A/N: It's been 84 years...
Okay maybe not that long but...I will save you my many many apologies and skip straight to the I love you all and thank you for sticking with me part. I could probably write another 6,000 words on why this chapter took so long (work, being sick, finding time, ect), but I won't bore you with it. The reviews you've left me since I posted chapter 24 have been the fuel that has kept me going. I am truly so touched, thank you! I have a plan for every chapter after this one leading to the end- big things are coming [coughsNarucoughs]! I hope this chapter can tide you over until the next one! I can't promise you, but I'm aiming to update again in January! [crosses fingers]
Happy holidays to you all!
Day Seven
10:30am
The Miyuki Theater
Mai paused, her foot on the bottom step of the theater stairs. She needed to collect her breath. Her thoughts.
Her shoes, soaked through, were a testament to the distracted rush she had been in since she left the outdoor theater. The inscription on the bench, the initials craved there. It had driven her through puddles, across the empty festival grounds. She had one destination. One person she had to see.
Mai adjusted her grip on the bouquet of roses held in her hand. It had been an after thought, but she was glad that flower vendor had caught her attention. It was only polite to bring a get-well gift when visiting someone injured.
Blinking the image of the carving, the N hashed through the M, out of her eyes, Mai moved on, but she had only climbed a few more steps when she paused again. The theater doors. They were still propped wide open, Nozomi's bravest passing in and out of them. The cleaning operation continued.
Getting a curious look or two from the men carrying buckets past her, Mai realized how odd she must seem hovering outside the theater entrance. She clenched her jaw, her fists, and took the plunge.
Ouch.
Standing inside the lobby, Mai stared down at her finger, a bead of blood growing there. She had been pricked. Mai traded the bouquet to her other hand and stood watching the procession of Mr. Sachi's hired men rush about.
Why aren't they affected...?
A familiar voice suddenly brought Mai out of her thoughts.
"Ah, yes that's it. Project just like so."
Mr. Sachi.
The playwright was standing at the auditorium doors, his back to her. At the sight of him, Mai's felt her newly settled stomach twist. Between his secret affairs, and slanderous comments about her boss, her opinion of him, never very high to begin with, had fallen drastically in the last twenty-four hours.
"All of Nozomi will be here to see you, let's be sure they can hear you, my dear."
Mai stared past Mr. Sachi, to the object of his attention. On stage, the young woman Mai had seen earlier, nodded and tried again.
Is she standing in for Nari?
With a frown and a strong desire to avoid the playwright, Mai left the lobby. A moment later she stood outside of base. Entering, she braced herself for the onslaught of memories that had plagued her earlier, but thankfully the scene seemed to have changed. Instead of Naru's weakened visage, she was met with John and Masako.
Just John and Masako. Mai's gaze flicked to Lin's seat, but it was empty. The two of them were speaking, the medium sat on one of the couches and the young priest sat on the edge of the table before her, their heads bent towards each other conversationally. Mai paused, her mouth open to announce herself. Not for the first time she found herself wondering about them. Something was building there. She was curious of it, but she had more than enough to investigate at the moment. Remembering the urgency of her situation, and realizing they were exactly who she had come to see, she seized her opportunity,
"I need your help."
"Mai, hi," John stood, greeting her with a warm smile.
Masako's head turned toward Mai standing in the door, her eyes fell to the bouquet in her hand.
"If that help is hiding from Nozomi's rabid towns people, try another room. I'm not in the mood. What title did they award you with this time, most accident prone?"
Mai looked from the roses she held and back to the medium, a prickle of irritation rising up her neck, but she kept her tone in check. She was asking for a favor, after all.
"I'll have you know these aren't a gift to me, they're for Nari. I wanted to see how she was doing, but I've never visited her house, or met her mother. You have though, so if you could show me, introduce me..."
Masako nodded, considering,
"I don't care to see her mother, but I suppose it's only polite to pay a visit."
"That's very thoughtful of you Mai, I'm sure Nari would appreciate the company," John remarked, approvingly.
Mai smiled at him, both relieved and anxious. The answers she needed were across town and she couldn't get to them fast enough. She took a leading step back out the door, signaling that she was ready to go.
