Chapter 7: Old Friends

Kei let Suzu drive, partly out of exhaustion and partly because it would be easier to spot any car tailing them. He knew, based on Akari’s report on the car in the crematorium, that they wouldn’t get anything from the plate numbers. Like Suzu, these identifications existed in reality but not in the system.

He sank lower in his seat with his arms wrapped around himself. Although lethargic, he kept his eyes trained on the side view mirror, noting the car models and plate numbers of any remotely suspicious vehicle. He was particularly keen on tinted cars and was disappointed whenever they veered off their path.

Patience was never Kei’s strongest suit, but he would rather wait than waste his energy chasing phantoms out of desperation.

There were no obvious signs of stalking around Suzu, but if she were so important as to be protected to the point of removing her from the system, then someone must be tailing her. Sooner or later, someone would show up. First, they would be figures in the dark, and then a second of recklessness would reveal their faces, and Kei was good at remembering faces.

Perhaps the lack of any was the exacerbating factor for Kei. The professor’s Waiki Mart franchise had been so isolated that he couldn’t verify the presence of strangers within the vicinity during the attack, but someone should’ve been there.

If Kei had exited the Waiki Mart a moment too late, would Suzu have been taken? But what about his attempt to kill her? Shouldn’t somebody have intervened? The blade had grazed her skin enough to produce blood, but he detected no threat to his being before Anzu forced him to change his mind.

Their only real lead was that strange incident with Suzu’s father and the car with the unregistered plate number exiting the parking lot before he could reach it. It irked Kei to think that entities were moving around him that he couldn’t detect. Spirits were one thing—the stealth of those fuckers was acceptable—but humans?

Kei turned his head enough to see Suzu from the corner of his eye. At least she was a capable driver and not too slow on the road.

Slowly, his gaze drifted down to her exposed forearm. “Make-up on your tattoos?” he asked.

Suzu spared him a glance. “What?”

He nodded at her forearm. He knew her tattoo extended to the back of her hand like a Celtic cross. “Can’t see ‘em.”

“I don’t plan to brandish them in the office—or anywhere for that matter.”

“So, what’s the story behind it?” Kei looked over his shoulder at Hanzo, who was reclined in the same pose and listening quietly to them. With his glasses on and eyes half-closed, he would appear asleep to anybody who didn’t know him. He raised his eyebrows twice to encourage Kei.

She made a smooth left turn at an intersection. “Why’d you want to know?”

“Pretty abnormal design. And all over your body, too?”

“Please tell me either Doctor Nishida or Ishikawa told you, or else I’m running this car up to a tree.”

“Of course, I didn’t see them for myself. Well, when you were in the hospital gown, I did notice them, but I had to ask after your health once we were in the office, and Ana mentioned it.”

“I was abducted by the Yakuza as a little girl.”

Kei stared at her, careful to note every shifting muscle in her face. Suzu met his gaze, her expression blank, and proceeded to use his phone’s GPS on the dashboard. It indicated directions and the total distance to their destination.

“Don’t know much about the Yakuza, but why you? Is the tattoo some kind of branding?” Kei asked. The longer her silence persisted, the more she reminded him of his high school bully. His palms were getting clammy just waiting for a response. He hadn’t felt this way since the last time that girl dunked his head in the toilet.

“Who knows? I wasn’t awake for it. By the time I regained consciousness, I was levitating in the air towards a spaceship, and these green creatures with massive heads were reaching out to me to eat me.” She let out a big, exaggerated sigh. “Thankfully, a cowboy lassoed me in mid-air just before I was sucked into the spaceship, and we rode out of the lair on horseback. The police stopped him for traffic violations, and I was returned home. Last I heard, the Yakuza pissed off some extra-terrestrial creatures, and there are cowboy cosplayers who fight aliens for a living.”

Hanzo barked out a laugh. He slapped his thigh as he wiped tears from his eyes, and when Kei frowned at him, he only shrugged in response.

Kei straightened up in his seat. He would normally laugh along, but their jobs were on the line here. His, in particular, might be jeopardized if he handled her in a way that displeased the Blood Families. Nothing about this was funny.

“What?” Suzu challenged. “You’re the only one who can make jokes?”

“Alright, ha ha, you have a sense of humor,” Kei said. “I asked you a serious question. Your tattoos suggest some kind of affiliation. I need to know if you’re going to get me in trouble.”

“They’re just tattoos. I made a bad decision when I was a teenager, and I thought I was cool. Nobody’s going to jump you because I’m part of some gang or whatever.”

“Your whole body, right?” Hanzo asked. “How come? Did you want to look like an android or something?”

