CHAPTER TWO
In which Souji Seta wakes to a new existence...
Souji Seta hadn't slept very well. He recalled a phrase that he never regarded as truthful until now. 'The most comfortable bed is the one that you are the most familiar with'. For the first time in his life he'd slept on a western bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, feather-stuffed pillows, and a comforter that may as well have been made out of pure ecstasy.
He barely slept though. He tossed, turned, flopped, flipped, and floundered through half of the night and dozed uneasily the other half. He missed his cheap futon. His back, tempered by so many years of harsh sleeping, would have a difficult time adjusting to this level of baby-soft luxury.
The guest room he had been provided with was something alien...something disturbingly high-class...so much so that the luxury he should have felt was flippantly wasted. He felt almost guilty. It was the equivalent to giving a box of fine, imported chocolates to a diabetic. The amount of thought that must've gone into the room was absolutely staggering. The way the lush cream carpeting tickled the bare feet to greet the recently awoken with a laugh. The way the sunlight gently filtered through the subtle off-white curtains to provide a gentle, but effective, start to a busy day (unfortunately, if the schedule he'd been given was accurate, he wouldn't be waking up to very many comfortable sunrises). Everything seemed meticulously designed to please and pamper the occupant. Too much effort for someone who would ultimately shrug it off and go on daydreaming about a single bedroom apartment with peeling wallpaper, scratchy carpets, and a front door with a squeaky handle.
The Shirogane Estate, despite its grandeur, was probably the most uncomfortable place he'd ever had the trouble of staying at overnight. He should be happy, right? It's an honor to be a guest. Yakushiji's informative speech from hours earlier came flooding into the young man's head.
"The Shirogane Estate is among one of the largest privately-owned homes in Japan. 125,000 square feet, it boasts over 150 rooms including a dozen guest bedrooms, six bathrooms, five lounges, a parking garage with over fifteen vehicles, and, of course, the legendary private office of the current heir to the Shirogane name. The estate itself is testament to the Shirogane's long line of appreciation for 19th century western architecture. It is a Châteauesque-styled mansion that took over six years to complete. If you have an eye for western architecture, Mr. Seta, you'll quickly realize the similarity between this estate and the works of Richard Morris Hunt and Frederick Law Olmsted. This is no mistake, of course, as both of those men were very heavy influences on the unique Shirogane sense of style. I'm sure you've also noticed the exquisite landscape gardening surrounding the premises. It's a sort of...eclectic mix of English landscape gardening and formal Renaissance gardening. I'm...not sure if you are the type to appreciate that sort of thing, bu-"
It was at that point that Seta had simply stopped listening...though, from what he could gather, the rambling continued on for about another ten minutes or so. Souji did notice the landscaping...but probably not in the way that Yakushiji had hoped. He noticed the trees...slightly disturbed by how specifically they'd all seemed to be placed. There was no random factor to their placement, giving them a slightly unnatural feel...but, recalling Naoto's affinity for high places, he assumed they were something that made her happy in ways that most people wouldn't understand.
Souji Seta stepped clumsily across the tickle-inducing carpeting, lumbering his weary self to the nearest mirror. A big one...bigger than he was accustomed to, perched atop what he assumed as an antique wooden dresser. He didn't have an eye for antiques...but considering where he was, it was a safe bet that just about everything in the room was older than he was.
He had to flip a light switch in order to get a decent view of himself. 4:00 AM...what kind of time is that for any living creature to wake up? The sun wasn't even out yet. There should be a law against starting the day before you could even see the sun. It was inhumane. He supposed he could've blamed his lack of sleep on the horrifyingly early hour that he was set to wake up...but even if he'd been allowed to sleep until noon he couldn't imagine becoming familiar with his current lodgings.
