“I’ve got an idea,” said Rin. He’d had enough time to think.
“About time.” Kinuka, bored, had rolled onto her back and was now lying spread-eagle on the rooftop, staring up into the sky. The sun had risen quite high by now. The gentle heat on her face was comforting.
“You’ll like this one,” Rin continued, taking a pen out of his pocket. “Hey, look over here. You see this pen?”
Kinuka nodded.
“Watch this.” Rin clicked his fingers. A frame appeared around the pen, and locked it in place. “I was playing around with Framework yesterday; realised I can resize any frame I’ve captured or created, independent of aspect ratio.”
Pinching the frame’s edges, Rin began to stretch and distort the shape, the pen along with it. Returning the box to its normal dimensions, he expanded the frame to the length of his forearm. He cancelled the frame, and caught the pen. Satisfied, he tossed it lightly into the air to get a handle on its new weight, before throwing it to Kinuka.
“How’s this going to help?” Kinuka stared at it, bemused. The fruits of his genius plan so far had been a large pen.
“My initial idea,” Rin explained, “involved building a bridge from the edge of this building over to my place, then carving a hole into the roof.”
“Won’t the police see that?”
“Yeah, way ahead of you. Pretty fatal flaw, I thought, so I came up with something else.” Rin tapped the side of his nose. He took a piece of paper out of his back pocket and started folding it. Before long, he had created an impressive paper aeroplane. He handed it to Kinuka.
“You’d better start making sense soon…”
Kinuka started wondering whether Rin was just going to keep handing her random objects.
“They’re not going to catch something they can’t see.” Rin stood and stepped a few paces back. He threw his arms out wide, and surrounded himself in a frame.
“Capture.”
Rin was locked in place as soon as the word left his lips. The frame then shrank to half its original size. This repeated, half and half again, until Rin stood a little over twenty centimetres tall. The frame disappeared, and the miniature Rin stumbled to his feet. In a pitch that better resembled a squirrel’s, he yelled up at Kinuka, “Well?”
Kinuka snorted, before all reservation went out the window and she broke out in peals of laughter. “Look at you!”
Rin scowled, but it was too late. Kinuka was practically beside herself. Wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes, she crouched down and picked up the titchy Rin between two fingers. “How’s it going down there, little guy?”
“Stop that!” Rin protested, arms and legs flailing. “Put me down!”
“Sorry, I just—” She took a deep breath, and dropped Rin into the open palm of her hand. “Okay, okay. I’m alright now.” She took one deep more breath to be sure. “What’s your plan?”
“Your Specialty lets you manipulate other things besides yourself, right? And you said you can mimic the properties of other materials when you weave things, by the patterns and everything.”
Kinuka nodded between giggles. “Sorry, it’s just— It’s so hard to take you seriously…”
“I’ll bite you.”
“What are you, a rat?!”
“Don’t tempt me!”
“Fine, I won’t laugh.” She took another deep breath, but the smile never left her face. “Go on, I’m listening, snrk—”
“Alright.” Rin returned to looking very pleased with himself. “I’m going to sit in that paper aeroplane. I saw you make your way up to the roof with some elastic, that’s what gave me this idea. I’ve cut a notch into the nose of this craft. Make a slingshot, and launch me towards my house!”
“I can do that,” she heard herself say. This was ludicrous. “Are you sure that’s going to work?”
“Of course it will!” He cried. “Now hurry up and fire me!”
Kinuka lent down and rested her elbow on the side of the rooftop. Her index and middle fingers unravelled and formed an elastic loop between them. Stitching both back into place, her fingers now had a taut band between them. She plucked it to make sure. Kinuka placed Rin in the middle of his aeroplane, notching the nose on the string.
“Don’t do anything reckless, okay?” She said.
Rin gave her a tiny middle finger.
In revenge, Kinuka let go of the band, and the plane shot off into the distance. Rin screamed and clutched the paper for dear life. The wind tore at his face as though trying to remove it. The pressure was immense. If the act of shrinking himself down hadn’t given him cold enough feet already, it was far too late to back out now.
