Incongruous with the decapitated body strewn across the bed, the room had been left reasonably tidy.

With close to six years of piracy under his belt, Shachi had witnessed a good share of all the various eccentricities the Grand Line had to offer, both sublime and grotesque alike. A naive part of him would have liked to have thought that very few things, no matter how fantastical, harbored the capability of fazing him - a belief which had been shattered the moment he'd had the misfortune of setting foot on this graphic scene.

Ironic, wasn't it, given the gross banality of the carnage he currently beheld. After all, no matter how uncouth it might sound to admit it aloud, that was exactly what this was, right? Banal. Cliche. Because as he stood there in that dingy motel room at roughly three in the morning, still somewhat sluggish from sleep-deprivation despite the ungodly amounts of cheap caffeine buzzing through his system, the only thing Shachi could ascertain was how utterly repetitive this whole situation seemed.

The scene felt universal down to every last lurid detail, characterized by flamboyant imagery that could have been plagiarized directly off of the crime section of last week's newspapers. There it all was. The intrigue, dead information broker, the missing murder weapon, the horde of hysterical crones screaming their heads off from the banisters (heh, there was always at least one on scene for these sorts of crimes); there, the rumpled bed sheets, the blackened spots of blood clotting over the walls, the taint of human refuse curdling the air...

Shachi hid a grimace.

Well. Maybe it was cynical of him to dub this as entirely trite.

Poor bastard's head was missing, after all.

"Looks like he traveled light," a cheerful voice declared from his right. "Nothing to see here other than some clothes and spare change. I checked the papers he had on him, too. No sign that he was aware of being pursued..."

Muffling a yawn with the back of his hand, Shachi turned in time to see his crewmate Penguin hold up an empty bag upside down and give it a decisive shake. Since their arrival, he'd engrossed himself with several menial tasks unprompted; searching the dead man's belongings just so happened to be the latest one. To any idle bystander, his behavior could be construed to be erratic – even unseemly given the circumstances – but Shachi understood. Back from when they were kids, carefree Penguin had always had this knack for assuming a frighteningly convincing guise of normalcy whenever they got into a scrape. Whether it be via a lighthearted quip or a harmless distraction, that was just his own roundabout way of making sense of difficult situations. This time was no different. Shachi was just secretly surprised that their captain hadn't objected to the meddling.

Then again, it wasn't as if they had much to worry about when it came to dealing with authorities at this particular township. As was typical for settlements forged haphazardly beyond the outskirts of civilized society, Torlo Island was infamous for its lawlessness. It had originally been developed as a mining district by some ambitious corporate conglomerate from the South Blue. The project had gone aground years ago, however, leaving behind a patchwork of unsupervised ghost towns which eventually burgeoned into regular breeding dens for both criminals and aimless drifters alike. Given its unaffiliated status with the World Government, Marines avoided the place like a plague.

Political power was decentralized across the many hamlets scattered within its borders, most of which belonged to one of those unfortunate categories of development which teetered dangerously close to the lines of anarchical more than anything else. Here, death carried the emotional weight of but a trivial inconvenience. Murders and kidnappings were considered mundane occurrences, as seen by the volume of unidentified corpses routinely uncovered and later disposed of in unmarked communal graves. There was no question to the fact that this unlucky fellow would be subject to the same treatment. There would be no official investigation, no contact with loved ones, no proper burial.

Out of sight, out of mind seemed to be the unofficial motto for this unapologetic cesspit, after all.

Shachi's eyes followed Penguin's movements as the latter meandered over to inspect the closet. His attention lingered momentarily on each of their two remaining companions as his gaze drifted across the room.

First there was white-faced Hitode standing near the bathroom door, failing miserably to hide the fact that he was on the verge of hurling. Shachi felt a little sorry for the kid. At only seventeen, he was the crew's youngest rookie, with his two elder brothers Kuzuri and Taraba also having been recruited around three years prior. A lot of the guys liked to poke a bit of fun at his expense for being the runt of the litter, a slight which Hitode took with surprising good-naturedness given his age. However, in spite of his emotional maturity – especially in contrast to the two firecrackers he had as siblings – he was still pretty self-conscious about his own inexperience.

