Chapter 11: "Convenient Conviviality"

Have you heard the story of Al Capone? The man they called 'Scarface?'

During the education segment of detective school, I had to read about him for the criminal history portion. And let me tell you, it was fascinating how utterly diabolical his entire operation was.

He was considered one of the greatest criminals and gangsters of all time. The man etched his name into history and legend with his schemes. Tales of his life and deeds spawned decades of movies and novels, practically making him a cultural icon. Al Capone was the zeitgeist of that era.

Al Capone started life as an immigrant who was a small time criminal in New York City. When he moved to Chicago and began his underground business, fate gave him a chance. In 1920, America passed the Prohibition Laws, which banned the creation, sale, and consumption of alcohol. The price of booze skyrocketed over night on the black market. What many saw as an illegal activity fraught with risks, Al Capone saw an opportunity to profit.

His claws grabbed onto everything around him. He used his booze sales to bribe politicians. The gangster also set up underground prostitution and gambling rings; the places of visit for those in the know and of deep pockets. Capone also kept tabs on police officers, noting how poorly they were paid and gave them some extra income in exchange for becoming informants.

The Mafia leader would influence elections by handpicking candidates that would best fit his agenda. And he made sure they won, going to the extent of waiting outside of ballot halls and checking every vote and 'persuading' votes to change their vote if things weren't up to snuff.

Good old racketeering. A classic.

The man was a criminal genius, and equally violent. Any and all resistances to his empire were taken out with prejudice. Rival gangs were massacred in carefully calculated plots weeks in advance. Al Capone was said to have paralyzed the justice system within Chicago. He had too many friends in too many places, and some in very high places. Enough money to influence a nation was going through his hands, an estimated yearly revenue stream of 1.4 billion US dollars.

So when he was caught by the FBI and sent to court, he must have had a list of charges that stretched to the moon, right?

Wrong.

Some of the greatest investigators in the world could not find the money and link it back to his crimes. They couldn't connect a single dollar of his nearly one and a half billion, to illegal activities. The most they could charge the kingpin with was tax evasion, which led to 11 years in jail. He basically got off scot free in comparison to the crimes he committed.

How did he do it? How did he hide that much money? Well you see, it involved cash only laundromats.

I breathed deeply. I was in the briefing room once more, and the Chief had news to share: a money trail had been found.

"After searching through the history of shipments we found one man who consistently paid for shipments to arrive on the scheduled days. Almost every payment, however, was in cash. Luckily for us, he slipped up and gave the last one in check. It paid for the group of containers that were around the ID tags of that one container that held the girls." The Chief said with a blank expression.

This was almost anti-climatic. Was this how a criminal masterplan was going to fall apart?

"It was linked back to the account of a man named Rokuro Goro."

An officer near the back raised a hand and called out. "Are we bringing him in for questioning?"

"That would be our next course of action." Admitted the Chief blandly. "Unfortunately, Rokuro died in a gang fight just a few months ago, days after the check was written and cashed."

The room broke out into whispers, and I raised an eyebrow and balanced my chair on its two back legs like a seesaw.

The plot thickens. [1]

"We've opened up his file and found that he had worked for a variety of companies. Most were foreign owned stock companies that were operating in Japan, but all were defunct." The Chief went off to list them out one by one.

Hold on, isn't this a bit much? How did one man work at this many places?

"His latest job was at a charity..." The Chief took a breath. "... located in the less savory parts of Shinjuku."

I nearly fell from my chair and the room went silent, as if we were at a party and someone made a suicide joke.

Drug dealings somehow related to kidnappings of young women from abroad? The man who paid for the shipping was dead in a gang fight right before a delivery of stolen girls? He had worked at a number of stock companies, and also a charity in the red light district?

Wait, this could only mean…!

Another detective in the room, who would now be regarded as an absolute hero, nervously asked the question on everyone's mind. "M-m-money laundering?"

The Chief nodded apologetically and confirmed sadly. "Money laundering."

A collective groan erupted in the room, as well as a few obtuse expletives I found myself agreeing vehemently with.

