Chapter Text
The walls of Aki’s childhood home are red, which is strange because usually they’re a very pale shade of robin’s-egg blue.
The red changes in shape and intensity, shifting from large swathes of deep scarlet along the walls of their entertainment room to a brighter shade of ruby splattered against the ceiling. The red isn’t flat, either. Small pieces of something Aki doesn’t want to identify are littered throughout the ichor. It decorates the cabinets, the sink, the couch, the television—
It seems that everywhere he looks, there’s red.
Aki doesn’t move from where he stands in the middle of the hallway, the same red clinging to the bottom of his shoes.
He feels strange. Almost like he’s in a dream.
But a dream wouldn’t have blood oozing between the floorboards or a blue eye staring up at him from one of the couch cushions.
Aki blinks.
This has to be a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.
The bodies can’t really be described as bodies. Or even corpses. They’re more like mutilated pieces of flesh that have been expelled from what had once been a human being.
He recognizes a few things. A lock of his mother’s hair. The two fingers that are still connected to his father’s palm. His brother’s eye.
Maybe he didn’t really go to school this morning, and he’s still in bed waiting for his alarm to go off. Maybe he didn’t take the long way home after stepping off the school bus and go play in the snow, petulant and stupid and angry—eager to get petty revenge on his family— until the sun started to disappear behind the Hidaka Mountains.
He lifts his head back to the bloodstained walls of his childhood home.
Maybe when he wakes up, his family will still be alive.
He stands there for a long time. Or maybe it’s only a few minutes. Or maybe it’s hours. He shuts his eyes tightly and hopes to find himself back in his bed, over and over again. Pinches his arms hard enough that he bleeds to try and jolt himself out of this bad dream.
The relief of wakefulness never comes. He’s stuck in this nightmare.
In his adulthood, he’ll have trouble remembering just how long he was alone in that house with his mutilated family members. But as an eight-year-old, he feels like he’s been away from his parents for too long. He feels like he’s been in the Hayakawa home by himself for too long. He needs someone to take care of him.
He eventually calls the police. He can’t remember what he says, or if he even says anything at all, but regardless, they come and ask him questions he doesn’t know the answers to.
Was there a break-in?
Was it a fable?
Was it a human?
Who was home when this happened?
What happened to your family?
There’s only one question he’s able to answer: why weren’t you at home with them?
He tells the officers that he was angry that his parents didn’t walk him to the bus stop that morning because his little brother had a bad cough, so he stayed out late hoping they’d worry about him and come looking for him. But they never came, so he finally went home.
Telling them makes him feel bad.
That knotted feeling in your stomach is called guilt, his mother had explained once. When you’ve made a mistake, that’s your body telling you that you feel bad about it. It won’t go away until you’re able to make up for it or you’re forgiven.
Aki stares at the space between his feet.
He doesn’t know what happened to his family because he wanted them to feel guilty. He wanted them to miss him.
But now, he’s the one cursed to miss them—the only one left behind, the only one surviving to carry the weight of their deaths with him for the rest of his life.
The camera footage is fuzzy. Not unexpected for a nightclub in Shinjuku, but it tells Aki that this place isn’t exactly known for its security.
“Scroll forward,” he orders flatly.
The officer in Evidence that Aki’s working with, Arai, does as he’s told. The video speeds up, zipping through the footage of an alley just outside of the nightclub, Arrowhead. A small colony of rats munches on a tossed carton of moldy takoyaki on the floor before scurrying up the sides of the large, gray dumpster beside Arrowhead’s back door and disappearing in between the dozens of garbage bags loaded inside.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Arai asks, raising one large eyebrow in confusion.
“Witnesses,” Aki answers simply.
“A fable died last night at the entrance of this alley, and we believe it was foul play,” Aki’s partner, Himeno, pipes up from where she leans back against the wall, her blue eyes fixated on the footage rolling by. “We need to see if we can catch the culprit on camera, or see if anyone else might have seen what happened.”
“What kind of fable?”
“A mer.”
Fables—supernatural and otherworldly beings—have lived alongside humans for generations. Although the human population outnumbers the fables ten to one, it wouldn’t be uncommon to see an elf looking through the grocery aisle for radishes or to find a lycan checking the expiration date on a carton of milk.
“A mer this far from water?” Arai asks aloud. “That's odd.”
Aki points to the screen. “There, stop.”
The figures are hidden, but two tall shadows fall across the grime-encrusted concrete from the left. The time in the corner is a few minutes short of the suspected time of death, 01:34 AM. The shadows don’t appear to be fighting, but there’s a slight fluctuation in their shape that tells Aki they’re engaged in conversation.
“Any audio?” Aki asks.
Arai shakes his head. “Video only.”
Damn.
The conversation lasts about twenty-three more seconds before a shoe steps into frame on the left side. It’s the tip of a simple brown boot, the details fuzzy in the poor camera quality.
Himeno hums. “Think that’s the same boot we found at the crime scene?”
“Most likely,” Aki replies. He sighs at Arai’s curious glance up at them. “There was a boot that looks similar to this one found at the scene of the crime, meaning the victim was in his terran form. We found it several meters away from the main site with the foot still left inside of it.”
Arai grimaces. “Seriously? It wasn’t with the rest of the body?”
