A/N: I want you to know, I am not being negligent of my other fic, I simply need more time. It's a big chapter for me, a milestone of sorts and I want it to be perfect. So I'm stuck in an endless loop of editing and rewriting because I'm a perfectionist asshole sometimes. Most of the times. Look, it has to be the best it can be...which is why instead I've been vomiting words in this one and look where we are. Hope you enjoy lovelies.
So, on to the next chapter. There's one more coming, and then it's on to the next one!
Facts: Kyoto has no airport; the Kansai International Airport is on a man-made island in the Osaka bay. The Haruka limited express train takes you from Kyoto straight to the airport in less than 72 minutes. As the name suggests, this airport handles international flights while the Osaka International Airport only handles domestic flights nowadays (it was built first; the KIA was built to help with overcrowding at that OIA).
Title: My famous(?) new neighbour.
Genre: Humour, Romance, Slice of Life
Alternative Universe: Neighbours, modernday
A sudden, jolting sound; her heart beat quickened. Another sound; it bothered her. Why did it bother her? Where was the sound coming from? She couldn't tell, everything was dark…but she wasn't scared. Then why was everything black?
Slowly, her consciousness came back and she remembered she was in her home, lying on her bed…sleeping. She had been sleeping until something woke her up! She nearly jumped and her heart rate became faster. In another second, she finally realised the sound was knocking on her door.
Wait a minute…what time was it?
She looked at her watch: it read four past four in the morning.
What. The hell?
Now she was getting upset. Not scared necessarily, but visibly upset. It was too late, even for her, to be banging on people's doors. Still, concern crept up at her and after she threw her blanket off, she made sure her footfalls were silent, hand instinctively going for the sword as she passed by it. Slow but certain steps led her to her front door, light never being turned on.
As she looked through the key hole though she saw light, nearly blinding her, and a very familiar by now figure: Saitou Hajime.
She stared.
What the hell!? Wasn't he the one who kept telling her she was being too inappropriate this entire past week she knew him, for bothering him at odd hours and almost all the time? How come he appeared at her doorstep at four in the morning? She couldn't see his face, too – he was too close and could only see from the neck and lower – to guess his reason for visiting.
And yet, she couldn't not open the door; he might have been sour every single time he had let her in but never did he leave her outside. So, she turned on the lights and pulled the door open.
"Hajime."
His face was unreadable, but only one thing was sure: it was nothing positive he was feeling. "Tokio."
"Why are you…" a huge yawn "at my door at this hour?"
"I just came back from work," her eyes would have widened in shock, had she been any less sleepy "and I wanted to let you know one of these days, I'll kill you."
"What did I do now?"
"Everyone, and I mean everyone at the precinct or on the field, who knew me, kept calling me tall neighbour instead of my actual name!"
She couldn't help it; she burst out laughing, sword falling on the floor, forgotten. She clutched at her stomach and before long she was making the hugest effort to remain standing, back supported on her open door.
Saitou's glare intensified. "You laugh; I'm telling you I'll kill you, and you laugh."
She started coughing, laughter with shortness of breath mingling. She let go of her stomach and put her hands on her knees to support herself. "I, I, I'm sorry, Hajime," she was hiccupping along "I'm so sorry…I didn't mean for it to take such proportions."
"It's my superior's fault for showing it to everyone, too but come on; what else did you post for people to be like that?"
"Nothing, I swear; last thing was the Hobbit thing." He glared, just as he'd let up, too and wouldn't allow her to dismiss him so easily. He wanted answers damn it! "I didn't, even before you told me you were with the police, come on."
"Then what did people comment? The initial reaction must have been huge for them to make such a big deal even a week later."
Her smile was guilty. "I did keep an eye on the tag and it's still trending…" His annoyance, shock and exasperation were one of a kind. She had to giggle. Add to that being so rudely awakened and there you have it. "Alright, come in otherwise we're gonna bother people."
She stepped to the side and he followed, going straight for the black leather couch. Sighing amidst her chuckles, she went to sit on his right, but on the other black leather couch, the smaller one. "Want something to drink?"
"Water."
She continued with her story only after he had a sip or two. "People are still talking about you and I don't know why; of course, this being the internet, half of them are nice, friendly puns or comments, while the rest is nasty. But they took a liking to the situation I guess, there's been too much traction. I think your attitude of not wanting to be on social media started a whole discourse about privacy and it's been crazy. Also, everyone is looking for your twitter, facebook or whatnot accounts and they can't find them, so they are calling you a ghost, too."
He must have rolled his eyes twenty times during that short amount of time it took her to explain; it was really funny to her but he hated every second of it.
"Can't you tell them to stop?"
"Oh, and they'll listen," she nodded her head condescendingly "they always do. The mob of strangers on the internet."
"Alright, that was stupid. But can't you do something? They are driving me crazy…!"
"They are your colleagues. Nothing I say will reach them. Unless…"
It was obvious she thought of something and his interest was immediately captured. "Unless," he prompted?
"Unless, I contact your superior and convince him to stop the others for you…"
He clicked his tongue displeased. "Good luck with that."
"You give me his twitter or something and I'll take care of it."
He was still not buying it. "Just like that?"
"I can be very persuasive when I need to." She smirked. "And since he's a fan, I know just the thing."
"Alright; I'll trust you. I'll give you what you need tomorrow or the day after…it'll take a bit of sleuthing, but I will. Provided they don't stop of course."
"Naturally."
"That's that, I'm going. It's late and I need the rest, I have an early shift tomorrow." Was it his idea or now that his anger had subsided he felt like he was cold…in the middle of the summer? They both slowly walked to the door then, dutifully seeing him out and stood as he stopped at the threshold. "By the way," he said, turning to her "you should do something about that air-condition of yours."
"But I like it; I sleep with a blanket."
He rolled his eyes. "Why would you need a blanket in the middle of the summer?"
"Because I have the air condition on."
She really was crazy. "Then shut it down a little."
"I don't wanna."
"Right; you prefer wrapping yourself in a blanket and sleeping in your underwear."
"I'm not sleeping in my underwear."
He smirked. "Tonight, you are…" He glanced fleetingly downwards, proceeding to stare at her, eyebrows high. He had the decency not to stare at her exposed thighs but the truth of the matter remained; she looked at herself and saw it, too: she really was in her underwear.