Allow me to explain:

Money laundering was the process of transforming illegally obtained capital into money that was legally generated. This was done by funnelling it through many different, legal businesses and companies.

The term descended from Al Capone's financial wizardry. He used a number of cash only laundromats to funnel his dirty money and create a 'source' for his wealth that was, for all intents and purposes, legal. The money then passed through so many hands that the FBI in America could not make heads nor tails of what money was legal and wasn't, with no way to find a trail. And thus, no way to associate Al Capone with the crimes everyone in the country knew he did.

For anyone in law enforcement, investigating money laundering was a cruel and unusual punishment. The money trails were numerous and led in all sorts of wild directions. It usually called for ridiculous amount of overtime hours where officers would try to solve the mystery of how the cash was moving.

It was the source of much frustration and hair pulling, as it was hard to differentiate legitimate businesses from front operations, and sometimes they were both. In addition, people did not cooperate with investigations, and search warrants were hard to come by.

It was mentally exhausting to say the least. In the end we normally solve the case when someone within the scheme messing up rather than actually tracing back the source. It was a thankless job that seemingly only existed to create crazy stories that officers would trade over drinks.

"Hikigaya, Shiba!" Ordered the Chief. "I want you to go check out this charity. Other teams will be assigned to investigate the addresses of the other publicly traded stock companies."

Δ▼Δ

Welcome back everyone, this is the news at the top of the hour on Tokyo Radio.

The biggest story: Prime Minister Kinzo Nabe visited the refugee camps earlier today, amidst reports that refugee children are being separated from their parents by JSDF soldiers. The story was broken by VOX, when the online news site interviewed migrants and were told harrowing tales of their missing children. [2]

"I implore our people and the JSDF: we must work together to reunite families," said the Prime Minister to reporters when his convoy had arrived at the beaches on the Nono-Honto Peninsula.

The visit is one stop among many on the tour hosted by non-profit organization, Sora Hospital for Refugees and affiliated charities. The tour was intended to raise awareness of the humanitarian crisis in the SEA. Prime Minister Kinzo took the time to personally serve food for the impoverished and malnourished. He also inspected the state of emigrant camps, dismayed at the dehumanizing conditions these people lived in.

"The way they are living is difficult to accept. That even in modern times people must endure afflictions we had thought outdated and inhumane, all the while being thousands of miles from home. They are our fellow Asians— no before that, they are our fellow humans. The very idea of supporting one another is ingrained in our culture and language." [3]

With the Conservatives and Progressives embroiled in competition for the seat of Prime Minister, Kinzo took the opportunity to create a bill to begin accepting low numbers of asylum seekers. It is being spearheaded by the Moderate party in legislation, many pundits expect it to just barely pass.

With the current state of affairs, the government has become increasingly polarized and…

I switched off the car radio, and looked at the charity we were supposed to investigate in Shinjuku. From inside the car, I could see that it has an old school look to it. With a two-tone facade of golden yellow and light beige, with a black line to separate the two colors. A bit of rust here and there, but it had a homey look to it. The only problem was...

"Hey Shiba, you see a charity building anywhere?"

"... Senpai, why can't I drive my own car?"

"Because you drive like my grandmother does right now. And she's dead."

"I just bought it though…" Shiba whimpered from the passenger's seat.

"Look, Shiba. I don't get why you're stressing." I gave him a pointed look. "It's not like four-door Nissan Skylines are that expensive nowadays."

My partner looked like he was going to cry.

I decided to ignore the man-child and continued with my observation.

You see, the issue with the building was that there was no charity signage on an office building to let me know that I was here. In fact, there was no office building to begin with. At the address where Rokuro Goro had said he worked as an accountant at a charity, stood a laundromat.

No matter how I sliced it, something was off. The laundromat was open, so there was only one thing to do. I stepped out of the car, with Shiba scrambling after me. We entered the laundromat cautiously, the instant my shoe makes contact with the tiles a deep voice called out to me.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

My eyes turn to look at the source. He was tall, lean, and visibly muscular. His hair was cut haphazardly, as if he had taken a hunting knife and just sliced off the offending parts. It was crude, but had this wild look to it. He wore a purple dress shirt underneath a black vest with intricate patterns. It hugged his pectorals and his shirt was folded at the sleeves, revealing toned forearms. Ashen gray pants were completed with smart looking brown shoes.