“Which part?” Himeno scoffs. She crosses her arms over her chest. “The torso was barely held together. Organs spilling out of the abdomen, no head found, limbs torn clean off and tossed across the street, blood splattered like a Jackson Pollock painting—”
“Stop it, Himeno-san, you’re gonna freak him out,” Aki scolds gently. “We should be getting the results of the blood tests back within the next few hours, so we’ll be able to figure out the victim’s identity once those are in.”
Arai swallows heavily, his throat bobbing. “I saw the guys in the field bringing stuff in. I didn’t realize it was that… intense.”
“Not the prettiest crime scene we’ve ever been to,” Himeno says with a click of her tongue.
One of the shadows lurches backward. Aki leans in closer to the screen.
The shadows move and shift, coming together before falling back apart as if trading blows with one another.
“Oh shit, Aki—” Himeno calls sharply. She pushes herself off the wall to stand beside him and points to the right side of the screen. “Look here.”
The back door of the club pushes open to reveal a figure in red, teal, black, and white.
The newcomer’s hair is a muted shade of vermilion, spilling over their shoulders and flowing down their back. It’s a sharp contrast to the jewel-toned satin blouse hanging loosely over their frame. The front is cut into a sharp V, reaching down to just above their stomach, where it meets the black pleated slacks cinched tightly around their waist. A thick strip of the same fabric as their blouse is wrapped snugly around their neck like a collar.
Striking is the first word that comes to Aki’s head, his lips parting ever so slightly.
But the most eye-catching part of the newcomer is the large, ivory wings that grace their back. Thin gold chains adorn the top joints of their wings to lie flat against the feathers in elegant halos.
Aki’s never seen an angel here in Tokyo. He’s never seen an angel, period.
The angel is looking down, adjusting the gold bracelets and bangles at their wrists, walking out of the club before kicking back a heeled boot to prevent the door from shutting.
They tilt their head to glance at the end of the alleyway before they jerk up in sudden awareness. They shrink down into a crouch and take cover behind the dumpster, propping the door open just an inch with a broken chunk of concrete.
Aki narrows his eyes. He can’t quite see the angel’s face, but their body language tells Aki that this isn’t the first time they’ve observed something confidential.
The shadows become more dynamic, lunging at each other.
Something red and wet splatters across the ground as the shadows separate from each other, one of them shrinking back for a moment before rearing back up in what appears to be another clash.
The angel flinches back, their eyes growing wide despite never looking away from what remains unseen by the camera.
There’s another spray of blood. An arm slaps against the concrete, flopping down and flipping over itself before landing in front of the dumpster on the side opposite of the angel.
The shadows separate again. One falls to the ground flat, the tattered edge of the victim’s shoulder coming into view. Blood leaks from the open wound where the arm has been torn from its socket to pool into a steadily growing puddle.
The angel stills, unmoving. They stay like that, crouching and watching, barely blinking, for another minute before they slowly rise to their feet.
They step out around the dumpster. Their eyes are fixated on the mutilated body before them.
The wings on their back ruffle up, disturbing the jewelry laid across the feathers until the angel shakes themselves out of their stupor, tossing their head from side to side. They check the floor all around them, clearly looking for something, but seem pleased when they find nothing.
Content with their search, they spin on their heel and walk back into the club, their wings flapping as if shaking off their nerves before the door shuts behind them in cold finality.
Himeno lets out a low whistle. “Looks like we’ve found our witness.”
“I didn’t know we had any angels in Tokyo,” Arai mumbles softly, rewinding the tape. “Aren’t they, like, super uncommon?”
Aki nods. “They make up less than 0.6% of the fable population in Japan, which in itself is only 22% of the population.”
“Shouldn’t be too difficult to look into what angels are in the system, I doubt it’s very many,” Himeno says, holding her chin in her hand. She paces back and forth across the room. “That’s if he’s even in the system. Honestly, looking into social media might be our best bet.”
“… Are you suggesting that we Google search ‘angel in Tokyo’?”
“Can’t hurt.”
Aki rolls his eyes and pushes himself away from Arai’s desk. “Let’s start with the database first. Thank you for the help, Arai-san.”
“Of course. I don’t envy you being given this case. Most murders here are pretty nasty, but this one…” Arai shivers and offers them both a look of pity. “Well, anyway, good luck, you two. I hope you’re able to figure all of this out. Stay safe.”
Himeno gives him a mock salute. “Don’t fret too much, Arai-kun, we will—”
“As much as we’re able to,” Aki finishes for her. “It’s not like we got into this line of work for the sake of safety.”
Himeno rolls her eyes as she pulls open Arai’s office door. “Upload a couple of stills of the witness for us to add to the digital file. Print a few physical ones, as well. Thanks, Arai-kun!”
Aki steps out into the hallway without another word, Himeno following behind silently. He can feel his partner’s eyes on him, curious yet concerned. He prays that she’ll get the hint and leave him alone about this until he’s able to settle down.
It wasn’t as difficult to watch the security footage as it was to observe the actual crime scene the day before—it was much worse in person.
It looked like a water balloon full of red paint had exploded outside the building, unbiased in its desperation to reach every single square inch of the alleyway’s entrance. The victim’s chest was littered with cuts that forensics noted as claw or fingernail marks, although the depth of them makes the culprit being a human unlikely unless they’d recently had their nails done.
The dismembered arm was much of the same. Deep lacerations along the bicep and forearm, breaking through the silvery-blue scales. Two broken fingers and a fractured ulna. Some of the blood that had splashed against the dumpster was from where the shoulder had been torn from the victim’s body.
