Day Two
"...No...No, I understand, Senpai."
"Of course you do," comes Souji's voice. "You just kind of wish you didn't."
"Don't be ridiculous," I snap, which nearly starts me coughing. Initially, I disliked being around Souji because he reads me so easily, and while I've accustomed myself to it for the most part, the old annoyance still reasserts itself from time to time. Even through the phone, Souji has read me ably. I'd argued that this was New York City, there were ample places he could stay, and cheap. Souji had argued right back that nothing would be cheaper than staying with me, it would only be for a few days, and I'd be right there to help him plot his proposal to Rise.
"So we're good?"
"Ah..." The words, Senpai, of course, I am female, you are male, and I do not travel with a chaperone, hover in my thoughts, then I push them down. My Shadow made my sex obvious to my friends, and I have no reason to suspect Souji of ulterior motives. We are both rational, disciplined, and very platonic adults. "Yes. This is...acceptable."
"I'll help with the housework," Souji promises. "And I'll meet you at JFK at five-thirty. Damn, my jet lag will be mighty..."
Nine-thirty in the morning sees me in Rise's trailer, which she's sharing with five other actresses. Four of them are filming, one more's slumped in a sleeping bag. She watches me with rather too much interest and is clearly disappointed as Rise and I walk to the small window and begin conversing in Japanese.
"So, what've you heard?" Rise's just back from shooting scenes all through the night and doesn't even excuse herself as she starts daubing make-up remover on her cheeks.
"Nothing that a obsessed fan couldn't have learned. I need insider information." I nod to her.
"Hey, I'm hiring you to get the dirt on him. I don't know anything. Other than that he's a horrible kisser." She sighs. "There is nothing so artificial and gross as a love scene, and the director wanted-"
I wave my hand to cut that off. "Yes, but can you arrange for me to meet him?"
"Huh?" She raises her eyebrows, both in surprise and to smear away some of the bronze eye-shadow. "You're going to ask him straight out? Hey, Adam, are you a jerk?"
"See if you can get me an interview." I think a moment. "Say that you know me, but don't stress that we're close friends. Give me an alias while you're at it."
"Why? I mean, he wouldn't care if you were my boyfriend or something. He knows I have a boyfriend. He has about three girlfriends. This is all for publicity."
"Trust me," I say, pulling out my phone as it beeps. My colleagues. "And the last thing you should do is say I'm like a brother to you. Now, I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me, it looks like they've brought in a witness."
Two hours are spent interviewing the witness, another forty minutes looking over our accumulated data. Five minutes are spared for lunch, after which I absent myself from the other detectives, knowing that even if I never outrun their phone calls, at least I can get away from them and try to find some perspective. For me, solving a case has always been a matter of constantly changing angles, shifting points of view, trying to look at clues in as many ways as possible. As the evidence accumulates and cancels out variables, my focus systematically narrows and sharpens, streamlining my theories until I arrive at the truth. This is hard to accomplish when sitting across a table from three other detectives, all annoyed, all frustrated at being in the shadow of a investigator who's not only foreign but is successful at a fraction of their average height, weight and age. The only thing that could make it worse is if they find out I'm a woman.
Rise calls as I'm sitting on a streetside bench, trying to gather my thoughts, watching a steady stream of commuters, shoppers making for the outdoor market, tourists pausing to snap pictures every twenty steps, and dog-walkers heading for a dog park.
"I've told him you're Akira Ohtani, a writer for a Japanese fan-magazine - Beautiful Adonis Oliver. He was going to Google it, so I said that you're working on the first issue, and then he only agreed to the interview as a favor to me. He doesn't really have a Japanese audience, so he might just blow you off, but see what you can do. It's tomorrow at 12:30 at Il Buttafuori, on-"
"Yes, I know where it is. Thank you, Rise-chan." I take a deep breath, which sets me to coughing. A passing dachshund, leashed, cocks its head at me. "I believe this will be resolved shortly."
"I know you can do it, Naoto-kun," she chirps. "Later. I have to get ready for the alligator scene." And she's gone.
Picking up Souji at the airport gives me an excuse to get away from the other detectives in the evening, and while I grab a sandwich and a taxi one after the other, my mind is spinning with information on the crime case. By the time I mentally surface for air, I'm standing at the concourse, trying to find Souji as it disgorges passengers. Don't see him. Has he already made it to the baggage claim?