“I wanted to be an artist. Go freelance. No corporate jobs. What kind of nutjob would let a woman with these tattoos work in an office, right?”

Kei flicked the side of her head. “I hired you.”

Hanzo laughed some more. “You didn’t factor in the supernatural when planning this great corporate boycott.”

“Clearly.” Suzu slowed down and eased the car into the driveway of a residential building. She peered at it through the windshield with a pout. “This is it?”

Kei jabbed his thumb at the scenery outside his window. He chose this building because of its glass exterior and the ornate lobby. Metallic geometric patterns complemented the wooden Japanese furnishings; first-class reproductions of famous Japanese paintings lined the otherwise blank expanse of wall that served as partitions. The staff dressed in neat, moss green uniforms and always asked about his day, and his neighbors loved Anzu.

Niri complained that this place was strange and grandiose, but maybe that was why he liked it so much. Kei felt that whoever designed it knew he would one day need a space he could call home, even though he was alone.

“I bet you weren’t expecting to be housed somewhere so fancy,” he said, proud of his residence.

Suzu regarded her surroundings once more. “It’s fine.”

“Excuse me?”

Suzu scowled at him a little as she hit the brakes. “It’s not like I grew up in the countryside. I’ve lived in Tokyo my whole life.”

Hanzo gathered his things and opened the car door. “Well, Kei grew up in the countryside, so please excuse his mentality.”

“That figures.” Suzu exited the car and handed the keys to the valet with a smile.

Kei slammed the door behind him and tailed Hanzo and Suzu, his frown so deep that even the doorman hesitated to greet him.

He had been convinced that scaring Suzu to death with the cold spot and then showing off her lavish living arrangement would make her feel indebted to him, so much so that she’d drop her guard, and unravelling her secrets would come as a natural by-product of his efforts.

He was crazy to think it would be that easy.

Hanzo lingered on the threshold while Suzu inspected her one-bedroom apartment. She asked him to come in, but he politely declined and asked if she’d like a cheeseburger and soda for lunch.

“I’m ordering for Kei and me while we finish some work in his apartment. He only eats junk food on the weekends, so—” Hanzo made a face instead of finishing the thought. “Anyway, want some? Fries, ice cream, the whole bunch?”

“Oh!” Suzu rushed to her stack of belongings next to the front door and retrieved a bento box from her hand-carry bag. She undid the wrapping and gave the bottom box to him. “My dad’s a fantastic cook. It’s not junk food, so if Kei doesn’t want it, please help yourself.”

Hanzo peeked inside the box, inhaled deeply, and sighed. “What a smell. I don’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.”

“Really? Is that how busy you are or—?”

“Just lazy.” He shrugged, still smiling. “So, no junk? Don’t want to abuse your youth?”

Suzu chuckled and shook her head. “I’m watching my weight, but thanks. I’m glad that at least one of you is nice to me.”

Hanzo picked up a piece of sausage and nibbled at the tips. He had an infectious calmness that Suzu liked. She imagined a massive earthquake could rattle the city the next moment, and he’d still be snacking while leading them down the emergency exit.

“I know you two got off on the wrong foot, but sooner or later, you’ll realize that Kei’s just looking out for you,” Hanzo said with his mouth half full. “He holds himself accountable for everyone he works closely with, and that’s something considering the stress of his job. Imagine regularly encountering the most horrendous creatures so other people don’t have to. It’s a lot.”

“I didn’t piss him off, did I?” She poked her head out the corridor to check his door, which he left slightly ajar for Hanzo.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure he eats lunch, and we’ll get some work done to prepare for Monday.”

“What’s up on Monday?”

“You, for one.” Hanzo leaned on the doorframe and crossed his legs at the ankles. “We have to teach you the ropes as quickly as possible because there’s lots of work to be done. Also, Niri really needs me to handle her full-time.”

“Niri’s the…” Suzu held her hand up at shoulder level and drew pigtails with her fingers.

“Right. She’s Kei’s recruit. Niri’s only fourteen, but she’s in high demand for big jobs with corporations and government officials. Talents like her bring in the big bucks.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, I thought talents only deal with spirits?”

Hanzo wrinkled his nose and picked out a string of cabbage from the box. “Ninomae uses what it can to establish strong ties with important people. I’m there to make sure she’s not taken advantage of, but Kei comes along as a living, breathing warning. You know, because Niri’s a pretty little lady. How Hideshi treated you was rather mild in comparison.”

Suzu felt the blood rush down from her head.  “And her parents allow it?”

“Her parents work for Ninomae because of Niri. Kei practically recruited their entire family. It’s a long story, but they made the right choice. Her talent’s the kind that gets exploited one way or another. At least with Kei as her mentor, she can be sure that she’s in safe hands.”