The head had been found across the road, the slashes across their face and gills leaving them barely recognizable. The victim’s jaw had been forcibly separated, the lower mandible being torn off the body with the rest of the head following soon after.
One eye had been stabbed through in its socket. The other seemingly cut out by one of the lacerations. They’d found a boot trashed on the sidewalk with the victim’s foot still intact and small blue fins protruding from the sock.
The body was missing its lower half, having been divided just above the victim’s lower abdomen to leave their intestines spilling out onto the ground.
Their forensics team had specifically stated the torso was torn or ripped, not cut or slashed by a weapon or claws—like a ragdoll might be torn apart if too much force is brought against the stitches.
Aki thinks of that day at his childhood home. It was nearly twenty years ago, but he still remembers the scent of iron and decay. He remembers the carnage, this crime scene not entirely different from the one in his memory.
Red, red, red, red—
“Found ‘em,” Himeno pipes up as she runs up beside Aki and leans against his shoulder. She scrolls through her phone before flashing Aki her screen. “‘The Seraph’. Not a very creative stage name, in my opinion.”
Aki narrows his eyes at her phone. “Stage name?”
“They’re a model. A sexy model, too, if that pin-up is anything to go by, hot damn.”
“Stop looking at porn in the station, we’re at work.”
“They’re not porn, they’re glamour photos,” Himeno says with a roll of her eyes. “And this is for work, so get off my ass.”
“How do you know this model is even our witness?” Aki asks as he turns and pushes open the door of their shared office.
“Well, the red hair, the androgynous vibe, the angel wings, and the location all align with our witness.”
“Suspect,” Aki corrects. He slumps down into his desk chair and immediately goes to log in to his computer. “Just because they’re a witness to this case doesn’t mean they weren’t involved. They went back inside and didn’t report it, remember?”
“There are many reasons someone might not report a crime, you know that,” Himeno grumbles, sitting down at her own desk.
Aki ignores her as he begins to run a search through their criminal database and license registration. There are sixty-two angels listed, but none of the fables identified match the angel in the footage.
“Hypnos…” Himeno murmurs from her desk.
“Hm?”
“Hypnos Entertainment. That’s the company The Seraph is signed to.”
Aki sighs and continues to click through the list of registered angels. “Is it local?”
“Local enough. Their studio isn’t exactly in a great part of town, but it could be worse—” Himeno cuts herself off with a low whistle. “Damn, this girl really knows how to work the camera. Or maybe guy? However they identify.”
“No gender given?”
“Porno mags don’t exactly list the pronouns of their models in the images.”
Aki clicks his tongue in disapproval. “So it is pornography.”
“Not distinctly. It’s mostly just underwear modeling. It looks like they’re one of the few models that isn’t matched up with a partner; it’s all solo work. And stop being a prude.”
“We’re at work—”
“Exactly, and I’m doing research for work. I bet I’ve gathered more intel on our witness than you have.”
Aki looks down at his nearly-empty notepad. Only three things are listed.
-
angel fable
-
appears to be early to mid 20s
-
redhead
“What’s the lifespan of angels, again?” he asks.
“Long,” Himeno snorts. “They have the longest lifespans recorded out of all fables, even longer than elves or fae. They’re in the thousands, at the very least.”
Aki hums. He scratches in a detail beside one of his bullet points.
-
appears early to mid 20s (likely older than perceived)
A loud ping rings out from Aki and Himeno’s computers as a small rectangle slides into the top right of Aki’s screen.
From: Arai Hirokazu
CC: Hayakawa Aki, Himeno Rei
Several images were uploaded to the case file along with the actual video footage itself. Let me know if you need anything else.
Attached: IMG_111.png, IMG_555.png, IMG_888.png, IMG_999.png
Aki opens all of the files. He leans back in his seat and brings up a hand to his chin as he takes in their suspect.
He shuffles between the photos. There’s one where the camera gets a clear shot of the angel’s chest thanks to the excessively low neckline of their shirt, but their hair obscures most of their face. The camera angle keeps Aki from getting a good image to run a face scan, but he jots down a few more details on his notepad—thin frame, approximately 150-160 centimeters tall without the heeled boots, angular face and jawline.
He bites the inside of his cheek, tapping his pen on the notepad.
“Oh yeah,” Himeno hoots from her desk. “This Seraph is definitely our guy. I’d recognize those collarbones anywhere.”
Aki rolls his eyes. “You can’t even see the suspect’s collarbones in the photos. It’s too grainy.”
“A girl just knows.”
Aki runs his tongue over his teeth, a heavy sigh rumbling in the back of his throat. “Send me the link to that Seraph person?”
“Now who’s looking at dirty images at work?” Himeno purrs with a hand curled beneath her chin.
“I suppose you were right in saying this is for the case,” Aki grumbles in mild irritation, the plastic squeaking slightly as he shifts in his chair. “This is our only potential lead so far. Might as well see where this trail goes.”
“Now you’re acting like a detective! I don’t think our angel will be very eager to chat with us, so we have to know what line of questioning we’re going with.”
“I’m certain they won’t want to talk to police, but unfortunately for them, I don’t give up very easily.”
Himeno hums. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to have a cop show up at their place of business. We just have to check in and see if they’re working. You look into the studio, and I’ll check through socials to see if I can find any personal information on this Seraph. Even just a name would be a win.” She sighs. “Sending the link now.”