He turned around to leave again, deciding he made a fool out of her enough for a night, as she just stood there, internally screaming.
"Goodnight, Tokio," he said as he almost reached his door. She was still unmoving.
The entirety of the next day, Tokio didn't see or hear from Hajime. It felt a little odd, if she were being honest. The previous transitional week of their most peculiar meeting, he was always around, settling in still, and would always be there for her to bother. Second day of their meeting and she arranged every single room in his home – other than the bedroom, of course –. Third day, she had him buy a new coffee table.
She laughed at the memory.
She had lured him there with the pretence he needed new curtains – or any curtains, really – and he had agreed. But she purposefully chose a place where mostly furniture was sold rather than linens, so she could sneak it past him. And when they found themselves in front of a seller, his reaction was golden.
"What? I don't need a new coffee table."
"Sure you do."
"What's wrong with the one I have now?"
"It screams "the odd one out"." His flabbergasted expression said no; her raised eyebrows said yes. He didn't abate though, so she had to explain. "It's brown."
"So?"
"All your other furniture is black, with a touch of grey."
"So?"
"Three colours in the living room? That's a no-no; right sir?"
The seller had the most amused look on his face, used to this type of quarrelling, but apparently never this fun. "It's ill-advised," he decided to take the side that would undoubtedly win in the end; and when Saitou growled defeated after a beat, he knew he made the right choice.
Then he cleared his throat and fixed his uniform. "Am I to assume you're looking for something black then?"
Tokio nodded excited. "Indeed; minimal. Discreet but memorable."
"Ah," the seller looked pleased he was finally given that description "I have just the thing. Please follow me."
He led them one exhibition living-room after the one they were standing right in front of, on the right. They were both quite taken by the likeness it bore to Saitou's living room, the style was the same. This man knew his job quite well. And then he pointed directly at what they were searching for and Tokio's eyes shone!
"Look at that; it's perfect! The size is right, the hue is right; even the accents of grey-white are matching to the other ones. Hmm…I am quite fond of this thick wood, very durable," she commented while actually knocking on it with her fist "and look at the modern design! It's like a thin box that you took out the insides and you are left with the hollow."
"It's decent."
"It's both modern and minimal and I love how it looks timeless; the greyish rugs would go perfectly with it, too."
"It's decent," he repeated like she was being superfluous.
"And if we get those pretty curtains that I saw online, hmm" she made a sound no person should make outside of the bedroom, it was too suggestive "perfection! Oh, look, these are the curtains!"
Easier distracted than a dog with a ball, her head snapped left, where samples of said curtains were on display. "Look, look, these are them! They are made in bulk I see…so you cut them in whatever height and width we want?"
"That's the logic behind it, yes," the seller confirmed.
"Ah, good thing we measured it before we left!" She elbowed him excited. "It's really perfect. How can you say no to that?"
"I never said no, I said it's decent."
"Yeah you did." The way he widened his eyes defensively, told her otherwise. "Okay, when I say "it's decent"" she air-quoted "it usually means "you can do better"."
"When I say it's decent, without the attitude, it means it's decent."
"But you're not excited…" she mumbled in the end, crossing her hands.
"It's just a coffee table; and the other one isn't even broken, yet…"
The seller sensed the stalemate. "So, what do we do?"
Hajime sighed heavily, unable to overlook his neighbours pleading and at the same time hurt expression. "If the dictator says it's perfect, can't leave it behind…"
She actually clapped at that, as she was used to do apparently when something went her way, and cracked her knuckles. "We'll take the table and the curtains! Here are the dimensions of the window doors and their number." She handed him a piece of paper. "We want two-piece for all of them, to part effortlessly, and, why not, a nice drape over the long ones, a touch darker colour. You seem to have excellent taste, sir, so we'll leave it to you. Just make sure it matches what we've already discussed. Yes?"
She turned to Hajime for reassurance.
"I guess."
"Then that's that! Let's go pay, and we're ready."
"I'll go pay," he warned and there was nothing forgiving in his glare.
He still hadn't forgotten about the paint thing and he was still not okay with it. How could he ever be, when he was the one who paid for everything, even before he got married? But she couldn't possibly know that, which was the only reason he didn't make a big deal out of it. Also, she was rich; she could afford his paints and his ego could afford not feeling too bruised. But he did notice her making the effort to reach for her wallet and had to give her the death glare.
"Enjoy your coffee table," was what the seller told them once the curtains were ready, too and they were about to leave. "And if the Misses really doesn't like it, we could always take that other coffee table off of your hands for you…"
"The brown one you mean?" Saitou asked. The man nodded. "That's mine; so are these. But she isn't."
She rolled her eyes. "What he means is, we aren't together." She shook her head, as they were leaving. "Why does everyone think we are?"
His displeased "are you kidding me" stare went unseen or unaddressed.
No matter what, even after that, Okita came over to see the place, so did some of his other work friends. That was how she was certain he was in the police, even before he confirmed it: each and every one of the men was fit and a stickler for rules—some more than others, of course. Even Souji, the freest spirited one, had a knack for adhering to some sort of guideline. Plus, when she had come over the fifth night, to see what was up because of the uncharacteristic sounds of voices from his apartment, she finally heard the word precinct.
Not to mention, she saw not only the leg weights and other fitness gear, but also a gun and something resembling the ceremonial uniform of the police in his effects. But it was his friends that drove the nail to the coffin.
"This is my neighbour, Tokio," he carelessly introduced her when she walked over and knocked on the door. He had begrudgingly let her in that night in fact, for Okita made a big deal out of calling her name.
His fiancé, his precious Ria-chan, was his date and she was the cutest; Tokio thought they made a good match. She was also shorter than her, so she felt good about that, too. But she was a dear, never even so much as a jealous or annoyed glance sent her way, despite Okita gushing over how big of a help she was to them.
The rest of his friends were married, and their wives were their dates, naturally: Harada Sanosuke and his wife Harada Hina were the sexiest people in the room, she decided. The man was a tall, well built man, with fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes; his attitude screamed of some sort of danger while his mess of hair was up in a casual bun on the top of his head. Hina was tall and lean, with natural light brown hair and a beauty spot right underneath her left eye. Her lips were full and red and her dress deep black. Coupled with her glasses and how she looked over them for emphasis or reprobation, it reminded Tokio of the hot librarian stereotype.
