Chapter Text

Today, when the sky wept, Shikanoin Heizou found himself doing what he hated most. Perhaps tomorrow he will do the same, and maybe the day after as well—it was more of an idle routine it seemed. Now he sat thoughtlessly at his desk, clicking his pen to fill up the silence that deafened him so. Before him lay file after file, each of which consisting of a similar description: a person, their name, age, and the vision they own, soon to be stripped away.

Each time he held one it weighed down in his palm like a boulder, daring to peirce his flesh.

Then why couldn’t he bring himself to stop and disobey? It was as if the decree had sunk into his skin and woven his ideals into something utterly different.

The words on the files were perused over on multiple occasions but never actually taken in. What occupied his head was the soft patter of the rain hitting the stone pavement outside. Standing up, his body seemed to tense and ache—he does not know how long he had sat there just staring. Heizou turned away from his desk to face the window behind him, and was met by the same view he had seen days at a time this past year, and yet today it felt different. Even the sound of the rain drummed against his ears in a low, bothersome howl, as if telling him to look away from his work. On the windowsill sat a sad, wilted flower, a gift he had gotten from his cousin on his birthday (which he never took care of). He smiles at it; although it was hanging on to the string of life it was undeniably beautiful. It stirred a feeling within him, which is why he decided to finally be himself for once after weeks. At that moment he left his office just like before.

The halls of the commission have never been more quiet. Everyone was either engrossed by their own matter or were vigorously seeking out vision holders. It was not only the commission, but the entirely of the world as well. Heizou had never felt more dead.

When he reached the entrance, he was met by a spear blocking his path. It belonged to one of the doushin guarding the entrance. Ever since the Sakoku Decree was implemented, security has been higher than ever.

“Where are you off to, doushin Shikanoin?” The guard inquired gruffly, though his face looked exhausted.

“Private investigation.”

That was a lie. Heizou was sure he knew as well, but while Inazuma was in this state, no one found themselves caring. He gives a polite nod to the guard and steps down onto the pavement, only for the rain to wet his hair and clothes immediately. He lets it, tilting his head back so he felt the droplets run down his face; it had calmed more than before.

Heizou would tell himself that when it rained, a person rightfully convicted had been taken to face the jury. If it thundered for the rest of the day, justice had not been served. But the rain today had sedated, leading him to breathe softly and let his body untense. Perhaps, somewhere in the world, a criminal will have faced justice, and the victims reassured. It still felt like not enough to him, though, for the crime had already been done, and the damage was often unrepairable. This is the reason he became a detective.

Walking down a steady path, his eyes drift over the many stores in their wake. It was fairly empty, except for a few vendors and people moving about. His mouth felt bitter. The reason for the quietness, which he normally would not complain of, was because of the shogunate. The tenryou commission was its right arm, the group enforcing its law. A group he was part of. He watched the people live in fear, but he could not do anything to stop it. He did not even know if he wanted to stop it, or if that bitter feeling would soon go away. He was not himself.

Perhaps he should go and visit a familiar face.

A few sakura petals muddy under his feet.

Heizou watches as the rain stops, and his eyes rest. The clouds had finally found comfort from their long hours of mourning—a criminal mastermind had just faced what they rightfully deserved. It provoked a few thoughts in his mind. He hadn’t worked on a larger case since a time he could not remember. It was, honestly, disappointing, as he had chosen to join the tenryou commission as a means for something that better represented what he sought for. He did not expect to spend most of his time filing paperwork and investigating extramarital affairs.

Heizou remembers running off many times in search of something more broad and riveting. Something that would clutch and grab at him until he was so engrossed he forgot about himself. When he did find something like this, he spent most his time observing the smallest detail. For this he was frowned upon by the general. She had told him that if it weren’t for the mere fact of him delivering results and crucial points, he most likely wouldn’t even be here. Even during his interview and application for the commission he behaved “oddly”, handing in nothing but a blank form and declaring his genius with a smug smile. He was sure Owada, the man who interviewed him, was stunned at his actions. Oftentimes he stays laughing fondly at the memory.

Though now he found himself different from what he was then.