The pants fit him perfectly. Probably tailored.

"I'm Detective Hikigaya, with Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. This is my partner, Detective Shiba," I said smoothly, pulling out a badge. Shiba does the same.

The man passed a careful eye over our identifications of profession. He looked me in the eyes before speaking, "My name is Kazuya Ryunosuke, I am the owner of this laundromat. How can I help you, detective?"

A skewed truth that pricks would be the best answer to get a feel for Kazuya's personality.

"We're investigating a suspicious charity that has been handing out false donations to the poor. We're suspecting embezzlement." I explained. "We came to check out their facility, but it seems they may have been using Kazuya-san's laundromat's address."

The unexpected happens, Kazuya's face set into stone. His eyes and mouth didn't waver, as if they had been sculpted into marble.

I could already tell I wasn't going to get a thing out of this man easily. If anything at all.

The man brought a hand to his chin in thought. "I understand why you're here, detective. I have had some strange letters to this establishment in the past, but I usually gave it to the postman so it could be returned back to the sender. I've never really thought much of it."

A bulletproof deflection. Almost a work of art: it's logical and believable, and I couldn't readily prove it false. Evidence is likely impossible to get, even if I wanted to refute.

"I see. Do you mind if my partner and I take a look around? So I could go back to my Chief and say that I at least tried."

I just wanted to get some sort of reaction out of him. I fully expected him to kick us out. It was a no brainer, I hadn't mentioned any search warrants. Unsurprisingly, he remained stone-faced.

Surprisingly, he was gracious in his response. "That's fine. I can even let you take a look at the back rooms and office."

What? I was caught off guard. What was he up to?

The laundromat had few people, but a few machines were turning away. The place had dust at its corners, but looks relatively clean regardless. A normal example of a neighborhood laundromat.

So why couldn't I believe it?

We followed Kazuya into the laundromat and I see a few women in spaghetti straps, undershirts, and shorts milling around. They were throwing clothing in washing machines and dryers. Judging by the way they walked, and the slight redness I can see around their wrists and neck, they were probably prostitutes.

There were a few men in as well, wearing similar clothing to Kazuya, but less composed and clean. They looked like thugs, and the way they glared at me before averting their eyes basically gave them away. They were yakuza.

None of this was damning, considering the type of people who frequented Shinjuku. And my case wasn't directly about the pimping going on in this district. But still… it made some part of my stomach curdle a bit.

Kazuya leads us to the back rooms, which were just concrete boxes, not even painted. There were windows with rebars, but no glass. They faced a small courtyard between buildings. It housed the normal materials a laundromat would need: blue bottles of detergent; bottles of neon orange fabric softener and stain removing formulas.

And that was strange.

"Shiba, go back to the car and get it warmed up." I threw him the keys. "I'll be out in a sec."

"Senpai, I can't just leave you alone!"

"If you go now, I'll let you drive back." Those seem to be the magic words, as Shiba reluctantly scurried off.

Kazuya then took me to the office. It was a small place with wooden walls and a single desk that had a computer and was flanked by chairs. The size of what I saw from the inside matched the size of the building from the outside, lowering the chances of there being a hidden room in the facility.

"Are you military?"

Kazuya suddenly spoke breaking me out of my thoughts.

"How did—?"

Kazuya chuckled, a sound that reminded me of rolling thunder. [4] "I used to be military too. You know how to clear a room, pretty telling stuff. You 'sliced the pie' along every opening, doorway, and window. Footsteps were measured and short, you made sure that your leading foot didn't go too far past a corner to compromise your position."

He leaned back against the wall of the office. "Guessing you were infantry? I would say you were the dedicated marksman by the way you tended to hold the longer sightlines. I wasn't sure because of how young you seem."

