“I’d suspected as much for quite some time,” said Saijou. He faced Mao across the pure white table, that white peony still blooming on his shoulder. “Even during the Nagasaki incident, the crime was planned based on the knowledge of how the parties involved would look to someone who possessed a shard of the Mirror of Illumination. That made it seem as if Ibara might have one on his side as well.” He narrowed his eyes, remembering. “I thought it might have been Mayuka, but if Ibara is to be believed, he wasn’t acquainted with her at the time.”
“You know someone like her could never have been his assistant.” Mao’s voice grew sharper.
Mayuka Asaka had also possessed a shard of the Mirror of Illumination. Mao had never met her, but she’d heard that the woman had abused her eye’s power by using it to blackmail people. On top of that, on the night Ibara had visited, she’d killed herself.
She was just another sinner who’d escaped punishment by dying.
“She may have extorted large sums of money from sinners,” said Shiroshi lightly, “but you have forced them to participate in a game where their lives are at stake. What difference is there between you, really?”
Mao’s temper flared, and she almost shouted at him. It took her the space of a breath to calm down. As she did, it all began to seem ridiculous. Technically, she didn’t even need to have this conversation.
All she had to do was end it.
“…It doesn’t look as though we have anything more to discuss.”
She picked up her smartphone, which she’d set on the table nearby. Removing its cover, she exposed the contents.
Swinging the sliding grip down revealed a trigger, transforming the device into a small pistol. It was a smartphone gun, a weapon that had been released in America a few years back. It even had a dummy camera lens, so it wouldn’t have been possible to see it for what it was at a glance. Covering it with a wallet-type case made it even more difficult.
“I see. So that’s the gun you used to shoot Ishizuka. No wonder even Tosu failed to notice it.” Saijou looked impressed.
Wordlessly, Mao set the muzzle against her temple.
Ibara had given her this gun, and she didn’t really understand what it could do or how it was put together. But she knew that pulling the trigger would make it fire a bullet, and that was enough.
“…So you really are planning to kill yourself before dawn.” Saijou sighed. Even that remark was irrelevant now.
“It’s just as you said yourself a little while ago: If two or more of the sinners targeted for execution are alive when we reach our destination, the detective wins. Since only Mr. Tohno and I count, if I kill myself, you lose right away.”
That had been Ibara’s plan.
If one party explained the rules in advance, and the other party accepted them, the duel would be valid no matter how unfair it might be.
Once exchanged, a promise was binding. Just as the protagonist of the Haseo-zoushi had bet his life on the sugoroku match with the oni of the Suzaku gate.
“In other words, you intend to throw your life away merely to ensure Ibara’s victory in tonight’s contest. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. That was our agreement all along. I wanted him to punish one hundred sinners for me. I paid him with myself.”
Aside from the five who’d died through misadventure, manslaughter, or suicide before Hell could punish them, Ibara had granted that wish.
Mao was also the one who’d asked to execute those five at the end. She’d wanted to end this demon horde’s parade with her own hands.
“…I see. Yes, that’s quite clear,” Saijou murmured. Softly, he closed his eyes. In his white robe, it almost made him look like an actual corpse.
Huh?
Just then, a glint of light caught Mao’s eye. Something silver gleamed through the black hair hung over Saijou’s ear. Don’t tell me… Is that—?
“It’s quite clear what a foolish thing you’ve done.”
“Huh?” She hadn’t meant to speak, but the word slipped out.
She couldn’t tell what he meant. Maybe this was just sour grapes. But a premonition she couldn’t ignore sent a shiver down her spine. It was as if she was facing something more terrible than any monster.
At that point, she finally remembered: The boy in the burial robe across the table from her was also one of Hell’s demons.
Slowly, his eyes opened.
Then those eyes—even darker than the dead of night—came to rest on Mao.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Now then, let’s send you to Hell.”
With the bone-white face of an oni, he flashed her a mocking smile.