Chapter Text
No, it was probably just a little better in there. Sango thinks as the group begins making their way towards Mrs. Tamura’s house, fingers curling and uncurling constantly to keep the blood flowing. Lips pulled back into a frown at the absurdity of the situation, considering that if she isn’t being attacked by a miniman, she’s being ambushed by mother nature. She can feel the burn settle into her exposed skin, and a hiss so loud that it startles both Ryuuji and Nakajima leaves her lips. She blames Nakajima slipping for the fourth time on the noise she made, but Sango makes no move to apologize out loud, too caught up in the scenery around them.
The longer they walk in silence, however, the more her mind takes in the world around her. Heizou’s antagonizing nature gets swept to the back of her mind, and a small smile takes its place on her features.
It had begun snowing as they made their way out of the station, pretty little crystals falling around them in a gentle sway. With no wind blowing as they fall, she marvels at them drifting in their silence, no one else around anymore because of the weather. I’ve never seen snowflakes this big before. Ryuuji watches from the peripheral as Sango looks up towards the sky, eyes wide and wondering despite the painful red blooming on her nose.
She reaches a single hand out, catching a few snowflakes before shaking them off. Just a little better. She reaches her hand out once again, aiming to catch a large, gleaming snowflake when a voice breaks the healing silence. The troubled expression returns to her face as the first word fills their ears.
“Apologies, guys. I said we’d get warm, and yet here we are trekking through the cold.” Heizou claps both his hands together in front of his face. Although he walks behind the three, the sound was plenty loud for them to know the gesture he is making.
Sango, who throws a quick glance at him over her shoulder, eyebrows knit together in pain from the biting cold and annoyance, replies to him, “I know it’s not really your fault, but I’ll gladly place the blame on you anyways.” At this Heizou chuckles, lowering his hands back into his pockets when having them out becomes too much to bear.
“And you are most certainly not forgiven,” she huffs. Crossing her arms over her chest while Ryuuji simply sighs at her childish words. He desperately wants the silence to return, but he won’t say that aloud. When she had met up with him outside, it was to shoulder check Ryuuji for not making sure she had left with him.
“Ouch, Sango. You always, always seem to wound me,” Heizou playfully sighs, hunching his shoulders over and shaking his head with mock disappointment. Snow gently descends from his stone cold locks, a thinly made veil blocking the world from his crestfallen eyes. Despite the rather light tone of his words, they felt extra heavy leaving his tongue. Sango simply rolls her eyes at his response, and then exhales sharply.
“Says you–”
“How long until we reach Mrs. Tamura?” Ryuuji interrupts, leaning his head forward to look at Nakajima, who his question is directed at. Pleading with the man to respond quickly, who wears a dumbfounded look on his face at Ryuuji who had just spoken too fast to process what he had said to him.
“Oh, uhm.. Not long! She’s pretty close by, so just a few more minutes!” Nakajima explains, using his hands to gesture left and right. Although it made absolutely no sense to Ryuuji, he’s just glad it got the other two to stop bickering for now. Sango had no problem dropping the conversation they were about to have, as she did not feel like entering the home of her client with a chip on her shoulder. Which is another reason she was thankful that Nakajima had rushed to walk beside her on the left, as Ryuuji took the space on her right. This meant that Heizou would either have to walk in front of them or behind them, and the deal was sweetened when he stayed behind.
Though, Nakajima was truly a little odd, if she must be honest. First, upon taking her side he had almost tripped immediately, which would be no issue if he hadn’t been continuously doing so. Secondly, he kept trying to bump their shoulders, which made her uncomfortable but thanks to his tripping their bodies never met. What an odd fellow. She muses to herself, eyes downcast at the blanket of white now covering the surface of her city, feet dragging to make barely noticeable paths.
A question Ryuuji had early about their client returns to his mind, having slipped out during the mess of Sango and Heizou banter that went down back at the agency. He wants to ask Heizou about it, and turns his head to the oddly silent man, who walks directly in the paths made by Sango. This quiets him, the small man wearing such a somber expression did not suit him. So he opens his mouth again to ask the question and hopefully liven the other one up when a booming voice shocks him.
