Chapter 9

The case in Oita had been an awful, but at least it was over. Madoka rubbed her temples and inhaled the steam of her tea, clasping the cardboard take-away cup between both hands, eyes glazed as she stared at the palm trees and verdant scenery rushing past the train window. She wasn't sure she'd gotten any sleep the past four days, certainly not more than a bit of dozing here and there.

Once they'd found the spirit hiding in that house, the child did everything it could to make itself known to them, threatening their own safety as it clamoured for attention. Throwing every wrench it could into their plans as they tried to identify and bring the child to peace and spiritual safety. Even though the spirit sought them out, Gene had to coax her to provide a clue—any clue whatsoever—as to who she may have been in life. After Matsuzaki conversed with the trees, they were certain the child's body was hidden in the overgrown culvert behind the property. The spirit went quiet when the police sergeant visited to hear their hypothesis, only to trip them up by starting a small fire next to the patrol car. Thankfully John's holy water had made pretty short work of that unexpected incident.

Madoka was utterly exhausted, but there was no point trying to sleep now. Once they got on the Shinkansen bullet train in Kitakyushu she'd be put to sleep in no time, but right now on the limited express out of Oita it was just too bright, too much noise in the announcements over the intercom, too early and the case still too fresh in her mind and on her nerves.

She didn't know how Gene did it sometimes. He had stayed behind, to pack up the equipment and be there to meet the courier when they arrived to collect. He was dedicated and diligent, surprisingly practical and also very considerate to those he worked with. Knowing Madoka had wanted to leave as soon as possible, it had been he who had suggested that the rest of the team catch the early train. No point in making them all wait around and waste an additional day. She wasn't blind to the fact he may want to delay his own return to Tokyo for his own reasons, but she was grateful for this suggestion all the same. Not only for her own personal reasons—Madoka didn't want to stay a moment longer—but for the operating budget of SPR as well. The three 'consultants' who accompanied them had to be paid, after all. It might not be just compensation, but it wasn't volunteer work.

Madoka sighed. Cases didn't usually get under her skin, but there were times she felt overwhelmed and powerless in the face of human and spiritual suffering. She must be getting old, and soft. It wasn't going to be any time in the near future, but she knew eventually she'd have to hand everything over to Gene. The work was incredibly physically demanding, and while she would probably be able to keep it up for a good long while, she wasn't always sure that she wanted to.

Gene, he was certainly capable enough. But she didn't know how long he would want to stay in Japan and be away from his family. Surely he would want to return to England at some stage… Or was that just wishful thinking on her part, her desire to see those twin brothers working together again? The two of them were both incredible in their own capabilities, and she'd always thought they'd be unstoppable if they would work together. They all thought that.

"Here."

Her thoughts were interrupted by Ayako, who passed her a small wrapped parcel as she sat down in the empty adjacent seat. "Local specialty – a sweet called a Zabieru."

"Thanks," Madoka said, accepting the offer. Ayako didn't always pull her weight on cases, but when she did she really did. This case had been one of the instances where if they hadn't had Ayako, she doubted they would have been able find the victim's body and cleanse the spirit, and the alternatives were both messy and undesirable. Good thing the Miko had been lured by the promise of Oita's famous onsen hot springs, although Ayako hadn't—or anyone else, for that matter—had had a chance to enjoy the local pastime. While they could have prolonged the trip, after all was said and done Madoka just wanted to sleep in her own bed for 24 hours straight.

"I don't know how he does it," Ayako said, taking a sip from a small can of coffee. "I'm not ungrateful, mind you—quite the opposite. I just didn't think he would want to stick around longer than he had to. Packing up would go much faster if we'd all stayed to help out." The woman shook her head as she set down the coffee. "Anyway. It's just as well he's not here, because I wanted to ask you something. I don't know the details of course, or when it exactly was—but he's broken up with that blonde girlfriend of his, right?"

Madoka felt the involuntary grimace coming on and didn't have the energy to stop it. "Yes."

"So he's single, right? Do you know if he's on the market?" Ayako held up her hand quickly. "Hear me out. I only ask because I have a friend. A really sweet girl. And it turns out she met our Beautiful Prince the other day at a bookstore."

"Really?" Now Madoka was interested.

