Chapter Text
Haru squints at the price. A 50 yen rise. Capitalism, he scoffs internally and puts the milk carton back on the shelf to find one with a faster approaching expiration date. He puts the new carton of milk in his cart, and moves to the vegetable aisle. Beside him, a middle-aged lady stuffs some spoiled cabbage in her own cart. She seems occupied, and Haru has half a mind to pretend he didn’t see it. However, an ugly flashback of a food poisoning from his college days stops him.
“Annoh, sumimasen. The cabbage is already wrinkly. They are likely spoiled. These over here seem fresher,” he informs her, smiling politely.
“Arigatogozaimashita,” she replies, her eyes disappear into tiny creascents as she smiles at him like a warm maternal figure. “It’s not often you see young men knowing their groceries. Your mother must have raised you well.”
Haru blushes, and smiles bashfully, “I —I believe she has been a good mom.”
The lady laughs, not unkindly. “Have a good day, young man.”
“Y-yes. You too, obi-san,” he responds, still flustered from the interaction. The lady smiles at him before continuing on with her grocery shopping. Breaking from his shy stupor, Haru resumes his own shopping too—rice, noodles, natto, miscellaneous greens and spices.
He is almost done with his groceries, one bag in each hand when he notices an odd man. Odd is a decent way of putting it. The man is dressed in casual slacks and an ugly green-grey vest over a full-sleeved white shirt. He has a properly trimmed white moustache and round cheeks that are a little flushed. A pair of round gold-rimmed sunglasses hood his eyes, but his body language makes it abundantly clear where he is looking. His eyes are sizing up the woman who is currently running her groceries at the cashier. It makes him sick. The woman in question is young and objectively very pretty; long brown hair, tinted lips, sharp jawline, visible boobs and an hourglass figure.
It makes Haru uncomfortable—he isn’t even the one being objectified! The man is at least twice as old as the girl, and the way he tilts his heads and licks his crusty lips, Haru kind of wants to arrest him right there without any solid evidence. He stays a while and observes the situation, lest the pervert crosses the line and he needs to interfere. He sees the man shift nervously, hands in pockets.
The old man retracts his hands from his pockets after a while. The light hits the substance, making the white thing almost glow. Drugs , he notes, eyes almost widening. Instinctively, he shifts the groceries to one hand and reaches for his ID in his back pocket … only to find nothing. Off day , a voice whispers in his head, you’re not supposed to be working today. The voice sounds suspiciously like Ryo. Huffing, he is about to approach the man regardless when the pretty woman from earlier suddenly hugs him.
“Haruki-kun! It’s so nice to see you here!” she says, amicably, nuzzling her head on the crook between his shoulder and neck, right next to his ear.
“I—of course. I am glad to have run into you too,” he replies, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her but not quite touching.
She leans in closer, tip toeing on her high heels and whispers in his ear, “the man over there in the bottle-green vest has been staring and tailing me for the past forty minutes. I am so sorry to spring this on you, but could you please play along and pretend to know me?”
“Of course. It’s no problem.” Your safety is our priority, he almost adds but he is not on duty today so he has to bite it back.
“Haruki-kun, can I hold your hand?” she asks. Her voice is soft like those jpop idols, and she is pretty too, like one of them.
“Y-yes, sure,” he stutters, flushing a little. Her small hands slip into his calloused rough hands. He smiles at her like they have known each other for longer than just two minutes and they walk out of the store together, because that’s what the situation calls for.. As soon as they leave, the warm noon sun overhead assaults them with scorching heat and the scent of street food wafts through the air unpleasantly.
They walk upto the train station when Haru subtly checks for the man.
“He’s still here,” the woman articulates his thoughts.
He sighs. “You should come to my place with me. He could be potentially dangerous.” He is dangerous, he doesn’t say but the image of the white substance burns at the forefront of his mind.
“Thank you …” she says, waiting for his name.
“Katou, Katou Haru,” he tells her.
“Thank you for your assistance, Katou-san! I am Watanaba Sara.”
“Watanaba Sara as in Sara from the idol group ‘Strawberry Sugar’?” he asks, eyes widening. Looking now, it should have been obvious. She had pretty unmistakable eyes, he had thought when Kamei had shown the group to Katou years ago. He still thinks so; the caramel shade is a rare one. While he doesn’t really follow pop groups much, there had been a lot of buzz about Strawberry Sugar a couple of years ago.
She chuckles and responds, “I am surprised you didn’t notice. It makes sense though. You seem like a busy person, probably not much of an idol music person, hmm?”
“Yeah, you know how the economy is. Work is busy,” he replies bashfully. “I have heard your group’s hit songs though,” on the radio during stakeouts with kamei who sang along to every line. “They were good.” Could have been, if Kamei didn’t ruin them for me.
She laughs and thanks him. They board the train, the predator follows from a safe distance much to Katou’s chagrin because now he has to show a famous person who probably has an apartment in Roppongi or Shirogane his rundown messy flat that he hasn’t cleaned in four months. He just got back from New York 36 hours ago, so it’s not like he had much of an otion anyway.
