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Dinner with Cassette Man - Chapter 3
Sometimes conversations between people who've know each other long enough either hit a crescendo, fall flat into a lull, or tumble down a recursive loop of upbraiding and misery. All it takes is a secret password to push it towards either pitfall.
For about a minute and a half, Shuichi stalled, but Shiho realized it wasn't because he had forgotten the next step in the recipe. She may still have much to learn about Shuichi, but she'd known him long enough to recognize the dark, repelling aura he unconsciously projected. It's been a while since she tried crawling up to Subaru's sleeping face, but she'd never mistake this wrenching sensation for anything else.
At the back of her mind, Shiho knew she shouldn't have asked a question like that so casually. But the rapport they've built up in thus far had tricked her into tempting the minefield within his territory. She wanted to take the question back, but before she could say anything, he went on and answered it.
"...Yeah. It's... More or less my first toy," Shuichi confirmed before seasoning the beef some more. "My father gave it to me on a birthday."
"… I see," was all Shiho could say. She didn't know much about Shuichi's father other than the flotsam that have drifted along her shores. Tsutomu Akai was an MI6 agent who got involved with some dangerous people and disappeared, the impact that broke him and his family in the succeeding years. For Shuichi, its what sent him straight on the path to vengeance. Granted, there were lines he refused to cross, but he'd kept everything else that held him back at arm's length in his pursuit of the truth….. His ties to his family, relationships to those who made the mistake of caring for him, or his own soul….
It was, in essence, the catalyst for everything that has happened between them up until this point.
All this time she blamed him for what his betrayal did to her and her sister, but as it was, he'd suffered through his share of losses too, part of it a consequence of machinations she later contributed to. Knowing him as much, or as little, as she did, the idea of someone else getting hurt because of his revenge must be eating at the remaining fragments of his humanity. The mini cassette suddenly weighed heavier in Shiho's hands, as if the pain he carried all these years was laid on top of it precariously, threatening to collapse on her.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered this one." Shiho placed the cassette figure back on the shelf fretfully, like a cursed antique. It even pained her to have dropped pieces of it earlier, despite the parts not incurring further damage than what was already there.
"Its fine.…," Shuichi finally said as he regained his stride, flipping the beef to give the other side the same treatment. "I should be the one apologizing… You shouldn't have to feel worse in coming here." The way he sounded, it was as if Shuichi was apologizing for much more than being a rude host.
"You don't really need to apologize at all. Everything that happened wasn't your fault." Shiho might have convinced herself otherwise before, but she'd known the truth all along. She didn't fly all the way to absolve him. Rather, she came here to try to mend the bridges between them so they could at last move one like the rest of their friends have.
But for all the snarks she'd spouted since her arrival, she couldn't find the right words to convey her intentions to him. She might have gotten better at consoling real children whenever they're troubled, but she still found herself stumped whenever she tried to say what she truly felt with reckless abandon. "Maybe I shouldn't have come to this dinner-date after all," Shiho mumbled to herself.
However, before she could even think about leaving, the room stirred upon Shuichi's sudden movement. For a second Shiho thought he was going to approach her and was ready to back away, but was surprised when he rached for the fridge to get a bottle of beer, of all things. "Ah… Please tell me you're going to use that on the meat."
"I could, but," Shuichi replied before the pop of a bottlecap being cracked open echoed across the space that separated them. "I'm just thirsty."
"Oh dear." Shiho narrowed her eyes as she watched him take a gulp from the bottle. "Guns, cars, secrets, steak, and now beer… Not to mention your smoking…. Do you have any other vices that I don't know of?"
"Hmmm... Maybe I'll tell you later once we get this 'dinner-date' rolling," he said, putting the beer bottle down so he could season the other steak cut.
Shiho's cheeks flared up. Was this his way of telling her not to leave? If so, she didn't appreciate him repeating words she'd blurted out for lack of better ones to use. Or perhaps he was only briefly taken aback by her question and really didn't mind answering it… That it was just her who was overthinking things again… Somehow, the thought made her seethe. "You're really not going to play fair, huh..."
"Don't be ridiculous. That wasn't even a Freudian slip at all," Shiho muttered as she took her coat off, tossed it unto the couch where her bags rested, and paced towards Shuichi. This time she showed no hesitation in barging into his territory. "Do you have any potatoes ready?"
"There's some in the bag. Look, don-"
"Do you have a peeler? Or do you use a knife to do it?" she cut him off while she rummaged through the remaining grocery bag and pulled out five russet potatoes and a head of broccoli.
When he realized he couldn't talk Shiho into going back to the living space, Shuichi retracted the rest of what he was about to say and surrendered the peeler, effectively allowing her equal reins in his kitchen.
