Police station, interrogation room.
The dark room was pierced by a harsh light shining directly onto Tobu Makoto's face, like the holy light of justice, so bright he couldn't open his eyes.
His hands were cuffed to the table. Across from him, two officers stared sternly, questioning him about his crimes while typing notes into a report.
In the shadows around the room, more than a dozen burly officers lurked, ready to rush out and pin him to the floor—ready to "play a few games" if he tried to escape.
Faced with such a terrifying scene, Tobu didn't dare act out. He could only obediently answer questions, slipping in complaints about the anonymous informant, trying to drag that person down with him.
And while Tobu was being interrogated in one room, another interrogation room next door was also in use.
But compared to Tobu's situation—surrounded by a squad of muscled policemen—this one was far lighter. The lights were warm and bright, no handcuffs, a bowl of pork cutlet rice set on the table, and only two officers: one human policewoman, one Uma policewoman.
In this world, Uma didn't have to shine on the racetrack. If they lacked talent for running, they could take up other work.
And since Uma strength was over three times that of men, they could handle tasks humans struggled with. So jobs like police, firefighter, school security—were full of Uma recruits, paid handsomely.
But Uma officers were also famously emotional. They often acted on feelings, sometimes even hitting suspects before conviction. Which was why every Uma officer was paired with a rational human partner, to keep things from going wrong.
That was the case here: one human policewoman, one Uma policewoman. Since their names weren't given, we'll call the human officer Miss A, and the Uma officer Miss D.
As for why it isn't A and B... well, let's just say... that's tied to a certain tragic fact.
The suspect being questioned here: a strange man in black.
"Listen to me! I really am just a passing Kamen Rider. I like taking photos everywhere. I happened to catch that pervert secretly filming. He even stupidly muttered to himself: 'Hehehe, I hid a camera in the doll I gave Symboli Rudolf, tonight I'll peep on her.' That's why I secretly took photos of his crime, and came here to report it. I'm not suspicious at all!"
The man in black rattled out his explanation, trying to prove his innocence.
"No one," Miss A muttered, "would mutter their own crime evidence out loud..." She clearly didn't buy it.
The man leaned forward seriously: "Officer, you must believe it—anything is possible."
"Then it's possible you're his accomplice," Miss A replied.
"Eh... of course not. If I were his accomplice, would I have reported him?" he countered.
"Maybe you two had a falling out," Miss D offered as a possibility.
"..." The man in black fell silent.
"Officer, I'm not a bad person! What do I have to do for you to believe me?"
Miss A thought a moment, then answered:
"Simple. Take off your hood. Let us see your face. Once we confirm you're not a wanted criminal, we can let you go."
"..."
Seeing words were useless, the man gave up arguing.
"Then I'll just wait for my guarantor to arrive."
"Alright."
The two policewomen didn't press further, simply observing him in silence.
Under their curious gazes, the man in black sighed and stared at the ceiling, zoning out.
This man, of course, was Mizuno.
Everything had gone as he predicted! He reported Tobu, and because of Rudolf's influence, the police moved quickly to arrest him.
Mission accomplished. Mizuno should've been able to slip away, leaving no trace, his name hidden.
But one thing he hadn't expected—
That he himself would be caught too!
Not because of Tobu's slander, but because of his own circumstances.
The evidence he provided was suspicious. The angles too perfect, as if staged. Too convenient. Police couldn't rule out the possibility that Mizuno had set Tobu up.
And his outfit—suspicious, more like a thief than a thief. Most damning, the police database entry on him—aside from name, gender, nationality—was empty. Nothing else. How could they not suspect him?
So after explaining, just as Mizuno was about to leave, the officers seized him and confined him to the interrogation room.
Still, since he was the informant, they didn't treat him badly. He could order food, go to the bathroom. He just couldn't leave.
He'd told them he was a trainer at Tracen Academy, but they refused to release him unless someone from Tracen came to vouch for him—or he took off his [Doctor's Outfit] to prove he wasn't hiding from a wanted poster.
Taking off his outfit was impossible. So he had to rely on Gold Ship, who was always nearby, to bail him out.
But Broshi hadn't brought her ID. She'd need to fetch it from the dorms. So Mizuno could only wait, silently, for rescue.
"Oyster..."
For once, he regretted coming to report in person.
But he had no choice. He couldn't have Broshi do it. Fortune had warned: whoever got involved risked revenge. Better himself than her.
As Mizuno was spacing out, the door opened. An officer stepped inside.
"Sir, an Uma has come to post bail for you."
"An Uma?" Mizuno jumped to his feet in joy.
An Uma to bail him out—surely it was Broshi!
He asked quickly: "Is her name Gold Ship?"
The officer shook her head. "No. It's Symboli Rudolf."
"Oh, it's Rudolf—"
At first Mizuno was still caught in relief, glad he was free.
But when the words truly sank in—when he realized who had come—his whole body jolted, like lightning struck, freezing him in place.
"Symboli Rudolf?!"