Masako blinked at her,
"What...you mean right now?"
Mai halted.
That Masako.
"Yes, is that a problem...?"
The medium waved a hand at the camera monitors,
"We're in the middle of an investigation. You want us just to leave?"
Mai drew on the last of her patience,
"It won't take us long, Lin approved a break. As long as I'm back by lunch."
John stepped forward nodding, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Sounds good. Hara-san, weren't you just saying how you needed a break from this case?"
He cast a look back over his shoulder at the medium. Her gaze shifted from Mai. She met his eyes. A beat past, and then she stood.
"So I did. Shall we, then?"
Leaving base, Mai's heart seemed to quicken with each step. The answers she was heading towards had the potential to change the whole case, the thought nearly consumed her— still she had the presence of mind to notice what an unusual group she found herself in.
"Where's Ayako and Bou-san, anyway?"
Masako glanced over at her,
"Working, perhaps you're familiar with the term?"
Heat touched Mai's cheeks, and she opened her mouth to retort, when John cut in,
"Ayako's in a middle of an exorcism and just to be safe, Takigawa is overseeing her. It will be Hara-san's turn next."
"I see, thank you John. Since Masako takes her job so seriously, we'll make sure to get back quickly."
Pink tinged the medium's cheeks now and the three of them lapsed into the silence of their footsteps padding down the hall. Then Mai considered another missing person.
"And Lin...where did he go?"
Masako drew herself up in that haughty way she did when she had privileged information. Her answer was stubbornly vague,
"He stepped out on a phone call."
John had no helpful details to add this time, but Mai could fill in the blanks.
Naru.
Was he calling to say he's coming back soon? Mai rubbed at her chest, a familiar ache filling up the space there. Pointedly she trained her eyes on the theater's floor, the last thing she needed was to start imagining him again...
The ache in Mai's chest became the least of her worries in the next instant when they reached the double doors. She found herself tightening her grip on the bouquet she held and hurriedly loosened her hold. She didn't want a second pricked finger.
"Have John help you," Masako instructed at her shoulder, acknowledging her hesitation. Mai blinked at her rival in surprise. She knew Masako was aware of her problem passing through the doors, but...
She has the same problem.
Before Mai could point this out,the medium had excused herself through the busy cleaning crew.
"Masako— ?"
A new person at her shoulder. John. His call after the medium fell on deaf ears.
"She must, uh— be doing better with them than me," Mai commented, gesturing at the doors, her eyes moving from the petite figure descending the stairs, to the priest. A look of concern shown on his face. He caught her staring, and his expression suddenly cleared.
"I guess you're right, huh? Come on, let's catch up."
Mai took the arm he kindly offered and they followed the medium out. It took until the bottom of the stairs for Mai to be able to walk without assistance, her legs shaking and her world spinning. When they reached Masako she appeared composed, but Mai noticed how she touched her forehead, how her complexion paled.
That Masako.
The sensation leaving her, Mai's ill feelings were once again replaced with anxious energy.
The inscription.
Nari.
Answers.
It took all the self control she had not to rush Masako as she lead her across Nozomi.
Patience, Taniyama.
Past the mostly empty festival grounds they walked, weak sunlight peaking out behind stray clouds. Mai drew her hood up against the chill and took extra care to step around and not through anymore puddles.
Before she knew it, the three of them were standing in front of the Motoshi home. The little house looked bright even in the gloom of that morning. A thriving flower garden welcomed them as they approached the front door. Masako knocked, and they waited.
Mai's heart raced with every second that ticked by. Curiously, she peered in a nearby window, but the blinds were drawn. Still they waited. And waited...and waited.
"Maybe no one is home?" Masako suggested, glancing back at them with a shrug.
Mai shifted, frowning. Dimly she was reminded of standing outside Naru's door. Her eyes bore into the door handle, as if sheer will could make it open. She wouldn't be denied a second time.
No, I'm so close...
"Here, let me," Johnsaid, and he stepped forward to try knocking. He had to lean across Masako to do this, and Mai let out a small protest when the medium suddenly stepped back on her foot.
"Hey—"
"What?"
