Chapter Seventeen

Houjun was just trying to settle a little more comfortably into his seat when the cell phone in his bag rang. Shaking his head inwardly as the bus went over another rough bump, he hung onto the front bar for support, undoing the clasp with his free hand and clumsily fishing the phone out of his bag.

"Hello?"

Static, and then more crackling, before the familiar voice of Myou Juan boomed out over the transmission. "Houjun! Where are you?"

Houjun laughed at Myou Juan's accusing tone. "I'm on the way to a lunch appointment. Is anything the matter?"

"Yes! I was wondering if you'd seen Taka!"

A ball of suspicion formed in the photographer's stomach. "No, I haven't, not since Chinoarov. What's happened?"

The older man sighed. "He was due for a photo-shoot this morning with Dusilic Jeans. The production people furious, because they hired a group of five for a specific look, and Taka was meant to be one of them. The other models had to be sent back without payment because Dusilic has mapped their commercials and all around the five of them. The other agencies have been calling me up all day to inquire about Taka. I've tried calling his house and his mobile, but he hasn't been home since last week and his cell is dead."

Houjun bit his lip. While he hadn't formed as strong a bond with the tall, dark-haired youth as he had Nuriko, he had still spoken to Taka on a few occasions, and found the teen to be a headstrong person. Taka smoked, had piercings, tattoos that had gotten him into trouble with photographers before, and admitted freely that he was in deeper than that. He went out drinking frequently, but it hadn't disrupted his work before. Not until today.

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" Myou Juan finally continued. Houjun could hear the worry in the agency boss' voice. Myou Juan treated each and every one of his models as family, and had on more than one occasion rang Houjun up when the latter had had assignments with Myou Juan's agency to find out how the models were doing. Houjun and Myou Juan went back a long way, even though Houjun was nearly a decade younger.

"Did you check the pub he frequents? Or the club? You can ask Saihitei where those are…Taka –does– sometimes drag him along, you know."

"Saihitei!" Myou Juan sounded relieved. "I'd forgotten all about him. I'll just give him a call right now. Thanks Houjun."

Houjun noticed that the stop where he had to change buses was approaching, and hastily stood, making sure his bag was at least partway clasped before reaching out to press the bell. "Don't worry about it, Juan. Give me a call if you still can't find him, all right?"

The bus hit another pothole, and Houjun's head banged on the low ceiling of the double-decker. He winced, nearly dropping the phone and missing Myou Juan's effusive thanks.

Ow…

He hoped Taka was okay.

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All the way up the pathway leading to their front door, Genrou grumbled about how brothers were always made to pay for things. Things like cab fares. Miaka tuned him out as she fished her keys out from the pouch at her waist and unlocked the door, but paused to read a bright yellow note that had been stuck to the knocker.

Miaka dear,

There's an emergency meeting at the office, and we will probably be home late tonight. When you come back, please make dinner for yourself and your brother.

Mom and Dad

Genrou snatched the note, ignoring his sister's outraged cry as she swiped for it, and then read it aloud. His face paled. "They want you to fucking cook? You poisoned us all the last time!"

"Excuse me! I did not poison anything! You choked on the spinach, remember?"

He thought for a moment, and then, unable to think of anything else to do, he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Childish," she huffed, pushing open the door before suddenly remembering their mission. "Argh! This is no time to be dallying! Get in!"

"What the hell are you planning to do?!" her brother snarled as he was shoved violently into the house.

"I thought we covered that."

He rolled his eyes. "Yea, but what part do –you– play in this whole mess?"

Miaka laughed, and then covered her mouth as she collapsed into what sounded suspiciously like a snickering fit. "You've been taking my things all along, haven't you? Well this time, with me around, I'll show you just how you're supposed to look."

Genrou swallowed hard.

"Ah, don't look so worried, Gen-chan! I'm an expert at this sort of thing!"

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Houjun glanced at his watch and fought the urge not to bang his head against the window. Earlier, when the bus had turned onto the expressway, he had dismissed the situation as a small problem. Now all the vehicles seemingly, firmly wedged into place on the black mortar of the road, it was obvious that he had made a mistake.

What's going on up ahead?

He craned his neck. The traffic jam traveled all the way to the bend about fifty meters ahead. He thought he caught a glimpse of policemen walking around, but it was too far for him to be sure of without his glasses.

Suddenly, a flash of red lights whizzed past the left shoulder of the road, in the emergency lane. It was an ambulance, its siren wailing in the heavy, humid air. Houjun let his breath escape in a sigh as he settled back into his seat and closed his eyes.

There were so many accidents on the road these days. While Houjun did not practice any definite religion, he had, on a whim, taken up Buddhist Studies in his college days, and the lesson of compassion had been one that continued to stay with him up till now. He mentally offered a short prayer for whoever it was who had been hurt.

@@@

"What's his name?" the chief medic asked, as the paramedics brought the stretcher down to ground level swiftly. One of them, a plump middle-aged woman, knelt down and checked the victim's body efficiently for broken bones or twisted alignments that would hinder the transfer into the ambulance. One ankle looked bent at a particularly odd angle.

One of the more senior policemen nodded sharply towards a young man, barely twenty, who looked as though he was going to faint from all the blood that painted the shattered plastic and the remnants of the motorcycle that littered the road. "Show the medic the identification card."

The medic took the item from the trembling boy's gloved hand and scanned it quickly. "Got it. Let's load Mr. Ri Hikou in."