— Chapter 8: Thursday, January 8th, Morning —

It had now been four days since Makoto had gotten the Kobayashi assignment—five since he'd disappeared, and, notably, failed to reappear. Makoto had hoped to have wrapped the investigation part of his case up yesterday, but since she'd never actually gotten ahold of Mrs. Kobayashi in order to confirm her suspicions, it had spilled over into another day. She wished she felt more certain that Kosuke was just off having an affair, especially since that was the conclusion she had to try and sell.

On top of that stress, tomorrow her presentation to the department was due. She had to finish her notes today, or tomorrow would go really badly.

Makoto sat at her desk and immediately took note of the red light flashing on her desk phone: voicemail. She pressed the button to boot up her computer, then picked up the phone and dialed into her messages.

"Hello, Detective Niijima," said an unfamiliar woman's voice, "I'm forwarding you a message that was left on the front office phone last night just before nine, from a Saki Kobayashi. Return call expected." There was a click, and then the forwarded message played:

"Good evening, this message is for Detective Niijima. This is Saki Kobayashi, returning your call about my husband—Kosuke Kobayashi, that is. He's still, he hasn't checked… He's still missing. I'm so sorry I missed you, I was working a double shift—I just got off work. Thank you so much for contacting me, I didn't think the police were taking this seriously—he's been gone for days now! I can meet with you any time tomorrow. I have the day off, so please just stop by whenever you can—or I can come to you, anything, please. I'm really, really anxious to talk to you, so whatever you need, please just let me know. I'll try you again tomorrow if I haven't heard from you. Thank you."

Makoto set the phone back in its cradle and glanced at her watch: 8:10am. On her computer screen, the cursor flashed, waiting for her to enter her password.

Sighing, Makoto plucked the file folder containing the Nightlife surveillance photos off her desk and stuffed it into her laptop bag. She hadn't even taken off her coat before she was out the door once again.

— — —

Twenty-four minutes. That's how long it takes to go from the TMPD to the red light district in Shinjuku, where Saki and Kosuke Kobayashi had chosen to live. Over the course of the journey there, Makoto had been mentally running through all the facts she had uncovered about Kosuke's whereabouts on the night of his disappearance, Saturday, January 3rd. Between the narrative of events and the photos she'd collected, she thought she had a pretty good idea how to explain what had happened to Saki's husband.

Once she knocked on the door, she could hear the hurried footsteps padding through the apartment as Saki Kobayshi ran to meet her.

The door swung inward and Mrs. Kobayashi breathlessly greeted Makoto as she beckoned her inside. "Detective! Thank you so much for getting here so early! Can you tell me what happened to my husband?"

"Good morning, Missus Kobayashi. So I gather from your response that you still haven't heard from him." It wasn't a question.

"Um, no, I haven't," replied Saki despondently. "But you wouldn't be asking that if you'd found him in a ditch somewhere, so what happened? Please, tell me."

"Well, I was hoping you could look at some photos with me," said Makoto, placing a hand on her laptop bag with the photos inside.

"Certainly! This way," she said, and she moved swiftly over to the sofa just a few feet from the door. There were a few magazines and other pieces of clutter on the coffee table in front of the sofa, and Saki hastily pushed it all aside.

Makoto sat down next to Saki and removed the thick file folder from her bag, as well as her notebook where she'd been documenting the narrative of events. As Saki watched her expectantly, Makoto began to explain:

"So I was able to get ahold of your husband's boss, Goro Matsuda, at Aspire Media. He wasn't present when your husband disappeared, but he was able to give me the name of the bar where Kosuke and the rest of his team had gone to celebrate. Has Kosuke ever mentioned the Nightlife Bar and Grill in Harajuku?"

Saki shrugged. "Maybe… I don't know. Why?"

"According to the bartender there, whom I spoke with, a group from Aspire goes there on a relatively regular basis when they have something to celebrate. He was able to recognize your husband from the photo you gave me, and confirmed that he was there on Saturday night."

"Did he know what had happened to him?" asked Saki, very anxious.

"He explained that your husband left the bar at around eleven o'clock. I was able to get surveillance footage from the CCTV cameras just outside the front doors of the Nightlife Bar and Grill—would you be able to tell me which of these men is your husband?" Makoto picked several photos, all closeups, out of her stack and spread them out on the coffee table for Saki to examine.

"That's him!" she cried, pointing at one of the photos. Makoto felt a rush of adrenaline as Saki pointed to the same photograph that Makoto already believed was of Kosuke.

"Okay, thank you," said Makoto, gathering up the photos of the other men and setting them aside. "Now I'd like you to see these." Makoto picked out the other photos of Kosuke taken between him exiting the bar and walking out of frame, laying them down in chronological order in front of Saki.

"Who's that woman?" asked Saki, looking shaken as she studied the photos.

Makoto scrutinized Saki's expression. Mrs. Kobayashi was clearly worried, but Makoto couldn't glean anything else. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me that. The bartender reported that your husband left the bar with her. He said he was very drunk, and she was practically carrying him out—as you can see for yourself," she added, pointing to one of the photos where you could see the woman's arms wrapped tightly around Kosuke's waist.

"Well…" said Saki, eyes widening, "you have to find her! She must have abducted him!"

Shit. This was where things would get difficult. The smart money was on Kosuke Kobayashi having had an affair. If that's what'd happened, then this investigation was over—consenting adults can go missing if they so choose, regardless of what their wives think about it. If Mrs. Kobayashi insisted this was something else, well, then Makoto was in a tighter spot.

"Are you certain he didn't just… have an affair?" asked Makoto, somewhat tentatively.

"NO," said Saki emphatically, balling her fists in her lap. "That definitely didn't happen. Kosuke and I are in love! We're going to Hawaii next month! There is simply NO WAY he left me for some other woman!"

Makoto took a beat to let Saki Kobayashi just breathe. Makoto wasn't sure what to say to convince Saki that it was just an affair—she wasn't sure she should try to convince Saki of that. But why was that? She could understand why a person wouldn't want to believe their spouse had wandered, but what made Makoto so unsure that this was just another affair? She closed her eyes tight to pinch away her uncertainty. She had a job to do. She went back to the facts: "He walks out of the bar under his own agency," she said.