Aki wishes he’d opened the link on his phone instead of his desktop.
He’d known what to expect when he’d clicked on the URL, but having dozens of sultry images of beautiful models in lingerie absolutely covering his work screen makes him feel like he’s going to get in trouble—not that their chief would actually give a shit. Kishibe has never cared about how his teams get results as long as they get results.
The legality of his methods lies within—in his own words—“a gray area at best, and a 'light black' area at worst.”
It isn’t hard to find their witness within the various models listed. Most of their glamour shots are from the back to show off their wings, but there are a few close-ups of their face.
The Seraph really is gorgeous.
Multiple photos of their messy red hair rumpled around bedsheets, a focus on the ethereal white plumage of their wings, and a full lower lip that the photographer takes full advantage of if all the images of the Seraph biting down or dragging their fingers across it are anything to go by. Their red eyes are just a shade darker than their hair, downturned and sultry when viewed from a higher angle.
All of the Seraph’s physical assets add another level of intrigue to their already mysterious and alluring aura. It draws people in wanting to see what else might be in store for them if they’re brave enough to get closer and keep watching.
Aki scoffs lightly.
Well. They’re good at their job, I’ll give them that.
All of the photos feature the Seraph in lingerie. There are several blurred images beside the simple carousel of basic photos, which Aki suspects is hidden behind the paywall of the studio’s subscription service offered in the model’s summary.
The Seraph: sensual, celestial, and mysterious, this heavenly beauty dances on the line of androgyny to bless both sides of the aisle with whatever heavenly vision they’re looking for. Subscribe to The Seraph’s Private Folder for a more intimate experience.
“A little heavy-handed with the angel imagery,” Aki says with a click of his tongue.
Himeno stifles a poorly disguised snort. “Are you reading their bio?”
“What’s the purpose of researching if we’re not going to read up on anything?”
Her eyebrows raise upon her forehead in a look of mock innocence. “No, no, it makes sense. Unfortunately, there’s no personal or identifying information. I already checked.”
Aki hums. “And you did an image search for these photos already?”
“Yep, and I was only met with more illicit imagery, as well as fan accounts dedicated to posting about their favorite lingerie model. This angel doesn’t have any kind of social media presence from what I can tell.”
Aki clicks his tongue in disappointment. He watches the carousel of photos cycle through, leaving each image up for a couple of seconds before moving on to the next, but one shot catches his attention.
There’s almost no skin showing. Instead, most of it is the Seraph’s ivory feathers laid out like a fan over their head and wrapped in front of their chin, framing their face and a sliver of their bare shoulder in the center of the photograph. Half of their face is cloaked in the shadow of their wings, but a beam of light hits the lower half in a way that draws the eye to their mouth and chin.
Aki feels pinned in his chair, unable to look away.
It’s a brief, intimate glimpse of the angel when they’re at their most vulnerable—but instead of vulnerability, there’s a sharpness to the angel’s gaze that tells the viewer they’re only able to see them like this because they’re allowing them to.
They look powerful.
Strong.
Devastating.
The embodiment of divine judgment, ready to bear down and destroy anyone who dares to get too close.
“—ki-kun? Aki-kun, are you seriously spacing out right now—?”
Aki’s head jerks up and away from the Seraph’s glamour shot.
“What?” he bites out a bit more sharply than intended, only frazzling him further.
Himeno purses her lips. “I was saying that I found something rather juicy, but if you’re going to be a grump about it…”
“Just show it to me.”
A new link comes through Aki’s email inbox, and for a moment, he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing, but it certainly isn’t anything like the salacious images his partner had sent him earlier.
The photograph is of two people standing on a street corner. The faces of both people are too blurry to accurately identify them, but the large wings protruding from the back of the figure on the left narrows down the list of potential suspects. The man on the right is a full head taller than the angel, with shaggy hair and a curl to his lip that tells Aki that this probably isn’t a friendly conversation.
“Obviously, our angel is on the left,” Himeno offers, voice clipped, “but the one speaking to them on the right…”
“Is that—is that fucking Sugo Miri?” Aki hisses, eyes bulging as he recognizes the devil tattoo on the stranger’s wrist. “What the hell is our witness doing talking to yakuza?”
“This was posted on Twitter three and a half weeks ago from a fan account. There’s no direct confirmation this is either of them, but it wouldn’t be a stretch to guess based on the wings and the Tokyo Devils tattoo.”
“Where was this taken?”
“There are no street signs, so really it’s anyone’s guess, but the Devils are often spotted around Kabukicho.”
“And where is Hypnos Entertainment?”
“Kabukicho.”
Aki pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, if this angel was going to be troublesome to pin down before, this new connection will make things even more difficult.”
Sugo Miri is no stranger to the Tokyo police.
Only just a few years younger than Aki, he’s been charged with several counts of assault and battery, public indecency, or resisting arrest. His connection to one of Japan’s largest yakuza organizations, commonly referred to as the Tokyo Devils, was noted when he was booked sporting a new devil tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. He’s no big shot, but he’s a loyal worker bee for the Devils and seems to have been taken under the wing of one of the syndicate’s primary lieutenants as of late.
“What business would Sugo have with our witness?” Aki mumbles quietly, mostly talking to himself.
