Chapter Text
Nao has never considered herself to be the type to covet material goods, but she admits the cashmere scarf is calling to her. Dyed a vivid red hue that’s one of her favorites and almost impossibly soft to the touch, the only negative Nao can find about it is the price tag. She’s not used to spending more than a few thousand yen on a single piece of clothing, especially not for an accessory like a scarf, much less anything over ten thousand.
Even today, she would probably pass it up without a third thought if not for her companion.
Fukunaga pokes at Nao’s rib. “You should get it.”
Nao pets the scarf again, and then pulls her hand away when the price tag sinks back in. No, she should probably save the money.
“Go on. Treat yourself. You deserve it,” Fukunaga says. She picks up the scarf Nao covets, and places in her arms like a sleeping kitten. “Call it a late birthday present to yourself if it makes you feel better.”
In that light, the purchase makes sense. She really hasn’t done much for her birthday this year except pick up a cake to split out with her father and his favorite nurses, and buy herself a set of stickers to add to her journal. And since eighteen proved a particularly difficult age for her—something about invitations to play games of deception and threats of astronomical debts would do that—maybe she does deserve a little extra something to celebrate coming out the other side more mature and relatively intact.
Nao laughs and doesn’t put the scarf back. “You’re going to be a bad influence on me, Fukunaga-san.”
“Well, someone needs to be. Let’s get that wrapped up before you change your mind.”
In this one matter, Nao lets herself be convinced. For as different as she and Fukunaga are and for as rocky as their relationship started off, Nao can appreciate the older woman’s friendship and perspective. If this shopping trip has revealed anything it’s that Fukunaga absolutely believes in treating herself. Nao has her one bag with the cashmere scarf and a pair of warm socks for her father, whereas Fukunaga carries several shopping bags with expensive-looking logos on one arm without any apparent struggle.
“So, where’s our next stop?”
Fukunaga points over to a store front that’s diagonal from where they are now. “Over there, maybe? Lots of cute shops in that building. We could pick out a couple masks—the skincare kind, not the identity hiding kind—or poke around that stationary shop. You seem like you’d be into that kind of thing. There’s also a bookstore upstairs if that’s more your speed.”
The cosmetic store is definitely more Fukunaga’s thing than her own—just like all this clothes shopping—though maybe she could get some tips. The stationary shop is more her speed, maybe pick up a nice pen or notebook. And the bookstore…well, Akiyama’s birthday isn’t too far off, and maybe it would be nice to get him something to read and have an excuse to meet up and see him. Of course, she’s not exactly sure what kinds of books he likes. Nao makes a mental note to text Akiyama and subtly ask about his tastes. Assuming he’d even want to see her on his birthday.
“Sounds fun!”
The light crossing the street one way turns green.
Nao takes the first step out.
Time slows down.
A sudden tug at Nao’s coat pulls her backwards. The wind and blur of a speeding vehicle pass by way too close to her former location.
Nao takes a hard and gritty landing.
“Watch where you’re going!”
Fukunaga’s voice is the point where the time catches up and seconds stop being fractional. Nao looks down at her hands. Slush is already soaking through her gloves. Her leggings are feeling similarly damp. Her whole left side must be covered in dirt and half-melted city snow.
Nao looks out in the direction the blur was going in, but of course the vehicle itself is long out of sight.
“You okay?” Fukunaga offers out a hand.
Nao fights through her daze and evaluates her condition. Physically, the parts of her that hit the pavement sting. Her coat and leggings have grimy slush all down the left side. If she wants to visit her father today, and she promised him she would, she’ll have to cut this girls’ day out with Fukunaga short to go home and change.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe a bit shaky." With Fukunaga’s help, she pulls herself up and gets to a nearby bench. The side that hit the ground stings, but when she moves her limbs, nothing seems to be broken. That’s a relief. If Fukunaga hadn’t grabbed her in time Nao might have—
“You should be more careful. Didn’t anyone teach you to look both ways? Your father? A kindergarten teacher? Anyone?”