Saki shook her head, searching for words. "Yeah, but… he's completely drunk!" she said, pointing at the sloppy expression he was wearing in one of the photos.

Drunk, yes, but also affectionate. In a couple of places, it even looked like Kosuke was reciprocating some of the woman's flirtations. "Would you agree that the two of them are being very… familiar with one another?" Makoto asked, hiding her nervousness.

"Well… yes! But… Detective Niijima, please… You have to understand: Koko would never cheat on me." Saki Kobayashi pleaded with Makoto to believe her.

Makoto took a deep breath and held it in. Saki Kobayashi could not seem to accept the narrative that the facts themselves led toward.

"Please," begged Saki. "Please, can you… could you follow them where they went? With the cameras?"

Makoto bit her lip. Following them with the cameras was next to impossible. She would never be able to convince a judge to grant a subpoena for her to do that—not with evidence like this that pointed to a simpler solution.

Against her better judgment, Makoto looked Saki Kobayashi in the face. The young woman stared back, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, quivering with pent up desperation. "Please…"

Makoto finally let out the breath that she'd been holding in and looked away from Mrs. Kobayashi. She set her jaw for a moment before inwardly berating herself for what she was about to say. "Alright, Missus Kobayashi… I can take the woman's photo to your husband's coworkers and try to see if anyone can identify who she is. I can't guarantee I'll be able to get anywhere with that, though, and you must understand that the facts point to the conclusion that your husband simply ran off with another woman."

"Oh, thank you!" cried Mrs. Kobayashi, taking Makoto's hands in her own. "Thank you! I just know he's in trouble! He didn't run off—that woman took him! You need to keep looking for him, or I… I don't know what might happen to him!"

"I repeat," said Makoto cautiously, "if his coworkers don't know who she is, this investigation will most likely come to a standstill. I will run down whatever leads I discover, but if nothing new is unearthed…"

"I understand, Detective. I appreciate your willingness to dig a little further. I promise to let you know if I hear from him, but I think he needs help to come home." She clasped her hands under her chin and silently prayed for a miracle.

"Okay, Missus Kobayashi, that'll be all for now. I'll see myself out." Makoto stood up from the sofa, collected her photos, and headed for the door. Turning around as she closed it, she caught the fearful but hopeful eyes of Saki Kobayashi staring back at her.

— — —

She wasn't sure why, but Makoto felt like she needed to be sneaky about this. It wasn't really as if she was going against everyone's better judgment by proceeding to investigate Kosuke's disappearance, but it sure felt like it. Really, it was only Sato who had advised her to give up. Emiko just asked questions to help Makoto think it all through. Ren had asked her what her gut feeling was.

It was her gut that was telling to keep at it.

Still, for some reason, the thought of her bosses knowing she was putting any more of the department's resources into Kosuke Kobayashi made her shrink at what she was doing.

Too late now, she thought. I'm already here…

Makoto pulled open the glass door leading into Aspire Media, her bag full of photos at her hip, and approached the secretary at the front desk.

"Welcome to Aspire Media," greeted the woman. "How may I help you?"

"Good morning," said Makoto, holding up her identification. "My name is Detective Makoto Niijima with the Tokyo police. I was hoping to speak with Goro Matsuda, please."

After glancing at Makoto's I.D., the secretary studied her computer screen for a moment before replying. "Mister Matsuda is on a conference call right now, but if you're willing to wait, it shouldn't be too much longer."

"Can you direct me to his office?" asked Makoto.

"Certainly, Detective. Mister Matsuda's office is on the third floor. Just take the elevator and follow the signs to the television broadcast division. You'll find his office toward the back."

"Kosuke Kobayashi works in the television broadcast division as well, correct?"

"Uh, yes he does, but I don't think he's working today. I don't recall him coming in this morning."

Of course you don't. "Thank you very much. I'll see myself up."

"You're welcome, Detective. Have a nice day."

"You as well." Makoto nodded her thanks to the secretary and crossed the foyer toward the wall of elevators. She pressed the button to go up. While she waited, she studied the directory on the wall, acquainting herself with the layout of the offices. This was a five-story building, each floor dedicated to a different division of Aspire Media. That the entire building was occupied by Aspire was a little surprising—this was a good-size company for a man as young as Kosuke Kobayashi to have landed at.

The doors opened, and Makoto stepped into the elevator. Looking down, she spotted a relic from the Covid days: A sticker in the middle of the floor asking the occupants of the elevator to please stand two meters apart. Makoto had to chuckle. Even along the diagonal, the elevator was no wider than a meter and a half.

A ding heralded her arrival on the third floor, and Makoto stepped out. Following the signs to 'television broadcast' took her to the right. As she walked past a sea of desks crammed into cubicles not dissimilar from her own, she noted the makeup of the employees of the television broadcast division: Mostly men, some women, all dressed in some manner of business attire. The oldest employee she spotted, a man, looked to be in his mid-fifties. He had a telephone handset glued to his ear.

Reaching the far end of the area brought her to Goro Matsuda's office. A window in the wall next to his door revealed just what the secretary had said: Goro Matsuda was sitting at his desk, pen in hand, talking into his desk phone, which appeared to be on speaker. Mr. Matsuda was also on the older side, bald on top and graying, a little on the overweight side of things. To the left of his office was a kitchenette/lounge area, where Makoto chose to linger while she waited.

There were a few employees, two men and a woman, sitting around at a large, L-shaped couch, sipping from mugs of coffee and chatting. Makoto proceeded to eavesdrop.

"I hate skiing," the older of the two men said. "It's too damn cold. Besides, at my age, I'm lucky to make it down the mountain without breaking a hip."

"Oh, I love it," said the woman, a petite thing in a white blouse and black business skirt. "I love the rush I feel weaving my way through the trees. Makes me feel alive."

Makoto's presence hadn't gone unnoticed—not that she was trying to hide—but as soon as her identification was spotted, the conversation came to something of a halt and the three employees looked her up and down. "Please, don't mind me. I'm just waiting to speak with Mister Matsuda."

"Are you a cop?" asked the younger man.

"Oh my god, are you here about Kosuke-kun?" said the woman, sitting up attentively. "He hasn't been back to work since Saturday, and I heard his wife has been calling around trying to find him. If he's not missing, he's definitely fired—and probably getting divorced!"

