A/N: Did I say January? I meant June, oops? Okay, jokes aside this part is very, very late. I am sorry. 2017 has been more unpredictable for me than I could have ever anticipated. Writing on this chapter these past months has been a major stress release for me, whenever I could steal the time. As you can tell, I didn't often have the chance. You could call this chapter and next chapter a two-parter- I was trying to make it into one...but as so much time has past since my last update, I decided today that I wanted you to have something, so I've split the chapter into two (which is actually a good thing I'm discovering, since if I fit in everything I wanted to for this chapter, it was going to run around 20,000 words!). The second half of the chapter is being worked on, I promise I don't relish in leaving you hanging! I know I talk about it every update, but it's so important- the reviews and encouragement you guys leave me every chapter. It means so much, you can't even know! I always look at your reviews before writing- knowing you're dying to read what happens next gets me so excited! I love ya'll sooooo much!
As a final note, I wanted to mention that it has officially been 10 YEARS since I first published this fic. I can't believe it! Some of you have followed me since the beginning...which is mind blowing and touching and just...wow. I wanted to give extra thanks to all my readers- thank you for following me on this crazy long journey. I know how it ends...I can't wait to share it with you! In light of this 10 year milestone, and being within reach of the ending...I wanted to interact with you guys more, hear your thoughts and theories, give you a peek into my writing- how the chapter is going, hints on what's happening, sharing writing woes and triumphs- I hope you will join me! The Tumblr blog I have created for Ghost Hunters, Lies, & Money is called: GLMfic, you can find it in the search box! I'll also include a link in my profile!
Enjoy the chapter lovelies, see you next time with part two! :)
Day Seven
12:30pm
The Miyuki Theater
Mai set Masako's cup of tea on the table with a clunk, her eyes fixed on the back of John's head, who's attention was fixed on the empty door the medium had just disappeared through.
That Masako.
"Eh, let her go. We'll make sure to keep an eye on her," Bou-san spoke, also watching John. The young priest glanced towards the camera screens in the corner of the room and nodded. He was seated in front of them not a moment later.
Mai gathered up the plate of food Ayako had made for her. The miko sat there observing her with a distrustful expression, the incident with the tea still fresh in her mind. Taking a chance to put some space between them, Mai joined John.
The two of them shared a companionable smile, and then their focus turned to the cameras. Before them shown all the inner workings of the theater. The busy lobby with Nozomi's bravest moving in and out, Mr. Sachi directing Nari's replacement in the auditorium, there— in a top screen, Masako entering Nari's dressing room.
Nari.
Mai paused, chopsticks halfway to her mouth.
An image not glowing before her filled her mind. The bench. The initials carved there.
She hadn't had the chance to speak to the actress, but her mother had given Mai a clue to her feelings.
Not friends.
Mai chewed the end of her chopsticks thoughtfully. If she wasn't friends with Mr. Sachi, what were they to each other...?
Something more.
Mai nodded to herself, and set her chopsticks down.
That much she knew. She had known since they arrived in Nozomi. Mai attempted to anchor herself to this certainty, but a nagging feeling pulled at her. It was what she hadn't known that was bothering her. Nari wasn't the only one who meant something more to Sachi.
Miss Miyuki.
Mai frowned as she thought of the heiress' initials deliberately scratched out of the bench carving.
Not friends.
Rivals.
"What is it? Did you see something?"
John's voice suddenly broke Mai from her thoughts. She quickly looked from the screens to his face.
"Hm? No...did you?"
"No, I just thought— you seemed like you were trying to get my attention."
"Oh," Mai answered, her cheeks warming, "No, I was just, daydreaming a bit...sorry."
The corners of John's lips rose, "I see, I get like that too sometimes, after lunch. I always seem to want a nap."
Berating herself not to get caught thinking so loudly again, Mai quickly came to a decision. What she had discovered she simply couldn't keep to herself. Discreetly, she peered back over her shoulder.
Across the room Bou-san was talking with Lin. Her eyes set on her target, Mai took one last swallow of tea, and made her approach— thermometer and clipboard in hand.
"Bou-san..." Mai murmured, coming to stand beside him.