“I thought I had a walk signal!” But doubts already cross her mind. Maybe she just saw the light turn green, but the walk signal hadn’t come on yet. Maybe it was one of those intersections where the pedestrians all walked at the same time while the traffic waited on them. Nao’s never spent a lot of time in this neighborhood before. Or maybe the light was actually still red and she was just distracted with other thoughts and not actually paying attention.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need to be careful.” But there’s an edge to Fukunaga’s voice, like something else about the situation bothers her. Maybe it’s just because if Fukunaga had been the one stepping out first, she’d be the one in Nao’s current position? Or worse, since Nao has neither the physical strength nor the reaction time to get Fukunaga out of the way. “You can’t control for maniacs.”
“I guess you can’t,” Nao agrees. Yeah, in the future, she needs to be more careful and look out for traffic before crossing the road, even if she swears she had a signal. Today, she just needs to brush off that ‘maniac’ as Fukunaga called that driver and figure out what she needs to do next. “Anyway, I should probably get back home if I want to change before I go and visit my dad.” Nao tries to get up but her legs wobble out from beneath her and leave her butt touching metal again. “Once I can stand up, that is.”
Fukunaga shakes her head. “Or you can chill here for a bit, until we’re sure you’re not seriously injured. We'll replace those leggings—or maybe the whole outfit—and then find somewhere to grab lunch. You’ll feel better for not having to rush.”
“Really, I’m fine now. There’s no need to worry—”
“Nao,” Fukunaga says, using the slightest pressure of her hand to thwart Nao’s latest attempt to stand. “I’m not going to have you wandering off after a tumble like that. You seem mostly fine, but you might just be running on adrenaline right now. What if you’re more injured than you think you are? You’d probably end up faceplanting into another slush puddle on the way home.”
That almost makes sense, except for one thing. “I didn’t realize I mattered to you that much, Fukunaga-san. Maybe we really are becoming—”
“Absolutely not. I’m just thinking about the grudge Akiyama is going hold against me if he finds out that I let you just wander off after taking a fall like that.”
Ah. That almost makes sense as well. Fukunaga has a crush on Akiyama, and she probably wants to get on his good side. Although, that’s weird as well because how does helping Nao—the girl he barely texts back—accomplish that goal? “I guess…I don’t know…Akiyama-san probably wouldn’t like it…but he wouldn’t blame you for that. Assuming he even finds out. He doesn’t even need to know about this.”
Fukunaga raises an eyebrow. “You? The always straightforward Nao, wanting to keep a secret from someone?”
“It happens sometimes. For example, I haven’t even told my father about participating in the Liar Game last year.” Nao shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not that I enjoy keeping secrets or want to make a habit of it, but if all telling someone the truth would do is make them worry needlessly, then isn't it better not to tell them at all?”
“Why, indeed?” Fukunaga mutters, seemingly more to herself than to Nao. “Anyway, how about you try standing up now and we can figure out if our next stop needs to be a department store or an emergency room.”
Another Sunday, another weekend afternoon Akiyama has to himself and the world of online Go. He’s just finished his last game—frustratingly a loss that’ll prevent his ranking from crossing over from 1-kyu to 1-dan—and is debating whether to start another when his phone buzzes. He checks the ID. It’s a text from an unfamiliar number, though the actual sender proves familiar.
Aki. It’s Fuku. Meet me here in an hour. The ‘here’ indicated by the hyperlink is a bar in a neighborhood that Akiyama assumes is convenient for her and a transfer away for him. He calculates the time it’ll going to take to get there—he could probably make the hour request so long as he leaves within the next 10 minutes—and then however much time Fukunaga needs for their meeting. The result doesn’t bode well for the rest of this afternoon or this evening.
He’s halfway to sending off a noncommittal ‘some other time’ response that really means ‘only if I can’t get out of it’ when a follow-up message arrives. It’s about Nao.
