Chapter Text
The summer monsoon rain had begun early in the morning, according to the weather report, and wouldn’t lessen up until they reached the Tokorozawa area about an hour outside of Tōkyō. Low overcast obscured the Matsushiro hills to the south with a grey mist, which swirled on the breeze, drifting and thinning to expose the landscape and residences on the hills, then swirling again to hide the view in damp darkness.
Shifting his attention from the wet street out the spattered windshield, as they passed the toll booth on Prefectural Road 35 and entered the connector road to Jōshin’etsu Expressway, Godai glanced over at the driver. “161 victims in twenty minutes?”
“Yes.” Checking the side-mirror, Ichijō merged onto the two-lane highway. Sheets of water running across the asphalt reflected back the glow of headlight beams. “It came out of a tomb in Toshima-ku, then ended in a tomb in Bunkyō-ku,” the inspector re-hashed the details, “ – in the meantime carrying out most of its slaughter in Gokokuji Station during rush hour when the station would be at the busiest. And at the tomb in Toshimagaoka Cemetery, it transformed into human, dressed bizarrely, and conversed in a strange unknown language with other strange human-like beings…” – he allowed a quick glance at the man in the passenger seat – “… Including a woman dressed in red with a white rose tattoo on her forehead.”
At that, a sharp breath of surprise hissed from Godai’s lips. “Like both our dreams,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” the inspector agreed. “I told you I guessed it was some kind of premonition.”
“But what could it mean?”
“I have no idea. But you know as well as I do, that wasn’t a normal dream. It was real.” Another quick shift of gaze. “You felt it too.”
“I did.” Godai acknowledged. Then turning a concerned expression on the other man, he insisted, “But I’m not going to merge with that Rose Woman and hurt you. That part’s not going to happen. That’s not what that meant.”
“We don’t know what it meant,” Ichijō overrode. “You said in the dream you could understand their language, you knew what they were saying. What were they saying?”
A hesitation before Godai shook his head. “I don’t remember now. In the daylight now, it seems so far away and hazy.”
The detective’s lips tightened, and he muttered, “It doesn’t seem hazy to me at all.”
Godai looked at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. But anyway, I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”
“Well, try,” Ichijō insisted. “It might be very important – a clue… or a lead.”
“I’ll try,” Godai acknowledged. “Why did it start and end at tombs?” he queried. “And why did it select only certain victims? If it was just a total body count it was after, why didn’t it just massacre everyone in sight?”
“At Zōshigaya Cemetery, it attacked the one woman, but not the other, when it would have been effortless to take them both out,” the inspector reminded.
“And what if it decides to target Shinjuku Station next?” Godai considered. “It could kill thousands.”
Ichijō nodded. “Depending on what its criteria are.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As they exited the Komoro Tunnel, past the residential sections of Komoro City and out into rural landscape, after a half-hour lull in the conversation, Ichijō announced, “Yūsuke, about last night… I have to think about it. I can’t give you any kind of an answer right now.”
Godai nodded pleasantly. “Sure, I understand. I told you, I don’t expect it, Kaoru. And please don’t feel like I’m pressuring you, because I’m not. When you make up your mind, one way or the other, just let me know. And if you change your mind, that’s okay too.”
Ichijō nodded as well, then admitted, “I just want you to know, I’m not into one-night stands. That’s not what that was last night. I want you to know that.”
“I do know that,” Godai assured. “It’s okay.”
“It’s just that it’s been a long time… since I was with anybody,” the inspector continued. “And I don’t know that I’m in the right place to start a committed relationship right now. And in fact, I’m not sure it’s the right time for anything, what with the monsters and the slaughter.”
Godai shook his head. “It’s never the wrong time for people who care about each other to let feelings develop however they develop. So, how long is a long time?”
“Over four years. Matsuri and I were both in Tōkyō Metro Patrol Division at the time. We had been in the same academy class. So we started dating. ”
“Serious?”
“At the time I thought there was the possibility of something. But I guess not. We both cared about our careers more than the relationship.”
“Mm, that’s not good,” Godai considered. “You shouldn’t have to go that long. You need someone in your life, and I’m not saying it has to be me.” He smiled. “You know, that’s the first personal thing you’ve told me about yourself.”
“Well, most of the time together we’ve spent fighting monsters, so there hasn’t been much chance to get to know each other.”
“”You got to know a lot about me during the interrogation at Midorikawa’s,” Godai needled playfully.
“That wasn’t an interrogation,” the detective insisted.
“Yes it was,” Godai volleyed.
“Yes it was,” Ichijō finally admitted, and they both grinned. He glanced over at his seatmate. “What about you? I suppose you've had a lot of relationships?”