"Well, your guess is pretty much it." I scratched the back of my head. "I was Ground Forces. First Division, 32nd Infantry Regiment. Dedicated marksmen of my squad, loved that M24 to death. And I got my own hypothesis too: are you Special Forces?"

"Oh?" It was his turn to be surprised. "What gave it away?"

I shrugged. "The way you set up the laundromat. There's no way to discreetly plant a bomb or hide anything in the facility that wouldn't be obviously visible. And the way you walk and angle your body, its to make it easier for the second man on your team to take a shot if you spotted a target. Probably urban warfare training? I guess you were pointman. Oh yeah, you also have the greatest poker-face I have ever seen. I would hazard that you got anti-torture training as part of a counterterrorism force."

"You got a good eye," said Kazuya, looking at me with a different expression. I wanted to say it was respect. "I was SFG, stationed at the garrison in Narashino." [5]

My eyes widened. "What a coincidence, I grew up in Chiba."

Kazuya sighed wistfully. "I loved Chiba's atmosphere. I'm going to miss those peanuts when they're in season."

I stood in awe. This man... this man understood! The greatness of Chiba, the cozy air that only comes from a perfect mix of residential and commercial areas to form a harmony of culture and togetherness. What is this beating in my heart? Is it natural? Just wild beat, communication? [6] Was this how someone knew that another human being will be their best friend!?

"Hey, uh." Kazuya called out to me, an uncomfortable look on his face. "Your eyes kinda look like you've been through some tough times. I've seen it on other guys' and vets' faces before, the ones that came back from their tour of duty in the SEA."

In books and in movies, soldiers shared this idyllic brotherhood: a sense of trust of having served a single goal with their lives on the line. It's usually played as an emotional crux, that two soldiers can just talk and solve their emotional hang-ups and move on.

Exaggerated and sensational as it may be, there's a grain of truth to it. A soldier's perspective was designed to be the same as that of his fellow soldier. A fellow soldier would understand the complicated emotions of battle, and its interplay with the loyalty you held to your squad.

"We were in Sri Lanka, with the UN." I started. "Active combat. Just two JSDF platoons, including my own."

"The odds were bad, huh?" His voice was even, but contained a level of empathy I could physically feel.

I nodded. "The first attack came at night. Wiped out the lot of the UN forces, the Sergeant of the other platoon was killed then. Our LT went missing when he went on recon. Solo. I ended up taking control of the remaining troops, all 9 of them."

I took a shaky breath. "I went a little overboard against the enemy, when we fought our way out."

Kazuya nodded, and his action was enough for me to know that he understood what I meant by my brief summary.

"It was messy," I said. "It took a year, but I managed to make it out with my of my team. We only lost 2 guys. The other platoon was dissolved. The two UN platoons? Only three people came out in total."

"Rough stuff."

"When I got back island-side, I was court martialed. They knew why I did it, but they had to make an example of me to the rest of the UN. To show that Japan followed the rules. They let me go, but as soon as I got back to the barracks they gave me the papers. An 'honorable' discharge, saying I went crazy so I wasn't combat viable."

With my story over, Kazuya walked over and places a hand on my shoulder. Which was all I needed. He understood. He understood the mental trauma. The nightmares. All of that, through a single pat on my person.

"I was actively deployed around that time too," said Kazuya. "To the Philippines to help the government fight terrorists. A lot of my guys snapped, because of the constant guerilla attacks. They couldn't sleep or eat in peace. Eventually we got into a routine of eating, patrolling, shooting, and trying to sleep with a gun in hand. Their nerves were shot. When we got back home, two of them committed suicide within the week. One left behind two children and a wife."

His hand gripped my shoulder a little tighter. "I'm not going to pretend and say everything will be okay, or that you'll get 'fixed'. But you should be glad that you got your guys home." He let his hand go.

"... I'll tell the Chief as I saw things. It's unlikely, but we may be back to get an official testimony from you in the future, Kazuya-san."

"That's fine. And thank you for the conversation."

"Likewise… thanks."

Δ▼Δ

"I want a stake out on the laundromat," I said to the men who sat before me. "Even though the store looked clean, and it just had a spotty customer base, I'm pretty sure its frequented by Yakuza. We can't trust it, and we shouldn't trust it.