"Hm?" the monk grunted back, mid-sentence— busy working damage control in Masako's wake, the theater was haunted, whatever she did or didn't feel...
"I need you."
"Need me? For what...?"
"Temps."
The monk gave up his argument and glanced side-long at his partner,
"Temps? This morning Ayako and I covered—" he began to protest, but stalled as he felt the corner of the thermometer Mai was pressing into his ribs and saw her look, "—the west half of the theater, but not the north half. Great, yes. Temps. Very important."
As casually as possible, the monk accepted the thermometer, and returned his attention to Lin.
"We're going to go get this sweep done. Looks like John's got the cameras while we're out. No need to bother Ayako, she seems comfortable."
Mai glanced back at the miko, who was reclined on the couch, browsing a fashion magazine from a stack piled on the table next to her. Mai's gaze fell on the cover, she recognized it. She had seen that exact issue, days before. In Naru's hands. The same confusion she had felt at the time, broke over her,
What was he doing reading something like that...?
But just as then, any chance for further thought was quickly canceled out. Unbidden, the memory progressed. Mai's skin flushed as she recalled handing off Naru's tea, his fingers somehow brushing hers...
A nudge at her shoulder, and Mai was pulled from the grip of her memory. Bou-san was giving her the signal to move, hurriedly she followed him out into the hall.
"You really okay?" he spoke, once she fell into place beside him. Mai shrugged, part of her mind still back at base,
"Yeah, why?"
"You just seem a little spacey lately."
Mai startled, was it that obvious? She fought to keep a revealing blush off her face.
"I'm fine."
"Just checking."
They walked in silence, Mai studying her clipboard, avoiding the monk's scrutinizing gaze.
"So, as important as temps are...we both know this isn't the reason you've brought me out here."
Mai looked up from the clipboard, her expression shifting.
"You're right, it's not."
"This is about Nari...?" he asked, and she gave a nod.
"Thought so, alright— let's hear it."
Mai shook her head,
"Not here monk, let's get to the other side of the theater first."
The lobby. Dark corridors. Countless closed doors. They past them all, and still Mai would have continued on, putting as much space between herself, base, and Mr. Sachi, as possible— but then a hand took hold of hers and she felt herself pulled into the next room.
"Hey, what are you...?" she started to protest, Bou-san closing the door behind them.
"Look, if we go any further north we're going to need parkas," he explained, fixing her with a meaningful look. Mai met his eyes, she could feel his anticipation, and she couldn't say she wasn't just as anxious to share. Gathering her thoughts, she took a few steps further into the room, but then halted. Setup in a corner, it's red recoding light glowing, was a camera.
Of course.
Picturing John sitting in front of the screens, her face looking out at him, Mai cleared her throat and turned around, facing Bou-san instead.
"Ready for temps?" she asked, adjusting the clipboard she held. Seeing the confusion on her partner's face, Mai gave a slight head jerk towards the camera. Bou-san's gaze followed and his expression shifted to one of business.
"Sure, let's get started," he answered, raising his thermometer, he began to do a sweep.
"Baseline?" Mai prompted after a few moments of watching the monk at work.
"69.5"
"Any fluctuations?"
"Not really...this area is a point cooler, but it's near the window."
"Hm," Mai noted, her pen scratching against paper.
"Mai."
Her pen froze, "Hm?"
"There's no mic."
"I noticed."
"So...are you just going to keep holding out on me or...?"
Mai caught his quick teasing look from cross the room, and shot a discouraging one back at him,
"We still need to keep up appearances, they're watching."
"Fine, I can walk and talk." Come on, his eyes shined at her.
"Okay," Mai relented, her own eagerness getting the better of her, "...pop quiz. What do you know about Mr. Sachi?"
The monk quirked an eyebrow at her,
"That he wears too much cologne, dresses like a posh game show host, and has too many teeth."
"Bou-san..." Mai countered, curbing a smile. Her look told him he wasn't taking her seriously enough. Waving a hand he tried again—
"Alright, alright. Sachi. What do I know? Well, he's the playwright of this theater, which he's desperate to save. He was close to Mr. Miyuki in life...and believes in him in death. He has as many relationships as he has teeth..." at Mai's slow nod here, he knew he was getting nearer the point and continued, "One of those relationships being with Nari...and another possibly with...Miss Miyuki?"