The man in the mirror seemed frighteningly unfamiliar at first glance. He still had a bandage on his forehead. He would've peeled it away by now...but he was afraid to look. The bruising had been pretty bad yesterday...and thanks to the vindictive nature of all bruises, he was fairly certain that it look even worse the morning after. For that very reason, he had declined a haircut...keeping his bangs long in an attempt to hide as much of it as he could. He slid his fingertips across his chin...smooth. A weird feeling. Even when he shaved himself back home he rarely managed to get 'smooth', usually opting for a two-minute run-around with an electric razor rather than a proper close one. He'd wanted to wait until morning to get groomed up like this...but apparently, a good shave at the Shirogane Estate takes quite a bit of time. He finally capitulated and opted for a late-night shear rather than waking up even earlier than he was already scheduled to. He looked younger. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing...
He'd decided to sleep in the same clothes he had been wearing. He could've easily stripped all the way down for a decidedly more comfortable experience...but the thought of disgracing those expensive bedsheets with something like that would've eaten away at him.
His eyes were red and puffy...dark, purple rings forming beneath them as testament to his inexperience with this manner of living.
I suppose it was the eyes that tricked me...
...Yakushiji had been implying that his eyes were frightening, right? At least, that's what Souji took away from that statement. He squinted at the strange man hovering in the mirror. His sclera weren't exposed...they didn't look beady or anything. They weren't scary, no way. They were...'sharp'! Yeah! Almond-shaped...more narrow than most...but definitely not scary.
...Heck, if they were scary eyes then he wouldn't have been such a good daycare assistant back in high school! He was good with kids. Kids didn't like guys with scary eyes.
Souji Seta's brow twitched, his lips peeling back as he glared wildly into his own reflection. He spoke to absolutely no one...some pitiful way of convincing himself. "...I don't have scary eyes...I don't..."
He stared for a bit too long after that...almost expecting his reflection to respond and comfort him, easing whatever physical complex that he might have developed. He'd be willing enough to admit that his eyes were odd...or strangely colored...or unique. Scary? Not a chance.
His internal struggle was abruptly interrupted by a gentle knock on the door to his temporary bed-haven. A voice spoke from beyond the wooden barrier...a familiar one...one that had, unfortunately, been burned into the fabric of his brain since last night. Gosh, Yakushiji really seemed to love to hear himself talk.
"Mr. Seta, you've slept in."
"...Wh-...it's barely past 4:00!"
"It is 4: 15-...oh, excuse me, it is 4:16, Mr. Seta. That means you have slept in by approximately sixteen minutes."
"..."
"...Be happy, Mr. Seta. We will be going easy on you today. It'll be a gentle landing. Today is the day you familiarize yourself with your new career."
...Career. He hadn't even begun and it was being called a 'career'...a career for someone who seemingly did absolutely nothing to earn in. Souji Seta felt his stomach turn.
"...Mr. Seta, are you dressed yet?"
"...A-...almost, just hold on..." Souji Seta's voice came out in a hushed, raspy whisper...several profanities following, held even more tightly beneath his breath.
"...Mr. Seta, if you are having any troubles I would be more than happy to-"
"I got it, I got it! Just...just give me one more minute, okay?"
Roughly two hours had passed since he had woken up. He was already sick of detailed tour of the estate as well as the orientation of his new job had been postponed slightly. Apparently, Naoto herself had taken offense to the notion of her old acquaintance being subjected to such hassles when she wasn't even present. After all...he was going to be her assistant, right? Wasn't much use in assisting someone who hadn't even bothered to explain things to you in person. At least, that's what Souji assumed her line of reasoning was. He didn't think exactly like her...but he could at least latch onto her general train of thought. Clean, thorough, logical...he liked that about her.
His morning had been Hellish. An earful of Yakushiji's constant rambling was bad enough. Breakfast was rushed. Nothing high-quality about it either...dry toast to chew on and hot coffee to spill down his throat. This was, of course, before Yakushiji had gotten word that Naoto insisted on being present for all explanations of job duty. The fact that Souji could've slept for two more hours with no problems whatsoever made his blood bubble.
It had mostly just been idle conversation...and about half an hour of attempting to slip himself into his new suit.
"...Mr. Seta, is it the measurements? Perhaps we should get you something larger? I thought we had your measurements taken properly, but I will admit that we rushed. It usually takes two to three days, but we thought it best to pull an all-night-"
"The measurements! Ugh...the measurements are fine...thanks. Y'know...y'know, I could just...kinda...wear my regular clothes or someth-"
"Out of the question."
