MHA: Jigsaw Reborn

Chapter 9: Revelations

(A/N: I'll keep this message short and sweet, enjoy the chapter! Don't forget to leave a comment or a review as well, all your feedback is well appreciated!)

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[2 Days Later]

[Narrator's POV]

It was a cacophonous symphony of police sirens and camera flashing lights, urgent conversations, and the hum of a restless city. The early morning cold breeze caused the crime scene tape to flutter, obstructing the entry to a seemingly mundane abandoned building that now demanded the attention of the entire nation.

News of the tragedy spread like a forest fire, with the media descending like a pack of hyenas on a fresh carcass. Their cameras captured every angle, every flicker of movement, grovelling for any piece of new information.

Detective Tsukauchi stood within the cornered-off area, his eyes scanning the reporters, camera crews, and curious onlookers who were all mushed together just beyond the yellow tape like a can of sardines.

Even as the early morning sun enlightened the area with its warm rays of light, the magnitude of what had transpired within the building seemed to cast a shadow on everything. The detective turned to face the entrance to the building. Though he was outside, he could feel the chilling dread of the air inside the building. The air was so thick he could almost grasp it.

"Detective, is it true that the victim was a Pro Hero?" one reporter shouted, doing her best to shove a microphone towards his way. Another camera crew closed in, their lenses trained on Tsukauchi, eager for any confirmation, any detail that could fuel the already frenzied speculation.

He didn't respond, his face locked to show only cold and serious professionalism as he made his way into the building, closing the doors behind him. The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete as the hum-buzz of a dim yellow light flickered from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows on the old walls.

Tsukauchi, wasting no time, descended to the basement where the body had been found. As he reached the bottom of the steps, the crime scene came into full view.

The forensics team moved with precision, their gloved hands carefully collecting water samples from around the room, which now felt more akin to a tomb. Accompanied with them were a handful of crime scene photographers scattered over the place, taking photos of every detail they saw.

Off to Tsukauchi's far right, he took note of a senior police officer talking to two kids, both no older than 19 years old, dressed like they were about to paint graffiti on walls. "Those two must have been the ones who made the call..." he muttered to himself, taking his hands out of the pockets of his tan trenchcoat.

And at the centre of it all, a cold metal chair sat bolted to the floor, its restraints still in place, but now hauntingly empty. His gaze then turned towards the clear glass container, now drained of water but still suffocating in its presence.

Masaki Mizushima, the hero known as Manual, was no more.

"What the fuck happened here?" Tsukauchi murmured under his breath, coiling one of his hands into a tight fist. "This is just like that previous case..." and he was right. The parallels were undeniable with the case a few weeks ago — another victim, another elaborate trap.

"Detective Tsukauchi," a voice called out behind him, pulling the man away from his thoughts and back to reality. He turned to see a junior officer, his face a pale white as he handed over a file. "Here are some of the initial reports we've gathered from the scene."

Tsukauchi nodded, flipping through the pages with a growing sense of sickness in his chest. A lingering thought crossed his mind that this certainly wouldn't be the last trap. But compared to before, the stakes were much higher.