Note: In this chapter, Miyako is 25, and Ken and Daisuke are 24, and Ken and Miyako's daughter is 6 months old. (Also, this is kind of a shower thought, but since they were born between 1990 and 1991, they're all the same age as I'm portraying them in the story, lol.) Please read and review! I would love feedback to help me improve the story.
WARNING: This chapter contains a description of violence and murder.
Recommended tracks: Mr. Children – UFO; Utada Hikaru – Hear Me Cry; Mother Mother – Little Hands
"Really, Ichijouji-san, I don't know what you've been complaining about, getting Hinata-chan to sleep was a breeze." Motomiya Daisuke chattered away with a wide smile, but he still moved quietly and gently to prevent any loud noises from undoing all of his hard work lulling the baby to sleep. His lavender-haired friend arched an eyebrow at him, a tried and true fear induction method, before tossing her head to enjoy the light afternoon breeze and the balcony view. She turned a skeptical eye on her friend as he somehow balanced several plates and closed the screen door without dropping anything.
"Do you need help, Dai-chan¸ I wouldn't want you to drop any of that food. You spent all morning preparing it and if you keep that up, it's bound to fall into the alley and be eaten by the strays." In the process of placing them on the small table, he lost his battle against gravity for a moment and fell into his chair. Miraculously, the dishes stayed right side-up despite the loud clatter. Both adults whipped their heads around to the door, waiting to hear if the baby would wake. A minute passed and Miyako cuffed her friend lightly around the back of his head, "Dummy," she said, "But it looks delicious. Somen, unagi-don, hiyayakko, fruit shave ice, and is that…. my crests molded onto the rice?" Daisuke grinned back smugly, knowing to dodge back before she could catch him to ruffle his hair or pinch his cheeks. She had a singularly physical way of venting her positive and negative emotions, and it usually involved a punching bag of some sort.
Smiling, she took a photo of the now messy plates. "Well this is a ridiculously nice thing to do. So either you have bad news to tell me or you're feeling guilty about something." Exasperated, Daisuke scratched his head and pouted, "Miyako-chan, can't I do something nice for my friend? Geez, it's not poisoned or anything. Besides, you're still a new mom and I wanted to help!" Miyako reflected on that a moment and gently squeezed the hand that rested on the table, "In that case, thank you. This full-time motherhood gig has made me a bit more of a basket-case." Grinning, he couldn't help the jibe while pouring their tea, "You mean more than usual! Poor Ken…" A couple of savage pinches later and the two were eating their lunches and enjoying the view in silence.
The Ichijouji apartment was perfectly situated for the young family. It was in a quiet part of Tamachi still close to the elder Ichijouji family and offered quiet views of shoppers, a little park, and the river. If Miyako felt like it, she could take Baby Hinata down for walks or one of those "ridiculous infant yoga classes," as Daisuke liked to call them. She could also run to the local copy shop to fax contracts when she had the time to take on a few jobs. She absolutely loved her life, but even if it cost her a good night's sleep, she felt the need to continue working as a freelancer. The covered balcony they sat on was a tight fit, since huge apartments in Japan were out of their price range, but they had filled it with plants, a small table set, art pieces from friends, even a bird feeder. It was a cozy spot to watch the world go by, in snow, rain, or sunshine. Today, the two friends were watching one lone goose trying to scratch up food from the river bank.
Daisuke focused his intense umber gaze on his friend, and seemed to be convincing himself of something before he blurted out, "But how are you? I mean, I know that being a new mom is tiring, but even when the others try to call you to help or just get in touch, you haven't responded. Everything okay with you?" She huffed and shoved eel into her mouth. His eyes shimmered with a different emotion, worry perhaps. "Is it because of Chizuru? I mean, I know the five-year is coming up in a couple of months and that can't be easy." She shook her head vehemently, hazel eyes flashing for a minute, before dropping her chopsticks to the plate and lowering her gaze to her lap. Miyako spoke quietly, unusual enough, and with a bitter tone, "Let's just talk about silly things and enjoy the day. I don't want to ruin the afternoon."
