An entire hour has passed and Hoshino hasn't moved a single millimeter. She's still curled against my chest, breathing slow and deep, her cheek pressed right over my heart. Her arms are wrapped around my waist with a strength I didn't expect from someone so small, as if she's afraid that if she lets go I'll vanish into thin air. I told her to sleep a little after she confessed, between sobs, that she hadn't closed her eyes all night. "Just a little while…" she murmured, and thirty seconds later she was out cold.
Every now and then I whisper to check: "Hey, Mizuki… you awake?" Nothing. Not even a twitch. She's completely gone, as if her body finally said "enough and fell into the deep, healing sleep she's needed for months.
The goddess, who had been miraculously quiet for a while, decides to ruin the moment.
"Look at this adorable scene… You two look like newlyweds on your honeymoon. All that's missing is the ring and the 'till death do us part'… though technically you almost died for her already, so it counts."
"Lower your voice, idiot," I answer mentally, keeping my tone soft. "You'll wake her."
"But it's so cute! Look at her! She's drooling on your gown! That's true love, Kazuo! Drooling love!"
"You're unbearable."
"And you're in love. Admit it. Even if it's just a whisper, just for me."
"No."
"Liar."
I sigh but don't reply. I've gotten used to these ridiculous conversations. It's like having a perverted radio host living inside my brain 24/7.
We stay like that, in comfortable silence broken only by the monitor's beeps and Hoshino's faint purr when she exhales, when…
BAM!
The door slams open so hard the whole room shakes.
The goddess shrieks inside my head:
"KYAAA! MY HEART!"
I look up.
Reika is standing in the doorway.
School uniform impeccable, high ponytail perfect, backpack slung over one shoulder… but her face is ashen, eyes wide as plates.
She takes two steps inside; the door swings shut behind her on its own.
"Reiji?" Her voice trembles. "What… what happened to you? The police came to school this morning… they were asking about you… They said you were in the hospital… That you'd been… attacked…"
Then her gaze drops.
And she sees us.
Hoshino sleeping peacefully on my chest, face buried in my gown, one arm around my waist, the other dangling limply. Me with one arm instinctively wrapped around her, hand resting on her back.
Reika's expression freezes in half a second, turning to ice.
Her lips press into a perfect, thin line.
"What… is… going… on… here?" she asks, each word measured, cold, dangerous.
I let out a long, tired sigh.
"Sit down, Reika. I'll explain everything."
Ten minutes later, I'm done.
I've told her absolutely everything.
How I met Hoshino with the cats. How I discovered her double life as a streamer. How I followed the trail to her house. What I found there. What Ren and Sakurada were doing to her. How I ended up with a baseball bat to the head and several broken ribs.
Reika listened in silence, sitting in the visitor's chair, hands clenched in her lap, knuckles white.
When I finish, the silence is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
And then I see she's shaking.
Her shoulders tremble.
Her lips tremble.
Her eyes glisten with tears she refuses to let fall.
"Reiji…" she finally whispers, voice breaking. "Why… why do you always have to do everything alone?"
Reika looks up. She's pouting like a little kid, eyes shining with unshed tears, nose slightly red. She's angry and sad at the same time, and you can tell she's fighting with everything she has not to completely explode.
"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS THROW YOURSELF INTO DANGEROUS SITUATIONS, YOU IDIOT?!" she suddenly yells, voice shaking. "Why do you always have to play the hero?! Do you have any idea how worried I was?! Yesterday I went to your place with ingredients to make you a special lunch and you didn't answer! I thought you were mad at me! I thought I'd done something wrong and that's why you didn't want to see me!"
She starts hitting my good arm with little taps (harmless, but full of frustration).
"You're irresponsible! Reckless! A… a…!"
"Reika," I whisper softly but firmly. "Lower your voice. We're in a hospital. And Mizuki is sleeping."
She shuts up instantly.
She glances at Hoshino, still deeply asleep on my chest, completely oblivious to the drama. Then she looks down at the floor, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"S-sorry…" she mumbles, voice suddenly soft, almost childlike.
