SUPERWORLD

Toshiro I

"Don't work yourself too hard, Ryu, you're too young to burn yourself out on this." Toshiro said as he headed for the door.

"Ah, don't worry about me, I've got plenty of tread left on the tires. I'm willing to burn some of it off if it means we catch this guy." And Toshiro left, walking through the desks and hustle of his fellow officers.

I hope Sango turned in early for the night. Toshiro thought as he entered his car.

He took off his coat to unbutton his shirt and remove the Titan Enterprise vest that lay underneath. It was a policy that one must wear the vest while on duty, but Toshiro couldn't stand wearing body armor. It wasn't heavy and it didn't restrict his movements, but the little extra weight always threw off his concentration and getting the damn thing on by himself was a pain in the ass. He remembered his first day as a beat cop, waking Sango up at five AM to help him buckle the complicated vest on. She patted the metal back plate and said he looked like a little turtle, from then on, that's all she'd call him: Kame-chan. Her and Chihiro.

Chihiro.

Tears instantly flooded Toshiro's eyes. He rested his head on the steering wheel and let loose his emotions. Thinking all day about the kidnapped children only dredged up memories of her. Toshiro wiped his eyes and pulled out his phone. The lock screen was a picture of them all together at Christmas five years ago. The thought made him smile, just a little, and he found the strength to turn the key in the ignition and head home.

Heading down the simple streets of Hiroshima, one would never know that somewhere, in this very city, a serial killer was lurking. The chief had told everyone specifically to not refer to these killings as the work of a serial murderer to avoid panic, but the public wasn't stupid and neither was the press. Sure, the chief could withhold the information about the cause of death, but no one can withhold the kidnapping and possible murder of that many children. Even now, the press was airing stories about 'The Harrowing of Hiroshima', 'The Harrowing' for short.

Why do they always have to give them names? It makes them sound like supervillains or evil masterminds rather than the depraved lunatics they really are. Toshiro wondered. But he knew that no one outside of the force could ever understand criminality in its true form. The layman thought of it as a crime drama, where the police, led by their unflappable detective, hunt down a criminal mastermind. In reality, it's just paperwork and handcuffing weirdos, at best and having to look at mutilated bodies at worst.

Toshiro pulled into the driveway of his home, a simple single story western style house on the corner of the street. Toshiro put the car in park and sat there for a moment in silence.

Go inside. There's nothing to be afraid of. Just go inside. Toshiro tried willing himself out of the car, but to no avail. She needs you, be a man! Toshiro opened his coat pocket and found the flask inside. He took a swig and the burning alcohol made the fire in his belly that he needed to get out of the car.

"I'm home!" He said, taking his shoes off at the entrance. He heard Sango walking down the hall.

"Welcome home." He heard Sango reply.

Toshiro hung his coat on the rack by the door and loosened his tie before walking to the living room to find Sango on the couch, the TV playing the video. Chihiro at the beach, making a sand castle, Toshiro behind the camera, and Sango helping their daughter build it. This was two years ago on their trip to Sapporo, Chihiro was six years old then, she'd be eight today if...

"You can't keep watching this, Sango. It's not good for you." Toshiro pleaded.

"I need to. That's all I have left." Said the broken voice of Sango.