"How they met and got to talking, I've got no idea, but I've been hoping to set her up with someone for years. To be honest I don't know if she would allow me to play matchmaker." Madoka almost laughed at that—this admission from Ayako certainly meant the woman in question did not. "But I get the feeling she and Gene would actually get on really well together."

Despite herself, Madoka found herself interested in the possibility. She knew Ayako, knew the woman loved to meddle. But trying to find a partner for one of her bosses was something new. "I suppose I don't know her?"

"No, she's a workaholic. I'd bring her round the office sometime if I could ever drag her away from her job."

"What does she do?"

"She's a secretary, works at some top-notch international law firm."

The word law brought Madoka back to her senses. "To be perfectly honest, I do like the thought of finding someone to set Gene up with," Madoka admitted. "But I don't know if he's really looking right now."

"Oh well. His loss." Ayako didn't sound that disappointed. Either she didn't take her word for it or she hadn't been that set on the idea in the first place—Madoka had an inkling it was probably the former. Ayako wouldn't give up on a game that easily.

"Anyway, how do you think she would take to Gene's line of work?"

"I imagine it would go over quite well. She's always reading books on parapsychology. That and I'm pretty sure she saw her mother's spirit after she passed for years, although she'd never admit to it."

"Does she still…?"

"No, it was only when she was a teenager."

Madoka looked at the other woman skeptically. "Then how do you know?"

Ayako sighed, her sharp features softening with regret. "It's a long story. The short story is that our mothers went way back. When Mai's mother passed away, my mother helped get her into appropriate foster care. We were just teenagers then, and seven years apart, I wasn't particularly close with her at the time—but a few overheard conversations here and there, I'm pretty sure of it."

Madoka tapped her finger against the armrest, thinking about one of the half-formed ideas for a research paper she'd had for years now. The research would both follow adolescents who could see and communicate with the dead and also interview those adults who'd had this ability in their youth but had supposedly 'lost' the capability as they grew older. Madoka didn't believe such a thing could simply disappear. Whatever it was about an individual that allowed them this ability, surely it was just manifesting itself in a different way. Yes, she knew Oliver's dismissive hypothesis that the ability disappeared as the brain matured, that adult thought and function cancelled out whatever it was that allowed them to see and recognise spirits. But something about that didn't add up—after all, Newton's law: matter may change its form but it never truly disappears.

Madoka had raised this with Martin years ago, and as he'd rightly pointed out it would be a difficult subject to follow. Not only to engage the children in the study (and all the consent she would have to wrangle from their parents to participate in any research) and then to find the adults who would admit what they had experienced as children was real and not some childish fantasy. Even if they could get enough participants for this study, it would be a massive undertaking. It would take years and more resources she knew they'd ever be able to fund, but Madoka couldn't stop herself from thinking about what they might actually find if they were able to undertake this body of work. And so she'd put it on the back burner, promising herself that someday she might be able to progress this difficult research.

Madoka shook her head slightly. She was getting ahead of herself. Even if she had one potential research participant, that wasn't enough to conduct a proper study. "I think I might like to meet this friend of yours."

Ayako grinned. "I've got her promise she'll attend my Christmas party. I hope you and Gene can both come as well."

Madoka laughed. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

…

It was already two o'clock in the afternoon, and yet Mai couldn't quite shake the Monday drudgery away. Ever since that morning when she'd awoken from some awful dream that she couldn't quite recall but whatever it was, it was a shadow that had clung to her throughout the rest of the day. It should have been a good day at work: overall, it had been a relatively uninterrupted day. The part-timer who shared her office was off and Gill was in Court—although that meant that he'd worked over the weekend in anticipation of being away, and Mai had 25 dictations waiting for her when she logged in that morning. The tedious letters and revisions to affidavits and preparing Court forms was one thing, but it was the three second request to make an appointment with a client that she'd been avoiding all day.

Mai sighed as she collected the printouts from the copier, thumbing through the pages to make sure everything was there. Satisfied, she collected her stack and made her way back to her desk, the route from the copy machine taking her down the hall and passing through reception. She could see that there was someone waiting at the desk. It was a tall man in a dark grey suit, pacing aimlessly, and she smiled when she recognised him.

"Hirota-san, good afternoon," she greeted, then glanced behind the front desk, which was surprisingly vacant. "I hope you haven't been waiting long, Pat's probably just stepped away for a moment."