“Relationship on the rocks?” Himeno hums. She crosses her arms over her desk and clicks her tongue. “Or maybe our angel has a debt with the Devils, and he came to collect?”
Aki grunts. He’s not entirely pleased with either option, but if this Seraph witnessed the brutal murder of their fable and has connections with the Tokyo Devils syndicate, then it wouldn’t be out of the question to believe they might know more about the case than Aki and Himeno had previously believed.
“Alright,” Aki finally sighs, clicking the top of his pen on the table over and over. “Let’s make sure we know everything we can about this fable before we try to interrogate them. Names, schedules, work life, clients, acquaintances, the whole thing. We need to talk to them. This case won’t get anywhere if we can’t get this angel to help us.”
Despite Hypnos Entertainment’s reputation for being an expensive, high-end agency that’s ruthless when it comes to making money and exploiting their models, their main studio isn’t very large. Just a single building that the floor plans say has two rooms on each level, not counting the main lobby on the first floor.
The first thing Aki notices when he and Himeno walk through the double front doors are the framed pictures of various covers from their lifestyle and entertainment magazine lining the walls. The covers vary between classy and sleazy, but all of them have the kanji for Hypnotic scrawled along the right side in gyosho script.
There are two security guards stationed inside, each one standing before their own elevator door. A woman sits at the front desk tapping away on her computer, glasses slipping down the slope of her nose. She pushes them back up when she notices the two incomers.
“Hello. How can I help you?” She greets them pleasantly, but her eyes are analytical as they flit over both of the detectives.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Aki says with a polite nod as he retrieves his badge from the inside of his coat. “I’m Detective Hayakawa, and this is my partner, Detective Himeno. We’re here on behalf of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department concerning a homicide case. We need to speak with one of your employees.”
The receptionist’s eyes go wide. “Oh my! They’re not a suspect, are they?”
“We just need to ask them a few questions,” Himeno says with a warm smile. “We believe they have important information that will help us out a great deal. Their testimony could give us the lead we need to bring this killer to justice. You understand, don’t you?”
The woman’s cheeks turn pink as she stammers, “O-oh, yes, yes, of course. Who was it you were needing to speak with? I can try and schedule an appointment—”
“The Seraph,” Aki says, holding his head high. “We’ve been trying to get in contact with your agency, but it seems there’s been some difficulty in getting anyone to talk to us. So we decided that coming down would be the best option for everyone. And we’d like to speak with them as soon as possible.”
“The S-Seraph? Oh, I don’t know how likely that will be, he’s very busy, and the agency has him on a strict timeline—”
“It won’t take more than a few minutes,” Himeno interjects. She pats Aki on the shoulder and offers the receptionist a teasing smile. “Hayakawa-san and I are just trying to piece together a few more details. We only ask for five minutes, then we’ll be out of your hair!”
“He’s in a shoot right now, and his director doesn’t take kindly to interruptions—”
“And we’re prepared to deal with his displeasure,” Aki says flatly. “We’ll wait as long as we need to speak to our witness.”
The woman looks between the two of them, the flush in her cheeks fading as she realizes they won’t be leaving without a fuss. “Can I ask why Seraph is so important to this case?”
“Unfortunately, we can’t get into specifics—”
“But we believe he can offer some eye-witness information,” Himeno follows up, her grin turning strained. “Please allow us to speak with them. If we don’t see them now, we’ll just keep coming back until the Seraph is available to speak with us.”
There’s a long, stilted pause in conversation as the woman weighs her options. Finally, she breathes out a small sigh and says, “Let me call up to see if the director can schedule their break now. Just a moment.”
She pulls the desk phone to her ear and dials, spinning in her chair to face the wall. Himeno whistles and looks around the room, eyeing the security at the elevator doors, while Aki keeps his gaze on the receptionist.
There’s a brief exchange of words between her and the receiver, her voice low and soft as she explains the situation. She nods and murmurs, “Of course, I’ll have security check,” before spinning back around to hang up the call.
Her face is pinched and sallow as she says, “You’re in luck; Kitagawa-san will allow it. He’s sending security down to escort you up to level five.”
The tension in Aki’s shoulders releases. “Thank you. We appreciate your cooperation.”
He bows his head in thanks, but the movement of her pen on the desk catches his attention. In small, fine print, the receptionist has written out two words: Hayakawa and Himeno.
Aki has to fight back a frown.
Well, that’s not a good sign.
The elevator ride up is unremarkable. The security sent down to escort them is a man in a similar suit and tie as the two detectives, but the baton, taser, and radio at his hip tell Aki that he’s not just standard security.
They follow the guard out of the elevator and into the long hallway. Four doors line the hall, two on each side, leading into the different studios.
“I’ve been instructed to inform you how this will go,” the security guard grumbles ahead of them. “You will stay with me in the back while they finish up their session. You will stay silent and not interrupt or draw attention to yourselves. Once Kitagawa-san is satisfied, he will allow you to speak with the Seraph for several minutes until their break is over, and then you will be escorted back out. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Himeno’s voice is bright, but she rolls her eyes at the guard’s back.
“Understood,” Aki responds politely.
The guard stops in front of one of the doors, sliding his access card across the scanner until a green light appears. He steps inside the studio, holding the door open for Aki and Himeno to follow him in.
The studio is dark. Most of the lights have been turned off or dimmed except for the lighting equipment, all of which are pointed at the bed in the center of the room. Cameras flash as several photographers circle around it, taking photos of their muse.