Makoto had planned to speak to Mr. Matsuda before grilling the rest of the staff, but since they were inviting her to talk about it, she decided to engage them. "I'm Detective Niijima, and yes, I'm with the TMPD. As a matter of fact, I am interested in learning more about the circumstances surrounding Mister Kobayashi. Were any of you with him on Saturday after work?"

"We were," said one of the men who was there, gesturing between himself and the other man. "Kairi-chan, you weren't there too, were you?" he asked the woman.

"No, my boyfriend and I already had plans. Besides, I didn't really have anything to do with the Sunshine account."

Makoto pulled her notebook from her purse and consulted her notes. "You're referring to the Sunshine Commodities account? Can you tell me a little more about that?"

"Yeah," said the woman called Kairi. "They're this business that sells tchotchkes on TV at night. We've been selling ads during their time slots for a while. Jun, you're running their social media stuff, right?"

"That's right, Kosuke and I were the leads on getting their Instas off the ground," said Jun, the younger of the men. "Not only do they now pay us to run their social media, but those posts will lead to a huge boost to their viewership on TV, which makes their ad time worth more. It was a big deal. Matsuda-san must be pretty pissed at Kosuke for going AWOL right as I need him to help me manage their posts."

"Do you have Kosuke's cell phone number?" asked Makoto.

"Yeah, but I hardly use it," said Jun. "We're not really friends—he's a good guy, don't get me wrong—we just don't really… hang out. He's not really interested in friends."

"You can't get him to shut up about that wife of his," said the older man, cutting in. "Not to sound cynical—I'm all for young love—but he just goes on and on… It gets old." Jun and Kairi nodded their agreement.

Makoto swallowed hard. She was getting a knot in her stomach that she hoped wasn't showing on her face. "So," she said to Jun, "you haven't tried contacting him, and he hasn't contacted you?"

"I texted him on Monday, once it was apparent he wasn't just running late," he said. "No response."

Makoto jotted that down. "Can you tell me anything about what happened on Saturday night? At the Nightlife Bar and Grill?" she asked.

"I was pretty drunk," said the older man, holding up a hand and looking away.

"Yeah, you were wasted, Ichiro," said Jun with a chuckle. "It was a good time. I think Kosuke was pretty quiet for most of it, but Harue may know something. Harue!" he called, yelling toward the sea of cubicles. In the distance, a head popped up over one of the walls.

"Yeah, Jun?" the man called back.

"Get over here, man! There's a cop here asking about Kosuke!" At this, several other curious heads popped up over their cubicle walls, looking like a bunch of prairie dogs. The man called Harue got up and headed in their direction.

Makoto's cheeks reddened a bit at the attention she now had on her. About half the prairie dogs dropped down to get back to work, but the other half were still watching, curious to see what Harue was going to say.

As Harue approached, he put out his hand for Makoto to shake. "Good morning, Officer. You're here about Kosuke?"

Makoto took the man's hand and gave it a firm but quick shake. "Yes, I'm Detective Niijima, and I'm investigating what transpired that night. I understand you might know more about what happened with Kosuke Kobayashi?"

"Well, sort of… Son of a bitch snaked my woman out from under me," Harue said, half-jokingly.

"What do you mean?" asked Makoto.

"Well," said Harue, running his hand over the back of his neck, "there was this incredibly gorgeous woman warming a stool at the far end of the bar. So, I flirted with her, you know? I mean, why not? I'm single, and she was too good to ignore, so I stepped up and did my best to get her attention. But I swear, I could not get her to give two shits about me." The other employees laughed. "Sorry, pardon my language, Officer."

"Uh huh. And how is it that Kosuke managed to 'snake her' out from under you?" asked Makoto, preparing to write in her notes.

"Shit, I don't know… After I finally gave up trying to flirt, I went back to my buddies and they teased me about my game. That's when Kosuke started talking, and I had to move away."

"Oh, yeah, that's when he started going on about his wife again," said Jun. "'We're going to Hawaii next month,'" he said, in Kosuke's voice. "'I want to see the sunset reflected in my wife's beautiful eyes,' or something like that. After a couple beers, he really lays on the sappy stuff…"

"Yeah!" cried Harue. "He did say that—or something just like it. I'm glad he's in love and all, but gag… If I ever go on and on like that, I hope someone slaps me."

"I volunteer." Kairi raised her hand, giggling.

"Okay, so when did you first notice Kosuke and the woman together?" asked Makoto.

"It was a little later—fifteen or twenty minutes, maybe," said Harue. "I'm not really sure when they first started talking, I just remember looking at them together at some point and being kind of pissed about it. She was really leaning in, hanging on his every word."

"Hmm… Do any of you happen to know how much he had to drink over the course of the evening?" asked Makoto.

"Ummm, not really," said Harue. "He's a creature of habit—always drinks the same thing, so it's a little hard to tell. There's just always a bottle of Sapporo in front of him, so you never really know if it's the same bottle, or a different bottle, or what."

"Not Saturday," said Jun. "Saturday, he had a pisco sour."

Harue scrunched his face up in disbelief. "When did he have a pisco sour?"

"With the hottie! Right before he left, I swear he did. Like you said, he always drinks the same thing, so it was weird to see him drinking anything other than Sapporo—I couldn't help noticing."

This detail made the hair on the back of Makoto's neck stand on end. Whether it was her detective's intuition, or her own PTSD, the pisco sour struck her as important. "Tell me more," she said.

Jun shook his head. "I don't know what else there is to tell," he said. "He'd been drinking—Sapporo—all evening, then, when he was with her, he wasn't. They each had the same thing—I saw them clink glasses together, then they talked for a bit longer."

Makoto's mind was moving. "You're sure it was a pisco sour?" she asked. Makoto didn't think she'd have been able to distinguish one cocktail from another, so she wanted to know how he could tell. "Are you positive, or are you just guessing?"

"I'm positive," he replied. "I asked the bartender what it was—it looked good. Sort of fruity, but not too girly, if you know what I mean. It was served in a normal, like, whiskey glass, you know? Nice and stout."

"Okay," said Makoto, making a note in her journal. "What happened after that?"

