Sae had once enjoyed office parties. They could be tedious, and it was unpleasant to be forced to hide a part of herself when her current partner happened to be a woman, but it had been a thrill to be the center of attention, basking in the glamour of being the Champion of Justice who received the attention other prosecutors on the dreamed of. But as she surveyed the contents of closet, all she felt was a slow, creeping nausea.

The dresses that belonged to her former life were still there. Not as tasteless as the demon who haunted her drug-addled nightmares, but still cut to flatter a woman aware of her beauty. But Sae was scarred, and evening wear would only cause more gossip and staring at her disfigurement than she would already have to endure.

Then she saw the solution, and her nausea intensified. The yukata hung at the back of her closet. She had only worn it once, for an excursion to a shrine in Hakone that Ayumi had insisted on. If was dark blue, the silk has high-quality as everything else she owned. It would cover her legs and the scars on her body without seeming too dowdy. But it felt like a betrayal. She had spent her life running from the tradition that would have seen her only as a wife and mother. She was modern, professional. Everything that the yukata was not. And yet...she could imagine the sniggers at the Wilton at a woman who dared to show off a twisted leg and a lattice of scars. She took the yukata.

"Sis, are you—oh." Makoto took a tentative step into the room. "Do you want me to come back later?"

"No. Can you help me with my hair? You always were better at parting it." Sae smiled at the memory. When they were children, Makoto had been fascinated by her sister's long silver hair and had taken any chance she could to play with it. That was how they should have stayed: sisters who had fun together and told each other secrets instead of guardian and ward that made her worry about Makoto being safe and provided for instead of happy.

Parasite, said the voice in her head.

"To the left?" Makoto asked, but they both knew that it wasn't really a question. Attempting to hide her scars might be a futile endeavor, but the moment you stop trying, you started the slow descent to becoming one of those invalids who needed an aide to clean you and dress you. Makoto brushed her hair to one side. At least she could hide some of the jagged edges.

"Thank you." See, she isn't a parasite.

"You're welcome." Makoto seemed almost surprised at the courtesy. "I think it's good of you to get out like this."

"I go to work and I ride. I don't have the time or energy to do anything else and still fulfill my responsibilities to you." Unbidden images flashed across her mind: staring up at Mount Fuji with the other tourists and being so overcome that she had taken Ayumi's hand, wearing the hats with silly ears during an impromptu trip to Destinyland after a boyfriend had confessed that he had never been, posing nude the first time after she passed the bar and being thrilled at indulging this side of herself that are straitlaced coworkers would never know about. "And anyway, these parties are effectively mandatory. I hope I haven't made a mistake, not taking you. It's never too early to make contacts."

"I don't mind. It's kinder of you to take Kitagawa."

Kind. The dark presence within Sae recoiled at the word. Oh, you don't like that do you? "I hope it's a kindness to him. He was so strange, in a way Ayumi and the other artists she had known had never been. Sad. Earnest and awkward and blunt, but not cruel, or at least not intentionally. And he had truly seemed not to care about her disfigurement. He was fascinated with her hands, her eyes. And it had been nice to be admired, to put herself on display because it was her choice to show off a positive. Perhaps, Kitagawa was merely flattering her vanity, but for the hour he had been here, she had felt a bit like her old self. That was worth a meal and an escort to the Wilton.

Makoto finished her hair. Sae would never be a beauty again, and the flowing material of the yukata felt awkward, but her hair was glossy and the good half of her face adorned with the subtle makeup that she had always worn. She looked like a woman who belonged at the prosecutor's office. "Thank you," she said again. If remembering basic politeness kept away the imp of the perverse during waking hours, she would be so courteous that even Akechi couldn't find fault.

The doorman buzzed. "Ms. Niijima? Yusuke Kitagawa to see you."

Sae took a deep breath and willed the tremor in her hands to stop. She had once been the toast of all Japan. She could handle an office party and a socially-awkward high school student. "He's expected."