"...Why?"
"...That is just how things work around here. Even when not in public, Mr. Seta...professionalism. I would hate to see you and the detective clashing in terms of wardrobe..."
What am I? A fashion accessory?
Souji Seta already knew that the dress code would be his least favorite part of all this. Yakushiji would be second. It wasn't as if he was the only other person employed here, after all. They had all sorts of hired help...and yet he lingered like an agitated gadfly, ever-present and terrifyingly aggressive about Souji taking up this position. He was having second thoughts.
...He hadn't seen Naoto since yesterday. That was strange, wasn't it? Why? If he was going to be her assistant...where was she? Why Yakushiji?
...Initially, he was only regarding this as a pity job...but it could've been worse than that. What if Naoto didn't even want it either? To have a friend and to have an employee...those were different things. The more he thought about it...the more he resented signing himself over.
"...Ahhh...Mr. Se-"
"I'm coming out already!"
Souji Seta emerged with a huff and a dull, indignant fire smoldering in his stare. Given the time constraints, his suit wasn't a complete original...merely an alteration to comfortably fit his proportions. Regardless, it was exactly what one would expect from a product requested by the Shirogane Estate...simple, clean, and elegant understated. Black...no pinstripes, just the purest color of black formed the trousers, buttoned vest, polished shoes, and simple necktie. Again, Souji's brain throbbed...unwillingly allowing his thoughts to dive back down into the informative, wind-blowing lecture that had spilled from Yakushiji's gums.
"Since I was unaware of your personal preferences regarding formal suits and work attire, I thought something simple and traditional would be nice. Black and white, no pinstripes...nothing too complicated, but it can fit most any situation. I almost went for gray, but I think a nice black suits you better. Gray would match your hair, but black really compliments it...and from what I've been told by the detective, you usually wore black anyway. I went with super wool 150. It's durable, it drapes very well, and it's also guaranteed to keep you comfortable even in the summer heat. You're quite broad-shouldered, so I made sure to inform to tailor to let out the vest just a tad more. There's a matching jacket, but...personally, I think a simple vest and dress shirt combo would suit you better. Don't ask why. It's a seven button vest, but don't feel like you have to button every single of them. Just do whatever you feel most comfortable with. I forgot to ask if you preferred belts or suspenders, but, as with most young people, I just assumed you'd prefer a belt...Italian, black leather, silver buckle. It's nice. The shoes are also Italian...black leather I didn't have time to get them custom made, but they should match your size decently for now. May be a little snug, though. There are some driving gloves with you as well...once more, black leather and Italian. You are advised to only wear them when driving. When not driving, keep them nearly folded in your vest pocket. The dress shirt is also intentionally simple in design...plain white, pique cotton. I got a traditional collar with the shirt. I almost jumped for the spread, but you didn't seem like the type, sir."
...Unfortunately, Souji Seta quickly learned that wearing a suit was a different ordeal entirely. He emerged from the guest room a hobbling mess. His tie was lopsided, only partially done. He almost got the belt right...though, true to his suspicions, he'd missed a loop or two as he was winding it about his waist. Collar as a mess, popped upright since he couldn't seem to figure out how to lay it down flat. His hair was tussled through the labor of slipping something over his head...which was wrong on many accounts since nothing about his wardrobe even called for something like that. His face was flushed, bottom lip rolled back to be noisily chewed upon by gnawing teeth. He felt like a clown...
Yakushiji's nose wriggled, eyebrows jumping as the wrinkles upon his forehead made themselves known. He was gonna laugh...Souji knew it. Almost, he almost laughed before coughing it away and giving a simple verbal reply. "...Hm. Funny."
That was going to bother Souji Seta more than he originally thought. It was thing to laugh...but to hold it back and reply like that? It was almost insulting...as if whatever joke he made was too childish or sub par to dignify with a legitimate showing of good will.