Godai shook his head. “No. I’m not into one-night stands either. The person I’m with has to mean something to me. Two years ago, I was assisting on a dig in Luxor, Egypt, with a team from Oxford. One of the archaeologists, a graduate student, and I did a little mutual exploration of our own in the evenings. Then after a month, I left Egypt and returned to Japan, and that was that.”
“And since then?”
Godai shook his head. “Nothing.”
“So it’s been awhile for you you too.”
“Yeah.”
* * * * *
By the time he and Godai had arrived in Tōkyō in the early evening because of rain-delay and numerous accidents on the expressway, there had only been minimal time for brief introductions to the eight other task force members, and then dinner. Duty would officially begin the next morning at 8:00 AM.
So around 11:00 PM, after dropping Godai off at the Pore Pore tea café near Sengoku Station in Bunkyō-ku, Ichijō returned the 6 ½ kilometers to his hotel, the Chiyoda Royal. Godai had urged him to come in to meet the man he called uncle and have a late bite to eat, but Ichijō had begged off for the time being. He’d already had too much to eat at dinner with the rest of the team members – and way too much to drink – and anyway it had been a very long day, and all he wanted to get back to the hotel and go to bed. Tomorrow’s conference at 8 AM sharp would come too soon, and Ichijō wanted to be able to offer at least a semblance of alertness when he gave his presentation.
Leaving the dark blue Toyota Crown in the hotel basement parking garage, Ichijō passed through the red-carpeted gilt-teakwood lobby, and up the wide sweeping marble staircase to the elevators on the mezzanine to ride up to his room on the 10th floor.
The rain which had finally let up in the early evening now started up again, just a drizzle for now, although the weather report promised wind and heavy downpours throughout the rest of the night.
After showering and changing into his pajamas, Ichijō stepped out onto the balcony for just a brief respite before going to bed. The mugginess of the day had dried up a bit when the rain had paused earlier, and Ichijō enjoyed the cool refreshing mist that wafted over the balcony now.
To the west, within easy walking distance on a nice day, was Tōkyō Metro Police HQ just a kilometer from the hotel; to the southwest, two kilometers away, the red-and-white point of Tōkyō Tower thrust above the intervening buildings.
Dutifully Ichijō had passed on Kobayashi’s statement to Matsukura honbuchō regarding the promised academy graduation yakiniku dinner from sixteen years prior, prompting Matsukura’s retort, “That old fart – me owe him dinner?? Evidently he forgot to tell you that he owes me for the post-graduation marathon – I bested him by six-and-a-half minutes. Tell him he can make up for it by treating me to Midorikawa’s the next time I’m in Nagano.” Ichijō had grinned and promised, “I’ll be sure to relay your message, sir. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear from you.”
It had been good to see Sugita Morimichi again, and in plainclothes now – he and Ichijō had both started in Tōkyō Metro Patrol Division right out of the academy six years ago, before Ichijō lateralled into the Nagano PD two years later. “And don’t think you’re going to pick up with Matsuri again just because you’re back,” the older man forewarned. “The moment you left four years ago, she married me.”
“The moment I left, hmm?” Ichijō parried.
“Yeah.” Theatrically Sugita’s hand slid over thinning hair. “She knew which one was the handsomer one.”
“Then why did she marry you?” He knew he’d get punched in his sore shoulder for that remark, and he wasn’t mistaken.
Sakurai Tsuyoshi he’d never met, but he liked the man immediately. Matsukura had already assigned the three of them supervisory positions out in the field. Over dinner the four police detectives had shared war stories, but the real focal point of the evening's conversation was Godai Yūsuke’s fully-detailed account – only slightly exaggerated after several rounds of Asahi Draft – of the belt and Kuuga’s exploits.
Ichijō released a heavy breath.
Godai Yūsuke.
Finally stepping back into the room and closing the sliding glass door, Ichijō spread open the bed-covers and climbed in. Long-term stays in hotel rooms were never the best, but the sheets were cool and fresh and felt good against his skin.
It had been a long time since he’d had anyone in his bed, a long time since he’d needed anyone in his bed.
And then Yūsuke showed up.
He never would have considered a man before, never looked at a man that way, never found a man attractive. What few relationships he’d been involved in had all been with women; he could appreciate a beautiful woman as much as any other red-blooded heterosexual male. But there was something different about Yūsuke, a good-natured personality, an energy appealing and infectious, that had nothing to do with gender. And the sincerity and absolute determination which he showed, taking on a battle that no man should have to face, inhuman, nearly indestructible monsters appearing from god-knows-where, without hesitation. Ichijō found himself drawn to that courage, that artless honesty.
And lying there in the cool sheets, his body re-played tactile memories of the night before, and he drifted off into pleasant sleep, with the nightmares finally left behind in Nagano.
* * * * * to be continued * * * * *