Author's note:
Sakuuya – Thank you for your kind review! It brings up a good point, to which I feel the need to respond…
It's true that Lettuce changes character drastically, but this story is as much about magical girls meeting reality as it is a murder mystery. A lot of the action hinges on the canon background existing (the entire story is already written out – I never start posting before I'm done writing). I hope I manage to blend the magical girl and pulp tropes without too much incongruity, but I admit it leads to an odd tale.
In other news, I forgot to disclaim the story. Well, Tokyo Mew Mew most certainly does not belong to me, or it would be a very different story.
~Taidine
.Secundus.
"Aoyama-kun?" I breathed. All right, I admit it, Shirogane had managed to shock me. Of all the Mews, I wouldn't have expected Ichigo's husband to be the target of any ill-will, let alone a murder plot. Unless… "Was it one of those strawberry-heads? Thought he wasn't good enough for her?"
The cult of celebrity had hit our charismatic leader harder than any of the rest of us when our identities went public, some months after the aliens had been safely dealt with. She had developed a freakishly devout band of followers, trapping her forever in her kawaii image, poster-child of the Mews in general and often Japan as a whole. The fact that she had aged well didn't help – at thirty, she could still be mistaken for a teenager. The rest of us had gotten older, faced the hardships of the world, and moved on. Ichigo was the only constant. Even her marriage to Masaya, as inevitable as it had seemed to all of us when he got back from his travels abroad, had taken years to go through. The last time I was in Japan was for their wedding; I had already set up shop here in New York by then.
"No. There are only four suspects. How safe is this office?"
"Depends on how many people saw you walk in," I replied.
Shirogane sighed. "I have an apartment not too far from here. Could you come with me there?"
"I've got a reputation to worry about, Shirogane-san," I joked, but really I had no reason to refuse. After all, the chances of getting two clients in one day were lower than the chances of a cool summer day in Kyoto, and if anything really urgent came up, well, Joe knew how to get in touch with me. Besides, I was intrigued. People didn't often take me seriously enough to hire me for murders, and Aoyama-kun… he sure didn't seem like the kind of person anyone would want dead. Despite his connections with the aliens, from what I remembered he was sweet, well-mannered, and had about as much spine as a jellyfish. That sort didn't make enemies.
"Well, I have a reputation to worry about too," Shirogane retorted. "And if I'm seen walking into my residence without a pretty girl on my arm, I won't be keeping it."
"You're like the worst parts of Kiechiiro," I told him. "When did that happen?"
"It's been a long time, Lettuce-san," he answered, and for a second he sounded almost wistful. "Everyone's changed."
"Right. Go call your car," I told him. "I need to grab a few things."
I packed up my purse with the usual necessities and told Joe I was heading out for a while. He gave me a knowing smile, but I shook my head in response. "It's just business, Joe-kun. Keep your feet off the desk and have coffee ready by the time I get back. After dealing with Shirogane-san, I'll need it."
"Hey, how come he gets to be 'san'?" Joe whined, with the usual otaku ignorance – he knew just enough about Japanese culture to know that nuances existed, but not enough to understand what they implied. I ruffled his hair on my way out – he's really just a kid, even if he is an able secretary.
Shirogane met me around the front in a black car with tinted windows and 'I'm not conspicuous at all' written all over it. But not literally, thank goodness. He rolled down the windshield, tipped down his sunglasses, and told me to get in. Even for Shirogane, it was a mighty contrived display.
"What are you trying to prove, Shirogane-san?" I asked as I slid into the sumptuous leather backseat.
"I don't need to prove anything. I've just got style," he told me smugly, with a self-satisfied million-watt smile. I didn't punch him. After all, he was paying me. Instead, with utmost self control, I looked out the window at the city. We were heading for the richest part of town, but it didn't matter. The corruption was visible everywhere, the dying concrete, the trash and detritus, the crimes and the secrets. New York's a bitch.
Gotta love this city.
Shirogane's apartment was one of the nicest I've ever been in. Penthouse suit, of course, in a building with a pair of door guards and a bank of elevators, all framed in gilt and marble. Plants that I couldn't determine the authenticity of peeped out as us from nooks in the walls, broad windows let in the dingy daylight, and the whole thing smelled like a million dollars. When we finally arrived at Shirogane's suite, it was full of burgundy carpets and mahogany furnishings – real ones, of course, not like my cheap-ass Ikea-with-varnish desks and chairs.
"In here," he told me, unlocking a paneled wooden door with an ornate iron key. There was a second door behind it, reinforced metal, clearly built to intimidate rather than impress. That one yielded to a hand scan and a card he produced from one pocket.
"I admit I'm impressed with the security," I told him as the second door slid open. Inside was a room full of computers – all monitors, dials, and blinking LEDs lighting it up like a starry night sky.
"Thanks," he answered. "Welcome to what's left of the Mew Project; one of a series of stations around the world that monitor for traces of alien energy. Just in case. Come on in."
I entered, feeling the darkness close around me as Shirogane shut the heavy door. "So." He moved his hand over the screen of one computer, bringing it to dim wakefulness. On screen was a map of the world; faint ripples occasionally expanded from some point or another, then folded back in on themselves and vanished. "Two days ago, Aoyama-san, along with all of Tokyo Mew Mew except you, attended a reunion party at Mint's mansion in California. It was just a publicity stunt, trying to get more sponsor positions; Mint-san planned and hosted the whole thing. Why didn't you go, anyway?"
"I'm not a Mew anymore," I told him firmly. "That life is over." Because every time I saw my old teammates was another chance to fall back into the role of timid, squeaking Lettuce-chan, was why, and I'd come to like competence. I didn't knock things over nearly as much when I was on my own, weird as that may sound.
"Well, maybe it's a good thing you didn't. At nineteen hundred hours, Aoyama-san went out on the balcony to get some air, which as you may know, overlooks a river. No-one saw him again at the party. Ichigo-san went looking for him at midnight because she wanted to go home, but being unable to find him, assumed he left earlier, so took leave herself.
"At seven hundred hours the next morning, a body with DNA matching Aoyama-san's turned up some miles downstream from the river running past Mint-san's house."
I bit my lip, contemplating the story. "That's not much to go on. How do you know it wasn't a suicide? And why are you being so secretive?"
"Because at nineteen and thirty, the remaining alien monitoring stations picked up this signal." Shirogane hit a few keys, and the computer screen flickered, then settled. Green concentric circles were pulsing outward from a point somewhere on the islands of Japan. "The precise coordinates the signal originated from are the coordinates of Mint-san's house."
"You're saying aliens killed Aoyama-kun?" I asked skeptically. I certainly hadn't been expecting more trouble from them so soon.
"No, that would show up as red. This is a similar but distinct type of power – the energy that imbued the Mew Aquas, and the amulets I gave the five of you."
"So what are you saying?" I asked. I thought I knew, but I hoped I was wrong.
"Only five people on Earth have energy with that signal. Four of them were at the party that night. This was no accident or suicide. Aoyama-san was killed, and the only suspects are your former teammates."