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In Kamei’s defence, he really thought Haru had seen the photograph already. After all, it had made its way into the unofficial work group chat, it was only on cover of one of the biggest business magazines on sale and currently plastered everywhere.
And considering how intertwined Haru's life has become with everything Kambe Daisuke - regardless or not of acceptance this has happened - it seemed a logical deduction.
Or so Kamei thought. But he had been so very wrong.
“What the hell is this?” Haru asks, somehow both disgusted and reverent all at once.
He’s holding the photograph in trembling hands, eyes locked in unwavering fixation on the spread of Kambe Daisuke lounging proud in his fancy suit on the fancy seat in a very fancy magazine.
Needless to say, it’s fancy.
“There’s… there’s no way this is real.”
“It’s real,” Kamei says for the seventh time.
Ten minutes have passed since he so foolishly waved the photograph in Haru’s direction, ten minutes since the universe came to a grinding halt.
Haru is the only person with the power to get it moving again. But he won’t. More, he can’t. Because he’s making stupid faces at a photograph of a person he claims to be in a deeply loathsome partnership with.
“This bastard. How dare he.”
Yes, how dare Kambe Daisuke do this. How dare he reduce Haru to a mere shell of a functioning man, a broken wounded thing who only is capable of bringing his best game to smackdown a photograph rather than the casefiles on the desk.
How dare he provide Kamei with so much entertainment on this dreary, slow Thursday. Please continue.
“I hate everything about this,” Haru hisses the way a cat rejects being treated like a peasant eating food from the floor.
Well. The analogy isn’t half-bad.
Reaching for the photograph, Kamei sighs. It’s been great but this could soon turn into a seminar led by Haru himself on why his partner is secretly the devil in poor disguise or some other ridiculous conspiracy. This is meant to be a joke, only the punchline is nowhere to be found.
Trust Haru to throw a mere glimmer of harmless fun into his interrogation room. Not everything is an obstruction of justice or a sombre commentary on the world.
Something very disturbing happens, then. Haru tugs the photograph out of Kamei’s grip. Like he doesn’t want to let it go.
“You don’t have to keep looking at it if you don’t want to,” Kamei suggests. As a suggestion.
The response is staggering. Haru folds the photograph up and tucks it into his coat pocket. Then he takes a seat, opening up a casefile he definitely isn’t reading because the contents are upside down.
Gosh. It was only a suggestion.
“Nobody needs to see that,” Haru reasons.
There’s always a lick of heat to his voice, but the tension lodged in his throat doesn't sound natural. Rather than a lone bold flame this is a searing inferno with intent to burn anything in its path to the ground. That being the mere concept of Kambe Daisuke, apparently.
Maybe in some strange way, Haru considers this a form of justice. He’s upholding the duty he has to the law by hiding this from the world, keeping it out of sight.
Kamei can’t help but disagree. This isn’t justice in any shape or form, this isn’t about moral superiority and doing the right thing. This is about Haru quite possibly being on the precipice of a Kambe Daisuke awakening that has been waiting to happen. All this time it's been there - Kamei called it from day one.
Honestly, this is a theatrical rollercoaster of the best kind.
The next morning, Kamei has a harrowing realisation that the only way this can go is south. Horribly south. So far south that it might have travelled the globe and become north but nobody even knows anymore.
Kambe Daisuke is yet to arrive at the office. But Haru is here in full spirits and apparently raring to go. He’s ready to annihilate the photograph where it sits in his pocket.
In a peculiar way, this is kind of endearing. Only Haru could coax this into existence so absurdly. Modern romance could do with a kick and who knows, maybe this could be the twist it needed all along.
“Do rich people even have manners?” Haru slams the photograph down, finger jabbing the polished shoes in an accusatory manner.
Before there's a chance to answer, he continues the rampage.
“He can’t even be bothered to sit properly. Look at him, putting his feet up. Who does he think he is? Acting like he owns the place.”
Kamei gives a weak smile. Sometimes, Haru is far too easy to rile up. Those feathers are so unruly and Kambe ruffles all of them without even trying to.
“Maybe he does own that place.”
Because he’s nauseated by the notion of Kambe Daisuke owning anything at all, Haru bristles.
“I bet that bastard profited from this whole thing somehow too.”
Morbid curiosity is a thing and right now Kamei has it. He’ll bite, one more time. Maybe it will move this along quicker and Haru will let go of this embarrassing obsession he has with destroying the credibility of a single photograph.
