MERRY HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS!!
Hope your holidays were enjoyable. And even if they weren't, that won't matter, because we're starting this year off right—with another chapter of Captain Mis.
Damn straight.
Also: TODAY IS SAITOU'S BIRTHDAY. Happy Birthday Saitou!
Enjoy, you guys!!
Disclaimer: Like I really need to be reminded of that lamentable fact….
Words To Watch Out For:
uhm…nothing you all don't already know (could be wrong, though).
More Of A Note Than Anything:
pizza in Japan: …is not your average pie. In fact, it bears little resemblance to pizza as it is known in the US, for example (still interested? Visit Mr. Billy Hammond's "Pizza in Japan" page at http:(double backslash)tanutech(dot)com(backslash)japan(backslash)jpizza(dot)html; it's a short article, or else I'd have paraphrased it). It's very popular in Japan with the younger set. It's also on the expensive side, so it's not something you want to buy all willy-nilly all the time.
ginkgo biloba: a tree with a long history (seriously), it is today primarily known for its supposed memory and concentration-enhancing properties. There is debate, however, on whether ginkgo actually does anything for one's memory. Until there is conclusive evidence stating otherwise, though, health food stores and the like are content enough to market ginkgo as a supplement to boost one's cognitive abilities.
Captain Miserable Finds the Greener Grass
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Chapter Thirty-Seven: And Then, There Was Light…
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A week later found Tokio pacing back and forth in the conference room at Mifune's office suite in Shinjuku Ward, waiting for the men representing the city of Kyoto to arrive.
Not that they were late—they weren't. Tokio was just early.
Very early.
So early, in fact, that she'd beat the secretary and had had to wait for the woman's arrival to be let in.
She wasn't the only one who'd been nervous about this meeting; Enishi had picked her up at the apartment this morning, Tomoe and Kamatari already in the back of his car. The Yukishiro siblings looked exhausted; Kamatari looked irritated that he'd been dragged out of bed so early.
Actually, Kamatari was irritated because he really shouldn't have been there, the head curator should have. But as there was no head curator anymore (what with Nakajima fired and pending a criminal trial, and Kurosagi suspended for an indefinite amount of time while his part, if any, in Nakajima's plot was determined), Tokio needed someone to fill the spot, and she'd chosen Kamatari because she trusted him.
Not that her trust had in any way changed his thoughts on the whole thing, or at all ingratiated her with him for the stunt:
"You're lucky I love you," the disgruntled man muttered, arms crossed over his chest, as he glared balefully at Tokio.
She sent him a wide, hopeful smile.
"And it's because you love me that you're doing this huge, huge, huge favor for me, right Kamatari-chan?"
"No—it's because I love you that I'm refraining from strangling you," Kamatari snapped.
"Look," Tokio began with a sigh, "I'm sorry, Kamatari, but there was no one else!"
"The hell there wasn't!"
"No one I trust as much as I trust you!"
"Well couldn't you trust me a little fucking less, so I didn't have to get up at 3 a.m.?!"
"3 a.m.?" Enishi asked, sounding incredulous. "Why the fuck would you need to get up at 3 a.m., you freak?"
Kamatari sent him a disdainful look.
"It takes a lot of hard work to look as good as I do, or do you think this comes naturally?" he replied haughtily, gesturing to himself with both hands, and Enishi rolled his eyes.
"Oh gods deliver me," he muttered.
The drive to the office had been made with the usual insults between Enishi and Kamatari, with Tokio occasionally playing referee, and also fighting the urge to call Saitou for moral support (as much as she wanted to hear him tell her everything would be all right, she didn't particularly want her staff to see or hear that, even if they were people she'd known almost her whole life). Tomoe alternated between playing backseat driver and taking over as referee when Tokio's nerves got the better of her, and she stopped paying attention.
All in all, it was possibly the least relaxing way to precede a legal throw down.
Enishi had found a decent parking spot (one that wouldn't put his car in danger), and they alighted from the vehicle.
"Ugh, it's so dark," Kamatari muttered as he slipped out of the car.
"Oh would you shut up?" Enishi irritably snapped, in the middle of helping his sister get out. "Fuck—all you've done so far this morning is bitch."
"This isn't morning," Kamatari replied. "It's glorified night."
"Guys, come on," Tokio said wearily from where she stood by the passenger door; Enishi had helped her out before going to his sister. "It's too early for this."
"He started it," Enishi said petulantly.
"Really, you two," Tomoe said in disapproval. "You're acting like babies instead of executives."
Kamatari pouted and wouldn't say anything else; Enishi just scowled and slammed the door shut harder than he really needed to; and Tokio sighed, grateful the bickering had stopped.
Usually she didn't mind, but today was hardly "usual."
The group, now much more subdued, walked to the building. Tokio, who had met with Mifune at his office before (a few former employees had tried to sue her for firing them, but nothing had ever come of the suits), didn't bother checking the directory in the lobby, and walked right up to the elevator, the others following behind her. Upon walking into the elevator, Kamatari made use of the mirrored walls, which had Enishi rolling his eyes and scowling. Tokio took one look at herself and winced, then decided she was better off watching the floor numbers change; good gods, how had Saitou let her leave the apartment looking so pale and awful?
"What's wrong with you?" Enishi asked.
"Nothing," she replied, eyes on the numbers. "I'm just going to have a long talk with Hajime when I get home about what constitutes 'good'."
"You look fine," Tomoe said quietly.
"Maybe a little tense, but we all look that way," Enishi added, and earned a frown from his sister. "What?" he asked, confused. "What'd I say?"
"It's okay, I know what he meant," Tokio said, waving a dismissive hand. "We're only going to the meeting that will make or break us."
"Feh—only," Enishi muttered, pushing his glasses up from where they'd slipped to perch at the very tip of his nose.
"Now, now—it's very serious, yes, but it isn't nearly as bad as all that," Tomoe reprimanded lightly.
Tokio bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying, "Actually, it is as bad as all that—and then some."
Probably wouldn't go over very well.
Plus, in a tiny elevator, there would be no escape from pesky questions like "What do you mean we'll be ruined if we don't get the Shinuchi?!" and "How could you do such a thing?!" and the like.
Instead, she said,
"Tomoe-san, we really need to get custody of the Shinuchi from Kyoto. The museum needs the boost. Badly."
"Well, what are our odds?" Tomoe asked, cocking her head, and Tokio let out a huge sigh that violently ruffled her bangs.
