Chapter 22

The pendulum swings, back and forth, back and forth. Each time it swings, it gets nearer and nearer. If one does not see the the truth, how can they escape from this insanity that they put themselves in? Their anxiety, their fear, how may they get away from it if they do not come to terms with themselves?

To say that Tsukauchi is terrified that's an understatement. Izuku met the killer. Now, the killer is loose once again. Slaughtering the recent victim. This whole thing just got really personal between the two. He had tried contacting Izuku, but to no avail. He was sent straight to voicemail each time. He sent a message to him telling him what was going on, once again, nothing. The kid just might have turned off his phone or isn't hearing it or blocked him. He takes the last one.

Izuku must've blocked him. His phone rings and sighs in relief when he sees the caller ID. "You're on your own. I don't think I'll be able to work on the case anymore, no matter what. You have my notes, you have your profile. I'm done. My job is done. You have everything you need now and I have to prepare for my final exam. Call me for the next case. Have a good day, Tsukauchi Naomasa."

Before he can get a word in, he's left hearing the dial tone. Izuku really is mad--which is understandable. He lied to him and was going to interrogate him to prove that he's sane or insane-can anyone blame him, he was speaking about things that didn't even seem to be real. The whole untrusting thing is basically a knife to the back. No wonder he's mad. He hoped that someone would believe him, but it didn't matter in the end. No matter, damage is done and he'll have to find a way to fix it. Sighing, he makes his way to the station. Honestly, he had-has-a soft spot for Izuku and seeing that sadden and betrayed expression on him, it hurt him. He doesn't know how to earn back the trust they had built over the course of four years. Tsukauchi goes through the doors, fuming about many things as he goes over to the bulletin board. He starts adding the details that Izuku gave him. "Hey, where's the kid that follows you?"

"You mean his son?" jokes a colleague as the playfully elbow Naomasa in the arm with a Cheshire grin. The squeak of the mark on the board, brings forth a glare from the detective. "Oh, don't give me that look, Tsukauchi. We've all seen the way the two of you act together. You two may have known each other for four years, him barely even helping with any cases overprotective father-you two have a stronger bond than just coworkers. It was bound to happen eventually.

After all, a kid like him doesn't come around that often, one of us were bound to 'adopt' him sooner or later."

Naomasa just shakes his head, pushing his hair back. He is not in the mood to listen to these clowns about that. "He's not helping anymore. He's done with this case on my orders," he lies. If they are to find out that he dropped the case, they won't allow him to be on anymore. "He's helped enough and we will be giving the killer what she wants." He explains a little more then he tells them all that he's learned. He watches for their reactions, only a few stood out to him. He quietly promises to keep an eye on them. While Izuku has a theory that killer may be a woman but it's a theory. Then again, that is what profiling is all about. They theorize, hypothesize on the type of killer. Sometimes they get it wrong, it's happened before and it will continue happening because they're human. Unless someone has a psychometry quirk or a medium quirk, they cannot be too sure. "He told me that he can see my death, that he can see the Grim Reaper, and that he can see dead people, Tsukauchi." That's what Toshinori told me, so why? Why doesn't he have the dead tell him? If he can see them, can't he find a way to prevent it? Tsukauchi flips the page and sighs.

What if he can't? Otherwise he would've done so by now. I need to speak with him. It won't be a good idea, but have to speak with him.

Tsukauchi sighs for the umpteenth time the day.

The day is proving to be tiring, too many things happening all at once. He is having too many problems piling up on him and it seems to just get worse by the minute. He tells them he'll go check on Midoriya to see how he's taking the news of the murderer being back on the streets. Once clear to go, Tsukauchi leaves. His train of thought is having trouble maintaining on one track. Too many thoughts cloud his mind and all lead right back to the original point before veering off once again. It is too much, too chaotic and it's giving him a terrible headache. He groans as he glances into his rearview mirror seeing how close one car is getting. "I swear if they don't get off my ass, I'm fucking arresting them." One second later. "Get off my ass!" He should calm down, most of the time Midoriya would laugh and smile at him to calm him down while patting his shoulder with the shake of his head. He just enjoys watching his misery and road rage. To annoy a few others, he'd blast the stereo with his music and roll down the windows for the whole world to hear the screaming music. Fun times. Too bad he probably ruined it. "Get off my ass! I swear if you rear end me, Imma sue you."

Knock-knock-knock!