There’s a small squeak beneath Aki’s sneaker as his foot catches against the linoleum floor.
Lying down on his back across the eggshell-white bedsheets is their witness. His red hair is spilled across the bed like a bottle of wine, a few locks curling over his shoulders while the rest is fanned out around him in a halo of vermilion towards the end of the bed.
There’s a lot of skin showing. A lot.
The angel’s torso is completely naked. The only coverage given to him is the pale pink g-string strapped high around his hips and a pair of stockings in the same color that cinch around his upper thighs.
His skin seems to glow in the diffused lighting, just a shade darker than Aki’s, only further deepened by the ivory wings he has spread out at his sides.
Aki’s nails bite into his palm.
“That’s good,” a man pipes up a few meters behind the photographers with an arm slung over the back of his director’s chair. “Lift one of your wings so it’s slightly draped over you. Perfect, that’s going to come out great—get a few more of him from the side, Nakamura-kun—and then we’ll have you turn over and get a few shots from the front and the back.”
Aki swallows when the Seraph flips over, spreading his legs as he bends his back into a deep arch that lifts his ass high into the air while pressing his face and chest low against the mattress.
His deep red eyes peer up at the cameras with a coquettish, almost shy expression as he crosses his arms beneath him. His wings fold up closer to his sides, but they still hover just above his back to allow the photographers to get a good view of his bare skin and the curve of his ass.
“Perfect, Seraph-san,” the director praises from his seat. “Play with your mouth a little bit.”
The seraph does as instructed. He brings his index finger up to his mouth, lightly gnawing on the first joint, his expression deepening into something more wanton than before. The cameras flash, and he switches to his thumb, pulling down his lower lip ever so slightly.
The director clicks his tongue in approval. “Gorgeous.”
Aki can’t find it within himself to disagree. The Seraph seems to know exactly what the director wants—how to work the camera, what his best angles are, what expressions and poses will get the most interest and arousal. He’s captivating and alluring, playing into the temptation of either defiling something holy or worshiping it.
Aki does his best to ignore the fact that he would be a primary target for this sort of campaign. If he’d stumbled upon the Seraph’s photos in his free time and found anything like this, he would have scrolled through them with his cock in his hand.
Almost like he can hear Aki’s lewd thoughts, the Seraph’s gaze flickers over to where he and Himeno stand with the security guard along the back wall, his eyes locking with Aki’s.
There’s a moment where something passes between them. Aki doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but he knows it’s something—something like a tether; an understanding, a mutual acknowledgment, a recognition.
The angel lifts his head, his gaze unwavering as he observes the two newcomers. He pushes himself up by his arms, pushing out his chest as he lifts off the bed to grind his lower half back down against the mattress in a reversal of his last position.
“Who is that?” the Seraph asks softly, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. He looks between Aki and Himeno. “Kitagawa-san, who are they? Why are they here?”
His voice is light and airy with a slight rasp in its timbre. The sound of it makes Aki’s skin prickle.
“Huh?” The director spins around in his chair to peer over his shoulder. His face falls when his eyes land on the two detectives. “Ah, the fuzz.” He turns back to the angel. “They need to ask you a few questions when we go on break.”
The Seraph tilts his head to the side. The cameras don’t stop flashing.
“Why?”
The director shrugs. “No clue, but I know they won’t leave until they get the chance to speak with you. I’m giving ‘em a few minutes with you and then they’re out of here.”
The angel hums. “Is that so?”
“Yes, now let’s finish up so we can get them out of our hair. One hand on your chest, one in your hair.”
The angel obeys. He threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and lifts his elbow high above his head to let the red strands slowly fall over his shoulder and down his back.
He runs his fingers down his chest, lingering along the soft skin of his stomach. His eyes don’t drift away from Aki.
Aki keeps his expression neutral. He’s used to having to stay professional in moments where he wants to behave unprofessionally, but it’s hard to act unaffected when it feels like their witness is purposefully trying to mess with him.
This angel knows what he’s doing. He’s trying to throw Aki off his game by teasing him with something they both know he can’t have.
Aki narrows his eyes, his irritation spiking.
He’s going to be a problem.
"Eyes on the camera, Seraph,” the director snaps.
The Seraph sighs, finally releasing Aki from his magnetic gaze. "Fine.”
While he continues to twist and pose for the camera, Himeno leans in close to whisper into Aki’s ear, “Any ideas on why he was staring at us like that?”
Aki clears his throat. “No clue. Must be able to tell that we’re bad news.”
He can feel Himeno’s eyes on him. He keeps his gaze forward, focused on the matter at hand.
She hums. It’s a horrible sound to Aki’s ears because he knows that it means she’s picked up on something he hasn’t and that she won’t let it go until she’s satisfied with an answer.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she murmurs. “Just paying attention.”
There’s a layer of disappointment in her voice, enough that it finally pulls Aki’s attention away from their witness.
“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.
The surprise on her face lasts for only a second before she blows him off with a wave of her hand. She doesn’t look at him as she says, “Nothing. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Aki frowns, but decides to leave it alone.
Break is finally called, and the guard guides them over to greet the director.
“Hello, Kitagawa-san,” Aki says, with a respectful dip of his head. “Thank you for giving us a moment to—”
“Alright, you get ten minutes with him, max,” the director says, not bothering to greet either of them as he pulls a cigarette from the pack on the table beside him. “If he tells you he doesn’t want to talk anymore, then you’re done talking. Got it?”