Deciding on mashing the potatoes, Shiho began peeling them one by one. While doing so, she glanced at Shuichi's way a couple of times to see how he fared. At this point, she wasn't convinced he'd be able to pass himself off as a chef for his next undercover assignment (or would he?), but she could tell from the the way he laid the meats unto the pan, the confidence he had when flipping them, and the timing of when he added in the aromatics, that it wasn't the first time he'd made steaks this way. Whether Yukiko-san taught him or he'd mimicked it from somewhere, he definitely knew what he was doing, just like said he did. Assured that the main dish won't be a disaster, Shiho devoted her attention on the side. She didn't pay Shuichi any more attention than when she asked for the seasoning, and the faint 'excuse me' she uttered when she boiled the potatoes on the vacant range beside him. She didn't refer to him for anything else either, but when she was about to fetch a fork for mashing, he passed her a dedicated potato masher instead. He did so with his eyes locked on the pan, patiently waiting for a deep brown crust to form beneath the smoke wafting over his shoulder. Not wanting to disrupt his focus, she hastily took the masher from him, holding off the rush that welled up in her on reflex. There was food to be cooked, and she didn't want to dillydally on the warmth of his skin and the memory of all the times a certain boffin who didn't get out much touched the hand of a Casanova with many names, unwittingly or otherwise.
Soon after that, the space between them was filled with the fragrant coalescence of butter, garlic, and rosemary, confirming that the steps Shuichi elected to take had all been the right thus far. He didn't seem to pay much attention to it though as he began basting the steaks, like it was all part of the norm. For her part, Shiho prepared plates for him for when the steaks are ready to rest. When she leaned closer to him, the federal agent to the opportunity to whisper a subtle command. "Steamer's on the cabinet to your right. Lower shelf." Shiho nodded in response and did as she was told. The portable steamer was small, so she didn't need help getting it. Once it was set up, she proceeded with washing the the broccoli before sundering florets from it. And just like that, they've achieved a level of harmony in the kitchen. Dysfunctional as their relationship and history were, they appreciated and drew motivation from it like rival artists putting their creative differences aside in order to paint a whole mural.
Finally, after fifteen-odd minutes, their fluid cooperation produced two servings of a hearty medium rare steak paired with steamed broccoli and mashed potatoes topped with butter and parsley. It had a long way to go from looking like it was professionally done, but for their modest culinary skills, it turned out to be a masterpiece that far exceeded Shiho's expectations. "Not bad," she understated. "It's almost a shame we have to eat it soon."
"We can always make more later," Shuichi replied with a small smirk.
"Sounds great, but my blood pressure aside… If the Professor finds out I'm enjoying all the steak I want while depriving him, I'll never hear the end of it," she muttered, her tone belying any shred of guilt. With her out of the way, she could just picture Professor Agasa driving around the city in his trusty old Beetle and checking out all the Western-style restaurants featured in his favorite late-night foodie drama's latest season.
"You're probably right." He moved over to the fridge to get some refreshments, leaving Shiho to commemorate the dish with her phone. "Is water enough for you, or do you want something else to go with your steak?"
"Hmmm…. I guess I'll have what you're having," Shiho peered over her shoulder and at the beer bottle he'd left by the cooking area. "But please serve it with a glass."
Much to Shiho's surprise, dinner went on without any of the hoopla and awkwardness that she'd prepared for before agreeing to have dinner with him. If it was the result of their renewed camaraderie, she thought, then it might not be such a bad choice after all. About the meal, Shiho didn't mince her compliments and criticisms of the dish. While she praised the tenderness of the steak and noted how both the inside and the crust were in the right colors, she wasn't particularly floored by its flavor. It was scrumptious, but it felt more clockwork than a special homemade dish ought to be, as if Shuichi had committed to the recipe so intimately that he couldn't put his own unique touch into it. Whoever it was that taught him the steps, Shiho was certain that person's steak would taste no different from this. If it was yet another allusion to a much deeper struggle brewing within him however, she'd rather bide her time observing him than make further assumptions. Ultimately she judged the steak to be "deliciously boring", something Shuichi seemed to take in stride if his sniggering reaction to the comment was to be taken at face value.
Shiho had more bones to pick about the sides, but it was just her being a harsher critic of herself. She particularly lamented not volunteering sooner and putting his oven to work for some loaded potatoes. After segueing into a litany about potato dishes for a couple of minutes, her eyes drifted down to Shuichi's plate and spotted his meal still intact. Shuichi had settled into listening to her the whole time, nursing his beer and latching a grunt here and there whenever he found a point he agreed on. Was there something on her face? She'd wiped her face with a handkerchief on reflex and got nothing. Is this moment stirring something inside of him too? She'd never ask him gibberish like that. Abashed by her own candidness, Shiho became conscious of the way she chewed on the steak and slowed down. She didn't speak another word to him, deliberately avoiding his gaze while waiting for him to finally budge from his statuesque pose.