Shachi himself had been dubious towards the prospect of letting Hitode tag along. After all, Bepo had originally been slated to go (a decision which, with the benefit of hindsight, would have been a disaster; given his hypersensitive physiological threshold, the smell alone would've flattened the poor Mink). But the kid had been adamant. In this aspect, Shachi guessed that he fit the mold of your run-of-the-mill novice to a T. Enthusiastically loyal and always eager to prove his worth.

Then there was their captain who by all appearances seemed to have made himself at home in the middle of the crime scene.

The first half hour or so since their arrival, the Surgeon of Death had spent inspecting the scene on his own while Shachi, Penguin, and Hitode lent their best efforts in corralling away the crowd of curious bystanders that had collected in the hall. Undoubtedly, this must have been done courtesy of Captain's Devil Fruit abilities, given the corpse's current intact state. Afterwards, he'd thrown himself into a desk chair adjacent to the bed and hadn't moved since. A perfect picture of controlled nonchalance - posture lax, fingers steepled, eyes narrowed ever so slightly in concentration. It was clear he was deep in thought, not to mention totally unbothered by his close proximity to the body.

Shachi cleared his throat.

"This guy had to have been asleep when this happened, right?" he ventured.

Cryptic gray eyes immediately flicked sideways.

"He was sedated."

"Sedated?"

"There were benzodiazepines in his bloodstream. He likely didn't feel a thing."

The floorboards creaked as Hitode nervously shifted his weight. Meanwhile, the wailing from outside seemed to have mostly subsided.

Penguin wrinkled his nose. The awful smell was probably starting to get to him too.

"Any clues on who did it, then? This is what...the third or fourth time now?"

"Fourth," Shachi answered reluctantly. "And we don't know what even happened to the other three, just that they disappeared."

"A mighty fine coincidence, don't you think? Look what happened to this guy. It's all gotta be cause of the same person!"

The annoyance in Penguin's voice was palpable – and for a good reason, too. The Heart Pirates had spent the last three weeks pretty much at a standstill in their endeavor towards uncovering information pertaining to Donquixote Doflamingo's underground connection to the Beast Pirates. It was risky business, but their captain was a patient man. And indeed, all had been going well...that is, until many of the information brokers in Joker's peripheral circles had started going missing, thus eliminating several potential channels of communication through which they might have been able to obtain a mole.

Now, this development all but confirmed the crew's suspicions regarding the... er, well-being of the other three contacts.

Captain unexpectedly spoke up again.

"Have any of you heard of the Children of Amenoka-ji?"

Hitode tilted his chin slightly, ruminating. Bewildered by the sudden topic shift, Shachi shared blank looks with Penguin.

"I don't know much about it myself," Captain went on, leaning back into the chair. "It's some group of bounty hunters based in the New World. The World Government classifies them as some sort of militant cult."

"Wait." Hitode blinked in realization. "I remember reading about them in the papers a couple years ago. Children of Amenoka-ji... Isn't that the group Uguisu-hime belonged to?"

"...Uguisu-hime?" Penguin mumbled under his breath.

Shachi frowned in concentration. Now that actually sounded vaguely familiar...

"That's right." Captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking mildly impressed. "Though I'm surprised you remember that incident out of all people, Hitode. You must've still been a brat when it happened."

Hitode cracked a broad grin, clearly pleased by the acknowledgement.

"Yeah. I think I must've been around ten or eleven, maybe? That story was insane, though. The people in our village couldn't stop talking about it."

"Uguisu-hime..." Shachi repeated incredulously, louder now. "Remind me who that is again?"

"Was," Hitode corrected.

Captain looked over at Shachi.

"Nightingale," he said, voice matter-of-fact as if that single word provided all the elucidation that was needed. "Bounty hunter turned mass murderer. Or so they say."

"Oh, right!" Penguin visibly brightened and snapped his fingers. "Nightingale! That's the crazy chick who was executed a few years back, isn't it?"

"...executed?" Shachi repeated timidly. Now he was the only one left out of the loop. What a wonderful feeling this was.

Penguin wheeled around, face incredulous. "Do you seriously not remember her at all?"

"Wha-? You didn't either until like three seconds ago!" Shachi sputtered, indignant.

"I remember reading about that case when it happened," Captain went on, nipping the impending bickering match in the bud. "Of course, most of the media attention was focused solely on the perpetrator – the Nightingale. But there were a few investigative pieces written about this mercenary group she was affiliated with. They're pretty secretive, so there wasn't much concrete information on how they operate. Mostly just anecdotes, though the general consensus is that they are ex-patriots of Wano."

