“I feel like someone is… stalking me.”
I wouldn’t have heard this if I hadn’t been planning on spending only a short time at the police station that morning, since I was only in the habit of leaving my office door ajar under that particular circumstance. In fact, it was pure chance I was at the station at all; after two more days of absolutely no results on any front, I was utterly sick of the place.
“Someone has been following me,” continued the woman’s voice. She was undoubtedly talking to the officer whose desk was closest to my office door. “I tried to tell myself I was imagining things, but now somebody’s been inside my house… My brother tells me I’m being silly, but I’m very particular about my housekeeping and I know when something is out of place; I know when something is missing.”
The report I’d come here to consult locked back into my desk, I was moving toward the door when the next statement made me pause. The officer had asked politely for the woman’s name, and she replied, “Tomizawa Nori.”
Of course there were plenty of people in Tokyo called Tomizawa, but since it was a name of interest in my case I wasn’t going to ignore it. Positioning myself just inside the door, I listened now deliberately.
“Yes, my brother is Tomizawa Daitarou,” she went on. “I know he’s been in here a lot, but today I’m here without his knowledge. If he’d thought this was serious he would have come himself, and he won’t be happy I came… he doesn’t think anything is really going on. But, as I told you, I can tell.”
To his credit, the officer broke in at this point and attempted to get the information from her in a more organized fashion — but there was little more to be learned than her initial words had indicated. She kept mentioning her brother — who was, after all, the same Tomizawa that had employed the late Irutou — and I was amused to observe the mixture of emotions with which she spoke of him: though evidently proud of the relationship and happy to be associated with such a successful businessman, she just as evidently didn’t appreciate the way he at least attempted to run her entire life.
Interesting as this was, however, it was not useful. What did concern me was the basic fact: that someone connected to that single name Tsukioka had mentioned was being stalked none too subtly… and I was certain I knew by whom.
Now I was angry. Everything Sagara had done so far had been foolish and annoying, but at least it had made sense. This was just random and stupid, and now was causing the precinct pointless extra work.
I considered talking to the woman on the way out, but decided not to; it would be unwise to give her the impression that her brother was under any kind of suspicion — and further questioning in any other light would not make sense. Besides, I had other questioning to do.
Sagara was one of the few people I’d ever met that could make me genuinely angry rather than merely temporarily irritated. I didn’t like to think why this was, but it was a condition I could not ignore. And the ultimatum I would give him today was one he would not be able to ignore.
Stepping into his apartment, the first thing I saw was Tsukioka apparently hard at work, probably on his newspaper, at a dingy little table that stood on two legs, a large rock, and a piece of firewood. Though seeing someone so industrious under his own motivation — especially with the added inconvenience of a cast on his slung left arm — was good for my faith in humanity, none of this was particularly surprising: setting aside the condition of Sagara’s table, Tsukioka’s continued presence and improving condition had been reported to me by the lady doctor, who had visited daily as much at my request as out of her sense of professional responsibility. I thought she was still as annoyed with the two young men (particularly Sagara) as I was; she’d been happy to assure me that Tsukioka was recovering and hadn’t been attacked again.
Tsukioka looked up at me as I entered, his eyes dark and suspicious, and remarked, “In some cultures it’s considered appropriate to knock before entering.”
Ignoring this (not unintelligent) comment, I demanded, “Where is he?”
Tsukioka gestured, indicating the rear wall and, presumably, whatever lay outside. I stepped back through the door.
A dirty yard containing a privy separated the various buildings of this particular residential area, and here I found my quarry. Not expecting me and completely oblivious to my presence in the shadows just inside the entrance of the enclosure, he didn’t notice me until my hands actually gripped his collar. He gave a startled cry as I yanked him backward and stopped him from exiting the yard; I didn’t give him a chance for any further exclamation.
“I warned you to stay out of my business,” I growled, propelling him toward the nearest wall while his surprise still left him relatively mobile.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he yelped. Jumping back, away from me, regaining his balance and clenching his fists, he assumed what I thought he intended as a defensive stance. “I haven’t done a goddamn thing!”
“Tomizawa Nori,” I said, advancing. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
He frowned, actually loosening his fists a trifle and straightening as he stared at me. “Who?”
“Don’t fuck with me.” I took the last few steps necessary to seize him again.
He struggled violently as I shook him, shouting directly into my face. “I don’t fucking have any idea who or what you’re fucking talking about!” He managed to land a blow on my chest, but it didn’t stop me from slamming him into the wall and holding him there.
“Don’t bother lying to me,” I hissed. “I don’t know what you think you’re trying to accomplish, but leave the woman alone.”
For a long moment, unmoving and almost limp, he stared into my face, his breath tangible against my lips, as wordless as if I’d actually stunned him — but I knew better; Sagara Sanosuke wasn’t stunned by such a small amount of rough handling. He was obviously trying to think of what to say next, whether because he didn’t feel he could keep lying and was deciding how much to tell me or because his anger had rendered him momentarily mute.
“I…” His brows lowered in an expression almost more of confusion than anger. “I’m not lying. I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Was it the unexpectedly grave tone? Was it the look in his eyes as he stared into mine? Whatever the reason, I believed him. More than that, I felt like I could trust him. Which was as stupid as it was unprecedented.