"You just stepped—"
"It's not my fault, you're crowding me—"
Mai crossed her arms, glaring. Masako's cheeks were pink again. The door opened.
"Can I...help you?"
Mai met the brown eyes of a woman she had only seen from a distance the night before. Quickly she pushed back her hood and bowed.
"Good morning Mrs. Motoshi," Masako greeted, inclining her head politely.
The woman exhaled, the sound weary. The dark circles that hung on her face, betrayed exhaustion. Her pressed lips and clenched hands, betrayed offense.
"You'll have to excuse me if I don't answer back in the same fashion, good is relative word for me at the moment. What is it that you need?"
"Mrs. Motoshi, we're with SPR, we wanted—"
"I know who you are and who you're with, Hara-san."
Mai blinked, startled at the hardness of the woman's voice. Masako did not waver however,
"We came out of concern for your daughter. How is she doing?"
"As well as can be expected. Luckily enough for you she lived, hm?"
John moved. He took the bouquet from Mai's hand. In the next instant, slipped in front of Masako.
"We're very glad to hear she's well, Ma'am," he responded, the tone of his voice dropping low, but it carried a quality of both soothing and warning,"We brought her flowers."
Nari's mother stared down at his offering. After a beat she cleared her throat, and accepted them.
"No lilies...? How considerate. I thank you on my daughter's behalf, I'm sure these will brighten her room."
John glanced past the woman, into what he could see of her living room, inquiringly. Behind him, Mai was sneaking a similar look.
"Can we see her?"
"I'm afraid not. She's resting."
Mai's stomach lurched. It's was a familiar feeling that day. Disappointment. Her attention returned to John in time to see him nod in understanding. He was preparing to take his leave.
No, wait...
"Ah, I see. I guess we had poor timing."
"Unfortunately, but I will let her know—"
"What's unfortunate," Mai suddenly cut in, stepping forward,"is that Nozomi will not get to enjoy your daughter's performance tonight."
Her change in position coaxed John into Masako's space once again, the three of them now shared the front step. Out of the corner of Mai's eye she could see the medium shooting her a harsh, questioning look, but she had no time for politics, her own agenda more pressing. Mrs. Motoshi's gaze traveled over Mai, properly noticing her. Hurriedly, Mai gave another quick bow.
"And you are...?"
"Taniyama, Mai...Ma'am. I'm apart of SPR."
Mrs. Motoshi's lips tightened into thin lines, this introduction clearly not to her taste.
"You too, hm? An assistant of Hara-san's...?"
Mai raised her head stiffly. Masako was no longer glaring. Mai was tempted to correct the woman, but was wary of giving any more offense. She let it slide with clenched teeth.
"I've had the pleasure of watching your daughter work these last few days. She's so very talented, it really is a shame she won't be preforming."
Mrs. Motoshi hesitated in answering. Naturally she agreed with the statement, but...
"Well, if the theater had been made safe—"
"She was so amazing the night before last. She's so popular, her fans will definitely miss her."
Despite herself, the corner of Mrs. Motoshi's lip rose into a kind of half smile. Something in what Mai had said affected her. Her gaze suddenly shifted. She spoke directly to Masako,
"Nari has been resting awhile now, perhaps you'd take some tea...and she may join us?"
Mai gave Masako no opportunity to back out, with a quick bob of the head she answered for her,
"Thank you, that would be perfect."
Satisfied with this, Mrs. Motoshi's smile stretched wider and she and stepped aside, allowing them inside. The Motoshi's living room was dated and lived in, the fabric on the couch Mai sat on, worn and faded. On an old wooden table in front of her was a pot of tea.
"Please sit, I'll be back in a moment with more cups," Mrs. Motoshi instructed, heading down a narrow hall toward what Mai assumed to be the kitchen.
Mai's attention was soon drawn from the woman. John and Masako had joined her on the couch, and she could feel the pull of their wondering looks.
"Any particular reason we're invading Mrs. Motoshi afternoon tea?" Masako demanded in a low voice, peering around John.
Mai sat back, avoiding her rival's suspicious stare, "To see Nari."
