The One Eyed King

Another day, another slaughter

Naomasa Tsukauchi stood in the observation room, his face hard but tired as he glanced through the one-way mirror at the man sitting nervously in the interrogation room. Beside him, Kenji Tsuragamae, the police chief with a canine-like head, was sipping his coffee, his brow furrowed as he flipped through his own set of notes.

The man in the interrogation room was tall, his clothes disheveled, and his face haggard, he hadn't slept at all, that much was clear. His hands were shaking slightly, tapping rhythmically on the table as he sat hunched over. His eyes darted around the room, haunted and afraid.

"So," Tsukauchi began, scanning the file he held in his hand. "What exactly is the story here?"

Kenji set down his coffee with a sigh. "Well, apparently, this man and his friend were attacked by a villain last night." He glanced at the man through the glass. "They were walking through an alley, and out of nowhere, something came at them."

Tsukauchi raised an eyebrow, flipping through the report casually. "Sounds pretty basic. I'm guessing there's more to it?"

Kenji's ears twitched slightly. "The thing is, the villain didn't just attack them. He ate his friend. Right in front of him."

The words struck Tsukauchi like a punch to the gut, his eyes widening as he froze mid-flip. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he swallowed hard and regained his composure. He turned the page to the crime scene photos, his breath catching in his chest as the images unfolded before him.

The first photo was of a mangled, twisted body, almost unrecognizable as human. Blood was smeared across the alley walls, thick and dark, staining the brick with gory patterns. Bones jutted out from the body at unnatural angles, broken and splintered. The man's torso had been ripped open, his insides scattered, intestines torn and spread like ribbons across the filthy ground. The skull had been crushed, the contents smeared against the alley wall, turning the scene into something straight out of a nightmare.

Tsukauchi's stomach turned violently, and for a moment, he thought he might vomit. He covered his mouth with his hand, taking a deep breath, forcing himself to keep it together. This wasn't the worst thing he'd seen or at least that's what he told himself, but nothing, not even years of experience in dealing with villains, prepared him for something this... vicious. Who could've done this?

"I've seen murders before," Tsukauchi muttered, barely audible, as he turned to Kenji. "Robberies, even terrorism. But this..."

Kenji nodded grimly, his usual composure barely masking his disgust. "I know. This isn't normal, even for villains. There's a level of cruelty here that doesn't fit."

Tsukauchi steeled himself, his knuckles tightening around the folder. He turned back to the glass. "I'll go in. Let's see what this guy has to say."

As Tsukauchi entered the interrogation room, the air seemed to thicken with tension. The man jolted slightly, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Tsukauchi's, fear still evident in every line of his body.

Tsukauchi sat down across from him, sliding the file to the side. He put on his calm, collected face, the one he wore in every interrogation. "I'm Detective Tsukauchi. I just want to ask you a few questions about what happened yesterday. Can you tell me what exactly went down?"

The man, his hands trembling, nodded but didn't speak for a moment. His eyes darted to the corners of the room, as if he was checking for something, someone, still in the grip of yesterday's horrors. "I... we were just walking, you know? Me and my buddy." His voice was shaky, uneven. "There was this kid, uh, walking through the alley. He looked messed up. He... he was mumbling something, but we couldn't understand him. We thought he was high or something, and we... we tried to help."