And yet it was an impression I could not dismiss. With bizarre suddenness I wasn’t upset with him anymore… further proof that I genuinely believed him, for whatever reason. With the anger gone, I felt only the weary frustration and confusion that were such an integral part of this case.
“Fine.” Why did my response sound so surly? More importantly, why did I seem to feel a certain comfort from his proximity, as if he were a shield against the aforementioned feelings? Why didn’t I let go of him, move away from him, once the word was spoken? He was staring at me now as if he wanted to ask the same question. Honestly I thought he knew the answer as well as I did, and the months of denial and repression were suddenly seeming like a profound waste of my time and his.
I saw the resolution half-forming in his eyes and the restrained tendency of his movement toward me. His dark brows jerked down and then up again as if he couldn’t decide, not merely what to do, but what to think or feel. After all, just a moment ago I’d slammed him into the wall and told him not to fuck with me, and now I was giving him some kind of look I surely never had before. But hesitancy did not become him.
Perhaps it was to teach him better, perhaps to overcome those of my own instincts that still thought denial was a good idea… whatever my motive, I pulled his body against my own and his face to mine so decisively that it could have been described as roughness.
It seemed a stupid moment for kissing, and yet I couldn’t help feeling a growing sensation of completeness… as if some fundamental desire like hunger or thirst was fulfilled after ages of abstinence. His form was hot against me, his lips eager, his arms around my neck. Clutching at him, kissing him hard, I felt inclined never to let go.
Which was all just really… stupid… at the moment.
I was supposed to be working; he was supposed to be staying out of my way… and if he hadn’t been harassing that Nori woman, who had? But I couldn’t take my hands off him; just at the moment, I couldn’t do without him. I’d been so frustrated lately; none of my efforts had been paying off… and the feeling of him so close, his compliance as I ground him against the hard surface behind, the desire I sensed in him… it was all going a long way to make things right.
It still seemed like a stupid moment for it, though.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one to think so. When I finally pulled my tingling lips from his just far enough to draw a deep breath, he did likewise and admitted a little shakily, “I’m confused.”
I gave a short laugh. “As opposed to…?”
“Hey,” he protested, “don’t go pretending you still think I’m the world’s biggest idiot when you just kissed me like you were going to eat me.”
“I’m fairly certain I can do both,” I replied. I wasn’t really clearly aware of what I was saying, though… His arms had slid to my back and tightened… I hadn’t realized until this moment just how much I needed a chance to think about something besides exsanguinated corpses and untrackable murderers. Needed a vacation of sorts from the realization that I was failing continually to do my job and live up to my own standards. Needed to feel a lithe, willing body in my arms and discuss the minutiae of how that came about and what was going to happen next as if it were the most important thing I had to deal with right now.
“And how ’bout an apology for just assuming I was doing whatever you thought I was doing when I wasn’t?” Without giving me a chance to reply to this demand, however, he went on. “How the hell did that turn into kissing me, anyway? I mean, I knew you didn’t hate me as much as you pretended, but how did we go from ‘I warned you to stay out of my business’ to your tongue in my mouth?” He wasn’t adjusting to this change of dynamic nearly as smoothly as his cavalier words suggested; most of his face had turned bright pink — except for his cheekbones, which were more of a bright red — and his tone was uneven.
Again I laughed slightly. “I don’t want to think about my business any further at the moment.” I’d moved my face back toward his, and now spoke almost directly into his mouth.
“You’re a strange guy,” he whispered, raising his chin so that his lips came again into full contact with mine.
Absorbing heat from his solid form, responding in kind to the increasing eagerness of his mouth and hands, it was easy to forget everything else I was supposed to be worried about. As such, it was also a very simple matter to pretend — for the moment, at least — that the pleasure I derived from the taste of his kisses, the rippling of muscle across the small of his back beneath his gi, and the pressure of his hips against mine arose purely from its fulfillment of my need for a distraction.
His next statement, when our lips parted again, was made in a satisfied, confidential murmur that I rather liked. “It’s always pissed me the hell off how much I didn’t hate you. ‘Specially back when you kept beating me up every day. Took me a while to realize you might be the same way.”
At this I couldn’t help chuckling again. “You’re under a number of false impressions.”
He jerked back — not far, but even half an inch seemed quite a distance when my arms were around him. Rather than confused, this time he looked wary and perhaps a bit unhappy. That was quite a confession he’d just made, after all, and my words could easily be interpreted to mean I didn’t really care about him at all in return. And while I wasn’t ready to admit (even to myself) the extent to which I did care, I didn’t want him under the impression that I was playing with him. Not that I didn’t still save my reassuring point for last.
“I only beat you up twice,” I began, withdrawing one arm and raising a finger, “so ‘every day’ is an inaccurate description. And I could beat you up again any time, so your implication that those days are past is also in error.”
He listened wordlessly, still with that guarded look, as I counted off these points that would normally have angered him. That they didn’t in this instance told me he was even more worried about my final point than I’d thought. Raising a third finger I finished, “And don’t assume my mental processes are the same as yours… I’m more the type to deny and ignore an illogical attraction than berate myself for it.”