"That'd explain why the Marines never make much of a ruckus going after them," Hitode reflected.

This elicited a slight nod.

"There were also some interesting speculations about their modus operandi involving the use of Sea Stone weaponry and the ceremonial beheading of their victims..." Captain paused, gunmetal eyes sharpening into knife points as he cast a cursory glance at the corpse. "Who knows. It might all be a coincidence."

"Might be worth asking Kotone-chan to look into it," Penguin supplied, folding his arms.

"Maybe. Either way..." Captain's calculating gaze darted back over to the corpse, zeroing in on an unmistakable Jolly Roger tattooed onto the dead informant's inner forearm.

His lips curved into a sinister grin.

"...it may very well be that someone else has a bone to pick with Joker."

──────────────────

MARINE CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE

VALERIS ISLAND HQ - ARCHIVES

AUDIO TRANSCRIPT - INTERROGATION ROOM 4C

CASE NO. 2306-4837

WITNESS: MURASAKI ARISA

TIME STAMP

«　00:00:00 - 00:02:37　»

- static, rustling -

- door opening -

- static; murmuring -

- door closing; footsteps -

PRIMARY INVESTIGATOR (P.I.): Okay... Sorry for the delay, both of you.

SECONDARY INVESTIGATOR (S.I.): No problem.

- footsteps; chairs creaking -

P.I.: (sighs) Just one more thing before we get started. (papers shuffling) For official purposes, please state your full name when indicated, alright?

WITNESS: (nods)

S.I.: (chuckles) I understand that this may be a bit nerve-wracking, Murasaki-san, but try to keep nonverbal answers to a minimum too. Just so we have everything on the record.

WITNESS: Right. Sorry.

P.I.: Excellent. Now here we go.

- click -

- shuffling; static -

P.I.: (clears throat) Alrighty. So today's date is... [REDACTED], 1523. Time is...let's see, approximately 18:02 at Valeris Island HQ. This is Chief Investigator Lisle Florence, Marine Code No. 4-5-9-2-4-1.

S.I.: (chair creaking) Investigator Vindland Marius from the Marineford Branch. Marine Code No. 7-2-1-3-0-8.

WITNESS: ...Murasaki Arisa.

P.I.: Thank you. And just for clerical purposes, that's 'Murasaki' as in the color, correct?

WITNESS: Yes.

P.I.: And the characters for your given name are?

WITNESS: (chair creaking) [REDACTED].

- papers shuffling; chairs creaking-

P.I.: Wonderful. (pen scribbling) Alright. We're here today to follow up with Murasaki-san on an interview she gave on [REDACTED], 1523, pertaining to the homicide of former Lieutenant Commander Stynard Jasha, Marine Code No. 3-7-9-2-6-3....

[REDACTED]

TIME STAMP

«　01:42:31 - 01:55:04　»

- papers shuffling -

S.I.: Let's go back to your relationship with the Lieutenant Commander. If I have this correct, you started off as childhood friends before becoming romantically involved later on?

WITNESS: (starts to shake head; stops) ...oh, sorry. No, the first part is incorrect.

S.I.: Oh is that right? (chair creaking) I'm sorry, I must have gotten that mixed up.

WITNESS: Jasha was my sister's old classmate. I didn't meet him until I was seventeen.

P.I.: And which sister was that? Misato-san or Teruko-san?

WITNESS: Well, he was in Misa's grade, but he's always been friendly with them both. They all went to the same school together.

S.I.: You said you met him when you were seventeen. Tell us how that came about.

WITNESS: (silence)

WITNESS: It was at an island in the West Blue. I was visiting, and he was stationed at the base there.

[REDACTED]

S.I.: ...and were the two of you already aware of each other when you met for the first time?

WITNESS: Pardon me?

S.I.: Sorry, let me word that better. Prior to that first meeting, were you aware of the Lieutenant Commander at all from talking to your sisters?

WITNESS: (silence)

WITNESS: No, I wasn't.

P.I.: What about him?

WITNESS: I don't think so. I didn't know he knew either of them until he was transferred back to Valeris Island.

- rustling; chairs creaking-

P.I.: Do you have a close relationship with your sisters, Murasaki-san?

WITNESS: With Teru, yes.

P.I.: What about Misato-san?