“In what way?”
Raking a hand through his hair, Haru paces the room. He looks more like an unhinged detective on the cusp of solving an impossible case. There’s desperation to his footsteps, eyes wide and wild.
“His shares doubled overnight, his net worth exploded or something. Don’t ask me for the specifics yet - but I know I’m right about this!”
Kamei can’t argue because he has no idea how any of that works. Sounds like something that would happen to a rich person though, he assumes.
Coming to an abrupt halt, Haru clenches a fist. Nobody dislikes human lives being equated to money more than him. Even attractive ones he claims to be entirely against. Worth being measured in such a way is entirely unfathomable and despicable.
For a moment there’s a lull in Haru’s belligerent outcry. It lasts all of five seconds, unfortunately.
“He looks like he’s practiced in front of a mirror just to get this right. This guy clearly knows all his damn angles from head to toe.”
“And that’s… bad?” Kamei ventures because Haru is unreasonably frustrated about Kambe Daisuke’s innate ability to pose.
“It’s unforgivable.”
Right. That makes complete sense.
To be honest, Kamei had not anticipated things to get this outrageously interesting between Haru and Kambe this early on. Yet alone over a silly photograph.
But here he is, watching Haru Katou relentlessly fling himself into the most abstract form of attraction Kamei has ever seen.
Circus acts are less entertaining.
Nobody gets out of experiencing this strange phenomenon. Nobody. Haru Katou has talked the ear off practically anyone he can pin down for more than a few seconds to complain about the photograph.
Soon he may even approach the general public about it, that’s how deluded Haru has become as opposed to acknowledging his own feelings.
Hoshino lowers his voice, turning to Haru. He’s clearly trying to be discreet as they walk down the street, but the good thing about being part of this division is that nobody really bothers to count you as a threat.
In earshot and perfect range, Kamei waits. The words are spoken tentatively.
“Are you over it now, Senpai?”
Immediately, Haru bristles from Hoshino’s palpable concern. A feral cat that is adamant their way is right and they do not need help with anything in the slightest.
“It’s been a week.”
It has.
One agonising ridiculous week and honestly Kamei doesn’t think he can ever forget this. It started out so simply. Now it’s ended up a total disaster.
But it happened.
Some people live decades without encountering such drama, such a trivial scandal, such stupidity.
If the photograph itself is haunting, then the ensuing chaos it ignites within Inspector Katou is a legitimate and vivid nightmare.
What that makes Kambe Daisuke, Kamei doesn’t know. Part of him doesn’t want to.
The man is already powerful enough.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be over it,” Haru mutters back and he has the audacity to sound irritated about the situation. As if he hasn’t completely brought it on himself.
“How could I be over it?”
Well. Okay.
Hoshino clears his throat, averts his gaze from the man who is completely and utterly immersed in his own fabricated reality. There’s a hint of pity there but it’s overshadowed by exasperation. Kamei feels that, he really does.
“Take care of yourself,” Hoshino says before leaving.
Haru grunts in response, eyes already tracing familiar lines over the photograph in his hand.
“I can’t believe this,” Haru says in lieu of any basic polite greeting which is honestly no surprise.
This marks day nine of the Great Kambe Takeover.
Rather than get into another aimless conversation, Kamei continues idly tapping away at the keyboard. He knows better now than to indulge anything about this.
Unfazed, Haru continues. The words almost trip over themselves in the haze of the morning. Hardly a surprise as he has mere minutes to get this out his system before the day truly begins.
“Did he purposefully ruffle the suit? I don’t want to believe it, but he did. Who the hell even does that after having it pressed? Tell me. What kind of person does that?!”
“A rich person,” Kamei supplies listlessly.
Too caught up in his own ordeal, Haru is spurred on by the most basic of input.
“Yes, a rich person. Exactly my point!”
Kamei no longer knows what the point is and he’s fairly certain Haru has lost it somewhere along the line too.
To further illustrate, Haru keeps talking. Whilst he's entitled to he really shouldn't anymore.
“Anyway. I’ve given it some more thought. Now I really know why it’s terrible.”
Of course Haru has given it more thought. They’re on day nine of this nonsense.
“Oh?” Kamei prompts.
“Yeah. That insufferable smirk on his face.”
Haru glares, as if he’s staring Kambe down somewhere in the deepest and darkest crevasse of his mind. It’s not far-fetched at all, really.