Jun shrugged. "I don't really know. I was too busy gossipping about it to keep tabs on what was actually happening…"

"Yeah," said Harue. "I don't remember when he left—I just know it was before I did. At some point, I looked over, and he was gone. So was she."

Makoto reached into her bag and pulled out her set of photos. Selecting one of the two of them together, she held it up for the assembled group to see. "Is this the woman you saw him with?"

Everyone's eyes went wide as they took in the details in the photo. "Holy shit… They left together?" cried Harue. "That fucking asshole!"

"Do any of you know who she is?" asked Makoto, now desperate to identify this woman.

The employees looked at one another, exchanging a series of shrugs and head-shakes. "No," said Harue.

"Had you ever seen her at the bar before? The bartender there said she'd been coming around for a few weeks."

"Uh uh," said Jun.

"I think I'd have noticed her if she'd been there before," said Harue.

The older man, Ichiro, who'd been there quietly listening since the very beginning of the conversation, leaned in for a closer look. "I've seen her there once or twice before—but then, I go there more often than you guys. Don't know who she is, though, sorry."

"You never tried speaking to her?"

"Nope. Why would I? There's nothing I could think to say to a woman like that. Besides, my wife would never forgive me for flirting."

"Can you describe her for me?" asked Makoto.

"Well, she's as you see: Lovely, if a little aloof. A professional woman, by her dress. She just sort of sits by herself for the most part. A bit of a people-watcher, I'd guess."

"Ever seen her with anyone else?"

"No, I haven't—not for more than the time it takes her to send them packing, at least. I can hardly believe she left with Kosuke, of all people, but, well… pictures don't lie."

"Is Kosuke… okay?" asked Kairi, tentatively, her mood changing. "I mean, I feel sort of bad about how we've been talking about him, if he's, you know…"

Makoto put her folder full of photos back in her bag, then got her pen ready once again. "That's what I'm investigating," she said. "Now, if I could have your names please? You've been very helpful, and I'd like to be able to contact you again if I have any followup questions."

The employees cooperated, giving their full names and cell phone numbers to Makoto to write down. They also provided the names of some of the other employees from Aspire Media who were at the bar with them that night, in case Makoto wanted to reach out to them too. In all, there were about eight employees who were at the bar on Saturday night, including Kosuke, Jun, Harue, and Ichiro—the other four were out on sales calls at the moment. Goro Matsuda, their boss, wasn't at the bar, and they didn't think he would know anything—he was still on his conference call anyway.

Makoto left Aspire Media feeling detached from her body—she floated between the cubicles and back to the elevator. The knot in her stomach had grown, and she was cursing herself for not having trusted her instincts more to begin with. She still didn't have a name for her mystery woman, but she felt eerily sure that this was more than just a flirtation-turned-affair.

She checked her watch: 10:43am. The Nightlife wouldn't be serving drinks for several more hours. Makoto would go back to work, try to get through the script for her presentation tomorrow, and cap the day off with a second visit to the bar.

— — — Thursday, January 8th, Evening — — —

Ren was in his kitchen, stirring a pot full of ramen while watching the vegetables brown in the pan to the left. At the sound of the doorbell, he set his wooden spoon on the counter and wiped his hands on his apron.

"These have like, two more minutes, Mona—make sure they don't burn, please."

"You got it," said Morgana, hopping up onto the kitchen counter.

Ren opened the door to his expected visitors, a big smile on his face. "Hi guys, how you doing? Come on in." He opened the front door a little wider and beckoned Naomi and Jiro inside.

"Hi Ren-Ren!" cooed Naomi, stepping inside and giving him a big hug. "I'm so glad you invited us to dinner—it's been so long since we did anything like this!" Jiro followed her inside, quietly smiling.

"I know—this year has been a whirlwind."

"Even more so now that you're trying to graduate early, huh?" said Naomi, earnestly.

"Yeah." Ren glanced at Jiro. "Which just makes it that much more important that I spend time with you guys before I leave."

"Okay, enough…" said Jiro, waving both hands dismissively. "We don't need to twist the knife—he already knows I'm sad, that's why he invited us to dinner. Cut him some slack."

Naomi squeaked in surprise. "Oh! I didn't mean to twist anything. I just meant that graduating early takes a lot of effort," she said, looking apologetic.

"I know that's all you meant, it's fine," said Ren, guiding the two of them over to the table. "Can I get you each a drink?"

"Oooh, yes please!" said Naomi, taking a seat. "I had a long day, I could stand to relax a bit."

"I have just the thing." Ren reached into the back of the fridge and pulled out a strawberry-flavored hard cider. "Here you go," he said. He pried off the cap and handed it to her.

"OHHHH, I love these!" shrieked Naomi, eagerly taking the open bottle from Ren. She immediately went to town on her beverage.

"He always has just the right thing, doesn't he?" said Jiro with a knowing smirk.

"Twelve steps ahead," said Ren, handing him a beer. Ren didn't care how big a people-pleaser he was supposed to be—he didn't keep Baileys in the house.

"So Ren-Ren, tell me about your big plans," said Naomi, taking a sip of cider. Jiro took a seat next to her and leaned back in his chair, resting his ankle up on his knee.

Morgana meowed, and Ren turned toward the kitchen. "I'm sure Jiro has already given you the highlights," he said, pulling a colander out of a low cabinet and turning off the burners on the stove. "I have two essays and two finals. If I can pass those, I can graduate early. I'll come back in March to walk with the rest of my class, but I want to get to Tokyo as quickly as possible and start moving along with my life with Makoto."

"Are you gonna ask her to marry you?" asked Naomi, bouncing a little in her seat. Jiro grinned at her, enamored by her enthusiasm for romance.

Ren laughed. "One step at a time. We'll probably live in sin for a little bit longer first, but that's probably on the horizon, yeah."

"Oh my god, that's so cute. You have to invite us when you do get married—I have to see Makoto in her dress. She's gonna be so pretty!"

Ren just smiled. He returned to the dining table with two bowls of ramen and vegetables and set them in front of his guests, then went back for two more. Morgana hopped into an empty seat at the table.

Jiro balked at the bowl of noodles Ren set in front of Morgana. "Dude, is that for your cat?" he asked. "It's not good for them to eat people food, you know." Morgana hissed at him.

"He doesn't only eat people food," said Ren. "I trust him to tell me if he doesn't think he's eating right."

