The Aspiring Artist

May 12th, 5:30 AM.

A caller had contacted the RCPD barely half an hour ago, frantically asking them to send someone to the office building of Cornerstone Global Solutions over in the business district. The operator asked for more details on the nature of the incident, at which point the caller practically screamed that they'd found a dead body at the reception area just beyond the ground floor entrance hall.

'…Two murders in as many weeks, huh?'

The operator then passed the report along the chain of command, at which point Detective Ashihara Riku intervened. He volunteered to be the one to respond to the call, while practically demanding to be given the lead role when it came to the investigation. Unsurprisingly, he was granted both requests when the chief gave him the green light. With that matter settled, the detective took two of his fellow patrolmen with him to the scene of the crime so they could comb the crime scene as carefully and thoroughly as possible.

'Could it be…?'

The three lawmen were met at the building entrance by one of the janitors who, as it turned out, had been the one to make the call. The janitor – an old man who looked to be in his late sixties or early seventies – had been designated keeper of the keys, and so he was the one who was entrusted with unlocking the doors ahead of the regular work day. He'd just entered the reception area at the ground floor when he noticed something dangling above the receptionist's desk. And as it turned out, that 'something' nearly wound up causing him to suffer a heart attack on the poor old man had been inches from the dismembered dangling body when he called the RCPD using the landline at that desk, and no sooner had he ended the call than he hurried out the building, locking the doors on his way out so as to leave the crime scene undisturbed.

'Fucking hell.'

As soon as the janitor had given his statement, Riku bade one of his colleagues to guard him outside while instructing the other to help him investigate. They made their entry through the entrance hall using the key that had been helpfully provided to them by the old man, before again using it to unlock the door to the reception area.

And when they did, what greeted them was a sight that caused Detective Ashihara Riku, hardened cop though he was, to nearly throw up on the spot as he felt his stomach leap all the way up into his throat.

'It's the same guy as last time!'

After Riku had taken a moment to rein in his horror and revulsion at the second macabre mannequin he and his colleagues had found in as many weeks, he took a good, long look at the kind of art piece the killer had gone for this time around. In contrast to last week's victim, who had been garbed in an expensive-looking dress that he had to admit would've looked great on her under any other circumstances, the victim this time around was clad in office attire, suspended by her wrists, ankles, and waists by ropes that were hanging from hooks that had been drilled into the ceiling. Her face had been frozen into a look that was halfway between boredom and despair. And as was the case with the unlucky young lass from a week ago, this victim's hands bore a folder-sized illustration board, on which the words 'WHITE COLLAR PUPPET' were written in jagged capital letters with white chalk.

'Oh boy,' he thought as he felt the fear and trepidation rising in him.

The detective then took a dozen photos of the abhorrent art piece using the camera on his smartphone, before he and his colleague carefully inspected the reception area to see if anything else was out of the ordinary. Before long, both lawmen were satisfied with their cursory investigation. Finally, after one last sweep for anything they may have missed the first time around, they demarcated the crime scene with yellow tape.

'…Man, what a mess.'

They invited the janitor to come with them to headquarters for questioning. The old man obliged – as soon as one of his fellow janitors arrived for him to entrust the keys to, anyway. As all three lawmen led the janitor over to the police car they'd parked outside, with Riku taking the back seat so as to make sure the old man was alright, the detective gritted his teeth while contemplating both horrifying incidents that had happened within a week of each other.

'We've got a serial murderer on our hands.'

The detective sighed.

'Another week, another dead girl slaughtered in the same way.'

As it was, they had not one, but two demon-possessed avengers prowling about their city at night. And now they had a serial killer – a mad artist with a murderous streak – on the loose on top of it.

'Something tells me things are about to go to hell in this city before long…'

Now, more than ever, it was becoming increasingly clear to Riku that Rakuen was hardly the paradise it outwardly appeared to be.

------

Furukawa Shugo really wasn't in the mood that day.

For starters, it wasn't his alarm clock going off that woke him up that morning. Instead, Shugo got up to use the bathroom at 6:30 AM, only to find no less than half a dozen missed calls from one Detective Ashihara Riku. It then rang a seventh time in his hand, at which point the teen picked up.