Without a word of warning the middle-aged secretary strode forward to take matters into his own hands, beginning with the tie...grasping the knot and expertly twisting it away. Souji grunted under the strain. He wasn't a very gentle person when he was getting this physical...several times given the taller young man's throat an uncomfortable squeeze. Even worse, he continued to talk throughout the humiliating ordeal...breath smelling of potent mint and something that Souji couldn't quite put his finger on. Food, maybe...something much better than dry toast and coffee.
"Mr. Seta, has anyone ever told you that you have a very long neck?"
"...Not until now, no."
"Hm...a half windsor knot suits your build best, I believe. I'll teach you to tie your own sometime later...unless you've grown to like the idea of me dressing you every morning."
"...I'm a fast learner...I'm sure I'll pick up on it quickly."
Yakushiji continued the ego-destroyed onslaught...untying his shoes and giving them a proper lacing, smoothing out his collar, tugging away some wrinkles that had laid dormant within his shirt, adjusting the vest so that only top and bottom button were left unbuttoned.
"...Hmmm...Mr. Seta, would you prefer to wear your sleeves long or would you like them rolled up?"
"...Does...it matter?"
"Personal preference, sir. I myself prefer to wear them long. You, however, seem like more of a casual individual...which is why I assumed tha-"
"Rolled up is fine, then."
The less he was like this jabbering lump of squirrel bait the better. With as much skill as was to be expected and as much sensitivity as an escaped gorilla inflicted with rabies, Yakushiji proceeded to roll up his cuffs until they rested neatly behind his elbows. Moving onto the pants, the Yakushiji thrust his index and middle finger past the threshold of the bewildered Seta's waistband.
"GGNGH! What the hell are y-"
"Language, Mr. Seta. Also, as you can see, I can fit two fingers into the waist of your trousers. They must be a nice fit."
Buckling the tortured new employee's belt, Yakushiji seemed satisfied with his work...stepping back to give a final appraisal. It was a great way to start the day...molested by a guy at least thirty years older and half a foot shorter.
Souji seethed...angrily stuffing his hands into the pits of his pockets, not bothering to adjust his posture...preferring to stoop down slightly and allow hair to continue covering his forehead. A scowl marred his face...cheeks moving as he bit the inside of his mouth to relieve some tension.
"...Well?" Souji barked. "...How...how is it?"
"...Would you like me to be friendly or honest, sir?"
"...Both."
"It's one or the other, sir."
"...Honest."
"You look like a hitman."
Souji Seta flinched, lips folding back as he unconsciously displayed his teeth. "Wh-...but, I...you..."
"Maybe black was a bad choice. The rolled up sleeves also make you look as if you're ready to do someone in...as if you're trying to avoid blood stains on your sleeves? The bandaging on the forehead as well...makes you seem like you've been in a scuffle recently...which, I suppose you have. Not to mention...you seem to be in a perpetually bad mood this morning, sir. A smile wouldn't-"
"I don't have scary eyes!"
"...Pardon?"
Souji Seta stomped forward, looming over the smaller man...though, by Yakushiji's expression, he wasn't being that intimidating. He wedged his fingers around his eyesockets, spreading them wide and refusing to blink just so the little gnat could get a decent look. "See? They're not. You implied they were, right? But they aren't. I do NOT look scary, godd-...gaahh..."
"You almost s-"
"I know, I know! Just...just..."
He turned, stomping away with as much ferocity as before,,,bolting back into the guest bedroom to get another glance at the mirror. He had to admit...Yakushiji did nice work. Efficient, immaculate...'classy'. That was the only real way to put it, wasn't it? You're either 'classy' or you're not...and for a split moment in time, Souji Seta was classy...
...until his eyes lifted to get a glance at his face. Sharp, scary eyes...scowling lips...a heavy bandage lingering on his forehead. He emerged from the room with a crestfallen grumble.
"...I do look like a hitman..." And I DO have scary eyes...
Yakushiji cleared his throat, adjusting his posture and attempting to allow himself to become an ounce or two more sympathetic. "Now, now...maybe that's a good thing, hm? As a bodyguard, you should look intimidating. If I was completely unaware of who you were, sir, I wouldn't touch you with a twenty-foot pole..."