"I never cease to be amazed by your relationship with your cat," said Jiro with a shake of his head. "The cat is fucking housesitting for him," he said to Naomi, who was eagerly slurping down some noodles.

"He's got his own iPad and everything," Ren smirked. "In case anything goes wrong and he needs to message me."

"Awwww," Naomi cooed, before swallowing a mouthful. "That's adorable. He's such a special kitty. Aren't you, Mona-chan?" She scratched Morgana playfully behind his ears. He didn't hate it.

"So Naomi, how's police life treating you?" asked Ren, happy to move the subject away from his special kitty.

"Oh, it's good. I'm beat from working so much though. I have Saturday and Sunday off, at least. I'm gonna break out my tonfa and Jiro and I are gonna spar a little bit at the athletics complex on Saturday—he wants to beat you in a fight before you go!"

"Shhhhh! Honey, come on!" cried Jiro, poking her in the leg with his free hand.

Sheepish, Naomi covered her mouth. "Oh! Sorry! I forgot it was supposed to be a surprise…"

Ren laughed. "I hope you're practicing with the best. You almost had me last weekend, but now I'm on to you."

"He's been practicing with Chihiro," said Naomi, not bothering to pretend like it was still a secret.

"She's a good teacher," said Ren. "How's she doing? I see her around the S.I. office periodically, but we haven't really talked in a long time." The S.I. office was the room in the athletics complex where student instructors like Ren and Chihiro got to organize their notes and keep their equipment. She and Ren had become casual acquaintances through sharing that space.

Jiro shrugged. "I dunno, we mostly just try to hit each other with sticks. We don't really talk all that much…"

"I think she's having guy troubles," said Naomi. She was two years older than Chihiro, who was another fourth-year like Ren and Jiro, but they'd had classes together and gotten to know one another. When it became clear that she was becoming an acquaintance of Jiro's, Naomi made damned sure she understood who Jiro belonged to.

"Guy troubles?" Ren asked.

"Oh, ha, we don't talk about stuff like that," said Jiro. "Like a good boyfriend, I avoid talking relationship shit with other women. I don't even know who her boyfriend is."

"I'm not sure he's her boyfriend, is part of it," said Naomi. "From what she posts on Facebook, it sort of sounds like he's… sort of hard to lock down…"

"Like a player?" said Jiro, surprised. "She strikes me as someone who'd go for someone more mature than that. Players are such douches." Ren snickered.

"How about Makoto?" asked Naomi. "I heard from Emi that she's still sort of struggling with her missing guy. And she has a partner now!"

"Yes…" said Ren, leaning in a little. "I heard about that. Good ol' Sato Sakai…"

"Are you worried, Ren?" asked Naomi, a serious look on her face.

"No, at least not about that. I trust Makoto, I just don't know this dude… She met him four days ago, and he's asking her to be his partner."

"Sounds sus," said Jiro, narrowing his eyes.

"Emi said the same thing," said Naomi. "Poor Mako-chan has been trying so hard to get noticed over there, and this other detective offers her a lifeline…"

"I get why she would take it," said Ren. "From what she's been telling me, that place is full of misogynists. The fucking precinct captain called her 'sweetheart' and told her to get him coffee."

Jiro's and Naomi's jaws dropped. "What?!" cried Jiro. "Wow… Maybe the PC missed it, but there are laws against workplace harassment. Dude better watch himself…"

"I know…" said Ren. "When I heard that, it really lit a fire under me to get back there. I had no idea that she'd been in that kind of environment for the last two years. She needs some allies."

"Well, now she has Sato Sakai…" said Jiro, gyrating his head around suggestively. "Sexy, sexy Satoooo…"

"Stop it," said Naomi, bumping him shoulder to shoulder. "Mako-chan would never fall for that."

"Doesn't mean he wouldn't try…" said Jiro. "How old is this dude? Is he married or anything?"

"I don't know, but I don't think so. I didn't exactly ask for his whole life story though."

"You better show some interest, my man. I don't care what they say, women want their men to be jealous of other guys horning in on their territory," Jiro said, looking for agreement. Morgana meowed, and Ren scrunched up his mouth.

"He's right that women want to know that you want them," said Naomi, giving Jiro a little credit for his wisdom.

Ren smiled modestly, but wryly. "I think she knows."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to show her," said Jiro. "It feels good to be wanted, and if you're not around to show her she's wanted, well…"

Morgana meowed shrilly, got up, and marched across the table to where Jiro was sitting, then proceeded to hiss right in Jiro's face.

"Dude!" cried Jiro, putting his hands up defensively. "I'm not saying she's a cheater! All I'm saying is that this Sato dude might try some shit, that's all. He's probably not dumb either, and if he thinks the boyfriend is long distance and shit is on ice, he might make a move—try to show her she's wanted." He reached out and carefully tried to pet Morgana, who bristled, but allowed the contact. "I just think you might do well to get in front of it, and remind her that she's already wanted."

"I'm doing my best," said Ren.

"We know you are," said Naomi. "She's going to be so happy when she sees you in Tokyo, weeks earlier than anticipated. She'll rip your clothes off where you stand." She smiled proudly.

— — —

Makoto had spent the rest of her work hours trying to keep her mind on her presentation. By the time she left, she knew she was ready, but still planned to rehearse it a bit in the morning, just before presentation time. When she opened the door to the Nightlife Bar and Grill, the noise of happy patrons and clattering cutlery did well to drown out her remaining thoughts on crime statistics. The hostess from the other night recognized her and made eye contact, preparing to greet her. Makoto gestured to the back, where the bar was located, and the hostess nodded and waved her on.

In the back, Makoto looked around the bar with much more scrutiny than she'd given it on her first visit. Without Ryuji to draw her attention away from everything else, she studied the face of each patron, the number of people at each table, and the body language of those seated at the bar. She took in more of the details of the bar itself. Her eyes drifted to the far end of the counter, and she pictured her mystery woman seated back there. Makoto headed in that direction.

Placing herself upon the last bar stool, she looked back into the bar and tried to imagine she had the eyes of a people-watcher. From this vantage point, she could look out into the rest of the bar and have a full view of everyone else; her back was to the wall. To her left, past the narrow bit of wall she was cornered into, was a doorway leading into a short hallway extending to the left and right. On either end, male and female restrooms.