That re-balances the equation but only slightly. Akiyama wouldn’t quite say that he’s avoiding Nao—ghosting her outright would probably lead Nao to either of two unacceptable outcomes: She either redoubles her efforts to get a response from him or she lets their contact cut off completely—but he’s keeping himself strategically distant and letting Nao have her space. Out in the real world, what does a 19-year old middle-class college student even need with an ex-convict day laborer almost half-again her age? Of course, if Nao were in actual trouble again, Akiyama would have to—
No, if it were anything actually serious, Fukunaga wouldn’t have them meeting at a bar. He can believe in her that much. You sure you can’t tell me over text?
None of the important details. Just meet me here.
Akiyama sighs and gets up from the floor. Timing, at least, ends up being on his side and he arrives at the location with Fukunaga looking only mildly annoyed at his failure to arrive on time. She waves him over.
Akiyama can live with her mild annoyance. “So, what’s up? And where’s Nao?”
“Hopefully, in the middle of a visit with her father. As for what’s up…” Fukunaga leads him inside. “You’re probably going to want something to drink. Sit down somewhere and I’ll get us a couple of beers.”
All of this ends up being a mild production that sees them at a table with a decent view of both the street outside and a good scope on the room itself with a couple of cheap but decent beers in front of them. Maybe now with the scene set, Fukunaga will actually tell him something. “So, what’s up?”
“Nao and I went shopping earlier today—a bit of a girls’ day out—and something interesting happened. Has she said anything about it to you already?”
Akiyama doesn’t even need to check his phone to know the answer is a ‘no’. The last text from Nao came in the previous week, and that was a New Year’s Greeting featuring a puppy dog dressed up in a satsuma costume. The last message in the chain is his simple ‘Happy New Year’ response. Somehow, formulating a response to the images Nao sends takes more of his brain power than unraveling elaborate chains of deception. He shakes his head. “So, what happened with Nao?”
“Almost got herself hit by speeding van is what happened. She doesn’t seem seriously injured—I pulled her out of the way—but she’s still plenty shaken.”
Makes sense. Even if the physical damage turns out to be minimal, the psychological effects of a near miss like that can linger long past the incident itself. He grabs his phone and sends out a text, half to make sure that Nao knows that he knows, and half to check in with Nao herself.
Funny that over the course of seeing her perhaps a dozen times over the course of several months—not counting the three weeks they practically lived together staking out her teacher’s house—concern about Kanzaki Nao’s well-being has become an automatic response.
“Thanks for telling me,” Akiyama says, and sincerely means it. “Though I’m not sure why you needed to meet-up to deliver the news.” Or honestly, why Fukunaga felt the need to tell him at all. Sure, her rapport with them both improved over the course of the Liar Game, but apparently, she and Nao are good enough friends to go out shopping together and for Nao to presumably pass on his number to Fukunaga without checking in with him first. “You could have just sent a text.”
“That’s because I haven’t told you the part that actually concerns me, yet. Or was I interrupting your bright and vibrant social life by asking to meet in person?” Fukunaga looks skeptical and not inaccurately so.
Not that Akiyama plans on telling her that. He looks down at his phone again and sees that Nao has responded. So, just like Fukunaga said, still shaken up but no serious injuries. He fires off another quick response and turns his attention back to the live conversation. “So what’s the other part?”
Fukunaga takes a long swig of her beer. “I scolded Nao for being clumsy and not paying attention. But…she was acting entirely reasonably. She had the right of way, and even if the car were turning, there’d be zero reason for anyone to be driving that fast in that part of the city, emergency vehicles aside.”
Akiyama hones in on the implications. A reckless driver or—
“More worryingly,” Fukunaga continues, “The car was aiming.”
“Aiming?” That catches Akiyama’s attention.
“Swerving.” Fukunaga makes a gesture with her hands that sloshes some of her drink out of her glass and onto the table. “Towards Nao and then away at the last microsecond. The van then managed to disappear into traffic without losing control of the car. Some professional-level driving.”
