Chapter Text
The winter cold put a damper on Niijima Makoto’s first day, and while it was most purposeful that the police department start off their new officers when they were more assured of their budgets near the end of the year, there was always something bittersweet about winter to her. In her heart, she knew it to be the consistent anniversary reminder of her father’s untimely death back in her middle school years - a memory she had successfully buried after high school - but there was something else also that she couldn’t quite place.
It wasn’t unusual for the occasional case of seasonal depression to start around the month of November given the aforementioned circumstances of what had happened prior, but Makoto wasn’t the best at pinpointing her psyche’s hidden worries. And so, she forgot about it all together simply because it was easy to do so.
The building was uninspiring much to her disappointment. Her interview had been held in the most spectacular skyscraper in downtown Tokyo. Naturally, this would’ve been the case for all their officers so that the privacy of each station wouldn’t be out in open display for just any candidates applying. But the stark differences were almost so drastic that Makoto frowned when she arrived. She had done her due diligence in looking up the address of the building beforehand and what would be the best train route to take for the most optimal arrival. Not too early, not too late. Never too late, actually.
A part of her was nervous. She hadn’t quite been fruitful in making anything past acquaintances while at the police academy, but that was mostly her fault. Naturally, her personality hoisted off potential admirers to the more ditzy girls in her cohort, but this gave way to Makoto shining through in all areas ranging from combat to police reasoning. Having a knack for academia made the latter easy, and was one of the prime reasons she was hired in the first place. She would never forget that, and that eased a bit of her nerves tensing in her forearms.
She glanced at her watch and realized she had arrived ever so slightly early, and tucked a strand of her short hair back nervously even though no one was watching. A moment of deliberating, and she decided she’d give the usual impression that people got of her for arriving much too early. The good girl. The pushover who wanted this job, needed this job. Even for someone outshining all the candidates for this position, she was still on the lowest rung of the totem.
A slight sigh, and she walked forward. Her father started here. Sae started here. Everyone had to start somewhere, and she will be the same. Exceptions made along the way were because of her talent and hard work, not because she didn’t deserve it. This was a mantra she told herself over and over again when she fell down in the bootcamp, when she scored even slightly lower than perfect. Finally, it was what got her to where she was and she wouldn’t fail just yet.
The door was heavy. It felt even heavier than the weights she had lifted on the bar above her head everyday for a year in bootcamp. When the weight of it slid from her hand and back into place without a sound, she realized it was really happening. Almost instantly, the receptionist at the desk stood up and greeted her.
“Hi, Eiji’s just waiting in the other room. Can I get you some water?” she asked.
Makoto grew almost frantic at the gesture, a far cry from the greetings she received back at the academy, and turned down the offer almost instantly. The receptionist smiled, slightly relieved it seemed that she could go back to her desk, and hoped that Makoto knew where to go. Luckily for her, all stations were laid out the same. The one or two times that she brought lunch to her father resulted in her memorizing the entire layout. It was no surprise to anyone that Makoto sought this route, and obviously no surprise to the receptionist either.
“I’ll get your badge printed. It should only be a few minutes but I’ll leave it up here for you when you’re done,” she said with a smile.
Makoto nodded in understanding, wondering if that meant that her desk had yet to be established or not. The slightest worry and imposter syndrome came rushing back through her veins for a moment.
The doors to the other room were pried open and Makoto’s eyes glanced to the wedge on the floor that propped them open. All the whiteboards had been cleared and empty, chairs around the meeting table were all in their slotted positions. Eiji greeted her with a wide small, ceasing conversation he was having with a supposed officer there. They didn’t have the chance to introduce themselves to Makoto before sliding her a warm smile also and rushing back to their desk. He was slow in his motions, but Makoto knew that he intended on keeping that cup of coffee in his left hand and shaking her with his right. She stumbled for a moment, retrieving her hand from in her jacket pocket to extend towards his.
“Good morning, Officer Makoto,” he said with the slightest laugh.
“Morning,” she said with the slightest flush, “It’s good to be here.”
“It’s good to have you,” he agreed, “I hope the commute wasn’t too terrible.”
“N-no, nothing I’m not used to,” she continued, tucking the strands that framed her face behind her ear and then slipping them back into place.
He moved much slower than the officers at the academy, and she almost didn’t welcome this sort of change. Eiji wasn’t particularly old, but it was obvious that he ran the police force from the station than on the field. His words were slow and not without purpose. He nodded at her remark, sipping his coffee for a moment longer before setting it down with the slightest thud on the meeting desk.
“Might I show you around?” he offered.