“OH, JUST OVER THERE!” Nakajima calls out, sounding a little relieved and thrusting his left hand in front of Sango so suddenly, making all three of them jump in place at his unexpected excitement. Just at the edge of the city sits a house a bit smaller than all of the rest, steam pouring out what could only be the kitchen window. The ruckus knocks Ryuuji’s question once again to the back of his mind, now focused on rushing over to where their new escape from the cold awaits.
All four of them waddle towards Mrs. Taruma’s house as the wind starts around them, swirling the snowfall around their figures in an icy, and unwelcomed, hug. Sango is the first of the four to reach the front door, and she takes her fingers and raps as hard as she can on the front door. Though she feels like her flesh is almost completely frozen over, so not much force was put into the action, and she curses lightly under her breath.
“Mrs. Tamura?” Nakajima calls out from his place at Ryuuji’s side, the two standing shoulder to shoulder as the wind picks up its pace. “Mrs.Tamura?”
Heizou, miraculously the most mobile of the four, gently nudges Sango to the side, who shuffles over to the flower pots neatly set outside the house. Sango’s eyes land on said flower pots that sit uselessly outside of the house as the shortest male continues knocking at the door. Each pot sits filled with dirt yet no flowers except for the third that holds a dying orchid, and Sango wonders if they’re going to die out here too.
“Mrs.Tamura? It’s Detective Heizou speaking, and we’ve brought those from the Bantan Sango Agency!” He takes his fists and beats hard on the door again, and it looks like the world falls on his shoulders as the wind blowers harder.
“Is she really old?” Ryuuji asks Nakajima carefully, his teeth clattering as he speaks, and the man beside him is far too cold to answer either. Nakajima simply shakes his head in response to Ryuuji, wrapping his arms tighter around himself and thankfully this time muted words and pushing up against Ryuuji with more force. The other man doesn’t seem to mind at all, and instead pushes up against Nakajima harder as well, both trying to steal whatever is left of the heat wafting off of each other's bodies.
“Penguins,” Sango mumbles absentmindedly, which makes Heizou chuckle and let out a small noise of agreement. She watches the two pitiful men shiver in the snow, speaking their final goodbyes to the world just as the door swings open, and the warmth blasts against her cheeks.
“I am so sorry, Detective Heizou!” A woman who could not be older than her late 50 cries out, standing off to the side and gesturing for everyone to enter. Mrs. Tamura’s eyebrows knitted together so tightly Sango wonders if her face was just naturally like that. One by one, they all pile into her house as quickly as possible, removing their shoe at the genkan before quickly thanking her for having them.
Sango’s eyes glide past the older woman who fusses ast Ryuuji and Nakajima’s cold state, and to the long hallway before them. And here I thought her house was small. She notes that there are two rooms on either side of the hallway, and then one at the very end, where the light does not quite reach all the way. It makes her feel a bit uneasy, but she just chalks it off as the lack of light freaking her out a little.
“I am so sorry! I don’t know how I didn’t hear you all,” She cries out, a hand on her heart as she leads them all to the first room on the right, where there sits an irori lit and oozing off heat to the left. She clings to Heizou’s side, a hand latching on to his left forearm and continues apologizing profusely.
“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Tamura,” Heizou reassures her, placing a hand over hers in a comforting manner, and gifts her with a sweet smile. “It smells like you’ve been up to something,” He adds on teasingly, and Sango realizes he’s right, there’s a rich scent in the air that she had missed earlier.
“Yes, I wanted to prepare lunch for you all,” Mrs. Tamura frowns, “but I was too caught up in my cooking. I really hope none of you get sick.” She motions for the other three to take a seat by the irori, and they do. Ryuuji and Nakajima all throw themselves to the floor to try and soak in all of the warmth that they can, curling in on themselves by the orange glow. Sango takes her time and keeps her eyes trained on the two still standing by the door, finding the way she clings a bit odd. She keeps this to herself for now though, and simply watches as she takes place across from Nakajima, who is currently shaking his fingers violently.
“You know what? Follow me dear,” and then Heizou is being dragged out of the room without a word. The three of them look at the spot where the two once stood, but no one mentions Mrs. Tamura’s slightly odd behavior.
