The personal conviction I’d told Sano I lacked in regard to Tomizawa was becoming more of a possibility. The farther we looked into his affairs, the stranger they seemed — and, while there wasn’t yet any definitive evidence linking him with the murders, certain facts that came to light appeared to make it only a matter of time.
Oddly, he didn’t seem to have observed that he was being investigated. With police spies prying into various aspects of his professional and personal life, the only likely explanations I could see for his evident indifference were that he was stupid enough not to have noticed, or secure enough not even to twitch under scrutiny. And judging by his confident, dictatorial personality, the latter seemed more likely.
Yet he should be worried. If he had any sense, he must be worried, since he did have at least one thing to hide. His sister Nori’s fiance, one Shibue Touru, had cleanly disappeared just a few months before, and Tomizawa had hushed it up. Apparently he’d told his sister he was working with the police trying to find Shibue — which was what she’d meant, that day she’d come to the station, in saying, “I know he’s been in here a lot” — but this was the very first the police had heard of the matter. And why would a man that had abetted a criminal in his flight (for this was, I thought, the most likely explanation for the circumstance) remain so completely unperturbed under police investigation?
In any case, after a few days of snooping, the missing Shibue became a suspect, more questions than only the aforementioned were raised, and I had a specific line of inquiry to pursue — which was all extremely satisfying in comparison to what had gone before.
It seemed to me that the unknown entity whose surreptitious presence and occasional forays into Nori’s house had sent the woman to the police in the first place might well be Shibue: the criminal on the run still missed his fiance and longed to see her, and occasionally also found it convenient to obtain supplies or temporary shelter in a home where, if he was caught, his presence would be far less likely to draw immediate police attention — since Nori was obviously completely ignorant of whatever her husband-to-be had done to force him into hiding.
So the next step was to see if I could manage to track down Nori’s stalker. I had to be the one to do it, since not one of the police agents available for my use did I trust with such a task. Hironaku was extremely disappointed, but he was also heavy-footed and absolutely out of the question. Besides, if I saw a chance to confront the unknown watcher and attempt to bring him in, I was going to take it, and I didn’t trust any of my subordinates with that task either.
Nori’s report had indicated she was primarily being watched at night (which seemed to contraindicate the possible other explanation that her overzealous brother had assigned her a bodyguard without telling her), so the next step must obviously be to mimic the watcher and quietly observe Nori’s home at night in the hopes of observing more than just that.
Here she was to have lived with Shibue, and it had been, I’d come to understand, set up with her brother’s funds as a would-have-been wedding present: a good-sized house in a neighborhood with more pretensions than real class but plenty of real money. As such, this was an inconvenient monitoring job with its large perimeter and number of sides to the building, but at least the resultant complexity — the necessity of regular surreptitious shifting of position in order to regularly cover the entire area — granted an interest to the proceedings that might otherwise have been absent.
And someone besides me was definitely watching the place, though whoever he was, he was too skilled to pinpoint right away. Starting just after full darkness had fallen, I detected some interest pointed toward the house from somewhere in the immediate vicinity, but it seemed to be quickly snuffed out every time I concentrated on locating it more precisely. In fact it took me the entire night to become convinced I wasn’t imagining things. Like Tomizawa himself, the anonymous presence was probably aware of and apathetic toward the police surveillance. Which brought up the bodyguard theory again but certainly could not confirm it.
By the time sunrise neared and the presence disappeared as subtly as it had been manifesting all night, I’d learned nothing definitive, only confirmed Nori’s suspicion of being watched. I had no clear indication of criminal activity here, nor that the watcher — Shibue or whoever he turned out to be — had any connection whatsoever with the murders. Nevertheless I felt I’d made progress; as previously mentioned, having what seemed like a clear path to follow, even if it turned out to be a tangent, made for a remarkable contrast in morale. I had a plan for the next night — possibly the next few nights, depending on how skilled the watcher really was — and no need to sit idly waiting for anyone else to bring me information.