When Shuichi finally budged however, Shiho had to abruptly gulp a mouthful down.
"I had nothing to do with the job offer James gave you."
"Ehh?" She didn't expect him to bring it up at all.
"You were going to ask if it was my idea, right? That is why you agreed to do this..."
"W-well, yes, but…." That's right. Shiho intended to ask Shuichi about his role in the FBI's recruitment drive. But the matter had been put on the backburner after the surge of recurring memories and rekindled feelings. She would preferred to postpone it at least until after dinner, but now that its been served on the table, she might as well gobble it up. "Okay, fine… Yes, I was under the impression you talked to Mr. Black about it and was going lash out at you for it," she confessed bitterly, tilting her head and looking at him with the corner of her eye. It was a childish excuse to begin with, and she wasn't about to deny it now. At least she wasn't using her childish excuse to justify crazier things like all those pitiful killers she'd helped unmask.
"I didn't plant the idea on him," Shuichi repeated gravely, his eyes never leaving her. "You've earned the offer on your own merit."
Shiho's face turned almost as pink as the steak she was having, hearing him acknowledge her so seriously. She had to shrug it off to get back on track. "L-look, I really appreciate what you and the FBI have done for me especially regarding my involvement with the Organization… It's just that... I'm not really sure if I want anything to do with criminal science at the moment."
She searched Shuichi's face for any hint of disappointment over her answer, but came up empty-handed. Shuichi's steely expression hasn't changed at all. Taking it as a cue, she continued. "We both know why I left the Organization, but I'll be lying if I said I miss those countless hours I spent staring at nothing but formulas and variables."
"You've grown out of your lab coat, huh..."
"Rather than growing out, I suppose its more fitting to say I shrunk out of it…. Literally. I mean, isn't it every woman's wildest dream to take a bath in the fountain of youth? And there I was…. The person who warmed up that bath and put some scent on it, being one of the few lucky ones to take a dip and actually emerge from it."
"And with that, the way you see the world changed too."
Shiho nodded. "If I have to describe it…. It was just too tempting, going to places I'd only seen in books before, experiencing things I thought I'd never get the chance to, meeting all sorts of people in between… I was basically writing over my own childhood. .."
"...You felt like you deserved it."
"I wouldn't go out of my way and put it like that. I know I'm never going down the rabbit hole like Vermouth did, but…. After all the things I'd been through, I figured I needed a fresh start more than anyone else…."
Sensing the reluctance seeping between the cracks of her voice as she uttered those words, Shuichi said, "But a fresh start like that didn't feel right."
"...You sure are getting too used to taking words off my mouth," Shiho muttered.
"I can probably take more than that…. But I can't take your decisions away from you."
Shuichi's somber face as he said it made Shiho blush harder. It was all she could do to keep herself from straying off of perspective. "R-right. Although if I have to be honest, watching both you and Kudou-kun might have swayed me a little into feeling so…."
At last, Shuichi finally thawed out of his pose, taking a shot of beer to clear his throat. He wasn't the type to blink twice at all, but she could see the surprise in his eyes the second she mentioned him. "I don't see how I fall into that," he answered, his voice heavy with doubt as he averted from her and looked across the living space towards the shelves. He seemed embarrassed
"Well, you could've stayed dead if you wanted to… But here you are, back with the FBI and chasing cyber crooks all across America." Shiho wasn't patronizing him at all when she said it. She really meant it, predictable as his choice was. Shuichi was a man of action. You couldn't keep him away from the field even if he had to crawl out from six feet under. With that in mind however, Shiho wondered if Shuichi's befuddlement meant he had some attachment to his time in Beika. Barring his childhood, it was probably the only time in his life that wasn't very tumultuous. A much needed break away from the craziness of law enforcement. With the walls between them lowered than they ever were before, she threw him the question. "….Do you ever miss life as Subaru Okiya?"
"….Good question," Shuichi replied, still looking into the distance where his memories resided. Shiho half-expected Shuichi to smooth-talk his way out of her retort, but instead he fell deep into silence. He seemed to really be taking her question seriously and trying to approach it cautiously like it was a bomb he needed to diffuse. Again, he tried to stall with the help of the drink in his hand, but he'd relied on it too often that it was down to its last drop at this point. Right then, he realized it was time to cut the wire. "I don't really know how to answer that. When the Kudous took me in, I didn't see him any differently from the other covers I'd assumed and abandoned in the past." There was a pause following the last bit, a tacit acknowledgement of the role one of those identities played in Shiho's past.