“How much mora do you wanna bet that she’ll eat him,” Nakajima asks, and to that quest Ryuuji jumps in his place adjacent to him, whipping his head to face him. He’s kind of appalled that he would ask that question about someone who was going out of their way to prepare them food.
“Do you think if I put down fifty thousand, she’ll actually do it?”
“Sango?!”
“He’ll live if it’s just a nibble.”
“That is not the problem here!”
—
After a round of silence, and the cold finally removing itself from their clothes, Heizou and Mrs. Tamura wanders back into the living room, with their client carrying tea and Heizou balancing plates of food like some sort of master waiter.. “I’m sorry that this whole thing is such a mess,” Mrs. Tamura apologizes.
“I was so sure that I would have more time to prepare,” She continues as she gently sets the kettle down, “let me go grab the cups and we can speak a little over tea before eating lunch, yes?”
“I think that sounds wonderful, Mrs.Tamura,” Heizou says from his place by the dining table, awkwardly grunting as he carefully lays down the plates. “You’ve been such a lovely host so far, and on a last second visit—!”
“That does sound good, thank you Mrs. Tamura,” Sango says to her gently with a polite bow of her head, cutting off Heizou’s little flattering spiel he was probably about to go on, one that she could care less to hear.
“I will be right back then!” Off she goes, beyond the door as Heizou makes his way over to the three. He sits across from Ryuuji, which places him next to Sango, and she silently broods over this, eyes trained on her knees. Although she would love to make a stink right now so that he and one of the others might switch spots, she knows that she can’t screw this up. Sango desperately wants to build her list of clients, so she is going to try and hold herself back, for now.
Sango tries to take in her surroundings, and see if anything possibly looks out of order. While she would normally hate to place any blame on her clients, Mrs. Tamura does not seem to be acting as someone who might have just lost her husband. Her behavior digs beneath Sango’s skin, making her a bit uncomfortable as she sits quietly. The tawny brown hue of the walls are the most perstin she’s ever seen, and deep brown flooring also appears to be well attended; not a speck of dust or grime.
The busy body that is Mrs. Tamura reminds her of someone else.
“She doesn’t seem sad or worried at all for someone whose husband went missing,” Nakajima comments apathetically, peering at the steaming kettle in front of him then peering up at Sango. His eyes meet Heizou’s burning gaze, so Nakajima quickly shifts his attention to the potted plants lining the back wall. “You know, she seemed pretty distraught this morning, just feels a little weird to me, is all.”
“Duly noted,” Heizou says quickly.
“Don’t be an ass,” Sango says to him, picking at the fuzz of her hanten again, as Nakajima flushes.
“Oh, does my manner of speech offend you, sweetie?”
“Your manner of li—”
“Sorry that took so long,” Mrs. Tamura exclaims as she bursts into the room, juggling the cups. “At my age everything seems to take forever and day,” and she laughs, as does everyone else in the room to mask the prior heat growing between the pair that unfortunately sat next to each other. She sets down a cup for each guest and herself, moving to grab the kettle before Nakajima interrupts her.
“Allow me, ma’am, the least I can do after all your hospitality,” Nakajima offers, a charming smile plays on his lips and he bows slightly before taking the kettle into his hands. Mrs. Tamura clearly fawns over the youngest fellow as he begins pouring each of their fill, slowly making his way around.
“Shall we begin talking about the day your husband left the house?” Sango asks, placing her cup back down softly after taking a quick sip from the hot cup, the tip of her tongue stings.
At this, Mrs. Tamura seems to shrink in on herself, shoulders growing closer, her fingers curling in on themselves on her lap. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it immediately, looking off to the back of the room, shifting her body as she kneels. Gesturing at Sango with her right hand, she opens her mouth again before finding herself at a loss for words once more, and pressing her lips together tightly. Her eyes look down at her lap, unwilling to meet any eyes at the table, not knowing how to convey her current jumbled thoughts.
“Mrs. Tamura?” Heizou gently calls out her name, hoping to guide her seemingly anxious mind. She finally looks up at him, with red eyes and wobbling lips.
“Honestly, I was hoping you could tell me,” She speaks so softly, Ryuuji almost didn’t catch the words. All four of her guests tilt their heads in confusion simultaneously, and if she wasn’t in such a situation perhaps she would find herself actually laughing right now. However, she very much is in such a situation, and finds their confusion to be disheartening.
