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Ayabe stared at the blinking cursor in his texting app. Why couldn’t he do this? Why couldn’t he bring himself to ask Yagami to hang out? Where was this hesitation when he’d broken into his office? His eyes flicked to the contact name at the top of the screen. Sleeping Beauty. Guy slept like a rock for a dude sleeping on a couch. Heh. But, this was different, he concluded. He owed Yagami one now.
He told himself he wanted to thank Yagami, for everything he’d done. True as that may be, the Kuroiwa-shaped shadow behind him he’d never quite managed to escape tugged at him. The one he shared with Yagami, now. And if he was going to be even more honest? Since the arrest and casino bust, it had been mostly radio silence from most of his contacts. Made sense for them to lay low for a bit until everything blows over, same as him, but no business plus all this shit made for a bad time alone with his own thoughts.
Sure, he could’ve just texted Yagami and asked him to meet up for drinks, like a regular person. But since when did Kazuya Ayabe do things like a regular person?
___
Yagami flicked through posts on r/KeepKamurochoWeird. He'd stumbled across the forum subcommunity focused on odd happenings and paranormal activity around town on a case where a guy claimed a kappa was stealing from him. It had become something of a guilty pleasure for him, getting online and seeing what crazy things people were talking about. He stopped scrolling, intrigued by a post simply titled “FERAL GIMP INFESTATION???”. 49 comments. Click. Apparently, him and Sugiura weren’t the only people to have been attacked by big guys in fetish gear in abandoned buildings. Bizarre, to say the least.
Yagami’s phone vibrated. A text notification from Ayabe popped up.
Got a job for you. You free to meet up and discuss details?
Sure. when / where?
Leave it to Ayabe to not want to leave a paper trail. At least he was capable of texting people.
As soon as youre available. My apartment.
___
Ayabe opened the door to let Yagami into his apartment.
Yagami’s jaw hung open. “Wait. You live here?”
Ayabe chuckled. “What, shocked?”
Shocked would be an understatement. Ayabe’s apartment was outright decadent. Spacious, open plan, even tastefully decorated. Yagami half-expected this whole thing to be one of those hidden camera prank shows.
“Is that an indoor koi pond?” Yagami stammered as Ayabe closed the door behind him.
“Yeah, wanna see?” Ayabe took off his shoes, placed them in a neat little cubby by the door, and led the way. Yagami did the same, blinking.
A white koi with red and black splotches and a gold one with black reticulation swam around underneath a small waterfall.
“That one’s named Law, and that one’s named Order,” Ayabe said, grinning. “But, don’t go getting any ideas.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t play innocent. I know you had yourself a nice adventure in the pond at Koi Bride. Shoes on and everything.”
“Listen. That was one time.”
“Hey, I don’t judge. And to be honest, that’s the weirdest thing I have on you. Can’t say the same about a lot of other people.”
A tortoiseshell cat flopped down on her back at their feet, purring.
“Oh, and this is Torti-chan,” Ayabe said, squatting to scratch her under the chin. “Short for Extortion, naturally.” His voice shot up an octave to address the cat. “Who’s a sweet kitty? Say hello to Yagami!”
Ayabe stood back up. “Oh, can I get you anything? A drink or something?”
Yagami nodded. Maybe it would take the edge off of this series of gut-punch revelations about Ayabe’s personal life. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Ayabe set off to the kitchen, leaving Yagami with Torti-chan. He crouched down and held a hand out to her. She sniffed him and rubbed her face on his hand. He pet her head.
“Extortion, huh? How do I know I can trust you?”
Torti-chan purred in response, green eyes satisfied slivers, pressing her head into Yagami’s hand.
“You make a fair point,” Yagami conceded. The cat stood up and wandered off towards Ayabe in the living room.
Ayabe’s couch probably could’ve taken three of Yagami’s couch in a fight. Probably even had a bullshit transformation finisher move if the 90-degree corner was anything to go by. Ayabe sipped beer through a bright green crazy straw from a textured crystal highball glass, reclining on the plush cushions of the couch corner, one foot on the couch and one on the ground. He gestured to an empty can of Kirin on the coffee table, its contents in a matching glass on a coaster, with a purple straw.
“That one’s yours. Make yourself comfortable.”
Yagami closed his eyes for a second, as if when he opened them again he’d wake up on the office couch again, all a dream, and Ayabe would be sitting at his desk, again.
No dice. This cartoon character of a man stared up at him, taking a long sip from his absurd drink.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Ayabe shook his head. “Beer just hits different like this. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, dude.”