The bartender from the other night greeted her. "Miss Detective, you're back. Did you find the guy you were looking for?" he asked.

"Still looking, I'm afraid," said Makoto with a despondent smile.

"Made any progress, at least?" He wiped the counter in front of her with a clean rag.

"Some," she answered.

"Got any new questions for me?"

Makoto thought on that, considering where to begin. "Can I have a pisco sour, please?"

The bartender looked startled, but not displeased. "A pisco sour, you ask? Why certainly. And here I thought you were workin' tonight!" He barked a laugh.

"We'll see," Makoto smiled and set her purse on the counter. On the hook below, she hung her laptop bag. While she waited for her drink, her eyes roamed the bar, watching the patrons and the bartender as he prepared her drink.

From what she could tell, it looked like a pretty elaborate cocktail. By the time he brought it to her, she had lost track of how many different things were in it. "This looks tasty," she said, admiring the frothy head on top of the liquor. "Can you tell me how you make it?"

"Why sure," he answered. "About half of it is pisco, as the name suggests. The other half is lime juice, simple syrup, and egg whites. Shake it, add ice, and shake it again. Strain it into the glass, then garnish it with a few drops of bitters."

"I see," said Makoto, lying through her teeth. Except for the lime juice and the egg whites, she had no idea what any of that was. She raised the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip. "Ooh!" she cried. "That's… tart!"

"A very popular drink with the ladies," he said, looking proud of his craft.

"Is the bitters—'Are the bitters'…?—these little drops in the froth?" she asked, pointing to the cluster of dimples in the head of the cocktail.

"That's right, that's the garnish. A few drops of bitters helps to balance out all the sweet and sour flavors, and gives it a bit of kick. Like it?"

Makoto took another sip, making sure to get some of the bitters in her next mouthful. She could definitely taste it. "Woof!" she choked. "Bitters is… bitter!"

"Yeah, well, you're not supposed to aim for the bitters," he chuckled. "The idea is for it to permeate the head, slowly mixing with the sweet and sour underneath. I'm Ryo, by the way."

"What's the head?" she asked, skipping right around that last thing he said. "I mean, I know it's the white frothy part on top," she clarified, not quite sure how ignorant he thought she was, "but what's it made of?"

"You get that from the egg white. The shaking is to help get it to mix with everything else, giving the drink the nice cloudy look, and adding smoothness to the mouthfeel. It just happens to leave a nice, sexy froth on top," he said, giving her a wink. Did he think she was flirting?

Makoto opened her notebook and tried to jot down everything she'd learned. Until she understood why this drink was important, as her gut was telling her, she would be thorough in her notes.

"You leaving detective work to be a mixologist? I could tutor you, you know." He leaned toward her a bit.

"Um, no, actually—this is for my case. I was told that Kosuke Kobayashi—the missing man—had a pisco sour with the woman, just before they left together. Does that sound familiar?"

The bartender Ryo stood a little straighter, shifting his weight between his feet. "Hmm, let me think. Yeah, actually, I do remember that—good-looking woman like that ordering a fancy drink for a generic career-boy? He got up and disappeared for a few minutes—probably to take a piss—and she ordered the drinks. I remember, she was sitting right where you are. He came back, they toasted something, and pretty soon, they were leaving together, hands all over each other."

"So did his demeanor change at all after accepting the drink?"

"Well, like I said, they were handsy. It's possible he might have gotten less talkative."

"Was he talking a lot before?"

He snorted. "Jesus, yes. Seemed like she was a good listener too. You're not thinking he got roofied, are ya? What's with these questions?" He cocked his head at her.

"Maybe—could she have added something to his drink when he was in the bathroom?"

"I don't know, maybe, I wasn't watching them every second. I do have other customers—they don't all get this much attention," he added, a suave smile on his lips. The last time she was here, he had said he was too old to have flirted with the mystery woman. Why he thought flirting with Makoto might get him somewhere was a curiosity to her.

The bartender scratched his chin. "He didn't get roofied though."

"No?" she replied, a curious look on her face. "Why so sure?"

"He was way too steady on his feet when he left. I've been a bartender a long time—I've seen people roofied. If she'd roofied him, she'd have never gotten him out of here."

"I'm familiar with what roofies do to a person," she said, taking another sip from her pisco sour. "I've got him on surveillance camera, stumbling out of here. I'm not positive he was roofied, mind you, but I know to be suspicious when someone hands you a drink, and he was certainly clumsy enough on his way out the door. Weaving all over the sidewalk."

"But he could carry his own weight, right? That's not generally the case with roofies. Though I suppose it could hit men differently?" he wondered aloud. "It's usually the ladies who get the roofies, I'm afraid."

"I know that it is," she said, taking the last sip of her pisco sour. "This was really good, and I appreciate all the information." Makoto picked up her purse and collected her laptop bag, preparing to leave. "Thank you very much. What do I owe you for the drink?"

Ryo watched her get up, looking disappointed. "Just your name will do, Miss Detective."

Makoto went into her purse and pulled out 2,000 yen and a business card, setting them on the counter. "It's Detective Niijima, and I'm happy to pay for the drink. Please contact me at the TMPD if this woman comes back to the bar at any point, or you learn anything else that might advance this case. Thanks again for your help. Have a good evening." Smiling politely, Makoto turned on her heel and walked out of the bar.

Ryo the bartender watched her leave, feeling just the slightest bit crestfallen.

— — —

Makoto made it home, but the butterflies in her stomach were still there. Not the train ride, not the walk through the cold, not even the pisco sour she'd had had succeeded in dislodging that tight feeling from inside her guts. She imagined going inside and hanging up her coat, then falling straight into bed. Maybe she'd feel better once her presentation wasn't hanging over her head anymore.

Makoto opened the front door to find Sae on the couch in the living room, watching the nightly news at low volume. "Long day?" asked Sae, as she held a glass of white wine delicately between her fingers.

"Yeah, pretty much," said Makoto, flopping into the couch cushions next to Sae.

Sae's intuition kicked in. "Wanna talk about it?" she asked.

"I don't know. Not right now," said Makoto, kicking off her boots and putting her stockinged feet up on the coffee table. She let her body melt further into the couch.