"There's been another killing. Same MO as last time."

Shugo could only shake his head grimly at the news. For the second week in a row, they'd found a girl murdered and turned into some sick sculpture, all her blood having been drained beforehand. Killing innocent people was bad enough, but this…

"Autopsy report pegged her time of death at around 3:00 AM," Riku further informed him. "The two of you weren't able to sense anything? Not too long ago, you guys managed to intercept Taro's kidnappers from halfway across the city."

'Fair point.'

Shugo could never forget that first night, where he charged off across Rakuen and fought with a gang of hired criminals. That was how he met Riku and the chief, after all, not to mention Ayato – who, as it turned out, had been kept in the dark regarding the true nature of the job he'd signed up for. At the time, Kurona had roused him from his sleep when she sensed the criminals' evil intent from a literal mile away. It wasn't out of the question that they could've stopped both this murder and the one that immediately preceded it, which begged the question of how-

"I sensed them because their naked malice blazed like a wildfire in the night," Kurona had explained through their mind link. "I can only surmise that the one responsible for these latest acts of depravity has mastered the ability to disconnect his emotions from his wicked deeds, or that he somehow believes his actions to be righteous.

She then paused for a moment, before adding: "Or, as in the case of that child with the tanto, his evil intent may have been stifled and overshadowed by an even stronger emotion."

'…Guess that explains why I didn't see that attack coming.'

Needless to say, thought Shugo as he stared numbly at their classroom's whiteboard during their third period just before lunch, he'd had better wake-up calls.

As he idly twirled his pen in his seat, Shugo realized that a month had yet to elapse since his empowerment, yet already he'd begun to take his abilities for granted. Up until recently, he never stopped to think that he did have a few weaknesses that made him less 'invincible' and more 'really, really hard to severely damage or kill without the right tools'. And up until now, it never even occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, his ability to detect evil and malicious intent wasn't without its limitations and flaws. Because of that, it was hard for the upstart avenger not to think that if he'd exercised just a little bit more self-awareness about what he could and couldn't do with his powers, it was possible that the poor girls who'd died the past week might still be alive. More to the point, he couldn't help but wonder whether these killings would ever have come to pass in the first place had he been more proactive about hunting criminals down instead of relying on Kurona to alert him.

"This self-flagellation on your part is neither warranted nor helpful," she admonished him. "If you truly wish to make amends for those perceived failures, finding the murderer and doing what you must takes top priority."

Not for the first time, Shugo found the spirit's idea of a pep talk to be unique. Nevertheless, her words were no less helpful or reassuring, and that was all that mattered to him right now.

'Thanks.'

Just then, the bell rang to signal the lunch hour. The hour-long respite from the rigors of student life helped brighten Shugo's mood further, but only barely. Once he'd taken his usual seat at the table he usually occupied in the cafeteria, he extracted the pan-fried chicken fillets he cooked last night from his backpack and began to eat. Seeing as Kaito was with the rest of the Theater Club to practice for a play they were due to show within 2-3 weeks, it was highly likely that he'd be eating by himself for today.

"Hi, Shugo. Hope you don't mind the company."

At least, that seemed to be the case until Ayato and Ayaka both joined him a few minutes later. And when Shugo briefly diverted his attention from his meal to look up at the ashen-faced siblings, he remembered that the first victim – Haruna, if he recalled correctly – had been a friend of theirs, and that she'd just been buried the previous Saturday.

And it was only then that the upstart avenger stopped to consider that next to his bereaved friends, he wasn't really in any position to be moping or sulking.

"Hi, Ayato. Hi, Ayaka," Shugo greeted both his friends in turn. "I'm sorry about your friend."

It was Ayaka who replied first. "Thanks, Shugo."

Between Ayaka's red, puffy eyes, the pain and exhaustion in her voice, and the disinterest with which she nibbled at the tuna sandwich she extracted from her bag, it was evident to Shugo that she was still grieving the loss of yet another one of the friends she and her brother had known since they were children.

"More than anything, I think the worst part of Haruna's murder is the niece she left behind."

"Try not to worry too much about little Akina, sis," Ayato said as he put on a brave smile in his attempt to reassure his sister. "The chief said they'd think of something. Come to think of it, I wouldn't be surprised if he adopted her himself."