WITNESS: (silence)

WITNESS: I'd... like to think that I'm on cordial terms with Misa.

[REDACTED]

S.I.: When did you start living with Jasha?

WITNESS: After the Summit War. When he was medically discharged.

P.I.: (chair creaking) Yes, I remember we talked about this in your first interview...

WITNESS: He had several major complications in his surgeries that made it....(deep breath) ...really difficult for him to adjust back to civilian life.

S.I.: Mmhm. Let's talk about that.

[REDACTED]

TIME STAMP

«　02:11:49 - 03:04:21　»

- static -

- papers shuffling -

P.I.: (sighs) Listen. (chair creaking) This... This might be a sensitive topic to broach, but it's our job to cover all the bases. Arisa-san, was he ever physically abusive towards you?

WITNESS: ...what?

S.I.: You mentioned all the medications he was on - even that there were some he didn't like to take because they made him 'not feel like himself....' Were there any times when he became violent?

WITNESS: No.

S.I.: No?

WITNESS: No! (voice shaking) What are you saying? He was never like that!

S.I: (looks at P.I.)

P.I.: (sighs) Arisa-san. Listen. This sort of thing, it's much more common than you might think....

WITNESS: What, so are you saying that he attacked me? And that... that I did something to him?

P.I.: No. That isn't what we're saying at all. We just want to confirm some things that have been said about... about the two of you, that doesn't quite line up with what you're saying now.

WITNESS: What has been said about us? That he was hurting me?

S.I.: (looks at P.I.)

P.I.: (sighs) That's what has been purported, yes.

WITNESS: No... This is... (shakes head; buries face in hands) No, it's a lie.

P.I.: (silent)

WITNESS: (voice muffled) He wasn't like that.

P.I.: Would Teruko-san lie about such a thing?

WITNESS: ...what?

P.I.: (looks at S.I.)

S.I.: (sighs; chair creaking) We talked to your sisters last week. They've been worried about you, Arisa-san. Even long before this incident.

WITNESS: Teru... (voice shaking) She... She told you this...?

P.I.: Yes. (pages flipping) Look here - these are from her.

WITNESS: ....no. Stop.

S.I.: You didn't think she'd notice those marks?

WITNESS: (silence)

[REDACTED]

WITNESS: (silence)

S.I.: You loved him, right? That's why you stayed with him.

P.I.: (chair creaking) You just wanted to see him get better.

WITNESS: (silence)

P.I.: Please talk to us, Arisa-san.

[REDACTED]

WITNESS: (silence)

P.I.: Oftentimes, it's the people we love and trust who are capable of hurting us the most.

WITNESS: No... (ragged breathing) I...

WITNESS: I'm sorry. (shakes head) But you have... no idea. (deep breath)

S.I.: (silence)

P.I.: (silence)

WITNESS: (murmuring) He was the one... who was hurt the most throughout all of this....

WITNESS: (silence)

- static -

WITNESS: It's you. (deep breath) All of you... in the Navy... who showed your true colors in that awful, pointless war. You did this.

S.I.: Arisa-san.... (chair creaking)

WITNESS: No, you don't get to say anything about his character. You threw his friends' lives away. You robbed him of his health and dignity, and as if that weren't enough, you tried to scapegoat him for something he had nothing to do with. Just so you had an excuse not to throw him any more than a damn pittance to live off of for the rest of his life!

P.I.: Listen -

WITNESS: And you know what? I know you don't care. You don't! Everyone like him - all those men and women who spilled blood for this so-called ideal, Justice, who're suffering now because of your terrible decisions - they mean absolutely nothing to you. You used them, but now they're broken so you'll move on. You'll just conscript more like them. Build a new base in the New World. You'll move on to other things, because that's what you do best. Moving on. Burying the past. Forgetting all those who were left behind.

WITNESS: (ragged breathing)

P.I.: (silence)

P.I.: (chair creaking) Even if those things you said were true, Arisa-san, that still doesn't disprove any of our suspicions. In fact, it only heightens them. People who are victims are still very much capable of causing harm. Especially to those who care for them the most...

WITNESS: (silence)

[REDACTED]

S.I.: You need to tell us the truth, Arisa-san.

WITNESS: (silence)

WITNESS: (murmuring) This is wrong. All wrong.

[REDACTED]

S.I.: Who gave you those bruises?