His consternation melted away into an open, pleased expression that went a long way toward erasing my lingering uncertainty about taking this step. “That does seem more like you,” he admitted, grinning. Again he raised his lips to mine and kissed me slowly.
He was very good at that.
“So you gonna start calling me Sano now?” was the next important matter of business he felt the need to introduce as my hands went about a leisurely exploration of his body. “Or is it still going to be ‘ahou’ all the time?”
“It will still be ‘ahou’ whenever you deserve it,” I replied immediately. Since he really didn’t deserve it at the moment, though, I added experimentally, “Sano…”
Perhaps it was my tone, or maybe the breath of the word against his ear, but he shuddered tangibly, stiffening slightly against me and letting out a little sigh. I found this somewhat extreme reaction to that one simple word rather arousing, and it was the growing sensation of intense physical desire that reminded me of the specifics of our present situation. This was neither time nor place to give in to that sort of impulse.
“God knows what your friend is thinking by now,” I murmured after another kiss; they were becoming increasingly difficult to pull away from.
Sano started. “Oh, shit, that’s right.” He moved away from me now just as indecisively as he’d moved toward me earlier — torn, I thought, between worry that Tsukioka might come looking for him at any time and curiosity about just how far I was willing to go in the relatively public yard behind his apartment. “He probably thinks I’m dead,” he continued pensively, “and if he hasn’t come out here to check yet, he probably won’t…” I could almost hear the unspoken, “So we might as well keep making out,” at the end of this, and chuckled yet again. “Or maybe he did come out and check already.” He blushed slightly as he added, “I probably wouldn’t have noticed.”
This made me laugh outright. “Ahou,” I said, and pulled him back against me for one more — just one more — kiss. “Go back in. I have to get back to work.”
“Oh.” He stared uncomprehendingly for a moment as I began to straighten and smooth the uniform his searching hands had disarrayed. “I– What? No!” He scowled at me. “You can’t just leave right after you–”
“You have a houseguest and I have work to do,” I replied in what I’d intended as a cool, authoritative tone but that came out sounding somewhat fond and amused. “I hadn’t meant for this to happen just now.”
“You probably hadn’t meant for this to happen ever,” Sano grumbled. Brightening slightly he added, “But I was just too damn sexy for you to resist!”
I rolled my eyes and said again, “Ahou ga.” But I couldn’t help smirking a little, since his statement was essentially true. “My point is that I don’t have time for you today. I’ve already been here longer than I should have.”
“When will you have time?” he wondered, part eager and part suspicious.
“I don’t know. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s still a crazy murderer out there somewhere.”
“I’ve been trying to forget,” he muttered darkly — then, throwing me a piercing look, added, “for you.”
Surprised into momentary speechlessness, I stared at him. Sagara Sanosuke, exercising deliberate self-restraint? For my sake? At last I said, “Thank you.”
Now he was staring at me. He’d probably never expected that phrase from my lips. Not that it was the first unexpected thing he’d received from my lips today. “You’re welcome,” he said. He continued in a tone suggesting he spoke almost against his will, “But if I do find out who did that to Katsu, nothing’ll keep me from going after him.”
Fleetingly he had that hard, deeply angry look in his eyes again, and I realized that his willingness to sit quietly and stay out of my business was probably actually based more on having no idea where to look or what to do than respect for my warnings. This should have annoyed me, but its only real effect was to make me laugh again. I hadn’t meant for this to happen today, but if I’d realized how therapeutic it would be I might have initiated it long before.
“Don’t laugh at me!” he protested, glowering. “Just because you’ve got no friends–”
I interrupted him with the command, “Go back inside.” Laying my hand flat against his chest I advanced, pushing him backward with every step. He only gave way, I thought, because he wasn’t really angry with me just then. He still appeared too surprised at this new development between us for any other strong emotion. There seemed to be a sort of glow about him, too — a flush of the face, a brightness of the eyes, an energy in his movements even greater than usual — and I wanted nothing more than to drink it directly from his heated skin. But there would be time for that later.
All the way across the yard he walked backward, staring at me with those shining eyes, but after he’d tripped a third time and nearly fallen he finally decided to turn and walk like a normal person. This was probably more in response to my mocking expression than the stumbles themselves. Near his door he stopped and again gave me his full attention. “When will…” he began, but trailed off with a pensive expression suggesting he was as uncertain about exactly what he was asking as he was of my probable response.
I shook my head. “I’ll come find you when I know.”
At first he seemed annoyed at this evasive answer, but after a moment he grinned and replied, “You know what’ll happen if you make me wait too long.”
I grimaced, and it was only half facetious. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You better.” For an instant he flashed a smile at me that was astonishingly bright and evidently a good reflection of what was going on in his head — an open, guilelessly happy look that seemed to encompass not only his feelings for me, whose depth I had perhaps underestimated, but also the wholeheartedness and strength that were such an important part of his character — before turning away toward his apartment, leaving me staring after him with a heart pounding rather harder and faster than I was used to.