"It's more than a possibility, Bou-san."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Intuition?"
"Evidence."
This gave the monk pause, he lowered his thermometer and stared at Mai in surprise,
"Evidence?"
"Remember that dream I told you I had this morning?"
The monk crossed his arms and tilted his head thoughtfully, "Yeah..."
"I had to see the outdoor theater after that. I went there during my break...and found a carving in one of the benches."
"A carving...?" Bou-san repeated, attempting to follow, "what kind of carving?"
"The kind people put on the sides of trees. Me plus you, with a heart around it. That kind."
Bou-san met her eyes and she could see the wheels turning there,
"And...who was the me plus you carved there?"
"J.S. plus K.M."
"Joji Sachi...and Kioko Miyuki," the monk deciphered, understanding settling across his face.
"Exactly."
Bou-san let out a breath, running a hand through his hair,
"That is some evidence—"
"But that's not all," Mai interrupted, lowering her clipboard. She was no longer keeping up the pretext of logging temperatures, her entire focus was on what she had to share next. The monk noticed, and fully faced her, intent on listening.
"Another initial was carved on that bench...through the K, actually."
Bou-san's eyes narrowed,
"Through the K?"
"It was hashed out...and replaced with an N."
"N.M..." Bou-san spoke, thinking out loud, "N...Nari? Nari Motoshi?"
"Bingo, Monk," Mai confirmed, with a frown. The ruined carving bothered her.
"Kind of violent, huh?"
"Bou-san," Mai protested, her frown deepening.
"Well, it certainly doesn't seem friendly..." Bou-san remarked, pointedly. He knew her past theories.
Mai sighed, brushing at her bangs, looking away from the monk.
"It's because it's not."
"They weren't friends...we're they?" Bou-san persisted, attempting to catch her eye.
"No, they weren't."
The monk took a step towards her, she could feel his interest.
"How...? How did you find out? I thought you said you didn't get to speak to Nari...?"
"I didn't. Mrs. Motoshi told me. She said they were in different grades, they didn't move in the same circles. I imagine the theater was the only thing that connected them."
"Ah, Mai," Bou-san sighed, and in the next moment she found herself pulled against him, her hair being ruffled, "Don't be hard on yourself, your intuition was close, hm? Reading that picture you could sense the strong emotions between them...you just mistook frustrated romance for friendship. Easy to do."
Extracting herself from the monk's head lock, she fussed about fixing her hair, but in catching his wink, her frown lifted.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but this leaves me more lost than ever."
"Really? Well, let me point you in the right direction then."
Hearing the certainty in her partner's voice, Mai's interest was piqued.
"Hm?"
"I called it, didn't I? It's all falling into place. Knowing how theatrical Sachi is, it could only have gone this way."
Mai stared at the monk, her mind starting to race.
He suspected this?
"What?"
Bou-san fixed her with an assured look,
"A love triangle."
Oh.
Right.
Not friends.
Rivals.
"I can see it all now, the carving was the last piece of the puzzle. Nari and Miss Miyuki get the same start in life, cast off in this small town. But that's were their fortune divides. Miss Miyuki's older. She gets involved in theater first, she gets to Sachi first..."
Here the monk paused, gauging his partner's expression. She was holding her clipboard too tightly, Nari's plight obviously hitting a nerve.
"Miss Miyuki abandons all good taste and decides Sachi is the love of her life. The two of them become teenage sweethearts, probably spend a few summers making all of Nozomi gag, all while Nari watches on the sidelines. The supporting role to Miss Miyuki's lead. She carves her initial through Miss Miyuki's and cries herself to sleep."
"But Miss Miyuki doesn't come out triumphant after all," Bou-san added, reading Mai's troubled features, "It ends for them, right? I don't know how, or why, but it does."
"The divorce."
"Hm?" The monk blinked at her in surprise.