The Chief, Hiura, Shiba, and I were gathered in one of the conference rooms, sitting around the desk at odd intervals of missing chairs. A horrible rendition of musical chairs to the tune of a Waggaki cover, if I had to guess.

Hiura raised an eyebrow. "What made you think so?"

"Shiba, what did you notice in the laundromat?" I called out to my partner.

Shiba contemplates for a moment before he begins to answer. "There were women who were washing clothes in the main part of the store. They looked like prostitutes to me."

"I would agree. Anything else?"

"I have to concur with Senpai on the Yakuza observation. I'm pretty sure I saw the start of a tattoo climbing up one of their necks."

"Did you notice anything else? Particularly the backroom?"

"I don't think so. Looked like the normal stuff a laundromat would carry. Bags of soap, some bottles of fabric softener, the usual stuff."

"Well, it's exactly because of those goods that we should be suspicious."

"Get to the point Hikigaya." The Chief interjected. "I can't approve anything if you're going to go all Socratic-method on me."

"I'm getting to it." Knocked off my groove, I took a second to gather my thoughts. "Okay, so the laundromat only had one type of blue bottle for sale, everything else was orange. And I mean everything: all other bags and bottles were this neon-orange. That's the smoking gun."

The three men give me blank stares.

"Come on guys, this is middle school color theory," I said impatiently. "The color wheel? You know how complement colors were said to be the most standout pair? Most contrasting?"

They shared glances with one another, having no clue where I was leading this conversation. I exhaled heavily in exasperation. Philistines, the lot of them. I'm surrounded by cavemen.

"They're trying to to make the blue bottles really stand out." I clapped my hands together as an idea to better illustrate my point pops in my head. "Ok, let's have a thought experiment. Hypothetically say that the Yakuza run a hypothetical laundromat."

"Okay…?" Hiura tilted his head to the side in confusion. "But aren't we pretty sure that it is?"

"Roll with me here. Let's say this hypothetical Yakuza driven laundromat hypothetically wants to smuggle out hypothetical illegal drugs, like Class 1 substances. You know, the normal things a criminal syndicate would do. And hypothetically assume this hypothetical criminal syndicate with a familial hierarchy hide their hypothetical drugs within laundry soaps and detergents. What's the biggest point of failure in this hypothetical plan?"

Shiba's eyes widened as he connected the dots, as expected of my partner. "The people distributing the bottles!"

"Exactly. Yakuza goons aren't the smartest people, so if you're a Yakuza boss, you want to dumb down the instructions as much as possible and reduce risk. By using complement colors you highly minimize the chance of a worker grabbing the wrong battle and handing it out. Blue is always easier to spot among orange"

"So the stakeout…" Trailed off the Chief.

"As I said, that was all hypothetical." I leaned back, my chair creaking ominously. "We can't prove anything right now. But a stakeout might give us some insight, and hopefully, some new leads."

Δ▼Δ

I had just gotten out of the office when I got a surprise call from Shizuka. She wanted to treat me to dinner, and gave me the location of a restaurant we frequented. Apparently she had a friend coming.

I drove over and quickly found her car sunbathing out in the parking lot. I parked my car next to hers, the Aston Martin suddenly looking mundane next to the German 'wunderwagon' that belonged to Shizuka and attracted all sorts of eyes.

As befitting her personality (and ironic when considering her name) it had a 'loud' color to it. The 'Racing Yellow' paint job on her Porsche Cayman GT4 could be seen from a passing airliner, that's how much it shone. Like a beacon in the daylight. How was a subdued wine red car supposed to compete?

Finding her at the restaurant was easy, since the older woman had taken a table outside.

"Yo." I greeted quietly and take a seat.

"Hey there." She nodded and looked at her watch. "She should be here any moment now."

"Ah! Shizuka!" Called out a familiar feminine voice cheerfully. Coming down the sidewalk towards us now was the government lawyer that represented Tokyo, Yukinoshita Haruno. She was clad in jeans and a baby blue button up with white bird prints.

