its only option.

Fushimi remained silent.

The river god tilted his head to look at him.

Then, His form began to change.

As the light shifted, the boy's outline faded, replaced by a girl with short, golden hair.

Her eyebrows and eyes softened, her jawline narrowed, and her chest became slightly rounded.

Her kimono transformed into a red and white shrine maiden's outfit, the hem of which swayed gently in the wind.

He—or perhaps she should be called now—turned his face slightly to the side, a mischievous smile playing in his golden eyes.

"What about this one?"

The voice also changed to a soft, feminine voice:

"Don't you like it?"

Fushimi ignored her.

The river god, who looked like a young girl, blinked and then changed again.

This time, it was a young military officer dressed in leather armor, with sharp features and a bit of stubble on his chin. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at Fushimi, and raised an eyebrow.

"Still don't like it?"

Fu met him with a blank expression.

The river god sighed and transformed back into her original genderless form with black hair and green eyes, only this time with more feminine features, wearing a black dress.

This is His original form.

He sat cross-legged in the void, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his chin, idly swinging his bare feet.

"You're really a boring guy."

He said, "I've changed into so many forms—women, men, people of different ages—and not one of them has liked you? Do you prefer animals?"

He paused, then added:

"After all, he's my savior who rescued me from dire straits, so custom-made ones are available!"

Fushimi finally reacted.

He turned his head and glanced twice at the river god's black-haired, green-eyed girl.

Then he looked away and said:

"That's fine, it's good."

The river god was stunned for a moment.

Then he turned his head, summoned a mirror, looked at his bangs that reached his chin, his dark and pretty face, and at the plain black dress.

"...So you like this kind of thing?"

The river god remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he laughed.

"Okay, then I'll present myself like this from now on."

Clearly, Fushimi had killed the deformed monster made of a child's soul and flesh. The only remaining, and also the greatest, source of pollution and erosion within this barrier had disappeared, and His divine power began to gradually recover.

At this moment, the long-lost power is returning, and He is beginning to regain control of this area.

"Alright, thank you, son of man..."

His body began to glow, a gentle, slow glow, like the first rays of sunlight reflecting off a river at dawn.

"It's all time to end it all."

Then, He raised His hands, which were bound by chains.

He just waved his hand.

"Splash—!"

The chains trembled violently.

The boundaries of nothingness began to dissolve.

Fushimi felt a solid sensation beneath his feet.

That's the smell of earth.

It was damp, with the long-lost smell of grass and decaying leaves.

Then he heard the sound of the wind.

It wasn't the sticky, fishy wind he'd felt in the passageway before... but the warm wind he was familiar with, carrying the temperature of the season.

He opened his eyes.

The altar has disappeared...

The surrounding environment has completely changed; the tiles, passageways, ruins, and pools have all disappeared... like a long nightmare that finally faded away at dawn.

Fushimi stood on a riverbank.

sunset.

Unlike the eternal twilight where time stood still, here time has begun to flow, and the sky is filled with the ever-changing sunset.

Orange-red rays of light poured down from the sky, covering the entire surface of the river.

The river water was clear and sparkling, revealing the bluish-green color of the smooth, rounded pebbles at the bottom.

Knee-high reeds grow along the riverbank, their fluffy plumes swaying gently in the wind, scattering and being swept up by the wind, drifting towards the heart of the river.

They stood on the hill, where countless unnamed white wildflowers bloomed all over the hillside, densely packed like a thin layer of snow.

Birds chirp as they return to their nests at dusk.

Fushimi stood still for a long time, this was the original state of this eternal world.

He remembered the name of the river.

Bailuchuan.

Once upon a time, when this place was just a village, before concrete covered this land, a clear stream flowed through it.

A stone bridge spans the river, and a small shrine stands at the bridgehead, dedicated to the god who governs the river.

In spring, cherry blossoms bloom on both banks of the river. In summer, children catch fish in the river. In autumn, reeds bloom like snow. In winter, a thin layer of ice forms on the water, shimmering like shattered glass in the sunlight.

Soon after, a new era arrived.

As cities expanded, rivers were filled in, shrines were demolished, and gods were forgotten.

No one worships Bailuchuan anymore.

No one remembers that there used to be a river here.

But in the mortal world, that river has never disappeared... it has always existed.

Miyazawa Rin staggered to her feet from behind Fushimi, supporting herself on her knees as she took deep breaths of the fresh, damp air.

She looked around blankly, her pupils reflecting the riverbank under the setting sun.

"...Where is this?"

She murmured.

No one answered her.

Kohoshino stood next to Fushimi, the talisman still covering her eyes.

