I tried to insist I was surprised to find myself going to see Sano the very next day, but in fact it was no surprise at all: following yesterday’s unexpected, transformative encounter, I’d made little to no progress tracking down the murderer — still — and I found myself not only looking forward to having something else to think about, but actively yearning for his distracting company. Craving it. I knew I’d been long repressing an attraction to him, but I couldn’t help thinking it had broken out far more intensely than it probably would have if the dam hadn’t burst in the middle of a case like this.
This time I actually knocked, and relatively quietly too. The sun had only just disappeared behind the horizon, but I had no idea when Tsukioka was likely to be resting; no need to disturb him if I wasn’t here, for once, to wreak havoc of the peace of the household. Beyond that, I wanted Sano to come out here alone.
The way his face lit up when he saw who stood at his door was… not just gratifying, not just amusing and touching… it was exhilarating. And not simply because his face was so nicely shaped and that seeming inner light made him even more handsome and desirable; there was an answering spark in me, a flame fanned by the sight of him and his pleasure at seeing me, that was as galvanizing as it was confusing. I’d been away from him for months working in other parts of the country without any hint of discontentment; why did I find now, after barely a day and a half, that I missed him madly, was almost ecstatic to meet him again? It seemed I’d opened a greater floodgate even than I’d realized by admitting my interest in him. I would have to be careful.
This last thought, cold as it was and little quarter as I was inclined to give it right now, was reinforced by his manner of greeting me. After what had passed between us yesterday, I was expecting some enthusiasm, but I wasn’t expecting him to fling himself at me. He didn’t even bother to close his apartment door first.
Breaking the contact he’d initiated, not terribly happy with just how much I enjoyed the sensation of his breath against my face, I sighed, “You have absolutely no sense of discretion.”
“Never wanted one, either,” Sano replied lazily, grinning up at me.
I shrugged away from him, trying not to glance around to note the precise number and nature of passersby or neighbors who might have observed his attempted kiss. “Don’t get all over me in public.”
“That’s just like you.” Sano sounded annoyed. “We gotta sneak around. Keep things quiet. Don’t let anyone know that we might be human.”
“Who says I’m human?” I replied sardonically.
At this he appeared even more irritated, and, finally closing his apartment door, brought an accusatory expression toward me. “I’ve waited a fucking long time for you to get your head out of your almighty ass and pay some real attention to me,” he growled, “but no way am I going to do this if you’re going to be all embarrassed about me and pretend it isn’t happening.”
I wasn’t about to admit that he’d always had my attention, and to let him know that I didn’t think him nearly as worthless as he assumed I did would just be unsporting. “Good of you to realize how embarrassing it is for me to like someone like you…” I paused to admire the glow of anger in his eyes before continuing, “but that has nothing to do with it.”
“Well, then, what does?”
“I once stabbed you to make a point about the dangers of keeping people you care about around while you deal with serious situations.” Remembering the relative privacy we’d managed yesterday in the yard behind his apartment, I began walking in that direction.
Sano followed. “I thought it was to make a point about how Kenshin trying to protect people didn’t work.”
“It was a multi-pointed demonstration. What I mean is that it’s unwise for someone like me, someone in a position to have any number of enemies — especially right now when I have no idea who my enemy is — it’s unwise for me to publicize my close relationships.”
I thought he would protest further, but either he actually comprehended what I was trying to say or decided it wasn’t worth arguing at the moment. He only grinned complacently and echoed, “‘Close relationships…'” Then, the instant we were secluded within the yard that had been my destination, he was against me, pulling at me with strong hands mostly below the belt, dragging me into tight contact with him and leaning up to breathe into my ear, “You kissed me here yesterday, and it wasn’t even this dark out then.”
“And I would fuck you here right now,” I told him, almost growling in response to his groping hands, “if it were just a little cleaner.” My arms slid around him, reciprocating his suggestive gestures despite having just said that I didn’t intend to do what I was certain we both wanted.
His voice was husky and a little breathless as he said, “It’ll be really dark back here soon… You wouldn’t even notice how dirty it is.”