Nagakura Shinpachi and Nagakura Haru were the sweetest ones; the bespectacled man with the adorable curly hair, in the company of the shy woman, was a feast for sore eyes. Whenever they stood next to one another they'd somehow touch; she'd imperceptibly lean into him while he'd put a hand on her middle; she'd caress his hand that rested on her thigh. They were very cute!
And they were all talking about a superior or a case. No way they weren't in the police.
But this, it was a housewarming party.
How odd Saitou must have felt he didn't have his own wife by his side. He must have been feeling all out of sorts. Thus, as a proper lady, per her parents' teachings, she decided to be magnanimous and play the part of the hostess, without actually being one. She'd refill glasses, she'd make conversation, she'd resupply the dips and the snacks…she even urged people to leave the cleaning up to them – "I'll help with tidying up, I live right across the hall you know" – and go back home.
"You didn't have to do this."
It was said after everyone had left, around midnight, and the buzzing had all but died down. So had the sounds of dishes being washed and whatever had spilled being cleaned or thrown into the washing machine. It was said when they finally had time to sit down and assess their progress of the day.
"I didn't have to do what?"
"Come over; cook; help."
"Ah," she realised between chuckles "that's alright. That's what neighbours are for."
"I'm pretty sure neighbours are for emergencies or borrowing cups of sugar."
She giggled. "Am I trespassing? Is this about privacy?"
"The fact I didn't actually invite you notwithstanding, I meant you didn't have to go into all that trouble. We know each other less than a week."
Her smile was big and honest, much like everything about her. He decided he liked that about her. "Like I said, Imma need something one day; might as well associate myself with positive emotions."
"You manipulative fox."
She shrugged. "One does what one can."
But the commander hadn't made it that day, so her fan remained a mystery to her. It would taste a little sour to him, too, she figured, for everyone but him to be introduced to her. No wonder he started teasing Saitou the moment he came back, he was sour! But no matter what, after such a full first week, it felt almost out of place to not be able to see him for an entire day. The fact she had posted about the underwear incident and people blew up about it, too didn't make her feel any better.
She mentioned no neighbour, not even a gender, yet the comments exploded with the speculations the person was him and – not that it had died down any – the tall neighbour hashtag exploded all over again. She felt like dying…but she also felt like a detective and managed, without fail, to find out what his ex-wife and his commander went by in twitter. Ex wife was much easier, seeing Tokio had a name to work with: Yaso. Anything close to that which referenced a divorce or what not, it could be her. Plus, if she was a superfan, she only needed to find out who was one of her first followers that always commented on her stuff but said nothing about the picture and the Hobbit post.
Quite right she was, the "independent-woman-Yass" was Yaso. Not only did her info say that was her name and she was "pretty and free", but most of her posts included pictures of her, praising herself and bitching about her ex. Never specified if it was husband or boyfriend but from the contents and the personality of the man described, Tokio was certain it was Hajime. The odd thing was she found all Yaso was bitching about hilarious instead of hurtful.
Oh well. Maybe being inside for so long on her own did something to her.
There were a few posts about body positivity in there, too and some feminist things, which Tokio appreciated; Yaso was also a judo instructor, as in that was her real job, and there were pictures of her in full gear and at competitions with students, which Tokio thought were pretty badass. Yaso was tall; well-built, but lean.
Tokio felt a little jealous; Yaso had a pretty face, too and she seemed like a kickass person. Damn. She lost in almost every comparison. At least…Tokio was more successful? Nah, it didn't hold up. Damn times two. She would definitely not be telling Hajime about this.
Which was why she moved to his superior fast, only he was much harder to find. He too had been a fan, but had no idea for how long. She never definitively heard a name that belonged to the man when they had all gathered, they kept mentioning names she never heard before but they were too many. And no one bothered to explain who was who.
So that was one lead down.
But she had another: the man was Okita's superior, too. There was no way one of his men had a twitter account and someone as controlling as they made him out to be, wouldn't be following said account. Not to mention he would undoubtedly try to spook them by pretending he "just knew" things he couldn't otherwise know. So, instead of looking for an account that held a likeness to a name, she started looking for an account that followed both her and Okita.
That plus any accounts that had to do with police officers. Or at least police HQ. honestly, Tokio had no idea what position the men had other than they were in the police, no one bothered to tell her. Judging by the lack of uniform and the very obvious suit he was wearing when he came back from a late shift, he must be a detective. Of what, go figure. Maybe assault and shit, since both Okita and he were entirely too ready to chastise her for allowing a stranger in her home.
Thus, she did her best and after three whole hours of searching, she finally found him: theonehijiseesall was his screenname and oh boy was it accurate. But what was even more accurate was her impression of him being a control freak. It hadn't been a moment she sent him a message, not only had he answered, he was basically interrogating her.
No worries; my name is Takagi Tokio, Hajime's new neighbour. The author of the romantic samurai series, you know me, right? heard you like my books.
…I do.
Great! Then this will make things easier: if you could make people at work stop calling Hajime "Tall Neighbour" then I'll give you an incredible piece of news for my work.
I can do that. But why would you want to do that?
He threatened to make my life miserable.
And perfect! Then be informed, and please be quiet about it, I shall be publishing my eighth and last book of the series this October, around the 15th!
…legit?
Yes. The announcement will be formally made at the end of August, give or take; seeing it's only July 28th, you can understand why I asked you to please be quiet.
…thanks.
And one last thing! You need to stop calling him that, too, except for extraordinary circumstances.
That I don't feel like doing.
You do realise I could spoil the entire book for you right?
You wouldn't dare.
I'll tell you four things; only one of them will be right. Good luck finding which!
No? Nothing? Alright, I'll start. In the last book my main character will do one of the following: (1/5)
I accept your terms, Takagi Tokio.
Thank you, sir~! Hope I meet you in person soon enough.
It was the very next day, the third since Hajime started working, that Tokio saw him again. It was at another ungodly hour of the morning and he had just come back from another shift. Did he have the night shift? She was pretty sure he didn't, she heard him leave at eight am. There's no way he has 12 plus hours shifts.
But her bell rang and she was jilted from sleep, only this once, she didn't grab the sword. She only made sure she was properly clothed and headed for the door.