"...You're not really helping."
Yakushiji stared down, dejected...before mustering whatever warm, fuzzy feelings he could and shuffling over to give the well-dressed symbol of fear a reassuring pat on the back. "...There there."
Souji Seta shrugged it away, attempting to do the best he could given the circumstances. It was all the mind, wasn't it? He had his qualities. Tall, broad-shouldered, well-dressed...that made him perfect for the job, right? He rolled his shoulders, popped his neck...toyed with his necktie, though he didn't jerk it about too much in fear of misaligning it and prompting Yakushiji to grope at him again. With the amount of money that went into this suit he could pay his rent for three months...
...He was unsure if he should be depressed by that.
"...So...what now, huh?"
"Ahh, yes...good, Mr. Seta. Now...we meet with the detective for a proper orientation. Detective Shirogane is currently waiting in the north lounge. The detective has kindly put the standard schedule on hold just so you can be made familiar with your new surroundings. Detective Shirogane insisted on giving the tour personally. Now...unless you have some questions, let's-"
"Yeah, I do have some questions."
Yakushiji paused mid-stride...already having turned and beckoned for Seta to follow. For once, he seemed genuinely taken aback...coughing to regain his composure before turning back to face the estate's guest. "...Yes, sir. Ask away, sir."
Souji smirked. "...I've noticed something weird about the way you talk."
"...Yes?"
"...When referring to Naoto...you never use 'he' or 'she'. Why's that?"
"...Right...I apologize. I keep forgetting that all of her friends from Inaba were already aware. It's force of habit, sir. Forgive me if you find it odd."
"...So...Naoto still goes under the pretense of being a guy?"
"Do not misunderstand. The detective never outwardly states that she is a man. In fact...she prefers if the subject never comes up. Her current policy is 'Tell no lies...but if her sex is never brought up to begin with, there is no problem'."
"...Alright...so, I guess I should follow suit when I'm in public with her, right?"
"...She would appreciate that, sir. Thank you. Now, if we're go-"
"NEXT...question."
Yakushiji suppressed a groan, tiredly readjusting himself. Apparently, he didn't like it when the shoe was on the other fit and he had to listen to someone else talk. "...Go ahead, Mr. Seta."
"Semi-automatic Browning, 9mm."
"...The gun that was used by yesterday's assailant."
"Yeah...how did you know what kind of gun it was? He got away, right? Was the gun recovered?"
"...No, sir. It was not."
"...Then h-"
"Detective Shirogane was able to identify it."
"...Seriously?"
"A glance is all that's needed. The detective is very good with firearms."
Souji Seta hadn't considered that. He wouldn't be told something like that either if it was a lie. After all...he could confirm it with Naoto as soon as he met up with her. He wouldn't put something like that past her. "...Alright then...I believe it."
"...Did it bother you that much?"
"...N-no...not really. It's nothing, forget it..."
"...Anything else?"
...There was something else...but with some lying suspicion about the gun put to rest, he felt less of a need to ask it. Regardless...he may as well. It would come up sooner or later. "...Whose idea was it to hire me? You said it wasn't Naoto's...I can buy that. But...your explanation for me being hired makes absolutely no sense. You're responding to her desires or something like that?"
"...Not satisfied with that?"
"...No."
"...Hmm...you're more demanding than I'd thought. Mr. Seta...would it be okay if I answered your question with another question?"
"...What?"
"It'll make sense in a moment, I promise."
Souji Seta stared towards the man's face. His expression was unreadable...the pride of an expert poker player perhaps. Same as always, gentle and open but stern. The tone in his voice showed absolutely no signs of aggression or anything suspicious...which, in a way, was more suspicious than anything else. Not bothering to fight it off, Souji allowed it...gesturing briefly to signal Yakushiji's permission to continue.
"...Mr. Seta...did you know that the assailant's gun was going to jam?"
Souji's eyes widened. His voice seemed to jump and hang itself within the cavern of his throat. His fingers tightened...knuckles shading white as he kept them hidden within his trouser pockets. "...What is that supposed to mean?"