Daisuke was a man of action and touch, and he needed others to know how he felt. He pulled her into a strong hug, "I swear, you are the most frustrating human in the world, just as emotionally constipated as your stupid husband….. just tell me. You're going to give me an ulcer if I have to see you looking so sad and stressed out and you won't let me help you." She laughed a bit at the idea of someone calling Ken stupid before burrowing her face into his shoulder. This felt safe and sweet, the kind of relationship she wished she had with her eternally busy older brother. "Ok, Motomiya, you win, I'll tell you. But," Miyako tugged on his hair, "If you tell a single person, I will personally reroute your restaurant's web traffic to all of your favorite hard-core sites and 'shop your picture onto the worst videos." Daisuke chuckled in that slow way he did when something really pleased him. "Can you do that anyway? I think it would help my image."
Miyako pinched his cheek again before resuming her lunch. As kind as he was being, the chef would be horrifically offended if she let her food go to waste and she wouldn't hear the end of it for weeks. She continued, "And I'm going to tell Ken that I made the eggplant curry, got it?" Daisuke glared before shrugging it off, "You can try, but anyone with a palate as refined as Ken's could tell the difference between homemade curry and my curry that's been known to change lives and rock worlds. It has that Motomiya spark. He'll know." She smiled before diving into the icy dessert, "We'll see, mmmm melon. But, you're right," She bit her lip and gave up on eating, "There is something going on with Ken." They both startled as they heard Hinata lament piteously that she was awake and alone. Daisuke jumped to his feet, collecting plates as he opened the door behind him, "No, no, no, you just sit down, I'll go get her back to sleep."
Miyako smiled gratefully before turning her attention to her dessert, digging out every lychee and mochi in the bowl. "What am I going to say…" she murmured. A loud braying noise drew her attention back to the goose that had been alone, now fighting a mother duck and its ducklings. What could she say to her best friend when she had been too afraid, no, too spooked to put a name to the problem. Ken had…. changed since her pregnancy, since just over a year ago. His moods had been low, and he withdrew from what should be the happiest time of his life with a doting wife and a healthy baby. But ever since he had been put on that case, the case that his superiors believed might be linked to Chizuru's murder, he had seemed troubled. He'd been assigned to investigate the death of a pretty college student unrelated and unknown to the Inoue family, but who had a striking resemblance to the Inoue women, with a similar build, and identical hair and eye color. She was found the same way as well, dumped in an old park, strangled and with bruises… Shuddering, Miyako bit her lip before she started to cry.
That night Ken had come home hours after midnight, shaken, and before she could ask what was wrong, had embraced her, tangling his fingers in her long hair desperately. Later he had told her that the girl had looked just like her. Indeed, for a horrific moment, he had thought it was her. As it stood, the case was still open and officially confirmed to be linked to the homicide of Inoue Chizuru. And since that day, Ken had been working harder than ever following up on leads and searching through databases. He had grown colder, tougher; his attitude was a boon to him at his job, earning him notice and special assignments to complicated interrogations. But at home, it took a lot out of him, especially as he found it hard to snap out of his "bad cop" attitude. This was common for young detectives, and HR called it compartmentalization or integration deficiency. There were teams of therapists to help the police force during stressful cases that Ken had gone to, worrying that he was hurting Miyako with his behavior. They had come up with a diagnosis of OCD and stress, and recommended he recuse himself from the Inoue case and take a long overdue vacation. This was something that Ken refused to do, which she both loved and hated him for. Instead he had continued to try therapy, mindfulness practices, meditation, all producing some positive results. But the cloud hanging over their household remained, and he continued to work late, coming home to eat a cold dinner and slip into bed. Some days, Ken had a wild, fierce look in his eyes, meaning he had stumbled upon a new detail. Others he was riddled with self-doubt and depression, and clung to Miyako like she was the last port in the storm. All of her attempts to support him and build him up seemed to go nowhere. They carried on their little life, mostly happy, but not digging below the surface or asking the right questions, not communicating. Ken was too ashamed to talk about it, and carried the brunt of the guilt and Miyako, feeling helpless, didn't want to admit that she was unable to solve all of her husband's problems, or to even say the name of the person Ken now reminded her of. She absently fumbled under the table for a pack of cigarettes taped there, put one to her lips and lit it, inhaling deeply and fighting the sting of impending tears.