"Hajime."
He was smirking; he was in a good mood. "Tokio."
"Pulling another long shift at work? It's…" she yawned "half past four. What up?"
"I'm homicide; once my shift ends, I come back home, or at least I try. If there's an emergency they call me and I'm expected to answer. And this week…has been rough for the populace of Kyoto. Many murders."
"That's just terrible."
"I know. But it is how it is. Anyway, that's why I'm here now; what I wanted though, was to thank you." He shook his head. "I don't know how you did it, but they all stopped. Even Hijikata."
"Hijikata is your superior I presume?"
"Yes, obviously."
He waved her off but she grew testy; this was useful information she could have received two days ago! She glared, but he didn't seem to care; in fact, he only grew a little excited and slapped her with the back of his hand. "How did you do it? I never gave you anything. Not to mention he's very stubborn."
"Every person has their buttons," she decided to say, instead of the truth.
"Oh, come on, tell me."
She shook her head, enjoying his curiosity and taking her revenge for the complete lack of communication from him at the same time. "Some things are better left unsaid. And now," she yawned again "if that's all, I'd like to go back to sleep."
"Sorry, yeah. I was just impressed by the immediate results of your meddling."
What disapproving language…! And to think he was trying to compliment her. "See? Some meddling can be proven useful."
"So far, all your meddling has proved to be useful to me, still doesn't mean I like it."
She let out a frustrated gasp. "Even when I help, I still do nothing right."
"Your words, not mine…" His tone might have been holding a second meaning but his eyes were playful.
"Idiot."
"Goodnight, Tokio; glad to see you learnt how to wear shorts properly…"
She managed to land a hit on his shoulder by extending her arm while he was walking away.
.
He heard his phone ring, despite the loud noises and sounds of conversation all around him. He felt it vibrate, too. He looked at his screen and saw a number he didn't recognise. He became a little suspicious. "This is detective Saitou Hajime."
"Hey neighbour! How are you?"
"Ah, that's why I don't know the number. Congratulations. You just managed to bother me at work, too" he commented, yet it was obvious by the small tug on his lips, he wasn't all that annoyed finding out it was her.
"Hey, now! Be kind." He could hear the smile in her voice so he wasn't too concerned. "I am a bearer of…mediocre news."
"What those may be?"
Okita caught a glimpse of his friend on the phone; it was time for payback. "Detective Saitou, get off the phone," he shouted, coming closer and closer by the second. "We have a murder to solve here…!"
"Heard that?" he asked, prompted by his overenthusiastic colleague. "Need to solve a murder—"
"No, wait, this is about you!"
"Oh?" He stopped his hand. "How so?"
"You received two packages; the delivery guy just left them at your door coz you didn't answer."
Ah, shit. His delivery was due today, he'd forgotten about that. He mentally swore, trying to swat away an interfering Okita, who was now bumped up to annoying status. "Can you—Okita, will you zip it—and I don't believe I'm asking this, can you pick them up? I'll come take them off your hands tonight."
"Who are you talking to, Detective Saitou~?" Okita kept it up. "Wrap it up, Detective Saitou~!"
His head whipped around to glare at the shorter man, who was aimlessly circling him, just to get on his nerves.
"Already done that, don't worry!" Thankfully Tokio's voice was steady and booming against his ear and he didn't have to smack his friend. "Figured you wouldn't want such dangerous things out in the hallway. Just wanted to make sure the spare gun parts as well as upgrades are what you wanted."
"Yes; that and bullets."
"Hang up already Detective Saitou~!"
Tokio could hear him alright; she couldn't stop chuckling. "Alright cool; that's what's in here."
"That's a relief; and thanks for everything."
"No problem, bye bye; good murder-solving, you two."
She hanged up. Saitou wasted no time and the moment both his hands were available, he slapped the back of his partner's neck and used the other to swat his partner's retaliation. "Don't be such an idiot, Okita."
"But who was it?"
"It was Tokio, she called me about the upgrades I ordered; they're finally here."
Okita gaped. "You gave her your number!?" Saitou's "duh" face went ignored. "You've never given anyone this number, ever! Only us and Yaso have it."
"She scares easily."
From his tone and the way he rolled his eyes, Okita could tell he must have had some experiences that left him with no other choice. "Better I can assess the situation myself rather than go there for no reason." He shook his head. "She had me chasing ghosts three nights ago. If she had my number, she'd have called, I'd have told her go back to sleep and that'd be the end of it."
Okita's eyes shone dangerously. "Or told her to come sleep with you instead, eh," he kept elbowing him as he talked, ever suggestive, "to chase away the bad dreams."
"Guh, are you insane? If I had so much as mentioned that, she'd have come over with two sets of clothes, her own pillow and a blanket!"
"That's…" Okita deflated "not what I meant."
"That's how she would have taken it," he said wisely.
The smirk returned. "Ah, but if she didn't?"
Saitou snorted. "Leave me alone. It's barely been a month I've had my car back for good."
"I never said you should get married again. Just have some fun; after all, it's been what…seven months since you've been officially divorced?" They both nodded. "Seven months, all alone, no companionship, no sex…"
"That's still better than our vic' over here," Saitou jutted his jaw towards the man on the floor "if you're still interested in figuring out who killed him."
"Okay, I get it, you're in no mood to talk about your love life."
"I don't have a love life and I'd prefer it stayed that way."
"You don't have a love life yet…!"
Shaking his head, Saitou concentrated on the victim.
.
"Here he is, late again," she announced as she opened the door he just knocked on "what kind of time is this, Hajime? Doesn't your shift end at 4? It's ten pm!"
"Are you my mother?"
"No," she drawled displeased "but for the entire month I've known you, every day you've been at the precinct, you're working overtime! That can't be healthy."
"People don't choose convenient times of the day to kill, that's true." His sarcasm was so potent, she almost attacked him. "I'll file a complaint with the police—oh wait. I am the police."
She couldn't hold back this once; she physically reached out and smacked him on the shoulder three times! "Are you done?"
"No, and I'm just saying, I'm concerned, you don't have to be a dick about it." She had that universal look of indignation on every woman's face when a man did something stupid. "You barely average four nights of sleep every night. That's gonna cause a problem if it keeps up for another month."
"I'm just here for my boxes, just give them to me."