"Realistically? We have a better chance of being attacked by a shark in the middle of Ginza while simultaneously being struck by lightning."
Tomoe blinked.
"You're just making that up," she said after a beat.
"Oh I wish," Tokio muttered.
"That's ridiculous, Tokio-san," Tomoe said. "We'll do fine. We just have to have faith, that's all."
Her little brother did not share her optimism:
"We're gonna die," Enishi muttered sourly, hands shoved into his pockets.
"Well," Kamatari said brightly, smoothing down the front of his chic suit, "at the very least, we'll go out looking fabulous."
Tokio, Enishi and Tomoe glared at him.
"What?" he asked, blinking.
"You're not helping," they said in flat, emphatic unison, just as the doors to the elevator opened at the fourteenth floor.
Upon arriving at Mifune's office suite, they found the door locked, so they waited out in the hallway (and squabbled again over the ungodly hour they'd arrived at) until the secretary, who was horrified and astonished to find them there, arrived. She hurriedly allowed them into the suite, and promised them coffee and muffins, which got Kamatari's attention:
"Make sure there're at least three lemon poppy seed muffins, please," he said sweetly.
"Absolutely Honjou-san," the secretary assured, bowing low. "And please allow me to apologize again for not being here to greet you on Mifune-sensei's behalf—"
"It's all right," Tomoe assured.
"We're just impertinent and came before we were supposed to," Tokio added with a smile.
As soon as the secretary left, the door clicking shut behind her, Enishi threw himself down into a chair and yawned hugely.
"So we're impertinent, huh?" he asked Tokio, one eyebrow quirked.
"Enishi, sit up straight," Tomoe chided in soft reproach; her brother grumbled but did as she'd ordered.
"How else do you describe coming three hours before we're supposed to?" Tokio asked, tracing random shapes onto the gleaming wood of the conference table.
"Neurotic," Enishi replied.
"Nervous," Tomoe offered.
"Inconsiderate," Kamatari muttered as he seated himself next to where Tokio, who sent him an annoyed look when he spoke, was standing.
"For the last time, I'm sorry!" Tokio said, exasperated.
"Not sorry enough, in my opinion," Kamatari replied.
"Tokio-san," Tomoe cut in, "are you sure Saitou-san gave Mifune-sensei our donor's information?"
Tokio nodded. "He told me he had," she said. "He said it took Oki—ah, that is, it took his guy that he knows a long time to find the gentleman, but the guy found him. And Mifune-sensei called me to ask me to thank Hajime for him, so I have to assume everything was in order."
"But Mifune never said if he was able to contact our guy?" Enishi pressed, watching her over the rims of his glasses.
Tokio sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"No," she said heavily. "After that, I didn't hear from Mifune-sensei again, until his secretary called to set up this appointment."
Enishi sighed too, looking frustrated.
"Meeting with the legal counsel of the city of Kyoto," he muttered. "Sounds like bad news to me."
"It doesn't mean anything, other than that the lawyers want or need to meet with us," Tokio immediately said, her nerves getting a teensy tiny bit worse.
"When are Katsura-san and Takasugi-san arriving?" Kamatari asked, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear delicately.
"Soon, I think," Tokio replied, putting a hand to her knotted, queasy stomach.
The secretary soon returned with the promised coffee and muffins. Tokio nursed her cup, never taking a sip, because she was too nervous to, but didn't want to risk offending the secretary by not accepting it. So she was glad that Enishi—who drank far too much coffee for his own good, in Tokio's opinion—noticed she hadn't touched hers and asked,
"Mind if I take yours? Mine's gone."
"Go ahead," she said, handing it to him, and he accepted it.
"Did you eat anything this morning?" Kamatari asked her, frowning at Enishi, who shot him a bird while dumping another packet of sugar into Tokio's cup.
"Hajime made me drink some tea," she said with a nod, not adding that he'd had to threaten her into consuming it.
"That's not food," Tomoe pointed out, stirring her coffee idly.
"Well," Tokio said with a shrug.
"You should have a muffin," Kamatari said authoritatively.
"Tokio never eats when she's nervous, you know that," Enishi said lazily, sitting back in his seat and taking a sip of his coffee. "Once we're done here and she's not nervous anymore, she'll eat something."
"You'll faint," Kamatari muttered in disapproval.
Tokio rolled her eyes.
"I will not," she said irritably. "I have never fainted in my life, thank you very much."
"First time for everything," Enishi remarked, and Tokio sent him a nasty look.
"Whose side are you on, anyway?" she snapped.
"Devil's advocate," he informed her with a smirk.
She made a face at him, and he made one in return.
"You two are being very childish," Tomoe chided.
"We can be more childish," Enishi assured his sister.
"Yes, you can," Kamatari said dryly.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, Queen," Enishi said, pausing in his very mature and adult "I-can-make-a-more-ridiculous-face-at-you-than-you-can-at-me" contest with Tokio. "You're just as bad."
"Am not!" Kamatari said, offended.
"Are too," Tokio, Enishi and Tomoe said in unison.
Kamatari sniffed and turned up his nose at them and refused to reply. Enishi shrugged and went back to making faces at Tokio; Tomoe shook her head, a small smile playing around her lips.
The door opened and Mifune walked in to find two of his clients making faces at each other and stopped. The group at the table noticed his presence nearly immediately and scrambled to their feet, Tokio and Enishi looking sheepish.
"Mifune-sensei!" Tokio said, cheeks red.
"Am I interrupting?" he asked, clearly not knowing what he was going to do if the answer was yes.
"No, of course not!" Tokio assured with a nervous laugh. "We were just…er…uh…you know…so how about this weather we're having?" she finished, voice small.
Enishi rolled his eyes, Kamatari slapped his forehead and Tomoe shook her head, sighing.
Thankfully, Mifune decided not to spend anymore time on the awkward beginning.
"I'm sure you're aware of this, Takagi-san, Kiyosato-san, Yukishiro-san, Honjou-san," he said, shutting the door behind him softly, "but you are rather early for our appointment."
"Yes," Tokio said sheepishly, feeling like a scolded child. "Would you believe me if I told you we were all dying of nerves?"
Mifune smiled grimly.
"Quite," he assured.
"Oi, Mifune," Enishi said, ignoring the frown Tomoe sent him at the lack of honorific, "Tokio says you never called her to let her know if you'd gotten a hold of our dude or not. Did you?"
Mifune sighed and rubbed his forehead, and Tokio felt dread settle heavily in the pit of her stomach.
