Rain of Terra

Ratatosk
2. Chapter 2

Rated: T - English - Crime/Mystery - Tomo T. - Reviews: 68 - Updated: 12-15-11 - Published: 08-23-09 - id:5325016

The early morning sun began its assault on Tomo, infiltrating through the gaps in the closed blinds, sneaking into the bedroom, and creeping up the bed, with its crumpled sheets and still bodies, before hitting Tomo in the face. Tomo blinked and muttered, "Stupid sun."

She rubbed the remains of the attack out of her eyes before admiring the sleeping form of her husband. She grinned, grabbed his shoulder, and started rocking him awake.

"Hey, Rico! Hey!"

A slow and sleepy mumble came from the other side of the bed.

"Guess what?" Tomo said.

Rico turned over and blinked at Tomo. "…what?"

"I got laid last night!"

After several seconds of blinking, the grey film refusing to leave his eyes, Rico rolled over to face his side of the wall. "Yeah, I know."

"What? You were there?"

Rico let out a long, loud sigh. "Tomo, I don't have to go to work until 10:00 today. If you have any milk of human kindness flowing in your veins, for the sake of God and man, please let me sleep."

Tomo wasted a blank stare at her husband, who could only see the darkness behind his eyelids. "Wow, no one talks that way at all. You really do need to sleep."

"Like I said," Rico mumbled, already taking that train back to the world of unconsciousness.

Tomo hopped out of bed and pulled the sheets with her, stripping all cover from Rico, who was too busy snoring to complain. Tomo rooted around on the floor for her boxers and t-shirt before padding into the kitchen and opening the rice cooker.

"Rico!" she shouted. "We're out of rice."

A long groan exited the bedroom. "I told you that last night."

"Dammit, I want rice. I'm going next door."

"Wait, hold up," Rico said. Tomo heard the thunk of his feet hitting the floor, and after several seconds he entered the kitchen. "Don't bother her, it's too early. We'll find something else to eat."

"Nah, it's okay. You get to frying us some eggs there, and brew some coffee. And put on some pants, me and your mom worry about you all the time."

Rico's face sagged as he conceded defeat. There would be no chance of sleeping in this morning. He padded back into the bedroom. "At least invite her over for breakfast," he said.

...

Tomo stepped out onto the second floor walkway, open to the outside. The sun wasn't in view yet, since it was blocked by several buildings, but the sunlight filtering through the gaps and the streetlights shutting off signaled the start of a new day. Tomo stood in front of her neighbor's door and started pounding on it with her fist.

"Hey, Osaka!" Tomo said. "Get up! I need your rice cooker."

Enough time lapsed for Tomo to knock the opening melody to The William Tell Overture before the doorknob began rattling. Osaka was apparently having difficulty navigating the lock, as the doorknob rattled for nearly ten seconds straight.

"You know that lever on the doorknob?" Tomo said. "You take it in your fingers and turn it. Then, you can open the door."

The door finally opened. The pajama-clad Osaka, saddled with sleep and looking to the world like the dopey high school student of ten years ago, repeated Rico's performance by blinking at Tomo. "I know that Tomo," she drawled, but Tomo had already pushed her away and entered the kitchen.

Tomo scanned the appliances like an old maid looking for deals at a going-out-of-business sale. She saw the rice cooker and said, "Aha!" She flipped it open. "Yep, full of rice!" Tomo unplugged the cooker and swiped it from off the counter.

Osaka staggered into her kitchen. She saw Tomo's actions and leaned backwards, her arms crossed in front of her like an X in an atavistic attempt to ward off the evil occurring in front of her. "No, not the rice cooker!"

"Eh? I told you I needed it."

"But that's the soul of my kitchen," Osaka said. "You killed my kitchen! It's a zombie now! You have to drive a wooden stake- no wait." She put a finger on her forehead to signal deep thinking, like a horrible parody of Rodin's sculpture. "Oh yeah! You have to shoot it in the brain." Osaka pointed at the microwave oven. "That's the brain. Then, you'll have to buy me a new kitchen, because it'll be dead. Again."

Tomo stood in the middle of the kitchen, cradling the rice cooker, discomfited by Osaka's insane, stream-of-consciousness rambling. It was a point of pride to Tomo that she always had a comeback or snappy answer, but Osaka sometimes inhabited a level of verbal and mental outré that Tomo just couldn't handle. So Tomo, as she had learned to do years ago in high school, changed the subject.

