Original subtitles

I've never seen this building before.

But it must be my apartment building.

Because my wife is here.

My wife is laughing.

Back then we didn't even need a reason to laugh.

Hey, Dad, you've made outstanding contributions at work several times, right?

Do you think you were just cut out to be a police officer?

Well, I think I might have been lucky.

Can't really say if I'm cut out for it.

Lucky, huh?

Hey, do you think I'm cut out to be an officer?

Hmm.

No such conversation happened.

From the moment I became a homicide detective, I was always busy with work.

So I think Muku wouldn't have wanted to be an officer either.

And I was never cut out to be on the force.

I couldn't even protect my own family.

She and the killer had a fistfight.

She must have fought back bravely.

She's immaculate.

It didn't look like this.

She had nearly all her bones broken,

her lungs, liver, spleen, and heart demolished,

and half her brain splattered out of her skull.

That's how my daughter died.

A serial killer called the Challenger forced her to fight injured head to toe,

she suffered excruciating agony,

and then she was killed.

"Two Explosions in Downtown Buildings" "Serial Bomber 'Pyrotechnician' Strikes Again?"

Come in.

How are you feeling?

Good to see you.

I still get light-headed and dizzy.

Oh, but today's been going well. And my rehab is proceeding smoothly.

Good. Take it slow. Don't push yourself too hard.

Mr. Matsuoka, I have a question about the Perforator case.

What did I just tell you?

The Mizuhanome created an id well from me, right?

What was it like?

It's better you not know.

Sakaido entered it, didn't he?

Lucky. I wish I could.

You can't.

Entering your own id well is prohibited.

Your well comes from your unconscious.

To dive into it is to become conscious of the unconscious.

Ultimately this is all theoretical,

but in an attempt to avoid the consciousness's invasion,

the id well would render itself invisible and expand.

Like a rising storm, see.

Then the storm swallows the brilliant detective,

who would wind up wandering their own well forever.

Apparently, they "fall into dogma."

Dogma... What's supposed to mean?

Hell if I know.

Anyway, they say the pilot's location data is lost,

and pilot retrieval becomes impossible.

The pilot doesn't just die?

The body in the cockpit might struggle to maintain its functions at some point.

However, even if the body dies,

the mind apparently lives on inside the Mizuhanome.

Oh.

The pilot losing their memories inside the well

and becoming the brilliant detective is probably a safety feature

in case the pilot enters their own well.

Are you listening?

Huh? Oh, uh, you must be right.

To think other people are looking at a part of my mind that I don't know

and going in and out of it...

How fun.

Where's your mother?

Seems like she's not here today.

My mom's not all that interested in me.

"Two Explosions in Downtown Buildings" "Serial Bomber 'Pyrotechnician' Strikes Again?"

Hey now.

You're going to catch the Pyrotechnician, right?

Lucky. I wish I could participate.

You barely got out of the last operation alive.

Aren't you scared?

Hmm. I'm not really scared.

It's hard to describe, but it's more like I'm angry.

Not just at the Perforator-- I mean Tamotsu Fukuda.

At all serial killers.

Oh, I did lose a little bit of my frontal lobe,

but there's no damage to the limbic system, which is farther back.

So there should be no effect on say, anger or pleasure.

Anger and pleasure, huh?

You might be a little like Narihisago.

Like Sakaido?! The brilliant detective!

Not the brilliant detective, the real-world pilot.

He didn't say it in so many words, but that happened to him.

Like an odd combination of pleasure and anger.

Oh, wow. Right, you and Narihisago were colleagues.

Hmm, I see.

Could I be a brilliant detective?

You formed a well, so you're probably eligible.

But whether you can do it is a question of capabilities.

Hmm, capabilities.

Those depends on how much of a boost the Mizuhanome's adjustments provide.

Give up on this.

Becoming a pilot is tantamount to suicide.

Thankfully you survived your first one. No need to attempt a second.

You're... worrying about me, right?

I didn't much care for Narihisago when we were both detectives.

And now I truly disdain him as hopeless trash.

Anyway, just rest.

Leave this guy to us.

I'll let you in on one bit of good news.

The cognition particles weren't blown away this time.

We found some at the scene.

No mistake about it.

We gleaned them from the remnants of some unexploded gunpowder.

They're the Pyrotechnician's.

I authorize construction of a well.