“What’s her talent again?”

“Mimicry.” Hanzo pulled up a video recording from his phone and showed it to her. “Niri’s expertise is mimicking voices, but she can also do fingerprints, so there’s a little bit of shapeshifting too. We’re not sure how far her talent goes since she’s so young.”

The video was shaky and clearly taken by Hanzo, whose laughter drowned out most of the other sounds in the one-minute clip. In it, Niri was slumped in the backseat of the car with Kei to her left. He napped with his cheek pressed to the glass and his arms crossed, snoring through their laughter.

Niri cleared her throat and called someone on her phone. Once the ringing stopped, she spoke in Kei’s voice and ordered an office staff to have five cups of steaming coffee waiting for him at his table upon his return. The video ended with Kei waking up and flicking Niri in the temple.

Suzu gawked at Hanzo. “Oh.”

“You can say it.”

“Say what?”

“It’s freaky. I’ve been in this company for a long time, and her talent still bothers me.” He paused to consider this. “Well, maybe because I’ve seen her do odd jobs for odd people. You came in at the right time, Suzu. I can’t imagine any other person handling Niri other than me.”

Suzu put her hands on her waist and sighed. The shock of her encounter with Big Baby was beginning to wear off, and now that she was in her private space, she could feel the fear and confusion weighing down on her. Knowing about Niri didn’t help. Suzu could imagine her surrounded by old men wearing inhumane grins, impatient for their turn with her talent.  

“Sorry, was that too much information for one day?” Hanzo closed the box and made a move to leave. “Maybe I should leave you to rest. If you need anything, I’ll be next door until sundown, maybe.”

Suzu forced herself to smile at him. “Right.”

As soon as Hanzo left and she was alone in her new apartment, she sank into the armchair and buried her face in her hands. This would be her first time living away from her father since he rescued her. She could still remember how her first night went in her cramped room with the glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling and the cheap, pink duvet that did not match the bed sheets or the pillowcases. There was no one to soak her in a bath and plait her hair before bedtime, no sweet-smelling lotions and long, flowing drapes to block even the moonlight. The vanishing of these routines had constricted her throat and eventually led to a full-blown panic attack.

That same night, her father bought her everything she needed to recreate these rituals, and at two in the morning, she finally fell asleep.

Suzu realized now that she was older that it wasn’t the material things she missed, but the comfort of having patterns. Established habits and chronology. Expectations and assurance. Things used to happen on the dot. It took years for her to break free from the daily ceremonies she was raised in and create her own.

Now she must venture into that pursuit again. She was twenty-four and living alone in a different city, and this warranted new routines. Over time, she’d establish one. Find the rhythm of her job and weave patterns that suited her developing needs.

In this moment, however, what she needed most was familiarity. Her veins hummed with longing to move to a beat only she could hear, to repeat a choreography from long ago that brought comfort despite the shadows on the walls.

Suzu fumbled on her phone with trembling hands until she found a song she hadn’t listened to in a while. She had recorded this on the piano without her father’s knowledge, each note recreated from memory as if she had heard them only yesterday.

Once the first note reverberated in the apartment and hung in the air, Suzu’s mind blanked. There were no more thoughts. No more trepidation. She pulled her shirt over her head, kicked off her jeans, and discarded her undergarments. Naked and chilled, she walked to the bathroom and tended to her bath.

She didn’t need a thermometer. As the tub filled with water, she watched the water rise steadily, and her fingers get submerged. Her rippled reflection stared back at her, empty. She stayed that way until the temperature was just right, and then she retrieved the bag of mugwort, basil, and lavender she had stashed in the hidden compartment of her luggage.

Grabbing two handfuls from the bag, she stepped into the bath, crushing the mixture in her fists while chanting. The meaning of her words was lost to her. Only the intonation and the solemnity of the practice mattered.

Submerged, she released the herbs and watched them float away from her.

The piano music played on a loop in the living room until sundown. Until her fingertips wrinkled and she reeked of medicine and flowers. Until the chaos in her mind stilled, and she felt like an empty vessel, ready to be filled.

Suzu patted herself dry, tied up her hair, and lathered herself in lotion. She had spent too much time and money finding a brand that came close to the homemade ones they used to rub on her. As she spread it on her skin, she felt tingling sensations where other hands had worked the lotion on her body, making sure she absorbed it.

Incense enveloped the bathroom in a light haze. She sat on the bathtub’s rim, inhaling and exhaling like she was taught, and then turned the incense over in their container to stop the smoke.