"Haruno! It's been some time, hasn't it?" Shizuka sood up and wrapper her former student in a hug. I looked on apathetically, wondering how I had let myself get caught in this scenario. Two beautiful women they may be, but both are equally capable of destroying me; one physically, the other emotionally. I blamed my sense of obligation towards Shizuka.

"I heard you got married!?" Asked Haruno excitedly as she took a seat next to me. I grimaced as I realize that it's closer than most would sit. I could already tell how this meal was going to go.

"Yep!" Shizuka folded her arms across her chest and with a triumphant expression. "To a man few can match, and I can be proud of!"

Congratulations Chief, you're a trophy husband. Things could be worse, I guess.

"I'm so happy for you!" Haruno clapped her hands and gave me a glance. I looked back at her questioningly, but she only winked before returning her attention back to Shizuka. "I'm out of the loop! What's been going on with you?"

The two adult women chatted away catching up on the years they were apart, and I took that as my opportunity to tune out of the conversation. I waved to the waiter and whispered to him that I wanted a cup of coffee. My eyes passed over my tablemates as the waiter leaves to collect my drink. I watched as they spoke to one another expressively, with gestures and nods. Their eyes were bright with joy and lips curling into smiles and laughs. I think they were talking about some topic on the Tokyo education system, since Rumi was mentioned in passing.

Shizuka had grown calmer and more at peace over the years, the anxiety and pain of being single dissipating with a stable relationship where she felt supported and loved. If she had motherly traits back during my teenage, now she was definitely a full blown maternal figure. Evidenced by how she looked at Haruno with warmth.

The lawyer wasn't wearing her trademark mask, but something that I could only describe as the hesitance a freed animal showed. Her slender fingers picked at the menu that lay on the table when she was asked certain questions, and I could only wonder how she was undertaking life currently. Things change, and so had these two. I let myself lose focus when Haruno called over the waiter at some point so we could relay our orders.

My coffee had finally arrived, along with a small plate that had packets of sugar, cream, and a stirrer. I carefully poured in the appropriate amount of dairy and slowly shook in a few spoonfuls of the sweetener before stirring rhythmically.

"... how was it?" Shizuka asked gently, the strange tone of her voice attracting my attention. I stopped my mixing and slowly brought the cup to my lips, the smell of coffee permeated my mouth and nose. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Just right.

"Oh, you know... the usual." Haruno gave an indecisive smile. I've seen it before, hell, I've had it before. The smile where you're not sure if this happiness is real or not. "Lots of therapy. Lots of talking. Lots of... deep talking. Telling each other what our dreams were. It took time but... I can say I love being with my family now."

"That's good. Time is all you need." The somber expression Shizuka had worn transformed into a maleficent smile as she turns towards me. Our eyes met before I could look away and avoid this confrontation. "Even heartbreak can be healed with time, can't it? Hachiman?"

"I don't like what you're implying." I huffed, taking another sip before putting down my cup. "And I'm still mad at you, by the way." I smacked my lips for good measure.

"For what? Sending your old flame over?" Shizuka grinned and leaned over, her words quiet enough to go unheard by the people around us, but clearly processed by our guest. My body went cold as Haruno's face twitched in surprise and looked at me in shock.

A growl came out of my throat. "I'm going to kill yo—"

"Oh my? Is this a scoop? Hot news?" Haruno interrupted me, her head swapping between Shizuka and I with curiosity abound. "Was my Yukino-chan to be as so bold to go to a man's house? Ho ho ho, Hikigaya-kun I see even Morimi-chan can't satisfy you."

"Stop describing it like some hentai. Please." And what did Secretary-chan have anything to do with this?

"How else am I supposed to think of a man and a woman all alone in a house?"

"Consider it from this angle: many of the great Greek philosophers were single, some even platonic to the n-th degree. Perhaps I am among their number?"

"But you know, Hikigaya-kun," Haruno said thoughtfully. "Aristotle said that household was the most basic unit of the state, and a household requires man and woman. You should really reconsider going stag."