Heading up a pathway, littered with petals that fell from the sacred sakura tree, Heizou decided not to pay mind to it too much. He had a tendency for overthinking and often found that it did him more harm than good. He was nearly where he wanted to be anyway.

He soon arrives at Narukami shrine. There were many more people here than elsewhere, but it was of no surprise to him. During times like this, the sacred sakura provided people comfort and reassurance. It was believed to protect Inazuma.

Recalling the story, a sense of fondness fills him. Wherever he was it seemed everyone shared one thing in common; that was, finding solace in a particular centuries-old tree. Wherever its petals fell on the island, protection was believed to be brought. Heizou did not consider himself to be as spiritual, but he admired when people found their own truth in something others may not.

His eyes raked over the many shrine maidens, though none were who he was looking for. Finally, his gaze lands on a specific figure—his cousin, Kano Nana. She was standing there talking to herself outside the shrine, her indignant voice impossible to miss. Approaching her, he puts on a slight grin, clearing his throat to catch her attention.

“Heizou?” She mutters a soft complaint under her breath, visibly frustrated. “Now what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you, cuz, is that so much of a problem?”

Heizou laughed a bit, and his face brightened. He and Kano weren’t all that close in their childhood, and even else as adults. He presumed she saw him as yet another burden on her already working shoulders, but he knew that she wouldn’t have the heart to turn him away even if her words suggested it.

Kano sighed, and she raised a brow.

“What, are you working on another case?” She replied half-sarcastically. Heizou was told many times he never looked like he was actually working, strictly because of the ‘odd’ way he investigated things. Did he really seem that incompetent? “Can’t you see I'm occupied?” Kano continued. “The shrine has been more busy now after the proposed decree… Aren’t you supposed to be working for it?”

“Yes, I am,” He hums, tapping a finger on his chin idly. “But does that mean I can’t take a few breaks every now and then? You can’t expect me to follow every order. Man alive, Kano, you’re more pushy than usual. Something the matter?” His gaze sharpens, as if trying to read right through the girl.

He seemed to have been correct, because her eyes softened in response.

“Did your intuition tell you that? It’s just shrine duties. I’m worried for the people,” Kano responded meekly. “But, never mind that. You’re drenched. Have you not any sense? You’ll catch a cold, for Archon's sake. You’re lucky the rain has calmed for now.” She eyes his wet hair, and then glared at the water dripping down onto the ground below. She may seem like she despised Heizou’s company, but all she wished for was to care for him; he was younger than she was either way, and she felt responsible for his actions.

“There it is! I knew you’d be worried about me,” He grins proudly, snapping his fingers. “Don’t fret, I’m quite used to it by now. I just wanted to see what you’re up to, that’s all.”

“Well I’ll have you know that I am not doing anything you should worry about,” She spoke crudely. “Though, if you insist, I am returning to our hometown in a few days. I could stop by to visit your father. Do you want me to say anything to him?”

There's a brief pause. Heizou seemed almost startled. He hadn’t heard from his father in what seemed like an astounding amount of time. Admittingly, they’ve had their fair share of family complications, but Heizou still admired his father very much. If it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t have ever been where he found himself now.

He takes some time on his answer.

“Ah. If you do visit him, tell him I would like to see him some time soon.” Heizou replies simply, though it wasn’t a lie. He wanted to see his father, and it would mean the world to him. He never spoke much of his family, and they were almost never in touch, but he thought of them more than he liked to admit. He was a famed detective, feared by the criminals of Inazuma, and was held to high expectations among most his colleagues.

How can he admit to the softness he held in his heart?

“But father, why should I have to take up on your work if I'm not even interested in what you do?”

That day, Heizou sat slouching against his door with his knees drawn up to his chest, grumbling under his breath. The door was locked and the curtains had been pulled shut, pouring little light into the already darkened room. Next to the boy sat a written scroll, certifying his official ranking in the arts, which he cursed at profusely.

“Stupid scroll, stupid training,” complained the youth in exasperation. His fists grasped at the fabric of his pants to ground himself but they soon released in defeat.