"The divorce." Mai repeated, suddenly back in the Motoshi's living room again, the word ringing in her ears. "Mrs. Motoshi mentioned it...in passing...Mr. Miyuki and Yoshi Miyuki—"
"Split," Bou-san finished for her.
Mai nodded, her face pensive.
There's still so much we don't know.
"Well, there you have it then. The reason for the end. They had to separate."
"Do you really think that's the reason?"
"Sure. Miss Miyuki must have left for Tokyo with her mother. No matter how head-over-heels she had been, distance like that...what infatuation would survive?"
Mai bit at inside of her cheek,
Infatuation?
"You don't think they were in love?"
"In love? Pfft. Mai, they could have only been around fifteen...sixteen at the most."
There was a pause here. Mai picked at her sleeve. There was a low humming in the background. Bou-san cursed under his breath,
"They turned on the air conditioner? We told them we were working, Sachi knows we're here. Idiots."
Mai felt fingers slip over her shoulder, and then a quick squeeze.
"Hey, the site's contaminated now. We should go."
With one last glance at the camera in the corner of the room, Mai turned and followed after the monk.
Their trip up the hall was spent in more silence, but shortly Mai felt an elbow gently nudge her in the side. She glanced up to see her partner staring down at her.
"So I didn't imagine it?"
"Hm?"
"That reproachful look you're wearing."
Mai opened her mouth to protest, but the monk merely continued, poking the furrow that had grown across her forehead to emphasize his point, "I offended you."
Incredulous, Mai batted the monk's hand away.
"What?"
"I made an insensitive dig at being sixteen and in love."
"So?"
"You're sixteen and in love."
Great.
Mai began to feel hot under her sweatshirt.
He's a minder reader now too?!
"What you have with Naru is completely different, you know."
Face burning, Mai crossed her arms.
"Did I say anything?"
"It's unusual... weird even," the monk spoke, throwing her a teasing look, his elbow finding her side again, "but different."
The odd sincerity in her partner's voice drew Mai away from her vengeful contemplation of stepping on his feet. Irritated at herself for it, she had been offended. Her stomach had clenched at his words. Feeling slightly mollified, she let her hackles down.
"Whatever, monk."
Seeing her shift in mood, he smiled furtively. The next thing Mai knew, she was under his arm again.
"Ugh, Bou-san— what?"
"You're so sensitive these days. It's cute, but I'm concerned."
"Sensitive?"
"Is it because Naru left?"
A dull ache expanded in Mai's chest. Defiant of the sensation, she focused on freeing herself from the monk's hold.
"I'm just fine, you're the sensitive one," Mai protested, and all at once she found herself released. She stumbled a few steps, glaring openly, her bangs in her eyes. Bou-san didn't seem to notice. The amused expression on his face made her want to step on his feet again.
"I'm the sensitive one, am I? I'll have to work on that."
Mai caught the smile in his voice and she couldn't help a grudging one. Fixing her hair for a second time, she fell into place beside the monk.
"You know, I owe you an apology. You were right," he spoke a few moments later, breaking the thoughtful quiet that had developed.
At the word apology Mai's eyebrows raised, she turned her head.
"About...?"
"Mr. Sachi and Miss Miyuki's feelings for each other. When we talked this morning I was doubtful, but I should have known better. I give your intuition a lot of credit, but it deserves twice that detecting such a cold case."
"Cold case?" Mai repeated, not following.
Noticing her confusion, the monk elaborated,
"Their romance had to have happened...what, ten years ago? It's a cold case. Those feelings are dead and gone, but yet you still picked up on them. Good work."
Hearing this, Mai brushed aside any flattery she was feeling.
That Bou-san.
"Dead and gone? No way, Monk."
The two of them entered the lobby at that moment and Bou-san was forced to answer her out of the corner of his mouth while they nodded at the Nozomi workmen passing by.
"Yes way. They hate each other, Mai."
"How can you be so sure?" Mai challenged, firmly standing her ground.
The monk met her eyes,
"Hell hath no fury...isn't that how it goes?"
The idea hit Mai with a jolt,
"You think Miss Miyuki is a woman scorned?"
They were approaching base now, Bou-san crossed his arms and leaned towards her to speak confidentially.