I snorted and looked to my side. "He also required the family unit to have a slave. And it's not like he said I have to get married or anything, right? Komachi is all I need. Besides his idea of a society is too simple."

"What makes you say that Hachiman?" Shizuka peered at me with narrowed skeptical narrowed eyes. "I remember you saying understood all of society and its shallow depth back during your high school career. Gave you a failing grade for that essay too.

I coughed into my hand awkwardly. "W-well, stupidity of youth aside, society is just people coming together to increase the odds of survival, right?"

"That definition is missing a bit of nuance, but it's correct for the most part." Haruno hummed as she supported her cheek with a hand.

"Then it's simple." I twirled the stirrer between my fingers. "To have society all you need to do is fulfill the needs of humans."

"So, food, water, shelter, warmth, and rest?" Haruno asked.

"I was thinking more along the lines of lust, gluttony, greed, and sloth myself."

Shizuka sighed deeply, disappointment evident. "What are we going to do with you?"

"What?" I asked, ruffled like a bothered hen.

"You just described the seven deadly sins as being the needs of humans!" The married woman exclaimed, irritation growing.

"Fine, fine fine. I'll give a real answer." I waved my arms at her. "So to build a society you need laws; law enforcement; and currency. Rules all members submit to. The confidence that those rules will be enforced. And currency so everyone can trade. You can consider currency to be its own language, I guess. The one language everyone in a society can speak with."

"Interesting take on money." Haruno commented.

"Why, thank you." I'm honestly surprised she would compliment me like that.

"But you know you can't get out of talking about Yukino-chan that easily, you know?"

Should have known.

Something got caught in my throat, but miraculously I managed to talk my way through it. "The point was that I don't need to get married or be in a relationship to be part of the state. Society is fine with my loner self as long as I can talk with money. So stop harassing me."

I felt a sharp pain in my midriff as Haruno's fist makes contact with my rib. "Hikigaya-kun, don't you know that when a girl bothers you, it means she likes you?"

I offered her the most lifeless stare I was capable of. "I could really do with less liking. Really."

"Alright you two, cut it out." Shizuka chastised us tiredly. "Let him die alone for all we care."

"... although, Yukinoshita-san, your words might have some value." An evil grin grew on my creepy face. "Shizuka must have really liked the Chief. Bothered him so much she fractured his rib once, if I'm not mistaken. And here they are, married."

The effect was instant: Shizuka's face erupted into red and her eyes contained the fury of a thousand suns. "You bastard! Get ready punk, I'll pummel you into obliv—!"

I was saved by the arrival of our meals by the server, which promptly muzzled my old high school teacher and saved me from a swift death by blunt force trauma. As the plates are placed before us, I can't help but stare out at food for a few moments, watching as the steam wafts up. Something in me stirred and I resisted the urge to eat. I looked up and saw that Shizuka had started to cut into her own meal, but Haruno is looked at me strangely.

"... yes?" I asked my district attorney with a bit of suspicion.

Haruno opened her mouth but is interrupted by Shizuka's flat voice. "Haruno, your food is going to get cold. Eat."

The elder Yukinoshita sister looked bewildered and traded some strange glances with Shizuka. Something must have been communicated silently because Haruno slowly picked up her own chopsticks and began to eat. I raised an eyebrow at the bizarre exchange, but said nothing and picked up some pasta with my fork. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Haruno stared at me throughout dinner.

When we finished eating and settled the bill, Shizuka and I separated from Haruno, as we were headed in opposite directions.

"I'll see you at work then, Hikigaya-kun!" She called out, with glee that felt hollow and forced. Did I do something wrong? The worry must have been evident on my face, because Shizuka patted my back comfortingly.

"Nothing to worry about, she's just a bit off right now," Shizuka said firmly. "It's not about you."

I only nodded and let her lead me down the block towards the parking lot. The walk was quiet, and I fell into step alongside Shizuka. The sun had begun to droop and colored the sky with streaks of orange that was being slowly encroached by the purple of the night. The daylight hours were becoming shorter with the passing of the solstice just a few days prior, and would continue until the winter. It was a depressing thought, but also comforting. Time would always march on, and I had to as well.