"No," he said finally, confirming her worst fears. "Saitou-san's information was very detailed, but the gentleman has remained rather elusive, I'm afraid."
"But," Kamatari asked, sounding stunned, "but don't we need him here today?"
"It would be easier if he were here," Mifune said diplomatically, "but his presence is not required. We have records to indicate that he is indeed related to Arai-sensei, which will go a long way toward helping bolster our claim to the Shinuchi. Unfortunately, because we have been unable to contact the gentleman, we do not have his testimony. So we have no idea how he came into possession of the Shinuchi, or why he decided to donate it to your museum."
"That's bad, isn't it?" Tokio asked despondently.
Mifune hesitated.
"Don't lie to us," Enishi said quietly. "Is it?"
Mifune sighed.
"It could hurt us," he admitted finally. "You all understand that the circumstances surrounding the Shinuchi's disappearance are very suspect. The city will not hesitate to discredit our claim, if they want the Shinuchi back badly enough."
Tokio bowed her head, disappointment swimming through her. Kyoto wanted the Shinuchi badly enough, all right—who wouldn't have wanted to claim the right to Arai Shakkuu's magnum opus? It would be the single greatest boon, for whoever ended up with it, in history. And while they had the weight of the Kiyosato name behind them, recent events had slightly undermined that weight. Kyoto, on the other hand, had had no such unfortunate luck.
She felt Enishi's big hand settle on one of her shoulders and squeeze. Tokio sighed quietly—no use for it. If they had to go down, so be it, but they'd go down swinging.
She looked up at Mifune, smiled and bowed.
"Thank you Mifune-sensei. We appreciate your candor. Please try your best." she said.
Mifune smiled faintly, sadly.
"Of course, Takagi-san," he replied, also bowing. "The representatives from the city should be here in two hours. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Do not hesitate to ask for anything."
Tokio nodded, and Mifune took his leave of them. It was quiet in the conference room for a long time, and then Tokio sighed and turned to face her staff.
Enishi was watching her with a guarded expression; the two of them were still, incredibly, hiding things from Tomoe and Akira. They were the only ones who really knew how badly the museum needed the Shinuchi, and how much losing it could cost them.
Kamatari and Tomoe just looked worried. Tokio knew that if either had known the true state of things, they'd have been horrified by the odds.
"Well," she said. "We've got quite a meeting ahead of us."
"Meeting?" Enishi asked, raising an eyebrow as he used his middle finger to nudge his glasses down the bridge of his nose. "Don't you mean showdown?"
"How barbaric," Kamatari remarked with a wrinkle of his nose.
"We aren't going to duel," Tomoe agreed, frowning.
Enishi and Tokio exchanged a speaking look.
Oh if they only knew, their darkly amused gazes said to each other.
"Really now," Tomoe murmured, sitting down again. "I'd expect the gloom-and-doom from Enishi, Tokio-san, but hardly from you. Especially not after you've spent so much time chiding everyone else about it."
Tokio smiled thinly.
"I guess this mess we're in is sapping my reserves," she said, only half kidding.
Tomoe inclined her head in a gesture of acknowledgement.
"I suppose that wouldn't be completely unfounded. Sometimes I forget how much of this I've missed, while I was taking care of Akira."
And you still don't know the half of it, Tokio thought with dark humor.
"Ugh, Tomoe-san's right," Kamatari said, sending Tokio and Enishi displeased looks. "You're acting an awful lot like Enishi-chan, kitten."
"What the fuck have I said about calling me that, you fruitcake?!" Enishi bellowed, making a move to grab the smaller man.
Tokio grabbed Enishi by his shirt collar and yanked him back, while Kamatari moved to safer territory—that is, he scrambled to stand beside Tomoe, who looked scandalized.
"Yukishiro Enishi!" she said. "Please remember your surroundings! What would Mifune-sensei say if he heard you?"
"I doubt he'd be surprised, honestly," Tokio replied dryly. "Heel, boy," she couldn't resist adding, and Enishi glared balefully at her over his shoulder.
"I hate you," he said darkly.
"I know," she replied. "If I let go of you, will you promise to not try to kill Kamatari?"
"Feh," was his reply, and Tokio rolled her eyes but let him go, knowing it was as close to yes as she was likely to get.
Enishi straightened his collar as soon as she let go, muttering under his breath about her and "the Queen" and how they were in cahoots against him.
The room in general ignored him.
Tokio sighed and plopped back down into her chair, head propped up by her hands. Dread was beginning to bubble up in her, worse than before, and she was starting to get that urge to call Saitou again. It was more insistent now, and after a moment, she decided to give in.
"I'll be back," she said, rising and taking hold of her purse.
"Are you going to throw up?" Enishi asked, still looking annoyed, but concern beginning to show on his features.
"Want me to go with you?" Kamatari offered, already getting up to accompany her.
"No, I'm fine," she assured. "I just need to use the facilities, that's all."
"Tokio," Enishi and Kamatari said warningly, in unison.
"I'm not gonna throw up you crazies!" she insisted, exasperated. "Geez."
"If you're not back in five minutes I'm coming in after you," Kamatari warned—or rather, threatened.
"Leave Tokio-san alone, you two," Tomoe chided. "No one is going after anyone. Go on, Tokio-san."
Tokio bobbed her head and sent Tomoe a grateful look, then left the conference room and started for the restroom.
For someone who had never been optimistic a day in his life, Saitou had a surprising talent for making her feel better. Like last night—she'd been laying face down on the bed, dreading the meeting with the Kyoto reps in a despondent tone of voice. He'd been sitting next to her, chin in hand, watching her with his patented "You're-being-retarded" expression on his face.
"We're going to die," she informed the comforter.
"You're not going to die," he said patiently.
"We're going to be eviscerated," she said, ignoring him because the man clearly had no idea what he was talking about. "There won't be anything left."
"I'm pretty sure they can't kill you, Tokio," he said sarcastically.
"Oh shut up," she ordered, turning her head just enough to send him a blistering one-eyed glare. "What do you know about it, anyway?"
"Murder's illegal," he replied, and she let out an irritated sigh.
"Idiot," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Why do you have to take everything so literally?"
"You know you're acting completely stupid, right?" he asked.