Masako made an exasperated sound,
"How? She's resting—"
"Here we are," Mrs. Motoshi announced, entering the room, three cups in tow.
Mai sat up straight again and Masako was silenced. There was a quiet moment of tea pouring. Mai watched the amber liquid fill their three cups, she inhaled— and found herself distracted. Her hand absently rose to her chest. There it was again. That stubborn ache...
This indigestion is bad. I should take some medicine.
The first cup was passed to Masako. Mrs. Motoshi looked to the medium. Mai had the sudden feeling of being invisible.
"I'm actually surprised that you've come again," the woman began, seating herself in an armchair across from them.
"We wanted to know how Nari was doing," Masako answered, a mask of perfect civility in place.
"But of course, one cannot forget my Nari. Her absence is always obvious. She's loved and adored by all."
A beat past after this statement. Something hung in the air.
Maybe not all.
Mr. Sachi's face came to mind. Mai snatched up her unoffered cup of tea, taking a large swallow. While Masako was organizing her thoughts, Mrs. Motoshi pressed on,
"As your assistant said, now that you've worked with her, surely you can see how popular my daughter is? Ah, I've been meaning to ask— where is your camera crew?"
Masako blinked,
"My camera crew?"
"Yes, from your show. You know, you could have brought them on this visit, I have no objections."
Masako cleared her throat.
"Ma'am, my crew is back in Tokyo. This is a private case I'm consulting on."
"Hm, is that right? With this SPC group...?"
"It's SPR, actually-"
"Does your management know about this partnership? You should be more careful."
"Pardon me— ?"
"You have a reputation to uphold, after all. Is dealing with a such disreputable group really right for your image?"
Mai's cup clattered on it's saucer.
Disreputable?
Mrs. Motoshi's expression shifted with her tone, the color that had animated her cheeks while discussing her daughter's potential, had drained away. Her brown eyes fixed coldly on John.
"I mean— this can't be your standard? It's been nearly a week, and what is there to show for it? The haunting persists. My daughter nearly died last night for heaven's sake."
Masako set down her tea. For a moment Mai thought she would stand and leave, her mask of civility abandoned— but it remained in place. Her gaze also turned to John.
Sitting next to the young priest, Mai had felt him tense through this exchange, his lips parted to say something, but Masako was already speaking.
"This," she answered, her voice firm, "is exactly my standard. I trust SPR with my life. We have a history. I will work with no other. I assure you Ma'am, all that can be done, is being done for the theater."
There was a change following this statement. Mrs. Motoshi suddenly focused on her tea, John on his hands. Mai stared at the medium. She had spoken with surprising sincerity. Mai was struck with a memory. She recalled the night before: John throwing himself over the medium in the chaos, her small figuring leaning against his side, in the aftermath, draped in his coat.
I trust SPR with my life.
"I'm sure you will set things to rights," Mrs. Motoshi concluded after a moment, stirring her tea. Masako did not pick her's up again. Mai could see was done. Any moment she would say their goodbyes, that they'd try another time...
Mai's gaze flicked to a door that she had noticed, one that which lead off of the living room. Was Nari behind it? Internally, Mai cursed herself for all the wasted opportunities she'd had. Repeatedly the young actress had tried to share her story. Mai had never lent an open ear, uncomfortable with Nari's obvious attempts to compare their romantic situations. Naru was not Mr. Sachi. Or was he? Maybe their stories were closer than she thought. She'd never know if she didn't get the chance to ask.
"It is too bad you didn't bring your crew. They could have interviewed Nari, she would have told them of your great efforts with this case."
The medium seemed to be drawing on the last of her patience, in an obvious way, she glanced at the watch on John's wrist
"We can't even interview your daughter, it appears she will still be resting for a while...?" she countered, hardly bothering with her civil mask now.
Mrs. Motoshi's eyes moved to the door that had caught Mai's attention, "I'm sure she will be up soon. I do wonder...how is it that you're able to leave Tokyo yourself? Did you ask for the time off? That must be difficult, but then you're probably pretty close with the broadcasting president."
Mai's gaze tore away from the door. Her mouth went dry as she looked to the medium. Surely that was it. She would endure this prying woman no longer.