Kitagawa arrived a few minutes later. His hair still fell a little too much in front of his eyes to be entirely respectable, and his uniform still looked too big for him, but he had added the blazer and he stood with perfect posture as they looked at each other. "Ms. Niijima? Am I presentable? Sensei was no help at all as he prefers traditional garb." He gestured wildly to the yukata. "Should I have worn traditional garb? I don't have enough money for train fare home, but I would probably make it back in time if I walked and—" He took a breath to steady himself. "Pardon my manners. Hello. You look lovely."

Sae forced her face to be impassive. Growling would be counterproductive. The entire point of the evening was for Kitagawa to work on his social awkwardness. It was going to be a long evening. "Hello. I told you your uniform would suffice and I meant it. You look more professional than some of my colleagues.

He beamed at the compliment. Makoto was beaming too. "Enjoy yourself tonight."

"It's only a party. And, yes, a kindness. I won't insult you by reminding you to do your homework while I'm gone." She turned to Kitagawa. "Shall we go? We have to get the car. I walk slowly, but we should arrive in plenty of time."

He nodded, accepting this. Prosecutor and artist lumbered towards the parking garage. A few of her neighbors stopped to gawk, though whether they were transfixed by the novelty of Sae in a yukata or the student at her side, she couldn't say. Kitagawa was silent, taking in the sights around him. He had seemed so fascinated by the elegance of the apartment the other day. Really, Madarame should have accustomed him to such things by now. He could talk about "detachment from worldly desires" all he liked, but Sae remembered his mistress and her art collection worth over sixty million yen.

She'd always had a weakness for black Leopards and had never seen a reason to stop. Kitagawa's eyes nearly popped out of his head again. Sae couldn't decide if it was charming or irritating. "Is that...well I'd never dreamed I would be able to ride in such a luxurious vehicle." He had the same thrilled, scandalized tone Sae had had the first time a girlfriend had asked her to model. Charming, she decided. Definitely charming.

"And the heated seats in winter are a lifesaver," she said with a smile.

They rode together in silence. Kitagawa seemed content to look out the window while Sae mentally rehearsed Small talk. Yes, the weather had been a bit chilly lately, the caseload was always getting bigger but it couldn't really be helped. Had they tried the new restaurant in Shibuya? The same polite inanities as always.

"Excuse me." Kitagawa's voice pierced the silence. "What are you whispering under your breath? Is it something I need to know?"

Sae bit back a curse. She must be really nervous if she were talking to herself. "Merely practicing how to navigate the conversation tonight. No one's really interested in what anyone else says unless it's about a case or really juicy gossip, but we have to keep up appearances."

"Ah." He thought for a moment, then frowned. "If no one is interested in what anyone has to say, then why do they talk?"

"I...have no idea. I think it makes the people at the top feel even more important, and those of us at the bottom have to fit in to survive."

"And I am at the bottom, aren't I?" He sighed. "What do I talk about?"

"Mostly, people will expect you to smile and nod. You— Don't matter. You're just a student I'm letting be here out of charity. That's what they would say." But Kitagawa looked as if people had told him that he didn't matter for most of his life. "There's no one you need to impress here. Say you're an artist. It makes them feel cultured. People watch. Maybe inspiration will strike. And Akechi will be there. He's around your age." Akechi had mentioned that he had a lead on the shutdowns. Maybe she could get him alone long enough to do her actual job.

The Wilton Hotel never changed: the same gold and cream color scheme, the same almost invisible staff. Even the patrons blurred into a sea of identical suits and dresses. Chatter and soft music collided into a gentle cacophony. Kitagawa pressed close to her. "It's terribly loud. I can hardly concentrate."

"Smile and nod and don't wear yourself out." Her leg throbbed slightly, as if to remind her that she too needed to pace herself.

They stepped into the press. Most of the people were her colleagues or prosecutors from other departments and their significant others, but there were always a few ambitious law students, business people, or others desperate to make a connection. Sae limped through the crowd, glancing behind her every few seconds to make sure that Kitagawa hadn't been swallowed up by the crowd. People paused for the briefest of moments as they passed, watching. Even those who worked with her every day seemed to struggle to hide their fascination. Sae kept her head held high.

"I see you've decided to be sociable," said her director. He held a wine glass in one hand. "Good. You of all people know how critical relationships are to our work."

Sae suppressed a smile. For the director to address her so early in the evening was a sign of favor. Perhaps she was finally proving that she still had value. "Of course sir."