I sigh inwardly. This girl has serious temper issues. One second she's a volcano, the next she's a scared puppy.
Reika steps closer to the bed, careful not to make noise. She leans down a little and, with a gentleness I didn't expect, strokes Hoshino's hair. Her long, slender fingers gently push aside the strands falling over Hoshino's face.
"I'm sorry, Hoshino…" she whispers, voice trembling. "For not realizing sooner. For not seeing how much you were suffering…"
She falls silent for a moment, eyes filling with tears again.
"I… I tried to talk to her so many times. In the student council room, in the hallways… She was always polite, but she pushed me away. Politely, but she pushed me away. I never imagined… I never imagined she was in a relationship with someone so much older. That they were forcing her to… to sell her body. That those scars…" her voice cracks, dripping with venom, "were made by such a despicable man."
I look at her hand stroking Hoshino's hair. I look at her face, full of guilt and pain.
And in my head, I'm already planning tonight.
I spoke to a cop (one who owes the old Reiji favors). I gave him money. A lot. He promised me thirty minutes alone with Ren and Sakurada in the holding cell. No cameras. No witnesses.
The goddess, who had been quiet, speaks in a dark voice:
"That plan is thanks to me, you know? My divine intelligence, my master strategy… You should be kissing my feet right now!"
I smile mentally.
"Thank you, my favorite goddess," I answer playfully. "It wouldn't be possible without you. You're… incredibly sexy when you go full evil-genius mode."
"H-hey! Don't say that out of nowhere, idiot!" She sounds flustered, almost stuttering. "I-I was just stating facts!"
I chuckle quietly.
Reika hears me and looks up, catching me grinning like an idiot.
"W-what? Why are you smiling now?" she asks, blushing.
"Because I missed you," I say honestly. "And because I'm hungry. Can you make me something to eat when we get out of here? Please."
She freezes for a second.
Then she looks down, cheeks red as tomatoes, and nods shyly.
"Y-yeah… of course… Anything you want…"
And she keeps stroking Hoshino's hair, a small, trembling smile on her lips.
...
Reika stayed exactly one hour. We talked about everything and nothing: the bentos she's going to make me when I get out, the cats, how Akira is completely wrecked and keeps sending handwritten apology letters to Hoshino's parents. Hoshino woke up halfway through the visit, turned bright red when she saw Reika, but Reika just gave her a gentle smile and stroked her head again, like they were old friends.
When the nurses came for the afternoon rounds, Hoshino tried to stay the night. She literally clung to my arm and gave me the saddest puppy-dog eyes imaginable.
"Please! Just tonight! I won't be any trouble! I'll sleep in the chair!"
The nurses were merciless.
"Hospital rules, sweetie. Visiting hours end at eight."
I promised her she could come for the whole day tomorrow if she wanted. She nodded, eyes filling with tears again, gave me one last hug (even tighter than the first), and left, dragging her feet, looking back every two steps.
The room fell silent.
And I started counting the minutes.
The sunlight slowly faded, painting the walls orange, then violet, then black.
When the clock hit 00:12, I sat up carefully.
The IV was still in my left arm, dripping saline.
I looked at it.
The goddess spoke, voice dark, seductive, almost trembling with anticipation:
"It's time, isn't it? I can already smell the blood… This is going to be delicious."
I let out a quiet laugh.
"You scare me when you talk like that."
"That's because I'm magnificent! Now take that needle out!"
Carefully, I pull the needle free. Blood wells up for a second; I press cotton against it until it stops.
"Give me the money," I whisper.
Snap.
A thick wad of 10,000-yen bills appears in my hand, perfectly stacked, held together by a black rubber band.
"You could make me more, right? I could be rich overnight."
"Dream on! Everything has a price. This money is only for the current situation. If you want more, you already know what I'll ask for in return~"
"You're a blackmailer."
"And you're my favorite customer."
I sigh, I slip the cash into the pocket of my hospital gown.
I stand up. My ankle still aches a little, but I can walk. I limp, yes, but I walk.