My answers...
"Mrs. Motoshi," Masako began, and Mai knew then that she was right. Masako was preparing to take their leave. Enough was enough, "I am not sure how my schedule concerns you, but I did not have to ask for permission to be here. It's the off season, I'm not currently filming. I do have a job to do though, and I believe I should be returning to it—"
That Masako.
In the time that it took for the medium speak, Mai's eyes had done a frantic scan of the room. She needed something— something to delay them just a little longer. Pulse racing, her focused narrowed. Intuition hummed in her ears. The wall behind Mrs. Motoshi. It was full, but not with the usual knickknacks. Theater paraphernalia. Nari's whole career was on display. Posters, framed documents, pictures.
Mai stood suddenly. She was the first to the leave the couch. She could hear Masako speaking again, questioning her...but Mai wasn't listening. Without knowing it, she came to stand in front of the wall.
"This picture," she spoke, pointing to the one hanging before her, "when was it taken?"
Mrs. Motoshi set her tea down with a gentle clink, and then she rose from her seat. With crossed arms she approached Mai.
"That one?" she repeated, nodding at the photo Mai stood before. There was wondering lit to her voice, she was clearly confused at Mai's choice. Out of all the illustrious photos of her daughter on stage or winning awards, why ask about that one?
The woman's tone was enough to pull Mai out of her thoughts. The fog of her intuition lifting, Mai realized two things. One, she had their attention. She had successfully stalled their departure. Two, she had their attention. Standing there she could feel Masako's interested stare burning into her back. Proceeding was risky— she had secrets to guard, but still...
I have to know.
"I supposed it was taken years ago now," Mrs. Motoshi finally answered, oblivious to the turmoil churning through the young woman beside her.
Years ago...
Mai reached out, touching the glass, her finger covering a familiar face.
"That's Mr. Miyuki, isn't it?"
Mai attempted to control her tone— keep it casual, but couldn't quite manage it. Speaking the playwright's name aloud made her painfully self-conscious. Mai heard the couch creak in the silence following the question, someone had shifted, listening intently.
That Masako.
"Hm? Yes, that's right. Mr. Miyuki there, and that's—"
Mai swallowed, her heart pounding at the unexpected opportunity. This was it. A chance at the answers she she had been trying to get at since the moment she had woken from that dream in Mr. Miyuki's office.
"Your daughter, Mr. Sachi, and...Miss Miyuki?" she spoke, finishing the woman's sentence. Three faces stared back at her within the frame, bright smiles and arms around each other. The carving on the theater bench flashed through her mind, and Mai knew the next question she must ask.
"Yes, exactly— don't they all look so young? I swear it was just yesterday. This is from Nari's debut as an actress. She was only fourteen."
"They all look so happy together, were they...close then?"
"Close? You mean, we're they friends?"
Mai realized she was holding her breath, all she could do was nod.
Mrs. Motoshi's expression changed. She shook her head dismissively,
"No, they weren't. Now this photo was taken a year later. That's Nari on stage after she debuted as a lead actress—" here the woman paused to send a glance back towards the couch, "she was only fifteen mind you..."
Mai didn't see Masako's response. Her eyes never left the picture hanging before her. Her intuition warred against her better judgment. The but! sitting on her lips spilled out,
"But...they seem so friendly here?"
Mrs. Motoshi's attention flicked back to Mai. The woman's expression shifted again. She seemed bothered by the interruption, a slight frown settled on her face.
"Friendly? I supposed so...for the picture. It wasn't only Nari's debut. It was Joji Sachi's first play as playwright, and Miss Miyuki did the costume design. It was a special day for all of them. But, like I said— they were not friends. Miss Miyuki was two grades above my daughter, they moved in different circles. Joji Sachi for that matter, too— though he always acknowledged my daughter."
Not friends...?
Mai's heart thrummed and her head spun.
"But it was for the best they never grew close as children. Mr. Sachi's feelings were able to develop into those of love for my daughter. And as for Miss Miyuki, she became a deserter, and a traitor. I'm proud to say my daughter rarely associated with her."
"Deserter...?" Mai spoke, automatically— her discretion abandoned in her surprise.
