“Is that it, turning to words after your actions don’t work?” Jiro stared down at the writhing Kyōsai, “Behind all that talk, you’re just another Talent user like us.”

“That just makes you lot more difficult to kill.” Kyōsai remarked.

Jiro paced around the room while looking at Kyōsai, his entire body was buzzing in anger. Thanks to Saburo’s paper knives Kyōsai could not move, trying to move would just make the stab wound larger than before. Jiro himself didn’t want him to die, expecting him to come to an agreement to help them out.

“You’re not much of a talker once you’re pinned, aren’t you?” Saburo asked.

“Why do you think I would give up information willingly? Do you think I’m stupid?” Kyōsai returned the question.

Meanwhile Jiro, Kazuo, and Ōi were sitting next to the passed-out Rembrandt. “He’s not dead,” Ōi stated, “he just suddenly passed out.” Kazuo inspected Rembrandt’s back and there he saw it, a single needle on his left shoulder, he walked up to Kyōsai and asked him about the needle.

“Needle?” Kyōsai challenged “Do I look like the type of guy who gives two shits about needles?”

“Well this isn’t really coincidence, no?” Kazuo asked in return.

“Same answer, do I look like I know or care?”

“Rembrandt’s replay of the murder, there were three people involved in the murders. Surely, this isn’t coincidence.”

“What will you do if I don’t comply?”

Kazuo snapped his fingers at Saburo, he came over still with a furious expression on his face. The message was clear to Kyōsai, deciding it was not worth convincing these kids that he didn’t know what happened. Kazuo let out and audible sigh and kept the needle in his pocket.

About half an hour later, Rembrandt finally woke up, seeing the trapped Kyōsai pinned down to the floor with Saburo’s paper knives. “How the hell, what did you kids do?!” Rembrandt exclaimed.

“Don’t ask me,” Kazuo stated, “leave that question for Saburo.” Pointing at Saburo scrolling through his phone, looking out of the second story window. Rembrandt walked up to Kyōsai, looking down at him pinned on the floor.

“Not so tough without your lions, aren’t you?” Rembrandt taunted. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun, a gray Desert Eagle with ‘Titus’ imprinted on its handle. “This here is my little friend, Titus.” Rembrandt spoke as he loads ammunition into the gun, “If you won’t answer then I’ll make you.”

“Dutch Maestro don’t make me laugh; the safety isn’t even off.” Kyōsai smugly remarked.

Rembrandt’s tone changed from his usual relaxed voice to a more authoritative tone, “It’s so I can limit myself, I can and will kill do don’t try me.”

“We’re both the same Rembrandt, look at yourself. You call yourself a detective and you still have an impulse to kill.” Kyōsai chuckled, “Two years and you haven’t cha-“. In a sudden flash, Rembrandt had fired a bullet that landed behind Kyōsai’s back. “Try me once, shame on you. Try me twice and I’ll kill you the same way you do your victims.”

“What’s in it for me if I answer you anyway, Mr. Maestro.” Kyōsai lurched, still trying to create a ruse.

“I’ll run out of warning shots, Kyōsai. Just comply or I’ll put this bullet in the middle of your forehead.” Rembrandt said as he aims square at Kyōsai’s head. Rembrandt is by no means a person without morals, he knows when to kill and when not to. But, when facing criminals like Kyōsai, he feels as if he always must resort to using violence as a threat. Someone like Kyōsai does not care when facing death, it’s part of his job and dying is just his final job.

“Who were the other accomplices.” Rembrandt sternly questioned the slightly cowering man in front of him.

“Why do you care? You want to kill me, right?!” Kyōsai laughed at the question, “Come on, fire it straight into my brain!”

“Then tell me at the very least, who do you work for? Who hired you?” Rembrandt continued interrogating.

“Hired? I’m no lowly hitman.” Kyōsai uttered, “Hitmen see their job as well . . . a job. I see it as creating art?”

“So senseless murder is it? No rhyme or reason?” Rembrandt moved closer, the barrel is not even an inch away from Kyōsai’s forehead.

“Most people deserve to die meaningless deaths, but I turn that meaningless death into something of value, something beautiful.” Kyōsai returned.

“Who the hell shares that view.” Jiro interrupted from behind, “Art is the reflection of one’s spirit.”

“And my spirit tells me to kill, we aren’t different you chucklefuck.” Kyōsai countered, “If I didn’t feel any joy from within me when I create my art, then why would I kill so many people?”

Jiro looked surprised and turned his head towards Rembrandt. “Don’t bother to argue,” Rembrandt calmly spoke, “you’d just waste your time.” Kyōsai looked at Jiro’s sour face and started laughing loudly. “Look at you kids, trying and failing. The world is cruel kids, expect anything other than that and surely you’d be disappointed.”

