Chapter Text
[ 12/07 9:33 P.M. ]
"So, which X-Day case did you decide to focus on, Hoshino?"
"Well... None of them. First, I want to find the person who put this collar on me."
For a moment, all I hear is the dull hum of the HVAC system in the detective agency.
I understand why. My answer sounds selfish and naive, even to myself. But no one else in this room feels the suffocating bite of cold metal tracking their every move. No one else is being butterfly-pinned to a dartboard and pegged guilty until proven innocent. The opposite of how real justice should work.
Yanagi is the first to recover, or at least the first who shows it, with an awkward ghost of a smile.
"Okay... You can assist me, then. I'm investigating the cases as a whole. Your desire to find your assailant can be lumped in with that."
I nod as Sasazuka shakes his head, muttering "moron," and Enomoto leaves the room. They must think me either a fool or the worst spy Adonis could afford to send. I know I'm neither, so I steel myself and meet Yanagi's eyes.
"It's been a long day. Why don't you head home for now, and we can reconvene tomorrow," he offers, standing and walking to the door.
I'm grateful. He saved me the embarrassment of having to plead my case to a jury that's already decided the verdict. Focusing on the old cases can't be the only way to find the truth behind X-Day, but who would listen to a dumb rookie like me?
Despite my protests, Okazaki still walks me home through the empty Shinjuku streets and tries to pull out info through his usual prodding.
I aimlessly tap my phone and mention I'm too tired to talk. Not exactly a lie. But then he only smiles sweetly and says he'll talk enough for the both of us then.
In the middle of his in-depth review of mayonnaise-flavored chips, my eyes settle on a familiar name in my messages. My fingers type and hit send almost on auto-pilot, fueled by how the doubts of Yanagi's team only made the pressure of the collar feel worse.
FROM: Ichika Hoshino 12/7
( If you want to find the truth about something, is it so wrong to trust your instincts? )
FROM: Yuzuru Saeki 12/7
( huh? what do you mean? )
FROM: Yuzuru Saeki 12/7
( something happen? )
FROM: Ichika Hoshino 12/7
( Nothing. Sorry to worry you. Just wanted to rant. )
I click out of the app and lower my phone in defeat, but feel it buzz in my hand seconds later.
FROM: Yuzuru Saeki 12/7
( wanna rant over drinks? )
XXXXX
[ 12/07 10:04 P.M. ]
"I don't know. It's just..." I sigh, chin braced on my palm, gaze flitting to the waitress pouring a shot of sake at the bar.
Across the table, a particularly tipsy Saeki tilts his head and pouts over the rim of his fourth beer.
"...Is Mochida working you into the ground again?"
His face is so pure and concerned that a smile graces my lips until I'm laughing for the first time that day while his pout grows deeper. It's a pretty cute look on his face. That thought must be the two drinks I've had.
"Overworking is no joke, Hoshino!"
"I know, I know. Thank you, mom."
He glares and scoffs in offense, but I can't help but tease him. Compared to how trapped I felt in that office, what we have is easy and free. I always let my guard down around him; it's why I texted him about this in the first place.
"I'm being serious!" Saeki declares, tapping the bottom of his glass on the table in emphasis. It's louder than we both expected. I flinch a bit, and he mumbles a curse. "I don't like it when Mochida abuses your work ethic. You even forget to sleep sometimes. Just let me know if there's anything I can help with."
'Anything he can help with.'
The collar threatened my life should I tell the police about it, but Saeki is... He's...
My mouth opens and closes enough times to worry him as I struggle with what to divulge. Saeki frowns and sets a hand near mine on the table, a hair away from touching, pale green eyes iridescent and intense in their sincerity.
I release a slow breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"Hoshino."
"It's not Mochida." I avoid his touch, fingers clutching my drink close instead. "I'm just worried. About X-Day. And..."
A long swig drowns the words I can't say, the burn of alcohol a temporary comfort.
"That's not a bad thing. People are the most honest when they're worried," Saeki philosophizes in that way he sometimes does. When he gets like this, the wisdom in his words truly stuns me. It helped me through police academy more than I can ever admit. "Worried, scared. Even drunk. It weakens people, and the truth comes out."
"But what if what I truly want isn't the best thing for me? What if I'm just being dumb?"
"Dumb, huh..?" He shrugs, tapping a rhythm on the table. His arm is still outstretched, hand still close to mine. If it were any other man, I might feel weird about it, but what we have is easy and free. "If you're this worried, it can't be that dumb. What's important to you isn't dumb."
And just like that, his grand philosophy quickly melts into childish, cute logic.
"You're drunk," I tell him bluntly. As if to prove my point, he leans back and chugs his entire beer, banging the empty glass on the table.
"Nope. Now I'm drunk."
I laugh until my cheeks hurt.
It's always a struggle dragging him out of the bar. He clings to me and mumbles about how he's so popular and how he can do anything, every word coated in this thin film of drunken apathy.
I have a feeling we both crave the familiar, because we always drink at the same bar each time, though neither of us ever specifies. Leaning near the window outside on the curb, I wonder how we must look to the other regulars and waiters, drinking together almost twice every week and always leaving in a tangle of limbs.
What Enomoto said yesterday comes to mind.
'Anyone would assume something was going on.'
Yet, when I think about it, I don't feel flustered or embarrassed. I feel my closest friend's arm heavy around my shoulders, his side pressed into mine, his warm breath tickling my hair. I find I don't care what others assume. It feels natural. It feels free.
"Actually get IN your taxi this time," I say, half-dragging him out to the main street.
"Yes, mom," Saeki uses my own teasing against me, head leaning on the top of mine.
"Ugh..."
"Oh! Hoshino." He suddenly stops and pulls me around face-to-face, pale green eyes intense again, hands braced on my shoulders. "Trust them."
For a second, my heart stops.
"...What?"
"Ya know. What you texted me. Your instincts! Trust 'em."
"Oh," I breathe. My first thought had been Yanagi's team, but now I realize how foolish that is. He doesn't know about that. "Right. Yeah. My instincts. I'll try to."
I nod and force a smile that feels a bit wilted at the edges. Saeki stares back and smiles just the same.