Mrs. Motoshi's arms tightened across her chest. She spoke with self-righteousness,
"Yes, a deserter. She left Nozomi shortly after that picture was taken, left with her mother in the divorce. Left her father and the town that raised her. Ungrateful, deserter."
Divorce...?
Mai's mouth opened, she had so many questions—but when her eye's met Mrs. Motoshi's, she stopped short. The woman wasn't finished, she was growing upset— emotional, color splotched her cheeks, she carried on—
"And then— and then, she returns! Years later, after not a word! On the very night of my daughter's proposal, and ruins it! Do you call that friendly, Miss Taniyama?"
Mai swallowed hard and bowed her head low, "No, Ma'am."
Not friends.
Silence followed this outburst. Mrs. Motoshi crossed the room and returned to her seat. Mai followed after her and sat heavily between Masako and John. Their stares pinned her on either side. After nursing her tea a moment, Mrs Motoshi cleared her throat and spoke again, this time composed,
"It appears you may be right, Hara-san. My daughter is obviously not up for visitors, but she would appreciate it to know that you came. I will be sure to tell her."
They were being dismissed. Masako stood, readily.
"Very well, Ma'am. Thank you for the tea."
John stood also, and with a bow also murmured his thanks. Mai was the last to stand, it taking John's hand on her shoulder to pull her from her thoughts. Standing hurriedly, she followed Masako's lead to the door. Mrs. Motoshi saw them out,
"I wish you luck with this case, Hara-san."
"I am sure we are more than capable," Masako answered simply, and she descended the Motoshi's front steps. The door was firmly closed behind them.
Mai walked across the festival grounds, back towards the theater. The sun overhead had finally managed to burn a hole through the lingering clouds and warmed her bare legs. The remaining puddles had shrunk and dried up, which was fortunate, as Mai was once again distracted.
Not friends.
Still, absorbed in her thoughts as she was, she was aware of the curious looks John kept sending her. Mai pulled her hood up, kept her head down, avoiding eye contact. John was considerate enough to respect her body language and voiced none of his questions, but Masako was another matter.
"So, what was that all about?"
Mai's head snapped up,
That Masako.
"Hm? What was what about...?"
"You were digging for something."
"Digging...?" Mai stalled, but her playing dumb wasn't enough. Masako held her in a shrewd and unrelenting gaze,
"Back there, with Mrs. Motoshi. It was practically an interrogation."
"An interrogation? I was just making conversation. I can't be interested?"
"In what?"
John caught Mai's eye,
"Is it anything we can help with?"
Mai gave him a faltering smile, her stomach giving a small guilty twist. Gathering herself, she waved her hands in what she hoped looked dismissive and casual,
"Thank you, but it's nothing really. I guess this gossipy town is rubbing off on me. I was just curious."
John nodded. Masako frowned, unwilling to let the subject go, but was denied a chance to continue as they reached the theater stairs. Mai took them two at a time. Faced with the medium or the doors, Mai choose the doors.
Mai was still recovering from the effects of her decision, bent over, hands on knees, when John and Masako joined her in the lobby. The medium released the young priest's arm and brought a shaky sleeve to her pursed lips, blocked once again from saying anything. Counting herself lucky, Mai quickly slipped down the hall, leading the way to base.
The smell of food greeted Mai before Ayako and Bou-san could. Tempura. Tonkatsu. Baskets of it sat on the table between the monk and the miko.
"Oy, there you are! Where have you been? I give orders to stay put, and I come back to find you've wandered off!" Mai meant to meet Bou-san's gaze, offering a meaningful apology, but her eyes never quite made it to his, instead they fixed on the piece of fried of pork he was waving around, entranced. Her stomach gave a longing rumble.
"Out skiving work and returns just in time for lunch. I see how you are," Ayako murmured, but she handed Mai a plate and chopsticks just the same. Mai accepted them gratefully, and threw a look back at John and Masako behind her, attempting to clear her name,
"I wasn't skiving work. We went to go see Nari."
"Nari?" Bou-san repeated, an eyebrow quirked. Here his eyes did find Mai's.