Roger.

Go call Narihisago.

Hey there.

Where're you going?

Where am I?

I remember.

Her name is Kaeru.

And, by remembering her, I remember who I am, too.

My name is Sakaido--the brilliant detective.

I don't know my full name, but that's not important right now.

I must solve the mystery of Kaeru's death.

What is this?

What's going on?

A sniper?

Hey, don't just stand there!

Hurry up and hide!

What are you doing?

You have to hide!

Whatever. Just stand there and die, then.

Oh, yeah, I might die.

Can't have that, can I?

The shooting stopped.

Is it because everyone hid behind the wall?

A blind spot means there's only one sniper.

Where?

It appears the bullets are coming from inside the waterfall,

but the water is obscuring everything, even the muzzle flash.

The water on the ground washes away the blood,

so I can't trace the trajectory.

I can't locate the sniper.

That's fine. Focus on observation.

Dammit!

I didn't come here to die.

But my job is not survival.

What I'm supposed to do is solve the mystery of Kaeru's death.

Something's wrong here.

But what? I'm not really sure.

"Something's wrong"? What is it?

A total of 75 people are on the tower.

None have been recognized.

This seems not to be a real place.

The time can only be narrowed to midday.

Habutae, I believe identifying anyone will prove impossible.

Look.

Oh, that's why. They're no one, and it doesn't matter who they are.

Are they just generic "others"?

They're something like dolls produced from a mix of different people's features.

Seems fitting of our indiscriminate killer.

The clothing is also slapdash. No brands can be determined.

Not a problem. We'll keep identifying what we can't determine.

People tend to hide things unconsciously.

If the Pyrotechnician is meticulous,

they might hide things meticulously as well.

They made bombs and arranged gunpowder and fireworks to create pleasing displays.

That's meticulous work.

Good point. I had been imagining more of an attention seeker.

What is causing this feeling?

Extract Sakaido!

Reinject Sakaido.

--Ready? --Of course.

My name is Sakaido.

Extraction!

What feels wrong about Kaeru's body?

The repositioning is too fast.

Are there multiple snipers after all?

Why do we have to be killed?!

That I do not know.

But if this is a senseless slaughter to the victims,

then there might not be a reason.

The number of victims excluding Kaeru and Sakaido changes each time.

So far, it's between 71 and 83.

Continue analyzing.

I can't take it anymore! Anything's better than getting shot!

I can't stay here!

Don't shoot me!

Is it better to be shot, or to jump?

Don't stop moving!

Dammit! Dammit!

Compared to staying put, how much difference will all that effort make?

Either way, death will come to you.

Remember though, my purpose here is not to survive.

Don't be afraid.

I am a brilliant detective.

My purpose is to solve the mystery of Kaeru's death.

Please help me! Please! Do something!

Hey, wait!

Something about Kaeru's body!

Come on, self. Think! Look closely!

What is it? What's wrong with this picture?

I can't take it anymore! I don't want to die this way!

Go ahead. At least it will be a little quieter.

Stop! Let go!

Sorry. Couldn't help it.

I can't take this! I just need it all to stop!

Hmm. It pays to get involved.

Mystery solved.

Wait, what?

Oh, of course! We couldn't tell because the sun is directly overhead!

Oh, you can't tell if you're always moving.

Hey, come on, now! You're making me look bad!

The guy who jumped from the other side earlier is directly below me now.

How would that happen?

The tower is what's moving.

That's how the sniper repositioned so quickly.

Or rather, how it looked that way.

It started off with rapid fire, but the aim was precise.

You can't accomplish such a feat while moving.

The sniper must have been sniping us from the same spot as we ran around.

What happened was this:

Kaeru was shot in the chest.

She went down,

but she was still conscious and spotted the sniper.

To help the rest of us, she indicated the direction.

The tower was moving then, too,

so her finger deviated from the trajectory of the bullet.

That deviation is what made things look wrong to me.

Oh, what's this? Still alive?

Everyone, run randomly so you're harder to target!

I see. So only you proceed at a steady pace.

Don't give up! Find the sniper!

Don't die!

He seems to be enjoying himself.

The sniper wasn't even moving.

Everyone, stay alive!

Just keep running!

What happens when this guy is the last man standing?

Is another group just brought up from below for the slaughter?

Oh, you figured me out?

Yeah. I am a brilliant detective.