WITNESS: (silence)

S.I.: Did things go out of hand? Did he grow violent?

P.I.: Arisa-san, were you in any danger that night?

- static -

WITNESS: (quietly sobbing)

END OF EXCERPT

──────────────────

"To think... that it would come to this."

The words were pronounced with a degree of weariness altogether uncharacteristic of the man speaking them. Setting down the case file in favor of a fresh cigarette, Rear Admiral Hazel Anson furrowed his brow and aimed skeptical eyes upon his two visitors.

Unperturbed, Senior Inspector Lisle Florence settled back into her chair and studied him with mild amusement. Indeed, Hazel Anson was not a man to often be seen so out of his element. At no more than twenty-five years of age, he usually comported himself as if he were all too aware of the incongruence of his youth with his rank, flaunting said incongruence with such latent self-assurance that it could be perceived as intolerable for many. He was representative of one of a dozen archetypes that could be plucked from every cohort of officers churned out by the Academy on a regular basis. Brash, arrogant, and conventionally handsome - your typical spick-and-span poster boy for the Navy down to a T, with every crisp salute and flagrantly contrived smile engrained into muscle memory.

Even the upkeep of his personal study seemed not to have escaped the reach of such sterile, inoffensive artificialities, Lisle noted as she swept a cursory glance about her surroundings. All was immaculate. Not a speck of dust to be seen, not a single book - all standard texts on military strategy from the Academy curriculum, mind you - left out of place from the shelves. Encased within their sturdy oaken frames, diplomas and certificates of merit alike decorated the walls in a gaudy, gold-studded array about as discreet as the multitude of insignias the Rear Admiral was typically seen donning on his uniform.

Now, the look Anson wore was anything but artificial. In a way the inspector had grown so used to his usual facade that the very sincerity in his distraught expression seemed more disconcerting to her than anything else. His face had grown several shades paler as he took a drag and breathed out a pale stream of smoke, his bright green eyes glinting eerily through the dimness.

"Are you..." He paused and swallowed, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Are you absolutely certain that she did it?"

Lisle coolly flicked a sideways glance at her partner, Junior Inspector Vindland Marius. He was a recent graduate from the Academy, still ridden with a jumpy, nervous disposition wont to afflict many a young novice. Diligent yet bumbling and eager to please. Shoulders jerking, he straightened in his seat and cleared his throat.

"Director Tensei wouldn't have sent us otherwise, sir."

Anson was gazing intently into the lamp. The cigarette poised between his fingers trailed a steady stream of smoke which hung over their heads like a grim, static veil.

"If you already have proof of her guilt, then why is it necessary for me to get involved?"

Lisle smiled tersely. The chair emitted a quiet creak as she leaned in.

"You know why, Anson," she chided. "For God's sake, we could have a mountain's worth of smoking gun evidence and the higher-ups'll still be fighting us every step of the way if it means getting her off the hook. Her father will ensure that."

"Exactly," Vindland broke in hurriedly. "Commodore Murasaki is an accomplished Marine, but you can't deny how shortsighted he gets whenever his own family is involved in these sorts of situations. Just look at the Nightingale case. Remember all the strings he pulled in convincing the Fleet Admiral to delay her execution?"

Anson groaned aloud and leaned his face into one hand.

Lisle clasped her hands at the edge of the desk.

"We need an admission, Anson," she urged. "That's the only way we have going forward."

"She's right," Vindland chimed earnestly. "Please consider, Rear Admiral."

"She won't tell me anything," Anson muttered, eyes closed as if to ward off a headache.

"She's more likely to talk to you than a stranger and you know it" Lisle narrowed her eyes almost imperceptibly as she spoke the next words. "At this point, you're the closest non-relative we can get. Our only chance, so to speak."

It was true, loathe as the two inspectors were to admit it. Unlike her elder sisters Teruko and Misato, Murasaki Arisa was not native to Valeris Island. In fact, the exact whereabouts of her birth and upbringing were a complete mystery as far as the Navy was concerned. Available records showed that she had been born the only illegitimate child out of three and had thus been raised by her mother entirely separate from the Commodore and her step-sisters. When it came to identifying childhood friends, classmates, or other close associates who could be screened as a possible informant, the pool to choose from was nearly nonexistent. The lack of information on her past had been one of Lisle's primary challenges in constructing an illuminating profile of their prime suspect.

But still, Anson shook his head.