She nodded, attempting to keep her expression from screaming out the revelations she had found there.
"Is that where you were?" Lin spoke, closing his laptop to take proper notice of her.
Masako swept past Mai and took a seat on the empty couch across from Bou-san and Ayako. She helped herself to the only green leafy dish available, "Yes, Mai asked us to accompany her there. It seemed only right that we should check in."
Under Lin's intent stare, Mai checked the clocked hanging on the wall above his head.
"I hope that was okay? You said to be back by noon."
The Chinese man raised no objections, noting that they were on time. Raising from his chair, presumably to eat, he gave a significant look toward the kitchenette, "If you wouldn't mind."
Mai blinked, confused for a moment, but then realized his meaning. It was his version of: Mai, tea. She readily undertook her duty.
"How is Nari doing?" Ayako asked, deftly stealing a piece of pork from the many Bou-san had horded.
"Mrs. Motoshi told us that she's as fine as can be expected. We weren't able to see her, she was resting," John answered, taking a seat beside Masako.
"Mm, good to hear. She was lucky, it was a narrow miss," the miko murmured, biting into her stolen pork soberly.
Mai paused in the middle of pulling out a teapot from the cupboard. Vividly, a stream of images flashed through her head. The cries, the panic in the theater— Nari standing on stage as it went dark, the enormous light dropping through the air, seconds from crushing her...
A very narrow miss.
A shudder passed through Mai, the hair raising at the back of her neck. She shut the cupboard, and shook her head, attempting to rid herself of the feeling. Her thoughts had stuck though. Her attention turned toward the case.
Apparently she wasn't the only one. Lin returned to his seat with lunch in hand, but the glint in his eye showed that he wasn't interested in having a lazy meal, "Time to report out. Matsuzaki-san, how did your exorcism go this morning? Can we expect the theater to be safe now for the likes of it's actors and patrons?"
The priestess dabbed at her red lips delicately, she responded with a confident smile, "Of course. I do nothing halfway."
There was a snorting sound to Ayako's right, "No one's accusing you of that."
Mai glanced over her shoulder in time to see Bou-san lose his plate to Ayako's retaliation,
"No they wouldn't," she answered curtly, showily enjoying his remaining pieces of pork.
Mai turned back to the sink, smirking, but her smile slipped from her face as she reached for the tap. As they had earlier that day, memories sprang at her— the sensation of him standing there with her, the heat of his chest at her back— Mai turned on the water harder than she should. The spray startled her and she quickly turned it off. Wiping at her wet hoodie, she felt many sets of eyes turned towards her. She waited for someone to say something, but the next person to speak was Lin, taking control of the conversation again. Mai breathed a sigh of relief and put the tea to boil.
"Matsuzaki-san believes she was successful with her exorcism. You accompanied her, would you agree?"
Lin's question was directed at Bou-san. The monk, particularly out of goodwill towards the miko, gave a blunt answer,
"No. Not unless you consider exorcising thin air successful."
Ayako's offense was palpable. Mai stole a second look towards them, knowing that Bou-san had a lot worse coming to him now than a stolen plate of food, but John's interruption, diverted her wrath.
The young priest was nodding, his gaze appealing to hear him out. Mai cut the heat to her whistling teapot, listening intently.
"That's just it, isn't? Not that Ayako isn't capable," he spoke, with consideration, which seemed to slightly mollify the angry miko, "but was there anything to exorcise at all? Thin air. That's all Hara-san and myself encountered in our investigation earlier. There has to be something to exorcise to be successful."
Despite the chance to further annoy the miko beside him, Bou-san found himself agreeing,
"He's got a point. We experienced it too: the nothingness. The whole time we were out, there wasn't even a drop in temperature."
"What does it mean?" Ayako put in briskly, still trying to decide whether she was insulted or not.
In the thoughtful pause following this question, Mai resumed her tea making, she reached to take down the tin of tea leaves.
What does it mean?
Things were quiet...too quiet. What were they up against exactly?
The other ghost.
It had been so aggressive the night before, where had it gone now?
Mai glanced over at Lin. The Chinese man was typing notes into his laptop... for Naru?
No activity.