He smiled. It was warm and sympathetic, but there was a glint in his eyes that Sae didn't like. "You should try the wine." His gaze swept over her legs. "Oh. I forgot. You gave up drinking. My apologies. Well, more's the pity."

Sae winced. That—that...he probably knew more about how her medication interacted with alcohol then she did. But he was her director, so she plastered on a smile that made her face ache. "I'll do that, sir."

"Good. As long as you prove you're a team player when the cameras aren't around and you continue to prove you can handle the demands of the job, there might be a bright future for you here in the SIU. From small things come great rewards."

Sae understood. The time where merely showing up at the office and doing her job was over. But endure the petty misappropriation cases and put up with the insults and maybe she could dream of a promotion. "Great things produce even greater rewards. The mental shutdown case must be solved."

He chuckled. "And you think you're just the woman to do it. Always ambitious, Champion. But I'm not convinced they're connected, and I'd hate to see you exhaust yourself." He scanned the crowd. "Ah, there's Representative Ooe. Excuse me."

Sae gritted her teeth. More slights. She had been a fool to take on the yakuza, but she was still the best prosecutor the SIU had. And the cases were connected. The results were too similar and strange for it to be otherwise, and yet she was dismissed because she was disabled and a woman.

"Does your director dislike you?" Kitagawa asked. "He doesn't seem to hold you in high regard."

It must be obvious if even he was picking up on it. "I'll prove him wrong. All I need is time and a lead."

"You were so snappish with me the other day, and yet you endured his treatment of you."

"Don't say it so loudly." He was here to learn, and maybe she could teach him the lesson Makoto hadn't yet absorbed. "We endure treatment we hate to survive. Right now, he has the power. But if I can outlast him and solve this case, then I'll have respect and a promotion and all the power that comes with that. Do you understand? Insults don't matter as long as you live to fight another day."

"I understand," he whispered with such pain that Sae had a brief, irrational desire to put her hand on his shoulder.

They made their way to the buffet. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary—tuna and eel, rice and sweets—but Kitagawa's eyes glittered with ill-disguised greed. "All we can eat? Truly?"

"That's what 'all-you-can-eat buffet means, kid." Ai Kinoka smiled as she helped herself to some steak. She was a homicide prosecutor who nodded and didn't stare when she passed Sae in the halls and the restroom, and they had passed files back and forth on a few cases. When you were two of the only women in the prosecutors office, that almost made you friends. "Niijima's finally feeling well enough to party. And wearing a yukata. Now I've seen everything."

"There's nothing unusual about wearing a yukata," said Kitagawa as he looked up from dumping a cut of sirloin on to his plate. "I wear a yukata. So does Sensei."

"Yes, but your livelihood doesn't depend on bucking tradition." Kinoka turned back to Sae. "Cute kid. Who's your friend?"

Sae made the introductions. "Kitagawa is a pupil of Madarame's. He's here observing." With any luck, Kinoka wouldn't ask what was observing.

She didn't. She pursed her lips. "Madarame...that reminds me, there was something I wanted to pick your and Akechi's brains about. Have you seen him?"

"Not yet." She wished he would arrive and save her from this small talk, condescension, and pity."

The ache in Sae's leg had intensified by the time they made it back to their table. She took deep, even breaths. Whatever happened, she mustn't let the pain show on her face. Her weakness would be all over the office by morning. As long as she didn't overexert herself, she could make it through. Maybe she wouldn't need the painkillers and the demon they brought.

I'm always here, said the soft voice. The drugs just let us talk face-to-face. After all, I'm the real you.

"Shut up," Sae whispered.

Kitagawa paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Are you all right."

"Fine." The only thing worse than being seen as weak was being seen as crazy. "I'm afraid that I'm not a very good teacher. Out of practice at this."

"There's nothing wrong with wearing a yukata. You do look quite pleasing, and it's part of your heritage."

Anything to change the subject. "I've always preferred Western dress. It's more professional for a woman. Kimonos and yukata are for wives and mothers. Traditional roles, traditional dress."