"I can't imagine Yukiko-san taking that sentiment too kindly," Shiho commented, totally unfazed by what he'd implied. They didn't need to talk about 'that time' again, at least not now.
"She didn't," Shuichi confessed, this time affording himself a short chuckle. "Neither of them did, in fact…. Was told I was too straight and needed some wrinkles…."
"Judging from the look of this place and this steak," Shiho started, rolling her eyes from the small collection he'd amassed all the way to the pans hanging over them. "I say you turned out alright."
"Ah…. Cooking and learning to tinker with tech helped me out a lot, especially," he said.
Shiho gobbled up another slice of beef before she responded. "So you're like MacGyver now?"
"Except I don't have my truck anymore. It was hard to convince our 'old friends' I was dead."
"Huh. No kidding," she grumbled, unconsciously rubbing the shoulder that would've had a bullet hole on it if she had't shrunk back to being a child.
They looked at each other for a second. Neither of them wanted to talk about said "old friends."
"Anyway... As for the rest…. I'm still figuring them out." Shuichi stopped for a second to give his ensemble a once-over, as if to stress his point. "Until a few months ago, I didn't have to worry about color coordination and balance while dressing up. Now, I can't turn it off..."
"Good for you. Black is only fetching until you start wearing it everyday," she scolded pertly, relieved to see Shuichi seemingly having a good time recalling the days he spent with the Kudous. Having gone through the same phase during her first few weeks as seven year-old girl, she could relate to the overwhelming euphoria of liberty. Not being tied down by your birthright or compulsions and being able to fill your once-empty life journal with whatever you feel like writing. Shuichi, all this time he'd been so focused on taking the Organization down that he'd only begun coping with the changes brought on by his time as a well above-average engineering student in Beika. Getting too comfortable about having so much is scary at first, but if there's one thing Shuichi would probably agree with her on, its that being scared of losing something is a lot better than never knowing the feeling in the first place.
"You don't really miss it, do you," Shiho surmised. "Because it's become part of you that you can't turn off or file away in some storage locker."
"...You sure are having fun putting words into my mouth," Shuichi shot back at her.
Shiho flashed a devilish smirk at him. "What can I say? I adopt bad habits easily."
He'll never say it outright, but It was a sight Shuichi could never grow tired of. "You better stick around and see what else I have in store." The exchanged finally stirred Shuichi's appetite. Only now did he start slicing up his portion of the steak for a taste. He didn't make any remarks about it, as if it was par for what he'd made in the past. Shiho might have a point with her earlier critique, he thought.
"Oh I plan to." Shiho pulled away and crossed her arms, watching the agent's attempt at catching up with eating. "We've barely gotten the ball rolling, but this is already turning out to be the most intriguing case study I've done."
"Kojima-kun won't be pleased to hear that," he said in between forkfuls.
"You talking about how long it'll take Genta-kun to reach the Professor's average weight? I've already extrapolated a possible date for it. The way he's going now, it's not looking good for him." She thought about that for a moment and realized something. "Wait. I never told you about-"
Shiho was cut off when Shuichi sensed something wriggling inside his pants pocket and checked it. It was his phone, which had been on silent since he read Shiho's last DM. He stared at the screen coldly, displeased with the timing of the call. Shiho didn't have to catch a glimpse of the blurry reflection in those steely eyes to figure out it was his colleagues calling.
"Go ahead. Something might've turned ugly," she said.
Shuichi nodded before he got up. "If you'll excuse me..." He moved into another room to finally take the call. Shiho didn't listen in, but the conversation was audible enough from where she sat the she could tell it didn't last more than a couple of minutes. As expected from Shuichi, just give him the pertinent pieces and he could figure the puzzle out in no time. Soon enough, Shuichi reemerged, this time with a leather jacket and cap hanging over his arm. "Look, I'm-"
"Save it," she interrupted. "Kudou-kun's stink is hard to get rid of. We should be used to it by now."
Shuichi simply grunted. He wouldn't say more about the case, but he was visibly distraught for predicating the dinner on an abrupt note. Slipping into his "superhero suit" on his way out, he stopped by the edge of his door and pivoted towards her direction. "Say…. Walk with me?"
It was a consolation indeed. But Shiho didn't think twice about her answer. "Sure. I don't mind."