Soon, however, the shock of the sudden acceleration was over, and Rin found himself gliding—properly gliding.
His plan had worked! Rin couldn’t believe it. His construction held fast. He’d been so worried that he’d gotten the angles wrong, and that it was all going to come apart once he’d taken flight, but no! The plane buckled against the force of the wind as he began his descent, but held fast.
Only then did it occur just how small he was. He regretted looking down. The ground seemed miles away, vast stretches of tarmac beneath him as he soared. The distance to his target now seemed gargantuan. Surely it hadn’t been that far before? His house was still unmistakably ahead. The wind had blown him a little off-course. Shifting his weight to the right, the plane pitched slightly. Rin was aiming for the rooftop, or the window. As long as he made it there in one piece, anything was fine by him at this rate.
A shadow then descended overhead, blotting out the sun. Looking up, Rin saw the colossal wingspan of the heron fast approaching. The monstrous bird loomed—a storm cloud of black and grey, tinged with the orange of danger—awaiting the best moment to snatch its next meal out of the sky. Its caw echoed like a foghorn, chilling him to the bone.
Rin swore, and looked desperately from the bird to the approaching house, still trying to keep his balance. He was so close!
“Not now, not now!” He cursed through gritted teeth, leaning forward in his unsteady seat. The plane responded with a sudden nose-dive in protest.
With another screech, the bird dived. It closed the distance in a matter of seconds, snatching Rin from his plane. Its teeth, short and serrated, hooked into Rin’s midsection, and he cried in pain. The aeroplane tumbled from the sky, falling away without him. Meal secured, the heron flapped its wings and soared, up and away.
Not far away, another man rounded the street corner—oblivious to the situation unfolding above.
Nagora Ibuse turned a corner, and strode down a familiar road. Ever since that nightmarish vision, he’d become aware of the strangest things. He felt more awake, more alert than he could ever remember. He’d spent his life up until that point half-asleep. On his train journey into the suburbs, he could’ve sworn he’d heard snippets of people’s thoughts as soon as their eyes met. It was all very brief, nothing had been at all coherent, but he had definitely heard something. Not enough time had gone by for Ibuse to feel compelled to question what was happening or why; there would be time for that later.
Something up ahead caught his eye. Terraced suburban housing lay to his right, a row of otherwise indistinguishable buildings. Clustered a way down the road in front of two buildings in particular, officers dressed in gear and armed to the teeth had gathered. Some were on the street, some were going in and out of the Harigane residence. That was odd. He hastened his pace. He hadn’t authorised anything like that! Suspicions mounted as he drew nearer.
“Hey.” Ibuse forewent formalities, and tapped one man on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“This place is off-limits to civilians.” The officer didn’t recognise Ibuse, and shoved him in the chest. “This is the site of an active police investigation.”
Ibuse stumbled a little. “They didn’t even tell you who I was?” He dug in his pocket for a moment with one hand, adjusting his tie with the other. He fished out a leather wallet that had seen better days, and revealed his badge. “Detective Nagora Ibuse,” he said. “Chiba Municipal City Police. I’ve been assigned executive lead investigator on this case.”
“Forgive me, sir!” The officer bowed immediately. “I had no idea.”
“Really?” Ibuse’s eyes narrowed.
“I promise!” The officer bowed again. “Again, I apologise!”
“Save it. Tell me what’s going on.”
“We were deployed here an hour ago with instructions from HQ, sir.”
“An hour ago?” Ibuse frowned. When was he supposed to have been informed of that?
“Our instructions were to conduct another round of searches on the Harigane and Amibari households to clear for incriminating detail, and for the capture and incapacitation of either suspect if sighted on the premises. We were told they were going to return home.”
Home was exactly where Rinkaku Harigane would’ve liked to have gone. Unfortunately for him, Mister Heron had other plans—most of them consisting of “lunch.”
“Damn bird! Let me go!” Rin yelled against deaf avian ears. He struggled, pounding his fist against the side of the beak, but to no avail. Even if he was somehow able to escape, there was a further problem. The ground grew further away every second. There was no way he would survive that kind of fall! He’d worry about that later. First, he had to free himself.