Makoto nodded rapidly, happy to accept. There was no place for her to deny the offer given her situation, but she was glad she could at least relax in the familiar surroundings. He held out his arm towards the door, allowing her to go forward. She impressed him by leading him right down the hall to the other meeting rooms.
“You walk with purpose,” he noted.
Don’t tell him you’ve been here before, don’t.
She ended up saying nothing. He showed her where the breakroom was, where the bathrooms were located. There weren’t any officers around for him to introduce her to given her time of arrival, though she did meet the one from the room before sitting at his desk.
“Taka. You saw him earlier,” Eiji told her.
Makoto extended her hand to him and he could only nod and smile as he did previously.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, and then moments later, “Niijima Makoto.”
He nodded again before sitting back down.
“You won’t be working with him unfortunately,” Eiji teased, “I’m afraid you won’t learn much from him.”
“I have much to learn,” Makoto muttered shyly.
Both Taka and Eiji bellowed into laughter at her modesty, and she wondered if it would always be like this.
“Taka takes a great sense of pride in the most boring work an officer can have,” Eiji said with a wide smile, eyeing him as he did so.
“Boring, but necessary,” Taka agreed, “Paperwork.”
“Perhaps in a few more years that won’t be the case,” Eiji returned sympathetically.
Makoto felt like an outsider watching the conversation unfold. There was this sense of awkwardness, but for the most part, the desolated loneliness that she felt all of her academy years seemed to come back. She clutched the junction of her thumb and pointer finger, wondering in secret if all those years she had spent perfecting her combat skills would be spent at a computer also.
“Do you handle all of the paperwork, then?” Makoto asked curiously.
“Just about. Everyone’s too damn slow,” Taka sighed, “Hopefully that leaves you with the more interesting part of policing.”
“Interesting,” Makoto repeated softly.
“Speaking of interesting,” Eiji suggested, leading her away from her conversation with Taka, “Your desk.”
He led her down another hall, but not before raising his hand to wave to Taka. Makoto followed suit with a slight wave also. Another set of meeting rooms and an adjacent wall of awards, and Eiji had seemingly brought her to another realm entirely. A blackboard had been turned around completely facing two desks that were clearly forced out of position and placed together. Makoto’s eyes widened when she caught sight of someone sleeping at their desk, papers splayed all over the place including the wall and monitors. She wondered if she was supposed to express worry or familiarity.
“I always forget to mention this part of the office,” Eiji said quietly, “The detectives here rarely go home even when we urge them that they’re not being paid overtime for it.”
“This… is normal?” she asked with the slightest worry.
“Probably the most normal part of this office,” he laughed, “You’ll be working closely with them.”
“I would hope so,” Makoto said with ease.
It was becoming obvious how laidback this department was, and she was getting the slightest ego that she would be the only one taking her job seriously. Did anything ever happen in this prefecture?
“Come again?” he asked.
“My desk. Is it in this part of the office?” she asked quickly.
“No, no,” he scoffed, “I wouldn’t throw you in the deep end like that. Not that I don’t think you wouldn’t handle it.”
His steps seemed to be getting increasingly slower with ever chug out of his coffee cup. At some point, Makoto swore he was taking sips with how often he was raising it to his mouth. Past the section of ‘detectives,’ Eiji took her to a sectioned off part of the office. She sighed a breath of relief when she saw that the desk was at least aligned. A few other sets of desks were clustered in her area, and she was happy to see that they were at least occupied so she wouldn’t be working alone.
“Ah, you’re missing your badge still,” he said with a frown, glancing at her desk frantically, “I’ll make sure it gets printed.”
Without another word, Eiji had slipped past her and down the hall. It was the fastest Makoto had seen him move, confirming that he was likely the heart of the office than an actual police commissioner. Still, she was grateful she could breathe a little, and didn’t even bother to stop him from his rush down the hall.
The sun was finally rising, and she noted the plant in the corner of the office that was clearly soaking up the warmth. The soil had been dried, likely from neglect, and it showed in the yellow leaves. It was the most familiar thing so far, even more familiar than the layout or police force. Makoto felt herself smiling as she remembered the days on the rooftop of Shujin High with her friend Haru. They had met too late in their senior year, but she would always cherish the quiet days after school where she helped her plot her plants. As a testament to that memory, Makoto told herself that she would see that plant in the corner of that office grow again.
Her desk was empty, and she was grateful for it. The three other desks in her section were covered with polaroid pictures and trinkets from around the world, but there was the one furthest away from hers that looked seemingly like hers - empty. Makoto’s heart picked up, wondering if someone else new would be arriving also. Even if they weren’t new, it might have been something that they could bond over in equivalence. Makoto was not one to decorate her desk, and even her decor at home was heavily uninspired. Looking at that empty desk far away from hers gave her a sense of hope as embarrassing as it was to admit.