Pursing his lips, Heizou leans back against the door, tilting his head upward towards the doorknob. His father was outside, perhaps worried about him; but here he was, angered over his fathers pleas and commands. He wondered briefly if he should go apologize for snapping so suddenly and plausibly hurting him. He huffs as his lips tremble, with his eyes glazed over and troubled.

Eventually deciding to get up, he grabs the scroll tightly, as if it would fall out of his hold if he were to loosen his grip any further, and rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt which wrinkles it in the slightest. He reaches to the doorknob, twisting it open and then peeking his head out.

“Father?” He spoke, tears stuck in his throat.

At the sound of Heizou’s voice his father glanced back to see the boy standing shamefully behind him with the crumpled scroll held tightly in his grasp. Heizou half expected to be scolded, but sucked in a breath when his father embraced him tightly. He felt humiliation build up in his chest and it churned his heart into a sobbing mess, letting his hands clasp at the back of his father’s kimono and his mouth ramble incoherent apologies. He only stopped at the gentle request for him to do so, and gazed up, perplexed.

“Heizou,” His father began, holding him firmly by the shoulders. He was knelt down on one knee to meet his height. “Why do you think I make you practice martial arts?”

Heizou stood there, briefly taking in the words.

“To take up on your work when the time comes, father.”

He was surprised to see the elder shake his head and laugh jestfully.

“Do you truly believe that’s all I taught you for?”

Heizou’s face warmed up with a light flush. Was he wrong all this time? He had assumed since his father was a martial artist, he would only want his son to do the same as him. Especially since his older brother had already done as he did but decided to find work elsewhere.

“But what else would it be for?” Murmurs the youth, flustered. “Don’t you want me to be like you?”

“Perhaps that may be true,” He smiles. “But that’s not all. Martial arts is not merely about fighting, Heizou, it’s about why you do it. Tell me, do you believe that a person should go straight to violence when they’re faced by something they find difficult?”

“No… I find that to be wrong.’”

“As do I.” His father agreed as he stood, offering his hand. “Come.”
There’s a spark blossoming in Heizou’s eyes, and he follows his father’s actions immediately. He takes his hand, feeling its rough, chapped surface from working too much. They walk hand in hand, until his eyes flutter at the brightness of the sun setting before them. He was led outside onto the porch.

“Why are we here?” Inquired Heizou softly, slanting his head to look at his father who was gazing far out into the distance with his tired eyes. He kicks at his feet and shifts his weight impatiently, and there is a long moment of silence.

“Right now, the world seems peaceful. Before you can assume, something will happen that changes everything.”

“Like what?”

“Anything, Heizou. No matter how perfect it may seem, evil will always prevail. Sounds like something from one of your story-books, no?” The corner of his eyes crinkle as he laughs.

Heizou nods, smiling widely. He holds his father’s hand tighter in response.

“But why does it need to be that way? Can’t somebody stop it?”

“I’m afraid not. No matter the consequences, there will always be evil in this world. Humans are born to be its natural enemy, but some draw away from it. That’s just how the world is, which is why we have to learn ways to counter it,” He looks down at his son, childish and full of gleam, and his expression twists into one of sorrow. “The arts are important to know for this reason. Not to use it as your initial tactic, but as a final resort when you are forced to. We have to protect ourselves, Heizou.”

Heizou only stares at his feet, humming to himself. Once he decided that the rock he was kicking by his feet had grown to be a bore, he grinned gleefully.

“Then I want to be the one who stops it.”

The walk back from his visit with Kano Nana felt daunting. He could only think of his father with every step, no matter how much he tried to dismiss it. It was because nothing else in his life was truly worth rooting for—most of all the work he was assigned which drained him of what he once was. He was still well regarded as the “young prodigy detective” and feared by most criminals. One could even say his name was more well known than anything else; but, the issue was, it was not fame which he sought after.

Many doushin stood patrolling several different areas. There was seldom a moment where you could see a person doing an ordinary act with no worry or blankness on their features. It was troubling.