"Taniyama-san, good to see you." Hirota stopped and smiled pleasantly, shaking his head and waving his hand back and forth in a nonchalant gesture. "Not at all. I just dropped by to see if I could catch Shimokawa-san. I had a few queries that would be easier to sort out in person. You know, the same matter he's been working on with us."

"Right," Mai said, wondering if Hirota was aware that she had no idea what matter the lawyer Shimokawa was working on, not now or any time in the past. She didn't work with Shimokawa, never had, and had no clue exactly what kind of work would involve detectives at the Special Investigations Bureau.

"Anyway," Hirota continued, giving her a second look. "How are you doing? Everything okay? You look tired."

"Yeah," Mai said, trying to smile brightly, but the fact that concern was coming from Hirota—Hirota, of all people!—was a little disconcerting and she felt off-balance, a tightness in her throat and in her chest. "I just had an awful night of sleep last night."

"Right," Hirota said carefully, pausing. "Did you get the answer you wanted from your friend? I hope he's not causing you any trouble."

Mai felt her cheeks flush and she laughed uneasily. "No, not at all. It was just like you said. Everything worked itself out."

Hirota nodded perfunctorily and shifted his gaze away. "Good." His voice was gruff. Then an eyebrow raised and he glanced back at her. "And yet still that bad a night of sleep? It's clear on your face, you know."

Mai frowned with a huff. "Well, excuse me for being so transparent."

Hirota frowned and looked away again. "It's not a criticism. I would hope, is all, that your friend is the kind of person you can call in the middle of the night when you're having a rough time of it."

His words caught Mai by surprise. It was true. She could have called Naru. There was no good reason not to. She knew he wasn't on a case, it was the weekend and it would have been daylight hours in England. But something had stopped her. Maybe because she didn't want him to think she was such a wimp that she couldn't fall back asleep after a bad dream. Or she didn't want to bother him when he was visiting with his parents, or interrupt him at work for something so trivial.

"Thank you," Mai finally said. She had a feeling it made him uncomfortable so she averted her gaze, the smile tugging on the edge of her lips. "I appreciate you looking out for me, Hirota-san."

"…And?"

He was looking at her expectantly. Mai laughed, his expression reminding her suddenly of an expectant dog, ready for a treat. "And… you're right, of course."

Hirota grinned and turned back to the front desk, evidently having gotten what he was after. "Now get back to work, young lady. I know how busy you are. I can await the receptionist's return without you."

"Yes sir."

"And invest in some chamomile tea," he called after her as she made her way down the hall. "Or lavender if you prefer!"

…

They'd agreed to meet at the station, and so Yasuhara was waiting for Gene at the West Gate exit when he arrived back at Tokyo station at the end of the day. Gene raised his hand in greeting when he saw his friend, making his way through the crowds.

"Hope you weren't waiting long."

"Not at all. You look a bit worse for wear," Yasuhara said, clapping him gently on the back. "Everything go all right in the end?"

"Yeah, we got there all right in the end. We couldn't have done it without your help. Thanks for stepping in at such short notice." Gene slung his bag over his shoulder as they made their way out into the crowded street, the two sliding into the other foot traffic in the busy city. "How does okonomiyaki sound? Hiroshima-style, I'm famished."

"I'm up for anything, so whatever you want," Yasuhara grinned. "Lead the way."

Ten minutes later they were seated in a hole-in-the-wall establishment, at a small table that was just big enough for the two of them and a hotplate in the middle. "Beer?" Gene asked Yasuhara, and at his nod held up two fingers to the man behind the counter, catching his eye. "Two beers, please."

"Ayo, coming right up."

Gene let out a sigh. As the glasses of beer were placed in front of them, he suddenly felt very tired. It was as if the weight of the day had just fallen on his shoulders and he dropped his head onto his hands, hoping the burden would lift when he filled his stomach.

"Sounded like a pretty bad case," Yasuhara said. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but I'm here to listen if you do."

"Thanks." Gene let out a long exhale, lifting his head and picking up his glass. "To be honest, it was a good outcome. In the end we found the child, helped reunite her with her family. Even if it was after her death, it brought her peace. And I'm sure it'll bring comfort and solace to her parents and family as well."

"I'm sure it will," Yasuhara nodded and took a drink of his beer. "It's awful that it happened that way, though."