"Want some wine?"

"Hmph, I'm already riding a pisco sour. I'm not sure alcohol is what I need right now."

"Do you know what you need right now?" asked Sae, genuinely.

"Not really. Maybe. Do you?"

"Have you tried talking to Ren?"

Makoto sighed. "No, I haven't."

"Well, why don't you reach out to him? It's not quite bedtime yet—there's a good chance you'll catch him if you text him now."

Makoto made no move to do anything but stare at the TV alongside her sister. The reporter was interviewing the lead scientist from a study about subway suicide prevention. There had been claims that the use of blue lamps installed over the platforms helped induce calm, thereby preventing extreme acts such as suicide. Apparently, the scientists had used too wide a confidence interval when stating the size of the effect of the lamps. The reporter was grilling him about it.

"If only it were so easy to stop people jumping in front of trains," said Makoto.

Sae fixed her sister with a cynical look. "You sound depressed," she said. "I'm getting you that wine." Sae got up and headed for the kitchen, prompting Makoto to slide into the hole in the couch left by Sae's absence. When Sae returned, she set the wine on the coffee table and sat back down, shoving into her little sister to get her territory back. "Spill it," she said.

Makoto moved out of her sister's way, but didn't reach for the wine glass. She sighed again. "Nothing. There's nothing wrong."

"Is it something with you and Ren? That was a big sigh from you a minute ago."

"No, of course not," said Makoto. "Ren is wonderful, as always. I mean, he's been a little less responsive to my texts than normal lately, but I've been less responsive too—I've just been so busy with this case, and my dumb presentation."

"Don't tell me you feel like you're growing apart. You've been long distance for nearly two years, and you're finally almost to where you can be in the same place again. You just saw him a week ago, and everything seemed perfect. Am I wrong?"

"No, no, I meant what I said—it's not him. I think it's just… I'm just feeling guilty, is all."

"Guilty?" asked Sae, somewhat taken aback. "Guilty about what?"

"I don't know, nothing… or several things… I'm not sure."

"Okaaaay," said Sae, reaching forward and grabbing Makoto's wine to hand to her. "Why don't you pick something you might be feeling guilty about, and tell me about it."

Makoto accepted the glass of wine and took a modest sip, thinking. "I think the biggest thing… is this case."

"Tell me more," said Sae.

"Well… it's been… four days? Since I got the case? Four days, and I still don't know where he is, and I have this horrible sinking feeling that I've already fucked up the case badly enough that the guy is dead, and it's just a matter of time before I find his body somewhere."

"Jesus," said Sae, taking a breath. "That's a lot to carry… Are you sure you fucked up? What do you think you did wrong?"

"I just… I acted too slowly, I think. I let myself ignore my gut instincts long enough that I let him get away, and now, statistically, the likelihood that we'll find him alive somewhere is almost nothing. Ren asked me what my gut told me, and I was too dumb to listen to it, and now he's probably dead, and I'll have to go back to his wife and tell her exactly that. She reported him missing before the minimum amount of time had passed, insistent that there was something wrong, and no one, myself included, acted with enough urgency to save him."

Sae took a beat to sip some more from her glass. "Have you investigated every available lead?"

"Except for hopscotching between CCTV cameras to follow his every move up to the moment he vanishes, pretty much!" she cried. "I have a suspect, but not a name. I suppose I could put up 'Wanted' posters, but unless he turns up dead somewhere, casting public suspicion upon her like that would be a violation of her rights! The evidence—most of it—points to them having run off together."

"What evidence do you have that points elsewhere?"

"It's all circumstantial… If that, even. Really, it's just a feeling…" Makoto sighed deeply, preparing to list things off on her fingers. "His wife is adamant that he would never screw around; his coworkers confirm that his wife is all he can ever talk about; and, I can't remotely prove it, but I have this nagging feeling that the last thing he had to drink before leaving the bar with the suspect was drugged—she ordered him some fancy cocktail, and then they left."

"Mmmm," hummed Sae, fully understanding why the knowledge that he'd been given a drink from a stranger would strike Makoto as a red flag. "Your gut is telling you he's in trouble."

"Yes," said Makoto, feeling disgusted with herself. "I don't know what else I could be doing, but I just know I'm fucking up somehow."

Sae nodded, understanding, even if she didn't agree. "Have you discussed this with anyone else? Besides me?"

"Yeah… A little bit with Ren, and a little with Emiko. Their advice got me as far as I'm at right now. I told my partner, but he thinks it's just an affair, and I should drop it. So now I feel like I'm sneaking around by investigating it at all…"

"Sorry," said Sae, knitting her brows together. "Your 'partner'?"

"Oh, yeah, I have a partner now, so I guess that's new. Sorry, I forgot I hadn't told you…"

"When did this happen?"

"Ummm, yesterday?" Makoto took another sip of wine. "His name is Sato."

"I've never heard his name before… How long have you known him?"

"Since Sunday…"

Sae, ever the poker-faced lawyer, gave nothing away in her expression. "Is Sato married?" she asked.

"Give it a rest, Sis, I already know he's probably flirting with me. I mean, I don't actually think he is, but everyone else seems to, so I guess it must be true. So, my one vertical move in the department, since they hired me, I can thank my looks for. Everywhere I go, I'm flirting, even though I'm not trying to—even the fucking bartender seemed to think he had a shot with me!"

Sae blinked, taking another timely sip. "The bartender?"

"Yes, the bartender… I went back to the bar where the victim was last seen, asking the bartender about pisco sours—it's the drink the suspect ordered for the victim before they left together."

"And the bartender started hitting on you?"

"Pretty sure, yeah… He was giving me all these suggestive looks. Out of nowhere, he told me his name without me asking… When I asked how much I owed him for the drink I'd ordered, he was like, 'Just your name will do, Miss Detective'…" Makoto wagged her eyebrows provocatively as she mimicked what he'd said.

"Yeah, that's flirting," agreed Sae.

"I just wanted to know what was in the fucking cocktail," said Makoto, taking a relatively large pull from her wine glass.

"Well, that was your big mistake, right there," said Sae. "You expressed interest in something he cared about, so of course, he thought you were flirting with him."

"So I led him on? Great! Well, now I can feel guilty about that too, thanks." Makoto shook her head glumly.