“You have to understand! He’s never done anything like this before!” Mrs. Tamura’s words rush out, hands clasping together over her thighs. “He always returns! Always!” At this point the tears have begun to trail down her cheeks slowly, the wet feeling only taunts the older woman.
“Everything routine that we’ve stuck to through the years never change at all!” She loses her composure then, hands flying to her face as sob after sob shakes her body. A warm hand lands on her trembling shoulder, and sweet voice does its best to console her.
Sango watches with a stoic expression as Ryuuji comforts Mrs.Tamura, letting her know that they were there on her time, and if needs to take a moment, they will have no problem picking up the conversation again later. She can’t help but feel a little envious of the comfort Mrs. Tamura is receiving, but she packs it away quickly, like always.
Mrs. Tamura turns to face Ryuuji, one of her wrinkly hands grasping at his own in desperation, “We woke up, I made us breakfast, he tended to his pots outside, came back,” furiously she wipes her tears with her free hand, hiccuping. “We ate a-and then he was off! He just didn’t come home this time.” He tends to empty flower pots on overwhelming cold winter mornings? Sango thinks to herself, chewing on her still raw bottom lip. It hurts, but it is the only way she can keep herself from shooting out a thousand and one questions to a very clearly mentally exhausted lady. Calm her down and then interrogate her later.
“The lunch you worked so hard on might be going cold, Mrs.Tamura,” Sango says as she stands up from her dearly missed spot by the irori, and she walks over to the table where the food was laid. There, before her, was a meal she could only describe as one befitting the Raiden Shogun herself. A dish of some type of braised fish, sitting in a sweet smelling sauce with thinly sliced ginger and green onions as a garnish, fills up four plates. That is just the main dish?! There are also a bunch of side dishes that Sango assumes must have already been placed before they arrived because there was no way Heizou could carry that much with that little shrimp build of his. She wonders how Heizou was even able to balance four plates in the first place!
“Why don’t we eat this lovely meal you prepared while you take a moment to compose yourself?” She offers, already taking a place at the end of the table. A barely noticeable smile graces her features when Mrs. Tamura nods her head, standing up on shaky legs and trying to wipe away the ever persistent tears. The other three slowly make their way over, each kneeling before their plates. Well, Ryuuji was dragged down, but that doesn’t matter.
“Oh, but Mrs. Tamura? Where’s your plate?” Ryuuji asks, noticing the lack of dinnerware set out for one last person.
“I could hardly hold down breakfast,” She explains with a heavy sigh,” and I doubt lunch will differ. Perhaps after our chat I’ll be feeling up for dinner.” With that she exits the room, taking a right. Sango hears a door slamming, eyes never leaving the entrance of the room as notices those around her begin to eat from the clinking of chopsticks on porcelain, putting no thought before diving in. Sango cannot help but wonder why the older woman had chosen to make them a feast so grand; too grand for the occasion. Is she hiding something? Did she put something in the food? In every cup? Or perhaps just her and Heizou’s dish? Preferably just Heizou’s plate. But how would she know which plate to put it in? Is she overthinking? Did—
“I didn’t know you changed your diet to a cold one,” Heizou teases as Ryuuji nudges her arm with his elbow, shooting a pleading look to Heizou who only puts on a coy smile. Sango blinks repeatedly, as if having been woken up from a trance, eyes slowly moving to meet Heizou.
Suddenly she remembers having been cut off earlier, “Your manner of li—”
“So, Nakajima! Will you be working on the case as well?” Ryuuji quickly asks, coughing a bit after swallowing his food quickly to make sure he cuts Sango off in time.
“Yes! I want to be a detective as well! So, Detective Heizou offered to let me shadow him for the case, to see how things are done.” Nakajima explains happily, his eyes meet Sango’s and a faint blush covers blooms over his face, clearing his throat. He speaks softly this time, “I look forward to working with you.”
Two people roll their eyes.
