The rest of the conversation takes place over the course of a taxicab ride. John and Masako live close to each other, so they usually take one cab to a case when possible. Cheaper, more convenient, and rarely awkward, because neither of them feels the need to make conversation when there's nothing to say.
This time, though, John wants to bring the subject of Kazuya back up. He thinks there's probably more she would like to say, if her reservations come down. But that may take time.
So he just says, "How are you doing?" She looks at him a little oddly, a natural reaction considering that they have never thus far made small talk on the cab ride, and also there's the fact that he asked her when they met to get in.
"Fine," she replies, raising an eyebrow. "And yourself?"
"I'm quite well, thank you."
The conversation lapses into silence. John racks his brains. He's had training for counseling and, indeed, assisted on a case or two. But that was in an explicitly clerical setting. He doesn't know how to start this conversation with a non-Christian friend.
"Umm... God has laid a burden upon my heart," he begins.
Masako's face quirks into a small smile. She doesn't say, very loudly doesn't say, "Sounds like a personal problem." The volume she's not saying it at is deafening. Instead, she simply murmurs, "Has he?"
"For you," he continues, aware this is not going well. He's never asked her views on religion - a mistake, perhaps. But now is not the time.
Masako says, "Are you trying to convince me to commit my life to a higher power, John?"
"Would you like me to?"
This gets another small smile. "Not just at the moment. I'm still trying to decide if I believe in one."
"I can help with that, too."
"I appreciate that, but somehow I don't think you wanted to talk about theology."
"No. I was wondering how you were doing with..." He wasn't sure how to put it. "The Kazuya situation."
Shrugging, she says, "There isn't a situation to speak of. I don't know why you keep bringing it up."
Well, no, he's not sure either. So he says, "If you're not comfortable discussing your feelings, we don't need to do so. But didn't it help, at the hospital?"
"Yes," she admits.
"You keep things bottled up too much, I think," he says. "It's not good. Is there no one you can talk to?"
Masako shrugs. "Not really. I'm a celebrity. Most people wanting to talk to me are after something. Money. Fame. Thrills. A story."
Having never considered this angle, he's a little shocked. Masako is really only famous in Japan; before coming here, he'd never heard of her. So he forgets, quite often, that she is famous.
"If it helps," he says, "I'm not after anything much. I just want to help you."
"Why?"
Why indeed? John has never considered his motivations. He's naturally a helpful person, or tries to be. "Well," he says, "It's not only you. It's part of my job to help people."
"So I'm just another broken person for you to fix." Her tone is distinctly sarcastic. "No one special."
"That's not true at all. Everyone is special. That's why they deserve to have someone to talk to. But, Masako, you're something different. You need a willing ear. A..." He fumbles for the right word.
"Father confessor?"
He smiles. "Maybe. Surely our paths crossed for a reason."
"I told you before I wasn't sure if I believe in a higher power."
"Well, I do," John says, and sits back. If she wants to talk, she will.
The conversation did make him realize something important, though. He is trying to fix her. He's not sure that's fair, especially as she's never asked him for help. But there seems to be some innate need in him to mend disjointed things, heal spiritual wounds. And Masako, though maybe not broken, is definitely wounded.
He hates seeing people in pain.
It's about fifteen minutes before Masako speaks, and by that time, John is lost in thought. So he almost doesn't hear her when she says, "It's not what you're thinking."
"Hmm?" He snaps back to the present. "What isn't?"
"My relationship with Naru."
"I don't think anything," John says. "Please tell me."
"You know we've been on dates," she begins. John nods, remembering the aftermath of the park ghost case. Actually, it hadn't been too bad. Ayako had indeed paid for everything and, anyway, it had been nice getting a little more insight into her character.
Masako continues: "What do the others think of that?"
John squirms. He doesn't like to lie, but... "Nothing much...it's your business what you do," he hedges.
"That's not what they think."
"Well...Ayako did suggest you had some dirt on Naru. But I'm sure she didn't mean it."
"Did you believe her?"
"No! I thought maybe the two of you might have, well, a patronage together, but here, that word apparently means something other than what I think it means." He hasn't dared look it up. The others' faces told him it is something pretty embarrassing, and John isn't good at dealing with being embarrassed.
"What did you think it means?"
"Someone who provides money for art or research."
"Oh. A sponsor."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Well, you were wrong," Masako says.
"Oh, then is he your boyfriend..?" Unaccountably, he's disappointed. This is the first, but not the last, time he ever thinks of Kazuya as unworthy of Masako. Her heart is so fragile that one rude comment or insult from Kazuya, whom she holds in such high regard, could really hurt her.
Whereas with Mai, even a flurry of insults are like water off a duck's back. She gives as good as she gets.
"He's not my boyfriend, either," Masako says, shrugging. "Ayako's idle speculation was right. For once."
"You're blackmailing him?" Talk about being a father confessor. He hadn't been expecting anything this serious so shortly into their conversation.
"Not precisely. I'm not extorting money or modifying his behavior in any significant way."
Significant, he notes, and wonders how many of Masako's take-this-case-as-a-favor-to-me's had, in fact, been favors. It probably doesn't matter because people were helped, but...
"The point is," Masako says, perhaps reading his expression, "I do know something about Naru he'd rather keep private. I can't tell you what it is - "
"Of course not."
"-but I think perhaps he resents me for it."
That does sound like Kazuya, John has to admit. He's exactly the kind of person to resent anyone with superior knowledge, although he probably wouldn't show it. The fact that Masako has picked it up is testament to how much she wants his good opinion.
"Well," John says diplomatically, "Have you told him you have no intention of using this information against him? Or revealing it to anyone?"
"Yes. I don't think it matters, though." Her face briefly crumples into sadness, but she regains her composure quickly, and dabs at the corners of her eyes quickly. "I'm quite resigned to being hated."
After a moment's quick calculation about her reaction, he reaches over and pats her hand. Surprise flicks across her face, disturbing her usual serene mask for a moment, but he doesn't let his fingers linger the way they seem to want to. That would be entirely unprofessional, not to say badly received. No, it's a quick, brotherly pat, and it does seem to reassure her.
"I don't hate you," he tells her. She smiles a wavering smile, and they ride the rest of the way in silence.
At the location, after they've paid the taxi and it's gone, Masako turns to him and smiles mischievously. He's never seen her with such an expression, and his treacherous stomach flip-flops for some incomprehensible reason.
"I've enjoyed our little therapy session," she says.
"Any time you need me," he responds, "I'm available."
"I might just take you up on that." Masako hesitates. "At the hospital you promised..."
"The confidentiality agreement still stands, and will do so with anything you choose to tell me when we're alone together unless you actually say otherwise," he says. "I promise."
"Thank you." And with that, she moves off towards the building.
John is glad he's found an opening, after all. But a tiny, tiny part of him is afraid of where it will lead.
He doesn't know why, but he can still remember the feeling of her hand.
Darn near forgot to put this up. This is the problem with regular updates. I forget to do them. I swear, I have this whole thing written out, but I don't want to swamp every one.