Kitagawa laughed so loudly that the couple at the next table stared at them. It was a deep, rich, mortifying sound. "What a fine joke." He looked around and his face flushed. "No one's laughing. That's truly what you think of the yukata?" Embarrassment and horror had replaced mirth in his voice.

Sae nodded.

"But that's—Hojo Masako and Tomoe Gozen are part of this nation's patrimony. What is a prosecutor but a mix of politician and warrior?" Kitagawa leaned forward in his chair, his voice breaking as he spoke. "You should feel honored to connect with such tradition. Anyone who uses our noble past to limit you is the one who is disgracing the yukata,"

The couple at the next table was listening again, but with admiration this time. Sae swallowed the lump in her throat. "Thank you. That was a very good speech. I don't think you needed my help at all."

Kitagawa beamed.

"Sae and a gentleman who can combine the defense of feminism and traditional dress." Akechi approached their table, as bright-eyed and chipper as ever. "You must try the crepes. They're delicious."

Kitagawa rose and bowed. "You're the Detective Prince. I've seen you on television."

"I have been granted a small measure of notoriety, true. Less so than Sae, but I hope I use it as well as she did.

The pain scraped at Sae's leg. Akechi was a prodigy and one of the few investigators she trusted absolutely, but he mentioned her former adulation every chance he got, probably to reassure himself that he had something in common with the adults. "I need to speak with you in private."

"And I you." He turned to Kitagawa. "Will you be comfortable by yourself for a few minutes."

"I'm quite used to being alone."

Someone should deliver a stern lecture to those bullies or to Madarame or to whoever was responsible. But duty called. She hobbled forward until she and Akechi were huddled into the corner nearest the kitchens. Kinoka was already there, watching Sae with obvious concern. "Do I need to get a chair?"

Sae braced herself against the wall. "It would draw even more attention to us. You said you had a lead, Akechi?"

"I do. Or rather, Ms. Kinoka does."

Kinoka leaned in close and lowered her voice. "You know Yasuo Joichi? We've been after the guy for years."

"Get in line behind Organized Crime." Joichi was dirty even by real estate standards, buying up businesses and apartments in poor neighborhoods, jacking up the rent, and then luring well-heeled foreigners with promises of artinsal coffee stores and boutique fashion. He bragged openly of driving poor proprietors out of business and flaunted his wealth with gaudy jewelry more at home and a host club. And there were rumors of what happened when people refused to sell, that Joichi was make-deep in with the yakuza. Rumors she had never been able to prove, alas. "You caught a break."

"Maybe. Joichi's been playing around with some new ventures, lately. Mostly losing his shirt, except for one investment: Natsumi and Associates Art Consulting."

"The people who are responsible for half the artists in the triennial?" Everyone even tangentially related to the Tokyo art scene knew about Natsumi. They specialized in turning young, unknown artists into superstars. Newly wealthy hedge fund managers and Hollywood producers and actors called them when they wanted a touch of the exotic. Prefectures consulted them on public art projects. One of their clients had gone from obscurity to superstardom overnight when a painting had sold for four billion yen. And Ayumi...Ayumi was with them now.

"I thought that would get your attention. Anything Joichi is interested in, we're interested in. And seems they've been diversifying their holdings lately, They've been buying up a lot of Madarames over the last few years. And each purchase occurred within days of a shutdown."

"I doubt Madarame himself is aware how his work is being used," Akechi stroked his chin. "Art is a good investment, and he doesn't benefit from screening the buyers. Natsumi, though..." He shook his head. "Joichi is, bluntly, too stupid to mastermind a conspiracy, but every such enterprise needs its patsies and money men. Though this one is particularly loathsome on his own merits."

"Personal experience?" Kinoka asked.

Akechi's smooth smile faltered. "I did not always hold the exalted position that I do now. I saw firsthand what men like Joichi do to those who can least afford it. If he is a conspirator, I doubt his fellows would miss him. They'd probably thank you. More of the pie for them, you see."

But even worms like that had value. If she could bring down Joichi and flip him there would be no question of her competence ever again. "I may have to call on Natsumi. Thank you both."

"If this works out, I want some of the credit." Kinoka smiled. "I want to be the golden girl for once."

"All that glitters..." said Akechi with a smile. He took Sae by her free arm and led her back to the party. "It will mean returning to the art world."