—
After quickly finishing their meal, and a few choice words exchanged between a few of them, Sango helps Mrs. Tamura clean up the mess left behind. So here she finds herself in the kitchen drying dishes as Mrs. Tamura washes them, and what a steady team they make. They talk casually as they go, which is how Sango picks up on some insider information about her client and her missing husband. Like how he is working for the Yashiro commission, and though he isn’t quite well known his job is rather important. So important that he has come to know the Yashiro commissioner himself, and the Kamisato’s granted him permission to frequent Komore Teahouse, which she says he takes full advantage of.
Sango also learned that he is quite the plant lover with quite the green thumb, but she cannot keep a plant alive even for a day, and so only he cares for the plants around their house. In his absence, Mrs. Tamura says that they have all begun to die, and that they began to look weird the day her husband had gone missing.
“The actual day of?” Sango asks, eyebrows raised to the sky as Mrs. Tamura and her make their way back into the living room. Upon entering, all three of the men gathered around the irori stiffen up, shoulders raised and faces suddenly void of an expression. Except for poor Nakajima who seems to be sweating in his seat between Ryuuji and Heizou. At this, Sango shifts her weight onto one leg, placing both hands on her hips and scowling. “I hope you’re not bullying the newbie.”
Nakajima thinks she must be an angel.
“What do you take me for, sweetie?” Ryuuji has never witnessed Sango’s eye twitch as violently as it is right now. He’s proud of her for only going red in the face and taking a seat across from the three men who squeezed together on one side for whatever reason. Think of your business, think of your business, think of your busi—.
“Young love is always so refreshing to bear witness to,” Mrs Tamura muses as she kneels beside Sango, her eyes are shut softly and she bares an elusive smile, most likely reminiscing. However, she is completely unaware of the three jaws currently on her floor, and a tall male who looks on the verge of crying.
“You guys are together?” Ryuuji swears that he can feel the angst oozing out of the poor guy, whose head is hung so low his neck might as well be broken.
“Stay strong, Nakajima!” Sango and Heizou protests about the subject fall on deaf ears, everyone consumed by their own reality. The pair shaking their heads, hands, swearing up and down that they are not a couple.
“Oh, dear. You couldn’t tell? They are matching after all,” Mrs. Tamura says, shooting arrows in Nakajima’s chest, his body slumping onto Ryuuji’s who is prematurely mourning the loss of a new friend. Heizou and Sango drop their eyes to their deep green hanten’s and then up to each other, to their smug looking client, and finally to the over dramatic pair, clearly looking for an acting award.
“I can’t go on like this, Ryuuji…”
“Cut that out you two!” Sango hisses, swatting across the irori at Ryuuji.
“Mrs. Tamura, I can assure you, we are not together,” Heizou says firmly, hands out in front of him and shaking his head firmly once again, and although the older woman cannot she her, Sango is shaking her head fervently as well.
“Oh me, oh my, let us continue on from here then,” Mrs. Tamura says, gently smacking Heizou’s shoulder, clearly not convinced.
“Yes! Let’s,” Sango says quickly, laughing out awkwardly and resisting the urge to jump across the flames to strangle Ryuuji for not clarifying and Heizou being the one to do it. Hearing him speak just irritates him greatly. “So, you were telling me that the flowers died earlier.”
“What does that have to do with the case?” Heizou can feel the daggers entering his flesh just from her stare alone, “My apologies, please continue.”
“Yes! Such a shame, considering that his new friend is the one who gave them to him.” She says the last part with a sigh, nodding her head slowly.
“New friend?” Ryuuji asks, patting the back of a more chipper looking Nakajima who listens intently besides him.
“Oh, yes! I cannot remember his name at the moment, but it is the same friend he had gone out to meet at Komore Teahouse.”
“Komore Teahouse?” Heizou questions rhetorically, “So, I’m assuming this friend of his must really be someone then.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” Another defeated sigh. “I just know that my husband and him get on just fine because they both love botany.” Mrs. Tamura’s hands smooth over the legs of her kimono, frowning.
“Would you say that they meet frequently at Komore Teahouse, Mrs. Tamura?” Sango asks, arms crossing over her chest as more information about a possible suspect is shared.
“Hm, I would say like clockwork on Fridays evenings! He was always in a rush leaving the house, going on and on about how he shouldn’t be late! OH! And don’t even get me started on the weird late night visits.”
