Marukyu tofu shop.
A lifelong dream of my grandparent's, to run their own tofu shop, only realized after my grandfather died. I couldn't hold it against Grandma for following through with their plans to make the place, it was her way of coping with her husband's loss and still hanging on to a piece of him. But for forty years it had just been Grandma, and occasionally me, running the place. She never got to take a vacation, go on dates, or really live her life. I think that's why I always resented working here so much, it represented the opposite of everything I ever wanted for my life.
But I couldn't deny how relaxing the familiar routines of the shop were. "No, Rise, don't be so rough you'll ruin the texture. Watch me do it. Okay? See how gentle I'm being." Even Grandma's overbearing presence and tutelage was welcome. It felt like home.
All the familiarity in the world couldn't stop me from being sore and exhausted, though, and coupled with the insane conversation I'd just had with Grandma I could barely concentrate on anything, much less tofu.
"You'll be the death of me child, the hot water comes out of the red tap, not the blue."
"Sorry, Grandma."
"Rise why are you putting those there, they're on special today!"
"Sorry, Grandma."
"No no no, we don't open for another half hour!"
"Sorry, Grandma."
By the time we opened, the two hours I'd spent working felt like a lifetime. Despite her weirdness Grandma kept a tight ship. The rows of products were aligned perfectly by size and shape, leading you down a natural concourse of tofu delights. From the basic to the complex, each piece was as carefully laid out as any artwork I'd ever seen. Customers would stand in awe of such sublime perfection.
Assuming that we ever got any customers, anyway.
Grandma wasn't much for idle chatter while she was 'on the clock' (her words!) so we mostly stood around in silence, walked the aisles, and waited.
"Hello? Are you open?" A middle aged woman had poked her head in the door. She carried a basket full of groceries in one hand. In her other hand she held a shiny photo, but I couldn't make out who it was of- Oh, no. I thought. She's a fan.
Look, I like all my fans, but if you forced me to answer which group I liked the least? Middle-aged moms. They were way more obsessive than their younger counterparts, and kept pressing you to give them a chance to debut. They all thought they'd end up being the next middle-aged idol. Worse than the young girls, they couldn't accept that I didn't have the power to turn them into stars overnight.
The woman's eyes landed on me as I inched nervously away from her. Her eyes lit up and she neatly stepped past my grandmother who was coming to greet her. "It is you Risette! Oh my god I can't believe you're actually in a dump like this, what show are you doing this for is it one of the new reality programs? Why work with tofu, though, it's not glamorous or dirty it's just kind of boring but oh listen to me ramble on and on like an old woman I'm just so excited to meet an idol is there anyway you could sign this for me? It's not for me, of course, but my daughter is a huge fan and I just know she would be so incredibly excited to get your signature-"
"I'm sorry, I don't do that anymore." My words were quiet and were lost like pebbles in the river of words the woman was spewing.
"-and since this is a promotional event there won't be a charge for the signing will there? Not that I couldn't afford it or anything it's that I just came from the grocery store and I don't have much money on me and really I think it's unfair you charge for signatures in the first place-"
Grandma had shuffled her way up to the woman and touched her gently on the shoulder. The woman spun. "-no you do not get to cut in front of me just because I am the first one in line doesn't mean you can shove me aside Risette doesn't want to see an old bag like you anyway!-"
"Get out!" My voice echoed in the small store. The anger it in surprised me. "Get out of my Grandmother's shop you old bat! This isn't a signing, this isn't a promotional event, and I'm not Risette anymore! Stop trying to live your failed dreams through other people and get out!" My whole body was trembling with anger. Both women stared at me, the woman's mouth was slack with shock, though I think I saw a bit of pride on my Grandma's face.
It didn't take the woman long to recover. "Oh my! No wonder you're slipping in the polls, you can't treat your fans like that, no ma'am, just because you don't want to do the job you were hired to do doesn't mean you can get out of it by being rude, you'll discover that life is all about hard work and this right here is about as easy as it gets. I'm going to go get all of my friends and we'll show you what it's like to work hard to make your fans happy, believe me, you'll be singing and dancing and singing until you collapse!"