The fact that he was being so blasé about it pissed her off. She couldn't believe that Mr. Gloom-and-Doom Himself, Mr. Pessimism Personified, wasn't joining her in making dire predictions about tomorrow. He'd been there from the start, after all, and he knew how bad things were…well, not entirely. But he was certainly far better informed on the state of things than either Kamatari or Tomoe were. It was fine and dandy for them to be saying tomorrow wasn't going to suck as bad as Tokio thought, because they didn't know. But he did. He did and he was being downright hopeful…in as much as he was capable of such a thing, anyway.
So she decided the only proper course of action was to ignore him and his disgusting, newly-found positivism.
It figured the one time she wanted him to be brutally realistic he refused to be…the bastard.
"I might as well turn in my letter of resignation," Tokio mumbled.
Saitou eyed her, one eyebrow raised.
"Well aren't you a barrel of sunshine and rainbows tonight," he dryly remarked.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and sent him an annoyed look.
"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Hajime?" she demanded.
"More delusional than usual tonight, too," he added.
"Nice try, imposter—what'd you do with him? Is he lying in a ditch somewhere?"
He eyed her, then slowly said,
"I'm definitely going to start getting your urine tested regularly."
"Hajime-oji?" Eiji appeared in the doorway of their bedroom. "Can we play now? I set up the game already," he added, referring to his PS2.
"Not right now, Tokio's being crazy," Saitou said nonchalantly. "Once she stops we'll play."
"I am not being crazy," she snapped. "You're being stupid."
"I'm not the one freaking out over nothing," he replied.
"We're going to die tomorrow!" she yelled at him, and he winced. "That's not 'freaking out over nothing,' you ass!"
"You're gonna die tomorrow, Tokio-oba?" Eiji asked, looking worried.
"No she isn't, she's just being crazy," Saitou said. "Don't pay attention to her."
"I hate you," she muttered, making to get up to go take a shower and both wallow in her misery alone and sulk because he wasn't taking her worries seriously.
Instead, he sighed, rolled his eyes and reached over and hooked an arm around her and dragged her into his side.
"Look crazy," he said, exasperated, "you'll be fine tomorrow. You trust Mifune, right?"
"But Kyoto's got a better claim than we do!" she whined, pouting, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"So what?" he replied. "If Mifune's half as good as you say he is, you'll win and Kyoto'll just have to deal. Claim doesn't count for shit when you've got a good lawyer. Trust me, I see it happen all the time. 's why I hate lawyers."
Her pout intensified; Eiji came into the room, clambered up on the bed and hugged her.
"I bet you totally spank Kyoto, Tokio-oba," the boy said, and Tokio burst out laughing.
"Thank you Eiji-kun," she said, ruffling his hair.
He looked up at her and grinned, then hugged her again, before letting go of her and looking over at Saitou.
"Can we play now?"
"Still bein' crazy, crazy?" Saitou asked her, tugging gently on a lock of her hair.
She sighed.
"You think tomorrow'll be okay?" she asked seriously.
"Duh," he said, rolling his eyes. "When am I wrong, woman?"
She smirked and sent him a dry look:
"Shall I count them all or just the really big ones?"
He glared at her.
"I hope you break a heel tomorrow," he muttered.
She shrugged his arm off of her.
"Mean," she accused, getting up and leaving the room to go to the bath room.
She did feel slightly better. Despite her teasing, it really was rare for Saitou to be wrong (something which irritated her to no end and which she knew for a fact contributed to his inflated self-worth), and his completely confident statement that all would work out in her favor did a lot towards improving her mood. And before Enishi had picked her up this morning, he'd again assured her that everything was going to be fine, she was just worrying for nothing, now drink your damn tea before I make you.
She only hoped having to assuage her worries for a third time wouldn't irritate Saitou overly—she was aware that the man only had so much patience, and she didn't need to get into a fight with him right before she had to face the Kyoto reps.
She reached the restroom and took out her cell phone and went through her contacts until she found his office number, then hit the call button and gnawed nervously on her bottom lip until she heard,
"Yeah?"
"Hajime?" she asked cautiously; he sounded vaguely annoyed.
"Tokio?" he asked, sounding confused. "Where are you?"
"Mifune-sensei's office," she replied.
"Oh. Did you have the meeting already?"
"No, not for another two hours."
There was a long pause.
"Do you mean to tell me you left home four hours before you were supposed to?" he incredulously asked. "What drugs are you people on?!"
"We're nervous and we wanted to be here early!" she protested.
"By four hours?!"
"Hajime," she whined, and he sighed.
"Tokio, this is really getting ridiculous."
"I know! I just…Mifune-sensei gave us some bad news," she said, the urge to cry rising in her.
"What?"
"He hasn't been able to reach Arai-sensei's descendant, even with the information you found for him. And we really need him here to explain how the Shinuchi ended up at the museum—specifically whether it was through legitimate means or not. Without his side of the story, our claim is shaky."
Saitou was quiet for several moments. Then, she faintly heard a squeak somewhere in the background, as if he was leaning back in his chair.
"Mifune couldn't get a hold of the guy, huh?" he asked, sounding pensive.
"No. And with the meeting two hours away…Hajime, I don't think today's going to turn out very well for us."
"It isn't over yet," he said mildly. "You've still got two hours, Chiisai, and a lot can happen in two hours."
Tokio snorted.
"Unless this guy shows up a second before the meeting starts, I'm pretty sure we're boned."
On the other end, Saitou chuckled.
"I think we spend too much time round each other, Tokio—you're starting to sound a lot like me."
"Hajime, this is not good—"
"Calm down," he ordered idly. "Take a deep breath and stop freaking out. Look, babe, you guys've had good luck so far—"
"Luck runs out," she interrupted.
"True," he conceded. "But I'm pretty sure yours hasn't."
"And what makes you say that?" she grumbled, leaning back against the wall.
"Oh, just a feeling I get," he said mysteriously, sounding very amused. "Now do me a favor and meditate or something. Okay?"
She sighed.
"I guess," she murmured. Pause. "Hajime? You really think it'll all work out?"
"Sure," he said easily, tone lazily confident.
She let out a long, shuddering breath and closed her eyes.
"Okay," she said quietly.
"Atta girl," he said approvingly. "Go get some tea, take a walk, torment Yukishiro—whatever'll help you stop bein' crazy."
She pouted.
"Jerk face," she mumbled.
"This jerk face is right and you know it, so there."
"I hope Okita-san makes you miserable," she said, and he sighed wearily.
"Oh shut up," he muttered, and she smiled faintly, knowing her ill wish had already come true, possibly the second Okita had shown up that morning.