Aki wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Yeah. We’ve got it.”
“Good. Ten minutes.”
Aki turns around, and his stomach flips when he watches the angel slide down to the end of the bed and throw his legs over the side. One of the assistants hands him a silky white robe with large slits in the back for him to push his wings through. He lazily ties it around himself and crosses one leg over the other, the top of his pink stockings just meeting the hem of his robe.
The angel props an elbow upon his knee and cradles his face in his palm as he looks up at the two detectives.
“How can I help you, officers?” he mumbles, clearly disinterested in learning why they’re so desperate to talk to him.
Is he seriously bored right now?
“We’re detectives, actually,” Himeno speaks first. “Detective Himeno, Detective Hayakawa. We’re here to ask you a few questions concerning the murder of the mer fable Utsumi Beam two days ago just outside of the nightclub known as Arrowhead.”
“Why would I know anything about that?”
Aki frowns. “We have video evidence of you leaving through the side door of Arrowhead. The timestamp of the footage lines up with the estimated time of death, which we have reason to believe means you witnessed the entire thing.”
The Seraph slides his eyes to Aki’s. “Hm… I don’t know. That doesn’t sound familiar.”
“As I said, we have photographic evidence placing you there. You hid behind a dumpster to ensure you wouldn’t be caught by the culprit.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Anger flares in Aki’s gut. “Do you expect us to believe that?”
“I don’t expect the police to believe anything that doesn’t fit into the narrative they want to tell.” The Seraph tilts his head to the side, hand still pressed to his cheek. “Any more questions, detective?”
His robe slips down his shoulder just as his tongue curls around the word detective.
Aki scowls at him. He pulls one of the images Arai had printed for the case file from his coat and flashes it at the Seraph.
“We know you were there,” he bites out. “The faster you tell us what we want to know, the faster we leave you alone.”
It takes a few moments for the Seraph to take in the photo. Finally, he leans back and presses his hands flat against the mattress. It's enough movement that his robe falls open a little more, leaving his collarbone on full display as his wings fan out behind him.
“Fine,” he sighs. “What exactly do you want to know?”
“Why were you there that night at Arrowhead?” Himeno asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What do most people go to clubs for?”
Aki grinds his teeth. “Answer the question.”
The Seraph rolls his eyes. “Work. I often take clients there.”
“Clients? What sort of clients?”
“I thought you were a detective—why don’t you figure it out?”
“Cut it with the attitude,” Aki growls, his discomfort making him far more easy to rile up than usual. “Clients for what?”
The Seraph tilts his head forward, looking up at Aki through his long, dark lashes. “People who pay for my company.”
“Like an escort?” Himeno asks.
He nods. “Arrowhead is one of the regular places they take me. It’s easy for me to entertain there.”
Aki hums in disapproval. “And what sort of entertainment does this line of work entail?”
"Why?” the Seraph asks coolly. He drags his eyes up and down Aki’s body. “You thinking about hiring me?”
Aki scowls at him. The thought of hiring this guy for anything makes the burning coals in Aki’s stomach turn white-hot. “Just answer the question.”
The Seraph sighs. “Dancing and drinking, that sort of thing. They like being seen with me on their arm. It makes ‘em feel important.”
“Is that why you were at Arrowhead two nights ago?”
“Most likely.”
“Do you not remember?” Himeno asks.
The Seraph shrugs. “My memory is blurry.”
Aki crosses his arms and taps his finger repeatedly against his forearm. “Were you drinking?”
“I was at a club, what do you think?”
Himeno sighs. “And did you know Utsumi-san?”
“Why would I know him? I’m not a mer.”
“Do you not care about this man’s murder?”
“Not particularly. It has nothing to do with me.”
Aki’s face twists in revulsion, struggling and failing to keep himself from biting at the bait the Seraph is so obviously throwing out. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you haven’t given us a straight answer since this conversation started. You’ve only answered our questions with more questions, giving you plausible deniability.”
The Seraph puffs out a heavy breath. “It’s not a crime to be in the same establishment that somebody else gets murdered in. It’s exhausting to try and make conversation, so if I don’t need to clear my name, then I have no reason to speak to you.”
“What makes you think you’re not a suspect?”
“You said you had evidence that I was a witness to his murder, not that I was connected to his murder. So that makes me think that the video proves that my hands are clean.”
Aki bites the inside of his cheek. “Clean of his murder, maybe, but you’re being purposefully obtuse, so obviously your morals aren’t as squeaky clean as your hands.”
“What makes you think my hands aren’t dirty, detective? You’ve seen what I do for work.”
It’s unfair to refer to Aki by his title while using the words dirty and hands in the same sentence. He’s saying it like that to provoke Aki, and they both know it.
It makes Aki’s patience snap. “Christ, would it kill you to give us a straight answer and actually be of use for once?”
“Aki,” Himeno scolds sharply. “Calm down.”
The Seraph draws one of his stocking-clad legs up to his chest and rests his chin on his knee. The look he gives Aki is a tease in itself. “Listen to your partner, detective. You don’t want to lose your cool in front of a fable like me, do you?”
Aki runs his tongue over his teeth. “If I’m being honest, I think you’d like it if I lost my temper. Try harder.”