"Fine," she exhaled "I'm bringing them." She left the door open, so he took that as a cue to take a step inside. "All I'm saying is, there have to be more detectives than you and your partner in the entire precinct," she was heard from inside the bedroom and closet she was rummaging through "so you don't have to handle all the emergencies."
"It'll die down once Nagakura comes back from leave and Harada finishes training the Shinomori newbie," he finally humoured her and shared the reason for the hectic schedule. "We'll all be more relaxed."
There was really no reason to tell her, nor was there a reason for her to be concerned, he knew that but it turned out both of these things happened, to his surprise, and he didn't even feel pressured into it.
"Ah, I see; you're effectively two men down," she observed, as she came out of her bedroom, two large boxes in her hands. He wanted to help, but he hadn't taken off his shoes, so he hesitated going in. "It's fine, I got it." She reached him and he immediately relieved her from her load. "Here they are…!"
He stared. "Please tell me it wasn't you that wrapped them like this…"
"It was me, actually," she gloated; he chuckled. "You don't like my choices?"
The small box had grey wrapping paper with patterns of black guns being reloaded; the big one had skulls all over, smoke surrounding them. "They are fitting." A pause. "You really are a little crazy, aren't you?"
"I just wanted some symbolism."
"Right; you are a writer after all. Such subtle symbolism is to be expected."
She slapped his shoulder—fourth instance she was violent with him tonight. "I'm so sorry I couldn't find the pinnacle of irony and metaphor for your gun parts and bits and pieces!"
"Goodnight Tokio," was all he said in return "and don't wake me up this once, alright? I need the rest."
"Pfff, goodnight."
.
.
Hajime stared at his neighbour's door hard.
It was the first time after a month and a half that he got off work on time and he had decided it was time to address the thing he hadn't so far: get Tokio something nice for all her help. Not only about the house, but that dinner party he hosted, the cellophane wrapped dishes he'd find at his doorstep at any hour of the day, with always the same note attached: nourishment for the restless; even the little things she did that proved convenient…
Alright. He needed to get her something, hell, he wanted to get her something now, because he felt she did too many things for him and he hated feeling indebted.
That's why, while he was coming back from work, he made a short stop at the nice, popular restaurant. He read the dessert menu and picked out the New York cheesecake; gave the order, waited for five minutes and he was out the door with the treat.
The difficult part was to actually knock on Tokio's door. he had no idea why, but it felt like if he did this, there'd be no turning back. From what? He didn't know yet. So, he took a deep breath and braced himself. His knuckles rapped against the wood and he waited.
"Ah, hello there Hajime! Back already?"
"Yes, finally, a normal day at work."
"Great, you managed to get off on time. What can I do for you?"
He cleared his throat. "Nothing, I just wanted…this." He held the paper bag at her eye level. "Here, have it."
"…and what's this?" She sounded as curious as defensive; she undoubtedly recognised the name of the restaurant – she'd mentioned she wanted to go there twice, which was one of the reasons he went there – but that only seemed to put her on alert. Still, she took the offering and slowly tried to get to the bottom of this on her own. But when her eyes fell on the triangular box, cut in the size of a huge piece of pie, she immediately lit up. "Is this what I think it is?"
"It's cheesecake," he answered for he had no idea what she thought this could be; he was glad to see her unreservedly beam up at him. "You mentioned you wanted to visit that restaurant and I wanted to get you something so…"
"Oh." She drew a blank. "I just assumed you ate there and brought me leftovers." His offense was cute. "But you went just for this?" He nodded, exasperated. "How sweet of you! And you actually remembered I wanted to go there…!"
It was obvious she was satisfied, thus so was he. "What's the occasion, Hajime? Are you trying to bribe me for something?"
Oh, ouch. "I just wanted to thank you." She didn't seem to get it. "For, you know, everything." She still didn't get it; ah shit, he had to say it now. He tried not to look away. "This month and a half could have gone much worse if it weren't for you. It pains me to admit it, but you've been a great help."
"Oh, now I'm not meddling and insufferable huh?"
"You are, but you can't only have bad qualities, right?"
"Oh my god," she half-laughed, half-gaped "such an asshole…even when he brings cheesecake."
"You do like cheesecake, right?"
"Oh yeah, no worries."
"Good, I didn't know what to get you; just eat it within 24 hours, or it'll go stale."
She snorted. "I love how you think it's gonna last more than two hours." Then she gave him a look. "I mean, it's not a mille-feuille, my most favourite treat ever, but it's close."
"Just throwing that in there, eh?"
"For future reference."
He shook his head. "I see; it's gonna be a sweet future." When she actually winked, he had to go away or he'd laugh and the last thing he needed was her getting more liberties under the pretence she was funny. "Bye Tokio."
"Bu-bye~! And thank you very much, I'll enjoy this! Oh, do you want me to save you some?"
"I have never shared a piece of anything, ever; won't start now."
She clicked her tongue. "No wonder you're divorced."
"Right," he drawled amused, although he should have been a little offended "that's why I divorced: because I couldn't share." In retrospect, that wasn't wrong, technically.
"Anyway," she tried to forget the last two sentences ever happened "I am the one who wants to share, you just have to be willing to taste it."
"Eat it, Tokio. I bought it for you. If I wanted something sweet, I'd have gotten something for me, too."
She shrugged. "…alright! Thanks for the treat. See you around."
"See ya."
.
.
There was knocking on his door; he groaned. Just as he thought he was going to have some peace and quiet, with Tokio nowhere to be seen for the entire previous evening, hoping to God she would grace him with her absence this one, too, this happened. He shook his head. As if it wasn't enough Yaso had been calling him all day, for some unfathomable reason, now this.
What was it with the women in his life that were so persistent?
Just as he reluctantly peeled himself from the floor – where he was doing his afternoon exercises – his phone rang at the same time and, wouldn't you know it, it was Yaso of course. He put it on silent and let it ring, much like every other time it rang today, and simply headed to the door.
"Tokio."
Because who else would it be?
"H, uh, hi!"
He gave her a look; what was up with her? Suddenly she was smiling in that not so innocent way of hers, as if she knew something he didn't, looking away but back at him all the time; a blush started creeping at her cheeks, too. Huh?
"Hello to you, too."
"Where you in the middle of something? Am I bothering you?"