They went back and forth a little while longer before hanging up, and once she had, Tokio felt marginally better. Not as much as she'd felt last night, but at least the edge wasn't as keen as before and she could relax slightly more. She touched up her makeup and made sure she looked as presentable as possible, then returned to the conference room and endured both Enishi and Kamatari's fussing over her with surprisingly good grace.
In the end, she decided that there was nothing she could do. This was out of her hands, and the best she could hope for was that Mifune would be able to broker them a deal. And if he couldn't…well, she was just going to have to shoulder the blame on this one. She didn't think Akira or Tomoe would allow the Board to fire her, but she had no doubt they would call for her to be demoted to some administrative position much lower down on the totem pole. Then again, Akira might be mad enough at her for keeping things from him that he would fire her.
And for some reason, the idea that she might be out of a job after today made her nerves disappear. In fact, she was downright serene.
Enishi noticed the change first and after watching her with a frown for several moments, pulled out his cell phone and began fiddling around with it. A few seconds after he stopped, her own cell phone vibrated in her purse, and she pulled it out and found a text message waiting for her from him:
whats up with you?
She calmly replied:
i have accepted my fate.
o.O …which is?
my life as ive known it for the past 8 or so yrs is officially over after today.
Upon reading that, Enishi looked alarmed.
whats that supposed to mean?
it means that if i still have a job at the end of today itll be a miracle.
She hadn't thought it was possible for the white haired man to get anymore agitated.
Oh well. She'd been wrong before.
WHAT THE HELL?!? he wrote back.
calm down enishi, she replied. ill take care of everything all right?
you cant be fired you dumb bitch--stop thinking like that!
odds are looking good for that possibility asshole.
then id be fired with you!
no you wouldnt all my fault.
fucking martyr wannabe--stop being stupid tokio. akira would resign before he fired you and you know it.
then ill resign so he wont have to.
"Stop being such a dumb shit!" Enishi bellowed at her upon reading her last text message, effectively scaring the crap out of both Kamatari and Tomoe, who had been discussing the new PR campaign; Tomoe jerked so hard it was a wonder she didn't hurt herself, and as for Kamatari, he flinched so violently he nearly knocked the table over.
"What the hell are you yelling about now, you savage?!" Kamatari snapped, annoyed, sending Enishi one of his more impressive glares.
Tokio sat back in her seat placidly, knowing Enishi wasn't going to tell the effeminate man (or his sister, for that matter) what they'd been discussing, because that would only lead to questions that he'd be unable to answer without admitting his own complicity. And even if the fallout from this ordeal ended up being less serious than he and Tokio were expecting, neither of them could afford full disclosure.
Not if they wanted to keep their jobs.
As she'd known would happen, Enishi only sent Kamatari an ugly look before snapping back that nothing was wrong, he should mind his own fucking business. Which prompted Tomoe to once again scold him about his foul mouth. Enishi submitted to the scolding sourly, and promised not to let it happen again (at least not within earshot of Mifune and his staff). Once Tomoe and Kamatari resumed their previous conversation, Enishi scooted his chair over to Tokio's side.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he hissed, glaring at her.
"Enishi, don't you understand what's going to happen here today?" she asked quietly. "We're not going to win. We're going to have to give up the Shinuchi to Kyoto."
"You don't know that," he whispered furiously.
"Stop being an idiot," she snapped, careful not to raise her voice. "Look stupid, our claim is questionable at best. Sure, our donor's a descendent of the man who made the thing, but it was a gift to the city of Kyoto that remained in their possession for almost 100 years before someone stole it. And then nearly 60 years after it disappeared, it pops up again in a little Tokyo museum that's been in possession of it for two decades without knowing what it was they had. Do you really think Kyoto's going to think it's a miraculous story and just leave it at that?"
"We have a shot—"
"No, we don't," Tokio interrupted. "We're going to lose the Shinuchi, Enishi. And when we do, everything you and I have been hiding for the past four months is going to come out. And who do you think is going to be blamed for that?"
"I helped," Enishi reminded her, sounding miserable.
"You weren't in charge," she said tiredly. "They won't touch you and you know it. But this is the golden opportunity the Board's been waiting for to oust my ass once and for all."
"Katsura and Takasugi wouldn't stand for it," Enishi pointed out.
"Enishi, they won't have a choice," Tokio replied. "And besides that, they're going to be pissed, to put it lightly, that I lied to them. I'd fire me too, if I was them, and then I'd make sure I could never get a decent job at a respectable place ever again."
"But they like you," he protested weakly, expression downright despondent.
She reached out and patted his hand.
"Not after today they won't," she said with dismal authority.
Nothing Enishi said could make Tokio think any differently about the outcome of the day's meeting, and he was visibly depressed by the time Katsura and Takasugi arrived, looking as tense and nerve-wracked as everyone else. Tomoe and Kamatari both noticed the change in Enishi's mood and the one in Tokio's. Tomoe couldn't get her brother to tell her what was wrong; Kamatari's interrogation of Tokio gleaned even less information than Tomoe's interrogation of Enishi, if that possible.
In due time the Kyoto representatives arrived and the meeting began. There were six of them, all dressed in the same severe fashion—upon seeing them, Kamatari wrinkled his nose and leaned over to Tokio and murmured,
"They look like morticians."
Tokio smiled faintly and murmured back,
"How appropriate."
Kamatari sent her an odd look but didn't say anything else.
Mifune let the Kyoto representatives go first. As Tokio had been expecting, they were respectfully unsympathetic, and asked for the immediate return of the Shinuchi to its rightful home. Enishi almost caused a riot when he bitterly interrupted and snapped that the Shinuchi's home had burned down 60 years ago. He (and Takasugi, who was backing him up) and one of the attorneys representing Kyoto went back and forth, the words exchanged becoming increasingly vitriolic, until Katsura and Mifune were able to stop the meeting from degenerating any further.
Once Mifune got the meeting back on track and presented the museum's side of the affair, things quickly became a matter of Kyoto's word against the museum's. Legally speaking, Kyoto had the advantage. The museum had evidence to support their claim, but it was circumstantial at best and Kyoto's attorneys were quick to both point that out and rip holes into it.
Things were starting to look bad, as bad as Tokio had predicted…until Mifune's young associate Ito burst through the doors looking harried, panting.
"I got him!" he triumphantly informed the room at large, then moved aside to reveal a rather dotty looking old fellow standing behind him. "May I present Arai Shakkuu-sensei's descendent and the man who donated the Shinuchi to the museum, Yamanaka Inori-san."