She neatly spun on her heels and stormed out the door, mumbling under her breath about 'young tramps' and 'useless idols.' I stood rooted to my spot behind the counter, trembling with anger but- I couldn't deny it- a little shame. As good as it felt to tell that woman off, she was a fan of Risette's and part of me wanted to make sure she left here smiling, even if she was a little off her rocker. I let out a shuddering breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"Why don't you go in the back for a minute, Rise? Compose yourself?" Grandma said. We both knew I was flushed red in anger, but the tears pooling at the corner of my eyes were just as obvious. Not trusting myself to speak I walked to the back of the store and stepped behind the screen that separated me from the store.
That was terrifying. Way worse than being on live TV. My heart was hammering in my chest, my palms were sweaty, I felt like crying and screaming at the same time. Is rejecting Risette really that hard? But why did it feel so good? Ugh, what's wrong with me? My breathing slowed. You're fine, Rise, you're fine. Just breathe and relax and focus on tofu. You can do this.
I stepped out from behind the curtain and noticed more people in the store. My heart skipped a beat, thinking that woman had made good on her threat, until I realized the two customers were men and from the looks of them around my age. The taller one caught my eye first. He wore the black and silver Yasogami high uniform with the collar up and jacket unbuttoned. His hair was gray or silver, I couldn't really tell in this light, and he carried himself with a casual indifference to the world around him. He couldn't have been more than sixteen, but when he looked up and I met those piercing gray eyes of his it felt like I was staring into the fathomless depths of time.
He smiled.
I smiled.
"Ah, there she is." Grandma chimed in from somewhere to my left. "Rise, these boys would like to ask you some questions, if you're okay with that. They say it has nothing to do with being an idol." Grandma gave a meaningful look to the other young man in the store. He was tall, but still shorter than the gray haired one. He wore the jacket of his school uniform on his shoulders, almost like it was a cape, and as soon as I saw the skull on his black shirt it all started to make sense.
"Kanji?" I asked in surprise. The other man looked at me and my suspicions were confirmed. Looking past the bleached blonde hair and the piercings in his face, it was obviously Kanji Tatsumi.
Kanji looked confused for a moment. "Do we know each other?" It was a perfectly valid question, but Kanji managed to fill it with such hostility that I flinched.
"Uh, well, we used to go to school together a long time ago." I blurted out. He stared at me with a vacant expression for a long moment.
"Oh! You were the quiet girl that everyone picked on." Grandma shot him a look. "Uh, sorry," he said, scratching the back of his neck, "it's just about the only thing I remember about you." Surprisingly, Kanji actually looked apologetic. His eyes were lowered in shame and I think I saw a blush on his cheeks.
I smiled.
"It's fine," I said, looking at grandma, "that's long in the past, Kanji."
"Y-yeah?"
"Yeah. Don't worry about it."
Kanji relaxed. The gray haired man stepped up next to him and tossed an arm around Kanji's shoulder. "Don't worry about this guy, he looks like a punk but he's got a heart of gold." He slapped Kanji's chest. Kanji pulled himself out of the other's grasp and stepped away, looking like he was somewhere between running or attacking him. Ignoring Kanji's reactions, he held out his hand to me. "Yu Nurakami." I grasped his hand. It was soft and firm, and he had a surprisingly strong grip. That sense of an overwhelming presence fell over me again, and I gasped in surprise.
"Ha, took your breath away did I? Not surprising, you're an Inaba girl at heart." Yu smiled. Was he mocking me or complimenting me? Two parts of my brain were vying for control at the moment, one wanted to growl at Yu, like he was a hunter in my territory and another part wanted to bat my eyes at him adoringly and flirt for a while. Yu raised an eyebrow.
"Uh, thanks. I guess." Neither side won, thankfully, but I couldn't help wiping my hand on my apron after Yu released it. "Grandma said you had some questions? Is this about school?"