"I was never a member, just a hanger-on with an expensive hobby. And I will do whatever I have to to solve this case." She allowed herself a small smile. "And if Madarame's works really are being used to launder the money, the embarrassment will almost be worth it."

"What embarrassment?"

Of all the...Madarame himself stood at the edge of the throng, smiling cheerfully. "What are you doing here?"

"Such manners." He tutted. "I wanted to see how Yusuke was getting along. Where is he?" He frowned and shook his head. "He hasn't embarrassed you already, has he? He has such trouble in crowds."

"Mr. Kitagawa has conducted himself quite well. Better than I expected, actually."

"Really? That's...unexpected."

Sae narrowed her eyes. Any student who wanted to be anything in the art world dreamed of studying with the great Madarame, but such things had their price. He was known to be strict, forbidding all worldly pleasure. Many had cracked. One had committed suicide shortly after leaving his tutelage. Weakness, said those who had never thought of the shadows in the dark of night. Harsh, perhaps too harsh, but such was the way of the world. Students who failed the Center Test committed suicide, too. And yet, Madarame seemed almost disappointed. "I trust you do everything you can to help him thrive in these situations."

"I'm offended you would think otherwise. Yusuke is my son, legally. You of all people should know what an effort it takes to become someone's guardian." He took a deep breath. "But Yusuke is eccentric. I'm surprised he hasn't challenged someone to a duel for offending his sense of aesthetics."

"Well, he hasn't. You might consider taking him out more often."

"I might." He scanned the crowd as the director had done. "My, one of your colleagues looks like he's had a bit too much to drink. I should assist him." And with that, he vanished.

Akechi watched him go. "You and Madarame truly dislike each other, don't you?"

"Yes." Sae was too pained and exhausted for niceties. "I took his mistress from him. And the artists who were my friends and...more were younger, more adventurous, on the canvas and in the real world. According to him, we were scandalous and should have failed."

"You? Improper? I shall alert the press." He thought for a moment. "It's nothing that I would have to arrest you over, I hope?"

"Nothing like that. And nothing that is any of your concern." Sometimes, she could almost feel Ayumi's teeth scraping her skin. Now pain was her constant companion. There was a lesson in there somewhere.

She found Kitagawa as she had left him, devouring what looked to be an entirely different steak. Did no one else feed him? He looked up as she and Akechi approached. "Did you have a nice time. I mean, was it productive? I mean—my apologies. The noise is fatiguing."

"It's fatiguing for me, too. We don't have to stay much longer." She and Akechi looked at each other. "Has Madarame mentioned Natsumi lately?"

"Not that I can recall. He has his own agents for the primary market." He scowled. "They are so dreadfully commercial. No respect for beauty, just what they can sell. And they taint every artist they touch. Taking private jets to Switzerland and promoting their works as if they were circus performers instead of artists. My word." He panted. "Again, my apologies."

Akechi seemed unperturbed. "It's natural to become angry when things we love are perverted. And yet, they could do much to help you. Don't they offer scholarships to students? Perhaps Sae could introduce you."

Sae understood. "I'm not using him as bait."

"Bait? What's going on?"

Akechi ignored him. "Bait implies Mr. Kitagawa would be in danger himself. This is merely a pretext, an excuse to reinsert yourself into the art world. You could show him around at the galleries and such if you needed to make it look real."

"Sensei would never agree. Natsumi is everything his art is not. Everything I never want my art to be." A pained look flashed across his face. "But to meet with real gallery owners…"

"I'm sure Sae would be happy to arrange it for you."

Sae glared at Akechi. It was one thing to take Kitagawa out for an evening, quite another to use him even tangentially in an investigation and to keep taking him out. Despite her and Madarame's mutual loathing, he wasn't demand across without a good reason.

"Well, look who finally decided that she wanted to look like a real woman." A man lurched towards them, red-faced from too much alcohol. Sae groaned inwardly. Taki Inutse was legendary among the female prosecutors for his willingness to grope any of them while simultaneously holding forth that the country would be better off if they returned home and popped out children like they were supposed to. "Though with a face like that, it's probably too late too find someone to marry you."