"It's an entertaining thought, isn't it? In fact, the whole thing is entertaining. Nari, Mr. Sachi, Miss Miyuki...who dated who, who still has feelings for who...it's enough to write a soap opera, and personally I'm dying to know the conclusion— but the real question is this: what does it matter? What does any of it have to do with the case?"
They arrived outside base. The monk just had time to shoot her a significant look before they were spotted by Ayako.
"What are you doing back so early?
Bou-san stepped through the door and threw a scowl over his shoulder,
"The ring-leader of this circus must have forgot that we're running an investigation here. The air conditioner turned on."
A derisive sound came from Lin's station. He closed his laptop.
"Excuse me, it seems I need to pay our client a reminder."
The Chinese man passed out of the room and Mai slipped in, grateful she wasn't on the receiving end of that reminder.
"That was a waste of time," Ayako remarked, her face hidden behind yet another magazine.
"This whole case is pointless."
Mai glanced at the couch. A few feet from Ayako sat Masako. The medium had returned with her defiant mood still in place.
Ignoring the medium's comment, Bou-san announced that it was John's turn to exorcise. He picked up the schedule Lin had created and began reading,
"Looks like you're assigned to the backstage area...and the hall where Mai and Masako saw that apparition."
Mai's gaze still trained on Masako, she could clearly sense her aggravation, the words I saw no such thing shining in her eyes.
John nodded and prepared himself, gathering his bible and vile of holy water.
"Great, I'll back you up. Mai, you take over on the cameras and give us a heads up if you see anything strange," Bou-san instructed, setting down his thermometer. The monk met the priest at the door and with a quick wave, the two of them left.
Taking her orders seriously, Mai directed her attention from her rival to the many screens stacked in front of her. Helping herself to the seat John had just vacated, she scanned the many rooms of the theater. In the lobby, the men cleaning the theater were nearly done, she could see them packing up. Mai's eyes traveled. Three monitors over was the banquet hall. Mai gave an involuntary shiver seeing it, recalling the night before. It looked strangely empty now...but it wasn't entirely. Two figures stood there talking.
"Lin and Mr. Sachi," Mai spoke, recognizing them. It was obvious from the playwright's body language that he wasn't enjoying his reminder. Mai allowed herself a small smile before moving on.
In a center camera, Mai located Bou-san and John. They were standing on stage. Diligently, Mai studied the shadows around them for any unusual activity. Nothing. Eventually she found herself looking up. The stage lights. Mai stared at them, feeling the hair rise at the back of her neck. If chance hadn't intervened, if that light had landed just a foot more to the right, Nari would have been...
Mai shook her head, attempting to throw off the images flashing through her mind.
No. It's okay. She's fine.
But as soon as she thought it, Mai frowned knowing that it wasn't quite true. What she had learned that day told her Nari was anything but fine. The actress' physical suffering was nothing to compared to her emotional suffering.
She's lost Mr. Sachi.
Again.
Mai blinked and sat forward, realizing that she had let her mind wander. Refocusing, her gaze found Bou-san who had moved backstage with John. Seeing the monk, his arguments against her theory resounded in her head.
Mr. Sachi and Miss Miyuki? They hate each other.
Mai bit her lip. For Nari's sake, she had never wanted him to be right more. One point held her back, though.
He didn't see what I saw.
That night in the outdoor theater. Them alone in the lobby. The tension that hung there. Their proximity.
Hell hath no fury?
Mai shook her head.
No.
She could understand the monk's conclusions, Miss Miyuki fit the definition of a woman scorned, returning to her hometown only find her first love engaged, but...
This isn't a story of revenge.
Mai's intuition pulsed with certainty.
They're starting over.
"What does it matter?"
Mai startled, her head snapping around toward Masako. Her heart stalled in her chest.
Did I just think out loud...?
"Huh?"
"What?"
"What does what matter...?"
"Whether my program airs Friday nights or Saturday nights this fall. My ratings won't be affected. Why, do you have an opinion?"
Oh.
She wasn't talking to me.