But you've held your head up a bit too high.

It's fine.

Life and death aren't the issue.

Extract Sakaido!

The puzzle is solved!

Of the 75 victims this time,

74 had their faces and body parts broken down and randomly reassembled.

Those 74 people were... soldiers.

Victims of a bombing in the Middle East four years ago.

"Classified."

It's a political alert.

What do we do? There are ways to obtain the information.

Leave it.

It'd be used as a political pretext against us.

They'd love to learn the secrets to the Mizuhanome,

but we operate the thing and even we don't know.

You said 74 out of 75. What about the last one?

My apologies, sir.

The last one is the man Sakaido found.

He's the Pyrotechnician.

He's also had his face changed, though.

Plastic surgery. Cross-reference with all plastic surgery records.

Yes, ma'am!

There's one more thing.

In the well, the killer was at the scene of the massacre.

Could the Pyrotechnician be a soldier?

Suppose he was also at the scene of the bombing...

A firefighter?

Police?

Or possibly he was among the crowd of onlookers. So maybe...

Pretended to be a freelance news photographer at the scene, huh?

Suspect captured.

Good. Bring him to me.

"Treatment history" "Double eyelid buried suture" "Jaw reduction" "Nose tip reshaping" "Lateral canthoplasty" "Liposuction of neck"

Seven procedures in four years makes for quite a difference in appearance.

Well, but now you get to be handsome.

I don't care how I look.

But saying that to a plastic surgeon would only raise unnecessary suspicion.

Oh, I see.

Mr. Matsuoka, the photographs you wanted.

Thanks, I was wondering how clean his shots of his own firework bombs would be.

The people in this world are dead long before I kill them.

You like that photograph that much?

It's not a matter of liking it. It's just real.

I suppose.

All humans do love beautiful things, even if they're terrifying.

It captures the empty soul of modern man.

"Empty" is an exaggeration, don't you think?

They witnessed something incredible.

They're just trying to record it, or trying to show it to others.

That's what gawkers do, isn't it?

They're lacking in empathy.

People only died because of your bombs. Isn't that right... Mr. Pyrotechnician?

I just exposed the emptiness of modern humanity.

Everyone is insignificant.

It doesn't matter whether anyone is alive or dead. You included.

Doesn't matter if you're alive or dead.

Well, true.

There's no value in a person's life or death.

You think I'm wrong?

I just don't think you believe that deep down.

I believe it at my core. I know it!

People's lives have no value.

Not mine, not yours, and not your dear daughter's either.

Whether someone is alive or dead, either way it's meaningless.

People die... all on their own.

They die of old age. They die of disease. They die in accidents.

But the death you brought about was always mass murder.

Unless a bunch of people die-- unless it's a massacre,

to you it just doesn't count as death.

What are--

Was that bombing four years ago really so magnificent?

That hell struck your fancy.

A gawker just enjoys the scene.

But you wanted to savor that hell again so badly

that you've been recreating it, over and over and over.

You bask the center of your handmade hell, and you're ecstatic.

That's who you are.

You're wrong!

--I expose reality-- --I'm not wrong.

Your photographs certainly capture part of reality in this world.

But it's your reality.

Shallow humans.

But the shallowness is your own.

You don't know me!

Tell me. Between setting off the bomb and taking photos of the onlookers,

or perhaps while taking the photos,

what were you looking at as you snapped the camera?

You weren't just gazing upon the gawkers.

You were stunned and moved by the dreadful beauty of hell, weren't you?

That's ridiculous.

You can't convince me otherwise with your words.

I know it.

You're mistaken.

Doesn't matter if you're alive or dead, right?

But the truth is that you want other people to die

so you can gaze upon them as the last man standing, don't you?

No!

I already told you. I know my words are true.

Your words won't reach me anymore.

You know, your fun is all over now.

You'll never see hell again.

Except for in your memories.

Haven't you had enough?

That's right. It's all the same whether you're alive or dead.

That's what that means.

Don't give up.

Just a little longer and you'll prove your worldview.

Get down!

Kaeru!

I meant to save you.

I know.

It's why you've come here so many times.

I had to. There seemed to be time before the first shot would kill you.

The investigation didn't matter to you.

If your job didn't matter to you to begin with,

why weren't you with us before we died?

Everyone up!

Kaeru isn't Muku.