“I’d still be aware of it,” I said regretfully. “I’ve seen it in the light, and my imagination would make it worse when I couldn’t see it.”
He laughed, and the rich sound in the growing shadows was tinged with both amusement and a regret even stronger than mine. “It’s kindof insulting that you’d be thinking more about the walls and shit than me at a time like that.” His tone brightened as he added, “But it’s nice to know you do plan on fucking me sometime or other.”
“Right now is inconvenient,” I breathed into his neck.
Once again he didn’t protest when I expected him to. “Yeah, with Katsu here…” I could tell he was trying to stop pressing against me so meaningfully, stop grinding his hips against mine. He took a deep breath, drawing back slightly. “Well, at least kiss me.”
“Your self-restraint keeps surprising me,” I told him in perfect honesty. It wasn’t that I’d expected him to beg for sex right here and now — though, secretly, I might have liked him to — but neither had I expected this kind of forbearance from him, especially after I’d already been taken unawares by his consideration and constraint yesterday; I thought I’d reached my allotment for, oh, the next year or so.
“I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises,” he replied, and, despite his slightly flippant tone, I got the feeling he was quite serious; he was both chiding me for underestimating him and promising that there was more to him than he felt I was aware of.
He was wrong; I’d always been aware that there was an entire world beyond that shallow and careless exterior… but I’d certainly never let on that I knew, perhaps because I’d never before considered reaching into those depths and seeing exactly how far they extended. Now the thought of finding out everything that lay in that interesting space beyond the beautiful brown eyes unexpectedly caused me to shiver with an anticipation that, though it was not in itself physical, made me suddenly want to fuck him more than ever. Unfortunately, we’d already discussed and dismissed that possibility. So I just kissed him instead.
“You know, I honestly didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” he said eventually. “I figured I’d have to come looking for you and remind you I exist.”
After the consistency with which he’d returned to my mind even in the midst of the work I’d been doing, this idea was consummately absurd.
“What are you laughing about?” he demanded. “I’m serious. You think I don’t know your work’s more important to you than anything?” He added almost disdainfully, “I think I know you at least that well. Besides, aren’t you married? You probably already have shit to do after work.”
“Which is why I came here straight from the station today,” I replied with a touch of sarcasm.
“You are married, though, right? I thought Kenshin mentioned that sometime…” And now, though he was aiming for casualness, there was a certain concern in his voice as he essentially asked whether his involvement with me was causing infidelity on my part. Of course he wouldn’t like the thought of that. Neither would I.
“Technically, yes,” I answered. “It’s been more convenient not to divorce, but we’ve been separated for three years.”
On the east side of one of the surrounding buildings — Sano’s apartment, actually, if I was judging correctly — the shadows grew around us more quickly than in the rest of the yard. His shifting movement as he looked up at me, however, and what little I could see of his face told plainly that he was dying to ask why I’d split from my wife; he wanted reassurance that I was free to pursue whomever I preferred at this point, that this was all legitimate. Moreover, I thought, he wanted gossip.
“It was only natural,” I said, happy to give him what he wanted in this instance. “It was an arranged marriage. We never disliked each other, but there was never a strong attachment either.”
“No, no, no, you said that wrong.” I could hear the grin in the words. “You guys never disliked each other; therefore there was never a strong attachment.”
I laughed again. Trust him to put it like that.
Someone had entered the yard, no doubt on the way to the privy, and started at our presence. He couldn’t have gotten a very good look at us in the shadows, but whatever our low voices and close proximity to each other put him in mind of — a cop abusing his power, some kind of secret assignation, or the perfectly innocent (if fairly intimate) conversation it actually was — he hurried past with eyes averted.
Smirking, I went on in a quieter tone, “Tokio lives in Toyama with our three children. I don’t see them often, but we exchange a lot of letters.”
“Wow, three kids…” I wasn’t certain exactly what was in Sano’s tone. Jealously that I had three children with a woman he’d never met? Wonder at the fact that I was old enough to have three children at all? Or something else?