He had no other option, so summoned a large square in one hand. Gripping the edge of the pane, he swung it upwards, capturing the moment it passed through the bird’s lower jaw. Cleaving through the keratin, Rin’s winced as he felt blood splash the back of his head. the heron screeched in pain, and dropped him.
Tumbling into freefall, Rin saw the ground rush towards him at far-too-many miles an hour. It was difficult to move against the wind. Despite the roaring in his ears, he did his best to think. How on earth could he break his fall before it was too late?
Then, it hit him. He’d already done it back on the rooftop. Rin surrounded himself in another frame. The shape remained still relative to him as he fell. What he did next would’ve otherwise been impossible.
CAPTURE
Rin stopped falling immediately. The frame hung suspended in midair. There he lay, staring down at the ground. Whenever a frame was captured, everything within was locked in space until Rin himself moved it. He had done it! He had triumphed over gravity itself!
“Who gave you these orders?” Ibuse asked.
The officer shook his head, and called over his superior.
“Detective Ibuse, we were stationed here on urgent orders by your superior, Mr Suda,” the commander explained. “Is there a problem?”
Ibuse said nothing.
“The director stated that you were preoccupied,” the commander continued. “He gave the orders in your stead to save you trouble.” His brow furrowed. “He assured us you were already aware of this.”
“Do you not think a riot squad is a bit excessive?” Ibuse asked. “Commander, the suspect is a seventeen year-old high school student with no known associates, no criminal background nor either parent in the country at present.” He listed each off his fingers. “I don’t understand what kind of threat he poses to warrant a fully armed response.”
“Those were our orders, sir,” the commander responded. “Our profiling detailed the suspect as a domestic terrorist, wanted for the bombing of Senketsu High School. Isn’t that what happened? A good portion of the school was reduced to rubble in that explosion. Ninety-odd people died, sir.”
That was not what happened. This went beyond just a convenient cover-up. There must have been some meddling within the force itself. Of course, Ibuse couldn’t make bold claims off the bat like that; he’d lose his job. There was no mention of those monsters in any of the official reports, despite it being mentioned by all of the students. He’d heard from most of them himself! The reports had to have been tampered with, but by who? Why?
Ibuse turned back to the first officer. “Repeat the second part of your order for me?”
It took the man a moment to think. “We were ordered to capture and incapacitate if necessary either suspect on sight. Isn’t that right?”
The commander nodded.
“Either suspect?” Ibuse looked between the both of them. “What other suspect is there?”
The officers shared a concerned look, as though the detective was losing it. “The girl, Harigane’s accomplice, sir. The girl. Kinuka Amibari.”
“Amibari, an accomplice?” Ibuse repeated incredulously. “Do you even hear yourselves?! Amibari was the girl who Harigane’s suspected of kidnapping! She’s a victim, not a perpetrator!”
“I’m going to have to ask you to calm down.” The commander put a hand on Ibuse’s shoulder.
“I’m calling an immediate seizure on this whole operation.” Ibuse crossed both arms. “Shut it down, now. There’s no need for armed police presence here. All this will do is create panic among the citizens.”
The grip on Ibuse’s shoulder tightened. “You don’t have the authority to enforce that.” The commander motioned for the other officer to go back to his post.
“Authority?” Ibuse stared at him for a few seconds. “What are you talking about? I’m the lead—”
“I’m aware of your position, Detective, but we were given orders by your direct superior. Your word doesn’t override Director Suda.”
Rin couldn’t move at all, but he could still see. Whenever he captured a frame, he could move it irrespective of gravity. A frame didn’t seem to undergo collision with other objects, either. He remembered passing a frame he’d captured a stone in through his own hand. The stone had simply phased through him.
The suspended Rin then started moving towards the house. There was no acceleration, only a constant speed. The movement translated him through space. Soon, Rin had positioned himself directly above his house. The frame then started descending. What made it even eerier was that the movement was deathly silent.
His plan was working. He was an absolute genius!