The room was dead silent as they stared at the doorway in shock—even the Kyoto representatives, thus far obnoxiously confident, looked at a loss.
That was the least of her concerns, however. At first she'd been convinced this was a dream, which given the amount of stress she'd been under wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility. But the longer the silence went on, the more she began to think that this couldn't be a dream, because she'd never had a dream that was so incredibly drawn out before in her life. Repetitive, yes. But this drawn-out silence was sort of boring, and her dreams were sometimes weird, sometimes oddly plausible, but never boring.
It was about that point that it slowly dawned on her what had just happened, and just who it was exactly that was standing in the doorway next to Ito.
Tokio stared at them in a manner that, she was sure, made her look catatonic.
Or, possibly, mentally deficient—she couldn't quite figure out which was correct right that moment, not with Handel's Hallelujah chorus currently playing through her head.
After several more beats of silence, the room exploded into delayed chaos: the Kyoto representatives leapt up out of their seats and all began talking together in outraged confusion. Tomoe slumped down in her seat, looking faint. Kamatari continued to stare at the doorway, shell-shocked. A slow, triumphant smile bloomed onto Enishi's face as he watched the doorway. Katsura and Takasugi, clearly thrown for a loop by the turn of events, even if it was in their favor, tried to help Mifune restore order. Mifune himself was obviously rattled, which Tokio had never seen in her life, and which only added to the generally surreal feeling to the world around her.
There's no way this is actually happening, she thought, even as the hope she'd believed had flat lined long ago suddenly revived, and with a vengeance.
Eventually, order was restored, and Yamanaka Inori was seated at the table.
"Good morning Yamanaka-san," Mifune said. "Please forgive the initial reaction from the room at large—your appearance was quite unexpected."
"That makes two of us, then," the old man said, looking vaguely peevish. "I was accosted by some loud-mouthed hooligan at the airport just before I was to board a plane to visit my niece."
Mifune raised an eyebrow and sent Ito a reproachful look. Yamanaka caught it and snorted.
"Not him," he assured. "This boy here has been the epitome of decorum. This was some other idiot. All but kidnapped me!"
"How in the wor—you mean no one stopped him?" Tomoe asked, horrified.
"No—apparently, the fake MPD uniform convinced people there was no need for interference."
Tokio's eyes narrowed, and she and Kamatari and Enishi exchanged suspicious looks—idiot in an MPD uniform…?
"What makes you think the uniform was fake, sir?" Kamatari asked.
"The MPD wouldn't have hired someone so moronic," Yamanaka assured, completely confident in this belief.
"Wanna bet?" Enishi muttered, rolling his eyes.
"What was that?" Katsura asked, curious.
"I said 'Not quite yet'," Enishi calmly returned.
"Enishi!" Tomoe snapped, appalled. "That's a terrible thing to say!"
"What?" he asked, shrugging. "'s what I said."
"And in front of Tokio-san, too," Tomoe continued, her disapproval plain in her voice.
"I know he didn't mean it," Tokio hurried to assure.
Not to mention I agree with him, to a certain extent, she silently added.
Mifune coughed politely into his fist and brought attention back to him.
"Perhaps, now that all parties involved are present, we can continue?" he suggested.
Tokio suddenly felt excited.
Things had taken a turn in their favor, and their luck was still good.
Or rather, she thought with more than a little amusement, her luck was still good.
Due, she knew with complete certainty, to a certain "Idiot Brigade" in Bunkyo Ward under the command of a certain chain-smoking jerk face who had just earned himself major points with her.
XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX
Now this was odd: it was eight forty-eight, and Tokio had yet to come home.
Saitou pursed his lips and wondered what that meant. He couldn't quite decide on whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.
He also couldn't quite decide on whether he was annoyed and worried or not.
He and the boy had been home for several hours now, and he was currently standing before the open fridge, trying to decide what to make for dinner. If it had been up to him, he would have just made soba, but Tokio had threatened to kill him if he made soba again. He doubted she'd actually go through with it, but it was better safe than sorry, so he'd decided to strike that off the menu. The only problem with that, though, was that he didn't know how to make anything else.
"Where the fuck is she?" he muttered, frowning at the juice carton.
"What's for dinner?" Eiji asked from his seat at the table.
He was balancing his soccer ball (a gift from Tokio's parents two days ago that had made the kid spaz out worse than anything Saitou had ever seen in his life—and he'd been friends with an uber-spaz for basically his entire life) on his head. The Hachi the puppy was lying down on the floor under the boy's seat, placid and possibly asleep.
"Something," Saitou absently replied, eyes once more going to the clock—in time to see it change from eight forty-eight to eight-forty nine. "Where the fuck is she?" he repeated more vehemently, slamming the fridge door shut.
"Call her cell," Eiji suggested, face the picture of concentration.
"You call her cell," Saitou shot back—not one of his better (or more mature) comebacks to be sure, but he had more important things to worry about than his record of comeback dominance over his ten-year-old ward.
"You're the one all worried an' stuff," Eiji said with a vague note of rebellion in his voice.
"She shoulda been back by now," Saitou said, going to the pantry to consider his options, while studiously ignoring the soba staring him straight in the face.
"So call her cell an' yell at her like you always do."
Saitou slowly looked over his shoulder and sent the boy a nasty look.
"I do not always yell at her," he said tightly.
Eiji snorted in amusement and smirked, though he wasn't looking at his guardian.
"Whatever Hajime-oji," he said smugly, clearly humoring the older man.
Saitou's eyes narrowed, and he decided that this affront could not pass with impunity.
The hell he'd let some snot-nosed brat patronize him.
So he walked over to the boy, reached out and snatched the ball off of his head.
"Oi!" Eiji shouted. "That's mine!"
"You aren't allowed to play with it in the apartment, brat," Saitou informed him, lifting it higher when the boy attempted to swipe it out of his grasp.
"You didn't care a second ago!" Eiji pointed out.
"You weren't being obnoxious until a second ago either," Saitou dryly replied with a speaking look.
Eiji glared at him.
"Jerk," he muttered.
Saitou sent him a malicious smirk:
"Set the table," he ordered, and Eiji groaned.
"Why?" he whined.
"Because you're obnoxious."
"You are too."
Saitou raised an eyebrow, then sent the boy a very pleased look that had Eiji groaning louder.
"You're setting it up proper tonight," the older man informed the boy as cheerfully as Saitou was capable of being.