That blank expression came over Kanji's face again. "School? Why're you asking about that?"
"We're wearing our uniforms, Kanji, and we're the same age as her and she's new to town." Yu enunciated every word and spoke slowly, as if Kanji were an invalid. I felt a pang of sympathy for him, I knew what it was like to be talked to like that.
"Oh, oh. Gotcha. Makes sense." If Kanji was aware that Yu had been mocking him, he didn't let on. "Nah, we're here to ask you about TVs."
Yu shot Kanji a look. There was a loud click as Kanji's mouth snapped shut.
"What my partner means to say is that we wanted to ask you about the Midnight Channel."
"Midnight Channel? Never heard of it."
Yu hesitated for a moment. "It's, ah, a bit of a local myth. If you watch your TV at midnight on a rainy night, it'll supposedly show you your soulmate."
I snorted and laughed. "That's absurd! There's no way its true." Kanji looked away and Yu set his jaw in grim smile. "Wait, you guys believe in it?" Yu shook his head.
"No, no, it's just that anytime someone new comes to town people pretend like they see them on the Midnight Channel, and they end up getting harassed for a bit so we just wanted to give you a heads up." Yu smiled. "You know, be friendly classmates and all."
"Oh. Okay. Thanks, I guess." Yu nodded. "Wait, classmates? How'd you know I was going to go to Yasogami?"
"Ah, just hoping I suppose. Be nice to have an idol around, give the gals something to strive for, y'know?" His smile grew wider. Too wide.
"C'mon dude, lets get out of here." Kanji muttered, clearly uncomfortable. He looked over at me. "See ya 'round." It was my turn to nod. They walked out the door and were lost to the bright midday sun almost instantly.
"Weird." I muttered.
"Hm. That Yu boy seemed nice." Grandma was nodding as she eyed the merchandise, making sure it still looked good. "Certainly a lot nicer than that Tatsumi boy."
"You didn't feel anything weird from Yu?"
"Weird?" Grandma looked thoughtful. "I felt that way about your grandpa when I met him. Maybe it's love at first sight."
A shiver went up my spine. If that's what love feels like, I don't want any part of it.
"Or maybe not." Grandma admitted, seeing the expression on my face.
"Hello? Police, may we enter the premises?" A deep voice called from the front of the store. Grandma and I turned to see a man, probably in his 30s, standing just inside the door, jacket casually tossed over one shoulder. He wore a neatly pressed shirt and tie, but his pants were wrinkled from use. His black hair was short and neat, but a five-o'clock shadow highlighted his strong chin. His brown eyes took in everything. The badge at his hip was really just overkill, everything about this man screamed 'detective'. Oddly, he smelled like coffee and children's shampoo.
Slightly behind and to the side, there was a young man. Maybe mid-twenty's with longer, unkempt black hair. His suit was obviously of good make, but equally obvious the man didn't care to wear it properly or keep it in good shape. It looked loose and shoddy on him, which just contributed to the general impression of being a slacker I got from him.
The detective's partner? No wonder he's in a bad mood.
"Yes, officers? Please, do come in." Grandma bowed to the two cops. The older one stepped forward and held his badge up to Grandma, as if we didn't already know he was a cop, and spoke.
"I'm detective Dojima, and this is my partner detective Adachi with the Inaba police." Grandma nodded, all smiles, waiting for Dojima to get to the point. "We wanted to speak with Rise Kujikawa."
Grandma nodded in my direction. "She's right there officers, but may I ask what you need her for first?" Grandma bowed again.
"No need to be so formal," Dojima said, returning the bow, "we just wanted to make sure we knew each other. I'm sure you're both aware of the string of murders in town, and since she's a celebrity she's bound to draw more attention. If we're on friendly terms, it'll be easier for us to share information and cooperate."
Grandma bowed again. "Of course, sirs, Rise please come here and speak with these nice officers."