Heizou’s mouth was dry. Before the vision hunt decree had been established, he found no distress build up in him when disregarding his assigned cases. He would simply leave without a word and, of course, be loathed by Kujou Sara when he was found nowhere. It should feel no different to be doing what he was right now, but his palms still dampened as he made it back to the commission. Provoking her was something he had no shame in doing, but he found that it wasn’t her he was afraid of. It was more so himself.

When he took the first step inside his brows raised to see an argument transpiring.

“How is it that he’s been assigned to multiple of our doushin and not a single one has been able to even locate him?”

“Are we sure he hasn’t fled Inazuma? By now, he should have been captured or at least—”

“— Idiots! Don’t you see? It’s useless for us to try now! There are many other vision wielders for us to seek, I’m sure the general will assign him to someone of much higher ranking,”

And on they went, rambling. Heizou held his breath to better listen in, but it seemed to be of no use; they never mentioned the name of the “he” at the center of the conversation. He decided to disregard it. The topic had already shifted once the doushin noticed his stares.

What he soon realized was that it wasn’t merely that group whose eyes focused on him, but the entirety of the hallway.

He parts his lips to speak but presses them together immediately when he notices a nervous-looking doushin with a twitching (and forced) smile approach him.

“Doushin Shikanoin,” He sputters, with his posture abnormally stiff.

Heizou raises a brow.

“What? Something happen while I was gone?” He assumed so. It was fairly obvious that they expected him to deal with whatever was going on—him most likely being the “higher ranking” individual.

“Yes, uhm, well,” The doushin scrambles for words. “The general isn’t in one of the brightest moods.” He pauses.

Heizou's lips twitched to say “Is she ever in a bright mood?”, but he stops his tongue.

“Go on.” He breathes out instead.

“Well she’s dealing with other matters for now, but she seemed restless when we told her you were gone. Truth is, the decree hasn’t been going all that well. They’ve had multiple doushin on the tail of one person but none could find him.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” he mutters. “Madam Kujou wants me to handle it, right?” It was nothing new. Whenever a case failed miserably it was handed to Heizou; he was eager to solve it, most of the time, but he was unsure of this one. It did, however, intrigue him. How does one person manage to flee all those doushin?

“Spot on as always, sir,” the nervous doushin replied, more adept now that he had his task off his shoulders. “The information on the person is all in this file. The general stated that she thinks only you are suitable for this task. Are we surprised, though? You’re a prodigy, the best detective in all of Inazuma, perhaps even—” He stops his praise when he notices Heizou’s bothered stare which told him he was not about to listen to him ramble. “Apologies, sir,” He clears his throat. “Here’s the file. General Kujou wants you to look into it as soon as possible. She wishes for the decree to run more smoothly…”

Heizou takes the file from his hands, glancing at it briefly.

“Very well,” He sighs. “If you see Madam Kujou, tell her I had left momentarily due to an emergency.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

The light pouring through the window behind Heizou’s desk this time was tinted in orange, and basked over the regions of his desk and onto his face when he sat at it. He hadn’t realized it had gotten so late that even the weather completely changed, now warm and damp, the ground sweating with the remaining rain drops.

He places the file on top of many others, and lays back in his seat. He had gone in the morning to escape his duties of having to confiscate visions, and yet now he found himself somehow wove into the same, incriminating task.

The chair creaks as he leans forward, fixing his posture. He did not want to admit it—admit that he found himself interested in this particular task. Who was this man? Why was he so difficult to catch? Why did Madam Kujou believe only Heizou could find him? It was all hefty inquiries which led to him to be eager to learn more.

Finally opening the file, he peruses over the statement before his gaze lands on the name. Kaedehara Kazuha. He stares at it for a moment before reading the rest. There was not much information about him, to Heizou’s surprise, and the most it stated was his name and supposed age, which was also written to be highly unsure of. It was all so odd. He could find not a single photograph, only a vague, messy sketch that did not focus on prominent features and a small description.

Heizou taps a finger on his chin, and his eyes light up. Usually these circumstances were only seen in cases officers deemed “impossible”, as he could only go off of the littlest things. It seemed to be the first time in so long he felt immersed in something. Humming in contentment, he let a breath leave his lips and felt a grin creep onto his features.

“Who are you, Kaedehara?”