"Hey, you wanna come over for breakfast?"

Osaka flashed her goofy, simple smile. "Yeah, breakfast!"

...

Coffee was brewing, miso soup was simmering, and Rico was already frying eggs.

"Eek! A foreigner!" Tomo said as she entered her apartment.

"What? Where?" Osaka said, looking around with her hand shading her eyes.

"Ha. Ha." Rico looked up at the entering ladies. "Hey! The Big O!"

Osaka made an exaggerated, outdoors wave at Rico. "Morning Rico, thanks for breakfast."

"Don't call her Big O," Tomo said as she set the rice machine on the kitchen counter and plugged it in. "Her name is Osaka."

"You took the entire rice machine?" Rico said. Tomo abandoned propriety and stuck her hand in the rice machine, grabbed a clump of rice, and stuffed it into her mouth. "It's no big deal," Tomo said, the snowstorm of rice in her mouth getting tossed around with each word. "She's getting it back, and she's getting free breakfast."

"It's not so free if she has to give rice."

"You just keep cooking," Tomo said, grains of rice stuck to her face. "Come on Osaka, let's go sit down."

They stepped into the TV room, but Osaka stopped on the threshold. "Oh, hey," Osaka said. Tomo looked at her, and she pointed into the kitchen. "Rico Watanabe, right?"

"Yeah, you know who he is."

Osaka pointed at Tomo. "Tomo Takino, right?"

"Uh, yeah?"

Osaka pointed back and forth between the kitchen and Tomo. "Husband and wife, right?"

Tomo squinted at Osaka as if she was looking through the wrong end of a telescope. "Are you really that out of it? Do you need to go back to bed?"

"No, no, I was just wondering why you didn't take his last name."

"Oh that," Tomo snorted. "Watanabe's a common name."

"Eh? I can't see it."

"Oh come on," Tomo said. "How many people do you know named Watanabe?"

"Oh, lots and lots."

"And how many people do you know named Takino?"

"Just you, Tomo."

"Exactly," Tomo said. "Why, if he had any sense, Rico would take my name instead! I'd totally let him borrow it, too."

Inside the kitchen came the sound of breaking glass. Tomo decided this was good a time as any to turn on the TV.

Rico brought out the rice, omelets, miso soup, and coffee, and a bottle of ketchup for Tomo. They sat down at the table, said a blessing, and started eating. Tomo turned on the TV and switched it to a child's cartoon, full of the community-affirming values of group friendship and belonging, but Rico one-upped her when he changed it to the harsh misanthropic glare of the early morning news.

Tomo brightened. "Oh yeah! I might be on TV!"

"No way," Osaka said. "How'd you pull that off?

"Oh, me and Torako broke up a kidnapping," Tomo said. "Apparently it was a secretary for some politician guy with two last names, and the news guys were everywhere."

"Oh, I thought you meant you got on a game show or something," Osaka said. "I always wanted to be on that quiz show, you know, with that thing that does… that thing."

"We all need dreams to get us through life," Tomo said, slurping down her soup. Insight struck like an overdrawn account and she slammed down her bowl. "Hey! That was a total comeback! I'm better than ever!"

"Nah, that was kinda lame," Rico said. "I mean, it's something you'd hear on an unfunny sitcom with a laugh track."

"He's right Tomo," Osaka said. "That needed some work."

"Pfft, like you two even know what I'm talking about," Tomo said. She frowned and shoveled rice into her mouth like a dog digging for his buried bone. "Seriously though, keep it on here and maybe you'll see me- There! There I am!"

She pointed at the screen, and grabbed the remote to turn up the volume. Indeed, it was a news report about the rescue of Aya Suzuki. The news reporter showed Oda Otomo's speech and his thanking the two detectives, his ring reflecting the flash of the cameras.

"Wow, way to go doll," Rico said. He winked at Tomo. "They keep saying he's going to be the prime minister one day. Maybe you'll get a reward or a medal."

"Nah, really? You mean it?" Tomo said. She scratched the back of her head in a brazen display of humility and modesty. "Wow, that would be nice. I did single handedly rescue his secretary. I mean, I did it for justice, you know, but recognition of my many feats, well, that would be great too!"

Osaka pointed at the TV screen and asked, "Why are your pants unzipped?" Rico choked back laughter. He barely dodged the remote Tomo threw at him.

...