This time, despite my improved mood, it was a bit of a surprise when I found myself heading in the direction of Sano’s neighborhood without thinking. After avoiding him for the last couple of days, my desire to see him certainly hadn’t diminished, but I hadn’t thought it particularly increased either. Evidently I’d been wrong.
Continually showing up at Sano’s home very clearly not on police business was hardly in keeping with the careful behavior I had recommended to myself the last time I was here, but somehow, despite being aware of that, the direction of my steps did not change. Indeed, with this on my mind, I thought they actually hastened, as if to say, “Well, if I’m going to do this, I might as well get it over with quickly.” Or perhaps just wanting to get to him sooner for his own sake.
This neighborhood was not the type to be busy at dawn, but still there were a few people about. It was the type of neighborhood to be wary of cops, and my uniform won me some looks suspicious and even bitter — proportional to the small number of pedestrians, quite a few looks suspicious and even bitter. But I ignored them and hurried on.
He was sure to be asleep; I couldn’t picture him up before about noon unless he’d never gone to bed in the first place. Of Tsukioka I was less certain, though I had to admit I was a little annoyed at the thought of his presence. It didn’t matter much, though, since all I planned on doing was quietly looking in, taking a brief glimpse that would, I hoped, tide me over until a more propitious time. Then I would hire a carriage home, sleep a few hours, and get back to work with whatever new strength that glimpse I was apparently so desperate for had afforded me.
The door still wasn’t locked; I was going to have to have a word with him about that. It was all very well and good that his entire neighborhood knew better than to trespass on the property of the former Zanza, but blatantly ignoring rudimentary safety precautions, especially with an unusually bloodthirsty murderer running around Tokyo, was idiotic. It even opened and closed quietly enough — with a careful hand — that it was unlikely to awaken a sleeper within.
And there was only one sleeper within. My surprised gaze immediately ran the length of the room, taking in the single occupied futon, the table that had been cleared of the mess of papers I’d last seen on it, the dishes left over from a meal for one. Tsukioka was gone.
I had come here to admire a sleeping Sanosuke possibly without even waking him, but now a certain amount of concern forced my plans to change. I doubted I would see signs of a peaceful solitary dinner near a soundly sleeping Sano if there had been an attack, and I also liked to think he would have let me know, but what had happened? Was it possible Tsukioka’s medical condition had worsened and he’d gone back to the clinic? Or… surely they couldn’t have been stupid enough to think all danger past and him safe to return home alone?
Despite fully intending now to wake Sano up, still I had to pause to admire him. He slept full-force, as it were, the same way he did everything else. In this case that meant he sprawled, ungracefully but probably quite comfortably, across a futon that didn’t look too intolerably filthy, with a blanket twisted around him in a manner simultaneously haphazard and precise.
It was as if he’d made an art out of sleeping, out of arranging that blanket to be tight where he wanted and loose everywhere else, out of pillowing one arm under his head and relaxing down onto it as if this was the most important thing he’d ever done and he was damn well going to get the most out of it… and yet it was only sleep, and nothing to be stressed about or given a great deal of thought. I didn’t know how he always managed to be so much of so many seemingly contradictory things… so intense yet so carefree… so aimless yet so decisive… so much of what annoyed me, yet so much of what I fiercely wanted…
His eyes opened while I watched him, before I had a chance to make any move to awaken him. He didn’t start or gasp or sit up abruptly, and I wondered if he’d sensed my presence in his sleep in order to be so unsurprised to find me actually there when he awoke.
“Hey,” he said, both tone and expression marking him groggy but pleased. “I haven’t seen you in two and a half days!”
“You were mad at me and I was busy with work,” I shrugged, unable to remove my gaze from his. In his current state, his eyes appeared simultaneously soft and bright, an interesting and compelling look.
“I’m always mad at you,” he said in tired protest, “and you’re always busy with work.”
I smiled. “Well, here I am now. Where’s Tsukioka?”
Blinking and yawning, Sano seemed for a moment unable to comprehend the change of subject. But finally the puzzled look slid from his face and he gestured vaguely with the bare arm he wasn’t using as a pillow. “Read that note on the table.”