Rage simmered beneath Sae's skin. She ought to hit him in the face with her cane, remind him that he was just another prosecutor and not nearly as indispensable as he thought he was. But scenes meant got some. "Go home. Save yourself some embarrassment. "

"Me? Embarrassed? You're the one who should be embarrassed. Parading around the office like you're one of the men, taking good cases that should've been mine. Being crippled wasn't a big enough hint that you don't belong?" He gestured wildly to the yukata. "Why don't you go all the way and just slink into the background like a good little girl?"

Sae wondered if she could get away with choking him. Her kickboxing days were over, but her ground game was good enough that she could have Inutse begging for mercy before he knew what had happened. Akechi might even cover for her. "The background is for prosecutors of your skill level, not mine."

It took a comically long moment for her words to register. Inutse spluttered. "Are you insulting me?"

People were beginning to stare. Sae's cheeks burned. She had drawn too much of the wrong kind of attention tonight. Akechi took Inutse by the arm. "That's enough now, sir."

Inutse jerked away. "I won't be insulted by this parody of a woman who dishonors everything about this country, right down to the clothes. I ought to—"

"You ought to be silent!" Kitagawa bolted from his chair. "It's people like you who disgrace this country! Pigeonholing people into your own narrow binary. Mocking them for things they cannot control!"

"Who are you? Niijima's cheering section? Or something else?" Inutse's eyes glittered with ill-concealed malice. "Are you dating teenagers now? I thought it was only men who paid kids to hang out with them, but you always did want what we had."

"That's enough, Inutse!" Akechi pulled him back.

"I will not have you cast aspersions on the character of a woman who has been so kind to me." Kitagawa's voice softened, and his eyes were hard and cold. "Retract your slander immediately or I'll bring you up on charges for defamation."

This couldn't be happening. It was defamation, but Inutse and his friends would make sure he never saw the inside of a courtroom. She and Kitagawa would both be laughing stocks. The director would have his chance to be rid of her. "I can defend myself."

"Heh, you couldn't defend yourself from the yakuza. Do you even know who I am?"

"A bully, among other things."

Inutse roared drew back a fist. Kitagawa dodged. Drink had made Inutse clumsy and he wobbled forward before crashing to the floor. For a long second Sae forgot how to breathe as she looked at the groaning Inutse. Nothing was ever supposed to happen at these parties. She was supposed to keep her head down and smile and nod and prove that she was a competent prosecutor. Not be fought over like a heroine in a poem.

The room exploded.

"Inutse's finally gone too far this time. Bullying a child."

"Niijima never was very feminine, you have to admit."

"And it was such a nice party."

"I hope this doesn't make the paper. The public would completely lose confidence in us."

"Oh, I am going to have such a story tomorrow."

Sae collapsed into her chair. A story. This was going to be all over the office by morning. And the papers might pick it up at that. Prosecutor Assaults Art Student Attempting to Defend Other Prosecutor.

Footsteps sounded. Madarame and her director burst through the crowd. Her director merely scowled, but Madarame trembled with rage, his skin pale except for two spots of color on his cheeks. "What is the meaning of this?"

Kitagawa certainly looked very small and very young. "Sensei, I—"

"I knew it was a mistake to let you come here. You're simply too excitable. It's a good thing I was here to save you further embarrassment."

"Mr. Kitagawa did nothing wrong," Akechi offered. "Mr. Inutse fell after attempting to strike Mr. Kitagawa and saying truly vile things about Sae. If I'm not mistaken, he was quite correct to say Inutse should be charged with defamation, though I understand practical concerns may make that unwise."

"You threatened to have a public prosecutor arrested for defamation?" Madarame hastily turned to the director. "My apologies for this disgrace."

"The disgrace appears to be entirely with us." The director jerked his head toward the exit. "Niijima, a word?"

The pain slithered up her leg, blocking out all other emotions, even humiliation. "Can it wait, sir?" She whispered.

He sniffed. "Come by my office first thing in the morning. If we're lucky, this little scandal won't impact anyone's careers in the long-term. You use to be much better about keeping the personal and professional separate." He turned on his heel and walked away.

See, you're weak. You really should let me take over.