He descended further, and periphery soon came into view; it was all so much larger than he could remember. Rin had always wished himself taller as a child. Never again; this experience had been his punishment. The sooner he could get back to his original size, the better. He swore he’d never wish to be anything but.
He was now only a couple metres above the roof tiles, and descending still. He would’ve stopped there, but curiosity pressed him onwards. Just as the stone had passed through his hand earlier, the suspended Rin phase right through the roof. Everything went dark. The absence made him panic. Had he done something wrong? He waited with baited breath for something to go awry. The darkness was consuming. Was he trapped there?
The sudden lights of the landing startled him. He cancelled the frame, abruptly returning back to his original size. Gravity resumed its pull, and Rin hit the wooden floorboards face-first.
“Will that be all, detective?”
“I apologise.” Ibuse took a step back. “I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds.”
A loud thump sounded from the house in front. Several nearby officers started.
“Patrol!” The commander ordered. “Two of you, go and investigate that noise, now!”
The two officers closest to the door did as they were told. The door had been torn practically off its hinges, the amount of force used to knock it down splintering the wooden frame.
“What was that?” Ibuse asked. Answering his cry, another vision flashed before his eyes. A fleeting glimpse of an upstairs landing. A dark haired boy lay face down on a wooden floor, arms and legs splayed. It was only for a moment, but that didn’t matter. The momentary sight had been enough. Ibuse knew who he’d seen.
“I’m going in as well,” he announced. “I’ve got some investigation of my own to do.”
“Just wait until my boys have finished their sweep, detective,” the man cautioned. He held an arm out, halting Ibuse’s passage. “Something could have happened. I can’t let you risk your safety.” He looked back over his shoulder.
“Once it’s secure, the place is all yours.”
Ibuse sighed. “Thank you.”
Stepping away, he pocketed the wallet he’d been clutching far too tightly, and drew out his mobile in his other hand. A few agonising rings later, and he was through.
“Director? It’s Ibuse. Mind explaining what’s going on?”
A conversation in flow can endure a surprising amount of noise; the human ear has a neat trick of filtering out the background, honing in on the focus. Of course, that only really works for crowds. When the only other sound is your telephone, the noise becomes a lot more difficult to ignore.
“Oh, please excuse me.” Director Suda of Kanto Internal Police and Security wheezed his nasally apology and clutched at his pocket.
“Please.” The man sitting opposite gave a magnanimous smile. His deep tone was resonant, every syllable deliberate. “I’m sure it’s vitally important.”
“Thank you.” Suda’s chair creaked in relief as he stepped from the conference room. He swiped a stubby finger across the display and raised the phone to his ear. “What is the meaning of this, Ibuse?” He hissed. “Make it quick. I’m in the middle of a meeting. Where are you?”
“Inner Chiba suburbs, outside Rinkaku Harigane’s house.” Nagora Ibuse sighed down the other end, as though pinching the bridge of his nose.
Suda’s eyes widened. “Why? I thought you were supposed to be investigating what happened last night next to Inokashira!”
“I was, but I received intel of something I thought was more concerning.” The detective’s level tone shook slightly. “I’m just confirming things here, sir. Apparently, you authorised a riot squad to guard the location about an hour ago.”
His tone sounded accusatory. Suda’s brow furrowed. “As a matter of fact, I did. Why? Did you call to question the integrity of my judgement, ‘Ace Detective’? I hope I don’t need to remind you of your position here.”
“I’ve been made well aware of that already.” Ibuse sighed. “I was calling to ask for additional information, such as why you thought it necessary to take such extreme measures.”
Suda puffed out his chest. “In this department we have a duty to ensure the safety of our city’s residents. The terrorist boy, Harigane, poses a major threat to public peace and security, after the bombing at Senketsu High School.”
“Bombing? How?” Ibuse clicked his teeth. “Director, I’ve profiled him and anyone he’s associated with. Nothing about his behaviour even suggests he’s remotely a threat! Antisocial piece of work from the sounds of it, but not a terrorist! Besides, it wasn’t him that caused the damage and deaths in Senketsu! I presented you my collated eyewitness reports last night before I left the station. All the eyewitness evidence suggests—”
“Delusions caused by trauma of the incident, detective!” Suda practically shouted him down. “We’ve already had this conversation. Don’t tell me you actually believe the report of monsters terrorising a school? What rubbish.”