I decided to inquire. “Is that so unbelievable?”
“No…” He shrugged, biting his lip. “No, not really. It’s just… I mean… do you like them?”
So that was it. He still maintained some (probably more than a little) lingering suspicion that I was a heartless bastard, and was having a difficult time reconciling that with the idea of a fond father.
I chuckled again and, after the privy-using stranger had passed us once more and left the yard, started to do something I had never dreamed I might be even remotely inclined toward: tell Sagara Sanosuke all about my children.
It was, as the entire conversation had been, a profound relief. The topic was so far removed from the late local string of murders that I could almost pretend to forget the latter was taking place. Beyond that, I found myself enjoying the discussion for its own sake. I’d certainly never been one of those fatuous parents that rambled at length about every insignificant detail of their children’s lives, but my offspring were consistently fairly amusing and intelligent, for their ages, and I rarely if ever got the chance to talk about them.
Sano seemed more than a little intrigued — possibly because of that aforementioned lingering suspicion that no emotion so soft as fatherly affection could possibly exist in my heart, possibly simply because he liked children; whatever the reason, I appreciated his engagement and his interested questions.
I also got the feeling that he still wanted to do any number of obscene things to me right here and now, despite the unsexiness of our topic and the fact that we’d separated to a more reasonable distance for a conversation like this. And he was still restraining himself. The angle of his body, the pattern of his breathing, the way his eyes caught the occasional glint of light as they moved restlessly over me… these were the only symptoms he displayed, but they were clear enough.
This continued desire, the restraint, and even his evident absorption in a subject I hadn’t expected to engross him so readily made him that much more attractive to me as well. I was actually starting to consider lowering my standards of cleanliness and perhaps making use of this yard after all — despite the potential witnesses that occasionally passed through on their way to and from the amenities in back — when the conversation took a less pleasant turn.
It was inevitable, I supposed. Just because he’d refrained for a while from poking around in my business didn’t mean he’d forgotten about it, and I had mentioned that I sometimes described some of my simpler cases in my letters to my children. Even so, I could not but respond at first with an almost angry sigh when Sano asked how the murder investigation was going.
“That good, huh?” Though there was sympathy in his grinning tone, I still pinched his ass; it helped me resign myself to talking about this. “Hey!” he yelped, obviously having been expecting something else entirely from my moving close to him again. “What was that for?”
For no reason I could quite understand even in my own mind, I decided to confide in him. It was odd and seemed a little unwise, since, though things between us had changed, he hadn’t changed… but I wanted to trust him. I wanted someone to whom I could explain all my feelings of frustration and inadequacy regarding this case, and I wanted that someone to be him.
Fortunately, my good sense intervened. Maybe at some point I would be able to converse that intimately with Sanosuke, but that point was not the second day of our new relationship. Some things I would tell him; everything I would not.
“The name your friend provided may be of some use after all, but I’m still not sure yet.” Taking advantage of my regained closeness to Sano, I spoke in a low and guarded tone; I didn’t see anyone around at the moment, but this still wasn’t something I wanted to proclaim to the entire street. “Tomizawa fits the specific class that half the murder victims have been, and some of their deaths must have been advantageous to him in a business sense… but so far that’s all that links him to the crimes. Apparently he hasn’t changed his habits or acted at all strangely recently, and the people around him can verify where he’s been most of the time…”
“He hired an assassin?” Sano suggested.
“That’s the obvious conclusion,” I nodded. “The problem is that we’ve found no evidence of that yet… and he’s going to realize any time now, if he hasn’t already, that he’s under investigation, which will put him on his guard and may make evidence even harder to find.”
“Do you have to have evidence? Can’t you just go after him yourself?”
“I am authorized to carry out private executions,” I allowed, “but only when I’m personally convinced of someone’s guilt, and then only if the criminal seems likely to escape the law or cause serious trouble before he can be brought in. And I’m not convinced Tomizawa is our man.”
“Your job is so cool,” Sano murmured. He might as well have said, “You are so cool,” for the tone he used.