“How has Strawberry Sugar been doing, Watanaba-san?” Haru asks conversationally once the train starts moving.
Sara frowns, “You haven’t heard?”
Haru blinks owlishly, “I don’t really keep up with the media,” he blushes. “I’m sorry.” He is not sure why, but he feels like he has said something wrong, like he should know about it.
“I left the group a little over half an year ago on my doctor’s advice. The idol business is a lot of mental and physical pressure,” she replies plainly, like if she keeps the words a little longer on her tongue, if she lets herself feel them, they are bitter and sharp. Yep, definitely wrong thing to ask.
Haru hums. “It’s a pretty harsh business. I’m sure your new business is going to do better. You’re a pretty talented designer too,” he reassures her.
“I hope so. How … how did you know about my business though?” Sara looks at him inquisitive.
“Oh, you’re outfit, the logo says Sara boutique, so I assumed it’s your own brand …” he trails off. You’re off-duty, he reminds himself for the umpteenth time that day. Stop playing detective everywhere.
Sara giggles. “You’re a smart individual, I see.”
“It’s really a no-brainer,” he replies shyly.
Between shallow conversation, time flies away fast. The train stutters to a stop soon. Haru leads the former pop star to his small studio. The stalker follows suit, albeit from a not-so-subtle distance. However, when Haru finally reaches his apartment and turns back, the man seems to have disappeared. Panic floods his brain.
“Shoot! We’ve lost him!” Haru cursed.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Sara asks him, perplexed. “If you want my company so bad, you can just ask,” she adds playfully.
“No. I mean Yes! I mean--Okay look. The man is dangerous. I can’t just let him walk free,” Haru tries to explain, pushing the key inside his lock forcefully, hoping to get his badge as fast as possible so he can find the man before he gets too far away.
“That’s not your job though.You can just call the cops, I suppose. They can be inefficient, so I understand. But it really isn’t your responsibility to ensure public safety,” she tries to calm him.
“I am the cops ,” Haru tells her as he throws upon the door, puts down the groceries on the kitchen counter and grabs his ID in a frenzy. “Please make yourself at home. I have some snacks in the fridge. I am really sorry for the inconvenience but I have to go now. I hope you understand!”
“Of course,” Sara replies. “You have done more than enough for me. I hope you get the perp before he harms anyone else. Good luck!”
Haru gives her a grateful smile as he pulls on Suzue’s gloves on his fingers and skids off, closing the door behind him. He retraces his steps, sweeping all the streets with his eyes in hopes of finding the familiar man. He’s rapidly losing hope when an idea pops in his head.
He pulls his phone and calls the one person he can’t stand but trusts more than anyone else anyway.
“Kambe, can you help me find a perp using HEUSC? I know it’s your off day for the first time in nearly four weeks, but this dude--”
“I don’t need your reasons, Katou,” Daisuke cuts him off, his voice deep and timbre like always. “Just give me his description.”
“Right,” Haru bites his lips. “A middle-aged man, probably in his fifties, bald, white trimmed mustache-- the kind that cost a fortune at the barber’s--oh, nevermind, I mean just white trimmed mustache, and he had a pot-belly. He was dressed in an ugly green vest over a white shirt and sported a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses.”
Not a minute later, Daisuke sends him the picture of a man in the nearest gas station. “Is that your perp?” Daisuke questions him. Smug bastard. He knows he is right.
“Yes. Thanks Kambe. Call you later. Gotta catch some bad guys now,” Haru tells him before hanging up. The last thing he hears before the calls cuts in Daisuke’s deep chuckle and ... it was surprisingly nice. Huh, he doesn’t really laugh much, Haru suddenly realises.
Shaking of the thoughts of his partner, the taupe-haired cop breaks into another sprint. In two minutes, he steers into the station. Sure enough, the man is still here.
Panting, Haru approaches the man. “STOP!” Haru yells, louder than he intends. The man looks at him, alert. It’s not like he can run away even if he tried though, so Haru isn't too worried.
Before Haru can say anything however, the man starts speaking on his own accord. “Look, I didn’t do anything to your girlfriend, okay? I just thought I knew her, that's why I looked at her once! Only once, I promise!”
Haru rolls his eyes. One time, my ass. “This isn’t about Watanaba-san,” he says, taking out his ID. “I’m from the MCPTF. Who’s your dealer?” he asks.
Gulping, the man takes a step back. “I am a well trained cop. There is no way you can run away from me,” Haru warns. “Put your hands where I can see them and follow me.”
The stalker seems to consider running away, his eyes flit left to right. Eventually he sighs and complies. Haru grins and leads him to the station.
The walk is brisk and short. The man behind him looks terrified and well, Haru gets it. Jail is a terrible place to be in.
