“Please calm down sir,” said Kaori, “We know your daughter is innocent. And we will do everything we can to help her get free. But first, tell us everything you know.”

Together, Yui and Kaori had managed to coax Ken into the bathhouse meeting room, but his anger was far from appeased. Every few seconds, the scar on Ken’s face would twist into a glare. A glare directed straight at Jiro. Does he think it’s my fault Aya is under arrest? It was not long, Jiro thought, before Ken too would end up in jail: this time for real murder.

Yui padded over the tatami mats and set a cup of steaming tea down in front of Ken. Gone was the cute girl feasting on chicken nuggets. Now Yui, dressed in her uniform and her face inexpressive, was a perfect example of Japanese hospitality.

Ken took a sip of the tea and let out a slow breath. The cup quivered in his hands.

“The police were waiting for her.”

“Waiting for Aya? Where?”

“At the docks. Just before dawn, when she arrived. She’s being held at the city jail. For attempted murder. It will be all over the news soon.”

“Wait,” said Jiro. “Who did she murder?”

Ken shot him a glare. His knuckles were white on the teacup.

“I mean … who did they mistakenly accuse her of murdering?”

Ken let out another quivering breath. “It wasn’t just one person. It was several. Three, from what I heard. All of them were respected figures in Koko Town.” Ken shut his eyes. He was clearly finding it difficult to go on. Jiro braced himself for any knives or blunt weapons that might fly in his direction.

“Please, sir,” said Kaori. “Try to tell us what you can. Even if it is difficult. This information will help us more than you think.”

Ken took another breath. “My tanto …”

“Tanto?” said Jiro, earning another glare from Ken

“It’s a kind of short knife,” said Kaori.

Jiro gulped. He remembered the knife that Ken had used to stab his sofa. Was that what he was talking about?

“Yes, my tanto … It disappeared. I keep it in the living room as a memento of my”—he flexed his scar—“rougher days. But early last afternoon, it disappeared from my coffee table. And soon after …”

“People were stabbed,” Kaori ventured.

Ken nodded. “Three stabbings. I tried to find out what I could before coming here. All three were big figures in Koko Town. Watanabe, who owns the Japanese sweet factory near the ocean. You know it?”

Kaori nodded.

“The second was Ito, a retired fisherman who now helps run a fishing cooperative.”

“And the third?”

“The third was …” Ken paused. “I think her name was Tanimoto. Yes, Tanimoto. A congresswoman. I think I’ve seen her on TV before.”

“And how are the victims?” Jiro asked. “Are they in critical condition?”

“I’m not sure,” said Ken. “But the police told me that all three were still alive.” He frowned. “But from the looks on the policemen’s faces, I would guess that the condition is severe.”

Jiro looked over at Kaori, seeking an opinion. But Kaori was staring off into a corner of the meeting room with a vacant expression on her face.

“Kaori?”

“Something is weird …” She murmured.

“Weird?”

“Yui,” she turned to the girl who was kneeling quietly a short distance from the table. “Go get my council book from the office, will you?”

Yui nodded. She shuffled away and reappeared some moments later carrying a bound paper book. The pages were filled with handwritten kanji characters, written in some kind of brush ink.

Kaori flipped through the pages. “Tanimoto … Tanimoto … Here it is!” She pointed to a spot on the page. The cursive-style Japanese characters were too difficult for Jiro to read. “Tanimoto Maki. Female. Age fifty-three at time of signing. Congresswoman and Koko Town representative. First spirit awakening, age six.”

Awakening? Representative? Signing?

After some more searching, Kaori managed to find the other two victims—Watanabe and Ito—as well. Their names and personal information were written in the same messy ink. Kaori shut the book. “As I suspected. All three of the victims are council members.”

“Council members?”

“There are people without spirit blood who nevertheless support what we do,” said Kaori. “People who wish for there to be good relations between humans, spirits, and monsters. Humans who believe in this cause sometimes join to form collaborative groups. One of the biggest groups in Japan is the Spirit Council.”

Jiro looked at Ken. He was following along, watching Kaori intently as she spoke. At the talk of spirits, he seemed to have calmed down.

“But why?” said Jiro. “Why would the real murderer … be targeting members of this Spirit Council?”

Kaori didn’t have time to answer. The door slid open. Jiro turned to look … and dropped his jaw. Standing in the entranceway, were two kaiju. Two very familiar kaiju.

“Sheena? Tae? What are you doing here?”

Both kaiju looked weary, as if they hadn’t slept in days. Sheena’s scales, usually a brilliant blue, had lost their sheen and were almost ashen. Tae’s fur was frazzled and stuck out at strange angles. Her tail drooped from her waist and hung between her legs, unmoving.

“What we’re doing here,” said Sheena, her long tongue lolling, “Is bringing you your rat.”

Tae reached into the hallway, out of sight. For a moment, she seemed to be struggling with something. There was a thump, then a muffled scream.

Tae hauled a large bundle into view. It was the size of a coffin and tied up with rope. The bundle was bumping and wriggling and making muffled noises. Tae hoisted the package onto her shoulder … and tossed it unceremoniously into the meeting room.

The bundle landed next to Ken with a dull thump. Ken let out a yelp and scooted backward. Wrapped up inside the bundle, bound with rope and gagged so she could not speak, was a tan woman with blonde highlights. The woman snarled and tried to tear at her bounds. But tied up as she was, it was impossible.

Jiro sucked in his breath. Why is she here? Inside the bundle, was Aya.