As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, she pressed the base of her palm against her forehead and broke down in tears.

There must be something wrong with her.

Kei swiped on his phone. One image after another of body tattoos, most of them intricate and crude. He had tried a number of keywords. Minimalist whole-body tattoo. Tattoo trend women. Rebellious tattoo teenager. Lines tattoo. He saved anything that came close to the photo he took of Ana’s drawing, but even then, nothing felt right.

He put down his phone and peered into his telescope. He had positioned it in his bedroom window, where he got a clearer view of the buildings across and the street below. More importantly, he could scope the park right in front of them, where night owls lingered, and shadowy figures could lurk unnoticed.

It was half past one, and he still hadn’t caught anyone even remotely suspicious.

What if the government itself was keeping an eye on Suzu? Could they hack into CCTV cameras and monitor her on-screen instead? Yet that wasn’t Yoshi’s wording. The government sounded more like a middle-man. An entity stepping in to prevent the displeasure of unnamed individuals in Japan.

Kei combed his hair back with his fingers and closed his eyes. He’d do thirty minutes more of surveillance and then go to sleep. By now, he was tired enough that his thoughts would no longer latch stubbornly on his last conversation with Akari. They had not broached it since Professor Kaede’s funeral, and he wished she’d never bring it up again.

It was infuriating to deal with things he had no control over.

All she did by telling him was break his heart again.

Kei slapped his cheek once to get rid of these thoughts. While his skin still stung, he peered into the telescope and scanned the vicinity once more. A salaryman had passed out on the playground. A couple lingered—a little inappropriately—on the park’s perimeter, and a teenager smoked on top of the slide while texting.

He lowered his vision to the sidewalk, to a man in a three-piece suit standing with his hands in his pockets.

The surprise did not come as a jolt but rather as a slow, seeping sensation that started from his ankles. It rose with steady thrumming up his legs and to his torso, where the numbness began.

Ryouma Kujo.

Kei stepped back from the window. After a beat, he checked again and saw he wasn’t mistaken. It was indeed Ryouma, and he hadn’t changed at all.

He had not even aged.

Kei was twenty-four when he last saw Ryouma. The image burned in his mind was of this neatly dressed man haloed by white light, his arms outstretched like a savior. After spending too long in a liminal space, covered in blood and gore, the sight of Ryouma was like a glimpse of heaven in hell. He had picked Kei up and brought him to safety, and once Kei’s transfer had been finalized, they never saw each other again.

Approaching Ryouma had not been a conscious decision. Kei wasn’t even sure if he had a choice in the matter. His feet led him out of his apartment and across the quiet street to where Ryouma stood, watching him in silence.

“Look at you,” Ryouma clapped his arm twice. “You’re all grown up. You might even be stronger than me now. I was roughly your age the last time we spoke. How long has it been again?”

“Seven years,” Kei whispered. He couldn’t help but stare.

“To be honest, I thought you’d punch me.” He laughed nervously. “Akari said she told you the news and you were upset. Understandably.”

Kei squeezed his eyes shut for a second and then blinked hard. In place of his initial shock was an overwhelming sense of dread, yet he couldn’t turn away. His childhood fascination with Ryouma returned with such force that it laced his dread with euphoria.

“Do you—” gesturing to the park “—want to sit? I can buy us a drink.”

Ryouma glanced behind him and nodded approvingly at the park. “Sure. Just like old times.”

“I’ll be quick.” Kei pointed at the convenience store and headed towards it. The trip to buy beer made him feel like he was back in his early twenties, fumbling through the ropes in Ninomae’s headquarters and needing a mentor.

When he returned to the park, Ryouma was already seated on the bench, petting a tabby that had sidled up to him. Flushed and embarrassed, Kei opened the plastic bag to him and listed his purchases. Four cans of beer, two bags of chips, and several dark chocolate bars with almonds—his favorite.

Ryouma set the bag of chips between them and hurried to drink the foam fizzing out of his beer can. Kei couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him panicking. Even that hadn’t changed.

“I miss this,” Ryouma said. “I’d do this several times a week if only I had the strength to. Nowadays, I have to stick to a bedtime.”

“And what time would that be?”

“The exact moment my youngest falls asleep.”

Kei nodded, pretending to understand. “What’s his name again?”

“Sosuke.” Ryouma showed him a photo on his phone. It was him with a five-year-old boy at the beach, grinning as the waves splashed from behind them. “His mother’s an Inukai. He mostly takes after her.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“She’s kind and intelligent. Father complains that she makes Sosuke soft, but I want my children to have strong morals, so I don’t limit their time together.”

“Of course, of course.” Kei took a chip and waved it around as he searched for the right words. “So, why didn’t you marry her?”