Tsukauchi is shuffling his weight from foot to foot, listening to the soft sound of footsteps make their way to the door. He wrings his hands, waiting for Izuku to either tell him to leave or invite him in. He just needs an answer. The door opens after a few minutes, a chain keeping it from opening all the way. "What do you want, Detective?" comes the shaky question. Please tell me he's going to just update one small thing with this new start of homicide and be gone soon. "If you're here to investigate or arrest me, you'll need a warrant."

"No, kid. Please, let me come in. I want to speak with you. I promise, I won't bring up Death or anything related to it, but please, just let me apologize for my actions."

A small pause, he's contemplating. Maybe he's going let Tsukauchi in, that he'll be able to right the wrong. Hopefully, he can gain that trust. He waits with bated breath. "I want to know something.'

A soft breath. The feeling of anxiousness holds over him like a pendulum. It sways above him, getting closer and closer, wanting to drop onto him and slice him in half. "Anything."

"If-" He hesitates. This question is serious and important. Whatever answer Tsukauchi gives him can mean acceptance or rejection. He'll have to choose wisely. As he speaks, he stutters through it

-nervousness. (Tsukauchi is not the only one with a pendulum over his head; with Midoriya, his pendulum has a blade made of anxiety and anger over his head apparently.) 'If you -if you didn't have-if your quirk was different, one that you cannot tell if a person's lying if it was different, would you have ever believed me?"

A woman with long red hair curses to herself. She paces a dark room that's filled with the wonderful aroma of blood. That stupid detective! How dare he? He just ruined everything and now, he's going to have to pay the price. A cruel smirk comes to her lips as she grabs a knife and carves a small message into the the newest victim, laughing and smiling at hearing the screams. The yelling and the crying of the damned, it's music-a beautiful melody, a symphony that not even the greatest composers of history can ever come up with. The terror, the horror, on their face, is something so indescribable that not even the most talented writers can ever dream up to write about. It's delicious. The chains rattling from the victim's struggling enters the cacophony of beauty.

"Hush hush, we're having fun, don't you think?" she asks sweetly at the male who is strapped to a chair. She digs the point of the blade into his cheek, carving pretty designs. She treats her victims like a canvas. She puts in the beauty of a painting on their skin. The red is her paint and the knife is her brush. A deadly artist indeed. She finds joy in bringing horror upon the world, and maybe one day, she'll be able to bring horror and pain onto that insufferable boy's face! At the mere thought of that insolent boy, she stabs the knife near the man's arm and embeds it into the wooden arm of the chair. A muffled scream rips from his throat, shuddering in fear. No. He wants to leave. He can't be here. This has to be a nightmare. It just has to be!

"Shh, it's okay." She slide her long fingernail down the side of his face, caressing his cheek. She licks her lips as she stares at those eyes, wide and shiny with unshed tears. Of course, he won't cry. No, she muses, it'll take much more pain for that. Oh, she cannot wait for her little experiment. "Everything will be okay. I just need you to be my little messenger. I want the world to know what I can do. I should be feared, not those idiotic villains that are basically dogs chasing their own tails. I'll show them what a wolf can do."

The man shakes and cries, trying to activate his quk only to find the action futile. She removes the gag and tilts her head to the side an innocent question displayed in her eyes on her face.

"What did you do to me?"

" simply made you better. Quirks are overrated after all. The little drug I gave you, it won't last long. But by then, you'll be too weak to use your little quirk." She chuckles straightening up. She grabs a syringe, plunging it in after taking precautions of letting out the air. "Of course, quirk or no quirk, no one can stop me." She loosens his binds on one arm. While doing this, she continues on her little monologue, "No, not even that little teenager, Midoriya Izuku. He will fall by my hand." She sashays out of the room, her hand expertly finding the light switch. She pauses at the door, her gaze set in front of her. "I haven't tried this torture yet, surprising since l've had a whole year to. And I can't wait to. I want to know how long you can last in the dark." She walks away, locking the door behind her.

After a few minutes, whatever paralysis she put him in wore off. He's running around trying to find a way out but nothing. He's trapped in a dark room and a psycho bitch is there to torture him at the ready. He needs to get out. He can't be there anymore. He has to escape and alert the police, and so he starts planning. Crimson knows this. She grins to herself. Tell me, will you be able to get out before the darkness kills your sanity? How long will it take for you to lose sight of your true identity?

Tell me, how weak is the human mind?