It was late morning, and both Osaka and Rico had left for their respective jobs. Tomo was sitting on the bus. She had one errand – wire some of Rico's money to his relatives in Brazil – and she was contemplating showing up at the office. Getting the paperwork done was the official reason, but she wanted to rub last night's victory in Kazumi's face. She also had a prank going concerning Kazumi's snack supply, so she had to see the fruits of that, not to mention basking in admiration from her co-workers for a job well done.

After she wired the money to her in-laws, Tomo hit the sidewalk and walked toward the Kojimachi district police station, where she and Torako covered the entire Chiyoda ward. Tomo wanted to be stationed in the much prettier Manseibashi police station, but she destroyed any chances of that when she drove a patrol car through the front entrance and parked it in the lobby. Stupid birds, Tomo thought, shaking her fist at the memory. I'll get you yet.

A mother holding the hand of her young son saw Tomo shaking her fist. The mother grabbed her child and quickly ran down the sidewalk. Hmm, better be more careful with my plans for vengeance, Tomo thought.

It was an unusually hot October morning because the sun decided to throw one last, angry blast of heat before being restrained for autumn and winter. Tomo was dressed simply in a t-shirt and shorts, the shorts having a functioning zipper. When Tomo had discovered, too late, that her pants had a faulty zipper, she decided to make the best of a bad situation by zipping it up in the most inopportune moments, usually in front of Torako. Torako was just too good at hiding any irritation she may have felt, and it was hard for Tomo to tell if she made an effect on someone who frowned all the time. Tomo made a promise to get Torako yet... and there she was, walking down the sidewalk toward their police headquarters.

"Hey Torako!" Tomo shouted, waving. Torako nodded and slightly quickened her pace toward Tomo. She wore a white shirt, denim jeans with no belt loops, Doc Martens cleaned and polished, and suspenders. Everything was tucked in, creases were sharp, and not a wrinkle or a speck of dirt was to be seen. Even in casual attire, Torako was immaculately dressed.

"Morning Tomo," Torako said in her quiet, steady voice. "Glad to see you decided to get that paperwork done. Don't need the chief on your case again."

"Wow, do you even iron your suspenders?" Tomo asked, grabbing the left suspender and snapping it. Torako grunted because it snapped into her nipple. She tried to discretely rub it, but there was no way to do so on a busy sidewalk.

Tomo's eyes widened. "Hey missy, none of that! This is a respectable town! And in front of the police headquarters, for shame!"

"Let's go in," Torako said. She turned toward the office before Tomo could protest.

...

Torako received a hero's welcome, her fellow police officers standing up and applauding.

"Tiger! Great job!"

"You're the best Torako!"

Torako walked through the gauntlet of praise with a modest bow of her head. "Thank you," she said, heading toward her desk. The mood in the office was one of pride and admiration. Flowers bloomed in her presence, birds sang songs of love, deer fed peacefully in the pasture, and everything was right with the world.

Tomo ruined it. "Hey guys, did you see us on the news today? Huh, huh? Wasn't that AWESOME!" Tomo flitted from desk to desk as the officers coughed, frowned, or pretended to be occupied with something else, although a few gracious co-workers congratulated her.

"Hey, where's Kazumi," Tomo said, scanning the office. She shaded her eyes with her hand like a pirate lookout in a crow's nest. "She's not in today?"

"Um, she's talking to the chief," said a skinny young man wearing glasses, demonstrating a nervous, awkward manner known worldwide as "nerd".

"Thanks Megane, I'll keep on the lookout," Tomo said. Megane was the only nickname Tomo distributed in this office that actually stuck, mostly because the person in question didn't protest it. Megane stuttered something and headed back toward his forensics lab in the other side of the building.

Tomo plopped down at her desk, placed head to head with Torako's. Torako was steadily typing in her police report. Tomo put her feet on her desk, leaned back, and gazed at the ceiling.

"TAKINO!" That was undeniably Kazumi's voice. Tomo smiled and sat up. Oh boy, she thought, let the fun begin!

Kazumi Kondo marched toward Tomo's desk with a purpose and drive that would make Patton flinch, Montgomery retreat, and Rommel switch sides. The click of her heels echoed throughout the office like gunfire, even overpowering the drone of ringing phones, conversations, and police radio chatter. Her long hair was dyed silver and cut hime style. The hairstyle fit her piercing, avian nose and her majestic, pointed cheekbones. She certainly did look like a princess, and the royal purple Victorian style dress she wore underlined this point.

Tomo smiled and waved. "Hiya Kazumi!"