“You don’t think it’s an accident?”
“Maybe it was someone who just needed to get somewhere in a hurry and wasn’t considering the well-being of others, but I kept Nao with me just in case. Later, I saw someone sitting in the same type of plain white van. Obscured features, but they drove off once they noticed me noticing them.” Fukunaga pulls up her phone and shows some quick, blurry pictures. “I can’t say for sure that what happened to Nao wasn’t an accident, but I don’t like the coincidences.”
Neither does Akiyama. “Do you think this might have to do with the Liar Game?” he asks.
“That would be the obvious motive. I’m not sure Nao’s done anything else interesting with her life.”
The source of Fukunaga’s concern in her imagined scenario is obvious. If Nao’s near miss was an act of intention and not recklessness, and the likely source of the danger is some shadowy force that took offense at the completion of the Liar Game, then the danger likely won’t be limited to just Nao. Fukunaga, Akiyama, and the rest of the players might also become targets. Hence Fukunaga’s need to meet in person, to avoid eavesdropping. “So, you think the miss was intentional? What’s with her injuries then?”
“From the fall when I pulled her out of the way. I might not have needed to grab her so hard. Guess I panicked. Stupid of me, really.”
Panicked. Yeah, humans do that, even the ones with cool and calculating brains. Raw emotion blots out more rational thoughts, and impulse takes over. Akiyama worked so hard to protect Kanzaki Nao throughout the Liar Game, not just during the games themselves, but out in the real world as well. When they had debts, he sent her reassurances. After her debts were nullified, he (unsuccessfully) tried to deter her from continuing the game. Whatever else happens or not between them, he’s fully invested in Nao’s well-being and he’ll fall right into the sunk cost fallacy to keep her safe.
That’s his excuse for the second text, which he regrets sending the moment it’s too late to take it back.
Fukunaga finishes her beer and stands up. “Anyway, now that you know, I can leave Nao to you and wash my hands of that part of the matter.”
Akiyama’s previously unwanted beer is starting to look tempting. He takes a drink. It’s not very good, but it’ll be enough to take the edge off. “Thanks.”
“If you uncover anything important that you wouldn’t want to have intercepted via text, I work just over there—” Fukunaga points to a building on the other side of the street. “Roses Club. 7th floor. Come by any night I’m working and I’ll get you a drink for free. Or hell, if you want to stop by just to chat, I’m good for that too.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Fukunaga winks at him and, with little other acknowledgment, leaves him to mull over his beer. He frowns. She really does mean to wash her hands of the matter. It’s on him figure out how to best handle the situation Nao’s found herself in and, almost as importantly, how to keep as many people out of it as possible.
Walking into her father’s room after the excitement a few hours ago feels surreal to Nao. Here’s her everyday life with her regular joys and worries continuing on right in front of her like she hadn’t been millimeters away from being seriously hurt—or worse—because of one bad driver, but she’d promised her father a visit today, and with some time to recover her composure, a bowl of ramen, and a new outfit, Nao can greet him with a smile that almost feels natural.
“Something wrong, Nao?”
Or maybe not. She hangs her coat up on the usual hook and sets her shopping bags on the table.
“I’m just a little shaken,” Nao admits. Her father probably won’t believe she’s fine, not when slush stains cover the whole left side of her coat, and she’s clearly favoring her right leg as she walks. “I was careless earlier and almost crossed the street just as a car was coming. Thankfully, a friend was able to pull me back before the driver could hit me, but I ended up falling down as a result.”
Her father looks alarmed at that. “You’re not hurt, are you?” His voice, while raspy, doesn’t hide his concern for her.
“I’m a bit banged up from where I hit the pavement, but nothing seems broken.” That’s true. Fukunaga told her if anything were actually broken, Nao wouldn’t have been able to put any weight on that side at all. Not making this visit might have been the least of her troubles.