"I do, and I'm saying I wouldn't budge on your current time slot. Half your demographic is made up of bored housewives and superstitious old people, you're the most exciting thing they've got to look forward to on Friday nights," Ayako murmured in response, flipping through another magazine.
"That sounds like it's spoken from experience. No need to guess which category you belong to."
"Excuse me?"
Absently, Mai looked away from the impending fight and faced the camera screens.
What does it matter?
That was exactly what Bou-san had asked her. The Nozomi gossip, the dirty laundry, who was making eyes at who...what did it have to do with the theater, their case...?
A trill of laughter met Mai's ears. Masako had evidently ended one up on Ayako.
Mai pursed her lips.
According to her, there's no case at all.
Mai turned in her seat to glare at the medium out of the corner of her eye.
How?
Mai had worked with her rival long enough to know her reputation as a psychic wasn't empty.
How can she claim to sense nothing...?
An image of Mr. Miyuki came to mind and Mai was forced to acknowledge what he had done to hide himself. For Masako to be oblivious of his presence wasn't impossible. But it wasn't Mr. Miyuki haunting the theater.
The other ghost.
It couldn't be operating under the same secrecy as the spirit of the playwright. It couldn't have the same motivations.
Why doesn't Masako detect it...?
Mai's eyes narrowed further. She could just see it now. Naru returning to a no activity report from Lin heartily supported by the medium's adamant dismissal of anything supernatural. They would be packed up within the hour.
"Penny for your thoughts? You're going to hurt yourself thinking that hard."
Mai blinked, caught staring.
That Masako.
Gathering herself, her expression cleared into one of nonchalance.
"You can have them for free. I was just wondering if you should ask Mrs. Motoshi her opinion on time slots. She's seems a big fan of your show."
Masako's lips drew into an annoyed line and Ayako's split into a wicked grin.
"Oh...so Nari's mother tunes in, does she? Mai's right. You should ask. You don't want to alienate your housewife demographic."
The medium's attention shifted to the priestess and the conversation dissolved into expert insult hurling. Relieved to be forgotten, Mai's thoughts lingered on Masako's arguments against the case.
She has theories...
Lin returned to base. Mai sat straight in her seat. Shaking off all distractions, she monitored each camera with renewed diligence.
"How did the reminder go?" Ayako asked archly from her corner of the couch.
"We came to an understanding."
The priestess smirked and soon the clicking of Lin's keyboard filled the room.
The afternoon progressed. Bou-san and John rejoined them. The monk threw himself down next to Ayako, sweaty from his efforts, but unable to report witnessing any new activity. At Masako's self-righteous expression, Mai's turned sour. Stubbornly, she applied herself to her surveillance duties. She would catch something.
Mai made more tea. Lin assigned John and Masako to one section of the theater, and Bou-san Ayako to another. They would make one more pass.
Mai tracked the two teams, her gaze flicking between the lobby and the dressing rooms. She was on alert for even the slightest change, but the only thing extraordinary Mai observed was how closely Bou-san and Ayako walked beside each other, shoulders brushing, how often John and Masako stole looks at each other when the other wasn't looking.
When the two teams filled into base and hour later, Mai greeted them all with a particularly insinuating stare. Punishment for flirting instead finding the proof she needed. It wasn't a surprise when Lin asked about what they encountered and the answer was a resounding nothing. There was discussion. The same theories as earlier were revisited.
Perhaps it was hiding from them?
Perhaps it had expended all it's energy?
Mai could hardly stand being in the same room as Masako's smug attitude and buried her face in her teacup.
"How about job well done?" Ayako interjected, speaking over Bou-san and John's circling speculations.
The two of them paused. The monk, leaning against the table next to Mai, raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"Are you looking for praise?"
"We've preformed exorcisms all day."
"Would you like a gold star?"
"We've done two passes."
"Two gold stars?"
"There's no activity because we've done our job."
Catching her point, the monk shook his head.
"You know it's not always as simple as that."
The miko scoffed,
"Maybe not for you, but I'm confident in my abilities. The theater is clear."
"I knew you'd come through."
Mai's attention flicked to the doorway. Standing there was Mr. Sachi. The playwright nodded toward them and entered.