"Yeah." Gene sighed and took a long drink. "Unfortunately our work doesn't do anything to prevent these awful things from happening. Sometimes I'm jealous of you. If only I could have gone into a profession like yours."

"Jealous?" Yasuhara scoffed. "Of me? Don't be ridiculous."

"At least you get the satisfaction knowing your work helps living people in their day to day lives."

"I think you overestimate what I do in my capacity as a Strategic Planning Project Officer," Yasuhara said dryly. "Glorified pencil-pusher. The work doesn't always live up to the position title."

Gene snorted and took another drink of his beer. "Likewise, Assistant Manager? When I just see dead people and most of the work is lugging around electronic equipment." As he spoke, an involuntary grimace twisted his face. Yasuhara caught the change of expression and he gave him a concerned look.

"What's wrong?"

Gene sighed, running his hand through his hair. "What's really bothering me, is I had a chat with Noll on the train today on the way back." Seeing Yasuhara's alarmed look, Gene shook his head quickly.

"It's nothing bad like that—He's investigating some old geezer in an aged care home, we're talking really old. But this guy must've been a medium some time in his life. He either hid it from his family or the ability didn't manifest as an adult, and anyone who knew his childhood never told his kids, so it's all news to them. Now that he's bordering on dementia, he can't keep the spirits out. They pass through this fellow like an automatic door in a shopping mall."

Yasuhara stared with a look of horror and apprehension. "You think that will happen to you?"

"Well… not really." Gene tipped his head. "It's not that I'm worried about being 99 years old and losing my mind," he confessed. "That might happen, sure, but it's so far away. I don't even know if I'll live that long."

"We can only hope," Yasuhara murmured.

Gene nodded, waiting as the shopkeeper came to their table with a platter containing the raw ingredients of their dinner. It was a cook-it-yourself establishment, something Gene had grown to enjoy as he didn't do much cooking at his own apartment.

Gene spread the batter on the griddle with the back of the ladle, Yasuhara at the ready with the toppings: sliced cabbage, scallions, bean sprouts. The two worked together to build their meals on the grill, frying yakisoba noodles on the side and finally cracking the eggs so as not to overcook them.

"But I can't help but think, you know, that one day this will all just disappear," Gene continued as they assembled their dinner. "I could wake up tomorrow and not see spirits anymore. And if that does…" his voice trailed off. "I have no Plan B. I don't know what I would do."

Yasuhara frowned, his eyes narrowed as he focused on spreading mayonnaise on the top of his steaming okonomiyaki, topping with a liberal amount of ginger garnish. "First of all, I don't think it's fair to say you have no Plan B. Your work at SPR isn't entirely dependent on being a medium, is it?"

Gene opened his mouth to protest but Yasuhara interrupted him before he could get one word in.

"Your brother isn't a medium, is he?" Yasuhara gave him a pointed look. "It would be different, yes. I'm not saying it wouldn't be a challenge. Fuck, man, I can't even imagine." Yasuhara shook his head. "I can try to empathise but it's like… it'd be like losing my sight, right? Or hearing, or taste, or smell. You'd be losing one of your senses. Of course it would be hard. I might be speaking out of line, but I would guess it would be traumatic. But," Yasuhara shrugged, then, passing the container of aonori seaweed across the table. "You'd survive. You'd adapt. Though whether or not you'd want to continue in the work is another matter entirely."

Gene gazed at the griddle, watching a bead of moisture dance across the surface until it dissipated into steam. Maybe Yasuhara was right. Everything would change, but he could stay at SPR.

Or could he? Gene tried to imagine leading the team at SPR as he did now, but his current interactions with the other members hinged on him participating in the investigation the way he did now—by being able to gather information firsthand, speaking to the spirits they'd been called to eradicate. No disrespect to Madoka, but he couldn't imagine being in her position. He was just so used to feeling out the situation based on what spirits he encountered—or didn't—once they were on the case.

Then maybe BSPR, Gene frowned, and he imagined working a case with his brother. Surely, he could still work with Noll, under Noll's leadership. But all he could think of was all the times Noll had turned to him, hopeful, expectant—waiting for him to corroborate his hypothesis, wanting to know if his sight could prove or disprove, or point them in the right direction of their enquiries. Could he really stay in the field as a regular investigator? How could he work at Noll's side when he had nothing to offer?