"Hey, you didn't wait for me?" Daisuke whined into her ear. She jumped and the cigarette fell out of her hand to the alleyway below. Elbowing her friend, she pulled two more from her secret stash while giving him an intimidating glare. "You're not supposed to smoke, Dai-chan, you're a chef." The redhead stuck his tongue out and said, "Yeah? Well you're a MOM, so you can't lecture me." "Brat, did you get Hinata back to sleep?" Miyako muttered and passed him a lit smoke. Daisuke nodded while contorting his mouth, trying to force the smoke into rings. "That looks so wrong." He fixed her with a glare and pointed his cigarette at her, "Whatever. You distracted me! Tell me what's wrong or I'll, I'll spank you!" She forced a laugh at that, and swallowed. Steeling herself against the anxiety that rippled in her stomach, she took a long drag and began.
"You're right, I was distracting you. And you're right again, because it has to do with Chizuru and Ken. You could be a detective with that intuition of yours, Daisuke." Her voice and her hand trembled before she viciously stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette and continued. "Ken has been assigned to her case, and they believe that the case is connected to other incidents. They have one for sure, and recently two more in Odaiba and Shinjuku. They have similarities: mid-20s woman or student, light hair, 170 centimeters, 55 kilograms, glasses. All strangled with ligature marks and most assaulted." Her voice quavered and she paused, fighting back her grief and memories of her sister at the same time. Daisuke looked completely horrified, and put his cigarette out so he could rub slow circles on her back. "You mean Chizuru and those other women…. they were all targeted by the same person?" Miyako nodded slowly and met Daisuke's gaze, "That's the theory and the data seems to validate it. They all lived alone, they all went missing around the same time, they all were found in parks within a 10 kilometer radius. Once Ken made that connection, he was terrified for me. He's obsessed with finding the murderer. He comes home late, gets up early to work on his laptop, he's been skipping his trips to the Digital World to see Wormmon. He's even short with me, and icy, and some days barely talks to or touches the baby. Not every day, but some days he seems like a different person, like," she cut herself off but Daisuke grasped her point.
"Like the Kaiser," he said slowly with a hint of anger. She nodded mournfully, "I just don't know what to do. We've been through counseling, he's been in therapy. We understand each other, hell, we LOVE each other! He just won't leave the case, I think, because he's afraid that I would be targeted. Chizuru's death hit him hard and reminded him of Osamu. We connected through it and were so close but now, now this whole case seems to be consuming him and bringing out a side of him that I don't know how to deal with, that I never knew how to handle." Daisuke was speechless but she knew he was racking his brain for some solution. She ducked her head so that her hair fell in front of her face and the sun reflected off of her glasses. She couldn't do this and look him in the eyes.
"But you can, right, Daisuke? You were never afraid of that side of him, you could always challenge him or get through to him even when was terrified or furious." He tried to talk but Miyako interrupted, even though her mouth was suddenly dry and she felt a chill sweep through her, "And maybe you can help now. Maybe you can help us get through this. Because I can't. I can't handle this kind of darkness, and I talk but it doesn't reach that side of him. You always could and…now you could talk to him, be there for him, be with him…. I'm afraid if you don't that this whole life we've built will crumble." She reached under the table and grabbed another two cigarettes shakily. Screw her self-imposed daily limit. She looked up to offer him one and was taken aback by his expression, his eyes blazing and face guarded, almost inscrutable. "What are you asking of me, Miyako-chan," his voice shook and she wasn't sure if he was furious or about to cry, "Because it sounds like you're asking me to do something I can't do." She grabbed his hand as he tried to pull it away and he slammed his fist on the table, his face now pained and hurt. "Why would you ask me that? Be with him? What the hell's that supposed to mean? You know what I want to do but I can't because you're the one married to him! You know that I was, that I am in love with him and you want me to connect with this terrible side of him? How can making this situation even messier possibly help? Don't you think it will hurt me, that it will hurt him?" Miyako didn't fight the tears now; they burned her face sliding down her cheeks.
"I know it's a terrible thing to ask, especially to ask you. But I've tried everything and I'm at the end of my rope. I don't know what to do. I love him so much and I'm not nearly enough for him. I don't know what I want you to do but it seems to me that doing something to help him, to help our family is better than doing nothing and just letting this life crash and burn!" She broke down in sobs even as she heard the faint sound of Hinata's cries start again. The redhead pulled her roughly into his arms, shaking, and she couldn't stop the words pouring out of her, "Please, Daisuke, won't you help us?"