"The Nozomi people aren't the trusting kind, but I reminded them that I had hired you for your professionalism and competence. Against all odds, we should have a strong turn out for tonight festivities."
Mai returned Mr. Sachi's satisfied look with a blank one. She pictured all the people milling around, moving in and out of the theater. She saw the horror of the night before. Something in her stomach twisted.
"There wasn't anything to report...?" Mr. Sachi continued adjusting his cufflinks, his question clearly an after thought. Mai noticed that he was wearing a different shirt than earlier, this one sans blood.
"Nothing," Lin answered simply. The playwright appeared at ease.
"Perfect."
"Not really, actually," Bou-san spoke. He crossed his arms, stepping away from the table.
Mr. Sachi faced the monk,
"How so?"
"Cases like this can't be resolved in a day."
The playwright shrugged,
"If you've done your job, what's the problem?"
Professional and competent, the words hung in the space between them. Mai's face flushed in offense.
This isn't about just doing our job...
She was halfway out of her seat when Masako spoke.
"There is no problem. We're done here. There's only a couple hours until the festival, will you see me back? I need to change."
Mr. Sachi smiled at the medium, seemingly oblivious to the glares both Mai and Bou-san were boring into him.
"I was just going to suggest that."
Masako rose from her seat, and pretending not to see the hand the playwright extended her, she addressed Lin, "I will meet you for at dinner at the inn?"
"We will be there," the Chinese man agreed.
The medium gave a polite departing head nod and turned to leave. She had made it as far as the doorway when she paused. She glanced back at Lin,
"Will, Naru?"
The question rang in Mai's ears. Mr. Sachi faded from existence. Her full attention fell on Lin.
"It's possible. He said he would be leaving for Nozomi when we last spoke."
With this answer Masako left. Mai watched her go, not missing the sleeve she used to cover her pleased expression.
That Masako.
Those remaining at base began clean up. Mai took care of the vestiges of their afternoon tea, washing out the cups in the sink. It took her five before her heart rate returned to normal.
He's coming back.
Mai breathed in the scent of sandalwood and with a clank, Bou-san set another cup before her.
"This is the last one."
"Thanks."
The monk paused beside her. Mai could feel his stare. She turned on the faucet.
"Swooning already, hm?"
Mai nearly dropped the cup she was rinsing,
"What?"
"You know you should save some of that for when he actually gets here."
Mai flicked water at him in protest,
"I am not swooning."
Bou-san took half a step back, dodging the attack with ease. He stared down at her doubtfully,
"You could have fooled me. I don't know who looks more pleased, you or Mr. Sachi."
"Mr. Sachi?" Mai repeated, glancing at him in confusion, "Why would he be pleased to see Naru?"
"Not Naru. He's pleased the theater is clear."
The teasing glint in the monk's eyes darkened. Mai shut off the faucet.
"It's not, though."
Bou-san let out a long breath,
"I tried to tell him."
"I know."
The playwright's words replayed inside Mai's head,
I knew you'd come through...
Picking up the final dirty cup from the counter, Mai frowned.
"He was there last night. How can he be so confident the theater's safe?"
The monk shrugged,
"He's braver than I'd give him credit for."
The cup Mai was washing slipped in her fingers.
"Oy," Bou-san protested, taking the cup and dishcloth from her, "maybe this isn't the job for you?"
Mai placed a hand on his arm and he met her eyes,
"That's it, Bou-san."
"What's it?"
"His bravery."
"His bravery?"
Mai took the cup and dishcloth back from the monk, her thoughts coming together,
"You said so yourself, Mr. Sachi is braver than you'd give him credit for. Where does that bravery come from?"
Bou-san stared at her, considering,
"He's got a death wish?"
Mai caught the monk's chiding tone, but couldn't match it.
"Mr. Miyuki," she answered, her voice dropping low.
"Ah," the monk spoke. He took a quick glance over his shoulder. Satisfied no one was within earshot, he leaned closer towards her, "He thinks it's Mr. Miyuki haunting the theater, so..."
"He doesn't know the danger he's in," Mai finished for him, her stomach giving another twist.