"Arisa and I aren't all that close," he said. "Besides, we haven't.... We haven't even spoken since the funeral!"

"Then make a reason to meet! You're her sister's fiance for crying out loud; why should she suspect you of anything?"

Anson visibly winced and put his hand down, sweat shining on his brow.

"...Misa doesn't know about this, does she?" he asked quietly.

Vindland stiffened and shot Lisle a questioning look, but she gave her head a decisive shake no. Technically speaking, Murasaki Misato was the perfect candidate for the role - so much so that Lisle had once seriously considered the prospect of recruiting her help, before dismissing the idea as too risky to pursue. Misoto was easily the most pro-Navy of the three sisters and already worked under the Investigative Service as a part of the administrative staff. Prior interrogations with family members also confirmed that her relationship with the suspect was tenuous at best. Whether that was enough to warrant a betrayal was a whole different matter however - a matter the investigative team had ultimately decided wasn't worth parsing at such short notice.

Anson took another drag from his cigarette and sighed heavily. His gaze grew distant, drifting over to the rainfall pattering at the window high above their heads, and a small silence bloomed.

"If I agree to do this and she finds out, she won't ever forgive me," he finally said, voice bleak. "Even she refuses to believe that Arisa did it. Just like the Commodore and Teru-san..." He inhaled sharply through gritted teeth and shook his head frantically. "I'm sorry. There's no way I can do it, Inspector. I might as well be betraying the entire family!"

Lisle watched him carefully with slitted eyes.

"Never mind what they think, for once," she answered. "There's a reason we came to you instead of them. What do you think, Rear Admiral? Do you believe she's capable of doing this?"

"My opinion..." Anson drew in another deep breath. "With all due respect, my opinion shouldn't matter."

Outside, the weak drizzle had intensified into a steady downpour, providing a backdrop of white noise which buzzed like radio static from beyond the walls.

"I don't know about that," Lisle ruminated, resting her chin atop interlaced fingers as she watched torrents of rainwater streak the windows. "You worked with Jasha after all. You knew him very well, didn't you?"

A barely discernible nod was her only answer. Lisle thinned her lips and shared another knowing look with the Junior Inspector. To describe Hazel Anson's relationship with the deceased as strictly a professional one was a gross understatement, and the two of them were well aware of such a fact. From childhood, the Lieutenant Commander had been best friends with the late Captain Hazel Ignas, Anson's younger brother who had only recently been killed in the Summit War. Based on interviews with friends and colleagues, Jasha and his older sister Faye had been considered no less than extended family by the Hazel household.

Lisle broke eye contact and deliberately shifted her gaze to a small, battered picture frame resting atop a bookcase. Enclosed within was a portrait of a smiling young man in an officer's uniform. She let out a heavy sigh and looked away for a moment before raising her chin, her expression grave.

"Think of Ignas," she urged. "What do you think he would have done if he were still here?"

Anson's eyes riveted up to meet hers, flickering dangerously through the dimness.

"...what?"

Vindland shot her a warning look, but Lisle forged forth. The line had already been crossed; to back down now would be a waste of opportunity. She leaned in, lowering her voice intently.

"Don't you think he would've done everything in his power to get Jasha justice?"

The porcelain ashtray rattled loudly as Anson sent one clenched fist slamming down atop the desk and leapt up to his feet, face blanched and twisted with rage.

"You've got some gall bringing my brother into this!" he snapped.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lisle saw Vindland's hand start to move towards the holster at his belt. She halted him with a terse shake of her head and leaned in.

"Both of us know very well what he would've done!" she continued, raising her voice. "What Jasha himself would have done if it had been you or Ignas in his place!"

"Enough!" Anson growled. His hand trembled as he leveled an accusatory finger their way. "We're done here."

"No, we aren't!" Lisle shoved the chair back and rose to her feet. "You made a commitment when you were first made an officer, Anson - an oath to pursue Justice at all costs! You're our only shot at resolving this case and if you're going to refuse, then... then I won't be moving a damn inch until you admit to me and Vindland that by doing so you're willing to shirk your duty the one time it matters the most!"

"Get out," Anson seethed from between gritted teeth.

"Then admit it."

"I said get out!"