"...Do not misunderstand. I am only suggesting that...it was remarkably convenient. The gun jammed. You were perfectly free to leap in and make yourself a hero without any chance of Detective Shirogane being harmed."
"...You...what are you implying?"
"...Mr. Seta, would you say that it's odd that you were the only person who lost consciousness? Despite the fact that witnesses claim YOU delivered the blow...it was only YOU who fell unconscious. I found that to be exceptionally strange. What are the chances? A gun jamming and the assailant managing to escape with only you being knocked out, despite the fact that the assailant hadn't delivered that headbutt. These are two very unsettling coincidences..."
"...You didn't answer me. I said...'What are you implying?'"
"...An old friend comes to town, Mr. Seta. He pours his heart out and causes the person he's meeting to leave prematurely...when, coincidentally, this person is attacked and the old friend steps in to help. It isn't easy to get very close to Detective Shirogane because of the work that comes with the position. But...if something like this were to happen..."
"You're saying I staged it!"
"...I didn't say that."
"You think I staged it and I got this job because you wanted to keep an eye on me!"
"Mr. Seta, please, I didn't say that."
"I quit!"
Souji Seta's hands fled to his collar, clumsy fingers vainly fumbling with the secure knot of his tie. For once, he could see Yakushiji in a moment of extreme discomfort. He gasped and sputtered, eventually lunging forward and grabbing hold of the younger man's wrists. "Mr. Seta, do not be rash! Listen to me, will you? Please!"
...Please. That was a nice word...nice enough to make Souji pause in his rapid undressing, calming himself down and steadying his stance for whatever explanation he'd be given. "...I'm listening."
"...Mr. Seta...you must admit, it is suspicious. You were suspicious of me, were you not? That's why you asked about how I knew the model of the gun? You suspected another...childish ruse to inject some bit of excitement into the detective's life? The d-...she was enough troubles in her life as of late...and I assure you, as mischievious as Mr. Shirogane is...he'd never order anyone to pull a gun out at his granddaughter, even in a jest."
Souji lowered his hands. Yakushiji seemed to take the hint, releasing his stranglehold upon his wrists...taking the time to readjust Souji's tie one last time before he smoothed out the wrinkles of his own business suit. "Mr. Seta...I'd like to have some faith in you...but what transpired is, logically speaking, difficult to believe."
"..."
"...There ARE...some discrepancies that do lead us to believe that what happened was legitimate."
"...Like?"
"Last night, I learned that you were aware that the detective carries a revolver. I questioned the detective about this...and she was quite clear that, prior to meeting her, you knew perfectly well that she carried a gun on her at all times. That means that there was a significant chance of either you or the 'accomplice' being shot in the confusion. We are...not quite sure if you're the kind of person who would risk something like that simply so you could get close to the detective again. Even if you were certain about not being hurt...I will admit, that the idea of using something like this to bridge a gap between you and the detective is awfully complex. Most people would never imagine it actually working."
"...Hm..."
"...But...if it was a ruse...and your intention was to get close to Detective Shirogane...then it worked. It worked without a hitch...and that's what had us suspicious. That's why you were offered this job."
"...You said tha-"
"Naoto...told me not to tell you that it was her idea to offer you employment. I'm not sure why..."
Souji Seta blinked rapidly. His expression softened...only slightly though, before some creeping shadow of doubt once again frothed up into his chest. "...Then...what does Naoto think? You told her about thinking that I set the whole thing up?"
"...I spoke with her quite thoroughly last night. I presented her with just how illogical and impossibly coincidental the incident seemed. I discussed every angle, every possibility, and every suspicious that both I and her grandfather had. I told her explicitly how odd it was for an old friend to distance themselves from her...only to show up again and have this happen. I thought you could be fishing for money...or attempting to gather information on her for an enemy she had made...but no matter what I said, she had the exact same reply."
"...Yeah?"
"...She said...'He is not that kind of person. I want him to have the job.'"
"O-oh..."