I did so, unfolding a half sheet of paper that was covered on one side with smudged and indecipherable doodles and on the other with artistically messy handwriting.
It’s clear you need some privacy, and I think I would be more comfortable elsewhere anyway. Don’t worry about me; I’ll stay with some activist friends who have even better reasons to lie low than I probably do. Don’t let Takani-sensei worry about me either; the worst is over, as she ought to know. Try to keep out of trouble, though this new complication of yours makes that seem even more unlikely than usual.
He hadn’t signed it, but it wasn’t exactly a great mystery who had left it. Nor was what he meant by that last line. It was, to my memory, the first time I’d ever been called a ‘complication,’ but probably not entirely inaccurate. Honestly the note itself — or at least the altered situation it represented — was a bit of a complication, and I was suddenly rethinking my intentions here yet again, somewhat more pointedly than before.
As my eyes left the paper they immediately found Sano’s, and it was just as immediately apparent that he not only had the same thought I did, but read that simultaneous consideration in the shared gaze. I might have teased him by pretending to be unaffected by the word ‘privacy’ in that note or my reflection of a few minutes ago that his futon didn’t look too intolerably filthy… but he already knew we were both thinking the same thing, and the new edge to his smile clearly reflected his expectations for the scene.
Refolding with deliberate movements the liberating missive as I did so, I asked, “Do you ever lock your door?”
For half an instant Sano looked annoyed by my critical tone and confused at what he viewed as another change of subject, but then the probable motive behind my words registered and he went back to grinning in anticipation. His answer was, “Yeah… when I need to.”
“Then you do have a key.”
“Yeah… somewhere…” Though his previous statement had been vaguely flirtatious, Sano’s tone had now slipped into one of intense focus as he probably realized I wasn’t joking about wanting to lock the door — and that he was going to need to figure out where ‘somewhere’ was before any further progress could be made. With a comical level of concentration he finally added, “I think it was on the window-ledge.”
I found two keys side by side where he indicated, guessed correctly on the first attempt which one fitted the door, and wrestled the aged lock into granting us more privacy than even Tsukioka had with his departure. And apparently just the observation that my quest was nearing completion had been enough for Sano, as he hadn’t waited patiently for me at his end of the room. Even as I turned toward him, I heard his barefoot steps across the floor, then found insistent arms slipping around me and a hot body pressed to mine. My own arms rose to caress his back and pull him closer as his lips and hot breath and grazing teeth slid up my neck. Undoubtedly in response to cloth against his flesh, in between a series of nipping kisses just underneath my jaw, he murmured, “Take off those damn gloves.”
I chuckled and obeyed, not at all averse to following a direct order when the result was the beautiful feel of his skin beneath my naked fingers and palms. He’d begun grinding unrepentantly against me too, breathing somewhat harder near my ear, and the longing he thus displayed was in no way unreciprocated. “Now take off those damn clothes,” he whispered.
I let out a sighing breath and obeyed.
What was it about this stubborn, vehement, easygoing, infuriating person that had me so captivated? That made it so I could never get enough? That filled me with a tingling desire for him down into my bones? His physical passion and ability to respond to my own were not in any way surprising, but, though making love to him for the first time was a spectacular and deeply gratifying experience, there was more to it than simply satisfying my body… or even than a few hours of psychological rest from the demands of my work. Something about him specifically seemed to have a nearly supernatural power to enthrall, to draw me in and engage me as I hadn’t been engaged in a relationship for years, perhaps forever. And I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about Sano that I found so enchanting.
For that matter, I had no idea what drew him to me. We drove each other crazy in every possible way, and we’d been rivals at best when we’d first met… and yet here we were, content or even decidedly happy together in the morning sun through the shouji on his not-too-intolerably-filthy futon, sticky and cooling and calming after having demonstrated very clearly that any disliking we might have for each other ran parallel to, and perhaps less deep than, an emotional state that was very different indeed.