“Well, that’s good.” Her father’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Even as he seems content to let the visit progress, an air of worry still lingers about him. Nao passes over the pair of thick socks she picked up with her scarf earlier, since he’s been complaining more about about the cold now that winter has fully set in, and she’s letting him reminisce about the old days—her birthday one year when she was small. They walked around the park together—Nao on his shoulders—to see the all the lights. She’s heard the story a hundred times before, but it’s a nice memory and it’s better than the visits where his ramblings get a bit nonsensical.
Nao’s pocket buzzes, and with her her dad occupied with his anecdote, she allows herself a sneaky peek at her phone. Akiyama messaged her first? That’s unusual.
Just heard about your near miss from Fuku. You ok?
Nao’s heart warms. I’m fine now. Just a bit sore. And maybe a little shaky, still.
That’s normal. Take care of yourself.
“Who was that? A boyfriend, maybe?”
Nao looks up to realize her father has stopped his storytelling and is focused on her. Was her expression that obvious? Akiyama? A boyfriend? Absolutely not. She and Akiyama might have been partners in the Liar Game, and maybe they could become actual friends out here in the everyday world if Nao could just figure out how to get him to text back regularly without almost getting killed. And sure, she might have a little bit of a crush on him in the way anyone might have a crush on someone cool and kind that they’ve been regularly working alongside. But actually going out with him? That feels more like a daydream than a plausible reality. She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t say he’s a boyfriend…exactly. But we might be friends, I think.”
“Oh, really?” Her father’s smile seems to actually reach his eyes this time. “Bring him by. I’d enjoy getting at least one chance to meet someone special to you before I die.”
“Dad! Don’t talk like that.” It bothers Nao how easily her father speaks of death now, never mind that she knows almost as well as he does that these days are probably among his last. His condition has steadily worsened over the past couple months. It was lucky that he was able to make it past the new year, but Nao’s not as optimistic about his chances of making it to springtime. “Besides, I said he wasn’t my boyfriend.”
“I know, I know.” He coughs out a laugh. “I don’t expect that I’m going to get to meet your future husband is all. Nor would I want you to rush into a serious relationship just for the sake of introducing me to someone, but you seem fond of this ‘possible friend’ of yours. I’d like to meet him.”
Nao hesitates. She is fond of Akiyama, and it would be nice to introduce her dad to someone who has been so important to her. But how would she explain how they met? Hmm…maybe that he helped her out with some kind of problem? No. That would probably lead to her father asking about the problem and then she’d either have to admit to her activities with the Liar Game or figure out another plausible problem. Or…maybe that he’s been tutoring her in psychology. She is enrolled in an introduction to psychology class this semester, and Akiyama has given her a lot of lessons. She just doesn’t need to mention the context for those lessons.
Yes. That sounds good.
“I’ll ask him, then,” Nao blushes. “He’s might seem a bit intimidating at first, but he’s actually a really good person.”
She mentally rehearses her little white lie, expecting she’ll need it to answer her father’s next question. When she was a child, he would always ask where she met her friends or whichever person he talked to. He fell out of the habit slightly as she got older and the answer was almost invariably ‘school’, but Nao goes to a women's college, which would be an unlikely location to have first met Akiyama.
Except, her father, unexpectedly, doesn’t ask. “Well, I look forward to meeting him. I’ll try not to embarrass you too much.”
“Dad!”
Their visit continues almost as usual, though as she leaves, another text from Akiyama arrives.
Not sure this was an accident. Might have something to do with the documentary. Be careful.
Nao feels her face go ashen. The pain radiating up her left side, calmed to the dull throb of tomorrow’s bruises in the passing hours since the incident, flares again. The cheerful goodbyes she gives to the nurses and receptionist are more forced than usual. The winter evening she walks into is suddenly darker and scarier than it’s ever been, and a sense of helplessness almost worse than the one she felt when she opened up that box of money that showed up on her doorstep and realized the enormity of what she’d carelessly gotten herself into comes over her. Three words are now stuck on repeat in her head.
Not an accident. Not an accident. Not an accident.