“The blood wasn’t quite right. Don’t get me wrong, Sosuke’s still of great use, same as my other children, but some are more valuable than others in relation to our business,” he said.

“And you think Akari will give you what you want?”

“We’re pretty sure. She’s quite powerful.”

Kei couldn’t eat the chip. He was too nauseous even to drink. Akari must’ve known exactly why they wanted her, but she had spared him the details. It was one thing to make her produce children for the Kujo, and another to have those children tested for their blood for the company’s benefit. She knew that, like her, he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting any children, more so their own.

Kei gasped as though surfacing from a depth and looked up at the monkey bars. Someone had left a bow around one of the poles. “She gets the blues during winter. And she doesn’t like her fries soggy.”

Ryouma leaned forward a little. “Excuse me?”

“I know you’ll be good to her, and you’ll protect her. Frankly, I think you’re the most agreeable in your family, so I’m relieved it’s you, but Akari might not tell you these things.” Kei swallowed hard. “She’ll be a good wife, and she’ll perform her duty, but she’ll never tell you when she’s unhappy. You just kinda have to know.”

Ryouma lowered his gaze to the bag of chips, looking apologetic. “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer except this: she’s required to give me children, but her first job is to be my wife. I believe she’s the best person to partner with once I take over the family. It will not be a painless experience, but I will do my best to make her happy.”

Kei wiped the underside of his nose. He wasn’t going to cry. The back of his eyes was hot, but he wasn’t going to cry.

“In exchange…” Ryouma swung his arm back to gesture to his apartment building with his beer can. “Keep her for me.”

Kei had to regard the building for a few seconds before it fully sunk in. “Suzu Sakurai?”

“Who else?” Ryouma laughed as if Kei had just joked.

“I don’t understand.”

Ryouma unwrapped a chocolate bar and halved it. He offered one half to Kei. “How do I put this? Ah! Let’s just say Miss Suzu Sakurai is a misplaced property. Personally, I feel she’s a debt owed to me, but to claim her now would be to war with people I’d rather not be on odd terms with. We’re walking on thin ice as it is, and her involvement with Ninomae was not taken lightly. Thankfully, the wrinkles were smoothened out, and we’re all cordial again.”

“Can you try that again but with more facts and fewer riddles?”

“But you might not think of me the same way again.” Ryouma turned away, his embarrassment almost childish. He scratched the back of his ear as he thought through it. “Listen, Kei. The Blood families have been around for centuries. We have affiliations and practices that outsiders like you will never understand. Suzu Sakurai is a prime example of what happens when you mess with tradition. A lot of people were deeply upset by her circumstances—I still am personally offended by it—and desire compensation. When I was told that you, of all people, encountered this young lady, I thought it must be fate. You’re the best person to safeguard her for me until I can claim what’s mine.”

Kei peered above Ryouma’s head to the black square in the distance that indicated Suzu’s balcony door.

Ryouma didn’t come for him.

He came for Suzu.

Her bedroom had an entire wall outfitted with closets. One of those—the middle and biggest of them—was filled only with her uniforms: trousers, skirts, blazers, blouses, and shirts in various black fabrics, as well as boots, sneakers, loafers, and stilettos, all in black, too.

Suzu remembered Hanzo mentioning that their uniforms were laced with threads from the Amemiya family. These were supposed to protect her from supernatural entities the same way Kei’s plaid button-down had protected her from Big Baby.

She had to sit at her bedside for five minutes while nursing a cup of coffee before she decided what to wear on her first day at work: a button-down over a checkered pencil skirt with black tights and stilettos. Obviously, whoever put together this wardrobe wanted her to dress smart for the job.

By six-thirty, she was already in the lobby, scrolling through social media for news. Kei had to clear his throat twice before she looked up, and at first, she didn’t know how to react.

Kei, in a pair of dress shirt and pants with his hair combed back, looked like a respectable man. He also looked tired and somber, with dark rings under his eyes and a heaviness to his lids that screamed sleep deprivation.

“Were you…working all night?” Suzu asked as she stood and straightened out her skirt.

Kei rubbed his right eye until it turned pink. “An old friend dropped by.”

“Oh.” Suzu shuddered a little. “I didn’t need to know that. Wait, am I required to know that?”

Kei smacked the back of her head lightly. “I meant an old colleague from headquarters. A guy.”

Hanzo rounded the driveway in the black van just then, sparing them from what felt like a brewing argument.

Kei checked his wristwatch. “You ready, kid?”

Suzu squared off her shoulder and marched ahead of him to the van.

Who was ever ready to work on the supernatural?