The atmosphere changes immediately. The Seraph’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and the bored expression he’s had since the beginning shifts into something more curious. They stare at each other, eyes unwavering, the air charged and thick with tension.
If Aki were more self-aware, he’d feel embarrassed by how badly he wants to pin this angel to the bed and run his mouth along his skin.
“Okay, okay, settle down, you two,” Himeno says as she steps between them with hands raised.
Aki snaps out of his trance, and the shame hits him full force. He’s a professional, he can’t be doing shit like this—especially while working a case this important.
Himeno rests her hands on her hips, looking similar to a scolding mother. “Look, we need you to cooperate with us. This fable was murdered, and you’re the only person who saw what happened. A description of the perpetrator, where he went, what he did to the victim, anything. Please, Seraph—don’t let your apathy stop this mer from getting justice.”
The Seraph’s expression softens a bit at the desperation of her plea. He looks away.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “But I can’t help you.”
“Seriously?” Aki scoffs. “You’re seriously unwilling to help our investigation? Even when you know who murdered him?”
The Seraph sighs. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else who can help you.”
“And if we subpoena you?”
“Good luck getting far enough in your case to file for that,” the Seraph mumbles quietly. “This conversation is over. Goodbye, detectives.”
“Unbelievable…” Aki hisses angrily under his breath, while silently cursing himself for his sharp tongue.
Nice going, idiot.
The Seraph leans to the side to look around them. “Escort them out, please,” he says flatly to the security guard who approaches. “We’re done talking.”
The security guard nods obediently. “Of course. If you two would follow me.”
“Of course,” Himeno says in a frighteningly calm voice. “Thank you for your time, Seraph-san.”
The Seraph doesn’t reply, but his gaze slides back over to her partner to find Aki already glaring down at him.
“If you want to look for me again, you can find me online. I’m sure you’re already familiar with our site’s layout,” the Seraph says with a lazy drawl. “Have a good day, detective.”
Aki grinds his teeth together.
This isn’t over.
The door shuts between them, and Aki finds that he has another reason to resent the color red.
The elevator ride down is silent.
Himeno thanks the receptionist again before stalking out the front door, hands clenched at her sides. Aki can tell that she’s upset. Why wouldn’t she be when her partner acted like a complete dunce in their interrogation?
Idiot, idiot, idiot—
They pile into the car with Aki in the driver’s seat, and as soon as he shuts the door, Himeno barks, “What the fuck was that, Aki?”
Aki winces. “It wasn’t my best moment. I’m sorry, Himeno-san.”
“He was obviously baiting you, and you fell for it every time! And he wasn’t even trying that hard!”
“I know—”
“Kishibe-san’s going to wring our necks for this, all because you couldn’t stop acting like some sexually-frustrated virgin—”
“What the fuck, Himeno, I was not—!”
“It was fucking weird, Aki!” Himeno shouts, her eyebrows pinched together in concern. “I haven’t seen you act like that since we were first partnered up! Is some hottie in lingerie teasing you all it takes for you to completely fumble standard police interactions?”
“First of all, that was not a standard interaction! He was practically naked the entire time, so forgive me if I was a little off my game.”
Himeno rolls her eyes. “A little? You were practically drooling with your tongue out before we actually started talking to him. He wasn’t exactly a peach, but your attitude didn’t make things any better.”
Aki groans and presses his hands to his face, embarrassed by the heat that’s rushing to his cheeks. “I’ll fix it, alright? I’ll go back tomorrow and apologize—”
“As if they’re going to let us back up there. We’re going to need to track him down to a secondary location and talk to him there. We need to be on neutral ground.”
“We can’t do a stakeout, not right now, at least,” Aki sighs. “The receptionist wrote down our names, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they also note of our car and maybe even our plates. They’ll be looking to ice us out.”
Himeno sighs. “Another day then. We’ll just have to ask around in the meantime, see if we can find him through word of mouth. And let me do the talking next time, alright?”
Aki nods. “Sounds like a plan.”
The drive back to the station is quiet, but a nervous energy prickles at Aki’s skin.
“I am sorry, though,” he says softly, running his tongue nervously over his lower lip. “It was hard being at the crime scene the other day. I’ve been having trouble sleeping because of it, and I think it’s been fucking with me a little bit. ”
Himeno’s head swivels toward him, her eyes wide and concerned.
“Don’t apologize, I’m fine,” he says quickly. “I promise I’ll be fine.”
“You just said that it’s fucking with you, how on earth is that fine?”
“Because I’ll deal with it. I just need a few days to acclimate to the details of this case. It just brought up bad memories.”
“I’m sorry, Aki-kun,” Himeno says softly. She rests a hand on his arm. “I should have realized this case wouldn’t be easy for you.”
“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it, and I’ll do my job.”
Himeno hums and turns to stare out the window, hand pressed to her cheek. “Do your job? Sure. Deal with it? I’m not so convinced.”
“Suppression is a way to deal with it. It’s not a healthy way, but it’s a way, nonetheless.”
She sighs. “At least you’re self-aware?”
Aki flexes his fingers on the steering wheel. Red flashes through his head, but when the blood comes, he turns it from an ocean of scarlet into a river of ruddy hair and bright ruby eyes burning like twin suns.
We never got his real name.
The disappointment in his chest is startling. It turns his stomach into knots.
He prays that Himeno can’t hear the doubt in his voice when he says, “I’ll be in the right headspace when we confront him next time. I swear.”