Where possible, Haru would fight most opponents in a dingy hellscape he is convinced the world already is. .
“He looks so smug I want to wipe it off his face with my fist.”
Leaning back into the seat, Kamei hums. Okay well it’s not a declaration of undying love but there is undeniable passion smouldering there. Haru’s got the right spirit but he’s just confused.
This is the usual way it goes between these two. It’s-
“And those eyes.”
Kamei glances over, trying to stifle his surprise. Because Haru’s voice is hushed, as if stumbling across a huge secret he can barely stand to admit.
“Those god damn eyes. They’re definitely photoshopped! I mean, come on. Nobody has eyes that sparkle that obviously when they catch the light. Don’t be ridiculous. It just isn’t possible.”
Oh my god.
That does it. Haru’s birthday isn’t for another two months, but still. There is no rule against a friend buying another friend something out of the blue. It’s sentimental, little reminders and all that. He had planned to do this later at the bar where perhaps alcohol would loosen Haru's tongue enough to articulate a few things. But no. He needs to do this right here and now.
Kamei sets the neatly wrapped gift down, a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. He could be bolder in his amusement, because Haru is staring down at the item in abject confusion, but he chooses to play it safe.
Just for now.
Tearing the wrapping with more hesitance than necessary - the lack of trust is astounding - Haru takes out the wooden frame.
Simple, average. Decent price.
A nice juxtaposition for what can sit inside it.
“For your desk,” Kamei gestures to the coat pocket and this time he really can’t hold in the laughter dusting his words. “Now you have somewhere else to put the picture you won’t shut up about.”
Before Haru can protest the thoughtful gesture of a dear friend, they’re interrupted.
“What picture would that be?” a familiar voice asks in the doorway.
Kambe is punctual but his timing now is completely ingenious, bordering the prophetic.
“It doesn’t concern you,” Haru snaps, which is rich in the most metaphorical sense possible.
At this point, the only thing Kamei has left to lose is his mind.
So he takes an uncalculated risk.
“That’s interesting. I thought it had everything to d-“
The casefile is tossed into his lap with so much force Kamei finds himself wheezing for breath. Somehow, it’s less embarrassing and more dignified than whatever Haru is doing.
The chair he once sat in has slid across the room, crashing with force into the wall and subsequently knocking down one of the instruction manuals for the office printer. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands besides make fists that could hardly punch air.
And Kamei knows he shouldn’t, really he shouldn’t do this, but one day over drinks they’ll laugh about this. One day this will be a distant memory and Kamei needs a good story to tell at the lavish wedding Haru pretends he won’t be attending even when he’s the groom.
“That photoshoot you did, Kambe-san... it was inspired.”
Haru’s eyes are on him, narrowed and sharp. He might not make it out of this alive, but he can proverbially live with that.
There’s pining and then there’s whatever this is.
“If you’re done wasting time,” Haru starts gruffly. “We have actual work to do.”
Not only is that incredibly hypocritical, it is so lacking in self-awareness Kamei is wincing in shame on behalf of his friend. This is why being righteous and willingly naive is so dangerous.
Haru marches out the room, Kambe a few steps behind.
If Kambe Daisuke could become anymore incorporeal, then he does so with ease.
Not only is he rich, oozing good looks and knows exactly how to work them, he also has a sister with similar talents. More refined, even.
That is why it is so devastating that even when brewing coffee in the break room with her, Kamei is still cursed.
Some fool - him, yesterday - thought it would be funny to slip the magazine into the pile on the table. See if anyone in particular noticed. Someone like Haru. Someone who needs to get a clue.
But already it's gone wrong. Suzue is plucking it out, holding the blasted cover up.
“It’s not his finest moment,” she admits almost sheepishly. “I encouraged him not to be so casual.”
Casual. Casual.
If the Kambe siblings think this is casual then lord help the next formalwear event because people will need to go on a quest to harvest their own diamonds from the moon just to be allowed on the guest-list.
“I can keep evidence for leverage.”
Funny, that sounds like a posh way of saying sibling blackmail.
“But it did what we hoped - it attracted attention.”
Kamei is not surprised to hear that. He’s more surprised that his mouth is speaking before the thoughts have fully gathered in his head.
“It definitely got attention.”
Suzue raises an eyebrow at the words, interest piqued.
“You’re on project Delta?” she asks cautiously.
Kamei is on a much more personal project that at this rate is disintegrating into madness. Whatever secret agent business the Kambes have going on remains a mystery as enigmatic as their own existence.