"If you'll excuse us, I'll take Yusuke home for you." Sae was dimly aware of Madarame and Kitagawa leaving.

Sae buried her face in her hands. Couldn't one thing go right for her? She had abandoned her foolish crusades for a justice that didn't exist. What more did the world want from her?

"Will you be up to drive home?" Akechi asked softly.

"Maybe. If I can rest somewhere quiet for a while." The world had seen her weak for long enough tonight.

Akechi practically carried her outside and onto a bench in the hallway. "Easy. Deep breaths."

From Champion of Justice to being saved by a high schooler. Do you really think you can take on a CEO, the most powerful art conglomerate in the city, and who-knows-what else?

"Stop," Sae whispered.

"Sae, are you well?"

"I have never been so humiliated!" Madarame's voice was another knife stabbing her already pain-filled brain. "Some of the people in that room were clients! Do you imagine they'll commission me now?"

Sae raised her head. Kitagawa and Madarame stood a few meters away. Madarame loomed over his pupil, the fury that had been veiled in public now set free. Kitagawa cowered. A knife twisted in Sae's heart. The entire incident had been humiliating, but no one should have that look in their eyes.

Really? If he had just kept his head down, maybe you wouldn't have had a flareup from the excitement.

"I'm sorry, Sensei. I didn't mean—"

"Yes, Yusuke, you will be sorry. From now on you can stay at home. You clearly cannot handle the company of ordinary people."

"Such a bully," Akechi whispered. "Excuse me."

"What are you doing, Akechi?"

But Akechi was already striding forward, all confidence and charm. "Mr. Madarame! How lovely to see you again. I just wanted to thank you for allowing your student to come here tonight. Sae finally being out and about means a great deal to me."

Madarame stepped back and blinked. His cheeks were red. "Pardon me for allowing you to see this, Detective Prince."

"Oh, I've seen such things a thousand times before. Don't trouble yourself about it. But there's no need to be embarrassed by Mr. Kitagawa's actions. Indeed, he may be the key to preventing you from suffering a great deal of embarrassment."

"What sort of embarrassment?"

"During the course of my investigation, I discovered that a number of your pieces had been purchased with the intent of laundering money. I'm not at liberty to discuss the details, but the conspiracy seems to be quite large and anything to do with them would be front-page news."

Madarame's eyes went wide. It would have been comical if Sae hadn't been so much pain. "I assure you that all my business dealings fall within the bounds of the law."

"Naturally. You can't be responsible for the secondary market. Still, it would be better keep your name out of it altogether. I'm sure the police would be more than happy to keep your name out of this investigation—if you consent to Mr. Kitagawa's assistance. Let Sae accompany him to some galleries and such like to provide cover for our investigation."

No. Kitagawa hadn't been able to control himself tonight. It wouldn't be fair to use him. This case was too important. She was already on thin ice. She needed the best.

Kitagawa looked at her. He didn't look passionate or artistic or eccentric. He looked pained and frightened. She had seen that look too many times when she had gone to Family Court to arrange for Makoto's guardianship. Tokyo was stuffed with orphans who depended on the charity of orphanages or foster parents. Children who endured privations that were legal but still shocked the conscience.

Another memory. Madarame standing around a crowd of admirers. "I don't begrudge anyone their success, but people like Niijima should at least try to fit in. This country depends on everyone knowing their place."

You can't possibly be considering this, the voice said. He'll only drag you down. I thought we agreed that the only thing that mattered was winning. You can't save Kitagawa. You can't even save yourself.

Sae smiled grimly. She couldn't keep her strange doppelganger out of her mind. She would take her pills tonight and visit the ruined casino once more. And in the long run, nothing she did would make any difference. But for this moment, she could have a victory over the demon. "I'd be honored to have Mr. Kitagawa's assistance. He needs to make more reference sketches, after all."

Madarame opened his mouth and closed it again. "Well, of course. Anything to assist the authorities. As long as Yusuke continues to fulfill his obligations at home."

"Thank you! Ms. Niijima, I swear I'll assist you however I can." He grew serious. "It seems I must learn to survive Natsumi's corruption."

"Don't thank me, Kitagawa. You're going to help me win." And maybe then Sae could put her ghosts to rest.

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