She saw a man on fire, in the corner away from the door. Flailing his arms around, unable to stand the pain of the flames rolling across him.
Ryuzaki.
It was Rue Ryuzaki.
She saw his eyes through the flames. “R-Ryuzaki!”
The heat was so intense she could barely look at it. The fire was spreading to the room.
A blast of heat struck her skin. She smelled gasoline.
Strangulation, blunt force trauma, stabbing... and the final victim was fire!
She glanced at the ceiling—there was a sprinkler, but it had obviously been tampered with. It wasn’t functioning. The alarm had been disabled as well. Misora forced herself not to panic, but forced herself to take action. She bolted back out of room 404 into the hail, back the way she came. She’d seen a fire extinguisher on her way here. Just over... there! She grabbed it and ran back. She didn’t need to read
the instructions.
She pointed the end of the hose at the ball of fire, at Ryuzaki’s body, burning red, and squeezed the handle hard. White foam sprayed out, coating the room, far stronger than she’d expected. She almost lost her balance, almost fell over backward, but grit her teeth and held on, not letting the hose move off Ryuzaki.
How long did it take?
Ten seconds? About that.
But Misora felt like the day was going to end before he stopped burning. The fire extinguisher was empty... the fire was out.
The white foam began to subside.
And in front of her, a black, charred body. No, that was an understatement, soft pedaling it. A better description would be a red-black mass of flesh. It looked like the flames had burned it all the way through.
The smell of gasoline hung in the air, along with the smell of burning hair and skin. Misora covered her
nose. She glanced toward the window, wondering if she should get some ventilation... no, she couldn’t risk a backdraft. As if afraid that any sudden movements would cause his body to crumble, Misora stepped gingerly toward Ryuzaki. He was curled up, on his back. She knelt down beside him. “Ryuzaki,” she said. He didn’t answer. Was he dead? “Ryuzaki!”
“Ah... unh...” “Ryuzaki.” He was alive.
He was still alive.
He was burned all over and needed serious medical treatment immediately, but this came as a relief. She heard a sound behind her and turned around. There was someone there—the woman who had screamed when she saw Misora with the gun. She must live here. She had heard the gunshots and the fire extinguisher, and timidly come to see what was happening.
“D-did something happen?” she said.
Misora thought that “What happened?” would have been a better question, but... “FBI,” she said.
FBI.
She identified herself like that.
“Call the police, the fire department, and an ambulance.” The woman looked surprised, but nodded and left the room.
Misora wondered if, in fact, this woman was the thief or the con man that L had sent here, but she could worry about that later.
She turned back to Ryuzaki.
Turned back to the red and black charred body.
And slowly took his wrist, still very hot, and checked his pulse... a little uneven, and very weak. He might be done for, might not make it to the hospital, might not last until the ambulance arrived.
In which case.
She had something to tell him. She had something to do.
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