When Haru enters the station, he feels instantly at home. The place has not changed at all in the two months he has been away in New York tracking down Adollium thieves. The place still smells of coffee beans and Saeki’s candies. He sees the untouched bottles of japanese wine on Cho-san’s table and his MCPTF colleagues come into view soon enough. His own desk is collecting dust and it seems Teppei and Kamei have taken to using it for extra storage, judging by the files on top of it.
“You guys couldn’t even dust my table once every two weeks?” he exclaims.
“Katou-san! You’re back!” Saeki exclaims exuberantly. “It’s good to see you again!”
“You too, Saeki,” He grins. “Although I’d appreciate it if you could have kept Kamei and Teppei from using my desk as a junkyard.”
“You know Kamei never listens,” Saeki chuckles.
“Senpai, how are you? I am not responsible for this mess, I swear,” Kamei speaks fast and unconvincingly.
Haru rolls his eyes, and Kamei looks a bit guilty. Good.
“I was good until I saw this disaster,” Haru says somberly. Kamei deflates at the implication.
“It’s not that bad …” he protests weakly. Haru raises his eyebrows challengingly and Kamei gives up.
The door on the other side of the office opens and Chief Kiyomizu enters.
“Katou-san, why are you back already? It’s your day off! Go home and rest!” the chief scolds as soon as his eyes zero on Haru. Haru falters under his scrutinizing gaze. “You just got back yesterday!” he emphasizes his point.
“I am leaving soon, Kiyomizu-sama,” Haru mumbles sourly. “I just came to report this guy. He had been stalking Sara Watanabe.”
“You met Sara Watanabe?” Kamei exclaims, bewildered and starry-eyed.
“Shut up, Kamei. Let katou-san finish,” Saeki scolded.
“As I was saying,” Haru starts again, glaring at his dirty blond junior, “this man was stalking Sara Watanabe and I caught him carrying suspicious white substance in his pocket. If my hunch is correct, it is probably the new refined coke that’s hit the streets.”
“Kamei, please take oji-san to the interrogation room. Saeki, accompany him,” the chief orders. Kamei tears his eyes from the screen reluctantly and abides. Saeki is already at his heels. Haru feels weird as the two officers take the offender away while he just stands. He fidgets a bit, with a half a mind to accompany the investigation.
“Katou, go home.” The chief enunciates the words sharply, using his authoritarianism to force Haru to rest.
“Chief, I’ll just watch from the outside--”
“No. Go rest.”
Haru sighs, and slumps his shoulders like a kid who got denied a lollipop. He walks out of the station, dragging each step.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Haru,” Teppei snorts. Haru blushes and straightens a bit and walks out fast, feeling a little embarrassed.
When Haru arrives at his apartment, he finds Watanabe sitting on his couch browsing the channels. Her head snaps up and she smiles at him brightly, her eyes scrunching up.
“I didn’t know whether to leave after you went away so abruptly, so I decided to stay and wait to thank you. I am really grateful for all your assistance today,” Sara articulates.
“It’s no problem. Your safety is our priority,” he reassures her.
“No, still. I dragged you into this mess on your off-day. I am really sorry about the inconvenience. Please allow me to make up for it,” She insists.
“There is no need for that. Just, stay safe. That’s all I ask. Waking up to dead bodies is never pleasant,” he chuckles.
“Of course. But please, allow me to buy you coffee sometime?” She presses. Sara was an idol, so it really shouldn’t be a surprise, but she has the art of persuasion mastered to the tips. The girl widens her eyes just enough, and speaks with such sincerity, it’s hard to deny her.
“Alright,” Haru sighs. “Let me give you my number. We can set a date later, yeah?” Haru says, extending his hand for her phone.
“Perfect!” Sara replies with a wide grin as hands him her phone. Katou types in the number and returns it to her.
“I’ll get going now,” the former idol says. “See you soon Katou-san!”
“You too, Watanabe-san. Stay safe,” he tells her with a small grin.
“You don’t have to worry, inspector. I can take care of myself,” she grins back whilst slipping her feet in her shoes. “Sayonara.”
He waves back and closes the door after her.
Finally, peace.
He relishes in the quiet normalcy within his apartment walls for a while. He closes his eyes and leans against the door. People often believe Haru is a stupid workaholic who loves his work, which, to be fair, is sort of true. But only sort of, not completely. The truth is, Haru always feels oddly responsible to save anyone he can, because that is human decency, isn’t it? It’s not that he enjoys playing detective in his free time. He just doesn't find it in him to leave people in need helpless and so, even in his off days he sometimes lets himself get roped into crime prevention.
He slowly picks humself back up, makes a mental note to ask Kamei about what he found on the perp later and starts working on lunch. With a displeased whine, he begins cooking the simplest recipe he knows, ramen, because fuck it, it’s too late to cook a proper meal if he wantc to have lunch within reasonable hours. With mindless tasks, he occupies himself, cutting up vegetables and dropping them in the gurgling mixture of water, spice and noodles.
Contrary to popular belief, Haru enjoys quietness and rest.