"The usual work out, to which I'd like to get back to asap, so what d'you want?"
"Oh, that explains the…" she waved her thoughts away, just as she had pointed at him. "Never mind. I wanted to tell you about something! It's no big deal, but—"
There was ringing again; damn it, it was Yaso, again. What was up with her today!?
"Won't you get that?" Tokio asked deviously.
"No, she's been-,"
"Get it and put it on speaker. It has everything to do with why I'm here."
Saitou Hajime was not amused. Did Tokio say something to Yaso somehow? Or did Yaso contact her? One eyebrow raised high, he finally did the one thing he avoided the entire day, and swiped to take her call.
"You absolute ass Saitou Hajime, why won't you answer me!? I called you a hundred times!"
"You might not be exaggerating as much as you think."
Tokio struggled not to laugh.
"Whatever, I have a reason for calling! Takagi Tokio is releasing a new book on October; did you know that?"
No, he did not know that. His silence pretty much confirmed it for his ex-wife. And when he turned to Tokio looking surprised, she nodded affirmatively with a stupid smile on her face. so…it was true. Huh.
"So, you also don't know that she promised to release three or four hundred signed copies, with a special, personal note to the person who'd get it; said they'd all be fans, too, she'll post a thing you can submit your name in, at her website. She announced it this morning."
"I may live next door to her, but in case you forgot, I work outside of home and we are not attached at the hip." So bitter, Tokio mouthed at him; he glared. "But I'm guessing you want me to make sure she doesn't miss your name?"
"Yes, yes, pretty please, Hajime, please…!"
Ah, Tokio could hear the wife in this, not so much the ex; the pleading voice, the cutesy tone, the sweet after-effect…she was trying to get her way. Tokio could imagine the person she saw in those photos pouting and looking adorable and she tried not to feel too wanting in comparison.
"And what do I get for my troubles?"
"You're all demands and needs, jeez, can't you just do it for me? For old time's sake."
He scoffed, not falling for her tricks. "You're trying to get something for nothing, but need I remind you why the judge ruled in my favour?"
"You're so mean, Hajime…! Just this one little favour…!"
"Alright, I'll tell you what: I'll do this now for you, and if I deliver, you'll stop asking me for things from now on. Unless it's a matter of real life and death, no more favours."
"…that sounds fair." A pause. "If you deliver."
Tokio gave him thumbs up, trying to ignore the little heavy atmosphere she felt all around. "I'll deliver; I always do. Just make sure you enter your information correctly."
"Yes!" she squealed with delight. "Thank you so much, Hajime, thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best!"
"Whatever; bye."
"Bye!"
Once the call was ended, that heaviness wafted through the air around them, settled on their shoulders. Somehow, he didn't feel like going back to his push ups anymore; she too had dimmed, looking around sheepishly. But, on the upside, he realised why she was blushing before: he'd forgotten, but he was actually shirtless. When he used the towel to take the sweat away and put it back on his neck, it dawned on him.
Heh, that made him feel a bit better.
"Is this what you wanted to tell me about?"
"…yes and no."
Her spryness returned and she all but jumped around, from him to his kitchen, to his fridge and back again.
"You see, I just announced my eighth and final Romantic Samurai series book will be published in October as well as that contest Yaso mentioned." She had poured a glass of water for both of them and she started drinking hers. "But wait, there's more! In order to honour my five-year anniversary, as well as announce and create a stir around the fact this will be the first book that both the Japanese and English versions will be published at the same time, I have booked a series of interviews with American channels and stuff…"
"That's…great."
"Well, yes, but this is how I see it: Yaso asks you for something; you ask for something in return. I do what you ask but I too want something in return."
"And what can that be?" She reached into her pocket and produced a key. He stared at it. "You want me to make copies for you?"
She laughed. "No, dummy; this is a spare key to my apartment." Now the stare savoured of shock and incredulity. "I'll be going to America for a week, starting tomorrow! Well, a week and change; time differences and such. Anyway. Point is, I need someone to watch the house while I'm away."
He could see where this was going.
"I'd love to have my mom come and keep an eye on things, but she lives too far away; you though, are across the hall. You don't have to do too much, just come by once a day and open up the windows and whatnot. That's all. Pick up my mail, too, if I have any."
"That may be the most normal thing you've ever asked of me, I'm impressed." There was death as well as the eternal void in her eyes. He had to smile. "I don't mind doing it."
"Great! From now on, you shall be known as the gatekeeper; key keeper…whatever, you get it." He nodded, mighty amused. "Huh; I never thought this would go over so well, so I have time to spare…takes me out of my schedule to be honest."
"Do you want me to say no, take up some of your time?"
"Mmmm, like you care; but no, that's fine."
"Then if you're done ogling at me, you can go now."
She gaped, offended and redder than ever! "I, wh, never did I, when, uh-…" She was producing more sound than words, so she decided to stop, before she had no face left to save. Turning around fuming, she marched to the door. "I didn't ogle at you; I just stared a little when you opened the door and can you blame me? Look at yourself." She deposited the key on his table, shaking her head, but the blush wouldn't be shaken away. "Have fun with the rest of your work out."
He would now.
.
.
It was the fourth day of Tokio's trip to America and he was sitting alone in front of her curved screen; he had gone to air the apartment a little late today, because he too was held up at work. So, it was around ten he managed to return home; around eleven he had finished with his shower and dinner; around ten after eleven he unlocked the door to her house.
It was weird walking in and not finding her there the first time; and without her, the whole house felt empty. He was told he had quite the presence by many people, but he never thought such a small person could have just the same, with only half his height and intimidation value; it felt a little lifeless, too. Something was missing from his daily life as well and at first, he thought it was peace and quiet…but when the third day rolled around, there was too much of it. It was the exact opposite that felt lacking after all, for he actually caught himself hoping something happened and she'd come back earlier.
He hadn't realised when or how, but these two months she knew him, she had wormed her way into his routine and now he couldn't effectively separate her from it! Her absence was much less appreciated than he had originally thought it'd be.
In a fit of boredom, he turned on the tv. She had the knack of always leaving a usb device on, so he hoped she had something decent to watch, while he waited the house to be properly aerated. Hmm, maybe he could have a snack or two, she always kept something good in her cupboards.
