The barrel of my gun didn't waver by a single millimeter. My finger, frozen on the trigger, felt every beat of my heart. This was the moment of truth the moment where the cop took over the man.
"If you're really Tanashi, show me your true face!" I barked, my voice as taut as a bowstring.
The bandaged man didn't move abruptly. He cast a discreet glance toward the small silhouette trembling in the shadows.
"Not in front of her," he whispered. "You don't want her to see this."
I couldn't lower my guard. Not now. Not after everything I’d uncovered.
"Hina, go to your room," I ordered, never taking my eyes off the man. "Your father is handling this."
"Pa... Papa?" Tears began to glint in the corners of her wide eyes. She wavered between the fear of my weapon and the instinct to protect her father. "Do you promise me everything’s going to be okay?"
Tanashi turned his head toward her. Through the wraps, I sensed an expression of infinite sweetness an unbearable contrast to the steel of my pistol.
"Yes, I promise. Go to your room, please."
She hesitated, then lunged forward to hug her father's waist one last time before sprinting down the hallway. The slam of her door signaled the start of our standoff. The man turned back to me. His calmness infuriated me.
"You can lower your weapon, Kenji. I’ll explain everything."
"Shut it," I snapped.
I pulled my handcuffs from my belt. The metal clicked a cold, final sound. Without lowering my gun, I tossed them at his feet. In my head, questions collided: was he living proof? A fallen hero? Or that damn shapeshifter playing with my nerves?
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"Put them on. Now."
He picked up the steel rings, fitted them around his wrists, and locked them. He raised his hands, clearly visible, to show me he was restrained.
"Well? Are you satisfied?"
"Turn around. Walk slowly. Any sudden move, and I shoot. Understood?"
He followed my orders without protest, as if he were accustomed to injustice. I guided him further into the house. It was a modest place, almost austere, where every piece of furniture seemed to bear the weight of a secret. The air in the room suddenly grew heavy, charged with static electricity that made the hair on my arms stand up. As I holstered my weapon, trusting in the steel of the cuffs, he broke the silence.
"Why didn't you take me straight to the station?" he asked, his voice vibrating with a strange resonance.
"Don’t worry about that, you’ll end up there soon enough," I retorted, masking my unease. "Let’s just say I was too impatient to interrogate you myself." I paused, stepping into his personal space. "Now, show me your face. We’re finally going to find out if you're Tanashi or just a damn shapeshifter."
"The shapeshifter?" A low chuckle rose from his chest. "I’m warning you, Kenji... beneath these bandages reside my hatred and my suffering. Even the monster you saw on TV couldn't endure my appearance. If I reveal myself, you will never be able to pretend your 'Heroes' are the good guys again."
"Then show me."
"Have it your way."
What happened next defied every law of physics I knew. The metal of the handcuffs began to glow red, then liquefied instantly. The steel became a golden soup that dripped onto the floorboards without even scorching the wood. His hands were free. Around him, the stifling heat of the room seemed to spike, and my palms began to sweat despite myself.
I leaped back, hand flying to my holster, but I remained petrified. He brought his hands to his face and began to undo the linen wraps.
Behind the fabric, there was no skin. No scars. No nose or mouth. There were only flames. A burning, liquid fire that seemed to consume the very air in the room. Yet, the bandages he held did not burn. His clothes remained intact. Only the metal had melted under that selective heat.
He was no longer a man. He was a brazier of pure will.
"Look closely, Kenji," came the voice emerging from the flames. "This is what remains of a man who believed in justice."