"No use thinking about it too much now," Yasuhara sighed, interrupting his thoughts. "Eat before it gets cold."

Gene jolted to attention. "Sorry," he mumbled, setting down his drink and picking up the spatula. "I guess it's been a long day."

"Besides," Yasuhara continued, picking up his beer. "Is that even a possibility for you? I thought you told me that most mediums lose their ability to see spirits, if at all, at adolescence or early adulthood. But you haven't. I thought that was one of the reasons why you and your brother are so renowned."

"Right," Gene snorted, portioning off a bite-sized piece of okonomiyaki with the spatula and lifting the steaming morsel into the air. "Because we're special."

Yasuhara rolled his eyes. "You sound like an ass when you say that, but, in so many words, yes. Maybe better to say you're exceptional."

Gene took a bite and immediately regretted it, the food still too hot from the griddle to eat and he sucked air through his mouth in an effort to cool the food before he swallowed it. "An' jus' 'cause I 'aven't—"

"Sorry, come again?" Yasuhara smirked.

Gene managed to swallow the hot food, giving his friend a playful glowering look. "Just because I haven't lost my sight yet, doesn't mean it couldn't happen today, tomorrow, the day after…" His voice trailed off and his thoughts drifted again. When he thought about it, what was the sense of loss, of longing? He could care less about being the assistant manager at SPR. Sure, he generally enjoyed his work, he'd had a good run of it. He'd had some unforgettable experiences, had had the opportunity to meet those both living and dead that had completely changed his life for the better.

But when he thought of Noll. When he thought of being so far away in Tokyo while his brother doggedly continued his research in England—his heart constricted in his chest painfully. Maybe he'd been blind, ignoring how much he enjoyed working together. Always thinking he'd have a chance to work with him in the future, whenever that may be. But what if he woke up tomorrow and didn't see spirits anymore? What if it all disappeared?

"What is it?" Yasuhara asked, looking at him worriedly.

Gene sighed, resting his head on his hand. "I guess this was a helpful little thought experiment, after all. This all made me realise something." His lips twitched sardonically. "Because if I did—if I did lose my ability to see spirits, there's only one thing that really disappoints me. Only one thing that really bums me out."

"And that is..?"

"That I didn't get to work more cases with Noll." Gene let out a heavy sigh. "And there's only one way to remedy that."

Yasuhara sat in stunned silence. "Don't tell me you're thinking of going back to England—"

"No way. That dreary place?" Gene chortled, a grin spreading across his lips. "Nah. I just need to get Noll to work a few cases with SPR when he visits. Trust me. Once he gets a taste for what we do here, there'll be no going back. He'll be packing up and leaving England within the year."

Yasuhara laughed, shaking his head as he turned his spatula back to his meal. "I'll have to remind you when you're complaining about him that this is exactly what you wanted."

"I won't complain," Gene said stubbornly.

"Then I hope not." With his other hand Yasuhara picked up his beer, grinning as he clinked his glass against his friend's. "I sincerely hope not."

…

Gene let out a long sigh as he returned to his apartment that night, his shoulders drooping as he dropped his overnight bag to the floor and he released the tension he hadn't realised he'd been carrying for the past five? six? days—how long had he been away from home this time, anyway? After day four he tended to lose track, the days and sleepless night blurring into the next. Gene let the door close behind him and sank onto his heels in the entryway, leaning back against the wall in the dim, quiet space.

It had been great to meet up with Yasuhara for dinner, but it was nice to finally return to his own home. Not that it felt particularly like home. Gene had only lived in this flat since August, but between going away for cases for days at a time, visiting his family back to England for a few weeks, he'd probably spent more time away than actually in his own place—it felt more like a temporary place to store his belongings than anything else. There were boxes of books he still hadn't unpacked sitting against the wall, a box of kitchen wares that obviously weren't necessary as he'd only retrieved the essentials, and a plastic tub shoved in a corned that held his winter duvet and jumpers it was probably time to unearth. But unpacking that would mean he'd have to go buy some clothes hangers so he could hang them up on the rack, and that was a hurdle he wasn't prepared to make.