He stood from that perfect spot on the couch and headed for her kitchen with purpose, leaving the tv open at some channel until he decided to switch it to usb function. But that's when he heard it. He had to make a double take to the hall that led to the bedroom and the entrance! But there was no one coming from there…was it just his imagination? Finally, his brain connected the dots and he looked at the screen.
Sure enough, there was Tokio on a beige couch, sitting opposite another young woman, this one obviously American, smiling and talking in English. He craned his neck and saw the programme said LIVE on the upper corner. Ah, that's right; it was morning in New York right now; she was on a morning show for an interview.
He shook his head; he was such an idiot. Finding what he wanted, aka the barbeque flavoured chips – with true barbeque flavour, as it wrote on the front – he settled back on the couch. He didn't feel like changing the channel though.
Meow, he heard and then felt something against his leg. "Ah, hello there," he said at the kitten that was rubbing its back on his leg "you're here again?"
He knew Tokio had no cat, but this little thing had found itself on her balcony – on the fifth floor – two days ago. He hadn't had the heart to drive it away. Instead, he googled what kittens of that age need to eat and bought it some.
Boom, she became a resident. She mainly stayed outside, but when Saitou came to open up the windows, she always snuck inside to ear herself some affection. He wasn't big on offering that though, so all the kitty got was a couple of rough pets, and leniency as she rubbed herself against some leg or hand of his.
"Let's watch Tokio on the tv. Says here it's live." He turned up the volume and opened the bag.
It was the journalist's turn to speak: "So, what does twitter ask, Tokio?"
There was a message that ran across the bottom of the screen, saying: ask your questions notthatromanticallyinclinedauthor on twitter right now and she'll answer! Just for today!
She chuckled. "Many ridiculous things;" she turned to directly at the camera, displeased "yes, they are real; those, too. No, I've never eaten a taco in my entire life. I speak five languages, other than Japanese. They are: Korean, Chinese Mandarin and Cantonese, English, obviously, French and German."
"That's a lot of languages!"
"My parents wanted me to enter the diplomatic force when I was younger," she dismissed it as if it was normal. Then she stopped and took a deep breath. "Alright, people, I'll say this once and please don't mention it again: I can't tell you anything about my neighbour, alright? You know he's tall, be happy."
Every hair on Saitou's body stood straight. Oh god, not again; not on national television.
"Oooh, are they asking you about the mysterious neighbour?"
Et tu, Brutus, her eyes told the interviewer. "Yes," it was clipped "and I can't say anything about him. He doesn't want me to, it's a matter of privacy."
"Oh, come on, just one thing, one little thing," the woman pushed and he was really starting to think she'd fold, the way Tokio averted her eyes and looked for a way out.
"I can't, sorry."
"Not even what he told you to make you so unwilling to talk?"
"Look, I really can't; I gave my word." She sighed. "If you want to ask anything else, you're most welcome." She took a look at her phone again. "Oh, come on twitter! Don't be such assholes, ask something else."
An idea was born in his mind then. He took out his own phone and started typing, all the while glancing at the tv. He pressed send and waited. He watched as Tokio took pause while looking at her phone three moments later; she must have opened the message and she was now reading. A look of surprise, amusement and a smothered chuckle later, she stopped reading, trying to calm herself but failing, colour rising with each moment.
Saitou smirked.
"Tokio?"
"It's nothing, um, an interesting, ahem, ask that I can't possibly say on air. So, like I said, anything else anyone would like to know?" An ask came that made her beam! "Usually, it takes three to four months for me to write a book; sometimes less; others, more. This once, my book is already finished, we are just going back and forth with my editor as well as my legal advisor and it'll take a while."
"Is there trouble?"
He pressed send again. He waited.
"Ah, no, just some legalities." She saw it and this once did laugh on air! The interviewer became curious and tried to look who was sending what, but Tokio quickly replied and shook her head. "Sorry, it won't happen again."
Toll neighbour said: You dare say anything, you'll never see your katana again.
Loony bin said: Not the katana; I give.
Toll neighbour said: You look too red by the way, deep breaths.
Loony bin said: Damn, stop watching!
Toll neighbour said: Can't; too bored for anything else. And Hijikata told me to tell you you're trustworthy, what's up with that?
Loony bin said: Never you mind but looooool, say thank you.
Toll neighbour said: Also, you have a cat now. Hope you don't have allergies.
"I don't have cat allergies," she actually answered out loud.
"Me neither," said the woman "though I am a dog person."
She was about to panic, but realised quickly it was an innocent enough thing to say out of context so she recovered easily. "I am a dog person, too, though I do love cats. In fact, most animals! Let's take a quick poll: dog, cat or both person?"
He sent nothing else after that; he didn't need to. His ego was stroked adequately. To see her flustered and laughing on tv so many miles away all because of him, was very satisfying. He decided to make a habit out of it. It took away some of the loneliness, too.
"Guys, I gave you the option of both, why isn't that the only answer!?" Tokio exclaimed near the end of the show and the hostess burst out into laughing.
.
.
.
"You can't arrest me! I have rights! And you have no proof!"
Okita looked at Saitou with a gobsmacked expression. "Look, detective Saitou, I'm doing the impossible: arresting him." He clipped the handcuffs on.
Saitou appeared to be emotional. "And you do it so well."
"I know, I'm shocked, too to be honest."
But the man didn't want to hear it! "Are you deaf!? I have rights!"
Saitou scoffed. "So did the three women you killed, but I don't see you too broken up about it," he sneered while Okita pushed the man inside the police vehicle.
"Where's your proof, huh?"
Okita snorted. "If you think we came all the way out to the goddamn Kansai international airport, on an artificial spit of land, to arrest you without proof, you must be dumber than we thought."
"And we didn't think highly of you on the first place," Saitou supplemented perfectly.
"Show me your proof, assholes!"
"Heard that, detective Saitou? He swore at an officer of the law."
"Unacceptable."
"So rude, too…!"
"That's why you won't be seeing any of our "proof" until the time for your trial comes. And if you're thinking that friend of yours up in Evidence will help, think again."
When Saitou spoke of that, all colour drained from his face; he stopped resisting and allowed Okita to shut the door in his face without further protest. As if all life left him, he became docile. Saitou nodded to Okita and a smirk took over both people's faces.
"Maybe you can use that money of yours to buy a private cell," Okita taunted "one without roommates; Kyoto's prison is infested with Yakuza and they don't take kindly to women-killers."