"Yeah, that does seem like him," Shugo agreed, just before getting back to his half-finished meal.

As he watched the subsequent discussion that unfolded between Akizuki siblings, it occurred to the teen that most of the members of Chief Hikawa Ryoma's personal staff – the ones he'd personally met, at least – had started out as minors in conflict with the law. He didn't know the details, but he did know for a fact that Riku had spent some time at the Rakuen Youth Rehabilitation Center. Officers Ichijou and Narutaki had come from similar backgrounds, and as Saaya recounted, she herself had run away from home as a young girl after being abused and violated by members of her extended family one time too many. While Shugo had already come to regard the longtime lawman with a healthy amount of respect and liking, hearing his personal subordinates talk about how they first met the chief only strengthened that already-high regard.

"Still, I'd sleep better when we know for sure that Akina's gonna be alright," Ayaka persisted. "And I'm sure that's how Haruna would want it, too."

While his friend had directed those words to her brother and not Shugo, the upstart avenger nevertheless took it as an indirect reminder that the powers and abilities Kurona had given him came with the power to make a difference. More to the point, Ayaka's words inadvertently called his attention to the lackadaisical attitude with which he'd put that power to use until now. It was a safe bet that, their friend would never have had to die had he been more proactive about hunting down the bad guys-

"Cease your foolishness, child," came the spirit's gentle but firm rebuke. "Rather than needlessly castigating yourself further, the more productive thing to do would be to avenge these murders."

"We'll find out who did it, sis," Ayato assured his younger twin, just before devouring what was left of his own tuna sandwich. "We'll get that sicko's ass before he kills anyone else. Isn't that right, Shugo?"

Shugo looked between his two friends.

"Yeah, that's exactly right," the teen answered automatically without thinking.

"We're not letting him get away."

------

Later that night, in one of Rakuen's many condo units…

'Looks like I made one hell of a debut.'

The aspiring artist turned off the TV once the nightly news program had reached its conclusion.

And as he did, he turned back to the laptop in front of him, where he had been reading an online news article discussing his art in loving detail.

'To think I'm only just getting started.'

Art had always been a lifelong passion of his, after all. Even as far back as kindergarten, he filled his notebooks not by taking down notes for his various classes, but by drawing anything and everything that came to mind. He then went on to join various art clubs throughout his elementary and then middle school years, and it was this around this point that he realized that art was more than just his hobby – it was his life.

'If only my folks could've seen it that way, too.'

'Then again, I suppose my journey as an artist is one of loneliness and solitude.'

Though there was a time when he would have given anything for his parents to recognize where his talents and passions were, he quickly learned that his parents would never be supportive of his artistic endeavours. His mother never missed an opportunity to berate him for wasting the pages of his notebooks on pointless drawings, just as his father had barred him from taking part in an art competition held some time during his high school years on the ground that it would interfere with his schoolwork. Not only that, one of his teachers even tried to have him removed from his art clubs supposedly because his involvement in club activities was taking its toll on his academic performance. Through it all, he kept his head down and voiced his assent to all their admonishments, if only so they would finally shut up and leave him in peace.

'…And I guess it's my fate as an artist to go unappreciated in my time.'

Even back then, it was clear to him that he wanted nothing more than to dedicate his life to artistry. Even that early on, he was convinced that even if he had a thousand lives to spare, he'd have gladly given each and every one of them for the sake of his art. And now that he was free of his parents, his teachers, and anyone else who would deny him his passion and stifle his creativity, he was free to become all he could be as an artist.

It won't be long now, the artist thought as he gazed intently at the hexagram he'd drawn in white chalk on the jet-black floor of his condo. Each point of the six-pointed star was marked by a circle large enough to be occupied by something. Not only that, the same was true of the center point.

'There's nothing I wouldn't do.'

As of right now, two of the hexagram's six points were occupied by a large bottle full of a dark, crimson liquid.

'No line I wouldn't cross.'

Two out of the seven labours before him had been completed, leaving five more for him to overcome.

'No sacrifice is too great.'

He would perfect his art.

'No matter the cost.'

His pride as an artist demanded nothing less.