The weariness of having been out all night combined with the exertion just now had left my mind pleasantly foggy, and in the comfort of Sano’s embrace and bed I didn’t see much need to work at clearing it — and no reason I couldn’t rest here instead of heading home as I’d intended. I doubted Sano had been planning to get out of bed any time soon in any case, and I certainly didn’t object to a companion as long as he didn’t snore too loudly. Sano himself, however, seemed surprised at the sedentary tendency of my movements after we’d finished.
“You’re going to sleep here?” he wondered, his words close to my ear and still somewhat breathless.
Eyes closed, I replied, “Is that a problem?”
“No, not even a little bit! I just… figured you’d go home.” He sounded as if he couldn’t believe his luck, and I found I rather liked the implication of his happy astonishment that I would remain with him after sex.
“I was out all night.” If my words weren’t explanation enough, the weariness I couldn’t keep from them must have been.
“And I just wore you out the rest of the way, huh?” Had I ever heard him so pleased with himself before?
“Ahou.” But I didn’t bother to deny it.
He kissed me on the cheek and settled into restfulness against me. “I won’t move for a while, then,” he murmured. And I was unsurprised to find I liked the sound of that too — of his casual solicitousness, even if it was probably born in part of laziness and a preexisting desire to do exactly as he’d stated.
Just as I was ready to drift into very comfortable sleep, however, he made a lie of his promise by stirring again. In a slightly more alert and now faintly accusatory thoughtful tone he said, “But you know… I think you were trying to use sex to keep me from asking about your case and what you were out all night doing.”
This roused me slightly too. “If I thought I could use sex to do that, I certainly would try.” I interrupted myself by yawning, but he didn’t jump in, so I was able to finish, “I can’t think of a more pleasant way to keep you off the scent.”
He snorted. “Well, I guess I can’t really say, ‘Oh, don’t ever fuck me again, you sneaky bastard…’ but it won’t work, you know.”
“I thought it worked extremely well just now.”
This time he laughed. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” And he nuzzled his face into my neck. I thought he might drop it there and let me sleep, but that was no realistic hope; half a minute or so later he persisted. “So what were you out all night doing?”
I didn’t trouble my tired self trying to prevaricate. “I have a feeling Tomizawa may be involved with the murders, and whoever is stalking his sister along with him.”
“So you’ve been stalking the stalker,” he finished with satisfaction.
“Something like that, yes.”
“But you probably still don’t have enough evidence to just assassinate Tomizawa yet, do you?”
“Not yet, no.” And when in response to this he hmm‘d pensively against my skin, I added firmly, “Stay out of it, Sano.”
In frustration he said, “I could help you, you know.”
“And you know how I feel about that.”
We had started to move back into more upright positions as this threatened to turn into a more active discussion or even an argument, but now he buried his face in my chest as he said, “You made it pretty clear how you feel just a little while ago.” And though he said it at a mutter, it was one of embarrassment rather than annoyance or defeat as he referred to how I felt in a completely different context than the one I’d meant.
With a sudden unexpected pressure in the space just beneath where his forehead rested, I found my arms rising to draw him close again. Had I made it clear how I felt? Because I wasn’t sure I knew how I felt. In fact I’d rather been wondering the entire time — or, if I’d been avoiding the how, I’d at least been wondering why I felt that way. In any case, it seemed he’d taken some confirmation from my actions and attitude that I hadn’t, perhaps, intended to give… but that I didn’t, perhaps, mind having given.
Almost involuntarily I found myself saying softly, “I just want to make sure you stay safe.” And that it sounded so maudlin and trite under the current circumstances didn’t make it any less sincere.
He clenched the arm he had around me as he replied, in loving annoyance, “You asshole. What if that’s exactly what I want for you too?”
I didn’t know how to answer that — at least not without saying something I’d already said that hadn’t convinced him then and probably wouldn’t now — so I remained silent. He too said nothing more, as if he’d made or accepted some point — I couldn’t tell which. And despite the utterly inconclusive nature of the conversation, it seemed to be at an end, and we drifted to sleep in a surprisingly pervasive atmosphere of lingering contentment and satisfaction with the situation and each other.