He never thought it possible, but more colour left the man's face.
"Oh, come on, I was saving that as a surprise."
"Oops, sorry detective Saitou. Won't say anything else."
"Damn right you won't; leave something for the stand."
A uniform came after they signalled and he drove the apprehended suspect away; that's when they both exhaled in relief. "Thank god your man had an eye on him and told us he was getting ready to skip."
"Thank god you tagged him as a flight risk and we knew to come here," Okita said right back, a haunted look on both their faces. "If he had managed to leave Japan, I couldn't have lived with myself. Three women…in five days…"
"Me, too…" Saitou gave him an approving pat on his back. "We made it and that's all that matters."
"Yeah, it is. Go us, yay." Some mirth returned. "Let's go back to book hi-"
"Hajime? Souji-san? Is that you?"
A voice he hadn't heard in person for over a week, came from somewhere behind him; two heads snapped in its direction and two faces coloured with surprise. "Tokio-chan!" But it was Okita who gave in first and ran to her. "You're back in Japan, hey! Long time no see, how are you?"
"Souji-san, it's been a while!" They respectfully bowed to one another while Saitou approached at his leisure. "I just landed, only now picked up my luggage." She showed her pink suitcase to drive the point home.
"Welcome back!"
"If it isn't the local celebrity…finally decided to grace us with your presence?"
"Hajime, hello; nice to see you, too."
"You're late; it's been a week and a half."
She rolled her eyes, "some things took longer, I wasn't keeping tabs on everything. But I am back now…"
"I was about to put it up for auction or something…"
"Now you're just overreacting."
Finally, a ghost of a smile appeared. "Yes; I do have a cat to think of after all."
"Ah, the cat," Okita was in the know "it's the most adorable kitty ever! She had all these black and white spots, it's the cutest."
"Where did the cat come from though?"
"She just appeared on your balcony one day and I didn't have the heart to chase it away."
"You? Amazing…"
Saitou glared at her. "I still put up with you, don't I?"
"Not the same," she snapped as she smacked him.
"You're right; all the cat does is be cuddly and rub against my leg."
"Don't compare me to a four-legged furball of cuteness, it isn't fair!"
"Wow, I can see what you meant," Okita commented impressed by the complete misinterpretation of the mood by Tokio, not getting even a hint of innuendo, while what Saitou said could easily be taken another way. He instantly remembered a conversation they had three weeks ago.
"About what?" she asked, eager to be involved.
Saitou smirked; he knew just what to say to galvanise her. "Don't be too nosy, it isn't attractive."
And he did. "Don't tell me what is and isn't attractive, I couldn't care any less, okay!?" the tall man immediately laughed and she started hitting him all over again, finally catching on that he did it on purpose.
"Did I miss something?" Okita wondered.
"It was something a male interviewer snapped at me when I sat a certain way—but I was wearing pants so who cares about your opinion, you pig!"
She said it as if the man was there to hear her and both men had to smile or smirk at one another. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, Tokio-chan, but we have to go. There's this…" the words died on his lips and a thought was born in his mind. "You know what? Our shift it already finished and the only reason we're here is because we managed to close the case, so why don't you two head back together and I'll go back to the precinct, book the guy?"
Saitou turned to him surprised. "You don't have to go-,"
"Don't worry about it; only one of us is needed and since both of you are heading the same way, it's no inconvenience. And Tokio-chan gets a free ride home, too, yes?"
"Yes! Tokio-chan is all for this plan!" She actually raised her hand as if she was in class. "Tokio-chan would love a good meal right about now, too."
Saitou considered. "There are a couple of places we can go on our way home if you don't mind ramen or soba, but it'll take an hour to get there."
"Anything sounds perfect right about now, haven't eaten for hours!"
"Just don't embarrass me; I eat there regularly."
She slapped his arm. "Ass! How could I possibly embarrass you, not hold the chopsticks properly?"
"You're creative, I'm sure you'd find a way…"
"I won't squander my creativity on something as mundane as that, detective."
He rolled his eyes. "Bye Souji and thanks; I'll owe you one."
"Damn right you will; bye now."
"Bu-bye!" And they all went their separate ways. "Oh, can we stop at a patisserie on the way? I have had such a craving for chocolate mousse, but it felt like they don't make it the same way in the US, I need a local one."
"Sure, but we're gonna stop at a mini market, too, I'm all out of cigarettes."
"Smoking kills…"
"So do guns, but I keep some of those, too."
"But you don't use them on yourself."
"I'm tempted to use it on you on occasion though."
"Still such an asshole…!"
"An asshole that's gonna treat you to lunch, so be nicer."
"Aw, no, don't get me wrong," she grabbed his arm with both of her hands and squeezed. "I missed your assholeness over there; everyone was acting way too familiar but extremely nice and I felt uncomfortable. Especially the men, brrr."
"They were probably hitting on you, but you didn't get it."
"Eh, those who did it too obviously I did get;" she was sour "no thank you."
As they went further and further away, Okita could no longer hear their conversation, but he could still see them clear as day. And the way Saitou had taken the suitcase off of her hands and carried it with his left hand while allowing Tokio to cling on his right, appeared intimate. Their banter was definitely innocent but flirtatious; and the words they spoke "our way home" and "don't embarrass me" or even "I missed you" being admitted so openly…Souji smiled at their retreating picture.
Maybe his friend's love life wasn't as horrible as he had feared. He took out his smart phone then and opened the camera. This needed a second opinion and who better to judge than his fiancé? Instead of a picture though, he decided to take a video. He tried to follow them a little, even from afar, to make sure he got a good amount of interaction. Once he felt it was satisfactory, he turned it off.
"Is that someone popular?"
"I don't know, maybe; that guy is filming them."
"Do you think-?"
"Hey! That's my best friend and I'm getting blackmail material," Souji snapped the two girls huddled together that were about to take out their own phones "and he's a detective. Dare film him, it's considered a felony."
Both girls blanched; without a second thought they turned around and left. Okita breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Not a felony, an actual full-blown crime coz Saitou would have killed me if that made it online."
He got into his car and drove off in a second!
A/N: Hope you had fun sweethearts! See you in the next one. As always reviews are appreciated. Love you a bunch,
FAI out~!