I stepped forward and bowed, a little intimidated by the two officers. Dojima chuckled nervously.
"Ah, don't you start too. You're not in trouble or anything, please relax." Dojima sounded like he meant it, but I remained stiff and nervous.
"Yes, sir. I mean detective. I mean, uh, yes detective Dojima." He laughed, a happy, good natured laugh.
"How about you call me Dojima, okay? You're not in trouble." He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled warmly.
"And you can call me Adachi!" The other detective piped up. His voice was mousy, like he was doing his best to not draw attention to what he was actually saying.
"Adachi, can it! No one asked you." Adachi flinched at the anger in Dojima's voice.
"S-sorry, sir." The surprise on Adachi's face was genuine, but it felt like an old routine between these two.
"Why don't you go outside and watch the traffic?"
"B-but the traffic is fine-"
"Adachi, people have seen us come here. You know how gossip spreads. Half the town will be here soon and we need to get be on top of crowd management. Go!" Adachi flinched again and walked out the door. Dojima grumbled about rookies and glanced at his watch and muttered some more.
"I guess he isn't going to show. Let's get started." Dojima pulled a flip-top notebook from his breast pocket. "You're aware of the murders in town recently, correct?"
I nodded.
"Do you have any questions about them? We believe you might be targeted, so we're going to keep an eye on you, but we'd like to be as transparent as possible."
Me? Targeted? I swallowed through a suddenly dry mouth.
"Why me?" My voice was a hoarse whisper.
Dojima nodded. "The killer seems to be targeting people of notoriety. I'm sad to say you're the most notable thing to happen to Inaba in the past few weeks, so it's a fairly logical assumption you might be targeted. Now, keep in mind this is purely speculation. But we'd like to stay ahead of this if at all possible."
I nodded again.
"Okay. Do you know of anyone who may wish to harm you, or may have followed you here?"
What a loaded question. I could name half a dozen stalkers off the top of my head.
"No. No one specifically." Dojima looked at me. He wasn't even trying to be intimidating and I was scared of him. How much worse would it be if I'd actually done something? "I mean, there are all sorts of creepy people and stalkers, but that's part of being an idol. I can't think of anyone who would want to hurt me, though."
"Hmm. Could you provide us with names, just to be sure?"
"My manager has a list of known stalkers, I can have him forward it to you." Dojima nodded.
"I've spoken to him on the phone, I can get that taken care of."
Inoue spoke to the cops? When? Why didn't he tell me any of this?
"Ah, there you are Detective Dojima. My apologies for the delay." A soft voice came from the front of the store.
"Shirogane! You're late. The hell took you so long?" Just inside the door stood a young man. I'd never seen anyone look so elegant in a double breasted jacket. Blue hair peeked out of a cap that could only be described as 'old fashioned', but combined with the bowtie at his neck the whole thing worked. It was wonderfully retro. His eyes were a soft gray, but they saw just as much- maybe more- as Dojima's eyes did. A soft smile played at his lips.
"There's a bit of jam today, it seems word has gotten out that there's an idol in town."
"Of course. Damn gossipers." Dojima sighed. "Well, whatever, you're here now. Rise Kujikawa this is Naoto Shirogane, he's a private detective helping out with the case." My eyes widened in shock.
A private detective? He can't be any older than me!
A slight blush colored his cheeks as Naoto saw my reaction. "Yes, well, now that introductions are out of the way let's get to it. How far did you make it in my absence, Detective?"
He's ordering Dojima around! This kid is ordering a full blown detective around! I felt positively worthless next to him, what was being an idol at my age compared to ordering cops around?
He looked up and his gray eyes met mine for the briefest of seconds. I saw something in his eyes, something he was desperate to hide, something incredibly familiar. His eyes held that same sorrow I felt when I wondered about my path, wondered if I was who I thought I was.
What could make him feel like that? What in the world- No! No way! He tore his eyes from me. My jaw fell slack, my mind turned to mush.
Naoto Shirogane was a woman.