The tone on the other end of the line dropped. “Does that mean you authorised the doctoring of the eyewitness accounts as well, director? What I heard from the students didn’t match the official police reports at all.”
“I’m not sure what clown show they had you running back in Kyoto, detective, but over here we have certain professional standards! The students were all in shock after the explosion rigged by Harigane and his conspirators. That was what the psychiatric evaluation concluded, was it not? We cannot let false information be circulated among the general public, as the insistent media will only make our jobs more difficult! Fortunately the journalists didn’t care to pursue much once my representatives gave their statement, but your story should be the same as mine. Now, I want no more of this, understand? You are to track down and arrest Harigane and his associates so that they can be prosecuted under the full weight of the law. Those were, and still remain, your orders.”
“There—” Ibuse decided against whatever was on the tip of his tongue. “I understand, sir.”
“Good.” Suda cleared his throat. “Besides, since your profiling of the attack victims, we’ve received further circumstantial evidence from a trusted independent third party confirming our suspicions on the two suspects and their involvement in this case. We will be operating on that information from now on. Understood?”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Detective Ibuse?” Suda looked at his phone to check that the call hadn’t ended prematurely. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” came the reluctant reply from the other end. “Please excuse me, director.”
The call ended with a click. The screen of his phone blacked out. Suda massaged his jowls, and scoured the sweat from his forehead, moistening and adjusting his combover. He straightened his jacket, and strode back into the conference room with a sincere bow to his guests.
“Please accept my apologies for the delay, gentlemen. Your patience is much appreciated, Mr. Ishimatsu.”
Gus grinned. The man rested bulky forearms on the table and interlaced his fingers, nearly silhouetted against the midday sun shining through the large glass panels of the conference room. “Don’t let it concern you,” he said. “I understand how busy you must be at a time like this. You didn’t keep us long at all. Isn’t that right, Hakana?”
The man to Gus’ left shook his head. Eyes obscured under the brim of his hat, the corner of his mouth turned down slightly. He leaned back on his chair, swaying ever so slightly, one leg crossed over the other. Dark felt rustled as he folded his heavy trench coat over itself a touch tighter. The man had said barely a word all morning.
“Good, good.” Suda lowered himself back into his chair with a slight wheeze. “Fortunately, it was just a progress update on the on-going investigation into the Senketsu Incident. The call was from my subordinate.”
“Name?” Hakana lifted his head. One blue eye finally peaked out from under the hat.
The stare pierced every pore on Suda’s face. A sound caught in the man’s throat, and he suddenly became aware of how much his shirt was sticking to his back.
“Erm…” His tongue lodged heavily in his throat. “I don’t know who in our service you’re familiar with, Mr. Hakana. One of our senior detectives. Ibuse is the name.”
It could’ve been his imagination, but Suda swore he could’ve seen a tiny twitch in the man’s eye. To fill the silence pressing in, Suda kept talking. “I made him key investigator for this case. Unfortunately, logistical difficulties always rear themselves at the worst of times.” He threaded a thick finger around his collar, a futile attempt to ventilate sticky skin, and made a sheepish chuckle disguised as a cough. “It should all be sorted out in due time, once my orders have made their way down the chain of command.”
“Such regretful inefficiencies.” Gus shook his head.
The dampness on Suda’s back worsened with every word.
Gus never took his eyes off the director, ironing out a crease that had dared fold itself into the shoulder of his blazer. “Though, I do commend you for taking such executive action based on our intel, especially at such short notice,” he said. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I think it demonstrates a significant strength of character.”
“Of course!” Suda looked chuffed. Checking the clock as a matter of instinct, he straightened the stack of papers before him. “I cannot take much credit. If it weren’t for your excellent intel, we wouldn’t have made so much progress in so short a time.”
“Let’s resume our discussion, then.” Gus’ grin widened. “I’m very much looking forward to your continued cooperation, director.”
XCEL 
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