"The other ghost," Bou-san murmured, drawing her point to it's conclusion,"The secrets we're guarding. This case is becoming risky business, eh?"
"Risky?" Ayako questioned, suddenly appearing behind the monk. "What's risky?"
There was a clatter, the sound of the teacup Mai was drying hitting the sink. She winced, and faced the miko, her heart in her throat.
Did she hear...?
Fortunately, before Mai's guilty expression could give them away, Bou-san stepped in.
"Letting Mai do the dishes," he answered, nudging his partner away from her position. He picked up her fallen teacup, inspecting it critically, "She's nearly broken half of them. At this rate we won't have anything to drink out of tomorrow."
At Bou-san's casual chastening tone and the wink, Ayako's interest abated. Her eyes narrowed on the sink,
"Well, don't ask me. I don't do dishes."
The monk leaned back against the counter on his elbows, flashing a baiting smile at her,
"What? Missed that chapter of dutiful housewife?"
"Ha, please. Me, a housewife? Could you imagine it?"
With a scoff that announced how ridiculous she found the idea, the miko stalked away— missing his answer:
"I could."
Mai heard it, though. Surprised, she glanced at the monk next to her. He was busying himself with drying the teacup he held, but Mai caught his look. There was something about it. It was almost...
Sincere?
Bou-san locked gazes with her. Mai startled.
"Close one, hm? Come on, let's finish. Last thing we need is Lin getting curious too."
Mai nodded, swallowing her own curiosity, and began putting away the clean cups.
Ten minutes later Mai found herself hunched over at the top of the theater stairs regretting many things, namely tempura and tonkatsu. A large hand rubbed circles over her back.
"Deep breaths," Bou-san repeated soothingly.
Mai stared out at the sun sinking low in the sky, attempting to follow this advice between clenched teeth.
"How are you so lucky?" Ayako demanded, her voice muffled by the hand that covered her mouth.
Bou-san returned the miko's critical look reproachfully, "I'm not. The longer I'm here...I think it's starting to get to me too. Say, if the theater really was clear, wouldn't this phenomenon have stopped...?"
The miko seemed ready to respond with some kind of sharp retort, but was held back by her current state.
"I feel it," John spoke up, offering a steadying arm to Ayako, which she readily accepted, "My head swims passing through those doors. Some kind of fun house effect."
"What do you think?" the monk asked, directing his question down the steps. Lin stood at the bottom waiting for them.
"There's...something."
And with that cryptic answer the Chinese man turned and headed for the inn. The rest followed.
The last of the daylight burning brightly against the Nozomi festival grounds, Mai's was relieved her return trip was not the same muddy slog it had been that morning. Puddles she had walked through hours ago had disappeared. It had become warm enough that she even felt like taking off her hoodie. The rain had past.
Reaching the inn, unable to help herself, Mai scanned the cars parked outside. No black van. A familiar ache spread through her chest, but she stubbornly ignored it. Dinner was coming.
He will be there.
Last to enter the lobby, her mind on things like what freeway traffic was like at this hour, Mai didn't notice Mrs. Koku until she was nearly upon her.
"SIGN."
Mai gave a polite bow,
"Oh, hello."
Her greeting discharged, Mai made to move along, unpleasant memories surrounding the inn keeper assaulting her, but she was halted by a second, "SIGN."
Mai blinked, and turned to look back. She saw then that in addition to a sour expression, Mrs. Koku held a clipboard. At her feet were two boxes. Gift wrapped.
"SIGN."
Mai took the clipboard that was suddenly shoved into her hands.
"Me...?" she asked, staring at the receipt in confusion. Designer perfume invaded Mai's senses. Ayako was suddenly at her side. The miko bent down and picked up the two boxes.
"For you? Mai, this is department store wrap, tsk— expensive. I only pay for it at the holidays. Who could it be from?"
Mai stared at the crisp wrapping paper, thinking the exact same thing.
Who...?
She glanced at the packages, but there was no card, no return address...
"Do you know who—" she began, but faltered meeting the inn keeper's stony gaze. The old woman reached out and jammed a wrinkled finger against the X at the bottom of the receipt.
"SIGN."