“Late night visits? As in this new friend coming to visit your house or?”
“Yes. I think it’s to check on the special flowers he gifted Kousuke. I have a rather hard time sleeping at night and I’m usually up when I should be getting rest, so I think I wasn’t supposed to hear him out front but I always do.” She muses, head tilting to the left and looking off to the flower pots at the back of the room, all lined up neatly.
“Every night? The man does this every night?” Nakajima asks, a little impressed at the dedication.
“Even last night!” Mrs. Tamura states, another heavy sigh leaving her lips. “The two times that he had come over for dinner, they spoke so passionately about flora and all of that, but I couldn’t really understand a thing.”
“Can you recount the day your husband went to meet with his friends for me again, please?” Mrs. Tamura nodded her head, taking a deep breath before recounting the day.
“It was a Monday. Monday’s are deep cleaning days so I got up extra early as I always do to make breakfast and then clean the kitchen first. All of that went well, Kousuke woke up at the time he always does to go in for work, tended to the plants and ate the breakfast I prepared. I kissed him off, and then I went about cleaning the rest of the house as normal! Of course, I didn’t touch his plants at all.” Mrs. Tamura goes silent after that bit, hands intertwining on her lap with a dampened expression.
“He didn’t come home that day,” Mrs. Tamura looks puzzled, eyes furrowed at how her routine loving husband could just vanish, but the cogs in Sango’s brain are turning.
“You said Monday, yes?” Mrs. Tamura nods her head absentmindedly. “Did you not think it a bit odd that Mr. Tamura was meeting his friend on a Monday instead of Friday?” Heizou asks the question for everyone at the table, all deep in thought and busy, but listening to whomever speaks.
“Well, I did but I also didn’t think much of it. Maybe they couldn’t meet on Friday, so they moved it up. Maybe his friend is returning to his home nation soon?” She doesn’t appear confident as she speaks, and is looking around the room nervously.
“So he isn’t Inazuman?” Sango asks, just for specific clarification, and she doesn’t know where he pulled it out of, but she takes a mental note that Nakajima is scribbling furiously into a notebook. She wants a copy of whatever he might have written in there, all the more information she can have documented the better.
“No, he isn’t. I believe he should only be here on business, and is connected to Kousuke through that,” Mrs. Tamura shakes her head as she explains how the two are acquainted. “That really is all that I know, though. My husband doesn’t really speak of him often to me, unless he comes up when Kousuke is going on whatI call one of his little plant rants,” she smiles nostalgically.
“I know that you must be incredibly worried,” Sango starts, hands reaching to the shaky and worn fingers, “but all of the information you just provided us has been extremely helpful.”
“Really?” Mrs. Tamura inquires, perking her head up, a glint of hope peeking through her tired eyes.
“Oh, yes. You just provided us with at least three different sources we will be reaching out to regarding your husband’s lifestyle,” Heizou says, finger resting on his chin, eyes narrowed in on the heat source, head bobbing unceremoniously. “All of this information has been quite useful, indeed.”
“I’m so glad! I was worried what I gave you would be too little to go off of!” Leans over, slapping a hand over her chest and exhaling as though she had been holding her breath this entire time. Sango thinks that it must have felt that way to poor Mrs. Tamura.
“You have given us more than enough,” Ryuuji says to her kindly, a handsome smile on his face as he stands. “We should probably be off then, unless you have anything else that might be of help?” Mrs. Tamura shakes her head, reiterating that all she said was truly all that she knew.
At that, all of them begin to stand. Fixing their outerwear to make sure it’s fastened on tight, and that all exposed skin that could be covered is indeed covered. Sango looks down at her green hanten in distaste, considering going back to Mio on her way home to beg for a different colored one. She wants this one to be burned, and its ashes thrown far out to sea.
“Thank you again, Mrs. Tamura, for the lovely hospitality,” Sango says, the rest thanking her as well. Nakajima compliments her cooking as Ryuuji says he’s never tasted a better cup of Hojicha in his life. Their moment is cut short by a certain auburn boy.
“Well, then we’ll get out of your lovely hair,” Heizou gives her a lopsided grin, “We have quite the handful of people to reach out to.”