Yagami sighed, grabbed his beverage, and plopped down on the couch. It felt exactly as luxurious as it looked.
“I gotta ask, why’d you have me meet you here instead of at Tender like normal?” Yagami asked, taking a hesitant sip from his glass. It was actually… not bad, if he was gonna be honest.
Ayabe sighed. “I dunno. Aside from seeing Hoshino-kun on Wednesdays at the gym, I’ve been feeling pretty isolated since they let me out of jail. I dunno if I’m ready to face everyone down at the bar, yet.”
“Didn’t take you for someone capable of experiencing shame.”
“What can I say? I’m full of surprises today, aren’t I?”
“I’ll say. Wait— What was it you said about Hoshino-kun?”
“Oh, yeah, him and I are gym buddies now! We found out about our shared passion for fitness after the trial. That kid benches like a legend.”
Yagami blinked, genuinely unable to tell if this was a real thing or another wacky Ayabe prank. “So, what’s this job you have for me?”
“Right. So, my watch has gone missing. Pretty sure it’s been stolen.”
“Can you tell me more about it?”
“Oh, of course. Gucci watch. Knockoff Gucci watch, that is.”
Yagami exhaled. The mere concept of Ayabe owning an actual designer watch boggled his mind. “So when’s the last time you wore it?”
“Wore it? Oh, no. You mistake me. A Gucci watch doesn’t suit me, y’know?”
Yagami gestured around him. “I don’t even know what would suit you anymore.”
“See, this watch was from the first batch of knockoffs I ever got. I sold the rest off but I kept this one. Sentimental value and everything. Well, and also, because they misprinted it a little and the G in Gucci looks more like a C.”
“Cucci watch…” Yagami echoed.
“Heh heh. Yeah.” Okay. So maybe Cucci watch was a little funny.
Yagami pressed on. “So where do you normally keep this watch, then?”
“You ever seen Pulp Fiction, Yagami?”
“... I don’t follow.”
Ayabe chuckled. “Nevermind, then. I keep it in a little box, in my room. This morning I went and checked and it wasn’t there.”
“When was the last time you saw it?”
Ayabe took a long sip of his drink. “Hm. I’m really not sure. I think if I go look at where it normally is, I might remember better. If you’ll excuse me.” He set his drink down on a coaster and stood up.
Yagami moved to follow, but Ayabe held up his hand. “Nah, stay comfy. I’ll be right back.”
___
Ayabe arrived in front of his dresser, catching a glimpse of himself in the vanity mirror. You’d think it would be easier to get a bit of sleep now, being off the hook for murder and all. Plus the guy responsible was super dead, if the way Yagami told it was anything to go by. Poor guy must have way worse nightmares than him, too.
He grabbed the tin cigarette box he kept the Cucci watch in. Awfully light. He clicked it open. Empty. Just like he told Yagami. Only, he hadn’t meant to tell the truth to Yagami. The plan had been to come back here, pocket it, hand it off to one of his contacts later, clue Yagami in that direction, job well done. He stood there, staring back at himself. What the fuck, Kazuya? You’re a disgraced ex-police detective, not an eccentric billionaire constructing an elaborate mystery for his heirs to solve to earn their inheritance. You watch too many TV dramas. And then, what, you’d end up good detective friends with Yagami afterwards? Sick.
At least it didn’t matter now. Only truth, going forward. That’s what friends do… right?
He returned to the living room to find Yagami where he left him, laughing softly at Torti. She was on the couch, flopped on her back, completely engrossed in pawing at Yagami’s wallet chain. Ayabe smiled to himself. Torti was always such a good judge of character.
“She could take your whole wallet if you’re not careful,” Ayabe chuckled, “Takes after her old man, after all.”
"Well, if she ever needs representation in Kitty Court you know who to call," Yagami replied.
"Aw, you'd make an exception for her?"
Yagami grinned. "Guess you could say it runs in the family. But, uh, about that watch. Did that jog your memory at all as to when you last saw it?"
Ayabe scratched his head, the embarrassment from realizing just now he hadn’t washed his hair setting in. “Um…”
“Would anyone else have had access to where you kept it? You got, a, uh—” Please don’t say ‘girlfriend’ “ —cleaning lady or something?”
The realization hit Ayabe like the file cabinet from the evidence room that one time. The name spilled out before he could stop himself.
“Mitsuru .”
Yagami tilted his head to the side. “... Is that the name of your cleaning lady?”