She didn't know what was happening; she just stood there quietly, feeling the wind on her cheeks, her small hands tightly gripping Fushimi's fingers.

Fushimi turned around and squatted down.

He reached out and gently removed the talisman from Hoshino's eyes.

The little girl blinked, her eyelashes fluttering like startled butterfly wings.

Then, she saw the world.

The setting sun fell into her pupils.

Orange-red light melted in her eyes, like syrup, like honey, like a scene she had never seen since birth, a scene that only existed in her hazy dreams.

Hoshino opened her mouth.

She wanted to say something.

But it can only produce meaningless breathy sounds.

So she simply looked up at this strange yet beautiful world, as if it had been prepared just for her.

All of this is reflected in my pupils and in my memory.

A door appeared not far away.

The gate stood abruptly on the riverbank, completely out of place with the surrounding scenery.

Fushimi recognized this door.

He walked over and pushed open the door.

Behind the door is a walkway paved with white tiles.

On both sides are bottomless pools of water, in which two giant Buddha statues, one crying and one laughing, still stand. At the end of the corridor is the door to that office.

Fushimi looked towards the pond.

Beneath the clear surface of the deep pool at the foot of the Buddha statue, countless grayish-white monsters were writhing.

They climbed up the smooth tiles, one after another, like army ants or migrating salmon.

Its body is as soft and slippery as a leech, and its underdeveloped appendages are faintly visible on its abdomen.

One, two, ten, a hundred...

A continuous stream.

Emerging from the depths of the pool, the very heart of this mortal realm, it flows upwards along the pool wall, then disappears into the cracks of the tiles.

Fushimi turned his head to the side.

The river god appeared beside him without him even noticing.

She still looked young, with black hair, green eyes, a black dress, and bare feet.

He stood with his hands behind his back, quietly watching the pool, his face expressionless.

"This was originally the deepest part of the Egret River," He said.

"The Creation Cult opened a channel here, going straight to the depths, and over a decade later, they turned this river into an incubator."

He paused.

"It's time to end this now."

Fushimi remained silent.

He took a step forward, and the shadow beneath his feet began to boil.

The river god looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"You seem to be in a more anxious mood than I am."

He raised his hand, and in the void, azure light began to condense.

Fushimi stood on top of the weeping Buddha statue on the left.

The river god stands atop the smiling Buddha statue on the right.

Below, the bottomless pool of water was churning, and countless grayish-white, embryo-like creatures struggled and cried out in the water, as if they had a premonition of the coming apocalypse.

"Let's begin," said the River God.

His hands formed a mudra, his movements fluid and graceful, carrying the composure accumulated over thousands of years.

A blue light surged from His palm, transforming into countless fine threads that wove a giant net, slowly pressing down onto the water's surface.

Fushimi lacked His elegance.

He simply raised his hand, and spiritual energy poured out from his palm. The method to seal this place had already entered his mind through a contract.

The shadow spread from the Buddha's feet, like ink drops into water, quickly spreading a thick layer of black on the surface. The moment the shadow touched the water, it made a hissing sound, like a red-hot iron being plunged into cold water.

Two forces pressed down simultaneously.

The water level began to drop.

It wasn't that the water level was dropping; rather, the entire surface of the water was sinking—as if being pressed down by an invisible giant hand, inch by inch, towards the cracked gap.

The embryonic creature's hissing grew increasingly shrill.

They frantically fled to the bottom, trying to return to the deeper layers before the passage closed.

But it was too late...

The instant the water level sinks to a certain critical point.

"Buzz—"

A deep, resonant sound exploded underwater.

Fushimi saw that the passage at the bottom of the pool was closing in.

Then all fell silent.

Those grayish-white embryonic organisms, which did not have time to escape, lost their vitality the moment the passage closed, and sank softly to the bottom of the water. They were quickly dispersed and decomposed by the water flow, turning into wisps of turbid flocculent matter.

Fushimi let out a soft breath.

From then on, even the river god of the Shirogane River, who is the lord of the Tokoyo, could not open the passage on his own without Fushimi's presence.

He straightened up, stood on top of the weeping Buddha statue, and looked down at the water surface that had regained its clarity.

He turned back to look at the hill outside the door, and then he saw someone who should never have been there.

Fushimi Iori's pupils contracted slightly.

She stood on the hill, not far behind Miyazawa Rin and Kohoshino.

Wearing the uniform of Kiyosumidai Private School, a few strands of her short hair, past her shoulders, were blown by the evening breeze. She waved in this direction, her lips moving as if calling his name.

"Iori..."