Shiho paced a couple of steps behind Shuichi as they made their way to the elevator. The agent mentioned something about a convoy picking him up, but other than that, neither of them made an attempt to rekindle the affable mood they'd lit prior to the phone call. Shuichi's headspace was once again flush with details of the case, and Shiho knew, perhaps more so than anyone else, that the only way the situation, however dire it may be, could turn the corner is if he dealt with it personally. She'd never tell him to stay even if her life depended on it... Not that she'd ever tell him anything like that...
At the lobby, Shuichi strode towards the vending machines and bought a cup of hot black coffee. He wasn't a lightweight but he was prudent enough to sober up while waiting for his ride. "You can stay here if you want," he said. "Safest place you can be in too. Most tenants here either work for the Bureau or the local police, and they're all clean."
"Can I fiddle with your stuff while you're gone?" she bargained.
"No problem. Don't be disappointed if you can't find any firearms though. I don't keep them here." He finished the cup within two gulps and disposed of the cup just as quickly.
"I was thinking books and maybe DVDs, but sure, I'll manage my expectations."
"Finish what's left of my share too if you want. Would be a waste to have to put a saran wrap over it."
"Mm."
Shortly after that exchange, a van pulled up in front of the building. The metal door slid open and out peered Andre Camel, who nodded timidly at Shiho upon noticing her in the background. Shuichi must've told him about his plans for tonight and regretted having to spoil it anyway.
"...Don't wait up."
Those were the last words Shiho heard from Shuichi's voice that night. She always held it against him for absconding without a word, but now it dawned to her that it was the first time she paid undivided attention to his back as he left. It stung a little, but it was probably better than saying something ominous to one another and jinxing the next meeting. She stood there and watched him for a while longer as he exchanged a few words with Camel before eventually disappearing into the van's maw.
Once the van sped away from her view, Shiho called the hotel the FBI had booked for her and informed them that she won't be returning for the night.
As soon as she was back inside Shuichi's home, Shiho returned to her spot at the counter, slouching against it whilst looking at the steak he cooked so intently but hardly got to enjoy. She wasn't beside herself with worry or loneliness or anything silly like that. Rather, she felt dissatisfied, not so much about some whackjob putting a damper on what was starting to turn into a pleasant moment than it was about… herself. Yes, she had reasons for flying to America, but in truth, she could've declined the FBI's offer outright if she wasn't up for it so they didn't have to go through the hoops to book the flight and the hotel, but she didn't. Just as she confessed earlier, she used it as an excuse to see Shuichi. She wanted to thank him, tell him she was going to be alright from hereon. More importantly, she wanted to let him know she no longer held a grudge at him over the role he played in Akemi's tragedy and her own misfortune. That she'd appreciate it if he didn't disappear from her life this time. It was wishful thinking to pretend one steak dinner was enough for a fresh start, but it was worth a shot.
But when she finally got the chance to say all of that? Instead of doing so, she got carried away and stirred a pot full of memories and emotions Shuichi didn't plan on serving tonight. Was it the compulsions of the scientist who took pride in knowing about this mysterious interloper better than most people? Or the frivolity of a girl who secretly relished the times a lone cardinal flew by her cage? Does it even matter at this point? She still casually asked about his childhood despite being partly aware of how tarnished it was. And if his father's disappearance was enough to turn him into the brooding tactician he is today, she had no doubts that the sadness he felt in that particular moment still lingers inside of him even now. In spite of that, he spared her of the trouble of coming up with a proper apology and diverted from the issue like it never happened. He even went so far as to take the initiative of bringing up the matter she meant to discuss with him in the first place. He listened to everything she had to say and pieced together the bits she couldn't quite put out, all to make her feel at ease. And he didn't even get any reprieve from his gesture. The moment he took a bite from his meal, he was whisked away by his duties to the country.
He's too kind like that... He always has been... But she forced him into this image of a conniving Casanova for so long that she became blind to it.
Maybe she was the one who wasn't playing fair all along.
"This is no good," Shiho told herself. She was being cynical again. She promised herself not to overdo it, but there she was again. "Well, if anything... I guess it helps work up some appetite." She was about to pour her frustrations onto what was left of her serving when her solitude was broken up by the faint echoes of her phone. Groaning, she got up and trudged towards the couch to retrieve it. She received a message, said the lock screen.
To her surprise, it was from none other than Shuichi himself. Hours apart from his last message.
"Let's make dinner again sometime."
"Asking for trouble again? Well, I guess I did have some fun today." Shiho smiled meekly as she read it, assured that after all that transpired over the last few hours, Shuichi wasn't about to fall back into his old gloomy self. However, she decided not to reply and immediately put the phone back in her bag before going back to their jilted steak.
She was still eating by herself, but somehow, her meal seemed tastier after that.
Chapter End.