Gene sighed and closed his eyes, tipping his head back to rest against the wall. His last visit to England was three—no, four now—weeks ago, but it might as well have been another lifetime. He'd accompanied Noll on a few cases with the team he'd cobbled together at BSPR. It surprised him how easily he slipped back into that role, working with his brother. Lin was dependable as always, but there were interpersonal issues between some of the other assistants that was obviously becoming more and more of an issue as time went by.

Honestly, he'd had a great time. Sure, Noll's silence when he didn't want to talk and his bluntness when he did could get on his nerves. But he'd always communicated when he needed to, and part of Noll's terseness was a product of his team members. Gene realised that Noll didn't truly trust them, didn't open up to them the way he did when it was just Gene and Lin and Madoka. Maybe because they didn't know him before he was the esteemed Oliver Davis, researcher extraordinaire, the boy who lived—

Gene snorted, irritated with himself for even having had the thought. Not that many people knew even half the details of what had happened, but surely word had circulated through the ranks of BSPR, small organisation that it was. Noll's team would at least have heard the rumour that someone had tried to kill him. Tried and almost succeeded. The rest of the details—well, Gene had heard it all. A failed exorcism, a vengeful ghost. A disgruntled client who hadn't gotten the answer he wanted and came after Noll with a knife. A jealous colleague who couldn't stand his fame and plotted against him, finally snapping in a fit of rage. A rabid, obsessed fan that tried to lock him up in a basement and Noll had blasted to smithereens to escape. There were elements of truth in these stories, but the whole truth was less interesting—well, at least less interesting than the sex dungeon. Sometimes Gene wondered if Madoka had started that particular rumour as a joke, blithely oblivious to the fact it would catch on.

Gene rose to his feet, toeing off his shoes and switching on the light. Maybe because he'd been avoiding thinking about it, but now that he acknowledged it he couldn't ignore the fact that he wanted to work cases with his brother again. At the same time, Gene knew he didn't want to return to England. If he could, he wanted to stay in Japan. Which meant there was only one solution to the problem at hand.

The problem, of course, was that the solution wasn't as easy as it sounded. Gene frowned, deep in thought as he unpacked his bag. Noll had always been cautious. Never timid, but cautious, and after that incident—the 'accident', as Luella insisted on referring to it, to make sure Noll knew no one blamed him for what happened—he was even more so. So cautious that despite Gene's cajoling it had taken five years for him to finally buy that plane ticket to come visit him for a week. Well… not that Noll hadn't been legitimately busy. But he could have made a break in his cases and conferences if he'd wanted to.

Before the accident, Gene wondered if Noll was jealous of his cases in Japan—after all, everything was novel, uncharted territory. Noll had his share of travel: he'd been sought out by high-ranking officials from around Britain, even flown to America to help solve a case. Presented at paranormal conferences in the UK and around the continent, invited to attend investigations with an interpreter in Portugal, France, Latvia. Wherever they could convince him it was interesting enough to go and he didn't have anything better to do.

But the brothers always been drawn to stories and accounts of spiritual phenomenon from Japan, as children and into their adult lives. Maybe because of their ancestry, a cultural heritage they had been denied after the death of their birth mother. So when Madoka asked Gene to accompany her to open Shibuya Psychic Research—and only Gene, was Noll really so unbothered by it? He'd asked the question but Noll dismissed him. Someone had to lead cases at BSPR, it was only natural that he continue his work in England, and Noll argued Luella would be devastated if both her sons moved to a foreign country, even if only temporarily. Besides, Gene would share all of his case notes. Noll would get to see all the cases by reading about them after the fact. As if that would be good enough.

Noll had never been forthcoming, but it was rare for him to be able to completely hide his feelings from his brother. Now Gene wondered if Noll had been completely honest with him. Would he have wanted to come with him? Together? Instead of him? Gene knew Noll would never tell him now.

The accident. Something changed, after that. It wasn't that Noll was afraid of leaving the comfort or safety of his home. He still took cases, attended conferences, invitations to investigations outside of Britain. And yet, the reticence to visit his twin in Japan. Almost as if he didn't want to know what he was missing out on—

Gene's mobile chimed and he picked it up, his eyes first widening in surprise and then narrowing in suspicion as he saw the name of the sender, all thoughts completely interrupted. Annie Wright. Cautiously, he picked up the phone to unlock it, swiping open to read the incoming text.

I'm so sorry about all of this. I probably shouldn't have done any of this. Give me a call?