I open the door carefully.
The hallway is empty, lit only by the green emergency lights and the blinking of distant machines.
A hospital at night is another world. Absolute silence, just the hum of ventilation and the far-off squeak of a cart. It makes my skin crawl.
Snap.
My patient gown vanishes. In its place: green surgical scrubs, cap, mask hanging around my neck. Perfect.
"Thanks," I whisper.
"You're welcome, Doctor Revenge."
I walk down the corridor, head down, pretending to study an imaginary chart. I minimize the limp. At the nurses' station, two nurses are chatting quietly and a security guard is half-asleep.
I walk right past them.
No one says a word.
I step outside.
The cold night wind hits me like a slap. The sky is pitch black, no moon, only distant stars.
I take a deep breath.
And I start walking.
Thirty minutes to the police station.
Thirty minutes to Ren.
Thirty minutes to Sakurada.
And this time…
this time no one is going to stop me.
I smile into the darkness.
And the goddess whispers, voice dark and delighted:
"Let the show begin."
...
I arrive at the central police station just after 01:10 a.m. The building looks like a dead concrete block under the yellowish streetlights. There's only one patrol car parked outside and a single light on at the entrance. The wind whistles through the bars and sends old papers spinning like ghosts.
I push open the bulletproof glass door.
Inside it smells of cold coffee and stale tobacco. There's only one officer at the counter: a man in his mid-forties, balding, deep bags under his eyes, a scar crossing his left eyebrow. He looks me up and down, eyes narrowed.
I lower the mask.
He recognizes my face instantly. Nods slowly, without a word.
I pull the thick wad of bills from the inside pocket of the surgical gown and place it on the counter. One hundred 10,000-yen notes. Exactly one million yen.
He counts it with practiced fingers, no hurry, wetting his thumb now and then. When he's done, he slips it into his jacket and jerks his head.
"Come."
He leads me down a narrow, dimly lit corridor with peeling vomit-green walls. The fluorescent lights flicker. The linoleum floor is covered in black boot scuffs.
There's no one around. Just the echo of our footsteps and the constant buzz of the lights.
The goddess whispers in my head, voice low, dark, almost wet:
"Mmm… what a delicious atmosphere. It smells of fear, sweat, despair… I love it."
We reach the end of the corridor.
A steel door with the word "CELLS" painted in faded red letters.
The officer inserts a long, rusted key. The door opens with a screech that makes my skin crawl.
We step inside.
There are only four cells, two on each side. All empty… except the last one.
There they are.
Ren and Sakurada.
Ren is standing, wearing the orange prison overalls, hair still perfectly combed even now, glasses fogged. Sakurada is sitting on the bench, belly spilling over, eyes bloodshot, face covered in fresh scratches.
And they're arguing.
With pure hatred.
Ren, voice ice-cold and cutting:
"This is all your fault, you disgusting pig! If you hadn't been so greedy, we'd never have been caught!"
Sakurada spits on the floor; the saliva glistens under the light.
"Shut your fucking mouth, you little faggot! You're the one who brought that brat here! You're the one who recorded everything like an idiot! I just wanted to fuck the whore, same as always!"
"She was MINE!" Ren screams, slamming the bars. "She was my project! Eighteen years of perfection and you ruined her with your filthy hands!"
Sakurada laughs, a guttural, wet laugh.
"Project? She was a whore! And a good one! I fucked her more times than you have in your entire pathetic life!"
Ren lunges at the bars, face red with rage.
"I'll kill you! When we get out of here I'm ripping your balls off and making you swallow them!"
The goddess, in my head, laughs slow, dark, seductive:
"How beautiful… Look at them tearing each other apart. Like rabid dogs fighting over a broken bone. It turns me on."
The officer bangs his baton against the bars.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The noise is so loud it echoes in my ears and makes me wince.
"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTHS, SONS OF BITCHES!" he roars. "You've got a special visitor! Thirty minutes! Not one second more!"
Ren and Sakurada turn at the same time.
They see me.