If he returned to a report like that, what were the chances he'd reopen the case, announce a haunting?
None.
In frustration, Mai pulled at the tin lid with more force than she meant to. Tea filled the air and with it a heady perfume. Mai set the tin down, coughing, waving the settling leaves out of her face. The scent of them was almost overwhelming. It occurred to her that she experienced such an intensity before. Naru. When he had rescued her from the smoking theater. When he had saved her from her fall in the Miyuki cellar. Mai's frustration increased as she felt the tell-tale signs of her chest tightening. A familiar ache burned there. In her distraction, she didn't realize what a scene she was making in the silence.
"Uh, Mai?"
Through watering eyes, Mai found Bou-san and met his stare. She couldn't miss his wondering look.
"You okay? Seem a bit off today...got up a bit too early, hm?"
Mai turned back to the counter and began scooping loose tea leaves back into their tin, coloring a bit as she recalled her morning, spent pounding on Naru's door.
"If you'd like, I can help. No ones ever asks, but I'm actually very good at making tea," Masako volunteered.
"I'm fine, the lid was just stuck," Mai answered stubbornly.
The matter dismissed, Mai turned back to the task at hand. She added tea leaves to the boiling water. Lin picked up where they left off.
"Matsuzaki-san, is this your official statement? That your exorcism was unsuccessful because there was nothing to exorcise?"
The priestess pursed her lips. A defiant spark flashed in her eyes, she opened her mouth to say what Mai was sure would be scathing enough to melt paint off walls, but to everyone's surprise— what came out was relatively level headed and rational.
"I never said it was unsuccessful. I did my job. It is possible, however, that this spirit might be more complex than originally thought. It's may be a good idea to preform a second time, just to be absolutely certain. For the sake of the people here."
Relieved, and looking to keep the peace, Bou-san took up her suggestion,
"A second pass may be exactly what is needed. The bottom line is we know very little about what we're hunting. The lack of activity is unusual. It makes it hard to pin-point our target. It may be intelligent. It may be avoiding us on purpose."
"Yes, that— or last night's demonstration could have exhausted it," John added, building off the monk's point.
"Or," Masako suddenly spoke, her tone betraying cool certainty, "it doesn't exist at all."
Mai paused halfway between the kitchenette and the couches, a tray of hot tea in her hands.
Doesn't exist?
Bou-san sat back in his seat, his brow furrowing, "What makes you say that?"
The medium met his stare unaffectedly, "I've been saying it from the start. I feel nothing here, you see nothing here. This whole case has been a waste of our time."
The monk sat forward again, unconvinced. Mai knew he had to be thinking of their many supernatural encounters.
"How would you explain it though?"
Masako set down her plate and chopsticks, appearing unconcerned with the attention she was garnering. The whole room was listening.
"Explain what?"
The monk let out a disbelieving breath, "Oh I don't know— the incident with mirrors, those doors you feel sick walking through every day, the incredible cold spots, the apparition you saw, the stage you fell through..."
"Shoddy Nozomi craftsmanship," the medium put in with a disdain.
"—the events of last night?" Bou-san finished with an exacting look.
There was a quiet moment in which Masako's attention shifted— to Mai. Mai startled at being caught blatantly staring, the tea on the tray rattling with the sudden movement, she hurriedly began handing off Lin's cup. The medium's gaze switched back to the monk. An unreadable expression passed over her face.
"I have my theories. I'm sure I'm not the only one."
Mai nearly poured Ayako's cup of tea in her lap. The ensuing chaos of Mai's apologies and the miko's curses took the next couple of minutes to settle down, and by that time Masako had rose from her seat.
"It's my turn, isn't it?" she asked, addressing Lin.
The Chinese man nodded, and she gave a consenting nod in return. Brushing the wrinkles from her kimono she made for the door.
"Why bother, if you don't believe...?" Bou-san spoke, his tone incredulous.
Masako stopped at the door to spare the monk a glance,
"With SPR's credibility is on the line, the least I can do is help Naru save face."
"I'll go with you," John offered, moving to stand, but Masako shook her head.
"Thank you— but there's really no need, is there?"
And with that she left.