Souji Seta...didn't know the proper way to respond to that. He simply let the conversation die...content to stare at his own reflect sadly looking back at him from the shiny exterior of his shoes.
"...Will that be all, Mr. Seta?"
"...What? Oh...well...yeah, almost. Where is...where's her 'grampa'?"
A genuinely curious question this time. No ulterior motives...no delusions of detective's instinct taking hold as with the identity of the assailant's gun. Yakushiji gave a genuinely chuckle, for once...tugging jovially at the edge of his mustache. "...'Grampa'...my my, he does hate when she calls him that in front of other people. Ahem...Mr. Shirogane...is away on business at the moment."
"...Business? He's not...retired?"
"...He is away on business at the moment."
"...You m-"
"He is away on business at the moment, Mr. Seta. That is all."
"...I see."
"...You may speak with him soon, perhaps. I can't tell you whether or not he approves of your current employment or not. He is absolutely dedicated to the notion of Detective Shirogane making her own decisions concerning the Shirogane Detective Agency. Even if he hated you...I don't think he'd step in."
"...That...is not reassuring at all, Yakushiji. Thank you."
"...Hm. Funny. Very well, Mr. Seta...the detective awaits. Follow me."
"...Detective Shirogane?"
"Hm? Yes, Yakushiji?"
"...Mr. Seta has a request."
"...A request?"
"Yes. Mr. Seta has formally requested that you...do not laugh."
"...Huh?"
Naoto Shirogane eyed the aging secretary quizzically from her position in the estate's 'north lounge'. It was her favorite of the estate's various 'sitting rooms'...a very short stroll away from her bedroom as well as her personal study. She didn't spend nearly as much time in the north lounge as she did either of those...but, it seemed like a logical place to meet with visitors and the like. Not to mention...she enjoyed the atmosphere. The hardwood floors as well as the frequently used fireplace gave the entire room a homey, nostalgic atmosphere...and the positioning of the sofa offered a lovely view of the estate's prized gardens, particularly her favorite tree...a London Plane, perfect for climbing. Back in the simple days, it was her 'personal base'...no one allowed in without her expressed permission.
Naoto stared curiously towards the doorway in which Souji was expected to appear. She was dressed casually for her standards. Blue and navy checkered slacks, a simple white dress shirt with sturdy blue suspenders to hold it all together. It was a position that most were unaccustomed to seeing her in. She seemed to have a talent for keeping up that protective bubble of professionalism and androgyny even when at rest. She had slipped her shoes off in an attempt to make the best of her time waiting...sock-covered feet resting comfortably aside one another. Her precious cap looked almost lonesome when not sat atop her head, leaving the head wear in the empty portion of the sofa while giving anyone who entered a rare glance at that fluffy, blue moptop. A single cup of coffee steamed away as she held it within surprisingly dainty fingers, lips pursing to blow at the liquid as she continually glanced towards the door.
There seemed to a rustle in the other room...a sudden shuffling of shoes. Sighing, she took a conservative sip of her coffee before placing it on the antique table before her. "...Souji? Is that you?"
"...He told you not to laugh, right?"
"...Yes, I was well-informed of your personal request. What's wrong?"
"...Just...you'll see. Just remember, no laughing."
Naoto sighed. "...You have my word."
Reasonably comforted by Naoto's words of reassurance, Souji Seta emerged. He cleared his throat repeatedly...left hand slid into his left pocket in a somewhat desperate attempt at appearing at ease. His opposite hand toyed endlessly with the knot of his tie. It seemed okay, but whenever he stopped tugging it felt as if the darn thing was slowly tightening around his neck. His bangs had been brushed hastily forward in some fool's attempt to cover the bandage covered his forehead. He didn't look up...eyes glued to the polished hardwood floor, a subtle hint of red laying across his nose and cheeks. It was a decent fit, at least...even for someone of his height. Long legs, broad shoulders...it made it exceedingly difficult to find any clothing that didn't bunch up in awkward places...but this, in the very least, seemed like a streamlined fit.