Green surgical gown, cap, mask pulled down to my chin.
Sakurada frowns, confused.
"What the hell is a surgeon doing here?"
Ren narrows his eyes, but he still doesn't fully recognize me.
The officer opens the cell with another key.
Metal screeches.
He looks at me for a second, nods.
"Thirty minutes," he repeats. "Not one second more."
I step inside.
The door closes behind me with a final, resounding clang.
And I stand there, silent.
Looking at them.
Smiling.
And they still don't know who I am.
But they will.
Very soon.
Slowly, with deliberate calm, I pull the green mask down until it hangs around my neck. Then I remove the surgical cap and let it fall to the floor. It lands with a hollow thud that echoes through the cell like a death sentence. My black hair falls over my forehead, still damp with the cold sweat of the night.
Ren goes pale first. His eyes, behind the glasses, widen to their limit; his mouth opens in a silent gasp of pure disbelief.
Sakurada takes a second longer. His piggish face collapses: cheeks trembling, eyes sinking, skin flashing from red to white in a heartbeat.
"Im… impossible…" he stammers, voice cracked and shaking. "Yesterday… I crushed your ribs… I shattered your ankle… You were screaming in agony! You were bleeding like a fucking pig!"
I smile. The same smile Ren used when he looked down at me, when he thought he owned everything. I practiced it in the hospital mirror all afternoon. It's perfect.
"Did you really think you could kill me with that piece-of-shit bat?" I ask, voice low, soft, almost a whisper. "How… disappointing."
I limp one step toward Sakurada. My ankle still aches a little, but the goddess did her job: bones fused, ligaments reinforced. I can walk. And I can hurt.
Sakurada backs up until he slams into the bars. Ren remains frozen, a statue of ice, eyes locked on me, unblinking.
"No… no…" Sakurada whispers, voice breaking. "This can't be happening! You were dead! I killed you!"
I stop half a meter from him. I tilt my head, looking him up and down with absolute contempt.
"You're disgusting," I say slowly, savoring every syllable. "You always were. A fat, sweaty old man who paid to rape little girls. A parasite. Human-shaped shit."
Sakurada clenches his teeth, eyes full of hate and terror.
"Shut your fucking mouth!"
I glance down.
And let out a low, genuine laugh.
A dark puddle spreads between his legs. He's pissed himself. The acrid stench fills the cell.
"How pathetic," I whisper.
And then I begin.
The first blow is straight to the gut. My fist sinks into his flab like it's butter. Sakurada doubles over, air exploding from his lungs in a broken wheeze, eyes rolling back.
The second is a hook to the liver. There's a wet crunch when my knuckles land. Sakurada drops to his knees, vomiting bile and blood.
Ren still hasn't moved. He just watches. Pale. Trembling.
The third is a knee to the face.
Sakurada's nose bursts open in a red flower. Blood splatters the bars, the floor, my gown. Cartilage cracks like dry wood.
Sakurada screams (an animal, gurgling sound).
I grab his greasy hair, yank his head back until he's forced to look at me.
"Remember this?" I whisper, almost tenderly. "This is what you did to her. With your filthy hands. With your rotten breath."
And I hit him again.
In the cheek.
The cheekbone caves in with a sharp crack.
Blood pours from his mouth, his nose, his eyes.
I smash his teeth with the next punch.
One. Two. Three molars fly out and bounce across the floor like little white pebbles.
Sakurada no longer screams. He only gurgles. Face swollen, purple, unrecognizable.
I let go.
He collapses face-first, blood pooling beneath his ruined head.
Ren still hasn't moved.
He just trembles.
And I smile.
Because this is only the beginning.
And I still have twenty-seven minutes left.
I kneel slowly beside Sakurada's trembling body. The puddle of blood and piss has already reached my knees, warm, sticky. The stench is sickening: iron, sweat, terror. He tries to crawl backward, but his broken arms won't obey. He only manages to leave red streaks on the floor.
I smile.
I take his right hand calmly, as if picking up a piece of meat at the butcher's. His fat fingers, covered in cheap rings, shake between mine.