"YOU will call me Ms. KONDO," she said, glaring at Tomo. "You don't know me well enough to call me Kazumi, and you never will." Tomo affected her masterful stupid idiot look; blank eyes and a slightly open, drooping mouth. She had mastered this look with years of practice, and if a contest were held that day for the most stupid look possible, Tomo would win by unanimous decision.

Kazumi, however, would not be distracted. She shoved an open bag of potato chips in Tomo's face.

"How do you explain this?" she asked.

Tomo pretended to study the bag carefully. "I think they take potatoes and slice them in small, thin wafers and-"

Kazumi turned the bag upside down, and Styrofoam peanuts drifted down to Tomo's desk.

"Wow," Tomo said. "I never saw that flavor before."

Kazumi dropped the bag on Tomo's desk. "You broke into my stash, and you ate my chips. Then, you filled them with packing peanuts and glued it shut! Just try and deny it!"

"Yeah, I did it."

"Because I have pr- WHAT? You admit it?"

Tomo leaned back in her chair and folded her hands behind her head, fingers interlaced. "Well, duh, who else would do it? Megane? The chief? You really need to calm down and learn to appreciate life. It's just a bag of chips, totally insignificant on a cosmic scale."

"That's not the point!" Kazumi said. Her angry, accusatory glare had devolved into one of desperation and astonishment, like an impatient adult trying to communicate with an autistic child. "You broke into my desk when I specifically asked you not to! Don't you have any respect for people's boundaries?"

"What? You're still talking about that? Kazumi, that's in the past. Lighten up. Now if you don't mind, I got work to do." Tomo leaned forward and switched on her computer. "And could you clean up this stuff you spilled on my desk? It's totally unprofessional."

The office went silent as it watched Kazumi imitate a steaming teakettle. Before she reached the boiling point, Torako put her hand on her shoulder, effectively taking the kettle off the stove.

"Kazumi," she said. "Leave your desk unlocked. Let Tomo get what she wants."

Kazumi, noticeably calmer, looked at Torako with confusion. "What? What sense does that make?"

"The only reason she does it is because you banned her from your stash, and locked her out of your desk. Take those things away and she'll eventually stop stealing your food."

Tomo, with an expression of having just bit into sour candy, glared at Torako. Great, she thought, Torako is ruining my fun.

Kazumi was breathing steadily now. "I… see. Thanks, Torako." She made one last glare at Tomo, pointed and icy. "It's Ms. Kondo. Get it right." She turned around and walked away, taking full, purposeful strides.

"Later, honey buns."

Kazumi faltered, but sped up her pace toward the sanctuary of her desk.

"Heh heh," Tomo said. "And you," she said, glaring at Torako across the desk, "What's your deal?"

"She's going to snap if you keep this up," Torako said. "I don't have anything against you pulling the occasional prank, but what you did could be construed as harassment."

"Oh please," Tomo said. "She gets what she deserves for being so full of herself. Like she's royalty. Pfft." Tomo turned back toward her monitor and started filling her report. "…tell me what to do…" she muttered.

"Well, maybe you should lay off of her for a while."

"Wow, you're still talking about the past too? Man, everyone's obsessed with nostalgia these days. Well, not me sister, I'm in to the future! And in the future I see…" Tomo wheeled her chair toward Torako. She poked each side of her own forehead with an index finger, like a cheap seer at a suspicious carnival. "…it's coming… it's coming… Ah! Lunch at Osaka's taqueria!"

"Sounds good," Torako said.

"Doesn't it?"

"I'd like to see what The Big O has cooking today."

"Her name is Osaka!" Tomo shouted, slamming her hand on her desk.

...

Osaka's taqueria was in the Kanda district, so Torako and Tomo took the bus to get there. Torako couldn't use the Civic because she was officially off duty (Tomo simply couldn't use it at all). The cold front rolled in and fought back against the unruly sun, cooling the weather. The pair decided to sit at one of the outside tables and ordered beer, Torako with a Negra Modelo, and Tomo choosing Corona because it was the cheapest. Torako affected a slightly bored look and had an arm propped over her chair while she stretched her legs out in front of her, a practiced pose she borrowed from a James Dean movie.

Osaka walked over carrying a plate of chips and two bowls of salsa, one green and one red. "Hey guys," Osaka said as she sat down at their table. "Thanks for comin' by!"

"Oh, so the help mingles with the customers, eh? What a progressive place you run, Osaka." Tomo said.