"Welcome to being a woman," her sister chuckled. "Show a man the slightest interest in anything they're doing and they'll think you're into them."

Makoto groaned.

"Is that all you feel guilty about? Have we covered everything yet?"

"I don't know…" said Makoto. "I hate feeling like I have to accept a little bit of attention from men in order to get what I want. I didn't mean to flirt with the bartender, I just needed information. I hope my partner doesn't have any expectations of me outside of my job performance, but there's not really a way for me to be sure that he doesn't."

"Have you told Ren how you're feeling?"

"Sort of. I mean, I've kept him up to speed on all the basic events: He knows about the case, he knows about Sato… The bartender thing just happened, so no, he doesn't know about that, but…"

"Has he expressed any concern about your partner?"

"No. He knows I would never cheat, and he knows I could probably kick the ass of anyone who overstepped my boundaries."

"He trusts you," said Sae, smiling.

"Yes, he does. And he should. He knows me too well, and he knows what's in my heart. He knows the kind of person I am."

"'Too well'?" said Sae, fixing her with an inquisitive stare.

"Well, yeah…" Makoto scrunched up her mouth and took another sip of wine. "I just wish I wasn't so predictable. I'm afraid that I'm boring…"

"Finding a partner who really understands you is something most people aspire to, Makoto. Don't look at it as a bad thing that he knows you as well as he does."

"I just… Okay, this is awkward, but I'm tipsy, so I don't care… Ren is… sorta pretty sexy…"

Sae snorted into her wine glass, laughing. "Ha! 'Sorta pretty'... Well… I can't argue there, little sister, not that I make it a habit of really looking too closely. So what's the problem?"

"The problem is, there are probably women all over the place who see him and want to nail him! He's… got this mysterious allure… I know he seems very normal, and he sort of is, but he's got this wicked streak. If you keep your eyes on him long enough, you can see it, and it's incredibly enticing. I just worry, even though I shouldn't, that other eyes will see him and try to lure him in. And if we're apart for too long, he might start to decide he doesn't hate the attention."

"Are you being serious right now?" asked Sae, genuinely incredulous. "You can't possibly believe what you're saying, do you? Is this your own insecurity talking, or do you really doubt him that much?"

"Sorry, I know it's dumb," said Makoto. "I'm sure it's my insecurity."

"I swear, your confidence has always been your Achilles heel."

"I just don't want to be arrogant… I know rationally that I have a lot to be confident about, it's just that if I get too comfortable with that, I'll have veered into 'I'm-better-than-everyone-else' territory, and that's not a place I want to be."

Sae set her empty wine glass on the coffee table and smiled at her sister. "Believing in yourself doesn't have to mean that you think you're better than other people," she said.

"I know, it's just hard. But even if my confidence were iron-clad, that's hardly a guarantee that bad things still won't happen. Saki Kobayashi has complete confidence in her relationship with her husband. She believes—insists—that he would never cheat, and yet, I have pictures of him leaving a bar with his hands on another woman, welcoming her attention. If her certainty could be misplaced, so could mine, couldn't it?"

"But you said yourself, he might have been drugged."

"Might have. The bartender pointed out—and he's not wrong—that roofies make it hard to walk. Tetsuo had to drag me back to my house after he roofied me. I was a total rag doll."

"Well anyway," said Sae, "you should have confidence in yourself. Confidence that your gut instincts are pointing you in the right direction, confidence in your abilities as a detective, and confidence that you're interesting enough, smart enough, and sexy enough, to keep hold of your boyfriend's attention."

"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me…?" She was clearly feeling the alcohol.

"Hilarious," said Sae, finally getting up from the couch. "You remind me of that friend of yours—the one who's always quoting old movies and TV… You know, whatshisname…"

"Jiro."

"Right, Jiro. Anyway, I'm going to bed. You may have missed your window to talk to Ren, but you should send him a text or something. Don't be all stupid and coy to try to test him to see if he's still interested. Just be normal. Normal-you would text him right now."

"Okay, fine," said Makoto, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She browsed the many notifications she'd received that evening, curating which ones she wanted to respond to and which she could ignore forever.

"Do you want this on, or should I shut it off?" asked Sae, holding up the TV remote and pointing at the screen.

"Off is fine," said Makoto. "I'm going to bed in a minute anyway."

"Okay then, good night, my dear. I love you, you're wonderful. Don't stay up too late though—you have lots of adulting to do in the morning."

"Thanks, Mom, I love you too. Good night." Her attention then back on her phone, she read the first of her notifications worth looking at:

Had a nice dinner with Jiro and Naomi tonight
We talked about you a lot
I love you, and miss you, and I'm counting the days before I'm out of here

Makoto smiled, somewhat reassured to have gotten something from Ren. She wanted to reply, but she could feel her eyelids getting heavy. Not sure he would even still be awake, she sent just a brief acknowledgement:

I love you too
I want to talk, but I'm about to pass out I'm so tired
Let's connect tomorrow

After that, she tapped her only other worthwhile notification: Naomi Honda sent an image. What popped open was a photograph Naomi had taken of herself, Jiro, Ren, and Morgana, sitting at the kitchen table in her house back in Utsunomiya. With the photo was a caption:

Ren made us yummy nooodles! and we talked about you all evening ren loves you so mcuh omg i just love him jiro does to yr so lucky lol

Makoto studied the photograph, smiling contentedly. Ren had a beautiful smile on his face. Makoto felt like he was looking right at her, like he knew exactly who Naomi was planning to send the picture to, and he could see her in the camera lens, staring back. Makoto saved the photo to her camera roll. As she did so, a reply came back from Ren, apparently still awake:

Definitely
Sleep tight, we'll be together again before you know it
But until I get there, that new partner of yours better behave himself
Not that I don't think you could handle it if he steps out of line, but I'd take great pleasure from reminding him why he shouldn't try…

She almost felt bad about it, but something about that last line really warmed her heart. There wasn't a response she could think to text him that would adequately capture how that made her feel, so she ended up just reacting with a heart emoji before closing the chat. Makoto got up from the couch and walked carefully to her room, turning out all the lights as she went. By the time she'd completed her nightly rituals and climbed into bed, she was feeling a kind of happy she couldn't rationally explain.