The look on Ayabe’s face must have told him everything he needed to know.
“Wait . You’re—You’re not serious,” Yagami stammered. “Mitsuru Kuroiwa? You called him—by his—and he had access to your—. Oh my God. You and him…?”
Ayabe’s entire face was on fire. He forced himself to meet Yagami’s gaze with a sheepish grin. “Haha… Yeah. I’ve made some pretty questionable decisions in my time.”
He braced himself for whatever joke Yagami would crack, the dig at his awful taste in men he no doubt deserved for having dated Kuroiwa of all people, but instead Yagami’s eyes were full of sympathy and pain.
Yagami’s voice was cautious and soft. “He… hurt you, didn’t he?”
Ayabe could only nod slowly, pushing back flashes of subterfuge. Manipulation. The way none of it even seemed to have a coherent goal, in retrospect, aside from pissing Ayabe off as much as possible. The way he lit up when Ayabe got angry.
Yagami inched a bit closer to him on the couch. “Listen, man. You don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to but… I’m here for you, if you want to. Kuroiwa hurt me, too.”
“Thanks, Yagami. I just… Man, at the detention center, when you asked me if there were any ‘warning signs’... It was like watching my own personal hell montage, put together to prove I’m the stupidest motherfucker on the planet. You know this from dealing with him… There was nothing he liked more than to push people’s buttons . And I used to think I was strong for not letting it get to me. But I think, now, the strongest thing I did was tell him to fuck off, forever . The worst part, though? That seemed like… what he wanted? For me to snap on him.”
Yagami nodded. “Sounds about right. I think he wanted me to snap, too.”
“And then, of course he goes and parades me around in front of you and frames me. Two detectives, one stone.” Ayabe sank back into the couch cushions. “Man, you don’t know how glad I am that bastard is dead .”
Yagami grimace-smiled. “Nah, you wanna hear something stupid? I called up the coroner’s office the week after the whole ADDC incident to be sure . I’m still not even fully sure he was human , the way he climbed back into the window I kicked him out of. ”
“What’d they say?”
“They said he was a vampire and they had to cremate him three times and add in some minced garlic to make it stick.”
Ayabe laughed, surprised by Yagami’s dark wit. “Hey, now. You don’t have to ruin blackened garlic oil ramen for me like that!”
"Gross! Kuroiwa mayu? You're a sick man, you know that?"
"Hey, you started it!"
They laughed together, in mirth and shared human connection, the way Mitsuru Kuroiwa never could have.
Yagami's crazy straw made a loud slurping noise. "You got another round of these?"
Ayabe nodded. "I'm on it."
He retrieved a couple more beers from the fridge and poured them into the glasses, bright straws rising from the heady froth. Ayabe rejoined Yagami on the couch.
Ayabe raised his glass. "To surviving."
Yagami raised his. "To winning."
They clinked glasses and sipped, fizzy beer twisting and flipping on its way to its destination.
Torti made her way across the mile of cushions to settle on Ayabe's lap, purring.
"The funniest thing," Ayabe said, scratching her behind the ears, "is that Torti-chan always hated him."
Yagami snorted. "Kuroiwa?"
"Yeah. This bundle of joy never wanted to be around him. She even got hissy a couple times. It was like she knew something I didn't."
"Damn, maybe I should look into getting a cat for Yagami Detective Agency if they’re so insightful. Speaking of which. I think I have a lead on your case."
"Yeah?"
"So, the other day the cops opened up Kuroiwa's apartment and it turns out, he had this serial habit of swiping things off… Let's just say, his victims. Dead and alive. I think Kaito-san said he saw your sweater in there. We dipped after it got too creepy, but I could hit up Mafuyu and ask if they found your watch in there."
"Oh, would you? That would be great. Tell ‘em they can burn the sweater for all I care, though."
"Of course."
"Thanks, Yagami."
"Nah, thank you. It's been nice, talking to someone who gets it about the whole Kuroiwa thing."
"Oh, you don't even know. Feels like the car parked on my chest finally moved."
"Let's hope it got impounded," Yagami said, hitting him with a cheesy grin that made him feel warm like he hadn’t in a while.
___
Ayabe threw a handful of food into the koi pond and watched Law and Order gobble it up. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Text from Baby Lawyer 👶 .
Hey, Yagami is throwing a little Christmas get-together at his office!
Pretty chill, don’t worry about gifts, but feel free to bring some snacks.The 25th, at 7.