My ringtone began to play, causing Shizuka to tilt her head curiously at me. I took out my cell phone, and saw that the caller ID had the incoming number as 'Unknown Caller.' It could be a telemarketer, but I rarely put my phone number down anywhere for that to be a realistic guess. I slid the on screen button over, accepting the call.

"Hello?" I asked uncertainly.

"Higashiya? That you?" A deep and smooth male voice spoke to me in a foreign language.

"Min-san, it's been a while." I responded, switching to a fluent Mandarin. Shizuka raised an eyebrow at my words.

"So it has. Word on the street is that Tokyo PD is looking into Ouma Daichi and drug trafficking."

"News travels fast." I didn't ask questions about where or how he had found this information. Ignorance is blissful safety, it also went a long way in ensuring that your informant wouldn't spill your info to others.

"I just keep my ear to the ground more often than not. You free to talk?"

"I'm about 5 minutes away from my car."

I gave an apologetic look to Shizuka, who shook her head. She stepped backward with a worried look and mouthed to me, "Be careful!" I nodded and watched as she walked ahead of me.

"What's going on?" I asked into the phone.

"Got something I want you to hear."

"Let me get to someplace more secure then. You want me to call you? Or are you going to call me?"

"Your side safe?"

"Probably not."

"I'll call you in exactly 5 minutes, I have encryption."

With that the line cut and I made a beeline for the parking lot. Shizuka's Porsche was gone, leaving my Aston Martin by its lonesome. I opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. The door shut and sealed me off from the outside world, signaled by the abrupt reduction in noise. Like clockwork, my phone rang again exactly at 5 minutes from when Min said. He skipped the pleasantries and cut to the chase.

"I got a guy who wants protection. And he wants it from the government. He's got some pretty good intel that might interest you regarding Ouma. Can you stop by the shop?"

"You'll contact me with the date and time?"

"Of course."

"I'll be there."

"I knew you would. By— oh, yeah. Good luck with your trial next week." The line went quiet as it disconnected from his end.

I blinked several times. I wasn't even aware that it next week yet. Not unexpected, but how did he know?

Arc 1: "Detective Hikigaya Hachiman"

References:

[1] Reference to "The Rehearsal" a satirical play from 1671 by George Villiers aimed to rebel against the standards John Dryden had set for literature in England. The plot of the play revolves around the cast of characters making their own play (a play within a play). The Second Duke of Buckingham comments in satisfaction "Ay, now the plot thickens very much upon us" when describing how his play's narrative becomes convoluted.

This could be considered one of the first types of self-aware humor gags that the post-modern art movement has similar characteristics with.

[2] Based on the controversial events at the US-Mexico border where it was discovered that children of Mexican migrants we're being separated from their parents. It was a huge humanitarian blunder for the US that made made headlines over the world.

[3] The kanji ideograms for people ("hito"/ひと) is 人, which is said to be a representation of two people supporting one another. The character is included for the kanji for "individual" [個人 (kojin)]; "mankind/humans" [人類 (jinrui), 人間 (ningen)]; and for "character/personality" [人格 (jinkaku), 人柄 (hitogara)].

[4] "Rolling thunder" is a reference to Operation Rolling Thunder, which was a lengthy bombing campaign by US 2nd Air Division against North Vietnam during the Vietnam War. My use here is referring to both the literal sound of a thunderstorm and the military version.

[5] Narashino is a city in Chiba Prefecture.

[6] A reference to the opening of Gundam Wing: "Just Communication" by Two-Mix.

Author's Note:

Some more world building, some more other stuff. The usual. I hope you enjoyed the conversation bit with Shizuka, Haruno, and Hachiman. It was fun to write. There was a bit of foreshadowing as well. The dynamic between Shizuka and Hachiman is a zany cross of mother/son and sibling hijinks. I hope you enjoyed it.

-SouBU
(Editors: XioKenji; Lord of Admirals 412; Xynovitch; TheMightyZingy)

Revision Log:
03/17/2020: Re-uploaded with overhaul of tenses and changes in word choice and sentence structure as well as major grammar fixes.