Gene's face twisted into a scowl and tossed the mobile onto the top of his futon where it lay folded against the wall.

A little late saying this now, he wanted to say. And only now he was able to see how typical her apology was. She probably shouldn't have done it? She could say she was sorry but couldn't bring herself to say with certainty that she'd been in the wrong. And what exactly did she want to retract—was it the ignoring his calls and texts and cheating on him when they were still together, or everything that had transpired after he finally called it off?

Gene wanted to delete the message and ignore it, but decided only for the latter. His solicitor had advised him not to make contact with Annie while the legal proceedings were underway. If he had word from Gill saying she'd dropped the matter and was going to cover his legal fees, well then…

No. If he was honest, he never wanted to talk to Annie again.

Gene sighed and made his way to the small kitchenette, checking if there was water in the kettle before turning on the burner. Counting the days in his head again, he dumped the old water into the sink and refilled the kettle at the tap.

Five years. If only none of it had happened, that easy refrain returned. Five years wasted. Why had it taken so long? Only now he could see how poorly she'd treated him. If only…

If only he'd met someone like Mai instead. What if Matsuzaki had introduced them?

Gene shook his head vigorously. He knew there was no sense in thinking what if's, and it wasn't an avenue he wanted to chase when Mai was clearly not interested in dating one of her firm's clients. Of course, if none of this had happened with Annie, then he wouldn't have gone to the law firm in the first place.

Mai had called him that afternoon. Not that he'd known it was her, at first. After his conversation with Noll, he'd hung up only to see a missed call from the law firm and one new voicemail. It was a polite message: an apology for interrupting his work when he was busy, asking if he could please return her call at the office to schedule an appointment. It was nothing urgent, she assured him, just that Gill wanted to run through a few things would be much easier done in person.

He hadn't called her back yet.

Gene sighed and fixed himself a cup of instant coffee. Leaving the cup on the kitchen bench, he crossed the room and picked up his phone, glancing again at the message before opening Annie's contact and blocking her lest she try to call him.

Unfolding his futon, he retrieved his cup and settled cross-legged on top of it.

Gene's phone chimed again with another incoming text. His first reaction was of disbelief—was she really so persistent? Did she know he'd blocked her, and had sent another message from a different number? But when he picked up his phone he saw it was a message from Matsuzaki.

Save the date everyone! Christmas party at my place, Saturday 16 December. Nibbles and drinks from 6pm. 6 Chome-8-10 Roppongi, Minato-ku. RSVP by this Saturday

Gene couldn't help but smile. How typical for the miko to throw a Christmas party. A second SMS came through moments later.

P.S. Gene, hope you can make it! I'm hoping everyone from SPR will be there.

His phone chimed again. This time it was Madoka.

You in? I'll organise a designated driver.

Gene snorted a laugh as he keyed his reply. Sure, why not. Check with John, he doesn't drink.

Her reply was almost instantaneous. Already sorted ️

Gene let out another laugh and flopped back onto his futon. He would be lying if he said he wasn't hoping Mai would be there.

What had he said when he'd convinced her, clearly against her better judgement, to join him for coffee?

It's hard for me to make friends so I don't want to let one pass me by.

Why did he want to see her so badly?

Birds of feather. Just friends. Just a chat.

"I can make do with that," Gene mumbled aloud, closing his eyes as sleep overtook him.

A/N:

LOL. Do lawyers/professionals/secretaries still use dictations? I wouldn't know. Let's just pretend it's not completely outdated and hasn't been replaced by AI. (If you are a person who has done dictations, you may agree that sometimes it is the 5 second request "do such and such" which might take you all day. This is my recollection.)

So, this chapter caught me by surprise, short as it was. Gene's troubled mind took us places I wasn't expecting or originally intending. It wasn't the plan for Gene to drop all those hints about Naru's incident just yet... but I suppose it's as good a time as any? I must confess I've been getting a little impatient, so it's good to keep things move move moving along. I hope it has piqued your interest~

If you were curious about Ayako's Roppongi address... it is 100% uninteresting, don't bother looking it up. It's just a Family Mart. (This is a work of fiction afterall ;)

Finally, so so sorry this update is much later than I intended! And thank you thank you Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it~~~

Hope you are happy, healthy and well, wherever you may be. Happy New Year!

~abbq