...Silly. That's the word. He felt silly...like a homeless man in a formal office building. These weren't his clothes...this isn't how he dressed. He felt as if he was on display...a freakish dried carcass in a glass chamber to be subjected to the insipid theories of any armchair paleontologist that strolled by.
He was afraid to look up...embarrassed, really. More insistently, he tugged and squeezed at the knot of his tie. "...Well? What do you think?"
Silence. No response. God, she was holding it in, wasn't she? She was trying so damn hard not to laugh. He should go change. This was a joke...just a big experiment that had gone horribly wrong. He raised his eyes to meet her, perfectly willing to storm away to another room, strip down, and refuse to wear anything of the sort before he caught sight of her expression.
...A deer in headlights. That was a good way of describing her. It was a rare sight to see. Her eyes, under normal circumstances, never became that wide. Her lips moved, but nothing came out. She trembled slightly. It was as if she'd been asked a dozen different life-changing questions at once and didn't know which one to respond to first. Suddenly, her hand moved...snatching up a handkerchief from her pants pocket and using it to cover her mouth and nose.
Souji Seta sighed. "...Geez...you ARE trying not to laugh."
Naoto's reply was a muffled, nasally one. "Mmph? No, no...that's not it..."
She seemed to be honest. Her voice didn't shake...he couldn't detect any concealed hiccups of impending laughter.
She sniffed loudly, thoroughly wiping at her nose with the handkerchief. When finished, she swiftly folded the scrap of linen...briefly moving to lay it on the table for suddenly changing her mind and thrusting it back into her pocket. For a moment, she held her hand to her chest...leaving it there until her breathing settled. Calmly, she walked over to Souji...pushing his hand away from his neck and taking the tie in hand herself, loosening it considerably. "...Is...that more comfortable?"
"...Yeah...thanks."
She seemed to became painfully aware of how close she'd gotten...removing her hands hurriedly and taking three steps back, crossing her arms and staring...occasionally moving her eyes away before settling back. "...You...look very nice."
"...Ha...you're serious?"
"...Yes...you look very...ummmm...hardboiled..."
"...H-...what?"
"...Like...like one of the detectives I used to admire...i-if that makes sense."
Souji Seta didn't know exactly to respond to that...but, it made him happy. He decided to save his interrogation of Naoto's reasons for demanding that he be hired for later.
"...Oh!" Naoto suddenly reached into her opposite pocket. "...Your wardrobe isn't quite complete yet. There's something else. I think it would be in your best interest to wear it. I hope you don't take offense. While cleaning the guest room you stayed in, one of the maids found it still in the pocket of your blue jeans."
She presented him with a watch...the same handmade treasure that he'd been afraid to wear the day before. She thrust it towards him with both hands...almost timidly, like a schoolgirl giving her first crush a sealed letter of love.
Souji Seta kept his eyes lowered...bangs covering the top half of his face as he silently accepted it. It was then that he noticed Naoto was already wearing hers. Silently, he strapped his own onto his left wrist. It clashed horribly with the rest of his outfit...low-quality plastic not a well-suited accessory to head-to-toe Italian wool, cotton pique, and leather. It made him happy though...in a way that a world-class time-keeper would never have been able.
"...Makes sense, right? It's...important for me to know where you are...from now on."
"...Y-yes...that is exactly what I was thinking. It's hard to predict when something as simple as this will come in useful. I-I could probably have made something more advanced at this point, but...well, since I'm so busy...and since these both still work as well as they always have, I don't see the logic behind taking the time to upgrade them."
Souji couldn't complain. After all...new ones wouldn't have nearly the amount of sentimentality attached to them. "...Thanks...Naoto..."
"...Now! Since we have all of that taken care of...I should probably, uh...make sure you're familiar with what's going to be expected of you. Follow me..."
As she turned, Souji Seta couldn't help but notice just a tiny bit of red lingering on the tip of her nose.
"...It's better to pinch your nose and tilt your head back, you know..."
"Hm! O-oh...that's right..."
(AN: I really appreciate the reviews and kind comments. Constructive criticism is also appreciated. I also tried to make the suggestion near the end as subtle as possible without being too vague. More is on the way.)