“And why is that?” Asked Saburo from across the room.

“Well, people are born to die, but some are born to kill.” Kyōsai smugly stated. “You guys look like herbivores from my side, all you do is live and die.”

“That’s enough, Kyōsai.” Rembrandt said while switching off the safety from his gun. “Tell me right now you sick bastard. Who the hell ordered you to kill?”

“You seem to be fixated on that, that’s none of your business.” Kyōsai slowly replied. Rembrandt placed his hand on his forehead, took a deep breath then sighed, his face looked drained. “Look, I’m fucking tired. You better answer or I’ll hurt you, I’ve been patient with you all day Kyōsai, give me a straight answer or I’ll keep my word, I will hurt you.”

“Then shoot me you little b-“

Before Kyōsai could finish his sentence, Rembrandt fired a bullet to Kyōsai’s knee. The rest of the group looked at Kyōsai screaming and Rembrandt’s tired and expressionless face. “I’ll do that again.” Rembrandt continued. For the first time the kids had seen violence and Rembrandt’s true nature, a cold blooded detective who would go to lengths to find the truth.

“Tell me, Kyōsai. Who?” Rembrandt looked piercingly at him, still screaming in pain over the bullet wound, “You can kill others like it’s nothing, get shot and you writhe.”

“You’re just lucky, you’re only luck. Like all the times before, like now.” Kyōsai struggled to speak, “Without your stupid fucking Talent, you’re worth nothing.” Rembrandt aimed and fired another round at Kyōsai’s right shoulder sending him to scream once more, cursing repeatedly.

“I still have 7 more rounds in this clip. I won’t hesitate, the same way you do to your victims.” Rembrandt calmly stated, pacing around the room then standing behind Kyōsai. Kyōsai himself looked exhausted. “I’ll tell you.” Kyōsai softly spoke.

“Repeat?” Saburo sternly replied, another paper knife ready at hand. He walked up to Kyōsai ready to threaten him, having the same death stare as Rembrandt while interrogating. Saburo shouted once more, “Repeat!”

“I’ll fucking tell you who sent me to kill, is that enough?!” Kyōsai shouted.

“Then speak.” Rembrandt muttered as he placed the gun behind Kyōsai’s head.

Kyōsai suddenly started taking deep breaths, looking at the paper knife held by Saburo in front of him. “Both of you stand back before I tell alright?”

“Why should we?” Saburo inquired.

“Do as I say if you want me to tell.” Kyōsai continued, warning both Rembrandt and Saburo to move back, he took several deep breaths and looked at Rembrandt, “You want the truth, right? I work for Yoshitoshi, Tsukioka Yoshitoshi!”

As Kyōsai shouted, his remaining lion appeared, biting his upper body off, killing him instantly. Blood splattered onto Rembrandt and Saburo, the group watched in horror as his body slumped over and fell. Ōi and Jiro screamed in horror, watching the events unfold in front of them. Everyone in the room was left speechless, including Rembrandt himself. Ōi and the Gutai group ran out of the building, leaving Rembrandt and what remains of Kyōsai’s corpse. Rembrandt dropped his gun and sat down, looking at the empty room, slowly inhaling the air around him and looking around the grey walls of the room. He looked at his gun and returned it under his coat. He took off his coat and put it over his shoulder, stepping out of the building and looked at the kids sitting on the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry.” Rembrandt said, blankly staring into the sky, “I didn’t know he would do that.” Jiro just gave him a thumbs up, silently watching the cars pass by, “We should just, go back.” Yuko commented while walking up to her bike, “Let’s go, Kazuo.” Kazuo nodded, signaling Jiro and Saburo to get on their bikes as well. Ōi looked at Rembrandt, she poked Rembrandt’s shoulder asking him to go back as well. The group eventually rode back to the Katsushika’s estate, the ride home was quiet, no one dared to talk, something that was held Everyone returned to their rooms except for Rembrandt, watching the sun set. He took out his phone and called his old friend.

“Vincent.” Slowly spoke.

“What’s the matter?” Asked the voice on the other side.

“Bad news, suspect killed himself. But we know who he works for and I need you to help me out.”

“What’s his name, I’ll go look it up.”

“Yoshitoshi, Tsukioka Yoshitoshi he said.”

“I’ll look it up later,” continued the voice, “Anything in mind, Rembrandt? You sound rather exhausted.”

“It’s nothing, I’ll tell you whenever we’ll meet again.”

“If you say so then.”

Rembrandt hung up the phone and tries to figure out his next move, scrolling through his contacts he comes across a familiar name, “Tezuka huh.” He muttered to himself.