I wasn’t about to admit how much his admiration pleased me; instead I just kissed him again.
“So what do you do next?” was his next question. He’d seemed reluctant to pull away from the kiss, and it was interesting that, even so, he’d gone right back to the topic of the murder case. Where the previous question hadn’t, this one set off warning bells.
“Keep investigating Tomizawa,” I replied, deliberately vague.
“And didn’t you say some woman with that name was being harassed? You thought it was me, but since it wasn’t, who was it? Is that part of this?”
I had long denigrated Sano’s intelligence, mostly for my own amusement, but in reality I’d been perfectly well aware that he was far from the idiot I always named him. And I knew perfectly well what the eager yet contemplative tone in his voice meant right now. Sternly I said, “I told you to stay out of this.”
“Yeah, and then you kissed me so hard it practically gave me a boner. Mixed messages, I thought.”
I couldn’t help smiling, but my voice was dark when I answered with words whose significance he had specifically comprehended only a few days before and that should mean even more now: “I don’t want you involved in this.”
The moon had risen as we talked, and now, by its light that intruded into our shadowy corner, I could clearly see the scowl on his face. “You still think I’m weak, don’t you?” He sounded more unhappy than angry, but the anger was building.
“Only relatively,” I said lightly, and even I didn’t know whether I sought to tease or reassure. Either way, he couldn’t doubt my complete seriousness as I went on, “But, Sano, this murderer is a monster. It’s my profession to deal with him. It’s not yours.”
“I used to fight — sometimes even kill people — professionally too, you know,” he tried, sounding surly.
“But not anymore. There’s no reason for you to be involved in this now.”
He pulled away, and the sudden absence of his warmth against me left a coolness even greater than physical contrast could account for. “I don’t need this,” he said quietly. “I don’t know whether you think I’m going to get in your way and fuck things up, or if you’re trying to pull a Kenshin and protect me, but either way, you don’t have to, because I’m not weak.”
I didn’t know if I was more annoyed at the suggestion that I was ‘trying to pull a Kenshin’ or the fact that he’d completely ignored the possibility that I didn’t want to see him used against me by the unknown enemy. But I couldn’t throw him on the ground and kick open an old wound this time to make my point. Well, I could — and would, if he made me angry enough — but at the moment it didn’t seem the optimal course of action.
Instead I said tightly, “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. This is my job, which I’m going to do my way. It’s not your responsibility, and there’s no reason for you to get involved.”
“No reason except maybe I don’t want you involved with this monster either,” Sano shot back, “but since you have to be, it’d sure make me feel better if I could help.”
I stared down at him. It wasn’t that I couldn’t comprehend his frustration at the idea of being left behind or even the implication that he wasn’t strong enough… it was just that I hated the thought of him being exposed to a murderer who had, so far, drained all the blood from eight bodies… hated it even more than I’d suspected I would. And I appreciated his reciprocal desire for my noninvolvement — again, more than I’d suspected I would — but that didn’t change a thing.
“I’m sorry,” I said at last, “that I can’t take your feelings into consideration here.”
“Funny how you can take yours, though,” he said bitterly.
I was going to tell him that we couldn’t have it both ways. I was going to tell him that it made sense for him to be the one to give way in this scenario because I was assigned to this and he was not. I was going to tell him that it didn’t matter whether or not he was weak when the important factor was his level of strength relative to the anonymous murderer, and that was something we couldn’t know. I was going to tell him to stop being an idiot. I was going to tell him again that I was sorry. But I ended up telling him none of these things, because the irate, hurt expression on the face that caught the moonlight as he turned it up toward me suddenly affected me as it never had before.
“You know,” he said, “I’ve really been happy you came ’round tonight. But right now…” He broke off with a growl of frustration and turned away. Two steps from me he finished belatedly, “Good night,” unwillingly, as if he thought I didn’t deserve it but couldn’t bring himself to leave without it.
With very much the same attitude, I sent softly after him the only thing that was really available for me to say at that point: “Good night.” And though I was a little annoyed and more agitated, I refrained from adding, “ahou,” tempted though I was.