"Admit it, goddamnit!" Lisle snapped back. "You're a Marine for God's sake! Be honest with yourself for once and admit the full extent of your decisions! Tell me right now that you'd rather go around living your life in blind ignorance to the fact that your future in-laws are protecting a murderer! Tell me that you don't give a shit about protecting either of your brothers' legacies! Tell me that -!"

Anson's hand moved in a blur to the hilt at his side.

Lisle cut off, effectively silenced by the glinting point of the saber blade now suspended inches away from her throat. Vindland scrambled back with a cry of alarm, knocking his chair over in his haste, and leveled his revolver at Anson in one smooth motion.

The Rear Admiral barely paid heed. He was staring at Lisle wildeyed, lips barely moving to form the following words in a harsh whisper:

"You've said enough, Inspector."

Lisle glanced over at the pale-faced Vindland.

"Put the gun down," she said, voice even.

"But -"

"Put it down, Marius."

The young man swallowed hard, eyes shifting rapidly between the two of them, before tentatively lowering the weapon.

Lisle turned back to Anson, face resolute. His sharp green eyes narrowed in incredulity as she took a step forward, allowing for the icy edge of the blade to barely skim the side of her neck.

"Jasha suffered, Anson," she uttered in a softer voice. "He suffered so, so horribly."

The blade began to tremble against Lisle's throat. She leaned in over the desk, pressing her knuckles against the wood.

"No one deserves to die the way he did."

"I know that." Anson's voice was thick with emotion.

"Yes. But now he has no one left to speak for him. Not Ignas, not his sister..."

The saber hit the edge of the desk and clattered to the floor as Anson recoiled, sinking back down into his chair with a sob and a muttered curse. Lisle went around the desk and knelt to be at his level, placing a hand on his shoulder in a consoling gesture as he finally began to break down under the weight of his grief.

"You're the only one who can help him now, Rear Admiral," she pressed on earnestly. "The only one. I'm sorry for the harsh words, but Vindland and I...we need to get you to understand this at the very least."

Anson could only shake his head mutely.

"I'm not going to lie and tell you that it's going to be easy," Lisle said gently. "But the three of us know that this needs to be done. We can never bring him back, so all we can do now is to fight for Justice. He would've wanted that, don't you think?"

Vindland nodded.

"Your brother, too."

Anson closed his eyes and fell silent for a beat.

"When she showed up here all those years ago..." he finally began, his voice broken. "...and when Jasha first started seeing her... God. Who would have known that things would have turned out like this?"

"I know," Lisle said quietly, bowing her head. "I'm very sorry."

Vindland doggedly imitated the motion.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

Anson shook his head in despair. "Who would have known... that he'd end up dying the way he did? Who would have known that our families would be put at odds like this? This... this all never would have happened if she..." He dragged in a tattered breath. "...if she'd never come along...!"

"Yes. I know."

"They trusted her from the start. Ignas and Faye and Jasha. Accepted her with open arms. That's... that's just how they were. And I was so goddamn naive to believe what they told me about her...!" A subdued sob broke past his throat.

"It wasn't your fault," Lisle said. "No one could have seen it coming."

"She's a monster...!" Anson choked out.

"I know."

Around them, tongues of candlelight flickered violently along the walls of the study, accompanied by a resonant growl of thunder from the storm outside. Alert as she was, the sensations registered to Lisle in a dulled, dream-like quality. A cold, helpless feeling - one akin to fear in its most primitive state - suddenly constricted her chest like a tightening vice as she watched the tortured expression on the Rear Admiral's face morph abruptly amidst his tears, a look of unadulterated loathing settling over his features like a mask.

"A demon...." he whispered in horror, more to himself. "She... she must be a demon. We shouldn't have expected anything better from the Nightingale's daughter. Yes... yes, a demon! Just like her mother before her...!"

Notes:

Here are the English translations to the names/terms mentioned thus far.

Amenoka-ji (天之火寺): Ame-no-ka Shrine; literal translation is Heaven's Fire Shrine

Uguisu-hime (鶯姫): Lady Nightingale

Hitode (海星): Starfish

Kuzuri (貂熊): Wolverine

Taraba (タラバ): Red king crab

Uguisu (鶯): Nightingale

Kotone (琴音): Sound of a harp/koto

Uguisu (鶯) is interchangeable with the romanized Japanese term ナイチンゲール (pronounced "nightingale" like in English). In this story, both "Uguisu" and "the Nightingale" will be used interchangeably to describe the character.

Thanks for reading,

-shiba