“No. I was talking about Haru.”
“Katou-sama?”
Suzue purses her lips. She’s smart, incredibly so. There's no way she will need more than this to piece the terrible puzzle together. A knowing smile graces her face, and Kamei almost feels a little guilty.
He’s practically thrown Haru to the sharks. Very rich sharks - and oh boy is there blood in the water.
Kamei should have suspected something in the world had fallen out of balance when Kambe showed up before Haru the next morning.
It’s not a massive detail. The biggest thing to take note of is the fact Kambe grabs the seat he seems to think is most akin to a throne, the newest chair with the shiny wheels, and slide over on it towards Kamei.
Wait a minute.
Kamei endeavours to act natural, doing the quickest sweep of his computer screen for anything that might send him into despair later. It’s not often he talks to rich people. Kambe is an enigma and a person all wrapped into one. He’s here as a concept, as a symbol of an unlimited balance.
At least the balance is restored somewhere. It definitely isn’t right here.
“Something is wrong with inspector Katou,” Kambe says.
For a moment Kamei is foolish enough to think that is a statement that doesn’t need an answer. But when he turns to find an intent pair of eyes trained on him it’s then he realises.
This is a question. Kambe isn’t asking, whether that’s because rich people are immune to asking or he just doesn’t want to, Kamei doesn’t know.
All he knows is that this is truly getting out of hand. It’s a shame he’s not responsible enough to rein it back in or douse the fire. Even if he were, he’s not sure if he can. This is a job for the elites and even Hoshino seemed so far out of his depth on this one.
There is truly no hope for any of them.
"Did you speak to Suzue-san?"
Kamei has to admit, he is extremely Suspicious. Together these siblings are are quite a formidable team.
"She's my sister," Kambe responds.
Well. Alright. That's true but that tells Kamei nothing about how far the pair of them may or may not have conspired.
“He’s experiencing the five stages of grief,” Kamei says.
Over his taste in men, he doesn’t say.
Lips pursed, Kambe stews the words over with the same care he would before making an offer to a witness. It’s certainly something.
“I see. Has he suffered some kind of personal loss?”
Yes, because there’s a lot to mourn about this situation. Kambe is as dense as he is intelligent, Haru is as weak as he is strong. No way are they going to navigate this mess themselves.
“I think you should ask him yourself.”
Kambe adjusts his tie, nodding in a self-assured confident way that doesn’t quite match up with the rest of him. Here is a paradox that lingers beneath the surface. The longer Kamei looks, the more he sees something truly shocking.
With this, Kambe is so incredibly lost. It’s almost tragic.
Resigned, Kamei does what any good person would do. He’s got to nudge this poor clueless man in the right direction. For the sake of the world and for his dear disastrous friend Haru who is ten steps behind his own emotions on this subject.
“Ask him over dinner, Kambe-san.”
As if somehow sensing a scheme that needs to be shut down, Haru bursts through the door.
“What's going on?”
Maybe it’s too much, never too much never too much, but Kamei cannot take this any longer. In fact, nobody can. So really, he’s being a good person and even greater friend by pulling the rug out from under their feet.
They’re incapable of making any moves besides stupid ones. And oddly enough, despite clearly wanting to Kambe has hardly made a single one.
Interesting.
“I think you should tell Kambe-san you’re carrying his photograph around.”
Genuine surprise flashes across Kambe’s face. It doesn’t last long against one of his more sinister and satisfied smirks.
In the doorway, Haru has become the embodiment of a flustered and suddenly sentient tomato who has a crush but no chance no way they won’t say they’re in love.
“Are you really?”
Pointing a finger towards Kambe, Haru scowls.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, bastard. It’s not what you think!”
Remarkable, how Haru doesn’t back down even when herded into such a terrible corner.
Especially with Kambe Daisuke in the room, looking all too much like the photograph that started this mess in the first place.
Poetic cinema.
Haru reaches into his pocket and pulls out the photograph. Seething, he holds it up to Kambe. This man has zero shame - it is staggering.
“This here, is exactly why I cannot stand your rich ass!”
There he goes. Classic Haru-has-it-bad-for-Kambe behaviour right there. Wow.
Leaning back against the table, Kambe blinks slowly. Methodically. Like he knows exactly what he needs to do in order to not only win but completely obliterate the opposition.