"This was the first one that touched Mizuki, wasn't it?" I whisper, almost tenderly.
I press his pinky against my palm and twist it backward.
Crack.
The bone snaps like a dry twig. The scream that tears from his throat is inhuman, shrill, animal. Skin splits, blood spurts in a hot jet that splashes my face.
Ring finger.
Crack.
The finger bends at an impossible angle; the nail lifts, flesh tears.
Middle finger.
Crack.
Bone splinters, tendons rip with a wet sound.
Index finger.
Crack.
The finger breaks in half, the tip hanging by skin alone.
And the thumb.
I grip it with both hands and twist slowly, very slowly, until the joint bursts like a nut.
Sakurada no longer screams. He only gurgles, eyes rolled back, drool mixed with blood running down his chin.
I look at Ren.
He's pressed against the wall, white as a corpse, shaking uncontrollably.
"Not going to help your partner, doctor?" I ask, voice ice-cold. "What a coward."
He doesn't answer. He doesn't even blink.
The goddess in my head laughs, voice dark and delicious:
"How beautiful… Look at them pissing themselves in fear. Want something… more fun?"
Snap.
A surgical rib shear appears in my right hand. Stainless steel, cold, perfect. Designed to cut ribs during open-chest surgery. Sharp as a razor.
I raise it so they can see.
Sakurada's eyes widen in pure horror when he recognizes it.
"No… no… please…" he whimpers, dragging himself backward, leaving a trail of blood and guts.
I step closer.
First the right ankle.
I place the blade just above the bone.
And cut.
Slowly.
The steel bites through flesh, bone, tendon. Blood gushes in jets. Sakurada screams until his voice gives out.
The ankle hangs by skin alone.
Then the left.
I cut again.
The bone snaps with a dry crack.
Sakurada no longer screams. He only sobs, a broken, childish sound.
Ren still hasn't moved.
The goddess whispers, almost moaning with pleasure:
"More… Give him more… Break his pride… Break his soul…"
I stand.
I walk toward Ren.
He backs up until he hits the bars.
"No…" he whispers. "Please… no…"
I smile at him.
And I break his first rib with a straight punch to the chest.
The bone caves in.
Ren doubles over, coughing blood.
Then the second.
And the third.
Each blow precise, calculated, to cause maximum pain without killing him.
Ren drops to his knees.
I grab his hair, yank his head back.
"Look at me," I order.
He opens his eyes, filled with tears and terror.
"This," I whisper, "is for every night you forced her to smile at the camera. For every tear she shed because of you."
And I break his fourth rib.
Ren's scream is a broken, inhuman sound.
The goddess laughs.
And I continue.
Because there are still twenty-two minutes left.
And the night is young.
The goddess snaps her fingers again, and between my index finger and thumb appears a long, thin surgical needle of pure surgical steel, so sharp it catches the red light of the security camera and glints like an evil star.
I smile. A slow, almost tender smile.
I kneel in front of Ren, who is on his knees, coughing blood, ribs caved in, eyes filled with a terror I never thought I'd see in him.
"Open your eyes," I whisper.
He shakes his head, squeezing them shut.
I grab his face with my left hand, digging my fingers into his cheeks until he screams, and with my thumb I force his right eyelid open.
The needle gleams.
And I slide it in, slowly, very slowly, into the eyeball.
First the cornea. A wet pop, like piercing a ripe grape. The needle passes through the anterior chamber; the iris blooms open like a black flower, aqueous humor spurting clear and mixed with blood.
Ren screams.
A sound that doesn't seem human.
The needle keeps going, piercing the retina, the vitreous, until it touches the optic nerve.
I twist it.
Slowly.
The eye deflates, shrivels; thick black blood oozes from the hole like ink.
I pull the needle out.
Ren's right eye is now a red-and-white ruin hanging from the socket.
I do the left one.
Faster this time.
The scream turns into a gurgle.
The goddess snaps her fingers again.
A small, curved surgical scalpel appears in my hand: perfect for soft tissue.