"Hey Tomo," Osaka said. She looked around with a conspiratorial air, and then beckoned Tomo to come closer. Tomo leaned in, and Osaka said, "Did you ever find that foreigner in your apartment?"

"Uhh… yeah…?"

"Oh, great!" Osaka said. She leaned over the table and dipped a chip in the red salsa. "I couldn't see him nowhere, so I'm glad you caught him."

Tomo could tell if Osaka was joking or was serious, so she switched subjects. "So Osaka! Didn't you used to hate spicy stuff?"

"Yeah, I did," Osaka said, biting into a chip. Torako chose the green sauce and carefully nibbled her chip. "But I had to be in Mexico for a while and kinda got used to it."

"Wow, Mexico," Torako said. "What were you doing there- OW!" Torako leaned down and rubbed her shin while Tomo glared daggers and the occasional bullet at Torako.

Osaka didn't appear to notice. "That's the thing, I don't remember. I came to and was staring at a chicken taco, right? In Matamoros. The first thing I thought was how am I eating a taco with hot peppers in it, see, and I knew I wasn't just staring at one that someone else ate, because I had part of it in my mouth. Unless someone else chewed it and put it in my mouth, which seems to be just too much work overall. Anyway, I had to start figuring out where I was, discovered that I'd blacked out for five months, ended up in Mexico, and was speaking Spanish and everything. I still have no idea how I got there or what I even did. But I liked the food so much, I learned how to cook it-"

The door leading to the restaurant opened, and one of the cooks stuck her head out. "Ms. Kasuga! I need help with this mole amarillo!"

"Ah," Osaka said, "I'll be right back." She got up and walked toward the restaurant, letting out a singsong "Heh heh heh" as she did.

Tomo put her head in her hands as Torako stared skyward in disbelief. "Torako? Never ask her anything. Ever. Only I'm qualified to do that." Tomo conveniently ignored that it was her question that started all this.

Torako took a sip from her beer. "Wow," she said. "Didn't you tell me she went missing back when you two were in college?"

Tomo leaned back. "Yeah, for six years-"

"Six years? Did you do anything, like try to find her?"

Tomo shrugged like Atlas, but with less boring exposition. "Well, sure, but come on, it's Osaka. She's been like this since high school. We were roommates in college, and in the third year, she said she had to go. I didn't take her seriously. I thought she meant go to the store or something. Six years later, I'm unlocking the door to my apartment at the same time Osaka unlocks her door. She hadn't changed a bit since college... except that she has BOOBS," Tomo said, a bit too loudly. Conversation at the surrounding tables died down as the guests stole glances at Tomo before the background chatter rebounded to its normal volume. "That was… four months ago."

"You didn't even try to find out where'd she been?"

"Well... she asked me why I wasn't at Interpol, and I told her I found out they were a bunch of paper-pushing bureaucrats. So, I asked her why she wasn't a school teacher."

"What did she say?"

"She said the Japanese government wouldn't let her, because she was a security risk."

The calm, stoic Torako gave a bugged eye look. Tomo decided it was because she was drinking beer, and stored away this information for future use.

"Dead serious," Tomo said. "So, I try not to ask questions about what she did the past six years." Tomo got silent and serious; a combination that bothered Torako. It was unnatural that anything could worry this carefree spirit.

Tomo stared at her beer and said, "She hasn't dug into my past, so I won't dig into hers."

Torako reached for a chip, keeping Tomo in her vision. "Why not? Is there something you don't want her knowing?"

Tomo didn't answer, and the two remained silent until the waitress brought out their food.

...

That night, Tomo saw her younger self pulling nails from a wooden balcony in the pale moonlight. She screamed and pleaded at herself to stop, but she wouldn't. The young Tomo looked at her future self and said, "Answer the phone, moron."

"Ugh," Tomo said, as she sat up on the couch. "Not again." She rubbed her eyes and let the shrill ringing cut through the house, drowning out the sports show's commentary about the dismal performance of the Chunichi Dragons in the recent Japan Series. She grabbed the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Tomo." It was Torako's voice. "Need you here. Police business."

"What? It's our day off! Where are you?"

"Ueno."

"WHAT?"

"Can't be helped," Torako said. "Emergency. Sent a patrol car to pick you up, so don't use the 'I can't drive' excuse." Torako broke the connection.

Well, goodbye vacation, Tomo thought. She got ready for her police escort.