Haru is too caught up in explaining all the reasons why this photograph belongs in the trash and everything awful about it to notice that Kambe Daisuke is playing a very different game.
He hears the jarring truth beneath the ridiculous exaggerated farce.
Finally.
“It seems like you’ve devoted a lot of time to this, Inspector Katou.”
Scoffing, Haru falls right into the trap. That’s what happens when your ego is bruised and your bitter, jaded pride is trying to fill up all the space inside your heart.
Profound, almost.
“I didn’t want to but how could I not?”
“Quite easily,” Kambe points out with devastating nonchalance. “I had no idea you were this affected by me.”
“Well, turns out I sure am!” Haru snaps back. “And not in the way you think, you condescending bastard. You drive me beyond crazy I swear to god.”
Wow. Just wow.
Clearing his throat, Kambe has the decency to stifle his amusement a fraction. Haru is the only sucker unaware the elephant in the room is not the photograph.
It never has been.
Adjusting his tie, Kambe remains the very model of composure. Only he would be, if the tips of his ears weren’t tinged red, where he probably thinks nobody can see.
Kamei pretends not to see, he’s seen quite enough. Thanks.
“This isn’t really the time or place to discuss any of this, Inspector. How about later over dinner?”
Truly, Kamei is so proud to hear this. This is only the moment they’ve all been waiting for.
Maybe this facade is over.
“Of course you’d want to sit and talk more about how perfect you are.”
Never missing a beat, Kambe quirks a sculpted eyebrow.
“Perfect?”
“Pft. Yeah. Perfectly annoying.”
The eye roll Haru tries to play off is so forced it is uncomfortable to watch for Kamei’s own health.
“Obviously.”
Yes. Obviously.
That is totally obviously what is going on here.
Never in Kamei’s life has he met a man as painfully stubborn as Katou Haru.
Kambe has the patience of a thousand saints, though he is not nearly as good or holy as any of them. Probably. Maybe this has nothing to do with waiting and everything to do with goading.
“So you’ll join me later? Unless of course you don’t think you can handle such a thing...”
There it is. This man has refined the art of spinning people in circles without them knowing. All of his dastardly plans are working, to Kamei’s sheer amazement.
They’re talking about dinner, not a jousting duel at dawn.
“Yeah. I’ll join you,” Haru bites back exactly as Kambe seems to have predicted. Overconfident and sharp. “I just hope you’re ready for this.”
“Do catch up, Inspector. I’ve been ready for some time now,” Kambe says so smoothly Kamei thinks he ought to take notes.
This is a masterclass on a type of flirting so effortless and suave it is practically just second nature. Impossible to ignore yet at the same time impossible to prove. Set against the abrasive fierce way Haru addresses the situation, it is a wonder it even survives.
But it does.
Slamming the photograph down onto the table, Haru narrows his eyes. Eyes flitting from the magazine picture to his riled partner, Kambe smirks. He looks very pleased with himself.
“Keep it.”
Then, leaning forwards, his voice dips low right against Haru’s ear. It is unfortunate Kamei is still here and isn’t able to tune it out.
There’s a point where this has to stop and a line needs to be drawn. Well, that is definitely here.
He has never been less grateful for having exceptional hearing. This is objectively the worst thing anyone has said in his presence.
“They say a picture lasts longer, but I think you’ll find otherwise.”
“Guess we’ll see about that.”
Oh god.
Kamei takes it all back. He is not happy about any of this. Mustering a strained smile, Kamei gestures towards the casefiles that need solving. None of them are remotely as heinous as the crime he’s just witnessed. But it's a start.
Nothing absolves him of guilt, though, try as he might. Technically, he is an accomplice in this.
“Both of you should leave now. For the cases.”
And Kamei's splintering dignity.
No cue required, Kambe sweeps out of the room, as if he hasn’t done anything catastrophically terrible.
“There’s no way I actually like that guy."
This record is so broken the song no longer plays. All the words are contrived and the general masses can barely stand it. Get a new theme song, Haru. Please.
“You’re going to dinner.”
“Yeah,” Haru says on his way out the door. “So I can give him a piece of my mind!”
Unbelievable.
Already, Kamei can see how Monday morning will go. Whenever the opportunity rises, Haru will talk about the dinner in detail, as if he enjoyed absolutely no part of it and isn’t planning to do it again.
The photograph on the desk smirks up at Kamei. And immediately, he comes to a realisation.
Kamei was never an accomplice, he's just been framed.