Would love to see you there!
oh shit, thanks for the invite. I’ll definitely swing by
His phone buzzed again. Sleeping Beauty, this time.
So, good news and bad news
I thiiink maybe Mafuyu is out of favors bc they wouldn’t let her get that watch out of evidence until all the ADDC-related cases are totally closed.
So might be a while.
But the good news is I’m having a Christmas thing at the office on the 25th at 7
Kaito-san will come by and kidnap Miss Extortion if you come up with some reason not to come
I’m joking but it would be rad if you could come
Actually Hoshino-kun was just telling me about that
I’d be happy to come, Torti-chan extortion notwithstanding
See you then, yagami
Damn, was this what it felt like to be the most popular girl in school? Ayabe could get used to this.
___
The door to Yagami’s office sat ajar. Ayabe gave it a cautious push. It swung open, revealing Yagami’s familiar office, decked out with string lights around the perimeter. The closet he’d been accused of stashing Shintani in was blissfully absent, and in its place there were some folding chairs. Hoshino shot up from his chair.
“Oh, Ayabe-san! Hello!” he said, voice bright.
Higashi and that redhead kid turned to look from the couch.
“This is Sugiura!” Hoshino supplied, gesturing to the redhead kid. “And Sugiura, you know Ayabe from the whole… trial.”
Sugiura nodded. “Nice to finally meet the only cop I respect.”
“Not to worry. I’m not even allowed to be a cop anymore. Won’t ruin your street cred any longer.”
That got a hint of a genuine smile from Sugiura.
Higashi raised his hand in a nonchalant wave. “Hey, Ayabe.”
“Hey, Higashi. Actually, are you free to talk later about something? I got some urgent info pertaining to the future of all Tojo Clan yakuza in the city. It can wait until after the festivities ‘cause I don’t wanna ruin the mood, but…”
“Of course,” Higashi said, “Thanks for looking out for us.”
“It’s the least I can do after everything you guys have done for me,” Ayabe replied.
He set down the festive-themed party-sized box of dorayaki he brought down on Yagami’s table.
“Oh, Saori-san will love those!” Hoshino chirped. “Her and Mafuyu-san are running a bit late. Kaito-san and Yagami-san should be back soon.”
Ayabe gestured to the lights. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
Hoshino giggled. “Sugiura found those in the trash!”
Sugiura beamed. “And I wired ‘em up myself to do that flashy pattern.”
“I like this guy already,” Ayabe said. He sat down in one of the folding chairs next to Hoshino.
“I knew you would!” said Hoshino, “Most of the super weird memes I send you are from him.”
“The master himself?” Ayabe marveled. He made a mock bow in Sugiura’s direction. “Your shit is impeccable, man.”
He could’ve sworn Sugiura sparkled then. “Thanks. I gotta say, though, the funniest thing about these shitposts is how distressed Kaito-san gets trying to understand them.”
Speak of the devil.
“Who’s ready to get CRISPY?” Kaito’s voice boomed from the doorway. He had a big bucket of fried chicken in one hand and Yagami’s hand in the other.
Even Higashi couldn’t keep a straight face.
“Ayabe, you made it!” Kaito said, depositing his bucket of chicken on the table next to the dorayaki.
“I take threats against Torti-chan very seriously,” Ayabe said.
Kaito took a big bite out of a drumstick. “Tabo is too nice to say anything, but if any of you make a mess out of this office I’ll kick your asses!” he said, mouth half full.
The serene affection in Yagami’s face watching Kaito made Ayabe’s heart do a flip-flop. Maybe love was real. Sure seemed like it, especially the way Yagami had talked about him after his third drink the other night.
Yagami squeezed past to get to his desk and opened a drawer.
“Ayabe, this is for you,” he said, holding out a small wrapped package.
“Hey, Hoshino-kun said no presents!”
Yagami shrugged. “Oops.”
Ayabe tore the paper off to reveal a small jeweler’s box. He opened it. The reflection of the flashing string lights danced on the watch face, around the brand name. C-U-C-C-I.
“No way. What’d you do, Yagami?”
“Maybe Mafuyu and I figured something out,” he said, smirking.
“You devious little shit. How much do I owe you for this job?”
“Nothing. Consider it a gift. From a friend. Merry Christmas, Ayabe.”
“Thanks, Yagami.” Ayabe felt like a chestnut roasting on an open fire or whatever the hell, right about now. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over his chair.
“Now, what’s a crooked ex-cop gotta do to get a chicken wing around here?” he asked.