"Hey, Naoto-kun." He probably sees me jump with surprise, but at least he doesn't allude to it. He does have the gall to hug me, though he releases me before I've even begun to splutter - that is, protest. Even with the smile, he looks exhausted, silver hair disheveled, baggy eyes, rumpled clothes. I'm suddenly relieved I didn't make him fend for himself first thing after landing. I keep the conversation brief as we pick up his luggage, step into the muggy evening. There's a small sofa in the front room of my suite (the only other room besides the bedroom and the bathroom), so Souji's able to collapse once we get in, pausing only long enough to kick off his shoes and burrow partway under the extra blanket I found in the closet. Even when my phone begins beeping, he doesn't stir. Still, I go into my room and close the door to have it out with my colleagues. "Yes?"
"Uh-" throat-clear "-hey?"
"Oh, Kanji-kun, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you."
"S'no problem." I can hear clinking in the background. Dishes, perhaps. Maybe he's at Aiya? "The others giving you hell? Your voice sounds better."
"Yes, and thank you. Souji-senpai arrived safely."
"Good, Yosuke and Teddie were worried. Everything...okay on your end?"
"Quite." I hear the bubbling of water and - really, I'm just curious, that's all. "Where are you?" That doesn't sound casual enough, not by half. "That is, what are you doing?"
"Just making breakfast." Ah yes, it's mid-morning there. Is it as humid there, I wonder? I also wonder what he's making, but I refrain from asking. Really, there's no reason I need to know. "So you found a place for Senpai to stay or what?"
"No, he's here. That is, I gave him the use of my front room. Of course." I'm holding the phone to my ear, and I can feel my cheek warm against my fingers. Stupid, of course. My friends know me, they'd never suspect me of - Souji and me of- "He's practically comatose," I elaborate, though that's unnecessary, and my voice is getting higher, which means a coughing jag isn't far off. "It's going to be miserable for him, and we're not going to be seeing much of each other anyway. I'll be out most of the time, so it's almost like he has his own suite, really." I am being ridiculous. I can only hope Kanji can't tell. I should've employed bigger words, that would've distracted him from the nervousness in my voice. "I'm waiting for a call from one of the other detectives, so..."
"Oh." Damn. I hate it when he sounds hurt. Oh damn. "Okay, sure." And then he tries to hide it, which makes it worse. "Later."
"Kanji, I - thank you for calling. I really do appreciate it, though I'm - busy."
"No problem," he says again, more normally.
"Yes. Well." I wipe my free hand against my trouser leg. Why is it always so hot here? "Um...what are you having for breakfast?"
Long pause. I don't blame him for it. "...Natto. With tea."
I lean against the wall and dwell on that a moment, Kanji, in his kitchen, eating natto and tea. It's probably sunny. The cat might be there, crouched in front of her dish. Perhaps Kanji's in the middle of sewing something and has left it on the table, within easy reach. I realize I'm smiling as I find myself wondering what he's eating the natto with...and if I continue this a second longer, I know I'm going to ask and look even more ridiculous. "Well. Good night then. Good morning rather." And I end the call.
Just as the phone beeps again. Almost glad to return to the safety of my colleagues, I restore the phone to my ear. "Yes?"
"Uh...Whoa, Naoto-kun, were you waiting for me to call?"
"Oh - I'm sorry, Rise-chan. Is there a problem?"
"Well..." I do detect an impatient edge to her voice, amplifying as she speaks. "It's just been a really sucky day. I hate the director, and I hate Adam Oliver. He's already 'practicing' for our big couple debut on Monday, holding my hand and putting his arms around me. Argh, it'd be bad enough if he meant it, but everything he does is so practiced! And then when I wanted to call Senpai and tell him about everything, he didn't pick up."
"He's probably busy," I say quickly - but perhaps too quickly.
"Yeah, but it feels like so long since I've talked to him, and we haven't seen each other in almost a month and..." A heavy sigh. "Well, at least I got to vent to someone. 'Night, Naoto. You better get your beauty sleep so you'll be able to tackle Adam tomorrow. Figuratively, natch. Though...if you did want to tackle him and put him in traction, I wouldn't complain. I mean, only if you can't find a reason to have him imprisoned. Take it under advisement, all right?"
From the next room over, I hear Souji mumble something in his sleep. No reason the phone should pick that up. Still..."Good night, Rise-chan. I'm sure-" I take a deep breath, then cough "-everything will go well tomorrow."