Ren tries to crawl away, but he has no strength left.
I seize his jaw, wrench his mouth open; his broken teeth bite into my fingers.
I pull out his swollen, trembling tongue, coated in blood and spit.
And I cut.
One clean slice.
The tongue drops to the floor with a wet slap, like raw meat.
Blood gushes from his mouth, his nose, the empty socket where his eye used to be.
Ren chokes on his own blood.
He tries to scream, but only red bubbles come out.
I look at his ears.
The scalpel slices through the cartilage of the right auricle: top to bottom, then bottom to top.
The earlobe falls away.
Blood spatters the bars.
I repeat on the left.
Ren is no longer a person.
He's a broken, bleeding heap of meat dragging itself across the floor, leaving a red trail.
I stand.
I look at Sakurada.
He's curled in the corner, sobbing like a child, pissing and shitting himself in pure terror.
"Your turn," I say, perfectly calm.
He shakes his head, bawling.
"No! Please! I'll do anything! Money! I'll give you everything! Everything!"
I smile.
"I don't want your money."
And I walk toward him.
Needle still in hand.
And the night still has fifteen minutes left.
...
...
The guard arrives right on time, as agreed. His keys jingle in his shaking hand as he approaches the cell. He opens his mouth to announce the time, to remind me my time is up…
And he freezes.
The barred door is ajar, and the cold hallway light spills inside like a nightmare spotlight.
Sakurada is in the center, on his knees (or what's left of him). His face is a pulpy ruin: eyes sunken into empty sockets, just black holes crusted with coagulated blood; nose crushed inward, lips split down to the chin, broken teeth scattered across the floor like grains of rice. The fingers of both hands are twisted at impossible angles; some torn clean off and tossed aside like dead worms. His ankles are severed at the bone, feet dangling by shredded tendons and skin alone. A lake of blood, piss, and shit surrounds him, gleaming under the light.
Ren lies crumpled against the far wall. Both eye sockets are hollow caves, thick black blood still dripping like tears. His mouth is frozen in a silent scream; the severed tongue lies inches from his face like a red slug. His ears have been sliced off with surgical precision and placed symmetrically on his chest like trophies. Shattered ribs jut through torn flesh, white and shining amid the red.
The rib shears, the needle, and the scalpel lie on the floor, bathed in blood, glinting like macabre jewels.
The guard's breath catches. His face turns green. He staggers back, hand over his mouth, eyes bulging.
I pull the blood-soaked mask back up and put the surgical cap on again. The green gown is splattered dark red, as if I've just stepped out of a slaughterhouse.
I limp toward him, slow and calm.
I slip another thick wad of bills into the pocket of his vest.
"Call headquarters right now," I whisper, voice hoarse. "Tell them they killed each other. That they somehow smuggled in weapons. A settling of scores. You saw nothing. I was never here."
The man nods silently, eyes wide with terror.
I walk past him.
I step out into the hallway.
The cold night air hits me as I push open the station door.
I look up at the sky.
Pitch black. No moon. Only cold, distant stars.
For a second I think it's strange. Strange that I did this. Strange that I enjoyed it.
The goddess, who had been silent since the first cut, finally speaks, voice low and satisfied:
"Your old mind… the cuckold who only knew how to cry… fused perfectly with Reiji's. All the pain you carried your whole life… turned into this. Into art."
I smile.
"You enjoyed every second, didn't you?"
"I came three times," she answers shamelessly. "And I still want more."
She purrs something seductive about my blood-soaked gown, about how sexy I look covered in red, about wanting to come down in the flesh so I can "examine" her personally.
"Disgusting," I say, but I'm smiling.
Snap.
The surgical gown vanishes. I'm back in a clean hospital gown, barefoot, not a single drop of blood on me.
I walk down the empty street, barely limping, the cold wind stroking my face.
"When I get back to the hospital," I whisper, "change my clothes again. Something normal."
"Of course, doctor," she replies playfully. "But next time… I want to be there. In the flesh."
I don't answer.
I just keep walking.
Toward the hospital.