Which was surprisingly cheerful, as a matter of fact. Maybe even scarily so.
…Actually, it was definitely scary.
Eiji got up from the table, grumbling under his breath about how unfair this was, and how Hajime-oji was a big, fat—
"What's that? Offering to do the dishes after dinner too?" Saitou asked mildly.
"No sir," Eiji muttered.
"Couldn't hear that. What did you say?"
"I said no sir," Eiji repeated, glaring mutinously up at him.
"Lose the attitude," Saitou ordered.
"Yes sir." The glare disappeared, though the pout was in full evidence. Still, that wasn't nearly as seditious as the glaring.
"Good. Now set the table."
It went without saying that if even one article was out of place, he'd make the kid redo the whole thing all over again from the top…without telling him where he'd screwed up—he'd have to figure it out himself or set the table over and over and over again.
Saitou was nothing if not thorough in his torture.
Eiji went about his punishment in the usual fashion (this sort of thing happened pretty regularly), which involved a lot of scowling and pausing to think very very hard about every single piece he put down as his "final answer," so to speak. Saitou split his time between continuing his search for a dinner that wouldn't get him yelled at or killed, keeping an eye on the clock as it slowly made its way to nine, and supervising Eiji's efforts—to his disappointment, two of these three endeavors were not going in his favor at all.
And here he'd been hoping that at the very least he'd get some kind of satisfaction from giving his ward a hard time.
Eiji set the table flawlessly, and Saitou grudgingly let the boy sit down at the table again (he kept the ball just to be a dick, though). He supposed he should have expected him to figure it out eventually, but he'd been hoping to get a few more months, or at the very least weeks, of enjoyment out of watching the kid struggle.
Oh well—when you made someone repeat something often enough, you were bound to foster efficiency.
…Maybe he'd up the ante. Yeah, that sounded good—maybe put a time limit next time. And if the kid failed, he'd have to do the dishes. That last bit would ensure that he didn't speed up too quickly through repetition, which would mean Saitou would be able to enjoy making life difficult for Eiji for a little while.
Simple pleasures, simple pleasures.
It was several seconds after the clock had hit nine twelve that Saitou heard noise at the door. Eiji, who apparently also heard it, quit kicking his feet back and forth under his seat (good thing too, because the dog, hearing the same thing, opened his eyes and lifted his head) and looked over at the door. Saitou rose from where he'd been crouched down in front of the pantry and shut the door, which was as far as he got before the key turned in the lock and the door swung open and Tokio loudly and excitedly greeted,
"I'm home!"
"Welcome ho—" Saitou began, deciding to be pleasant before he began his interrogation, but a startled noise from Tokio, and then the sound of something suspiciously reminiscent of a body hitting the floor cut him off. "Tokio?" he asked, scrambling over to the door.
He found her sprawled in the entry, blinking and looking very surprised by her present state. She'd had a shit load of…stuff in her hands that was now scattered all over the entry, not that it was a very big space.
Not to fall in, anyway.
"What the hell?" he asked, crouching down to help her up. "Walk much? New set of legs?"
"I tripped over something," she said, attempting, with his help, to maneuver herself into a position where actually getting up was feasible.
That was when Saitou saw the "something" she'd tripped over—Eiji's school bag.
He sent the boy a dark glare over his shoulder.
"What did I say about your bag?" he snapped.
"Oh stop, I'm fine," Tokio assured, finally able to get up. "See? No harm done."
"The bruises won't show up for another hour, at least," Saitou muttered, checking her over to make sure she was all right.
"Stop it," she chided, stooping over to start gathering up her things.
"Brat, help her," Saitou ordered, and Eiji shot over to the entry to do so.
"Sorry Tokio-oba," he said anxiously.
Tokio only grinned and yanked the boy into a hug.
"I'm not broken, sweetheart—like I said, no harm done." she cheerfully assured, ruffling his hair affectionately.
"He's still sorry and he's doing the dishes tonight to make up for it," Saitou said, arms crossed over his chest and glare still firmly in place.
Eiji didn't have time to react to that; Tokio sent Saitou a huge grin that had him raising an eyebrow.
"No one is washing a single dish tonight in this house," she announced.
"Oh?" Saitou cocked his head. "How's that?"
"We are going out tonight to celebrate," she said, her prior excitement returning.
"Celebrate what?" Eiji asked, puzzled—so puzzled that he had yet to extract himself from her arms.
"The museum is keeping the Shinuchi!" Tokio happily announced.
Saitou smirked, having already been expecting that news.
"Is that all, Chiisai?" he asked, amusement coloring his tone.
She sent him a pleased and amused look over Eiji's head.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. You don't look very surprised, Mr. Assistant Inspector—wonder why that is."
His only reply was a widening of the smirk he wore.
"What's the Shinuchi, Tokio-oba?" Eiji asked.
"The last masterpiece of a very famous swordsmith from way back when," Tokio explained. "We thought we weren't going to be able to keep it, but things went our way at the last minute and we're going to be able to."
"Oh. Is it important?" Eiji asked thoughtfully.
"Very," Tokio assured, ruffling his hair again.
"Oh. Okay—then congratulations, Tokio-oba."
"Thank you sweetheart," she cheerfully replied, hugging him again. "So, where do my boys want to eat out tonight?"
"Can we have pizza?" Eiji immediately asked.
"We can absolutely have pizza," Tokio said with a nod. She looked up at Saitou. "Pizza?"
"That's fine," he said, not really caring one way or the other—mostly, he was happy that he didn't have to magically pull dinner out of his ass anymore.
"Woo-hoo!" Eiji whooped, grinning broadly.
"Pick up your shit, boy," Saitou said, finally uncrossing his arms and slipping his hands into his pockets instead.
"Yes sir," Eiji chirped, giving Tokio a final squeeze before squirming out of her grasp to grab his bag and take it to his room.
Tokio smiled widely at Saitou, then went over to him and threw her arms around him.
"Thank you jerk face," she said, snuggling into his chest.
He obligingly wrapped his arms around her and gave her rear end an affectionate pat.
"So I guess this means no letter of resignation?" he dryly asked, and she sighed.
"You legitimately freak out over something once, and never hear the end of it," she muttered.
He laughed:
"Once? Chiisai, you need some ginkgo biloba."
"I was really happy with you until about a second ago," she warned.
"All right, all right," he said, amused, rubbing a hand up and down her back. "How'd you know I had a hand in your good luck, anyway?"
