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It was unfortunate, Haru thought, that this was the year where everything was cancelled and sporadic. The department had skipped their annual drinks under the cherry blossoms in Yoyogi Park in the spring, and he had seen Saeki sigh as she crossed out the Sunday when they all would have met at a small festival in Asakusa.
“You seem upset the tip didn’t pay off,” Daisuke remarked when they got into his car, his eyes studying Haru’s apparently unveiled disappointment.
They had been called out in order to check on a rumor spreading on social media of an unauthorized fireworks display organized by some students out on Sumidagawa, only to find the site empty.
Dispersing the small pockets of people who had wandered out in curiosity had been easy enough, but keeping more from showing up and lingering had been a challenge. Eventually, at half an hour past the “scheduled” showtime, their job was declared finished.
“Yeah, well…” Late work hours and the new, unconventional partner had meant that the few official, unannounced firework shows that had occurred around the city over the past several weeks had all gone on without Haru having a chance to witness them. “You know.”
It didn’t explain much, but if Daisuke had a question about what Haru meant, he did not ask it. The drive was quiet, but midway through it, Haru realized they weren't heading back to the department. Instead, after flouting a speed limit or two that Haru pretended not to notice, Daisuke pulled the car past the gates of his residence.
Daisuke did not explain—because Daisuke didn’t ever really explain things to Haru—and after several unanswered questions, Haru found himself back in the Japanese garden at the edge of Daisuke's estate.
“Why are we here?” Haru tried again, because Daisuke had to answer him eventually.
“Do you have a favorite color, Katou?” Daisuke asked, in a response that in no way coordinated with what Haru just said.
Haru blinked at him, confused. He knew the fastest way out of whatever this was was to just give Daisuke what he wanted, so he did just that. “Blue? Red? I don’t really think about it.”
“Understood.” Daisuke put his hand up to his ear and activated HEUSC. “Put through the authorization for a fireworks display over the estate.”
“What?!”
Daisuke was insane. Haru knew this, he had witnessed proof of this for weeks, and yet the casual air with which Daisuke ordered cases of fireworks set up in the garden, by licensed professionals, was astonishing.
Haru did not understand how Daisuke managed half the things he does, nor the speed with which he got them, because less than an hour later, they’re informed that everything was ready.
They had dinner, in the meantime, brought to the tearoom by Daisuke’s butler. Daisuke had, over a serving of yuzu and mint kakigori, asked Haru if he preferred to wear yukata in order to witness the fireworks in true summer festival spirit. Haru almost wished he had said yes.
Even the best laid plans—or the most hasty, overpriced ones—had drawbacks. Late summer meant squalls, and the launch of the first firework was put on hold as dark, menacing clouds came pouring like a flood over the estate.
Haru laughed at the grimace carved into Daisuke’s expression and leaned over to pat him on the shoulder as thick, heavy raindrops began to litter the engawa. “Nice try. Too bad even you can’t control the weather.”
Haru left him, jumping into the garden and darting across to help the firework technicians pull a tarp over their wares before everything got soaked. They managed, though covering the fireworks meant Haru’s clothes were dripping with rain by the time they were done.
Overhead, there was a roar that could have been the boom of thunder, if not for the lack of lightning illuminating the sky. Haru made his way back to the teahouse, grinning sheepishly as Daisuke threw a towel at his face and gestured him back under the cover of the tiled roof.
Haru ended up in a yukata anyway and he did not object. The potential horror of dripping water all over the tatami was enough for him to peel his clothes off out on the engawa, towel his hair and skin dry, and slip into the dry cotton fabric of a bamboo-patterned yukata. The thunder kept booming. When he turned around, Daisuke’s gaze was on him, heavier than the rain and more intense.
Apparently, Haru had made some error in tying the obi, because Daisuke tugged him in and adjusted it. His hands mapped Haru’s waist, his touch firm and unforgiving, fingers slipping under the thin material as he retied the obi in a manner more proper.
Once he was satisfied, Daisuke turned his eyes toward the dark, weeping sky—and that’s when Haru noticed. It was not thunder. It was jets.
A line of small, powerful, military-style jets blasted past the estate, then looped it. The “thunder” boomed with each pass and Haru couldn’t do anything but stare. It was Daisuke’s doing—what other explanation was there? Daisuke had hired jets to create an air current and push the clouds of the squall away from his garden. Within minutes, the rain was gone and the jets disappeared into the sky without so much as a twinkle.
“Shall we?” Daisuke said, holding out a hand. The sky was clear and the firework technicians were back at work, all while Haru tried to figure out if he was in a dream or in a nightmare.
“You’re going to get noise complaints.”
“I can afford those, too.”
The smirk on Daisuke’s lips was confident and grating. Haru wanted to punch it off, kiss it off—yet both those actions would only lead to more of the same. Instead, he scowled and snapped, “Take off the suit.”
“We have company, inspector. Or do you want me to pay them off, too?”
“You know what I mean, you prick.”
The fireworks began a mere moment after Daisuke changed from his suit to a dark yukata and joined Haru to watch the splendid sparks of blue and red brightening the night sky. Each blast of glittering, dazzling light shook through Haru’s chest, as much as he shook when Daisuke’s knuckles brushed the back of his palm.
Haru didn’t count the fireworks. He couldn’t. There were far too many and they layered over one another, the emblem of a Japanese summer. It was still over way too fast.
“You don’t need to thank me,” Daisuke said, turning his gaze and his smirk onto Haru as the lingering smoke of the fireworks dissipated above them. “Although, I would not oppose it if you did.”
Haru shut him up by seizing fistfuls of his yukata and crashing their mouths together.
Check:
Private fireworks display: ¥3,000,000
Authorization expedition fee: ¥1,000,000
Dinner: ¥26,000
Custom-made yukata: ¥150,000
Jet flyover: ¥16,000,000
Total cost:
¥20,176,000 // $190,218