Makoto dropped to one knee and placed her purse under her desk, out of the way. She squinted when she looked at the heavy desktop computer. It sported two slots for CD/DVD discs, and she swore that it was old enough to accept floppy discs. She felt the slightest fear, wondering if she could employ Futaba to walk her through using a machine that old, but that feeling was soon replaced. She heard footsteps approaching, and they walked with just as equal purpose as the ones that had left her alone a moment earlier. Perhaps she wouldn’t be spending all her time staring at the computer and that’s why it was so old. Perhaps.
She propped herself back upright and her heart nearly seized and stopped. It was one thing to be thrown all over the place since her arrival, but this was a feeling that rose all the way to her throat and dropped right to the pit of her stomach like a rollercoaster. There was a pinch in her throat, and she felt as though she couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. Burgundy red eyes moved from left to right once before they settled on her ruby ones.
Makoto drank up the sight of the familiar face before her, but for the life of her, she couldn’t place the words to describe the feeling she had encountered for the first time ever. A moment longer, and the feeling she prescribed as nostalgia and regret overtook her body, and she reconciled them to be as expected.
The man before her didn’t seem to age a day, at least, from what she recognized. Walnut brown hair still framed his face in layers as she recognized him in high school. The time was brief, but she remembered what he did. Even if she could forget his face, she couldn’t forget the striped tie and gray-green blazer suit he wore. Even having not aged, it was clear he recognized her, perhaps remembered what he did to her. Makoto didn’t know whether to proceed as if she remembered him all the same, or feign ignorance.
But for her to realize that she was split between these two paths of choices, she was also rightfully aware that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was too late to turn back, and there sat the two paths ahead that pushed her forward.
How long could the two of them sit in silence before one of them decided to speak? Perhaps they would simply stare at each other, both hoping the other didn’t recognize the other, and Eiji would arrive shortly to break up that silence. But it was too late. The silence was deafening and if she wasn’t certain why she knew him, he clearly was, vice versa.
Clumsy footsteps echoed down the hall again, and she saw the man before her stiffen before placing the familiar attache case on his proposed desk - the one Makoto had eyed with proposed friendship and ease. What once was a canvas of hope and commonality was soon replaced with dread and distrust.
Eiji arrived, coffee cup empty and Makoto’s badge in hand.
“Oh! Akechi’s arrived,” he announced in awe, “I haven’t seen you in days.”
“As it usually is,” Akechi reminded him casually.
Makoto glanced at her wrist and watched the bumps on her skin stand up in recognition. There was no denying it. Akechi Goro wasn’t dead. Akechi Goro was a detective in the Minato prefecture.
“Makoto,” Eiji started slowly, and then introduced her, “Akechi Goro.”
It was obvious to her that the aura Eiji held had suddenly changed. Akechi’s aloof nature seemed to bring about a revitalized energy that disturbed her. He had completely disregarded handing her the badge, instead, slumping over the cubicle wall to converse with the detective. Makoto squinted her eyes, realizing further that there was no friendliness that came from Akechi like the others she had met thus far, and he was not being reprimanded for it. Eiji had simply forgotten about her.
“Oh, badge, right” he finally said after seeing her stand there frozen at her desk, “Akechi, I hate to bother you. The others won’t be in today, so she’ll have to shadow you and all that good stuff.”
“Am I…,” Makoto finally spoke up, “I’m to be his intern?”
Eiji scoffed again in nervousness before he laughed at her. The reaction should’ve annoyed her, but somehow Akechi stopping his routine of shuffling through his papers and turning on his computer to stare at her with an indignant glance was worse.
“No, I… I’m assigning you two to work together on a case,” he said with a wide smile, clearly proud of the idea.
Makoto couldn’t chalk up many moments in her life that conjured a feeling quite like being reunited with Akechi Goro. She couldn’t quite pinpoint any time of which she had to pretend like there was no demented history between her and someone else, and where she was forced to work together like partners.
In lieu of his own turmoil, Akechi stood up from his desk and walked over to where she was. She couldn’t urge her body to move forward, recoiling slightly at first before returning to her confident stance. His eyes read hers, and she wondered if she was transparent in her thoughts as he had believed her to be all those years ago.
“I look forward to working with you,” he said, lips curled in a familiar smile, hand enveloped by those gloves stained with blood most likely, “Niijima Makoto.”
She could only extend her hand in return, lips pursed ever so slightly as she avoided his gaze. Solving a case with someone that slipped through the cracks of justice was certainly not the deep end, she seethed inwardly. When her hand touched his, even through the fabric of leather, Makoto suddenly recalled the memory and feeling she couldn’t quite place that happened so many Novembers ago.