Tokio snorted and looked up at him.
"Yamanaka-san was apparently accosted and basically kidnapped by a loud-mouthed hooligan idiot, in an MPD uniform that he was convinced was fake, while at the airport."
"How do you know that wasn't exactly what happened?"
"Because you can tell Souji to go accost and kidnap people from airports and he'll do it," she replied with a grin, and he laughed.
"Well I have to keep the ahou occupied somehow, right?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her.
"Aww gross!" Eiji complained when he entered the main room again a few moments later. "Do you guys have to do that all the time?"
"So don't look, then, if it bothers you so much," Saitou said
"Or maybe you guys could stop bein' so gross," the boy shot back.
Saitou sent him a warning look, but didn't get the chance to deliver his threat.
"That's enough you two," Tokio said, not sounding particularly exasperated. "Let's pick up the entry and then we can go, okay?"
"Okay," Eiji said, bounding forward to help her.
Saitou decided to let sleeping dogs lay and do as Tokio had suggested.
Better than getting into an argument with a kid.
XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX
Tokio insisted on paying for dinner, despite Saitou's arguing, and he eventually gave in because he didn't want to ruin her good mood.
After leaving the restaurant, they walked around for a while, and (surprise surprise) ended up at a playground, where Tokio then challenged Eiji to see who could swing the highest without dying. Saitou made himself comfortable on a nearby bench to smoke while watching their insane little contest. No one ended up winning, because both of them eventually lost interest in the contest and settled for just swinging and talking. About what, he had no idea, because he was too far away to make it out, but whatever it was, it was apparently tremendously riveting.
Eventually, Saitou called out that it was a school night and they needed to get back, which put an end to the swinging and the conversation. Tokio attached herself to his side, and he draped an arm over her shoulders; Eiji took hold of Tokio's hand, and the three of them walked home with Tokio and Eiji singing some song that was popular now—as he didn't listen to the radio anymore, he was severely out of the loop when it came to…well, everything, really.
They went through the usual routine upon reaching the apartment, and once everyone had bathed and was in their sleepwear, Tokio broke out the plans Kamatari had scrawled out right after the meeting.
"You were working the rest of the day?" Saitou asked as he glanced over what appeared to be the Shinuchi's new exhibit.
"Furiously," Tokio said with a nod. "We decided we were going to open two different exhibits, so now everything has to be moved around to make room for that. We'll open the Meiji one first, and then the one dedicated to the Shinuchi. Kamatari has some beautiful ideas for that one—we were thinking of recreating the shrine it was originally gifted to."
"Ambitious," Saitou said. "I imagine you're going to be receiving Kyoto's help on that one?"
She nodded eagerly.
"They're going to send us as much information on the shrine as they can dig up," she confided.
Saitou thought that was extremely generous of the city, especially considering that the best they'd gotten was rights to the Shinuchi as intellectual property. Then again, they probably knew better than to bitch overly, and were grateful to get that much. From what Tokio had explained over dinner, now that the shrine was gone, the Shinuchi was technically the property of Arai Shakkuu's descendents—the deal had been that the Shinuchi remain with the shrine forever (how ever long that might be). Once it had burned down, the contract was void.
"When's it gonna open up?" Eiji asked, head cocked to one side as he sat on Saitou and Tokio's bed with them, watching Tokio, who was seated across from him.
"Don't know," she admitted. Then her grin widened. "But we're excited."
"I bet," Saitou said with a faint smile, pleased that he'd had a hand in making Tokio this deliriously happy.
"What about the Meiji one?" Eiji asked.
"We're going for April—actually, Tomoe-san planned it for the 15th, my birthday." Tokio added.
"Cool," Eiji decided.
"After the hell this exhibit has put us through, yes, very cool," she agreed with an emphatic nod that had Saitou snorting in amusement.
At twelve, Saitou announced that Eiji was going to be dead tomorrow and it was time for bed. The kid didn't put up any protest, and submitted to being tucked in; it was the one babyish thing he had yet to complain about. Then, he and Tokio turned in for the night.
"So was I right, or was I right?" Saitou asked, rubbing a hand up and down her arm.
"You were right," she murmured contentedly, nuzzling his neck.
"Damn straight I was," he said.
"Granted, there was tampering on your part to ensure that you stayed right," she began.
"Technicalities," he said nonchalantly, and she chuckled and kissed his neck.
"Thank you, Hajime," she said, voice sincere.
"You're welcome." He kissed her forehead. "Now unless you plan on thanking me again, time to go to sleep."
It took her a moment to realize that he didn't mean verbally, and then she sighed.
"You really are going to be a Super Pervert when you get older, aren't you?"
"Absolutely," he assured, patting her arm, and she sighed again.
"Tomorrow morning," she said, and it was quiet for a long moment as he lay there, surprised.
"Really?" he asked finally—she wasn't usually up for anything in the morning, when the possibility of Eiji hearing them grew exponentially for every second it took the sun to rise.
"Uh-huh."
Pause.
"See Chiisai, this is exactly what I was talking about when I said you were doing a great job keeping me happy."
"Lucky for me you're a simple old perv," she said, humor coloring her tone.
He didn't say a word in protest of her remark.
Mostly because it was true, to a certain extent (not the old part), but also because he was not about to make a big deal about something so miniscule.
Let it never be said that Saitou Hajime did not know when and how to choose his battles.
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Preview of Chpt 38: Of Sickness and Kung Fu
"Saitou Hajime! I can't believe you showed that movie to a ten-year-old!"
"He didn't know who Bruce Lee was!" Saitou protested.
"That movie is completely inappropriate for Eiji!" Tokio shot back.
"Oi, I fast forwarded through the inappropriate parts," Saitou immediately defended.
---
At the end of the movie, both men looked over at Eiji to gauge his reaction. Eiji looked at first Saitou, then Okita, then looked back over at the screen.
"That was so cool," he said finally, and Okita cackled behind his mask.
"He's one of us!" he declared, and Saitou eyed him balefully.
"Why am I friends with you?" he muttered.
---
Oh he should have seen this coming a mile away.
Hell, three miles away.
Saitou curled up into a miserable ball of diseased policeman on his side of the bed.
He was sick.
With the flu.
…Son of a bitch.
---
Eiji wrinkled his nose.
"You got Tokio-oba knives for White Day?" he asked, tone disdainful.
Saitou sent him a black look:
"You just wait until I can move again," he muttered.